I wish I were writing about something exciting. Unfortunately I am doomed to the happenings of reality, a very boring run of the mill first date. Dinner, ice cream, talking. We sat there spewing useless information back and forth at each others faces, as I cried inside that he was not the one. Ok so maybe that was a little dramatic. It wasn’t that bad. I just wanted to feel some gravitational pull toward him. What I find so intriguing about personality, is how some people evoke a connection so vivid, while others seem just like another grain of sand completely indecipherable from the next. It’s really quite wild that attraction is beyond our will and ideas (Juliette Binoche). It is so unpredictable and exciting. It’s the kinda stuff I live for. Anyway, this was not that.
The morning of date#5, after getting out of the shower, I stood there looking at a closet full of naked hangers and a mountain of dirty laundry. I pulled together a passable outfit for work, a little cotton dress and some tights. I wore a pair of cotton shorts over the tights, under the dress, as I was out of underwear and the skirt was rather short.
One of the problems I am having since this influx of evening outings, is my wardrobe. First of all, let me say that I often refer to myself as the anti-fashionista. I don’t consider myself a frills and ribbons feminine type, after all I used to be a lesbian. I generally wear “comfortable” loose fitting clothes and I hate synthetic fabrics. I have a shortage of outfits appropriate for alluring men on first dates. According to my boss, the last pair of jeans I wore to work should be burned and I should never wear them again! She on the contrary is the Santa Cruz incarnation of Carrie Bradshaw.
I knew what I was wearing was the garment equivalent of the last scrape of peanut butter, the last possible squeeze of the toothpaste, the very last bit of toilet paper couture, so to speak. I had to do something to revive and refresh my look before my date. Since I got held up at work, I had 45 minutes to get home from Scotts Valley, transform myself into a presentable date and meet him at the restaurant “I Love Sushi” at 7:00. I stopped by the Goodwill on the way home. I quickly found a new shirt, a new green, knee length pea coat and raced back to my house so I could jump in the shower and throw on my new ensemble. I zoomed into my parking space, sprinted up 3 flights of stairs to my apartment, fumbled with the keys to open the door. When I got inside, I turned on the shower and ripped off the price tags. I jumped in the shower, washed the important parts, jumped out, put on two mis-matched socks with one hand while brushing my teeth with the other and re-curled my eyelashes. I put on some leggings with a small hole in the knee (which is why I didn’t wear them to work), zipped up my boots and scampered out the door. I let him know I was going to be ten minutes late and was going to be wearing a very green coat. I walked up the sidewalk toward the restaurant feeling a bit frazzled, but content that I at least felt presentable. I knew who I was looking for because I actually had met him once before, but in a completely different context. He works for child support services. He had taken my paper work when I filed last year and had even been in court during some of our child support hearings. We set up the date online and I was pretty sure he didn’t recognize me. I approached him and said hello. He pretty much skipped the introductions part altogether, and he asked me how work was and how school was going all in the same breath. He actually warned me that this might happen, saying when he’s nervous he gets caught up in whirlwind of his own words. We sat down and the conversation was on fast forward. I felt comfortable with him but I was having a hard time evaluating my surroundings. Meanwhile the waitress was delivering miso soup, a two piece sushi roll, and a cucumber salad before even saying hello (apparently that’s their schtick). I have always wanted to try speed dating, but this felt a little like the “dating Indy 500”. Once I had a chance to look at the menu, he asked me what I liked. I said I like everything spicy, but was hesitant to order anything with too much kick as I was getting over a cold and my throat was a little raw. The waitress came by and he asked what they had that was spicy and I caved and ordered what she suggested. He was genuinely interested in me. He asked me about what I wanted to research and he was a very good listener. I enjoyed talking to him and he was a goofy kind of sweet, almost puppy like. Can you imagine me with a puppy? Don’t get me wrong he was very nice. And he asked if I wanted to get ice cream after dinner. We walked over to Coldstone, we ate our ice cream and talked some more. I was getting tired and I was definitely felling under the weather still.
brain wandering:
I want to be able to sit in bed writing and feel equal to the man sitting next to me. I want him to understand what it feels like to put my heart and soul into my work. I want him to love the wrinkles (just a few) that I will surely have acquired by the time I meet him or he finds me. I want his scratchy stubble to prick me and show me that our differences make us more strongly attracted. I want him to adore my sense of humor. I want him to stare at me when I’m concentrated on something else. But most of all I want there to be passion. The kind that sends my heart plunging just at the thought of his weight near me. I want him to be independent, creative and kind. I want to feel safe with him, not because he is protecting me, but because I can tell him my secrets. Because he doesn’t judge me, he knows my past is my past and it’s where I came from. I have this picture in my head of what that will look like, what that will feel like. Love sweet love.
He walked me back to my car and of course we had to show each other our tattoos. He had a full sleeve, chest panels, and some back pieces, all very lovely and tasteful. They, as he put it, were a Tex-Mex theme, Dia de los Muertos mariachi band and such. He is originally from Houston, Texas. I had good time with him. I was not attracted to him. However, there was still that little voice inside my head that says, I should be. He was nice, good looking, tattooed and that somehow I will “come around”. I know that is not true. There has to be magic, a spark.
I still have trouble with the awkwardness of not wanting to see the date# again. I know deep down inside (or maybe not so deep) they are not looking for new friends of the opposite sex. Upon parting, date #5 said, “go out, have fun, meet new people and see where that takes you”. I appreciated the sentiment. He made it clear that he was interested and wanted to go out again. I beat around the bush by saying I didn’t have a lot of free time, but perhaps we could meet for coffee.
Writing about this date has triggered some frustration in me. Although I am conducting this project for knowledge sake and not seeking a specific outcome, I cant help but romanticize the feeling of love and lust. I don’t know if it’s because I am in my thirties, (dirty thirties, which I’m beginning to see as an accurate description) or if it’s because I am healing in the way I wasn't expecting concerning my sexuality. I am finally becoming comfortable with being a sexual entity. I have been practicing mindfulness for the past couple of years. This practice is often associated with Buddhist teachings. I observe the feelings and emotions I have and do not judge them or assign labels of good or bad. Doing so allows me to be aware of different sensations in my mind and body. I no longer believe that my feelings will take over and last forever. I can be present and experience less anxiety when concerning my emotions.
I used to think that the term “recovering catholic” was cliche and an obvious over generalization, but now I’m starting to wonder. Did being brought up with strong religious overtones and religious dogmas lead me to have a negatively skewed view of sex? Is that one of the reasons I carry unnecessary guilt when I have intense desire for someone? I’m beginning to see that my sexual desires are natural. What to do with them is a question I have yet to answer.
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