Josie’s profile was well written, thoughtful, and confident. And her pics were great. She teaches 6th grade, and all I was thinking was that, if she were MY 6th grade teacher, with all the hormones coursing through my 11 year old veins, I wouldn’t have stood a chance in her presence. Sweatpants wouldn’t have stood a chance. Her profile talked about how important it was to her that her parents were still happily married, about how nice it is to live steps from the ocean in Cardiff, and about her annual camping trips to Catalina. Family stability, appreciation for your surroundings, and getting in touch with mother earth are good, good, and good. We emailed back and forth with some success, and I found out that she surfs and wakeboards (there is a huge spot in my heart for a tomboy), and also that, due to “13 inches of power and a little too much faith in my jumping abilities, I seem to have sprained my right wrist.” 13 inches of power?? Eeeenteresting.
Being the gentleman that I am, I don’t want her typing with her current disability, so I get her phone number, and we talk for a good 45 minutes. She won the time-of-possession game though by a wide margin – about 35:00 – 10:00. She’s confident, that’s for sure, and she can TALK, but what she had to say was actually pretty interesting. Most of it anyway. I really wanted this one to go well.
As it turns out, I was able to get some really good seats for the Padres, which we both like. I figured that running out of things to say would be a low risk endeavor, what with my proclivity for BSing and her likely ability to carry on a conversation for three hours with a homing pigeon and a Cantonese deaf-mute. Her ability did not disappoint – from picking her up at her place in Encinitas (which was a tiny but very comfortable little granny flat) to driving downtown, to watching the game, to driving back, it was about a 5 hour tour and we really didn’t skip a beat.
Looks wise, she was pretty consistent with my second-from-the-back rule (a girl looks in real life more like the second worst picture she posts than any other pic). She was tall and was about as thin as the pics would lead a person to believe, which is nice, but I didn’t feel like I was going to break her when I hugged her, which is also nice. Not traffic-stoppingly stunning but definitely a cut above cute. And it was a good hug too. Strong, and lingering about a half second longer than a normal intro-hug. Good start.
Now I’m a huge fan of confidence, but there’s a line of humility that should ideally be drawn somewhere before “I’ve had at least five guys from Match offer to take me to [somewhere spectacular] in the last month,” “I think she has a hard time being professional with someone who is an intelligent girl who is very attractive like me,” “sometimes it’s hard to deal with the boys because many of them have crushes on me, and it’s a little uncomfortable to talk to their families about it because some of the dads feel the same way,” and a couple other comments to that extent. But the optimist in me chalked it up to a bit of nerves, or refreshingly, being a girl who actually says what she means (even though it may be not exactly the most PC thing to say). Plus, I figured that these minor smudges on her record would be easily forgiven if there was some kissing compatibility, for better or for worse, and I hadn’t figured that out yet.
I drive her home (about 30 minutes), and we’re talking about music and Mexican food. She loves Mexican food – specifically taco shops (huge plus) – so we decide to take a pit stop to get some 4th meal after the game. And THEN she invited me up to her place so she could have me listen to this band she was talking about.
I like talking to girls about music for a number of reasons – it is an unobtrusive way to tap into a girl’s personality, because a person’s musical collection is a really really intimate thing. It opens up all sorts of conversational doors (“Oh yeah? How’d you get into [insert band here]?” “That was your drug dealer’s favorite song? TELL me about that…””). But I stumbled upon this being a really good way to get an invite inside at the end of the date if it’s going well. (“So what’s the deal with this band you’ve been telling me about? I’m a prude and you won’t get any if you invite me up, but I’d like to hear them – I’m going to use you for your musical taste and maybe a glass of tap water and then I’m leaving, so don’t get any ideas.”) It’s not to get in her pants (I’m a prude on the first date) but if a girl realizes she can trust you in her home, she will let her guard down more quickly and it’s way easier to get to know the real her. In my opinion anyway.
The date ended at about 3:30 a.m. when I left her place, 5 hours after the Padres game ended, and after a California Burrito, a glass and a half of expensive-but-getting-funky Pinot Gris, and about 5 glasses of Cardiff’s finest tap water (this was a school / work night, mind you). Over all I think we spent about 10 hours together, and I don’t even know if we kissed. I was practically hallucinating on the drive home from sleep deprivation, so it’s tough to separate fantasy from reality at this point. How could we not kiss, you say? Well, for starters, there wasn’t a perfect time for it…but if a girl is willing to spend that much time with you, the kissing will come.
As luck would have it, she did settle down (a little bit) with the chest-pounding / ego-stroking, but she also ramped up into full on nest-building mode. ON (not after) the second date, she was talking about how she hadn’t met anyone like me since her boyfriend in college, and about how all the wealthy, attractive, older. [yawn] men she met on match who wanted to buy her jewelry, take her to Mr. A’s [yawn] don’t do anything for her, and she’d like to be exclusive with me. I deflected the questions with the agility of an Olympic fencer, and got her OK with the idea of getting to know each other for a little bit more. Oh, and the kissing compatibility was not there. I don’t know how she did it, but I think she had a double-jointed jaw, because when she opened her mouth, I felt like she was trying to have my face for dinner. I couldn’t help thinking about Alice, falling down the rabbit hole, during our make out session.
Things petered out quickly after that, but not quickly enough – I didn’t have the balls yet to firmly but respectfully tell her the spark was just not there, and passively relied on her feminine intuition to guide her toward the notion that “he might be into you if you would get out of your own way, but you won’t so he’s not THAT into you.” Of course, this never happened. I ended up having to “break up” with her over the phone after the third get together, and listen to her sniffle, snot, and sob over the phone for over a half hour. She asked me questions like if I had any idea what I was giving up, and if I ever thought I would feel this way about anyone again…to this day I can’t for the life of me put myself in her shoes, but I know it was very uncomfortable and very sad. But, on the bright side, I was able to walk out my door and watch the Rock N Roll marathon while this whole thing was taking place, so it wasn’t all bad.
What I learned:
-A little confidence is good – supreme confidence at the expense of humility and objective self-analysis is too much of a good thing. Which is not a good thing.
-Don’t spend 11 hours on a first date without thinking that the girl is going to think that this is something supremely special.
-A woman’s intuition, while about 10 times stronger and more incisive than a man’s, is no match for her feelings of attraction for a guy. If a girl is into a boy, you might as well pack up her best judgment and her good sense, as well as that almost magical feminine intuition, and put it on a nice little shelf somewhere, because there’s no way she’s going to be using them any time soon.
-When you know you don’t want to see a girl again, CUT HER LOOSE. See band-aid analogy.
Got a dating story you would like to share (good or horrible)? Email them to me and I will share it anonymously! Send them to Kate@DatesWithKate.com.