I know my last post was lame, but I had to post something and last week I was waaaaaaaaaay too insane in the membrane to write about my date with Astronaut Mike Dexter.
Let me just say, it was wonderful. Best first date ever. Well...maybe not ever, but since I started dating in DC? Yes. After hundreds of horrible first dates with very few second ones, this one restored my faith in DC men.
And then I lost it again.
After a month of texts, Facebook messages, and emails, Astronaut Mike Dexter finally set a date with me. I had kind of given up on him because when I met him at DateMeDC's December happy hour he said we would get together after the holidays. But when the holidays passed and we were still just texting "How was your day?" I began to wonder if he was shy, getting over another girl, or the dreaded just not that into me. The night I went speed dating I asked DateMeDC what his deal was and she told me she didn't know because he talked to her about me all the time. So I remained open-minded but skeptical.
Our date happened to be the night we got our big snow (that whole 1/2 inch). We met at Vinoteca, a wine bar that was cozy and perfect for a romantic evening. He ordered a bottle of wine, which I think is so classy, and we enjoyed cheeses and charcuteries (duck prosciutto, omg) while talking and laughing -- no awkward silences. Not one. Because I was still skeptical I was being particularly sarcastic, trying to throw him off, but he dished it right back and I started thinking I could see myself on a second date with him.
When the bill came I knew he wouldn't want to split it, but I offered my credit card anyway. He gave me a strange look, like he didn't recognize what I was handing him.
"I don't know, some guys prefer to split the bill," I shrugged. It's true -- you never assume the guy will pay anymore.
"Guys...let you...pay?" he said, eyes wide. Oh my. Do men like this really still exist?
After dinner he suggested we have drinks at The Gibson. He tried to help me with my coat, but I didn't understand what he was doing -- because no one ever helps me with my coat -- so I fumbled his gesture and scolded myself for dumping my Southern standards down the drain long ago. We stepped outside into the snow, and he stuck out his arm.
"What are you doing?" I said, confused.
"I'm offering you my arm," he said, like a man.
What's funny is when I began really dating in college, I expected this kind of treatment, and if I didn't get it the guy had to go. But since moving to DC I've had to train myself to not expect too much from a guy and learn how to be self-sufficient. These aren't bad things necessarily, but also not that great.
So I tried real hard to remember I deserve to be treated like a lady, looped my arm in his, and let him walk me down the sidewalk. When we arrived the bouncer asked, "So who's buying drinks tonight?" and Astronaut Mike Dexter replied, "I am, of course. Can you imagine letting her pay for anything?"
And with that I was smitten. It wasn't so much that I wouldn't have to pay but rather that he made me feel so womanish and sophisticated. He was a unicorn.
(Bonus: he read my blog post about him and wasn't scared away. We talked about the blog a little and he seemed cool with it, a VERY important trait.)
After a drink it was getting late, so he walked me home. At my doorway he leaned in and kissed me, which I wanted him to do even though I have a fairly strict rule not to kiss on the first date.
When he pulled away and asked, "Can I see your rooftop?" I was feeling so tingly I couldn't resist.
"Okay," I said, "but just the rooftop."
On the roof the snow was collecting and still coming down at a decent rate. Below us the city was glistening and twinkling and it was all just soooooooooooooooo stinkin' romantic. Then he took me in his arms and we kissed in the snow and it was all I could do to not pop my leg like I was in a '60s cartoon.
(He did get himself into my apartment briefly, but just to use the bathroom.)
After he left he texted me, "Had a great time with you, hope to see you soon."
The next day I emailed him a funny video we'd talked about. He replied, "That's hilarious! Had an amazing time with you, hope to see you soon."
So "great" was upgraded to "amazing," but what was this "hope to see you soon" business? Did he want me to ask him out? I got very girly-analytical for a couple of days until I realized I was acting like a loon, so I just waited to hear from him. It took a week until I did, over email.
"Are you going to DateMeDC's happy hour tonight? If so, see you there."
Okay, well at least he was expecting to see me. It would be the perfect opportunity to ignore him while I mingled with fabulous bloggers in my fabulous motorcycle jacket and be too fabulous to notice he was there, and then when he came over to me to try to talk I would graciously acknowledge him, and then maybe he'd learn his lesson about making me wait so long for an email, at the very least.
When I arrived I saw him, said hello, then found DateMeDC and said hello to her. I thought maybe Astronaut Mike Dexter would come over and offer to buy me a drink, a la our first date, or even the first time we met. But no, he was busy talking to a bunch of dudes. So I went to the bar by myself. After I ordered a glass of wine (okay bottle -- but it was half price bottles for the happy hour special so it was fiscally responsible to buy one) he walked over.
"Hey, this is going to look bad but I have dinner plans so I'm gonna run."
WHAT. You mean to tell me I was going to ignore YOU but YOU are ignoring ME? my inner monologue screeched.
"Oh! Great! No problem! Have fun!" I said instead.
Then I marched over to Sassy Marmalade and yelled the whole story to her. She promptly went to the bar and got another bottle of wine, and the rest of the evening was spent talking about how much guys suck with all the other girls there (except Sassy Marmalade -- she has a unicorn).
I spent the next week trying to figure it out. Did I talk too much? Probably. Am I too fat? Never! Christina Hendricks bodies are trendy, so there. Did he snoop in my medicine cabinet? I would have. Dangit, I have two packs of Gas-X in there. That must be why he didn't call.
Or...dread of all dreads...he just wasn't that into me. As DateMeDC has said, "He is not different, you are not special." Yep, pretty much.
But at least I had a good first date. That was a nice change of pace. Hmph.