The first date on Thursday night with Twinkly-Eyed Guy went well. Very well. [Can you hear the ‘but’, yet?]
We had dinner together by the Opera House, overlooking Circular Quay, and chatted easily. Then we saw ‘The Informant!’ – excellent film with an outstanding performance from Matt Damon – and then we got ice-cream and strolled around a while. After which we sat on a bench and watched the enormous cruise liner leave harbour… and then he leaned in and kissed me, gently but pretty confidently.
So, we smooched on the bench for quite some time like a pair of sixteen-year-olds (i.e. awkwardly positioned, not terribly comfortable but persistent as well as surprised that it was actually happening and slightly concerned about how far was too far for a first date) until we called it a night at about quarter to one and I caught a cab home.
It was good, but not earth-shattering. He did everything right, he really did. He has the confidence to know what he wants and make a first move, but he is by no means arrogant or conceited. He’s intelligent, well-travelled, independent, considerate, kind and good-looking.
[Are you sure you can’t hear the ‘but’ yet?]
All of which is good… but…
Remember, the weekend I met Twinkly-Eyed Guy, I also met Tall Pilot Guy?
And you know what a Thing I have for tall men, right? I can’t help it. Even though I know its about me, and my insecurities, not about them. I’m tall, and I simply don’t feel powerfully Amazonian with a shorter guy, I feel like a galumphing great freight truck.
[Hence, sitting on the bench kissing Twinkly-Eyed Guy was okay but standing up kissing him felt odd. Maybe just unfamiliar odd, I know, I know…]
Anyway, the evening I met Tall Pilot Guy I had to leave early to go canyoning the next morning at Oh My God O’clock. So we didn’t swap phone numbers or email addresses – although we did discover that we live on the same street and mentioned which blocks we lived in, just not the actual apartment numbers. And then he apparently asked after me the next day, which floored me.
With impeccable timing, the mutual friend who introduced us went away on holiday so I figured I had no way of contacting him, short of bumping into him on the street in the next couple of weeks before all memory of me faded or sticking a note to the door of his building… and the latter idea was abandoned after a morning’s consideration since it seemed to smack of desperate stalker-ness.
And guess what, we bumped into each other on Saturday morning.
“Hi!”, he said, “I’ve been hoping I’d bump into you again. I keep walking past your building and wondering if I should leave a note on the door, but I thought that might be creepy so I didn’t. How was canyoning?”
He apologised for looking rough as he’d had his work Christmas party the night before – believe me, he did not look rough. Or at least, he may have done, but I liked it. 😉
Well, we’ve swapped numbers now, so I really hope he gets in touch and asks me out to something which is obviously a date before Thursday, as opposed to a) not getting in touch at all or b) not getting in touch before Thursday or c) asking me to something which could easily just be a friendly thing and which I would thus be paranoid about misinterpreting.
And why before Thursday? Because that’s when I’m due to go on the second date with Twinkly-Eyed Guy and I don’t want to lead him on when, to be honest, I think at this point I’m more attracted to Tall Pilot Guy.
Everyone should have such problems, yes?
How many dates do you go on before its supposed to be exclusive, anyway?