Short Guy Catch-Up

I’ve been sitting on a few posts I was hesitating about making public before I knew where things would lead. Spoiler Alert: Things lead no where, so they’ll be appearing here over the next few days…
9/2/2016:
As my time with the short guy seems to have ended, I feel obligated to round off our story. I asked him to go on a day trip. I figured it wouldn’t matter who my company was, I’d hit two birds with one stone -a third date with him and a day at a festival I wanted to attend. It was one of those early morning events where we’d have to be on the road by 8am, and considering the distance between our apartments, we decided it made sense for him to spend the night at my place. In theory all of this should have been perfectly okay, but the reality of situation lead to disappointment. He had to work late and didn’t make it to my place until 10pm. I’m getting older and kind of lame, so I was tired, but tried to stay up like a good host -and date, only as we lay in my bed and he stroked my arm, it hit me that there was nothing between us. Pretty bad timing. He was nice, he wasn’t unattractive, there wasn’t really any reason for me to feel so uncomfortable around him, but I did. Maybe it was that we rushed into everything or maybe it was that our sense of humor didn’t quite align or maybe we just had too vast of differences in interests which had certainly shown through in our favorite movies and TV shows. I always thought having an interest in the same shows couldn’t be that big of a factor in a relationship, but I suppose it reveals more than enjoyment of the show itself. We weren’t entertained in the same way. I didn’t feel anything for him, ‘nor that I’d develop any feelings for him later. I wasn’t thinking about him when I wasn’t with him and I wasn’t looking forward to what could be with him. This shouldn’t continue. But it was close to midnight, we were leaving for a long car ride in the morning, followed by a full day together and I felt like it was a mistake. I couldn’t back out now; I’d feel too bad about making him travel all the way back home and then missing the festival I’d purchased tickets for. He’d gone out of his way to spend the night because he said “maybe we’d have some fun *winking face*” and now I wasn’t in the mood under the pressure of how perfectly fitting that would’ve made the situation. So, I rambled through most of my thoughts and we went to sleep.

The day was okay. It wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t great. It was just okay. I felt awkward spending time with him now that I knew we just didn’t have that connection between us. I calmed down with a drink for part of the day, but I wasn’t looking to replicate our second date, so when the buzz faded I went back to my discomfort. I thought about relationships I’d been in and how exciting it had felt to spend a day with them. I’d feel happy and light just being by their side. And then there was him. I looked at the people around us. He could have been any other passerby, but here I was with him and I began to feel lonely. Towards the end of the day I started the talk. What is this, what are we doing, why are you here with me today, are you enjoying this? We seemed to be on the same page in the sense that neither of us wanted to be in a relationship with the other, but that left me wondering if we should continue whatever we were doing. It’s usually by the third date I’ve made up my mind for sure, only I wished I hadn’t decided to make a day trip of it. So what was left? We could keep dating in this sort of open relationship, but it had been established that we didn’t really have a connection. We could turn it into a strictly sexual relationship, but I wasn’t that impressed by that aspect with him. He said that he enjoyed my company outside of our nights together, so I asked him how he felt about being friends. I guess it’s not easy to friend zone someone after they’ve been out of it. He said he’d rather not remove the sexual aspect of our friendship, to which I shook my head, “A few minutes ago I just asked you if you were looking for this to be strictly sexual and you said that you also enjoyed my company and that wasn’t what you were looking for. It’s okay to say that that’s what you wanted…” It’s hard to find people as straight forward and honest as I am. We headed back without talking much. I walked him to the door. He didn’t ask to kiss me this time. He laughed awkwardly, as if it was clear we weren’t going to be seeing each other again.

For two weeks neither of us checked in with the other…except for my drunk-text to him about how we should keep the option of hooking up open whenever I’m drunk and near his place. Yeah, apparently I said something like that –or maybe that is exactly how I phrased it. Happy hour turned a little more intense than I’d planned for last night and while he replied that we can try that, I’m mostly ignoring that a drunken version of myself suggested it.

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Casual

So little casual goes into acting casual. My foreign crush stopped speaking to me about four months ago. I certainly liked him more than other crushes that come and go, no matter how unreasonable it all may have seemed, but I did my best to keep most of it in my private writing. You’ve only heard about him a handful of times. None of my friends have heard about him in months. I definitely paced my apartment and spoke to myself aloud about him on more than one occasion, but it was all waiting for August. Of course nothing would ever really come of all of this and I should have been upset with him for ignoring me (which of course I spoke to myself about aloud at length and eventually knew why I wasn’t feeling that way, as well as why I felt the way I did about him and the most probable reasons he didn’t feel the same.) -But if there was another opportunity to see him one last time, I’d still enjoy having it. If there wasn’t, I could work on dropping the idea, so I wanted to know what options were on the table. Last we spoke we’d made plans that when he visited the country and came to my city in September we’d spend a day or two together. In order to free up my schedule I was planning on taking the day off work, which requires one month’s notice, hence the need for one last attempt at reaching out in August and no later.

I also had to refrain from messaging him any sooner because if he decided to ignore me, it would look too desperate to make another attempt. So, I waited. Sure, out of the blue I sent a random meme that went ignored 2 months ago, but besides that he had never replied to my last two messages and I knew I couldn’t make another move until August. (Although the last message I’d received from him was an apology for not replying to me lately.) I factored in the time difference, the date of his flight when he might not be available to reply, the date by which I’d need to let my office know my request for time off, that he might not reply to me right away, and that I couldn’t start off with asking him about September. So, on the right date, at the right time, I thought about my message. It couldn’t be long and overwhelming. At first I thought I’d make it flirty. I thought maybe I’d entice him into answering with a compliment, but I still wasn’t sure of the real reason he’d stopped sending me messages. “Hey sexy” if he’d lost interest in me would be too forward. “Hey you” was too intimate and overwhelming for this long of a gap. What if he’d stopped speaking to me because he was worried I’d gotten too attached? “Hey Mr. super-busy” could sound sarcastic or just plain weird. Maybe it was best to ignore that he hadn’t been speaking to me all that time because of “busy-ness.”

He’d made a FaceBook post about seeing whales from his boat which I’d liked the day before I messaged him. This made for great timing. It would seem like I’d forgotten him, I’d seen an interesting post pop up in the newsfeed about him, thought of him again, and therefore was reaching out to catch up. I went with, “Hey, been a while, how’ve you been?” Casual. I was as excited about receiving his reply as I’d been when we’d started talking, even if it had sounded so formal with my name after “hey.” I asked him about the whales. I ended every message with a question to keep him talking. I made a great segue into the topic of travel. On day two of him replying, I finally brought it up as if it hadn’t been the plan the entire time. Had his plans moved around since we last spoke, because I think I could still fit him into my schedule if he was interested. When was his trip again? It’s not like it’s been on my calendar for half a year or anything…And guess who has a final date with her crush in September! …But there was nothing casual behind my sounding casual. What I really want is to find the person I can freely chatter away to without any planning at all. That’s who I really want to be with. Mastering dating isn’t anything anymore. Dating is just a game with strategic tactics, lines, and moves where you play the best version of you. I lost interest in dating long ago. What I want is a relationship where I’m just me amazing, nutty, judgmental, sweet and everything in-between all rolled into one, all the time.

2nd Date With The Short Guy

I’m an idiot. Have you ever done something stupid and just felt like an idiot? I spent my Saturday night like I was nearly a decade younger than I am. I had much too much to drink. It started out like most days before a date. Eventually “I have nothing to wear” became “I guess this will do” until I tried it on and the straps of the dress kept slipping down. I tried safety pins and tying them in a knot, but it just looked silly and not cute or sexy or whatever the heck I was going for anyway. Back to my closet of misfit outfits I do a double take on a dress that I haven’t worn in nearly a decade. Maybe I’ll blame my actions later in the night on the dress. There’s nothing particularly wrong with it and it’s not too short like most of my dresses that shrunk in the wash. Maybe it’s a little faded, but the only thing I ever remember about it is that a guy once guessed my bra size to be an entire size bigger than it is, and I decided that the dress misrepresented me. But now it’s 10 minutes later than it should be before I start doing my makeup to leave in time. I can’t say I don’t look good in it, and while I don’t feel like this date deserves any extra cleavage, I figure at least I’ll be on time.

Only then I step onto the train and I swear everyone’s eyeing my chest, so I send him a text. It’s my second date exactly a month from the first time I met the short guy. “I’m on the train so I should be on time but it’s only because I didn’t spend time changing my clothes and I wore a dress that wasn’t my first choice because it’s a little more low cut than I felt like wearing, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look at my boobs any more than you would any other stranger passing by.” Before he replied, I followed up that text with, “Yes, I actually just sent you a text that says that lol.” At the next stop twenty minutes go by and the train hasn’t moved. Now I’m late. As I’m about to update my date on this turn of events they announce that a tree has fallen on the tracks and train service has been suspended. This time I call my date to work out a new plan. Eventually, a few different train rides later, I meet him off a different train stop. I don’t really believe in “signs” but I’m wondering if that tree was a message about how the rest of my night’s going to go.

We make it to the bar. It’s the bar I chose, not the bar he chose, all because I had a craving for this amazing artichoke dip they serve. We get a table and it’s at the booth I like. “Hey, maybe despite the tree falling and the rain things are looking up for your night!” he says. I open the menu and flip through but something’s wrong. It’s not the menu that I’ve been ordering from for the last few years. After a waitress explains to me they no longer serve any of my favorite dishes because of a new chef, my date changes his mind, “Or maybe not.” I tell him too many details about Clark Kent too quickly and he gets awkward, but he seems to push through it. I pressure him to tell me about the other dates he’s been on. Of course he’s been on dates, so I don’t even ask if he has been on any others when I ask this. He eventually opens up and we laugh about it. He’s telling me about how rusty he was and how he had some difficulties getting back in the dating game, but he hasn’t been seeing as wide of a variety since he met me. I tell him that this makes me nervous and we both assure each other that neither of us is looking for anything serious with the other. That martini was my first drink. It was a strong one. And without anything I liked on the menu, I definitely didn’t eat enough. One of the first stupid things I did. I’d joked with my date that he owed me a drink for my hassle on the trains and he opted to pay for everything. He hadn’t forgotten that I’d admitted to not being thrilled with him accepting my offer to pay for half on our first date. This time he didn’t let me.

I want to check out the bar he suggested, so we walk over since it’s in the area. It’s loud and not at all what we expected. But we’re there, so we get another drink and decide to people watch, harshly and sloppily making judgments about people we don’t know who can’t hear us. I’ve just gone with a glass of wine this time. It’s slightly pricey, so I’m happy with how fairly they’ve poured it, only I don’t know that I’ll regret the hefty pour later. My date paid for it since we didn’t want to open a tab and I was short on cash. I decided it would be fair for me to get the next round. For the next hour or so, we drank while we people watched people drinking. The drunk girl in the red was the worst. We tried to figure out if she knew the guy who was holding her up or not, but we decided he looked like he was going to take care of her rather than take advantage of her either way. We watched the progression of her drunkenness from her awkward dancing, to inability to stand, and eventually her making the “I’m going to be sick” face. We watched her for so long that when she passed by and accidentally stomped on my open-toed sandal I winced through the pain with this weird feeling that some kind of celebrity had stepped on my foot. Little did I know I’d be joining her in poor drinking decisions in just a couple of hours.

We left that bar because it was too loud. I was certainly drunk by now, but I knew my usual tolerance was about three drinks, so I figured one more wouldn’t hurt. I remember announcing that we should go into the next bar we came across no matter what it was. We headed into a bar I’d been once some years ago. It was empty and we could sit down and hear each other for a change. I opened a tab and covered our drinks. Had it been good wine, my only drink, or on top of a decent meal I would have been happy with the pour, but I don’t think any wine connoisseur would ever agree to a wine glass so full one can’t take a step without spilling some. That was my third drink which might have well have also been my fourth or maybe my fifth without a proper dinner. But we were sitting and I felt fine. Sure, I felt a little drunk, of course, but not that drunk. Even he thought we were just having some pretty regular conversation. That’s the last part I remember vividly, though. The rest of the night gets a little splotchy, but if I only write about the parts I remember instead of the parts I was filled in on, it’s not as interesting. It would almost end up with, “and then I woke up” right here. But that happens a little later.

I am pretty sure I remember a second glass of wine. Only it was that colossal glass of wine because it was somehow even more full than the first and some poured onto my hands as I made my way back to our table. That would be number four, or possibly number five or six if you count the amount of wine in the glass. Now the official fourth glass we’re both sure I had. It’s the fifth that we’re not sure if I had or not, but at this point does it really matter? Apparently I tried to tip 120% and he had to fix the receipt for me. This is where a lot of sentences now start with “apparently” because it’s what I was told happened and just a blank spot in my memory. Later, I was thrilled to find out I’d brought home my credit card. Apparently he called a cab and we took it to my place after I convinced him this was the best plan and refused all others. I remember having that conversation when I still remembered the night, but I must have become more adamant about this plan. Of course, then nothing went to plan. Apparently I fell asleep in the car. Apparently I couldn’t get the keys in my front door. And Apparently I threw up. A lot. For a while. This was probably not the “good time” I’d promised either of us would be having back at my place.

I woke up on top of my blankets, all my clothes on, with randomly sore muscles, some black and blues, and a skinned knee. “Shit,” is the first thing I say. I remember earlier in the night at the bar, I wanted to kiss him. I thought it would be fun to come back to my place after a few drinks. That didn’t happen. I don’t know what happened, I’m usually great at knowing how much I’ve had to drink and when to stop. I turn to him, he’s sleeping on my side of the bed. “How did we get here?” I ask. He starts to fill me in. It’s too early in the morning. I brush my teeth because it’s something I really need to do. Back in my bedroom I nudge him over and climb back into my bed. “You’re on my side,” I tell him while scooting him over. “Well, you lay down on that side after I finished cleaning up after you.” This is when I really start to feel like an idiot. I wasn’t that into this guy. I mean, he’s alright and everything but now he’s done something really nice that I probably wouldn’t have done for him. “Why does my knee hurt and it’s all rug-burned?” I ask him. “You tried to run back to the toilet to throw up again, but you fell on your carpet and skidded pretty hard. I tried to move you to the bathroom but you insisted on throwing up on your carpet, so I cleaned that up too.” “Aren’t you glad we didn’t go back to your place now? I point out. He laughs and agrees even though it was closer to the bar. The morning of recovery goes on and I notice more. He’s refilled my toilet paper, put on my air conditioning, brought me a bottle of water, and so on. He fixed my dress when it slipped too low. I cuddle up to him because I feel bad and grateful. The first night all I could think about was how short he was, but it’s not meaning as much to me anymore. Aside from some long term relationships I’ve been in, I don’t know anyone else who would’ve done this for me without expecting anything in return.

The morning comes and goes, but we’re still in bed. Then the afternoon comes and goes. We talk, watch movies, order food from a diner, and eventually do some things that I’d originally planned on doing the night before. I turn to him, “What did you mean last night about being rusty with dating? Why give a shit about how you’re supposed to date. I don’t do that. This is certainly not how you’re supposed to date. I sent you that text from the train, told you about someone I slept with around 10 minutes into our second date, threw up, and then hung out with you like this the entire next day. I don’t think you always have to date a certain way because I certainly don’t do it.” Around 5pm it seems decided that nearing a 24 hour long date isn’t normal enough and he heads back home. He’s hesitant because how do you say “well 15 hours was great, but 20 hours, that seems like it’s been enough” without it being weird. We text a little the next day. It’s just sort of a check-in/recap. I have to apologize and thank him once more for really going above and beyond in the nice guy department. It sort of almost makes me like him a bit, but not quite enough to develop any strong feelings, just enough to be comfortable with a third date and possibly heading to his place for a change. “Why did you drink so much? So you could tolerate me?” he asks. “No, I don’t think that’s it, I’d still see you sober…That’s as nice as my compliments get,” I tell him. I’ve been tough on him since the start and I’m still not really sure why.

Honesty

I’m always honest. I’m always so openly volunteering information about my life that it doesn’t come naturally for me to do anything else. But I wasn’t this time. While I was away on business my date from the previous week –the short one- checked in with me via text message. I hadn’t yet met Clark Kent and I’d been thinking even if this guy wasn’t “the one,” I’d at least be up for a second date with him to see how that went. I was going to text to him, “I was thinking about it and I decided we can hang out again when I get back,” but I read it to myself first and deleted it. What, was I that amazing I was going to allow him to spend more of his time with me? Well, maybe I am but I don’t have that big of an ego. So, I said, “I was thinking about it and I’d like to see you again when I get back.” He said we could arrange something then. I went about my week, Clark Kent came and went, and the short guy crossed my mind again. I was less excited now. Sure, there was no future with Clark Kent, but he was a nice height and not all that hard to get a date with. Clark Kent texted me at work today, just a “happy Monday” kind of text -even though there’s never anything happy to be about on a Monday. I was too busy to respond. A couple of hours later my short date checked in asking how my trip had been. I was too busy to respond to him either. Heading home from work I caught up on my text messages. First I replied to Clark Kent and then I went back to the short date. He asked how my trip had been. Immediately I thought, “Good, I hooked up with some guy” but that didn’t feel like the best response I could give to someone I was considering a second date with. I told him it went well. He asked if I’d seen anything interesting. “Yeah, some guy I met…The movie I saw with a guy I dated for the week…” but I didn’t say that either. I told him about the dinner my boss treated us to. He asked when I’d be free to tell him more. In person. I’d mention it in person if it came up. He’d probably dated someone else while I was away, and there was nothing wrong with what I’d done after just going on one date with him, but he probably didn’t want to hear about it. If he asks. If it comes up. If he’s prying to know more about my week. Then I’d say something. Until then, I’ll just have to learn how to be like most people and keep my other dates out of the conversations with my current dates. Oh but how uncomfortable hiding any thing at all feels…

The Business Trip

The company I work for sent me on a 5+ hour plane ride to help set up our booth at a trade show. Spending a week with my boss and colleagues, I wasn’t expecting to fall into any kind of intimate settings, but I guess it never hurts to wear the nicer clothes paired with a little makeup on an average day. My coworker had warned me that the people we’re sent from the company of laborers hired to help us construct everything were often lazy and not that intelligent. I figured it would be a long day. Two guys showed up and told me they’d been assigned to help us at our booth. One seemed like he’d be pretty typical -been in the company for 35 years and no longer cared about how helpful he’d be as long as he got his paycheck. On the other hand, the other laborer must have been just starting out. He was also handsome to say the least. My eyes ran up and down his body. His upper body was pretty muscular but settled into a cute, clean-shaven face, with sweet bright blue eyes. Between his biceps that bulged under his t-shirt and square glasses against a boyish face, Clark Kent came to mind.

They got to work and I continued to unpack some boxes. Hours passed and I kept glancing at Clark Kent waiting for a moment when his collogue wasn’t by his side and my coworkers were out of earshot. But we’d already caught each other’s eyes a couple of times. He’d be on a ladder and his head would pop up over a wall and he’d smile. I’d smile back and before quickly getting back to whatever I was working on. Then I finally got my moment, while he was on the floor screwing on the legs of a table and his partner was helping us with a platform on the other side of the booth. “So, I was told I should hope the laborers we’d get assigned would be smart…” I started. He looked up at me, face full of worry like he was doing something wrong. I smiled, “I’m glad we did!” I added. He looked relieved and looked back down. “But I didn’t know we’d also be getting such an attractive one…” I continued. He might have blushed, “Well uhh thank you!” he said and asked where I was from. He lived on the same block as my hotel. We continued to chat a bit and he asked if I’d like to go to dinner some time when I was free that week. I looked back into his eyes, he did look a bit young, didn’t he…But I always had been attracted to that baby-face look and convinced I’d always been a cougar in the making. I’d also realized he had a pretty bad lisp, but luckily my ears didn’t judge as harshly as my eyes. I told him it sounded like a good plan.

More hours went by and we decided to call it a night. I had to sign the laborers out. The two of them and my colleague stood by my side while I marked things off on the paperwork sitting on the counter by their boss. He wasn’t going to ask for my number in front of his bosses, was he? Would he get in trouble if I asked for his, pretending it was work related? I didn’t find out, we had already parted ways and were walking back to the hotel without another word to him. Later that night over dinner and drinks my coworker randomly brought him up. They must have had a conversation at some point. “You know that guy who was helping us had been in the military? He hurt his foot and now he isn’t able to run anymore. He’s only-” His age sucked to hear, but at least he wasn’t underage to drink. I cleared my throat, “Did you get his number?” I asked. “No! Why would I have?!” he asked me. I shrugged, “I wouldn’t have minded having it…” A few eyebrows raised in my direction. “What, he’s legal!” I protested. They laughed it off. I guess that’s it, I thought.

Back in my hotel room I lay down exhausted, but mentally awake. He must have been only the second or third guy I’d flirted with in my lifetime. What a rush. It would have been nice to see how far things could have gone. What a missed opportunity. He was pretty cute. I guess he was too young. Although he didn’t seem that immature. It’s not like that much could’ve come of it, I’m only here a few more days. I wonder if he’s on FaceBook…I’m not usually a social-media stalker, I figured I wouldn’t find him, but I was curious to see if I could. Let’s see, I know his first name which isn’t all that popular, and I know he lives in this city. So, I did a search for those two things alone. Okay, that’s a girl, that’s not him, that’s not him, that’s not him, that’s a girl, that’s not him, that…hmm…I click the picture and instead of the floppy short hair I’d met him with that afternoon, he had buzz cut hair and no glasses. That didn’t quite rule him out, and he did have bright blue eyes. His job seemed to be in some sort of labor field, although it wasn’t the name of the company we’d hired him through. I scrolled through a few more of his pictures. His smile was the same. I scroll down the wall and see his foot in a cast, followed by other photos in military attire. This matches my coworker’s story about him. Could it have been that easy? Was that really him? I sent a message, “Hey.” If it’s not him they’ll probably just ask “Who is this?” or ignore the message. Since I didn’t friend him, the message probably won’t show up in his regular inbox and he might not even get notified about it. I close the app and stare at the ceiling a little longer. A message pops up on my phone, “Hey, what’s up?” Would a stranger respond that way to a FaceBook message from someone he didn’t know? Suddenly I have another idea and I jump up. I flip through the receipts and copies of paperwork I’d signed the laborers out on. I run my finger down the page to their timesheet and see two last names. Sure enough, one matched the name of the dude I’d FaceBook messaged. I replied and a few messages later sent my number.

When things wound down the next day I noticed a text message from Clark Kent asking how things were going and letting me know he was free. I asked him if he wanted to get something to eat and within an hour or so I was in one of my few packed changes of clothes greeting him in the lobby of my hotel. “Are you cold? My place is right over there if you’d like a jacket,” he suggested. I declined. Mostly we walked around. A lot. We passed by nice places, meat places, bars, salad places, a mall food court, and so on. Eventually I decided I really didn’t mind where we wound up so we stopped by a pretty simple place for some pasta and he paid for my dish. Again he mentioned his apartment and how he had a bottle of champagne he didn’t remember how he obtained over there. I’m not big on champagne. Next we hit a bar. I ordered a martini the way I prefer them and he got a margarita because he wanted “something with tequila.” This young he hadn’t been to too many bars and clearly had no idea about what he preferred to drink. I tried to ignore this. I told him I liked his glasses –as he’d opted for contacts that night. We talked about travel, pets, jobs, relationships, and religion. Then we talked politics. He’s planning on voting for someone who I believe is clearly a horrible choice, but I ordered another drink and he seemed to admit that he wasn’t even at all confident in his candidate, so I let it slide. I looked down at his empty drink glasses and pointed to one, “That one was your limit. You just got this one here because I got another drink. You didn’t have to do that. I know you just started going to bars, but you’ll learn that eventually.” Now I was teaching him and getting too close to when our age difference gets weird. “How old are you?” he finally let out. “I’m older than you, but I’m not in my 30’s.” I said. He apologized for asking and told me what his guess would have been. “Older, but it’s not important,” I told him. For the first time I realized how terrifying my age sounded as a number when you’re his age. I waited for him to down another drink before I randomly spat out the actual number. By that time it didn’t seem like a big deal anymore.

I’m not sure how I wound up inviting him up to my hotel room…But that’s how that night ended. I hurried him out the next morning before meeting my colleagues in the hotel lobby and brushed off their, “How was your night?” questions. “How’s the show going?” he checked in later that evening. My boss had taken our team members out to dinner. I’d be free that night after eating, and there was a movie theater across the street from my hotel, so I decided to ask him to see a movie. “I wore a jacket this time in case you were cold,” he told me. I thanked him and smiled. I noticed he’d also worn his glasses that night after my comment. He’d probably make such a sweet boyfriend to some girl his age. The thought didn’t bother me or make me jealous –We lived on opposite sides of the country and I wasn’t interested in anything serious with someone his age. He needed a few more years before he planned on settling down, and even outside of that it was clear this wasn’t the perfect match. It’s really an interesting experience dating someone when you’re both aware the maximum length of the relationship won’t exceed 3 days. I actually said a lot less than I normally would have with someone who I might have had a future with and would have felt should have a better idea of who I am and what I like. I selected a children’s movie which was quite a letdown, but I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his hand on my leg. It was cute and made me feel like I was back in high school and practically innocent. I asked him if he remembered when this or that movie came out and he seemed to draw a blank. The age gap thought entered my mind again. When I was preparing to enter my twenties, he hadn’t even entered his teens yet. “You know you were __ years old when I was __?” I put out there. He sighed, “Well, I hadn’t thought of it like that before…But we’re both in our twenties now!” I nodded, “Yeah, now we’re in our twenties. It’s fine.” I ended another night with him at my hotel again. The nights weren’t that notable, and there were definitely a few things I could have taught him had we more time, but what -who- else did I have planned out there at night anyway?

The last day I hadn’t planned on seeing him. We had to break down our booth and were assigned other labor workers, but when I realized we were assigned some of the lazier ones and it was getting late I decided reaching out to Clark Kent wouldn’t hurt. I knew he lived nearby and had already finished his shift so I figured I’d mention how long the process was taking. Sure enough he offered to head over and help out. I told my coworker he was on his way and he made a face. “We’re not paying him or anything, he’s just coming by as a friend,” I said. My coworker replied, “Well maybe it’s not money you’re paying him with, but nothing’s free.” Alright, it had gotten a little weird but it wasn’t like I was just using him to help us, I did think he was cute and I’d have hung out with him either way. It got me thinking about the double standard, though. A few days earlier, one of our clients was about to step into a meeting with one of my collogues who was hoping to close a deal with him. As they headed off the guy handed me his business card and told me if I called him he’d buy me a glass of wine at the business event that evening. He was at least twice my age so I’d politely laughed it off, and although I was somewhat annoyed by his suggestion, I was afraid of messing up the sale for my company. “How dare he suggest such a thing to me when I’m so much younger than him!” I thought, only how different had it really been with my reversed situation with Clark Kent?

I spent my last night at the hotel with him again. At this point I felt the cat was out of the bag, and there was no longer any shame in stepping off the elevator at my floor with him, though my coworkers were still in the elevator. I watched him get dressed the morning of my flight, while he was running late for work. “Well, uh, it was nice meeting you,” I said. “Likewise,” he replied. “If you’re ever in my city…” I went on. “I’m sure I’ll make it there one day,” he said. A quick hug goodbye and he stepped out the hotel room door and out of my life, excluding the occasional check-in text/FaceBook message. -It’s odd how these days no one is ever really out of your life forever with social media. All the ghosts of your past relationships, all the skeletons from your closet, forever accessible in virtual form…

Be Wary Of Stated Height & “Roommates”

He looked cute, didn’t live too far, had a job, was about my age, and didn’t write anything too creepy about himself, so I tapped the “like” icon and a few text messages later our date was set. The future is now, I guess. When I asked him to name a time and a place he went with some kind of sports bar at 10pm, so I assumed this would be more about hooking up, but knowing my back-up plan was off the table, I was still planning on showing up. (A few days earlier I’d texted my hook-up buddy after a year of silence to confirm he’d met someone.) Lately most of my nights were ending by 10pm, but I felt like it would be silly to protest after I had asked him to choose, so I kept myself busy and awake. I wore my favorite jeans, a plain black tank top, and knowing he wasn’t that tall flat open-toed sandals with blue nail polish because I thought it represented myself the best. It was an hour away, so my mind raced the entire time. How would the night go? What if he wasn’t attractive? What if he was crazy? What if I said too much? What was I going to order? What if I got tired too early? Would he come all the way back to my place if things went well? Was I willing to go to his place? Would we stop for food because I’d skipped dinner?

I got off the train and it seemed like everyone was already drunk. Women wobbled down the streets in heels, groups of guys laughed trying to figure out the next bar they’d hit, and one guy slapped a girl’s ass as she got in the car with him. (She didn’t seem very upset with him about it and I pretended not to notice.) I was running pretty late. Being that this is completely unlike me, it’d already thrown me into an awkward tizzy upon meeting him. He was pacing outside and I recognized him right away, but he was shorter than I thought he’d be. I mean, I’m considered pretty short for a woman and I was trying to figure out if he was actually any taller than me. I had a second of panic where I started to walk by him as if I’d pretended not to see him yet, but then I stopped walking and turned and he seemed to recognize me too. It was the first time I’d been on a date since my shorter haircut and I had wondered if it would be an issue since my hair was longer in most of my pictures. He hugged me hello and I was awkward as fuck.

We walked into the bar and it was surprisingly completely empty, except for a couple at one of the tables. It turns out it was a holiday weekend and they were closing early, but we had about an hour until last call. My eyes darted everywhere but on him, my body language faced away from him, and I argued with myself in my head about being so superficial as to be this un-attracted to someone over their height. What, I’d always said I didn’t want someone too tall, but now I was with someone too short, so was I really so picky as to have to be with someone who fell within my perfect range (where most people did happen to be)? Here I sat, as Goldilocks. I turned to look at him. He was cute. Everything about his appearance was perfectly okay, couldn’t I let his height go? I’d known his height before meeting him hadn’t I? Sure it was 2 inches shorter than what I prefer, but I’d gone out with someone an inch under it before and it wasn’t a big deal. Had he lied about his height? Had he really said he was just a little taller than he was when he was actually this short, and didn’t think there was a possibility some might be disappointed upon meeting him? I answered his questions with a slight delay because I was in the middle of this conversation in my head. He’d asked what I’d spend that day doing, it wasn’t a difficult question, so it shouldn’t have taken me so long to respond and add, “What about you?” He’d been helping his roommate move out. When I realized what I was doing, and how odd it must have seemed that it was taking me so long to realize he’d asked a question, I turned to face him and started out with, “So where did you grow up?” I ordered my drink with extra olives. He doesn’t like olives, but he does like pickles, and I have 3 jars of pickles in my refrigerator. This is the part where you learn lots of little facts about each other that will usually eventually become utterly useless. I sort of skimped on the details of some of my best stories because the repetition of telling them on so many previous dates had kind of killed it for me. We talked about our jobs, religion, and eventually our past relationships.

I asked him when the last time was that he’d been in a relationship. He shifted his weight in his seat and said “Actually, pretty recently. It ended a month ago.” They’d been together for over 2 years and he ended things because he didn’t see a future between them. I hated that my first thought was, “How tall was she, and was height never an issue?” I asked if they’d lived together and they had. Then something clicked. Clearly I hadn’t been drinking enough. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Is the roommate you were helping move out today your girlfriend?” He paused and nervously smiled, “Ex-girlfriend. And well, to be honest, I wasn’t going to bring it up, but Tuesday. She moves out Tuesday. I’ve been on the couch.” That was different. It didn’t really bother me, but I was a little thrown. We continued the conversation, moved on, and ordered our second drink before last call. The check came with it and while he seemed to be under the impression it was automatically on him to pay when I offered to split it, he was pretty open to it and accepted my offer. I grumbled about it in my head for a moment, but he had offered, my drinks had been more expensive and I had gotten another raise at my job not all that long ago. At some point that night I told him that I’d deducted some points from him for that. “But you offered!” he protested. “I know, But I was hoping you’d refuse. I just offer to seem nice, like I don’t actually care. I don’t usually, except the first couple of dates,” I admitted. He started to defend himself, “See, I never know, because sometimes-” I cut him off, “I know, I know, some girls want the independence and I know I want things to be equal and all that too but I guess I just like to know someone would be willing to pay for me sometimes early on.” At some point I also told him that he was shorter than I thought he’d be. I forget how mean my bluntness can sound sometimes. But I also told him that I wasn’t sure of what to make of the situation because he was cute otherwise. He said he might have rounded up on his height. Clearly. And he was clearly aware of his height.

A group of people had walked in and were excited to find out they were being allowed one drink before the bar closed. My date got up to use the restroom. The girl sitting on my right asked the bartender what the age of the crowd that’s usually there was and then she turned to me and asked if I’d been there before. I asked her to guess my age. She shaved 5 years off my age. I smiled, thanked her, and revealed my real age. Then a guy appeared on my left in the seat my date had been in. “So how’s your date going?” he asked. “Um, alright. Have you been listening the entire time?” I replied. He told me, “He better take you somewhere nicer than this place after this.” I kind of couldn’t believe this was happening. “Well, I asked him if we could get some cheap pizza after this, so I think we’re going to do that because that’s what I requested.” He laughed, “Cheap pizza alright, right on.” He asked how we met and I told him it was through an app. “You actually met someone through there?!” It was only the second or third person I’d met through that one in particular. “Well, listen, if you don’t like how tonight’s going, why don’t you let me know,” He held up his phone to me with the “enter a new contact” screen open. “That’s not nice! I can’t do that!” I said. Granted it wasn’t helping his case that while clearly taller, he wasn’t very attractive. My date returned. “Hey bro, what’s up?” He introduced himself to my date, but I don’t remember his name. They shook hands. It must have been awkward for both of them. “Let’s get some pizza” I said and that ended there as we headed out.

He sat across from me as I hungrily shoveled two slices of pizza into my mouth. At this point I mostly only remember our discussion about how he enjoys eating meat more than salads, and we seemed to be in agreement about a few other things. After that we walked. I told him we were headed towards my place, or at least the best train to take the hour ride back. He was pretty hesitant about it. The walk alone would have been 30 or 40 minutes and I guess he wasn’t really the walking type. It must have been 1 or 2 in the morning by then. I dragged him along a bit further. “So what’s with asking me to meet you at 10pm?” I asked, “I figured this must be some sort of hook up plan more than anything else. When’s the last time you slept with someone?” I seemed to have caught him off guard and he asked if his answer made a difference in anything. He said it was recent. “I get it,” I said, “You and your girlfriend broke up a month ago, and you joined this app. You’re not exactly looking for something serious because you just got out of this long term relationship, and you slept with someone, what a week ago?” He laughed, “It actually was a week ago.” Continuing to guess right, I added, “And she was the first since your ex.” He nodded, “So what about you, how long has it been?” I told him how many months. “Ah, that’s why you’re leading me towards your place.” I laughed, “Not exactly, I haven’t made up my mind about that yet.” He wasn’t too keen on this long walk in the middle of the night I had in mind, so he said if I was inviting him to my place, he’d get us a cab.

Back at my place, I wasn’t impressed with him and he knew it, but all too late. Then it just got kind of awkward. Of course I let him spend the night, it was around 4am at that point, but when he wanted to make up for things the next morning, I just wasn’t up for it. I got lazy about sending him home, though. We stayed in my bed and talked for a while until the morning had turned to the afternoon. Maybe this was actually when we’d had that conversation about who paid for the drinks. “I lost points?” he asked. I explained where I’d deducted points from his score. There are no actual numbers, of course. “It’s like when you go to the carnival and you get tickets based on how well you play the games. You get to trade the tickets in for prizes. Right now you probably had enough for a couple of stickers and an eraser, but you just got the Play Station 2 and giant teddy bear.” I told him I was going away on business and wouldn’t be free for two weeks –which was true. “So, can I see you again when you’re back?” he asked. The idea didn’t really excite me, but then again what else –who else- was I doing at this point? “Maybe,” I answered. “I know how this goes, you know. You say ‘maybe’ now, then we don’t talk for two weeks, and then when I text you after that you say you’re busy and we never see each other again.” Okay, that had been one plan I had in my mind already. I told him we could text and discuss it when I got back. When he got dressed all I could think about was his height again. I thought he should’ve worn a shorter shirt, or maybe if he would just tuck it in…The t-shirt dragged over his pants, swallowing most of his body, and seemed to make him appear even shorter. “I’m going to hurt his feelings, I know it,” I thought. He lingered around, he wanted to kiss me goodbye again, but I was already opening the front door.

I got the “I had a good time” text from him a day or two later and I responded. Another two days passed and I checked in again. I mentioned that I had put my air conditioner in. “So it will be cooler next time I come over?” he texted. “Is that nonchalantly ‘Will you be inviting me over again’?” I replied. “Well given that you are texting me I know I’ll be seeing you again. Though now that my roommate has moved out it might not be at your place.” How forward of him. “Well, you wouldn’t be the only person I texted who I have only met once that I still text, but until the train by you stops skipping my stop, I doubt I’m heading that way too soon,” I texted. “It’s good the other train isn’t far from me either then. How about we hang out tomorrow and then it’s up to you if you want to go to work from here the next day or head home that night,” he persisted. “Too many reasons why I’m not up for that, but we can re-discuss hanging out when I get back,” I replied. “Sounds ok other than re-discussing,” my phone buzzed once again and that’s where this story hangs for two weeks…

Should I have at least thanked him for the compliment?

Maybe I was a little bitchy here, but I was bored and hadn’t replied to any messages in a while…
bitchymayvbe