Today was a rough day for me, emotionally. Not sure why — possibly because I didn’t sleep well, or enough.
While I woke up thinking about that very sterile text B sent me, in response to the very sterile one I sent him — and yes, a tear or two escaped my eyes (it was two tears tops!) – I really didn’t think much about him the rest of the day — so that was not the reason for the roughness.
I started my day with a four-hour meeting. I hate days like that. Who in their right mind can stay focused on blah, blah, blah for four hours. It’s different if I’m presenting at the meeting, but I wasn’t. I was just sitting there acting interested in between checking my email and texting with my oldest son, who chose mid-meeting to have a ridiculous crisis that only a 17-almost-18 year old can have.
His text after I ignored his call said “Call me mom, it’s urgent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I excused myself from the blah, blah, blah, and phoned him — to have him tell me the crisis. His checking account was overdrawn by $25.38. Really? I did appreciate the meeting break, but that’s not what I told him. What he got was more like “I will call you when my meeting is over.” Click.
When the meeting ended it was noon and I had intended to take a walk and try to refocus but as is generally the case after a four-hour morning meeting I started working and lost track of time.
Around 2:30 one of the guys I’ve been chatting with through the online dating place texted me. He asked me if I had plans, was I available to get a drink after work. I had to stop and really consider that. Was I?
What I thought was: Its Thursday, I need some sleep, I’m kind of grumpy, I have a child at home who expects me around 5, I have a date with a Yoga workout after I feed said child, a nice hot bath and my bed await me after that. Don’t think I’m available.
What I texted was: “What were you thinking?”
I had already decided, before he sent the original text, that I was leaving work at 3.
When he responded that he was ready to leave work right then and mentioned a pub less than a 15 minute drive from work I suddenly became available.
On my way to my car I had to look up his picture, and read his profile so I could remember why I was even interested. And of course I wanted to be able to recognize him.
I sent him a text that said “in case you have forgotten what I look like, I’m wearing a shockingly pink dress today.” To which he responded “sounds hot.” Don’t judge Runner Chick. Don’t judge.
I had to park a couple blocks away. As I approached the corner I saw him approaching from the other direction. He smiled at me and said “the pink dress was the giveaway.” He had a nice smile, which I promptly compared to B’s and then told myself to quit it!
We walked the block to the pub together and he showed me to the courtyard where we sat in the sun. We each ordered beer and the conversation began. It wasn’t bad conversation. He is a cyclist, that’s one of the things I liked about him, so we talked about that. He doesn’t run anymore (he ran in college), but he cycles like a crazy man and his body reflects that.
He made me laugh and laughed at my jokes. He asked about my kids, told me about his job, asked about mine — you know regular stuff.
He had some annoying habits, but I’m new at this and I’m not really sure how harsh I’m suppose to be in my judgment. He didn’t drool, burp incessantly or scratch himself in inappropriate places. He did, however, ask me a question a couple of times and interrupt me before I answered it, kind of like he asked me so he could hear himself talk. What annoyed me most, however, was the way he commented on my legs. It bordered on the lecherous side of 48 (his age).
While I’m use to men commenting on my legs, and I appreciate all compliments, this was the first time I’d ever gotten the sense that my legs were actually distracting him. Like a man distracted by a big set of boobs, who won’t or can’t lift his head to meet the woman’s eyes. It was annoying.
We were there for about 90 minutes and then I needed to go. He made some suggestive comments about the next time we get together, but that was all it was, suggestive. He walked me back to the corner we met on and placed one of his hands on my waist as he thanked me for coming to meet him. I thanked him for the beer and crossed the street.
I wished he hadn’t put his hand on my waist. Aside from his initial smile I had gone the entire 90 minutes without comparing him to B. But the hand on my waist made me remember that this little rendezvous was merely a distraction for me in my effort to move forward.
He sent me a text after I got home and told me he enjoyed the company and conversation. I enjoyed it too, for what it was worth. But if I never see him again, it’ll be okay.