Mr. Nice Guy

     I woke up Sunday morning to the sounds of suitcases banging around the hallway as my roommates’ family was heading out after their two week stay.  The noise startled my cat and she thought the fastest way to escape from those big scary suitcases was across my face.  After spewing a colorful Sunday morning vocabulary, I hobbled to the bathroom to see the damage.  Grabbed a tissue, laid back in bed, and bled for about twenty minutes.

     Received a phone call midday to arrange plans to meet the newest guy.  We decide on early evening.

     Getting ready for the date I decide to go light make-up.  Not that I really had a choice in the matter since my cat left me looking like Frankenstein’s offspring.  Did my best to make-up around the open wound but due to the location I’m sure this guy will think I lost a battle with the tweezers while plucking my eyebrows.

     I received a text saying he was running about thirty minutes late.  Diva.

     We met up at a Barnes & Nobel before deciding where to head off to.  He asked if I was hungry.  Told him, “I’m Italian.  I can always eat.”  That was my polite way of saying I was starving.  He asked if dinner was okay since he hadn’t eaten.  We found a restaurant and got a table.

     He, for the most part, looked like his pictures.  Small framed, thin guy and not really anything I normally go for but Dr. D recommends dating against type, so here I go.  He is definitely lacking a bone-jumping quality, but overall a nice guy.  And to his credit, I have to say, so far he has done everything right.  He called once during the week just to chat.  Didn’t ask bizarre questions like, “So, do you have any babies?”  Sent a couple of texts throughout the week, none of which were at 11:30pm asking if I wanted “to meet for a friendly drink.”  (Yeah, that’s happened before. –A couple times.)  And then actually called the day we were going to meet to solidify plans – not text, not email – called!  It is sad that a phone call is what I consider “doing it right.”  Since most online daters think that the dating only takes place in cyber world, it is rare to find a guy who actually calls.  But I digress…

     Now to get into the first impression I must have been leaving. —

     During the appetizer I felt a huge chunk of prosciutto get lodged into my teeth.  Not a big ta-do if it was in the back of my mouth but this was front and center.  Tried getting it out with my tongue while he was talking but was afraid I was making vulgar faces.  When he turned his head to look for the server, I shot my hand to my mouth and tried to get it out with my nail.  Failed attempt.  Damn those guitar classes!  No nails on my right hand.  Next time he looked around shot up my left hand and victory.  Now I just need to remain composed through the meal and not shovel the food in to calm my hunger.

     He is a midwest guy who doesn’t drink much but enjoys a good beer.  Headed to a bar with a wide beer selection.  Turned our they were having their Belgium Beer Festival and with the purchase of a Belgium beer you get a souvenir glass.  Cool.  I like free stuff.

     Amidst the second beer I felt as if something had fallen on my head.  I ran my fingers through my hair but didn’t feel anything.  Then put my arms on the table.  I then felt a bunch of sandy grit on my arms.  Still listening to him talk and throwing out the occasional “uh-huh,” I casually brush the dirt off my arms.  Leaned back on table – more grit.  This time I lean back, casually brush the dirt off my arms again and then off the table.  Check my hair again and mid-hair stroke realize I am sending off major flirt signals.  That would explain the sudden twinkle in his eye as he talks to me.  I can’t have that.  I don’t feel any mo-jo jive coming from him.  There can be no twinkling, not yet at least.  I may need another date to see if the tide has changed in the mo-jo waters.

     To simmer the twinkling and with my hand still mid-stroke, I quickly ask, “Did you feel that?”

     He replied with a very slow drawn out, “Nooo-ah.”

     Oh great, he’s giving me that look.  I know that look.  I give that look.  Can I really blame him?  I’m feeling myself up at the table, with a gash above my eyebrow, and looking up at the ceiling while I talked.  I’m sure I’m scoring big points in the crazy department.

     When I finally get my head out of the rafters and look down at the table I see it.  “Ah-ha.  Look.”  And I point to little pieces of gravel scattered all over the table and on the menu.  Fortunately missed the beer.  Part of the ceiling did fall down.  I wasn’t crazy and that look disappeared.  However, the twinkling resumed. 

     But at the end of the night, I can’t complain.  My date was a nice guy and he liked me.  Just need to figure away around his lack of sex appeal.  Hmm…

    

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2 Comments »

  1. Caleb Said:

    Way to go Midwest guys! Sadly you’re right; actual phone calls are pretty rare these days. I always feel like I scored 8 bonus points just for making a call. Maybe it’s a midwest thing- we’re much more likely to call, hold doors, ask you polite questions about yourself, etc.

    It’s only after a massive influx of beer that we, uh, let our hair down.

    Good luck with this one!

    Caleb

    PS I’m totally “firsting” your comment sections. Tell your cousin to snap to it!

  2. Mama J Said:

    This one deserves a second date for sure! I am liking the “real gentleman” appeal – a classic phone call, a beer drinker and primping before the date. My recommendation is to pick a place that doesn’t have structural problems. Looking forward to more on this one…hopefully, unless he just totally doesn’t turn you on at all. Then Mr. Nice Guy turns into Mr. Dud Guy.


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