What I haven't done is mentioned much about the fellows I've been meeting on JDate©. I'm not sure how to do this, since I think confidentially is important. I will change/abbreviate/nickname the guys to protect their privacy. However, I need to work on my descriptive writing skills. I'm good at setting a scene and conveying my own feelings, my reactions and other's reactions, but I'm lousy at physical description. I want to try and tell you what these guys look like and I won't be able to make that up. I'm assuming my readership will be low to zero, so perhaps this is a complete non-issue.
I'll go in the order of the dates. The first date, with musical guy (MG), was on a Thursday afternoon. I was off work early because it was X-mas eve eve. He had left me a message the evening before. He called me on the eve eve and wanted to have coffee. Even though our email communication was brief and the phone call non-informative, I agreed. He had a nice voice. I went back to "work." (Right, I did zero work, but I stared at the computer and read for about five minutes. Five minutes of work. That's what they pay me for. It's very sad.)
I ran out to meet him, not leaving myself time to walk, which I'd meant to do since I seem to be on semi-permanent gym hiatus. I browse some of the shops in Union Station when I get there, just so I won't be exactly on time. I buy nothing. I get to the Starbucks, one minute late, and I don't see him, though I'm not sure I'll recognize him. I walk around to the other side, and there he is, leaning against the wall, holding an enormous bottle of water (ok, a one-liter bottle, but why?). He is about as advertised, maybe 5"8' or 5"9', dark hair, square-ish face, dark, kind eyes, glasses with gold rims. Not thin, just medium, with perhaps the tiniest, completely inoffensive bit of a belly. Dressed non-descriptly in chinos (khaki-colored), a sweater, and a jacket. Nothing special or interesting about the clothes, but nothing objectionable either. The only problem is that he doesn't have as much hair as in the picture. He has plenty, he is not bald, but the hairline has been pushed back considerably since the picture and it annoys me.
We order coffee and sit down. He gets the white chocolate mocha (ugh) and I have a decafe americano (virtuous me, but I add plenty o' sugar and milk). He pays, though I offer (s'ok, he asked and Mom says the asker pays). We proceed to talk. The going is slow. He offers up some recent old movie watching experience. My ears prick up because I am the old movie expert nonpareil. And he stumps me several times. (I do wish I could remember the names of the movies he mentioned, but I'm not so good at that.) And he nearly bores me to tears with his five minute synopses of each of the movies he names. And I can't figure out why I'm bored, because I love old movies and I never meet anyone who knows anything about them and shares my enthusiasm (I have tolerant friends who show interest, but lack depth of knowledge). I do manage to stump him when he asks me about my favorite movie, Born Yesterday. I also tout my only semi-famous movie industry relative. He actually seems impressed.
It goes on like this for a while. There are silences, he talks. At some point, I rouse myself and start participate. I talk, I ramble. I am relieved to listen to something interesting--me!--I feel guilty (I wonder, am I a man?). The musical guy is so-named because he plays many musical instruments, which he enumerates for me. And this is where he also lost me. I try to draw him out about what his music means to him.
Jamy: So, what is the point...what is it you want to do with the music?
MG: Well, I used to play in a wedding band, but we didn't get any work.
Jamy: But, do you see yourself doing something else with it?
MG: First, I'm going to buy a new couch. The one I have is really beat up. Now that I've been in the same apartment for 14 years, things are starting to wear out.
Jamy (puzzled): But, um, what does that have to do with music? Is it just a hobby?
MG: Uh, yes, just a hobby.
I start to think I have a lost soul on my hands. We wrap up and he wants to make plans for the weekend. I demur and say we have each other's numbers and can figure it out, but that I think I might have plans already on Sunday (I do: my plan is to spend the entire day alone because I'm booked solid Friday and Saturday). We shake hands and on my short walk home I try and imagine seeing MG again and I realize I would be terribly, terribly bored. I feel bad, because he was really awfully nice, reasonably attractive, sufficiently intelligent and seemed to like me. But, I just could not picture it. I guess he got the message, because I haven't heard from him.