My date last night was interesting. The fellow, whose picture I hadn’t seen, was easy to recognize. He was as he’d described himself, about 6 feet, blond-ish, green eyes, wearing black and gray. He’d said he was cute in his profile, though that’s not what I thought when I saw him. He was fine looking, not bad looking, but not exactly cute. Still, attractive enough.
We sat at one of those high small tables you find in bars, face-to-face. We ordered drinks, beers, and eventually got something to eat. (I only had a salad, which led to eating less than perfectly healthy snacks later that night.) He was bright and easy to talk to. He is a lawyer, concerned with the environment (in that slightly annoying, vaguely apologetic, I’m-doing-more-to-save-the-world-than-you-are way), and considers himself progressive. Which he is. We got along fine, the conversation was interesting, but he called me out on things in a completely unnecessary and unsettling way. I broke a promise to myself and mentioned the blog. (Although I’ve found that “blog” means something else and this is really a "diary." But, whatever.) He was talking about his own writing and was embarrassed to mention that he is working on a novel. I asked why he was embarrassed and he said it was because it was “trash” and just to sell. Oh boy, we are ambitious, aren’t we? I mentioned that I did some writing too. I said my problem was that I was a good writer (technically) but I don’t have any ideas. He said he had plenty of ideas, but that he wasn’t so skilled a writer. There was, however, no suggestion that we team up. He asked what I wrote and I said short stories. He asked if there was anything else and I sort of mumbled about a journal. He said, “You’re not a blogger, are you?”
I said, “Well, yes. Well, no actually, because I just found out that it means something else. But, yes. I am.”
He asked me to tell him more about it, but I wouldn’t. I said it was against the rules and that I hadn’t meant to bring it up at all. He said I seemed to have a lot of rules. (I do, but I feel free to break them—they’re my rules, after all.) I talked about it in general and told him that I really loved writing it, loved the community and how I thought it was good for my writing. That part of the conversation was fun.
Then we rolled over more into relationship conversation zone. I talked about vip-ex, for reasons I can’t fully explain. It was something about doing fun things in New York City. One of the only times I had a some fun nights out in NY was when I went to visit vip-ex after he’d moved there. Technically, we were broken up, but I still went up there and we had a good time—that is, after I got through sulking about him having a new girlfriend. Lord, what was I thinking? Well, I didn’t go into all that, but it was not exactly what I wanted to talk about. I got to musing generally on relationship stuff and I said that I had this old line, sort of a joke, “I never lie, except about important things.” His reaction was, “So you do lie?” I tried to explain what I meant: that when you talk about your feelings sometimes it turns out not to be true. That feelings might be the most important thing, but you don’t always know how you feel. He challenged me, “I don’t believe that. Feelings don’t change.” I felt put on the spot. I was angry. In fact, I wanted to leave right then. But I didn’t, I just kept talking to him and tried to give examples. Like, how one might think something is ok one day, but then realize it really isn’t ok. He didn’t buy that either. I said people do crazy things when they are in love. He wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t angry anymore, but I wasn’t so crazy about him.
The evolution of that little phrase, “I only lie about important things” comes from a specific incident when I was in college. I had a mind-altering crush on a boy in the dorms. While we weren’t exactly a couple, we were a little more than “just” friends. I managed to talk him into not ending whatever it was we were doing by being perfectly honest. Later, I realized that I’d been perfectly manipulative. I felt like I had lied (I hadn’t). But, that’s where it’s from. Of course, it’s not true at all. Sometimes I don’t know how I feel, I can’t sort it all out. Usually, though, the only person I lie to is myself. More’s the pity.
Before I knew it, it was 9:30. He paid, but I gave him money. He waited just a minute for me to catch the bus and I shook his hand. When I got home he sent me an email saying he’d had an interesting time and hoped I got home safe. I wrote back this morning saying I was safe and also had an interesting time. I think that’s it.
When I got home, I IMd with Philly. It is a shame that he lives so far away. He has a lot to say and takes the time to type it all out. He's enthusiastic but it's not overwhelming. He's smart, but not trying to impress me. He just seems like a really genuine person. I'm sure I'll keep chatting with him, but I'm not sure where it will go.
Tonight, I will see DrG. He left a message for me last night and I could swear he was suggesting that I meet his parents. Very, very scary.
Grateful for: good conversation and not blowing my top over nothing.