Society frowns upon asking certain questions. We aren't allowed to ask these questions because we aren't allowed to get truthful answers. The truth hurts. We soften the blow with white lies. "It's not you, it's me." really means you are bat shit crazy. Ironically, its the answers to these questions that would prove to be most helpful.
The question I have turning in my mind since Friday night seems innocent and simple. If we lived closer, would you want to see me again? It's a simple question that would be so telling. Is it me or the commute? If one of us weren't required to drive over an hour in not-so-nice traffic, would you want to find out more about me? If you didn't have to take out a second mortgage to afford gas, would you want to date me?
There are other questions I would like answered. The only person I can think of who would be able to answer them is probably not going to answer them. First of all, I think it would be helpful to have this conversation over a couple of beers. He'd do anything for a couple of beers (albeit, good beers). And since he lives in Arkansas now, I don't see that happening. Plus, I'm not sure he would be all about helping me date someone else. But this is how my imaginary conversation goes: What did I do that drove you crazy? I'm sure a list would ensue. I'd like an honest evaluation of where I fall on the high maintenance/low maintenance continuum. I like to think I'm not terribly high maintenance. I also think I'm probably way off on my self-assessment. Am I fun or do people just tolerate me? Do I really have a good sense of humor? Do I come off as a dumb girl, flighty, or otherwise annoying?
In every day conversation, I want to ask things like, "Do you like me?" A needy chick question, which apparently I am. I'd like a true evaluation of my physical appearance. Some days I like the way I look- a particular outfit, a good hair day, sometimes all it takes is lip gloss. Some days- I don't even recognize myself- pale skin, clothes that don't fit well, enough bags under my eyes to take a trip to Europe.
I thought this dating service might be able to offer some feedback. I'm afraid to ask but I think I'm at the point of deserving some. I'm going to have to bite the bullet and ask. The exchange of phone numbers would indicate some level of interest. But apparently that is another way to soften the blow. And I may just hear the proverbial, "It's not you....."
Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Delaware
A lot of updates:
Initial panic-
At the host station, I told them my name. There's no reservation under my name. I gave them his name. Nope. I conceded and told them it might be under It's Just Lunch. They are scanning their computer and my stomach is flipping over. So she points to something and they ask me, "John and Lisa?" Did I say John OR Lisa? Really, do you think I made up the name Georgann on the way in? Luckily they have a table for us. Phew. As I take a seat at the table, I realize I am under a spotlight. At least it feels like a spotlight. I imagine the terrible shadows cast by the light above my head. There are three other tables with awful lighting, so I scoot around to the next seat., exactly at the moment the waitress is approaching. And now I have to explain why I am changing seats without sounding like an idiot. She asks if I've been there before. No. Then she asks if the person I'm waiting for has been there before. And now I sound like a complete idiot because I have to say I don't know. Based on the look she gave me, it was a slight "I want to crawl in a hole" moment.
The guy-
He's dressed casual but not shabby. As he sits down and introduces himself, I think I hear him tell me his name is Paul. His name isn't supposed to be Paul. I'm not sure what I heard, so now I have a millisecond to decide if I ask him his name again (which is one of the few things they tell me) or say something to make sure the right person was shown to the right table or just shut up. The thought of an awkward mix up sprints through my mind. I ignore my urges to say something. He has average looks, a nice smile, and I still can't decide if his hair is blond or grey or something else. When he first sits down he is either nervous or feeling rushed or trying to figure out a way to escape. That last part is probably just my insecurity.
The restaurant-
Harvest in Glen Mills. The address on their website doesn't really exist (at least not that I could tell), so if you need to find it- it's in the Whole Foods shopping center off 202. They serve local and sustainable food and it was fantastic. Most menu items are less than 500 calories. Delaware said he was starved and asked if I wanted to share an appetizer. I like people who share food. It was a smoked seafood trio. I wasn't carefully considering that smoked fish isn't really cooked, so I tried not to think about it. Still tasty. I ordered Autumn scallops. I highly recommend them but there are only three of them, so don't expect to be stuffed. The dessert tray looked fabulous but I decided not to partake. I had already had a glass of wine so I figured I was nearing my calorie limit. He had the pumpkin pie which looked tasty. Tiny but tasty. It had a great selection of wine and there about six other things I'd like to try on the menu.
The date-
We had nice conversation and I found out a lot about him. The first topic on these types of dates tends to be how far away you live. When I say Reading, I get the bug eyes and exclamation over distance. He lives in Delaware. DELAWARE. We talk about hobbies, work, the usual stuff. We share some outdoorsy interests. He likes gardening and beagles. Score. He seemed interested in my tales of canning. By the end of the night, I am not sure if I kept up my end of the question and answer period. Foiled again by my nervousness. It was very pleasant and I liked talking to him. He is the right amount of animated. And now the interesting part: the dissection of the night: He was personable, interesting, funny and the best part- he paid for dinner. But, three times during the meal he apologized for me having to drive so far to meet him. As many times as I said no apology was needed, he still felt the need to apologize one more time. He also asked me if I saw myself living somewhere other than Reading, where would that be? That replays in my mind. I said I like visiting cities, but wouldn't want to live in one. I really wanted to ask him if he was ever in a long distance relationship. But I couldn't. I didn't want the answer. I didn't want to ruin what felt like a great date. We walked outside the restaurant together, I thanked him again, he apologized for me having to drive so far again, and kissed me on the cheek. We exchanged phone numbers. I thought for sure as I drove home that he would call me. Twenty-four hours later doubt has crept in. Did he keep apologizing because he felt sorry that I wasted my time driving down there? I didn't think it was a waste of time, I hope it wasn't. I hope he calls.
Initial panic-
At the host station, I told them my name. There's no reservation under my name. I gave them his name. Nope. I conceded and told them it might be under It's Just Lunch. They are scanning their computer and my stomach is flipping over. So she points to something and they ask me, "John and Lisa?" Did I say John OR Lisa? Really, do you think I made up the name Georgann on the way in? Luckily they have a table for us. Phew. As I take a seat at the table, I realize I am under a spotlight. At least it feels like a spotlight. I imagine the terrible shadows cast by the light above my head. There are three other tables with awful lighting, so I scoot around to the next seat., exactly at the moment the waitress is approaching. And now I have to explain why I am changing seats without sounding like an idiot. She asks if I've been there before. No. Then she asks if the person I'm waiting for has been there before. And now I sound like a complete idiot because I have to say I don't know. Based on the look she gave me, it was a slight "I want to crawl in a hole" moment.
The guy-
He's dressed casual but not shabby. As he sits down and introduces himself, I think I hear him tell me his name is Paul. His name isn't supposed to be Paul. I'm not sure what I heard, so now I have a millisecond to decide if I ask him his name again (which is one of the few things they tell me) or say something to make sure the right person was shown to the right table or just shut up. The thought of an awkward mix up sprints through my mind. I ignore my urges to say something. He has average looks, a nice smile, and I still can't decide if his hair is blond or grey or something else. When he first sits down he is either nervous or feeling rushed or trying to figure out a way to escape. That last part is probably just my insecurity.
The restaurant-
Harvest in Glen Mills. The address on their website doesn't really exist (at least not that I could tell), so if you need to find it- it's in the Whole Foods shopping center off 202. They serve local and sustainable food and it was fantastic. Most menu items are less than 500 calories. Delaware said he was starved and asked if I wanted to share an appetizer. I like people who share food. It was a smoked seafood trio. I wasn't carefully considering that smoked fish isn't really cooked, so I tried not to think about it. Still tasty. I ordered Autumn scallops. I highly recommend them but there are only three of them, so don't expect to be stuffed. The dessert tray looked fabulous but I decided not to partake. I had already had a glass of wine so I figured I was nearing my calorie limit. He had the pumpkin pie which looked tasty. Tiny but tasty. It had a great selection of wine and there about six other things I'd like to try on the menu.
The date-
We had nice conversation and I found out a lot about him. The first topic on these types of dates tends to be how far away you live. When I say Reading, I get the bug eyes and exclamation over distance. He lives in Delaware. DELAWARE. We talk about hobbies, work, the usual stuff. We share some outdoorsy interests. He likes gardening and beagles. Score. He seemed interested in my tales of canning. By the end of the night, I am not sure if I kept up my end of the question and answer period. Foiled again by my nervousness. It was very pleasant and I liked talking to him. He is the right amount of animated. And now the interesting part: the dissection of the night: He was personable, interesting, funny and the best part- he paid for dinner. But, three times during the meal he apologized for me having to drive so far to meet him. As many times as I said no apology was needed, he still felt the need to apologize one more time. He also asked me if I saw myself living somewhere other than Reading, where would that be? That replays in my mind. I said I like visiting cities, but wouldn't want to live in one. I really wanted to ask him if he was ever in a long distance relationship. But I couldn't. I didn't want the answer. I didn't want to ruin what felt like a great date. We walked outside the restaurant together, I thanked him again, he apologized for me having to drive so far again, and kissed me on the cheek. We exchanged phone numbers. I thought for sure as I drove home that he would call me. Twenty-four hours later doubt has crept in. Did he keep apologizing because he felt sorry that I wasted my time driving down there? I didn't think it was a waste of time, I hope it wasn't. I hope he calls.
Friday, September 27, 2013
I need closure
I am a girl who likes closure. I would much rather have someone call me and tell that things weren't working out, or he's just not feeling that spark, or that I'm an unbearable, high maintenance bitch. That is a better option for me compared to just never calling again. I hate trying to decide when it's time to give up hope completely. And I think it absolutely lacks balls. Just grow a set instead of taking the pussy way out. Or something a little less hostile.
So I am deleting FG from my phone. Two weeks have passed without any word, one week since he's been back in PA. This is my official "you are dead to me" move. I don't have time to wait for you. I've got better things to do. Like think about my date that will be in eleven and a half hours.
So I am deleting FG from my phone. Two weeks have passed without any word, one week since he's been back in PA. This is my official "you are dead to me" move. I don't have time to wait for you. I've got better things to do. Like think about my date that will be in eleven and a half hours.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Mini crisis
Crisis is a relative term. In my work with seventh and eighth graders, their definition of crisis is very different from the rest of the world. Crisis for them is their best friend isn't talking to them. Or another girl likes your boyfriend (that you've dated for an entire two weeks in a row), is trying to steal him away, and is telling everyone in school that you are a skank. For me, my crisis is about my hair.
My appointment for cut and color was timed perfectly. I carefully scheduled the appointment two days before the due date of the girl who does my hair and knows how picky I am. I mean, how often does a first time mom deliver early anyway? Coincidently, this was the day before my date. You can't ask for more perfect timing. Except that she delivered early. Which left me in my living room, screaming, "Why? WHY? Why do bad things happen to me?" OK, not really. But I was bummed. (Mom and baby are doing fine; I'm not a total, uncaring bitch.) The earliest time I could get an appointment was Saturday morning. That doesn't help me look fabulous for my date. Who wants to go on a date with grey roots, especially a first date? We all try to hide things like that until at least date 5 or 6. I know that real people don't notice the grey as much I do. And I know that boys probably have less of a chance of noticing anything about hair color. But that doesn't change the fact that I know the the grey is there. Like I said, crisis.
My appointment for cut and color was timed perfectly. I carefully scheduled the appointment two days before the due date of the girl who does my hair and knows how picky I am. I mean, how often does a first time mom deliver early anyway? Coincidently, this was the day before my date. You can't ask for more perfect timing. Except that she delivered early. Which left me in my living room, screaming, "Why? WHY? Why do bad things happen to me?" OK, not really. But I was bummed. (Mom and baby are doing fine; I'm not a total, uncaring bitch.) The earliest time I could get an appointment was Saturday morning. That doesn't help me look fabulous for my date. Who wants to go on a date with grey roots, especially a first date? We all try to hide things like that until at least date 5 or 6. I know that real people don't notice the grey as much I do. And I know that boys probably have less of a chance of noticing anything about hair color. But that doesn't change the fact that I know the the grey is there. Like I said, crisis.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Reasoning
If I send you a text, you have two reasons for not texting me back within twelve hours. 1. You are dead. 2. You are maimed in some horrible accident that has involved amputation of both hands. Those are the only reasons. If it isn't one of those two reasons, you are dead to me. There is even a little leeway if you choose to call instead of texting. I'm flexible like that. And I knew it was going to take FG more than 72 hours to get in touch with me after returning from his week of sitting in Canada while holding a fishing pole. Yes, I know there was some casting and reeling in fish involved, but mostly I imagine sitting and holding a pole the majority of the time. All that translates to the beginning of the end. He either really doesn't want to be dating, or he doesn't want to be dating me.
Friday marks the return of my optimism. I'm optimistic that this time might be the time that things go well. I'm optimistic that I will look cute and appealing and not desperate. I imagine witty conversation without nervous laughter or awkward silence. I can picture myself driving home while grinning. You know, that goofy grin of a good date. My long term goals aside, right about now, I could use just one good date.
Friday marks the return of my optimism. I'm optimistic that this time might be the time that things go well. I'm optimistic that I will look cute and appealing and not desperate. I imagine witty conversation without nervous laughter or awkward silence. I can picture myself driving home while grinning. You know, that goofy grin of a good date. My long term goals aside, right about now, I could use just one good date.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Now is the time
This is my season for dating. And by that, I mean what I'm wearing. Yes, apparently I am that shallow. This is the season for long sleeves, but not sweaters. Pants or jeans but no need for snow boots. No need for bulky layers for warmth or flimsy fabrics to stay cool. It's the perfect camouflage for any self consciousness. I can order a drink without worrying about the condensation dripping on me when I take a sip. And yes, I've thought of that. While I still might get very red from a drink, as evidenced by the familiar flush after a few sips of wine last week, I can escape from the drippy-ness of summer drinking.
And this weather is perfect timing for another date. So Lisa, the Dating Un-Coordinator, has a chance to redeem herself. And it starts by that fact I don't have to drive into Philly. This place will still be an hour or so with traffic, but it's not the Schuylkill. Of course, I've investigated the restaurant, it's menu and the directions for next Friday. Not two days from now, but a week and two days from now. My eternal optimism is piqued again.
Details are again sketchy. Chris, graphic design and technology, 49, blue eyes, blonde-ish hair, likes travel, arts, music, museums, and has a good relationship with his family. Sounds great. As long as he shows up.
And this weather is perfect timing for another date. So Lisa, the Dating Un-Coordinator, has a chance to redeem herself. And it starts by that fact I don't have to drive into Philly. This place will still be an hour or so with traffic, but it's not the Schuylkill. Of course, I've investigated the restaurant, it's menu and the directions for next Friday. Not two days from now, but a week and two days from now. My eternal optimism is piqued again.
Details are again sketchy. Chris, graphic design and technology, 49, blue eyes, blonde-ish hair, likes travel, arts, music, museums, and has a good relationship with his family. Sounds great. As long as he shows up.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
A week off
So FG is off for a week of fishing in Canada. I'm open to a lot of things. While you'll never catch me gutting a fish, I get the whole fishing concept. I think I could even do the "sit on a boat and hold a fishing rod" as long as I didn't have to touch bait or fish or fish guts. Except that it normally starts before the crack of dawn which is not my idea of vacation. And then I found out this whole excursion is an entire week of catch and release. A week on a boat and you throw everything back. I really don't get that.
If I hadn't called with a 'have a nice trip' conversation, I doubt he would have called me before he left. Not his style, especially since it sounded like they were less than prepared to leave for the trip. If they get cell reception, he mumbled something about calling. I'm not betting on that happening either. So the next little experiment is to see how long it takes him to call me when he gets back. I'm guessing a full 72 hours. At least.
So I get a week off from wondering. Wondering if he will call, if we are getting together (dare I say going on a date?), if he is going to try more than a quick kiss. Instead I get to wonder what in hell has happened to my Dating Un-coordinator. Has she forgotten about me? More likely, has she scrounged up someone willing to meet me? Sadly, I think the answer to all of the above is a resounding no.
If I hadn't called with a 'have a nice trip' conversation, I doubt he would have called me before he left. Not his style, especially since it sounded like they were less than prepared to leave for the trip. If they get cell reception, he mumbled something about calling. I'm not betting on that happening either. So the next little experiment is to see how long it takes him to call me when he gets back. I'm guessing a full 72 hours. At least.
So I get a week off from wondering. Wondering if he will call, if we are getting together (dare I say going on a date?), if he is going to try more than a quick kiss. Instead I get to wonder what in hell has happened to my Dating Un-coordinator. Has she forgotten about me? More likely, has she scrounged up someone willing to meet me? Sadly, I think the answer to all of the above is a resounding no.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
High Maintenance
I can admit I'm high maintenance. I'm demanding, impatient and I want a lot of attention. Not attention in a "look at me" way, but rather I want someone to call me, pamper me, include me in their life and fawn over me. That's not too much to ask, right? Alas, not everyone has the same idea as me regarding this.
So as FG progresses at the rate of a mutant snail, I'm ready to spout off about moving things along. I tried to talk to him in the car last night, but he seemed uneasy. I value my life and know enough not to distract someone driving. I didn't really get to the heart of my questions. What is he waiting for? I'm not getting any younger, time is a-wasting, and let's face it: I'm a catch. (Why am I the only one who feels that way?)
I plan this conversation in my head when I can't fall asleep at night. I want to ask him if he really wants to be dating? He stated he is set in his ways. So am I, but I want someone in my life. I'm not sure he does. He tells me all kinds of plans that he has but never mentions me joining him. Soon, it will be time to scout for deer (or something like that). Alone. He seems fine to do everything by himself. I know habits you've done for 20+ years are hard to break. But I don't get the impression he wants to break any of them. I want to ask him if he is attracted to me. He seems to hug everyone else without an issue, but barely connects when he kisses me goodnight. I want to ask him if he wants to spend more time with me. Except, I'm not sure I want to hear the answer to that. Really, I want to know if he sees himself married. And more importantly, does he see himself buying large, sparkly jewelry?
I did get a few answers. Very few. Twice he was dating someone, then found out she was dating someone else. Yeah, been there and it sucks. But I like to think I took less than 20 years to get over it. I also learned that he still interrupts me so it must not be nerves. As we talked about the size of extended family, I was mid-sentence when he started talking again. I hadn't paused for effect, I was in the middle of talking. That means he totally wasn't listening to the words coming out of my mouth. After that I wasn't listening to the words coming out of his mouth either because all I could think about was saying, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did the middle of my sentence interrupt you?"
And I met a co-worker, K, last night. I'm sure he had the hots for her. He still might. She has perfected flirting in a non-flirting way and he was hanging on her every word. When they were both single, he told me they went out for drinks, went to lunch, were each others' dates for company parties but never dated. Blah, blah, blah. So last night, when she switched her drink to vodka, she set her newly opened bottle in front of him and cooed, "FG, finish this beer for me." Ugh, <gag>. Then he did. They aren't in the same office anymore from what I gathered. I don't really understand the hierarchy of his work yet, but I have to admit that fact isn't terribly upsetting.
All this high maintenance really boils down to one thing. I want someone who wants to be with me. When we're home from work, it would be nice for someone to be happy to see me, hear about my day, rub my neck as I complain about dumb stuff like kids that don't do their homework and parents who have no control over their kids. My dogs do all that, except the neck rub part. Can a man be trained to do the same? (There are two things holding me back from training my dogs on the neck rub part- I don't have enough treats and they don't have thumbs.) I want someone who knows that it's a huge deal when I bake a pie for you. I want someone to miss me when I'm not with them. And I can't stand the thought that he might not.
So as FG progresses at the rate of a mutant snail, I'm ready to spout off about moving things along. I tried to talk to him in the car last night, but he seemed uneasy. I value my life and know enough not to distract someone driving. I didn't really get to the heart of my questions. What is he waiting for? I'm not getting any younger, time is a-wasting, and let's face it: I'm a catch. (Why am I the only one who feels that way?)
I plan this conversation in my head when I can't fall asleep at night. I want to ask him if he really wants to be dating? He stated he is set in his ways. So am I, but I want someone in my life. I'm not sure he does. He tells me all kinds of plans that he has but never mentions me joining him. Soon, it will be time to scout for deer (or something like that). Alone. He seems fine to do everything by himself. I know habits you've done for 20+ years are hard to break. But I don't get the impression he wants to break any of them. I want to ask him if he is attracted to me. He seems to hug everyone else without an issue, but barely connects when he kisses me goodnight. I want to ask him if he wants to spend more time with me. Except, I'm not sure I want to hear the answer to that. Really, I want to know if he sees himself married. And more importantly, does he see himself buying large, sparkly jewelry?
I did get a few answers. Very few. Twice he was dating someone, then found out she was dating someone else. Yeah, been there and it sucks. But I like to think I took less than 20 years to get over it. I also learned that he still interrupts me so it must not be nerves. As we talked about the size of extended family, I was mid-sentence when he started talking again. I hadn't paused for effect, I was in the middle of talking. That means he totally wasn't listening to the words coming out of my mouth. After that I wasn't listening to the words coming out of his mouth either because all I could think about was saying, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did the middle of my sentence interrupt you?"
And I met a co-worker, K, last night. I'm sure he had the hots for her. He still might. She has perfected flirting in a non-flirting way and he was hanging on her every word. When they were both single, he told me they went out for drinks, went to lunch, were each others' dates for company parties but never dated. Blah, blah, blah. So last night, when she switched her drink to vodka, she set her newly opened bottle in front of him and cooed, "FG, finish this beer for me." Ugh, <gag>. Then he did. They aren't in the same office anymore from what I gathered. I don't really understand the hierarchy of his work yet, but I have to admit that fact isn't terribly upsetting.
All this high maintenance really boils down to one thing. I want someone who wants to be with me. When we're home from work, it would be nice for someone to be happy to see me, hear about my day, rub my neck as I complain about dumb stuff like kids that don't do their homework and parents who have no control over their kids. My dogs do all that, except the neck rub part. Can a man be trained to do the same? (There are two things holding me back from training my dogs on the neck rub part- I don't have enough treats and they don't have thumbs.) I want someone who knows that it's a huge deal when I bake a pie for you. I want someone to miss me when I'm not with them. And I can't stand the thought that he might not.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
A new development
I realize a blog is public. I'm not under some delusion that this is protected. I'm deluded about a lot of things, but not that. I don't think there isn't anything that I've posted that I wouldn't discuss in person. But I've been made to reconsider that for one main reason. I think my mom is reading my blog.
I share a lot about my life with my mom. We get along well and I can't say I hide anything from her. But for her sake and mine, I choose not to tell her everything. Let's be honest: there are some things moms just don't want to know. Like that time in high school when I...just kidding.
This revelation has made me reconsider. Are there posts that I need to delete? No. Are there tidbits I would normally blog but now will hesitate? Hmmmm. Possibly. There is one easy solution to this dilemma. Mom, stop reading this. I will tell you about my dates, excluding what I deem necessary for the sanity of each of us. And if you don't stop reading, at least remove the tab on your ipad that shows you were on this site. That way, we'll just pretend you've stopped. And we'll never speak of this again. We'll both be happier that way.
I share a lot about my life with my mom. We get along well and I can't say I hide anything from her. But for her sake and mine, I choose not to tell her everything. Let's be honest: there are some things moms just don't want to know. Like that time in high school when I...just kidding.
This revelation has made me reconsider. Are there posts that I need to delete? No. Are there tidbits I would normally blog but now will hesitate? Hmmmm. Possibly. There is one easy solution to this dilemma. Mom, stop reading this. I will tell you about my dates, excluding what I deem necessary for the sanity of each of us. And if you don't stop reading, at least remove the tab on your ipad that shows you were on this site. That way, we'll just pretend you've stopped. And we'll never speak of this again. We'll both be happier that way.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Hold on
Two dates in one week. Dinner on Thursday and a picnic on Saturday. Can you believe it?
Vietnamese food, three hours at the restaurant and I still felt a bit ambivalent. We discussed some favorites like movies and music. I'm learning things. Some things are confirmed and some I'm extrapolating. I don't think he likes to share food. But I made him. The restaurant has great veggie rolls- lettuce, carrots, sprouts and some other stringy, crunchy bits wrapped up in rice paper. The sauce is the best part. It's a peanut dipping sauce. Really the veggies are just the vehicle for sauce. So when the waitress asked if we wanted an appetizer, I basically told him we were splitting them. And since there were two of them, it wasn't tough to split them and spoon the sauce on each bite. But then the entrees came. I offered up a taste of mine right away. We discussed the flavors and he described his meal. Only then did he ask if I wanted to try his. His was duck so I really only wanted to taste the sauce so I picked a piece of broccoli. At the end of the evening, we stood outside the restaurant to say goodbyes. It's tough to get busy in front of everyone enjoying their fro yo.
During dinner, he invited me to a work picnic. Well, it felt more like his work/hunting buddy invited me. I knew I had a birthday party for my favorite five year old twins but also knew it would be completely understood if I ducked out early for a date. Getting FG is provide some info about the picnic was about as easy as getting info from a teen who just got caught. The attendees were easy questions, dress code a bit more challenging. We had to define capri pants, but he still didn't know what women would be wearing. We talked more about him wanting to get a peach pie as his contribution than examples of the important things--should I wear pants, shorts, casual dress? I nailed down that I was going to wear shorts (and pray for a break in the humidity).
I'm starting to learn that you don't get what you don't ask for. Friday morning- day before the picnic- I'm driving home from Lancaster along Rt. 23 hitting every farm stand between New Holland and Morgantown. At my last stop, I picked up some seconds of peaches. It was the only place that had seconds, but it was only a small basket. So I call FG to see if he found his peach pie. Then I offer to make a peach pie. And he responds, "if you want to." Seriously? Someone offers to make you a pie and you say if you want to??? After we went through that series twice, I finally said, "this is where you say that would be lovely". And he did. A light bulb moment for me and hopefully for him. Now we wait to see if this learning experiment is permanent. And on Saturday I made a pie.
The picnic was fun. Well, as much fun as you can have when you only know one person. A little anxiety which I try to hide by wiggling my toes. I would have felt much more at ease with a drink but the risk of red face--not worth it. The host couple was so welcoming and hospitable. I got a gator ride and there were only three times I thought we were going to tip. Without being overwhelming, most of the women who work with FG made a point to question me. . I saw enough stuffed wildlife and skins of various mammals for about a decade. But it was a nice group and I didn't sweat much. Success.
When he dropped me off, I told him he had to get out of the car if give me a proper goodbye. He chuckled. Then he did. We progressed to a kiss on the lips. He still hesitates a bit, but I'm thinking we need to just get tanked and make out and get it over with.
I think I can source the ambivalence. It's my protection mechanism. If I'm ambivalent, then I can't get hurt. And I can't be blamed if it doesn't work out and he gets hurt.
I find that I am analyzing conversations and tucking away little tidbits to bring up later. It's like an odd cat and mouse game. I'm curious but I'm afraid that if I question FG right away, I'll spook him. So some time later, I'll ask him what he meant when he said that other people wanted to set him up. Didn't he want to be set up? Did they give him her number and he never did anything? What did he mean when he told the hostess I don't mind hugs as we said our farewells for the evenings. Does that mean he does mind hugs? But she just gave him a hug? I have a lot of questions. I want to ask him about previous relationships. How long ago and how long were they? What are his deal breakers? What are mine? I have a lot of questions that remain unanswered.
Vietnamese food, three hours at the restaurant and I still felt a bit ambivalent. We discussed some favorites like movies and music. I'm learning things. Some things are confirmed and some I'm extrapolating. I don't think he likes to share food. But I made him. The restaurant has great veggie rolls- lettuce, carrots, sprouts and some other stringy, crunchy bits wrapped up in rice paper. The sauce is the best part. It's a peanut dipping sauce. Really the veggies are just the vehicle for sauce. So when the waitress asked if we wanted an appetizer, I basically told him we were splitting them. And since there were two of them, it wasn't tough to split them and spoon the sauce on each bite. But then the entrees came. I offered up a taste of mine right away. We discussed the flavors and he described his meal. Only then did he ask if I wanted to try his. His was duck so I really only wanted to taste the sauce so I picked a piece of broccoli. At the end of the evening, we stood outside the restaurant to say goodbyes. It's tough to get busy in front of everyone enjoying their fro yo.
During dinner, he invited me to a work picnic. Well, it felt more like his work/hunting buddy invited me. I knew I had a birthday party for my favorite five year old twins but also knew it would be completely understood if I ducked out early for a date. Getting FG is provide some info about the picnic was about as easy as getting info from a teen who just got caught. The attendees were easy questions, dress code a bit more challenging. We had to define capri pants, but he still didn't know what women would be wearing. We talked more about him wanting to get a peach pie as his contribution than examples of the important things--should I wear pants, shorts, casual dress? I nailed down that I was going to wear shorts (and pray for a break in the humidity).
I'm starting to learn that you don't get what you don't ask for. Friday morning- day before the picnic- I'm driving home from Lancaster along Rt. 23 hitting every farm stand between New Holland and Morgantown. At my last stop, I picked up some seconds of peaches. It was the only place that had seconds, but it was only a small basket. So I call FG to see if he found his peach pie. Then I offer to make a peach pie. And he responds, "if you want to." Seriously? Someone offers to make you a pie and you say if you want to??? After we went through that series twice, I finally said, "this is where you say that would be lovely". And he did. A light bulb moment for me and hopefully for him. Now we wait to see if this learning experiment is permanent. And on Saturday I made a pie.
The picnic was fun. Well, as much fun as you can have when you only know one person. A little anxiety which I try to hide by wiggling my toes. I would have felt much more at ease with a drink but the risk of red face--not worth it. The host couple was so welcoming and hospitable. I got a gator ride and there were only three times I thought we were going to tip. Without being overwhelming, most of the women who work with FG made a point to question me. . I saw enough stuffed wildlife and skins of various mammals for about a decade. But it was a nice group and I didn't sweat much. Success.
When he dropped me off, I told him he had to get out of the car if give me a proper goodbye. He chuckled. Then he did. We progressed to a kiss on the lips. He still hesitates a bit, but I'm thinking we need to just get tanked and make out and get it over with.
I think I can source the ambivalence. It's my protection mechanism. If I'm ambivalent, then I can't get hurt. And I can't be blamed if it doesn't work out and he gets hurt.
I find that I am analyzing conversations and tucking away little tidbits to bring up later. It's like an odd cat and mouse game. I'm curious but I'm afraid that if I question FG right away, I'll spook him. So some time later, I'll ask him what he meant when he said that other people wanted to set him up. Didn't he want to be set up? Did they give him her number and he never did anything? What did he mean when he told the hostess I don't mind hugs as we said our farewells for the evenings. Does that mean he does mind hugs? But she just gave him a hug? I have a lot of questions. I want to ask him about previous relationships. How long ago and how long were they? What are his deal breakers? What are mine? I have a lot of questions that remain unanswered.
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