Madam President, Queen of Snark (kellinator) wrote,
Madam President, Queen of Snark

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In which I have a date and then beat myself up wondering how it went

On my way off to my date, I ran into one of my students. He remarked that I was dressed up, and I said I had a date. He asked if it was a blind date? Kinda, I said, we'd talked online. He said he'd never have the balls for a blind date.

Honestly, I'm not sure how I do.

My date (heretofore referred to as D) and I met at a little coffee shop in Sandy Springs and debated what to do. We dithered for a while; finally we agreed to see a movie and then get dinner.

D let me pick the movie. I ended up deciding on Shallow Hal (not a lot that I was interested in was playing). It was better than I expected. He said he wasn't much into comedies, and I apologized in advance if it was bad. He said that if it was, he would have his revenge. But I asked at the end if I were going to be mocked for the selection and he said no. It felt like we were in that theater forever, I was so self-conscious.

D asked if I had a preference where we ate and I said no, so he took me to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant on Buford Highway, which was excellent. We stayed and talked for a little while afterwards but the place was closing and we wanted to get out of the owner's way. D is obviously a great favorite with the owner -- she even cut the tails off the shrimp in his pho. Incidentally, she did not do this for me and I remarked that this must be her way of saying my kind wasn't wanted 'round here. Topics of conversation included the movie, rude Scottish jokes, and the coolness of Laurence Fishburne and Samuel L. Jackson.

He dropped me off back at my car, explained he had to get home to get sleep before church in the morning and apologized for being in a bit of a weird mood. I asked him if he had a good time and he said yes; I asked him if he wanted to do it again and he said yes. I told him to call me. Then I waited for him to kiss me, and he waited for me to get out of his car. Finally we shook hands, I gave him a peck on the cheek and he gave me a little half-hug.

So now I'm in my typical Kellinator-mode of overanalyzing.

I could tell that D was in a weird mood. Some of the people I conferred with think it's a good sign that he apologized. He's a little too on the quiet side for my tastes, though he did seem to open up more with time. And very serious -- I had trouble getting him to laugh, though a couple of times I thought he might be laughing at me, and this made me quite paranoid. He was very courteous, opened doors for me and paid for everything, as my mother has tried to tell me men are supposed to do. I enjoyed his remarks on literature very much.

I like him. I could potentially really dig him. But I'm afraid he's not going to call, not even going to have the decency to blow me off straight-up. I wonder if expecting failure is what gets me in trouble? I shouldn't do it.

I fucking hate dating, especially the uncertain how-did-it-go part at the end.

I'm going to worry myself to death now.

  • (no subject)

    You know you're getting old when "too drunk to fuck" becomes "too drunk to floss."

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