It's not like a sexual thing...or anything...
Although it pained me for two reasons (1. The outrageeeeeez accent and 2. M was back from Paris), I kept to my prior commitment and my overall “mission” and hung out with Word Man last evening. You all were right, his accent sorta faded into the background after awhile… Thank GAWWWD…I could not have handled an entire date with that mind-abrasion of an accent if it had not at least softened throughout the evening.
He offered me a choice prior to the date of dinner out or him cooking. I chose dinner at his house. I love to have someone cook for me! I am filled with gratitude and respect for any person who offers to cook for me. I subscribe to the “ice water phenomenon” even. What is it about someone else cooking or making a sandwich or even a glass of ice water, that just tastes better (even if it really doesn’t) merely because someone else made it? Post hot-n-heavy sex, my ex boyfriend always grabbed a glass of ice water for me and it never ceased to be the most deliciously refreshing glass of ice water I’d ever had. I used to have the sneaking suspicion that everyone in the entire world must have better tasting water than I. Until one day when he went into my kitchen after a rowdy romp and still delivered a most scrumptious glass of water, far more luscious that any I’d ever made for myself in that same kitchen, using that very same water supply. It was then I realized that it wasn’t that I was permanently cursed with less tasty water than the rest of the world, but everything just tastes better when someone else makes it for you. It could be Kraft mac n’ cheese, a PB&J, or Top Ramen noodles…it just tastes better! So although I’m a far more terrific cook than he, Word-Man did rack big bonus points for offering to cook for me! Thanks again, WM!
…And we played games. I love board games! They are one of the greatest date activities ever! It covers any awkward silences, tosses around ample communication, sprinkled with tiny tidbits of get-to-know-you-better information, all mixed in with some vigorous competitive energy! It doesn’t get any better than that for a healthy, productive, and informative first date…
Contradiction here is that I enjoyed the games, liked him enough as a person, got over the obnoxious accent for the most part, but felt zero – not a dash, not an iota, not inkling, not a speck – of chemistry. Confound it… that damned chemistry anyway! I’d venture that freakin’ thing is responsible for more problems in the whole dating thing than anything else. Why can’t we have an inner switch inside so that when we’re having a terrific time…or even maybe not such a terrific time…but just hanging with a terrific person, we could just choose to flip the switch? How many dating problems across the world would be solved if chemistry wasn’t so damned elusive and we could just turn it on for ourselves whenever we felt it should be there? Or wished it were there?
Oh...your mother picked out these sheets? FLIP THE SWITCH!
Ummm you’re such a nice guy. Nothing. My grandma would so approve. Nothing. Ummm, my uncle might approve too? Nope..nothing. You have a million terrific qualities I adore and admire? Nothing. Hmm….okay…what did you say? You’re a zillionaire and horribly generous? Nothing. You’ve won the Pulitzer? Nothing. Wait! ….the Nobel Peace Prize too???? Nothing….ahhh c’mon….there’s gotta be something there? Nope, nothing…..flip the switch…ahhh……yes… okay……. AND you’re sexy too…I just gotta have you right here on the stairs, in the library…no, I’m not hungry because I must have you here on this very table right this freakin’ second! The museum? Yeah… The movies? Yup! Your car? Umm yeah, you’re so fabulously sexy, I want you there too! I want you every where!
Oops…forgive me please, I got lost for a second there, fantasizing out loud because it wasn’t there for me with Mr. Wordmeister. WTF? He’s my kind of attractive, enjoys so many of the same things I do, cooked for me, made me laugh a few times, and…nothing. Just nothing….
Who needs a date anyway?
Could it be that he talked incessantly of his mother? It’s adorable that she decorated his entire house for him and changes the décor every now and then, right? Actually, I could just be jealous; I’d like to have a mother who does that for me… Could it be his overwhelming allergies to his cat and thus, his chronic nasal drip and nose- blowing? Could it be that when he wasn’t talking about his mother decorating and redecorating his house, he was talking about how much he loves his cat? How he explained in vivid detail that he gets mega-annoyed when dates don’t put the toilet lid down because he’s petrified his beloved cat will get curious and drown in the toilet?
Ms. Snuggle-fluffy doesn't know how to swim!
Awww but that shows his capacity for responsibility and devotion! Right? It’s beautiful…ding, ding, ding, we have a match…I love cats too! He told me how he loves sex… Ding! Ding! Ding! …I love sex too! Don’t worry, he safely explained how he draws the line at bestiality; that if he ever felt sexually attracted to Miss Snuggle-Fluffy, he’d do the right thing and proceed to cut “it” off with a kitchen knife…. That’s charmingly reassuring, right? Isn’t it? Nothing. I felt nothing…except of course, a strong and compelling desire that he not, in any way, attempt any physical connection.
another theory on Ms. Snuggle-fluffy in the toilet-perhaps she wants WM to get a life?!
I’m not so sure you can even fully imagine my utter horror when as we sat at the dining table playing a game of Scrabble (Ding! Ding! Ding! I love Scrabble too! ), my foot accidentally inadvertently mistakenly slid over his. OMG….I didn’t want to YANK it back, as though I was just disgusted at touching him. So I casually just moved it away, trying to be slow enough that my aversion to this kind of contact wouldn’t be too obvious…intentionally avoiding the knee-jerk reaction to snatch my foot away from his as though I’d just brushed it up against an open flame.
Big mistake. He totally misconstrued my attempt to be considerate of his feelings as a desire to play footsie!! GAWWD! After my big-oopsie-footsie mistake, he kept rubbing my foot with his under the table… ever so slowly and gently…in a sexually charged invitation-like fashion. Umm… AWKWARD… I didn’t want to encourage this, but hate to be rude. After all, it wasn’t like he was rubbing MY Miss Snuggle-Fluffy or anything. And were I attracted to him, I would have enjoyed a little bit o’ the footsie action. But I wasn’t. And I didn’t. And he continued…and continued…and continued. My only recourse was to not look him in the eye whenever he did this, in spite of the fact that I could feel his stare blazing on me, begging me to look up and return his gaze. So I just ignored every one of them. I suddenly became very interested in organizing and reorganizing my rack of letters, talking to Miss Snuggle-Fluffy, randomly watching the television- commenting stupidly at whatever was there, and admiring his toaster with sheer fascination…anything I could think to do to avoid his gaze and politely ignore the footsie action he was desperately trying to get going.
My, my, my, that is a TRULY lovely toaster you have!
Flub number 2: As he was walking me to my car, I was really hoping to avoid any kind of good night kiss. Thinking I would make that clear easily by just giving him a quick smooch on the cheek as I jumped in my car. No. I timed it all wrong and accidentally inadvertently (ahem) mistakenly got his NECK! Yeah, it was brief enough (I hope) that he didn’t get the wrong idea of my intentions and feelings, but seriously? How in the hell did I accidentally inadvertently mistakenly get his NECK?! How does that even HAPPEN? What unfair glitch in the universe did I stumble on to make two totally misleading, mistaken, and inadvertently sexually-oriented gestures such as these?? In one night? With one date????!!??
I don’t know. I probably never will. …but I did… And I was horrified! Ohhhh stars…why didn’t I just go with M?
...like nailing Jell-O to the wall! 