Week 2: Mad, Sad, Glad & FEARful

I meet E. for lunch at Ned Ludd. We're the only people there and since he is completely bald, he's easy to spot. He is bald in a Bruce Willis way and not a Kojack way, which is a plus. I have always had a crush on Addison from Moonlighting, although he had hair then, so that's not really my point. Anyway, I like him immediately because he's easy to talk with, sexy, he's smart and he's nervous. This intrigues me. I like that he stumbles over his words a little bit. He appears confident at the same time. This juxtaposition of someone who is confident and yet nervous around me is immensely flattering, and he had used the word kerfuffle during our earlier conversation. I definitely like him. While telling S. about him she asks what nickname I want to choose for him, but I actually like him so a nickname (and a blog) seems wrong, but I get over this guilt in about 30 seconds and go with: The Body. Because he has a very nice one.

He tells me about his work. He has a law degree but doesn't practice. Instead, he visits with farmers in rural areas and literally breaks bread with them and does something regarding wind power. Though I don't understand, I am impressed! He seems sincere and I could see him being good at his job, which is attractive. He also makes it clear that he has no real plans for the rest of the day – despite common assumption this does not make him appear like a loser, it makes him seem normal and honest. I don't take the bait though, I feel a first date is a meet & greet. He tells me about his acting class and it sounds amazing – the instructor schools them on basic emotions, i.e. mad, sad, glad and fearful. Apparently, everyone ends up crying at some point. I am impressed that he just admitted he cries.

I finish half of my burger, rare with a perfectly ripe green tomato, and we say goodbye in the parking lot. There was enough great conversation to go out again but an equal amount of silence to say there is some tension/attraction.

But as an intuitive empath and general introvert, sensitive type, Meyers-Briggs INFJ, I try not to get too attached to any one outcome. I try to see it like a formal dance with people switching to new partners. That's the thing about on-line dating, you can't take it personally.

Next Date –

I begin to notice that most dates include those selfsame emotions: mad, sad, glad, and fearful or three of the four. I meet D. at Stumptown Annex on Belmont for a cute, ex-New Yorker date: swapping sections of the Sunday NY Times and drinking coffee. In his email he explained that he's a Quaker and upon reflection, he is just looking for friends right now. Fine. I wasn't terribly attracted to his photo, but you can't always tell. He is Chinese and his email to me had stated: Jews love me! Who could resist?

When he arrives I tell him there is a cupping in progress. A cupping is a half hour barista explaining the coffee roots or some jazz, you smell the coffee and then drink it. D. says he doesn't like coffee. I find this odd, since he suggested the place and activity. I instruct myself to be spontaneous, but I also notice he has no newspaper. “ Where's the paper?” I ask him and we joke about that, but I am wondering if he had expected me to get it and I was expecting him to get it. Is he selfish or am I? Whatever the deal, we end up walking over to Clinton to Kettleman's Bagels. I think he's pushing the Jew-thing too far, but it's true: I scarf down my scallion cream cheese and salt bagel.

We walk through several neighborhoods: Belmont, Hawthorne, Clinton and we have a candid conversation and it feels like a potential friendship. I'm subletting my old place in NYC. He's selling his in Philly. Until the end of the friend-date when I feel “mad.” Towards the end of the walk D. questions me about an earlier statement where I said I was giving myself 4 months of internet dating to find someone I liked then I MIGHT move from Portland. He re-phrases this as: so you're giving yourself 4 months to find a husband? I correct him, albeit gently. I am annoyed though and see why he is looking for friendship: he is not so good on dates. He has a chip on his shoulder. I've seen this syndrome before with men and it's not pretty. He asks me about flirting and says that a woman who flirts well is like a salesman and the guy or the flirtee doesn't realize what she's doing but just that he likes her. He goes on at length. I am so accustomed to listening to people, I let him rant. Eventually, I correct him again, this time in a not so gentle way – “D.,” I say, “I can flirt, that's not the problem. The problem is that I want to find someone I really like and vice versa.” I don't need flirting tips from some Quaker who's using the internet to supposedly find friends!

“Oh, so you're a JAP?”

Right now I regret my reaction: calm and cool as a cucumber. I should have told him off. Looking back he was so obsessed with the Jew thing and peppered me with a million questions about being a therapist. I should have seen the signs coming: walking wounded, been on match too long, looking for friendship.

Sorry, D. Hate to be rude, but nobody single is just looking for friendship. We say goodbye near his car and I say I can't remember exactly where I parked.

“You're over there,” he says and points. “I saw you parking and walking over to the coffeeshop before we met up.”

Instead of asking why he didn't say hello or mention it earlier, I walk pretty briskly in that direction.

“See ya!” my keys are in my hand and before you can say Date 4, I've started up my Toyota Carola.