FanMale

This rain is killing me. Each day a fresh torrent. I love the expression on my dog's face when we attempt to complete a loop at Tabor: her top lips curls only slightly and her eyes are at half mast. She has a rough coat and I can see how it would be uncomfortable with the hard rain pelting it. She knows the word car and when I say it, like yesterday, she makes a U-turn and runs toward it with sudden zeal. Then she rolls her snout around in the back seat, on the living room carpet (yes, industrial carpet, I rent) and finally the bed - that's the part I love the best because she growls, rolls, and I get to rub her belly.

Ah! Dog love!

Sigh. If this is all that is going on, I have not been remiss, there have not been many dates. Well, three to be precise. One thing I had not counted on with this blog was that potential suitors might read it and want to take me out on dates. My MO has always been not to complain too much right up front (about dating especially, ah it's all so breezy and effortless for moi) so the fact that two men have read my blog, e-mailed me, asked me out, and we've gone out on dates? Sheer delight!

Well. Sort of. The problem is that both were kind, smart, funny people. I actually enjoyed their company. So, I'd hate to blog anything negative.... Here we go. The Professah (this is said with my dad's Bronx, Jewish accent) moved out here from the East Coast, to teach. We met for a date at the Sokol Blosser Winery on Monday of Memorial Day weekend. This was an exquisite idea for a date, and of course, mine! I love the view from the wrap-around deck and the lovely hills that unroll in all directions.

We sampled several Pinots, a Reisling, meandered from table to table hearing about each special sample while music wafted in from some invisible place. The Professah was smart, nice, a good listener, and probably reading this as I type - except that he is far away, spending the summer abroad with his old university (long story).

So, we had a nice time, discussed the dents in our cars. I saw his, I showed him mine. There was a slight peck on the lips, so light I wondered if I'd been kissed at all. He called the next day to ask for Date 2. I liked him.

We met downtown at Powell's during the Rose Fest. Never a wonderful idea, and according to a man I'd meet later that night, people can get stuck downtown until 1am because of the parking and the stupid parade. So, The Professah had trouble finding a parking space and we needed to move his car in an hour. We wandered into Powell's and I felt oh a tad overdressed and made up for the lighting, but we separated quickly on his suggestion: he went to the subject he teaches (which I'm obviously not sharing on purpose) and I went where else? Literature! I could spend years there, and it's all fine, it's all great, it's whatever - but this doesn't feel like a date.

We make our way back together and go to the car to move it and grab drinks and food at Andina. Wonderful stuffed peppers! Beautiful plating! Vibrant! Colorful! Good Date Place! Stop me. Seated at the bar, we are next to a man who is young, kind of attractive, hyper (tapping his foot) and talkative. He may or may not have been hitting on me. He seems like my usual type: cute and mentally off balance.

I direct my attention back to The Prof and while the conversation is at points fun, revealing, and cute, it is also lacking some spark, I fear. I wonder if I will always like turds and idiots and why I cannot like someone who appears kind, smart, employed, easygoing, and reasonable. Although this being Date 2, perhaps I give him too much credit?

The Prof needs to go to IKEA. We had discussed this before the date and I'd invited myself along (I am so bad at this dating stuff). I had thought it could go either way: I'd break out into a cold sweat or I'd have a fantastic time, like singing and dancing in the aisles, IKEA, The Musical. But I'd nixed the idea later, not in the mood and it didn't seem The Prof really wanted me to go, and that was fine.

He drove me to my car. He had a laptop in the trunk of his car and needed wireless to get directions, so I pointed him to the closest coffee shop and we parted ways in the most unromantic of venues: a parking lot. Polite emails were exchanged and I'm left with this thought:

Why is this so hard?