I had an interesting date last night.
A woman had written me a very lovely, very flattering note on Match about a week ago. She was cute. Not traditionally beautiful, but really, really cute. A real girl next door. She even compared herself to the girl next door and Pam from ‘The Office’ in her profile. She had been a teacher.
We talked on the phone. It was okay — not bad, not great. Unremarkable. But okay. I think we even talked for 45 minutes. Aside from one story she told about teaching, I don’t recall anything else from our talk.
Now, a few days before I had first date with a 5’9 blonde (let’s call her “The Mayflower Girl”) and our first phone call was an HOUR TWENTY — and flew by. It was very sparky. And Mayflower and I even talked a couple more times before our date on Tues. Which was great. And we made out in her car.
I remember thinking to myself, “I should just ONLY go on dates with women I have THOSE kind of conversations with. Long, sparky talks.’ ‘Cause historically? Those women are the women who become my girlfriends. All the other she-was nice-enough-good-looking-enough-talk-was-okay ones really go nowhere. They just don’t.
So I meet this one last night in The Valley. Let’s call her ‘The Nice Teacher.’
She’s right on time. And looks like her pics. And we have a nice time. And it lasts for 90 minutes. And it’s fine.
But I keep looking at her and trying to figure out why I, well, why I don’t want to have sex with her.
She’s cute. And has a nice body. And nice hands. And a kind face. Blouse could have been nicer. And her hair could be longer (both easy tweaks). And she’s an easy laugher.
But every time I went to think of her naked or us having sex or kissing, it was like tuning into a radio station just out of range and all I was getting was all static.
And I was having trouble thinking of things to ask her. Usually I’m an ace at keeping the convo flowing, even to the point I feel like I’m giving CPR to a conversation — but I kept drawing a blank.
But she asks a lot of questions and seems interested in my anecdotes and answers.
I walk her to her car. She drives me to mine. I’m wondering if we are going to kiss. I land just right of her mouth.
I drive home and realize, ‘Huh, I think I’ve been out with women who probably have felt the same exact way about me — he’s cute, charming, good on paper, paid the check, but there’s just something missing I can’t put my finger on….I feel like I should give him another chance on principle, but I can’t deny my gut telling me to move on and wait for A SPARK with someone else….”