Official Date #2 with Paul (from previous two entries) was last night. We’d chatted the evening before on the phone. The fact that we talk on the phone is crucial to this entry because he is NOT a texter. At all. It is not his form of communication, and I don’t even know what kind of phone he has because I’ve never seen it out. He just doesn’t phone like most of us do.
It’s refreshing, but it also throws me off kilter. I think the last time I’ve relied on actually talking on the phone without the added benefit of texting was before the smartphone era - I guess basically 20ish years ago, right? I barely remember what life was like before texting! But with him, it’s like texting never really existed. It’s very odd to me.
I mean, sure, he’s texted me a couple of times (two or three word texts) when he wasn’t sure if I could pick up the phone and actually talk, but he told me on our first date that he’s not really a texter and I thought that he was just saying he’s one of those kinds of people who just doesn’t text all that much, but he’s REALLY not a texter and saves all of that time and finger energy and simply picks up the phone and calls.
ANYWAY. We made tentative plans over the weekend to see each other early in the week. We settled on Tuesday evening on Monday evening when we talked on the phone. We also settled on a time…but not a place. He told me to think about it - which…okay.
Tuesday came and I heard nothing from him all day. Not just no text (of course), but not even a phone call to touch base about the evening. I’d told him that I’d be ready to go after getting home from work and walking the dog - would be around 7:15 or 7:30.
I did all my stuff - picked up dog at daycare, straightened up the apartment in case I wanted to invite him up for a nightcap, walked the dog, fixed my hair and makeup. By this time it was 7:15 and I STILL hadn’t heard from him. I was annoyed. I decided right then and there that if he blew me off I was going to take myself out for a drink.
Until a text appeared that simply said, “call me”
So I waited five minutes to cool down and called.
“Hey. What’s the plan?” Was what he said when I called.
[huh???]
I answered, “Uhhhhh…well, you don’t make things very easy, do you?”
He said, “Okay, look. I’m going to get in the shower and head your way. We can walk to a spot close to your place.”
I said okay, but the more I thought about it the more I fumed. What the actual hell just happened? He wasn’t even ready to go? In a way, I can kind of appreciate that he was open to whatever I wanted to do, but the fact that we’d agreed on a time and he either hadn’t heard/listened or was sort of blowing it off?
I don’t know.
So I decided that I was ready to get the fuck out of my apartment and walk off some energy/stress and head over to a new rooftop spot that just opened a few blocks away and have a damn cocktail. It bummed me out that I was getting so worked up over this, but at the same time, it was so weird that there seemed to be a HUGE communication gap happening.
Especially since I’d already played him up as the Man of My Dreams in my head!!!
I walked to the venue and took the elevator up to the rooftop where it was peaceful and beautiful and the sun was setting in the most spectacular fashion. I snapped some photos for Instagram and bellied up to the bar and ordered a champagne (naturally) and found a seat on a sofa where the sunset washed over me like a dream.
And then I waited. And waited.
And I decided, oh well - it was fun fantasizing about this hot, sexy dude for the last couple of days….it was lovely meeting a guy in the most unexpected way…it was a great weekend even if I never see him again.
And just about that time, my phone rang. It was Paul telling me that he was about a block from my apartment. And it hit me…he hadn’t even seen the text I’d sent about an hour earlier that I was heading over to the rooftop bar! He truly doesn’t text. TRULY.
So, an hour after we’d agreed to see each other, he showed up at the bar looking just like my fantasy man again. It was a dilemma because I felt so mad and yet so happy to see him at the same time. He grabbed a drink at the bar and sat down next to me, but he could tell I was super uncomfortable.
So he said let’s talk about this, starting with, “We clearly have had some miscommunication here and I’m sorry about that.”
His demeanor was calm and his reasoning was rational, but I still told him that all of it together made me feel uneasy and thrown. Last week he told me that he was excited about “courting” me (HIS words), I told him that it didn’t feel like courting and that I am not comfortable with pursuing a man and making the plan.
He said he understood and that it was good to talk this through and that he’ll make the plans from now on. But it felt a little weird…like things are now a bit complicated! He even laughed and said that was our first fight! Really?
Anyway. We ended up having a very nice evening even if it was a bit off-kilter. It got cold on the roof once the sun set and we walked to another brand new bar that was adorable and we both liked it. Paul turned to me and said that he thought it should be “our” bar…which again, was cute to me but I stuck my foot in my mouth about it, saying something like, I bet you have lots of bars… or somesuch, which sounded stupid and insecure and now I’m fretting over that.
UGH.
Why is dating sooooooooo nerve-wracking!??
And then….and THEN! The kicker of the whole night was that in the end he explained that HE was thrown off the whole day as well because he’d just gotten his deceased father’s headstone (his dad died last month) and had taken his mother and brother to the gravesite in the afternoon and it was a hard, emotional day.
YOU GUYS, REALLY??! The guy took me out on such a difficult day??!
Again, once I picked myself off the floor and apologized for possibly seeming so dramatic about trivial matters, we had a great end to the evening. We finished our drinks and walked back to the rooftop place where he got his car and drove me home. Nice little kiss and sweet goodbyes, but damn.
He called me about a half hour after he dropped me off, but it was late and I was already in bed and bleary and it would have been a bad conversation on my part because I was out of it from the two Grand Marnier nightcaps I’d had.
No message.
This morning, on my drive to work I decided, fuck it. I’m going to call him back.
I did and he answered and it was a sweet phone call. I told him I was driving past “our bar” and that I’d had a lovely evening with him and that he could call me anytime. He thanked me for calling and we exchanged pleasantries and have-a-nice-days and I felt good.
But still. I need to chill. I don’t want this to end up in Steve McQueen territory.
Help.
xox
GS
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