I need to preface this with a few background tidbits. I’ve emailed with Mr. Coffee Companion for months on an online dating site. Initially, I wasn’t interested and really wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He mentioned working out in his profile and I try my damnedest not to date men who are in better shape than I am. We emailed consistently about every topic under the sun from dating to death. And for months (and I mean MONTHS), I was totally content with my little email buddy.
This past June I suddenly found myself emailing with several men. Everyday. And as summer quickly approached and my email relationships were starting to take up more time than my actual dating life, I decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. I emailed Mr. Coffee Companion first and basically said, as much as I love this back and forth email thing, it’s not really getting me what I’m looking for. I then typed my phone number and said, if you’d like to do something some time, give me a call.
He didn’t call, but emailed, saying that he would miss the emails. I didn’t reply and within a day, actually had a voicemail from a sexy sounding voice. I was shocked and took three days to call him back, not wanting to appear available, since we all know no man likes an available woman. We played voicemail phone tag for a few days. By the time we finally talked on the phone this Thursday, I felt like it was probably going to take another three months for this guy to ask me out. I was wrong and he suggested meeting up for coffee, since we were both going to be in the same neighborhood. I figured what the hell.
I could be totally off the mark, but I think I just had a decent first date. Not that coffee is a date, but let’s pretend it is. If it is, in fact, a date, then I would be a little pissed that my “date” didn’t pay for my $5 coffee. But coffee isn’t a date. It’s just coffee. And since it was just coffee, the lack of chivalry didn’t offend me. And in all honesty, I’ve never been a huge advocate for chivalry, since I’ve dated plenty of men who regard themselves as chivalrous, then turn out to be complete a-holes.
After sitting on a Starbucks patio for nearly two hours, I mentioned that I really needed to get something to eat. We had met up after he worked a 10 hour shift and I had a night class. He wasn’t hungry (I’m going to go ahead and assume that he’s either not interested and/or cheap, since I can’t really think of any other reason not to eat something after sitting for two hours…).
He created another half hour of chitchat, which kind of confused me, causing me to think, “Okay? No dinner, but you still want to sit here talking?” Eventually, he awkwardly walked me back to my car. Prior to my December dating debacle, where I took the lead, I would have easily given someone a hug as a greeting and/or parting gift. This time I decided no go. If someone’s interested, they’re going to have to put it out there loud and clear.
He stood there, shifting his weight from left foot to right and mumbling something about his weekend. Between his mumbling and my 20% hearing loss from blasting my headphones through 4 years of high school, I really have no idea how the date ended. For all I know he asked me to marry him at Italian Fest this weekend.
Now, the good part:
- He’s tall (I’m tall and always seem to end up in committed relationships with short guys with Napoleon complexes),
- bald (I like no hair. It’s much better than bad hair),
- nice smile,
- sexy ass,
- nice cute little lips that’s caused me to stop a few times and ponder his kissing (and other) skills. This thought process, in my idiosyncratic mind, lead me to confirming that our offspring would have a 100% chance of having a big nose, which would kind of suck for the kids. The compensation would likely come in the brains department, since he appeared to be intelligent and on occasion, I have access to a few brain cells),
- seemed humored by my goofy comments and was quick to offer his own (and blushed every time I laughed at his jokes…God, I love shy men),
- likes not being a workaholic, citing that “quality of life is more important than money” (Bing, Bing, Bing! Good Answer, Mr. Coffee Companion.),
- and at one point, when discussing the dentist, Mr. Coffee Companion complimented my smile.
I really don’t care if he calls for another date (of course I care, but let’s pretend I don’t, since rejection of any kind generally sucks), but am eternally grateful that I now have enough fodder for a few nights of sex dreams.
This one’s for you, Mr. Coffee Companion. I hope you ask me out again. If not, I’ll see you in my Karma Sutra fantasies.
You Said It