Back in the saddle again, and this cowpoke’s enthusiasm for all of the new, unsuspecting men that OkC had to offer may have been premature. Had another first last night with one Redondo Beach. That’s how uninteresting my night was, this guy didn’t even have a distinguishing characteristic worth parodying so I am resorting to referring to him by his city of residence. If I were you, I’d stop now and invest the next four minutes of your life into looking up where Crimea is on a map.
We met at Urth Caffe in Santa Monica at 8. I had some terrible hair and a case of I’ve -been-at-work-since-9-am-face going on, but, as a true feminist, I decided not to be self conscious, and instead to be annoyed with RB (not to be confused with Red Barron of my first entry) for his unrealistic expectations and demands of working women. Asshole.
I pulled into my usual Main Street parking lot just as a specimen who looked suspiciously like that depicted in RB’s (let’s just go Arby’s for the fun of it) profile was walking out of the lot. In my rush to leave work I had skipped a needed trip to the bathroom. I checked my phone as I walked to Urth and still had five minutes till meet time. I shot straight to the bathroom inside the cafe, hoping a nearby lurking Arby wouldn’t spot and circumvent me, then I crept outside the cafe where the fateful meeting occurred on the steps.
Within 30 seconds I was pretty sure Arby’s and my expiration date was the same as my metered parking- an hour and 54 minutes. The bubbliness which was translated through Arby’s vigorous head nodding and bursts of sudden laughter that ended .7 seconds after everything I said couldn’t last.
Nice guy, worked for a group of charter schools and seemed very open minded and involved in LA happenings, but there was no attraction. I deftly declined his invitation to get a drink while we roamed Main Street post lattes, then also passed when asked if I wanted to share a joint in the parking lot. But was still cowardly enough to say ‘Yeah, definitely!’ when he asked if I’d like to hang out again. Still. The fact that my transcribed response merits only one exclamation point is a sign of progress. 2012 Liz’s performance would have required at least three as well as an attempt to set upon a potential time and date for a follow up that she would later cancel by texting a plausible excuse that prevented her attendance and communicated her regret about 24 hours before the intended meet up. For good measure.
The beat goes on.
firstdatesfordayz 