He’s the one who contacted me, wrote me a long introductory email about how I should take a chance on him. It wasn’t generic. I could tell he’d spent the time to review my profile, detailing why we would get along. It wasn’t about taking a chance. As soon as his email came through and I reviewed his profile, I thought he was perfect.
On most first dates, I try to be really low-key. Despite ample screening, I know first dates can be either really good or really bad. Very few are mediocre. I’d had a long week. On Friday, I was working late. Our date was at 8pm at Florio on Fillmore in Lower Pac Heights. I got home and got ready. I surfed the web, didn’t really make a big deal of it. Then I re-read his profile. I really liked what I saw. I was attracted to him. He met my height requirement, Catholic, went to Wharton, grew up in Santa Cruz, started up his own successful consulting business here in the city. Lived and worked in the city. And cute. It doesn’t get much better than that. Ohhh, here’s the icing on the cake. He’s a burner. I could’ve married him on the spot. I applied another layer of lip gloss. I could marry this guy. Try to look a little cuter, will ya?
He offered to pick me up, said he was really looking forward to our date. Made the reservations, wanted to take me out to dinner. FUCKING RARE. Guys don’t take girls that they meet on online to dinner anymore. Let’s face it. You want to give yourself an out. If it’s not working out, might as well cut your losses at a few rounds of drinks at the most.
As much a gentleman as he seemed, I told him I preferred to meet at the restaurant. He was there early, texted me that he was at the table, waiting for me with a bottle of wine. Two hours at dinner, I fell in love. Two local kids who grew up going to Catholic school, worked hard, played even harder. We talked about our career paths, our interests, our favorite bars and restaurants. I told him my funny Burning Man stories, he told me his. I described how our RV had broken down once we had arrived at the playa…that getting an RV for next year would be up in the air. And when he said that he rented one every year, I exclaimed, “Problem solved. I’ll just stay with you.” And he grinned. He said he’d actually gone on Facebook and taken the time to look at all my different pictures and albums.
He laughed so much during my stories I detected tears coming out of the corners of his eyes. I swooped in on his main course and pushed my own plate toward him to share some of mine. I smiled. Throughout the dinner, I thought…allelujah…I have met my match. Not some hot guy I want to hop into bed with, but someone I respect, someone I was attracted to, and someone I would want to spend every day getting to know.
He grabbed the bill like a gentleman and asked to walk me to my car.
Once there, I asked confidently, “So when are you going to call me?”
He laughed uncomfortably. Then responded, “Uhhh, I don’t think we’re a good fit. Sorry.”
I was so stunned, I’m certain he saw my face flush neon pink in the black of night. I secured myself in my car and tried not to watch as he walked down the street.
Did he just say that?
I can’t believe that just happened.
Did I just dream that date?
What a nightmare.
What a nightmare.