I Am Really Trying

I have vowed to myself to really open up my mind and date good guys. Here is a good example.

46-year-old. I like older guys so that’s fine.
5’8″. OK, I really made a stretch here. It’s very difficult for me to compromise on height. I really do care about giving my kids a fighting chance. But I made an exception.
Partner in an architectural firm. Undergrad and Master’s from Cal.
Bi-coastal NY and SF. Very cool.
16-year-old daughter. Yikes! I’m ok with kids. Believe me, I am. But the thought of me traipsing around with a teenage stepdaughter who is probably a lot taller than me is not pleasant.

We met at Terzo on Union and Steiner. The moment I walked in, I knew the short guy standing by the bar was him. Gulp. I shook the negativity out of my system and gave him a warm smile and hug. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

I’m not going to bore you with the dinner date details. It was boring enough that I kept wishing they would bring our food faster. He knows the owner and probably alerted the staff that we were on a date. It was an unusually long lapse of time between each small plate. Come on already, I kept calling out in my head! Plus there were a few times I prodded him during his drawn-out stories, “And?…unh-hunh….and then what?” I caught myself rolling my eyes twice as I dove into the food.

Nevertheless, I was genuinely touched by the stories he had about his daughter. They had hosted a French exchange student who mailed them a cookbook as a present. The problem? It was a cookbook in French with the ingredients in grams. So while his daughter called out the ingredients and steps by translating everything online, he went to work chopping, pouring, sifting. I envied that and I longed to be with them as he told me that story. How wonderful it would be to watch a father and daughter interact so closely.

I wanted to give him a chance. Here was a really good guy. I knew we’d go out again. After he paid the bill, I called out, “I had a really great time. Let’s definitely get dinner again. My treat ok?”

He shook his head. “No, no, my treat. But yes, let’s meet again.”

His car was parked right out front. He wanted to give me something. A present. A batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies made with love by him and his daughter. I almost cried. Then he walked me to my car with all its bumps, dings, and Burning Man stickers. A very embarrassing way to end the night!