Suddenly there are 3 viable suitors in my life. This will clearly blow up in my face. I'm putting that on the record.
Bachelor # 1: DD (Divorcee Dad) We have moved from match messaging to emailing. I misspoke in my previous post and his daughters are actually only 9 and 10, so that does't feel QUITE as creepy as if he had high schoolers who seem closer to my age (I know they're NOT, but my brain hasn't processed that my 10 year high school reunion is 2 years away). DD is an accountant finishing a degree in accounting at KU. I think he's a LITTLE alternative/punk based on looks and musical preferences but seems like a totally crazy-about-his-kids dad. I have never dated another father, so I am interested in meeting this guy for purely experimental reasons. He's fairly no bullshit (which compared to bullshity SmartyPants is a nice juxtaposition) and I kind of like that. I can also currently talk most openly with him about my kid becuase, well, he has kids and it doesn't feel as taboo as with young single never married childless guys. He likes live music, so once I surface from this weekend's final work hoorah, I am considering inviting him out to listen to music (anyone else notice that I'm the girl doing all the asking out? this is HUGE, people! I grew some balls at some point in this experiment!) OR potentially even offering him my other ticket to see Arcade Fire at Starlight (which I had thought I was going to with SmartyPants - which I still MIGHT - ugh...this juggling which is bound to blow up in my face...) I don't know what baggage divorcees come with in terms of emotions. Well, I have a best friend who is getting divorced, so I know a LITTLE about the emotional baggage of divorce but I'm also watching her handle it with great aplomb and with very little impact on HER new boyfriend, so...I guess I need to find out who was the divorce-asking party. Is that a first date question? Also, DD is a much older guy...wait...maybe he's not. I have to check. Okay, he's only 33. Not THAT much older. And it means he had his first munchkin at the same age I had mine. Common ground.
Bachelor # 2: BRGR
BREAKING NEWS! I don't think I mentioned it on this blog, but back on St. Patrick's Day, I was backed into by a gentleman that had been drinking. I naively/foolishly/trustingly did NOT call the cops, becuase it was a big deal to send a strange to jail and my car was drive-able and...and, I don't know, it's what my gut told me to do. So I get the guy's insurance information, call the next day to file a claim and what should I find out? HE HAS NO INSURANCE! Or, his insurance has lapsed, or...something that means I'm potentially the world's biggest trusting idiot. He swears he'll take care of it, and, again, my gut trusts him but everyone around me is giving me these looks of "oh, kid, this is going to end poorly for you." So, we continue to talk and he says he has a brother in law that owns a Morse Chevrolet and he can probably get it fixed up there, etc. etc. All sound sketch-pants, but I decide to throw all in and I email the guy, the most important excerpt of which is:
"...and as a personal appeal, please don't screw me over. I want to believe you're going to come through for me, but bottom line is you're a stranger and I'm putting blind faith in you. Please please don't let this be one of those hard life lessons for me that shakes my ability to trust that people are basically good..."
He writes back that he loves my email and says, in writing, he intends to fix my car but if I want to get an estimate and take my car elsewhere, I should and he will write me a check as quickly as possible. I flounder under this grace and say that I'm going to trust him and to get my car scheduled for the Morse Chevrolet.
Much to my delight in humanity and this stranger's personal integrity, he calls last week to tell me when to drop off my car, that he's arranged everything, and that he's even gotten me a rental car.
"Does that restore your faith in humanity?" he asks hopefully.
"It really does," I say sincerely.
I'm still getting the side eye from friends and family who tell me not to get too excited until the car is fixed and I have confirmed I'm not paying for anything. I drove a Kia Soul for two days and had my own Saturn beautifully returned to me last Friday.
I am touched by this experience, so my schmaltzy ass picks up a thank you card from the grocery store that just says something about small acts of kindness making the world a better place or something, and than hand-write a thank you and that he has not restored but affirmed my faith in humanity which I am genuinely grateful for.
Yesterday, as I'm heading for a date with SmartyPants (more on that next) I stop by the gourmet burger restaurant at which he is a manager, ask for him and hand him the card and just say "it's nothing much, but I just want to say thank you for being a solid human being." He hugs me, says he wouldn't have done it any differently, opens my card and looks at me like I've sprouted a second head. I consider that maybe my gesture is totally weird and start to retreat when he randomly hugs me again, a little longer and less like a stranger.
"This affirms MY faith in humanity," he says when he pulls back. "Can you stay for a bite? On me?"
"Oh, really, you don't have to do that," I say immediately, as he has been telling me since the accident to come in and he'd buy me and my friends drinks and food on him.
"I really want to. You wouldn't believe the last few weeks, but don't think I don't know that I got lucky that I hit a sweet girl like you and not someone else."
Now, I'm not sure I'm going to throw the word "lucky" around because, all things considered, I'd have been fine never being hit at all, but I don't say that.
"My card's in the card," I say. "I've got a crazy week, but maybe after that I'll stop in. I've got somewhere I've got to get to now though."
"I'll call you if I don't see you in here," he promises with a smile.
Wonders never cease.
Bachelor # 3 - Smarty Pants
Now, SmartyPants is old news, BUT we did have our "Arthur" movie date last night - to which I drove ALL the hell the way up north to where he lives. Ugh. Distance. You have to like someone to drive 30 minutes to them. I'm just sayin'
I find his place (they're nice apartments) and he's waiting for me in the parking lot.
"You look really cute," he says, and I appreciate him opening with this.
However, it's 9:43 and the movie starts at 9:50.
"You still want to go?" he asks.
I consider this. What will do otherwise, I wonder, eyeing his apartment with interest. Nothing good, I decide.
"Yup. There's tons of previews - let's rock!" I say. He doesn't argue and we hop in his car and are off.
The car ride is fine - I blather about my weekend and all the work I'd done, etc. etc. and he listens becuase he apparently didn't do anything exciting except go to a lame wedding reception for a coworker the day before. I wonder equally if he is as cagey about information as he seems, as lame as he proclaims, or dating 5 other girls concurrently with me and thus he can't talk about what he's been up to all weekend. With this guy, I can't tell.
He pays for my ticket, and I'm getting to the awkward phase where I wish he'd let me pick one up or that we'd go dutch becuase my independant streak is kicking in. The movie hasn't started and is in previews when we find our seats in the mostly empty gigantic theatre. After all, it's Sunday at 10:00. Most people (including both of us) have to work the next morning.
The movie is so good I watch IT and don't worry too much about making a move on my companion. Also, I want to see if HE'LL make a move. I found earlier in the day during the planning of tonight's excursion that SmartyPants may not be much of a decision maker:
"so, we still on for a movie?" I asked on my way to church.
"sure." (PS I hate this. doesn't "sure" sort of sound like you're strongarming someone into your bidding. you asked ME, bucko.)
"ok...so...still want to go this afternoon? I'm free after 2:30" I text back, choosing to ignore "sure" and give him the benefit of the doubt.
"sure."
okay, now, I can't ignore it.
"dude, do you want to go out with me or not? I worked all weekend and I could hang out with my kid if you're busy," I shoot back.
"I really want to see you. :-) what time works best?"
son of a bitch.
"i'm free after 2:30 but i have to mow my mother's lawn for her, so i just need an hour of daylight at some point. So I could do afternoon or after dinner?"
"depends on what you prefer."
I'm going to punch him through the phone. I literally am going to grab through the phone, find his collar, and shake him.
"okay, well, if you're letting me pick, i say after dinner. the later the better," I say, thinking I can hang out with my son till after he's asleep and then head towards SmartyPants and the northland hole of far far away. Also, evening holds more promise for making out.
"just tell me when you're heading this way."
The planner in me is rolling her eyes.
"Look up movie times since you know which theatre is near you and then I'll tell you what time I can be there," I instruct as I'm moving between church and a church class.
"There's an 8 at the dive theatre, or if we go at 9:50, I can take you to the nice theatre," he says. I'm at the CVS after my church class now, buying an expensive digital scale upon which I intend to chart my progress on this ridiculous diet I'm on (having realized the very real possibility of having to be naked in front of someone at some point).
"do you have a pref?" I ask, thinking I know the answer.
"depends on what you want."
I talk myself out of handing my phone to the cute checkout boy to read the text and tell me if I'm crazy and that this boy either gives bad phone or that he's just not that into me or that he's playing it too cool.
"Later is better," I shoot back. "I'll head your way around 9."
Back to the movie. In the dark, I see his arms are folded across his chest, but that he keeps moving his hand to his knee as if it MIGHT sneak my way. I smile a couple times in amusement, contemplate a dramatic act of putting my arm around HIS shoulder, and then focus on the movie.
As we leave, I admit "I liked the movie so much, I didn't even make a move on you!"
He gives me a look. I grin back at him.
Back in his parking lot, he says he'd love to have me come up but that he understands it's late if I need to go home.
"I drove all the hell the way up here. I want to see your place," I say.
His place is a nice 2 bedroom with a surprising amount of nice decor, trash the needs to be taken out, and a strange amalgamation of electronics on the coffee table that looks like he's working on a DIY bomb but I assume is probably video game related. He has an expensive leather couch and shows me every room but only gestures to his darkened bedroom. I make a big deal out of assessing and approving of his place, and I think it's funny that he's almost a little embarassed by the state of it.
"It's a bachelorpad," he says with a little shrug. I smile and nod. "I have a lot of guy friends. This isn't rocking my prim and proper world."
He finally invites me to sit on the couch, and then sits ACROSS the couch from me. Like literally on the otherend of the couch as far from me as possible. Dude. You know what we're up here for. It's late. Why are you wasting my time?
We make small talk, but I keep grinning becuase he's CLEARLY waiting and or debating making a move. After one particular pause in conversation in which he's giving me his great blankface and I'm grinning with a lot of knowing on my own face, he says "what are you grinning about?"
"we're making out before I leave," I announce, settling back against the couch with a raised eyebrow of challenge.
Suddenly his whole face lights up. Ha! He IS awkward. He's trying to play it cool, but he's barely covering a geeky mcnerdboy. I see you in there, geeky mcnerdboy. You are nervous and you are trying to cover it up.
"Oh we are, are we?" he counters, raising his own eyebrow.
I nod. "Just thought I'd put that out there." I make no move towards him but continue to grin. Take the bait, take the bait, take the bait.
"And what if I object?" he says.
Oh, biggest bullshit ever.
"Do you object?"
He starts to make a face that says just maybe he does (bullshit!) and I glance at the clock, see how late it is, feel how tired I am from a long weekend, and decide I need to get this show on the road. So I lunge at him. Jump him. It happens.
We're barely kissing though when he pulls back and looks at me.
"Is there a problem?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"No problem."
"Then, kiss me." If he doesn't kiss me, I'm leaving. It's late.
"How bad do you want me to?"
Now, I make a face. "How bad do you want to?" I counter, trying not to look at the clock again.
"I don't know," he says playfully, but my playfulness is bout to wind down.
"I could go back over to my side of the couch and we could keep chatting," I challenge.
"You could" he says, calling my bluff.
Well, hell's bologna. I refused to be ousted, so I retreat back to my side of the couch and have just started to smooth my dress into place and feel surly when he practically tackles me and pins me to the couch.
"How do you like your side of the couch now?" he asks after we kiss for a while. He starts kissing down my neck.
"Better and better," I say.
"Tell me about it," he says, only semi-seriously.
I can't ever take this statement seriously though.
"Oh, [Smartypants] you are so HOT, and funny, and charming. You have great hair and eyes and you are a kissing MASTER. You are the master of all things kissing!" I say loudly with lots of melodrama.
He silences me with a kiss.
"Okay, you stop talking now," he says.
And I do.
At some point, we reach that dangerous point of having made out for a long time, being all hot and bothered, and I find myself having an internal reasoning session. It is late. My father is undoubtedly sleeping on my couch babysitting my son. I'm tired and bruised from a long weekend of events. I'm about to start my period and we both have to work in the morning. Not to mention, any next step take this situation to a different level of situation. And...I'm not sure I should go there yet, especially until I decided how I feel about the other bachelors on my prospect list.
My hormones, however, also make excellent arguments.
I pull back, sit up, breathe hard and try to swim to the surface of the hormonal rage.
"I really should go home," I say. It's after 1:00 now. Ack.
He shakes his head and works on distracting me, but I lean back as far as I can without falling off his lap and the couch.
"I like you. But I have to go home," I say. "To be continued?"
He pouts, pushes my dress up my legs and glances down. I make a suspicious face.
"I just had to know what color they were," he said, referencing my underwear. This makes me laugh.
"Red," I say, flashing him a peek. I show him a bra stap. "Also red." I'm wearing a red dress. "I always match."
"I'll keep that in mind," he says.
"Do you believe in the signs behind the colors? I don't even know what red means, but I know what black means," I say, finally getting to my feet althought my knees are just a little wobbly from the hormonal assault.
"Nah," he says, standing and reaching for me.
More kissing commences, but I managed to back us closer to the exit as we do until I finally pull away, catch my breath.
"I'm GOING," I say firmly.
"I'll leave the door unlocked for 10 minutes in case you change your mind," he says with a smile.
I escape, and I only falter once between the buildings, considering running back up the stairs. Then I beat the hormones done, tell them that there will be another day, and get into my car and head home. He texts me all the way home, clearly surprised and chagrined I didn't take up his little offer to stay.
The last text reads "I was trying to play it cool but I got all caught up in you at the end."
And this tells me a lot about SmartyPants. The question will be whether I can break that cool down quicker as time goes by. I'm interested in trying.
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