The other night I went on a date. WTF. I’ve been on so many unofficial dates that it’s weird to read those words back to myself. But I’m trying this new thing called being open minded. So despite the *smh* disapproval from shallow friends, I went. I can be shallow too btw.
We had Indian at Udupi Palace, and I had a great jalepeno infused vodka cocktail at this cozy little bar called Laszlo that I will definitely be visiting again. We talked about growing up in San Francisco. The best concerts we’ve been to. Where we were when the Giants won the 2010 World Series. And he never hesitated to tell me how pretty I was, or how I had nice hands. I still don’t know how to accept compliments gracefully, but I’m getting better at it.
Overall, it was a solid date. However, there was no spark. No chemistry. No, as I like to call it – “oomph”. I began to think about the last few guys I dated that did provide those types of feelings. There was the handsome halfrican I saw at the park. He’d fuck me from the 20th floor of his condo, and email me about my blog overseas. And who can forget the half white, half El Salvadorian basketball player? He was the first and only guy I ever kissed on the first date. He’d hold me close and kiss me as we danced, as if there wasn’t anyone else in the crowded club.
The two didn’t look alike, but if you asked any of my friends they’d probably say they fell somewhere within my “type”. And they’d definitely say this guy wasn’t my type. I mean, he’s a vegetarian yogi for fucks sake. So does this mean I won’t go be going out on another date with him? Of course … not. I gave the two assholes mentioned above way more chances than they deserved, so I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to give this guy one more. I owe it to him, and most of all myself. And if it doesn’t turn into a romantic relationship, we can be yoga buddies!
I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants right now lol.