[dropcap]I feel[/dropcap] like I need to give a speech. A preface. To my readers. My oh so lovely readers. Because I worry. About your hearts. More than I’m concerned about my own. I’m worried you’re going to be let down. Like Trucker Joe really lifted the bar on the first date. And now when you find out he’s just a normal guy and I`m not ready to sign my life away. You’re going to be disappointed. That it was’t the soul mate love you were hoping for. But then again. Maybe all your excitement is just that. Excitement. The same way that when you’re friend tells you she bought an amazing new dress. That’s it’s friggin’ gorgeous eeeek! And that’s all it is. A comment. After that you’ve forgotten about the dress and moved on. I mean you’re happy for her. But that’s the end of it. You haven’t hung your hopes on the dress or anything. Yeah. That’s right. Sounds good. So let’s carry on then.
So when I last left you, I had just had a 1st date with Trucker Joe. He clearly wanted to hang out again, though he expressed that with words and not kisses. He had mentioned something about being off work on Tuesday. Two days later I get a text message. Good Luck Tonight. Knock ‘Em Dead. He was wishing me luck on my first of a series of playoff games for the weekend. Nicely done Trucker Joe. Nicely done. Points for remembering. Points for making contact at an appropriate time.
Detour. Because here’s the thing boys don’t seem to always know. Sure enough. You don’t want to seem too eager. Texting and calling constantly. Not great. But also not great? Waiting too long. Don’t let that window close. There’s a small gap where I’m blinded by the success of a first date. And that is when you need to strike. Fast and hard. Make it count boys. Make it count.
Back on Track. The weekend goes by. We did not win the playoffs lol. I did however, manage to snag Playoff MVP for my team…woohoo! Sunday night. My phone is fucking up again (shocker!). I send numerous texts to my softball buddies. Only about 40% are received. Fuck. Me. I send TheHell some tester texts. They appear to go through. I risk it. Don’t ask why I don’t just call. I don’t fucking know. I’m retarded like that. So anyways. I send a text. Blah blah blah something cute I’m so adorable blah blah blah. He responds back repeating something I had written on Friday about unhittable strikes. Fucking top notch listening (reading) Trucker Joe. Keep it up and you’ll have this (me) in the bag.
He texts that he’ll call. He calls (I never hear it ring) and leaves a voicemail. There’s a lot of texting and calls (to my phone) going straight to voicemail. Fucking phone. Ugh. We eventually connect. Make plans for Tuesday night. What do you want to do? he asks. I’m lame and respond umm…I don’t know and then try to save it with I’m pretty much up for anything. He suggests going to Crescent Beach.
Detour. The thing about Crescent Beach is it’s pretty big. And there’s no one parking lot. Frankly there’s barely a parking lot. It’s mostly just a ton of side streets. So he suggests we meet at this park and ride thing and drive together from there. Since I’ve decided he’s not a serial killer I want to ride in that Big Sexy Pick Up Truck, I’m totally onboard with this idea.
Back on Track. We meet. Using the oh shit handle and a running start I manage to hoist myself up into the biggest truck I’ve ever gotten into (seriously where’s the step up thing?). I get in. I actually mention the lack of step up thing at some point and he mentions that it’s not like he really needs it a 6’1. (I knew he was taller than 6’0 and I honestly wouldn’t be shocked if he was just “guessing” and was closer to 6’2 or 6’3). But I digress. So we drive to the beach. Everything is good.
Yeah. Take a moment. Brace yourself. Because there’s an except. Okay it’s not that serious. But it did cause the cutting short of the date. Long story short. He’s looking after his married friends’ cat. But just before they left. Something’s wrong. Sick cat or something. So instead of having him drop by. They’ve got another friend to stay there. Only he has a key. The other friend does not. They say the other friend will pick the key up after work (5ish). She does not. She doesn’t even call till like 630pm. He’s already on his way to see me. He says he’s got plans. But of course he’s not a total douche (though frankly I would have been more of a douche). He says the best he can do is 9:30pm. So it’s not the end of the world. But of course, this means our date has a time limit. It will definitely get cut short. I don’t reveal that this is sucky. I’m all smiles and breezy. We’ll just make the best of what time we’ve got. (who is this chick lol I’m sayin’ right?)
So we talk and park. We walk and talk. I’m wearing the cutest short sun dress (please note this students, it will come up again at a future date.) He’s looking adorable again. Though. This time. I remember to look at his shoes. Something I neglected on the first date. I was so blown away by his clothes lol! So they’re…okay. Allow me to elaborate. They were clean. They were new. They were just black running shoes. They weren’t addidas shelltoes. Anybody else would have thought they were perfectly fine. Even good. Obviously I’m judgemental and particular. But I can let it go. Nobody’s perfect lol!
So more walking and talking. He asks if I want a coffee or anything from one of the cafes. I thank him but decline. It’s actually a bit windy. And my earrings are clinking around. Hair is everywhere. I’m having enough difficulty just keeping my little sweater thing on my shoulders. Plus I’m clumsy. Holding a coffee would be like the 10th plate. Juggler drops everything.
He asks if I’m okay to walk to the point. I am and we do. The place is pretty busy. I get the feeling he was hoping we’d be alone out there. But alas. The 4 underage kids drinking on the right and the constant parade of walking elder couples kind of ruined that. But we sat and chatted anyway. Lots of giggles.
But I won’t lie. He is a guy. And by guy I mean child. There’s lots of talks about toys (dirt bikes). But there’s also other good chat. In fact, at some point he says something so witty that I laugh out loud. I mean like eruption and pat on the back kind of laughter. It was good shit. Alas, I don’t remember it though. Time speeds by and it’s time to walk back.
We get back to the truck. He goes to my door first. Opens it. Waits till I’m all tucked in. Closes door. Swoon. We drive back to my car. More talking. We’re there. More talking. He mentions something about an out-of-town-friend being in town and the boys going somewhere like Kelowna or Victoria the coming weekend. As I’m getting out of the truck I say something like okay well if I don’t talk to you before the weekend, have a great time with the boys. And he responds with certainty and confidence oh we’ll definitely talk before the weekend.
I jump out (remember no step…I’m not exaggerating). I literally jump out. Luckily I have little shorts under my dress. Otherwise I think I would’ve shown him my ass on the fly out. I get in my car. He waits till I’ve started my car. (I actually find this kind of dreamy that he double checks everything is in working order and I’m set to go home before he leaves).
What’s missing from this picture? Feel free to speculate amongst yourselves.
Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time
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