He’s not close with his family. Like at all. Neither parents. Nor brother and sister (having one of each).
Now I know what you’re thinking. What does it matter what his familial relationships are like if you’re just trying to have some fun and date him. But the thing of the thing is. To me. It’s weird. No judgement. When people don’t get along with their families. Now it’s not a dealbreaker per say. Because after all. People don’t choose the family they’re born into. You can’t blame a 6 year old who spends the next 30 years fucked up because his dad’s an alcoholic and his mom has intimacy issues. But still. We’re not talking just not close with his parents. He’s not close with his siblings either. And he told me it’s basically because they each married spouses who resemble their father…who is not his father. But shit son. This is your flesh and blood we’re talking about.
Don’t worry though. All of this goes through my head in a matter of 30 seconds and as soon as it does we carry on. Because after all. There’s rarely ONE THING for me that is a dealbreaker. Deals are broken by chipping away at them. Little by little. And there weren’t nearly enough chips yet. So while pool was fun. Like most dates. The boys are done with the pool before I am (not necessarily the date, just the pool). So he suggests we go just up the street to this little place to get something to eat. Now you all know me and my food issues. But alas. You also know I KNOW guys hate that shit so obviously I’m like sure…food…sounds great. He pays the bill and we leave.
We walk to less than a block, go inside and grab a table. It’s a small place. We get menus. He orders another beer. He orders some kind of prawn thing. I get edamame. I figure. Easy to eat. Nothing garlicky or saucy. And no spinach to get stuck in my teeth. I’ll be set. Only. This is me here. The worlds most awkward dater. I’m like a fucking bear. Or Godzilla. Toppling small cities and crushing children in my wake. So there we are just chatting away. When what should happen. Maybe I was laughing. Maybe just breathing in at the wrong time. Who knows. But what I do know is that in one fell swoop. I inhaled a fucking soybean. Don’t worry. I somehow managed to swallow and act like no big deal. Unless of course that soybean is sitting in my lungs and will one day kill me. Other than that I was fine.
But it’s as if awkwardness is contagious. Like somehow by remaining in my proximity one can become infected with a case of the awkwards. And so in keeping with this theory it was not surprising when ThePhD upong trying to eat a pod. Shot a soybean into his beer. *splash* Where I swear it disappeared until his very last sip when it was recovered. Just Sayin’ Awesome. Oh but wait. Speaking of awkward. I forgot to mention another awesome sauce moment being the very moment I walked into the first bar and saw him. See I didn’t notice till I went to the bathroom. But I had button my tunic-length sweater thing…into the wrong buttons. Aka lopsided. Aka just call me Poindexter.
Detour. So I kind of forgot to mention. A little bit about the balls on this dude. Because the PhD. wasn’t so subtle. Unlike TheNickName and Trucker Joe. Dude was going for it. Almost right from the start. Within an hour of our date commencing he was hand-around-the-waisting, close-standing, and I’ll admit it first-kissing. That’s right folks. He planted the first one on me while we were still at the pool hall. Now it’s hard to say if I was keen on it or not. But what I did know, was that I was undecided and thus didn’t want to blow my chances pending I did want future kissing. So I allowed that first kiss. Short and sweet. Adorablly cute pulling away. Something about being shy and all that jazz.
Back on track. So while at the restaurant things were no different. But here’s the funny thing. Touch my thigh under the table. Sure. Even get a little frisky/slutty/ballsy and move from the one thigh to the centre of two. Whatever. But start feeling my waist. My sucking-it-in-already-trying-to-look-thin-you-know-I’m-chubby-right-what-are-you-feeling-for-waist-area-touching? What. The. Fuck. Um…no. Because now again I’m going to have to pull out the I’m shy and I like to take things slow. When in reality the truth is please-don’t-touch-my-chubby-belly-when-we’re-out-in-public-and-people-can-see-me-with-you-on-this-first-date-in-a-city-where-there-is-always-someone-nearby-who-knows-me.
But he takes it all in stride. Our plates are cleared. He orders another beer. Now I know I sound like a prude. Counting beers. And a hypocrite in fact since as far as drinking goes. I was always go hard or go home. But here’s the thing of the thing. At a house party. Or a nightclub. 3 beers in 2.5 hours is no big deal. It’s fun. It’s a night out. It’s barely anything. On a first date when both people drink. 3 beers in 2.5 hours might not be the best idea. But it’s not a fucking disaster by any stretch of the term. But 3 beers in 2.5 hours when your date is sober? I mean really. Come the fuck on Bridget!
Because the thing is. A first date. Is like a job interview. There’s a reason you dress up. Make sure you smell delicious. Pop in a breath mint. Get your hair did. Etcetera! Because though you haven’t a clue if you want the job forever. In fact you don’t even know if you want the job at all. But you damn well want to make sure that they offer it to you anyways. And then you’ll have the option to accept or decline. I mean shit son. Best. Fucking. Behavior. People. Social fucking protocol. And another little sidebar for you drinkers out there who tend to forget. With every drink you down. A breath mint should be considered. Because no matter how full up with the natural equivalent of parsley (aka have good breath)…alcohol ruins that. And while your tipsy ass might not notice. Your date sure as fuck will. Just Sayin’. Not to mention. You’ll want to be very careful of what stories you tell. Because you’d be surprised what doesn’t seem so inappropriate after 2-3 beers.
But don’t get me wrong. I know I’m kind of making this date sound. Er. Um. Not that great. But the truth of it was. All evidence pointed to him being a great deal smarter than your average bear. Not to mention so far my only real life reference for Grad school information. See the thing is. I know some people with BAs (all from Canadian schools). I know almost no one with an MA or a PhD. and of those whom I must (though I can think of none right now) I can almost guarantee that they didn’t get them from American schools. The few people I know who took the GRE are not people I can talk to in real life, physically I mean. And to have contact with someone who not only has a PhD but also has experience with American universities. Well that’s fucking rare. And fucking awesome. To me.
So needless to say. The conversation was good. He was a wealth of information. And I was having a good time. However, I can’t lie. He was a bit arrogant. In his defense. I can imagine if you’re incredibly smart. Arrogance can creep up on you. But real talk. At some points. He was a bit of a dick. And I said so You’re a bit of a dick! *laughter* He face reads no surprise nor hurt/anger at me saying this. Because it’s kind of true. Don’t worry though. It wasn’t like he was being a dick to me or anything lol. And the truth of the matter is. We have a lot in common. Well. At the very least. We both like cop movies. (a category I’d never really thought about until he used it to answer what kind of movies do you like). For reference. I also like law movies and military movies.
After awhile it was time to go. He lived nearby. I can guarantee he was hoping we’d go back to his place. But alas the moment we left the restaurant I insinuated I was parked just over there. And so he walked me to my car. And then came this awkward moment. I’m not entirely sure he knew it was awkward. I credit the beer for this. But he just kind of stood there. Arm around my waist. Looking at me. In his defense I had been saying I’m shy to his advances all night. And in fact I think he kind of mumbled that in some sort of not-sure-if-I-should-kiss-you-because-you’ve-been-saying-you’re-shy-all-night. And then there was me. Also awkward. Mostly because honestly. I was still totally undecided about this guy. But I did know I didn’t want to blow the job interview. At the very least I wanted to be offered the job. And I’d decide later if I’d accept it or not.
So there we were. Standing in the street. In the misty Vancouver rain-ish. Trying to navigate the end of this date. He said something about us going out again later this week. I said sure, that sounds great, just gimme a call. And then I. I. Yep. Kissed him. Longer than a peck. Not so long that I let him taste the magic in my tongue. And I was off. Leave him wanting more I say. Or at least that’s what I’m trying to do these days. It’s not a science. It’s a skill in progress. But that was it. Date over. And I was off home.
To Be Continued…Here: The PhD (part three): The Aftertext
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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