You know that rant I had the other day, about how I fail at life? Well the date that was canceled became uncanceled and last night I headed to the north side with electric nerves and met my friends and had dinner and two glasses of red wine. This was before Boy came. After the wine my nerves were no longer electric but more like satin, and I danced around the kitchen. And was ready to meet a potential... something.
I was more than impressed when he finally did show up, bearing Great Lakes beer, and it was instantly clear that he was my type. For the record, my type usually goes along the lines of, physically, a mop of curly hair and blue eyes and a cozy shirt, a flannel in this case. Because I'd ironed out my nerves I started talking to him pretty quickly. A few cocktails were made and downed and then the four of us were walking to a bar. After a while one of the group dropped off to go to sleep (5am wake-up call). I had a Cosmopolitan. We walked back to the apartment and the other went to sleep too, and then it was just me and Boy on the couch and beer and infomercials until around 4am.
So here's the thing I hadn't realized about myself until last night: this whole journalism thing? It's, uh, kind of seeped into my personality. When I talk to someone, the natural tendency to float from question to question to question ("Where did you grow up?", "Are you a Lutheran?", "And how did you feel about it?") is very much present. Poor Boy. I don't know if he started the night intending to tell me his life story, but now I know it, down to his dad dying eight years ago and leaving him a guitar, his current no-marriage, no-baby outlook, and the fact that he likes to buy books online so that he gets a package in the mail.
There were pros and cons. The cons include the fact that he smokes (although he was very amiable as I reminded him that he was going to die of lung cancer). But the pros are pretty good. We have the same favorite book. We were able to talk for about six hours straight. And there was actual chemistry, at least on my end. Chemistry like he'd smile and I'd go a little soft, and I kept looking at the buttons on his shirt. I also liked when he talked about his job and mentioned specific cells and procedures and I had no idea what he was talking about. Ooh, talk nerdy to me.
He finally did leave at 4am-ish and there was no kiss (nor any physical stuff up until that point) but there was the awkward, drawn-out looking-at-each-other moment and then a hug. And a suggestion that we "hang out" again.
When I came back this morning he'd added me on Facebook. In 2010, I guess that's Step 1. Of course, I figure the ball is in his court, but my lack of dating experience always leaves me a little bewildered (are we friends? Is the anticipation of dating still hanging in the air? Should I initiate something?)... good thing this week is heavy on the work for me. Of course, there is an expiration date on this hanging-in-the-air thing, I'm sure. As of now, I wait for the unusually dark-and-brooding scientist to get in touch. Or I bother my friend to find out what he thought.
..on second thought, that seems like a good route.
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