[This is PART ONE of a two-part blog entry I posted on my myspace page in 2007. I thought it was interesting and worth a re-print, given what I'm going through now. Read on...]
In 52 minutes, I'll be meeting a Strange Man. His name is Dan, he's about my age, he works restructuring the public school system, he likes wine, and he's bald. That's all I know about him. And by "strange," I don't mean to imply that he's loony - I hope to jehovahnot. "Strange" as in "unkown to me." Think of it like a blind date. Because that's what it is.
About six months ago, I joined Match.com. There are a lot of men on there. Fewer men in the NYC area, fewer still over 32 and under 46, fewer still who know how to use punctuation, grammar, and spell-check. Dan is one of the very few I "met" on Match. We actually "met" over a month ago, but have both been so busy, we couldn't apparently squeeze an IRL meeting over glass of wine until now. (Mom, IRL is internet-speak for 'in real life.' FYI.) Well, we tried last week, but he cancelled on me at nearly the last minute - "nearly" being the operative word, and sole reason I'm leaving my house in 46 minutes instead of deleting his emails.
This is my first date of 2007! I actually haven't been on a date for a much (much) longer time than that. Don't feel sorry for me - this ain't no pity party. I'm a choosy gal, and this Strange Dan person is by no means the only fellow to show a Match.com or IRL interest in me! (Mom, don't read the rest of this paragraph. I love you.) I mean, I even had some sex in the last few weeks, yay.
Ah, but there's the rub. DATING means: Going on Dates. Out in public. Having food together, drinking wine together. Conversing in slightly crowded watering holes. Checking out a band, a game, a show. And maybe, just maybe, wanting to smooch the other person at the end of the Date. And that is so foreign to me, so forgotten, I'm actually nervous at the thought of leaving the house in 37 minutes. And I do not get nervous. So I'm having a glass of wine before I meet Strange Dan for 'a glass of wine.'
I titled this blog entry PART ONE because I am so very hopeful that tonight might actually elicit a PART TWO. Even though my recent dating history would hardly fill a Post-It, I am looking forward to my Date in 28 minutes. I'm not putting this all on Strange Dan - if there's no chemistry, it's one glass of nice wine and off to Nod. I won't Date just to date. But this is the first new person in such a long time who is gambling, like I am. Who is also going out on a limb and meeting a total stranger to see if there's a connection. Who might even be a little bit nervous himself. Who might be so very aware of the passage of the next 24 minutes as well.
A last gulp of Sancerre rose, check for lipstick on the teeth, obsessive-compulsively feel-around for the keys in the purse, and I'm off. I'm leaving in 8 minutes (22 minutes before the Date) because it's 4 blocks and I'm wearing very high, very sexy heels.
What? Just because I haven't dated in ages doesn't mean I've forgotten how. :)
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