I've openly admitted I have very little experience with first dates. Other than the T-Shirt Guy I had been friends with my serious boyfriends for quite a while prior to conning them into loving me. In spite of my naivete I feel like I've been doing a pretty good job. I think. I cover all the basics: Polite manners? Check. Cute outfit? Check. Plethora of funny stories? Duh, check. Just to make sure, I like to go over all important points with my colleagues.
The entire English department is made well aware of my upcoming dates and are also privy to the post-date wrap-up, whether they want to hear it or not. As far as I'm concerned, it is their duty as literary experts to listen to me tell my tales. (I mean, my well developed dating narratives are definitely on par with the likes of Jane Austen, Shakespeare and Homer. What, no?) Or at the very least humor me and my silly sensibilities, whichever.
Tomorrow I will be filling them in on my date last night. This was a second date with The Stockbroker who is perfectly nice. He's successful and bright, funny and ambitious, tall, drives a nice car and most importantly, he has a dog. Truth be told, I went on this second date at the urging of some of the other teachers.
The first date was somewhat of a bust similar to the other first dates. He was nervous and a bit shy and I was nervously babbling on and on. It was a Wednesday and after a stroll through the park with the pups, who, by the way, got along splendidly, we drove to a sports bar to grab a bite. Well, kids, let's just put it out there, I'm 29 and it was a school night and damn it, I was tired! We chatted a bit but I wouldn't exactly say he knocked my socks off, figuratively speaking.
At lunch the following day, my colleagues were thoughtfully eager to get the scoop.
"Eh," I said, "it was fine. I don't know. No spark."
"Oh god, you are turning into Elaine Benes,"exclaimed my favorite 5'9", grey bearded, uber liberal, female pop-star impersonating, rogue, back-up plan sperm donor.
Defensively I yell, "Nuh uh!... Wait, how so?"
Future baby daddy proceeds to explain that I seem to find minor issues with all these guys I've gone on first dates with; insignificant flaws that I use as excuses to not go out with them again.
"That's absolutely not true!" I shoot back.
Flash of memories involving things I thought during dates: Guys should have clean fingernails. His cologne smells like a retirement home. His right ear is larger than his left. He already forgot I love Radiohead even though I said it 7 minutes ago.
Reactionary inner monologue: Ah crap.
Wait! This can't be happening! I know I want to find the one. You know I want to find the one. My next door neighbor, dog trainer and the guy who takes my order at Pei Wei do too. So if the majority of Phoenicians agree I'm ready to find the one, then why am I picking these guys apart? Simple answer, none of these 5 guys are in fact, the one. Scary answer, I'm subconsciously knocking down every guy who walks through the door out of fear, insecurity and the inability to move forward and not leaving room for the possibility that they are just nervous.
I quickly decided to accept an invitation for a second date and again, it was fine. Yummy Mexican food, lovely weather on the patio, good conversation. The thing is, I left with the same conclusion, no spark. Oh well.
There is one secret advantage to not finding the one: the infamous Elaine dance moves including the thumbs up, elbows out, hair flipping, slow kicks won't have to be seen at my wedding!
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