Another date tonight. This one was set up by the shitheads at It’s Just Lunch. (8 down, 6 to go.) Except again, it wasn’t lunch. It was drinks. (On a Friday? Come on!) We went to Panache between Connecticut and 17th on Desales. For anyone who doesn’t know where that little street is, it’s between L and M.
I got there and the bar was packed. I’m hoping Date Eight is not mixed in the mess of Eurotrash at the bar, but then I remember the lunch people told me they made reservations for us under both our names. This waiter asks me if I need help as there really isn’t a host. I say, “I’m meeting someone here and I believe we have a reservation.” He goes to look. I can see that they only have a whopping 3 reservations on the screen. I give him my name. He shakes his head. So I give Date Eight’s name. Shakes his head no again. Surprise – no reservation. Like I’m shocked at this point that they’ve slaughtered yet another detail.
The waiter says, “Well is he here?” At this point, ANYONE could have played it cooler than I. On the other occasions I have been asked this question, I always screw it up. Immediately I stick my foot in my mouth up to my knee and start blabbering about how I’m being set up and I don’t know what he looks like. The waiter is laughing and says, “Blind date! Fun!” I said, “For you maybe.” Once this line of questioning starts, they inevitably ask about the “friend” who set us up. It’s too complicated to explain that I’ve entrusted my dating life to a bunch of sorority girls with double digit IQ’s. I decided to just take a table, half to get my foot out of my mouth and half to make sure I didn’t push my foot in any further.
He arrived shortly after I did, and the same waiter (who ends up not even being our waiter) brought him to the table. I felt instantly comfortable. I don’t know exactly what it was or how to put my finger on it. Last night with Steve1, when I saw him I wasn’t attracted to him and knew I would never be attracted to him. He put his hand on my knee or touched my elbow and I almost cringed. But tonight with Date Eight, it was more like, “Ok, I could see myself maybe dating this guy.” I think I’m at the point where I’m now conscious of that first 10 second impression rule. Alas, he didn’t touch my elbow or knee so that I could test my theory.
Again, there aren’t a lot of details. We have a lot of odd similarities. We are both the youngest of three, he grew up two towns away from me, just over the N.Y. border, parents still married. Although, his parents seem relatively sane compared to Jekyl and Hyde over there at the Velvet Family Compound. We drank, ate, had good conversation all the way through and that was that. He was going to meet friends, I was going home so I could go to bed. I’m planning a day of Christmas shopping tomorrow. I must buy all sorts of cute clothes for little baby.
On the way out of the restaurant, the waiter shook both our hands and said, “Bye Velvet!” I was surprised he remembered my name so I said, “Wow, you’re good.” And he said, “So are you.” What? What has he heard?