V Day

I've written about BBQ before. He's the only man I've met in person during my Dating Scheme 2013--the rest are online catches.

Quick recap:
1. We met at a BBQ (hence the name--I called him Wino before, because he's in the industry, but decided that wasn't too flattering)
2. First date: his favorite restaurant in Napa where we had a nice time. No sparks but I'm willing to be surprised, right?
3. Second date: hike and dinner at a country club. Said hike lasted all of 30 minutes; BBQ was huffing and puffing so hard I thought he might have a cardiac event. He claimed several times he would be "so sore" the next day. I was completely incredulous and really had to work at it not to laugh! (Shame on me, but I come from a family of hardier stock where the men are always challenging each other to mock feats of strength and endurance.)
4. Third date: a walk along the river and dinner at a Mexican restaurant. And this is the setting for the tale I want to tell.

In between these dates there were a flurry of emails. The first came on the day I met BBQ--it was a long missive. He was so excited to have met me his hopefulness practically effervesced from the page. (I don't mean to mock him--how wonderful to be so optimistic upon meeting that he's already built up a grand idea of who I am! Wonderful for him--not so much for me.) After the first date, where I told him lightly that I had been engaged last year and was taking things slowing, dating other men, he sent me an email begging me to give the relationship a chance.

Now, I don't think you can (or should) hinge a person's intentions on one word, but through our interactions it became increasingly clear that he was vividly imagining a relationship with me. Whoa boy!

Why didn't I just say, "Hey, we're not on the same page and you can't even hike a semi-hilly terrain for 30 minutes. Adios!"? Because I need to date all sorts of people (I guess)--"my type" keeps turning out to be not my type. I keep feeling like the cruel, careless guy in these interactions. (Why? because I'm simply not in love.) Maybe, I think, if I just hang in there long enough … Maybe if I agree to go on dates with guys I normally wouldn't go out with I'll be surprised. (Spoiler alert: I haven't been surprised. But neither am I jaded. Promise.)

Anyway, one of the email interactions addressed kiddos. BBQ has one wee lad and no interest in any more. "And he doesn't need a mom; he already has one," he said. No problem here. I am 95% sure I don't want kids--that 5% is reserved for the off chance that I meet a guy who sweeps me off my feet and wants kids really badly. (And because he's so great and gives me time to myself and doesn't expect me to be something/someone I'm not, I agree to have kiddos and thus lose my free time but it doesn't matter--not in this pretend scenario.)

So BBQ and I are sitting at a table overlooking the river and I order these perfectly awful fish tacos. I ask him what he's doing for the long weekend. "Oh, probably just hanging around the house. There's a golf game I want to catch." This seems a little strange, but it also seems as though BBQ doesn't have a friend group. Then he continues, "I'm, um, having a procedure tomorrow and will need to lay low." Ah, I say. I know immediately that he's having a vasectomy, and I don't want to talk about it so try other lines of conversation.

Somehow, despite my best efforts, it comes out anyway: "I'm having a vasectomy."

"Good for you," I say, wishing I'd ordered a margarita instead of a beer.

He doesn't leave it at that, though. He describes how he's stocked up on bourbon and made sure he has spare icepacks in the freezer. "And," he says meaningfully (was that a wiggle of the eyebrows?!), "it'll take two month for everything to test, you know, clear." He makes a swishing motion with his hand. Christ.

First of all, I know this. I had a boyfriend with a vasectomy once upon a time. Secondly, though of stalwart medical background, I just don't want to talk about sperm over terrible fish tacos. Most pointedly, his sperm. Not a good sign.

In all seriousness, I realized that this was the kind of conversation that would be welcomed (and necessary) in a relationship-type situation. I wasn't there; evidently he was. The next day, post-surgery, he updated me with his status: "Ice pack and bourbon." And the day after that, he extended that invitation of joining him in his living room on a beautiful Saturday to watch TV: "I'll be on the couch with my ice pack." OMG. I said thank you, no, I was going to San Francisco for the day.

Fast forward to now: we've parted amicably. I think we're on good, friendly terms--I was honest without being cruel. Connections are important to keep in this too-small valley, after all.

A First

The coolest thing happened! A/S and I spoke Friday and after a good conversation about why the second date was so weird, he let me know that he preferred that we remained friends. Whether we actually stay friends or not is beside the point (though I hope we do): I have never had a man call me after two dates and let me know where things stood! Have you? (My girlfriends are incredulous and impressed with A/S.) That man has chalked up some good dating karma points for sure, and his honesty and forthrightness has buoyed my spirits. I hope he finds his person soon.

The incredibly cute photographer mentioned in the previous post was as cute and nice and funny and great as ever yesterday. I suspect that he is gay after all, and anyway he mentioned a "we." So male or female, I'm definitely not in the running. Oh well. I wore a super cute outfit for the day-long shoot and garnered the attention of his assistant and my coworkers. I still got it. ;)

Or, actually, I think I got some of It back. After three months of regular exercise, I am finally seeing some noticeable slimming and toning. My clothes fit better, I feel better and ... just those two things make me feel far more confident about myself--more than 5 lbs (if that) could warrant.

Sunday night I went to a party with a bunch of friends and had the best time. I ended up staying until the wee hours and dancing my feet off. One of our friends, Drop Dead, was super nice and complimentary and fun, but I know he was just feeling lonely. (Such a nice guy, and so conventionally HOT. I'd prefer someone not so sizzling, you know?)

I'm writing one guy on OKC. I'm not jazzed about him, but I'm following the Four Man Plan credo to not discredit anyone unless he gives me the "ickies." (And being bald or too short or too hairy or ... etc. doesn't count, according to Cindy Lu. Ickies kick in when you feel like he could be abusive or that you wouldn't be safe or anything along those lines.) I need to shine my profile, though, but who has the time?

E is for Effort

This afternoon at a business lunch my boss, a motherly sort, asked me whether I had any romantic prospects. "No," I said, quite emphatically. "Not even someone who interests you from afar?" She asked. "Not even," I said.

So there you have it, the fascinating, whirlwind life of a single girl in the Napa Valley. Oh and Ryan? He didn't show at the wine release party. I hadn't heard a peep from him since our last phone call, so I wasn't surprised. And now that I think about it, I really didn't care that he didn't bother to show (or call)--must have something to do with, I don't know, not being interested. Mostly I'm amazed. I don't think Ryan is being intentionally rude; I just think this is further sign of him not having his shit together.

And that, my friends, is one quality I can't live without--I don't care how tall, short, bald, handsome, charming you are. If you're over 33, you've got to make an effort with yourself, your life, other people. I'm not looking for perfection here, I'm just looking for effort. It's that simple.

Ryan Resurfaces!

I forgot to mention that Ryan called on Wednesday. Yes, Ryan, whom I hadn't heard from in weeks! (Not that I was shaken up about it.) I was really surprised when I saw the call coming through and sent it to voicemail.

I didn't get around to returning his call until Thursday. Why return it, you ask? I have a future job opportunity with a relative of his and I think it's in my best interest if I stay friendly--and that's really where I want to move this: to friend territory. We may already be there, but Ryan's message made it clear that he wanted to go out on a second date.

If I were interested in him, I would be so irritated! But I'm not, so it doesn't matter. We're planning on going to a wine release party next weekend. It'll be fun--something to blog about. Maybe I'll wear heels .... ;)