After my (brief) dating hiatus, I happened upon a surprisingly great date this week. Not surprising for any particular reason other than the fact that I felt primed to be disappointed. My life without dates was going so well, I didn’t feel compelled to add anyone new to the mix.
This week’s date, Mark, and I actually began messaging months and months ago. I eventually fell off the message train when things started up with Sean (about whom an update will appear later this post). I sent Mark a message in a fit of urgent desperation that fateful night two weeks ago when Josh abruptly canceled our date (and our budding relationship). SOMEONE wants to go out with me, RIGHT?! At some point between Josh’s blow off and Sean’s pathetic request for a reprieve (I say pathetic now. At the time, I believe the words that came to mind were romantic, remorseful, seductive), I dashed off a message to Mark. “Hey! It’s Jodie! Sorry it’s been so long! Want to get a drink sometime next week?” Jesus. Who’s the pathetic one now? Happily for me, Mark seemed unfazed by the months of silence. He’d love to get a drink. So, we met Sunday night at a charming, cozy bar (his pick) in the East Village.
Mark grew up in Cape Cod, which alone makes him very different from many of the men I’ve dated thus far in my life (Can I help that brown men are such generous lovers?). He’s much more WASP-y than is typical for me. If a man is wearing salmon-colored pants, I generally assume that we aren’t meant to be. Basically, I figured he was a Republican. I figured wrong! After glass two (or was it three?) of wine, we meandered into politics and I gratefully discovered that Mark is quite liberal in his views. Impressive for a white guy whose parents are small-town, relatively conservative Christians. For this reason and others, I was liking him already. He works in a creative field, and yet still asked enlightened questions about my line of work. He lives with his brother (cute!) who has a girlfriend (good sign!) in a loft (rich!) in Brooklyn (meh).
Only one red flag: Mark couldn’t let the night end without telling me that he and his friends are “notoriously single.” Sweet. Maybe get off a website explicitly designed for meeting a significant other? Though I do believe he said something about this being the right time to get his personal life in order, what with his business doing so well…
We shall see. Mark and I are going out to dinner tonight (His text said to meet at the restaurant at 8:30/9ish. What the hell am I supposed to do with that time frame?! Am I supposed to confirm?? How am I to know whether dinner is in fact at 8:30 or 9 o’clock?! I hate myself). I’m looking forward to seeing him and to eating delicious food. I can’t even pretend I’ve done anything interesting in the kitchen this week (unless we include spilling an entire protein shake all over the stove). I’ve eaten more grilled chicken this week than I care to repeat. I’m having a friend over for dinner Monday night, so hopefully that will force me into creating something special. I hope Mark is ready for me to over-order.
And, as promised, an update on Sean: It’s simple, really. Sean is the devil. He was brought into this world to ruin the lives of women who cross his path. Am I being dramatic? Yes. Is he really that big of a prick? Also, yes. Longish story short, I ended up leaving a very embittered voicemail on his phone. If done effectively, this might have been satisfying. However, at some point in my rant, I was cut off. “Thank you. Goodbye!” The automated voicemail lady knew I was being too nuts for my own good. I can’t be sure who she was protecting—Sean or myself—but someone up there was watching out. Good looks, wireless provider/God. Only one day left until Sean ships off to Bangladesh. Not a moment too soon.
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