At 8:45pm she arrived at the bar for her 8:30 date, although carrying herself with the calmness of a woman who was only running five minutes behind. When meeting for the first time, it is advisable to show up eleven minutes late. Let him know that you're worth the extra time alone. Eleven is an odd number so it doesn't seem too premeditated but is substantial enough to make it clear who is going on a date with whom.
Parking was a hassle, which attributed to the non-power-play lateness. She kept spiraling up and up in the parking structure, every helpful green light mocking her with a compact car already in the space. After settling for the roof, she promptly stepped in a puddle and had to wipe down her far-too-constricting shoes. She then missed the light and had to wait at three consecutive crosswalks, which at least gave her time to get over her nerves by pre-selecting what drink she would order.
He was already sitting at the bar, nursing a beer. You should arrive 15 minutes early to get in good with the
bartender. Makes you seem more agreeable in front of your date. Maybe even a more generous pour. Rush hour traffic was suspiciously light so he walked in twenty minutes early, taking this opportunity to grab a drink. Being able to mentally calculate his BAC ensured that he would be relaxed yet not too drunk. When he saw her enter the room, he quickly chugged his beer and
pushed the glass aside. Didn’t want her to know that he had been drinking without her.
He stood up, buttoned his sport coat, and told her that she looked nice. Which she did. Although she had heard this on every first date, so she wasn't entirely sure if he actually meant it. She smiled anyway.
He paid for drinks, for which she didn’t thank him as treating was to be expected. No points if you do it, but negative points if you don't (this also applied when pulled out her chair). Even though it had been a long day at the office and she badly needed a drink, she wasn't about to finish her Tanqueray and tonic. Sobriety on a first date is paramount. Make him open you up with words.
So he started up the game of answers and questions. He asked about where she grew up, what she did for a living, siblings, if she was enjoying this season of Breaking Bad. The typical first date checklist of purely topical subjects. Open ended yet personal, straddling the line between vague and intrusive.
He was a good listener, although his attentive eye contact might just be covering up the fact that he wasn't. His mid-conversation gaze moving from eyes to lips and then back to eyes. Then his eyes would quickly glance at her posture.
She continued to answer his questions (even though she really, really wanted to vent about the project that was keeping her up at night. The workload was insane and her coworkers were not carrying their weight and brutally forcing her, via laziness, to take charge of the PowerPoint. But this wasn't any of his concern). Hell, she was probably talking too much about herself to begin with.
He liked it when women talked about themselves (even if it was purely superfluous). It felt nice. Less pressure on him. When they turned the subject to his life, he was forced to establish boundaries. Don't share too much personal information, as it might turn them off or destroy any mystery. Didn't want to mention his headache over the new Doctor Who or Batman casting or his parents' impending divorce.
He went into minor detail about work, not going into too many specifics (even though he wanted to mention the jackass at the office who would constantly find a way to take credit for someone else's work. But that wasn't her problem, and doubted she would want to hear about it anyway).
He made note that although she was leaning forward towards him, her arms were crossed. It wasn't particularly chilly in the bar, so to open her up he told a joke. Something dumb and inoffensive with a bad pun in it. The way to avoid backtracking is not to track in the first place. She laughed. But he was unclear if she actually meant it. So he smiled anyway.
An hour had gone by. A first date should always
leave them wanting more. So even though they had just scratched the surface, they called it a night.
He walked her back to her car, thinking about reaching for her hand during all four blocks and five flights of stairs. As he went to open her door, his foot slipped in a puddle, sending him stumbling. Catching himself, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. And precisely at the moment that it felt comfortable, she moved away.
He said he had a nice time tonight. She agreed that the night was, in fact, pleasant. He mentioned that he had fun and enjoyed talking to her. So had she. And when neither added enough detail to make it seem as though a second date was probable, they exchanged a polite handshake. And he watched as she drove off.
He said he had a nice time tonight. She agreed that the night was, in fact, pleasant. He mentioned that he had fun and enjoyed talking to her. So had she. And when neither added enough detail to make it seem as though a second date was probable, they exchanged a polite handshake. And he watched as she drove off.
They both got home, took off their uncomfortable shoes and changed into sweat pants. Then they curled up on the couch with a bag of Trader Joe's Pirate's Booty and watched the episode of Jeopardy that had recorded earlier. Which is all they really wanted anyway.
-30-
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