Before I left for Japan, I’d exchanged numbers with a guy in NYC and scheduled a date when I was home. He texted me every now and then, including while I was away, but I didn’t pay much mind to him; I was on vacation and still not in this tinder mindset. There were even some messages he sent me that I realized I’d let go unanswered.
Eventually date night came around and I was not in the LEAST motivated to go. It felt like so much time had passed since we started talking (a month?) and there was no momentum. OK, he runs, skis, and scuba dives and is attractive enough for me to have swiped right but is that enough to drag me out during this brutal NYC winter? This date entailed:
1) venturing out to the West Village, where I never go
2) to eat Italian food which I don’t normally have
3) on a Friday night when I rarely go out on weekends
4) to meet someone I’d never met
I would’ve been happy doing anything else. Even the trains were conspiring against me! I showed up about 30 min late, and extremely apologetic. First reaction: HOT. And that subtle Irish accent! From this point forward, he became known to my friends as “hot irish guy” or “HIG” for short.
Dinner went surprisingly well, and did not even include any alcohol; conversation, smiles, and laughter flowed freely. He reached across the table a few times and touched me, which was very uncomfortable at first, but by the end of the night, somehow we were holding hands. This is VERY WEIRD for me because I don’t like being touched by strangers! Sigh. I definitely fell victim to his charms.
Over dinner, though, I did realize that he was an incredibly good-looking, successful 40-year old, and I’d just gotten out of a situation with one of those a couple months before. I couldn’t imagine that HIG was looking for a relationship either, but maybe this was the situation that I was most comfortable in? It was familiar but I couldn’t tell if it was because of HIG specifically or if it was deja vu. The other guy didn’t want anything serious, and I didn’t imagine that this one did, either. This is why I agreed to go back to his massive 2 bedroom, 2-1/2 bathroom apartment overlooking Central Park. This made the doctor in Newport Beach look like a broke-ass.
Early the next morning, I took an Uber home, changed, and jumped on the Acela to Boston for work. 🙂