There’s a guy who works at the café I frequent at lunchtime who is kind of cutishy. I’ve been going to that café for months, but didn’t care to look close enough to see if he wears a wedding ring until Monday.
Now, this doesn’t actually tell me anything. He’s a chef, working with food and knives all day, and might choose to not wear his ring for safety reasons. Or he could be unmarried, but with a serious girlfriend. Maybe he’s single. Heck, he could prefer men. No matter what, my attempts to flirt with him have been met with indifference. Which I’m okay with, because OMGWTFBBQ WHAT IF HE ASKED ME ON A DATE?!
When was the last First Date I had? working backwards… I cared (care) very much for Jack, but you couldn’t call our “relathingy” dating. Dane and I never actually went out anywhere; our orbits within the circle of friends merely overlapped for a blip. Timber and I were friends for nearly a year before we ever became an item, neatly bypassing any First Date awkwardness. Similar story with Chris, although I’d know him even longer. In fact, I had the dubious “pleasure” of watching him leave on his first date with the gal he wound up dating before me. THAT first date went well. Before Chris was Kevin, and Kevin and I had known each other since high school. I did go on one blind date in between Kevin and Chris. A mutual friend set the two of us up. Me: well, me. Him: an accountant. Yeah, that was brilliant. But it does qualify as a First (and Last) Date. So that was… 11? 12? Years ago. I haven’t been on a First Date in over a decade. And that one was bad. Not pulling-a-hair-from-my-head-and-flossing-with-it bad, but not good. So, as much as I’d like to be making with the hugging and kissing with someone, there’s a pretty big hurdle to leap before getting there. And I’m not looking forward to it.