It’s either there……….or it’s not.
I’ve been working hard to shake my sad edges off, so I scheduled a date with NotCalifornia last night. To be honest, he’s not my type. He’s really nice, funny and has his shit together. An educated choice, if you will? I figured I should go, if only to laugh and eat dinner with someone I already thought was fun enough to approach first. A real man, interested in me for more than just sex. Write it down, y’all. They do exist. This one comes complete with baby lambs and more on the way.
Chemistry is important to me though… because I’m still drowning in it with Incredinope. My nerves stand on end when he’s within inches of me, and I catch myself taking a deep breath to stop all the wrong words from falling out of my mouth. I don’t shift smoothly, and when I’m in love with someone, he may as well be the last man on earth because the rest of them disappear. This level of chemistry has been my undoing… because now I don’t want to feel lukewarm about anything.
Once you know how it feels to be volcanic… a slow simmer just won’t do.
So I put on a cute dress, slipped into my favorite heels… and went to face my new fate.
Dating. <insert vomit emoji>
I always get to the restaurant 15 minutes early so I can calm the fuck down before my date arrives. I fake it convincingly, but I am painfully shy and ridiculously awkward when it comes to dating. First dates are worse than anything, in my experience.
Enter, the perfect dirty Bombay Sapphire martini. Three olives. A lovely glass of pull-it-together before my date arrives. Part of me wants to leave before he gets there. My heart isn’t in it and if I’m going to be honest, the heartbroken girl in me is wishing my favorite guy would come walking through those doors, first. I know he won’t be, so I firm my resolve and breathe through the anxious disappointment I’m trying to squash with some icy cold gin.
Something feels so wrong about being on a date and wishing he were someone else. I would be pissed if the shoe were on the other foot… but in all reality, I have no way of knowing my date isn’t in the same headspace. We may as well laugh through it together, right?
I saw him walk in and break into a big smile when he saw me sitting at the table, which was immediately contagious. He’s cute… I’m just going to have to send him to Mrs. Barber for a little professional unearthing.
Dinner was lovely and he’s smart, funny, loves his kids and is a good daddy, something I find incredibly attractive. He bottle feeds his home grown baby farm animals. He wants to know what I’ve canned before, and shyly blushes when he asks if I’ll help him plant a vegetable garden.
It’s good and I should be excited but I’m just not quite there. I’d rather wait forever than settle for tepid bathwater over the lava I’ve been addicted to swimming in, lately.
I’m craving a volcanic bath and this is more akin to a polar plunge because the chemistry just isn’t the same. Something that only makes me miss the wrong guy, more.