Trevor and I had emailed a few times, and after a brief phone conversation punctuated by blaring TSA announcements (I was at the airport) I agreed to meet him for a drink. He suggested meeting close to my office, which I really appreciated.
So far so good. He is considerate and willing to come to my hood.
I was running a few minutes late thanks to the fact that it was raining and I was riding my bike. Riding a beach cruiser while holding an umbrella is not as easy as you might assume. The fact that my bike is Hello Kitty themed provides a constant source of unbridled joy for me and helped quell my annoyance at the rain. After chaining my bike up at a completely unapproved location to keep her, yes, her, from getting too wet, I headed into the gastro-pub.
It was still early and the place wasn't even half full. Given that it was prime happy hour time this was surprising. But I figured this boded well for me since I couldn't quite remember what Trevor looked like and finding a dude sitting alone would be easier with fewer bodies in the way.
Oh crap. There are three dudes here alone. Or course I would pick this time to not revisit the profile of the guy I'm meeting to remind myself what he looks like. Alright... I know he has dark hair. Alright! Two out of three have dark hair. I know he is tall. They are sitting down so that is not helpful information. I know he is a cyclist. Would it have killed him to have worn spandex today? Or at least those funny clippy shoes they wear? Alright fine... if he had worn spandex or those weird shoes I would have fled.
Deciding to start with the guy closest to me I start making my way to his table. As I get closer he looks up and smiles. I smile back. Then notice that there is a purse hanging over the back of a chair at his table.
Alright... That's not him, unless he brought his Mom to chaperone. And that might be a little too Southern, even for me.
So I faked like I was heading for the restroom and skirted around his table and behind the wall to the bathroom.
So, it must be bachelor #3. The one with his back to me. The least he could have done was sit on the other side of the table so he could flag me down as I came in and prevent my almost happy hour-ing with someone else. Hmpf!
"Hi! Are you Trevor?" I ask walking up to the table.
*Deer in the headlights stare* "Ummm, yeah. Are you Crigger?"
"Yeah! Nice to meet you." I say extending my hand. Who else would be coming up to your table, greeting you by name? "Sorry, I am running a bit late. I got tied up at work."
"It's okay. I just got here myself. Was work really busy?"
"Not too bad. I just got tied up at the end of the day. And I rode my bike down so I didn't have to hunt for parking. On my bike in the rain it always takes a bit longer."
"Oh you bike? I am on a cycling club."
"I don't really cycle. I am rolling around on a beach cruiser."
Awkward silence.
Ask him a question. Ask him a question! ASK HIM A QUESTION!!!
"So you are an engineer?" I ask even though we have covered this during out phone call.
"Yeah. I used to do aero-space work, but my company was cutting back so I left before I was downsized. Now I work for a machinery company."
"I have a friend who works in the aerospace industry." I bet you two would have a lot to talk about. "What kind of machinery do you build or I guess design?"Really Crigger? At least I am acting interested.
"Refrigeration."
Alright... So we are down to one word answers. Awesome. Awesome.
"That's interesting. I don't know much about refrigeration, outside of HVAC equipment."
"Really? Do you work alot with mechanical systems?"
We then proceeded to talk about my job for a really, really long time. So long in fact that I was bored and wanted to leave. This is shocking on multiple levels. First, because I love my job and talk about it so much that other people tell me to put a sock in it. Secondly, I am only half-way through my Smith's Organic Cider and I love that stuff. I will usually throw down at least two! And third, this place has the best mac'n'cheese. Me wanting to leave without eating it is like buying tickets to the Rolling Stones, but only staying for the opening act.
Waaaaahnt. Waaaah.
Not a good sign.
Love is not in the air.
It isn't his fault. He is nice. Not unattractive, and he reminds me a little of Eddie Munster, and the 8 year old me kind of loves that.
He is just so quiet. It was like pulling teeth. I can certainly talk enough for the both of us, because let's face it. I am a talker! But I don't want to have to do all work! Pull your weight pal!
And he had no good stories to share. How is that possible?
Even on a bad date I usually hear at least one interesting personal tidbit. (i.e. I can lick my nose. I once skied down a hill backwards. My mom is actually a Persian princesses. I have a twin who looks just like me but is a robot.)
There were no such fun stories.
Now I am not saying I have the best stories ever, but if I did say that it wouldn't be an overstatement.
Is it too much for me to expect my date to have a few good tales?
So far so good. He is considerate and willing to come to my hood.
I was running a few minutes late thanks to the fact that it was raining and I was riding my bike. Riding a beach cruiser while holding an umbrella is not as easy as you might assume. The fact that my bike is Hello Kitty themed provides a constant source of unbridled joy for me and helped quell my annoyance at the rain. After chaining my bike up at a completely unapproved location to keep her, yes, her, from getting too wet, I headed into the gastro-pub.
It was still early and the place wasn't even half full. Given that it was prime happy hour time this was surprising. But I figured this boded well for me since I couldn't quite remember what Trevor looked like and finding a dude sitting alone would be easier with fewer bodies in the way.
Oh crap. There are three dudes here alone. Or course I would pick this time to not revisit the profile of the guy I'm meeting to remind myself what he looks like. Alright... I know he has dark hair. Alright! Two out of three have dark hair. I know he is tall. They are sitting down so that is not helpful information. I know he is a cyclist. Would it have killed him to have worn spandex today? Or at least those funny clippy shoes they wear? Alright fine... if he had worn spandex or those weird shoes I would have fled.
Deciding to start with the guy closest to me I start making my way to his table. As I get closer he looks up and smiles. I smile back. Then notice that there is a purse hanging over the back of a chair at his table.
Alright... That's not him, unless he brought his Mom to chaperone. And that might be a little too Southern, even for me.
So I faked like I was heading for the restroom and skirted around his table and behind the wall to the bathroom.
So, it must be bachelor #3. The one with his back to me. The least he could have done was sit on the other side of the table so he could flag me down as I came in and prevent my almost happy hour-ing with someone else. Hmpf!
"Hi! Are you Trevor?" I ask walking up to the table.
*Deer in the headlights stare* "Ummm, yeah. Are you Crigger?"
"Yeah! Nice to meet you." I say extending my hand. Who else would be coming up to your table, greeting you by name? "Sorry, I am running a bit late. I got tied up at work."
"It's okay. I just got here myself. Was work really busy?"
"Not too bad. I just got tied up at the end of the day. And I rode my bike down so I didn't have to hunt for parking. On my bike in the rain it always takes a bit longer."
"Oh you bike? I am on a cycling club."
"I don't really cycle. I am rolling around on a beach cruiser."
Awkward silence.
Ask him a question. Ask him a question! ASK HIM A QUESTION!!!
"So you are an engineer?" I ask even though we have covered this during out phone call.
"Yeah. I used to do aero-space work, but my company was cutting back so I left before I was downsized. Now I work for a machinery company."
"I have a friend who works in the aerospace industry." I bet you two would have a lot to talk about. "What kind of machinery do you build or I guess design?"Really Crigger? At least I am acting interested.
"Refrigeration."
Alright... So we are down to one word answers. Awesome. Awesome.
"That's interesting. I don't know much about refrigeration, outside of HVAC equipment."
"Really? Do you work alot with mechanical systems?"
We then proceeded to talk about my job for a really, really long time. So long in fact that I was bored and wanted to leave. This is shocking on multiple levels. First, because I love my job and talk about it so much that other people tell me to put a sock in it. Secondly, I am only half-way through my Smith's Organic Cider and I love that stuff. I will usually throw down at least two! And third, this place has the best mac'n'cheese. Me wanting to leave without eating it is like buying tickets to the Rolling Stones, but only staying for the opening act.
Waaaaahnt. Waaaah.
Not a good sign.
Love is not in the air.
It isn't his fault. He is nice. Not unattractive, and he reminds me a little of Eddie Munster, and the 8 year old me kind of loves that.
He is just so quiet. It was like pulling teeth. I can certainly talk enough for the both of us, because let's face it. I am a talker! But I don't want to have to do all work! Pull your weight pal!
And he had no good stories to share. How is that possible?
Even on a bad date I usually hear at least one interesting personal tidbit. (i.e. I can lick my nose. I once skied down a hill backwards. My mom is actually a Persian princesses. I have a twin who looks just like me but is a robot.)
There were no such fun stories.
Now I am not saying I have the best stories ever, but if I did say that it wouldn't be an overstatement.
Is it too much for me to expect my date to have a few good tales?
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