After Autumn, I decided to take Ashlley's advice and date multiple women. With the huge boost in response rate on eHarmony after I turned 25, it became very easy to find dates.
Of the 8-10 women I've been talking to through eHarmony, two stood out far above the rest. The first was Pernella, who I exchanged e-mails with for about a month after going through the "guided communication" stage on the site She wrote more than anyone I'd ever met there, and compelled me to do the same. We found things we had in common, such as the surprising fact that she'd majored in computer science in college. More importantly, though, we connected, joking around and teasing each other about being nerds.
When I offered the standard Starbucks date - admitting that it's what people are supposed to do after meeting online - she suggested we ignore the convention and do something else instead. It would be my first dinner first-date since the historic Date #1.
_________________
I decided to dress up in my clubbing attire, and knew that I was devastatingly good-looking. We hugged when she walked into the restaurant, and so it began.
Usually, any noticeable feelings of anxiety - that unmistakable, yet undescribable feeling - vanish almost immediately after I meet my date. This time, though weak, it stuck around for much of the evening.
Even still, I was fine. After a few minutes, I had warmed up, and was mostly able to be myself. I had a few topics of conversation in mind, but didn't need to search for them I'm truly past that point. Instead, I moved the conversation along effortlessly, without anything resembling an awkward silence.
Things were going well. I discovered that she had the same favorite TV show as me (How I Met Your Mother) and it proved to be a good topic of conversation. Thing weren't quite perfect, as I felt a little awkward at times, finding myself saying "You know...." while trying to explain things. My humor was about as good as ever, though, and I decided to relax and do whatever I wanted. In the past, I've avoided compliments and other things that show my interest. Now, with such an incredible number of dating options, I'm willing to experiment and risk coming on too strong, or anything else, if only for the fun of it.
Pernella is an attorney, and mentioned that she'd learned in school that a jury's decision is influenced by the lawyer's looks. I interjected that if so, she'd never lose a case! It felt good to compliment her; I liked her.
I liked her because she was extremely nice. In fact, she was easily the nicest girl I've ever been out with. A total sweetheart.
I noticed at least one subtle hint that she might feel the same way: she was mirroring me. We talked for a long time before even touching the food, until I finally took my silverware off the plate. She did the exact same thing. I waited before doing anything else, and so did she. As soon as I unwrapped my silverware, she did the same. I again waited a few minutes, until finally trying the food. She followed immediately.
When she asked why I've never tried alcohol, I gave my now-standard answer (initiated the day my inhibition died): "Just for the hell of it." Until then, she had never used any curse word in over an hour and a half. Then, only a few minutes later, she starting using the same word!
As time went on, I loosened up more and was able to find my playfulness. When I'm inhibited, my speech comes out sounding tentative and flat. When I'm not, my voice takes on a distinct quality of fluidness and variability. From day 1, these vocal qualities have been inextricably tied to my level of inhibition. Now, I was becoming untethered from its reigns. After asking whether Pernella had tattoos, I heard the variance in inflection in my voice as I exclaimed humorously, "What! No drug use, no tattoos..."
After carefully pronouncing a long sentence of Spanish words to order my desert, I said to the waiter in a playful tone, "I did good, didn't I?!" My date smiled and laughed. I was effortlessly able to think of things to say, including many jokes. When Pernella asked what I like about having a pet frog, I responded without thinking, "The companionship." She continued the joke.
I grew a little more anxious toward the end of dinner, but only because I wanted to quit while I was ahead.
I wish I had been able to.
My date had arrived via the subway, so I offered to take her home. The only problem was that I can never seem to remember exactly where I parked.
This time, I at least knew the garage. I was pretty sure of the level, though wasn't positive whether the color was red or dark orange. I had sent myself a text with a space number near my vehicle, but foolishly hadn't recorded the exact one.
I didn't see my car, so we walked around looking for it. I tried to make light of the situation, saying "See? You didn't know what you were getting into, did you?" She joked that yeah, she could have been home by now, but then tapped me laughing and said "Just kidding!" I later joked that she should know the garage since she's from the city, but she said, only half-kidding at best, that she couldn't know where I parked.
I wanted to be sure we had the right level, so we got on the elevator to check out the other options. Sure enough, it had to be the level we started on.
After about 10 anxious minutes of walking around the red level, I finally spotted my car. I was grateful to have found it, but knew that I had shattered my image of near-perfection.
We were back to chatting as usual on the way to her apartment, but there was one more stumbling block to add a little awkwardness and tarnish my confident image. I told her that I'd walk her up, as I forgot to do 41 dates ago.
I had to parallel park. I joked that we'd get to see my parallel parking skills, which weren't great since I was from the suburbs. It was obviously no big deal, but I didn't quite make it into the spot on the first try. I joked again, "Pathetic, huh?" as I waited for the traffic to pass so that I could make a second try. For some reason, she seemed to take it somewhat seriously, and said, "Aww! Are you embarrassed?"
I hadn't really been until that moment. I wasn't sure what to say, so I made another joke about my skills not being up to par by city standards. On the second try, I parked perfectly - only nerves had prevented that the first time. She said, in that sweet, reassuring way unique to the kindest of women, "See? Would never guess you're from the 'burbs!"
I wasn't sure the actual significance of the parking and car-finding snafu's, but I sure wished they hadn't happened.
We were still about 25 feet from the door when she started speaking nervously, muttering something like "Well, this is it." I wasn't sure if she was nervous because she was hoping I'd kiss her, or because she was hoping I wouldn't, or for some other reason. I stopped and hugged her, and she thanked me for dinner. I said "talk to you later." She nodded affirmatively, and said "Yeah. Have a safe trip home."
I became a bit anxious about the snafu's the next day or so, sporadically wondering what effect they would have. If not for those few minutes of a 3-hour date, I would have no doubt about seeing her again.
Worrying about mistakes is a mistake. Overall, I able to be myself, picking up where I left off with Autumn.
I had no choice but to move on quickly, because I had another date scheduled in less than 24 hours.
Of the 8-10 women I've been talking to through eHarmony, two stood out far above the rest. The first was Pernella, who I exchanged e-mails with for about a month after going through the "guided communication" stage on the site She wrote more than anyone I'd ever met there, and compelled me to do the same. We found things we had in common, such as the surprising fact that she'd majored in computer science in college. More importantly, though, we connected, joking around and teasing each other about being nerds.
When I offered the standard Starbucks date - admitting that it's what people are supposed to do after meeting online - she suggested we ignore the convention and do something else instead. It would be my first dinner first-date since the historic Date #1.
_________________
I decided to dress up in my clubbing attire, and knew that I was devastatingly good-looking. We hugged when she walked into the restaurant, and so it began.
Usually, any noticeable feelings of anxiety - that unmistakable, yet undescribable feeling - vanish almost immediately after I meet my date. This time, though weak, it stuck around for much of the evening.
Even still, I was fine. After a few minutes, I had warmed up, and was mostly able to be myself. I had a few topics of conversation in mind, but didn't need to search for them I'm truly past that point. Instead, I moved the conversation along effortlessly, without anything resembling an awkward silence.
Things were going well. I discovered that she had the same favorite TV show as me (How I Met Your Mother) and it proved to be a good topic of conversation. Thing weren't quite perfect, as I felt a little awkward at times, finding myself saying "You know...." while trying to explain things. My humor was about as good as ever, though, and I decided to relax and do whatever I wanted. In the past, I've avoided compliments and other things that show my interest. Now, with such an incredible number of dating options, I'm willing to experiment and risk coming on too strong, or anything else, if only for the fun of it.
Pernella is an attorney, and mentioned that she'd learned in school that a jury's decision is influenced by the lawyer's looks. I interjected that if so, she'd never lose a case! It felt good to compliment her; I liked her.
I liked her because she was extremely nice. In fact, she was easily the nicest girl I've ever been out with. A total sweetheart.
I noticed at least one subtle hint that she might feel the same way: she was mirroring me. We talked for a long time before even touching the food, until I finally took my silverware off the plate. She did the exact same thing. I waited before doing anything else, and so did she. As soon as I unwrapped my silverware, she did the same. I again waited a few minutes, until finally trying the food. She followed immediately.
When she asked why I've never tried alcohol, I gave my now-standard answer (initiated the day my inhibition died): "Just for the hell of it." Until then, she had never used any curse word in over an hour and a half. Then, only a few minutes later, she starting using the same word!
As time went on, I loosened up more and was able to find my playfulness. When I'm inhibited, my speech comes out sounding tentative and flat. When I'm not, my voice takes on a distinct quality of fluidness and variability. From day 1, these vocal qualities have been inextricably tied to my level of inhibition. Now, I was becoming untethered from its reigns. After asking whether Pernella had tattoos, I heard the variance in inflection in my voice as I exclaimed humorously, "What! No drug use, no tattoos..."
After carefully pronouncing a long sentence of Spanish words to order my desert, I said to the waiter in a playful tone, "I did good, didn't I?!" My date smiled and laughed. I was effortlessly able to think of things to say, including many jokes. When Pernella asked what I like about having a pet frog, I responded without thinking, "The companionship." She continued the joke.
I grew a little more anxious toward the end of dinner, but only because I wanted to quit while I was ahead.
I wish I had been able to.
My date had arrived via the subway, so I offered to take her home. The only problem was that I can never seem to remember exactly where I parked.
This time, I at least knew the garage. I was pretty sure of the level, though wasn't positive whether the color was red or dark orange. I had sent myself a text with a space number near my vehicle, but foolishly hadn't recorded the exact one.
I didn't see my car, so we walked around looking for it. I tried to make light of the situation, saying "See? You didn't know what you were getting into, did you?" She joked that yeah, she could have been home by now, but then tapped me laughing and said "Just kidding!" I later joked that she should know the garage since she's from the city, but she said, only half-kidding at best, that she couldn't know where I parked.
I wanted to be sure we had the right level, so we got on the elevator to check out the other options. Sure enough, it had to be the level we started on.
After about 10 anxious minutes of walking around the red level, I finally spotted my car. I was grateful to have found it, but knew that I had shattered my image of near-perfection.
We were back to chatting as usual on the way to her apartment, but there was one more stumbling block to add a little awkwardness and tarnish my confident image. I told her that I'd walk her up, as I forgot to do 41 dates ago.
I had to parallel park. I joked that we'd get to see my parallel parking skills, which weren't great since I was from the suburbs. It was obviously no big deal, but I didn't quite make it into the spot on the first try. I joked again, "Pathetic, huh?" as I waited for the traffic to pass so that I could make a second try. For some reason, she seemed to take it somewhat seriously, and said, "Aww! Are you embarrassed?"
I hadn't really been until that moment. I wasn't sure what to say, so I made another joke about my skills not being up to par by city standards. On the second try, I parked perfectly - only nerves had prevented that the first time. She said, in that sweet, reassuring way unique to the kindest of women, "See? Would never guess you're from the 'burbs!"
I wasn't sure the actual significance of the parking and car-finding snafu's, but I sure wished they hadn't happened.
We were still about 25 feet from the door when she started speaking nervously, muttering something like "Well, this is it." I wasn't sure if she was nervous because she was hoping I'd kiss her, or because she was hoping I wouldn't, or for some other reason. I stopped and hugged her, and she thanked me for dinner. I said "talk to you later." She nodded affirmatively, and said "Yeah. Have a safe trip home."
I became a bit anxious about the snafu's the next day or so, sporadically wondering what effect they would have. If not for those few minutes of a 3-hour date, I would have no doubt about seeing her again.
Worrying about mistakes is a mistake. Overall, I able to be myself, picking up where I left off with Autumn.
I had no choice but to move on quickly, because I had another date scheduled in less than 24 hours.
1 comment:
You're totally right when you say worrying about mistakes is a mistake. Your dates are lucky to have someone who cares so much about their experience being perfect. From an outsiders perspective, some of the mistakes you've worried about have seemed very forgivable and could have actually gone in your favour by making you more approachable. I find the odd genuine mistake helps people feel like they don't have to be perfect either, meaning they can let their guard down and relax. It's good you can joke about your mistakes. It's a good quality to possess.
I must catch up with your lab notes.
Best wishes,
Nick
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