If I'm Being Totally Honest

If you tell the truth you don’t have to remember anything.
— Mark Twain

If I had to admit what are my weaknesses, interview style:

Poor sense of direction. Geography is not my strong suit. I have a terrible sense of intuition when taking spontaneous journeys or even when running errands. Before embarking on a round of errand-running, I make a list of all the things I need to do, places I need to go, items I need to purchase, and map out a route with the aid of my computer and common sense (groceries last, because perishables!).

Impatience. I tend to mobilize very quickly. If I've set out to go somewhere, do something, I'm ready to go. I don't like waiting on others to drag their feet. Also related to this: when empowered to do so, I am a steadfast decisionmaker. It's not that I  make snap judgments. Sometimes people become impatient with me in turn because it seems I am being indecisive. Quite the opposite. If I am quiet and thoughtful for a spell, I'm actually laying out all of the permutations, consequences, outcomes and selecting the very best one. Let's call it efficient.

Honesty. This is my Achilles' heel. I still haven't figured out if it was my upbringing (is it cultural?) or something ingrained in my personality that makes me so forthcoming. Blunt, rather. I've derailed conversations with a single keen, cutting observation. Some people don't bat an eye. Some are visibly ruffled. Some sputter, and inform me, "Look, people aren't used to being told things they've never realized about themselves."

I've been known to spout, at strangers, "You're really good looking." For normal people, this would result in embarrassment. For me, it's just a passing thought. "Did you know that your face is aesthetically pleasing?"

And so, considering, this next story doesn't seem totally unusual, not at first.

Some weeks ago, I walked into a coffee shop, disheveled and unkempt, undone from the night before, out on the town. Hangover be damned, I was out to finally make the acquaintance of someone new.

Related to said damned hangover, I was on a round of errands to pick up the pieces from my wild night. I literally lost my shit that night--the first stop was the bar, as both my jacket and wallet were missing from the night before. Then perhaps a coffee, perhaps to run into a new friend, but only if I was able to pay for it with the contents of a found wallet.

As some of you following my story clearly know, OkCupid wasn't working out. Not at all. But after totally closing that chapter of my dating life, I had handpicked one single somebody to continue talking to. Because I sensed that we were the same brand of weird, and that's a special and rare occurrence. I wanted to materialize this person from the Internet and into my life, to fold into my weekend plans, to share pitchers of beer on a patio and people watch with, to do strictly platonic dude things with.

Single Somebody and I had connected my very first few days on the service. I remember telling my Main Squeeze, "Oh! I like somebody. Let us scrutinize his online dating profile together." We messaged sporadically for weeks, both of us floating in and out of conversation. Plans to meet never quite solidify. I closed my account not even a month later. We continued the same pattern via text message. Plans still never quite solidify. Three months eventually pass.

He mentions where he will be for some hours Saturday following The Night I Literally Lost My Shit. My wallet goes from missing to found. Perhaps a coffee turns into definitely a coffee, plans laid, solidified. Because, three months is a long time to wait for somebody who typically makes a plan and is out the door to execute said plan in five minutes (i.e. me).

I have no qualms about meeting new people. In fact, I always look forward to bringing more good people into my life. But as I pulled up to the rendezvous point, my palms were sweating. I may have even had butterflies. No explanation, since there was no expectation for this meeting.

When I walked in, and said hello, and finally made eye contact with him, I knew all notions of just friends, just drinking buddies were a joke. Much like my appearance that day. My hands started shaking. I pretended they weren't, and launched into a we've-known-each-other-forever tone of voice, avoiding small talk. And then immediately slip up.

"You're much better looking in real life."

His mouth formed the shape of an "o."

He decided to hang out with me anyway.

Posted on March 19, 2014 and filed under Dating.