Date 91 - The Pulitz-Surprise

My immediate impression as I drive by S is that he looks stiff and uncomfortable. Who could blame him?

I called ahead to let him know I was going to be about 10 minutes late and he's dutifully standing at the entrance to Opal Devine's. My catholic heritage kicks in and I feel guilty, but I'm glad he was thoughtful enough to wait for me like that; it was a nice thing to do.

I forgot how bad parking is on this part of 6th street now that the giant Whole Foods uber store has been built. I drive around the block and eventually find a metered spot. I'm ultra casual in jeans, a Henley top and some loafers since it's just Opal Devine's. It must be a good look though, since I've gotten several looks from men as I'm walking around the
corner to the entrance.

S is slim and nicely dressed in a polo shirt and chinos, well groomed and well mannered. I feel a tad underdressed. He's about as tall as advertised at 6' but I'm still glad I opted against any shoe with a heel. He looks about 15 years younger than he is -- I'm wondering if his maturity level is equivalent to his physical age. We opt for a table outside and are ushered to the nether regions of the deck, which is fine by me since we'll have fewer people eavesdropping. After about 3 1/2 minutes, it becomes clear that S has "the babylust". We're onto the checklist; the interview has begun.

As an aside, the babylust has always freaked me out. It seems much more prevalent in women than men, but it's almost freakier in men... maybe because it tends to hit them later in life and then they wind up with much younger women. A good friend of mine has it and I'm convinced he won't have a good match until he gets over it. Age is not insurmountable, but with a richly textured and complicated personality like he has, it's certainly a hurdle. Superficial girls are not his type and yet he's insistent on only dating women "as old as" their early 30's. He wants them ripe for the plucking. [insert rim shot here] Talking about it with him always makes me feel like a dried up prune at the ancient age of 32. ...but I digress, back to the date!

I sip on my table-slappingly-tart "Pinky Friedman" cocktail and expound on my child bearing (or possibly non bearing) philosophy to S. For a man with the babylust he seems to take it in stride. I even ask him some questions about his motivation and experience in the baby department and he seems to take it like a champ. I want to be thought of as a woman, not a womb! It really doesn't and shouldn't matter on a first date, but by not taking offense he has earned himself some points.

Thankfully there are some conversational tangents as a reprieve from "the interview" and he is freakily able to guess the name of the tiny college I went to, just by knowing the state and city. Is he a stalker? No, he's actually visited the town and campus - which I guess isn't so surprising given the historical and architectural significance of the place, but it's not someplace
most people know about.

The conversation continues about nothing in particular and he's antsy to move to another venue. I guess I passed phase 1 of the interview process. The full moon had come up in previous conversation and as we're walking over to Malaga on 4th, I point it out to him. He steps back to get a view, jokingly howls and seizes the opportunity to plant one on me. It's a little soon for my taste, but I'm willing to roll with it and aside from his overextended mouth during his attack, it's not unpleasant. (I suppose I tend to like smaller kisses.)

We have some delectable olives and bread to help cleanse the tartness from my palette and enjoy a most excellent glass of Spanish wine thanks to the recommendation of our attentive hostess. Things are progressing nicely and S is easy enough to talk to. I'm having a good time, although as the evening continues, I'm less and less impressed by him. He's in his mid 40's and is working in technology sales? He's living with roommates? It took him HOW many years to finish his degree? Hmmmm..... not so much. He seems pretty intelligent and well rounded. I love that he has some varied interests like filmmaking and rock-climbing... but it just doesn't have the same sheen in this light as it did before I knew some of the more mundane details of his life.

Maybe my face shows this. As we continue talking, he mentions a certain woman he used to date. He mentions that she's a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. I jokingly say, "Oh, I'll bet I know her, what's her name?" He tells me it's not likely that I'd know her since she moved to California. "Oh really, where did she move to?" He tells me the city and I exclaim, "Oh, yes! M_____!!" and watch all the color immediately drain from his face. M is one of the fantastically talented and brilliant women from the book club I've attended for a few years now. I don't actually know her all that well, and she might not be able to pick me out of a lineup but we've shared some great books and provocative conversation.

He backpedals a bit and tells me it was really pretty platonic... and I'm wondering if he's embarrassed about dating her or if he treated her poorly.
When I briefed a confidant about it today, he suspected that S might not have dated her at all. Men! Who can tell? He tries to soldier through the rest of the conversation but a few moments later excuses himself and when he returns he's a bundle of nervous energy, twitching legs and all.

Things maintained a certain level of levity, but it feels like it was all down hill from there. And yet, as he's walking me back to my car he's confidently and snugly holding my hand. He seizes the opportunity to land another smooch and is talking about feeling like he made a real connection. I certainly enjoyed myself, and he is attractive but I'm not feeling particularly connected at all at this point... in fact I was still really evaluating things... and maybe I still am.