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Posts Tagged ‘dog’

Yes, my dear dedicated readers… I went on a date last night. With someone new. With someone different. I know, shudder to think, huh?!

Anyway, we met up around 4, I had an appointment in the area that ended at 3:30 and so we decided to meet in the grassy park area in front of a local coffeehouse. 3:45 turned into 4 and a text message apologizing that a client phoned him soon followed. The dog and I sat drinking our iced green tea, reading a Bark Magazine and time turned into 4:30. Oy, with the waiting. He finally appeared a few minutes later. We decided to get him an iced green tea as well and then take a walk to the river with my pooch. The dog was on full tilt. I often joke that my dog has an illegal meth production lab in my bathroom that she runs when I am gone for the day. She’s a crazy tweaker, but I love her madly. Maybe it’s something less insidious… like a love for espresso, that enables her to maintain this insane energy. He decided to hold her leash, ummm, ha ha ha. She behaves for me on leash, not so much for the boys. To her, boys are meant for playing tug of war. I chuckled watching him try to control her.

So, who is this guy? He’s a professional design geek with a love of typography and sinister imagery. He used to be a rock musician, hence the creepy leanings, but since I have a taxidermied deer leg lamp and Bison skull, who am I to judge? So, we will call him Type Geek. He’s nice. Shorter than what I tend to, and over time I have realized I love having hair to play with, which he doesn’t have either. Grr, with the shaving off of the hair. Oh well.

We sat on the side of the river for a while then decided to go get some adult cocktails. It was nice out, so we decided to sit outside. Slowly the sun started to fade and the night grew cooler. Having the dog meant being unable to move inside so we suffered the cool down with a couple cocktails, some steamed mussels and shiitake mushrooms baked with goat cheese. The dog had a side of anchovies, a few mussels and a crostini, while making friends all over the patio. Conversation flowed easily but it felt more friendly than anything. He gets approached by 50-year-old cougars and I was his first ever internet date. I seem to be a lot of people’s first ever internet dates. Sigh.

I have a couple tentative dates set up with two other guys but rain is predicted. I would rather stay home and organize my house, do laundry and get some things taken care of with work. Does this make me pathetic? I know, I am just not feeling the enthusiasm. It’s hard to get excited for vanilla ice cream when you want creme brulee. Hard to have creme brulee when it’s out of stock.

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I woke up yesterday morning with some errands planned and a tentative date scheduled for the evening. He is someone whom I talked to a bit in December and then lost touch for a few weeks until the end of January. We agreed earlier in the week to have a loosely scheduled date in the 6:30 ish realm for Saturday night. No hard defined plans. Honestly, I was not feeling like it though and was hoping that I didn’t hear from him. He had suddenly become a Plan B.

After my meet-up turned date on Friday afternoon I found myself thinking a lot about Brooklyn Boy. I hadn’t met anyone whom I immediately felt an ease and comfort with like I did in his company. It seemed as if we had known each other for years as our rapport was so natural and unforced. He Google IM’d me around 9 pm and we spent several hours chatting online before I told him MY big “secret”. His response to my news, that I was just coming out of over a decade of lesbian exclusivity, was one of  surprise but not offense.  Most people aren’t offended per se, but there are preconceived beliefs that can interfere with someone’s attempts at getting to know me for who I am, which isn’t only as someone with a queer slant to my sexuality. Maybe it’s the New York in him, he isn’t fazed by much. He wants to see me on Saturday, if I am available. This is WHY my original date became my Plan B, as Brooklyn Boy suddenly took over top billing. I decided that if I didn’t hear from Plan B by 2 pm on Saturday, Brooklyn would win the spot.

So, I woke up as my 25-year-old texted me, hung over from a party the night before. I’m in need of distraction and ask him if he wants to tag along with me on my errands. We met an hour later, watched enough of the DVR’d Olympics to see the luger die and I dragged him out of his apartment. I couldn’t watch the news coverage, it was just too dreadfully sad. Meanwhile, I kept hoping I didn’t hear from Plan B.

We wandered around the city, grabbed some sesame balls from Chinatown, picked up my duvet cover, bought some dog food and then wrapped up our early afternoon adventure at a café with some latte’s, cinnamon tortilla chips and sea-salted caramels. 2 pm had come and gone and Brooklyn Boy had texted me and agreed to pick me up at my place at 4:30. A new hair conditioner I used in the morning had turned my hair into a bad science experiment show and tell exhibit so I had an hour to rush back to my place to rewash my hair and be ready.

The train was delayed. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Argh. I texted him begging that he please not be early. As I was hitting send, he texted me letting me know he would be roughly 20 minutes late. Score! I finally made it home, fed the dog, washed my hair and changed three times before taking the dog out for a quick last walk before he arrived.

A few minutes later he arrives in his family van, a sign of a parent with two young kids, and we decide to go into the city and figure out our plan from there. He’s still cute and I’m still intrigued. Sometimes the initial interest wanes after you go home after a date but it didn’t with him. I want his story. We are both obsessed with stories about people, we have similar projects we are planning on working on that are built around the stories of people you pass by every day and never think much about. Everyone has a story worth telling and being heard.We find a parking spot with a 2 hour limit but 2.5 hours until it switches over to free. We make note to stop back by later. Since his soon to be declared ex-wife doesn’t drink, he doesn’t get the opportunity to go out for cocktails much so we decide to start there. We each had a Dark and Stormy, chatted, laughed, people watched and then another round and some kisses and some more laughing and then a final 3rd round. Starting so early with the cocktails and having had so little to eat earlier in the day had us both a little pie eyed. We left and realized the time. Surely he had a ticket. We hesitantly walked by the family van and SCORE again, no ticket. That NEVER happens on this particular street. We look at each other quizzically and decide that to go to a little book store café down the street, maybe grab a bite and a cup of tea, sober up some.

Somehow we ended up sitting on the floor in the far aisle of the bookstore against a stack of unpopular books. I say they are unpopular because we sat there for 4 hours and only 3 people walked by the entire time. 3 people whom we chatted up and exchanged info with. Over the span of time we were sprawled on the floor we varied in position, at times I had my head in his lap as we looked through books, other times he leaned into me, or we faced each other, legs entwined and backs against opposing shelves.  The people who we met, one of them asked how long we had been together, how we had met. We laughed. When we confessed they looked shocked. They said that we appeared to have known eachother for years. We looked at eachother and smiled, it felt like that.We sat there on that floor for 4 hours like an old couple, punctuating moments with kisses, absent-minded caresses and laughter. He showed me illustrators he liked, I showed him a book of poems by Neruda, whom he had never read. He reads out loud. It’s nice, comforting, inclusive. I can not remember the last time I had felt such an ease with another person.

Eventually the bookstore threw us out because they were closing. he had a long drive back home so we decided to get back to the car and get me home. Only, we sat and talked, and talked, and stared at each other and laughed and kissed for 2 more hours. When we finally looked at the clock and saw that it was past 2, we untangled ourselves from our embrace and got serious about getting me home. Parked in front of my condo, I suggested I grab the dog for her last pee, and so he could meet her. In addition to kids, he also has a big cumbersome male dog. My pooch barely let me out the door before she had dragged me across the sidewalk and practically tackled him. She spent 15 minutes engrossed in him and the delicious scents of his family van. It’s a treasure trove of dropped kid snacks and dog cookie crumbles. We laughed at her and said our good nights. I made him promise to text me when he has arrived home safely.

I spent the next 2 hours chatting via IM with varying friends who happened to be online. We talk about him, I send over pics to them. Everyone approves, some worry about the complications of his current status. I counter that we all have baggage, some hide it better. His however, is completely in view. No apologies, it is, what it is. He has kids, he is in the process of getting divorced and for some reason something in my profile resonated with him and made him sign up to meet me. I consider that a gift. A fabulously unexpected gift.

Today is Valentine’s Day. Brooklyn Boy just texted me that he misses me. Is it okay that I find this sweet and not unnerving? I guess I like him too, so it’s okay. I have an Anti-Valentine’s Day date scheduled with my 25-year-old tonight but I am tired and really want to clean my house. I am also feeling a little run down. I am going to see if he minds a rain check. I would rather get some laundry done, take some Motrin (thank you period for arriving this morning), and watch I Love You, New York with my pup and some take out pho. I hope he understands.

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