If you lived in Manhattan in the mid to late 90s, you may recall an Upper West Side coffee shop called Drip. This was before there was a Starbucks on every corner, so this type of place was quite unique: you could linger over your coffee for hours, just like on Friends! (what's the font for sarcasm?)
There was an added draw: a free dating service. You'd fill out a questionnaire, they'd stick it in a book, and if someone perusing the book liked what they read about you, Drip would put you in touch (and you'd ostensibly give Drip even more business by having your first Drip date there). Unfortunately, there were no pics involved, so you had to decide if you wanted to meet someone based on their words alone -- which sounds so archaic now!
This guy requested a date with me, and something I read in his profile gave me pause: he wrote, "I'm as cute as a button -- a big, plush button". Being the eternal optimist that I am (or just a sucker for a good story), I still decided to meet him.
And he was right -- he was a big, plush button. He was a large, round fella, quite a few pounds overweight. Not really my type. There was no second date, but the expression "a big plush button" has become part of my vernacular with my best friend D to this day.
Fast-forward to February 2010. Date #159. I knew from his pics that he had a few extra pounds, but he was still rather good-looking and seemed exceptionally interesting: had traveled all over the world, had a job that he loved, and other positive stuff.
We hit it off. Drinks led to dinner, which led to kisses in the street, which led to plans for this weekend even before the date was over. He thinks I'm smart and gorgeous, and tells me so. His email to confirm our weekend date was appropriately enthusiastic.
He's not exactly a "big plush button" -- but yes, he does have a little extra around the middle, more than I'm used to. A bit like this guy, which is why I'm now blog-naming him Hoffman.
I'm certainly no twig (and oy -- not doing well in the weight-loss department, but more on that later) -- but I'm trying to wrap my head around Mr Teddy Bear Man's girth. Um, maybe just get past date two first, and take it from there? Thanks for the advice, self.
Since I last wrote, I've had two more dates with Einstein. I can't figure him out: he's fun and funny one minute, and a bit strange and pedantic the next. On our second date, we wound up at his place for a bit of kissing and more drinking. He wanted me to stay over (note: we were fully clothed the whole time) -- it just felt too soon. I left his place at 2:50 am, a bit tipsy and tired.
It was only when I was already in the taxi on my way home that it occurred to me: he didn't walk me downstairs to said taxi, and he really should have. He did offer a half-hearted, "you'll be OK?", and my automatic response was simply to say yes. I decided that wasn't a deal-breaker, but a lesson to myself: ask for what you want, especially when it comes to personal safety at 2:50 am.
Date #3 with Einstein: easy-flowing conversation over drinks, then a bite, then back to my place. More smooching, this time shirts were removed. I had to work early the next morning, so at about 11 pm, I started to mention that we really should start to wrap things up...
You would have thought I'd put a gun to the guy's head. He leapt up, quickly put his shirt on and within a minute was at the door, fiddling with the locks -- I half-joked about at least giving me a kiss goodnight. He did, but seconds later was out the door, with a terse "bye".
I mentioned this to Best Friend D, and her feeling was: "when someone wants me to go, I'd be out the door quickly too!". But something about this just didn't feel right.
Overall, something about HIM just didn't feel right, and this was magnified on my first date with Hoffman days later. THIS was a sweet, warm, not-strange-seeming guy. You know how meeting someone new can show you what was wrong with the last one? Yeah -- that.
Anyone else have Drip date stories? Let's hear them!