A few days after the breakup with Jon Hamm, I logged back onto the dating website, to see what was out there -- but was really in no hurry to start dating again. I saved a few "favorites", but marked them as private. (for those not familiar with the system, you can mark a "favorite" so the recipient gets a note informing them that they've been chosen - kind of a nudge that you're interested, without actually going through the effort of writing a note. I did this with Jon Hamm way back when -- I saw it as simply a way to bookmark a profile, but he took it as a nudge that I wanted him to make the first move.)
Anyway. That has nothing to do with this story, so...
Let's-call-him-Jacques (oui, a Frenchman) wrote to me. I can't recall why, but I wasn't particularly interested, and deleted his email. A week or so later, he wrote again, joking that our scores had risen, and maybe we should see if there was some truth to the science -- he seemed interesting and charming, and after a few email exchanges, we had a date set.
It was my first "first date" in over eight months. It was a strange feeling -- like I was repeating a familiar pattern from long ago. I wasn't nervous -- more like, self-conscious about the fact that I've put on a few pounds of late, and I'm not thrilled with the way I look right now.
Overall, a nice enough date -- lots to talk about, though I found myself getting bored after the second drink (but that may have been just me being tired). He walked me home, kiss on both cheeks, asked if I was free for dinner sometime during the week -- I said I'd let him know.
The next day, I worried that I came across as standoff-ish. I wrote to him suggesting a night to get together later in the week.
Next time: details on how the "kiss on both cheeks" evolved into us being in a room with mostly-naked women, drinking lots of wine, then smooching on an empty dance floor...