After a heart shattering break-up, I swore off dating forever. But then I put down my Ben & Jerry's and leapt back into the dating pool. It's a daunting game out there, and I say it all comes down to chemistry.
Or does it? Maybe we have hang-ups or maybe we're just too picky. In 100 dates, I hope to figure out what it is that makes me - and you - 'click.'

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Day 5: Mooi brill

I’m completely self-conscious about wearing glasses, which is why I usually rely on contacts. But, I recently got a pair of specs that I adore enough to wear outside. Namely, to my local watering hole where I met a girlfriend for a few mid-week drinks. One man, S. noticed me, and my glasses with a complementary “mooi brill” (nice glasses). One thing led to another, and before he left the bar he asked for my number, and I took in his well tailored suit and classy manner, and gave him my digits.

About a week later, S. invites me to his house for a few drinks. I’ll admit a bit of hesitation to going to the house of a man I don’t know at all, but I have faith in people (and in GPS tracking on my cell phone), so I agree.

S.’s house is around the corner from mine, and I arrive promptly at 20.00. He is waiting for me, and has apparently had time to set the mood. All over the house, candles are lit and ‘world music’ plays in the background. S. takes my coat and things, and gives me the grand tour. His place is gorgeous, and very well decorated, which I tell him.

S. went all out for our drinks this evening, telling me about a tasting menu he’s planned out. We open a bottle of prosecco first, and get cosy.

S. tells me all about himself, and he’s quite an interesting man. A manager at a high-end tailor shop on the wealthiest street in town, he says he’s looking for something “different.” I get the impression he’s directing that comment at me, but he is also referring to a position he’s been offered in Estonia. Kind of a sorry thing to learn on a first date, but I won’t let that bother me.

Whenever I mention something about myself, S. seems genuinely interested in hearing all about it. I make an offhand comment about a former job, and he perks up. “Please, tell me all about it, I want to know about you.” Sweet, I think.

At average height, S. has a very broad, muscular chest which is something I always fancy in a man. He is also the spitting image of Owen Wilson, nose and all. S. is younger than me by a few years, and that’s something that puts me off. It’s a bit of a disappointment, though I don’t know why.

What I like about S. is his outgoing spirit. He has a no regrets, seize the moment attitude, and I admire that. At a certain point, he’s telling a story and we’re both laughing in agreement, when he suddenly stands up. He walks around the table to where I’m seated, and kisses me. I can’t say it wasn’t a romantic moment.

We move to the couch, and onto the next wine in our ‘series,’ a smooth white. We talk a little more about ourselves and I start to wonder if S. is into me solely based on my ‘foreign’ status. An American in Europe, I’m a little used to that. But, as the white whittles down, our conversation becomes more of a make-out session and I’m literally having flashbacks to high school heavy petting. I’m not giving it up to this guy, and though it’s somewhat flattering that he wants it, I decide it’s time for me to go.

He’s a gentlemen, and helps me with my coat. As I’m leaving he kisses me again, and says, “You’re beautiful, and most important funny.”

Hmm. S, you’re sweet. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime, before Estonia takes you away.

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