The Second to the Worst Date Ever

About a year ago, I met this guy. He was a friend of a friend, reasonably attractive like a blond Paul Rud, and showing me a lot of attention. He wasn't particularly funny or engaging in conversation, but he was a really good listener. I believe I gave him my email address, and we talked a bit via email and via phone for a few days until we made a date. And then I find out he was 13 years older than me, which was surprising, but not a deal breaker.

I like to do this thing when I'm going on a first date and I know there's going to be trouble deciding on a location.  - I suggest three places, and the guy chooses from those three. It's a perfect, diplomatic way to compromise without hemming and hawing. Paul Rudd and I choose Rosie's, one of my favorite first-date places. And if this guy isn't paying for my meal, I know I can afford it. (Etiquette question: my friend Sarah, who lived in Memphis for ten years, says that she doesn't care if she gets taken out for McDonald's on a first date- that guy should be paying. But WTF am I supposed to do if I actually can't afford to pay my half because it's like, the day before payday and rent was due or something? It's embarassing to both not be able to afford my half, to make that known, and to rely on my date to foot the bill. I'm not a feminist, but I'm not old fashioned, either.)

I show up at Rosie's ten minutes late, and he's patiently waiting. But has also patiently decided that we need to go somewhere else because it's too loud. (I like burgers. This was my favorite neighborhood bar. Can't hang at my bar, can't hang with me First date mistake number one.) So we head over to Sapporo, my favorite place for sushi in town except for Miyake, which isn't on the same playing field as the rest. Sapporo is good. It's not great, but it's consistent. Good food, good service, good ambiance, not too pricey if you pick the right things. He's never been, and almost immediately starts complaining that the waitress seems too fake. (First date mistake number two.) It's her job to be nice. Who cares if she sounds fake, maybe she was having a bad date. I'd prefer fake nice to outright rude, any day. First dates are about putting your best foot forward, for charming the other person and not acting crazy.

Much to my relief, he picks up the tab and we decide to give Rosie's another shot. On our walk, he tells me he wants to talk about our age difference. I actually say, "Let's not go down that road." I wasn't trying to be rude, I just honestly felt there was nothing to talk about regarding our age difference, so what was the point? Paul Rudd and I were both aware of the situation,  what was I going to say, "Hey, how were the 70s?" I changed the subject. (First date mistake number three.)

We arrive at Rosie's, sit down, and it comes out that in a few weeks I was going to be moving to his street, my very first solo apartment. He offers to loan me this couch that he has in storage, saying that he thinks it'd be perfect for my place, he wasn't using it, but that he'd need it back at some point. Whoa. Really? This was date one. Agreeing to take the couch of Paul Rudd was pretty much license for him to stay in my life for however long the couch was in the apartment, and it was nice of him to offer, but highly inappropriate. I politely declined, multiple times- he kept pressing the issue. (First date mistake number four.)  The conversation died down pretty quick after this, and sometimes I get distracted by... fashion. So it's like I'm a dude, checking out a bunch of girls, but instead of their asses I'm checking out their boots. Boots not boobs. Really, it's a bad habit, but I can't help myself. Paul Rudd takes this as an indication that I'm having a terrible time, and asks me if I'm having a terrible time. Best way to ensure that I'll start having a terrible time: ask me if I'm having a terrible time. (First date mistake number five.)

He drives me home, we're in the car, which is always the worst, most awkward way to say goodbye to someone on a date. I've got to remember to ask to be walked to the door. I decide that maybe some of the awkwardness over the course of the night was just due to jitters- sometimes getting to know someone's personality quirks takes time. There was only one way for me to figure out if Paul Rudd and I had a second date: I went in for the kiss. If it was an awesome kiss, I'd know. This was a really bold move, and I almost never do it. I get thisclose and he says, "Are you trying to kiss me?" Sheepishly, I say yes. He tells me he'd rather have a hug and talk about our age difference. I'm stunned. He proceeds to not really say anything, and I don't really have anything to say, so even though we're having "a talk" about our age difference, we're not talking.

I get out of the car, stunned, deflated, rejected. It seems like the best decision to take a few days and figure out if we can come back from this major blow. How do I know he won't pull that every single time I try to touch him, or worse, in bed? Consequently, this involves me being a little bit distant and non-responsive for two, three days. I didn't cut him out completely, just didn't make any plans. On the evening of the third day after our date, it was Gossip Girl at Keith and Maggie's. I looked forward to this Monday night with Serena and Blair every week. My phone was off while we enjoyed chips and dip, exchanging OMGs and WTFs. He had written me a really nice email earlier that day about how I was mistaken and if only I could understand how much he really did want to give him a second chance. This email swayed me to give him another chance when...

On my way out, I check my phone. Missed call from Paul Rudd and two really angry texts. "Amanda, how could you do this to me. At least show some respect and tell me that you don't feel the same. We have the same friend circle, it's a small town and this is really shitty." Whoa. I called him immediately and holy shit, was he angry. For the next half hour, we're on the phone as I head back up the Hill, having the worst break-up talk. There were sighs. Long, awkward silent pauses. All this, and we hadn't even kissed. It was awful.

His deal was that he was 37, and desperately wanted to be in a serious relationship. When he started realizing I was not going to be the one, he over compensated and pushed me away. I see him from time to time, and I never know what to say, because it was the second to the worst date I'd ever been on.