Dating Diary - One Man’s Story Part 7
Will his lunch with a work colleague turn into a date date or stay strictly professional? Find out here—plus, a drastic move he makes.
n this seventh installment of Happen’s dating diary, single New Yorker Matt S. awaits a response from “high-maintenance" girl Rachel to his lunch date proposal. He bides his time with a second date with Allison, a playwright he’d hit it off with a week ago. Will sparks fly with either girl? Read on for the answer.
Wednesday, 12 p.m.
My phone’s calendar function reminded me I have my second date with Allison today—lucky thing, as with all the attention
I’ve devoted to obsessing over Rachel, the “high-maintenance” PR girl, that I’d nearly forgotten. Obviously, absence hasn’t made my heart grow fonder; the time that’s passed between our last (and first!) date has served to put Allison out of my mind. I want to be open-minded and give her — and “us” — another opportunity to click, but currently I’m skeptical. I mean, if I’ve already forgotten about her, how much can I be into her? Not that I put so much stock into love at first sight, but there should be something more than casual interest after a first date. We didn’t even kiss at the end of it. Granted, I blame myself or the timing (it’s hard to make the moves mid-afternoon), but if it were meant to be, it would’ve just happened, right?
|My convoluted attempt to turn a work function into a real date had failed.|
Wednesday, 4 p.m.
What’s wrong with me? My date with Allison went perfectly well, but I have no inclination to see her again. We met in the museum lobby to view an exhibit on the Dada movement. I hoped we’d spend a leisurely few hours admiring the exhibit and talking about what we saw; Allison, on the other hand, seemed intent on learning about the pieces and opted for the pre-recorded audio tour—a phone-like device she kept to her ear as she moved from piece to piece. So much for conversation, I thought to myself as we ambled silently through the galleries in our separate guided-tour bubbles.
We finished our museum visit and headed to a pizzeria. At my urging, she told me a bit about her one-act play, which had been performed last week. She refused to delve into the details, but she did say it was about a failed relationship—basically, a dialogue based
on her own messy breakup with an ex. I imagined something akin to The Vagina Monologues and shuddered. Certainly, it would be unfair of me to judge her based on a work I hadn’t even seen, but still for me it didn’t bode well. And it certainly didn’t motivate me to go for a kiss at the end of our date.
|Guess the lack of feeling is mutual, which is for the best.|
Thursday, 12 p.m.
All right! An email from Rachel—and she’s agreed to meet me for lunch tomorrow. But does she see this as a date, or as a work-related meeting between publicist and magazine writer? Regardless, I’m looking forward to seeing her.
Nothing from Allison—not even a “thank you” for buying the exhibit tickets and lunch. Guess the lack of feeling is mutual, which is for the best: no awkward follow-up or rejections necessary. And no point in being down about it when I have a date with cutie Rachel tomorrow.
Friday, 3 p.m.
My “date” with Rachel did not go as well as I’d hoped. Sure, it had all the trappings of a date: a light meal at a hip restaurant, easy conversation about where we grew up, our families, travel experiences—the usual. That is, until she whipped out a big coffee-table book she was hoping I could cover for one the publications I write for. That’s when it hit me: She had no real interest in me. My convoluted attempt to turn a work function into a real date had failed. At least the upside to taking a PR girl out to lunch is not having to pay for the meal. I lamely protested as she put down her corporate card when the bill arrived, but quickly acquiesced when she reminded me, “This was work!”
Friday, 5 p.m.
Swapped polite emails with Rachel: I thanked her for lunch and she replied with, “My pleasure!” So much for that.
Time to retire my passive-aggressive approach to getting girls. I’m clearly languishing in first-date-only hell, failing to excite or be excited by these girls enough for us to pursue each other. What I need is to go meet girls, spend an evening going from bar to bar and hitting on just about every woman I see. And I need a — loathe as I am to even use the cliché — a wingman.
It’s Friday night, and I have no plans. I am going to shower, shave, and put on my favorite jeans and the shirt I just bought. I’ll have my friend Eric meet me at this hip after-work place we sometimes go to. My mission: to get more girls’ numbers than can fit into my phone’s address book—or else.
Matt S. is a 30-year-old magazine writer and editor looking to meet The One among the 1.95 million single women in New York City. His search will be chronicled on Happen every two weeks.
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