Is it possible that I'm not as hot as I think I am?
Granted it's been a while since I was on the dating scene, and I am in a new city so -- sure, different rules apply. Maybe I'm not used to people being nice. And friendly. I am from the East Coast, and my response when the grocery cashier asked me if I had a good weekend was, "Why do you want to know?" Which I realize in hindsight is not appropriate ...
So when new-boy from work asked me to lunch on Friday -- and had been emailing me and told me to "call him anytime" -- I assumed this dating thing would be easy. Not even officially divorced yet, new city, and snap fingers - new boyfriend... Hurray!! ( ...so much better than the first guy post-marriage who now has a boyfriend. No, not a typo. ...but we do have a lot in common. We both have sex with men.)
So when new-boyfriend doesn't contact me by 6PM on Saturday I leave a message. And when I hear nothing by 7PM, I become annoyed and start a movie. At 8PM I receive a call from new-boyfriend, apologetic of course. He confused my work cell and personal cell and called the wrong number but we're meeting up at 9:30PM. He's at dinner with a girl friend (pardon?!) who just broke up with her boyfriend (he's amazing), ...well, the boyfriend is actually his friend ...but he needs to be a friend to her, too (he's the love of my life).
At 9:30 I walk in to a wave and a hug and a glass of wine. And introductions to said friends, yada, yada, yada... and then I'm not sure what the fuck happened. Because nothing happened. We had a "We're the same age right?" conversation. I'm four years older, which I did not think was a big deal. Especially when prior to that revelation, he stated, "You're younger than me, right?" And please note the title of this entry, that I am hot... I thought I was hot anyways... The gay guy thought I was hot.
So boyfriend has a whole new vibe for the evening. He's working the room, talking to everyone and after a particularly boring conversation, I seek him out. And he's not so engaging. Polite yes, but no bringing me in, no questions. No touchy-feely flirting. In fact we proceed to another bar and he does not even sit by me. And honestly, I'm not willing to work this hard. You're either into me or you're not. And when you start to tell me the same stories from lunch the day before without asking me questions about myself you're more than "not" -- you're rapidly approaching douche.
At the third location, we move from "douchey", to "goddamn-I-must-have-soooo-misread-this" as he starts flirting with a not-as-pretty, but definitely thinner and larger-breasted individual. So I say a polite good-night to the gang (and please note - I am more sober than I've been since junior high due to the inexcusable lack of public transit on the west coast. Get your shit together, California! ) and head back to my car through a colorful cast of tourists, homeless and hoochies.
...but my East Coast friends disagree. Nevertheless, I have a Botox consultation tomorrow.
Granted it's been a while since I was on the dating scene, and I am in a new city so -- sure, different rules apply. Maybe I'm not used to people being nice. And friendly. I am from the East Coast, and my response when the grocery cashier asked me if I had a good weekend was, "Why do you want to know?" Which I realize in hindsight is not appropriate ...
So when new-boy from work asked me to lunch on Friday -- and had been emailing me and told me to "call him anytime" -- I assumed this dating thing would be easy. Not even officially divorced yet, new city, and snap fingers - new boyfriend... Hurray!! ( ...so much better than the first guy post-marriage who now has a boyfriend. No, not a typo. ...but we do have a lot in common. We both have sex with men.)
And lunch was great -- lots of childhood chatting, similar interests, similar upbringing, our mothers both even live in Florida! How easy will holidays be? So when the inevitable "what are you doing this weekend" topic roles around, and I'm invited to check out a new wine bar with his friends (since he "knows what it's like to be new in town" -- fantastic line, guy) I'm delighted, but not surprised. I know when a guy likes me. ...usually. I did. ...I thought I used to.
So when new-boyfriend doesn't contact me by 6PM on Saturday I leave a message. And when I hear nothing by 7PM, I become annoyed and start a movie. At 8PM I receive a call from new-boyfriend, apologetic of course. He confused my work cell and personal cell and called the wrong number but we're meeting up at 9:30PM. He's at dinner with a girl friend (pardon?!) who just broke up with her boyfriend (he's amazing), ...well, the boyfriend is actually his friend ...but he needs to be a friend to her, too (he's the love of my life).
At 9:30 I walk in to a wave and a hug and a glass of wine. And introductions to said friends, yada, yada, yada... and then I'm not sure what the fuck happened. Because nothing happened. We had a "We're the same age right?" conversation. I'm four years older, which I did not think was a big deal. Especially when prior to that revelation, he stated, "You're younger than me, right?" And please note the title of this entry, that I am hot... I thought I was hot anyways... The gay guy thought I was hot.
So boyfriend has a whole new vibe for the evening. He's working the room, talking to everyone and after a particularly boring conversation, I seek him out. And he's not so engaging. Polite yes, but no bringing me in, no questions. No touchy-feely flirting. In fact we proceed to another bar and he does not even sit by me. And honestly, I'm not willing to work this hard. You're either into me or you're not. And when you start to tell me the same stories from lunch the day before without asking me questions about myself you're more than "not" -- you're rapidly approaching douche.
At the third location, we move from "douchey", to "goddamn-I-must-have-soooo-misread-this" as he starts flirting with a not-as-pretty, but definitely thinner and larger-breasted individual. So I say a polite good-night to the gang (and please note - I am more sober than I've been since junior high due to the inexcusable lack of public transit on the west coast. Get your shit together, California! ) and head back to my car through a colorful cast of tourists, homeless and hoochies.
My self-esteem is somewhat crushed now. I mean, what the fuck was that?! I speak with an also divorced, east coast transplant and learn the following: (a) For men in Southern California, 33 is the new 24. Commitment? Maturity? Relationships? …never heard of it; and (b) In a place where perfect is possible -- and apparently for purchase -- it could be that I'm not as hot as I thought.
...but my East Coast friends disagree. Nevertheless, I have a Botox consultation tomorrow.
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