Best Saturday Ever

So as most of you know, my big date happened on Saturday. I was impatient for it all week and nervous about it Friday night. This is the first time in a long time that a date has been an actual big deal to me. I seem not to attract girls that I consider equal or greater to myself in terms of intellect, worldliness, you know, basically quality. Let's not kid ourselves. I have a tendency to try to scrape what's underneath the barrel. So the idea of a girl (well, woman) who's sophisticated, worldly, pretty, and incredibly nice actually showing interest in me sparks a lot of feelings at once; surprise, joy, and fear being the major three. Me, who never gives much of a shit how I come off to other people except to the friends that are close. I found myself worrying if I should try to project some kind of politician version of me, where all the corners are scrubbed clean and there's sort of a false positivity about me. Never has the phrase, "self-image" been as real and scrutinized.

And yet, whenever I'm around her, that all seems to subside.

It's weird. When I'm not around her, it feels like there's three stressed out people in the room with me. But then when we actually spend time together, it's like, "Oh yeah, that's all bullshit." Is this what compatibility is like? I've never felt so strangely at ease with someone who I've known for such a relatively short period of time before. God knows (as do you most likely, casual reader) that I can be emotionally extreme and try to cling on to something before it has proven itself to have substance. I can imagine at least some of you are reading and already thinking, "here we go again." To that all I can say is, that part of me will always be on guard until a certain relationship waypoint has been established. I've been burned so many times, mostly by myself and my own expectations, but also by girls in general. I keep waiting for the "but" that will put into perspective how I've some how stumbled across what is by my experience a unicorn. Is this simply my own insecurities kicking me down to the point where I don't believe I deserve what seems to be a good thing? That is an old ghost that I never really acknowledged before. Mostly because the girls I have been with were less than par. I think the last time I seriously felt like I was getting more than I deserved was when I was all of 15 and dating Danielle for three seconds (and we all know how that turned out.)

Our date took place at Burma Superstar, which in addition to being a nice place, is allied territory. This wasn't a calculated move on my part, more of an unintended bonus. Part of what set my level of comfort so high seems to be the fact that I was in the presence of friends, which made me feel safer somehow although realistically, I don't even know what that means as a statement. No, this place was chosen because I was attempting to look interesting and/or worldly, although I sort of blew that immediately by honestly stating that I had only eaten there once or twice and basically remembered nothing about it. The clothing parameters established were hazy; I have a difficult job defining "fancy normal", and my wardrobe is similarly inflexible. So I chose to go for the former (I've had a bad experience with the latter before), so there I was, sitting in the nicest clothes that I own. You might recognize them as the funeral attire I wore not too long ago. But she didn't know that, and damnit, I've gotta get more than one use out of clothes I spent a lot of money on.

Anyhow, in the hours preceding my date, I basically did two things: I played Splinter Cell, and looked at the clock nervously every three minutes. I think some kind of metaphor might be found in the fact that the game I was playing's major plot arc was that the protagonist was pretending to be someone else in order to gain entry into a society (okay, by society I mean terrorist organization, but clarifying that sort of turns the metaphor into an insult). I left a little too early, reasoning that finding parking would be a pain (which of course it wasn't) so I ended up in the restaurant about fifteen minutes earlier than I should have been. Which was perfect, because a table was not immediately available, so I got on the list. My date was running late, as she told me over the phone before I ever left my house, so I sort of stood there alone while the server kept confusing other people waiting with me as my date. I finally got to my table, facing the windows so I'd be able to see her coming and wave her down.

About fifteen minutes later, Travis joked to me that I really look like a bitch sitting here by myself. But my logic was as follows: I've been made to wait for over an hour by a date before, who then expressed no interest in me the entire duration of the evening. This, by comparison, was nothing. And besides, she had told me she was running late, so all was thusfar okay in the land of Nod. A couple minutes later she called saying she's having trouble finding parking, and I directed her to the garage. Surely, she's max of five minutes away now, so I order some chicken samusa (is that spelled right?) and a salad. I've reached a point in my life where dating is like a sort of theatre performance, in that the nights before the first show I'm nervous as all get out, but the second I put my foot on stage, all of those nerves turn into quiet confidence.

Not long after she finally arrived and the evening proper began. I was and am still amazed at how easy it is to lapse into conversation with her. She seems to have as much to say (quantity wise, not quality) as Chelsea did, but unlike Chelsea, this wasn't a weird disorder that made for a one-sided trip to Yawnsfordshire (it's just past Dullsville) it was actually engaging social discourse. Like the kind you have with a good friend, but denser. We were there from 7:30 to getthefuckout o'clock talking almost constantly about a large range of things, from my writing, to her experiences in Europe, just all over the place with subjects far and wide. We then made haste to Starbucks a block away, and we continued talking there until they also closed. Then we went to a place where there wasn't a closing time, my car in the parking garage, where we talked some more. Then we went back to my house and talked even more before finally ending the evening just before 1:30AM, and only because she had a schedule of things to do on Sunday. Me, trying to be the consummate gentleman, kept the physical contact at a minimum. Not because I didn't want to of course but because this is obviously a relationship potentially of very high value and I want to make sure I don't screw it up inadvertently by moving too quick. To be fair though, that's always been my MO. I like to let the girl sort of set the acceptable precedents of behavior so that you don't hit some kind of awkward point. I hugged her, gave her my GPS to help her home (because that's also the sort of thing I seem not to have a problem with, lending things that cost a week's pay out) and the evening came to a close.

In all this talking, a lot of personal details came up on both sides. And in neither case did they ever feel like a mistake saying or hearing. And a few of these are the same things I've said on other dates and immediately or later regretted. I don't know how to describe it; it's like I can't phase her, or at least, my personality gives these experiences a kind of charm. And that's a really good feeling. It was almost like a comparison of scars; I told her about how I was social sociopath as a teenager and she told me how around my age she used to be a LARPer. And before you ask, no, I did not tell her any of my horror stories. I did tell her though that I had stories that I would have to gain a lot more of interest capital from her on because the telling would immediately set a lot of that interest on fire, to which she laughed and similarly only seemed patiently curious. She seems to regard these confessional tales as a sort of evidence of personal growth rather than something to simply be embarrassed about. Like the shame for the stupid things you've done in the past is in itself the important thing that justifies the mistakes. Which I agree with of course, but that point of view rarely seems to be taken at first stab, but rather reached at a later point.

In short, if you couldn't tell, I'm very charmed by this girl. She seems to be the very thing I've been looking for for what seems like awhile. I say seems because the cynic in me remains vigilant, not yet convinced that such a thing exists for me. But that part thankfully stays in the corner watching, unobtrusive. And whether this works out or not, it's been a hell of an experience already in why shooting for the most easily attained goal is a complete waste of time. I hope this turns out to be everything it seems to be.

And in completely unrelated news, I hear a certain sassy cephalopod has become a new cohost on The View.