Marathon Date

Some time in the beginning weeks of April, I matched with a gent on Tinder that I shall call Doc. Because he’s a physician and I am just so terribly creative.

Doc initiated contact immediately upon matching, and pleasant, intermittent conversation ensued. We evolved to texting on April 17th, at which point he asked me out. Only he said he wasn’t free until April 30th, his explanation being that he works very long, varied hours. Whatever the case may be, the extended time frame until we’d be able to meet was a red flag. Setting a date so far in the future is frequently an indicator of some type of shadiness – having a lot of dates lined up already, being involved, or what else have you. Even if there really was nothing untoward going on and he actually was genuinely that busy with work,  there still remained the risk that one or both parties would lose interest beforehand. That’s just how these things go.

So I had  my reservations, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and went with it, in a grain-of-salt(ish) sense. I penciled it in on my calendar for the 30th and if we went out, we went out. If we didn’t, we didn’t. He wanted to take me to a jazz show…not usually my type of scene but I’m always open to stepping outside of the box.

In the meantime, I didn’t really bother getting my hopes up about this date occurring, because even after having made plans, I only heard from him sporadically. He let me know once he got the tickets for the show, which was encouraging because I figured he wouldn’t go through the trouble of buying tickets (or telling me he did) if he weren’t serious about meeting. A few days after that he asked me for a picture, I suppose to confirm I am who I say I am, which is fair. He reciprocated. And then on the preceding Monday night he called me out of the blue and we solidified the plans some more – we were going to meet up at 6 p.m. for dinner at an Italian spot and then head around the corner to the jazz joint for the 8 p.m. show. Cool.

My hopes started to wane some when I texted him that Wednesday and got no response. I was further discouraged when I texted him Friday evening to confirm the next day’s events and got no response. Again. Oh well, I figured. Worst case scenario,  I’ll just write it off and use the Saturday night to drink with my friends like I do most of the time. No love lost.

I was pleasantly surprised early Saturday morning when he texted me to let me know he’s very interested in meeting me and wanted to confirm that I’ll be able to make it. He said he’d make the reservation for the restaurant and we agreed to meet there. Date still on after all – sweet!

I headed out for the morning to get my hair done, and then in the afternoon came back home and started to prepare for the date in the couple of hours I had to spare. The only immediate downside was that it was taking place in a town about 50 minutes from me,  in an area with an especially precarious parking situation, and I was not in the mood for either driving that far, fumbling through a parking war zone, or having to worry about my alcohol intake. Not that I planned to get hammered, but you never know. So I decided to opt for an Uber. It cost me almost 70 bucks, but I got to nap a little bit along the way and it really is nice sometimes to get chauffeured around, so it was worth it.

I arrived to the restaurant about 15 minutes ahead of schedule and texted him to let him know. He had been heading to grab coffee, but said he’d abort that and head over since I was there.

About 7 minutes later he came walking in. I knew who he was right away – no surprises. He looks different from his pictures only in the normal sense that compacting a live, breathing, 3-D person into a 2-D photo makes people look slightly off in person, generally, but it was definitely him. Tall, blond-haired, and blue-eyed (he’s from the Midwest but is of Scandinavian descent). Cute. Dressed nicely for the occasion in a button-down shirt and slacks. So far, so good. He told me I looked wonderful, so I supposed he was pleased as well.

We got ourselves seated and the conversation commenced effortlessly, sans awkward lulls. We went through the gamut of appetizers, wine, entrees, and even dessert – a lovely meal with pleasant company. I was pretty pleased. When the check came he snatched it up so promptly and efficiently that I didn’t even have time to do the fake reaching into my purse under the guise of being amenable to splitting the tab.

We left to make our way toward the jazz club, which he assured me was within walking distance, though he was initially unsure of which direction to go in. That was slightly irritating only because it was drizzling out and my freshly done hair was not having it. Luckily he found his bearings quickly and we were at the door of the jazz club within 5 minutes.

He checked in and we got escorted to an 4-seat table that we shared with another twosome. Again, I’m not really into jazz music, but between the smooth sounds and the cozy, intimate atmosphere of the club, I really enjoyed it. I had to sidle my chair up next to Doc’s to get the best view, so it gave us the opportunity to sit really closely, and I wasn’t minding it. We had a couple rounds of drinks throughout the course of the show, which lasted about an hour.

A minor hiccup occurred when an elderly lady sitting nearby had some type of halfway fainting spell and caused a minor scene while the show was still going on. Lucky her to almost pass out in the vicinity of a doctor – Doc immediately went into doctor mode for a little bit and asked her pertinent questions to try to assess her situation. He determined that she was most likely just intoxicated and/or on some other type of substance.

I knew things were going well from both perspectives, so I wasn’t too surprised when Doc asked if I’d be up for grabbing drinks elsewhere after the show. It’s always a good sign when a date doesn’t take off running into the hills, and even wants to extend your time together.

We went to his car and he drove us to another nice area of town and decided on a swanky hotel bar. He was hungry again, so we ended up getting a table and ordering some sushi platters. Yum.

Between the original dinner, the jazz show tickets and drinks there, and then our second round of eating and more drinks, I would hazard a guess that Doc spent a good chunk of change on our date – at least $250.00. The icing on the cake was when he offered to pay for my Uber back, or to drive me home himself. I insisted that he definitely didn’t have to pay for my Uber, but a ride wouldn’t be so bad if he were so inclined, even though it’d be quite a distance. He said he didn’t mind because he was so used to driving around for his various rotations that the distance to my house would be nothing for him. And then in actuality, we were both south of our respective residences (me more so than him), so since he had to head in the same direction to go home anyway, it wasn’t extremely out of his way.

We made our way back to his car and I gave him my address to plug into the GPS. I probably lasted about 15 minutes into the trip, and then it was lights out. I was already drowsy from the alcohol, but then being the passenger in a car on any extended trip has a good chance of putting me to sleep like a baby. So sleep I did. I woke up when we were about 5 minutes from my house, feeling a little bad that he drove a good portion of the trip by his lonesome. But at least he got the address before I fell asleep.

We pulled in to my cul-de-sac and I prepared to say goodbye and to make my way into my house, but it ended up not being goodbye because he asked if I’d mind if he came in for a drink. Sure…why not? He had treated me splendidly, I was attracted to him, and I was comfortable in my assessment that he was likely not a serial killer.

We made ourselves drinks from my stash and then settled in on the couch to watch whatever was on TV. He actually sat a ways away from me initially – I had to summon him to get closer. I suppose he was trying to be a gentleman, which is always nice.

But we did end up making out, of course,  with some light petting involved. He tried to coax me up into my room a couple of times, but he didn’t push it when I told him I didn’t think that was the best idea at this point. He actually agreed. I mean, I think he would’ve had sex with me if I had offered but I think he was pleased that I remained a good girl. He made it clear that he found me beautiful and sexy and fun and wanted to see me again once he could carve out some time in his schedule.

We were now getting into the wee hours of the morning. He could tell I was tired and wanted to get out of my way, but he was also tired and tipsy himself, so he asked if I minded if he waited a while before driving. I told him that was fine, so he set his phone alarm for about 45 minutes from then and we actually ended up snuggling up and sleeping (the literal kind) together on the couch. I didn’t hear the alarm go off, I only woke up when he was walking out of the front door to head home in the cold rain. I felt bad and offered him the couch to crash on if he wanted to wait some more, but he said he’d be okay. It was 3:30 in the morning by then, making this a 9-and-a-half hour marathon date when all was said and done.

Sunday afternoon, I texted him to make sure he made it in okay. He said he had and then described the night before as being weird, but fun. I told him I felt the same and then reiterated that I’d like to do it again, so he should consult his schedule and let me know a good time. This weekend was booked for me, as is the next one, but there’s a wine festival the weekend after next that I told him about and he said he’d be interested.  He said he’d have more details into his schedule on Monday, but I didn’t hear anything. I texted him Tuesday to see if he’d been able to look over his schedule yet. He wrote back early Wednesday to say that he’s on call for the next week and doesn’t know how the rest of the month is shaping up yet, but he’ll let me know by the end of the week.

Friday, as I headed out of state to a friend’s wedding, I texted him to let him know what I was up to and to wish him a good weekend. I also sent him a picture of me in my gown (it was black tie), which displayed my cleavage particularly poignantly. He commented that the dress was “dangerous.”

I sent him a picture earlier today of me and my friend, Carly, from the wedding. He hasn’t answered yet, which I’m not worried about because he doesn’t necessarily always answer me immediately, or even the same day  So unfortunately that’s just his traditional communication pattern.

So, I mean..I like him. I was attracted to him physically and mentally and he treated me superbly. He doesn’t strike me as a player or as the sleazy type. We touched on the topic of Tinder briefly and he said he hadn’t been using it long and there didn’t seem to be many women on there of the caliber that he was looking to meet. In the time before our date, even though we had exchanged numbers, I’d check his Tinder profile just to refresh my memory on what he looks like, and I’d notice he had rearranged his pictures a couple of times, and even pared them down some. He said he had been doing that because he was probably going to end up deleting it, which he apparently did at some point after our date, as he doesn’t show up in my matches anymore. Either that or he unmatched with me. I think it’s the former, personally.

As far as his dating situation goes, he said he had most recently been seeing an anesthesiologist but that it didn’t work out because of their schedules. He mentioned that it just kind of “faded,” so it didn’t really sound like anything that heavy.

He seems promising and I’d be open to spending some more time with him and getting to know him better, but given his demanding schedule, I can already tell that this is probably not something sustainable. 2 or 3 weeks between dates is not going to work.

At this point, I’m still waiting for him to yay-or-nay the wine festival the weekend after next, or at least to give me some insight into when he thinks he’ll be free if not for the wine festival.

But I got no patience. And I hate waiting.

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