ExposedNYC

Forgive me for glowing, but nothing can beat the feeling of a great first date. I met “Pool Boy” tonight at a bar in my neighborhood, which he chose to be convenient for me. We had plans to meet at 9:00, so he called at 7:30 to make sure we were still on (which was a refreshing change from my previous experience). I eagerly confirmed that we were still on, and he questioned whether I would recognize him, which I insisted I would.

Turns out, he was right. I walked in to the bar at 9:00 on the dot, and actually walked right past him. The one time I had met him, he had a bandana on, but to my pleasant surprise, he was quite cute, and approached me. He bought me a drink, and we grabbed one of the few tables available in the room.

We got into typical first date conversation of what do you do for a living, where did you grow up, etc. He works in financial sales, and grew up in Long Island. He has an adorable accent, and his family originally moved here from Russia. We were lucky to have the Mets playoff game on in the background, in case we got bored, but it turns out we talked non-stop until the eighth inning, and only stopped to watch when it got exciting.

We had a few drinks, and conversation flowed freely, including admitting that to go on this date, we had passed up his offer of tickets to the Mets game and my favorite show, Grey’s Anatomy (obviously he won). When we reached the point where you’ve been through all of the questions you’re supposed to ask, he laughed and made a joke, pointing out that he loved this point of a first date, and asked me, “What do you want to know about me now?” I was honestly content with what I knew so far, and managed to keep the conversation fairly light going into the last two innings of a historic, but ultimately disappointing Mets game.

As the rain started to sprinkle on us, he insisted on walking me home. We got to my front door, and hit the inevitable question of the first date kiss. We had already joked about the question of going home together on a first date earlier in the night, which I knew wasn’t even a possibility, but I always get a little nervous about who’s going to make the first move.

He leaned in for a hug, and I gave him a quick kiss. He pulled back, said he had a great time, and that he hoped we would see each other again soon. Then he gave me one of my favorite lines- “Give me another one of those,” as he grabbed me for another good night kiss.

I walked into the house on cloud nine. I met a guy who was cute, who I could hold an easy conversation with, and who gave a great kiss good night. Now I’ll have to play the inevitable game of waiting for him to call, so I don’t seem too eager. I normally hate the entire dating game, but I think I might actually like this guy enough to throw myself into the playoffs. I just hope I fare better than the Mets did.

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