ExposedNYC

To round out the week, I recently went on a highly disappointing date. I got together with Fashion Man, who I met out with friends about a month ago. We held off on an official first date due to both of our insane travel schedules, but finally settled on a movie and then a concert that a friend of his was playing in the East Village.

I began to get wary when attempting to select a movie, he responded to my best efforts at gender-neutral selections (3:10 to Yuma, Assassination of Jesse James…) with Good Luck, Chuck. C’mon, we all know the only point to that movie was seeing Jessica Alba naked, and Dane Cook just doesn’t hold the same appeal. We settled on Yuma.

We were both running late so there wasn’t much time for chit chat while we climbed the escalators and crawled into our seats in time to catch a few previews. The movie was entertaining, but I sensed another warning signal when he didn’t once go for the hand-hold on the arm rest between us. I know it’s a little pre-pubescent, but somehow just seems expected on a movie date (is this crazy on my part?).

Then came the subway ride to the venue, where we both slowly realized that we had absolutely nothing to say to each other. We had already covered most of the basics of job, hometown, travel, etc. the first time we met, and after a quick update on his recreational softball team we fell into an uncomfortable pattern of trying to fill silence.

When I first noticed that the electricity between us felt more like lazy squiggles than lightning bolts, I decided to use this opportunity as practice- sort of a role-play dating. I pulled out every possible question I could think of to get him talking about something he seemed excited about and listened intently to his responses. My friends are constantly telling me that getting me past small talk to actually opening up is a major hurdle so I responded to each of his enquiries with as much depth as I could muster. When this didn’t help I conceded defeat.

And, if I’m being completely honest, I may have been jaded to start with. I couldn’t help comparing him to a guy I had met on vacation and fallen pretty hard for (more on that later). I went out with a modified proverb in mind of “One guy in New York is worth millions a plane ride away” but I kept waiting to be proven right. Luckily, the feeling seemed mutual. We both seemed relieved to arrive at the club, where a beer could calm the nerves and loud music excused us from attempting any further awkward interviewing.

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