Before the holidays I made the conscious decision to go on more dates. I felt the final remnants of my last breakup disappear, and I was ready to dive into the dating pool. So, I dusted off my OkCupid membership (I know you have one too), and started to send out feelers. My initial goal was to try to go on date a week. So I did. We would begin with drinks or coffee then on to dinner. Only if it went well. Needless to say I went hungry one night a week. Not a bad diet.
At the end of December, I started chatting with TheFlyingDutchman (all names have been changed to protect the innocent). Tall, blonde, and foreign. Not only is he Dutch, he is from Gouda. That is right — where they make the cheese. He lives in Chelsea but had gone back home to visit his family for the holidays and wouldn’t be back until the beginning of January. We chatted almost every day for a week. During one of the conversations he promised to bring me back some Gouda. I think that was his way of trying to score a date. Smart man—who could refuse cheese? I told him that when I got back from Mexico, we would set something up.
I am not someone who can date more than one guy at a time. I just can’t. Don’t get me wrong — I can have sex with more than one guy at a time, but dating is different. Upon my return, I was unsure that anything would ever transpire with PJ so I decided to set up a date with TFD. Since we talked so much online, we skipped the initial coffee/drinks date and went straight for dinner. We met at Vynl in Hell’s Kitchen, a personal favorite because of the kitschy décor. As soon as I saw him and his stunning smile I got a little short of breath. He was much more attractive than in his pictures. Plus he was wearing silver shoes. Be still my beating heart. Before the waiter came over to take our drink order, he pulls out the biggest slab of Gouda I have seen in my life. This gesture immediately makes us both laugh and broke down any first date barriers we might have had. My barriers were so far down I ordered their baked truffle macaroni & cheese — and I never eat carbs! All throughout the dinner he kept on complimenting me. Here is this gorgeous, six-foot-three veritable Dutch God, complimenting me? My ego still hasn’t recovered.
After dinner we just sat there and talked for at least an hour (to the annoyance of our waiter). After we could take no more stern stares from our waiter, we decided to go have a night cap. On to Therapy. A bar, not to couples counseling—it was too early for that. We sat down, ordered a cocktail and continued to gaze into each other’s eyes. No sooner than we received our drinks, he grabs my chin and pulls my face towards his for a kiss. I said before that I am not typically that kind of guy to make out in a bar, but it happened again. As soon as his lips meet mine, I didn’t seem to care. Oh my God, I am that kind of guy. Granted it took until the fourth kiss for me to stop looking out of the corner of my eye to see if people were staring at us, but I was under his spell. What is it about foreign men being insanely great kissers? Is it something that they learn in school? President Obama, this is what you should focus on in your education plan.
I glanced at the time. Oh my God, it’s midnight. How did that happen? And on a school night. We paid our bill and walked hand in hand as we made our way to his subway station. Yes, hand in hand. There was something so youthfully optimistic about how this entire night felt. We made plans to go to the movies the following Sunday. Two (maybe three) kisses, and he went underground. Wowza, I am not sure if it was the last cocktail or the last kiss, but I was floating.
The next couple days we exchanged emails and texts, when the emails started to become a little suggestive, I knew that the time was drawing near to drop the bomb. So I did and this is how he responded:
Wow, I did not expect this… I should have asked on our first date, but there’s no real way of asking about this without being blunt. To speak frank it is somewhat of a problem for me. I really feel we have a lot in common and we would be great friends, but this puts on more in a mindset of just being friends. Let me know if you still love to hang out Sunday…
That wasn’t a kick in the gut. That was a one-two punch. “No, I am not interested in you, but do you still want to hang out on Sunday?” Umm…Thank you, but no. I spent that entire Sunday eating the Gouda, and it was good.
Hi-Ho, the derry-o, the cheese stands alone.