Live coverage from the front
- dating
I’m changing the format of my date reports to live coverage! But before that, I need to bring you up to speed.
This guy, let’s call him Working Class Boy, was the guinea pig to my first experiment of being the man (click), where I selected dating candidates myself rather than waiting for them to select me. Well, he was the first one who wasn’t playing hard-to-get. There was another one who at one point took weeks to respond. During this time I had already deleted our previous conversation and lost the record of what had been said.
Date 1
From the few pleasant messages Working Class Boy and I exchanged, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He seemed kind, well-read, interested in many different things, fairly active, and pretty sane. He was also slightly taller than me and seemed to still have full hair. Not a major issue but nice.
Arranging our first date was uncomplicated. I asked him out for coffee, and he told me which days he would be free. Very helpful. We set the time and place, and then we met in a nice café with a few comfy chairs, which was also a restaurant and a bar, a versatile choice. I had been on a first date here before, with Huggy Boy (click). That didn’t go so well.
I was more nervous than I had been on most previous first dates, because this guy was promising. When he arrived he seemed nervous as well. We talked for hours about books, and work, and where we were from, and where we had lived, and while there were a few pauses, they weren’t too uncomfortable. He seemed awfully nice. I made an inappropriate joke involving his sister whom I had never met. He took it graciously. He kept painting me in a good light, which somehow urged me to say something bad about myself in which he couldn’t possibly find anything positive. I must have failed, because before the date was over he committed the faux-pas of asking me out for a second one.
To be continued.
This guy, let’s call him Working Class Boy, was the guinea pig to my first experiment of being the man (click), where I selected dating candidates myself rather than waiting for them to select me. Well, he was the first one who wasn’t playing hard-to-get. There was another one who at one point took weeks to respond. During this time I had already deleted our previous conversation and lost the record of what had been said.
Date 1
From the few pleasant messages Working Class Boy and I exchanged, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He seemed kind, well-read, interested in many different things, fairly active, and pretty sane. He was also slightly taller than me and seemed to still have full hair. Not a major issue but nice.
Arranging our first date was uncomplicated. I asked him out for coffee, and he told me which days he would be free. Very helpful. We set the time and place, and then we met in a nice café with a few comfy chairs, which was also a restaurant and a bar, a versatile choice. I had been on a first date here before, with Huggy Boy (click). That didn’t go so well.
I was more nervous than I had been on most previous first dates, because this guy was promising. When he arrived he seemed nervous as well. We talked for hours about books, and work, and where we were from, and where we had lived, and while there were a few pauses, they weren’t too uncomfortable. He seemed awfully nice. I made an inappropriate joke involving his sister whom I had never met. He took it graciously. He kept painting me in a good light, which somehow urged me to say something bad about myself in which he couldn’t possibly find anything positive. I must have failed, because before the date was over he committed the faux-pas of asking me out for a second one.
To be continued.