Yeah, That Happened

Yesterday was my first date in a loooong time.


S and I decided to meet (for the first time in person) at the Draught House, and I rolled through the parking lot right at 4 o'clock on the dot. The tiny parking lot was full, and I noticed a guy from work standing outside and drinking a beer with a few other people. The guy, who I'll call Chuck, didn't see me roll throught the lot, and I didn't see S, so I went ahead and found a parking space on the street. I texted S to let him know I'd arrived and was on my way in, as I was then three minutes late.


I rounded the corner into the parking lot, and saw S standing in the doorway. Chuck's group was between us, and Chuck hollered "Hi Guava!" as I approached. I waved at S, and yelled hello to Chuck. Chuck followed up with a rowdy"What are you up to?" I yelled back "I'm on a date!" and pointed at S, who was now walking towards me.


And then it happened.


Chuck yelled "Where's your hubby??"


That's right. I'm meeting a dude for the first time, on my first date in over ten years, and some jackass is hollering at me across a freakin' parking lot about the whereabouts of a husband belonging to me.


I'm surprised I survived the wave of shock and embarrassment that consumed me.


I tried to play it cool, as I gave S an awkward hug and made some sort of not-very-snappy comeback for Chuck. Inside, I tried to overcome the horror by making fun of the situation, and I think I handled it okay. At least S didn't suck down his beer, make an excuse, and leave me sitting in the Draught House.


Instead, we spent the next six (!!) hours together. The first 3 and a half hours were spent drinking, and talking, and laughing. I wasn't drunk, and I don't think S was, either, but after we each finished our third pint, I felt like a fourth may have put me past my first date comfort zone of sobriety. We decided to adjourn to a sushi place in the Triangle, and met up there. I managed not to drop any soy sauce or sushi down the front of my sweater, which I consider a personal triumph.

At the end of the evening, he walked me to my car, and asked me to text him when I arrived home so he knew I made it safely. He gave me a hug, and I hit the road. My follow-up text thanked him again for a fun evening, and told him I enjoyed spending six hours with him. He responded that a long date equaled a good date in this case. Awww!

Yet, I have no idea if I'll hear from him again. Don't guys usually say something like "Let's do this again!" or "I'll call/email/text you next week"? He's a little hard for me to read. Several times throughout the evening, he made comments about how I seemed to have all the right answers or it was like I was reading his mind. Yet, there were also a few mildly uncomfortable pauses where I wondered if he wished he could figure out a way to wrap up the date.

On the other hand, I didn't say anything about getting together a second time, either. I felt like I had already been a little more forward than normal to get to the date; after he and I emailed several times, and I didn't hear from him for a week, I called him. At the end of that call, he said he'd email me to find a time to get together, and I didn't really think I'd hear from him again. But, sure enough, he emailed me the next morning, and out we went. The waiting game is back on!