Date # 7: The Beard
This was actually the first guy I emailed. I dig beards, and there was an adorable picture of him holding a dog. He wrote me back, then dropped off the planet.
Out of nowhere, he popped back up in my inbox, super apologetic and asked to take me to dinner.
I accepted.
We went to Vini e Olii Locanda’s in Ft. Greene. I was hot and bothered for their menu. The place used to be a pharmacy, which had inspired the delightful décor.
The server was precious. Not sure if he was gay or just Italian, but I wanted to put him in my pocket and carry him around.
Dude doesn’t drink, so I held off for the evening. We had some cheese soufflé type thing, Italian style. I had the squash pasta. He let me try his fennel.
At this point, I am so sick of making small talk on these first dates that I got into really personal shit. He reciprocates, and we have a lot in common.
But uh-oh…He’s the youngest. I have to stop dating the youngest! They are always so damn needy.
We laugh a lot. He’s funny. I’m funny. Inappropriate jokes abound. I curse very loudly (again, sober) in front of a table of older folk. This embarrasses him for some reason. Other than that we have a lovely time.
Until-
He fucked it all up by demanding we get a sugary dessert. I wanted the damn cheese.
I always want the cheese.
We got some sort of bland cheesecake, which I liked because it wasn’t super sweet.
But it still wasn’t the fucking cheese.
Blaarf.
He walked me to the subway, and asked if he could hold my hand. I let him. And I let him kiss me, all the while feeling guilty. I’ve been seeing Date # 4 pretty regularly. There haven’t been any discussions, but it still feels weird to me.
I honestly didn’t expect to have this many nice dates.
How boring for you poor readers.
