Just a quick update on the Possibly Good Man Sly.
I’m sure he is a good man. But the possibility of good times has come to an end.
After our first date, he was out of town for a week, then had family in town for a week, then broke his toe the day before we planned to go out, which led him to cancel our second date. Ever the understanding person I am, I was nonetheless…peeved. Silently, of course.
We finally had our second date more than three weeks after our first. Met at a lovely little French bakery in town and had some good food and deserts. About an hour in, as we sat there talking, I couldn’t help feeling like he felt…uncomfortable around me. Our conversation was going as well as it had the first time, and I felt comfortable, but I kept feeling like his side was a bit forced.
Not more than a minute after I told myself I was imagining things, he gave me this look, and kind of shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“I just always feel so formal around you.”
I was wearing capri’s and flip flops – just as casual as I had been dressed on our first date. In fact, I was having a wardrobe crisis while getting dressed, because I wanted to dress nicer, but where we were going wasn’t exactly a “dressy” kind of place, and I didn’t want to seem like I was “dressing up.” Anyway, the point is, how formal can you be in flip flops?!
I asked why he felt that way. He didn’t know, figured it was because we were “always eating,” and if we were doing an activity, he didn’t think he would feel that way. (Side question – How can we be “always eating” if we’ve only seen each other twice? The term “always” cannot be used until at least the third date, IMO.)
I asked if there was anything I could do to make him feel less formal. “Would you like me to dump my soup on my shirt, would that make it seem less formal?”
After that exchange, we ended up talking for another 4 hours. So, obviously, we get along well enough.
When we left, I said, “We should do an activity next time.” He nodded and said he would come up with something.
I didn’t hear from him.
However, in a moment of weakness, I invited him to join me and a friend for Pops in the Park and fireworks the following weekend.
It was painful. Extremely painful. Hours and hours of trying to come up with something to say, and he really was of no help in that regard. Thank goodness for the symphony and fireworks, so I could appear enthralled in them.
My friend, the one who works with him, is worried that she “set me up with a dud.” That’s not necessarily it – he’s a nice guy, very intelligent. Our personalities just weren’t right for each other.
C’est La Vie.