I had a nice time the other night, I really did. For a first date/second meet up ( a 20 minute beer doesn’t really count as a date, does it?). We sat at the bar, enjoyed a couple tasty beverages, some delicious food, and talked continuously for about two hours. We covered a wide variety of topics, ranging from incredibly awkward first dates, weird exes, and what the chances of Geno Auriemma & Pat Summit having some kind of sexual relationship and when they berate each other in public it’s all just part of their cover up. Then, after I treated, I walked you to your car and we had a decent little makeout session considering some guy was smoking a cigarette on his stoop a mere 20 yards away.
But I got home and realized that was probably the wrong thing for me to do. Unless I completely misread the situation (and given I need this blog as a way to try to understand women, it is entirely possible I did in fact do just that), I think you wanted to make out because you are, to a certain degree anyway, into me. I, and I promise I only realized this AFTER the fact, wanted to make out…well, to make out. Since I didn’t take it any further, I don’t feel TOO badly, but there is still some serious Jewish guilt marinating in my head.
On my drive home I was psyched that our date went so sell, and I made out with someone for the first time in god knows how long. But after five minutes of reading what happened in the sports world that evening, I found myself perusing the online dating scene…and when I saw someone I had emailed had actually returned an email of her own, I was even more psyched. That made what had probably been subconsciously running in the back of my mind all night obvious…I’m not that into you.
There is no real concrete reason I can give you…you are cute, smart, funny, successful, into sports, that list goes on and on…I just know that there have been other girls I’ve been out with who after the first or second date I could care less about anyone else on the match.com site. Yes, I realize this is not dating, but I think I’ve been over this before in previous letters. I date about as well as Charlie Sheen does sober, or Rebecca Black sings. I’m either into you or I’m not…
ps – for those reading who think I am actually going to use this as a means to telling this girl I don’t think we should go on any further dates, remember this is anonymous…so she won’t actually read it. I WILL indeed tell her this in a less cowardly manner (ie text message…just kidding, calm down…at least I will use the phone).
*He’s Just Not That Into You ( I will call, by the way, you just might not be a fan of the convo…)