Last night was my date with Mr. Grocery Store. I will admit I had a little pre-date freak out thinking about it being my first date since the break up and longing for the comfort level of an old relationship and the person I so wished Lucky was… but he’s not, so I calmed down and took the first step toward really moving on.
Side note: I am unabashedly a TSwift fan again (I like the early “Tim McGraw” stage, but I couldn’t handle “Love Story” and jumped ship, but I just got back on) and just yesterday I heard her new “Begin Again” song and it felt fitting.
Anyway, so the date turned into a two+ phase date…four to be exact – check out my updated BINGO card :). His idea was to start with Mexican apps and margs, then sushi and sake, then froyo, then we heard live music and wandered into a mostly empty lounge for a listen and a nightcap. We went to a big center that had all of those things, so it was just a walking multi-phase date (I feel like the driving denotes more commitment). Every now and then, I really actually like a big, formal, go-ahead-and-try-to-woo-me type of date with men I’ve met organically somehow v. the job interview dates that usually come from online guys.
And it was nice, we didn’t run out of things to talk about and we didn’t end up talking too much about working out – something we both enjoy, but I hate to focus on during dates because I start to think the guy is one-dimensional and I have to assume he gets the same impression of me when that happens. We talked about things that would be great to do together and I had no concept of time during the evening – quite surprised we snuck into the yogurt shop right before I closed because it seemed like no time had gone by at all.
So, if the date had ended there, this post would end here and we’d all be happy and hopeful. But, it doesn’t. I don’t really know what to say or even how to feel about the rest.
He walked me to my car (he had offered to pick me up, but I’m not cray cray) and we hugged, made plans for date #2 and then he kissed me. And it was nice, until he started to really kiss me. To say his tongue was like a dead fish would be insulting to the sashimi I had in my mouth earlier in the evening. It was much more exciting than that kiss. I actually laughed a little and tried to push him away. Today he texted me that I have nice lips and then we talked on the phone and he said it was a great kiss and I just didn’t know what to do with that.
And if this story ended there, this post would end here and we’d all be a little disheartened, but we’d all think he did well enough for the whole rest of the evening to deserve a second chance. But it doesn’t.
I need to fill you in on some things I’ve left out of the story so far…he’s in great shape and from what he says, super active, but I could tell he was older. His hair is shaved short, you know how balding guys do it, and what’s there is pretty much all gray. During phase one, I decided he looked like Bruce Willis. An attractive man indeed, but Siri tells me Bruce Willis is 57.
All night, I caught myself saying things that made me feel like I was displaying my young age in an awkward way, but at some points I was maybe kinda trying to get him to ask me how old I am or tell me how old he is. He didn’t. During the kiss, while I was laughing, I was also trying to figure out how it’s possible to be THAT old (age, still unknown) and such a bad kisser.
Anyway, I was curious, but not dying to know, I was more concerned with figuring out how I felt about the kiss bomb to be thinking about the age bomb that was about to go off. When we met at the store, I gave him my card, so he had my full name and I assumed he had done some online homework (who wouldn’t?) and this morning, I got a nice, little email from LinkedIn telling me that Mr. GS (+ his last name) had viewed my profile. Thank goodness for LI telling you who’s creeping on you, right? Of course, I jumped on Google and clicked on a YouTube video of a news story about him training to climb a big, snowy mountain…
At 1:02 in the video, the voiceover says, “48-year-old Mr. GS…”
Hold the fucking phone. It gets better. Did I mention the newscast was from 2009?! In 2009, I thought my 30-year-old boyfriend was robbing my 25-year-old cradle. What a difference three years makes. And what a HUGE difference 23 years makes.
Thoughts I had today:
He is old enough to be my dad. (My parents were older when they had me, so he’s not actually my dad’s age, but he’s a heck of a lot closer to my dad’s age than mine.)
What if he has kids older than me? (We didn’t talk much about our pasts.)
I’ve never known a world without the keycards in hotels, but he has. (This was after one of those super weird stream of conscious thoughts, but that’s how old he is y’all.)
OMG OMG OMG, I kissed a man in his 50s.
Yes, age is just a number, but I’m not sure 51 is a number I want to deal with.
Well, it works for Bruce Willis. (She’s exactly 23 years younger too!)
And of course…at least he got a nice ego stroke out of going out with a hot 28-year-old.
So, there it is – the good, the bad and the old and decrepit. I’ve skeeved, but I don’t know if it’s a deal breaker, because it didn’t bother me until it was a real number and I do find him interesting and attractive. But dating just 10 years old hasn’t really worked out for me recently, and I’m trying to shoot for the 29-33 sweet spot. And 51 is a little off of that, you know? And while I don’t want to make assumptions, what a still-single man in his 50s and a hopeless romantic woman in her 20s are looking for are possibly worlds apart.
Is it a deal breaker? How would I even go about breaking the deal? It probably wouldn’t be shocking to him if it’s an issue for me, but it just seems petty and close-minded to judge him based on something other than who he is.