Date #9 - The Doctor

I’ll be honest, I’ve always wanted to say “I date a doctor”.  That’s the only reason I bothered with this one.  I was tired, this being the 3^rd date in as many nights so I had to force myself through it and walked in with a bad attitude.  We so happened to meet at the same bar I met date number one so at least the place was familiar. It didn’t help my outlook much though.  To put the timing in a little more perspective, this date was just two days after the second date with Renaissance Man so I was still feeling a bit skittish and creeped out.  Date # 8 was just the night before and although that was a pleasant evening out, I wasn’t feeling like making much of an effort.  So I didn’t.  Maybe that’s not fair but, life’s not fair right? And I’m not perfect.

The crowd was loud and annoying.  He was sitting at the end of a long table that a couple of girls were sharing with us at the other end.  That added to my lack of enthusiasm.  I hate other people being able to overhear my conversation almost as much as I hate having to scream to be heard across the table.  And here we had both.  I do have to give him some credit for telling me WHERE he was seated, before I got there.  I don’t understand why that is not a more common occurrence.  For some reason the men think wherever they decide to station themselves, I’ll be able to telepathically figure it out or something.  Isn’t it just easier to tell me where you are?  I don’t get it.

So, he ordered us glasses of wine and we talked for a bit.  I can’t even say he was that nice.  To me, he was fine but some of the things he said bothered me.  He made a lot of generalizations about people, which always sets me off.  He asked what “nationality” I am, which is another hot button.  What I care about is the person YOU have evolved to be, not where your great-great-great grandmother was born.  Irrelevant in my opinion.  

These things plus my bad attitude had me leaning toward the door within 20 minutes.  My body literally hurt with exhaustion and I could barely keep my eyes focused but I stuck it out for another 20.  Until he looked at my empty wine glass and said “I’ll get you another wine if you want but if I have another I’ll be asleep all day tomorrow.  I had 2 glasses of wine last weekend and wound up in bed until noon”.  I could only stare at him in awe and laugh hysterically in my head.  Two glasses of wine? Two?!  Ok, that’s a no.  Of course I don’t want to date a drunk but I’d like to be able to, maybe, open a second bottle here and there.

Another one down!

In the midst of my month long dating extravaganza, I’ve reconnected with another past “experience”.  Although I probably shouldn’t say experience because nothing ever happened.  Because I didn’t let it.  He’s a good person.  Almost too good.  I feel pressure to be better, try harder.  That’s what other people should do right? Bring out the best in you?  He knows what to say, is supportive and sees me in a way I don’t see myself.  I usually feel like I have to have all the answers and figure everything out on my own.  He is a rare person I feel I could turn to when I don’t, or can’t.  It feels…..like a warm blanket.  Someone said that to me about his ex-girlfriend and I thought it was horribly offensive.  Now I think I get it. 

BUT (there had to be a but right?) there’s an age difference.  A significant age difference.  The Demi/Ashton kind of age difference.  Maybe not quite as significant as theirs but it’s notable.  Even though he’s probably more mature than most men I know, who are my age, and I’m trying to keep my mind open to all possibilities, I just don’t know.  

Thoughts?

Aside from that, next date is brunch on Sunday….so far he seems promising enough. I’ve decided to keep with the “spaghetti theory” after all.  Thank you for your comments on my last post and for taking the time to help navigate my way!