Last night, I had a date with Daniel. He's a born & bred New Yorker, grew up on 5th Avenue, did the boarding school thing, and now runs his family's real estate business. He also looks like a Ken doll.
We exchanged a few witty emails, and talked on the phone for an hour a few days ago. I was excited to meet him, and then I glanced at his profile once more. He said he was 5'11". From what I've just heard, men tend to lie by about 2 inches on their profile. I actually AM 5'11". Even in flats, the physical difference had the potential to be awkward. Some guys love taller women. Good for them. I don't love shorter men.
We were supposed to meet at Bread at 8:30. I dashed home from work, had a quick workout and even quicker manicure (I've never seen someone paint so fast!) and was dressed and ready to go by 8:20. Then I get a text from him, "Looks like it's going to be more like 9, I'm on an emergency call." This is a classic New York move. I think perpetual lateness is just ingrained in us. After all, I was a little bit late to my date with Stuart last week.
I pass the time making some networking calls for grad school and FaceTime-ing with my mom and pup (love the new iPhone!). Nine o'clock comes and goes. It's now 9:10. I guess I am still a little scarred from the
Apparently he was already at Bread, there'd been a series of mishaps including a leak at work, a sick subway passenger and a technical issue with his phone. I walked over to meet him, laughing about our miscommunication. He looked great and was super kind. We ended up ordering a huge amount of food and casually chatting about everything from work to our families. While half of me was engaged in conversation, the other half of me was bored. My mom had been telling me earlier that I tend to date men who can teach me something - usually that manifests in a man with a completely different background than myself. Ironically enough, our different backgrounds ultimately spell our demise. The whole point of this Match thing is to re-train myself to date men like me, and also date men that are kind and good and sweet (sad that I haven't dated a man like that in a looooong time).
But still, I couldn't fight the boredom. He, on the other hand, seemed enamored. We moved over to the couch and I got him to kind of open up and relax a bit. He ended up kissing me on that couch. His hands moved up to my jawline (love that!) and thats when I realized it - he had SMALL HANDS.
This does not bode well.
We stood to leave. I was in my Hunter rain/snow boots. He was NOT taller than me. He was almost my height... I felt myself recoil inwardly. I don't like feeling BIGGER than the men I date. I want to feel small and delicate and feminine... not like a monster. Plus, I only have one other pair of flats. This relationship is obviously doomed.
Still, he was such a gentleman to walk me all the way home. Thank goodness for the freezing weather - I was deftly able to avoid holding his hand. That would've been too much.
*scorpio*
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