Strongly Worded

UpDATE #501,217

So "Mark" and I went on our third date yesterday and it was excruciating.

Post-museum-date #2, he sent me a cute follow-up message to which I promptly responded. We both alluded to Saturday plans.

I expected said plans to crystallize on Friday, but received no message from "Mark." And I checked email at 8:55, 8:57, 9:04, 9:17, 10:38, and approximately every 15 minutes for the remainder of the day. I had a raging internal debate about whether I should contact him. Eventually he did email me and propose that we get together "at some point" on Saturday, and he encouraged me to call "anytime" to set this up.

So on Saturday morning I went to the gym and did stuff and then waited for it to be appropriately late in the day to call a boy. I had afternoon and evening plans and a small window in which to squeeze him in. At 11:21, he was still half-asleep. He suggested that I call him in the afternoon. Which I did, at 3:17. At which point he said he'd like to meet up, but had to shower and finish a quick task, and he would call me immediately afterwards, and then we'd decide on a time. He called at 4:37, by which point I was angry, having wasted so much time literally waiting by the phone. But I acted chipper and hopped on the subway and continued to act chipper when he arrived late to the cafe, and then took two work-related cell phone calls.

Things did not improve. He was unhappy with his choice of coffee, which he suggested we drink while walking around, which spilled and splashed and generally offset whatever cozy and soothing feelings meeting at a cafe might have generated. Eventually we sat down on a bench, were attacked by a swarm of bugs, relocated to another bench, and he talked for 90% of the subsequent 20 minutes or so. We started talking about our (mainly his) married friends and how some of them misguidedly envy our fancy-free dating opportunities. After which "Mark" said, "they have no idea how much dating blows." I agreed wholeheartedly with this statement, but also felt somewhat wounded, thinking that he was having a bad time (I was having a bad time, but this was less of a concern because I am so accustomed to it). Then "Mark" talked for a while about his gay family member, and how it is relatively easy for him to get laid, because there's a lot less mystery with men dating other men--they want the same outcome. In sharp contrast to "this kind of thing" - and here "Mark" waved his hand between the two of us - "which is totally mysterious."

This conversation was actually kind of cute and honest, and "Mark" was funny and self-deprecating in making these statements; it wasn't as bad as it sounds. But I still felt like he was suffering. He got some takeout (he was on his way to meet a friend for a concert) and we sat on another bench in what was essentially a traffic island, and it occurred to me that perhaps the back-to-back social engagement was stressing him out. I expressed this sentiment and suggested that maybe he'd rather eat his takeout at home, and we both tried to be accommodating and failed, and he actually said "the more we fixate on this decision, the weirder things will get", and then he offered to walk me to the subway.

By this time, my own baseline anxiety was completely racked up by his anxiety (baseline or otherwise, who the hell knows), and I realized that if I didn't solicit some input, I'd be checking email every two minutes for the rest of my life, wondering if he would ever contact me again. So I pulled an E. (my friend E. is an expert at dating communication), and said "listen, I want to check in on our dating situation, where are you at?" Because I was getting a bad vibe.

He claimed that he enjoys spending time with me but is vexed because he would like there to be physical manifestation of this enjoyment, but that thus far there has been no window for it. I now suspect that he was stressing the whole time because it was the Third Date and he felt that therefore Kissing Needed to Occur.

Of course there was no way that any kissing was going to happen after that admission, so we hugged goodbye and I didn't stop cringing for the rest of the night. In fact, I am still cringing, and firmly believe that if we are ever able to recover from yesterday, we'll have earned a Pulitzer Prize for dating. Which actually I suspect is due to me anyway.

Posted by Dori at 12:38 PM