Doubleheader Part 2: Mr. Westside

January 3rd, 2010

As you might have guessed, I opted for another Doubleheader, or two dates in one night.  Mr. Westside had a cool, east coast situation going on and while his puffy jacketed-photos were not necessarily a turn-on, I liked his serious face and taste in music.  Plus, his being a recent transplant piqued my interest at the prospect of playing tour-guide to his naive little soul.  Delusional, aisle 1.    Drinks were set for my side of town, because, let's face it, poor thing was clueless (he lived in Hollywood for crying out loud).

I actually spaced this Doubleheader out more than the last one so I had some downtime between dates.  I decided that this is not the way to go.  The lull between dates just made me sleepy (there was not enough time for a nap, but plenty of time to sit in my car and ponder my life, not smart before a blind date).  Introspective and somewhat fussy, I emerged from my car to greet Mr. Westside outside of the bar.

FIRST IMPRESSION:  He has a swagger (always a plus), but is wearing an extremely over-sized white dress shirt which quickly cancels out any initial points for swagger.  He has chubby little cheeks and buzzed hair.  Overall, not unattractive.  Personality will weigh in a lot here.

He buys my drink and we sit at a booth near the door (important for a later reason).  Pleasant chit chat ensues and I like listening to his Boston accent (accents to girls represent experience, travel, mystery even if the man possesses none of those actual qualities).  He is attending some music institute and blah, blah, blah I don't really remember because he wasn't selling me on his interesting life.  His youth is apparent (26ish) which only adds to my waning interest since his personality is lackluster and I'm not particularly attracted to him.  I feel sort of sorry for him and try to keep the conversation going until at least my drink is done.  I force myself to ask questions about his plans, his music career, and we spend a good amount of time talking about our Italian grandparents.

I'm over it and start looking for an out.  Just as luck would have it, Mr. Got No Game enters the bar with his bandmates.  I had been avoiding his texts and emails so this wasn't really a a good thing.  I become noticeably uncomfortable and Mr. Westside asks what's wrong.  I spill the beans and we quickly make a getaway.  Mr Got No Game TOTALLY sees me and I again feel bad.  I use this as an excuse to dodge a goodnight kiss and promise that we'll hang out again (a lie).  At this point I realize that dating is taxing and I need a massage.  Not from Mr. Westside.

Date #15:  Eye-Opener.  If I keep this up, I may need to move soon.