February 25th, 2010
Mr. Too Cool did manage to disappoint me in the days following our first date. How? Well, we talked casually of going to the drive-in (my idea) during our previous encounter and a few texts were exchanged leading me to believe that the following Tuesday would be the night for our car-date extravaganza. Nursing a cut on my hand from a broken jar of sun dried tomatoes (resulting from my over-zealous attempt at making us a picnic), I read his text sent at 9:25 pm that Tuesday night, "Don't think I can make it tonight." I do realize I jumped the gun a bit. Needless to say, I was sad and ate the meal myself, hand bleeding.
Despite this debacle, we managed to make (real) plans for a date the following Thursday night. We settled on a dark, divey bar near his house. I arrive before him and grab a booth. He walks in wearing a worn-in leather jacket, nods at me, and orders himself a bourbon, me a gin and tonic before joining me in the booth. He appears sullen, moody. Instead of being put off by this, I'm intrigued. I love a good challenge and decide I have the power to charm him out of his stupid mood. Who knows what I even say, but I get a smile out of him. He says, "Let's blow this joint." Love.
We're both hungry so he decides we should buy some food and cook it at his house. I follow him to the grocery store and he starts to cheer up as we saunter up and down the aisles of Ralph's, deciding on kabobs and s'mores. I'm excited. I get to see his house, which I learn he owns. He owns property. I like it. I used to own property...ah, the salad days. Anyway, we tailgate back to his house and he opens a rather large wooden gate behind which is a dark lawn and a very large two story, pre-WWII house. It's rough inside, but clean. He has a tenant renting a room upstairs. All I can assume is that he's some sort of amazing artist if he can afford to own this.
He makes us drinks in the kitchen as I unpack the groceries. He opens his refrigerator and I look twice. It's filled almost entirely with coconuts. Yeah. "Coconut water is really good for you. I have a coconut every day." He's a mad genius, clearly. Still confused by the sight of 18 coconuts, he opens the freezer for some reason and again, I'm in shock. It's filled completely with weed. Bags and bags of pot. "My friends know I bake so they always bring me weed to turn into butter. I don't smoke it." WHAT. I don't know what to do except smile and stare in wonder. Of course, I decide to focus on the fact that he bakes. Renaissance Man. I try to help, but he doesn't let me touch the kabobs as he prepares them. We head into the backyard which is tri-level and extremely dark except for a few of his "art" pieces that emit different colored light. It's sort of a creepy Disneyland vibe. Again, I'm intrigued. He lights a few logs in the fire pit and I give him side eye as his attempts to cook them. "Are you sure you can see when they're done?" He scoffs, "Yeah, I know what I'm doing." Okayyyyyyy. We start laughing and having a good time and he finally decides that the kabobs are done. We walk into the kitchen and I'm secretly happy that they are charred black. He was wrong. I don't dare say anything. He laughs it off.
We move forward with s'mores and have a cute moment outside where the melted marshmallow got on my face (well, I thought it was cute at the time) and I was convinced he was going to kiss me. He doesn't. Our epic date continues with a movie in his bedroom. Several things here: First, I think it's weird that he has a big screen tv in his tiny bedroom. Second, we don't pick a new movie to start watching together, but he insists we continue watching There Will Be Blood from the point he left off on it earlier in the day. Selfish. My quest for love overpowers my better sense (that he's obviously a weird liar) and I decide I'm not offended by any of his misogynist moves from the evening. At this point it's 1:10 am and I'm completely confused and offended that he hasn't tried to kiss me yet. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM. Finally, he looks over at me and says, "You better kiss me already" as he leans in. I have mixed feelings about this. I'm glad he finally goes in for the kill, but don't quite understand how he manages to take control and blame me for not doing so. We make out for a bit before I decide it's time to head home. He doesn't walk me to my car.
Date #35: I really should have seen where this was heading. Alas, two more dates follow.
