Ah, the next day and a new perspective...that's exactly the same as the old one. Eeeeewwwww! But it's over, and I won't have to deal with that particular horror again. But I wanted to go back to Saturday because that was a much better day. And by much better I mean actually good, nice, fun (insert your own positive adjective here), and not just the absence of disgust. Okay, so Saturday. Well, first I see him online and he mentions something about going to a football game. So I mention something about pretending to have a life, and he pretends to be disappointed. Which is a lot more amusing than it sounds because I'm only giving the gist of the conversation, not the actual meat of it. The long and short of it is he asks me out for that night. My roommate agrees to babysit, and I'm all set. He shows up right on time-which, if you know me, is too early: Candi standard time/anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours late (but he doesn't know that so right on time is flattering, and besides all I have left to do is get my shoes on). My first impression? Very good looking. Reminds me a lot of Josh (don't worry, this part will be discussed in further depth...someday), physically, but somehow BETTER. I don't know how to explain it. His first impression? Well, he didn't scream and run, so at least he's polite enough to go through with the date even if he finds me repulsive. We go down to his car and he opens the door for me. I know it seems like a little thing, but I NOTICE that. I think it's important to at least pretend to be chivalrous-and he didn't give me the impression of pretending, especially since he did it every time we got into the car, and not just the first once. So, so far I'm impressed. Oh, he's also got this really deep voice. Well, perhaps deep isn't exactly the right word for it, but until I figure out the right word, it'll have to suffice. Regardless, I like it-it's kind of sexy. So we're driving toward our established destination and he asks what kind of food I like. I hate this question. Well, it's a love/hate sort of thing. I think it's really, incredibly sweet that he asked, but due to my rather peculiar dietary prejudices, my answer may make it seem that I'm just trying to be difficult. But he takes it all in stride, and we go Italian. Mmmmmm, Italian. And it WAS really good. He's not much of a talker-which is fine because I've already established that we're intellectually compatible from our internet corrospondence-but he's also not terribly uncomfortable with silence-which is awesome because that means there's not all this pressure on me to ramble on for hours at a time. Which I would, but that can get...well, let's just say it's a good thing I don't do that too often. And rarely with someone I don't know. So dinner's excellent and we go off to see a movie-a girly movie. Yay, girly movies! I know, it's a horrible thing to subject the male species to, but like I said, he's taking everything in stride. We're a little late, so I try to give him an out, asking if he'd rather go see something else that maybe starts later. No, we go see the chic flick. So, okay, the movie. We watch it. That's it. I know you're disappointed, thinking I'm going to put in some great make-out-in-the-movies anecdote, but you'll just have to learn that life can be a little disappointing sometimes. For you, I mean. I was kewl with that. I kinda thought that maybe I'd like to hold his hand or something, but that didn't happen either. Nor did it on the way home-which is understandable; he drives a standard. Okay...oh. He accidentally takes the long way around-and by accidentally, I mean it was actually an accident, which he points out. So I tell him the better comment would be that he was enjoying my company so much that he did it on purpose. He said that was what he meant. Then we get back to my place. I give him a hug-and was it my imagination that maybe he held me a little longer than was necessary for the sake of being polite?-and he leaves. End of date. My overall impression? Excellent. I like him a lot, and I don't worry about "where do I stand with this guy." He-admittedly at my prompting, but I didn't get the impression he was saying it just because he knew that's what he was supposed to say-even said the evening was better than his planned evening of football. And it doesn't feel like there's any pressure to immediately jump into an intense relationship, but it also doesn't feel as if that's not a possiblity somewhere in the future. If nothing else, we do have that nefarious caramel syrup/world domination scheme to plan out. (Oh, and I've decided to assign colours to everyone I talk about here. His is a deep, rich, smooth caramel colour.)
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