Last week, I offered you some wise dating advice. I left The Grown Up hanging while I meandered off to a late breakfast. I just KNOW he was waiting with baited breath for my imminent return. And as any good obsessive dater does, I couldn’t wait to get back and chat with him some more. Our conversation was…well, okay, fine. It wasn’t quite riveting. I was imagining him to be this amazing, wonderful, adorable, brilliant creature of a man who would one day love me, marry me and make babies with me. I pictured our life together, and I believed in my heart that he would lead me down a magical path to happily ever after. Don’t you do that with every guy you talk to? No? Just me?
Sheepishly continues the story
I returned from my breakfast date several hours later and professed my adorably undying love for breakfast. The Grown Up responded soon after with this gem:
TGU: There’s no way you just had breakfast at 2:30pm…unless…gasp…you had a double breakfast! One standard breakfast and then breakfast for lunch. That’s madness!!!
Me: Man, I wish.
But I was at breakfast for like 3 hours.
Although now that I think about it…breakfast for lunch would rock
Yeah, Chrissy. Like you’d never had breakfast for lunch before. FAKER.
TGU: only on Sundays. It’s ILLEGAL to even attempt that on any other day
Now that’s just crazy talk
TGU: ILLEGAL! In most municipalities and jurisdictions…if they catch you…I…I don’t even know what they might do.
Just be careful.
There are various underground restaurants that flout this law.
I’ve heard that some of those restaurants are actually narcs…and just put those items on the menu to entrap potential law-breakers.
(BTW, a 3 hour breakfast? seriously?)
Me: well…we were talking!
I was meeting with someone in my organization
so partially business stuff…
but he’s also a friend, and going through some shit.
We chatted for a while about some pretty deep shit, relating to marriage and relationships (Is it weird to talk about marriage with a potential partner?). He continued to throw in his snarky commentary, regardless of the gravity of the topic. He was able to find humor in almost anything. And he made me laugh.
The conversation took a turn for the worst when The Grown Up had a problem with his iPhone…it stopped working, and he cursed the little i for breaking on him, swearing that he wasn’t really an Apple guy anyways, and this was one of the reasons why. I couldn’t have agreed more, but apparently he was so distraught and irritated that he had to abruptly end our chat. Again.
As he disappeared from my chat list, I should have been thinking about how he kept flaking as soon as the conversation got interesting. But I lived in my little la la land, and imagined my future relationship with The Grown Up. I found his words intoxicating, I was consistently entertained by his sense of humor, and excited at the prospect of dating someone who wasn’t a scrub. I went in with a plan. The next time I talked to him, I was GOING to ask him out. I just was.
I often gave advice to my friends, telling them that they should ask a guy out, for a specific day, thus actually asking him on a real date. Of course, I was painfully shy as soon as I actually liked someone, and at that point I wished I had someone on the inside to make it happen for me. Basically, I was a chicken shit. He still had not given me his phone number, and I hadn’t either. It was weird to only communicate with someone via chat that I had actually met in real life and not through an online dating site. But I was crushing hard, and not thinking logically. I still couldn’t stalk him to find anything about him on Facebook or MySpace or Google.
So I would have to wait. Again.
But next week? The story gets really good.