MTB

Happy New Year!

It’s been a while since my last entry and I’m sorry for it.  There’s been some haps with HC, but it will take a bit of time to write it all out so I thought I’d entertain you with a little story, which is not exactly a date but in the context of the singles scene, while I bide time to write about HC.

So, as you may or may not have caught on, I do subscribe to an Internet site, which is another venue for meeting people.  I’ve told you how I met some people and not how I’ve met others.  I think you get the drift.

Said site will have “events” that their subscribers can go to, to mingle with other “single” people.  The actual events vary from apple picking and wine tasting to just mingling at a bar.  One day, my good friend, CeCe, and I decided to try out an event — particularly a bar event.

In true NYC fashion, we made a conscious decision to arrive at the bar about an hour after the event’s official start time.

As CeCe and I were walking in, a shorter Asian man watched us walk by and said, “Aw man, why am I leaving now?”

I didn’t hear it, but CeCe told me what he said later.

Immediately after we walked in, we took a look around both wanted to immediately leave.  CeCe didn’t tell me that she did but I know we both felt it, unspoken.

We made a bee line to the bar and ordered up a couple of the drink specials: lychee martinis.

I’m not sure how the whole sign-up thing works for these events, but it sure seemed like no one was invited who were our “type” and seeing that it was slim pickins, we unanimously decided we needed to check out the upstairs.  The lychee martini never tasted so good and didn’t last more than two minutes.

CeCe and I walked upstairs and into the middle of the open space and immediately RAV4 latched onto us.  And when I say he “latched” on, he might as well have tied leashes to collars around our necks because we never left his sight or side the rest of the night.  He wouldn’t let us.  We had been completely monopolized by RAV4.

We had the usual small talk at first.  It was just RAV4, CeCe, and I talking in a circle.

Then things got a little awkward.

RAV4:  So did you two come together?  [Raises eyebrow]

I think we both furrowed our eyebrows back at him.  Not wanting to acknowledge what he was implying.

RAV4:  You know, guys are normally really into that thing.  You know, watching two women,. . . but I’m not.  I mean, if someone wanted me to watch with her, then I would do that for her, but I’m not really into that “two-women thing.”  Blah blah blah.

I think there was a long moment of awkward silence because both CeCe and I truly did not know what to say.

I broke the silence and said something like “I can’t believe you’re talking about such a thing with us right now when we just met you, like two seconds ago,” teasingly, of course.

We all sort of laughed it off and talked about other normal things but somehow the conversation turned into him talking about going to strip clubs and not really enjoying that, either.  Neither CeCe nor I asked anything  about those things or even brought up the subjects.  Completely voluntary information on RAV4’s part.

But, the weird thing is, as we were talking it slowly came out that he was a divorcee and had two small children with physical disabilities at home and talked about how much he loved them despite it being such a challenge, which, I thought, was very endearing about him, all of his babblings about women-on-women and strip clubs aside.

After a lot of him talking about nothing much, I made a hint that we needed another drink and tried to duck away to the bar but RAV4 came with and offered to buy.  I guess I couldn’t object to that.

I think we downed another martini and ordered another.  All three of us.  And all I could think about was that Crif Dogs was not too far away and CeCe and I could escape out of there, hop in a taxi, and enjoy a bacon-wrapped hot dog topped with coleslaw and jalapeno relish along with chili cheese fries.

So we told RAV4 that we were going to head out to grab something to eat.  He offered to drive us there.  Again, how could we object?  Sometimes having a normal car ride in the City is a nice thing.

On our way out, CeCe had to run to the restroom so I had to babysit RAV4.  All along, I knew he was into CeCe and plus, I was taller than him.  As CeCe was in the restroom, RAV4 went on and on about how cute he thought CeCe is and this and that and said, “I mean, no offense, I think you are wonderful too, but. . . ” and I really don’t remember what else he said, but no offense was taken, at all.  So I told him what a wonderful friend CeCe is and what a great mom she is and this and that — all sincere things because she is my good friend and I think the world of her.

At one point (I don’t remember when), as RAV4 was realizing we were going to have to hop in his car since he offered us a ride, he started to explain that his “usual” car is in the shop.  And since that BMW X5 is in the shop, they gave him a loaner, which is a Toyota RAV4 and to please forgive him for not having his usual car.

We clambered into his car, he reminded us again that he usually drives a BMW X5.

On the way to Crif Dogs, he revealed to us that he is 51-years-old.  We were sincerely shocked because he looks around 40, maybe, but it’s hard to tell when someone has orangey, leathery skin.

We got to Crif Dogs and he chivalrously dropped us off and went to park.  During that time, CeCe and I went in and ordered for both us and him.  The least I could do was buy him a bacon-wrapped hot dog and chili cheese fries for the ride and drinks he treated us to, although it was a ride in a Toyota RAV4 and not a BMW X5 (I’m only joking about that last bit – I am not that materialistic).

All CeCe and I wanted to do was stuff our faces full and head home, but it was all conversation with RAV4, “Man, I am so glad I met you two tonight — I am having so much fun with you. . . ”  Blah, blah, blah.

After we were finished eating, I offered to take a taxi home so RAV4 could take CeCe home and have some one-on-one time her.  CeCe wasn’t having none of that, which I knew she wouldn’t (Hahahahaha).  As we were walking out, she took my arm and said under her breath to me, “I am not getting a ride from him, I am going home in a taxi with you.”   She said this multiple times.

We stood outside on the sidewalk and said our goodbyes.  Then, RAV4 asked CeCe for her number as I was standing next to them looking up at the trees, down at the sidewalk, and all around during this intensely awkward transaction.

Happy New Year, Adam!

Today I felt that it was time to respond to Marathon Man because too much time had passed.

After two dates I thought it would be appropriate to text him:

“Hey, MM!  IT’s been nice hanging out with you, but I’m not sure I feel the right connection.  I’m sorry.”

I sent this at 3:31pm.

It is now 10:04pm and no response.

The texting world is very weird isn’t it?  It buys you time to respond, rather having to have a response at the moment something is said to you, such as over the phone.

I’m curious what his response will be, if I get one.

I’m not holding my breath.

Hey, Adam, I like to fish, too!  And I like beers in cuzis, too.

Marathon Man has been trying.  I commend him for that.

After the last date, Marathon Man wanted to come over the next night and I told him I couldn’t do it.

Then, he tried to plan a date for the week after, on Saturday.  This happened to be the same night that HC invited me to go out to meet his sister.

The night before I told him, ‘Hey, I’m sorry, I can’t do tomorrow anymore.  Maybe we can shoot for after the holiday?”

MM:  Oh. What happened?

I didn’t respond at first because I thought that was a weird question.  After nine hours I finally responded, late on Friday night.

Me:  What do you mean what happened?

MM:  (Next day) I was looking forward to seeing you tonight and wondered why you can’t.  (Well why didn’t you ask that then?)  Let me know if you want to get together after Thanksgiving.

I didn’t respond.  I felt terrible for not responding.

On, over a week later, Sunday, MM wrote, “Hi ____, hope you had a great Thanksgiving!  I’m on my way to the gym to work off the weekend.  Haha.”

This is interesting.  He didn’t ask me anything, just made some comments, so I didn’t write back for a while.

Me:  Hey MM!  Mine was great!  Hope youres was too!

MM:  Good to hear.  Mine was too – we had 28 people!  You free later this week?  Somehow my Thu-Sun is not booked yet.

This last text was sent last night.

Ok, now what?   If someone wasn’t interested in dating you, how would you want to know?

Adam.  Baby.  I don’t know if I like that mustard yellow on you, Honey.

Holden Caulfield invited me out last Saturday night because his sister, Phoebe Caulfield, was going to be in town from Connecticut.

I went along with agreeing to the invitation but I wasn’t sure how sincere he was and if there would be follow through.  There wasn’t really any reason to think that he wouldn’t follow through.  It’s just that sometimes, with some men (or people, in general) I wonder if they are being sincere.

There was follow through.

We texted during the day on Saturday and then he told me they’d be meeting at a lounge in SoHo.

I got there a bit before 10pm and HC was there with Phoebe and his good friend, Stradlater.

Phoebe and I made the usual small talk and, seemingly, we were just hanging out at the bar.  Phoebe was warm, friendly, and sweet and pretty.

HC says to me, “I told you I have some older friends.  Stradlater is 34.  We met a few years ago through work and became good friends.”

I know you can’t read the tone but, typically, HC delivers things in a very appropriate and sensitive way.  He is considerate of me and my feelings.

As the four of us are sitting there, Phoebe and Stradlater start looking for other chairs, because apparently more people are coming.

HC turns to me, “Thanks so much for coming out, it’s going to be a chill night.”  And I can’t help but wonder what that meant.  Fun?  Cool?  Relaxed?

I have a feeling that he meant it would be low-key and relaxed and I was really glad it was going to be because I know that HC likes to go out and have fun.

More and more people started to show up.  Phoebe and Stradlater had secretly planned a birthday party for him that night.

This was not going to be a low-key night.  We were on our way to Marquee.

Sigh.

Holden Caulfield ordered us a Suburban through Uber, his favorite app.  The Suburban arrived and some of us piled into it and we were off to Marquee.  In total, about 20 of us were going.

I’ve been to clubs in my youth and have met people who have been kind to me at doors at various lounges and clubs, but for some reason, I had never been to Marquee.  I guess that was about to change tonight!

We got to Marquee and the sidewalk outside was packed.  The first thing I thought was, “J___ H___ does not wait in lines at clubs or bars.”  And I don’t.

So, it was a good thing that Holden Caulfield made a phone call when we arrived because someone came out to get us and we walked right in.  No waiting.  Since I’d never been there, HC told Phoebe to guide me to their spot.  Phoebe grabbed my hand and led me into the club, up the stairs and to their table at the balcony.

HC took my jacket and put it in their spot and jumped up on the couches at the table and held his hand out for mine. I grabbed his hand and jumped up there with him.

The DJs were spinning on the stage below, the music was pumping, and drinks were poured.  I had a bottomless glass of champagne and HC and I danced on the couches as the bouncers stood over our tables.  HC hung out with me the whole night, even though all his friends had come out for him, it was like it was just us there, together.

Once in a while, we would wave over to Phoebe and her boyfriend who were dancing on a couch, two couches over.

At one point, I needed to use the restroom so HC called over one of the bouncers and the bouncer led me to the one-room restroom and let me cut the line that went down the hall and down the stairs.  I ignored the terrible glares I got from all the full-bladdered girls standing in that line.

After a few hours, I looked at my watch and it was past 3am and I needed to get home.  So, Holden Caulfield and I both said our goodbyes to everyone there because the party was still going strong.  HC insisted on making sure I got home safely.

As we were walking down the steps, I told HC that I thought he should stay with his friends, since, afterall, it was his birthday party.  There was a little back and forth, and a lot of hesitation and resistance from HC, and I finally convinced him to stay.

I went outside, caught a taxi, and made it home safely and “early.”

Holden Caulfield texted me all along the way to make sure I got home safely and was in bed safe and sound.

Later on, he told me Phoebe was really happy to see that he went back to the party.

I was glad.

What are you thinking about Adam?

AJ and I set a date to grab a drink after work almost two weeks in advance.  He works by where I live, so that worked out well.

There was so much time until we actually met that I squeezed in seeing Holden Caulfield twice before I met AJ for drinks.

The dreaded day came and I contemplated canceling many, many times because I just knew I was not attracted to AJ and that it wouldn’t work.

So, the day before I didn’t hear from AJ.  I wondered if he forgot.  Then, that morning, I still didn’t hear from him, and I finally heard from him around 2pm. (There was some on and off texting before but nothing at all interesting.)

AJ:  How does 7.15/7.30 suit at stag.

[I attribute his use of periods for colons to his Australian-ness, along with his use of “suit”.  I think there was a typo in there, too.)

Me:  Hey, AJ!  Yeah that works!

AJ: [a little later] 7.30 would be great.

Me:  Ok, sure.  See you then.

Before I met AJ, Holden Caulfield contacted me and we texted for a bit.  He had just gone shopping and wanted to me to go over so he could show me his new snowboarding gear.

Yes!  This was my perfect exit plan.

I got to Stag’s Head before AJ arrived and got a little table upstairs.  AJ arrived — it was brutally cold and windy that day.  He was sniffling up a storm when he sat down, which I found to be a little annoying because I just wanted him to excuse himself and go blow his nose, but he insisted on sitting there, sniffling and sniffling.

I told him immediately that I had to leave to go “meet my friends” downtown at 9:30.  I told him this because I didn’t think it would be a nice thing to do to actually be honest about going to see a different guy that I’m interested in.  He says, “Oh, I live downtown, where are you going?”  I had to make up something and I really don’t like lying.

But, I wanted to give AJ a chance, so I didn’t cancel and came out to meet him.

It wasn’t a terrible date.  By any means.  I think we had great conversation and I think he thought we did too.  The main topic of conversation was about his life as an investment banker.  Having lived in the City for 10 years+, I have gone on many dates with investment bankers.

AJ insisted on changing the subject because he thought the topic was incredibly boring, but I think it’s interesting and I really wanted to hear more about what investment bankers do hour by hour, minute by minute.

He had some great stories and painted a good picture of the job.

Then, we started talking more about Australia, since I had the great opportunity of traveling there two years ago and have some relatives that live there, as well.

But, alas, our time came to an end and I had to go see HC’s new snowboarding gear.

AJ hailed a taxi for me and he was on his way to visit a friend who’s wife was traveling and was enjoying some “freedom.”

Before I got to HC’s, I picked up a pack of Stella Artois.  That’s the Korean in me, I just can’t show up to someone’s place empty-handed.

I got to HC’s, presented him with the beer, and he says, “Perfect!  Check it out.  (Opens the fridge, and there is another pack and a half of Stella in there and just about the only thing in the fridge.)”

Holden Caulfield showed me his gear.  Apparently he is a really good snowboarder and not afraid to tell me.  And that highlights an interesting thing about a lot of men.  Sometimes they are not afraid to let you know they are good at some things.  Ego.

But, at the same time, I found this self-confidence to be attractive, especially when HC delivers it well, with his amusing charm.

He made me try on his new goggles:

See?  I don’t make this s**t up.

I didn’t stay long.   But it was fun.

Aww, look at Adam Scott with his bud Jason Day!

Last Friday night Holden Caulfield invited me to go to a Rutgers University football game on Saturday.  He said he needed to pick some things up at his dad’s house then we could head to the game.

Me:  We’re going to your dad’s house?  Does that mean I’ll meet your dad and step-mom? . . . (I felt very hesitant about this. . . )

HC:  Well, they probably won’t be home.  It shouldn’t be a problem.

. . .

. . .

He is right, it’s not a big deal but not something I expected to do the second time I hang out with HC.

It a bit of a last minute invitation and had some things planned for my Saturday so after some thinking I decided to go.  Why not?

He went out for a friend’s birthday on Friday night so he asked me to give him a wake-up call a half hour before I was going to meet him.

He offered to pick me up again, then drive into NJ.  I reassured him I could make my way over to his apartment early in the morning (9:30am).  But, I did think it was sweet that he offered to pick me up.  I just thought it didn’t make sense logistically.  (See?  I can be very sensible.  The guy I dated over the summer told me this all the time.)

The next morning I was obedient and called him at 9am.  He was still sleeping and my call woke him up.

I got to his place.  This is the place he told me he was moving into, a couple of entries ago.

Total bachelor pad.  Probably about half the size of my apartment and my apartment is 700 sq ft.  Not all moved in, stuff still in boxes.  Two large TVs mounted on the walls of his living room and bedroom.  Half of a sectional, a partial delivery.  (I take a deep breath)

So I thought to myself:  “Ok, I’m going to be open-minded.  Afterall, didn’t I offer to help him decorate?”

I couldn’t help but note the 10 year age difference in many instances.  While I was sitting in HC’s apartment, he showed me some things like his TV and some other electronic gadgets.

HC:  [as he shows me. . . ]  That’s so chill isn’t it?

Me: Yeah.  [Very emphatically, nodding my head, even though I have no idea what exactly “chill” is slang for.  Is it “cool”?]

Additionally, I looked at what he was wearing and he is definitely of the next generation:  his jeans were tighter than guys in my generation.  A tell-tale sign.

Later in the conversation at his place. . .

HC:  What time did you get up this morning?

Me:  Early.  Like 7:30.

HC:  Oh.  Like old people get up early.  [Smiling at me]

First old joke of the day.  Zing!

Siiiigh.  This is going to be a long day.  Plus, I wasn’t feeling completely recovered from the cold I came down with the day we went out for our first date.

On the car ride into NJ, we talked about a bunch of things.  Family, etc.  It came up that his dad is a guitarist.  (Wow, cool!)  But, he also has a family busy.  (Also, cool.  Wait, I mean so chill. . . )

He asked me if I played any music.

Of course.  I’m Korean American:  the piano.  I can strum the guitar.  Then, I reciprocated the question.

HC:  I play a little of this and that.  I played a little clarinet.  I little of other things.

He told me more about his dad.  How he traveled the world, touring for his band, and how HC went to different countries to see his dad’s band play.

This sparked my curiosity. . .

Me:  So, what band is your dad in?  [Inquisitively.  And I am scouring my brain to think of NJ bands that are popular enough to tour the world and would be in his dad’s age bracket — Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band?  Bon Jovi?  Nah, they are too young.  No others come to mind.]

HC:  He was in a band called the ____.  They played at Clinton’s inaugural balls, here, here’s what they sound like.

And they are blues cover songs and music but it is good.  I’m still impressed.  I love musicians.

. . .

As we drove into NJ, HC was a great tour guide.  He drove through Rutgers, wait, New Brunswick (right?), and showed me things.  The places he lived while he was in college, old bars he used to hang out with.  So, so sweet.  I love those things.  Nostalgia.  I can tell HC is a sentimental person and I definitely appreciate that because I am too.

We stopped at a cute breakfast place he used to love in college and had a quick bite to eat.  We parked in his usual spot and had to walk about a bit to the stadium.  He told me we had to walk into the next town.  Parsippany?  P_____?  Not sure.

It was a bit of a walk, but it was such a nice fall day, I didn’t mind.

HC bought some tickets off some scalpers and we were all set to watch the game.

HC:  Did you know that Rutgers is the birthplace of college football?

Me:  No, I didn’t!

HC:  Yeah, they even have a place where it says it in the stadium.  [Ok, if you say so.  And indeed, it is true.  They have those exact words painted in the stadium.]

On the walk over to the stadium, HC was an incredible gentlemen.  We had to walk closely along the side of the road and he quickly made sure I was on the inside.  All through the day, HC made sure the temperature was right for me in the car, that I had enough water, that I wasn’t hungry or needed a coffee.

As we were walking, he looked over at me, took a deep breath, exhaled, and raised his eyebrows,  and said, “It’s going to be a long game.  You got your Depends on?”

Sigh.  Second old joke.  But don’t worry, HC makes jokes about how young he is too as he tells me about his college town and says it was just last year these things happened.  [OMG please don’t tell me it was last year! — Don’t worry, it wasn’t last year]

Me:  It’s a good thing you have good delivery.  Otherwise, your ‘old’ jokes would suck.

We found our seats and HC asked me if I brought my shades.  I told him I left them at my sister’s and didn’t have them on me so he insisted I wear his.  Especially since the scoreboard was in front of the sun.

Me:  No no no, you wear them!  It’s ok.  I can deal.

HC:  No, it’s ok!  I have thick eyebrows.  [That made me smile]

There was a little bit of back and forth.

Periodically, I tried to give back his sunglasses and he always refused.  Later, the sun hid behind the clouds and I gave back his sunglasses and he accepted.  Then, the sun came back out and he immediately made me wear his sunglasses again.

It was 4 minutes until halftime and the Scarlet Knights were very badly losing (38-7) so HC wanted to get outta there.

We split.  Got to his car then headed to his dad’s house to pick up some things.

We got there and there was no one home.  Thank God.  Holden Caulfield showed me around.  Showed me the expansion they did, the deck he helped install.  I love these things.

HC got me a water and we had a seat in the living room.  Since his dad is a guitar player so there are a ton of nice guitars around.

HC picked up a guitar and started jamming on it.  He’s a great guitar player.

Me:  Why didn’t you list ‘guitar’ as one of the instruments you play?!

HC shrugs his shoulders.  Smiled.

He keeps jamming and jamming and I can’t help but fantasize about singing to songs he is playing on the guitar.  But, I didn’t say anything about my love for singing because I was afraid he’d put me on the spot.  But I suppose I could have brought it on.  No, I know I could have.

Eventually, his step mom came home.  We shook hands, blah blah.  She was a really nice woman.

Then, his dad comes home and he looks like an older version of HC.  And I couldn’t help but think that they are looking at me and thinking, “Why is this old girl interested in our son??”

His dad was really nice.  Started immediately playing the guitar too.  I thought that was so sweet.

And eventually, HC got the things he came for.  And showed me the basement where the band practices.  It’s like paradise.  I would love to sing with their band and rock out with them.

We left the house and said our salutations and pleasantries.

As we drove back, we were clearly tired.  HC — because he didn’t sleep much last night and me, because I am feeling under the weather.  I fell asleep in the car for a few minutes and he sweetly encouraged me to sleep more.  I can’t help but fall asleep in moving vehicles.  My brother likes to tease me about that.

We got back into the City and Holden Caulfield was trying to think of the best way to drop me off at home but he was in a rush to meet his friend back at his place and eventually his dad and step-mom because they were going to a concert.  (He goes to concerts with his dad :))

I told him not to worry about me that I’d make my way back home from his place via subway.  That is normal, after all, but I appreciate his gesture of taking me home.

We arrived at his place.  We got out the car.  His friend had driven up right behind us.  We gave each other a kiss on the cheek and I went home.

When I got out of the subway, I got this text from HC:  “:) 🙂 🙂 :)”

I got home and felt terribly lonely.  HC is 10 years younger than me.  This will never work out.  And I couldn’t help but cry a little about it.

. . .

. . .

I’m just going to pretend I am this glass globe:

The next day, I had a second date with Marathon Man.

MM gave me three choices of restaurants: two that were in the West Village again, one of those was a Korean restaurant and the other an Italian wine bar, the third choice was a tapas place in the Flatiron District.

I told him I eat Korean all the time so I’d like to do something different.  Marathon Man decided to go with the Aria and I thought that would be fine.  That morning, I looked it up on the map and saw that it was just a street away from the last place we went to.

Ok, so Aria was fine and nice.  It was actually really packed and I had to sit really close to MM, right next to him, at a high top table.

After having gone out with Holden Caulfield the night before, I found Marathon Man to be a little bland . . . well. . . maybe bland is a little too strong of a word, but Marathon Man told me story after story that were not very exciting, didn’t have much funniness to it, and were long.

We split a bottle of wine and got a few different dishes.  It was a nice and light meal, considering it was Italian.  We stayed away from the pasta.

He asked me the quintessential date question, “So if you could do anything for a job, what would you do?” (Sigh, this again?)

I told him I wanted to be a jazz singer because I love singing.  And before I could tell him much about it and why I want to be that, he told me about his ex-girlfriend who randomly auditioned for “Miss Saigon” and was Lea Salonga’s alternate and blah, blah, blah.  Marathon Man, why would I care about this story about your ex-girlriend?  BO-RING.  Strike One.

Me:  So what’s yours?

MM:  I’d want to do something that intersects healthcare and technology that will help people.

Me:  Isn’t that what you do already?

MM:  No.  (He works in IT at a bank)

Me:  Oh, isn’t that what you said would be the next job you look for?  (Yes, he told me that last time)

MM:  Yeah.

Me:  No, you have to pick something that is not realistic or feasible for you right now.  Or maybe unattainable.

MM:  Oh, oh, OK.  Then I’d be a trail guide.

Me:  Yeah, much better.

We keep conversation going.  That wasn’t hard to do at all and it was natural.  But, we talked very much about the same things we did on our first date:  fitness, nutrition, exercise.

Me:  I wish I had gotten into athletics more. I think I missed the boat on that.

MM:  Well, you seem athletic.

Me:  Yeah, well, I think I have good coordination and agility but I just need someone to push me.

MM points to himself.

MM:  I’m very impressed you have a bike trainer set up already in your place.

Me:  (I spared him the story that my ex-boyfriend got me into biking)  Yeah, well, I do it more for the purpose of vanity.  After I bought it and biked on it consistently I found that it really toned my legs and butt.

MM:  Well it’s working.

. . .

. . .

Me:  Well, thanks.  (But I’m wondering how he would even know how toned my legs and butt are when this is the second time seeing him, fully clothed)

MM:  You look nice by the way.

That night I decided to wear a mini skirt with a black top and suede wedge booties.

We talked a bit more and the topic of celebrity came up.  Marathon Man started telling me about another ex-girlfriend who did makeup for some celebrities.  Come on, MM.  This is your second story about your ex-girlfriends.  We are not on the topic of exes.  Strike Two.

Like I said in the last post, I wasn’t feeling well, which I forewarned Marathon Man that morning.  He told me to continuously take vitamin C and that too much wouldn’t hurt.  It was getting close to 9pm and earlier he had suggested we quickly finish our wine and go to a second bar.  I had said yes to this before, but then I changed my mind and told him I thought I should head home early.  All I could think about was how nice it would be to be in my PJs and in bed.

MM:  Aw, really?

Me:  Yeah.

MM:  But it’s so early.  Come on.  Just one more drink.

Me:  Hmm. . .

. . .

Me:  Ok, well, maybe just one drink.  Well, maybe I’ll go to another bar but not have a drink.  (Sometimes I have a hard time saying no)

MM:  Ok, great!  Let’s go to the Upholstery Room.  They have a great back room we can have to ourselves.

And I know now why he wanted us to have the back room to ourselves.  We got there and we split a glass of wine and suddenly it was like Marathon Man became Octopus Man because his hands were all over me as if he had eight of them.

He also suggested he come home with me.  Strike Three.  I wasn’t able to say no to going to the 2nd bar but I definitely said no to this.

I think I need to start going to the driving range.

I was so right.

After a little bit of internal debate, I decided to meet Holden Caulfield for a drink the other night.

He texted me the night before:

HC:  Hey lookin forward to tomorrow, is like 9:30 okay?  I can pick you up wherever you are so you don’t have to worry about getting anywhere

Me:  Sure!  (But a little confused) What do you mean pick me up?  Like in a car?  (See, in the City, you usually just go out and meet men on dates.  Most of the time, they don’t offer to pick you up.  And although I lived in Minneapolis and dated a bit there, where the men would drive and pick you up in cars, this is still surprising to me since I identify with dating mostly in NYC.  The only other men who picked me up in their cars was 1) a millionaire who had sold his startup and told me how much money he made from it and 2) My Mr. Big (MMB) who I dated over the summer and drove an M5)

HC:  Yep

Me:  Oh wow, that would be so nice of you!!

HC:  Cool 🙂 see you tomorrow!

The next day I wasn’t feeling very well and could feel a cold coming on (itchy throat and ears) so I texted Holden Caulfield. . .

Me:  hey there are you available for drinks on Friday instead of tonight?  I developed a sore throat and would like to get to bed early.

HC:  No problem Friday I have my friends bday dinner and will meet you after.  But aww man was excited to see you.  Feel better and hopefully we can chill Friday if not brunch Saturday!

Me:  Hm well I can go out tonight but just not stay out too late?  (I just wanted to get the date done and over with)

HC:  Yea take a nap and lets just meet for a bit I won’t keep you up late promise.  We can go somewhere close to you

So, Holden Caulfield was a half hour late to pick me up.  I have a sore throat, I’m tired.  I’m not happy about this.

HC was really apologetic and nice and normal.  But he pulled up in a car service car, which was not what I expected.  He explained that he does have a car that he keeps in the City but didn’t want to bring it out.  I didn’t want to engage in too much conversation in the car in front of the driver because I just felt embarrassed that I was going out with this guy I met once, randomly on Thompson Street.

We arrived at a cute little wine bar just 5 blocks up from me.  I had no idea this place existed.  HC picked it out.

So, we sat at the bar and debated sharing a bottle of wine.  It’s already past 10pm.  We got a bottle of red wine.

We engaged in some normal conversation, catching each other up on our life events over the past month and a half since we met.  He told me about the work he does and I told him about mine.  HC works in the world of finance.  Go figure.  But the work he does is cool and on the cutting edge.  And he loves what he does so I found that to be very refreshing and nice to listen to.

Then. . .

HC:  So, when did you move to the City?

. . .

. . .I’m staring blankly at him. . .

. . .

Me:  (meekly) I think I’m a little older —

But before I can finish, HC interrupts me  —

HC:  I know.  (Nonchalantly)

Me:  I’m older than I think you think I am.

HC:  I knew you were older.  I don’t care.

. . .

Me:  Ok, I moved to the City in 1998.  (And I cringe, slightly)

HC:  I don’t care.  I have friends that are older than me.  “So-and-so”, my good friend is like 37.  Except for my high school friends I have a ton of friends in their 30s.

Me:  Are you even 30 yet?

. . .

. . .

HC:  (smiling) Almost.

But as we are talking, we’re joking and laughing and HC is cracking jokes left and right about this whole age thing.  And his sense of humor is good:  witty, light, jovial.  Just trying to make light of the situation so I don’t feel awkward.  Just being very considerate of my feelings.

HC:  I was thinking to myself — “Oh in 1998, well I graduated high school in 2004. . . ”

OMG, he graduated high school in 2004.

HC:  But then I thought, “OH wait. . .”

So, we’re sitting there laughing and I’m still feeling a little uncomfortable, and HC can sense this so he says. . . “The only way to make this better is to just make out right now.”

We laugh more.  I’m not making out with him at the bar.

HC says, “I like your laugh”

Me:  (I stop in my tracks, tilt my head sideways, and sincerely) Thanks.  [Smile]

We carried on with the wine and talked about all kinds of things.  His sense of humor was on the same wavelength as mine and he seemed so happy-go-lucky.  Not jaded.  Not cynical.  Not resentful.  Nothing like the 40+ year old men I’ve dated.  Just so refreshing. . .

HC:  Your hair looks different than when we met.

Me:  Yeah, I straightened it.  It was curled that night.

HC:  (very matter of fact)  I like it.

Then somehow we got into vacation spots.

He loves the beach.  So do I.

HC loves Hawaii.  So do I.

HC grew up surfing.  OMG.  I started surfing 9 years ago.  Music to my ears.

HC:  Can you surf waves that are around 4′?

Me:  Biggest waves I’ve surfed were around shoulder height.

HC:  That’s not bad.  Maybe about 5′.

Me:  Occasionally I’ll go smell my wetsuits in my closet because I miss the beach, water, and waves.

(Oh no, maybe that made me sound like a weirdo).

It was time to head home.  It was getting late and I was out later than I wanted to be, though we were having fun.  I suppose all good things must come to an end.

Holden Caulfield walked me home.

Smile, Adam!

HC:  [Via text]  What night do I get to take you out this week?

. . . that was at 7:53pm.  I was about to jump on my bike and try to get in a work out since I spent the weekend eating a ton of empty calories at my sister’s.

So, I didn’t immediately respond.

At 9:37. . .

HC:  Hope you are well.  Just finished a soccer game last one of season.

Me:  Hey, ____!  Oh cool!

HC:  [Emoticon with tongue sticking out]  There she is.

Me:  Hmmm, need to see about this week.  Sorry I just biked and worked out.  🙂  Maybe Wednesday?

HC:  Nice, ahh was hopin you would say any night but Wednesday, got my only other date with a special lady that night.

Me:  Um ok.

HC:  My mom silly!!!!!!! (That’s SEVEN exclamation points.)  We will be early so maybe I can meet you after what do you think

Me:  Haha.  I thought you might say that.  Yeah, that’s good actually.  Then I can work out after work.

Then, I see that Holden Caulfield is calling me.  I have to admit ignoring the call crossed my mind. . . I answer, and Holden is super sweet.  Asked me how my weekends have been since we last texted, told me about his life, then set a time to meet up on Wednesday.

And I can just tell he has got to be at least 10 years younger than I am.  I can hear it in the way he talks.  And, when we met, he told me he lived in NJ for “a couple of years” after college, then moved to the West Village and has been living there for “a couple of years”.

Homeboy has gotta be under 30.

Sigh.

Look!  Adam Scott likes kids!  And maybe Asian women, too!