06.24.03
Mike was supposed to call me when he got off work, and then we were supposed to figure out the plans before he came here to meet me.
Instead, he called me and asked me if I needed to take a shower or anything before he came over, because he was just down the block, having just gotten off the train. I told him that I just needed a couple of minutes to get ready, and then when he showed up, he spent 20 minutes watching me cut up the strawberries that I had been cleaning immediately before he called. Which was odd.
He told me that I had a lot of furniture, and spent some time trying to interest Cricket in coming out from whatever she was hiding under or behind, to no avail. It felt a little awkward, but it worked.
I guess I didn't expect to have someone watching me in the kitchen as the kick off to a date.
It was decided that we would walk a few blocks north to Devon, and then catch a bus up past Western, where all of the good Indian restaurants are located. It was hot, and we were both a little sweaty by the time we caught the bus, but the air conditioning felt really good.
Unfortunately, we got on the wrong bus and ended up only being taken as far as Clark, which is a little farther east of Western than we really wanted to be dropped off, but being troopers, we walked the rest of the way.
Honestly, I don't know what restaurants are good around there. I'm not the fussiest person when it comes to picking a restaurant out, usually, and when the other person has knowledge about the restaurants in the area, I prefer to let that person pick out where to eat. Otherwise I'm going to end up going with how swanky the place looks, or how clever is the name of the restaurant, and that isn't really a good indicator of food quality. Lots of skanky-looking little hole-in-the-walls have the best chow, while the more upscale establishments only offer higher prices and real linens on the table.
However, Mike seemed to think that I should pick the place, so he told me that he'd heard a few places were good, and as he listed off the names that he knew, I chose the one that I could see from where we were standing.
The food was okay, but they didn't have any bread that night, which is half the fun of Indian food - wiping up the sauces from the plates with a piece of warm tandoori-cooked flatbread. And they lacked kheer on the menu, which is a bad sign to me.
Later, Mike apologized profusely, and told me that we should have gone to one of the places that he had already eaten at and knew was safe, which is what I would have preferred in the first place.
I don't know if he's indecisive or desperate to please, but it gets really old really fast. I like someone with an opinion about things, and someone that doesn't feel the constant need to second guess or apologize for everything that goes not-quite-perfect. However, I also don't know if he's emotionally fragile or easily wounded, so I am hesitant to tell him this sort of thing.
While we were walking east to catch a bus, I turned sideways so that a large group of people could get by us, and my right hand went briefly behind my back. Mike decided that this was some sort of clever ploy to get him to hold my hand, which I told him it was far too hot to do, and tried to explain about the turning sideways and accidentally bumping his hand thing. I don't think he believed me, because shortly thereafter, he started to get all non-threateningly touchy -- like putting his hand on my back/shoulder for more than 5 seconds at a time, and prolonged patting of the arm.
So we caught the bus back to Broadway, and walked down to Bryn Mawr Beach, which is just a couple of blocks east of here, and is absolutely beautiful. Lots of people were there, enjoying the sun having gone down and the cool breeze blowing in from the lake.
We sat there talking for about an hour, during which I dug my feet down into the sand and started to bury them further with the cool, soft white sand. Myself, I was trying to enjoy what all the other people were enjoying, the water, the cool breeze, the people watching. I think that quietly sitting in a nice place and enjoying it without a constant stream of conversation is refreshing. Mike appears to think that silence is the appropriate time to ask people what they are thinking about.
I hate that question. I hate it with a passion.
Usually, I'm not thinking about anything in particular, or I'm thinking something that will most likely be hurtful to the other person. And if I tell the other person that I'm not thinking about anything in particular, just enjoying myself in the location we are at, the other person always assumes that I am thinking something negative about that person. Which the other person doesn't say, but you know it is implied and makes things even less comfortable.
What are you thinking? Erm, I wasn't really thinking about anything at all, I was just enjoying how beautiful the lake looks and how cool the breeze is. Erm, I was trying to decide if that is a low-flying ufo on the horizon, or just a boat of some sort. Erm, oh, I was thinking about how much finer grained the sand is here than on the beaches on the lakes in Iowa. Erm, I'm trying to figure out how I can get out of this date and go home to watch some television.
No matter what you say, the other person assumes that you think that you are having a sucky time.
So, after thwarting awkward advances by turning what was probably meant to be a passionate kiss into a sisterly peck on the lips, I told him I was getting tired, and I thought that maybe it would be nice if he walked me back to my apartment on his way to catch the train home. I don't know what he was thinking, because I didn't ask, but I think he took that as license to ask if I wanted him to come back up to the apartment, which I told him wasn't a good idea since I was tired. We hugged, he left.
I don't know what to think about this whole thing. I don't mean to paint it as negatively as it probably comes across. It wasn't a complete fiasco -- it was just a little strained. I think I got more excited about the idea of the date than the actual date itself. Maybe everything was just a little off-kilter, and that another outing might not be a much better experience.
What's in your head?