I’ve spent the month talking to a new guy.  I thought he was genuine and funny.  I couldn’t wait to meet him, but for whatever reason, our schedules didn’t really sync up until Father’s Day.  The precious free moment for both of us finally came. So, we decided to meet in the chill little island of Alameda.

I told him to meet me at the Starbucks, and we could choose a lunch spot. So we strolled the main street for twenty minutes, where I let him dominate the conversation.  (Not to mention the oppressive heat was scrambling my brain.)  I let him choose the spot and as he was opening the door, I was hit by a flying Starbucks food wrapper.  The force behind it didn’t feel accidental.  I swung around to see a couple and a man.  They didn’t look guilty. I just told my date and we both shrugged it off, and went into the establishment for lunch.

As we sat there, he dominated the conversation, but somehow, I felt the connection we’d had in chats wasn’t there. At least, not from him.  I spent a lot of time listening and trying to decide if he liked me even a little bit.  I was consumed with the fact that I was sweaty and the food was mediocre.  When I did talk, I tried to be charming and funny, but he wasn’t laughing. We even got a lot of conversation in about his ex. (I thought ex talk wasn’t for the first date.)

About midway through the conversation, he said, “I went out on Thursday and had a great time with a skinny white chick.  Not my normal type, but it was a good date.”  I was taken back.  Why would he tell me about his date? I guess I was boring him.  I wasn’t trying but in the 100+ degree heat choices for continuing the date were slim.

Post date, I didn’t feel good about it, but I thought I’d ask if I’d bored him.  He didn’t answer the question.  But a few hours later he was texting up a storm with me.  They weren’t flirtatious like the other texts.  I didn’t know what to do with it, but somehow I feel like that balled up Starbucks food wrapper may have been a sign.