the set-up

I spent Saturday, Valentine’s Day, evening having dinner with Jester at a fantastic Mexican restaurant in the east (lol). We had a great dinner, and the food was all he’d hyped it up to be so I was glad we went there instead of my fave Thai place as we originally planned. I have come to really love my dinners with Jester, and look so forward to the time we spend together.

We went to my MyBux after dinner to get coffee and it was slightly weird for me not because of the people working, but just being there felt so foreign to me, like it was sooo long ago that I was comfortable there, when in actuality it wasn’t so long ago. Just seems like it based on how much I’ve distanced myself from everything emotionally. I still miss it – her mostly – but as with the end of anything it gets easier every day. And having this new job to look forward to definitely takes my mind off the old times a little. I still sometimes have these little thoughts about waking up and realizing it never really happened – hope maybe – but obviously that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

Jessica had this guy she’s kinda sorta seeing set me up with one of his friends, so once Jester and I finished our post-dinner coffee I arranged to meet up with this dude for a drink. After entirely too much time trying to figure out where we were going to meet – nearly 2 hours – I headed to the venue choice, which just so happened to be the same place I had dinner on Monday for Soldier’s birthday. I knew nothing about this dude except his name and that he was black. Other than that I was clueless. Jessica told me he was 36 and tall, but tall is relative, so the picture I had in my head of this guy was something of 6′3″ dark brown god.

I walked in to the restaurant bar and saw one black guy sitting at the bar by himself, but he looked short and didn’t seem to be looking for me, so I assumed it wasn’t him. A few minutes later I got a text asking if I’d arrived yet, and when I sent one back I watched to see if this guy would pick up his phone. When he did I took it as a sign, walked confidently across the bar and said, “I think you’re waiting for me.”

“What?” The man looked at me like I was crazy.

“Are you the person I’m meeting?”

“Ummm no.”. He wasn’t even friendly and I was utterly mortified.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I just sent this person a text and saw you pick up your phone and I’m supposed to be meeting someone and…” I stammered, my face 800 shades of red.

“What’s your name?” He asked, still as stone-faced and unwelcoming as could be.

“I’m Barista,” I told him, imagining to myself how much of an idiot I was going to look like when I approached the next black dude to walk through the door. I was 100% mortified. I wanted to die. D. I. E.

“Malik,” he said, extending his hand to shake mine.

“Hi. Well, I’m sorry to bother you. I am just…”

He cut me off. “Ha! I got you! I’m Ronald!”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?”. He pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for me to sit down. My heart was beating hard, I’d been so embarrassed and it was this slightly unattractive, all not funny, dude all along.

“Are you nervous?” He asked me, still laughing at what he thought was hilarious…and in hindsight it was kinda funny, but I’d never approached someone like that before and what had just happened was like my biggest fear with the blind dating thing. I felt like a moron.

“Well I wasn’t, but right now I’m just totally thrown off.” I ordered a glass of red sangria and tried to calm down a little as I sat talking to this man who was nothing even close to the 6′3″ chocolatey delight I’d been hoping for. Instead he might’ve been 5′10, which is a guess because he didn’t seem taller than me in my 4″ heels, and wayyy older than 36. I’d guess maybe 45, but I can’t confirm that because he made a huge deal about not telling me how old he is. What-the-fuck-ever.

I didn’t have a horrible time, but it was 100% obvious to me that this dude was just out to get laid, and despite the fact that I haven’t had sex in 6 months and am practically dying for some ass, he wasn’t even the slightest bit fuckable. He practically begged me to ask him questions, but he didn’t ask anything about me. he said he had a wonderful time and couldn’t wait to see me again, and blah blah blah, but didn’t ask me a single thing about myself. Not one. Ummm…duh. I’m no idiot and you aren’t a quick-fuck kinda guy. Gotta be hot for that, sorry. And I’m pretty generous when it comes to finding men attractive.

All this I say, but I also must acknowledge that I didn’t have a bad time. I laughed a lot, flirted, practiced I’ll call it. I actually even planned to see him again – lisp and all – until I started getting texts from him while I was hanging out at Bart’s house baking dark chocolate cherry cupcakes after our delicious Thai lunch. Had Mr. Lispy asked me out on a date, to dinner or even for coffee, I’d have said yes. But just saying “When do I get to c u again” turned me off in the greatest way. It was like he’d just confirmed that he just wanted to fuck, but as I told Bart – if I’d been really interested that woulda totally been good enough for me. It was just obvious to me then that I wasn’t at that point.

And maybe partially because I was there with Bart…and the more time I spend with him the more I almost kinda wish we could be together again…and maybe partially because the dude was just not for me.

I'm so impressed with my cupcakes! But it's also apparent to me that a) I need to invest in a decorator kit and b) I need a new camera. These are dark chocolate cake, cherry icing, dark chocolate shavings and - of course - the cherry on top. Yummmm-o.

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