It was 11:00 by this point, just about booty-call time. And I was in a car heading to a speakeasy with the Canadian engineer from date #2. He had just left dinner with his friends and was definitely buzzed when I showed up (I wasn’t the first to get there this time!).
Let me back up for a second. I wouldn’t typically agree to rage on a Tuesday night, but he was heading to Israel for three weeks with his grad school for some abroad work. If I wanted to see him before he left (and get a point for it), it was now or never.
The alcohol really loosened him up. He was still gentlemanly and sweet but he was much more animated and almost feminine during our discussions. I was into it. Too into it. Two gin martinis into it.
We closed out the speakeasy and tried to hold ourselves together as we wandered out the front door. We both lived north so we started heading in that direction. And we just kept going for 30 blocks. Two long walks in one night!? I was on a roll. Legit feelin’ myself after this monumental night in my dating history.
We got to 110th street and I held out my hand for a cab. Before getting in, I turned and wished him a good trip. He said he’ll call me when he got back. And I rode away.
No kiss. No hug. Just a wave. And that was that.
He never reached out. I never reached out. Just two great dates for the archives. I’m starting to understand the fun part of dating.