Okay, so my friends from back home and I made a bet. We didn’t put any money down on it, so it wasn’t really a â€œbetâ€ â€¦ more like something along the lines of a bunch of people weighing in on what they think might happen in a given situation. And the story is, basically, everyone except me thought that I would begin dating as soon as I got off of the plane in New York City.
Maria said I’d have a date within 6 weeks of arriving …
Mags and Pegs said 4 weeks …
Sean said 2 weeks …
Bro said 1 week …
I said that it would take at least 8 weeks. I figured, it would take at least a week or two to find an apartment. And then it would take another week or two to find my way around the city. Then, it would take another week or two to start going out and doing things that I like to do at the places that I like to go. And then it would take at least another week or two to actually meet people.
Lo and behold, 9 weeks and 3 days after arrival, I agreed to go on a date with Houston.
It was a blind date of sorts. He’d previously suggested that we meet at a Cuban Cafe for coffee. It was 97 degrees in NYC today; therefore, we skipped the coffee idea and went straight for Cuban sandwiches, Mexican-style corn, Brooklyn Ale and Corona. As we ate our food, we talked.
And we talked.
And we talked.
Then we went on a bike ride through the park and we talked some more. The date went on from 12 – 6pm. It was one of the most normal, comfortable, pleasant and non-pretentious first-date experiences that I’ve ever had. It was like we were already friends and we’d just decided to meet up for Cuban food and a bike ride. I enjoyed it.
Welcome to the New and Improved Stolie.
Late 2004 / early 2005, some of my closest friends did an intervention of sorts to bring it to my attention that I had a disturbingly clear history of dating very very attractive, completely self-absorbed assholes. I thought about it for a while and with utter sincerity I replied, “you guys, looks don’t mean everything, but they do account for at least 95% of the equation.”
Me: “I’m just saying … if I’m being honest … for example, I’d have to say that I’d rather date a very very attractive man that was less intelligent than an unattractive man that was more intelligent.”
Bro: “Well, I guess knowing your problems is the first step to resolving them.”
Yeah, so back to Houston …
So, he’s definitely an attractive man. He’s slightly older (5+ yrs.) and seems to be over and done with his â€œhigh maintenance pretty boy phaseâ€ if he ever had one. The *OLD* Stolie would have noticed that he had a few grey hairs in his sideburns and that he was about 10 – 25 lbs. heavier than expected. The date would have been short and sweet; I wouldn’t have returned his phone calls. The *NEW* Stolie actually listened to the words that came out of his mouth, asked him about things that mattered and was curious about his views on the world in which we live. At the end of the date, I was happy that I decided to lean in and kiss him. He kissed me … again and then again.
We both said that we had a great time. I told him that I’d send him my email address so that we could keep in touch. He said that he would call me.
I’ll keep you posted, literally…