Today I went on a date with someone I've been seeing on and off for almost two months. I say on and off, because as you, my ardent fans, may remember, this guy gave me three different reasons why we shouldn't see each other any more (1. I was too busy. 2. I'm a witch. 3. I'm a blogger.)
The date today was nice: he took me to Tahoe and we had lunch at The Hard Rock Cafe. Then, he gave me $10 to gamble with, and we hit the penny slots. I won over 56 free games - and walked away with $37 and some change. Guess my horoscope was right: it was a lucky day with regards to finances.
We walked around town, did a little window shopping, and then decided to call it a day. On the drive back, I realized I really didn't want to date him any more. He's nice, but I just don't get excited at the thought of kissing him. Or even while actually kissing him. We held hands on the way home, and I felt like a traitor, because while he was holding my hand, I was thinking "I've got to break this off."
As he was taking me back to my car, he asked if I might want to see his bachelor pad. I said sure. And then the strangest thing happened... I thought maybe he was going to make a move on me at his apartment, and I actually got kind of excited. Well, okay, more than "kind of" - My Scorpio mind was racing - what would it be like? How do I bring up the subject of protection? Would it feel natural or forced?
As we were walking into his apartment complex, we saw a woman piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. He talked to her for a minute, then said, "Carol, I want you to meet my girlfriend PJammy." Um. Girlfriend? Really? When did that happen? I mean, less than two weeks ago you weren't sure of me again. Now two dates later, we're together?
I mulled this over on the way up to his apartment. As soon as we walked in, he realized he had forgotten something - would I wait while he ran to get it? Sure. He told me to look around, make myself comfortable. So I did.
The apartment looked like it belonged to a college kid. Blow up air mattresses in both bedrooms. Rubbermaid storage containers doubling as tables. A couple of posters tacked up on the walls. When he returned, I mentioned something about the dorm room feel - he said he decided to downsize a few years ago and either sold or gave away most of his furniture.
I think he should try to get it back. There's something kind of sad about a 57-year-old using a Rubbermaid container as a table. Especially when, at one time, he had an actual table to use and for some misguided reason decided that Rubbermaid was the way to go.
He took me to his bedroom to see this art deco nightlight he had. I thought "Here we go. PJammy, are you ready? It's been almost a year since you've done this." It turns out, I didn't have to be ready. Because, really, he only wanted to show me the lamp. Then he said, "Well, let's take you back to your car," and off we went.
My body felt let down, but the rest of me was slightly relieved. We didn't have sex. That makes the decision to break this off a little easier.
Not sure the girlfriend comment does, though. That one I may have to mull over some more...