I went out on a truly wonderful date with an awesome, available guy that I have absolutely zero chemistry with.
He is rad.
He is sober.
He has a young son.
He studies attachment theory.
He speaks my language.
He is from my tribe.
And I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.
Maybe it has something to do with the first kiss. Maybe.
A mutual friend introduced us via email and it quickly progressed to texting. He was confident and sassy. A musician and actor. In LA? No way. HIs Facebook photos were pretty hot. I was intrigued. He has beautiful blue eyes. Not as pale as Highland Park, but nice.
He asked me out that night. After briefly hesitating, I said sure, my Husband was coming over to watch our daughter while I went to yoga so instead of yoga, I would merely go out with him. Fuck my soon to be ex-husband. I didn’t think he would care much anyhow.
I was right. My Husband didn’t give a shit that I was going out with someone else so soon. He told me to have fun as I traipsed out the door in a cute little Diane von Furstenberg number.
As I walked down the street in sunny Silverlake to meet him, I realized something about Facebook photos, they don’t show someone’s height accurately. He stood up to hug me, and I knew right away, no. Oh no.
But he was charming and cute, still, so I said, what the hell and got into his car to go eat raw food downtown.
The restaurant was brilliant, the food delicious and the conversation engaging and lively.
All was well, even though I wasn’t feeling an attraction; I was still open-minded enough not to kill it.
Then it happened.
As onions and garlic from the fresh, hand-made salsa exploded in my mouth, he leaned in for a kiss.
I felt defenseless and self-conscious. I am not a big fan of overt PDA’s to begin with, and I just met this man.
But I didn’t stop him. I allowed him to kiss me. I tried to kiss back, half-heartedly.
It was a disaster. In my mind.
But I could tell from the look on his face as he pulled away, that he felt quite differently.
Why didn’t I stop him? That is the question that begs to answer; in therapy, perhaps.
I finished the meal in confusion, dodging, as best I could, any other advances. He managed to sneak another sloppy kiss during dessert. But that was it.
He dropped me off at my car, and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
My first kiss with my Husband was a disaster, but I hung in there and gave him another, and another, and another chance. Until he won my heart.
And look how that turned out for me.
Maybe you can tell everything you need to know from a first kiss?
All I could think about was that when Highland Park first kissed me, my head exploded, and my body caught on fire.
I think I am doomed.
likely to have an unfortunate and inescapable outcome; ill-fated.“the moving story of their doomed love affair”