Date Number 1

So, I lived through my very first date. Appropriately, he happened to be the very first guy to message me on OKCupid. And...well, it could have been a lot worse.

I got to pick the place, I showed up earlier than him (by kind of a lot because his cab driver accidentally dropped him off ten blocks too soon). We ended up going for drinks, though he first suggested we "bake something and watch a movie". I opted no because (a) I'm not fool; I know what a movie leads to and (b) I've seen enough horror movies slash seen enough late night news stories to know it's never a good idea to be alone in a house with a guy you don't know.

So, I'm waiting at the bar, reading my brand new NYC Zagat guide and chatting with the female bartender, and he eventually walks in and sits down next to me. NOTE: good move on getting there early and sitting down--there was no awkward do-we-hug-or-shake-hands moment. As soon as he sits down, I know I'm not attracted to him, but think maybe I could be. By the middle of this first date, I already know I don't want to kiss him. Awkward. So I spend half the event worrying that he was going to try to kiss me (reference to an extremely awkward accidental date I had with my broker who settled for kissing my cheek at the end of the ordeal), and shoving fries in my face because I was really hungry. Cute?

While I'm fretting about him trying to kiss me, he's telling me about the difference between milkshakes and frappes, and my eyes start to glaze over. Then he tells me about the work he does which involves just enough technology and business that I have no idea what is going on. So I decide I need to save the conversation, and bring it back to: pickles. (Did you know that Sunday was International Pickle Day? Well, now my first First Date does too.) Oddly enough, the kid knew a LOT about pickles. Turns out he cans them himself. Now, don't get me wrong, I love pickles more than the next guy, but I don't really care how they are made. All I know is that little Vlasic stork brings me the good stuff, and I like them better when they're sliced.

About an hour into the date, he tells me that he wants to take me out again, and tries to make plans for a date two. And I'm still thinking that I don't want him to try to kiss me, and that if I go out for a second date he is DEFINITELY going to try to kiss me, so I play it off with a I'll-have-to-check-my-schedule, but he keeps talking about Italian dinners and elegant desserts until finally a stand-up comedian starts up at the bar. And he starts talking about being single in NYC and dating. I decide it's time to leave. He walks me to the restaurant where I'm meeting some friends from dinner, we hug, and he leaves. (Good news! He didn't try to kiss me, even after all that fretting.)

While I'm sitting at the bar, waiting for my friends to arrive (since I'm there about 30 minutes early), I text my mom to tell her that I lived through my very first date! She asks how it went and I said just fine, but I don't think there is going to be a second date. Her response?: "Oh, did you scare him away??" Thanks, mom.