Not So Perfect

In my mind's eye, I saw my jaw drop to the floor, my heart sinking in like fashion.  But I knew outwardly, nothing gave the disappointment away.  

Up until then the night had been perfect.  Even with the initial delays, it was perfect.  It provided just that little bit of conflict, that sense that the fates were somehow standing in the way that built up the anticipation.  I was supposed to pick him up at 5:45.  I had given myself a decent amount of time to get from the west side to WeHo, but still with rush hour traffic, I was going to be late.  I was antsy and starting to get pissed.  I just don't get fucking L.A. traffic.  Why can't people all just drive at a normal pace?!  Fuck!

My phone chimed in a text at the height of my frustration: "Sorry can we make 6.  Still stuck in class."

And then the evening just settled into a groove.  I arrived at his home at 6:15.  He rushed out to greet me in jeans and a hoodie with his chest completely exposed, even hotter than I remembered from our first meeting five days before.  "Come into the bedroom," he yelled.  I walked in on him buttoning up a white button up shirt.  He completed the look with dark jeans, dress shoes and a sport coat--definitely hotter than I remembered.  We lingered at his home for a while.  He'd only been there for a few months and was proud of the changes he'd made.  He gave me a tour of the bedrooms and the redone kitchen and the backyard with recently installed jacuzzi before we decided it was time to go.

The drive to Silverlake was, despite the still molasses slow traffic, pleasant, and it had everything to do with the company.  Even after spending four hours together at the previous Saturday night's party, it turned out we still had a lot to talk about, leaving not a minute of uncomfortable silence on the drive.

We arrived at my friend's art gallery show at around 8:00.  My friend was showcasing a collection of paintings that were contemporary interpretations of ancient deities from various pantheons from Greek to Nordic to Native American.  And we both enjoyed it.  We would take turns guessing which god or goddess we thought was depicted, together studying the choice of color, the mood, the expressions before offering our guess.  I found him to be thoughtful and incisive, and I was even more impressed by his ability to jump into any conversation with the other guests and the artist himself.  We said our goodbyes at about 8:45, and the artist whispered in my ear, "Your date is adorable.  Keep him."

I took him to Kitchen 24 for dinner.  It was ideal--hip and trendy with gourmet takes on old American standards for an affordable price; I didn't want to go too extravagant on a first date.  We were seated at a small table for two, but forced to lean into each other because the restaurant does get a little loud.  And over a turkey burger and a monte cristo sandwich both of which we split and shared, we talked about family and friends and coming out.  And how funny it was to think that we had just met a few days before at a random Hollywood party.

We were at the valet by 10:00, late for me, especially with work in the morning.  After the art show and the dinner, I thought it had been a good first date.  

"Hey it's only 10:00.  Do you want to go to O Bar for a drink?"

Apparently, he wanted to hang out some more, and I was not going to turn that down.  Besides, it was O Bar.  On a Thursday.  More than a handful of acquaintances stopped by to say hello, and a few of them without solicitation whispered into my ear that from a distance, it looked as though the date was going well.  And it was...until he said "I just don't understand dating in this country."  

In Europe, people were either one night stands or exclusively dating.  There isn't the American version of dating with its litany of iterations--"seeing each other", friends with benefits, dating, exclusively dating, in a relationship, in an open relationship, etc.  So he wasn't sure what was going on.  Not what was going on with me, but what was going on with this other guy who, for the last few months, he'd been sort of "seeing."

That's when my jaw dropped and my heart sank.

Comments

[Michael in DC]

Make him yours...sounds like you can try...You should!

[Michael in DC]

I have to say again, that I am having withdrawal from your life storytelling. I sure hope you're "Not So Perfect" turned into "Perfect" and you are blissfully happy and getting laid twice or more a day...

[dell]

Play it again, Van.

[Chuck]

Did the jaw dropping damage your keyboard? You're missed around here Van.

[Vanguard]

I'll be back. The last couple of months have been do crazy I barely have time to schedule a shit. But I'm close to being a homeowner and subsequently poor so I'll have loads of time sitting alone in an empty condo to blog...if I have money to pay for electricity.

[KC]

I hope you're not teasing about future posts... I'm looking forward to them. Congrats on the house!

[Anonymous]

For the ones who still check on your blog regularly... are you going to make a come-back, or can we consider it ... dead?

[Kat]

Yes, inquiring minds want to know! Will you return to the blog, or will you not? If not, we will miss reading about your busy, stressful, fun life in L.A.

[rod]

Is anybody on call?