Date 2- Bag Fetish

Dating these days is a study in habits and tendencies.  I'm always surprised when I hear that girls have a hard time with the Tinderfellas because dudes want to be pen pals and text endlessly and never actually meet.  I do not seem to have this issue.  Perhaps I swipe slightly adultier men who don't seem to have patience for the false intimacy of the text conversation and want to get down to brass tacks.  Or perhaps they are bored and lonely and want to see if I look like the (2 year old) photos I have in my profile. As such, my social calendar is full full full with drinks drinks drinks.

Drinks with Alex- he works for HBO, lives down the street in Park Slope, and is- dare I say- handsome.  Very cute smile, displays a variety of interests through his charming pictures, and asks me to dinner after a brief conversation.  

I work late and at the last minute change into a flared mini skirt I have stashed under my desk- this isn't my favorite look but I have to give up my usual lesbian attire if I am going to start interacting with straight men again.  My nerves are totally frayed- I thought after the first date I would feel a little more relaxed but that has not yet kicked in and I feel like throwing up on my Steve Madden shoes as I wait for him to arrive.  

We are having drinks at the bar I went to on my 2nd date with Pedro, so I am looking over my shoulder for a man who I have not yet met, and a man I know too well.  Alex arrives, we order cocktails and sit down to the chat.  He was married for 20 years- SURPRISE- and has an adopted son that he makes sure he explains is adopted because he wouldn't want his date to think he was foolish enough to have a child when he was so young but his ex wife was very foolish and had a child very young but he is a good man so he adopted the child.  I will give him credit- he is crazy about the son, and shows off instagram shots of him skiing and living his dream in Colorado.  Its a very intimate and strange thing to hear about your Tinder date's child, but when one swipes adultier men, they come with a history.   But overall I find him very difficult to talk to, and sense that he is not interested in me at all.  He was a frustrated rich Jewish kid who rebelled by going into the military to hang out with people from different walks of life (JUST SAY POOR, I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE IMPLYING) - I've already tangoed with tortured, spoiled men and don't want to tangle with this one.  He describes his post divorce life in detail- he has delved into photography as a hobby, and trolls the internet for free models to use for his portraits.  He is very into fashion and tells me he is obsessed with buying bags- goes as far as to describe it as a "bag fetish", which killed what little hard on I had left.   Handsome, smart, interesting....and still trying to piece his life together after a divorce.   But at the end of the evening- I am tired, hungry, buzzed, disappointed- he looks at me and says "Listen, I really have to get out of here, can't stay all night, sorry".  I am fairly certain my eyes bugged out of my head, and I internally shouted, "FINE BY ME, ASSHOLE.  GOTTA GET HOME TO GOLDEN GIRLS."   I thanked him politely, bid good bye, awkward hug, and nearly ran down the street to get away.

What is it about a disinterested stranger that can make you feel so badly about yourself?  I don't even know his last name, but his obvious condescension wore me down.  My friend told me that it was a bad idea to start dating before I felt whole and well again- before I could look in the mirror and say, "Yep, I like this, and I know someone else will too."  

I go home to my late night diet of cheese, crackers and hummus and wonder if I am ready to face these demons again when I'm just starting to feel normalish.

DATE 2- Les Miz.

COCKTAIL DU JOUR- Too much vermouth and pretension can ruin a Negroni.

FOOD ALLERGIES- Recently divorced men who fancy themselves Annie Leibovitz.