He got off the phone and said “My son” so I thought in my head that he was telling his son he would be home by midnight.  Being it was 11:35 already, I asked for the check and hurried us out.  He seemed confused, but I was trying not to be that needy chick that was upset he had to go.  I had kids too and if they needed me I would leave, so I thought I was being considerate.  He offered to walk me to my car, but I declined.  He came anyway.  It was upon me before I knew it, the first kiss.  I felt instantly shy and being I hate first kisses, I went in for it to get it over with and totally screwed it up.  I awkwardly smacked my face into his Drew Carey glasses and pecked him with pursed lips that even an old lady wouldn’t have used and then I blushed and felt stupid and got in my car and drove off.

I was thinking that up until that moment everything was absolutely incredible.  The food, the wine, the atmosphere, the company.  He made me laugh, he never skipped a beat and he was smart, quick on his feet and interesting.  He was tall, very tall and built.  He was not thin nor fat, he was in-between, kind of like just normal.  He had broad shoulders, of which is my favorite part of a man’s body.  He had dark hair with a curl that you could tell would frizz if he didn’t put gel in it.  He was well dressed and well spoken and funny.  And Frick and Frack were right, he was nice.  But not walk all over you nice or doorstop nice, but genuinely nice, gentlemanly if you will.  He had me smiling and laughing and chatting and talking and flirting and it all went by so fast.  Before that phone call and my idiotic attempt at getting the first kiss over with, I could have stayed there all night. He was one of those people you could talk to for hours, like a high school girl on the phone until her parents screamed for her to go to bed.

He wasn’t a push over and yet had a shyness quality to him.  He was outgoing, but not crass.  He rolled with my jokes and made more of his own.  It was all in sync and I was pleasantly surprised.  I mean, really.  Pleasantly surprised.  I guess that’s what happens when you have zero expectations.  You are surprised by just about everything.  I was surprised he was cute, I was surprised he was smart, I was surprised he could keep up with me and that I didn’t seem to embarrass him with my stories and trials and tribulations.  He listened intently and once in a while I could see his eyes trail off to catch a glimpse of my ass or boobs or lack there of.  I was disappointed the night ended so abruptly, but parenthood called and such is life.  Hopefully I would hear from him again soon and we could do that all over again.

I did however think that a shoe would drop from the sky and hit me in the face.  I thought that if something is too good to be true, it usually is.  And this guy seemed to have it all.  Smarts, looks, good friends, nice family, hard worker…..he was obviously a serial killer or gay or a woman.  Something had to be wrong, because my luck doesn’t work like this.  I don’t get the good guy, the cute guy, the real guy.  I never get THE guy.  But could dimples be THE guy?  I guess time would tell.  I wasn’t putting any pressure on anything, it was one date for Christ’s sake, but, it was one amazing date.  One date where my intellect as well as my libido were peaked.  I was attracted to him, but I was more drawn to him.  He was fun.  But not the Fun guy.  He was clever but not the back-handed compliment guy.  He didn’t seem insecure with himself and he seemed genuinely pleased to be enjoying my company.

So I text Frick and Frack the very next morning……”So?  tell me what he said?”