Date 26.2

23...he’s 23.  I swear I’m not trying to be a cougar, but apparently 23-year old guys are the only ones that are picking up on my pheromones.  Also, like the others his age, he’s really charming.  I do not remember 23-year olds being this sweet when I was that age.

Twenty-six had to cancel our dinner date, but he wanted a rain check.  Two nights later he said he wanted to see me and asked what I was doing.  I told him I had a little free time before I needed to babysit my niece and then later see some friends.  We decided to meet up, walk around the neighborhood, and get gelato.  First thing he said was that he really just wanted to spend more time with me, so he asked if it would be all right if he hung out with me while I watched my niece.  When I said yes, he said, “But I might not go to your friend’s house with you if that's okay.” I politely told him that I had not expected him to go (as sweet as he is, I really just wanted to be with my friends and not worry about him).  As we strolled around he asked me how old I was, and I replied “Probably many, many moons older than you.”  When he asked again I told him 33, to which he replied, “That’s hot.” I questioned him, “Really, why's that?”  “Yeah.  You’re ten years older than me.” At which point I just laughed at myself and said, “Of course I am.”

He hung out with Gabby and me until my sister got home, and then he and I went to his place.  At some point earlier in the evening I had mentioned that I'm a church-goer, and he brought that up and wanted to know about my religious beliefs.  He asked me questions, and we had a lengthy conversation about religion.  A few minutes after the conversation ended, he nonchalantly asked, “Do you want to make out now?” I had to laugh at that and just said, “Religious conversation – check.  Begin make-out session.”  Later he asked me if I wanted to stay the night and just cuddle, but I politely and maturely said no (although I kind of wanted to).  I have no idea what will happen next with this guy, but I like that he’s nice and we both say what’s on our minds no matter how ridiculously random it is.

Date 26.1

When I met Twenty-six he mentioned a café in the neighborhood that I should try, and a couple of weeks later I went in and voila there he was because he works there part-time.  We talked for a bit, and then I left to pick up my niece and forgot (or chickened out) to get his number.  Idiot.  Like a hot chocolate addict, I went back the following week determined to stay focused.  Victory!  I asked him if he wanted to get dinner, he said yes, and we exchanged numbers.

I sent him a message a few days later to set up dinner plans, and we agreed on Thursday.  He also said that he was free for drinks on Monday, but I already had plans.  My plans ended earlier than expected, though, so I texted him to see if he still wanted to meet for drinks.  An hour later we were at a pub sitting at a table attempting to figure out how to play Backgammon.  We made an additional rule to the game that every time we rolled an even number we had to tell something interesting about ourselves, and every time we rolled an odd we had to tell something bad that we’ve done.  It was great!  Then we went to another pub where I told him that I’m blasian and demonstrated the Roger Rabbit for him.  After that pub we sat on a bench in his back yard and talked some more, and during a pause he asked, “May I kiss you?”  I definitely said yes, and we definitely made out for probably the next fifteen minutes.  Dreamy. 

When I got home he texted me, “I hope I wasn’t too brash.  I had a good time and look forward to Thursday!”  Hooray!

Twenty-seven

I had my eye on a guy (probably because he resembled Dean, the drummer, from Red Wanting Blue) sitting with his friends nearby.  He was intently watching a basketball game, and I’m wise enough not to interrupt that.  My friends and I left to get food next door, and then after a few minutes I decided Twenty-seven needed to have my phone number.  In true Penelope fashion, I wrote him a note: In case you want to go dancing at Madrone tonight or for dinner sometime soon, you should call me.  I walked back into the bar and up to him and said, “Hi, I’m going to be awkward for a minute.  On the off chance that you’re single, here is my number.  You should call me.”  I handed him the note, he (as most of the others) looked a like a deer caught in headlights and managed to reply, “Okay” before I walked away. 

After I told my friend of this latest attempt, she insisted that she is going to take me out and show me how to properly ask out a guy.  For the record, I know how it is supposed to be done, but I’ve never been one for doing things in a typical fashion.