My so-called life

Okay, I'll catch you up.

When last we knew, our heroine was getting ready to go out on another date with Hot Mediterranean. What happens next?!

Hee.

The date was fine, actually. He made tabouli again. It was delicious. I enjoy watching him squeeze lemons. (That's not nearly so dirty as it might sound.) We watched TV a bit, and then his sister and nephew were dropped off (after a trip to the gym) by his brother. I like his brother. (Why can't HE be single? Heh.) We talked about theatre and art for a bit. He asked me if I knew anyone who might be willing to tutor Hot Med in ESL, as the only class they'd been able to find wasn't a good fit, geographically and logistically. (I happen to know an ESL teacher, so that info has since been forwarded to Hot Med.) Hot Bro started to say that Hot Med hadn't had the educational opportunities he and the other siblings had...then he laughed and corrected himself. "The truth is, we couldn't get him off the beach. All he ever wanted to do was hang out at the beach, swim, fish, work out and chase women." Well...that explains a lot. Heh. I suppose if I had grown up on the Mediterranean, close to Greece, with those beautiful, beautiful waters...I might have been a beach bum, too. (Okay, probably not...but I understand the appeal.)

I didn't stay too late, but promised to get in touch later in the week to plan another evening.

I still don't know that I see this going anywhere...but he does have a certain charm, and it is quite nice to be told how beautiful you are...constantly. And I think he means it, too...I don't think he's just trying to get into my pants. Not that he's NOT trying to get into my pants, of course. He's a guy. But he's a guy who very much wants a steady girlfriend/possible fiancee/wife prospect, and, since I don't want to lead him on in any way, I'm kind of keeping him at arm's length in the...gettin' busy department. He seems okay with that for now...

Okay...I had a half-day coming to me at work, and decided to take it Thursday. So I emailed Hot Med to see if he wanted to go to dinner that night. I didn't hear back via email, so I finally called yesterday afternoon to see where we stood, and he apparently thought the date was already a done deal, and was expecting me to be at his place that evening. (This communication difficulty frustrates the heck out of me, I don't mind saying.) Alrighty then.

We had some salad at his place, took a walk along the river, sat on a bench for a while and talked...okay, HE talked. I figured he needed the practice, so I just let him go. He told me he never wants to live in Lebanon again, that he didn't like New Mexico (where he lived when he first came to the U.S.) because there's not enough water (I can dig it), that he had a girlfriend there who cried when he left, but that he didn't like her as much as he likes ME...it went on for a while. He would like to visit his sister in Germany and his brother in London. Apparently, only his mother still lives in Lebanon. (I've started correcting his pronoun usage now, by the way, when he makes mistakes. He confuses he/she a lot. Let's get a jump on that ESL.) At one point his phone rang, he had a short conversation in English, and when he hung up he told me it was from a "crazy girl" he works with, who wants to go out with him. She's too young for his taste, though. 27. He likes 'em older. (Clearly.)

We left the river and went to my favorite restaurant (which happens to be just down the street from his apartment), home of the world-famous "crack" noodles, and I made him try some Asian food, with which he seemed completely unfamiliar. He really like the fresh spring rolls, though--"Beautiful!"

Then I suggested that we stop in at a bar on the way back to his place, as some friends of mine were playing there that night, and I was curious to see what he'd think of "my" kind of music.

Here's where the red flags of the evening were displayed. He greeted everyone warmly, but didn't seem to care for me greeting my male friends as warmly, and kept asking if any of them were my "boyfriends. or "ex-boyfriends." Answer? No. Though, in all honesty, if...well, if Mr. "If He Were to Ever Actually Leave His Completely Mismatched Wife Who's Been Making Him Miserable for Years" were to ever actually leave his wife...I'd probably be first in line to help him pick up the pieces. Heh. But, Hot Med doesn't know that, and the point is, I can't handle someone who can't handle the fact that I have friends who happen to be guys, as I happen to have a lot of them. He did stop asking the questions, but then started making a concerted effort to hold my hands and gaze into my eyes a bit more...obviously. Gah. Spare me the macho posturing, please.

He nursed a beer (he doesn't drink much), and I had a couple, and then...remember the soup ladle incident? Well, he kind of went to that controlling place again. As I finished my second beer, he grabbed the bottle from me and said "no more, you're driving." EXCUSE ME? That is not for you to decide, Mister! I tried to make myself take Sauntering Soul's advice to heart and believe that it was coming from a place of caring and concern, but...I couldn't quite get there. It's quite all right for him to express concern, but to literally take the bottle from my hand and say "no more?" I'm a grownup, and that's out of line. Which I told him. (And, by the way, two beers? Barely even tips the "buzz" scale for me. I'm a big girl; I can handle a few beers.)

At this point, he was yawning, and since I could tell he wasn't really enjoying the music (it's very lyrics-driven, and I don't think he was getting it at all), and I knew he had to be up very early, I suggested that I go ahead and take him home. Of course, I had every intention of returning and listening to more music, drinking more beer AND eliciting some follow-up details to "Mr. If He Were, Etc.'s" answer of "oh, you don't even want to know" in response to my "I haven't seen you in a while; how's it going" question from earlier in the evening. (Maybe he's left his wife!) I told Hot Med I planned to come back and listen to more music, and while he clearly wasn't crazy about that, he was fairly gracious about it. "Okay, no problem, but please be careful, baby." I told "Mr. If He Were to Ever" to save me a seat, as I would be right back, and deposited Hot Med down the street at his house, with a promise to call soon about the weekend.

So, then I went back to the bar, sat down to "Mr. If He...", oh heck...let's just call him Lyle. (That's not his name, but I just glanced at the poster of Lyle Lovett above my desk, so...Lyle it is.) Anyway, I sat down, and ordered another beer, saying, jokingly, as I lifted it to my lips, "I hope YOU'RE not going to forbid me to drink and drive." [Edited to take out details about Lyle, just in case anyone who knows him reads this. Doubtful, but possible, I suppose.] (He has NOT left his wife.)

Anyway, I spent the rest of the evening drinking beer (yes, I drank more, thankyouverymuch, and was just fine to drive), listening to good music and enjoying an extended conversation with Lyle, with whom I've always felt an intellectual connection.

And being frustrated. Why, oh WHY, can't I find a guy who is: a) available and ready for a relationship, b) crazy attracted to me, AND c) smart, funny and "gets" me?

So, that's where things stand. Hot Med's going to make me spaghetti this weekend, and...we'll see how things go.