It hasn't happened yet, but it's going to happen. "Jack" and I haven't discussed how to respond to the question yet, but I feel like that conversation is coming soon. Personally, I don't mind that much that we met on Tinder. I mean, everyone who's read this blog already knows, and on top of that, it's not that big of a deal. If we'd hooked up a bunch before we starting going out, that would be a big deal. But it didn't happen that way, so I suppose there's not much to worry about on that front.
I think he feels a little weird about it, though. Yesterday, I met up with his friends after a kickball tournament they played, and one of the guys (who "Jack" told about the Tinder connection) came up to me and said, and I quote, "I think it's f***ing awesome that you subbed for our team on your first Tinder date." I must've looked shocked because he followed up with, "this guy (pointing to "Jack") told me not to say anything, but I think it's f***ing awesome."
I mean, it is pretty awesome. Not how I'd plan a date and certainly not like any other date I've been on, but it worked kind of exceptionally well. It gave us a third party to interact with and fill awkward silences, and it gave us something to talk about until we figured out other things to say.
"Jack" wasn't a big fan of this grand announcement by his friend, but it did start an interesting conversation about that first date. "I was kind of intimated by the fact that you were actually good at kickball," he said. "And then I kept worrying because you were playing right in front of me but you weren't looking back. I thought, 'She's not looking back; she doesn't like me.'" In truth, I tried to look back, but it felt stupid. I didn't know how to look back casually and I couldn't think of anything to say when I did look back, so I gave up trying. Plus, it was ridiculously cold, so I had most of my attention focused instead on jumping up and down to keep myself warm. When we came off the field, I did my best to stay beside him and make conversation, but it took thirty to forty minutes of stilted small talk before things became more natural.
And we're not out of that awkward, getting-to-know-you phase just yet. We went out to dinner Friday night at an Ethiopian restaurant, and there was one point when we talked about the etiquette of keeping your elbows on the table because I didn't know what else to say, and silence felt lazy. We're still getting comfortable with each other physically, too. We've started greeting with a kiss, but there are times when he puts his arm around me and it's weird so he stops, or I go to kiss him and miss his mouth a little.
Meanwhile, I'm trying not to be intimidating, and he tries regularly to impress me. We've played multiple games of pool together, and while I have no doubt that he's actually pretty good, he ends up letting his nerves get to him and he barely misses shots. He does martial arts, too, and has tried to flip me a couple of times. I am less excited about this. On the flip side, I am trying not to over-impress. I have a tendency to play the strong woman in all facets of my life, but men tend not to be too excited when you offer to try your hand at opening that water bottle he can't get open. Or when you offer to pick him up in your car because it's more efficient that way.
I love my mother, but between her practicality and stereotypically confident and strong presence, she has not prepared me well to let men take the lead. I generally assume that winning everything and being the strongest will impress everyone. While this does occasionally work in general life, I have realized that it is a disastrous approach on dates.
After dinner at the Ethiopian restaurant, we went to bar and met up with a bunch of his work friends. I didn't spend much time talking to anyone of them in particular, but they all seemed pretty nice. With the exception of one guy who I think was trying to seem cool. Alternatively, he may just be an idiot that drinks too much and likes to put people down, but I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone else was friendly and engaging, and seeing him interact with people he works with gave me a better sense of what he's like when I'm not around.
The biggest take-away for me from the night, though, was the realization that while I have met most of his friends, he has met none of mine. Not a single one. Part of this is a conscious decision. One segment of my friend group also knows his mother, and I don't really want it getting back to her just yet. Part of it is only somewhat conscious. I don't know how serious this is going to get (if it ever gets serious), and I'm weighing the costs and benefits of introducing him to a group of people whose opinion and friendship means a great deal to me. Introducing "Jack" to my friends means identifying him as a viable choice for a boyfriend, and I'm still nervous about our differences. It's been fun, but how serious can I get with a guy that's still working out what he wants to do with his life, drinks a lot, views religion in a completely different light than I do, and is generally functioning at a different level of maturity than me?
Tomorrow, I'm meeting up with a very wise friend of mine who always has good advice in this department. I'm hoping she can help me shed some light on where to go from here.
And for those of you interested in the never-ending saga that is my homeowner status, my tenants are considering moving out to avoid the inconvenience of construction (I'm okay with this), new problems arise every week (not so keen on this), and it looks like I'm going to be house-poor for a while (still very uncomfortable with this feeling). Retirement contributions might be on hold this year, and I'm cutting back on personal expenses as much as possible. The silver lining to all of this is that when the house is finally done, it's going to be beautiful and wonderful to live in.
Also, today marks 11 days until my birthday. It will be my 29th birthday, my final year in the third decade of my life. I'm pretty conflicted about the whole thing. On the one hand, I hear that the thirties aren't bad: you know yourself better, and you know what you want. On the other hand, I'm not quite ready to let go of the freedom of my twenties, or the amount of time I currently have before I need to make some real decisions about my personal life (marriage, children, etc.). Fortunately or unfortunately, time will pass whether or not I like it. I may as well embrace the slow march toward age (and wisdom, I hope). I hear that optimistic people are happier, anyway.
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