I’m Not Going To Kiss


You.

I said, direct, emphatic, no holds bar.

He startled back.

Thank God.

I was a little unnerved when he just hopped up, uninvited, be sure there was no come hither flirtations coming from me, and sat right next to me, arms, shoulders, legs brushing.

I know it’s a Tinder date and I suppose there is sex implied in the app, that’s apparent, and there’s a whole lot of fantasy, but I’m pretty up front with what I am or am not looking for.

And making a coffee date for three in the afternoon speaks to me of interviewing, not jumping right off into bed.

I had some nerves about the date, and that’s a good thing to note, I have begun to discern when I am balking at meeting someone or going on a date, versus, nope, you’re guts telling you it’s not a good date.

I’ve had the feeling before and this was the same thing.

Just not an appropriate date.

A mismatch.

Although he was very happy to meet me, said I looked great, was cute, had great style, was definitely intrigued by my tattoos.

However.

The constant interruptions when I was speaking, the jumping around, the distractedness of him, was well distracting.

I sort of felt like I was on a date with someone who was very ADHD.

Or high.

I wondered later after I left if perhaps that was it.

I can only speculate, but I was uncomfortable and also not attracted to the man.

Although his photos were pretty true to person, there was just something not there for me.

Sometimes the chemistry is so obvious for me, I can feel it oozing out of every pore of my body.

There are some I have had such intense chemistry with, it does feel electric and that is some snazziness, let me tell you.

This guy was just super flat for me, there was no juice.

And he ordered a beer and yeah, we hadn’t, as he pointed out later, had the talk about me being sober, I know this is true and I realize that I put it out there pretty quick with most guys on the dating app, but I had not with him.

My bad.

And also, in it’s own way, my recovery gave me the perfect out when the date started to get pretty fresh with me and my space.

I’m still sort of in awe of someone who did not see how completely uninterested I was, how does one miss that?  I mean, I was not giving out a single signal of interest with my bound up body language and crossed arms and legs.

But.

I suppose folks just see what folks want to see.

We did swap a few tales and spent an hour talking.

We each told about some bad dates.

My homeless guy date came up.

His ex-girlfriend he met in rehab for an opiate pain killer addiction after a gnarly accident who was a crystal meth addict, they met in rehab.

All my hackles went up.

I looked at the beer in front of him, empty glass, the packet of cigarettes in his front pocket–um no thanks I don’t smoke, haven’t for nearly 11 years and ain’t about to kiss an ashtray mouth–a shit, this is not good.

So.

When he made a suggestion, implicit again with this idea that because I had been on Tinder I was ready and willing to drop trow and get it on.

Sure.

Maybe.

If there had been some heat or chemistry, that could have been on the menu, even though the menu that was on my mind had to do with all the time I was wasting on the date instead of on my school books.

Not to worry though, once I dropped the “I’m not going to kiss you,” bomb, the date rapidly dissolved.

I took the “easy” way out and said that I didn’t want to taste beer when I kissed someone.

Which is true.

But I have dated normal guys who drink occasionally, how do they do that? And I haven’t had an issue with it, it was just more that I really wasn’t attracted and the beer drinking on top of the story about the ex-girlfriend crazy just sealed the deal.

“You know, you should expect this kind of response if you’re going to keep using Tinder,” he told me as we were parting.

I stopped.

I looked at him.

I apologized.

“You’re right, I should have been upfront,” I said, making the quickest, fastest amends I could, he was right, I did waste his time, he was looking for a good time party girl to come into the city to play with and I wasn’t it.

I had wasted his time and mine.

I did add, though, “it hasn’t been my experience that it’s an issue, that’s why I usually ask to meet in a cafe for tea, but I hear you and you are right.”

“You can go,” he said to me.

Whoa.

“Ok, thanks for coming out, I wish you the best,” I got up, touched his shoulder and walked out.

Ouch.

Well.

Human, Carmen, little mistakes are better than big mistakes, you went you found out, you got to hear a little bit of what you don’t want and perhaps I can be less blunt, I was just getting worried about getting to a place where I could say, I don’t think this is working, I don’t have to blurt it out.

So.

Chalk it up to another dating experience.

Just out there trying to learn how to do this thing that I have no clue how to do very well, but at least I know a little bit more from today than I did yesterday.

It’s all good information.

Not a bat to beat myself up with.

I tried.

It didn’t work.

And.

Now.

I’m just moving on.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Yes.

I have another date.

This time emphatically.

Just for tea.

 

 

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2 Responses to “I’m Not Going To Kiss”

  1. alexbernardin Says:

    OK, I gotta comment on this one. You didn’t owe him any kind of amends. That’s some BS. *You* did not waste his time. If he perceives his time to have been wasted, that’s his problem for him to work out.

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