I finally had a good date.
He showed up in a polo and jeans and I was instantly attracted to him.
“Michelle?” he asked.
“Yes, hi,” I replied.
He sat down at my table. We were at the Jack Rose in Los Gatos on Thursday evening. The same place where I had my DISASTROUS “let-me-see-your-tits-better” date on Tuesday.
He instantly came off as sincere and respectful.
At first there was a bit of awkward silence.
We both scrambled to come up with something relevant to say.
The silence didn’t last long. Before I knew it we were chatting like old friends.
I asked him to tell me a secret. It’s a standard question I ask on dates. I like hearing the response to that question. I’ve heard everything from a drunk driving story to admission of a foot fetish.
He told me about his wilder younger days.
Then he asked me to tell him a secret.
I admitted I liked going to nudist resorts like Lupin Lodge. But shhhhh! My parents don’t know.
My date was a consummate outdoorsman. He likes to fish and hunt. He drives a truck and owns a boat. He likes to camp and hike.
In essence, MY PERFECT MAN.
Yup, there’s only one problem. . .
I don’t think he liked me.
I’m not sure what gave me that impression.
Maybe because he didn’t kiss me goodnight.
Maybe because he didn’t mention another date.
But there you go.
I don’t expect to hear from him again.