So, in a previous blog post, I’d mentioned chatting up a cute bartender.  Over the last few months I have continued to stalk via weekly lunches, this same bartender.  In fact, I adore him.  I had the good fortune to have him serve us on Friday’s lunch.  We made plans with a couple of girls from work to meet for a happy hour after work that night.  He wasn’t working, but would stay late to have a drink with us.  What a lucky girl I was! He was funny, cute, smart- the whole bartender package. I was excited to pump him for more information about important stuff like if he was single and which bars made his favorite cocktails.

I left work 5 minutes early to make sure he didn’t get up and leave.  The other girls didn’t make it until 5:15 ish, so I had 45 glorious minutes alone with him.  And then I realized, I think this is a date… (If not, don’t burst my bubble please)

I actually prefer not to share where we were, as the bartender works there, and if you met him you’d try to date him too, and I’d have too much competition, so just this one time, I will refrain from plugging one of my most favorite restaurants in Denver.

He was waiting quietly at the bar when I arrived, sipping a Manhattan (I had Mad Men visuals of me in a pill box hat and white gloves, Jackie O pearls; Him in a Don Draper suit, leaning over to put a hand on my knee…) He saw me walk in and said, she’ll have the red sangria to the bartender, then looked at me and asked, “Am I right?” I think he could have ordered me dirty dish water and I would have gratefully accepted.

We chatted about life. Much to my dismay he discussed that he was moving to San Francisco in the fall, studying to be a Somalier. He was fairly unattached, lived in a small studio in downtown, walked or rode his bike, played guitar in a jazz band. When he moved he would just take his clothes and give away the furniture, figure out the rest once he gets there. This artistic, free spirit lifestyle was nothing I was interested in. No stability, no future.  Yet, I still don’t understand, it made him more attractive.  We talked a lot about food and wine. He recommended some I might like. We talked about music.  He would add just the right amount of humor and sarcasm to every topic. (Sigh)

I had to run off to a haircut.  My friends had arrived by then and he scooted over to continue to talk to them. I excused myself and ran out, but said, hey- stick around and we can all have dinner after, maybe do some Manhattan tastings down the street.  He said, “Maybe” which gave me just the right amount of hope that he would still be there when I returned.

I snuck into the salon down the street 10 minutes late.  Profusely apologized and my amazing stylist reassured me that it was fine.  As we chatted, I let it slip.  The reason I was late was that I was at happy hour down the street.  Meeting this cute bartender. She gasped. “He is HOT! I met him!  You left there to come here?! That is why you were late!?” Yes I told her. I was so sorry, but just lost track of time chatting away with him. I then mentioned he might wait and still be there when I got back. She promised to have me out in a jiffy and briefly considered blowing off her husband to come with, just in case we all had the opportunity later to take turns making out with him. She told me she would have understood if I’d canceled my appointment to stay there with him. As she was washing the color out of my hair, she said, “I’ve thought it through, and that was definitely a date.” I’m pretty sure I was glowing.  I sat as she snipped away, fantasizing about strolling barefoot through vineyards  hand in hand with him.

He stayed just long enough to say bye to me when I got back there.  He got up to give me his seat (Sigh, again).  We chatted and laughed more.  He had to go though, the guys from the band were ready to practice. He told me several times how nice my hair looked. He rubbed my shoulder as he left.

My friends assured me he was much more entertained and animated when I was around. They think he likes me (Sigh, again). Its nice to have a crush.

Dear Dating Diary,

It has been so long since we last talked, I have so much to tell you!

Where we had left off, I’d been out with a middle of the road guy.  The date was nice, well demarcated and followed all date rules.  There was nothing spectacular about it. I continued to date him for a couple of weeks.  He always wanted to eat at pubs or middle of the road restaurants. He asked me to go see Hot Tub Time Machine. We kissed a little. In the end all of these activities were so boring I won’t waste your time talking about them.  Unless of course you need a lullaby to sleep.  I just couldn’t get excited about this guy and didn’t look forward to to our time together.  So, I let him go.

boring

Moving on to a cheerier story.  So, this week I went out with a new guy, yet another of the magical, and highly compatible eH offerings. As I was still completely underwhelmed by my most recent dating experiences, I couldn’t have been looking forward to this date less.  I was tired. It was a busy week. But off I went.  His profile looked pretty boring so I was afraid of a repeat, my last dating go round still fresh in my mind.

We set up a plan for grabbing a drink at Wash Park Grill on Gaylord mid week.  I figured, one quick drink and I’m out of there.  Both of us showed up right on time. He was appropriately dressed and cuter than his pictures had led me to believe- bonus on both counts.  He ordered a beer and I had whatever wine was on special.  We got down to the business of getting to know each other. He is an investment banker. He has lived in Colorado most of his life. He plays golf and has not traveled much but, would like to… He was personable and easy to talk to, socially appropriate. I was happy I’d gone. Suddenly, 2 Merlots later I looked over and thought, huh- this guy is wasted!

He looked over at me, bleary eyed and said, I can have one more, this is my fourth beer.  I corrected him, actually no, it is your seventh.  I asked politely, “Um, have you eaten dinner?” He said no, he came from work.  It was about 9 o’clock by then. I said, I think you are wasted, we have to get you some dinner.  He tried to kiss me at the bar. He started telling me how pretty I was. The tab came and he wanted to sign for it prior to providing the bartender with a credit card. It took a few minutes of careful explanation to convince him about why he couldn’t just sign the bill. We moved down the street to a more drunk friendly establishment, the Tavern at Wash Park. I asked to see the late night menu (which went on sale at 10pm) and ordered myself an expensive vodka soda- he could buy me a top shelf drink at this point in the date.

I decided to take advantage of the situation and break all dating boundary rules. I told him to sit down and pick something out on the menu. I laughed as I said how bossy I was being.  He responded, that’s ok, you can tell me what to do with a smile.  Huh, this is working out very well. I asked about his ex girlfriends.  He tried to ask about mine but I told him because I wasn’t drunk, I didn’t have to answer those questions. He continued to try and make out at the bar while I firmly reinforced this would not happen.  He continued to tell me how pretty I was, to which I replied, and smart! I’m super smart AND pretty right!? He readily agreed.  I asked, “Do you always drink this much?” He responded with an emphatic denial. He was such a mess, I believed him. I asked if he was nervous, but he pretty much denied that too.  The Kobe sliders and Buffalo egg rolls came. I prayed they would soak up enough alcohol to get this guy home. He told me he didn’t want to screw our date up. Huh. He wanted to go out again and what was I doing Friday? Huh. I wondered, would he remeber he’d gone on this date when he woke up thinking he might die in the morning? What if he is arrested for drunk driving on the way home? Would he even make it to work? Then we did a bit of kissing outside the bar, and I sent him on his way. Highly entertaining evening, anything but boring. Once again, I was happy to be dating, even if it meant going out on a first date, with a drunk.

So this past week’s dating adventure presented me with a new kind of interaction to ponder.  I went out on a date that was just fine.  Not spectacular, the best date I’ve ever had, no fireworks, no drunken sloppy kissing- just a quiet time out for drinks and appetizers.  I was out with yet another, “highly compatible” online date match.  We met at Three Dogs Tavern in Highlands.  One of the circuit of locally owned pubs in Denver, who are also committed to giving back to the community.  That’s right drinking with some sort of motivation around local business support and thinking you are drinking to help the needy.   This string (chain just sounds wrong) also boast a few other of my local pub favorites including the Spot (grilled cheese when you are drunk, yum!) and the Elm.  I highly recommend the Elm for bringing a new to town date who happens to also be a Red Sox fan, to watch the game- He will think he’s died and gone to heaven.

Three Dogs

Anyhow, I digress, back to the date.  So, we met on a Friday early, to grab a drink.  This is one of my favorite ways to try a first date.  If the date goes well, you mention being humgry and weasel a dinner date in. However, if its not so fun, you can say, thanks for the drink, call me I have to meet a friend in a bit, and scoot out.  No harm, no foul. We met, although I was 10 minutes late looking for parking- silly Highlands! We promptly ordered beers (matching Smithwicks- I picked first and he followed…) and got down to the business of getting to know each other.  He was nice, but maybe a little quiet. He looked like his pictures. He was dressed normally and looked reasonably groomed.  Thankfully, after my last few dates, I had not even a moment’s concern that he was gay. We chatted about all normal, first date things- our family, jobs, where we went to school, where we lived, maybe weather or movies. We stayed away from any topics which could be considered inappropriate first date conversations such as: our own or our families’ health, ex wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, politics for the most part, bad habits or things you’d hate if the other person did this… you get the picture.  We laughed and talked fairly easily.  We didn’t drink too much (I think we had 2 or 3 beers).  Ordered some salty fried appetizers to share. The night passed easily, and without any drama or red flags- which to be honest, may be a first for me. He walked me to my car around 10 ish as our date had lasted some time.  We chatted a little.  He hugged me.  I hopped in the car.  No little or big kissing. I was perplexed.

After being so accustomed to the recent dates where if he seemed to like me, we were kissing by the end of the night- occasionally much to my surprise; and if he didn’t like me we just sort of said, “Thanks” and I walked to the car alone- this end of the night activity (or lack thereof) left me confused.  I thought, although sort of mellow and reserved, we’d had a good time. I liked him enough to go out again (my dating decison maker rule: don’t worry about it being perfect, just think, can I stand to have dinner with him again?).  I wanted to stop him and say something like, “Hey, did you like me? Just wanted to know ahead of time if I should expect a call or not.  If not it’s ok, I understand, I’d just feel better knowing.”  I’ve been told by many reliable sources this is probably not a good way to end a date- and so I refrained. But, what way does it go, when you’ve just been on a date that was straight down the middle of the road? I guess we will all find out.

So sorry for my delayed response- I truly apologize to all 3 of my loyal fans. But… I landed a second date with the Metrosexual. We made plans for dinner at Duo.  He even offered to pick me up, what a gentleman! Because he is a metrosexual I thought I’d take the chance to talk about what he wore.  Even though it was a Monday night, he in true metro style, was still wearing a button down (complete with monogrammed cuffs), sports jacket and jeans.  Wow! A sports jacket even on a Monday, well I guess it was a nice restaurant.

We sat down at the restaurant which is a beautiful treat.  I was telling the very exciting story of my recent visit to Casa Bonita with a friend’s 3 year old.  A residual from the Casa bonita dinner, a tootsie roll wrapper from a successful pinata looting was left in my pocket.  I was busted.  The metrosexual KNEW I hadn’t washed my jeans since Casa Bonita 2 days prior.  I knew I’d crossed a line. Horror was written all over his face.  Wearing jeans 2 days without washing was definitely not his thing.

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So, this week I went out on another new eH date.  He actually trumped my date location skills by choosing a spot that A: I hadn’t ever been or heard of, and B: Sounded like a fun, a nice choice for a first date.  We met at the lounge of the Burnsley Hotel in Capitol Hill.  The lounge has cocktails, food and a mellow jazz trio.  It offered a nice date feel without being stuffy, or pressured.  It turns out, although we met up too late for this, they have a nice happy hour too which I might be back for at some point.

I met up with the new guy at the bar and we scooted over to a small table in a corner.  He was easy to recognize as it wasn’t too crowded.  He was dressed well- definitely put some effort in: belt, button down, blazer.  I thought to myself- Oh Lord, please don’t let him be gay…

He proved to be pretty easy to talk to, and we both felt comfortable with each other pretty quickly.  Which is refreshing.  As far as I can tell, even with the patented 29 dimensions of compatibility there is a 50/50 chance you’ll walk in to any internet date and expose yourself to an hour of pressured, awkward conversation, one glass of wine and praying to excuse yourself and scoot on out ASAP to watch some How I Met Your Mother on the couch in P.J.s…

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So, this week after needing to reschedule once due to chaos at work, I went off to a date with a genius.  Now, I have no formal evidence to show that he was a genius, but I’m pretty sure.

After an extensive dry spell of no one remotely interested in me on the eH, I have had a few takers recently.  We met for a drink at the Irish Hound in Cherry Creek. He was there first, but don’t worry, I was right on time. It wasn’t hard to find each other, as the bar was pretty empty.  And the music just slightly too loud considering the lack of patronage.  Bummer. I had chosen this place to be a low key, not too noisy yet- should have people there so we don’t stick out as a couple of people who have never met before, kind of bar.

There is a certain art to meeting for a drink.  It needs to be a place where it is busy, but not too much so- you need to be able to hear the other person talk and not have strangers reaching over your shoulder at the bar to pick up their drink.  That way you and the blind date blend in, with only a mild to moderate amount of awkward first date glitter sprinkled all over the two of you.  There should be a bit of a food menu.  This way if you don’t like him you finish your drink and say you need to run off, but if you are having a good time, you can say- “Mind if we order an appetizer?” which automatically extends the date a bit. And even have some pool or shuffleboard available for the ultimate extension.

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