El Muchacho Guapo

OK, so where was I?

Oh yeah, crazy guy. So over the next week or so, I did what any normal girl would do. Didn't answer the texts, avoided the places I might run into him, and beat myself up rather severely for getting myself into this in the first place. I mean seriously, am I so desperate for attention that I'd allow such a loser to come within even 10 feet of me? Don't I deserve better than that? Is this all this city has to offer me? Crazy, transient, homeless, penniless quacks?!? Please say it isn't so.

This is the one thing for which I have to thank El Muchacho Guapo. He did show me that I deserve better. Unfortunately, he too is a case of the world giving me exactly what I ask for. And I really need to start refining my desires.

What was I asking for exactly? Well, I want someone who's active, employed, passionate, a mover and a shaker. That's what I'm doing right now: I'm biking twice a week, going to yoga, writing a grant, preparing for a huge benefit, and working full time as a waitress. I mean, I want someone who's as excited about life as I am, you know?

Enter another tipsy night (notice a pattern so far?), this one not as tipsy as the last though, in my defense. I was minding my own business at one of my favorite bars with a dear friend from work. We had just had a very busy night (the night before Thanksgiving), and we were winding down with a little whiskey and conversation. Towards the end, a very attractive man walks up, sits down across from me, and just starts talking. The exact conversation is fuzzy, but I remember immediately being on my toes intellectually. A small battle of wits ensued, followed by some use of big words. Let's see... What should we call this guy? How about Preston? I think it will fit.

So what does Preston do for a living? This is, of course, a very important question after my last experience. Any questionable career, and I'm walking away, fast.

He's a teacher. Hmmmm... What kind of teacher? Special Ed. Oh, YAY!!!! He's a real teacher. Educated and everything. Already has his Master's. We're good to go! I immediately start talking about my non-profit work, and how much we could use his help working with the kids programs. He says his workload is huge right now, but he'd be happy to help in the early parts of next year. Then he asks if he can take me out to dinner sometime.

Wai wait. Come again? Dinner? Like a date? A real date? No freaking way dude, I haven't been asked out on a real date in... I dunno, ever? Ok, maybe once. But it's been such a long time. So, I somehow manage to keep my cool, and say that I would certainly love to go to dinner with him sometime. Phone number's exchanged. Farewell and good night.

The next day is Thanksgiving, and being that both Preston and I are in the city without family, I was extremely flattered that he texted me around 5 pm to invite me to join he and his friends in their festivities. I also, however, had plans, so I told him I'd call him later. Oh, this is so nice and normal-seeming. How refreshing! He also mentions this Brazilian marital arts/break dancing thing that he's really into. Capo-something. Fo rizzle? I'm totally intrigued.

When I called him later that evening, he didn't answer, which was actually great. Not too available, I like that! I leave a dorky message, of course, and decide to leave it at that. I absolutely refuse to call or text too much. I won't be that girl, no way, no how.

But of course, the next day when I still haven't heard from him, I'm doing the chronic phone checking thing again. So I'm not perfect, ok? But no, no, I will not call him again. Instead, I'm going to ride my bike all the way across town to pick up my car. One killer bike ride later, I have a missed call and message from Mr. Preston. Yes! It totally works! If I'm good to myself, good things happen. Why is this such a hard lesson to learn?

So I call him back, and when would I like to go out? Tonight? Oh bummer I have to work. So I give him a choice. Would he like to go out on a lunch date the following day, before I have to work, or would he like to go out to dinner on Sunday which is my regular day off? His answer? Ladies, this is a good one. "How bout both?" Oooooh, good boy. I'm impressed, and totally stoked.

This is when I start feeling like such a girly-girl. Ladies, I have a date, and I have nothing to wear!!!!!! Enter panic mode. After spending the remainder of the day freaking myself out and convincing myself that I'm either not ready or not adequate enough to go on this date, I decide to chill out and just roll with it. I don't want a guy that's that superficial anyway, right? Breathe, girlfriend, just breathe.

I know you guys are waiting for the catch. Patience, I'm getting to it....

But before that is more good stuff. He picked me up for our lunch date on Saturday. Conversation was immediate and plentiful. He had a great idea for brunch/lunch. German pancakes. Sounds interesting, bring it on! We talked about so much stuff, and found out that we had a lot in common. I felt ok telling him about the dorky things that I love, like Harry Potter and karaoke (he loves them both too). He's super intelligent. He graduated high school at 14 and had his undergrad by 18. He's a musician, and actually played me some of the music his band made. Not bad! He misses his family as they are very close. He's the oldest of four, and the whole family are teachers with the exception of the youngest sister, who wants to be a chef. Is your heart melting along with mine here?

So we start talking a little about my family. I mention my youngest brother, and Preston asks, "So how old is your brother?"

Awkward silence. Oh snap!!!!! It just occurred to me that I have no freaking idea how old this guy is. He has one of those faces that could be 16 or 35, hard to say. But wait, he already has his master's degree, so he can't be that much younger than me, right? Shit. I have to answer him.

"Is that your way of trying to find out how old I am?" I say teasingly. Buy a little time. Make him tell me first.

He smiles back. "Yeah, pretty much."

I don't know what to say. For some reason I just don't want to tell him how old I am. I have a bad feeling about it.

He offers it up first. "I'm 22." Fuck. The early graduation thing. I totally missed it.

I still can't bring myself to say it. I laugh. "That's how old my little brother is." I know it has to be said, so I take a deep breathe. "I'm twenty nahhhhhhhhiiiiinnnne..." ...Ick. I've never felt so old.

So a couple of awkward comments are made about age not really mattering, and the date continues. But I can tell it matters to him. And as much as I'm trying to convince myself that it doesn't matter to me, it does. Bummer.

The rest of the date was honestly quite lovely. I showed him Sumptown Coffee, and he showed me that capo-whatever martial art thingy. He actually rallied his friends to meet in Pioneer Square for a demonstration. Slightly overwhelming, but still really cool. And after seeing him springing around doing handstands and round house kicks, I couldn't help but want to take him home so he can show me some of his moves in private. Heh heh, maybe dating someone younger wouldn't be such a bad thing, right?

So I have to go, cause I have to work. I get a quick hug and a "Let's hang out again sometime." Whoa, slam. That pretty much sums it up. No second date. No call me later. Ouch man, that hurts. So I spend the rest of the evening in a self loathing pool. This guy is almost seven years younger than me and his life is so much cooler than mine. No wonder he's not interested. But thanks to my sane side and awesome friends, I quickly realize that Preston's opinion of me has absolutely no bearing on my identity, and that there's a good chance that an over-achiever like him might not have even had a chance yet to lose his virginity. Oh, I rolled with laughter at the thought of that. Can you imagine my taking that poor guy's virginity?

Hmm...actually...now that you mention it...I didn't erase his number...did I?

Ugh Ladies! I need to get laid!