Between Second Chances and First Kisses

I think I'm mostly done prattling on about the anxieties and frustrations that dating can bring. For now at least.

To recap, Dragon left me looking smoking hot in a parking lot, Brother Bear saved the day, and didn't judge me when I drunk texted Philly. Instead of being most girls, and wanting some affection in the loins, I wanted to sincerely apologize. And I asked if he would be up for meeting again.

Much to my anxiety, and I can't blame him for waiting to answer, he gave me an answer the next morning. A second chance.

We agreed to meet the next weekend on my side of town at a restaurant we'd never been to. I walked in and it was like we picked up where we left off. With little hesitation, we jumped right into a conversation as if nothing had changed since we last met.

(Haven't you heard?)

I figured I'd spare the mea culpa for later. You know? After a beer or five. And we enjoyed a nice tapas dinner. He told me about leaving to take a trip to his dad's so he could get his bird, a macaw he had as a child. He drove up to Philly to bring a female bird named Arnold that was his childhood pet home.

Not gonna lie. I kinda swooned. I liked how unusual it was. I told him about how racing was going, and he said that he was getting back into it too. Awesome, I thought. Please don't ask if we could run together. We caught up with each other, and after some tapas and dessert, we noticed that we were the last patrons inside and decided to it was time to go

I felt like that night was on a high. But I didn't want to stop while I was ahead. What? NO! I'm still Jax Single Girl. I have adventures dammit. He started to say a loaded goodbye but I figured (probably out of nervousness and guilt) I'd ask if he really wanted the night to be over.

To my relief, he was open for more. Next door we went to the coffee shop which also happens to serve beer. And you know what else? It's a coffee shop where CSB frequents. Remember him? The Break-up Texter? Surprisingly he wasn't there, but who was? A few of Dragon's friends, one of whom stared at me as if to question if it was me or not. Yep, dude. It's me. Oh, he didn't tell you? Yeah, I've moved on. My thought was this: I'm not going to hide. There is no reason to deny myself an enjoyable date, even if it means running into an ex...or two...or his friends.

Because Philly paid for dinner, I offered to pay for the beer. It was my way of saying thank you for dinner. However, it was mostly to apologize. I explained that the previous month was pure insanity. He let it roll off his shoulders. That's the thing I've learned about those who live near beaches. Much like the waves in the ocean, beach residents go with the energy, never fighting it. His easy dismissal made me a little uneasy. He probably knows I was seeing someone else, doesn't he? I asked Brother Bear about this, and he thinks that Philly probably had a hunch. But the fact that he was willing to take a second chance on another date with me either says that he's a nice guy who genuinely had a great time and wants to have another, or that he's just very polite. Brother Bear and I both think (and really hope) that it's the former.

(Kind of like this but with less WASP-y)

At the bar, we talked about our experiences with art and running. We talked about traveling. The conversation was fluid, and constant. It didn't follow a logical format. Because I said A, he didn't give the obvious B response. Instead, each time words came out of our mouths, it created more stories and ideas that we both got excited about.

With each laugh and story that was told, more chairs were getting put on top of tables.

More clean glasses were inverted and stacked.

More wet towels were there to clean areas left behind by other patrons.

We were so involved in what was going on between us that we shut the place down. With eyes lit and smiles across our faces we walked out. There was a bit of a breeze that night. The kind of breeze you are grateful for when you live in the South. I felt his arm reach around my waist and then he told me he was glad we could do this again. Nervously clutching my purse in front of me, I told him I couldn't agree more.

Much like our last date, our cars were the only two left in the area. I told him, beer sticking to my tongue and my brain that (once again) I was sorry, and that he should call me. He smiled and wished me good night.

You know that pause? It's not quite thick enough to be called a pregnant pause, but not short enough to be a minor schism in time? It's the kind that you feel a weight drop from your shoulders to your toes. It's the only kind of pause I am aware of when you wonder if the time is right to kiss someone.

And in the first time throughout this entire adventure, I took the lead. I stared him in the eyes, and stood up on my toes to reach his lips. He didn't back away (victory!) and he started to pull me in closer. Then time catches up, and that weight that flushed so easily from your body is now up to your shoulders again, like a string pulling you into perfect posture. That's the feeling I call "save some for later and don't bring him home."

I told him to drive safely as we went our separate ways.

There are very few ways I know, truly know I've had a great date. These ways include singing classic rock on the top of my lungs in my car, laughing because laughter is my body's natural reaction to a great date, and driving with my windows down, letting the southern humidity kiss my face.

Three times: once with The Trainer, and the other two with Philly.


So I'm not sure if we're halfway there, living on a prayer. I definitely know we're not knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door. I at least know that I won't stop believing and will continue to hold on to that feeling.



("Just a city boy, born & raised in South Philly" doesn't have the same ring to it)

I took the lead this time. And now I'm curious, but mostly nervous, because it's not that I want fewer dating adventures.

It's because I want countless adventures to share with someone this time around.