Him: She’s cute. I should ask her out.
Her: He’s cute. But he smokes. And he’s my roommate’s boyfriend’s roommate. And he just moved here.
Him: She has gorgeous eyes.
Her: And that could present complications. Besides, he’s just getting started on his career and he’s a bit younger than me and who knows what he wants in life?
Him: I’m going to ask for her number.
Her: He sorts of seems like he’s not very motivated. So, maybe we shouldn’t go out at all. I mean, it just seems like it’s not a good idea.
I lay all this out first, to demonstrate how men and women think differently. Second, to show you that yes, I tend to overanalyze an insey weensy bit.
Ah, the boy with black hair and dimples. Heretofore known as “James.”
I met him recently, figured it probably wasn’t a good idea. I don’t like smokers. I like guys who work out at least a little to keep in shape, because I do. I like guys who read and who are motivated.
At this stage of life, I’m not looking for the short relationship with some ill-suited hottie just for kicks. Hell, I’m having so much fun being single, I’m not sure I’m looking for ANY relationship.
So I’m laying in bed thinking about all this and then I realize I’m stupid. He’s cute, he has dimples and what the hell is wrong with me? LIFE IS SHORT. Maybe a short stint with a hottie would be good for me. Besides, we managed to talk on the phone the first time for two and a half hours. There’s something to that, right?
“You have everything but one thing: madness. A man needs a little madness or else – he never dares cut the rope and be free.” ~Nikos Kazantzakis
So fuck it. I’ll entertain a little madness and quit overanalyzing for once. We spoke again later last week and set up a date for Saturday night. Since he’s new to Raleigh, I wanted to go somewhere downtown. And he’s more broke than I am, so cheap was important.
I took him to Borough, which was mostly quiet except for a few leftover St. Patty’s parade revelers, all gay, which is one of Borough’s charms.
He’s a year younger than I, and there is a degree of maturity difference. But he asked questions about me and our conversation got rolling.
BIG POINTS: He hadn’t smoked a cigarette in two days. I’d told him last week I don’t date smokers and he said with “proper motivation” he could be enticed to quit. Wow, I’ve never been “proper motivation” before!
After dinner, I took him to one of my old standbys, Raleigh Times, to get a drink. We caught the tail end of a couple of NCAA games and talked. I’m big on directness. So I told him I still haven’t made up my mind about him. I also told him I don’t kiss on the first date.
But he IS cute. The combination of his guy smell and his hand on my thigh provided that giddy high that compels us to perform these mating rituals again and again, no matter how many tiny pieces our hearts are in after the last breakup. It’s a drug I haven’t tasted in a long time.
And as he walked me to my door, the giddy high intoxicated me. I turned around to say goodnight and … I kissed him. There are no words for the electric thrill that zinged up through my core.
Maybe he’s not right for me, but fuck it. I didn’t care right at that moment.
Maybe Nikos Kazantzakis is onto something. Madness can be quite delicious.