Dating fatigue had officially set in
Dating fatigue had officially set in. It was New Year’s Day, and the party I’d attended the night before at the Blue Pheasant was seriously lugubrious. It felt sad walking into the place and seeing a multitude of men and women who looked like this was their last chance to end the year accompanied. It was a stark reminder that I was really one of them, on some level. But, hopefully, I was still safe from appearing so.
Reed called and wanted to see a movie. I was really just fine with that, especially on a frizzling, drizzling New Year’s Day. He informed me that he’d be in a bright orange parka and that I couldn’t miss him. He was sure right about that! I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t as cute as his photo, which looked like a black-and-white snapshot of Heath Ledger.
We each bought our own ticket (red flag!) for The Last Samurai, and he graciously let me choose the seats. I picked a row towards the back so I could run out if I received a cell call from someone I’d rather be in the dark with.
Let me back up here for a minute. Yes, not paying for my movie ticket was a red flag. Scarlet. Crimson! After all, he was the one who asked to see me, picked the venue, and selected the film, so I believed it was his responsibility to shell out the nominal cost for the pleasure of my movie-viewing company. Forking over the dough for a matinee would have been the same price as one overpriced venti coffee drink he surely treated himself to several times a day.
On the way into the theater he said, “You don’t look like a mortician.” I smiled the smile I smiled every time I heard this observation.
This was not a film I would have gone to see on my own volition, but what a film! I was completely into it from the opening shot, and it was so engrossing a journey that it just didn’t matter who I was sharing a row, or a date, with. I was really digging the storyline and the hot action. I loved every scene with the lead character. He was masculine, spiritual, contemplative, and one hell of a fighter. (No, not Tom Cruise; I’m talking about the Japanese lead, Ken Watanabe.)
I was captivated by Katsumoto. He was gorgeous, powerful, intelligent, loyal, and a force to be reckoned with. And then it hit me. That’s who I was really looking for in my dating world. It was Katsumoto, except with a few more prayer candles with saints on them. But was there one as great and humble as he in Silicon Valley looking for me?
No sooner am I out the theater door I am speed dialing one of my gals.
“Well, a fresh year, which naturally defaults to a fresh dating record, right? Yet, the first of hopefully not many blind dates of 2004 was bleak. Apart from making me pay my way, Reed told me he spent all his free time hunting with his mutt, Chloe.”
Mary laughs and says she is so impressed how much I’m putting myself out there and willing to share drinks and meals with random strangers who I think look good on paper.
“That’s funny, Mary. I thought ‘looks good on paper’ meant the guy looked infallible due to a big bank account, a cash-producing job, and equity in a home or two. I just want a quality human who is a productive member of society, makes me laugh more than he makes me cry, and doesn’t lick his fingers while eating.”