Friday, February 22, 2013

The First Post-Breakup Date

Part of my goal with this blog is to narrate parts of my dating life, especially the more hilarious ones, because I seem to find myself in the strangest of circumstances.  People tell me all the time that I should have a film crew following me around, or that I should document my life and turn it into a movie.  While I am strongly tempted to go back and start from the beginning, I fear that would take too long, so I will start in the present and reference the past where it is relevant.  In my commentaries about my dating life, I've decided to use codenames for the guys I date, so that they can't easily search for what I'm writing about them, and I will still try to keep my comments unoffensive in case they do find themselves reading about our dates

Mr. Suave is the first guy I'd like you to meet.  I met him at a swing dancing venue years ago, and he impressed me immediately with his strong leadership in swing and lindy, as well as his breadth of knowledge about books, some which I had recently read at the time.  Mr. Suave is funny because he tends to stick on one subject and continues going back to that subject even when the conversation has veered away from it.  Early on, Mr. Suave would tell me about, a website where you can train your brain.  He told me he became very good at directions because of this website, and then he got us lost on a hike at Squaw Peak.  As a result, I wasn't so sure luminoscity was as powerful as he thought it to be.  We went on a few dates, I suppose you could call them, including Arizona Ballet's The Nutcracker around Christmas time, and going to his company parties.  When I decided to make my best friend my boyfriend, I stopped seeing Mr. Suave as often, and made it clear that we were to be just friends when we did hang out.  

The day after my boyfriend and I broke up, I was numb.  I didn't know what to think, the depression and the loneliness had yet to hit me, and I just felt nothing.  That day, Mr. Suave asked if I would go to an Afghan music listening party.  I wasn't really sure what to expect, but hey, I was single again, and single people are supposed to go out, right?  So I agreed, and he told me when to expect him to pick me up.  He was punctual, as usual, and well dressed with his cute BMW as you'd expect someone named Mr. Suave to be.  He opened and closed doors for me, and before we even arrived at the party, he had determined I was once again single (although I dared not divulge how fresh it was) and he looped his arm around my waist.  I didn't mind the affection; it was nice having come from a less than touchy relationship.  There was wine, which I drank, and there was music.  We weren't really sure what to do, until someone announced they were going to start playing their instrument, so we gathered around, and within minutes I seated myself cross-legged on the floor to get comfortable.  Mr. Suave sat behind me and rubbed my back, which was really nice, too.  

The music was interesting, to say the least.  Obviously not something I listen to on a regular basis, but I can appreciate that which is from a culture different than mine from time to time.  There was a guitar-like instrument (and I say that in the loosest of similes), played by the main person.  Then there was another guy banging and flicking a drum with his bare hands, and he sang sometimes, which was a little more like wailing in parts.  The two of them played a few songs, and then a third man, younger, joined them with an impressive didgeridoo, which I realize is not Afghan, but there it was nonetheless.  I can't make this stuff up, really.  The didgeridoo player was really good; I mean, I haven't seen that many in my life, but I assume he was good because I have one of my own (the instrument, not the player) and I can't get anywhere close to producing the kinds of noises he was making.  He also never seemed to breath, so I assumed and later affirmed that he was using a technique called circular breathing, which is pretty cool in its own right.  

When the concert was over, if it was a concert, the party kind of broke up, and Mr. Suave took me back to the car.  Scratch that, we first went to a fast food place so he could use the restroom, then we went back to the car.  As we drove away, he asked what I wanted to do.  I suggested we go to a winebar, and he shook his head.  He asked if I would come back to his place to watch a movie, and I said, "Nah."  He didn't seem to hear or understand my negation, and proceeded to take me to a wine store to buy a bottle (he let me pick it out and then he paid for it), and then took me back to his place to watch a movie.  I just went with it, I was in no mood to fight.  As I settled onto the couch with my wine, he kept asking what food I wanted, and I really wasn't particularly hungry, so finally I settled on accepting grapes to make him happy.  

He put on some black and white film, I think it was the Last Frontier or something to that effect.  We picked at the grapes and drank wine, and he sat at arm's length from me, which was strange because I thought for sure he'd use this opportunity to snuggle up next to me and put the moves on me.  Instead, he held his arm straight out from his shoulder and flicked my shoulder with his finger tips.  Seriously.  Flick, flick, flick.  Through pretty much the whole movie.  He dropped his arm down my chest, so the back of his hand was nearly touching more sensitive parts, and I picked his hand up and held it.  Then he'd remove his hand and go back to flicking my shoulder.  So strange.  Seriously, I really truly cannot make this stuff up.  

When the movie was over, he took me home, kissed me good night, and that was that.  

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