May 9th, 2012-
I pull into the restaurant parking lot more excited about the amazing sushi this place serves than about my impending date. It's nothing against the guy. Isaac, was it? Yeah, Isaac. He seems nice. At least, I think he seems nice. How much can you really tell after only having talked online?
Yes. Online.
Don't worry, I cringe too. Statistically, 20% of all relationships start online nowadays, but there is still some weird, self- and societal-inflicted twinge of shame that rises to my cheeks every time I think about or tell someone that I have succumbed to the online dating trend. Dating online is comparable to liking McDonald's. Tons of people do it, but NO ONE wants to admit to it. Oh, well. I guess the secret is out now.
So, I pull into the restaurant anticipating yet another boring first date.
"Where are you from?"
"Oh, I'm from blah blah blah. What do you like to do in your spare time?"
"I like to duh duh duh. You?"
"Oh, you like to duh, duh, duh? Fascinating. I've always wanted to know more about duh, duh duh!" (Not).
And so on and so forth.
At this point, my outlook is nothing short of despondent. I have only been on this site a month, though, so maybe I'm giving up too quickly. Besides, I've only been on three other dates. (My pessimistic demeanor on date four should be indicative of how much I enjoyed dates 1-3.) Ok, so the other dates weren't that bad; they were pleasant, even. That's the great thing about online dating: you can weed out most of the crazies before ever going out with them. It's nice to talk to people first-- it eliminates that horribly awkward moment on a terrible date where you excuse yourself from the table only to sneak into the stall of a restaurant bathroom and text your bff with pleas that she call in 10 minutes with some fake emergency that will give you a good reason to end this misery early.
I mean… wait… what… I've never done that… ummm….
Moving on.
As I arrive at the restaurant, I look around for him. He offered to pick me up, but we did meet online (safety, safety!) and I was coming straight from school. Ah, the work of a teacher is never done.
I look like a mess.
I smell like tenth graders.
In case you're wondering, that's NOT a good thing.
Suddenly, just before I reach the door to the restaurant, I spot him walking from his car. He is a giant! I had seen pictures, but apparently none in which he was standing next to a normal-sized human.
Ok, I'm exaggerating, of course.
But seriously, six feet, four inches tall! He approaches with a smile that is completely charming. I saunter all five feet, two inches of myself towards him and introduce myself to his bellybutton. If this is the man God has for me, I think to myself, I'm going to either need taller shoes or a good neck doctor.
He is a perfect gentleman: He opens the door, waits for me to be seated, and speaks to me with an indescribable sense of gentle honesty.
He compliments me. Genuinely.
We sit down at our table and begin the normal first date chit-chat. I've never been that into redheads, but he is very handsome. His warm smile makes the mood of the night casual and easy. He looks strong but safe. Apparently, he's a choir director and sings opera, but he's also this outdoorsman/Mr. Fix-It type. Oh, and he used to be a sous-chef. He is kind, but I can see that he could hold his ground if push came to shove. He's wonderfully multifaceted and perplexing.
"Sometimes women don't like it when a man opens the door for them. Sometimes they won't let me pay for dinner. In fact, sometimes they even get mad if I try." He says matter-of-factly.
"I know. We had an issue like that when I was in college. Several girls on campus made a fuss about the corps men standing up so that the ladies could have a seat on the buses. Sometimes I wonder if chivalry is dying or if we, as women, are slowly killing it." I reply, trying to be understanding.
"Well, I won't let anyone kill it in me. I like opening doors. I like paying for dinner. It's my way of respecting women. In fact, I'll be paying for dinner tonight and opening the door for you when we walk out. I hope this is ok with you because that's just the way I am."
I can't help but smile. His resolve is cute, and I know he isn't kidding.
Something about this exchange stands out to me. He knows who he is, and strives to be a man that respects women. After further discussion, it is obvious that he knows the Bible and understands what kind of man he is called to be. I can somehow tell that he has a past-- something about the eyes. He is far from perfect and knows it, but I can also see that he has no idea what a rare and truly admirable man he really is.
I watch him treat our waiter with the utmost respect, an action that greatly impresses me. I shamelessly sneak a peek at the tip he leaves; he's generous. I think only people who have worked in food service can fully appreciate this trait.
After about two hours, we decide to call it a night. We both have work in the morning. He keeps his promise and opens the door for me on the way out. He walks me to my car, tells me "goodnight," and leans in for a brief hug.
On the way home, I process the events of the night.
I like him, but I don't know if there is any real spark.
Am I too old for butterflies?
Is wanting them an unrealistic expectation?
Maybe things like that were just high school stuff.
He definitely checks out on paper: good, Christian man; has a steady job; treats me with respect; doesn't leave me guessing; believes in living out biblical manhood; is handsome; etc.
Why, on paper, he's just about perfect!
Definitely worth a second date… if he even calls… he seemed like he had fun…
Still, what about the spark?
Pastor Greg Matte once told me and a bunch of other college-students-turned-summer-interns, "The only thing you have to decide on a first date is if there will be a second date. For some reason, young Christian daters put more pressure on themselves than that. Don't."
I spend the rest of the way home praying that if there was meant to be a second date, Isaac would call.
-Chapter two coming soon-
If you made it this far, here are some fun links as a reward:
Isaac's Opera Skills:
Jim Gaffigan's take on "McDonald's shame":
