Page 4 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
But this was the place he picked,I sighed.And I didn’t object.
As I turned off the ignition and stepped out of my well-worn Camry, I wondered what he’d look like in person. From my experience, men were pretty good about having updated photos on their profile. But people were always different in real life.
Plus,I chuckled,his profile says he’s six feet tall.Let’s see if that’s really the case.
As I entered the shop and eyed the slender man standing next to the pastry display case, I knew it had to be him. The shop was crowded, full of patrons chatting and sipping at the maze of tables, but he had one distinct feature in his profile photos – a head of vibrant, curly red hair.
He noticed me too, and greeted me with a cordial hug and asked what I’d like for coffee. After I spouted off my usual to the barista – a hazelnut iced coffee with oat milk – I took a moment to study his features while we waited for our order. He was shorter than his dating profile stated, likely five foot nine, and his teeth were more yellow and crooked than I’d expected. But being such a short woman, I’d never cared about height, and my coffee addiction didn’t leave me with gleaming white teeth either.
A few minutes later, we plucked our respective drinks off the counter and settled into one of the few remaining empty tables. We each took a long first sip, and I noticedwhile I’d gotten an iced drink with a straw, his was in an opaque cup that wafted with steam as he set it on the table.
“What did you get?” I asked, realizing that in my contemplative haze, I hadn’t paid attention to his order.
“Hot chocolate.”
“Ah,” I remarked, taken aback by the flat tone of his voice. “Good choice. I suppose it’s kind of late for caffeine, but I’ve always had a coffee addiction.”
I chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. He sat stiff as a board, his face devoid of emotion, and the normally cheery atmosphere of the coffee shop suddenly felt heavy and awkward.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
I coughed as I took a second sip through my plastic straw. Once again, his tone was flat and dull, and it sent a prickly feeling down my spine.
Then why did you pick a coffee shop for a first date?
I sighed and set my drink on the table, watching as condensation droplets formed on the clear plastic cup.Ok, deep breaths. Maybe he’s just nervous. We just need to get the conversation going.
“So, uh, Anthony,” I gulped, momentarily forgetting his name. “You said you’re an engineer?”
“Yup.”
“What kind?”
“Mechanical.”
I froze, dread engulfing my brain and making my scalp ache.
How am I supposed to reply? I know nothing about mechanical engineering. Can’t he give me an answer longer than a single word?
He couldn’t. We managed to draw out the mostly one-sided conversation for another hour, with me asking sentence after sentence of questions and his replies beingtense and blunt. His face was still devoid of emotion, but he downed his non-coffee drink in record time and started fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. I swore I even saw a bead of sweat slide down his forehead.
I took a deep breath.Relax, dude. We’re just getting to know each other. It’s not a job interview.
It was a shame, because we had many things in common. His answers, although awkwardly short, revealed a lot about him. He liked video games, especially shooters, because of how much he played them as a teenager. He was a fellowCreatures & Cryptsenthusiast, which was always a huge plus for me to find in a potential boyfriend. He also enjoyed reading, especially fantasy novels, and his favorite place to be on a sunny Florida afternoon was the beach.
On paper, he checked all the boxes: a decently cute guy who was financially stable and shared my love of geeky things. It should’ve been perfect.
But it wasn’t. While his fidgeting fingers told me he was anxious, his dull expression told me he was bored. I couldn’t figure out which one it truly was, but I couldn’t continue dating this guy if we could barely hold a conversation.
My gaze flicked up to the old-fashioned, copper-rimmed clock hanging from the wall. We had been there for an hour and a half, and it had felt like an eternity. But it was only ten minutes until eight, meaning that if I left now, I’d still have time for some gaming before bed.
“Well, Anthony, I enjoyed meeting with you,” I said. I went to stand up, and his tense expression didn’t change. “But it’s getting late – I should head home.”
“Alright. I’ll text you later.”
I exhaled. I was hoping his reaction to seeing me leave would give me more clues.
Was he relieved? Disappointed? Does he wish I would stay longer?
