Chad seemed to be more physically my "type" than any other dates I had bravely ventured on thus far. After being disappointed by the men that were luring me in solely with their wit and charm, I thought I should give pure physical attraction a shot. After all, who needs dazzling conversation when your eyes are busy admiring the fantastic workmanship of a guy like Chad?
I pulled up some of his profile pictures on my phone as I grabbed drinks with Evelyn and Napa. "What do you think of this one?" I asked my consultants. I flashed them picture after picture of him at the beach, shirtless and tan.
"Whoa!" Napa responded with an appropriately animated eyebrow lift.
"Seriously?" Evelyn gasped, as she grabbed my phone from me.
"I know, right?" I responded, smugly.
"But what about that picture of him drinking a beer off of a garbage can? Don't you think he looks..."
"Ripped? Look at his biceps in that picture!" Napa interrupted.
"I was going to say immature." I responded with a smirk.
"You never know what someone is like just based on their pictures, L.A." Napa reminded me. She was always good about roping me back in when I had the tendency to write someone's life story based on a trivial observation. I once had determined that a man smiling at me from across a bar was racist simply because his belt buckle was a certian diameter.
"I say at least go meet him for a drink. You have nothing to lose!" Evelyn urged. "Besides, look at that cute picture of his dog! He seems sensitive too."
Having been on a series of difficult dates in the last few months, I was starting to feel like I had nothing left to lose. I had learned to keep it brief, by just meeting up for drinks rather than lunch or dinner. Furthermore, I always made sure to communicate upfront that I had an obligation later in the evening so that I had a flawless escape plan. After the encouragement from Napa and Evelyn, I confirmed a date with Mr. Studly.
Maybe it was the lack of pre-date conversation, or maybe it was the blind date practice I now had under my belt, but I walked in to the restaurant completley confidant. I sat down at a pub-height table (the kind that was not easily mistaken for a "let's have dinner" table) and waited for Chad to arrive. "Three minutes late" I noted.
I watched as Chad entered the restaurant. I think you can observe important characteristics about a person just by how he or she enters a room. For example, are his eyes glued the floor? Is he warmly smiling? Is he fervently texting? Is he nervously scanning the room to find me? In Chad's case, he was floating into the room, not quite smiling and not quite focused on anything. This first impression would, in time, fit Chad like a glove.
I waved my arm high enough to catch his eye and smiled warmly at him. As he made his way over to my "just drinks" table, I stood up to greet him. We hugged hello and he mumbled something about not having been to this restaurant in a while and giggled, nervously.
Nate, the server whom I had befriended months ago, had seen me on numerous first dates and came over on cue to take our drink order. I ordered a glass of wine and Chad shockingly got the beer special. Nate gave me a quick glance that I instinctively knew was his way of letting me know he would come chat with us if I needed to be saved from first date hell.
Luckily, I was in an outgoing mood. I told him all about my line of work and recounted the most entertaining stories I could remember. I had him laughing in no time. Chad had very sweet eyes. There was a child-like innocence in them as they would grow big at the climax of my stories, and then narrow as he began to chuckle.
It wasn't long before I grew tired of talking about myself. Chad had barely said anything all evening. "So you have a Master's degree in geology, but you work in IT?" I prodded.
"Yeah, totally random, I know." He responded.
I waited for some sort of explanation or follow-up. Nothing. He sipped the remainder of his beer and flagged down Nate for another one. Then his eyes fell back on my face, expectantly. It became clear that I was responsible for the entertainment portion of the evening.
"Have you done anything fun lately?" I was confidant that this was a simple enough question to elicit a mutual conversation.
"Yeah! I totally built some corn hole boards last weekend with a buddy of mine! They are pretty sweet if I do say so myself. Wanna see some pictures?"
If you are unsure of my definition of a "beer guy", please refer to my post on Derek which describes my stereotype. "Wow that is so amazing!" I doted. "I can't believe that you made those all by yourself!"
What was I doing? It was as if I began dumbing myself down to connect with this guy. Was I twirling my hair on my finger and chomping on bubble gum as well?
"So tell me how you would go about making something like that? I'm sure it is not as easy as it looks! I would guess that you would use plywood and a router, but what do I know?" I flirted.
"Actually, that is exactly how I did it!" He lit up.
"Wow!" I responded as I smiled and most likely fluttered my eyelashes excessively. At this point, I had fallen down the rabbit hole and could not find my way back to intellectual reality. I hadn't ever played this role on a date before, and something about it became addictive.
"What other things are you good at, Chad?" I asked.
I could feel myself snuffing my little feminist "Jiminy Cricket" conscience inside to play this game. "Shhh little cricket conscience....it will all be over soon, I promise!"
"Well, I'm pretty good at pool!" He said with a big grin.
"Really? I'm terrible at pool! Maybe you could teach me?" I said as we both gazed over at the pool table just feet away. I'm sure a little part of me died inside as I took my act a step further. My mom surely taught me better than this. At least we wouldn't have to pretend to have conversations anymore. Besides, how could I complain about having Chad closer as he taught me the proper way to hold a cue stick?
"So why doesn't the white ball have a number on it?" I joked. Anyone who knows me is aware that I can only, at maximum, allow three minutes to pass before I crack some sort of joke.
"Well that is the cue ball. You use that ball to hit the other balls into the pockets" Chad helpfully responded.
I decided it was easier to continue playing dumb than to make him feel like a moron for missing my joke.
After two games of pool and three hours of playing a ditz, I was ready to call it a night. Chad was smitten with this character I had developed, and I was starting to feel guilty as my conscience persistently chirped at me.
As he walked me to my car I wondered how many men out there really prefer women to be so oblivious. I could see the appeal of an easy, relaxing night. After all, Chad was nothing but easy to be around. I understood why he seemed to float in to rooms, he didn't allow anything to weigh him down. There were no threats of challenging conversations or differing opinions with Chad.
I decided that I would be terrible at keeping up with my ditzy charade. It wouldn't be long before I slipped up and spurted out something about upper class white male privilege being the crux of the problems in America. Mr. Studly, or Mr. Simple as I had renamed him, was not going to be my perfect match.
Just as I was about to toss my hat in the ring, Mr. Simple pulled me in tight for the kiss of a lifetime. In that moment, time stood still, I got the butterflies, and my knees went weak. Every cliche phrase fit what I was feeling. I opened my eyes in a haze as Chad kissed me softly on the cheek and told me to drive safe. He walked away, studly as ever.
"Shut up, cricket" I whispered.
"What was that?" Chad said turning around.
"You drive safe, too!" I replied.
