A Date With Sufjan

Originally- Awkward Conversations and Sliding Doors were going to be two separate posts. I now realize I should have named the post that, it would have made more sense...but there's no going back. The internet is forever. Or until the nuclear fallout...whichever comes first I guess. Awkward Conversations was actually going to be about, I suppose, 5 different guys I was talking to at the same time? One of whom I completely forgot about, and feel pretty guilty for that. Only two were actually mentioned: Robert and Bastien. The other two: Emre and Ardeshir (Arde) were unfortunately not as prominent characters by the time I finished the post. Time seems to be moving in a break-up pace, and there's no accounting for when anything is occurring and what will be relevant anymore. There's now a new batch, of which only one really stands out: Oliver, who is a nice little IT guy and very talkative and perhaps the only guy I've ever thought looks better without glasses.

I should note, there are three things I'm kind of irrationally into: glasses, smokers, and hotel rooms. Which is what I came to realize made Bastien so perfect on Monday night, and so heartbreaking the next day.

Monday is also when I got the bizarre text from Robert apologizing for any potential injury he may have caused the Wednesday prior. The passage of time seems meaningless. I don't know if most of that is correct anymore.

I feel I should also note that Robert, while quite intense, definitely wasn't more of a psycho than I am. The problem probably was, and will always be, that we were so well matched it was almost as if I were trying to fuck myself, but a sadder, harder-lived version. I have also come to realize that I have lived, despite my best efforts, a rather comfortable and insulated life...void of most of the consequences I probably deserve. This did not seem to be the case for Robert, who seemed very white, but was only passably. Still, his passability and familial wealth I would have assumed would carry more privilege. Perhaps in some ways it did, but in the ways it matters to me at the moment it did not. So, I by no means meant to disparage Robert. I also feel I should really try my hardest not to date younger men, now. But older men seem to be just as bad. I should probably try my hardest not to date men, but sexbots are currently out of my price range. Robert did, however, end things with a phrase that will no doubt haunt me for much longer than anything Scott did, and that is a dark achievement. I don't think I will ever know how to properly process "No. Thanks for clarifying." Primarily, most importantly, because factually it seems he was the one clarifying, right? It's just baffling. I think I'd have expected "No." or "No. Sorry" or radio silence...but, "No. Thanks for clarifying"? I don't think anyone would have reasonable seen that coming. Almost all my friends laughed at first, then noted he was an asshole. So, perhaps, it was nice of him ultimately to kind of walk that back almost a week later...and it's not as though I blame him at all for wanting to cut things off, but the phrase will be burned into my consciousness for quite some time. At least until the next particularly inventive dick comes along.

One of the things that happened kind of early on though was the initial rejection of my invitation out to my sister's birthday party. It wasn't a rejection of the event specifically. He had texted me a few hours after leaving following our hook-up something about how he enjoyed things and was finishing Killing Eve. The addition of the information about continuing a show I had prodded him into finishing made me think this was in fact not going to be a one-night stand. You never know. I definitely don't think I'm that good and assume people will not want to continue things, although Sam, the guy I'm sleeping with but have no interest in, has remarked that I do some things pretty well...so I guess maybe I can relax about that particular area of concern. Anyway, he texted me first. There was a little back and forth. I had set up a date later that week with Emre, but then realized I did not want to go to a friend's show by myself, and he happened to text me as I was preparing, and considering asking Robert, so I asked Emre instead. And we met the night after the morning Robert left. He was cute, and he bought me a drink, and was incredibly well traveled and smart and pretentious. He repeatedly mentioned that he was really into "alternative" things. Repeatedly. He casually began conversations about drug fueled escapades, which were honestly pretty cool, but also he hadn't done much I hadn't. He did a few things I wanted to- dancing in Berlin on E, our E-scapades were considerable less fun, despite our fervent desire to find a club. He also did coke with topless French girls and discussed Sarte or something...most likely even more obscure and philosophical which is why I can't remember it exactly. It was quite intimidating though. He was a Fulbright scholar with sunken eyes and a single earring that did not look douchey but was cool in a K-Pop way. He smoked, and I believe I mentioned I have a thing for smokers. Probably, I explained to Bastien later, because all the boys I loved in high school smoked. It seems youthful and rebellious now. No one cared about that particular brand of poison they were ingesting. Now we all pretend alcohol isn't killing us, or we decide not to acknowledge this willingness to poison ourselves in small doses, often to no effect.

Emre did not have a nice apartment, though. And I couldn't take him back to my place because it seemed gross to have sex without washing the sheets. And he was very clear that tidiness was very important as he described cleaning the little yellow box he lived in because it was the closest thing he could afford in walking distance to the University. Tidiness is not my strong suit. Most people could emphatically tell you this. So, although he bought me a drink, and Robert had not, and I did find him attractive, I waved off this insistence that I should stay and that fucking on a twin bed would not be weird or uncomfortable, even though it was something I assumed I was well past now that my dates were meant to live outside of dorms...and I left. We were going to keep the date we made originally for Wednesday, and the promise of sex was made because I was definitely a bit tipsy. Some time after getting home I realized I also did not want to go to my sister's party alone. I texted Robert, and he replied that he was unfortunately not available. Then nothing was said for about a day, and having enjoyed Robert more because he was far more approachable, although secretly I already liked Bastien best, I began spiraling. Thus the beginning of my long-form crowd-sourcing decisions began in earnest. Scrutinizing the previous texts I forced my friends to decide if Robert had any interest and what I should do. Eventually, although it was not what I really wanted to do because it felt very vulnerable, I said something along the lines of "at the risk of being unbearable awkward, I've enjoyed our time together and wanted to know if you'd like to hang out in the future"...and to his credit he replied that he did and put my mind at ease quite well. Having established that relationship, I asked Emre if he would want to go to the party, and he confirmed, and then unmatched me on Bumble. This seemed strange, and I increasingly felt that the number of times he mentioned he was into alternative things was just a flex too many, and I didn't really want to sleep with him after all. Then discovering he unmatched made the decision seem much easier...however, being confrontation averse I also didn't know how to go about establishing feelings had changed on my end, and while he was probably only keeping our date for the one-night stand, I did not want to move forward. In the end I kind of pulled a move that I think I am now karma-cly paying for: I told him I wasn't feeling well and had to cancel. He said he hoped I felt better. Neither of us mentioned Saturday, or unmatching, and it seemed pretty well handled. Saturday came and went and he never messaged me, so I felt it was actually a very amicable cancellation of a social contract.

He also recently messaged me, and I did something I had not been doing, which was to respond to a number I had deleted. Ah, that's kind of a lie, Arde had been pressuring me to come over for a few weeks and I eventually deleted his number when there was a long enough gap I thought he'd lost interest. He was incredibly attractive from his photos, but asked too many questions about my exercise habits and for full-body photographs, and that always feels gross and weird to me. Like the goal is primarily to establish that I'm not completely fat, and thus reasonably fuckable. Again, I probably should have just called things off directly but I also kind of liked the idea of someone so hot deciding I was ultimately still fuckable. I though perhaps a one-night stand with him would be kind of cool...in an ego-boosting way. However, I now wonder if he wasn't catfishing me and I would probably have been murdered had I gone over. One can never tell. It's really a crapshoot as a girl determining whether you'll be murdered on your next date. I don't think I'll have anyone else in the house for a while, but I also don't necessarily feel safe going over to someone's place either. That's probably a matter for a completely different post...

Where was I? This is definitely getting to Bastien, who I still like the best, probably because we haven't slept together. It seems the easiest way to get me to hate you is to sleep with me. I don't think I currently like a single person I've had sex with, which seems a little problematic in retrospect, but this blog is the kind of movie that includes the title, so it's on brand...

So Emre messaged me a few days before Bastien returned from Switzerland and Robert texted me his apology. I responded that I accidentally lost the number or something, he explained who he was, there was a brief exchange of "what's up, how are you"s, and then nothing...and I think that was comfortable and another example of our equally tepid feelings toward each other. Arde I eventually just didn't answer when he said I should come over for the 100th time, and unmatched. It seems the easiest way to indicate disinterest is to unmatch...

Which actually reminds me of the 5th person- Chris. He seemed cool...pretty cute, and we talked about Batman a bit. We actually went back and forth for a couple of days, and then I didn't see he had responded, and I was very weird about it, saying something about how I thought he had lost interest- and he never responded, and unmatched me, and I was not hurt in the slightest.

This brings us to the arrival of Bastien, who I still like the most.

Bastien and I started talking mid-August. It was his first time in town, he kept lightly prodding for me to come out and play, but I was on my period and felt gross, so I demurred. We agreed to get together when he returned because he was leaving after the weekend, and I honestly thought it was pretty unlikely although I was looking forward to it. We chatted pretty regularly before he left, and he sent me a message before boarding his flight. I think I was asleep or something because I responded hours later. He didn't respond at all, and I thought, without much disappointment, that that was that, I guess. A statement and thought that contains far too many "that"s for my taste.

As The Kitten exposes her underbelly like a fool, I am reminded that another thing that made Robert quite attractive was that The Kitten seemed to like him. She only hissed when he was leaving. She never turned on him, and even stood on her hind legs for him. I am beginning to suspect The Kitten is sexist. I both liked and disliked her apparent fondness.

Back to the main story:
The following Sunday after his departure Bastien finally replied to my message. It was a pleasant surprise. I replied to him...and then the following Sunday he replied again. This went back and forth for the three weeks he was away, and it made it feel like he was genuinely still interested. I began to anticipate his arrival, perhaps building it up far more than I should have. He was a little balding for my taste, but I liked his glasses and he had a warm smile. I have a thing for glasses, smiles and hotels. I've had a thing for hotels for forever. I foolishly maxed out cards and spent too much money getting hotel rooms for Gilbert and I when I moved away for college. There's just something romantic about the view from a nice hotel. We used to have shitty hotel parties, too. They're just fun and I won't apologize for this.

So, while things got messy with Robert I kept in mind that Bastien was returning soon. That, like Robert originally had, Bastien had surprisingly made it clear he was looking forward to hanging out as well. And the weeks became as fearful as they were exciting, as all thing one must wait for should be. I was worried that after weeks of going back and forth things wouldn't go well. That I would prove to be disappointing...perhaps too uncultured or unattractive. The distance over which we maintained contact, complete continents away, made the stakes seem higher. The desire more palpable. He was my favorite. Regardless of the other guys I was sort of flying through, I was holding onto the promise of drinks at a hotel bar and a casual retreat to his room.

A few days before he was to return we made solid plans. I told him I was busy Tuesday and Thursday but free Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He would be leaving Saturday. He is leaving Saturday. We set plans for Friday, then changed them to Monday so that we could see each other a few times if we hit it off. Or "if we don't like each other in the end at least we know it early on"...

Monday came, and I left my second job early so I could go home and nap before we met. I originally intended to work up to an hour before our date and leave from there, but I had to take the train and it was very hot so I was worried I'd actually be kind of gross and sweaty. So I had an hour and half to nap, applied fresh make-up, fussed over my hair, and left feeling completely un-confident. A full hour early. Because I get very anxious about parking. When I arrived and there was an abundance of parking because it was a Monday night, I felt quite silly. I found a spot to wait anxiously and stew over the opportunity to just run off before he arrived. He asked whether we should meet inside or at the entrance and I said inside because I was already there, admitting to my parking lot anxieties...perhaps my first mistake. He agreed with a smiley old-school emoticon and then notified me he would be a little late according to his lyft. For some reason he sent me a link to it, which was odd but reassuring in its own way. As I waited I chatted with the girls about leaving because the pressure was too much, and they were all also excited because I had talked up the event for weeks, so they offered moral support and insisted I was beautiful and great and should definitely stay because he would love me. As friends tend to do.

Of course I stayed. The build up would have been a complete waste had I left. I noticed him arrive and made a show of not watching him walk in by casually being on my phone, but he was much more attractive in person than I expected. Which I promptly messaged the group as he quickly crossed the room, oddly bundled in a scarf and hoodie.

I feel I should mention that in the morning he commented on the fact that he was glad I was no longer sick (because I mentioned my illness because I slept through a few messages from him that day), but he had come down with a bit of a cold. He insisted he would be fine for the evening and was looking forward to finally meeting. All things were pleasantly reassuring.

So, while curious in the moment, upon reflection he might have started the evening with the chills. I was surprised and remarked upon it after a hug and a sit, and he explained that everything in America was over-air-conditioned so he was constantly cold. We went to the bar after our very short initial sit, and got our drinks. I paid for my own, which was not a problem. It never is. I never expect to be paid for, that seems very heteronormative and as a millennial I do despise being heteronormative. Perhaps being any kind of normative? Maybe normativity is the new "ism"a la Ferris Bueller. Either way, I don't feel a guy should feel obligated to buy my drink and having that expectation is presumptuous and a bit rude. That said, I do enjoy when it happens because there is some internalized normativity, and when I was less woke, I suppose, Gilbert had no money and Scott was very petty about purchasing anything, so I wasn't treated the way most of my friends were. It felt like a universal slight and another indicator that there was something most likely fundamentally lacking in me. So, I bought my own drink with no discussion, and we decided to sit outside because the photos on Google maps were of that area and I had sent him the link earlier in the week. He picked the spot to sit.

At the bar he had remarked about the curiousness of my picking a place with many beer options when I do not drink beer myself. I had shrugged it off and explained they had liquor. When we sat down he cheers-ed, which I very rarely do and have never instigated, so I think I took a sip first which I believe is against the rules. After the second sip I further explained that I can typically find a cider if I go somewhere that only serves beer, and I don't mind cider. Also, I had recently found a beer I could stomach, it was a strange snowcone beer. I sort of fumbled, quite charmed by his accent and still pleasantly surprised by his attractiveness. It wasn't so much that I thought he would be unattractive at all, I did find him attractive in his photos, but sometimes people look better in person, and this was definitely the case. It was also cute how strangely bundled he was when it was so hot outside I had to put my hair up, to my dismay. We began talking policy, politics and government for some reason, and the conversation flowed well, and I nervously played with the necklace I wore...grateful to have accessorized because I was feeling self conscious about my collarbone. Which is a very specific thing to be self conscious about, but was something Arde had brought up in all his weird body questions. He mentioned a blog, I later found to be quite alarming, and will discuss. We talked about "dream jobs" and I conceded to the fact that my dream job was just that- quite a fantasy. I could never expect to break into screenwriting. It took a tenacity and vulnerability I didn't have the heart for...or I perhaps could have if I had been like him, a straight white guy with a good accent. He also quickly recognized that he was definitely in a privileged position, and mentioned he had been discussing this with a colleague not too long ago. Things were going quite swimmingly, without any of the very uncomfortable pauses I experienced with Robert. Perhaps, most likely, because Bastien was older and more confident. He was curious and opinionated. It was a welcome change, as I had gone on another date the afternoon before that was also very painfully awkward. We finished our drinks and he said he didn't really feel like another there, and somehow, perhaps I suggested thinking he was suggesting, we decided to go to another bar. I'm still not quite certain, and I think that was my second mistake.

I am almost certain I asked if he was actually up for it. I'm almost certain I tried to give him an out just in case I had misunderstood his intention, and he said it would be okay for a bit longer...and maybe that was my third mistake. We talked on the short ride over, I think. I apologized for being bad at parking, and I probably apologized a lot. I do that. Robert and I did that. That was probably my fourth mistake.

As we walked up to this new place a jazz band was loudly blaring from the small indoor area. We snuck in behind them because they took up a lot of space, and it was impossible to hear each other, but he seemed amused. He bought my drink. I asked for sangria, forgetting there were two options and he chose correctly and it, in a completely inexplicable way, made me feel seen. We went outside and I commented on how I loved the lights there, and that was why I liked the place, as it had been why I liked the other place. He agreed that the ambiance was quite nice, but felt the band should have been playing outside. I disagreed. I contested that it would not disturb the atmosphere; the delicate paper lanterns and chandeliers would not be able to withstand the force of a jazz band. He insisted that it would be a much more appropriate venue and that the lighting would be quite complimentary. I noticed a single paper lantern swaying more erratically than the rest and conceded that perhaps the lanterns were looking for a more engaging situation themselves. He pointed to another one, and it was charming. Everything was charming. He was drinking a gin and tonic, which is one of my preferred drinks, and that was also charming. When he mentioned smoking there seemed to be an element of kismet to the whole evening. I informed him I did not smoke, but I did not mind it, I actually found it quite attractive. He raised his brows curiously and I shrugged. It reminded me of when I was in was younger and we all smoked, I explained. There was something rebellious about the act now, as everyone had given it up. He conceded to that point, excused himself to get water, and returned with a cigarette. It was charming. It felt like everything was actually going quite well. He played some music he liked for me. Things were much less about politics. He was quite taken with the people in the courtyard and enthusiastic about how much he enjoyed both bars. He was maybe a little too interested in the people around us and what a melange they formed. Perhaps this was my, what, sixth mistake now? Perhaps not. It was probably the action of dutifully finding him an ashtray when he returned, cigarette in hand. Or maybe being so clearly pleased at the performance of him smoking at all. It can be to one's detriment to be easily amused. So I think we're up to eight.

Cigarette and drinks done he asked, "So what comes next?" to which I asked what he meant, because I assumed a third bar was not on the table, and didn't quite have anywhere else in mind anyway. He replied, "So, shall we next try to determine if we are physically compatible?" I felt this was the most round about and probably politely Swiss way of asking "are we going to fuck?" and again, along with the accent, it was quite charming. I agreed, and we were going to keep to our schedule of Wednesday, and I offered to drop him off at his hotel. Nine? I missed an exit and apologized. Ten. We renegotiated and moved up to the next day, although he offered to have me up that night. Eleven, and perhaps the most egregious. I apologized and said I had school and I would much rather be late for work on Wednesday than late for class. He agreed. I asked if we would meet at the hotel bar then, as he had suggested before, and he said we could always order drinks up to the room...and I was probably too enthusiastic. Maybe that 12 mistake was worse. Who knows?

We said goodbye. He went in, I drove off, and at home had sexy dreams about the fantastic evening scheduled for the next night. Perhaps this was 13.

I am coming quickly to the conclusion that I should not want things. Things seldom seem to work out when I want them to, which does scare me about this final year of college. Hopefully my general disinterest will save me there.

Predictably, painfully so, the next day I received a message about mid-day. Before I opened it I somehow instinctively knew he was cancelling. And he did.

"Hi!
Thanks for the good evening yesterday! Unfortunately I'm not doing better and I would like to cancel the meeting tonight
in my current state I rather need to sleep than anything else"

And I replied:
"Oh! I'm sorry you're feeling worse! I did enjoy meeting you last night. Did you want to reschedule?"

Which, personally, felt like the worst mistake. Number 14. That I can keep track of...that I know to acknowledge. As soon as I typed it, as I was sending it, it felt like I had rolled over as the kitten does, to expose my soft eagerness to be touched. Quiet desperation to remain desirable. And he never responded...I think confirming what I knew as I typed my ill-conceived response- that the cancellation was a soft rejection, the way I had rejected Emre.

Now, I can only wonder what changed. Was it that I didn't go up? Perhaps he was actually drunker than I thought and in the sobriety of the morning realized he had made a mistake? Perhaps he recognized later that I was trying too hard? Not smart enough? Not pretty enough? He was a European in America and thus had much better options? Not cultured enough?

Everything had seemed to go so well. And sadly, he's still my favorite.

So I spent the next day and a half waiting for a response...trying to convince myself quite unconvincingly that he was actually very sick and much as I was unable to respond to him for the larger part of the day when I was incredibly sick, he was just so knackered he couldn't form a reply. He had mentioned that he was killing himself with work. He had been sniffling and wiping his nose for a large part of the evening. He had noted quite plainly that his illness was likely stress related because getting this start-up off the ground was just so taxing. So...maybe he really was sick? And he would eventually text to reschedule? He had been slow to respond before...the week long gaps?

I still want this to be true.

So when I conceded what I had already quietly acknowledged at the center of my logical base- that he was never going to contact me again, I went to the coffee shop and bar across the street from work. And it was exactly the vibe I thought it would be. And I bet he would have liked it. And I would still be willing to take him because he is still my favorite, most likely because we did not have sex. If we had this would probably have been even more upsetting an anticlimactic end to a long awaited date.

Actually, I probably should have acknowledged it from the simple fact that he called it a "meeting" and not a date...when he had flirtatiously mentioned trying to get me to date him when we first began talking. Sigh.

Alone with Sufjan Stevens sadly crooning in my headphones I ordered a drink of cold brew and coconut rum. A splash of cream over-filled the cup and it was impossible to move it without spilling. I was also carrying too much. I set it down for a moment at a table inside to drink a bit so I could manage it better on the way to the patio. He had mentioned because he was always so cold he really enjoyed patios. This one was nice. Enclosed with a fence of fake vines, shrouded from the bustle of the street and mercifully filtering the sun. The small mint tables were just a shade lighter than the painted wooden benches, that were oddly just a touch taller. The lattice chairs were comfortably uncomfortable. They dipped in a way that was visually pleasant but practically awkward. The area was pulled together with ornamental cages. Empty cages that were perhaps meant to parallel the cage like structure of the patio...which was meant to parallel the cage like structure of our daily lives. Interior design is truly the most poetic of arts. Especially when applied to an exterior.

I think he would have liked it. I think he could have gotten a gin and tonic. Or a beer. And he would have thought it was cool in a showy way that the barista was covered in tattoos. He had remarked that the Swiss are brought up to blend in, to be very normal, and he found it interesting that this was not at all what he found in the crowd of the second bar. And perhaps just this facet of my personality, that perhaps I desire to be more unique than I could ever maintain is what turned him off. I was a physical manifestation of the phrase "I'm really into alternative things." I am...I guess?

So maybe the interest would be the way one interacts with a zoo or museum exhibit. He's still my favorite. Even if the blog he mentioned was a bitter rally against millennials that felt both myopic and misogynistic. Probably because things changed with no explanation, and none seems to be forthcoming.

He hasn't unmatched me as of right now. This probably means nothing. But I want it to.

So I have set other dates. For the days we were meant to hang out. And I've been messaging Oliver quite regularly because he is very chatty. And I took Sufjan Stevens to write in one of the places I thought we might go before he left. Because he is still my favorite, because he is leaving, because he has left.