The Meeting

My second match -- Jon -- was nice. I had Googled him ahead of time and was able to see his Facebook profile picture and find out where he worked.

He chose the bar, a small, hip place on the Lower East side. This was fine by me as I still don't know a lot of cool hangouts. I arrived 15 minutes early -- you never know how traffic is going to be, and I'd rather be early than late -- and noticed he was standing outside by the door, talking on his cell phone. He barely glanced at me as I walked in, so he obviously didn't think I was the one he was waiting for. I went in to the bar and watched him. He made several phone calls and watched for people coming in, checking his watch periodically. At exactly 7:30, when we were supposed to meet, I text messaged him, "Are you standing outside? I'm at the bar." I just couldn't take the suspense any longer, and I figured if he saw me and wanted to leave, so be it. He came in and sat down, though.

As I noticed in our brief phone conversation, he's pretty quiet. I learned he's an only child, raised on Long Island, NY, and works in sales/marketing. He's attractive: 6 feet, dark hair, brown eyes. He keeps in shape by swimming, volleyball and karate. But honestly, I felt like I did most of the talking. Blah, blah, blah! Why is it when you're nervous, you either become an unstoppable chatterbox (me) or as quiet as a turtle (him)?

Overall, it went fine. After about an hour, I was getting hungry and asked if he wanted to grab some food somewhere. He admitted he'd eaten before, and I said I'd just pick something up on my way home. Then he said, "So, should we go?" It was kind of an awkward ending. I wasn't trying to end it, just getting hungry. Oh well.

Since he wasn't overly expressive, I wasn't sure what he thought of the meeting, so I asked, "Well, should we do this again sometime?" He said yes and we said goodbye.

I'm not going to call him. I'm leaving the ball in his court, so to speak. We'll see if he calls.