I am about to jump out of my skin.
Why hasn't the Russian tried anything yet????
We went out again Monday night. Vietnamese food, lovely local place not far from our first date. I was late due to GoogleMaps' NOT taking into account that a certain bus en route would put me in a shitty neighborhood. (Apparently there's not an app for that.) When I texted him, he said he'd order us an appetizer and asked if I had any food restrictions/preferences. (See, Rivers-a-like? THAT'S how you do it!)
Once I arrived, the back-and-forth began.
I may have alluded to this in my last Russian-related post: the guy is kinda pretentious. I mean, who says, "I've led a pretty interesting life" with no irony whatsoever? Also, he's a huge tea snob. I find this kind of hilarious.
But here's what I'm discovering, or maybe just putting into words what I knew all along:
I like arrogant guys.
First, the word "arrogant" has been used to describe me more than once. (I'd argue that a confident woman is more likely to have a negative word pinned on her than a confident man, but that's a whole 'nother post and Rock is totally rolling his eyes as he reads this.) Therefore, it's one more thing we have in common!
Second, there ARE arrogant dumb guys in the world. However, many of the arrogant dudes I've interfaced with have at least a modicum of intelligence and life experience. And really, I have no patience for dumb guys, no matter how cute (Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine, I'm looking at you). I'd rather date someone who errs on the side of smart, because at least then we can have a conversation.
Finally, I like arrogant guys because I love, love, LOVE taking them down a peg.
Which I did with the Russian. Many times. Hey, it's a fun time for me and a test all rolled into one smart-assed package. If a man doesn't like to be challenged, that's a deal-breaker, ladies.
Fortunately for him, the Russian kept up. In fact, I was just about to give up on him (well, maybe, he IS awfully cute), when the conversation came around to Joel McHale.
"Do you know him?" I asked the Russian.
And the Russian turned to me and uttered in the most serious voice I've ever heard out of him:
"Community is my favorite show ever."
Sold.
Granted, there's more to my attraction than a mutual love for one of the best TV shows of all time. (Not to mention, as we discovered, a mutual love for Italian mob movies.) The conversation's awesome. I'm attracted as hell. And there's no way this can go long-term. Check, check and check.
Which is why I was really disappointed when all I got was a hug.
As Rock told me later when we met up for drinks, it's possible the Russian just goes really slowly. Also, we haven't been alone yet, and I've never EVER been one for PDA's. Even hand-holding. ESPECIALLY hand-holding. For some reason it's just always bugged me.
And the Russian wants to see me again. I'm going out of town for several days, so the onus is on me to contact him when I return, but . . . yeah. He wants to see me again.
It doesn't help that I'm a 30-year-old woman and therefore operating on hot-to-trot mode at all times.
Rock says next time I can have him over to my place. When it comes to dates, three is often the magic number. Right?
I mean, even a makeout or an errant tongue would be nice at this point.
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