You know you shouldn't go on a second date when:
1. You've had to reschedule it twice and every time you postpone, rather than sighing at the complexities of life, breathe a sigh of relief.
2. You consider rescheduling it a third time but don't want to be an asshole.
3. You consider canceling altogether. Up until half an hour before you're scheduled to meet.
4. You would really just rather poke around the bookstore. Alone.
5. When he calls to tell you he's arrived--a courtesy that shouldn't be an annoyance--you groan, "ugh, not again."
And so goes my second go-round with Straight Anthony Rapp.
While on a trip with my family, my sister encouraged me to give him another chance because "it's a second date, you're still figuring things out." And he'd asked me, so why not? We made plans to meet several days after I returned from vacation.
Then I got sick. We rescheduled.
Then my schedule got too full. We rescheduled again.
Then I realized I really didn't want a second date with this guy.
If I were a nicer person and had nicer feelings, I would like him. He's smart. He's in graduate school on a career track he's passionate about. He's cute. We like a lot of the same stuff.
I'm just not feeling it.
If I were a smarter person, I would have sent a gracious text message or perhaps made a phone call saying he's a great guy, but I don't think it's meant to be. Instead, I felt this would make me a jerk. Possibly I was afraid of what he'd say or not say.
So instead, I met up with him and right off said I had a deadline so I couldn't stay out too terribly long. (I did have a deadline. It just wasn't for several days.)
"Oh, I get it," he responded with an edge in his voice.
"Um, sorry?" I ventured timidly. We were walking down the street so I couldn't see his face and I didn't know if he was kidding. And as horrible as this is, I was kind of hoping he was being a jerk so I'd have an excuse to end it right there.
He started laughing. "I'm teasing. That's what I do with people I know well."
Except you don't know me well, I wanted to say. You don't know me well at all.
We proceeded to a tea shop, which was totally crowded with people studying and getting their Sunday evening ya-yas out (well, as much as you can get your ya-yas out in a tea shop). Basically, there was only one stool, which Straight Anthony Rapp graciously let me have while he stood and we made conversation over tea while trying not to upset the precariously balanced laptop next to us. He asked questions that sounded like they came out of a First Date 101 handbook and the conversation didn't flow at all.
He is awkward. So horribly, horribly awkward.
I'm not sure if it's an age thing, a graduate school thing, or another thing altogether. He's 25 and may not have grown into himself just yet. Granted, Rock is 25 too, but Rock is also a freak of nature. I kind of wonder if it's due to grad school, which I know firsthand turns otherwise intelligent, articulate people into stammering bastions of social awkwardness when faced with a non-classroom situation. Or it could just be his personality and he'll have it forever.
(And as I mentioned in my first Straight Anthony Rapp post, there's that annoying, annoying voice. We were talking about The King's Speech, and he mentioned that he himself had a speech impediment that he was coached out of. I don't think his therapist did a good job.)
Whatever it is, I don't want to wait around for him to grow out of it or fix it.
We got out of there, but not as fast as I would like, and parted ways. Thankfully, he didn't try to kiss me. I've never been good at hiding my feelings, and though I really did my best, I'm sure he picked up on my lack of enthusiasm.
I haven't heard from him since.
I'm sorry, Straight Anthony Rapp. There should have never been a second date in the first place.
So what has Doris learned, boys and girls?
If after date one, I'm not hankering to see you again, at least a little, NEXT!
Oh, and dude needs a good voice.
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