So next date was Sunday afternoon. Because I was so nervous getting back into the game, we’d been bantering back and forth in instant chat for several days. I knew better than to get my hopes up too much, but the banter was really good. What girl wouldn’t swoon for a conversation like this:
Me: “What are you doing?”
Him: “Searching the couch for rubber bands and refrigerating them.”
Me: “Um, okay, I’ll bite. Why?”
Him: “They last longer that way.”
(I googled this later by the way and it is totally true.)
Me: “What do you use rubber bands for?”
Him: “I don’t really, but I figure if I need one it’ll be better if it lasts longer.”
Okay, so that was one of the more bizarre examples, but generally banter was lighthearted and speedy and we didn’t run out of things to say to each other.
Anyway, I arrived at the little pub and found he was the only person there, sitting in a corner, looking pleasingly like the photo of him, if a little smaller than expected. But I’m used to that.
I went over and introduced myself and he smiled and nodded. He already had a drink, so I ordered a beer from the bar and joined him.
“So, how’s your day been?” I asked.
“What have you been up to?”
I waited for some more, but no more was coming. He just sort of sat there with this little smile on his face looking anywhere but at me.
“Rubber bands all frozen?”
Another smile, but no answer.
I sat there for 20 minutes trying to get something – anything – out of him. But every response was monosyllabic and gave me no opening for anything else. Finally I made my excuses and left.
I arrived home to a message from him: “I had a great time. Can I see you again soon?”