I mostly use Tinder to pass the time on the subway. But about three weeks ago, I matched with The Marathoner. Given the information provided in one’s Tinder profile, all I knew was she enjoyed running and was highly attractive. She sent me a message asking about the Charles Dickens’ quote I had in my profile; the next thing you know we had our first date planned. We decided on going to a local brewery that was having a bacon party.
We shared a few flights and enjoyed lots of bacon. We talked about the usual first date topics: our likes dislikes, what we do for a living, etc. I’d said it went very well, as far as first dates go. We had good chemistry and she seemed like the type of woman I was looking for; fun, intelligent, athletic, and attractive. When it came time to part ways at the subway, I asked her out on a second date and she said yes.
As with the first date, our second date went well: we started at an observatory to view the stars before making our way back to the city for drinks. We spent most of the time laughing and enjoying each other’s company and were well on our way to third date territory. I walked her home and suggested a third date. She said yes, so we said goodnight and shared our first kiss.
I noticed, though, that she seemed apprehensive when we kissed. It’s not that I expected (or wanted) my tonsils cleaned, but that there was a decided lack of passion and excitement to the kiss. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. During our dates, there was practically non-stop laughter and we rarely stopped smiling. She seemed eager to see me again and we texted often when we weren’t together.
Regardless, I was still excited for our third date as everything else seemed to be going well. (For what it’s worth, I had brushed my teeth before the date and we hadn’t eaten anything; I also had popped an Altoid in the bathroom before we left the bar.)
Time flew by and before we knew it, date three was upon us. I had suggested to the Marathoner about going to a local music venue for a blues band and dinner and she told me how much she loved blues. So off we went.
But when sat down for dinner, I could sense that something with the Marathoner was off — the same apprehension and lack of interest present that I first noticed when we kissed. She wasn’t exhibiting any outward signs of disinterest, but there was just a sixth sense I had about it. Until, that is, she was seemingly unable to talk about anything other than the lead guitarist and vocalist; half the dinner conversation revolved around the guy. It was kinda like she felt compelled to talk to me during dinner but wasn’t interested in me anymore so she kept talking about the guitarist.
After the show was over, I walked her to the subway stop. She leaned in to kiss me again, but the same apprehension was present as it was before. Still, we kissed goodnight and agreed to call each other in a few days to see about a fourth date, as both of our schedules were busy.
At this point, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling anymore. I still thought all of the same things about her that I did on the first date — she’s smart, fun, athletic and attractive — but I got the feeling I was more into her than she was into me. At the risk of seeming over-eager, that’s when I decided to let her take the initiative and call me instead.
Well, several days have passed since we were supposed to call and figure out our date. The crickets are chirping. Eventually, I stopped waiting and called; it rang twice and went to voicemail. I guess that answers that.
I’m disappointed things with the Marathon fizzled out, but I’ve dated enough to know getting yourself too hyped up early on will lead to disappoint more often than not. I would have preferred her calling to see if we could revive the initial spark, but that you just gotta roll with the punches sometimes. Luckily, I just had a great first date and a second planned for tonight. Wish me luck!