Mr. Unavailable #126: Who Falls First?

See The Imprinter, Business or Pleasure?, Spellbound, No Picnic in the Park and Squatter Love for the background on this one.

Two days after our turn on his twin mattress, #126 called saying he was starving.

“I’m going to go to that place...Angelina?” he said. I told him I’d be 10 or 15 minutes. “I might die, so is it OK if I go ahead and order?”

When I walked in, I was taken aback. Not because he had a half-eaten plate of food in front of him, but because he was sitting with a table full of people, all of whom I knew and some of whom he knew—he knew enough of them to sit with them anyway.

“When I came in, they asked if I wanted to sit with them because I was alone,” he said. “Isn’t that nice?”

I felt internal contradictions brewing. At the same time that I was annoyed that he didn’t get a table for two, I also desperately didn’t want the people to think we were together.

Fortunately, I knew more of the people than he did, so I managed to look non-contradicted. I told them funny details about my new job—a company proud of its employees’ can-do attitude; yet, somehow, every time I asked people to do something, they'd say, “I can’t do that.”

After they left, it was just the two of us. He looked at me, lingeringly. "What?" I asked. He just shook his head.

We talked. Here are a few things that we learned about each other:
• We learned that we both make the same amount of money (good for me as a writer, less good for him as a vet).
• He learned that, in my spare time, I write “essays about my life that have a larger point.” (i.e., I finally figured out how to describe this without describing it.)
• He learned that I’m a little bit psychic (I knew he was going to say his dog was a mastiff a second before he said it).
• And, I learned that back in the 1980s, he paid $250 for his apartment.

When the bill came, I started to get out my money but then stopped and said, “Is this a date?”

“Would you like this to be a date?”

“Yes,” I said.

“OK, it’s a date. I was kind of thinking maybe I’d pay but then you make the same amount I do…”

"And your apartment that you could rent for $2,000 a month, you bought for $250," I said.

He put down the money. "Thank you for dinner," I said sweetly.

He started walking back toward his place. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“We’re going to my place,” he said.

“Oh good, I’m glad we’re on the same page. But we can actually go back to my place because Zoe’s staying at a friend’s.”

We turned and started walking. He seemed hesitant.

“Is it OK if I don’t stay over,” he said. “I’d love to sleep in a bed with you sometime, but I’ve got to get up for work early tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t stay over the other night.”

Back at my place, we never made it past the sofa. It was vigorous and enjoyable, but, again, I simulated satisfaction. And when he left, I was glad he was gone. I liked my space. It wasn’t personal.

Signs of Hope: We were on the same page.

Red Flags: I didn’t mention it earlier, but at one point on the sofa something he was doing hurt and when I told him, he sounded a little angry, asking, “In a good way or a bad way?”

Turning Point: When he left. It was nice to get some action and then just be alone.

Diagnosis: For him: 1. Maybe I'm succeeding at making him fall for me. That's what the look at dinner felt like. 2. Looking at the red flag above, maybe his anger problem isn’t as far in the past as he thinks it is.
For me: I don’t care when I see him next + I’m glad he left = I’m not falling for him.