The concert date

The phone rang just before 7pm. I was walking along the city streets on a balmy evening, seeing the tourists and occasional Halloween revelers roaming about. Limey had called to firm up plans for our upcoming concert date. Now, of course, the word "date" has never formally been mentioned during any conversations between the two of us.

I warned Limey that I might have trouble hearing him as I walked down the street. He asked if it would be better to speak later, but I assured him this was the best time to chat since I wouldn't be home until late.

Since the concert started at 8pm, he suggested we arrive in the neighborhood a couple hours early for dinner. Limey then asked if I knew of any places to eat near the venue. I indicated that I wasn't sure. (Besides, I'm not sure what he has in mind in terms of $$$ so I didn't want to set an expectation by making a decision.) He said we'd play it by ear. The plan was to pick me up from my home. He requested that I sent him an e-mail with my address.

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Date evening came, and I was running late. With about 30 minutes before his expected arrival, I scurried about my room trying to figure out what to wear. I chose a silk skirt with a rose print. Next, I debated whether to rip the price tag off of a recently purchased black lace top. At first, I tried to maneuver the plastic leash through the size tag but eventually gave the price tag a quick yank to remove it. When I viewed the combination of the top and skirt in the mirror, I felt too matronly and tossed the skirt aside.

The door bell rang. The clock said that I still had 15 minutes. Could he be *that* early? I ran down to the door in my top and panties and peered through the peep hole. The man standing at the door had blond hair. I asked, "who is it," and learned that it was a local politician going to door-to-door about his election to city councilman. I expressed my apologies and told him that I was late and could not speak with him.

Back upstairs, I immediately settled on the safest clothing piece, my best pair of dark jeans. Next, with 10 minutes to go, I started on the makeup. In previous meetings with Limey, I've worn very neutral and minimal makeup. In this case, however, being that it was a dinner and concert, I felt the need to put on a bit more for the scene. I tried mascara but almost poked my eye. I settled for extra eye liner and dark eye shadow.

Our agreed upon pick up time came and went. I check my cell phone in case I had missed his call. The extra time gave me a chance to tidy up the entry area little but there was no hiding the mess in the living room. Limey arrived 15 minutes late. From our conversation, my guess is that missing a turn and almost forgetting the tickets delayed him.

He was dressed rather casually - jeans, a charcoal gray fleece pullover with a navy stripe across the chest. His car was sporty but appeared a bit neglected, either it hadn't been washed or the bright paint coat was going bad.

I don't know whether it was a desire to please or a casual attitude, but the choice of restaurants was random. He also informed me that he wasn't very hungry after eating excessively at a friend's Halloween party. As we walked, he said that when he used to go to concerts with his buddy, they'd always just pick a resturant somewhere new the venue like this. (Gee that makes me feel special... not.)

We walked past two restaurants - an American bistro and the other a stylish Mexican place. In each case, he'd look at the menu and say that it would be fine. We'd then stand there and ponder walking another block or stopping to eat. I wished he would take more of a decision-making role. We agreed to finish walking around the block.

A sign caught my eye because I recalled hearing about the restaurant in a recent tv segment. I wanted to walk down the alley to verify that this was indeed the place reviewed. The shiny Mercedes, Lexus, and BMWs parked in the lot, alerted me that it would likely be expensive and pointed my theory out to Limey. He hadn't noticed the cars until I mentioned it. We entertained ourselves by browsing the menu and continued on our way.

To the right, I noticed a familiar little hole in the wall. I had eaten here a few years ago when Pisces visited town. The menu looked different but it still offered similar Malaysian-Indonesian dishes. The place looked like it had been recently been painted and fixed up. We gave it a try. As we sat at our window table, I commented at how the seats were up high and my feet were dangling. He laughed.

Limey ordered an appetizer and I experimented with a vegetarian dish consisting of bean sprouts, basil, and peanut sauce. The conversation seemed to go well. Again, it was a lot of random conversations about sports, weekend activities, and family history. As we talked about the loss of family stories as grandparents pass away and family background, he commented, "is this appropriate topic at this point of knowing each other?"

It was the one moment in the entire night where the pretense of our concert outing was acknowledged. I wondered what he was thinking about me. Although I enjoyed the conversation, I couldn't help wonder why neither of us could seem to take that next step and talk about what we're like and what we're looking for out of this. I have to think that by a third date these topics should work themselves in.

I'm great at carrying on random conversations with people. It's why people have the impression that I'm intelligent, outgoing, and attractive. Unfortunately, when it comes to developing a more intimate, soulful understanding with others, I must rely on the other person to initiate. I am at a loss about how to broach those topics and how to create an environment that is conducive to honest and vulnerable admissions.

Dinner finished right on time. Limey requested the check. When it arrived, I offered to pay. He paused for a moment and thought out loud, "I paid for the concert tickets. Okay, sure."

Because we'd eaten so little, the total bill with tip was less than $17. Not exactly what I had imagined as a balance to the concert ticket. He thanked me, and we headed to the concert venue.

We entered the theatre just as the opening band started to play. The floor was decently filled with people. The problem with floor "seating" is that it's not meant for short people. The standing area consisted of three tiers, each about three steps lower than the previous. Each tier could hold people at least 10 rows deep. That's not good when you're 5 foot and the people ahead of you are 5' 10" plus. The key was to stand next to the aisle and lean to the left to watch the stage.

Neither of us had ever heard of the opening band. I stood in front of Limey as he needed the aisle view as well (though not as badly as me). There was little opportunity for conversation when you combined our standing positions with the loud music. It felt a little odd not to really talk yet stand next to each other for more than two hours.

The concert was decent. I was frustrated by the overwhelming base. It obscured the lead singer's voice. Limey referred to it as "muddy sound." He told me a little bit about the history of the band during the walk back to the car.

The drive home was random. I gained some insight into his attitidue, towards cars anyhow. He's driving a car that some 14-years-old that he bought five years ago because it had low mileage. His last car was also probably more than five years old when he got it. He drove it for six years until someone hit it. His attitude is to keep driving the car until it doesn't work. I believe in keeping cars for many years, but personally I think 12 years is my limit unless I had more than one car (or if I was driving kids).

There were times when I wondered if he thought my random comments were odd. As he was surfing the radio channels for something decent, I pondered to him whether my middle-aged co-worker would express any interest in a radio station I had recommended. She has asked for a suggestion on a more modern rock station to try out to expand her musical interests. That steered the conversation towards music collections for TV shows and thus to preferred tv shows.

Upon arriving in front of my place, I thanked Limey for the evening and told him I had a good time. He echoed the sentiment and said goodnight. It was clear he didn't plan to get out of the car to walk me to the door since the engine was still running and he sat still in his seat. I paused before reaching for the door handle thinking maybe he'd want to hug or say something more, but he didn't. So I said good night and hopped out of the car.

When I got inside, I wasn't sure whether to think the night had gone well. We have good conversations. We learn and exchange ideas. It's never dead serious, it's never a laugh a minute. It's pleasant. The past two times we've met up, he's always signaled wanting to see me again. I suppose that's why I was perplexed by his quietness at the end.

Overall, I think he grew on me a little. I still wish our conversations would get a little more personal, a little more to the point concerning dating (I know - how unromantic). Since his feelings and intent are unclear, I'm fine being a little ambivalent about what to do next. The truth is I still long for some butterflies. As nice a guy as he is, it's a little too mellow. Or, am I too old (and jaded) to feel that rush of excitement?