Robert and the Real Girl

Alright, so I'm kinda sorta seeing Fanny now. It's unfortunate that she was given the least appealing pseudonym (it's appalling, really), yet she's the one who emerged from the rubble. Penny still emails from time to time, and I respond, but only because I feel rude just ignoring her. And I stupidly borrowed two movies from her, so I'm gonna have to see her again at some point. Hopefully she'll be high and won't remember it. ("How did my movies get here? And why is there Cheeto dust caked all over my fingers?") And Gabby...well, I think it goes without saying that I haven't heard from her again. To be fair, I haven't called her either, but...come on.

Anyway, now there's Fanny. Aw, screw it. Her name is Sonia. Whew. Isn't that much prettier?

Okay then, so we've hung out three times so far. A brief rundown...

Last Wednesday (June 18th): We had been emailing back and forth for awhile now (hold on, checking my gmail...good gravy! May 20th!), but had never met in person. She had a family...er...situation...and was more than a little busy. Anyway. We continued to email despite all the shit she had going on. She was sharp. She seemed nice. But. Well, anyone can be clever on email. There's lots of editing and revising...it's just easier. But! Eventually we started talking on the phone from time to time, and luckily, she was still sharp. Still nice.

We finally landed on a date for our...uhh...date. Wednesday. 6:00. The original plan was to meet for drinks after work, but it was revised to include dinner. We went to El Tiempo. A Mexican restaurant is perfect for a first date because it's casual, not overly romantic, kinda silly and if the margaritas are good, the tension disappears pretty quickly. So we had margaritas, we talked, we ate. There was some nervousness/awkwardness, but it wasn't overwhelming. We asked the standard "getting to know you" questions, but because we'd been emailing for so long, there wasn't much else to learn. So we were forced to create (gasp!) actual conversation. Which can be a lot to ask on a first date. But it was fine. She was funny (genuinely) and she seemed sweet. And she was cute in person (never a guarantee).

Eventually, the check came, I paid, we started to gather our things. This always presents a critical crossroads for a date. Do we say our goodnights? Do we go to a bar? Do we go back to your place?! Well, I wasn't ready to go home and I certainly didn't think it was going so well that I could invite myself back to her apartment. So I asked if she wanted to head over to a bar for some drinks.

The bar was good. We sat outside, we had beers. To be honest, I may have overindulged just a little. She was keeping the pace, so when the waitress would ask if I wanted another one...well, sure, why not? I should've turned down that last one. I wasn't falling over or slurring my speech or saying inappropriate things. I was just...impaired. Foggy. Not sharp. It was fine, but I was disappointed in myself.

So I drove her home (drinking and driving! Alright!) and walked her to the door. She gave me a quick hug and disappeared inside. Hmm. Okay. It was nice, but. Well. I mean. Okay, fine, she didn't have to kiss me on the first date and it's entirely possible that all that beer made me smell like an old shoe anyway. Still. Did I misinterpret things? I thought she kinda liked me?

Last Friday (June 20th): Well, as I mentioned in my last post, Friday night was the fiesta at my apartment. So this wasn't exactly a "date," as much as it was "come on over, we can hang out in the context of a party." Which is ideal, except that I was the one hosting the party. Kinda added a degree of difficulty. Anyway,

She showed up at around 10:30. The fiesta started at 6:00. Which means I'd been drinking for the previous four and a half hours. Granted, I wasn't pounding beers or doing shots or kegstands or any of that. But. Well, if I wasn't cooking, I was standing outside chatting with a beer in my hand. I don't care who you are, four and a half hours of that will do something to anybody. Luckily, I'm a pretty agreeable drunk. I discovered in college that I could mask my drunkenness pretty well. So I don't think she knew anything was afoot. Anyway, I spent a lot of time running around and talking to people and catching up with people I hadn't seen in ages, so I didn't get to spend too much time with her. But I feel like I paid a lot of attention to her and made her feel comfortable.

Toward the end of the night, she and I went out and sat on the stairs leading up to my balcony. We talked for a little bit. Then it dawned on me. "Kiss her, you fool!" However. Her friend immediately walked out behind us, ready to leave. So I walked them to Sonia's car, we shared another quick hug, and off she went. Dammit.

Again, I get it. Her friend was standing right there. We weren't just gonna start going at it. But. Shit.

Wednesday night (June 25th): Considering the booziness of the previous two dates, I decided to propose a wholesome third date. To be honest, I'd never been on an alcohol-free date, and I thought it might be fun. But I was also a little apprehensive. It's not that I'm a drunk, you just need something to ease the awkwardness a little, right? Right?! Am I a drunk?!

Anyway, the plan was: museum, cafe, whatever. She came over at 5:30 and we walked over to the Menil. Walking may not have been the best idea, because by the time we got there, I had a pretty nice layer of sweat covering my entire body.
It's only 0.7 miles, but in Houston, that feels like 74 miles. Because it's fucking hot outside always.

Anyway, it was nice. I had pretty low expectations about the artwork, because I knew the entire museum was made up of one couple's private collection. And really, how much shit can you collect without eventually running into those eternal obstacles: time and money? Well, the de Menils did quite well. From Wikipedia:

The Menil Collection, located in Houston, Texas, United States, is a museum that houses the private art collection of founders John and Dominique de Menil. Dominique was the heiress to the Schlumberger oil-drilling fortune, and John was an executive of the company. The Renzo Piano-designed museum opened to the public in 1987 and houses the de Menil's privately-assembled collection of the twentieth century. It is made up of approximately 15,000 paintings, sculptures, prints, drawings, photographs, and rare books. The Museum's Surrealist collection is its greatest strength. The museum's collection includes the early to mid-twentieth century works of Yves Tanguy, René Magritte, Max Ernst, Man Ray, Marcel Duchamp, Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso among others. The museum also maintains an extensive collection of pop art and contemporary art from such noted artists as Jackson Pollock, Andy Warhol, Mark Rothko, Robert Rauschenberg and Cy Twombly. Also included in the museum's permanent collection are Antiquities and works of Byzantine, Medieval and Tribal art.

So it was surprisingly good. The problem with going to a museum is that it can turn into an intellectual pissing contest. You know, everybody standing there scratching their chins thoughtfully. But I've always taken a pretty instinctive approach to art museums -- if I like it, I like it. If I don't, I don't. I'm not gonna stand there and try to talk myself into a painting or pretend I understand its importance regardless of who painted it or how much it's worth. So we did a lot of looking and nodding and giggling (surrealist art is pretty easy to poke fun at).

Afterwards we went to the Hobbit Cafe, which is her favorite restaurant. It was really good. The premise is a little nerdy, but you can't deny how good their sandwiches are. And I kinda loved that it was her favorite restaurant in Houston. I like a "sandwich and chips" girl, what can I say.

After dinner, we walked outside and it was still light out. Hmm. Well, I wasn't ready for the date to be over (and I don't think she was either), so I said so. But it's our wholesome date. What now?! To be honest, my first thought was: bar. I mean, we'd done the wholesome thing...now let's go get drunk!! But she suggested we "hang out," which was okay too.

We went to my apartment and watched the National Geographic Channel. First a documentary on meth. Terrific. Then a documentary on the Amish.* Anyway, we sat close to each other on the couch, but there was some separation. She was holding a pillow. At this point, I was beginning to psyche myself out. I mean, this was our third date! Did she just want to be friends? What the hell was going on here?! So I awkwardly grabbed her hand (gimme!) and we...well, kinda just held hands. You know, with the finger rubbing and all that. I felt like an Amish kid. Anyway. That was at least some clue that she was interested in more than just friendship, right?! But like I said, I was beginning to psyche myself out and I was getting nervous and the opportunity to pounce just never presented itself.

* Did you know that when Amish kids turn 16 they have this free-pass period called Rumspringa where they're given free reign? They can smoke, they can drink, they can drive cars(!), they can wear normal clothes and they can even spend the night together! With no repercussions! I guess it's their one shot at checking out the outside world, because once they commit the church, all those shenanigans come to an abrupt end. There was an interesting side-story in the documentary about an Amish drug dealer (seriously?) and an Amish kid with a meth problem. I love when National Geographic documentaries overlap.

I walked her to her car (again) and we hugged (again). At this point, I thought "Screw it. I'm kissing her. This is taking way too long." So I did. She smiled politely. DAMMIT! It wasn't too much! It couldn't have been! It wasn't too soon! What the hell?! When she got home, she texted me goodnight and said she was sorry for making our kiss awkward. Maybe she's just kinda awkward? I mean, she is a geologist after all. Not to stereotype scientist types, but...well? Anyway, she said it was "the perfect ending to our wholesome date," so clearly she was okay with it. Who knows. Baby steps.