A Guy’s Point of View: First Date

Jack

Let me preface this post by saying this: I am not a smooth guy. I’m the kind of person who regularly waves back to someone when that person is actually waving to someone else. I say goodbye to people and then end up walking the same direction with them. I’m the guy asking the girl who just gained a little bit of weight when the baby is due- well, that hasn’t actually happened but I think it’s plausible. You get the idea. The subtleties of social cues are often lost on me.

Which brings us to tonight’s topic: how the flip to know what moves to make at the end of a first date?

This isn’t college anymore, first kisses don’t happen on a sloppy frat-house-basement dance floor. You have to have timing and panache and, worst of all – class!

Imagine if you will, the last fifteen minutes of your date (and ladies, this is going to be from the male perspective because, as you’ll find, I have about a snowball’s chance in hell of describing the female perspective):

Things have been going well, or at least it seems that way. Dinner is over and now you’re out together for a drink. She’s laughing frequently, and you touch her shoulder sometimes during a joke. The conversation shifts naturally between serious discussions of the human state (read: pseudo-philosophy bull shitting) and joking about common interests (read: how funny was that last 30 Rock episode? Very funny indeed).

Things could keep going, but bartender is starting to round up the last call. How is it 2:00 AM already (I live in northern New England, and cities have a looser definition here, e.g. more than five traffic lights.)? You met at the restaurant so you start walking her back to her car, which is in a parking structure. You decide it would be weird to walk her up the stairs too and stop at the base of the stairwell.

“I had a really great time,” you say. “I’d love to hang out again if you’re interested.”

She is, and tentative future plans are made.

OPPORTUNITY #1: This is where things get tricky. What’s the right move? Hug? Peck on the cheek? Kiss on the lips? Full blown make-out session? Invite her back to your place for a night of listening to smooth jazz and tantric love making (okay, the last one isn’t really an option you should consider. Unless that’s like, your bag. I’m not judging.)?

Maybe, since you’re already going to see each other again, it’s better to play things safe. (What a wimp!) Anyway, you go for the hug and it’s all very kosher. Your arms are tight and your hips are apart but not that far apart. It lingers a bit too and feels very natural. Let’s just say you wouldn’t confuse it with hugging your grandma. You say goodbye again, tell her you look forward to seeing her soon, and start walking back towards your car.

But wait, there’s more!

Before you’ve gone twenty feet, you hear her call out to you. Turns out the door to the stairwell is locked! Well you’re a gentleman, in the very loosest sense of the word, so you walk her up the curly-cue structure of the garage to where her car is actually parked on the third floor.

Conversation resumes and you joke in not so many words about how tit-freezing-ly cold it is (remember- northern New England in the winter). She finds her car and you reiterate the things you said before (remember what I said before about being bad at goodbyes?).

OPPORTUNITY #2: So that first hug went fine. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it right? You hug again, but this time you are gripped with sudden inspiration and give her a peck on the cheek as well. Except you miss and catch her lips! Funny how that happens, you have really terrible aim. She smiles, and you smile, and everything seems just fine. …aaand you say good-bye, turn around and start walking back to your car. Male perspective, you are killing me here. 

But wait, there’s even more!

Before you’ve gotten more than ten feet this time, she asks you if you would like a ride back to your car. You didn’t park far, and you’re looking forward to enjoying the warm glow of not fucking up a first date, but as I mentioned before it is tit-freezing-ly cold (that’s actually the term the weather forecasters use here). You gratefully accept her offer and jump in the passenger side door where the wind can’t get at your frozen ears. You direct her right, then straight then left, and you’re at your car.

OPPORTUNITY #3: Well hell- a kiss worked well once, why not take it out for another spin?

This time you don’t pull away quite as fast and appreciate the soft texture of her lips. For her part, she doesn’t seem to be bothered by your extremely rugged and manly beard (note: you’re an idiot for having a beard) and reciprocates your advances. Give yourself a mental high-five, male perspective. You enjoy the make-out session for some arbitrary quantity of time, abiding by the ‘quit while you’re ahead’ rule of thumb, and say good-bye for like the thirtieth time before transferring yourself from the warmth of her car to the cold of your car.

Congratulations! You stumbled your way through the end of the night and for some reason, she still wants to see you again!

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