187: No, I Can't Get No Rise...

...Not from a Mister Nice.

That, and I might be totally shallow.

Okay, let me channel my 16 year old girl's voice to tell this tale of... of... of something. I need a bubble gum.

So like, a few weeks ago, I sign up for this, like, on-line personals, and like, you know how I love, like, being pro...laxative or whatever, cuz, you know, a gurl needs something to sink her teeth into, right? like, especially when it involves, like, jewels and the man they're attached to, and so like, I'm sitting and waiting, but like brushing my hair, too, cuz, a gurl has to work to get all the jewels she wants, because Heather, who's had all kinds of jewels, said to Heather, who's into long, thick pendants and who then told Heather, who has a thing for pearl necklaces and who then told me, that only hot girls can get as many jewels as they can possibly want, and some girls are born pretty, but even they got to work hard to get, like, hot, and so like, I have to work hard, too, and like I think Heather's soooo right, cuz like, Oh my God, a guy re-spon-si-ated back! Brushing my hair worked! So like, we exchange e-mails, right? and he's like, "you're cute," and I'm like, "hee hee hee," and like, we decide to meet.

Okay, there weren't any Heathers, brushing-the-hair's, you're-cute's, or hee-hee-hee's, but we did decide to meet...

I'm early. I'm fifteen minutes early, so I decide to walk around my favorite temple, the Barnes&Noble at Union Square, and I think, while I wait, I might as well find a potential read to buy. I'm on the fourth floor, leafing through a photo book of Japanese youths in their bizarre anime-inspired fashion get-ups, dreaming like Fantine dreaming a dream in time gone by, when life was worth living. But I have a task at hand. It's almost six, I send a text message telling the guy that I'm on my way down. It's 6:10, and he has yet to respond. "Whatever," I think, and continue on with my other task of finding a book. It's a good thing that I haven't heard back from the guy, because I did find another Augusten Burroughs's book, "Dry." I'm in line and I decide that after paying for the book, I'd just go because it's 6:25 and the fool most likely ditched me. But as soon as the money has exchanged hands, I get a text message. And there, just a few yards away, is the guy.

(Unfiltered and unadulterated) First Impression:
He's tall, around six feet, and... his mid-drift needs some work... Yeah, He's a bit... chubby. FAT!!! But his face picture matches the real face. Cute-ish. He's got a gentle face. He's not a fashion crazed queen, and not a slob either. He seems like a down to earth, regular Joe. That's never a bad thing, right? FAT!!! Okay, fine, he's got a stomach, but it's not like I've a body men and women would drool over. FAT, FAT, FAT, FAT!!! But, but, but... he's got a kind aura about him... (and I hear an echo...) faaaaaaat... (I'm a horrible person.)

To prove to myself that I am not a horrible person, I shall get to know this guy. It's a vow I'll keep even if it means my body ends up chopped up and thrown into the lovely waters of the Hudson, and besides, like I said before, he has a kind aura about him, he seems nice, truly, so my ending up as fish food is highly unlikely. I walk towards him and extend my hand, and he extends me a Sunflower. A sunflower, people! Last time I checked, I didn't have a vagina. What would make any guy think it would be a good idea to give a flower to a guy? But, I admit, it is a sweet gesture.

Since we had agreed beforehand to walk around to find somewhere to imbibe some caffeinated goodness, walk around we do. We head towards... somewhere. I have no preference and I don't think he does either, so we walk aimlessly. I had hoped he'd be more assertive and suggest a place to go. But I guess not. So, while conversing about little things, I veer and steer our way to Bleecker, and I hint at various locales good for drinking coffee. But to no avail, he does not make any suggestions. So I decide we'll walk. Maybe, it'll be good for him to walk and walk and walk. He does need to lose some weight! (God, I'm evil.)

Okay, now, I know, some of you may say that I should have been the one wearing the pants, but remember, I was the one who received the flower. Which to me means that he expected me to be the demure one, defering to the wisdom of the dominant one, him. And besides I'm Asian, so I'm supposed to be passive. (I'm so lame.)

Whilst in the midst of our energic power walk, our conversation's main topic turns to alcoholic beverage and food. I share that I can be a bit fickle when it comes to Japanese food, and he tells me that there's a fusion place he heard about where Japanese food takes on some Brazilian and Peruvian influences, and we both shudder. Then, lo and behold, there we are, standing in front of the very restaurant we were disparaging with glee. At this point, I just need some alcohol (just because it's a Friday and I had a long work week); the idea of coffee has passed and gone ten blocks ago. And here is as good as any place to drink. I suggest we look at their drink menu and see if we want to go in for drinks. I can't find the drink menu, but ask if we should go inside to see. He shrugs. Then, I don't totally recall what I exactly said, but it makes him make the decision for us not only to stay and drink but have a sitdown dinner at the restaurant we thought was... how do I politely say this... oh yeah, shit.

Maybe it's me. I think people have a hard time reading me.

Like, oh my God, I get to eat expensive sushi, which like, I wasn't really in the mood for! Like, yay!

Yet, I do sense a genuine kindness from him; he wants to accommodate my fickle whims. And I want to find out what he thinks of me.

To be continued.