Sunday Scrabble

I played a six hour game of interrupted Scrabble with Josh on Sunday.  He beat me.  Jerk.

He made Cinnamon Rollups,  set out fruit, prosciutto, and cheese and made a big ol' cup of coffee for us girls.  His house is full of his art, reclaimed and reworked furniture, plaster and exposed brick... you can see his hand in the whole place.  It was so comfortable and cozy.  We went for brunch and stayed until 4.  Crazy right?

The Girl played his guitar, coloured in his sketch book, and rearranged his photographs.  Josh never once looked alarmed.  He's so perfect... other than that broken baby maker.  Seriously, by the end of the day, The Girl was hanging over his legs hanging out.  And she hates people.  He also has a dog and a bearded dragon, both of which were a total hit with the kid... like "trade slobber with the dog and squish her nose to the glass of the tank constantly" hit.  Josh laid out on the floor on his belly to sketch her a greeting card quality Santa.  I'm not going to lie - watching his reaction and delight in her made my ovaries cramp.

But, I wasn't looking for a sitter.  All that is marvelous, but what did I really think of him? 

He's got a great story telling bone, he's terrible thoughtful, a good host and homemaker,  his smile is quick and open, and his bum.  Oh my.  I can't believe I didn't get caught looking at it.  He flushes when he talks about the "why" he does stuff.  That makes me melty. 

Ouch, there goes my womb.

Brett - Date 1

Well, Brett is cute in that scruffy, manly, "I work outside doing manly work" (he has a commercial grounds company franchise) way.  He's also pretty serious, might be a little shy, has a nice smile when he shows it... and ummm... not grabbing my attention. 

We met at Starbucks to pop his Starbucks cherry... that's right, he'd never been.  THAT was fun.  We talked some Starbucks... talked coffee.. talked past weekend... talked colds... pretty exciting stuff.  I waited and listened for a "click"... silence.  Nothing going on there.  He is the kind of serious that pulls at me to do silly things and MAKE laugh, if you know what I mean... like poke a finger in his uptight butt as he walks up stairs in front of me... but, I'm not sure we'll get to that. 

There was no "Nice to meet you" text as a follow up.  Men don't lose points for failing to do it, but they lose the opportunity to make me smile, thereby granting bonus points.

I can't remember ever talking about children beyond, "Yeah, I want them someday", with any one I've dated in my single gal life, and I've certainly never had a vested interest in a man's reply to a story about a child, or the answer to the question, "Have you spent much time with any kids".  Brett's reply to that... "Just my nephew... then I get to hand him back".  I think that is fairly standard for single man speak.  Single man dating is way harder conversation wise than single dad dating - my early thoughts on this.

He's pretty boring.  Maybe he thinks that of me and The Girl talk too.  But, I think we'll have coffee again.  There's nothing going on, and maybe he'll sneak up on my affections.  We'll see. 

The (Up)Date.

I have to preface this post with a truly horrible secret about the SMILF.  I rarely get terribly nervous about anything.  Truly - I didn't stress about pushing a baby out for nine months of pregancy, I don't flip out at "job evaluation time"... This is for the best.  That paragraph is NOT the truly horrible secret.

If you have a delicate nature, or are eating lunch, close this blog.

I poop when I'm nervous.  Like, I have to be REALLY, REALLY, REALLY nervous for it to happen.  But when I am, like in the hour preceding a job interview I desperately want, or before a 1st date, or 5th, if I really like the guy, I poop a lot.

In pre-The Girl days, I would just suggest meeting for a beer, and I'd have one before I went, which relaxed me.  I smoked at the time, so I burnt a lot of nervous energy at the expense of my lungs.  Neither of these are appropriate for a job interview, a lunch date, or an evening date where I have to come home and parent alone later that night.  Let's face it - cabs cost money, as does child care, and single parenting pays very poorly.  Lunch coffee is easiest on my pocket book.  It just doesn't allow me to get a little oiled with alcohol.

Anywho, back to my new nervous habit, pooping.  It has it's upside.  I feel VERY svelte for every first date.  There's NO chance of accidentally tooting over coffee, that's all gone.  And, fortunately, it passes when I actually get up to go to my date.  It's the sitting and stewing.  I can't take it.

I'm telling you this because I'd like to direct you to this blog post, by SINGLE DAD LAUGHING... who's advice was NOT timely in my case, but handy, for my next first date.

Yeah, there's going to be another first date.  This was not a match.

Brian was nice.  I felt very relaxed with him.  He reminded me of any good ol' boy I'd find having coffee in any of my hometown gas station/restaurants (yes, we have those where I grew up).  I would TOTALLY hang out with him again and play crib or euchre over a beer.  But there's no chemistry.  At all.

Now, how do I tell a nice guy that?  Dodging emails, calls and texts would be my old way.  Seriously, I sucked at being a nice person. 

Suggestions?  My only thought is an email.  I'm a phone a phobe, and I don't think one date warrants a call.