Was it Wednesday following our second date at Tacos and Tequila? Maybe it was Thursday as I sat in my Dallas hotel room waiting for that night's surgeon dinner when he called back for a second date. Between custody arrangements and work we agreed on Friday at the Clay Pit.
Downtown Austin parking is a bear and moments before my cellphone dies. Where am I going exactly? Drats this city with its epicurious eateries and copious parking meters. People are crawling everywhere and there is no where to park on top of running late. Oh wait, there's a spot and the meter takes credit cards - woo hoo because I NEVER have cash. I scurry across Guadalupe St., trying not to trip in my 3-inch Ann Taylor heels.
Pushing through the heavy wood door I scan the lobby and find Mr. R sitting on the couch, patiently waiting. He is as cute as I remember and he stands to greet me. There it is again... connection as we say hello with our eyes. I can't help but hug him and he says hi with a kiss as if we'd met like this a hundred times before. The young women at the hostess stand watch us and I wonder what they're thinking. Are they jealous? There's an air of curiosity to say the least.
At our table we discuss the menu. With more familiarity and finesse than me he orders the Tikka Masala Chicken, Jeera Saag and Tandoori Vegetables. The waiter leaves and he turns to ask, "so how does it feel to be dating one of Austin's most eligible bachelors?" What? I laugh out loud, not to be rude but because he says it with such expectancy.
"It's an honor actually," I reply and we laugh. Apparently the Austin Dinner Club has nominated him. It occurs to me to be jealous, but this soon in? It's premature to say the least and the conversation turns to what his ex-wife said about the nomination?
"'What were their criteria?'" he mocks with sarcasm. Ouch!
"Never marry someone named after a season or a month," he continues. "You'll be constantly reminded of them... no way around it. 'It's almost summer time'. 'Summer will be here soon...'"
"Summer is hot," I add. He laughs and reveals a hint of sadness. I'm pretty sure he'd still be married if he'd had any choice in the matter.
He says he'll be 50 soon, not that you can readily tell. His curly dark hair carries the distinguished grays that give a middle-aged man character. He is fit, conservatively tan with barely a wrinkle. Ask him though and he'll bullet point a short list of flaws he'd correct with plastic surgery. "I'd pull this up here to remove the jowls and then these bags under my eyes." Yep, this is what I imagine someone from NY or LA talking like. It's all good though. Five years out postpartum from delivering twins and I'm still saving for a tummy tuck.
Our food arrives and we devour it with gusto. "Aren't you going to eat the rice?" he asks.
"No, carbs," I respond. A necessary tactic in my hectic life as a single mom with a demanding career and travel schedule. Exercise, outside of this yoga kick, is not a priority so weight control is managed through food portions. He takes it all in without judging when the bill arrives.
He searches for his wallet without success, "I can't find my wallet!" Thinking he's left it in his truck he darts out on the hunt for cash.
Returning to the table he offers up apologetically that he must have left it at home and asks if I can help him out. Of course I'll help. He comes across as honest and self-efacing even if he was (is) an actor.
A gentleman, he walks me to my car and there on the sidewalk we stand kissing goodbye. He tastes minty and clean and I want to eat him for dessert. "You have gum," I observe. "Do you have anymore?" Residual Tikka Masala cannot taste good.
"No, sorry," he says self-consciously. Oh, well. Kissing resumes and I hear them as they approach, strangers needing to pass us as we stand there arms and tongues. Indifferent, we continue a few minutes more when he acknowledges his neck hurts from leaning up to kiss me. It's the heels I think. In any case it's time to get on down the road. Another quick kiss and we say our goodbyes as I walk around to get in my car.
"Are you sure?" he asks looking back.
"About what?" I mildly shout up the street.
"About my height," So honest, vulnerable... endearing.
"Come here," I say. I return to the sidewalk and he walks back to meet me. I remove my shoes standing barefoot on the pavement, "See? Exactly the same." And his eyes lose some of their concern. We kiss again and this time without enduring another cramp in his neck.
There is no firm discussion, no absolute plan for another date, I only hope that there will be.
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