Saturday, February 21, 2009

Ben from the Past

Age: 36
Height: 6'1" (although he seemed a lot taller)
Occupation: Projector operator / box office cashier / student

Admittedly, after discussing the whole Ben dilemma with some friends, I was really not interested in meeting with him. I wasn't sure if I could deal with both a clinical illness and a minimum wage job all in one person. I know, it's shallow.

We agreed to meet for a "not-coffee" (he doesn't drink it) at a little place near both of us. It is a small cafe I was introduced to by another friend a week or so ago and I wanted to go somewhere local. As an aside, when I walked in, the owner said to me, "Hey, you were here last week!" and gave me the thumbs up. I think this will be my new favorite local place.

Anyway, all morning, I was dreading having to get dressed and get ready to meet for 11. I wanted to laze around for awhile, read my book on the deck and just enjoy the beautiful Saturday morning weather. I took no real care in getting ready - I almost didn't bother washing my hair (but I did) and then I was going to just put it up in a messy chignon, which I did not do. I straightened it but only half-heartedly. I wasn't going to put any makeup on but I did. I wore my purple cowboy shirt (it's that cowboy plaid but with purple and olive green - I love it but it's not very feminine) with jeans and my green casual runners. I looked presentable, but I most certainly did not put the same effort I would have if I had been excited to meet with him. I felt kind of bad for not caring, but at the same time, what did it matter?

I walked there - might as well get the Vitamin D and fresh air right? When I got to the cafe, he was already in the lineup, checking out the chalkboard menu. He was taller than I remembered and fairly fit. I walked in and as he turned his head to look at me, I remembered why I had been so smitten with him during our singing class. He really is attractive. Not in the pretty-boy sense, but he's tall in that stately way and he has short, brown curls and blue-green eyes with long eyelashes that I can't achieve with curl-formula mascara and a eyelash wand. I can't remember if he smiled, but I do remember he stuck out his hand to shake mine and I had to apologize for the frozen one I extended to meet his.

He had picked a quiet spot on the other side of the cafe and once we placed our orders, we went to go sit. For the most part, the conversation was good. We have a few things in common, which I was happy to find out. Throughout the conversation, I kept looking at him thinking, "How can you be depressed?" He made allusions to his illness once or twice but it wasn't the underlying thought in the conversation. I was even ready to forgive the whole job thing. And then I asked him if he lived near his mom and sister.

He said, "Oh, I live WITH my mom." Oh.

You know, that's the last thing that I should be judgmental about because I lived with my parents for such a long time. And I know it's probably just because he's trying to get back on his feet, settled, etc. I know, I'm making excuses when I don't have to.We parted ways with discussions of getting together again, maybe for some ice skating or an opera. I have to admit that despite my initial resistance of this morning, plus the small bombshell of his roommate being his mom, I like him. I guess we'll see how it goes. Baby steps, right?