Makeover My Heart

Last night was Date 2 with Nick from Chicago. He is 39, a financial consultant, 6'0", looks like Jason Bateman (but if JB hadn't updated his wardrobe in the last 10 years. Oh well.) Date 1 was a good one- cute wine bar, romantic walk and swanky drink at the Top of the Mark, little kiss at the cab. He asked me out again at the end of the date, followed up with a text at 10:30 the next morning. On it! Into me! Hmmm... I'm not familiar. What exactly is going on here?

Dinner at 8, I was more or less on time, and then... I drove. After spending the week figuring out the optimal SF transportation dating formula (bus to, taxi home, btw) I somehow forgot it all. I got in my car and drove there like the LA girl that I am. I will never, ever make this mistake again. After 25 minutes of looking for parking, I made it in to meet Nick. Cute, not mad, (and still dressed as if it was 1998. Oh well.) Dinner was good, conversation flowed, my honest assessment was that this man was digging my scene. Always a good feeling. I, on the other hand, was still on the fence about him. Like the Bachelorette, I felt that he wasn't "opening up" enough. I just didn't have a good sense of who this guy was. We went for a drink afterwards, he kissed me in the bar- not quite sure. Not bad, but not socks-knocking.

I drove him home (another hazard of being the one with the car) and he asked me up. I strategically parked in 2 hour parking, just in case he had any other ideas. And then- The Apartment. It was in one of those big character-free buildings- not my favorite, but fine. It was neat enough, and decorated in true bachelor fashion with weird posters and a really big bean bag. Again, nothing I haven't seen before- fine. But on my very short house tour, I immediately spied 2 items that sent off little "Alert!" signals in my head. Number One was a small framed photo of Cary Grant on a book shelf. Seriously. And then, above the (decidedly unsexy) bed, there was Number Two. A great big print of a Warhol Marilyn Monroe. Say what? Now, I'm no homophobe, except when it comes to my dates. I suddenly felt like I knew why this "catch" was single, why he was 'holding back"... My mind was reeling with thoughts of Tom Cruise-style sexual repression. I asked him about CG, and he said it was the photo that was in the frame when he purchased it. He kept it up for.. "a joke"? I'm not sure how funny that joke is. I couldn't bear to ask about Marilyn. Hopefully they are holdovers from an ex (of the female variety.) I tried to put this stuff out of my head and got down to the business of a little make-out. Again, not the best, but not terrible... meh. What was wrong with me? Here was this handsome, successful guy who was clearly into me, and now I was the one holding back. Maybe it was Cary looking on, maybe it was the need for a wardrobe update. But isn't that all just superficial? Is Mike just a makeover away from fantastic?

Date 3 is Wednesday, so I guess i'll know more then...