The Photographer

The first lesson was good - middle of the day, outdoors on a Sunday.  I say lesson versus date, because there was no meal, physical contact or excessive conversation beyond the subject of cameras, shutter speed and available light.

The second lesson a week later led into a date.  Dinner was accompanied by a complete (and unprompted) download of all of his baggage - ex-wife, two kids, career crisis. It was the least romantic date I’ve ever been on - he wasn’t even attempting to woo.  On the other hand, every question I had was answered and the answers were actually pretty reasonable - married young, two kids he adores and sees often, and a lust for yet another advanced degree. The night ends with a really sweet, tender kiss that went on until it was too cold to continue.  

I spend the rest of the week thinking about that kiss, which leads me to check my phone and e-mail continuously for the follow-up date request.  Nothing.  A few flirtations here and there, but no plans.  I end the week in a funk, as I realize he’s just not that in to me - such a cliché.  I also realize I’d rather spend my time being kissed than checking my blackberry.  In order to up the odds of the former, I have to recruit more aggressively.  Match.com welcomed me back with open arms.  

 The End.