I haven’t been on Tumblr much lately, partially because I’ve been working full time and can’t find an excuse for why scrolling through mostly cat pictures is related to the task at hand, and partially because I feel guilty that I went on this date 2+ weeks ago and never wrote about it.

On basic plot level, it was the picture perfect date to tell the grandkids about. We went to a bar to play boardgames and drink beer, but decided to forgo the games in favor of chit chat and pizza. We stayed for two hours. It was dimly lit and mostly pleasant. He was cute and our conversation for the most part did not devolve into hapless staring into space. He was great–except for the moments when he wasn’t. As it goes.

First, there was the admission, with a definite hint of pride, that he bummed around Chicago playing videogames and letting his parents pay the rent for months before he finally even tried to find a job after college. There was the fact that he led with a discussion of my online profile, and worse, that my messaging style was “terse.” The showing me of a picture from his own profile, which I hadn’t looked at in a while because why would I? Then there was the minutes-long tirade about how great of a shoe salesman he was. The too-soon mention of ex-girlfriends. The assumption that we would go on a second date. And, at the end, the way-too-soon joke about us having sex.

In between, he would redeem himself. Realize that he had been talking for 10 minutes straight or share a nice analysis of Community. We shared a pizza and we ate and talked comfortably, without that much regard for looking perfect while trying to cram an oddly shaped, floppy mound of cheese into your mouth. But toward the end of the date, things got weirder. The silences grew longer, probably because we had reached a threshold of things you can ask a stranger in one sitting. But instead of just looking away like a normal awkward person, he stared at me with this loving look on his face, the kind of face I’ve only seen on the countenance of long-term boyfriends who do in fact love me. Too soon! Too soon! I plead an early workday as an excuse to leave.

Outside the bar, he lingered a bit. Touched my face, stroked it really, and leaned in to kiss me in a way that fully took to heart the “meet me halfway” style of makeout. Which is, to be frank, not very attractive. Really, I don’t want to stand there and look at your makeout face from a foot away, just hanging in the air. It begs the question: Am I allowed to just be like “nah” at that point? I prefer to be “attacked in the face,” as I later told one of my roommates. Surprised, ever so slightly. Not in a non-consensual way, just with a sense of timeliness that does not give me the opportunity to overthink things or re-examine whether I even find you attractive. Either kiss me, or don’t. Don’t just put your lips out there and assume I will find my way to them eventually.

None of my other OkCupid dates have kissed me after the first date. To be frank, no one has ever kissed me a on a first date period. But it was more awkward to run than to just kiss him, so I did. To his credit, it remained fairly innocent, but still. Anyone sitting near the windows of the bar could watch this, and I’m 90% sure I’m a bad kisser, at least on the first go. I crumble under pressure. Still unsure what to do as he looked at me with his weird loving face, I offered to give him my number. He asked for my last name. He kissed me again, stroked my face again. Blarg. I tried not to do weird shuddering things until I was out of sight.

Two weeks later, and I still make terrible faces thinking about it. He never did text me though.

But here’s the real kicker: I was comparing online dating experiences with a friend last weekend, and we were talking about how we always feel we have to do all the work in the conversation. As she described her last experience, familiar themes began to pop up. It took only one or two shared characteristics to realize we’d been on the same date. He didn’t do weird things to her face, though.

Man, I’m tired of this shit. Four dates to go.