Just back from the date with gym boy #2 … Rob. Cute. Super cute. Physically, he’s precisely my type. It’s like the universe created the perfect physical specimen for me. I love big guys. Probably because I feel so cutesy and tiny-ish with them. I love feeling all girly and feminine-like with boys. Which is funny because I have the personality of a feral tiger. Hmmm … you really can’t judge a book by its cover, now can you?
Very good guy. Perfect gentleman. Heart of gold. I really like him. But … (there’s always a but), we have a few “small” issues. (1) He’s totally geographically undesirable. Lives in Orange County. Costa Mesa. Apparently, him being at my gym was just a weird coincidence that day. He was dropping a car off for a client and was there with a friend. Even though Orange County doesn’t SEEM that far away … it may as well be Phoenix. Seriously. If you don’t live in L.A., you don’t understand how someone living on the other side of town, much less an entirely different COUNTY makes a relationship nearly impossible. (2) He definitely has some demons in his closet. I don’t really feel comfortable revealing in detail on the blog (although he actually told me it was o.k.–he’s so effing cool), but let’s say there are some substance abuse issues in his past. Which shouldn’t surprise me … I’m like catnip to those with chemical dependencies. Trust me. Ask my friends. It appears to me that he’s pretty in control of his issues but … it is always a risk. *Sigh* … I just love those tortured, creative types. I wish I could fall for an accountant who has never picked up a guitar or been on a surfboard. (3) Since he had sort of an “alternative” experience growing up, no real education. A GED. That’s it. He’s smart as shit and it appears that he’s very literate but … not to be a complete snobby bitch but it’s a huge gap to cross. I’ve tried to make this type of situation work before. Sooner or later, the experience of me attending Smith and being a lawyer always seems to create a giant crevice (that’s a giant “crevasse” to you, Kitty!) (4) He has a son. Like a 12 y.o. son who lives with him part of the time. That’s a tough one. I love kids but 12 isn’t really even a kid. That’s getting to snotty adolescent phase. But, let’s not put the cart before the horse. It’s only one date.
Aside from those issues, he’s fantastic. A total “gentle giant.” The kind of guy who stands up when you leave the table to go to the bathroom. And when you return so he can push in your chair. And totally sweet and complimentary without being a creepy stalker like my date last week. Told me that he didn’t understand how someone like me could POSSIBLY be single since I’m such a catch. *sigh* *sigh* *sigh* Called me “pretty girl” all night. I liked it. I liked it a lot. Dressed totally cool … sort of retro-50s hipster without being “too retro.” I love that look. Great tattoos. Nice biceps. I had to take a small feely-feel. I love arms and chest on a guy … *sigh* *sigh* *sigh* I feel like Doris Day in one of those movies where she’s all dreamy over Rock Hudson. I’m even listening to my “Fabulous 50s” collection. I thought he told me he was 30 but I guess I misunderstood … he’s 40. Which is actually better. Grew up in Orange County. Surfer. Oddly enough, he knows an ex-boyfriend of mine from a million years ago (that would be ROY for those of you who know me … random, right?) and we have some other people in common. Loves the same music as me. Was a roadie for a while for the Vandals, back in the day.
Anyway … in case you couldn’t tell, I thought he was super super super cool. Great manners but not trying to impress me too obviously. Went to a very yummy dinner at Cobras and Matadors (LOVE that place) and then to a very cool dive bar I know of which was totally dead. Which was actually sort of cool because we were able to talk. Dropped me off at like 11:30ish … totally reasonable. We had a nice smoochy smooch at my door. Nothing else. Like I said, total gentleman. I felt very protected and taken care of all night. Which is sort of rad. Really rad.
So … because I am a realist, unfortunately, I have not started hauling my shit to Orange County and naming our kids. In the long run, this probably won’t go anywhere but … for tonight, I’m going to let myself feel all glowy and pretty and dreamy and Sandra Dee. It’s a real nice feeling. Like “come see the softer side of Lisa.” I’m going to enjoy it for the next 24 hours or so … and listen to my fabulous 50s … “Earth angel, earth angel … will you be mine? … my darling dear, love you all the time … “ 
