No call, No Show 2:04p

I was thinking about one spectacular date I went on last fall.

The gent: childhood ubercrush of one of my best friends. Name of Charlie. Where we met: serendipitously at Ronnie's Road House. My aforementioned BFF and I went out to this club for some cocktails and buddy time. I had the misfortune of believing what I read, assuming the place was a road house. Casual attire, relaxed atmosphere, perhaps mechanical bull (if I was lucky). Well, yes to the bull, and that was all. Skimpy chicks dancing to Beyonce on the bars (four throughout the club), laser lights everywhere, greaseball guys as far as one could see in a dim environment.
The back story on this was I showed up in jeans and my favorite lumpy, oversized sweater. TJ-Maxx, baby. Lucky for me I hate the bar-hook-up scene, and I'd rather be comfortable than sexified.

Anyway, we bump into Charlie and I hit it off with him immediately. Shockingly. Chemistry all over the place. We sat and talked for hours. We hugged deeply. We traded numbers. Holy smoke, was this my life? My memory? Oui Oui, c'est me. Plus: tall, blond (not usually my type, but), the eyes. Adorable-boyish. Again, usually looking for a manly man face of stone type... but. Sometimes, a type is best forgotten.

The next week we had a date for a movie, "Take Shelter", at the Glen Art Theater (neato local theater with low ticket prices, and a cavalier attitude about sneaking in your own bottle of merlot). His friends met us there, they were nice enough and I didn't mind the airbag. We sat in the theater and Charlie produced two glasses out of deceptively deep pockets and poured me some wine. The film spread across the room and within moments I said, "this is going to be great." There was some casual, experimental leg nudging, sharing of the arm rest, perfect for my grandma speed of romance. We spoke cutely during the movie, giggle here, smile there. At the end we talked outside the theater with his friends and drove him home. I told him, "I had a really great time, Charlie." I think he did too.

I never heard from him again. I texted him probably twice too many, asked my BFF, she asked her pal that is Charlie's BFF. The only intel I received was that Charlie "just got out of a serious relationship. He really liked you and it probably scared him." Hmm. The hip adage unfortunately applies: He's just not that into you.

What fascinates, to this day, is why he didn't say all this? Some plead youth: young people have trouble being forthright with their feelings. Some plead gender: guys are raised not to honestly disclose their feelings because feelings are "weak", "feminine", "faggy", fill in the blank of otherwise unsavory labels to a caveman mentality. Maybe he was embarrassed? But, is embarrassment that frightening? After one date? Hmm.