The rest of the story

After my last post, Maria and Madame asked me to tell the rest of that story. I have hesitated, as I don't want to say too much about less than wonderful dates. It seems sort of unfair. Sometimes, when two people aren't well matched and it's apparent from the start, it just doesn't bring out the best in them. That may well have been the case here, so I'll try not to be too brutal.

The movie - Lemon Tree - was good. The sushi was fine. And frankly, the company wasn't awful. In a town where I don't know anyone else, it was nice to have someone sit on my couch and talk. Nothing he said was patently offensive or terribly gross.

But...

My dad once told me, "If you want some insight into another person's character, ask him questions about himself. His answers are important, but even more important is how long it takes him to ask a question about you."

In this case, it was clear...my date was very interested in my date and not all that interested in his. Hours later, he hadn't asked a single question. He didn't know any more about me than he did at the start of the evening. And honestly, I don't think he cared to.

He did pay me a few nice compliments - "beautiful eyes, great smile" - but that kind of thing has never really done it for me. I'm more interested in someone who will still like me if my eyeballs pop out and my lips fall off. Yes, physical attraction is great. "Nice eyes, cute smile," these are lovely things to say. But...not nearly as lovely as if you told me that you, say, find me witty.

So at the end of the evening, there was no kiss. I don't typically kiss on a first date anyway, but in this case, I didn't have to remind myself of that policy.

In the meantime, I've had a little email correspondence with a person who seems to know exactly how to compliment me. (I don't think anything is going to come of it, but the correspondence has been nice.) He's a psychiatry resident with whom I used to work. One day, I consulted him for a patient with conversion disorder. When we were done discussing the patient, we talked about how work was going for each of us. He was frustrated with his program director. I bitched a bit about the shit I was getting from a couple of medicine residents who thought I was "too opinionated." I told him the corresponding story--what happened that led them to say that.

He said, "Well, in this case, you're not opinionated, you're just right. But, you know...the strong, independent woman I know you to be wouldn't care what these guys thought of her." And then, he smiled at me and walked away.

Now that...that is a lovely thing to say.