the lifesaver

I was not excited to be spending a Saturday at CPR class, but it was required by my job.  My attitude perked up a bit when I saw that our instructor was a very broad, burly, reasonably good-looking man probably in his early thirties.  I noticed him do a double-take when I walked through the door (probably because the next youngest woman there was middle-aged).

My amusement did not stop there.  Throughout the class he paid me special attention.  When I could not get my dummy’s chest to rise when practicing CPR, he teased me that I must not be a very good kisser and may have to stay after class for some remedial practice.  He also did not fail to inform us that he was a firefighter, EMT, and a public safety manager at the resort, in addition to teaching CPR classes.  (He said that he didn’t really get much sleep.) He also shared some enthralling stories of rescues he had done.  Did I mention that any man that saves lives wins automatic hotness points?

During a break, the other lady told us that she taught dancing classes at a local community center, and he mentioned that he like to dance (as did I).  She perked up and slyly suggested that we go together.  At the end of the class he asked for my number in case I’d like to go dancing sometime or get something to eat.  Smooth. 

He called shortly after, and we made plans to get dinner.  He asked if I had anything in mind, and I suggested pizza.  Beer and pizza is my ideal first date – delicious, fun, and no pressure.  He pulled up in an enormous truck with the biggest tires I have ever seen (which is the same I could say for his biceps).  He knocked on the door and handed me a bunch of yellow-pink roses.  I was rather taken aback.

Now, let me say that I do recognize that giving girls flowers on a first date is a sweet, traditional, romantic gesture that takes some guts.  I have often complained that men in our society are too casual and unwilling to fight for a girl.  That being said, giving flowers on a first date just isn’t my style.  As a beer-and-pizza-first-date-girl, I like things to start off relaxed and on a somewhat equal footing.  Sure, he can pay, but it won’t clean out his wallet.  That way both parties can leave without feeling pressure to make anything up to the other or hang out again, unless you want to.  Flowers on a second or third date, however, are an absolute YES.  But strangely, no one seems to give flowers after the first date (unless the situation has changed from “dating” into “relationship” gear).  Male readers, if you exist, please write this down.  Second and third dates are no time to get lazy.  That’s when you gotta step up the act.  But don’t overdo it on the first date.  Those should be as comfortable and easy as possible.  Just my opinion of course, and I’m sure there are many ladies that LOVE roses on a first date.

During pizza we kept the conversation up.  We must have seemed a bit awkward because a gay couple here on vacation from New York asked if we were on a first date and simpered over how cute we were.  (I was thinking the same about them.)  I don’t remember much about what we talked about, except for the general feeling like we didn’t have much in common, and the country western music playing in his truck.

Nonetheless, I may have given him a second chance were it not for his follow-up text:  “Wanna cuddle?”  Now, granted, he had mentioned during the date how he loved cuddling, and I don’t actually think he meant it to sound sexual.  However, as a follow-up to a FIRST date, it was just tacky because no girl over the age of 12 is really gonna believe that all he wants is some innocent cuddling.  The primary location of a second date should not be the guy’s couch, at least if he doesn’t want her to think that getting her clothes off is the plan.  When I didn’t respond, he texted, “I guess you didn’t think that was cute like I meant it to be.”  Nope.   I responded with something neutral, but he got the message.  I didn’t hear from again.  I will give him credit for teaching the most entertaining CPR class of my life.  As for him, maybe he learned a valuable lesson about not asking a girl to cuddle as a second date.  That way when he meets his big-truck-country-music-roses-on-a-first-date-large-biceps-loving perfect match, he’ll get it right.

the flakey yogi

Yep, you guessed it.  Mason.

So as I said, things were good.  He texted frequently, he paid me special attention in class, we got sushi after… and I waited to be asked on the next date.  You know, one that was not about me going to his class and that didn’t end with me caked in the salt of my own sweat (not the sexiest feeling).  And I kept waiting. 

His texts were getting less frequent and I was starting to get irritated about his lack of initiative when I attended a special yoga event.  He, of course was there, and when he caught sight of me, he greeted me warmly with a big smile and hug.  During the event, we were asked to do a lot of partner things, I couldn’t help but notice he was paired with an attractive woman that was probably also in her late 30s.  When the event ended, he approached me and suggested I grab dinner at the nearby Italian restaurant with him and some other instructors.  He introduced me to the lady that I’d seen him practice with, and I saw her drop off her mat in his car.  So they came together.

After dropping off my mat in my own car, I arrived to the restaurant to find him saving a spot for me beside him.  His lady friend was seated across.  The dinner was awkward to say the least, as I tried to figure out the nature of their friendship.  She was flirtatious with him and insisted that they share a meal, but they split the bill.  He did acknowledge me throughout the dinner, but he also spent a while visiting friends.  I made the best of it by getting to know the other yoga teachers at the table.  Still, I didn’t feel too fabulous about the whole thing.  When it came time to say goodbye, he asked if I was coming to his class the next day, and I responded, pathetically, “Do you want me to?”  “Of course!” he said, sounding genuinely surprised.  I suggested we get breakfast after (yes, a tad desperate), and he agreed.  During the breakfast the next day, we had a good time.  He talked about wanting to go to Hawaii and suggested that I come with him.  Phew, I thought privately.  We’re good.

But, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, we were not good.  He would suggest plans and then not follow through.  His texts became more infrequent.  I wish I could say I didn’t put up with his shenanigans, but the truth is, whenever he got in touch, I couldn’t resist responding, convinced if we hung out just one more time, things would get back to good.

Finally I cut my losses and stopped going to his classes.  One day after a month of silence he texted me randomly, “Wanna make out?”  I found that such a pathetic and absurd comeback that I could only laugh, though maybe the joke’s on me if he really thought I would go for it.  “I think it’s a little late for that,” I responded.  He replied with a frowney face and, “A hug?”  I wrote back, “Sure, when I see you around.”  I did eventually attend his class again, in which he almost shyly approached me for a hug and to say how good it was to see me.   But this time his quirky charm didn’t win me over.  I was already lost.

the happy-go-lucky handyman

I met Sam for the first time at an après ski (a post-ski-beverage-drinking-gathering) in a bar with some friends.  He lived in a bigger city nearby and was up to ski for the weekend.  A couple of other people were there that I didn't know, including a pretty blond girl that wasn't sitting near him.  He was handsome, with dark hair and a beard (recall that beards are a plus for mountain mamas), and my interest immediately perked.  Shortly after being introduced, I noticed him mutter something to my friend’s boyfriend while looking at me, who responded with an emphatic nod and a big grin.  I could tell the curiosity was mutual.  I asked Amy about him, but she murmured to me that he had baggage (something I was trying to avoid after the Kurt debacle), and that he was sort of “with” the pretty blond.  I shrugged and let it go.  Baggage was not what I was looking for.

A couple months later, I heard through the grapevine that the blond was history, and that he was up visiting for another weekend.  Amy again got to work plotting, and I met up with them at the brewery. Sam was easy to talk to and made me laugh.  He was a mechanic for his own business.  Automatic hotness points awarded to a man that can do cool things with his hands and make money with off it.  We hit it off.

The next day we all went skiing, and Sam and I engaged in some ski-flirting.  If you’ve never participated in this activity, it involves tapping the other person in the butt with your pole as you ski by, spraying them with snow as you pull off a sharp hockey stop right beside them and weaving your turns around the other person during a run.  Yes, I know just what you’re thinking:  it’s all very sexy.  We also made sure to end up next to each other frequently on the lift, where we talked easily about simple things – our jobs, skiing, where we grew up, etc.  I found him good-natured, fun and comfortable.  He asked me to meet him and his friends to ski the next weekend, and I agreed. 

This was the same weekend Mason and I had our x-country ski date, and I was pretty entertained to have two ski dates in one weekend.  Such is the life of a ski bunny.  Again, I had a good time and got along well with his friends, although none of us seemed to click on any deeper level... including Sam and I.  But he was a nice, easy-going guy, and I figured it could be fun to have someone to visit in the “big city”.

I met up with him and his buddies the following weekend at a vacation condo that one of their uncles owned.  We all stayed up into the late hours, drinking and playing poker – not a regular pastime for me, but a good time.  When everyone went to bed, we got to kissing and things turned a little physical.  But I cut him off before it got too serious, thinking of Mason and how things were going well with him.  He handled it good-naturedly, and we spend the rest of the night cuddling.

The next day we all went out skiing again, and I enjoyed his company as always.  However, Sam didn’t give me butterflies, he didn't linger in my thoughts when he wasn't around, and I never felt very engrossed in our conversations.  When he parted that day, he let me know he would be hosting visitors for the next few weekends, but mentioned how it would be fun if I came up to the city sometime.  I agreed, and we parted with a hug and a kiss, both of us most likely knowing that this was it... at least for now.  Ours was the perfect mismatch:  fun while it lasted and no hurt feelings when it ended.  If only they were all so simple.