hometown boy (lyn)

It begins this way.

A cute guy contacts me via jdate.  While some people have long profiles that describe in detail their personalities, their activities, their hopes for the future, their cuddly natures, their interest in holding hands with that special person, his and mine have none of that.  I write: 

I'm bright, funny, and look younger than my age, which I've decided to be honest about. Love movies, theater, anything-Apple, photography, NYC (though do have a slight Boston accent) and my 17-year old son.

In his first email to me, James writes that he, too, is originally from the Boston area, and asks where I am from.  I write back that my parents live in North Falmouth on the Cape.  He responds that he knows that area well.  He writes that he grew up in Brockton.

Yikes.  That’s where I’m from, though I prefer the more vague, “Boston area” response whenever asked.  Well, it turns out that James is three years older than I am and we’ve never met.  However, his mother and my mother are friends, and I know his mother.  At the reunion I attended last September, James’ mother sat at my table.

We email a few times and talk on the phone once. It takes about four emails back and forth before he chooses a restaurant.  First he suggests I pick one, but I decline.  SInce I'm not paying, I don't want to be the one choosing the restaurant.  He sends me a list of seven great choices, all in my neighborhood, and asks me to pick one. Instead I pick two, add two, and tell him all would be great and he can make the final selection.  He says he will and writes, “I want this to be a nice evening for you.”  Awwww.  I like him already.

Today around one I get an email.  We’re meeting at  Alloro at seven.  He calls at 6:15; “I got here early.” 

It’s a rainy night.  I wear ---what’s become ---one of my two or three dating outfits:  black Wolford pencil skirt, white Wolford top, a short black All Saints shrug, and short black Fiorintini & Baker motorcycle boots.  While I don’t wear a lot of makeup, I dress up more than usual by wearing a darker pink (vs. my usual neutral pink) lipstick.

I arrive at the restaurant and easily find James.  He’s the only one there.  He looks cute in a baseball cap and navy hoodie.  I immediately wish I’d worn jeans and neutral lipstick.  We sit down and I soon discover that he has many of the traits that have often gotten me in trouble.  He’s the kind of guy I’ve been attracted to my whole life, and none with good results.  On the positive side, he’s an adorable Bruce Willis double.  Smart.  Generous.  And well-mannered.   But he’s so much of a bad boy (even though he’s trying hard to change) that I’m certain getting involved with him would not end well.

When James asked me to select a restaurant, he mentioned nothing about his being a vegetarian (including fish) as he wanted the evening to be about what I wanted.  I am touched, and relieved I hadn’t suggested a steak house.  I have an eggplant appetizer (described as traditional and revisited); he orders a cheese platter.  For the main course, James gets a pasta, and I choose  salmon over cauliflower foam (which tastes nothing like the soapy image it conjures).  We split a dessert that would be impossible to describe, something about chocolate ice cream over an Italian ice over something else.  


James lives his life on the edge. After listening to his recent adventures, my life reads as dully as a book on tax law.

When we get up to leave, James unexpectedly comments on my being slim.  I smile and say nothing.

I hope we can be friends.