Which is surprising because I'm always late.
For E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.
If I ever get married I'll probably show up after the groom.
I like to make an entrance.
I'd never been to Interurban before.
Part of what I enjoy most about dating, other than the possibility for something new and fabulous, and other than the sheer entertainment of men in general, is learning about hidden gems in Portland.
Interurban is a bar on Mississippi.
And Mississippi is the new Hawthorne.
(Or rather, Mississippi and Alberta are the new Hawthorne and Belmont.)
NE is actually cooler than SE now.
Because it's still indie enough that the majority of people haven't realized how cool it is.
But I'm a total baller.
Or rather, my date was.
He picked the venue.
The layout of the bar was relaxed with only a few tables.
I walked along the bar down a narrow hallway which led to outside tables.
The fall weather coupled with my dress didn't bode well for outdoor seating so I headed back towards the front of the bar.
I actually kind of love being the first to arrive on a date because then I can scan out the best seat in the house to be viewed.
The kind of placement that makes you easy to spot and makes it easy to spot the guy when he walks in the door.
I tucked myself in the corner right along the wall, near the front entrance, and he spotted me right when he walked in.
He looked like my first love.
If my first love had gained thirty pounds and smoked a lot of weed.
I think my date may have been stoned.
This is Portland after all.
He started talking and he was an open book.
He spoke very passionately about life and his interests.
About how his ex girlfriend and he had turned their relationship into an open one and she fell in love with some other guy and so here he was.
"And what is your feeling on open relationships?" Intense Guy asked me.
The good thing about dating in your thirties versus dating in your twenties is that in my twenties I may have been too nervous to give my honest opinion about things I didn't fully agree with.
If a guy was cute I wanted him to like me.
And what guy's gonna like me if I tell him his ideas are dumb?
'Oh no. Not for me. I'm terribly old fashioned. And I don't like to share my toys,' I replied.
"Your sex toys?"
'N-O. My men. My men toys. Like, my favorite toys, my favorite things. Not sharing them.'
I knew within fifteen minutes of the date that this guy and I weren't compatible.
But I also ordered steak tartare that happened to have just arrived and it also happened to be phenomenal.
Interurban had this rad combo of having a sort of casual dive energy about it but the menu was swanky enough to have bacon wrapped figs.
It's like topping chocolate chip cookies with salt.
An unlikely pairing that's fucking fantastic!
So instead of leaving my date right away, I enjoyed my food, and my delicious Old Fashioned (that was made with a delicious dark cherry--yes, this bar was a keeper) and nodded with interest to what the Intense Guy had to say.
Eventually, though, he sensed my disinterest.
"I feel like I might have alienated you with what I said," he observed.
'I just don't feel like we're compatible at all.'
"Well, I appreciate you being honest. Most people aren't like that."
He was quiet for a minute and I thought how this seemed to be the best worst date I'd ever had.
"I'm really glad we met up," he smiled at me.
We split the bill and I thought how amazing it would be if all dates could be so forthright and straightforward.
"You know, I think there are some things that you want that you don't even realize you want."
'Like what? Like being in an open relationship?' I asked.
"Like being tied up and dominated."
'Ohhhhkaaay. And with that, dear one, I bid you adieu.'
So maybe a hint of guile and secrecy is better on a first date.
Good Lord.
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