So .... I won't go on too much, except to note it was a decent enough date that he stopped over for a nightcap and dropped his wallet in the creases of my couch ... which meant we had to reconnect the next day on our lunch hours so I could return it.
Fast forward to a few hours ago. We met again for a beer out at Tom English's. He's working for a tech start-up. He's been working 14-hour days the last two, after having just worked all weekend. He's exhausted. He's distracted by Sarah Palin on the Jay Leno Show in our mid-conversation. He needs to go home to bed just after the segment on Shaun White, even after I offer(and give him) a back-rub ... while sitting at the bar ... even though it was he who asked me out.
And now I'm sitting here at my kitchen table, alone, writing to y'all.
(Hm. Kind of a killjoy of a beer, 'twas.)
So here's the point of this pointlessness: I want to know how soon a date gets entered as a contact in a cell phone .... or how long he remains a faceless 617-xxx-xxxx. It's a true balancing act, I tell you: assign it not soon enough, and I have to wonder who the faceless texter might be; assign it too soon, and it's just another thing I have to frustratingly delete when the endeavor goes south.
This gentleman has kept me guessing. After Date #1 he did check in with me again Sunday night (as 617-xxx-xxxx), to which I responded ... so I figured we were headed for a Date #2 and assigned him a name. Then it took him an entire day to again respond ... so I wondered if I had over-anticipated. Then tonight our texting conversation re-upped and led us to a date, and I figured I was in good shape. Then the date was unsatisfying ... and now I'm (wait for it ..... wait for it) frustrated. Not "delete from the phonebook" frustrated. More "what the hell? Build me up just to fade to the finish?" frustrated.
Actually ... it's that I did capitulate and add him to my phone when maybe he's not going to to be worthy.
Or ... he is worthy, and I find myself just more increasingly impatient and unsympathetic than I should be knowing another man with an all-consuming job.
[Or if I'm just, again, (argh), frustrated at my own lack of ability to tell the difference.]