Roofies Trump Rebar

Otherwise known as  The Date I Broke the Cardinal Rule.

No, not THAT one!  (Y'all know me better than that!)

I recently had plans to meet "Alfredo" at the cute place that sells ice cream processed with nitrogen on Main Street in the Slightly Bigger Town next to My Small Town.   He is one of my match.com suitors, and teaches math at a local college.  My friends liked his picture and I thought he sounded nice. We had been in communication when Jerry and I first got together, and... to put it simply, communication had stopped.  I'm a one guy kind of girl.  I think that juggling complicates things.  Other people might enjoy that sort of thing... but not me.  That said, when Jerry and I stopped seeing each other, I sent Alfredo an email and told him, I'm still a nice girl, looking for a nice guy... and we picked up where we had left off.

Last week Alfredo and I met for the first time, at said nitrogen-based ice cream shop.  I ordered mint-chocolate chip with rainbow sprinkles-- my ultimate favorite flavor of ice cream that hearkens back to when I was in fourth grade, going to Carvel after softball games with my dad.  He ordered Oreo and Reese's Cups.  I don't like mint.

Okay-- no worries.

Alfredo and I sat down at a table for two to enjoy our frozen desserts and get to know each other.  I told him about the blog and he asked me pointed questions about it, which I had no problem answering.  At this point, not to mention the blog would only create an intense conversation later that might result in an uncoupling... I would rather be upfront and say, This is what it is... This is what I do... It's a wonderful creative outlet and that I enjoy tremendously.  It's Rated G and there is nothing on this blog that I would have a problem with coming back to me later on in life.  It is my truth.  

We moved past the blog and talked about a subject I am very passionate about-- growing vegetables.  He asked me what I'm growing now.  Well... at the moment... only basil.  If you like basil, I'm your girl.

I love women named Basil.

Alfredo doesn't eat homegrown tomatoes, only cooked tomatoes in sauce, despite the fact that he is 100% Italian.  It takes all kinds, right?  Even Italians who don't eat tomatoes. 

After Alfredo and I finished our respective dishes of ice cream, we relaxed and talked about a variety of subjects.  Finally, he said he was thirsty and would like to go in search of an honest-to-goodness soda shop where we could have a soda and talk some more.

I was game.  Although to be honest I thought a glass of wine and some more conversation would be just fine. 

Alfredo and I walked down the street, and located a drugstore that claimed to sell soda... We crossed in the middle of the block, and Alfredo said he felt guilty about jaywalking.

No way!  This way, I can say we did broke the law on our first date!  Alfredo laughed at my joke. 

The drugstore had been closed for two hours.  We settled on a very cute downtown Nature's Table, and both got glasses of iced tea.  We settled in two comfy chairs and resumed the conversation, discussing our travel experiences and my love of Frommer's Guides.

If you don't know Frommer's... They are known as the king of the budget travel guides.  Anytime I am going to a new city or country, for any amount of time, I buy the Frommer's guide to that location.  It will tell me the best places to stay and eat for every price range, and what sightseeing places are worth it and which are just plain crummy.  Frommer's guides also give folks walking tours, which are honestly what I love most about them.  I love learning the history of places, and being able to take my time and go where I want to go, on foot.  Okay... being a fledgling foodie, I really love being able to discover new restaurants with very little risk.  Frommer's has never steered me wrong.  Alfredo had never heard of Frommer's, so I was more than happy to share some of my good Frommer's experiences with him.  I even have the Frommer's guide to Orlando, because I thought it might be able to introduce me to great places to check out on days that I was looking for something new to do in the Biggish City near my Small Town.

Alfredo finished his glass of tea, and rose to refill his drink.  I stood up as well.  I'll get one too.  

Jen, I'll get it for you.

That's when I committed a cardinal sin of first dates.  I handed over my cup, and sat back down.

Every woman knows that you never give up possession of your cup/glass/drinking vessel when on a first date, or in a public space such as a dance club or local watering hole.  Bad people put scary drugs in your drink and take advantage of you!  Every smart woman knows this.  And still, I gave a man I barely knew my cup to refill with iced tea.  I did this for three reasons:

1.  I knew his name.  (If he was telling the truth, that is... I hadn't seen his identification, but I had no reason to believe his was telling me a lie.  Then again, if he were going to drug me... )
2.  I knew where he worked and approximately where he lived.
3.  If I didn't hand over my Nature's Table cup for a refill of iced tea, I would have looked like a paranoid fool.  Or a savvy single girl. Both of which might be deemed unattractive by a thirtysomething male.

He didn't but he could have very well put something very bad in my drink and then I would have ended up like a character in an episode of Law & Order SVU.  When he brought the cup back, told him about the cardinal sin I had broken, and he laughed and asked if I thought he put a roofie in it.  I had to look up how to spell the word roofie for this post... Probably on the top ten list of words I never anticipated looking up on dictionary.com. 

I had told him about The Date the Launched a Blog when I first told him about the blog and what precipitated undertaking this sort of task.  As we walked back to our cars, he said, Jen, roofies trump rebar. 

He's right.  They do.  Alfredo didn't give me a roofie, and I drove home safely after our requisite post-first-date hug.  It wasn't thunderbolt city, but we did have a nice afternoon.  He texted me a couple of days ago, just to say hello and to check in on the progress of my weekend.  We'll probably go out again, but in the meantime, I am secure in the knowledge that I can go out on a first date, and have a good time, and not feel like it's the end of the world if I never see him again.  Dating is a process.  The more I get out there, the more opportunities I'll have to be a bit more smooth.  And charming.  I am nothing if I'm not charming.  But I'll have to remember... Roofies trump rebar.