On Valentines Day Cami texted me and we set up a date for that Thursday. (Go back to Speed Dating for the back-story)
Despite the fact that I gave her my number, Noma connected with me that evening on Facebook. (How did she find me anyways? She told me she had her ways.) We set up a date for the following Tuesday. Now that’s a great Valentines Day for a single lady, the promise of two dates with nice, sexy studs!
When Thursday came I was maybe a little too excited about my date–probably because it was much more fun to anticipate a date then worry about the test I had to take directly before-hand. Cami asked what types of food I liked, suggesting Chinese, Italian and Mexican. I hadn’t had good Mexican food in ages, so I latched on to that. That’s when I found out that she was not Native American, as I thought, but Mexican. (Or rather, she is Native American, probably, but from the South.)
When I picked her up from work we had one of those “you don’t look like I remember from the Club” moments. She was shorter than I thought, and without her fitted cap she came off as more of a tomboi than the hard stud I thought she was. The chemistry wasn’t there. She says she was drunk when we met, and I guess I liked her better with her drunk, out-going, more masculine side showing. The quiet tomboy and I didn’t seem to really click.
The food was spicy but our conversation was bland. The more she talked about the extended loving, supportive family that raised her the more self-conscious I became over my own broken home. The more she talked about helping troubled kids and street kids, the more I felt like a candidate for her social work, rather than a relationship. It was like one of those job interviews where they sell you on the job at the same time that you feel totally inadequate to fill it, and feel like they’ve reached the same conclusion. So, not a strong connection, but the Mole Verde Enchiladas were off the hook!
I consoled myself with the thought of my date on Tuesday…