Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Happy New Identity Day!

Feel both the crisp air of new opportunity and the gentle mist of nostalgia envelop your body...

You are at a turning point in your life AND THERE'S NO GOING BACK. Isn't this exciting?!

It's official. Both federal and state agencies are heralding in the new me! It's time to shed my maiden identity and embrace my new one. And since this is such a momentous (if not incredibly confusing) occasion, it's time to celebrate!

In honor of New Identity Day, I will share a little story about how I became this "new" person…

It's an early evening in November. The setting sun reminds me how much I dislike daylight savings time. Tonight I am going on my first blind date; well, semi-blind date (at least Facebook's good for something). Although the guy I saw on Facebook seems like a handful; tall, blonde, oozing masculinity. Certainly not like anyone I've ever dated before. I try to stay away from guys whose egos are bigger than their IQs, and if I've learned anything from my brief stint on the frat party circuit in college, blonde dudes are the worst. But what the hell. My aunt thinks he's a fine gentleman, and really, what do I have to lose? I most certainly will be wearing flats though. No matter how tall I guy says he is, they always get shorter standing next to my 5'10" frame.

We're scheduled to have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in Studio City, a tapas bar called Olé. I figure it's a good choice for a first date; they have drinks, small plates to share, plus it's dark in there. I try to put the hustle on my primping so I won't be late - first impressions are important after all - but it doesn't look like I'm going to make it. I'll be "fashionably" late as always.

Luckily, I find parking on the street in front of the restaurant, so my tardiness is minimal. As I walk to the entrance, last minute nervousness floods my thoughts: "Oh boy, here we go! If something awful happens or he turns out to be a complete weirdo at least I'll have a good story to tell! Let's try and enjoy this. Dates are supposed to be fun, aren't they?"

I open the door and spot my unmistakable date before the hostess can even greet me. "I'm meeting him" or something like that comes out of my mouth. He rises to reveal that yes, he is indeed tall, but no, he does not do laundry. Paint splatter decorates his jeans and boots, and I get the feeling he didn't pay some high-end designer to put it there. His shirt is pressed and he looks clean shaven, and I might have even let the thought "Ya, he's cute" cross my mind.

We exchange "Hello's", sit down at the bar and start talking about how he knows my aunt, what we do for work, where we're from, and what schools we went to; normal, boring first date stuff. When I hear he rides dirt bikes, I make sure to share my own experience of riding on weekend trips with my Dad and sister. Sure that was over 10 years ago, but I can still talk the talk. At least I think I can.

We don't order much for dinner, just some appetizers and drinks, and despite his outspoken conservatism, he seems tolerant of the predominantly liberal, election night crowd. What better way to get to know your date's political views than on election night? Not that political affiliation has any effect on my potential-boyfriend screening process.

Throughout the evening his whole demeanor exudes confidence, but I make sure to put on an unimpressed face. If there's anything the 23 year old Jocelyn prides herself on, it's not being a bubbly-headed, gullible, bimbo. This guy's going to have be more than just confident to impress me. But in a way he does. The casualness of the conversation combined with his in-your-face personality is intriguing. He is certainly not like anyone I have ever met before.

Soon it's nearing 10 o'clock, and he has to get up early for work in the morning. He walks me to my car, which is actually a truck, and he seems impressed by this fact. Although he makes a comment about the bed not being rhino lined, indicating that I don't transport anything heavy. I tell him it's a truck and the bed can handle whatever I put in it as is.

Since this is the end of the date, I start to wonder if there is going to be a kiss. I certainly don't think I gave off a warm, inviting impression so I doubt he will go for it, but before I can conjecture any longer he goes in for the hug. "It was really nice meeting you. We'll have to do this again soon." he says. "Ya. Sure." I reply as I get into the car. "We'll see about that" is what I'm thinking.

I can't put a finger on whether I liked him or not… "The whole night was so… interesting." I think. The more I try to figure out how I feel the more confused I get, so I try not to think about. "We'll just see if he actually calls me and that will decide it." I tell myself.

And guess what?

He did.

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