Deconstructing Him

I saw him again. And this time I had a witness.

So infrequently do we get second chances in life that when Carrie M. invited me to meet her for coffee, I didn’t even consider the fact I could see him again. As we sat and talked about work and love and life, someone caught my eye. Small frame, moderately aloof, chatting on his cell phone. It was him.

“Hey there.” I said loud enough to get his attention without being too obnoxious in interrupting his conversation.

“Oh.. hey, can I call you back, I just saw… I’ll call you back.” He came to our table. Sat down.

With my eyes, I convey to Carrie that this is *him*. The guy. Mr. Impossible. She seemed to understand.

His eyes were still piercing, just as I remembered them. His lips still perfect. What I didn’t remember was his name. Naturally he had remembered mine. The “guess my name” game lasted an awkward moment too long before he revealed his completely innocuous name: something far more vanilla than it should be. His name should be “Rain” or “Timex” or something as unique as he is.

The conversation was awkward. He asked the most peculiar questions that you could tell he already knew the answers to. He seemed like he kind of knew everything.

[Editorial Note: I’ll let Carrie M. tell you about the COMPLETELY RAD way I got him to get my contact info. I was so proud of myself. That being said (here’s a spoiler) I totally fucked up and texted him tonight. Idiot. As I said to a friend, when it comes to men, “my retardedness runs deep.”]

He had a book to buy, and so we went separate ways long enough to have a discussion about what made him so… striking. “I have a theory on men with a cleft chin,” said the fabulous Miss Carrie M. “They are all absolutely gorgeous.” She promised to expound on this theory on her blog (which you all should be reading, bitches). But what she said next is what struck me:

“He’s pretty.”

Yes! That is exactly it! He is so striking… so intriguing… so gorgeous… because of his features. Feminine features.

I remembered that in my “Psychology of Romantic Relationships” class in college, we learned about male attractiveness. Let me quote:

Male attractiveness [is] complex. Men who have strong jaw bones and broad foreheads — who look strong and dominant — are usually thought to be more handsome. On the other hand, one study has shown that when average male faces are made slightly more feminine through computer imaging, the “feminized” faces … are more attractive.

“Intimate Relationships” (Third Edition) by Brehm, Miller, Perlman, and Campbell

Later in the book, the authors also asserts that this may change based on a woman’s ovulation cycle. Women apparently like more “handsome” masculine men while they are ovulating vs. “warmer, friendler” feminine men the rest of the month. That seems pretty evolutionary to me. Stronger looking men seem more virile and potent and spermful. They look like they can protect you and your spawn, no? But the rest of the month we want “the nice guy”… the one who is like our best girlfriend but who wants to sleep with us. (Oy. I can see the porn comments now. Moving on…)

I think that’s exactly what I was experiencing. Would I have walked up to him in a bar wearing my hottest outfit looking… fertile? And up for it? Probably not. But meeting him at coffee shop where he listened to me, talked to me, looked into me… it made me melt.

Want to know how things ended? A hug. But he offered to take me to a coffee shop he’d mentioned and I asked him to go to an Indian place he also recommended. And he said yes. If only I didn’t have diarrhea of the finger (hyper-textability) I have had a chance.

I may have shot myself in the dating foot. Again.

Ooh, I do so love “To be continueds…”

UPDATE: You didn’t have to wait too long for the update. Just about 10 minutes, actually. Since I’m a happy little stalker, I checked out “the facebooks” and saw that as of September 29th… he’s listed as “in a relationship.”

See “The guy with the girlfriend.” Because my life sucks.

UPDATE2: Last night I got a text at 11:48. It was him. I played it cool. Pithy response. Breezy. If I ignored one, he wrote again. I woke up to an e-mail from him, and when I responded (breezy… totally breezy…) I heard from him again. So confused. SO CONFUSED!

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