Day 422

I was out on the town last night with an amazing young lady.  We met in front of the MLK library in downtown San Jose—it was a warm day, air was a bit dry, but in the shade we found a slight breeze. Her jet black hair gently danced with each gust—I admired her beauty, but not too much admiration as discretion is essential when attempting to generate attraction.  We walked side by side—and random conversations about family, friends, careers, etc., filled the air—preventing awkward silence that insinuates a lack of common bonding opportunities.  I inquire, I listen and I am genuinely interested—three conversation components that men and women should practice when getting to know each-other.

We ended up at a place called San Pedro Market (or better known as The Market).  It is a location that can be compared to an upscale food court.  It has roughly twenty or so different restaurants, all small establishments, and communal seating areas.  The Market is two buildings, separated by a large court-yard where live music fills the air during weekend summer nights.  Young men in business casual attire wander around glancing at the young women in heels, skirts and blouses—both groups seeking attention from each-other.  The Market is Happy Hour defined.  Laughing, discussions about work, flirtation and the one individual from the office who drinks a little too much and says some shit he or she will regret tomorrow.  I relate to that person—because as a drunk, I was often times “that guy.”

I have developed a fascination with iced coffee—so I ordered myself one, and my date decided to get a waffle cone filled with horchata ice-cream.  It smelled like the sweetest cinnamon and sugar ever made on planet earth.  It was actually the first date I’ve been on where the other person didn’t order a drink.  I don’t mind one bit if a date orders a drink, but each time I order water or coffee, the person states: “you don’t drink!” that statement is inevitably followed by: “why not?”  It was nice, for once, to not have to answer that question with an awkward: “I just don’t drink.”

The date was going so well—we were sitting in the courtyard listening to a band singing some old tunes, like Brown Eyed Girl.  And all of a sudden….

Katie walks by with a group of her friends.  The exact thought that ran through my head was: “fuck me, dude.”  I’m not sure if she saw me—and I glanced at her for a split second before turning away.  It is the first time I’ve seen her in over a year—and I’m so glad it happened.  Why?  Because I thought it would be a much more emotional occasion than it actually was–besides the “oh fuck” moment, I felt fine.  I mean, it sucks that two people who lived together for years completely ignore each-other now—but hey, it is what it is.

Moving forward, right?  Just keep on moving forward.

On day 422 I’m happy to be sober and grateful for dates with pretty women.

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