Love is Blind: Part 2

And it is. We laugh, sit down and do the formal introduction thing. “Grace tells me you’re a nurse?” he says, and I nod. “I just started back to work full-time last year.” After my divorce, I add to myself, silently. But we don’t need to talk about that, at least not right now. He expresses admiration for my line of work, and I thank him. I reply — wttily, I think — that I admire him much more for being able to work with numbers all day and not gouge his eyes out with rusty spoons. He laughs, says he gets that a lot, but admits that he really does love his work, even if it makes him a geek to admit it.

We both laugh, then pause. He fixes me with a frank look and says, “okay, what’ll you have? Double espresso? I feel like I might need something strong myself…” It’s not Billy-Crystal-hosting-the-oscars material, but it seems hilarious in the moment, and I so appreciate him trying to put me at ease. So I laugh. And it’s an honest, full laugh. He’s still smiling at me, waiting for me to tell him what I want to drink. Suddenly, I don’t feel so worried anymore about who’s going to pay. I tell him what I like (a grande, half-sweet, skinny vanilla latte) and he sketches a silly little bow before heading off to get our drinks. 

I’m still smiling to myself when he gets to the counter. Somehow, this goofy accountant has managed to make me feel at ease in this awkward situation. As he orders our coffees, I look at him more closely. He’s tall: taller than average. I’d say he’s, oh, six-two; six-three maybe. Slim, but not skinny. Well-groomed, but not fussy. Hair: contemporary, but not too trendy or wanna-be. Also: I can’t see them from here, but I remember he has the most striking green eyes. GAH! He’s coming back…I hope he didn’t notice me staring at him.

He’s back, and we blow on our drinks to cool them off, making idle chatter as we do. I learn that James (that’s his name, by the way) usually works late, loves to bake (of all things) and is a runner. He has one sister and loves to spend time with his niece and nephew, who are roughly the same age as my kids. He speaks three languages and has travelled a lot, often taking trips to do charitable work in third world countries, like helping to build schools or bridges. I can’t help thinking to myself that there are a lot of things you can accomplish when you don’t have kids to look after! He asks me questions, too, and I manage to answer in a way that makes my life seem slightly more interesting and slightly less mundane that it probably actually is.

Soon enough, our coffee’s done and we’re still chatting. I’m thinking to myself that I’d be happy to spend more time with him when he asks me if I’d like to get together again sometime. I smile, and nod. We make a date for dinner in two weeks, because until then I’ll have my kids. Soon enough, we pack up our belongings, recycle our drink cups and head for our respective homes. As we’re heading out the door, James puts his hand on my shoulder, thanks me for a nice chat, and tells me he’s looking forward to seeing me again in two weeks.  I look him in those green eyes, thank him in turn for the coffee and assure him I’m looking forward to our dinner too.

As I drive home, I think about the date, about James. It was nice. He was nice. I find that although I’m not smitten by any stretch, I did enjoy his company and I am looking forward to seeing him again. And I think that maybe, just maybe, this whole dating thing might not be so very hard after all.