I still have no clue what went wrong here.
Sunday I am walking in the park when a lady walks by in shorts, carrying a tennis bag. She is taller than me (I am 6'0") and has magnificent, smooth, honey-colored legs, ash-blond hair swept over the shoulder, and wide-set, mesmerizing eyes. My first impression is that she looks intimidating and barely attainable, as well as having immense sex appeal. She has that rugged, sinewy, feminine-athletic look that gets some of us hot and bothered
At the time I guess late twenties, but later, at our date, she tells me she's 31.
I give her a glance out of the corner of my eye and to my surprise she returns the look in kind; we lock eyes for about half a second. After she passes, I turn to catch her up but she's walking fast; I'm not sure whether she's conscious of me following or not. I want to open her as we reach the park exit where the pathway narrows, but there are two gates and she doesn't take the one I expect. Fortunately she has to stop for a "Don't Walk" sign as we reach the street, and when she sees me coming she actually smiles.
I start talking but have to wait a moment for her to take out her headphones. Then I go direct, telling her that when I saw her walk past, I "couldn't resist coming back to say hello". She receives me with unexpected warmth and we get into animated conversation as we step into the crosswalk. When I ask her name, she gives me a common Russian name; when I ask where she's from, to my surprise she names one of the Baltic states. By this point I have detected a distinct Russian accent. I make a cold-read that she is ethnic Russian raised in the Baltics, which she confirms to be correct. I start speaking Russian with her.
We head straight on, up the street leading away from the park, toward what turns out to be her apartment building... good logistics for later, I imagine. About halfway up the street, she actually breaks the touch barrier herself, backhanding me playfully on my bicep as she asks me a question about how I arrived in the States. I suggest an instant date, but she has a yoga class at 4:30 PM, following on from her tennis lesson! She enthusiastically agrees to a coffee another time and I kiss her on the cheek as we part outside her apartment building at around 3:45 PM.
I set up the date using text messaging:
So I think nothing of it. With help from my friend PrettyDecent and kind support from CasanovaJr and PinotNoir, I write back next day:
I get to the café five minutes early and stand outside. At the appointed time I see a very tall figure elegantly dressed, still about 250 feet off, sauntering down the street with the swaying, soft, feminine swagger of a confident, tall woman wearing high-heeled boots. I stroll up to meet her, kiss her on the cheek and tell her in Russian that I recognized her by her walk. She giggles, takes my arm and we enter the café.
I reject the initial table by the window offered us by the host, in favor of a cosier, more intimate location at the back of the premises in what they call the "loggia". SportyBalt orders a warm cider and I get a pot of green tea. Both of us have iced water on the side, which we sip throughout.
For the next 2 hours everything goes very smoothly, I'd even say ideally. I deep-dive her, she is compliant with this, tells me all about her history, ambitions, family background, preferences, feelings, aspirations, the works. Even past dating experiences (largely negative). I feel totally in command of the situation and keep the spotlight successfully off of myself and on the girl. She's staring at me with hugely dilated pupils and clearly having a good time.
At one point she tells me about a visit to the UK and is embarrassed that she can't remember whether she was in Oxford or Cambridge. I reach across the table, take her hand gently in mine to reassure her, and continue to hold it a couple minutes as I ask her basic questions (where was the river, how integrated with the rest of the city were the university buildings) to help her determine which it was. We speak Russian about half the time and English the rest. It's all very comfortable, enjoyable, and seemingly exciting.
I suggest we select some food for sharing and she orders hummus—perfect for eating from the same plate. All seems to be going swimmingly. At one point I excuse myself and head for the restroom; inside, loudspeakers play a Japanese lesson. Other times I've been on dates in the same place, it's been French, Italian or Spanish. I return to the table and remark on this fact, and we begin to discuss travel.
At around 9 PM she is starting to stare at me and become silent; I take this as an escalation window and ask for the check. I ask her if she would like to visit the restroom and let me know which language is being played in the ladies'. She declines. Frankly I am surprised that she does not need to urinate after such a quantity of iced water (we each had several refills) and cider. This lack of compliance, I feel, should have been a major red flag for me. I pay the check and we leave.
It is cool but relatively pleasant and fresh outside; she lives very nearby so I suggest we stroll a couple blocks before I walk her home. She takes my arm, and we head south along our city's major street. We both comment that this is the only really pleasant part of this otherwise unremarkable city, and she says that no one wants to visit her here; if she lived in New York or Los Angeles it might be different. She tells me that her parents have never visited, though she has lived here ten years. I ask whether this is because of the lack of interest in the city itself; but she says no, they are risk-averse and not accustomed to overseas travel.
She has been telling me much of the evening that in spite of her career success in banking she is looking to make a change, and has an adventurous, dive-in-the-deep-end, no-regrets spirit. So this leads to an obvious question from me... where did she get this, if not from either parent? Some hilarity ensues and I put my arm around her to keep her warm. We decide to turn back as it's getting cold, but just after we turn I tell her I "want to do this first".
I grab her and kiss her hard on the mouth.
She doesn't resist, back away or object as such, but she's not really into it either. She doesn't open up her mouth much and I pull away.
As we start walking again, I put my arm back around her and ask if she is cold. (Some of the following is translated from Russian and may not sound totally idiomatic in English; ignore the stylistic elements and focus only on the content.)
The unanswered questions come thick and fast:
-Marty
Sunday I am walking in the park when a lady walks by in shorts, carrying a tennis bag. She is taller than me (I am 6'0") and has magnificent, smooth, honey-colored legs, ash-blond hair swept over the shoulder, and wide-set, mesmerizing eyes. My first impression is that she looks intimidating and barely attainable, as well as having immense sex appeal. She has that rugged, sinewy, feminine-athletic look that gets some of us hot and bothered
At the time I guess late twenties, but later, at our date, she tells me she's 31.I give her a glance out of the corner of my eye and to my surprise she returns the look in kind; we lock eyes for about half a second. After she passes, I turn to catch her up but she's walking fast; I'm not sure whether she's conscious of me following or not. I want to open her as we reach the park exit where the pathway narrows, but there are two gates and she doesn't take the one I expect. Fortunately she has to stop for a "Don't Walk" sign as we reach the street, and when she sees me coming she actually smiles.
I start talking but have to wait a moment for her to take out her headphones. Then I go direct, telling her that when I saw her walk past, I "couldn't resist coming back to say hello". She receives me with unexpected warmth and we get into animated conversation as we step into the crosswalk. When I ask her name, she gives me a common Russian name; when I ask where she's from, to my surprise she names one of the Baltic states. By this point I have detected a distinct Russian accent. I make a cold-read that she is ethnic Russian raised in the Baltics, which she confirms to be correct. I start speaking Russian with her.
We head straight on, up the street leading away from the park, toward what turns out to be her apartment building... good logistics for later, I imagine. About halfway up the street, she actually breaks the touch barrier herself, backhanding me playfully on my bicep as she asks me a question about how I arrived in the States. I suggest an instant date, but she has a yoga class at 4:30 PM, following on from her tennis lesson! She enthusiastically agrees to a coffee another time and I kiss her on the cheek as we part outside her apartment building at around 3:45 PM.
I set up the date using text messaging:
- Sun 5:55 PM—Marty: Good to meet you, SportyBalt! No more sport today? Marty
Sun 7:25 PM—SportyBalt: Hey Marty! Yes I am done with the sports for today hope you had a nice rest of the Sunday!
So I think nothing of it. With help from my friend PrettyDecent and kind support from CasanovaJr and PinotNoir, I write back next day:
Mon 12:30 PM—Marty: I did How about a cup of tea Tue or Wed evening? I'm traveling the week after.
Mon 4:45 PM—SportyBalt: Tue night would be better.
Mon 6:10 PM—Marty: Okay. Do you know Café Such-and-Such? We can meet there at 6 PM tomorrow if that works for you!
Mon 9:30 PM—SportyBalt: I normally don't get off work this early so 7:30 prob would be better. But looks like we are expecting a couple of inches of snow so let's touch base tomorrow in case we need to reschedule
Tue 8:25 AM—Marty: I know you and I could teach these locals something about snow! 7:30 PM is fine. See you.
Tue 5:55 PM—Marty: All good for 7:30, SportyBalt? We can meet later if you're running behind.
Tue 6:15 PM—SportyBalt: Yes. I could actually meet at 7, if you can.
Tue 6:20 PM—Marty: Okay. 7.
Tue 6:20 PM—SportyBalt: See you then!
I get to the café five minutes early and stand outside. At the appointed time I see a very tall figure elegantly dressed, still about 250 feet off, sauntering down the street with the swaying, soft, feminine swagger of a confident, tall woman wearing high-heeled boots. I stroll up to meet her, kiss her on the cheek and tell her in Russian that I recognized her by her walk. She giggles, takes my arm and we enter the café.
I reject the initial table by the window offered us by the host, in favor of a cosier, more intimate location at the back of the premises in what they call the "loggia". SportyBalt orders a warm cider and I get a pot of green tea. Both of us have iced water on the side, which we sip throughout.
For the next 2 hours everything goes very smoothly, I'd even say ideally. I deep-dive her, she is compliant with this, tells me all about her history, ambitions, family background, preferences, feelings, aspirations, the works. Even past dating experiences (largely negative). I feel totally in command of the situation and keep the spotlight successfully off of myself and on the girl. She's staring at me with hugely dilated pupils and clearly having a good time.
At one point she tells me about a visit to the UK and is embarrassed that she can't remember whether she was in Oxford or Cambridge. I reach across the table, take her hand gently in mine to reassure her, and continue to hold it a couple minutes as I ask her basic questions (where was the river, how integrated with the rest of the city were the university buildings) to help her determine which it was. We speak Russian about half the time and English the rest. It's all very comfortable, enjoyable, and seemingly exciting.
I suggest we select some food for sharing and she orders hummus—perfect for eating from the same plate. All seems to be going swimmingly. At one point I excuse myself and head for the restroom; inside, loudspeakers play a Japanese lesson. Other times I've been on dates in the same place, it's been French, Italian or Spanish. I return to the table and remark on this fact, and we begin to discuss travel.
At around 9 PM she is starting to stare at me and become silent; I take this as an escalation window and ask for the check. I ask her if she would like to visit the restroom and let me know which language is being played in the ladies'. She declines. Frankly I am surprised that she does not need to urinate after such a quantity of iced water (we each had several refills) and cider. This lack of compliance, I feel, should have been a major red flag for me. I pay the check and we leave.
It is cool but relatively pleasant and fresh outside; she lives very nearby so I suggest we stroll a couple blocks before I walk her home. She takes my arm, and we head south along our city's major street. We both comment that this is the only really pleasant part of this otherwise unremarkable city, and she says that no one wants to visit her here; if she lived in New York or Los Angeles it might be different. She tells me that her parents have never visited, though she has lived here ten years. I ask whether this is because of the lack of interest in the city itself; but she says no, they are risk-averse and not accustomed to overseas travel.
She has been telling me much of the evening that in spite of her career success in banking she is looking to make a change, and has an adventurous, dive-in-the-deep-end, no-regrets spirit. So this leads to an obvious question from me... where did she get this, if not from either parent? Some hilarity ensues and I put my arm around her to keep her warm. We decide to turn back as it's getting cold, but just after we turn I tell her I "want to do this first".
I grab her and kiss her hard on the mouth.
She doesn't resist, back away or object as such, but she's not really into it either. She doesn't open up her mouth much and I pull away.
As we start walking again, I put my arm back around her and ask if she is cold. (Some of the following is translated from Russian and may not sound totally idiomatic in English; ignore the stylistic elements and focus only on the content.)
- SportyBalt: No; but I'm a little uncomfortable.
Marty: "Uncomfortable?"
SportyBalt: Yes—this is a little unusual for me.
Marty: In what way?
SportyBalt: People usually ask first.
Marty: So you prefer men to ask you first, before kissing you?
SportyBalt: Well, that's what they usually do.
Marty: You mean you're not comfortable spending time with men?
SportyBalt: No, that's not what I mean.
Marty: So you get nervous around men?
SportyBalt: No! I don't! I mean... it should be mutual.
Marty: Of course it should be mutual. Are you telling me it's not mutual?
SportyBalt: Well, people normally discuss it first.
Marty: Do they? Is human attraction something you normally talk about?
SportyBalt: But I've known you for only... something like 2 hours.
Marty: You were just talking about how good it is to take risks, to do what you're unsure about... never to live with the regret of not having tried something.
SportyBalt: Well... yes, I suppose so. "He who takes no risks, drinks no champagne." I guess that's true.
SportyBalt: I'll walk the rest of the way by myself, thank you.
The unanswered questions come thick and fast:
- What does "uncomfortable" mean? I've heard this from women a couple times before; it usually leaves me dumbstruck—I've no idea what they're talking about. Obviously it's not physical discomfort, it's in the social sense; but it just comes out of the blue, with no warning, after they were laughing and smiling a moment before.
- Asking before kissing—really? Isn't that the polar opposite of what's taught here?
- Not mutual? Seriously? So why did she accept the date?
- Is there a value imbalance, with her being a well-paid banker? Is that the issue?
- "Discuss it first"? I cold-approached her in the street; went direct immediately; and asked her on a date within the space of two minutes. Could she really think I wanted to be "just friends"? What on Earth was that about? I don't "discuss" things with women I'm attracted to and I'm quite sure they don't expect me to either.
- Known me for "only" 2 hours? WTF?? Surely that's enough time to decide whether she's attracted to me? I made up my mind I was attracted to her in all of, oh, I don't know, .5 seconds I guess. Certainly well before I first opened my mouth to talk to her.
-Marty
