In the midst of this dating drought, I somehow managed to scrounge up a date from the great online abyss last night. (Andy, 6'0", 27 years old). We met at The Druid for a couple pints. Here's how it went down:
"So, you play the guitar?" I asked.
"So, have you seen any movies lately?" he replied.
"Oh, I...well I don't really get out to the theater much anymore, but the last movie I saw was Darjeeling Limited."
"What did you think?"
"Oh, I loved it, it was great. Yup."
"So, do you see your family often?" he asked.
"No, actually not that often at all. I'm not even going home for Thanksgiving this year, because I need to stay and study. But I have a friend who's coming to visit, so it won't be that bad. I'm actually kind of nervous about entertaining her, because, I mean, where do you go on Thanksgiving? Everything will be closed. But we'll figure something out, I'm sure."
"So, are you going home for Thanksgiving?" he asked.
"Uh...no....I'm...not. Because I need to...study."
"So, you play the guitar?" I tried again.
"Yeah, for about fifteen years or so, I guess."
"I would love to play the guitar," I said. "I've tried but it just didn't work out."
"It's really easy, actually."
"I hate people like you."
"Uh, I mean, it's really hard? But I mean, the first part, learning all the chords, is the hardest. It becomes kind of mindless after a point. I just play while I'm sitting on the couch watching tv. I'm sure my roommates don't appreciate it so much, but it's relaxing for me."
"I would love it if I had a roommate who played. I find it soothing, maybe because my dad always played when I was growing up, and I could always hear him play while I was in bed at night. He would play all the time, I mean, he used to have a music store, actually, and he plays the guitar, banjo, anything with strings. Luckily he never tried to force it on me. He tried teaching me a couple times, but I just had no interest. It wasn't until college that I decided to learn, and then I just taught myself chords from a book."
"Did you ever take lessons?"
"Just a few times, at my dad's store, because I figured, why not? But it didn't last very long. And my dad tried to teach me a few things, but it's hard learning from your parents, you know?"
"Oh, does your dad play?"
"Uh...yeah. I...I give up."
"What? Why are you banging your head on the table like that?"
Perhaps it was more the effects of the second beer kicking in, but we finally (finally) managed to connect on a somewhat meaningful level when the topic turned to food. Then, suddenly we couldn't stop talking; about our favorite foods, cooking classes we had both taken at the same culinary school, gushing about our favorite restaurants, and discovering in the process that we live just blocks from each other (of course). And he's not a vegetarian, so perhaps there is hope.
Though I'm just not sure how much a shared passion for food makes up for. I mean, sharing an appreciation for a good, stinky cheese has its merits. But I'm envisioning down the road, when I ask him five times to pick up milk on his way home, and he comes in and I say, 'Did you get the milk?' and he says, 'Oh, did you want me to pick up milk?' And then I will be forced to kill him and will spend the rest of my life in jail, because my lawyer is an alcoholic and the judge hates me. I mean, I'm just not sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I think we're going to go out again. But I swear, if he asks me what I'm doing for Thanksgiving one more time, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.