NAME OF DATE: “ASGHAR”

ACTIVITY: symphony concert

VENUE: concert hall

MY OUTFIT:  eyelet-type-flower-patterned dress; brighty and Spring-y; fitted on top with sort of flared skirt; cute but chaste enough; red platform heels

AMOUNT OF TIME BEAUTIFYING: 15 MINS (I did shave my legs because I figured I better dress up a little for the symphony and I was wearing a dress but I did not try to look too wonderful since I had hung out with the dude twice before and was not super impressed

FOLLOW-UP DONE BY: none so far

WILL I GO OUT WITH HIM AGAIN: not sure (and I say this, why? because I want more dates? because of some deeply rooted insecurity?? I don’t know–the date was not exactly a success.

NARRATIVE: I met Asghar because he’s friends with the Gymnast. ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.’ I say, ‘If you can’t date him, date his friend!’

I’ve known Asghar for about 3 months. First, he sloppy drunk danced on my niece and I when we went to a bar with him, the Gymnast, and another friend of theirs. I was having too much fun dancing in general to mind, and I also was concentrating on thoughts of the Gymnast, anyway. Somewhat intoxicated, I had exchanged numbers with Asghar by the end of the night.

We ran into each other again at a group outing (again with the Gymnast, et. al.), started talking about cool stuff like poetry, and he bought me gelato. So, that wasn’t too bad. Gelato is high on the list of the Food of the gods, the Food of Love.

I made excuses a couple times about going out but he had impressed me with his interest in and knowledge of high Art–poetry and music; so, we ended up going to a lovely symphony and choral performance of “Carmina Burana.”

Prior to the show and during intermission, we had a little time to kill in which he made his alcoholic interest in wine too clear, texted while not talking to me, and told me that if “anyone had a right to be racist it was the Germans,” as he was explaining that the Nazi party used “Carmina Burana” as inspiration for going into battle; and, the Germans had accomplished so many impressive feats in other areas. Who says that on a first date? Who even says that?  Was something lost in translation between first- and second-language speakers? I don’t really think so, I think he’s just really opinionated, and not in a good way. He also told me that he argued with his ex-girlfriend because he thought she should dress better and she disagreed but that he was right in the end. Really? You Little Man you, you have no idea what you’re signing up for. I’ll play the part of the demur girl in the cute red dress and nod and smile while you show what a jerk you are. Just wait ’til the Feminist, Anti-Racist come out for the fight, Buddy!

He picked a lot at his mustache during the concert. At first I thought maybe he was picking his nose, which added a whole new element to my thoughts of the date, believe me, but as I looked closer out of the corner of my eye, I’m pretty sure I it was the mustache. (I was a tiny bit disappointed.) When the concert ended to a standing ovation, he screamed like a girl.

After the concert, we finally got out of the clusterfuck of people on the stairs and, thank God, on the road toward home. I hugged him before I got out of the car because I felt vulnerable from a sixth date I’d had the weekend before in which things happened all out of sync and toyed with my emotions, and somehow I’d begun to relate to this guy I’d just spent three hours with, who was wearing too much cologne and said stupid things, but wore nice clothes and picked me up in a nice car.  I actually do know how I began to relate to him–because we talked about love, longing, and loneliness in relation to “Carmina Burana,” All very impressive with our sophistication, and I think we were feeling both very single. Plus, the getting out of the car part is sooooo awkward.  But I sure wouldn’t hug him again.

We ran into about 10 people he knew while we were at the venue but not sitting in the concert. Well, he has friends, anyway. A couple of them asked us out for a drink but I said I was tired and had to get home. I didn’t really feel like going out and listening to him talk any longer and trying to keep my eyes open, even though there was a very nice Swiss girl who was friends with a girl who had done the Argentine tango with the Gymnast and was in the choir we had just seen. I didn’t necessarily want to hang out with her either! I probably should’ve gone on a date with the Swiss girl, instead.

Rating Him:

Face shape: 7

Body: 6

Eyes: 8

Hair or lack thereof/Facial hair or lack thereof: 9 (short beard is his best feature besides his sad Persian eyes)

Voice: 4 (when he called me on the phone to tell me he was in he parking lot at my building, I realized he sounded like a small frog; oddly, it’s not as unappealing as it sounds, just sort of ridiculous)

Sexiness: if I saw him on the street, 7; after talking to him about his opinions, 2.5 (he gets 1.5 points for being moderately physically attractive, after taking into consideration the opinions)

Overall Physical Attractiveness: 7

Fashion: 9; he wore a really awesome shirt with tiny polka dots on the cuffs folded back; he wore nice shoes and a suit

IT-ness (the IT factor, you either have IT or you don’t): 3

Deportment: 2

Charm: 2

Amiable: 2

Polite: 3

Interesting: 5

Kiss-o-meter: Uh, no

Rating Myself:

Face: 3.5 (ran out of concealer, little time on makeup, tired)

Body: 8 (had lost weight)

Smell: 8

Fashion: 8

Overall Physical Attractiveness: 7

Deportment: 9

Amiable: 9

Confidence: 7

Polite: 9