Date #1: There's No Place Like Home

*whew*
Ok. Here we go. As I type this I have just been dropped off by one *Scott, my first blogged internet date. Ever. Scott and I were matched on eHarmony. The plan was to meet at *Sylvia's at 8pm. I was there at 8pm, wearing what has now become my 'first date' outfit. Black flowered skirt, with sleeveless black v-neck top. And sandals. My most flatest sandals. Scott is 5'8. I am 5'8 and a half. And this girl loves her heels. Trista asked me yesterday on the train, "Are you going to wear flats? Or wear heels and...give it to him?"

I wore flats.

Scott showed up ten minutes late, but to his credit, was very apologetic and had trouble parking. First impression? Tom Cruise looks (without the scientology freak factor) and the BLUEST eyes EVER. He looked ten times handsomer in person than his online pictures, and I was pleased as punch. We sat at the bar. Or, rather, I was already sitting at the bar and he sat down beside me. I had a glass of red wine, he had a Corona. The conversation was easy. We talked music, family, the arts, ice cream, Seinfeld. You know. The important stuff. I'm verymuch enjoying myself at this point. He's laughing at my stories, I'm finding him very charming and a good listener...and funny! Sylvia herself comes over and hugs him, telling me he is the best *saxaphone player EVER. (He's played a few gigs there - he's a jazz musician). He puts a hand on my knee as he excuses himself to run to the restroom and I take that as a DEFINITE good sign.

He returns and we talk more. I ask about where he's from. *Schaumberg. "Oh," I say, "do your parents live near you?" Without pause he says, "Yes, well, actually I live with my parents. I've been sorta saving to buy a place." Now, I'm not one to be the pot calling the kettle black, as I did live with my parents until I was well into my late twenties, but Scott is 34. 34!! Am I wrong in being a little alarmed at that? And he's lived at home since he was 24. TEN YEARS! Is he saving to buy the Taj Mahal?! I want to say: I think it's time to grow up, Scotty. I think you've been playing this "baby of the family" card a little too long. But - in the interest of the date (and this blog) I didn't freak out. I made him feel like that wasn't a huge deal...and even told him about my own prolonged stay at home, to hopefully make him feel better. But the thing is, he didn't need ego stroking. His living with his parents at age 34 was as natural to him as folding his laundry. Which his mom probably still does for him. Oh, gawd...that's so unfair of me. But probably true, right?

Ok, moving on. Right around this time I notice he's sweating. Profusely. He asks if I'd like to go get icecream - to cool off. I say a'la Renee Zellweger in 'Jerry Maguire' - "You had me at hello- er, cookie dough." We stand up to go, and that's when he notices it. My obvious height advantage. He kinda furrows his brow and tilts his head a bit. We walk out the door and down the sidewalk and he says, "You're....how tall?" 5'8. "Huh. Ok." Why do I feel like he doesn't believe me? Oh, my kingdom for a tape measure!

The rest of the date is actually fun. We go to Dairy Queen, I pay. We sit outside and chat. It's nice. The thing is, I really enjoyed his company. He was funny, he was intelligent, he was cute! He thought I was funny, too! But could I date someone who is 34 and still living with mom and dad? "Hey, my parents are going out of town. Two words. Par. Tay." or, "Dad's makin' waffles in the morning, wanna sleepover? I call top bunk!" *Shiver* The truth is, it didn't seem like he had any plan to move out any time soon. If anything, he kept touting how great and supportive and wonderful his parents were.

Pffft. I dunno. He dropped me off with a hug (oh, and for those that are wondering, he drives a Toyota Corolla) I really don't give a flying fig about cars, but it has been brought to my attention that a man's car says a lot about him. What does a Corolla say, then? "Deathly afraid of cutting the apron strings"??

And here I sit. In my first date outfit. He asked if he could call me again to go out and I said "Sure."

Maybe I need to mull this one over a bit. Weigh the pros and cons. Maybe it's too soon to judge? Any thoughts? Please do share.

Until then, I remain....sexless in the city.

* PLEASE NOTE: Names, locations and occupations have been altered to protect the identity of this mama's boy