Single in the City: Cringe Part Deux

Cringe Part Deux

Cringe scooped me up on Friday, to no fanfare. After several months of stalling, I finally caved into going out on another date with him. This second go around, I showed up in my work clothes – a pure sign of rebellious disinterest on my part, but did manage to smite on a generous helping of lip gloss, a boost of seductive perfume (Bvlgari pour Femme eau de parfum) and some black stiletto pumps. All things considered (i.e. the fact that I had a meltdown in his AC-less hoopty and that he made me cringe on our last date), I thought my efforts to look presentable were very generous. We shot down west side highway towards lower Manhattan and pulled up on Varick Street to City Winery, Manhattan’s first new winery in 40+ years. A very impressive spot, with oak lined walls, vaulted ceilings, an extravagant collection of fine wines and a winery on the lower level filled with oak barrels of wine being aged.

On this particular evening, we were there not just for the wine, but to see Amel Larrieux (founding member of Groove Theory) perform. We settled into close to front row seats, with an excellent view of the stage. The venue was amazing, the food and wine, excellent; the performance soulful, rich and intoxicating. The evening was supposed to be perfect, a second-chance, a new beginning – but still, everything was missing. I was hopelessly bored.

As I looked around, he gently crooned in my ears and mused endlessly about his recent travels to Tokyo and Haiti and all the great work he was doing to save the world- tooting his horn. Rather than connect with me and with us, he praised and celebrated himself endlessly.  Rather than find commonalities in our conversation or areas of interest, he went off on tangents that were difficult to follow at best. I struggled to bring the date back on course, with light hearted jokes and cute little comments about Amel Larrieux’s unfolding performance, but nothing could stop this train wreck in slow motion.

By the end of the evening, I concluded that there was no upside to this precarious self-absorbed dude. As we approached my home, I dreaded the proverbial good night kiss, and so I was only too eager to jump out of the car once we stopped. But true to form, he walked me into my lobby, gave me hug (a surprisingly normal one, with no tinge of slime) and did what he should have been doing all night — look into my eyes and connect on a selfless emotional level.

As he walked away, I took one last look at his back side, knowing full well this had to be our farewell date. My eyes drifted out the glass doors towards his hoopty and in that moment, it dawned on me that the hoopty was a Camry and not a Honda Accord, after all. Not that that would have changed anything.

Déjà vu – my phone is ringing and it is Cringe. Do I pick up?

Until next time…