Date # 1 with 29 Year Old Banker
Previously: Motherly Pressure
I met the Banker at happy hour, at a bar on Wall Street. I confess – the only reason I wentÂ downtown was to meet a banker. Disclaimer: I am not a â€œfinance-hoâ€ – you know, those girlsÂ who hang around groups of investment bankers, traders, and hedge fund managers to rack in theÂ free drinks and dinners. You can never figure out which one of the guys she is sleeping with,Â but chances are she is sleeping with all of them, possibly all at once. I am not her. But, you canâ€™tÂ blame a girl for wanting nice things.
The Banker approached me, bought all my girlfriends a round of drinks, and immediately askedÂ me out. I played coy, wavering somewhere between â€œyesâ€ and â€œno,â€ and we exchanged businessÂ cards. For the rest of the night, he gave me aggressive shoulder/neck massages and rested hisÂ hand on my back, never daring to venture past the small of it.
Fast forward to the next day: I walk into work and there is a huge bouquet of flowers sitting atÂ my desk. I am confused.
â€œAre these for me?â€ I ask my co-worker Lydia.
â€œYeah, they were dropped off a few minutes ago. Soâ€¦who are they from?â€ she asks, smiling.
â€œI donâ€™t know. Is it Valentineâ€™s Day?â€ I ask. â€œBecause if it is, then these are from my mom,â€Â My mother sends me flowers every year on Valentineâ€™s Day because she feels bad for me. SheÂ doesnâ€™t want me to be the only girl in the world not getting flowers, because she is 100% certainÂ that I am single.
â€œShut up, read the card,â€ Lydia answers, rolling her eyes at me. I open the card and it reads,Â â€œFriday Flatiron Lounge 9PM â€“ V.â€ I smile – game on banker, game on.
I spend the rest of Thursday and Friday thinking of the romantic situations we will fall into. YouÂ know, like, weâ€™ll talk and realize that we used to be in love in a past life. We were both half â€“Â human, half-snake and were torn apart because of an evil plot to steal our snake powers. Now weÂ are reunited and must avenge our snake deaths and find our snake families. Are you followingÂ this crazy story line?
Itâ€™s 9:20 PM and I am late but to make up for it I threw on an inappropriately short black dress.Â I walk into the dimly-lit lounge and he is sitting at the bar. We lock eyes, I smile, and he is veryÂ attractive – much more attractive than I remembered.
â€œHi,â€ I lean in and whisper, turning on my sexiest voice, in my head I sound like Angelina Jolie,Â but in reality, I sound like a chain smoker. He turns around with a confused look.
â€œOh hi, I didn’t recognize you.â€ He responds. I can’t decipher if this is a good thing or a badÂ thing, probably bad, probably very bad. Sometimes I get mistaken for Mila Kunis… when peopleÂ are heavily intoxicated, boy, are they disappointed when they sober up.
We walk over to a small table. I order a drink. I canâ€™t even pay attention to what he is saying -Â the flickering candle between us lights his face, and he has beautiful cheekbones. Crazy thoughtsÂ wash over me; I hope our kids have his cheekbones… I shake my head, trying to regain myÂ composure. He keeps talking about how all his friends are getting married. Inappropriate on aÂ first date, but I let him finish. I console him, â€œ29 isnâ€™t that old, donâ€™t worry.â€ I look up at him andÂ realize that I have just put my foot in my mouth. â€œI didnâ€™t mean it like that, you arenâ€™t old.â€ IÂ throw my hands over my face.
He chuckles and reaches over for my hand. Now I am beaming.
He insists on walking me home, even though he lives in the opposite direction. I comply.
â€œAre you hungry?â€ he asks, grabbing my hand.
â€œNo, I am fine,â€ I respond, lying. I am starving.
â€œAre you sure? We can grab some dinner.â€
I smile and nod. We have dinner at a small Thai restaurant. I canâ€™t tell if he is legitimately funnyÂ or if I am just so smitten that I think everything he is saying is hilarious, probably the latter.
Dinner ends and he walks me home. I turn to him and realize that he is short. I am wearing 3-Â inch heels and am roughly his height, making him no taller than 5â€³6. This used to be a deal-breaker for me, but could I make an exception for that face?
He hugs me. I say goodnight. Now, I play the waiting game.
When I was 23, I lived my life following the code of deal-breakers. I just knew, I needed aÂ man to encompass certain physical characteristics before I invited him upstairs and slipped intoÂ something more comfortable. Now, a distant two years later, those deal-breakers are looking likeÂ a life time subscription to spinster hood. I don’t care that he is 5 â€œ6! I am not saying to go outÂ and make yourself available to a group of hobbits and circus clowns. I am saying itâ€™s time to re-evaluate these deal-breakers because when you like someone you just have to let go of the little
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