The Millionaire

So, Fireflies & I have been exchanging a few emails and he recently asked if I'd like to meet up. I say, sure. Though, I'll admit, I'm trepidatious about this. Our emails haven't been that detailed and I think it's better to get to know a complete stranger you're going to have dinner with a little bit via email pre-date. That's usually my attitude but, thanks to this experiment, I have to throw attitude to the wind.

So, we choose a night. The day of he texts me to reconfirm (etiquette some would find annoying but I actually prefer because I'm on the phone for work 10 hours a day and therefore have an intense hatred of it outside of work hours) and I assure him that yes, we're on. He asks if I'd like to meet him at his house and we'll go from there. Yes, I know, this violates every "Don't Get Raped" manual ever written, but he's just moved into a new house in the hills and I want to see it. OK, ok, so my love can occasionally be bought. So sue me. I jokingly text, "You're not going to rape and kill me and throw my body off the hill, are you?" This, is my sense of humor. Radio silence. I tell this to my roommate, who is fast becoming my 'Dear Abby' of the online dating world, and she moans and puts her head in her hands. Apparently this is a scary thing to say to someone before you've even met them. Oh boy, I'm more out of practice than I thought. I found this hilarious, but sure enough, once I text back (her advice) that I was just kidding he responds. After giving my roommate his full name and phone number so she'll know where to look for my body if I never return, I'm off.

I arrive at his place, park, and then....the moment of truth! He comes out of the (gorgeous) house. Oooh, online dating lesson #1: whatever height men say they are, subtract an inch or two, especially if they claim to be 5'10 or shorter, and you will have an idea of the actual height of the man you're about to meet. The Millionaire is probably 5'9 or just under. Being above 5'10 myself, this is about as low as I can go, but hey, again, the bank account and gorgeous house cuts him some slack in my judgement. His hair is slightly longer than in his pictures and he weighs a bit more, but not in the "oh my god when was that picture you posted taken, high school graduation?" kind of way. He's cute. So far so good.

He gives me a house tour and then we decide to go eat. Walk into the garage to find his Maserati and Ferrari waiting. Again, so sue me, I'm impressed. Between the live in chef, infinity pool overlooking LA, and this car collection, I've already mentally moved myself in. Conversation is a bit strained but he is at least making an effort and not just leaving me feeling as if I'm playing 20 questions with him. He has no restaurant picked out and says he ate a little while ago when his chef made him something. Um, really? Minus one point. Oh well, I'm hungry. I suggest a place close to his house I haven't tried and we go. After we park and are walking to the restaurant he mentions an ex of his who was a model and is in the new Bruce Willis movie that's coming out. Oy. You're now down two points, my friend.

Fortunately, things improve over dinner. We talk about our childhoods, how we got to LA, how the online dating thing is going for each of us, etc. Basic first date stuff. I laugh, but not hysterically, just in a mildly amused way. Which is fine, it's the first date. Those who've made me keel over laughing on the first date usually end up having sociopathic tendencies which is what allows them to be so charismatic the first time we meet so, mildly amusing is fine by me.

After dinner we go back to his place. It's a bit awkward when he has to go check his computer because of some business related stuff (hey, the guy did not become filthy stinking rich by sitting on his butt eating cheetos), and I linger in the living room enjoying the view of the city lights below. He comes back downstairs and I pause, waiting for him to give me some indication of whether he wants me to go or stay. He says nothing. *sigh* Roommate was right: these brilliantly smart and insanely rich types are a bit slow to pick up on the social cues. Fine, I'm a modern day woman, so I say, "Thanks for dinner, maybe we can go see a movie sometime." He then invites me to stay and watch a movie now. Hmmm, ok.

We sit on the one couch in the room, (he's just moved into this place and furniture is minimal) and turn on the TV. Then he turns and kisses me. Completely unexpected but not unwanted. Good kisser. After a bit his hands begin to roam. Not so good. I like sex as much as the next warm blooded woman but don't start groping me after I've known you for exactly 2 hours. We turn on the TV to find something on pay per view but "Clueless" happens to be on and he seems amused by my ability to name everyone in the movie, so we stay with it. He tries to get fresh a few more times and I get tired of fighting him off so I decide it's time to call it a night.

All in all, I'd call the date 'fine'. It wasn't amazing, I didn't go home thinking, "oh my gosh I hope he calls me!!!" but I didn't leave thinking "I may have to move to Idaho and become a potato farmer if that guy calls me again." This has been my feeling about the previous online dates I've gone on so I'm not surprised. Nor am I disappointed. If he calls, great, if he doesn't, that's ok too.

Oh who am I kidding, of course I want him to call! If nothing else than for personal validaiton, dammit.

The man may wear the pants in the relationship, but I control the zipper,

LL