P-P-P-Pokerface

While Charlie Sheen seems to be losing his mind, my dating life is proving to be happily sane.

For the moment.

I was invited to dinner with a gentleman friend and some other folks. Other folks = other dudes. I'm in!

We went to the now infamous Osteria Mozza (Christina Aguilera's eatery of choice when she wants to get loaded and consequently arrested). I was seated next to the tallest gentleman at the table, P-P-P-Pokerface. This is his nickname because, besides just being fun to say, he is a professional poker player. You will remember I went on a date with one of these last year. Fortunately this one was about 5 inches taller and NOT wearing a jacket with rhinestones on it. Moving on up!

P-P-P-Pokerface is just over 40, plays rugby for fun, and travels the world playing poker. He is also tall, dark, and handsome. Not to quote Charlie Sheen (because god knows everyone else is) but: winner!

While this meeting of the minds is going on, Lawyer is blowing up my phone with text messages. He's off skiing and trying to get some sexting going and is mad that I'm not answering fast enough. As I said to my girl friend, "And what? Bitch, you ain't my boyfriend!"

My attention is much more focused on P-P-P-Pokerface. There is something about him that is very open and inviting. He SEEMS to being honest with me, but then again, he masks his feelings for a living. He too has been trying out the online dating thing so we talk about that. I ask him what it is he is hoping to find in the world wide web of love and he answers, with no hesitation, "Oh, I want to find my wife. I love being married."

I choke on my linguini. No, not because of the I love being married comment, he had already told me he was divorced. But the wanting to find his wife comment. First guy I have encountered in ALL of my dating that makes a statement like that within the first 30 minutes of knowing me. Maybe this is a line because he thinks every chick is just DYING to get married and knocked up. But I am not every chick. I'm surprised I didn't run screaming out of the restaurant, fiercely clutching my independence. Lucky for him it was raining and who wants to go out in that?

Our dinner was AMAZING. He did most of the picking of the food for the table since he had been there before and WOW. Much like a man, one way to my heart is through my stomach. Be that feeding me amazing food or complimenting how it looks thanks to all the hard work I put in at the gym. He did both.

All in all? The night was nice. Not "eh" not "oh my god I can't wait to see him again!" just nice. And that's not a bad thing! Maybe nice is what I need. I guess we'll soon find out. I'm seeing him again next weekend.

When a man opens a car door for his wife, it's either a new car or a new wife,
LL