As we head to the bar, I catch a whiff of his cologne. If my nostrils are correct, it’s something different from what he was wearing earlier. Ha! A sign of effort!
I can’t believe we’re actually on a date. Joy rushes through me, followed by trepidation. Maybe I shouldn’t have started out by questioning him about Rodrigo’s romantic status. It didn’t occur to me that Jared would think I was asking for myself. I mean, for a sixteen-year-old to go after a guy who’s clearly thirty is ridiculous, though I know it happens. I’ll hold off on quizzing him about Rodrigo’s relationship history for now, and focus on creating one with me and Jared.
We buy some drinks—blueberry soy smoothie for me, caramel latte for him—and go back to sit on the couch. The first couple of minutes are a little, er, um, awkward. It’s as if we’ve both realized that this isn’t art class, and we aren’t sure how to act. Plus I’m having a thousand mini panic attacks (I’m on a date with Jared! This is unreal!), and I have to force myself to focus on what he’s saying. Once I do, the conversation flows better and the tension eases.
“So tell me about this art school you’re applying to,” I say, stirring the thick smoothie, trying to still my mind like in yoga class, trying not to wonder if he’s going to kiss me right here on the couch, or on a windy street corner, either of which would be fine with me.
“I want to do Fine Arts at City College. That’s actually what Rodrigo and I were talking about. He’s helping me look into scholarships. I’m working as much as I can to save the tuition.”
“Where do you work?”
“I teach art classes to kids at the youth center. It’s an after-school program, so it doesn’t pay much. The rest of the time I pump gas at Cecil’s on Nostrand.”
“I work at Eddie’s Grocery. We’re not even allowed to have a cup for tips. Not that people would tip us, anyway. It’s a horrible store.”
“That sucks. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been working crappy jobs for years.”
“I shouldn’t complain. I only started at Eddie’s last year.”
“You live with your parents, right?”
“My mom and stepdad. My dad lives in Canada.”
“Your mom and stepdad get along okay?”
“Yeah. They sit around for hours reading and drinking tea. Sometimes they talk philosophy and theology. It’s like PBS’s idea of a sitcom. Anyway, Mom’s happy, which is the most important thing.”
“What about you? You like your stepdad?”
To my surprise, I hesitate before answering. “Not long ago, I might’ve said I was neutral. But he’s growing on me.”
“Sounds like your mom made a good choice, then. My mom’s boyfriends were assholes.”
“That’s too bad.” It’s all I can think of to say. I doubt he wants to supply details.
“How much money did you raise with the speed dating?”
“Seven hundred and fifty-three dollars.”
“Kudos.”
“Thanks. I thought it was a cool experiment. I did my sociology paper on it.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He puts down his latte and leans back against the couch. “So besides organizing speed dating nights for charity, what do you do? I mean, I’m into music, listening and playing, and I’m into art and I wonder what other people do.” He’s looking at me intently now. “Do you study all the time?”
“Me? Why would you think that?”
“You get really good marks, don’t you?”
“They’re okay. I study when I have to. Otherwise, I…” I can’t tell him my real vocation, can I? Of course not. “I like to hang out with my friends. And I read a lot.” Okay, so it isn’t the best answer. In fact, it’s totally boring. The Oracle would say this isn’t the way to get a guy fascinated with you. “Oh, and I’ve started doing some yoga and working out.”
“Rodrigo’s big on working out. It’s like meditation for him. I was thinking of starting to go to the Y.”
“Cool, that’s where I go.” But wait—if he goes he’ll realize I’m hardly ever there.
“So what’s your workout routine?”
“Uh…” Okay, so maybe I overstated my case. I don’t have an actual routine. “Well, I’ll do a yoga class and then use the treadmill. And maybe some weights afterward.” I hope I’m not lying; I hope curling five-pound dumbbells constitutes doing weights.
“Weights, huh? I can see that.” He gives my biceps a little squeeze. And suddenly I’m having another mini panic attack, wondering if he’s going to kiss me right here and now.
But he’s not moving closer. I wonder if he realizes that he’s affecting me this way. Probably not, because his hand moves away.
“Do your parents know where you are, Kayla?”
The mention of my parents is like a splash of cold water. “They know I’m—” On a date. Thankfully I catch myself in time. “They know I’m out with somebody. Why?” Does he want to stay out late? Go somewhere exciting? I could call home…
“I was thinking you’d better get back. They wouldn’t want you taking the subway too late.”
It’s only ten! I want to say. But I guess he’s right. I should probably be grateful that he’s pointing out the time.
“I’ll walk you to the subway. You take the Q?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“The N.”
“That’s the opposite way.”
His mouth curves up at the side. “I know. Let’s go.”
We get up, put our cups on the counter and step outside into the crisp air. Wishing I wore a heavier jacket, I hug myself against the cold. His clothes are even flimsier than mine, but his jacket is hanging open like the cold doesn’t affect him. I bet he likes the breeze flattening his shirt against his chest.
I keep wondering if he’s going to put his arm around me or take my hand. I’m close enough that he could do either if he wanted.
He insists on swiping his Metrocard and waiting with me on the platform. I’m grateful, since the station is pretty deserted. It isn’t late, but it’s a weeknight.
I see the lights of the train pulling up. My heart thunders as I turn to him. “That was fun,” I shout over the noise.
“Yeah. Night, Kayla.”
Then he turns and walks away.
I step onto the train. As the doors close and the train accelerates, I stand there, dumbfounded.
What just happened? Where the hell is my good-night kiss?
I WAS ROBBED! Robbed, I tell you. When I get home, I go straight to the computer to write a blog.
To Kiss or Not to Kiss? The Rules of Kissing on the First Date: A Plea to Guys Everywhere
A lot of fuss has been made over the question, should people kiss on the first date? The answer is not an easy one, but some rules apply.
Body language is very important. If a girl looks likes she wants you to kiss her, then do it. If she seems reserved, then hang back and offer a hug or a kiss on the cheek, letting her know what a great time you had. If you’re not interested, don’t kiss her at all.
Whatever you do, don’t leave her wondering whether or not you’re interested in a second date. And please don’t leave her wondering whether your night out was, in fact, a date or not…
I’m tempted to leave a copy of the blog in Jared’s locker, but of course, I would never do that.
The thing is, we had a great date. But now I have an awful fear that it wasn’t a date at all and that he just sees me as a friend, someone to hang out with. He didn’t even try to kiss me. And I don’t buy that he was trying to be a gentleman. He’s a teenage guy!
If anyone but me were involved, the Oracle would have plenty of advice. But it’s impossible to be objective when it’s my own love life.
I remember that, a few weeks ago, I wrote a blog called How To Tell If He’s Interested In a RELATIONSHIP With You. I capitalized the word relationship because a guy may be attracted to you without being interested in a real relationship, as I discovered with both Case Study No. 1 and 2.
I find the blog and skim it over, looking for words that fit my situation.
…Keep in mind that some people are gushy and immediately want to sweep you off your feet. These people are a lot of fun, but often their interest in you dies quickly. It may be better to find someone whose interest in you increases over time, or who is reserved at the beginning. A cautious person, who will express his feelings only after getting to know you well, is often a safer long-term bet.
This is something, isn’t it? By my own advice, his lack of gushiness doesn’t necessarily mean there’s no relationship potential. I wish I knew!
AT 10:07 THE NEXT NIGHT, I’m sitting in my bedroom stewing in my bad mood thanks to last night’s NKF (no kiss fiasco) and the fact that Jared still hasn’t called. It doesn’t help that the most entertaining part of my night was when a customer bought a jar of Metamucil and a stack of tabloids and whispered, “Bathroom stuff.”
Ick!
The only thing that got me through the horrid shift at Eddie’s was thinking there would be a phone message waiting for me when I got home. But there was no message, and Mom and Erland confirmed that no one had called.
I feel like an idiot. I really thought he would call. At school today, Jared was warm. Jared was flirty. Jared was even touchy-feely. But it’s true, he said nothing about going out again. Come to think of it, he didn’t refer to last night at all.
Tanner, my stuffed bear, is looking down at me with a frown. Yes, Tanner, I know. I’m waiting for a guy to call. It’s utterly, totally wrong.
If Jared doesn’t know that he should call me, he’s beyond clueless. Even if he’s at work, he could give me a quick call on his cell. Calling is a basic courtesy to the person you’re dating, a keep-in-touch, just-checking-in mechanism to let the person know you’re thinking of them.
If I had his number, which I don’t, would I have the courage to call him?
Probably not. There’s no point, anyway, because Jared calling (or not calling) will tell me if he’s interested in me.
I feel a blog coming on.
To Call or Not to Call: The Rules
It’s tense. It’s distracting. You jump every time the phone rings.
Since the beginning of the telephone, girls have been wondering whether the guy will call. Sometimes he says he will but never does. Sometimes he doesn’t say he will but he does, anyway.
The rule is usually two days. If he doesn’t call you within two days of getting your phone number (or within two days of the first date), your future does not look promising. If a guy likes you, he’s eager. Sure, he might wait a day not to seem too eager. But if he waits longer than that, it’s not a good sign.
If he comes up online, don’t instant-message him first. IMing him won’t tell you what you need to know: is he interested?
In this day and age, there is no excuse for not calling. If you’re very busy, you can send a quick text message or a one-line e-mail. There is always a way.
One of my clients, we’ll call her Tara, gets asked for her phone number frequently. Most of the time, the guys do not call. Tara recently tried a new strategy. When she met a cute guy and he asked for her phone number, she said, “I’ll take yours instead.” By doing this, she figured she could call him whenever she wanted and not wonder whether he’d call.
Two days later, Tara called him. The guy said he was on the other line but he’d call her right back. So she gave him her phone number.
He didn’t call back.
The moral of the story is this: There is nothing you can do to avoid the will-he-call-me problem. He will either call or he won’t. If he does, that will give you the answer to the most fundamental question of dating: is he interested in me or not?
Good luck, and God bless,
The Oracle
I post the blog and log on as the Oracle. While I was at work I missed three instant messages. That’s fifteen bucks lost! Hopefully they’ll try again sometime. I really have to quit my job soon. If I’m serious about taking the Oracle to the next level, I need to spend more time in front of the computer.
Bling! Loveless23 has instant-messaged me.
Loveless23: You’re not easy to get in touch with, Oracle.
Oracle: I apologize. I am here for you now, Loveless23. How are you doing with the woman in your office?
Loveless23: You remember that?
Oracle: The Oracle remembers all things.
And keeps detailed notes. Ha-ha.
Loveless23: Well, I finally worked up the courage to ask her out. She said yes. We went out. It was awkward at first but then it went really well.
Oracle: That’s wonderful! Will there be a second date?
Loveless23: I’m not sure. I was hoping she might ask me out next time.
Oracle: How did the last date end? Did you talk about another date?
Loveless23: No. It ended pretty fast. I didn’t even have a chance to kiss her. Well, I could have, but I was hoping she’d make a move. She’s confident. She knows who she is.
She knows who she is? Something about that rings a bell…
Oracle: Did you call her?
Loveless23: I’m not sure if I should. We went out last night. I don’t want her to think I’m crowding her or anything.
Oracle: You have to use your own judgment on that. Did you get the impression that she likes you?
Loveless23: She’s friendly. But she’s nice to everyone. That’s just who she is. I don’t know if she even realizes we went on a date. She might think we went out as friends.
Oracle: Maybe that’s because you didn’t kiss her. If you had, you’d probably have a good sense of whether she liked you or not—depending on whether she kissed you back.
Loveless23: I’m starting to regret that I didn’t. Especially when I read your blog on that, Oracle. But like I said, I don’t think kissing and calling should only be up to me. This girl’s a feminist, she should know that. Anyway, I thought if you like a girl you’re not supposed to kiss her on the first date.
Oracle: I think that depends on your age group. How old are you?
Loveless23: Seventeen.
Seventeen? I wrote down in my notes that he was twenty-three. Maybe I got confused because of his username.
Oracle: At your age, kissing on the first date is entirely appropriate.
Loveless23: Gotcha. So, Oracle, do you think this girl likes me?
Oracle: That is hard for me to tell. Does she flirt with you?
Loveless23: I’m pretty sure she does. What should I do now? Call her?
Oracle: Yes. The Oracle believes you should call her. She could be hoping for your call right now.
Loveless23: Okay, Oracle. I’ll call her. Thanks for your help. Definitely worth the five bucks.
Oracle: Glad to hear it. Good luck, Loveless23.
The phone rings. I almost jump out of my skin. It’s the home line. “Hello?”
“Glad you’re back in business, Oracle.”
I blink. “Uh, what did you say?”
“Am I speaking to the Oracle of Dating?”
“Um. Uh.”
“Did I shock you by calling your home line?”
My mind is whirling.
“Jared?”
“You sound really surprised, Kayla. But you wanted me to call, didn’t you?”
“Loveless23.”
He’s laughing. “Yeah, that’s me, Oracle.”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t figure it out right away. Getting that card in my locker made me wonder if it was somebody at school, and I’d been talking to you right before that. And when the Oracle went off-line, it looked like you were in a bad spot… I still wasn’t sure. But when I got home from our date—and, yeah, it definitely was a date—and I saw your blog on kissing, I knew. I bet you’re blushing right now. I love it when you blush.”
Am I ever! I can’t believe he knows I’m the Oracle. He knows everything I’ve been thinking!
“I’ll promise you one thin
g, Kayla. I would’ve kissed you if I knew you wanted it. And another thing—I won’t pass up another chance.”
His words take my breath away.
“Are you there?”
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “You threw me off. Nobody knows about the Oracle except my sister, one of her friends and Viv.”
“I figured that. I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me.”
“I know.”
“The Web site is awesome. Did your sister do it for you?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“You said she was a software engineer. Creating a Web site isn’t a big deal for somebody like that. Look, Kayla, I’d really like a second date. And I’m free Saturday night. So if you want to ask me out, feel free.”
I laugh. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to ask you out.”
“Right. So will you do it?”
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Will you go out with me Saturday night?”
“Sure. Thought you’d never ask.”
fifteen
THE NEXT MORNING IN CLASS our eyes meet. We both smile like we know some secret joke we’re not letting anybody in on.
He leans over and whispers, “Morning, Oracle.”
I giggle, not just because he knows my identity, but because his cologne is flirting with my senses.
He knows I’m reacting to him, because when he sits down, he’s unable to wipe the grin from his mouth.
As the class goes on, I’m thinking of writing a whole new blog on flirting. Flirting without any words at all. With your eyes. With your body. It’s amazing how Jared is driving me crazy without really doing anything. And I have the feeling I’m having the same effect on him.
We leave class together and he walks me to the caf, which is in the opposite direction of his next class. When we’re about to part, he leans into me. I freeze, wondering if he’s coming in for a kiss. But he isn’t, he just stands there motionless, so close I’m getting hot all over.
Sweet Lord, I should definitely write a blog on sexual tension!