“No, I mean it. I could never do that. Just thinking about it makes my palms sweat.” He flexes his hands as if to prove a point. “I wouldn’t be able to get more than a few feet off the ground.”
There it is—the first awkward this-was-definitely-a-mistake stomach twist of the night.
It shouldn’t matter that Gage doesn’t climb—plenty of people don’t. And I don’t need someone who lives and breathes it the way I do. But if there’s anything I’ve learned through my string of bad dates, it’s that ultimately, I want someone who’s at least willing totry.
I mean, it would be nice to be with someone who doesn’t look at my job like it’s a personal nightmare.
“Well, maybe you can rent an office in a high-rise and learn to enjoy it,” I say cautiously. I would never downplay his fear, but I want to know if there’s any chance of him trying something new.
He still shakes his head. “Second floor, tops. That’s as high as I’ll go and still look out a window.”
His nauseated tone tells me I definitely shouldn’t tell him about my recent trip to Devil’s Tower, Wyoming. He wouldn’t understand. That trip had been a significant turning point in my career. I mastered some advanced skills and became a better teacher, earning some recognition among peers.
“Well, the second floor is still something,” I say.
We change topics. Gage tells me about the college classes he just finished and where he’s hoping to get an internship next summer. I hadn’t realized how much younger he is, to still be in college. I graduated with a secondary education degree four years ago, but ultimately followed my true love of rock climbing.
As Gage turns the conversation back to me, I tell him about my recent trip to Joshua Tree National Park and how fascinating it had been to see the Milky Way at night. It’s not something we can do here in San Diego, with all the light pollution. But Gage can’t seem to get past my description of the dry scenery, even cringing when I described the thirty-foot yucca I stood by. It grates on my nerves.
As Gage cycles back to his hopes of owning a house, I catch myself scanning for the exits. Is this what Korie meant when they said they didn’t enjoy dating? How taxing it is to put ourselves in awkward situations just to see if we fit? If so, I get it.
It is definitely getting old.
“You aren’t feeling this, are you?” Gage says.
I blink in surprise and sit up a little straighter, thinking my posture must have given me away or something.
He has a sad, knowing expression. “You haven’t smiled as much since our food was served. So either you hate the food, or I’m boring you.”
I wipe my mouth before replying. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t think I am. The food was delicious, but I just don’t think we fit.”
He nods slowly. “It’s okay. I was thinking the same thing. We’re a bit like oil and water, you and me.”
I nod, relieved. “Yeah, I think so too.”
He leans in. “We could still have some fun, though, if you’re up for it. I don’t live far from here.”
His meaning is clear, yet sex with him sounds even worse than suffering through dinner.
I really am so tired of this—of attraction being reduced to convenience and dates turning into negotiations. That’s assumingI can even get a date.
I wanted tonight to be different, since Gage was the one who approached me for a change. But no. Once again, it’s all a means to a meaningless end.
I sit back. At least the food was good. Really good, actually. Korie would melt over the tonkatsu.
“Thanks, but I think it’s better if we just part ways.”
Gage shrugs, unfazed. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
I wave the waiter down to pay for the meal before this can get any more awkward, then box up my leftovers and get to my feet. “Nice to meet you, Gage. See you around.”
He waves me off.
As I step back out into the warm night air, my heart feels heavier than when I arrived. Will I ever find a decent partner? Maybe I need to try dating women again. I’ve always leaned more strongly toward men, but clearly, it’s not working out for me.
Frustrated, I get in my car and drive in the direction of Korie’s apartment instead of going home. No sense in wasting the good food. Besides, I want to vent about the pathetic night.
Korie’s light is on when I get there, and they answer immediately when I knock on their door. “What are you—oh no.” Their smile fades. “Did it go that bad?”
