Plain Old Vanilla

When it comes to internet dating, I'm hopeful. I met Ex via JewDate. Um, okay, bad example. Give me a second. Ooh, my friend Stephanie met her husband via JewDate and not only are they still happily married but they recently had a baby. So, with my relatively open mind, I took JewDate out for a one month spin in November.

Even with those thirty days interrupted by a Turkey coma, I still found time to chat up some potential suitors. But chatting up was about as far as things progressed. Work had me in a chokehold and if it didn’t involve my desk or my bed, it didn’t get the time of day. To put it in a better perspective, things were so bad my toys didn't even come out to play.

By the time I made it to Christmas, one of the initial suitors had fallen by the wayside. No matter how many times I told him not to take my lack of free time personally, he did. I know you should never read an email with a tone but I swear to God that dork gave me some major whiny tude. I let him go, figuring some other Jewess would be better suited for his fragile ego.

Still in the process of picking up the pieces from a maddening end to 2006, I snuck in a date with one of the other guys. I’m going to call him Vanilla and it ain’t just because the boy is white. Saturday night, Vanilla and I went out on our first official date, having previously survived the requisite one-hour-drink-fest to taste test the face to face chemistry.

“I made us dinner reservations at eight in Manayunk. How about I pick you up at quarter after seven?” he asked.

I stumbled and fumbled that one. I mean, a guy hasn't picked me up for a date since…hold on….shit, I ran out of fingers. Part of the problem is Smith taught me to go and do what I want when I want, regardless of a man. The other part of the problem is that chivalry's dead. I relayed my confusion to Leslie who immediately insisted I keep my trap shut and just roll with it all. Being treated like a lady was to be embraced, no matter how foreign it all felt.

And so Vanilla schlepped out of the city to the burbs. He even parked and came up to my apartment to fetch me, presenting me with a gift of wine, a Vouvray I’d been hunting for since 2004. He opened the car door, drove us to dinner, swatted away my wallet which contained all of two dollars, drove us to another spot for drinks and again swatted away my wallet, calling my gesture cute. When we walked on the street, he stayed to the outside. When we entered into places, he held the door and ushered me in.

I think you get my point. Vanilla's got chivalry down pat. And let me tell you, it counts for something. Male readership, take note. Anyway, for everything he does right, I see him as just plain old vanilla. Even more troubling was that halfway through our date, I realized my personality was starting to mirror his vanilla-ness. Blech. I know it sounds impossible for me to come across as blah but trust me, it happened. It was so bad that I started to get bored with myself.

I shuffled my concern to the side, figuring I was making a big deal about nothing. Maybe he’s shy. Maybe I’m being too quick to judge. In other words, we’re going out again on Sunday. It’ll be our third get together and I’m starting to fear it may be the last. I don’t spend any part of my day thinking about him. My belly doesn’t get knots in his presence. And I just don’t have this urge to throw him down and, um, well, ride him. Listen, Reading might have been a dud but at least I got myself off to the idea of doing a little saddling up. When I close my eyes and think of Vanilla, the only riding going on is the image of him perched on top of a John Deere mower.

When I first met Ex, I felt the same way but I pushed through figuring what I was drawn to in the past never panned out so I should be open to what I’m not drawn to. Okay, wait. Again, bad example. Anyway, I totally believe that spending the rest of your life with someone runs a lot deeper than multiple orgasms. Times change, people change and you have to be in love at the core to survive it all. But I just don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life staring down a scoop of vanilla.