The Oracle of Dating (14 page)

“I could see you being a counselor. You’ve got the friendly thing going on. I mean, when you don’t have PMS.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Well, I did.” He moves close to me, so that his chest is inches from mine. “What are you gonna do? Kick my ass?”

We stare into each other’s eyes for one intense moment, and suddenly we’re laughing.

Gerstad shushes us. We stop laughing, but every time we look at each other we want to burst out all over again.

As class ends, he slips me a note.

You’re crazy, Kayla. But you make me laugh. Let’s meet for coffee tonight.

Oh. My. God. He has no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this!

Sure. Call me after school. 555-3940.

He nods. He’s looking, suddenly, a little shy. Like I’m feeling.

I guess we both know…

It’s a date.

Wohoooo!!!!
Sorry. I just had to get that out.

J
ARED SUGGESTS WE MEET
at the Tea Lounge in Park Slope at eight.

What should I wear? The Oracle would caution that if I dress up too much, or put on more makeup than usual, Jared will sense that I’m really, eagerly into him. So cute-casual is the look I’m going for. I put on my Gap jeans and a black velvet hoodie, and wear the same sneakers I wore at school. My hair stays loose around my shoulders, drunken wave and all. I redo my eyeliner and lip gloss but leave it at that.

“Where are you going, honey?” Mom asks as I’m heading toward the door. She and the Swede are in the living room, drinking tea and watching the news.

“I have a date. I won’t be out late.”

Mom looks surprised. The Swede doesn’t, and I notice a slight smile. I don’t wait for questions, I grab my jacket and head out the door.

The Tea Lounge is a cozy place on Union Street across from a natural-food co-op. It’s only two stops away, and I end up arriving fifteen minutes early. I might as well take a seat and wait inside, because it’s cold and I don’t want to be all red-nosed and shivery when I see him.

When I walk in, my gaze sweeps the place for free seats and I spot Jared sitting on the couch chatting with some big muscular guy with long dark hair. I take in the sight of Jared, feeling my knees weaken, thinking how he makes all other guys my age look boring. Then I notice he’s wearing the same clothes he wore to school and it hits me that I shouldn’t have changed—damn!

The big guy next to him has a notepad on his lap and they seem to be talking intently. I wonder if he’s Jared’s band’s manager.

Jared looks up and waves. I approach. “Sorry I’m early. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Who cares? This is my social worker, Rodrigo. This is Kayla, my fellow artist.”

Rodrigo smiles and shakes my hand. “Great to meet you, Kayla.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Rodrigo hoists his leather bag over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. See you next time, Jared.” As Rodrigo walks away, it hits me. Though I’m not prone to psychic instincts, something about that guy, that gentle giant, makes me think he’d be perfect for Tracey.

“Tell me more about Rodrigo. Is he single?”

Jared stares at me. “You’re kidding me, right? The guy’s, like, thirty.”

“So? There are still some single guys who are thirty, aren’t there?”

Jared’s mouth moves like he’s trying to find words. “Uh, yeah, he’s single.”

“Perfect! Wait, do you mean single as in he’s not married? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to be set up? I think he’d love my sister. She’s really the sweetest—”

Jared’s laugh cuts me off. “Your sister? God, I thought you were talking about yourself.”

“Myself? Yeah, right. He’s way too old for me.”

“You’re right. He is. Now, let’s get drinks, okay?”

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!

A
T
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.