Tonight I was applying some makeup to the front of my melon under the harsh, florescent light in the office bathroom. Guadalupe came in and asked something about my "Novio?", which I think means boyfriend. I replied, "No, no tengo un novio." (I never have any idea what I'm talking about.) She asked, "Amiga?" and I replied, "No, un amigo de mi amiga", to which she said, "Ooh". I then said, "un doctor". (I just couldn't help myself.) Guadalupe responded,"Ooooh!"
Apparently, doctor/doctah, both the term and its bravado, transcend languages and cultures. As I was leaving the bathroom I called out, "Hasta mañana Guadalupe!" to which she replied, "Hasta mañana. Suerte!" Suerte, indeed.
I was late leaving the office, there was a problem in Texas I had to handle, but the metro was only a two minute wait. Suerte! Then I got to the restaurant only one minute late. Suerte! Bobby was waiting for me right by the door and said he had just arrived. No need to awkwardly search the bar. Suerte!
We sat, talked, ate, talked and talked. We covered everything from work to sports to pets to literature to politics and back again. We talked for over two hours without so much as a single awkward silence. Not one. I have to admit, I had a hard time making eye contact at times. I feel like eye contact and gazing, etc can sometimes be a bit too intimate for a first date. But I'm a jaded singleton...
After two plus hours, and a great chicken sandwich, I told Bobby I had to go home, it was after 10:00 p.m. And past my bedtime. He offered to drive me home, I accepted. We chatted all the way to my apartment.
We have a lot in common. And I really enjoyed talking with him, I can only hope he enjoyed talking to me. I'd love to go out with him again. I'm not sure if there was a spark that was more than friendly, but dammit, I'd like to find out.
For the record: He paid.
