Crepes and Carnage

"You realize she's just using you like a hot piece of ass," said Adam.
I find this statement asinsulting as I do plausible.
If it is true, then surely it is an exercise in Patience and Frustration for my dear Woman in Red, who has found me to be a little less than physically affectionate.

I had a date with the Woman in Red on Saturday. Our third date. Meeting her after work, we met at a Santa Monica creperie, where we ate delicious foods, and talked about friends and relatives.

On this particular date, like dates in the past, I springboarded off of my good friend Geoff. A man posessed of a fine sense of comedic timing and surplus wit, such that he is where the party is at. But he is also a man posessed of a gruesome loneliness, that when combined with my own, makes us weep together over the sorrow that is life.
Rather than share my own stories with her, I gave her his. I told her about his sister's Vegas trip, and her hijinks therein. And she laughed. I told her about how their Pomeranian, Jezebel, painfully injured the penis of the Shitzhu she was trying to sex up. And she made faces. We exchanged tales of coworkers and office drudgery. We were mutually receptive. As relatively unfamiliar conversation goes, it was pretty good.

I'd made a mention earlier, she is a little bit older than I. 29.2% older. Actually a significant fraction of life experience. But it doesn't seem to bother her, and it doesn't seem to bother me, so I suppose it's not an issue. What is an issue, is that there is distinctly something missing.

We are sitting in a small booth, of her choosing. Of the booths available, she chose the booth where we would sit next to each other in a tiny nook. "Since you two really like each other, this won't be a problem," said the waitress, failing to be cute. What this actually meant was that after two hours of conversation, my neck hurt.
I thought about holding her hand, or putting my arm over her shoulder... but I didn't want to misrepresent myself, and the attraction I didn't feel.
Likely intimidated by her calm demeanor, her naturally intense organizational skills, and her beauty, Spam is pretty calm around her. Subdued. He is not crazy or excited. Wary of broken hearts, he is not fluttery. He is just interested.

Maybe I am waiting for some sense of security, some evidence that I would be safe to give my heart away? Maybe she's waiting for the same thing? How do you get over that?

But more likely the chemistry just isn't there.

Scared of possibly hurting her feelings, and not ruling out the possibility of an emotional turn around, I am just going to play it as it comes. I'll continue to exchange the friendly emails, and I will go out again if she asks me.

But I'm thinking that this just isn't going to turn into something bigger.