There's a reason, there is always a reason.

“You’re what, 38?”

“You’re very kind, higher”

“40?”

“Higher.”

“45…” I start speak slower now as the nervousness creeps into my voice.

“Higher.”

“Not 50!"

“No, lower than that. 46”

“Divorced?”

“No, valid questions, though. And I don’t have any kids, either.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Yes.” 
I nod.

“I should get home.”

“Let me drive you.”

I do the mental math – his last drink would have been hours ago. It should be fine.

In said car, his heat isn’t working because his car is out of coolant, so that’s not comfortable.

Then he has to stop for gas IN my neighborhood, I’m a 15 minutes walk from my apartment, a 4 minute drive, because this man (who you would assume at 46 has his shit together) is about to stall because he was driving me home on empty.

Am I impressed? No. Am I interested? Not really, anymore. Am I embarrassed to be in this car right now? Hell yeah, I am.

Monday – my co-worker, who introduced this man to me at a bar on Friday night, brings up that I had agreed to go to dinner with this man, in front of her. I had forgotten.

When I apologize to this man for forgetting over text, because I had, and I was planning to work-out after work. He calls and offers to take me to dinner on Thursday or Friday. In a few hours, he calls again, to bring up the idea of a dinner party that a friend of his hosts every Thursday. I agree and the rest of the week progresses with minimal communication.

Minimal communication with him, but the co-worker who introduced us has been coming into my office daily to speak to me about his ‘crowd’ and what I should expect. She makes it sounds rather salacious, but always ended with, "but he’s one of the good ones". So I have high expectations for Thursday, but an open mind, because AM is one of the good ones.

My dress is adorable, my hair and make-up are near perfect and the only hiccup is that because of predicted lows of 7˚ outside, I’m in warm brown boots instead of cute little black high heal booties. But I can’t remember if AM is tall or not, so the boots are a safe bet.

After a longer Uber than expected – I show up at AM’s doorstep in Georgetown, and after ringing the door bell twice with no response, and checking my phone to make sure I put in the address correctly, I call. “I’m so sorry, I was in the bathroom, I’ll be right down to let you in.”

Let me just state that while it hadn’t hit the low of 7˚, it was still 18˚ and no one wants to wait outside in that.

He lets me inside, tells me I look cute and walks away, without offering to take me coat, or ask if I would like to take my coat off. A bit miffed, but he seems a bit distracted so I give him the benefit of the doubt. I decide to take my hat, gloves, coat and scarf off and lay them on the couch arm.

He’s in the kitchen and asks if I’d like a drink, I follow and agree casually but a little confused. I’ve honestly never experienced someone completely ignoring my coat before and the confusion is causing me to be a little slow and uncertain my decision-making. He shows me two open bottle of red, and either look fine, one blend and one cab sauv – he pours both for me to try and I choose the blend.

I drink wine while he excuses himself to finish up some work. I’m left staring at this man’s CD collection (yes, as in Compact Discs from the 80s and 90s.) Here is another awkward moment that I’ve never experienced on a first date. He’s left me to just stare and wander this town house while he finishes up his work and pays no attention to me.

Unfortunately a CD wall can only entertain for so long, so I find myself wandering over to the couch, there are a number of magazines sitting on the coffee table, so I grab a copy of Washingtonian and start flipping through it while he works.

“I have one final phone call to make and then we can go” He says, getting out his phone, I nod and he just goes ahead and makes this work call in front of me.

“Hey, N, was hoping to catch you on the phone before heading to Steve’s. So you’re either a) on your way to Steve’s and can’t hear your phone, b) pouring yourself a glass of wine at Steve’s and can’t hear your phone, or c) decided not to go to Steve’s and are cuddled up under some blankets to escape the cold and didn’t hear your phone. Anyway, was just hoping to talk about some things, hoping to see you at Steve’s, talk later. Bye”

So he claims to be done with work for the night. But instead of us heading out directly, he comes and sits beside me on the couch with his wine. He puts the song “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” on his speakers. Considering there’s an 18-year difference between us, this  feels like a particularly creepy choice of music.

I'm a nervous talker, “Have you read American Psycho? This song, well, this band is mentioned in the book.”

He has not read American Psycho, I go on to describe it, and Patrick Bateman’s lifestyle of both Type A OCD working out and vanity mixed with the drinking and cocaine.

“Do you do blow?” I literally shook my head with confusion at the suddenness of the question.

“No, I don’t do anything. I tried to smoke pot twice, but I just threw up, so I decided it wasn’t for me.”

“I don’t really do that either, but there will be people you meet tonight who do.” I was warned about this from EC at work. “You’ll definitely see a weed pen.”

“Oh that doesn’t bother me, I have a few friends who use those. But again, I just can’t”

“That’s cute.” Ever get that odd feeling in your gut that someone is attracted to you for some very messed up reasons….?

We talk a little more, and then we both finish our small glasses of wine, he grabs two fresh bottles from his basement, and we head to the dinner party just before 8.

In the car, he gets a call from a client, he takes it but it cuts out. We get to the party, and I move to get out of the car, but he wants to finish up this work. So again, for the second time on this ‘date’, I sit through a work call of his. And honest to God  - I am not someone who can just scroll through instagram or twitter for hours – I committed to a date with this man – I didn’t want to be scrolling through social media.

Finally the call wraps up, and we walk over to the house. Even from the outside, he recognizes people and is recognized by people as we walk in. There’s a large crowd around the door, so it’s a bit hard to maneuver getting inside. I’m introduced to the host and few other people before we go upstairs to put our coats away in Steve’s bedroom.

There’s food set up in the kitchen in a buffet style, and beautiful plates and silverware. I’m a pescatarian, so I can’t eat the pork, but there is roasted acorn squash (love) and an arugula, grape and blackberry salad. AM doesn’t realize my dietary needs, even though we did speak about it over the phone earlier in the week, but he makes sure I pile my plate high with salad and acorn squash since I can’t eat the meat.

As we set our plates down, I am sitting across from AM and right beside a photographer I know from my personal life in DC. I let him know that I posted two of his photos of me on instagram, we speak about his day job as a civil engineer and I’m not really talking to AM – but I am feeling very watched by his two female friends sitting next to him.

Everyone around seems very well educated, very smart, in their 30s. But then a girl comes up behind me and is trying to get some wine glasses. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the very wide eyes and young face, but I am instantly not a fan and I'm not sure why. After a few minutes of talking, I’ve deduced that she is either 22 or 23. And AM has taken an interest in speaking with her and becoming best friends.

I don’t beg for attention. I don’t ask for attention, if a man is not paying attention to me, I will quickly find another to speak to and focus my attention on. AM was literally turned away from me on this booth-like bench, putting his arm up on the back of the booth as his focused his full attention on this young girl.  Fine. I ended up getting up and speaking to the man who playing his guitar and singing for everyone about his music.

Soon I ended up in another conversation with this woman from Peru who’s son is 16 – she did not look old enough to have a teenage son, but she was a 38 year old who still looked very fit and young. This conversation lead to another conversation with a man who is friend with cast member from the latest live tv-musical of RENT. We spoke about that, I spoke about being a musical theatre major.

AM came by eventually because he realized that I had started making friends with others, but that’s what happens when you leave me alone. I will find other friends. I do not need to be babysat – I will make my own damn friends if you find your attentions drawn elsewhere.

But AM informs me that we’re going back to his place with the 23-year-old girl and her best friend (a young man) to play beer pong. Beer pong. On a Thursday…

I think it’s a bit weird, and I’m annoyed, but by this time, my ego is pricked and my need to prove myself as alpha female has kicked in, so I go – because I’m not going to be cuckolded out of my own date.

We get back to his place, he puts on Pandora – I didn’t even know people still used Pandora – and sets up plastic cups and ping pong balls with beer poured inside with one water cup.

AM and I are on a team – this girl and her friend are playing against us. We win the first round, and they win the second. But then AM’s computer shuts off. And he flips a switch and becomes very angry at these two young people.

This little girl looks like an teen about to cry when her father yells at her, and I’m about to call an Uber. I make it clear to her that I we should ALL leave, but as a girl who hass been a mentor, a big sister in my sorority and more – I make sure to help her and her friend call and Uber quickly first.

They’ve left and I’ve just called my own – but now AM is telling me to cancel it that we need to talk…

And we do – and it’s exhausting, we discuss his behavior, my behavior… it’s not great but we settle on a truce. Basically deciding that no one is either right or wrong. Though I know that I am right. Obviously. You’re 46, you spent that last few hours hitting on a girl 23 years younger than you. Literally half his age.

So come Friday, I’m both hung-over and angry. EC and I speak and she seems a little surprised, but actually not at all. But I should have known, I should have expected this. When a man is in his later forties, has never been married or in a serious relationship – there’s a reason.

And this is how we learn, and this is why we drink.