Friday, July 15, 2011

Men in Scrubs

In honor of  Grey's Anatomy, this Thursday was a celebration of the medical professional on Match.com. I went on two dates (that’s right, I’m breakin’ out of my dater’s block). The first was a lunch date with a guy in nursing school. I was initially attracted to him because he was into photography, and I’ve realized that I like guys that have their own hobbies. The PhotograNurse and I went to sushi. I might be able to eat sushi gracefully if I keep practicing this often. It was a restaurant I’d never been to and I was very impressed. Yum!
The PhotograNurse was nice-- and I don’t mean that in a good way. I hate the word nice. “Nice” is the word people use when there is not a specific negative thing to say about someone, but there isn’t a specific positive thing to say about them, either. For people that leave this non-impression, we say they are “nice.” If we really liked them we would say they were kind, or cute, or funny, or charasmatic, or compassionate... you get the point. I’m sure there are plenty of girls out there looking for a “nice” guy. I am not.
Maybe my impression was the disadvantage of the lunch date. I’ve decided that a romantic relationship cannot start over lunch. It feels like you are coworkers or something. It’s very well lit and casual and non-suggestive. It’s like reading a book with no foreshadowing-- reading one chapter is plenty and you put it back on the shelf. I put my lunch date back on the shelf and continued on with my day. 
My next date was coffee with a med student from India. The Med Student is two years younger than I am and moved to the states when he was very young. Before I even begin to describe our date let me just say that I have a weird thing for Indian guys. I think they are hot. Maybe it’s because there is a hot waiter at my favorite Indian restaurant, or because I’m in love with the guy from Slumdog Millionaire, or because I think Bollywood dancing is fantastic... I really can’t explain it. It’s a phenomenon I can’t control and just need to accept. 
So The Med Student has the Indian advantage. He also has a big, beaming smile and good teeth. He likes to run and is in good shape. He’s really a stunningly beautiful person... through my Indian-loving lens. 
He was warm and friendly and greeted me with a hug and his big beaming smile. Our conversation was fun-- we ended up talking about everything from foreign education to my irrational fear of earwigs. He has a good sense of humor-- he said he was going to be Aladdin for Halloween. He was somewhat boyish and giggly. Wait, damn. Boyish and giggly. These are not traits I’m looking for. Maybe if I see him a few times he’ll get more comfortable and this will go away? 

Speaking of comfort levels, I may have created a bit of a situation. It was an accident. You see, Reno’s Superhero Pub Crawl is this weekend. I plan on wearing a ridiculous superhero costume complete with gold cuffs and blue tights and a red cape. Why? Because I can. My friends are excellent Pub Crawlers, too. It’s our quality crazy time together. This is why, when The Hunter said he wanted to come, I told him that he couldn’t come with me and my friends. That would be far too cozy at this point. But I told him I didn’t mind running into him, which will happen. It’s Reno. 
Then, I found myself discussing Superhero Crawl with The Med Student and realized that all three of us could potentially be in the same bar at the same time. This situation is super-likely and super-uncomfortable. I may wish I was super-invisible. Perhaps I will hide behind my homemade cape.



1 comment:

  1. I like the first date lunch thing. If you don't like the guy, there are many perks. There is no forced romanticism. You don't have to spend the evening with him because, most likely you have something real going on after the date and not something you made up to get out of it as quick as possible.
    I think PhotograNurse deserves a second chance, but perhaps I am just way too biased and hear the word "Photographer" and my panties drop...
    But that is just me.

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