Finally! The full scoop on he-who-can’t-be-bothered-to-buy-me-a-drink, aka My One O’Clock.
Here’s a hint:
To re-cap, I first met My One O’Clock for coffee during my double-header Sunday a few weeks ago. I found him immensely attractive, immensely intriguing and immensely infuriating. He goes incommunicado rather often and even though he professed to *love* my column, I’m not entirely convinced that he actually read it because he remains rather oblivious to my… er, schedule.
(I’m all for spontaneity, but not when I’m teaching sixteen classes a week, attempting to write a book, co-producing an entire show for the Philly Fringe and conducting “new research” for my ongoing “anthropological experiment.”)
Despite my better judgment, I agreed to meet him for a second date (which took place last Monday). Here is where it gets i-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g.
As it turns out, there’s a reason that My One O’Clock was so vague about his previous place of employ, a reason why he *loved* my column and a reason why he’s so damn charming (despite his deplorable manners in the dating department). And now that he’s finally responded to my email (in which I asked for his permission to disclose following), I can tell you what this reason is: he used to be a DATING COACH.
That’s right, folks: a dating coach.
You couldn’t make this sh*t up. Seriously. Former dating columnist meets former dating coach? It’s like a bad romantic comedy waiting to happen.
I used to think I was good (after all, even though I’m still single, the majority of my 25 first dates ended in the request for a second) but My One O’Clock has small talk down to art. He’s so skillful in making, breaking and maintaining eye contact that he could teach classes on the subject. In fact, considering what he used to do for a living, he probably has.
Sitting at the bar in Vellani last week, he looked so relaxed, so confident and so sure of himself that I felt myself being taken in—but then a little voice in my head said, “Get a grip, Kat! Of course he’s good. He’s a freakin’ dating coach! He teaches people how to do this!”
(Too bad he forgot the lesson about buying the first round of drinks.)
Nonetheless, if I’ve learned anything over the past nine months, it’s that dating is a skill. Confidence and composure can be learned; flirtation can be practiced. But what happens when two people this invested in the art of courtship get together?
I feel like he’s trying to beat me at my own game just as I’m trying to outmaneuver him, and unlike most of the men I’ve dated, he actually knows the rules.
PS: I’m launching a new blog on Thursday. ‘Cause I don’t always sit around talkin’ dating, you know 🙂