"Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe"

It was a few days ago that I went out on a date. I don't know what it is I want. There are days when I am happy being single and then there are other days when I do wish that I had someone to hold tight at night and text about the stupid stuff that happens to me throughout the day, someone to indulge me while I vent about life's minor irritations. This guy was someone that I had had remarkably friendly and G-rated chat with on Grindr. He is only 22. I have made a mental resolution to myself that I am not going to get involved with guys much younger than myself anymore, that I want to invest my time into people that are a little more certain about what it is they want, that I am going to do my best to avoid the heartache that will come with being cast off along with the numerous identities people shed in their early twenties.

Despite this, I went on a date with him. I was feeling lonely and wanted to hang out with a guy and have conversation and then have sex. We had some drinks at the Ritz before seeing David Mamet's The Anarchist on Broadway, which was maybe the most boring play I have ever seen mounted on Broadway. It is quite terrible. A good fifth of the audience was asleep only half an hour into the play, including my date. I signaled to him that we should leave. We left the play about halfway through and headed out to Bushwick where we grabbed some drinks at neighborhood bars and then came back to my house. Here, we smoked some weed and listened to the new Rihanna songs. We then had sex in my bed, rolled around, sniffed poppers, both us coming on my chest.

He said my mattress hurt his hips, which is very understandable as the mattress gave me all sorts of aches the first few nights I slept on it. He left to sleep in his own bed.

The night was fun and also lacked something. The entire night there was some slight nagging feeling in the back of my mind, some thought that this person was not Jacob, that that was what I really wanted. I was judging this person against what I would want from a future boyfriend, imagining him in this role and I liked the previous actor better who had played this role. We would keep holding auditions, call in some other actors to read for the part.

I told Jacob I missed him a couple days ago when we were chatting on Facebook. He told me he missed me too and that we should hang out. We went out to dinner last night at Mission Chinese Food. We drank the free beer they give you while waiting for your table. We did this for the two hours we waited for our table. I told him that when I said I missed him, I meant that I missed him as a boyfriend. He didn't really respond. After I asked him some questions to elicit an answer, I got answers that I didn't necessarily want, that he just missed me as a friend, that he just missed hanging out with me.

We ate pigtails, thrice cooked bacon, kung pao pastrami, and cod fried rice. We drank more beer and were given a shot of soju for reasons I didn't really understand. I stuffed myself and had a really great time hanging out with Jacob. I am not really excited about going about the project of establishing this level of rapport, of shared history, with another person. I had been building up hope ever since he told me his missed me that he might have had some interest in trying to be romantic partners again.

We rode the J train back to Brooklyn together. When we neared his stop, he told me that he was going to invite me over but that things had gotten too emotional. I puzzled over that once the doors closed and the train headed off in a different direction from him, about the mixed signals of that statement.

I don't know about much in this world. It is clear. I like coffee and I like alcohol. Everything else is a giant question mark.