Keep Walking. Johnnie Walker.

He had the voice of an angel.  Well, more accurately, he had the voice of Lou Rawls. 

I was chatting away to Tim when the strands of the song drifted by my consciousness in such perfect formation that it took a moment to register that this was not a recorded version of “You’re Gonna Miss My Lovin’.”  I looked to the stage and there he stood. 

I watched him sing and he noticed my attention.  Afterwards he strode over and as he passed by me he said “you are gonna miss my lovin’ baby.”  Corny.  But this was a Karaoke club, so channeling Elvis was forgiven.
 
He disappeared for a moment but came back asking where the guy I was with went off to.  “Oh no” I corrected “that was my son.”  After a few incredulous comments and very flattering compliments toward me, we sat down and talked for awhile.  He was smart and had a great sense of humor and before he left he grabbed two cocktail napkins, jotted “Johnny” and his number on one and asked me to write down my name and number on the other.

Tim asked if I gave him my number.  I did. 
“Did you give him your real number?”    I did. 
“Are you going to call him?”  No. 
“Is he going to call you?”  Yes.
“But nothing will come of it.”  I said, and explained that when I told Johnny about Dia his response was “she takes up a lot of your time, huh?” and when I replied affirmatively, he responded with a rather pregnant pause.

Still, he called the next day and kept calling almost every day thereafter.  I had great conversations with him.  I wasn’t feeling chemistry necessarily, partially because I couldn’t remember a single feature of his physical appearance.  There wasn't a lot of light in the room when I met him and with my memory these days, I couldn’t pick him out of a crowd to save my life.  Although I certainly enjoyed my chats with him, I wasn’t sure there was any sort of love connection. 

There were more reasons than a mysterious appearance that contributed to my doubt that this was a good romantic match, however.

1. I asked him how old he was.  His answer?  “How old do you want me to be?”  I told him that was a hooker answer but he wouldn’t give.  He asked me to defend my stance on why age mattered in the least and he remained staunchly coy (though denied adamantly that he was even slightly coy).
2. His last name?  Walker.  Oh God, I thought… how can I ever date a guy named after mediocre whiskey?  I could allow that there are supposed to be varietals of Johnny Walker that are quite good, but I’m gonna’ stand on this point considering the hilarity that Tim conjured up at Sunday dinner (which included his uncle Jim (Beam), his cousin Jack (Daniels) and that his family can trace its roots back to Samuel Adams…)
3. He’s techno-resistant particularly when it comes to the internet.  He refused to email which is my preferred mode of communication (unless you like calls at 11:00 p.m. after Dia goes to sleep).  He is an English teacher (writing) so I figured maybe he’d be interested in my blog, but he became very negatively animated at my mention of it and said he hated blogs and didn’t even know how to ‘work’ them.  Oh-kayyyy.  Considering that so much of my world is online (including work!) I felt this was kind of a strike against him, albeit a small one.
4. His first date suggestion wasn't great.   He thought a Monday (after I got off work in Altadena) at his place (in Mid-Wilshire) was a genius idea.  When he suggested it I was rushed to get out the door and didn’t have enough time to explain how I have 99 problems and a bitch might be one if he’s asking me to come there – through rush hour traffic – and then drive all the way home.  (To those unfamiliar with L.A. the after-work drive to his place would be an hour plus and the drive home a minimum of 45 minutes.)   I much preferred the idea of meeting in the middle or (better) him coming up my way.  Not to mention that I did not feel comfortable with so private a locale.  Besides – wouldn’t it be pleasant to have a nice dinner out or something?

Regardless, I ended up with a mean cough and felt it best to cancel altogether.  The next time we reconnected live we had another wonderful chat.  He was laughing at some antics he’d had the night before and I was thoroughly enjoying his retelling.  I was thinking how much I liked him when he asked “when am I going to see your ass?”   He chuckled at the double entendre which I found rather tasteless so I felt this was a good time to explain to him that my logistics are a bit challenging. 

I will fully admit that I have a habit of talking in circles.  I’ll begin explaining my stance, interrupt myself for a side note to ‘help’ clarify the point, drop in the moral of the story too early and end up starting over.  (This is another reason email is often a better way for me to communicate.)  I think I did the circular formula a bit here, so in fairness I’m not sure he heard the point correctly.  The point was that dating me might be a slower process than most.  I might be able to see you this week and then not again for two.  I just don’t have a lot of free time, so it is best if we just start out as friends rather than pressure the relationship for something more initially.

He heard it to a certain extent, because his response was “you have to take time to make time.” 

My gut reaction was to defend my situation.  I thought about launching into a dissertation on how I’m a 24/7/365 single parent.  There aren’t weekends at Dad’s house.  She’s not ready for unaccompanied play dates over at a friends’ place.  I don’t have deep pockets for babysitters … blah, blah, blah.  But I stopped myself.  I got as far as saying “It’s not like that in my wo…” and stopped.  I realized he’s right.  I could.  Technically I could.  I just won’t. 

I’m not giving up time with Dia after being gone from her all day.  Not regularly anyway.  Nor am I going to ask my mom to watch her some more after watching her all day.  That feels too much like getting that letter from the landlord: “Thank you for paying on time for the past year.  In appreciation of being a good tenant, we are raising your rent $300/month.  P.S. Have a nice day.”  (Plus I happen to actually enjoy spending time with my mother.)

Anyway, there’s just too much I’m not willing to compromise and, perhaps he correctly Cliff Noted my rant down to “Johnny Walker, I’m just not that into you.” 

Doesn’t matter, though, because you’ll never guess what he said next.  He said “I don’t keep women friends.  I have sisters.  If I want women’s company on a friend level, I turn to them.” 

Damn.

It was my turn for the pregnant pause and during that silence I realized that he was as entitled to his feelings and lifestyle as I was.  I had to respect that.  And I do.  I was hurt at first, I guess for the same reason he was – that we didn’t think the other was worth any sacrifice – but I got over it after a quick chat with Mom.  (See?  Why would I give up time with Mom for some dude with a very poorly chosen name?)

So it ended before it started.  And thank God in a way, because if I jump to the Cliff Note version of what he was saying, he’s kind of chauvinistic and archaic.  At least I don’t have to worry about him reading this post!