.jumping in with all my clothes on.

so it turned out to be a remarkable blind date.

i walked to the bar, his choice. it was a brightly lit brewpub in an old house in a hip neighborhood. it was a sort of family establishment, and i was wary. i need darkness, lit only from candles and neon beer advertisements. i need smoke and mirrors and safe shadow. but in an effort not to emasculate by undermining his choice, and to, you know, not insist that all of my dates take me to trashy dive bars, i consented.

i was the kind of nervous that had me shitting my guts out in the bathroom every hour on the hour i get like that, stomach full of butterflies and can't eat. all i want is cigarettes (god bless them) and strong booze to calm my nerves. but i sucked it up, forced some yogurt down, and set off on the number 9 bus for the bar. i contemplated what would be more terrifying, arriving first and having him find me, or arriving late and scanning the tables with my guts in my throat, sauntering up to the wrong guy. i decided to go early with a book and get a head start on a beer.

he must have had the same idea, because i had just sat down and was digging through my bag for my book when i looked up to at a very nervous gentleman hovering next to my booth. it's silly, the fear that you won't recognize a person who's picture you've studied carefully. it was him, doubtlessly. i jumped up and smiled my nervous, too big smile, held out my hand and said, 'hi! i'm julie!" he stepped toward me like maybe he was going for a hug, but there was no way i was going to hug him before words were spoken and before i'd consumed several strong ipas. it was a deliciously awkward handshake/aborted hug manoeuvre, and he still hadn't spoken a word. i thought he might be about to cry.

he sat down across from me and said, "i'm sorry. i've never done this before." and i was so relieved that he wasn't some savvy internet dating pro. "me neither!" we set out on several hours of animated conversation and awful, shifty-eyed pauses.

he stuttered a little bit. and wore a grey beanie and a striped polo shirt, hip in a seth cohen sort of way, not, like, you know, the land's end summer catalogue. he was not a big guy. taller than me by just a few inches, but thin, gaunt, hungry. he had a neat beard and a fabulously interesting biggish nose. i was endeared to him immediately.

dude was excruciatingly and bravely honest. other people might swoon over charisma and coolness, like the sort of guy who can unclasp your bra with one finger while sweet talking in your ear. i'm a sucker for unabashed sincerity, and no opening line could convey that more than his. since i am also compulsively and embarrassingly up front, i swallowed a beer in the first 15 minutes and began talking about a list of subjects i'd sworn to myself were not fit for a first date.

i told him about my dead cat, how i had dressed him up in a yarmulke and made hanukkah cards with the picture. how he got hit by a car and i couldn't go into work for days.

then i told him about lorelei gilmore, and how even though i know she isn't real, she feels like my best friend.

i told him about panic attacks and insomnia and watching entire seasons of the o.c. on dvd. i told him i loved death cab like a teenager and i never had any friends in high school. i talked about my family.

i apologized and told him i had a problem with disclosing unflattering information about myself. he said, "it's okay. it's endearing."

i got home, giddy and surprised and hopeful, and called several close friends to screech drunkenly into their voice mails, "i love my online boyfriend!"

we'll see where this goes. but for sure, it shows promise.