CHICK CHAT: My Date Told Me It Wasn’t Going Work Because I Didn’t Want Kids In A Year

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bad-dateOur first date was impromptu. We met on the street in Brooklyn, where I live. I was walking home, head down, hyper focused on picking the right song to act as a soundtrack on the six block walk to my house and checking Instagram for all the images that I missed while on the train. Needless to say, I wasn’t being attentive to my surroundings. But when I felt the tap on my shoulder, accompanied by a sweet and sincere, “Excuse me, miss. You’re really pretty. I just wanted to tell you that.”

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Without sounding conceited, I just want it to be known that I get hit on almost daily. And usually, it’s by a homeless man, some dude who’s been standing in the same spot in front of the same bodega from 8am to 8pm. But this time, when I looked up in the direction of the shoulder tap, I immediately smiled. He smiled back. Dimples perfectly set on either cheek, lips the color of my flushed cheeks and a jawline that would make Clark Kent insecure. He was fine. Call me shallow, but between his devastating good looks and his gentle approach, I had to give him the infamous “time of day.”

He asked my name and gave his. “Winston,” he said, perpetuating the smile that laid across his lips from the first moment I turned around at his tap.

“Nice to meet you Winston,” I blushed. Unsure of what to do with myself, I unplugged my earphones and Winston asked if he could continue walking with me. As we walked towards my apartment, he looked over at the bar we were approaching, pointing towards it, he asked, “Want to go have a drink?”

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I smiled. And this smile was for all those times I could never get any native New Yorker to ask me out on a first date. I could meet them all day, but making it to a dimly lit ambiance, sharing stories of favorite color, best thing my mom ever taught me and why my last relationship ended was something that was as rare as a reality show that’s real.

As we sat and sipped, the conversation flowed from topic to topic effortlessly. With each giggle or hand lingering on my leg, I made mental notes. I like him. He’s funny. He’s attentive. He’s honest. He is ready to settle down. “I know I want kids and that’s been a breaking point for me and my relationships lately,” Winston revealed. “My last girlfriend told me she wanted kids and a year later, she changed her mind. I couldn’t stay with her.” I was intrigued by Winston’s honesty.

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