Sometimes you go on an amazing first date and all of the “signs” seem to point to a second. And then, he disappears into the land of guys-of-great-first-dates-past, never to be seen again. Or what about those times you flirt endlessly with one of your vendors at work—and he gives the signal that he’s interested too—only to mention his wife (WTF?!) the next week.
I often find myself looking for “signs” on dates (or let’s be real: all the time) that they’re interested. He places his hand on the small of my back, he casually mentions seeing me again, we happen to like the same kind of cheese when ordering the platter, whatever. But more often than not, when it comes to reading signals…I kind of suck at it.
Such was the case with Matt.
It had been a long week, and all I wanted (what I really, REALLY wanted) was to watch the newly-added Spice World on Netflix, bury myself in takeout, and snuggle my pup. But I had already agreed to go on a Tinder date with this guy Matt. My roommate Christina insisted I go and reassured me that if it was a bust, she was at a no-cover-charge concert only a $5 cab ride away. And so, I didn’t cancel on Matt, and instead, I tucked my tail all the way to Brooklyn and waited at the bar.
He was three minutes late, and I had finished my water by the time he arrived. I instantly noticed a cute smile and returned the gesture, only to see him turn away and start walking back toward the outdoor patio, as I quickly struggled to collect my purse and jacket and follow him. I think he mumbled, "It’s really nice out here, let’s go,” but his back was already turned so it was hard to tell. I stumbled in my heels behind him, wondering if I should have worn more lipstick or something. He barely looked at me before walking away.
We sat down at a booth in the corner, the gimicky white lights glowing against Matt’s face as he stumbled over his words, looking around the establishment and drumming his fingers on the table. He must be bored, I thought, wondering where the hell our waitress was. Another five minutes passed and I had revealed I was a writer (eh, didn’t mention this column), and he made a snide comment about how it’s nice that someone is actually doing what they came to New York to do. I tried to inquire about his life and he talked in so many circles that I lost track of what happened post-Army and pre-Chicago. By the time 15 minutes had passed, I finally had to ask: Do you think they’ll come get our order or should I go up to the bar?
It caught him off guard, but he slowly stood up, cracking a joke about being my server for the evening as he walked inside and came back with our drinks. It took us both a while to finish our glasses, and the conversation remained stilted and awkward. I felt like I was pushing myself to make it flow, while he aimlessly chimed in when the opportunity presented itself. Even as attractive as he was, I just wasn’t that into him.
Or really, I just didn’t think he was that into me. He didn’t give any signs at all that he even cared I was there—I could have been any Tinderella.
He closed out the tab and I thanked him, then I mentioned I was heading to a concert to meet my roommate. He inquired and I gave details, and to my big surprise, he asked, "Would it be weird if I went, too?" My head was screaming to run away fast so I wouldn’t have to endure another hour of strange interactions, but my heart felt sorry for the guy that he didn’t have any other plans on a Friday night. And so, we climbed into a cab. He didn’t open the door for me, didn’t place his hand on my knee while we were riding, didn’t tell me I looked nice (even though I was rockin’ my new blue jumper), he didn’t even look me in the eyes.
In fact, the whole cab there, he barely talked to me at all and I racked my brain to try and get out of this situation. With stamped wrists we headed to the bar where I insisted on picking up a round of drinks (he didn’t protest) and we stood there. Yep. We stood there. At a concert. I watched my roommate and her friends dance and sip their beers, while I tried to smile every once in a while at my, um, date? Ugh. An hour later, I told Matt we were leaving to head to dinner (truth), that we had reservations (lie, we were going to get bratwursts) and that I hoped I’d hear from him (kind of a lie?).
The thing was, as I left and he patted my shoulder in the same way my high school math teacher would have, I didn’t think he felt a connection. In fact, considering he hardly looked at me the entire night, didn’t touch me one bit and didn’t maintain any sort of communication, I concluded he was either high the entire date or well, not attracted to me, and thus I felt the same in return.
So you could imagine how shocked I was the next morning while walking my pup with Christina to see this text message appear: Hey, had fun last night! Let’s do it again sometime soon. I showed it to her and she was stunned, considering he made zero effort to talk to her or anyone else. I texted a few of my friends the story (and okay, my mom) and most of them told me I was being too picky and that he was probably just nervous. They all tried to convince me to give it another go, that it could have just been first-date jitters, and that maybe, I was a little too hard on men. (I can be at times, I admit it.)
While I love my ladies, I was curious to get a dude’s perspective. So I enlisted my friend (and a guy I went out with a few times) Jeremy’s advice to see if I was just completely misreading signals. I explained that the lack of affection (which SO many guys are a little too good at) and how it sort of lasted a long time, but not in an engaging way. Here’s what he had to say:
"When it comes to not being affectionate, I can definitely say that I can be guilty of this if I either really like a girl or I’m just not interested in her, so I don’t think it’s a good gauge. Obviously, if I’m not interested at all, I’m not going to be affectionate, but a lot of times when I feel like I really like her and already know I want to see her again, I tend to be more nervous about getting hurt or shot down. I also don’t need to rush it because I’ll see her again—hopefully."
So according to man logic, if a guy isn’t acting into you, he’s either not into you or he's really into you. That’s helpful, right? Thanks Jer!
But even if Matt was actually interested in me, after an entire date spent convincing myself he wasn’t and that there wasn’t any type of sexual chemistry, his text message felt a day late and a dollar short. He was a nice enough guy, and maybe I should give more nice dudes a chance, but I also think there’s something to a first date that just zings. When the connection is there, the banter is alive and you actually look forward to seeing them again, instead of using German food as an excuse to get away from them, stat.
If anything, my date with Matt reminded me that when it comes to signals, it’s hard to really tell what anyone is thinking. And things that might seem like good or bad indicators could be the opposite. So reading into signs or trying to figure out someone’s intentions is well, a waste of your time. They’ll make them clear (and you should too), but if you’re not feeling it, there isn’t a reason to force it. If you feel like going on a second date, then do. If you don’t, find a new match on Tinder and ask them out that night instead. Because, really, the best sign of all is your gut. And in response to that text, my gut told me to let him know I saw us more as friends. His response? Cool.
Yep, cool, just not what I'm not looking for right now. What I really want is someone who makes his signals pretty damn clear from the get-go. I mean, don’t we all need a man, not a boy who thinks he can? (Oh come on, ladies—it's a Spice World reference!)
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