anki, san francisco, march 2010.
last week i had an internet date with anki (not his real name), a cute indian guy who looked very very clean. like, unnaturally clean. every thing in its right place. every hair in place. every millimeter of his outfit perfectly pressed and clean and pretty. in all of his pictures he was smiling broadly, white teeth flashing, looking happy and unconcerned. in person he seemed equally happy. much too happy — he wouldn’t understand me.
we had tea. there were awkward silences. i knew within minutes that the date was essentially over. he was cute, but It was missing. so why’d i let him kiss me goodnight at the end? good question. i have no idea. maybe i was just lonely, craving some human contact. maybe i just wanted to know that there was someone, somewhere — him — who wanted to be close to me for a minute. in any case, he kissed me goodnight and it was not good. it was limp; limp and passive and dead-feeling. unsexiness in the form of a too-tentative more-than-peck.
nice guy, no spark. i totally understand it when people use that excuse — “there just wasn’t a spark.” it sucks SO BAD when you hear it from someone you THINK you’re sparking with, but in the case of anki, it was just…The Truth.
the end.
