The Disappearing Act

Next up was Mike from Match (again, name changed). I eased in to the world of Match after Tinder was a complete & total flop. Mike's story isn't as much entertaining as it is just plain odd.

And so it starts...second verse, same as the first...Mike and I chatted, asked & answered the standard questions, then he asked me out. 

Our initial date was to meet at a brewery (I appreicated something different) and then go swing dancing - something he did twice a week. WOAH. For a first date, swing dancing with an almost total stranger was a bit...how do you say...totally and compleltely intemidating? At least for me. But, I obliged. 

Plans changed for this and that reason, and we ended up at the bar of a trendy hotel near downtown. I arrived first. He walked in and hugged me, much like Craig, but without the heavy scent of yesterday's wadded up flannel coated in air freshener. 

We sat at the bar, ate, drank and talked for close to three hours. Well, I drank. Quite the gentlman, Mike let me order first and I asked for my signature chardonnay; he ordered water. Woops. Oh well, we were sitting at a bar, so, when in...a hotel bar?

I felt things went really great. He drove me to my car, we exchanged numbers, and agreed we should do this again. Yes please.

I wasn't even home yet when I recieved a text that he heard a song we talked about on the radio and it made him think of me. In case you were curious, it was Neon Moon by Brooks and Dunn. FAVORITE. 

Anyway, We continued texting throughout the evening. I was giddy because I really enjoyed my time with this fella.

A few days went by that I didn't hear from him...which I guess is normal? I mean, what exactly really is normal these days with dating. Anyway, more time passes and still...cricketts. Like for real nothing. 

My birthday was ten or so days after the first (and only) date with Mike, and low and behold who did I get a birthday greeting from but the swing dancer himself. 

I was stunned, not only to hear form him, but also that he remembered my birthday admist all we talked about. I replied and initiated a conversation, one which he did not responded to. 

Mike disappeared, making his grand exit with those three little words every girl longs for: 

Happy Birthday, Angie.