Dating Story #1 a/k/a...

The 12 Minute Date

I want you to look at a clock. Any clock. Get one from your kitchen, look at your watch or just use the one on your computer screen. Look at the clock and note the time. And now, wait for 12 minutes to go by. You got it, 12 minutes. No more, no less.

It's not important that you do anything. You can, if you like. You can go play with your dog, or not. Talk back to your radio, or not. Or you can simply wait for 12 minutes to pass. What is important is that you notice how long 12 minutes lasts, and it's not very long. You can't watch a sitcom in 12 minutes, even with the commercials omitted. You can't make a run to the store and be back in 12 minutes. You probably can't read one chapter of a book or the evening newspaper that quickly.

OK, is 12 minutes up? Have you noticed how fast it went by and how little you can accomplish in that short time? You did? Good. Now, do one more thing. Take a guess what I managed to do in 12 minutes just 2 weeks ago. Go ahead, guess.

I had a date. A 12-minute date.

It went like this: After messaging/emailing through a website, R suggested we meet up late on a Sunday morning for coffee. He said there was a place across the street from his apartment where we could get a caffeine fix and chat. So on that Sunday morning, I skipped my usual second cup of coffee and arrived at R's apartment building, hit the buzzer and headed upstairs. R was just as adorable as the picture he sent. He seemed sweet and engaging and I gladly took a seat on the couch next to him.

After talking for a couple minutes, R said "I live with my brother; he's gone out right now to do some errands.” "Um, OK", I said and continued chatting. After about another 2 minutes, R said "I live with my brother, he's gone out right now to do some errands." Hadn't he just said that? Was I suddenly going senile? Was this some type of dating deja- vu or perhaps a flash-forward like in Lost? "Um, OK", I said again.

R frowned for a second. "What would you like to do today?" I reminded him that he had suggested coffee. There was no way he could know this, but I really need my second cup. I don't function well without it and if I was going to be at all coherent in a conversation, that second cup of coffee was a necessity. R didn't say anything for a few seconds. "So, coffee?" I asked.

R was not pleased and let me know it by muttering a very flat "Oh." At this point, even my sometimes slow mid-40's caffeine-deprived brain was beginning to catch on. "What would you like to do R?" I asked. He was louder this time "I live with my brother; he's gone out right now to do some errands." R then gets to his feet and murmurs "Follow me." He walks into his bedroom, lies down on his bed and pats the empty space next to him. Needless to say, I don't see even a hint of a coffeepot.

I stood for a minute and wondered if maybe I was at fault for taking things too literally. Perhaps saying we could have coffee was a euphemism for some sexual shenanigans that I didn’t know about. Maybe "having coffee" meant twisting into a mug-shaped position and then shaking your body like you were over-caffeinated in the hopes of pleasing your partner. Or perhaps you were both supposed to pretend you hadn't had any coffee yet so your sexual moves were all very slow. Or maybe I was overcomplicating, and it simply meant you should call your local Starbucks and ask if they could send over a hunky barista and invite him to crawl onto the bed between the two of you.

Now, I have absolutely no judgments whatsoever when it comes to hook-ups and clearly that's what R was looking for. And if this had been another time or place, I might have very well not only jumped into that empty space, but also started imagining all kinds of things that might happen when his brother finally finished those errands. But I was forty six, badly in need of my second cup of joe and, most importantly, this wasn't what I wanted.

I explained as best I could that I was looking for something else, asked again if he'd like to get that coffee with me and, when he didn't answer and didn't move, I told him I'd be leaving. So I got my jacket, wished him well and went out the door. Looking at my watch, I realized I had been inside for just 12 minutes. It had been my quickest date on record. So far, at least.