I went on a psuedo-date today, with a young woman I met via Match. It was a casual thing, which is why I affix the "psuedo" prefix to the whole affair. There was no potential for even a little neckin', and I knew it. Which is fine. Frankly, I know about three people in my new hometown, and I'm just happy to get out of the house. We went to an Indian restaraunt, which was interesting. I don't recall ever eating Indian food, but it tasted vaguely familiar to me, so who knows? My memory is useless anyway.

She drove, because I have no sense of direction either. After lunch, we walked over to a municipal fountain and watched kids play in the water. It was a gorgeous day, and not a bad way to spend it. All in all, the whole thing went rather well, save two things.

The first is that I just can't crack her sense of humor. And believe me, I try. If I can't make someone at least chuckle, I'm useless, because then it becomes all I can think about. I caught her off guard a few times, but the other 90% of the material I was slinging out there fell flat. It was horrible. Even things I found hilarious (like pondering why there wasn't any beef on the menu at the restaurant) just flew right past her. And all that left us for conversation was mundane stuff like family vacations and work stories.

But the real red flag came after we'd both finished our food, and she started telling me about her other dates courtesy of Match. Nothing wrong on the surface of it, but something in her timing and the way she phrased it made it feel like there was a lot of subtext to be found. Ever since her first date, a bad experience by all accounts, she says she tries to keep it informal. She says that she just does this to meet friends, and then sees where it goes from there.

Great. I've just been dropped off in Friend Valley.

It wouldn't be a big deal if I had any idea how to get out of it. But it seems like once you enter into that area, you may as well surrender. If you start off romantically, then it's easy. Once you resign yourself to the ineffectual, harmless friend-thing, you wind up in the double bind of losing the friendship and the potential relationship if you try to cross that gulf, or remaining miserable with potential.

Not that this is anywhere near that Sophie's Choice level, but it seemed an awful lot like she was trying to say to me, "You're not what I expected, so I'm going to put this disclaimer in here to remove myself of all culpability." The timing was just too strange to ignore.

It's entirely possible that I'm being paranoid, but the fact is, either way, I'm out of the driver's seat.