Bringing you up to speed on Mr. Architect, my future (maybe?) house builder “if this works out.”
It all started when he asked me to meet for a late Saturday lunch. We met at Casa del Mar, a swanky hotel about 5 minutes from me, in Santa Monica. This is my favorite place to meet to watch the sunset. There are HUGE windows and the hotel is right on the ocean. It’s gorgeous.
I’m nervous to meet him, but look reallly cute. I was wearing a dress, high heels and my fab new spray tan. (Btw, don’t judge the paint. Everyone looks better bronzed, and my white butt needed some color! I felt very Californian.)
I had plans to meet my girls for brunch right before (just down the street, at another fabulous hotel, Loews), and then would head over afterwards to meet him.
He had texted me to meet him “in the upper bar, at the library.” Extra points already for giving me specifics. I love that, and it’s a big hotel.
I walk in and see him across the way. He stands up from his chair, smiles, I wave and cross over to him.
He then reaches out his hand and helps me up the 3 steps to where he was sitting. Well, folks, we have a gentleman on our hands! I appreciate the assistance as I’m wearing 4 inch heels.
He immediately makes a comment about how great I look and I’m pleasantly surprised to see him look even better in person.
He’s wearing some sort of golf shorts, a polo with its collar popped, underneath a light blue sweater – its collar also popped. Ah, yes, that man has style. He’s an architect, after all.
He’s also wearing a fitted baseball hat.
Now, I’m not sure where or how I grew to LOVE a man in a fitted hat, but there’s something about that look that drives me crazy! Maybe it’s from my appreciation/fascination with athletes. They can really pull that off.
I sit down at the couch next to his chair, in this small area with a few other comfy chairs and a flat screen TV on the wall. It’s warm and sunny and a perfect Saturday afternoon.
We begin to chat.
The conversation is going great! He’s telling me about his family, growing up in SoCal, a bit about his work, etc. I’m telling him similar things. There’s a lot of smiling and laughs. My cheeks hurt.
I ask him why he wanted to contact me and what he liked about me/my profile. I’m always curious.
He tells me he likes that I’m smart, “put together,” and beautiful. It’s really cute, because he’s trying to be super polite and wants to elaborate on that one more, and I can tell he’s looking for the right words. Words that won’t offend me, but will get his point across. He did a good job. I blush. I’m flattered.
He takes his hat off and puts it on the table in front of us.
I ask him to please pick it back up – and to put it back on, but backwards.
He smiles, and does it.
I look at him and his matching blue hat, and think, “This man can not be 47 years old as it said in his profile! Wow, he looks good.”
At that moment, he leans over and asks for a kiss.
Wait, what?? I just met you! But then again, you are wearing the heck outta that damn hat…
He gives me a sweet kiss on the lips.
I died again.
We continue conversation for another TWO HOURS. A few more kisses snuck in.
I learn two things:
1. This man doesn’t care about PDA.
2. He knows what he wants.
In the meantime, a family of 4 visiting from another country (maybe Ireland or England) comes over to our area to watch the Australian Open on the TV. A mom, dad, son about 13 and daughter, 21-ish who comes back from the bar with a drink.
Mr. Architect and I are chatting amongst ourselves.
He still has the hat on, backwards.
He’s leaning over to me to tell me something quietly, but stops abruptly, and says, “I think she just took my picture.”
“Yeah! I think that girl just took my picture!” he says, quietly and in shock.
I turn my head to the right, where the girl was sitting, and sure enough, she’s holding her iPhone in the “I’m-trying-not-to-look-conspicuous-while-I-take-your-picture” way.
Well, what the what?!
She looks away.
He’s confused, yet flattered.
I’m smiling, laughing to myself. Hell, I’m flattered.
He does look like someone famous. An athlete (he’s 6′ 4″), the backwards hat, his attention that would glide to the sports on the TV in front of us occassionally. Yep. I can see what she was thinking. I also remember that we’re in a high density of tourists area and people not from Los Angeles hope to run into a celebrity during their stay.
Awkward and awesome at the same time.
The real irony here, however, is that his ex (and mother to his two girls, 10 and 15) is somewhat famous. A well-known TV personality who I went home later to Google. Yep. She’s someone. He’s all too familiar with the Hollywood scene, and prefers to remain in the background. (This makes more sense now and I recall how he doesn’t like having pictures up online.)
So, we’re there nearly 2 1/2 hours by this point and he says he needs to put more money in the meter where he parked.
We get up to leave.
We walk across the street. His Range Rover is up the block, so I suggest I wait for him at the bottom of the street. When he comes back we can watch the sunset on the ocean.
He heads up the hill to his truck and not a minute later two of my girlfriends who I had brunch with earlier pop right up in front of me! They were still hanging out in the area and had seen us walk right past them moments ago.
They saw my date! And I wanted them to meet him, so moments later I’m introducing him to my girls. Random! Awkward! Awesome! haha I love them, and it’s now fun to have them put a face and name with the shenanigans I dish later on.
We all walk across the street to the sand so we can watch the sun go down. My girls decide to part ways, though, and Mr. Architect and I are now alone again.
We stroll on the promenade, walking slowly, talking and holding hands. He’s very affectionate.
We find a spot to sit and talk some more.
We’re being all cute and kinda lovey-dovey and flirty and people are watching as they pass by on their walks. (Something I learn to get use to on Date #2, Date #3 and Date #4.)
But it’s just me and him there, really. The conversation continues…
The topic of his age comes up, and I want to verify that he’s really 47, as it says on his profile. I love an older guy, and prefer someone in their 40s, but I just can’t believe that he’s that old! He looks much younger!
(Side note: I later asked my girls who met him how old they thought he was, and they said “late 30s, if that.”)
He reacts strangely, and just smiles.
Oh, no. You did not lie on your profile, buddy! Did you??
He tells me he’s not 47.
I immediately begin to get nervous.
I ask again, demanding that he tells me how old he is.
Maybe he’s younger? Or not, wait, maybe….older? Oh no, how MUCH older?
He chuckles a little and says he’ll tell me. He’ll be honest with me.
“I’m actually fifty. Fifty…five. 55 years old.”
Holy amazeballs, Batman! That can’t be right.
I feel like I’ve just been given the biggest shock of my life.
“Yep, it’s true. But only for a few more weeks. I’ll be 56 in two weeks. On Superbowl Sunday.” He smiles a big smile.
I look for a paper bag to breathe into. This is not what I was expecting.
I’m 33. That’s a 22 year difference!
Ummm…ok, focus. What do I do now? Hmmm….everything was going so great!
I look at him real close and just shake my head. I don’t believe him. He has to be younger.
But then he goes to tell me that he knew I wouldn’t respond to his message on Plenty of Fish if I had seen his real age.
He was right.
And now I think I’m kinda glad he lied. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here on this fabulous date.
So at this point he’s conscious that I’m either two seconds away from bailing on this date and never talking to him again, or kissing him cuz he’s clearly the hottest AARP-card-carrying member I’ve met. (Omg, please don’t let that last assumption be true. How old do you have to be to qualify for AARP?)
He grabs my hands and then my waist and pulls me into a hug. He gives me a playful kiss and that helps calm me down a bit.
I decide not to bail, but my mind is still reeling.
We have a bit more conversation and then we know it’s time to get going. He had something to do with his daughters at 6:30pm.
We say goodbye, but not after me giving him crap about his age some more. I appreciate that he was honest with me in person, and I know that a lot of people lie in their profiles about age.
And for some reason, I’m more curious than creeped out about this guy.
I’m fascinated by who he is, what he does, his story, his personality. All of it.
I mean, there is an age difference. And he was building Denzel Washington a house when I was still in high school (as I later found out), but I think I’m ok with that.
The shenanigans continue…
And a question for you!