Cupcakes

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I've been out of circulation for about a month....seems like forever...a bad cold had me down for two weeks and then I was in Orlando for almost a week. Oh, almost forgot, I did go on a date in Orlando...which makes for yet another great story. But I'll get back to that. Two nights ago I went out with what seemed to be a "nice Jewish boy". It's been a while since I've been out with one of those...and after all my dates over the last year I still think back to The Pothead fondly. He was the best of the worst. Scary.
The NJB and I met at my favorite restaurant by the beach...if nothing else, I knew the view would be unbeatable...and for him assuredly a double blessing: the ocean and me. He showed up 15 minutes late, after texting me with apologies of his impending tardiness. But, I was at the beach, live music was playing, the weather couldn't have been better, I ordered a drink, and he was just tall and handsome enough for me to let his lateness go. We drank and talked and ate for 5 hours...by my standards, it was a great date. He texted me on the way home, "You rock!", and invited me to dinner and a movie at his place the following night. I, of course, was stupid enough to go. After consulting my life partner, he assured me that going to NJB's house for a movie was normal and fine. So, although I kinda thought the second date was a bit soon to be doing the at home date, I went with cupcakes in hand (he mentioned he has a thing for Publix cupcakes, and being the sweet person that I am...I brought him some). Benefit of the doubt = a stupid thing to give.
He met me at the gate of his huge community and led the way to his house. Upon entering the home, and even before, it was quite apparent that it was not, in fact, his house. He had quite an impressive spread laid out on the kitchen table...ahi tuna, Italian wedding soup, prime rib, mashed potatoes, green beens and au jus. Nice. We ate and talked...well, I ate...everything...he just had the soup. When I asked him why he wasn't eating, as I dug into my dinner with gusto, he said he was so hungry when he got home, he ended up eating before I got there. Okay....
After dinner, I asked him who's house we were in. Apparently, he must have known this question was coming, since it was a large home clearly decorated in a model-like fashion from the '90s. He said he was going to tell me the story because he knew my type and that I had a lot of questions. Of course, I found it odd that on our second date he knew what "my type" was and all the thoughts that that entailed. Not to mention that the verbalization of that verbage, "my type", was quite offputting and made me feel defensive. I asked him repeatedly, out of sheer and utter curiosity, to explain exactly what "type" he perceived me to be. But he declined explanation. Any woman that was not a complete and total schmuck would have known that this wasn't his house...so, as far as I was concerned, that fact begged the question, "So, who's house is this?" He went on to explain that this is a "family house" that he moved into 3 weeks ago, and that he and his brother, who is apparently a successful Manhattan attorney, own 4 investment properties that are rented out, all but one with negative cash flow. Okay, I can buy that. He said he and his girlfriend broke up 5 months ago, he lived in one of the investment properties over the summer, which now has a tenant, so he moved himself into the "family house". Okay, I get it. For themost part, it was already obvious. He proceeded to show me pictures of his family, and gave me the grand tour, which culminated in his room, where the TV was on and I, as sharp as I am, quickly put two and two together, as he asked me if I was ready to watch the movie. "In here?", I inquired. "Yeah, if you don't mind. I hate watching movies on the couch". Of course! Who watches movies on a couch on a second date? Of course let's watch in the bed!
If for no other reason (although there are other reasons)than to acquire material that I couldn't make up if I tried, I agreed. So, he turns down the bed, I lay all the way over on my side and then he tells me he's going to take a quick shower. He disappears into the bathroom, and I'm laying there wondering if this is really happening or if I am, in fact, in the twilight zone. He comes out of the bathroom in shorts and a t-shirt and I look at him perplexedly and ask if he often takes showers in the middle of a second date after suggesting watchng a movie in his bed. He then goes on to explain to me that he's a bit OCD and he likes to be clean. My brow furrows. I ask him how many showers he takes in a day. He says at least two. He tells me that he took one when he got home, but when he drove to the front gate to lead me to the house, he felt that he smelled like "outside" and wanted to take a shower. Granted, at that point I should have run screaming for the hills. But,I was in too deep and this material is pricesless, so I persevered. I asked him what other complusions he has (he mentioned oral hygiene on the first date, but I didn't really think anything of it). He said he doesn't have any others, and then mentioned his therapist. I didn't say a word. But he mimicked what he thought were all the questions running through my mind, "You have a therapist? How often do you see him? What else is wrong with you?" and on and on he went. It was insulting. So, I told him he shouldn't judge me or presume to know what my thoughts are since he doesn't know my background or really anything about me. In his extremely soft-spoken manner, which I've deduced is very disarming, he apologized.
We start watching the movie. A little while later he asked me if I wanted to scratch his back. So I asked him if he had an itch, knowing full well that he didn't. Twilight zone? I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. When I return to the room he said he would be nice first and motioned for me to lay next to him, to cuddle with him. Mental patient that I am, I cuddled with him. He was warm and very cuddly. He stroked my hair, tickeld my arm and didn't touch me inappropriately in any way. I mean, other than the fact that the whole scenario was inappropriate to begin with. Other than that, everything was fine. His hands were big and strong and warm, and quite frankly, if we'd been dating for, oh, I don't know...more than a minute, I certainly would have liked to have felt them all over me. But, this whole scene on the second date just screamed...psycho?
The movie ended and I told him I had to go...he walked me to the door, gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek and asked me if I knew how to get back out of the community. I told him I'd figure it out (I didn't want him to step outside and then have to take another shower). I told him I'd call him if I got lost, but he insisted on leading the way for me. As he put on his sneakers and walked to his car he said he'd just have to take another shower. I laughed, but I don't think he was joking. He led me to the front gate and I made my way home. He texted me this afternoon saying "just thinking about you...and cupcakes". Will I ever find anyone worthy of my cupcakes?