I met Dude on a Plane last night. I forgot how nice his eyes are…and how short he is.

We talked for several hours, and I still am having trouble grasping why he has been so determined to maintain email contact and forgo any and all verbal communication. He’s very friendly and easy-going, and I can’t see any reason for him to hide behind spell check and the “undo” button.

Because I’m such a slick and witty gal, I slipped in a comment about this generation’s dependence on texts and email — James Bond-style, inspired by the dry stirred martini I ordered — to see how he’d respond.

He attributed that dependence (which I equate to HIS dependence) on convenience.

Then he inadvertently explained why he initially suggested a crowded dive bar locally known for its heavy pours and kitschy theme as our first meeting place. It appears he truly loves the bar, it reminds him of simpler times surfing in Hawaii (yes, he’s an avid surfer and that’s kinda hot) and has tremendous amounts of fun each time he goes.

OK…maybe he wasn’t trying to knock me out on our first date. But you’d think maybe, seeing as though we had such a nice conversation, he’d be ready to hit second base and give me a call.

Nah.

He emailed me at noon. It appears our mutual love for the ocean is the inspiration for our next date.

“I’ll find us a good seafood restaurant.”

Can’t say no to that.

I accepted via text. Two can play at this game.

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