Well here's the report, albeit belatedly. We went to dinner. We had a very nice time. He was a perfect gentleman. We laughed. He carried most of the conversation. I was glad to let him carry it. We both said we wanted to go out again. (I actually was interested in going out again, which practically never happens. Seriously. Never.)
I've learned over my long and rocky dating career, that if there's anything you want to happen you would be wise to keep mum about it. Otherwise it will never happen. And then you have to make up some excuse to tell people about how you never really wanted it in the first place and you are SO RELIEVED that you didn't end up having to deal with it, just so they can't see how disappointed you really are. Believe me, a little forbearance when sharing your hopes and dreams goes a long way in the dating world.
So yes, I was interested in going out again. But days and weeks started slipping by, and while we were still talking on the phone regularly saying things like, "we should definitely go out again soon" and "yes, definitely" somehow it never really managed to get put together.
Tonight we finally made plans to go out this weekend. Friday, in fact.
Pity I'm sort of over it now. The second date I was eagerly anticipating three weeks ago has deflated like a bad soufflé. Going from the "Fairy tales do come true!" category to the "This might be slightly better than staying home watching Lifetime. But not if there's a Will and Grace marathon." category.
I've come to the conclusion that I am not desperate enough or not patient enough to be good at dating. Either way, I lose interest too fast for my own good.