I’m nervous: Terribly nervous. I’m about to meet my first date in forever. This new person is about to walk into my life. I think on the thrill of possible outcomes: The fear of possible rejection. In reality it was always rare for me to ask anyone out, but that’s not saying I’m inexperienced: The contrary, but it’s just been a long, long time. I sit here waiting by the plush marble and rose wood elevators. I know the girl who’s coming now but I feel the butterflies of this inevitable and strange experience. I’ve chosen our rendezvous carefully, an elegant, discrete hotel. Neither of us have space or privacy in our lives. My date lives at home and I’m relying on friends as I work through a difficult divorce. So I planned this; A wonderful spa hotel, easy to excuse, with no terrifying fallout if our experiment fails to spark chemistry. A movie meeting that doesn’t happen in our real lives. We met months ago. In a strange mix of luck and, well, just pure blind luck. It was a not so innocent message to a beautiful girl. I wanted to talk to her, turn her on. She is an unreachable, unobtainable, beautiful woman, posting on GW, popular on GW. Somehow our stilted conversation progressed, as if by chance. And we hit it off. We talked, and talked, all the time, making each other laugh. We exchanged numbers. We both obviously had others to talk to, a list of online potential dates.