The Relationship Runaway

This week I dated a relationship runaway. Well, that's the conclusion I came to, anyway. How else can I describe this phenomenon? We meet for the first time on a date, both of us dressed in our finest. The setting: a sexy little sushi bar in Noho, filled with glamour girls and finance types. The mood is electric. We hit it off from the start. Our conversation rolls effortlessly from our mouths, into the space between us (which is ever diminishing) and adds immeasurably to the atmosphere of the club. We are glittering. Superstars. We don't discuss work. We don't resort to small talk. We order some sushi and nibbles, which arrives and is delectable. We share a bottle of wine. We are heady, but not drunk. Accidentally, as I am making an emphatic point during dialogue, my fingertips graze his knee. His eyes flicker ever so slightly, and so later I begin doing it on purpose. He returns the gesture. Talk turns to our respective heights. I ask which of us is taller, and he suggests we stand and measure. When we do, he steals a kiss. It's gentle, warm and perfect. He pays the bill and we head for a cosy jazz bar a short cab ride away. Snuggled close together at the bar, we continue in kind, with another drink and then head for my apartment. I say I don't think we should rush things; he acts the perfect gentleman. At around 2am, he excuses himself to use the bathroom and returns to find me curled up asleep on the bed. I awaken sometime later and realize he has been in the bathroom a while, so I check on him and find this note: "You looked so peaceful, I thought it was time to leave. Was a lot of fun. Call me when you wake up." It was signed with a heart and his name. Elated, I put myself to bed and woke a few hours later, on top of the world. But then things turned weird. Over the next few days there were phone calls and interactions that did not follow logically from the experience we had shared. Sure, I could blame myself, wonder whether I'd drooled on my pillow or whether it's possible for one person to think a date was flawless while the other was having an awful time. But I know better than that. The date was great, but that's just it: sometimes one great date is all you get. Having dated a relationship runaway once before, and having experienced the phenomenon for other reasons as well, I know it to be true. And after great dates, I remind myself of the refrain. Even when I am positive things will progress well, I mockingly warn myself: "Sometimes one great date is all you get". It saves me every time. However, the relationship runaway is a species that should be observed closely and documented. The two that have dated were both almost 40 (I am 29). They were both intelligent, successful, gentle teasers and softly spoken. When these relationship runaways revealed themselves my friends reassured me, "No wonder he's 40 and still single. I thought something was up with him, right from the start". The optimist invariably, I can't help but think at the outset that these bachelors will transform when they meet the right girl. Who knows, maybe they will. Until then, I guess I'll keep enjoying the great dates, even if they're an enigma to me.