Date #2: Special K Vanilla Almond

Kind of a girly choice for this tall, hulking gent, I thought, but I guess you gotta respect a guy secure enough in his masculinity to eat Special K in mixed company. (I later learned that he’s also secure enough in his masculinity to have the soundtrack of “Rent” on his iPod without feeling the need to justify it. Fair enough.) What struck me most about Special K Vanilla Almond right off the bat was the striking resemblance he bore to my brother. (If my brother’s physique more closely mimicked that of a teddy bear’s than a heroin addict’s, he grew a tuft of hair on his chin, and he had perhaps made a few different life choices, that is. But I digress…)

Special K Vanilla Almond and his large backpack (containing, as it were, only his apparently embarrassing Tupperware bowl full of breakfasty goodness) met me and my box of Kashi at the LA Farmers Market Monday afternoon and, after a few minutes of chaotic hunting and gathering (milk for him, blueberries for me), Cereal Date number 2 commenced. The sog-factor, thankfully, didn’t prove to be quite so much of an issue this time around, which is good because, as much as I love a cereal that could crack your teeth or pave your driveway, I’m not yet ready to make the Grape-Nuts switch.

Special K Vanilla Almond spent 8 years in the U.S. Air Force training people in crisis management (he’s the guy you’d want to have around, he informed me, “when shit hits the fan”), followed by an illustrious 4 years at Sport Chalet where he was that “pain-in-the-ass guy” who would not bother to look at the schedule if it wasn’t put out on time. Awesome. We discussed politics (his college major), family (he loves his family. He loves his brother and his sister and his late mother. He really loves his four nieces. His dad, his ex-stepmom, the whole gang…), and other unequivocally un-small-talk-like topics for the better part of an hour, until he suggested we stroll on over to Barnes and Noble. Sure. Who doesn’t love a good book store? (Well, illiterate people, I guess. And bibliophobes. But aside from them…)

This proved a clever maneuver as, after procuring himself a cup of tea – and then some ice cubes, due to his “tender palate” – he deftly guided us to the travel section (our sole common interest, I had by now come to realize), where we discussed his two favorite locales: London and Dubai. In our new environs I noticed that Special K Vanilla Almond is a bit of a loud-talker with significant decibel increases proportionate to his interest in/passion about a subject. Not something you’d necessarily pick up on in the ruckus of the Farmers Market, but pretty evident inside a bookstore. If only he’d been spewing expletives or racist jokes, that might’ve livened things up, but alas, his booming commentary was entirely benign.

After a quick stop in the religion section where we were most pleased to find the title, I’m Fine with God…It’s Christians I Can’t Stand, we were closing in on about 2 hours, which I think is a generous stretch for a first meeting. Not a view shared by Special K Vanilla Almond, apparently, as on what I thought was the return trip to our cars he indicated he would be up for catching a movie if I was. Whoa, whoa. It’s a first date, buddy, give it some time. You wanna follow that with a trip to the chapel? Shortly thereafter we parted ways with a hug.

I returned home to an email (those BlackBerries sure are something, huh?) saying he had a great time and hoped to see me again soon. I anticipate a movie invite is on its way. Special K Vanilla Almond is cute and likeable, but it seems our common enjoyment of travel and willingness to snack on cereal at the Farmers Market are not the igniters of burning passion (like a shared love of “Project Runway” or David Sedaris would obviously be). And if I’m being completely forthright I have to admit that, while no value can be placed on the security of feeling that you’re in the company of sanity, I think I may actually have enjoyed my date with Rice Chex with Almond Milk more. Now maybe that’s because my inner monologue shouted, “this will be so good to write about!” with every sentence he uttered, but still…at least I was interested.