He opened car doors, the restaurant door, paid the bill. Conversation was great and flowed well, and there was an intensity in his eyes that made me almost shy to look in them.
I broke him of his Starbucks virginity afterward as we walked downtown and sat and talked.
A nice guy. A really nice guy. He rubbed my back every now and then as we walked and well, he'd be the kind of guy you'd see with a friend and think how lucky she was to have such a nice guy. (How many more times do I have to say the words nice guy to assure you I'm aware he is a nice guy?)
He meets all my criteria. He far exceeds my height requirement. He works for one of the best employers in the nation. Good values, and clean car, because you know, it is incredibly important that a man shows respect for women and not have trash on his floorboards. (They're that important in the Dating Book of Eileen.) Oh, and let's not forget the fact that he knows how to dress and I approved of his shoes, and I think I detected a little Kenneth Cole in his cologne. I'm sure this man would have the T-Shirt Stamp of Approval, too.