Once, twice, three times a Twitch-er.

Have you ever started to get the feeling that you're on a date with a drug addict?

Wait, let me back up.

I logged into my Facebook account a few days ago to find an email from a guy named Sean who lives nearby. It was very sweet and he had a heck of a charming smile and big brown eyes.

Hey there..... I just stumbled across your profile from my friend _______'s page, I just wanted to tell you that you're beautiful. Could I talk you into dinner? Or at least a drink?

Now how can a girl turn that down?

We exchanged a few emails, and I found out that he's a Pre-Med major (sexy), delivers pizzas part time, and is best friends with his sister (Girls: The way a guy gets along with his sister, or mother, or both, is an EXTREMELY important indicator of what his relationships with women in general are like, take note). Totally reminds me of the all-American, sweet boy-next-door type. Hot!

So we made a plan to have dinner, and he let me pick the place. I chose sushi, which he agreed to, a little apprehensively, but insisted he liked it. I met him at his house (much easier to escape when necessary if the guy you're meeting for the first time doesn't pick you up at your own pad.... plus that way he can't turn stalkerface on you later) and initially found him a little shorter than expected, but with a very nice build (which he explained is due to his gym-addiction... I'm not complaining) and SUCH an adorable face - long eyelashes, freckles, perfectly straight white teeth, and a smile that could stop traffic (or me in my tracks, at least, which it did).

We got in his truck and drove off to the restaurant... but something about him seemed a little off. He seemed extremely tense; I wrote it off as nerves.

Upon arriving we found that the place was PACKED, and we put our names in for a place at the sushi bar; not exactly my favorite first date spot but it had to do. We waited around in the front for a few minutes. He gave me a few sweet compliments that seemed heartfelt and I accepted. His shoulder twitched. Was he really that nervous?

Finally our spot was ready and we sat down, only to find that our bar-stool type seats were squeezed into about 3 feet of bar space between two canoodling couples. Comfy!

We started looking at the menu, and he quickly through it aside and said I'd have to order for him, looking totally overwhelmed. As it turns out, he'd had sushi ONCE (where does he live, middle America? [No offense middle Americans... we just eat a lot of sushi out here]) and doesn't know anything about it except that he likes crunchy rolls. This place happened to have three different ones. Oh my!

I decided on a few that I thought wouldn't scare him out the door and ordered us a bottle of my favorite sake, Hakutsuru Sayuri Nigori, which is unfiltered/sweet/oh-so-delicious, but also comes in a pink flowery bottle, which is probably why the sushi chef scoffed a little in the direction of my date when I told him we would be sharing it.

We toasted and started talking... though I felt like I was leading the conversation due to his obvious nervousness. By the time our first roll was placed in front of us he was visibly sweating. He made good eye contact but had an almost panicked look in his eyes. Was I really that intimidating? I like to think I'm pretty friendly.

I dug in and looked over to see that he had never used chopsticks before. He got the hang of it after a short tutorial from me and it was a cute bonding moment... but by this time he was using his napkin to sop up the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. At this point there was no ignoring it on either side. "You're making me sweat!" he told me. I laughed uncomfortably. He excused himself to the bathroom.

After returning a few minutes later, slightly less dewy, he got back to attempting to eat sushi for the second time. But alas - chewing was a whole 'nother story.... there was something about the way he chewed, and actually the way he moved in general, that was just off-putting. There was no flow, no smooth transition between his movements. Every move of a muscle seemed jarring. He seemed jerky, tense... I couldn't put my finger on it. And he seemed so hyped up. He talked really fast but just rambled on and on out of anxiousness.

Oh. My. God.

He's on drugs. He HAS to be on drugs. Did this guy I'm on a first date with seriously just go in the bathroom and do a line?? Or is he on speed?! Oh my god! Unreal.

I sat there, eating, listening to his ramblings, and studying his every jerk, every twitch, every bead of sweat gathering above his brow. I couldn't believe this was actually happening.

Hours, it seemed, and a few more sweaty restroom visits later, dinner was over and we walked outside into the refreshingly crisp night air. I shivered a little bit; he slid his hand into mine. Everyone deserves a chance, I say. I let him hold it.

We walked around for a bit, chatting. He seemed slightly more relaxed... but maybe the latest bump was started to wear off. We walked back to the car, and I jumped in, thankful to be on my way. I thought too soon.

There's a great new bar/lounge place that just opened down the road, do you wanna go grab a drink? Or are you in a hurry to get home?

Eh... what's another hour out of my life. He was a really sweet guy, exceptionally intelligent, and definitely good-looking.... maybe he was just going through a tough time. Or maybe, somehow, he really was just incredibly nervous. It's a possibility, I suppose. I had to hope for the best... because other than this apparent drug problem, he's a total catch.

We walked into a beautifully designed, dimly-lit bar full of exceptionally sexy male bartenders and took our seats at the glass bar. A tall one with curly brown hair looked at me, looked at him, looked back and me... gave me a bit of a confused look. I smiled and winked. Maybe I'll come back later with a girl friend? Mental note.

We ordered drinks (mine was on the house.... nice) and chatted a bit more. The bottle of sake and Absolut Pear and tonic started to hit me and the megaflirt in me inched its way out past my better judgement and sense of reason, hand in hand with my ballsy side. Just on the verge of asking him if he does drugs (I just had to know), I settled for something a little less direct. "Tell me a secret," I said.

"Well, I have Tourette's syndrome."

I tried to act genuinely surprised.

"Really? You haven't noticed?" I shook my head. "It tends to get better the older you get, and I never had too severe of a case, but I do have little twitches, like in my face and stuff. Especially when I'm nervous. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

A sense of utter relief washed over me like I'd just seen a negative sign on a home pregnancy test. And then a flashback to the True Life: I Have Tourettes show. Remember that one?


And interestingly enough, once he told me that, the twitches seemed to practically disappear. I guess once he got that off his chest he wasn't as nervous anymore. Fabulous!

We left after a good conversation and another drink, and drove back to his house where my car was. He opened the door for me (and had been all night by the way), helped me out of his car, gave me a warm hug, and kissed me sweetly. We walked to my car, he kissed me again, and told me he can't wait to see me again.

I sang cheerfully the whole way home. Truth be told, I kind of can't wait to see him either! (And hopefully he'll do less sweating next time.)