Well-bred, Ill-spoken

I've never gotten over how strange it is to run into someone from what seems like a past life.

A few years ago, while I was still in college, I had met this guy on campus while I was studying in the language lab. I'd noticed him immediately as he entered - we'll call him Model Todd- he was hard to miss. He was especially good-looking, though not my typical "look" (not usually into the blond hair and blue eyes situation), great build, very sharply dressed, and struck up a conversation with me about the professors in the Spanish department. Though initially very handsome, when he spoke something changed. I'm the first to admit that confidence is super sexy, but there was something very socially stunted about the way he talked. It was almost as if his timing was off-kilter. His responses seemed delayed and choppy, and the conversation was generally just very awkward. I figured he was nervous (which is kind of charming in its own right), and when he asked to take me out for dinner the next night I accepted. I like to give people a fair chance, especially after a bold display of cajones.

The next night I drove to Model Todd's house to meet him for dinner. He lived on a cliff overlooking the ocean with an amazing view and a friendly roommate. When I got there (10 minutes late... as always) his roommate said he was getting ready and went to tell him I was there. So I sat waiting for 25 minutes while he "finished his hair." I kid you not - that was the explanation he gave me (lacking apology or even notice of my own late arrival) when he finally emerged from the bathroom with expertly coiffed spikes.

We took off for dinner in my car, because it turned out he didn't have one. He chose a pretty cool new restaurant that had a live jazz band that night and a great martini list. Our chat over dinner was almost identical to the one in the language lab, and it became hard to believe it was just nerves. Over the course of the conversation, he told me that he was born and raised in Connecticut, and moved out to Southern California to pursue his modeling career, which he does part time along with his college classes. I started to realize that the only time he was engaged in our conversation was while he was talking about modeling (as there was nothing else he liked talking about), and any time it was my turn to talk his eyes got more glazed than donuts. I'm sure we've all had one of those conversations that's just one of the people sitting there waiting 'til it's their turn to talk, right?

It got to a point where he would ask me some bland, generic question and visibly space out while I attempted to answer it quickly enough to keep his interest. Eventually, I gave up. The rest of the evening I learned about the diet, sleep schedule, and workout routine of any successful male model, why every guy with nice abs should wear only Armani button-ups, and why it's absolutely essential that I have my own airbrush tanning kit at home. Snore.

We paid (and split the bill, eat your heart out) and left. I was ready to bail as soon as I dropped him off, but he wanted me to see his portfolio. The potential image of this aggressively attractive 20-something guy in underwear was enough to convince me to park and hang out for a bit. And to be honest, the pictures were totally worth it. I left without kissing him goodnight or plans to contact him again, and that feeling was mutual. We didn't speak for years.

Up until, of course! Saturday, when I ran into him at the specialty grocery store down the road from my house. Apparently we've both moved to the same area. This time, he seemed completely different; he was now poised, confident, and smooth. It was hard to believe this was even the same Model Todd I had gone out with years ago. He had no problem making conversation, and seemed so interested in what I had been up to. He told me he'd always really regretted not seeing me again and wanted to hang out and catch up. How could I turn that down?

So Sunday night he came and picked me up (he now has a car... guess that modeling career finally paid off) and took me to the wine bar across the street. Apparently I was a little off about this new and improved version of Model Todd, as he still adores talking about himself. Much of it was review from the last date, and I was strongly reminded why I didn't want to hang out with him again the first time. But I graciously conversed, split the bill again, and went home.

Normal, right?

'Til the past few days, when he's called me quite a few times. I pick up every once in awhile, talk to him for a minute or two, and say I have things to get done and I'll talk to him later. I've politely turned down his requests to hang out. For some reason, he isn't getting the hint.

So I get to work today, and as I'm with my first client of the day I'm told by the receptionist that I have a "visitor." Go ahead. Guess who it was.

So here I am, in the middle of giving someone what's supposed to be a stress-relieving scalp-massage/shampoo, while I have Model Todd sitting on the next shampoo bowl talking to me. Embarrassing. I told him I'd be done in an hour if he wanted to come back, and he didn't even take that hint. He was still sitting a foot away from me, talking, when I finished blowdrying my second client, and I finally had to tell him that I'd call him later. Ugh!

So now I have an entire salon full of girls wanting to know A. WHO that guy was and how I know him, and B. how on EARTH I can be so uninterested in one of the studliest men on the planet.

I don't know where to begin.