(Recall: Xavier saga part 1) Xavier is a slightly strange one. And I know he’d say the same of me. Maybe that’s why we get each other. Despite some arguing and regular frustrations, a lightly-slacked spring seemingly tugs on us when we’ve been apart too long.

This was our first get together since I met his friends by the lake almost two weeks ago. That delay and unresponsiveness was a disappointment. In fact, I entered this date hoping to confirm my suspicions: he’s not ready for a relationship, we fight too much, and “it just wouldn’t work between us.”

However, I was more overjoyed to see him than I expected. His surprise entrance consisted of pretending to nearly run into me on his bicycle, causing me to successively jump, scream, then laugh. When I recovered and saw his face, it was beaming.

Xavier is opinionated. (So am I.) Xavier is also the first of my 30d30d dates who is quite decidedly brilliant. I think it’s that intelligent spark that I’m addicted to. Coupled with a charming smile and an addicting laugh. Together we dive into deep analytical wormholes; simple chat invariably breaks into debate. An hourlong agrument over a minute detail is often frustrating yet riveting. We both know something about our combination rises each other mutually, and neither of us ever gets enough airtime to complete our analysis. (He accuses me of asking too many good questions, hence excusing his lengthy answers.)

And in this manner, last night, four and a half hours went like nothing.

We met at a park by the river, grabbed pizza and beers, and later had drinks at a classic Mitte bar. We discussed everything from AOC’s latest speech and whether integrity and statesmanship are critical in a good president (as a Brit, he may place more value on the latter than I do), to the setting of personal boundaries (I threw pizza crust at his shirt after he told me not to), to the frustrating intractability of the economics field (on this we agreed vehemently!).

I’ve been cagey on our past dates. Never quite revealed my wants, my fears, or how he makes me feel. So I gave it a try. I wanted him to know me, my dreams, my dual-state of loving our conversations yet being left unsatisfied. On the first two topics, he got distracted or didn’t quite seem interested in engaging (we will address this in future discussions). But on the third point–his way of dominating conversations–I talked openly about how it made me feel, without judgment or criticism.

My challenge to myself paid off: he responded in kind, revealing some of his own frustrations, and it was a very fruitful discussion. Being open and vulnerable seemed to do exactly what all those experts keep saying– it deepened our trust by a notch.

I felt physically, mentally, and emotionally more open, and by hour three, from his body language and the proportion of time we spent laughing, I could tell that he did too.

The result of all that talking? A kiss. A curiosity. A maybe. When I compare Xavier to Date #s 1-8, there’s some familiarity and comfort I simply don’t get with the others. There’s still more with him I want to explore. Yet earlier this week I had decided to park him in the “no” bucket. He’s very particular, a bit attention-scattered, and things that should be easy generally aren’t. Do these small downsides outweigh our unique chemistry? And what does he want from me? At the end of the night as we were parting, I suggested mid-embrace that he still needs to figure out what he wants. He agreed. I said let’s do this again–you have my number.

(Read: Xavier saga part 3)