Too boyish to date

It is 11pm on a Thursday night and I am 2 hours late for my date with Ben.  I loathe you Powerpoint.  What are you good for really? I just want to make a simple, curved arrow and you can't even do that without trying to autoformat something.

Text communications to and fro read something like this:

Me:   sorry im L8. Had 2 stay @ work. 4 the record, i had a cute dress pickd out.
Him: its ok. it will be more realistic. i now have 2 hrs tardiness credit.
Me:   we could reschedule or have a really L8 date?
Him: but i spent 2 hrs on my hair. Want me 2 pick u up?

Ben picks me up from BART and we dig deep for darts and popcorn.  I learn that aside from being a Kentucky native, he has invented something that will make cell phone batteries last longer.  He's one of those guys that is not a hottie, not a super smooth, well-dressed, ladies man but extremely smart and witty and easy to be with.  I picture this guy taking care of his lady and her not needing to lift a finger.  We make out in his car until 2 in the morning then set a date for Sunday.

Fast forward to Sunday.  He arrives to pick me up for our hiking date wearing jeans, a button-down shirt and a leather jacket and I'm wearing chacos and soccer shorts.  Complete mismatch.  I hop onto his motorbike and the metal is kinda melting my leg but it is so exciting.  We zip through the hills and I clutch onto his waist for dear life.  It feels really nice.  We hike for two hours and talk about everything from using a thresher to harvest corn to what the Appalachian mountains look like.  He says, "You ask a lot of questions."

I confess that I need a shower and invite him to have dinner at my house. 

I cook, we eat, and we're sitting around my room while he scopes out my one-armed lobster painting, my 'love stinks' cross stitch sampler, my stop motion storyboards and my 'violent moments in soccer history enacted by puppets' photos.  I tell him about getting slide tackled in pickup soccer and the subsequent knee surgery.  I ask if he wants to get ice cream and he pauses.  He exhales slowly and says,"Actually, I'm really tired.  I think I'll go home."  It is 7pm. 

I ask if anything is wrong.

"(Pause) I'm really into girly girls and when I met you at that party, you were in a dress and heels and I assumed you were really feminine.  Then you started in on the soccer talk and I kind of knew. And Thursday I was just really drunk." 

"(Another pause, this time from me) No problem."

"You're taking this really well.  Maybe we can hang out as friends sometime."

I shrug my shoulders and see him out.  I should have seen this coming.  While hiking, he confessed to a "cheerleader phase" in high school.  After all, I'm no goddamn homecoming queen.