Burn Baby Burn!

Went on two dates again today. I find it’s the most efficient use of my time to do my hair and make-up once and go on two dates. It’s genius, really. The first date was with the tech-company co-owner. He makes iPhone apps and is a graphic artist, so I’ll call him App Man. In the pictures on his profile he is not particularly cute...no, I definitely wouldn’t describe him as cute. He’s a little...different looking. Maybe it’s because he’s 6’7’’ tall or because he’s part African American, but looks totally white. I figured it was worth the gamble. And the gamble paid off. This guy is sexy in a magnetically exotic way. As my good friend would say, he’s the kind of guy that makes you think “just one night...”

And that’s exactly what I was thinking while we ate our Vietnamese lunch together. Everything was fine. We were going through the normal internet date discussion/interview process ( how many siblings do you have? Where are you from? Tell me about your career ) when, all of the sudden, his phone lights up and a picture of a very attractive young girl’s face fills the screen. It was most definitely not his mother. What does App Man do? He says, “Sorry, I have to get this” then picks it up and goes outside... OUTSIDE!!! He proceeds to have what seems to be a robust conversation. He even stands behind a small tree so that I can’t see him; except that I can see him because it is not possible for a 6’7” human being to hide behind a decorative shrubbery. Then he comes back in, sits down, apologizes again, and continues eating. 

We went mini-golfing after our lunch and it was fun...but not nearly as fun as it was with The Comedian. App Man was a little flirtatious, which I liked, but I don’t think I can ever forgive him for the phone call-behind-the-shrubbery-in-the-middle-of-our-first-date incident.     

I was glad to head off to meet The Comedian to see a baseball game. He made friends with the random kid sitting next to him, and we made subtle and off-color jokes that kept us laughing for nine innings. My favorite was when two scantily clad preteens walked by with their mother, who was just as underdressed. The Comedian goes, “Wow, it’s a hoodrat, hoodrat, and a hootchy mama.” I earned more imaginary relationship points for singing during the 7^th inning stretch. We went out to eat after the game at a cheesy casino restaurant (yes, for those of you that are tallying the free meals, I’ve had at least a billion. And yes, I am getting fatter on every date). And then... in the middle of our meal.. he pulls out his phone and says “I don’t mean to be rude...but I am being rude... I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

I thought I was going to rip my hair out. What the hell? Is it national no-manners-on-a-date day? Clearly I missed the memo. 

The Comedian comes back to the table, sits down and says, “See? It’s perfect for this moment.” He props his phone up in the middle of the table and proudly shows me the digital fireplace that is flickering with little digital flames. He wasn’t being rude-- he was finding a spot where he could get internet so that he could bring me a fireplace. I couldn’t eat for a few minutes because I was too busy laughing. The two of us ate the rest of our food in the flickering faux firelight. He turned the volume up to get extra crackling effect. Our waitress had a good laugh, too, and said she was going to be telling people about that all night. If you would like this ambient fireplace app, you can find it at http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/fireplace-app/id409930131?mt=12. 

The Comedian is not what I’m looking for. He has kids, doesn’t drink, and didn’t graduate from college (he said that on day four they asked him to make an art project about his name with construction paper and glue sticks, so he just left). He’s not competitive or physically impressive. He wears glasses and drives a car with a maroon velvet interior. But he seems like the unexpected protagonist in a romantic comedy. I totally want him to get the girl... but I’m not so sure I want that girl to be me.

Sweet Tooth

I have seen a lot of The Hunter in the past couple days. We roasted marshmallows at his house...in his fire pit... that he built himself. I also noticed he had built a big permanent bar in his backyard. It’s like the man has already built my personal Utopia for me. We were joined by his roommate and his roommate’s girlfriend. The Hunter and I haven’t really spent time around other people. We have been by our romantic selves for most of the time we’ve spent together. Despite the presence of other people, The Hunter continued to be his normal sweet self. He put a hand on mine, then a hand on my back, then a hand on my leg (at this point I try to scootch away a little). Then he tried to kiss me-- multiple times-- in front of people. I did the bob-and-weave I learned from my aerobic kickboxing class to avoid them.

Maybe he read this article from www.askmen.com that said:

“The majority of women aren't going to demand a full-on make-out session on the street, but most will want at least the three pillars of public displays of affection: 1) hand-holding, 2) a kiss goodbye and 3) affectionate invasions of space.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to the occasional public cuteness, but I guess I’m in the minority of women here. I’m okay without the “pillars”. The Hunter crossed the line into the territory of smothering and bothersome PDA. After about an hour of this I was overloaded with sweetness: 4 marshmallows, a few squares of Hershey’s chocolate, and some constant affection did not leave me wanting s’more. So I tried out the blunt honesty I’ve been practicing over the course of my Mission and just told him it was “too much.” He backed off and was better for the rest of the evening. Phew. I was about to get a cavity.

We hung out the next day. I enjoyed my laid back time alone with him. He came to see my horse with me and we went out to eat. I performed in a Burlesque Show last night, and The Hunter came to watch. He brought flowers for me... I joked that it was a “rainforest” of flowers, but it was really very thoughtful of him. We went out to eat afterwards and he spent the night at my house (nope-- no nooky-- I can’t get over the over-sweetness). He left this morning with an agreement not to go on another date until I only have ten guys left (that’s after six more, for those of you who are counting). It was his idea to back off a little and it was a good move. He said he wanted to wait and take me on some “real” dates, like wine-tasting in Napa. I’m certainly not opposed to that. I’ll stick with the dry wines, though. Nothing too sweet, thank you.

Awesomosity and Algae

So the guy with the ferret in his profile picture (refer to #8 on the list from “Why Choose Coleslaw?”) came up as one of my “matches” today. Why am I paying for this? If I wanted a weird ferret guy I could just go to Petsmart’s rodent section. 

I do feel like I’m scraping the bottom of the match.com barrel. Out of my 7 daily matches, I have typically already looked at or dated at least three. But I am going to squeeze every bit of dating juice that I can out of my membership before I join another site. I have two new dates tentatively set for next week. One is a tall tech-company co-owner that likes to run and is planning to travel around the world. The other is in grad school. He is holding parrots in his picture and has a charmingly cute smile. You’ll never believe what he’s studying...algae. I immediately thought of Chaco’s algae discussions. Really? Two algae studiers? Evidently “algal ecology” is all the rage these days. But maybe he’s a fungi, so I’ll give him a chance (I am so, so sorry, Reader, that you had to endure that joke). 

The Comedian wrote me an email saying that he thought we had potential for “awesomosity.” Damn, he broke out superpowers of word creation. That always works on me. Every time. He said he had something adventurous that he wanted to do for a third date. I have no idea what that may be. This is a guy who ran away from bats crying “They’re in my hair!” 

I’m sad to say that Chaco and I have fizzled. He said a couple of comments that seemed like he was frustrated with me dating other guys and not “knowing what we were doing.” I think he was too cool for me anyways. I should have known when he said that flash mobs were “so over” that it wasn’t going to work out. I really have no idea (nor do I care) what is “over” or not. I know what is fun...to me... and that’s really all that matters. He needs to find someone more self-conscious. 

We went to dinner after our dance lessons. We had an amicable discussion, but when we walked to our cars we kind of just waved and said good-bye from ten feet away. No kiss. We have one more dance lesson left next week. I won’t mind going but I won’t mind when it’s over, either. I’m ready to turn a new page in this story and meet some new gentlemen prospects. 

I’m going to The Hunter’s house tonight to roast marshmallows. We have officially reached the casual-hang-out stage. I know, you don’t have to tell me this is a bad idea. I almost didn’t write about it because I fear the judgements you will most certainly make (you will be right); but I feel my friends, acquaintances, and the three people in Malaysia who read this deserve to know. 

My Own Amusement

Miniature golf with The Comedian was outstanding. He wore a golf shirt. It was made of tech fabric and had white stripes down each side. We went to dinner first, then headed off to prove ourselves on the green. Here are the highlights for you: 

1. There was a huge cave we had to walk in. We discovered there were real, live bats (or maybe birds?) squeaking in the dark. The Comedian busted out his tiny keychain flashlight and tried to climb up to see them, then ran away like a little girl. 
2. There was a giant worm... with a mustache and a cigar and a sombrero-like hat (ridiculous picture provided below). We decided it was a Cuban worm, and The Comedian rode it for a photo. 

3. I earned 700 points for jumping the fence so that we could play the other course without paying. 

In the end we played three courses and had plenty of laughs. We went for some frozen yogurt and I told him again that I don’t want to date anyone with kids. I also told him about my Try Twenty-Five mission. With me saying “I don’t want to date anyone with kids, “ and “I’m going to date 16 more men to break my pattern of unsuccessful serial monogamy,” I thought  he would give up. I even described dating him as a “dead end road.” His response? “Well maybe there’s a path where the road ends and we’ll go for a hike.” Mmm...no. But I feel like I have a personal entertainer, which is pretty cool. He’s been warned; so I’m going to not feel guilty and go on a third date purely for my own amusement. 

Today I’m going to get my car fixed by The Hunter. He ordered a part for me and everything. It’s like both he and The Comedian want to be used. Weird. I feel pretty spoiled and a little guilty; but they both know I’m dating other people. I think they both assume they are the favorite (I don’t have a favorite). The Archeologist doesn’t seem to mind that I’m dating other people, either. Chaco is the only one that has seemed to mind at all. I’m beginning to wonder what is wrong with these men? 

Poker Face

The med student went a little out of control with the texting before the superhero crawl. First he did the random “hi, how’s your day?”-- to which I responded a simple “good.” Then he began a full-on text discussion of the superhero crawl: am I still going? What am I wearing? What is he wearing? What time am I starting? 

I panicked.  I was so overwhelmed I just didn’t respond back. Then the next day he texts “Is everything okay? Are we still talking?” I’m going to have to go through a text divorce with the Med Student. 

So the whole two-guys-on-the-Superhero-Crawl situation never happened. I did meet up with The Hunter. It was late in the evening and I was already pretty...festive by the time he joined my friends and me. I’ll spare you the details of the evening (because I don’t remember them) and just say that The Hunter ended up babysitting me. He got me a cab home and did some excellent drunken support work. I vaguely remember demanding a 7-Up which he brought me and he helped me take my amazing spray-painted metallic gold boots off. He spent the night with absolutely no foolishness. In the morning on Sunday he humanely spared me the details of how ridiculous I had been. Now I can say that The Hunter has seen me at my worst and most unattractive, and he didn’t even flinch. Well done, gentleman.

On Sunday night I met The Archeologist for coffee downtown. I was most certainly not up for a drink. We decided to rent a movie and watch it at his house. His roommates were there and it was pretty relaxed. We ended up talking through the whole movie about everything from eggplant parmesan to our mutual fear of drowning to how Pueblo artists leave flaws in their work on purpose. I find The Archeologist endlessly interesting. He sails, plays guitar, buys his furniture at antique auctions, likes to go to bars in little towns in the middle of Nevada, and he used to be a mechanic. I can't think of anyone in my circle of family or friends that wouldn't like this guy. That might be a fun game: put The Archeologist in crazy situations and see how he survives them all. I think I would start with WalMart.

His biggest downfall is something one of my good friends pointed out-- he doesn’t seem very bold or confident. I think he may just be really laid back and it sort of comes off as quiet and unconfident. Maybe that's why he's so good at poker-- maybe it's his ultimate poker-face personality. He did say that he was a little intimidated by me. When he kissed me at the end of the night, though, I could tell he was more comfortable than he was on our last date. I wouldn’t say it achieved the “wild abandon” level I was hoping for, but it had definitely moved a little in that direction. We made plans for a less-mellow date (all we have really done is talked for hours on each of our dates). We are going kayaking at Lake Tahoe. Hmm... the perfect date for two people that are scared of drowning, right?   

Tonight I have a second date with The Comedian. We are going to dinner and mini-golfing. I am determined not to like him. The whole two-kids thing makes it impossible to really date him. But he is so entertaining I can't resist another casual encounter. I'm going to have to make it really clear that there is no possibility of his success.  I hope I can keep my bitch-face handy even though I'll be laughing for a couple hours straight. 

Men in Scrubs

In honor of  Grey's Anatomy, this Thursday was a celebration of the medical professional on Match.com. I went on two dates (that’s right, I’m breakin’ out of my dater’s block). The first was a lunch date with a guy in nursing school. I was initially attracted to him because he was into photography, and I’ve realized that I like guys that have their own hobbies. The PhotograNurse and I went to sushi. I might be able to eat sushi gracefully if I keep practicing this often. It was a restaurant I’d never been to and I was very impressed. Yum!

The PhotograNurse was nice-- and I don’t mean that in a good way. I hate the word nice. “Nice” is the word people use when there is not a specific negative thing to say about someone, but there isn’t a specific positive thing to say about them, either. For people that leave this non-impression, we say they are “nice.” If we really liked them we would say they were kind, or cute, or funny, or charasmatic, or compassionate... you get the point. I’m sure there are plenty of girls out there looking for a “nice” guy. I am not.

Maybe my impression was the disadvantage of the lunch date. I’ve decided that a romantic relationship cannot start over lunch. It feels like you are coworkers or something. It’s very well lit and casual and non-suggestive. It’s like reading a book with no foreshadowing-- reading one chapter is plenty and you put it back on the shelf. I put my lunch date back on the shelf and continued on with my day. 

My next date was coffee with a med student from India. The Med Student is two years younger than I am and moved to the states when he was very young. Before I even begin to describe our date let me just say that I have a weird thing for Indian guys. I think they are hot. Maybe it’s because there is a hot waiter at my favorite Indian restaurant, or because I’m in love with the guy from Slumdog Millionaire, or because I think Bollywood dancing is fantastic... I really can’t explain it. It’s a phenomenon I can’t control and just need to accept. 

So The Med Student has the Indian advantage. He also has a big, beaming smile and good teeth. He likes to run and is in good shape. He’s really a stunningly beautiful person... through my Indian-loving lens. 

He was warm and friendly and greeted me with a hug and his big beaming smile. Our conversation was fun-- we ended up talking about everything from foreign education to my irrational fear of earwigs. He has a good sense of humor-- he said he was going to be Aladdin for Halloween. He was somewhat boyish and giggly. Wait, damn. Boyish and giggly. These are not traits I’m looking for. Maybe if I see him a few times he’ll get more comfortable and this will go away? 

Speaking of comfort levels, I may have created a bit of a situation. It was an accident. You see, Reno’s Superhero Pub Crawl is this weekend. I plan on wearing a ridiculous superhero costume complete with gold cuffs and blue tights and a red cape. Why? Because I can. My friends are excellent Pub Crawlers, too. It’s our quality crazy time together. This is why, when The Hunter said he wanted to come, I told him that he couldn’t come with me and my friends. That would be far too cozy at this point. But I told him I didn’t mind running into him, which will happen. It’s Reno. 

Then, I found myself discussing Superhero Crawl with The Med Student and realized that all three of us could potentially be in the same bar at the same time. This situation is super-likely and super-uncomfortable. I may wish I was super-invisible. Perhaps I will hide behind my homemade cape.

Hoverounds

I was going to call this divorced-with-kids guy “The Flatterer” because in his email he pretty much told me I was amazing. However, after meeting him, he definitely needs a name change. I may have never met such a funny person in my life. My abdominal muscles were sore the next day. Here were some of the highlights of our conversation: 

1. Him telling a story about another internet date that didn’t eat, drink, or say anything for an entire baseball game. I wish I had the audio of it for you. 
2. Him saying that stutters are cool because talking to someone who stutters is like having a personal DJ (Stutter impression included).
3. We discussed how cool it is to be old because you can do and say whatever you want. This naturally led into discussing which scooter is superior-- the Hoveround or the Rascal. We decided Hoveround. Then we talked about how we’d get them custom painted-- mine in paisley and his in plaid. 
4. I said that he was “quirky.” He said, “Quirky or Corky? Because if you said Corky I’d have to taaaalk like theeeeiis” (that was a down’s syndrome voice-- difficult to type that). So offensive... and so hilarious. I almost cried. 

So from now on he will be called “The Comedian.” His outstanding ability to make me laugh earned him a potential second date. But there are some serious red flags that I could never actually date him. First, the divorced thing. I have my own baggage. It’s like if my potential future relationship is an airplane, I’m definitely hogging the overhead storage area; so whatever he brings on board had better fit under the seat in front of him. I don’t think you can fit a divorce under the seat. 

Second, the kids. He is fairly young, so I’m picturing like a three and one year-old or something. No. They’re full grown little people (like 10!). When I’m 46, his oldest kid will be 30. That’s icky to me. 

Third, he doesn’t drink. It causes some sort of pancreas reaction. Understandable, but probably not dateable for me. Beer is an important part of my life. 

Now that I just listed those negatives, I feel like I shouldn’t have agreed to a second date. Is that fair to know I don’t want to really date him, but to agree to go on another date? I did tell him from the start that I didn’t want to date anyone with kids. 

The date with The Comedian made me rethink the challenge a little bit. A whole string of rhetorical questions surfaced: What’s the goal? What do I want to happen at the end? Am I picking the “winner” of the 25? Am I dating 25 men to avoid commitment to any one? What if I really like number 17, but have gotten attached to number 4 or 5? 

I need to think through what the goal is. I knew from the start that I wanted to learn more about myself and what I wanted. I’m not even close to figuring that out yet. I don’t think I even necessarily want to end up with someone at the end of the 25. I know that sounds counter-productive. I might be happy with a few new friends and a better idea of what I’m looking for. I don’t think I have the cahones to stop dating anyone. I’ve never been the breaker-upper. Maybe this is about me learning to do that. I think dating 25 men definitely was a subconscious attempt to avoid commitment because, frankly, commitment doesn’t work out so well for me. The one thing I do know for sure is that costom-painted Hoveround races through Walmart sound way better than Cats and Whisky. 

Love to Travell

A match emailed me today, so I checked out his profile. He seemed reasonable at first glance; but when I looked closer it was a "no" for sure. The problem was that he likes to travell. This spelling definitely puts the wrong emphAsis on the wrong syllAble, and makes the word rhyme with repel, or sell, or...hell. And it wasn't a typo. He is a travelling traveller that likes to travell. He has travelled some, but would like to do more travelling in the future. I deleted the email.

I can not date a man who travells; but, tonight I am going to meet a man that breaks some of my other preferences. He is divorced AND has kids. That is so not what I'm looking for. He emailed me and gave me "+1000 points" for the things I said in my profile. Then he wrote that I "have a classic beauty that oozes personality and charm." I don't know about the oozing part. I'm not sure I want to "ooze" (he should read about connotation), but he's quite The Flatterer. I feel like I'm a little stuck in The Mission-- I haven't had a "new" date in weeks and I just need to go meet somebody. Why not meet someone that thinks I ooze personality and charm? I was very upfront with him when I responded to the email. I told him that I was not looking to date anyone with kids, but that I didn't think it would hurt to meet him. He said he admired my honesty and gave me 500 more points. I'm racking them up like an NBA all-star game. We'll see if I can keep up the winning streak tonight.

Misuse of Connotative Words

Like I said a couple of days ago, my date prospects are waning. I am no longer the new girl on Match and the number of winks and emails has decreased to only one or two per day. Try Twenty-Five is only Try Six right now. That’s not nearly as good. 

So instead of waiting for people to be interested in me I jumped in and did a little search of my own: Male, 25-30 years old, at least 5’11”. I didn’t just skim over the thumbnails, I started opening and reading each one. Bald picture? I read it. A picture with a litter of kids? Read it. If there had been a picture of a man in a straw hat and a bolo tie, I would have read that too. 

What did I discover? I have been missing out on the best comedic experience ever. In fact, I started to take notes on these amazing profile-writing follies and have sorted them into categories so that I can share them with you. 

Today I will be discussing the category I call Misuse of Connotative Words-- words that have a dictionary meaning, but you think of a very different meaning when you see or hear them. For example here is a username I found. I’ve changed it here to protect this unfortunate man’s identity, but it was something very similar to “Thruster1452.” The dictionary  defines a “thruster” as “a small rocket attached to a spacecraft.” I definitely didn’t think of aerospace. 

Then there was the man who wrote in his profile, “I do have lots of stamina” when discussing his running and hiking abilities. Really? You could have chosen endurance, or fortitude, but you went with stamina? I’m picturing this guy with a beaming smile, leg up on a coffee table or something, and a bottle of Viagra held in the air like the Statue of Liberty holds her torch. “I’ve got STAMINA!!!” 

On a less sexual note there was one man who starts his profile off with this stunning first sentence: “I am a 27 year old male.” Not man, not guy...male. It made me think of the dog descriptions at the Humane Society. The next line could have been "I can sit on command, I like to play frisbee, but I like to jump so I should go to a home with at least a six-foot fence."  I should have emailed him to see if he was updated on his shots. 

This next one’s pretty good because it makes the reader so incredibly uncomfortable. I bet it will work on you, too. It appeared right in the middle of this guy's profile description of himself. Just read this and see how you feel:

                                                         I enjoy “delving into your psyche.” 

Did it work? Did it make you a little sick to your stomach or give you goosebumps or something? Wow, at least he comes across as a psychopathic serial killer right from the start. That could get real uncomfortable if that sentence came out over some casual drinks. 

Now, not all guys are ignorant when it comes to word choice. Some, in fact, are masterful at the art of euphemism. Like the guy that wrote, “I am the shop foreman for a computer store.” I’m pretty sure this means he’s the greeter. But doesn’t that sound better? “Shop foreman.” It has a nice ring to it. Authoritative, even. Maybe I should think of a euphemism for my job. I’m not a teacher, I’m a “director of literacy development.” I’d better go change that now...

Dance it Out

Have you ever been so happy you had to dance it out? Like you just had to turn your music up and flail like a crazy person? Well it’s been a while, but tonight is definitely one of those nights for me. Chaco and I went to our first west coast swing dance lesson. It was interesting, adventurous, and a lot of fun. 

Our lesson was a little strange-- we were the only couple and had the instructor to ourselves, but there was an adolescent hip hop class going on at the same time on the other side of the room. We were listening to Brittany Spears... or Rihanna... or something that the hip hop class was using, but trying to do west coast swing to it. The instructor was good, but had very bad teeth. These teeth were mesmerizingly bad-- I couldn’t look away. 

Chaco’s naturally nerdy personality had the potential to make this a super uncomfortable situation. Surprisingly, it was fun. He did in fact touch me. He did not wear his Chacos; he wore shoes that would be born if a bedroom slipper, a moccasin, and a business loafer mated. I realized I don’t care about shoes. We held hands. We totally messed up and laughed about it. We went for a beer afterwards and talked about his thesis, which involves blue-green algae and nitrogen and phosphorous. We “accidentally” touched feet. I didn’t cough this time. 

At one point he suggested I write a blog about teaching. He he he. It was pretty ironic and I almost told him about Try Twenty-Five. Don’t worry-- I didn’t. I wouldn't sacrafice the top-secret mission. At the end of the evening he asked when he could see me again and he worked up the courage to kiss me. The kiss was not spectacular; but I feel like that could be remedied with some more alcohol. It needed some more liquid wild abandon. 

Really, I have had great dates with Chaco, The Hunter, and The Archeologist. When I take a step back and stop analyzing everything, I have fun and feel like I can be myself. Regardless of where this goes, I left the evening feeling very lucky to have met so many genuinely cool people on my internet dating voyage. In fact I felt so lucky that I had to put Phoenix in the cd player, crank it up until the whole neighborhood could hear it, and do some ferocious shimmy-shakin’ and whirling dervish twirling with my dog. Sometimes dancing definitely beats analyzing.