The Inquisition

The Comedian and I went on another one of his secretive mystery dates. My only clue this time was that there would be lasers. I made sure he would mind me calling them “frickin’ lasers” in a terrible Dr. Evil voice before I agreed. It turned out to be a little trip to our local laser maze. We each got to pretend we were on a top secret mission to break into a bank or something. I won’t lie-- it was a little scary. You go into a dark room by yourself, then all these laser beams come on and you have to do some serious kung-fu yoga moves to get through them. I think the Comedian may have been a little nervous too-- he gets bonus points for being adventurous and outgoing. Those are necessary traits for someone to be with me. Even more necessary than well rolled button-up shirt sleeves.

After our “frickin’ laser” adventure, we went to dinner and then on a walk. I dug a little deep with the conversation. That’s a strange thing about internet dating: you’re both paying as much for your dating membership as you are for your water bill, so there’s no messin’ around. You don’t wonder if they’re looking for a relationship. If you go on more than one date, you don’t wonder if they’re interested in you. You don’t have to dance or shuffle around what you really want to ask them-- you just ask. When I realized I was actually re-considering my original declaration to not date him, I just let it fly:

“Do you ever want to get married again?”

“Would you have more children? Would you want to?”

“What are your thoughts on changing jobs to live closer?” 

"Do you want to travel?"

"I have two uvulas-- does that bother you?" (Yep-- you should Google that one, readers)

The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on me that night. And this all should have scared him away, but it didn’t. He just held my hand and thought about each section of the interrogation and seemed to have all the answers I was looking for (one more time, yes, with the right person, yes, yes, and "no---wait what is that?"). 

We spent the whole night talking. A little rain storm moved over us and we kissed in the rain, we watched mice run into the trash cans near where we were sitting (which amused us both), we talked about racing our Hoverounds some more, and he pointed out his own use of alliteration. I finally looked at the clock and was stunned to see it was 5:30 in the morning. 

I’m going to spare you all the mushy details and just say that I realized when I looked at the clock that there was no one else I would ever want to spend an entire night talking with. I’ve only met 14 guys. I can’t very well change my blog/challenge to “try fourteen.” Who in the hell would read that? What’s even worse is that I’m supposed to go out of town with The Hunter in a couple weeks. I know The Comedian is a much better match for me already. I’m pretty smitten. But reservations have been made and The Hunter and I are officially going. That won’t be awkward at all.   

Legend

It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged-- epic blogger fail, I know. There are a couple reasons for my lack of posting. The first is that nothing really fantastic or horrific has happened in my recent dating adventures. The plot line has been much more like Bob Ross than Days of Our Lives (obviously I’ve been watching too much non-cable daytime television). The second reason I haven’t written is that I’ve been caving a little to my previous monogamous habits, and I’ve not been looking forward to fessing up. 

You haven’t missed much. I’ve been on a couple of dates: one with The Policeman and one with the other Algal Ecology Guy. The Policeman was friendly-- jovial, even, I would say. We talked about our jobs, and places we’d like to travel, and our life goals. He wants to have horses some day and he drives a Dodge Ram 1500 quad cab. Yep-- he could definitely fit in my vision of happiness. He’s texted me a couple of times since our date, but I’ve run out of motivation to respond. It’s not that I don’t want a second date it’s just that I’m getting kind of...tired. This mission is a marathon, not a sprint, and I’m starting to feel the fatigue. 

The other date with Algal Ecology Guy was fascinating. He’s been to Antarctica. Who does that? He used to be Mormon, but don’t worry-- I watched him drink a beer. He does, in fact, know Chaco. Damn. We were trading our internet stories and Algal Ecology Guy says, "yeah, I think I heard of some girl trying to date 25 guys." Awesome. I'm a legend.

Algal Ecology Guy is really, highly... extremely... interested in plants. Primarily orchids, it seemed. I got a detailed explanation, complete with hand gestures, about the life cycle of an orchid. There were pods and pollens, “stamens” and “germinations”, “reproductions” and “maturations”. Never has such a sexual-sounding conversation been so not sexual. Algal Ecology Guy wasn’t a total weirdo, though. He laughed at his unusual orchid interest and called his long explanation “nerdjacking.” Here’s the definition of nerdjacking from urbandictionary.com:

1.	nerdjacking
	June 17, 2011 Urban Word of the Day In conversation, digressing into extreme and/or unnecessary detail about one’s passion (music, coding, gaming) to an otherwise uninitiated layperson, without awareness or acknowledgement of the listener’s rapidly waning interest or lack of understanding of the subject at hand. Clyde held Stella’s attention briefly, until he began nerdjacking the conversation by talking about World of Warcraft for 4 uncomfortable minutes.

This definitely showed off his sense of humor. Algal Ecology Guy was also really good looking. He was good looking like the kind of person whose picture is in a frame when you buy it at the store: great teeth, flashy smile, just the right amount of semi-rugged stubble. I think I was a little too much for Algal Ecology Guy, though. He hasn’t called or texted and it’s been over a week. I should probably stay away from Mormons, former Mormons, and anyone I feel like I’m corrupting if they drink a beer with me. Algal Ecology Guy is wise to stick with his stamens.

Okay, it’s time for the confession portion of my blog. I’m going to do this quick, like ripping off a band-aid:

The Hunter and I talk, text, or see each other at least three or four times a week. He’s hung out with my friends (who approve of him but disapprove of my caving to previous habits). He sends me random good morning and good night texts... and I like them. We’ve talked about taking a cruise to Mexico. He’s making me dinner tonight.

There. I did it. Now you know.

I had a friend point out today that it would be okay if I found somebody and wanted to date them; after all, isn’t that the whole point of joining match.com? I guess it is. But I’m pretty determined to make it to my 25. I’m not a quitter. And, at the very least, sticking to the mission will make me stave off a relationship for as long as possible. My new challenge is trying to date the guys I like without actually dating them. Maybe I should just get an orchid instead. Then I could nerdjack people with my stamens. 

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.

Too Comfortable for Comfort

I suck at this game-- and it’s my own game. I went out with The Hunter for the fourth time. Four is way too many. I’m beginning to get comfortable. Not comfortable like I would burp in front of him, but comfortable like when I see something funny on TV or have my car die in the middle of a parking lot (I hate you, Pathfinder), one of my first thoughts is to text him and tell him. 

The problem is that once I get comfortable with one guy, it gives him a completely unfair advantage over the rest. I will be comparing each of the next nineteen dates to him without even being conscious of it. This “comfortable” thing is just a sneaky form of settling that I didn’t see coming. I don’t want to stop seeing him, and I can’t undo “comfortable”. I can’t be like “Oops, sorry. This really nice, relaxed thing we have going here is just not what I’m looking for. Will you take your flowers back?” 

I’m going to have to come up with some sort of solution for my inner turmoil. Maybe I’ll tell him I have multiple personality disorder to scare him away. At least it would be a guilt-free, clean break.

On the Chaco front, things are looking up. He looked up a few dance studios and emailed me their schedules. The only time that worked for both of us was Saturday evenings, which will seriously interfere with the overall goal of The Mission. But I love to dance. I love to dance like Nathaniel loves to dance (if you did not get that joke you need to youtube “Nathaniel loves to dance” immediately). So I’m going to spend four Saturday evenings learning to west coast swing with Chaco. I wonder if he’ll wear the sandals to dance class. That would be epic. I might step on his naked Chaco toes. Here’s another interesting factor: we have not touched... at all. I hope Chaco knows that you have to actually touch your dance partner. 

My date prospects are waning. I’ve been sick and have let a couple of emails and texts fall through. I’ve decided that today I’ll be a little more proactive and try to add a couple of new dates to the calendar. Tonight I’m going to sushi with The Archeologist. You remember, the one that used to look like Shawn from Boy Meets World? Sushi is a tricky date. The more I think about it the more I realize it’s a bad idea. If I eat as much sushi as I can, I risk scaring him. If I eat too little, I appear incapable. I’m hoping I decide I don’t like him. Then I can eat six orders of upside-down shrimp, get sauce all over my face, and not give a shit.

Ninja Style

You remember in “The Mission” how I explained that somehow I automatically go from first dates to long-term relationships? I can see that happening here already. Crap. In the last week The Hunter has definitely had his suitor A-game going. First of all, I’ve caught some sort of plague. I was pretty sure I was dying: fever, cough, phlegm balls, general misery. I decided to keep my dinner date with the Hunter. An elk had sacrificed its life for this date-- I felt like I couldn’t possibly cancel. So I warned The Hunter that I was feeling under the weather the night before the date. His text back was  “do you want me to grab and drop off some gatorade and soup? Or medicine?” How cute is that? 

He said he didn’t mind if I was sick and would make me dinner anyway. The elk was yummy-- like beef but lighter and less dense. He had also made a mushroom sauce,  artichoke leaves, and broccoli with cheese. The artichoke leaves were carefully arranged. He must watch Emeril. After dinner we curled up on the couch to watch  a movie. My fever was so high I felt like I was on fire. He half-jokingly fanned me with a pillow. He kissed me despite the fact that I was a festering diseaseling. He said he didn’t care. 

Then later in the week he dropped flowers off at my doorstep. He said he did it “ninja style” (his words) so I wouldn’t see him. It was the day of a performance I was doing and he had written me a little good luck note to go with my flowers. And he came to the performance, too. He just sat in the back by himself in this crazy little bar... to watch me dance for less than two minutes.

Last night he texted and said that I was “the most interesting and enjoyable person (he’d) met in years” and that he wasn’t “going to stop dating me just because (I) am dating other people.” Wow, see? He’s already dedicated. But it’s not just “other people”. It’s twenty-four other people. I still have nineteen more to go. His “ninja style” does not fit with The Mission. It’s trouble.

Nerdy Hunter and my Cowboy Friends

The Hunter and I went to the Reno Rodeo tonight. I tried to buy our tickets, but he had already bought them and picked them up. Wow. That’s serious preparation. I was a little nervous because I didn’t know how The Hunter would react to me feeling very much at home at the rodeo. Most people are sort of rodeo tourists, but I am pretty comfortable in my Ariats and sparkly belt, which I wore, of course. I also brought my flask of Jack Daniels in my purse. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact when he saw it he said I was hot, and I agreed. Hey, neither ‘modest’ nor ‘classy’ are in my profile for a reason. I was also nervous because I was meeting up with some friends that brought their horses in for a barrel race. I wasn’t sure how nerdy Hunter and cowboy friends would mesh.

The Hunter and I maintained a friendly banter through the rodeo. It seemed like he enjoyed just being with me and sharing our flask. After the rodeo, we hung out with my friends while they rode (see friends on the right). He had no fear of horses. He just walked right up and started petting them on the face. I was starving so we went for some late night food with one of my girl friends. He bought her dinner, too (so nice of him). She said she appreciated that he didn’t try to be overly friendly-- he was just laid back and didn’t seem to need to prove himself.

She also said, “He obviously really likes you.” That makes me worry a little bit. The whole point of this was to break my habit of jumping into a relationship, and I also feel mean or dishonest dating other guys while I keep this one hanging. It’s very unlike me. But I’ve warned him and he’s well aware of the situation and keeps asking me out. He’s going to make me a dinner of elk next week. Yum...elk...nothing brings up serious doubts like unique game meat. 

Well Played

No deer. Whew. We went to a comedy show. We had drinks first and I learned that The Hunter took calculus when he was a sophomore in high school. This means he had to ride his bike to the high school when he was in 7th and 8th grade to take his math classes. This was a major nerd card-- well played. I like nerds. This could be us:

                                 

The first comedian made a couple of jokes about getting picked on, then singled The Hunter out and said, “This guy over here. I bet you never got picked on. You’re all tall and good lookin’. No, no one ever messed with you.” So you can’t tell he’s a nerd by looking at him. That’s good, right? 

The evening ended with another un-financial kiss. This time some rowdy observers stopped to cheer. That was fun. I agreed to a third date. I reminded him that I still have 22 more guys to meet. He said he was okay with that as long as he gets dates in between. I’m a little doubtful he can make it. 

I am meeting with an archeologist later this week. He had my favorite bar on his profile “hot spots” list, so we decided to meet there. He's divorced. I'm not sure whether to look at that like, "Hey, he's marriageable" or like, "Hey, he's extremely flawed in some way I have yet to discover." Hmm... scary. 

Ahoy, maybe!?

I just got home from my date with The Hunter. I’m more of an animal lover than an animal killer, but I was willing to give it a try. He is very...financial. When I stepped out of the door and saw the hot little sports car the first thought in my mind was, “Oh my god, he rented a car for a date. Who does that?” As it turned out, he works at an auto-body shop, so the car makes sense. Sigh of relief. We went and had beers. He ordered a tall instead of a regular. This is good. He was easy to talk to and he did make me smile. 

We headed off to play miniature golf, but the outside course was closing. The place also had an indoor course so we decided to play anyway. Here’s where it got interesting. It wasn’t just indoor miniature golf; it was indoor, black light...wait it gets better...pirate!...miniature golf. Neither one of us was going to chicken out, so we grabbed our clubs and our glowing balls and headed into the dark. I can not think of a less romantic place anywhere on Earth. It was small and pitch-black except for the glowing, life-sized pirate cutouts and neon pirate props. There were pirate sound effects to enhance the pirate-y experience. It had the distinct feel of a haunted house and was equally as frightening. Then there were the children-- wild, free-range children that would plop their ball down and play right past you on the putting green. Or should I say putting black? The Hunter and I decided that this must be where parents drop their kids off for hours at a time while they enjoy a drink. The kids could run in circles and do the course over and over again. We agreed that it was a winning concept for parenting, but not for dating.


Here's a video so that you can experience this phenomenon for yourselves. Enjoy!

The Hunter earned serious points for taking pirate golf in stride. We went for another round of drinks afterwords at a bar with a live band and lots of middle-aged people. Pretty sure everyone in the bar was on an internet date, actually. He continued to make me smile and  the conversation was easy. The evening ended with a very un-financial kiss and the possibility of a second date. One down, twenty four to go. The second-date factor, which I really wasn’t even considering before this, could really create some complications. 

Tomorrow I have a date with The Runner. He has a grad degree and is tall-- both items on my “ooh” list. He is athletic and good looking, but he only has one profile picture. My irrational fear: what if he was mauled by a bear since then and now he doesn’t have a face? Hey, anything’s possible.

Jitters

I have my first date tonight with The Hunter. I have reviewed his profile and there are some definite highlights: he is tall, has a degree in finance, and wears a baseball hat well. In my profile I say I would like to mini-golf. He is the only one that has taken me up on it. My worries are, in this order: that I am going to get axe-murdered, that we will have nothing to talk about, or that he will have a third nipple. I’m nervous, so I’m starting the evening with some wine and Kings of Leon while I do my hair.