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.