This is the third and the last in a short series I like to call “You’re just not that into him and he’s just not that into you either.”
After my moments of post-date paranoia, I got sick and took a few days off work last week. I was home, freer than usual, and decided to gchat with the guy who my last date with made me feel like a hopeless hooligan. We ended up communicating for almost the whole day and I thought maybe I could really like this guy.
But it must have been the fever talking.
He asked if I was free this weekend and we planned to talk Saturday for a possible dinner in the evening. After texting during the day, I missed a call from that evening and called back right away. Actually, he said, he was about to go to a buddy’s house to watch the baseball game because he didn’t know what I had in mind. Was I hungry for dinner?
I was, I told him, a little confused as to why he seemed to be trying for a last-minute ditch but at the same time trying to save face by acting so confused.
It was only after I hung up that I heard the message he had started to leave before he got my call waiting: He was definitely trying to dodge.
So that makes things a little awkward.
I thought maybe it was the cold I had. He did say he was a germophobe. And while I still sounded a little hoarse there was no coughing, sneezing, runny nose, etc. I felt great.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt like he was doing me some sort of favor. Strange since the whole thing was his idea.
He took me to a place with tables and a bar, and then said he wanted to sit at the bar, where whadaya know, the baseball game was on. He looked cute but wore a tight ass leather jacket and I noticed that sometimes when he talks, he sounds like a jappy girl or a pretentious private school boy. I kept drifting off when we were talking, and I noticed hearing stories I had already heard, and telling him things about myself I had already told him.
Nothing like a third date to make it clear. This was definitely the last.
Then the bill came and he suggested I pay the tip. Which I did, after flashing a huge wad of cash in my wallet as if to say, it’s not your money honey, I just want to go out on dates with guys who act like I’m worth spending a few bucks on and who don’t double book on the eve of a previously scheduled baseball game, leaving me to spend my night watching them quietly route against the home team.
So bring it back Jay-Z: Hey hey hey. Goodbye.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Let me start by saying that I’m way too nuerotic to date, and defenitely too neurotic to write about it.
But this little experiment has been approved by my shrink. He says if having to date for blogging material will get me to go out, then by all means, it’s medicine.
So I recently switched online dating sites and ended up chatting up this one dude. He had a sweet face, seemed to have good taste and ranked kindness and bravery high on his list of personal traits.
I told him I liked his profile and soon enough we were emailing back and forth.
The arrangment for our first date was not ideal. Generally I like it when a man who asks me out chooses a place, suggests a time, holds doors, etcetera. I am a feminist. I think women are equal to men, if not occassionally superior. Still, if a man asks me out, I think he should pay at least the first time, and have some idea of where he wants to take me.
If I had more money I might be forced to consider why I believe this, but I don’t.
Anyway, since we were trying to arrange an after work meet and greet I chose a place nearby my job, a place where all I would have to do is give a bartender a wink and they would find a way to end the whole deal.
Soon there we were, drinking beers and eating grilled cheeses.
He seemed cool. We talked about music and a million indie bands I had never heard of, actors and actresses I had never heard of, etc.
But this was different than dates I had gone out on before. I just wanted to learn a little more about him. I did nothing to try to impress him, a problem I have even when I’m utterly unimpressed myself.
Apparently, the aloof thing really works. Before we said goodbye and after he convinced me to drink more beer than I had planned on, he wanted to know if there was a second date in store.
Honestly, I could have gone either way. I enjoyed my time with him, but couldn’t really see it going any further than friends – which I’m convinced I have enough of already unless they are the type who take you out to fine meals and then take you home and give you orgasms.
But there was, in fact, a date number two.
Date 2
One thing that’s important to understand is that at the end of the first date, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, refused to get into his car or be driven home, or even walked to my door. You never know who wants to chop you into little pieces, you know.
But for date number 2, I was already feeling comfortable with this guy. I felt that we liked each other whether or not romance was imminent, and I knew the whole ordeal would not be torture and would probably include getting kinda saucy.
On the first date my therapists words – I had just come from a session – echoed in my mind. “Watch your alcohol level.”By the second date a few weeks later I had already forgotten. This time, he had it all planned out. A wine bar close to, coincidentally, my therapists office. But something came up at work and I got delayed, so I beckoned him to my neighborhood again, this time to a new joint with a million beers and a menu full of swine.
He was very flexible, agreeable, understanding about the work thing. But I was in a whole new place than I had been the first time we met.
When he arrived I was talking to some friends I had run into at the bar, and a few beers later I realized I had etched my initials into the brand new, polished, wooden table we were sitting at. Then he convinced me to steal a shot glass by hiding it in my purse.
He talked, but I forgot to listen. We took a walk when we arrived at his car I jumped right in.
“Oh, did you want a ride?” he asked, possibly puzzled by the change in my cautious behavior.
The conversation went back to music and I told him about this Jay Z song I liked. I emailed it to him when I got home before I realized the refrain was “hey, hey, hey goodbye.”
He emailed me back this link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whwFlTrqWZ0
Is this supposed to be me?
There I go again.
But this little experiment has been approved by my shrink. He says if having to date for blogging material will get me to go out, then by all means, it’s medicine.
So I recently switched online dating sites and ended up chatting up this one dude. He had a sweet face, seemed to have good taste and ranked kindness and bravery high on his list of personal traits.
I told him I liked his profile and soon enough we were emailing back and forth.
The arrangment for our first date was not ideal. Generally I like it when a man who asks me out chooses a place, suggests a time, holds doors, etcetera. I am a feminist. I think women are equal to men, if not occassionally superior. Still, if a man asks me out, I think he should pay at least the first time, and have some idea of where he wants to take me.
If I had more money I might be forced to consider why I believe this, but I don’t.
Anyway, since we were trying to arrange an after work meet and greet I chose a place nearby my job, a place where all I would have to do is give a bartender a wink and they would find a way to end the whole deal.
Soon there we were, drinking beers and eating grilled cheeses.
He seemed cool. We talked about music and a million indie bands I had never heard of, actors and actresses I had never heard of, etc.
But this was different than dates I had gone out on before. I just wanted to learn a little more about him. I did nothing to try to impress him, a problem I have even when I’m utterly unimpressed myself.
Apparently, the aloof thing really works. Before we said goodbye and after he convinced me to drink more beer than I had planned on, he wanted to know if there was a second date in store.
Honestly, I could have gone either way. I enjoyed my time with him, but couldn’t really see it going any further than friends – which I’m convinced I have enough of already unless they are the type who take you out to fine meals and then take you home and give you orgasms.
But there was, in fact, a date number two.
Date 2
One thing that’s important to understand is that at the end of the first date, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, refused to get into his car or be driven home, or even walked to my door. You never know who wants to chop you into little pieces, you know.
But for date number 2, I was already feeling comfortable with this guy. I felt that we liked each other whether or not romance was imminent, and I knew the whole ordeal would not be torture and would probably include getting kinda saucy.
On the first date my therapists words – I had just come from a session – echoed in my mind. “Watch your alcohol level.”By the second date a few weeks later I had already forgotten. This time, he had it all planned out. A wine bar close to, coincidentally, my therapists office. But something came up at work and I got delayed, so I beckoned him to my neighborhood again, this time to a new joint with a million beers and a menu full of swine.
He was very flexible, agreeable, understanding about the work thing. But I was in a whole new place than I had been the first time we met.
When he arrived I was talking to some friends I had run into at the bar, and a few beers later I realized I had etched my initials into the brand new, polished, wooden table we were sitting at. Then he convinced me to steal a shot glass by hiding it in my purse.
He talked, but I forgot to listen. We took a walk when we arrived at his car I jumped right in.
“Oh, did you want a ride?” he asked, possibly puzzled by the change in my cautious behavior.
The conversation went back to music and I told him about this Jay Z song I liked. I emailed it to him when I got home before I realized the refrain was “hey, hey, hey goodbye.”
He emailed me back this link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whwFlTrqWZ0
Is this supposed to be me?
There I go again.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Date 7: CrazyBlindDate
I have never been on a blind date. I've been on set-up dates before, but never a blind date. But I wanted to try something a bit outside the box so to speak, so I signed up for this website called CrazyBlindDate.com. The name tells you pretty much everything you need to know.
You fill in some very general information (your name, your height and build, what you're looking for in a date, etc.) and the website sets you up with someone based on your preferences and the time you're free. A half hour before your scheduled date, you receive a text message that supposedly allows you to contact your date. You don't get to see what the other person looks like until after you've gone out with him or her.
You can imagine how this situation can go awry.
I set up my date for a Monday, because at least if the guy didn't show up or was a complete freak, then I wouldn't have wasted a weekend evening that I could have spent more enjoyably.
The whole day at work I was a nervous wreck. I kept imagining every possible horrible scenario that could cause this idea to be the worst one I had ever had in my life. Murder, rape, vomit, laughing strangers, spilled drinks, acne, and bad breathe tormented me as the clock ticked closer to 8 pm.
I arrived a bit early and sat at the bar. I had brought a book with me, which I proceeded to read by the dim candlelight. There is a reason people go to coffee shops and libraries to read. I once saw a dude reading Heidegger at a bar on a Friday night. He had a book lamp and a beer. Remembering how I had proceeded to call him a dork, idiot and retard before my friends pulled me away, I stuffed my book in my purse and looked around instead.
Besides me the bartender, a lovey-dovey couple, and a rather surly-looking man watching the Mets game were the only other living beings in the bar. Outside, a man was pacing back and forth across the sidewalk. He kept checking his cellphone as if waiting to hear from someone. Guessing that this was my date, I texted the service -- which had promised to forward my message to his phone. A minute passed. And then two. And then four. Fearing that the service hadn't done as it had promised I decided to go outside and ask the dude if he were indeed meeting a girl named Echo.
Sure enough, this nervous-pacing-guy was my date. He was dressed in a suit and had glasses. Not cool glasses, just glasses. For the first ten minutes I imagined how I would change his style so that maybe I could be attracted to him.
He bought me two drinks and I was very talkative. Mostly because I was sort of unsure how to get out of this situation. I could tell he thought I was pretty (mostly because he said so) and that he thought we would be a good couple (because he said our star signs were compatible) but unfortunately for him, I didn't see it the same way. My eyes wandered to a couple hot guys sitting next to us and I hoped he didn't notice.
Every time I got uncomfortable I took another sip of vodka tonic. Not a good idea. Eventually, we left because we both had to work in the morning. He asked for my number and I gave it to him, saying disingenuously that I'd like to go out again. I knew I wouldn't answer his calls/texts, but it is hard to say no to someone's face. It is so much easier to give a guy your number and hope that he felt the same way and was just going through the motions for politeness's sake. This does not mean that it's the right thing to do. He went in for a goodbye hug, I went for a hand-shake. Awkwardness ensued.
My goal for my next date: tell the guy I am not interested to his face and don't give him my number.
I swear I'm not a pessimist.
You fill in some very general information (your name, your height and build, what you're looking for in a date, etc.) and the website sets you up with someone based on your preferences and the time you're free. A half hour before your scheduled date, you receive a text message that supposedly allows you to contact your date. You don't get to see what the other person looks like until after you've gone out with him or her.
You can imagine how this situation can go awry.
I set up my date for a Monday, because at least if the guy didn't show up or was a complete freak, then I wouldn't have wasted a weekend evening that I could have spent more enjoyably.
The whole day at work I was a nervous wreck. I kept imagining every possible horrible scenario that could cause this idea to be the worst one I had ever had in my life. Murder, rape, vomit, laughing strangers, spilled drinks, acne, and bad breathe tormented me as the clock ticked closer to 8 pm.
I arrived a bit early and sat at the bar. I had brought a book with me, which I proceeded to read by the dim candlelight. There is a reason people go to coffee shops and libraries to read. I once saw a dude reading Heidegger at a bar on a Friday night. He had a book lamp and a beer. Remembering how I had proceeded to call him a dork, idiot and retard before my friends pulled me away, I stuffed my book in my purse and looked around instead.
Besides me the bartender, a lovey-dovey couple, and a rather surly-looking man watching the Mets game were the only other living beings in the bar. Outside, a man was pacing back and forth across the sidewalk. He kept checking his cellphone as if waiting to hear from someone. Guessing that this was my date, I texted the service -- which had promised to forward my message to his phone. A minute passed. And then two. And then four. Fearing that the service hadn't done as it had promised I decided to go outside and ask the dude if he were indeed meeting a girl named Echo.
Sure enough, this nervous-pacing-guy was my date. He was dressed in a suit and had glasses. Not cool glasses, just glasses. For the first ten minutes I imagined how I would change his style so that maybe I could be attracted to him.
He bought me two drinks and I was very talkative. Mostly because I was sort of unsure how to get out of this situation. I could tell he thought I was pretty (mostly because he said so) and that he thought we would be a good couple (because he said our star signs were compatible) but unfortunately for him, I didn't see it the same way. My eyes wandered to a couple hot guys sitting next to us and I hoped he didn't notice.
Every time I got uncomfortable I took another sip of vodka tonic. Not a good idea. Eventually, we left because we both had to work in the morning. He asked for my number and I gave it to him, saying disingenuously that I'd like to go out again. I knew I wouldn't answer his calls/texts, but it is hard to say no to someone's face. It is so much easier to give a guy your number and hope that he felt the same way and was just going through the motions for politeness's sake. This does not mean that it's the right thing to do. He went in for a goodbye hug, I went for a hand-shake. Awkwardness ensued.
My goal for my next date: tell the guy I am not interested to his face and don't give him my number.
I swear I'm not a pessimist.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Date 6: Underwhelmed
I had a first date with a guy from okcupid.com last night. Going into it, I knew almost nothing about him, just that he had a really Jewish name (I'm half-Jewish, and not observant at all), was short, and likes to go out to trivia nights at a local bar.
He was pefectly nice, but I wasn't feeling so great and was ready to go home anytime. I need to learn to send better signals or just end dates early. This date ended relatively early, but he walked me to my gym, where I was supposed to be meeting my sister, and asked if he could call me next week. I sort of said, "Oh, I'm balancing a lot of things next week, but okay, try me."
Now I'm not sure if I should head him off by sending a note saying I'm not interested, or just wait and see if he follows up, then say no.
I'm a little disturbed that the short thing bothered me. I'm tiny (5' tall), so short guys often pick me out (I think you can filter by height on these dating sites). I think I could be into a short guy if they have a big personality - if they're really funny, or do something really amazing, or at least flirt well.
I signed up for Crazy Blind Date (thanks to Echo for the invite), and I have my first CBD tomorrow after work. I think it could be fun, based on totally arbitrary judgments I'm making about this dude's name and summary of his political views.
He was pefectly nice, but I wasn't feeling so great and was ready to go home anytime. I need to learn to send better signals or just end dates early. This date ended relatively early, but he walked me to my gym, where I was supposed to be meeting my sister, and asked if he could call me next week. I sort of said, "Oh, I'm balancing a lot of things next week, but okay, try me."
Now I'm not sure if I should head him off by sending a note saying I'm not interested, or just wait and see if he follows up, then say no.
I'm a little disturbed that the short thing bothered me. I'm tiny (5' tall), so short guys often pick me out (I think you can filter by height on these dating sites). I think I could be into a short guy if they have a big personality - if they're really funny, or do something really amazing, or at least flirt well.
I signed up for Crazy Blind Date (thanks to Echo for the invite), and I have my first CBD tomorrow after work. I think it could be fun, based on totally arbitrary judgments I'm making about this dude's name and summary of his political views.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Date 5: The "Dream" Date
So I didn't have an actual date, instead last night I dreamt about one of my exes--the entire dream was a date. It was a weird dream because I haven't thought about him in ages. We broke up about 5 years ago (although I took it very hard). I had harbored hopes that we would get together again but those were dashed six months after we broke up when we met up and after an hour he mentioned that he was living with his ex-girlfriend (and NOT the one he had broken up with me for), AND that he had accidentally gotten her pregnant one month after he and I had broke up. Having a kid with someone else pretty much negates any possibility of getting back together with them. I sometimes was nostalgic about him, but that's all.
I think he was inserted back into my unconscious a few weeks ago when Midtown Girl told me that she had run into him at a party and that he had gotten married to the girl and they were having another kid. I think that was a kind of a whammie. Obviously, makes perfect sense! He should marry the mother of his child (now children). But again, I think sometimes we hold onto shreds of dreams that we don't want to admit we do. So I think this ripped the last shred.
Anyway, in my dream we went from a donut shop to a go-carts track to some sort of house where we were both trying to fix the plumbing. Hmm, writing this out it all seems a bit too literal. Sweetness, childlike innocence (and children), and a desire to fix what's gummed up the works. And probably something sexual in there as well.
But it was nice to spend a little time with him once again.
Bittersweetly, it was one of the better dates I've had in a while.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Date 3: the Ex
Had brunch on Saturday in soho with my most recent ex who I haven't seen in five months. Every time we've talked to each other (4 times total) I cry or I come close to crying and both of us are upset. So, this was quite an accomplishment (venturing out in public), a possible public hysterical episode could have occurred.
Instead, it was perfect. Lovely, too lovely.
Had TOO nice of at time. Didn't cry but definitely wanted to get back together. Not sure what the next step will be...not good at talking about it b/c I'm too close to the situation...must wait and see...
Oh and an update about the night out with friends...no soccer players came by, but fortunately one of the women didn't bring her live-in boyfriend, phew. Did not end up being seventh wheel.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Potential date on the horizon...
No date tonight, instead a glass of wine with Midtown Girl and then to H&M to pick up a scarf because it is getting cold!! Potential one tomorrow...Antoinette, a friend from graduate school--nice girl, very generous--invited me out for a girls night out, but it has turned into an evening where everyone who is coming is bringing her boyfriend or husband except me (and maybe Echo, if she can go--singles solidarity!). Was feeling as I generally do...should I perhaps back out of this clear fiasco in the making? Having horrible moment of channeling terrible terrible Bridget Jones book (v. bad book; fairly charming movie) where I am asked about being a singleton.
But wait...friend hints that her husband may bring along european soccer buddies. um, yes?! Potentially interested, but last time european soccer buddies were promised, I ended up way out in Queens in massive beer garden (not the good one), with two couples. Had a fine time, but felt a tiny bit out of place, especially when the hugs goodbye came and I got on the subway to begin my hour commute home by myself. Do not want to end up seventh wheel in tomorrow's events. Hmm....
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