What Was I Thinking?

As I continue to review the year in dating (aka laying around eating Christmas cookies and drinking wine with the fam), I found this gem from June.


Aunt Jemima

The other day my mother told me that I'm flipping men like pancakes.

Well. I'm pretty confident that she'd move on from the guys I've dated lately as well. Take Mr. Nice Guy?. We only hung out twice, but in the time we spent together I'm pretty sure he went....#2...three times. Unless he was redoing the wallpaper in there.

Act 1 Scene 1: we’re having drinks on our first date, when he exits stage left to use the restroom. So I call my Dad, chat for a bit, then throw a few darts by myself, pretend to care about the soccer game on TV, refill my beer, and finally just sit down and zone out. By now it’s been a bit of time and I’m wondering where on earth this kid is, but I’m having fun so I don’t want to assume he’s doing THAT.

Then, we’re hanging out with his friends, enjoying some pepperoni thin crust and playing Wii, when he quietly exits the room. For all I know he’s in his room blogging about how crazy I am, because he doesn’t tip toe back into the room for several minutes. And I swear I caught a tiny whiff of something foul. It’s just natural. He’s a sweet guy. Maybe he had McDonald’s for lunch.

By the third time, I’m realizing my new friend needs to rethink whatever he’s putting in his body. We’re at my friend’s condo getting ready to head to the game, and shocker! He shuffles into my friend’s bathroom, which is right off the kitchen. The rest of us are getting our stuff together, placing glasses in the dishwasher, tossing the leftover appetizers, putting the wine in the fridge. And he’s STILL in there. All I can think about is the burrito he ate before our date that night.

Finally twinkle toes comes out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. And I’m staring at him thinking, Hey Poopy Pants, there's a time and a place.

He did say he wants to go into gastroenterology, so maybe he's down with the bowel movements. I get that it's part of life, I did grow up with two brothers, but it's a little early in the game to be getting so cozy with the toilet seat when I'm on the other side of the door.

Anyway, I've been emailing with a cute Bostonian and he asked if I'd want to meet for coffee sometime so I just sent him my number. Perhaps it's my long-standing thing for Matt Damon and Mark Wahlberg, but the idea of a Boston guy seems exciting.

How you like them apples?

Aunt Jemima

The other day my mother told me that I'm flipping men like pancakes.

Well. I'm pretty confident that she'd move on from the guys I've dated lately as well. Take Mr. Nice Guy?. We only hung out twice, but in the time we spent together I'm pretty sure he went....#2...three times. Unless he was redoing the wallpaper in there.

Act 1 Scene 1: we’re having drinks on our first date, when he exits stage left to use the restroom. So I call my Dad, chat for a bit, then throw a few darts by myself, pretend to care about the soccer game on TV, refill my beer, and finally just sit down and zone out. By now it’s been a bit of time and I’m wondering where on earth this kid is, but I’m having fun so I don’t want to assume he’s doing THAT.

Then, we’re hanging out with his friends, enjoying some pepperoni thin crust and playing Wii, when he quietly exits the room. For all I know he’s in his room blogging about how crazy I am, because he doesn’t tip toe back into the room for several minutes. And I swear I caught a tiny whiff of something foul. It’s just natural. He’s a sweet guy. Maybe he had McDonald’s for lunch.

By the third time, I’m realizing my new friend needs to rethink whatever he’s putting in his body. We’re at my friend’s condo getting ready to head to the game, and shocker! He shuffles into my friend’s bathroom, which is right off the kitchen. The rest of us are getting our stuff together, placing glasses in the dishwasher, tossing the leftover appetizers, putting the wine in the fridge. And he’s STILL in there. All I can think about is the burrito he ate before our date that night.

Finally twinkle toes comes out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. And I’m staring at him thinking, Hey Poopy Pants, there's a time and a place.

He did say he wants to go into gastroenterology, so maybe he's down with the bowel movements. I get that it's part of life, I did grow up with two brothers, but it's a little early in the game to be getting so cozy with the toilet seat when I'm on the other side of the door.

Anyway, I've been emailing with a cute Bostonian and he asked if I'd want to meet for coffee sometime so I just sent him my number. Perhaps it's my long-standing thing for Matt Damon and Mark Wahlberg, but the idea of a Boston guy seems exciting.

How you like them apples?

Flatlining

A few days after Mr. Nice Guy? and I had our blissful first date, I invited him to a baseball game with a friend and her fiance. While some may think a double date was too soon, I disagree. We'd already hung out with his friends, so what's the harm in running him by a panel of mine?

It's always good to see how a guy handles 1.Competition, 2.Meeting new people, and 3.Children (and I don't mean staring at them in the park).

So we met them for drinks, went to the game for a few innings, and then had some mini burgers and beers afterward. He was congenial, held my umbrella in the rain, and made me laugh. But it was nowhere near as fun as our first date.

He got along well with my friends, and really hit it off with my friend's fiance. Which is always great. But when we sat down at the game, I was on his left, and he kept turning toward my friends on the right, totally ignoring me. I'm not attention-needy, but when you're sitting for a few minutes with someone's back to you, date or not, it's rude. And this time I just wasn't feeling a vibe with him. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I remember looking up at him and just thinking, "I don't see us dating for a long time." I liked him as a person, I just didn't feel...it. You can have a recipe for this awesome cake, but if you're missing that teaspoon of vanilla, it's just not going to taste right. He had some great qualities and I wanted to like him more than I did, but you can't force the spark.

Plus, homeboy's cheap. As in, everything-we've-done-up-to-this-point-we've-split-the-tab cheap. As in, even-when-we-ordered-pizza-we-split-it cheap. We split every single drink, cab ride and meal we ever had together.

At first I ignored it because he's mentioned his med school debt, and he did just graduate, but then I found out he has two cars. A BMW Roadster convertible and an SUV, "for the winter months."

So no, I don't feel bad disliking that he's cheap. And I'm not shallow for saying that even in 2010, if a guy asks a girl out, he should treat. For the first few dates at least. Chivalry is not dead, people! The only thing I haven't chipped in for was one terrible goodnight kiss that pretty much solidified what I already knew.

I told my father about this man's monetary indescretions, to which he replied, "Nope, he's done."

Couldn't have said it any better myself. The doctor is out.

The Doctor Is In

So I finally met up with Mr. Nice Guy? for some drinks. And after talking with him for a few weeks, I was really excited to hang out with him. But standing outside of the bar waiting for him, my heart was pounding and my feet felt like they weighed 1,000 pounds. I was paralyzed in fear because there were 4 directions he could've been coming in, and I didn't know where to look.

Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw him coming. But I wanted to avoid the block-long stare, slash creepy smile thing, so as I often do, dove into my purse. I really should install a TV in the bottom of all of my handbags, or perhaps get a Tamagotchi for my keychain.

Anyway, he was really tall, with bright blue eyes and a great smile. So cute. And I could tell he was just as excited to hang out.

We ended up having some drinks and playing darts, and it was such a good time. He was funny and polite and I couldn't have hoped it would go any better. And after a bit, he even asked if I wanted to keep hanging out, or if I couldn't wait to get away from him. It was a humorous way to make sure I was having as much fun as him. I said I was having a good time, so we went to meet up with some of his pals, and order pizza and play Wii bowling. Then he was singing along to popular 80s songs in Polish, which he speaks fluently, just to make me laugh. Imagine some tall blonde guy busting out in Polish to Don't Stop Believing. Hilarious.

Overall it was a fantastic first date. The kind where you walk into your house a little slower, smiling to yourself, not thinking about the future or what could happen next, just reveling in the momentary guy high.

We'll see if he calls for a second date.

Bar Exam

I've gone and done it. And now there's no going back.

Instead of just chatting with a guy a few casual times and then meeting when I still feel completely indifferent about the outcome of the date, I've gone and felt.....something.

Mr. Nice Guy? and I have talked on the phone, texted and emailed like young teenagers for the past 2 weeks, 3 days and 9 or so hours, and now I actually CARE about the outcome of this date we have set for Friday.

Usually I'm more consumed about what I'm going to think of HIM before I walk into that date. But now, all I can think about is what if he thinks I'm this horrible toad? Or what if he is immediately disappointed when he sees me? What if I'm telling a story and in his head he's mapping out where I should invest in plastic surgery? I need to get a grip.

Clearly I've put way too much pressure on this guy, and now if he doesn't see me walk into the bar, immediately rise from his chair and give me a standing ovation, I'm going to be wondering the entire evening what he thinks.

I face the jury in less than 3 days. I can only hope he's it's hung.

Holy Moley

So I met Art Vandelay for drinks recently, and overall it was a good time. He was very funny, sweet and polite. And he has this amazingly positive outlook on everything. He's like the team captain.

But there was no spark. There was not an ounce of attraction. Which was really disappointing. It was like finding a hair in your take-out. Plus he kind of looked like a mole.

Usually when I go on a date, I come away with a few quirky things about the guy that I can share, but Art Vandelay was just....normal. Totally vanilla. And once we started to play shuffleboard (I'm addicted), and I realized I was shamelessly flirting with the guy who was standing on my end of the table, I knew Art Vandelay and I were just going to be pals.

It probably didn't help that I was texting with Mr. Nice Guy? the entire time. Who I'm hanging out with this week. We've been engrossed in a texting affair over the past 2 weeks, which I should probably be embarrassed to say out loud, but I'm completely not. He not only aided the sale of my couch, but has helped me plan a bachelorette party and offered me medical advice (he just graduated med school) as the nurses at my doctor's office told me I needed to have blood taken a third time in 10 minutes because they botched the first two rounds.

Could he really just be a nice guy? No catch? No demons? As my mother said, "Then what's wrong with him?" (Thanks Mom). Either way I'm looking forward to hanging out.

As for Art, well he said he'd call me this week, so I might just have to "lose my phone."

Like a Box of Chocolates

I think it's safe to say I'm on a bit of a Guy High. After all, a little PMA (Positive Male Attention) never hurt anyone. If you haven't had your dose this week, I suggest you take a metal nail to your tire, and park it in front of a local bar. Men love a damsel in distress. Like a moth to a flame.

Anyway, I was on the good ol' dating site earlier this week when suddenly an instant message popped up. I didn't even know you could IM on the site. So the guy doesn't have a photo on his profile, and of course you immediately think he's a.) creepy and gross b.) hopelessly unphotogenic or c.) married. Well he sent photos right away, and after talking for awhile and cruising his Facebook page, I decided he probably wasn't on the lam and there was chance he might be an alright guy.

We ended up chatting for about 3 hours (my boss better not read this), and it was good clean fun. I vented about how I'm trying to sell my couch and how flaky people on Craigslist are. So he took a look at my ad, said it was terrible, and posted a more efficient ad. And when Mr. Nice Guy? forwarded me the first lead, it was a girl I'd heard from previously, so I knew this wasn't just a ploy to show up at my home.

Since then we've talked a few times and texted quite a bit. And I will say one thing - it was pretty smart to "offer to help" with my couch situation, because it was an instant way to contact me again without being creepy. He's been genuinely involved in the sale of this couch too. Sending me leads, advising me not to lower the price too much, and saying positive things like "I know you'll sell this thing!" when I get frustrated.

But, I'm having a dilemma. My cynical side says "OK what's up man? What's your angle?" And the little angel on my shoulder says, "Maybe he's a genuinely nice person who wants to help a sista out."

Based on our conversations, I'm trying to see past my cynicism and give him a chance. And he seems really sweet. Minus his one case of mouth diarrhea, when we first started chatting, and he was trying to compliment Michigan girls, but fumbled by saying, "My longest relationship was with a girl from MI. You girls are down to earth, you can drink beer, are nice," blah blah BLAH. So he might be a complete and total douche.

Although, I wasn't smooth as butter either (shocking, right?). At one point we were talking about online dating in general, and being the ass I am, said, "well it's the Internet; you never know what you're gonna get." To which he replied, "Thanks Forrest." He's funny!

While I'd normally make fun of a guy who says "LOL" (minus my father, who says it means Lots of Love) and tuned into the entire American Idol finale (he knew the male finalist and admitted it was going to be a long hour), I've sent my skepticism on an all-expenses-paid trip to Sandals and am going to give him a chance.

We're going to hang out next week over some drinks.

But if he starts talking about more ex-girlfriends from Michigan, it'll be Run Forrest, Run.