Much Ado About Nothing

So, a few weeks ago I wrote about a man who thought kidnapping was a fun idea for a first date. AKA go see a concert in the next state over. Well, I put the kibosh on him and his stupid idea and never heard from him again.

Mind you, we never met in person. We only spent the standard 30 minutes appraising the small collection of profile photos we each posted of ourselves, looking our most fabulous. Do you ever wonder why people do that? I mean I’m guilty of it as well, but come on. Why don’t people just cut the crap and post a photo they took of themselves when they first woke up (does anyone do that)? Or when they’re bedridden with the flu? Or after several beers in the August heat after a rousing football-season tailgate where they may have made the unfortunate decision to pose making a peace sign with a bunch of sailors and perhaps their right sleeve may have been the victim of a drive-by drink spilling. Because chances are, if you end up dating them, you’ll be witnessing all of these looks. It's all downhill from the profile pic, am I right?

Plus, if you can take his bed-head or her makeup-less face and that adorable pillow imprint in her cheek, you know it’s ON.

Anyway, back to the kidnapper. I was out at noon today, about to make the most important decision of my Tuesday, staring up at the Au Bon Pain menu, when I sensed someone looking at me. Naturally, I turned to find out if someone was looking at me. And someone was. There, in a striped button-down and grey slacks (guys look so cute in business casual; it’s like they’re playing dress up in their dad’s closet) was a cute, somewhat familiar-looking brunette man who quickly turned away from me, but then looked back quickly and looked away again.

Immediately I thought, “How do I know you?” For the next couple of seconds, we played eye-contact ping pong. I’d sneak a peek, and then turn back to the sandwich board above our heads, and then he’d sneak a peek, back and forth. Finally, it hit me. HE’S THE CONCERT GUY!!!

So now I was trying not to laugh, because it was completely awkward. He asked me out, I blew him off, and we’ve never been in the same room ever, but know each other.

I stepped up to order my sandwich, and then made my way to the soda fountain. He followed, and I had this tiny urge to say something, but then he got on his Blackberry, and the moment passed.

He was cute. But then again, so was Ted Bundy. And we all know how that worked out.

Still, I experienced a brief “what if?” moment on my walk back to the office, the turkey sandwich in my hand the only thing we'd ever experience together. "What if" moments are like bikes without wheels. They won't get you anywhere.

Since he’s the first person I’ve seen IRL who I met online but never went on a date with, I’m not sure what the protocol is. If you both recognize each other, do you say hello? Do you just play dumb and pretend you don’t know who they are?

Someone call me a witch doctor, 'cause I'm clearly knee-deep in a dry spell.

Male Briefs

While nothing daytime-Emmy worthy has happened in the last 5 days, here's a quick update:

Due to a scheduling conflict, my date with computer-consultant guy has been postponed until next week. Do to a common-sense conflict, my date with the filmmaker has been postponed until forever.

I realize I told him, after politely declining his concert date in another state, that I would call him this week to set something else up, but, well, I lied.

The second I feel of tinge of “ick” when thinking about calling a guy back, it’s over.

But computer-consultant guy did text me over the weekend to see if I was having fun with the fam. So that was thoughtful. (Just when I typed that, “The Greatest Love of All” came on my iPod.)

Anyway, he’s into charity and shit. Haha just kidding, he’s a philanthropic person who organizes fundraising happy hours for young professionals in his spare time.

And he likes to play golf and is training for a marathon. So he might be one of those people.

If by those people I mean those who enjoy physical exercise with a side of charitable goodness and a healthy lifestyle sauce, then yeah.

What a dish! Hopefully I want seconds. 

I'm looking forward to meeting him next week. I haven't been out on a first date in...a while. We don't need to do the math.

So I'm excited to jump back in the pool.

Let's swim.

Kidnapper's Delight

Most of the guys I’ve met, online and in life, usually propose a public meeting place for the first date. Occasionally a guy has offered to pick me up, which I always politely decline, but the majority understand that I’m not about to get in a stranger’s automobile and drive to his torture chamber in the woods.

Growing up I was always waiting to be kidnapped. I just knew it was coming. With all the after-school specials about missing children and every adult within earshot telling me I should never talk to strangers who offered me candy, it’s no wonder I was a paranoid mess. And it didn’t help that my father told me, during the Reebok craze, that all bad guys wore black tennis shoes. Not picking up on his sarcasm, I found myself paralyzed whenever a pair of black sneakers came on my radar, until I was about 17.

Anyway, I’m not about to make that premonition come true. Which is why I’m always a little turned off when a guy is dumb enough to suggest any first date idea that involves being alone in his car for any unspecified amount of time.

So I was a little disappointed when a cute filmmaker I met a few weeks back called today to ask if I wanted to go see the Black Keys concert next Wednesday. In Milwaukee.

“It’s only an hour away,” he said.

That's 60 minutes of me, staring out the window, nervously making small talk while casually scanning the backseat for rope and and a pair of pliers. And making sure we don't take any sudden detours down unmarked dirt roads. Plus, what if he sucks? Then I’m stuck in WISCONSIN with this bonehead for an entire evening.

I told him I wasn’t available that evening (I’m really not) but that I’d call him after the weekend to set up a meet and greet. But IDK. Call me crazy, but I don’t really want someone with their head up their ass.

Besides, I’m meeting a cute 31-year-old consultant that night, for drinks and head board games. And after talking to him on the phone the other night, I'm quite looking forward to it. He has a great sense of humor. And I like that's he's a few years older. 

Game on.

The Blind Side

Being set up on a blind date by a friend is like eating dinner at a pal's house in elementary school. Sure everyone's excited and it's something new, but if her mom hands you a plate of crusty, overcooked casserole with what you think smells like canned tuna and resembles what you vomited after your tenth birthday party, with a glass of room-temperature whole milk, you have to just smile. And hide as much in your napkin as possible. Especially if your friend happily slurps hers down and asks if you want seconds.

So when a gal pal of mine said I should have drinks with this guy she works with, I of course asked for this man's rap sheet. What's his story, what does he do, is he cute? It's sort of pointless to ask these questions, because by her initiating the setup means she fully endorses him as a candidate for my company. But it's still fun to hear.

I trust my friend, I know she has my best interest in mind, and if anything it's another dating adventure I can catalog under dreamy or disaster. I needed to find out.

So I gave her the go-ahead and she passed him my number today. Am interested to see if he's a caller or a texter. There's something quite foul about a guy asking a girl out via text. Pick up the phone, you wimp.

I Want Candy

Well, it's Valentine's Day. So, after reading a card from my mother and eating a Valentine's Reese's that looked more like a camel toe than a heart, I thought I'd open up the ol' V-Day Vault.

When I was a freshman in high school, I started "going out" with a boy named Tim. Well, Tim was best pals with my friend's boyfriend, so she and I decided it would be fun to make Valentine's Day dinner for the boys and then make out in her basement. With our boyfriends, not each other.

Anyway, we spent hours heating up some Ragu and boiling noodles, and then wrapped gifts for the loves of our current lives. At that point in time, Tim and I had only been seeing each other for a week or two. Since it was a new relationship, my first really, I decided to get him a teddy bear and a silver necklace. I don't even know why I thought that a necklace was appropriate, let alone one made of silver balls and hemp.

So I wrapped up my gifts and the boys arrived for the big night. While her parents watched TV, the four of us quietly sat around the dining room table in the next room. I was so nervous about the fact that I was on a date with a boy that I lost my appetite. I just picked through my spaghetti, eyes narrowed like I was discovering plutonium at the bottom of my plate.

As dinner commenced, we decided to exchange gifts. Well the boys each pulled out boxes and put them on the table, and our eyes lit up with delight. My friend had been dating her boyfriend for about 5 months, so you know they were like totally serious and said they loved each other and he was thinking about moving his stuff into her locker and whatever. She opened her present to find a pretty heart-shaped silver necklace. This is it! I thought. My first boyfriend and now my first piece of jewelry from a boyfriend!

Slowly, I pulled the red ribbon off the little pink package, trying to moderately conceal my excitement. I peeled off the tape along the crease to pretend that I unwrapped gifts like a mature adult, and quietly unfolded the paper. Inside was a white cardboard box. Not typical jewelry store packaging.

I looked up at Tim and smiled. You sly devil, I see what you're trying to do. You want me to think this isn't a heart-shaped necklace that I can wear to school on Monday so every girl knows I have a boyfriend.

Anxiously I opened the box, lifted a piece of green tissue and then I saw it. A bag of Jelly Bellies.

Wait...what? Where was the necklace? Where was the ring? I can't wear a plastic bag full of tiny colorful beans! I can't bring it to Algebra Monday morning to show everyone that I'm involved with someone. And now my friend and her boyfriend were laughing, because while they were getting necklaces and watches, I was getting cavities.

I smiled at Tim, but I probably looked more like I'd just smelled a dirty diaper than I was grateful for the candy. He smiled back and said something about his mom buying them for him. Oh great, he didn't even shop himself. So while he probably remembered my gift as he was running out the door and his mom tossed him a gift a co-worker gave her, I was at the mall buying him expensive, meaningful hemp jewelry.

And what was worse, he had to now open my awesome gift while I sat in front of jelly beans.

So I sat there, totally shafted, as he pushed pieces of purple tissue paper aside and reached in the gift bag to pull out the fuzzy brown bear. He smiled and thanked me. And seemed genuinely pleased with the gift. I stubbornly muttered there was more. Moron. So he reached back in to discover his first and only piece of jewelry. He thanked me but seemed really uncomfortable. But instead of feeling awkward I just hopped up and helped him put it on.

A few weeks later, we were in gym and I asked Tim why he wasn't wearing my necklace. He said he'd lost it and tried to change the subject. But his friends were all snickering and it finally came out that Tim actually had taste and hated it. Thus began my first boyfriend fight.

Ahhhh, young love.

Anyway, speaking of gifts, let's bring things back to the present. Heyohhhh. While I've been talking to a few gentleman as of late, there's no one in town I wanted to spend the most romantic holiday with.

My V-Day plans include hitting the gym, heating up some Mexican meatball soup my dear mother made and then cleaning out my closet. And probably exchanging a flirtatious email or two with the cute young pilot I've been chatting with. (Yes, another pilot.)

What about you?

I'm Baaaaaaaack!

In the summer before my senior year of college, my pal Julie and I were at the bar when a trio of cute guys starting talking to us. Since we had the same name, naturally we decided to tell these guys that we had the same birthday and it was THAT DAY! Well, hook, lie and sinker. Because after we shared that gem the shots were flowing in our honor for the rest of the evening.

So after our birthday party commenced, we all decided to head down the street to their friend's party. And I was chatting with this adorable guy named Brian who was that shy bad boy. You know, like if he was in a boy band, he'd be the tattooed white guy with cornrows who came in during the instrumental and in a soft voice said, "Oh girl, don't leave me this way. I love you girl. Baby. Please. Much love. Foreva." and that was his only role in every song.

Anyway, Backstreet Boy and I were walking and talking a few feet behind the rest of the pack. Which was kind of nice because then we could finally converse without screaming over the bar noise. And then the group was a full block ahead of us. And then two blocks. It was at this point I realized he was walking really slow and nervously scanning the sidewalk like it was covered in hypodermic needles. So then I stopped walking and said, "Are you okay?"

He looked at me like I was crazy, led my eyes down to the pair of impeccable white K-Swiss shoes on his feet, stepped over a puddle and kept going. I'm surprised he didn't ask me to take off my overcoat, lay it over said puddle and hold his hand as he crossed.

I don't want to shock you, but things didn't really work out between me and this man. Homeboy was a freak about keeping his kicks immaculate. Between his shoe OCD and the fact that he'd said he was in law school but I found his school ID to the local community college in the seat of his car. He just pulled it out of my hands like I was handing him a stick of gum and calmly turned left at the light. Oh and he called me a week later when he was out with his boys and interrupted our chat to yell, "Skeet, skeet, skeet" at a female who he said was walking by.

I don't even know what I was thinking hanging out with him multiple times. I think my brain was off at summer camp because I was a fool. Especially for his blue-green eyes. Sigh.

I guess that's just what happens sometimes. In the beginning it's easy to ignore the little things because his smile makes the world around you look like Pee Wee's Playhouse. He asked you to split the tab? Sure! He's got dimples I could drink milk out of. He likes trance music? Party on! He's got eyes like honey.

So while I'm not paranoid, I'm just trying to be a little pickier as I come off my dating hiatus. Not that it was a planned break, things just got busy in my world for a bit. I'll never leave you again. Unless my career as a popstar takes off.

Crazier things have happened.

Fling Cleaning

Earlier today I was cruising the wonderful world of Facebook when I noticed my "friend," aka Bob Loblaw, had been tagged in some photos. Since I tired of his need to call me "Babe" and I lied and said I was busy the handful of times he asked to hang out, I haven't spoken to our hero.

To be honest, I could never figure that man out. He seemed to have a good sense of humor, was well educated and from the way he spoke he was close with his family. But then he'd do something weird, like ask me if I'd go with him to a party, for our first hang out mind you, to celebrate his passing the bar, so that his family and friends could "finally meet the gorgeous girl" he'd been talking up. I just scrunched up my face writing that.

Anyway, since I've never met him and would probably pass him unknowingly on the street (I'm totally lying. I'd probably see him walk by, remember he's a man I exchanged pleasantries with via text message but never met in person, pull my scarf up to my nose and cross the street, only to steal a few more glances before I walked away assessing whether or not he was cuter in person.) I looked through the Facebook photos that he'd been tagged in.

I walked away with two conclusions.
1. Bob's still got in goin' on. There's no denying this boy is very cute.
2. Bob keeps...interesting company. In the plethora of photos of this boy out on the bar scene, nary a photo lacked a girl with stringy extensions, orange skin, black eyeshadow and her girls peeking out of some low-cut shirt. Let's just say Bob never learned to take out the trash. In fact Bob swan dove right into a Hefty bag.

So after creeping around on his social diary for a bit, I stopped and thought, "Well, I dodged a bullet!" Which led me to wonder why I was still "friends" with this stranger. What's the etiquette of online dating and Facebook? Isn't it weird that I have this "friend" who can scan my photos (guilty, I know) and see what kinds of guys I've been seeing socially or read a wall posting from a friend about what bar we're all headed to that Friday night?

I mean, I defriended my ex because I didn't need him trolling around my profile, waiting for the first sign of new meat and then writing something like "last night was so special" or "hey thanks for ruining my life" on my wall.

I decided it was time for the boot and told our online friendship to take a long walk off a short pier.

Counting the Dates

When hearing about my blog, a popular question is what will I do when I start seeing a guy on a more serious basis.

My first reaction is that Prince Charming will think it's funny that I did a blog, and see the entertainment value in it. And he'll be confident enough with himself that he'll be proud of me and will be able to laugh about it and we'll float away on our fluffy pink love cloud and everything will be perfect.

The reality is, he'll probably want to know if and what I wrote about him. And if his identity has been compromised, and if the entire world knows he's online dating, how he kisses and that I was turned off by his clammy hands on our second date.

Then I try to think about how I'd feel if some guy said he was blogging about his single excursions. As a writer and opportune voyeur, I'd be generally interested in what he had to say about his dates. But then I'd have to wonder how serious he was about finding a nice girl to come home to, call right when he hears good (or bad) news, and un-friend his ex on Facebook for.

As my older brother put it, "If someone had a one night stand with a guy, and the guy told them the next morning that he had a blog about one night stands, you'd assume he's sleeping around....and around."

I mean, when you're casually dating, you'd be naive to assume the guys you meet aren't going out with other girls. And they should be. That's the whole point of dating. You wouldn't go to a beer tasting and just stick with one micro brew.

But you don't want to hear that the person you're out with is seeing the entire third page of the online dating catalogue. Which makes me wonder....before the Internet, why didn't someone come out with a dating catalogue? You could sit in on snowy Tuesday evening with some red wine and your highlighter, browsing the profile pages like one would a J.Crew spring issue. And then you could call the 1-800 number and punch 4523 for Carl, slouch down in your couch causing your voice to sound a little sexier (seriously try it), and leave him a witty message with your digits.

Then again, I guess you could always call Livelinks.

So I guess my point is, when is it appropriate to tell a guy that I've been dating around, enjoying being single, and writing about it for all of my Internet family and friends to read? And when a guy does actually read this blog, how will he react? Especially if I've gushed over him. Or totally badmouthed my future husband.

It'll be like the time in 8th grade when my friend and I were home alone and my crush and his friend stopped by. Well my crush decided to sneak up to my bedroom and saw my corkboard, which had my dolphins calendar, two photos of him that my yearbook friend had given me - one of him playing football and the other was from a basketball game that he was in the stands for and didn't know he was being photographed - and a movie ticket from Romeo & Juliet that our whole class went to see, but I wrote on my ticket Sat next to Jeff.

He came downstairs and looked at my friend, while I was mindlessly jumping on the trampoline, and goes, "I didn't realize she liked me THAT much." Yeah. He never asked me out.

When I was out for pizza with Tiny Tim last week, I was getting bored, so for my own entertainment I told him I'm blogging about my online dating experiences. He sat up a little straighter and goes, "Really....." and uncomfortably laughed and just stared at me. And I just smiled, nodded and watched him squirm a little, as all the questions flooded his mind. What's the URL? What has she said about me? How many guys is this chick dating?

Finally he goes, "How much did you write about me?" and flashed a used car salesman grin. Gross.

At first I lied and said I didn't, but then he seemed disappointed so I said, "Well I might have written about when we got sushi......I don't know I really don't write anymore." I'm the worst liar.

Moving forward, I think it'll be my little secret unless I find a man who I think would appreciate that I've been able to do something I love (writing) about something I love (guys).

Until then, I'm going to keep dating along. And counting the number of doormen, CVS security guards and bus drivers have hit on me. And how many weirdos I've met for drinks. And number of first kisses I didn't sign up for. And amount of times a guy texts "lol" to me about something I didn't laugh out loud at. And the number of deep breaths I've taken before turning the corner to meet a cute stranger.

I'm going to need a calculator.

He Likes Me, He Likes Me Not

First dates can be extremely confusing. And the second you get home, you begin reviewing a date with a fine-tooth comb, looking for every clue that he was, or wasn't, interested. Did I look fat in my shorts? Was my hair too flat? He offered me a lick of his ice cream cone, he can't be repelled by me right?

Google “signs he likes you on a first date” and it’ll provide a bevy of articles people have written to try and help a single gal gage how well a first encounter with a new man went.

Said articles informed me that if he opens doors for me, pays, and makes eye contact that he’s probably into you. Well those just seem like the obvious things any chivalrous guy would do on a date, not just if he’s liking what you’re selling. Just because he opens my door doesn’t mean he’s naming our children in his head.

What I found far more interesting were the Google ads on the left of the article that promised to show me how to stop an affair, help improve communication with my boyfriend and tell me what attracts men. Go on...

Anyway, I think the list differs for each guy. Some guys are shyer than others. Some guys have more experience. And if he’s too smooth, then you probably don’t want him hanging around you because the brotha’s got skillz. Like can-undo-a-bra-with-one-hand-while-cracking-a-beer-and-talking-on-the-phone skillz.

I really need to get a dating Sherpa. He can silently follow me around on all of my dates, and at the end of each outing, I’d just look back at him and he’d give me a slow nod if things went well. Or run his finger over his throat to let me know I was crashing and burning.

It’s emotionally taxing to leave a first date not knowing what he’s thinking. Unless of course you didn’t like him, and in that case you’ve forgotten about him by the time you get into the elevator in your apartment building and remember you have popsicles in your freezer, and oh my gosh I hope I have purples ones left. The green ones just don’t do it for me anymore.

But what if you had a good time and are pretty sure he did too, but the torturous combination of mixed signals and your own insecurities have left you unsure about his interest?

It’s not your fault you’re super awkward with goodbyes and after he walked you to your door, you put your bike in front of your entire body, said you had a nice time, he agreed and then looked at you funny and you weren’t sure whether he wanted to kiss you, just wanted to get the hell away from you or farted, so you panicked, thanked him and ran inside faster than he could count to 5.

Do you wait for him to make first contact? Do you send a funny text a few days later? Check yourself into a sanitarium?

Creepin'

It’s amazing what you can find simply by looking someone up on Google. And don’t tell me you’ve never done it. I’ve Googled myself, I’ve Googled my family, I’ve Googled my ex-boyfriends, and of course every guy who I’ve met online and gotten his last name.

It's a great way to pass the time. I found photos a guy posted of his new car (nerd), videos a swimmer posted of himself discussing swim meets (bigger nerd), and blog entries one gentleman wrote about girls in bikinis (creepy nerd).

There was a guy who had a very unique last name, and when I searched for him I found links to some 5k race times, his Facebook profile which I couldn’t see without being his friend, and then one link to a little news story from 2003 about a hate crime someone with his name had committed in Canada. And was still on the loose. And upon doing the math, I realized they were the same age.

Naturally I did what any girl in this situation would do, and called up Jessica Fletcher. I got her machine, so instead I asked our suspect if he ever Googled himself. He asked what I found when Googling him, and I mentioned the little story, to which he replied sarcastically (I assume), “I’ve committed many hate crimes in Canada, but I’ve never been caught. So it can’t be me.”

I said something stupid like, “Glad to hear it,” and we haven’t spoken since. Probably because he thought I was a creepy stalker who sat around twirling my hair, blowing bubbles with my gum while Googling him. Or he’s a violently homophobic psycho.

Which makes me wonder just how many psychos are online dating. What’s to stop Ted Kaczynski from setting up a dating profile? “Hey, name’s Ted. I enjoy math, snail mail, and complete and total seclusion, and I’m really just looking for someone to share that with. Don’t be shy! Lol.”

I don’t care how good he looks in orange; any guy who suggests a conjugal visit for your first date isn't going home to meet Mom and Dad.

The Rules of Attraction

Guys, if you're thinking about putting up a profile on any dating site, allow me to offer some advice, that apparently SOME PEOPLE never got:

1. Do not, under any circumstances, post a picture of you and your car. I don't care if you worked double shifts at the Dairy Queen for 2 years to buy it, you might as well tattoo COMPENSATING across your chest.
2. When writing your "About Me", resist the temptation to use internet acronyms that 14-year-old girls text their besties. You sound unsure when you follow up your "I love life and just want to live it to the fullest" with an LOL. Really?
3. I respect the self-photographer. There's not always someone around to snap a quick shot of you in your True Religion jeans and Affliction t-shirt. But, if you post a photo you took in front of the mirror in your bathroom, please remember to clean first. I don't need to see your moldy bathtub tiles, lack of a shower curtain, or the dirt-is-the-new-white hand towel dangling on the sink.

On the other hand, perhaps these guys are just doing me a favor.