Wow! That is Amazingly Awkward!

I have been trying to find ways to meet dudes in the District that don't involve online dating. And to say it's been challenging would be an understatement. (I'm a month away from seeing if I can import some men from somewhere. Maybe Buenos Aires or Rome or Cleveland.) But in the meantime I am going to try and use my rusty networking skills to find dates.

I have been telling people about churning (without referring to it as churning). Telling them that I am recently single and trying to meet people and date. And asking them if they know anyone who would be willing to go out with me or set me up with someone they know.

Side note: How long until I can no longer say I'm recently single?

Anyway, so I told this guy on my fencing team that I was trying to go on dates. (I had to tell him the story of my breakup, which was always fun. Read: sucks more each time I tell it which is weird because I care less each time.) He told me there were a lot of single, nerdy guys at his office. (I love me some nerdy dudes.) He also said that he had a colleague who likes to play matchmaker. He asked if he could give her my contact information. I said sure!

She emailed me the following messages shortly thereafter:

"I have a few men in mind, would you be offended if I asked you to send me a picture and maybe some of your hobbies, what you do job wise, went to school etc. where you are from?? "

"... you should consider coming out to one of my work networking events as well, many men in this building don't want to date folks that work here, thus a perfect way to meet men who are looking for companion ship, a mate, partner, etc."

I sent them to Kitty, who replied, "Wow! That is Amazingly Awkward!"

I replied to the Matchmaker's email with all of the requested information and have yet to hear back. Hopefully she'll find a nerdy dude or two to set me up with in the near future. If she does, I'll let you know.

Balls.

Irene's friend wrote back. Mr Shit-Together is single. Yay! And just moved to the Middle East. Balls. At least this is one guy with whom I didn't have an awkward goodbye. I can only forsee now when I'm on my iPhone on the can (you know you take your phone to the bathroom to keep you company) I will be reading mobile news and thinking about the one who got away.

Mr Sh*t-Together

My friend Irene thinks she found the perfect guy for me. He's a friend of a friend of hers. He's a bit older, lives in the district, seems cool and nice and funny, is attractive, drinks beer and has his "shit together".  I will from now on refer to him as "Mr Shit-Together".

She said that she met up with him and some other friends to have drinks ages ago and thought he would be perfect for me. However, at the time, I was dating my ex so she never told me about him. But now I am single -- so very, very single.

Irene mentioned him a few months ago, when I first got back on the market - or reluctantly dove out to sea, or whatever dating pool metaphor is yours of choice - but I told her I wouldn't be ready to date someone worthwhile until probably September. (I didn't want to risk having Mr Shit-Together be my rebound guy and waste him.) Well, it's September so I asked her if she would contact her friend to see if Mr Shit-Together is single and willing to go out on a blind date with yours truly. She sent the text. Huzzah! I will let you know what happens.

She Shoots! She Misses! She's Always Sucked at Sports.

I met up with a bunch of friends at a bar this weekend. And the mouse guy came. It was a super fun night. But alas, it is not a love match. He was hitting on other girls, which is totally fine because we hadn't gone on an actual date yet. But I don't want a guy with whom I'm interested flirting with anyone but me. Call me selfish or old-fashioned, but the beginning of a relationship should start with sparks and not waterproof matches that you actively try to ignite. But all in all, a fun weekend and a new friend. Back to the churning drawing board.

Possible Progress

I asked the mouse guy if he wanted to join me and some friends at a neighborhood dive bar. Let me step back for a moment...

I found out (via our daily emails) that the mouse guy lives in my 'hood. Convenient, huh? And that he likes dive bars, which is good because I'd be hard pressed to dig a dude who didn't like to drink a PBR out of a can without a tourist in sight.

So I told him that some friends and I were going to be going to this local watering hole last night and asked if he wanted to join. He did. Hooray! Then I realized I needed a couple of people to go as well because, dammit, I asked him to hang out with some friends and I didn't actually ask any friends. Oops.

I emailed, gchat and texted some pals and gathered four others to join. I literally said, "Hey friend. So I asked this dude - who I may or may not be interested in - if he wanted to go out with me and some friends. He said, "yes" so now I need friends. What are you doing Thursday night?"

This is new for me. I usually don't have my friends meet guys in whom I'm interested in until after several dates but, let's face it, what I've been doing isn't working so I figured I'd try something new.

So we all show up and it's totally normal. Well, close to normal. There is a little bit of awkward, but fingers crossed most of it was in my head. My friend Irene joined and I asked her opinion afterward. She said he seemed nice and interesting and funny and confident and interested in me. All good things. Yay.

Of course, I wouldn't be Betti if there wasn't an awkward goodbye associated with the evening. He walked me home, as did two of my friends so they were there to witness the goodbye. He had a bike so I was hoping I wouldn't have to hug him. It went down like this --- "Okay! Thanks! Bye!" --- I literally yelled that at everyone collectively and ran into my apartment without any physical interaction. I later asked Irene on a scale from 1-10 how awkward was the goodbye, she said five. Oh boy.

The jury is still out, I'm not sure if I like him as more than a friend or not but he seems cool so at worst, I'll have a new friend. And I like new friends.

Patience, She's a Bitch

I met a guy at a friend's party. I believe he was the only single, straight male at the party with whom I wasn't already friends. I (shockingly) had a hangover and wasn't really paying attention to the way I was portraying myself. I certainly wasn't trying to be charming. We chatted for a bit and I left the party.

The next Monday at work I got his email address from the party host and contacted him about the only thing my booze-rittled brain could remember -- mice. We had talked about the fact that both of us had mice in our homes. I sent him an email about mice (ridiculous, I know) and pretended that I forgot the name of the product he mentioned.

I felt so silly pretending not to know how to use the Google. He had to know, right? He had to know that a professional woman in her 30s can put the name of a product and/or its uses into a search engine and determine what would best suit her needs. But I sent the email, with a question about this stuff that he said worked to get rid of mice. I feel silly writing about it now. It was an effort to not be my normal, extra-aggressive extroverted self and initiate conversation to see if he would take the lead.

Being patient and not just asking someone out is *so* not my speed. I am used to asking for what I want, which is likely why I'm single.  I am trying to play the girl card, if that's what it is, where I let him know I am interested and see if the interest is reciprocated in a way that results in him asking me out.

We've been emailing about once a day. So far he hasn't asked me out. If he does, I'll let you know.

Farts are Funny..?

So I haven't been blogging. Sorry. I have been doubting the churn. Papa Churn will be disappointed. I'll write more about the past two weeks later but I thought I'd get back into the blogging swing of things with a quick post about something that just happened to me.

I have a friend, his name is Tyler. And he's super. He's one of those friends that always makes you smile and cheers you up, makes you laugh and brightens your day. If you don't have a friend like Tyler, you should get one. Tyler and I recently discovered that we both think talking about farts and poop is funny.

Just tonight I saw Tyler at fencing practice. (Note: We aren't actually on a fencing team. We're on another kind of team but I've always wanted to pretend I fence, like George Costanza always wanted to be an architect.) Anyway, so we're at practice and I tell Tyler that I had ran there and had to fart during the whole run. As I was navigating the crowded sidewalks I was trying to figure out where I could drop a bomb or cropdust so as to relieve the pressure in my stomach but not fart in the face of a stranger.

I'm telling this story while getting my fencing equipment on and didn't realize that a new team member had come up to my side and I turn to face him as I say, "... I tried to not fart in all of their faces." He looks at me with these pretty brown eyes and a nice smile and says, "Hi. I'm Sam." I am not quite sure if I laughed or looked like someone pants me but I just said, "Hi. I'm Betti."

He turned and walked away and Tyler and I launched into a giggle fit and he said, "I think he's straight too." I'm not sure where he fits in the LGBTQIQ spectrum but he was wearing a really tight, electric blue fencing outfit. Regardless of his sexual orientation or whether he could be a future date for me, now all I can think is --

CRAP! I will forever be the fart girl!

Still in Search of a Dance Partner

This isn't Ted.
It's a kickball game b/t
Yelp and Slide that I
found on the Google.

So I texted Ted like I said I would and asked him to dance.

Me:
Hi Ted. It was nice talking to you yesterday. Any chance you'd like to check out dance lessons at 'Random Latin Dance Club Bar' on Thur night? -Betti

Ted:
It was nice talking to u too. I would but I have kickball on Thu

Me:
Oh fun. Let me know if you'd like to get a drink or something some other time. Good luck at kickball. :)

Ted:
Ok sure

----

Maybe he'll text maybe he won't. But I followed through and I feel good about it. (Not like I feel about the fact that I tossed a smiley face emoticon at the end of that last text. Lame.) Now the ball is in his court, which means I am still in search of  a dance partner.

And P.S. Kickball... really? The dude is totally in his early 20s. Oops.

My beer goggles are better than my glasses

I had my date with Ted yesterday and to say I was pleasantly surprised would be an understatement. He is adorable. Super sweet and holy garbage (!!!) he is easy on the eyes. He was wearing jeans, old school Adidas and a tight tshirt. The dude has arms that made me want to be a hugger. I don't consider myself a super shallow person so that's all I'll say about his appearance.

We met for coffee. I was on time, which was a miracle considering I made a couple of bone-headed decisions before the date and ended up with 10 minutes to get ready. I'm not quite sure why but I thought it was fine to dye my hair and whiten my teeth an hour before my date. Obviously, I am all-natural.

Because I only had 10 minutes, I spent 90 seconds on my makeup and showed up with wet hair. I didn't think that there was any potential for this dude so I didn't put in a whole lot of effort - just goes to show you - being judgemental makes Betti a douchebag with wet hair.

So back to the date - he was early and drinking an iced tea, reading the paper. We chatted for over an hour. (Betti's internal monologue went something like this... There is something sexy about a man in Adidas reading the Post. I like his sneakers. He looks pretty young. I wonder how old he is...)

He lives in my neighborhood. (So convenient.) He has lived in DC for a while. (Great! I don't have to be a tour guide.) He has a dog. (Yay. Me too.) He's an engineer. (Awesome. I like smart guys.) He plays lacrosse. On a team. (Hooray, I'm looking for an active guy who will want to go running with me.) He doesn't drink coffee. (That's cool, I drink enough for the two of us.) He doesn't like having 95 days over 90 degrees. (Me neither, but who does?) He used to work in construction and has remodeled his house. (A home owner who knows how to fix shit? I'm drooling.) He wants to take ballroom dance classes. (Seriously?!? Do you want me to fall in love with you right now?) He's moving to California in October. (Insert sad trombone here.)

So, I am going to see if he wants to be my dance partner until he leaves. I think I'll text him (with proper punctuation and spelling) this evening and see if he wants to try latin dancing tomorrow night. Maybe he'll want to dance with me, maybe he won't. But it's nice to know that my extra thick beer goggles have such good taste.

At the end of the date we walked to the corner and he said, "Good talk." Not sure what that means but it was so weird I wondered if he was going to punch my shoulder in a 'hey old chum' fashion. Regardless I'm going to text him about dancing and if he says yes I'll be sure to let you know.

For the record: I bought my coffee.

Since you asked...

Both the Vet and the Repub (duh) are republicans. Maybe it's just that I'm in that 'peak' age for women, but sex with both is quite great. I think at first I wanted to have some of that bi-partisan rancor that would lead to ideological hate sex with the Repub, but it's really just that we're really sexually compatible. I'm not even sure what made the sex so great - it was actually fairly vanilla, but. Yeah. It was good enough to keep me from moving on when I should (as evidenced by 3 g0-rounds post breakup).

Things with the Vet, however, are going well. The sex is improving as we get our rhythm (HA) and such. This past weekend he took me to a resort town outside Annapolis. It was really a lovely time. I had crabs for the first time, we walked around the town, enjoyed the hotel, had a lovely dinner...and on the way back he took me to Chik fil a. All journeys should end with fried chicken and pickles.

Foggy Meeting Out of my Element

"Hey what's up. It's Ted from acme bar." That was a text I received yesterday at 12:55p. And then the night started coming back to me. After a super fun day bar crawling with some friends I continued the consumption of bad decision juice and must have given my number to a dude at acme bar.

Please note: His name isn't Ted. And acme bar isn't actually the name of the bar, instead it is a bar in DC with dancing and overpriced drinks with a line outside - so not my scene. But as it turns out, 13 hours of overindulgence in bad decision juice can result is lot of out of character fun.

So I get this text from Ted and the foggy memories flow slowy back. I write back the not so clever, "Hi Ted from Acme Bar." To which he responds, "Wats going on?" Really? In this day and age of texting why can't people spell and punctuate correctly? I find it kind of annoying. And I am crap when it comes to grammar so it is kind of the pot calling the kettle black... but I'm okay with it. If you are asking a girl, a guy or a monkey out over text, shouldn't you at least put your best textual foot forward?

Oh balls. I just had a thought, maybe he is 24 years old and grew up texting, not like me, the tech dinosaur (who had a pager that nobody ever called) in high school. Please. Please. Please. Do not be 24 years old.

Anyway, after some more back and forth (with two "yea"s on his part) we decided to meet for a cup of coffee this evening. I'll let you know what happens.

The Death of Summer=The Birth of New Relationships

Namaste my churnlings! Apologies for the prolonged absence, Papa Churn has returned and is on a high fibre diet so I promise to be more regular.

Right my sweet cherubs, Labor Day has arrived and this is prime dating season when everyone's Nicholas Sparks white washed esque romances have died like the asparagus at Giant and people are getting serious about relationships in order to hunker down when the cold weather draws in. We are all programmed like school children that this is the real beginning of the year, when people buy their school supplies, take stock and think; 'hmmm wouldn't it be nice to meet someone to kick the autumn leaves with?'. Take advantage and churn churn churn.

Well what progress we have made sweet chick-a-dees.

Betti-did not wise old man Papa predict you would burn out? You were like a puppy released into a lush green field, you ran around, got tired and are now refusing to get back in the car. Fear not young pup, I will rub your belly with sage nuggets of advice. Firstly to answer your plea for help. WHO SHOULD I DATE? Should you be dating trolls? No. Should you be dating people you are not the least attracted to? No. Should you not date someone because they snort when they laugh or have six fingers on one hand? The choice, my young liege is yours.

The act of churning is two fold; one to prepare you for dates you actually want to go on and two to put you out there so you may meet people outside of your comfort zone. Betti I cannot make this choice for you. You need to look within yourself young one and find the balance between people you think have the potential to be interesting past three dates and then people you clearly have no business dating because they are fifty year old men with mullets.

rick.mark.steve.
Big gold star for you. 8 pack sounds great and I think you would be insane to stop dating him. We do not all run at the same speed on the treadmill of life. Allow 8 pack to answer his own questions while grating the cheese for your dinner with his abs. As for the comment 'why is he dating me'. You need a big ass Alexis Colby bitch slap and to be thrown down a marble staircase. Get some self respect and some capital letters. For a man with three names you need to get some more confidence! Translation: your adorable and don't forget it!


Claudia, good job on juggling so many dates. It is not my place to pass judgement but; sex with a republican? Do share!

Kitty, welcome to the fold. Who are these terrible people hosting a singles BBQ? It's either genius, because everyones ideal is to meet someone through friends or hell on earth. It may be an awful process but with great benefits. Pray do tell!

Belle of the ball where ye be? Shacked up somewhere in a bed of sin. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Roll on fall, the season of romantics!

Papa Churn

You Need to Work on Your Face

So I didn't have a date last week but I did do something new. Hip hop dance class! That's right boys and girls, ladies and gentleman, fish and donkeys -- I took a dance class. A hip hop dance class. So I can dance at clubs (come on, you know I don't really go to clubs) and bars and parties.

The class is four sessions long and filled with the most remarkably awkward people I have ever met in my life. Believe it or not (I certainly didn't) I don't think there are any gay men in the class. Just painfully shy and awkward or oddly confident dudes who are afraid to do hip hop or think they're the bees' knees. It is a bizarre experience.

I may not be the most awkward but I think I am the worst. I am an awful dancer. I can't do the moves and I keep thinking I'm going to throw out a hip. I was trying to dance and the teacher called me out saying, "You need to work on your face. You look like you're in pain." Apparently dancing is mostly attitude. Who knew? Everybody but me, that's who. I told my mom what the dance teacher told me about my face and she laughed so hard I heard a snort over the phone. That made it all worth it.

So, I didn't meet any interesting guys but I did get out and do something new. I wasn't sitting on the couch or playing on the computer. Something new and something different. This is the way I said I was going to churn and I did it. And I feel good. Now I have to find a way to meet men who give me butterflies. I really miss butterflies.

Dancing Notes: I think I am better at Latin dancing than hip hop. And I think I found my move. It looks nerdy with Chuck Taylors and I like that. But I tried to do it again this morning in front of the mirror and I forgot it. Blast!

For the record: I paid for my dance class.