1% DR

I hit my quota of 1 date/week this week (and then some). But to start with last Sunday's date, things started out strong. We met up at a bar, had some drinks, nibbled, and gazed at the olympics up on the big screen. Dr. 1% (it's coming), was charming, funny, and at least somewhat resembled his online dating profile. Prior to us going out he'd had 1 major red flag going against him: using old-school text speak.

"How r U",  "me 2!".

Judgmental me cringes literally every time I see that sort of texting come through. With the advent of smartphones, I like to see full sentences.

That said, he was clearly smart (is in the middle of his residency), and had no problems carrying a conversation. Phew. After Mr. Awkward Laughter, being able to banter is definitely a critical piece of finding someone. So we chatted, ordered another round and grabbed some pizza to share. He took my food restrictions in stride and totally embraced the limitations I put out there.

We had some easy back and forth about current events, and then touched a tiny bit on politics. Disclaimer: I'm definitely liberal leaning and politics are always a tough thing to discuss, especially on a first date.

In the midst of this rapport, he throws out the fact that sometimes it's hard for him to take such a stand, because "you know, [he's] definitely going to be a part of the 1%."

A couple hundred warning bells sounded in my head, but alcohol and my upbringing kept me giggling as I changed the topic. Yeesh. We ended the night by playing some bar games, and despite that verbal snafu, I have to admit, I had a blast. His medical profession means he works some weird hours, which I'm trying to reconcile, but it was probably a 4 out of 5 stars for a 1st meeting. That comment sticks out in my mind, as does the fact that he drives a porsche and owns a condo. And that 1% may seem small, but in fact represents a world of difference between us.

He's since followed up and we have a 2nd date on Monday. I can't decide if I'm going because I'm a) a glutton for punishment b) curious as to what else he'll say or c) still a bit interested despite that comment.

My guess is d) a little of all of the above.

Sunday Date

Is it normal to not feel excited for first dates? I'm meeting up with an anesthesiologist tonight. While I think his profession may provide for some excellent conversation fodder, (How, exactly, does one get into that line of work? Can anyone spell it?), I can't help but feel ambivalent about going.

Maybe it's because Ben and I broke things off this afternoon and I'm feeling utterly emotionally drained, but I'm just not into it. I need to snap into it-- but I think some of this could be coming from the whole online dating thing again. It's hard to feel jazzed about someone I haven't met yet and who may look nothing at all like their photo on the internets... I'm stopping myself here before I dissect everything that could possibly be wrong with him.

Maybe I should play some dance music so I can get into the right frame of mind. Let's just go have fun.

More later on how this goes.

Fake Coupling.

I have a confession to make.

Well, a couple. If I was speaking to a priest, "Forgive me father, for I have sinned", would not even begin to cover it-- this is a story of a fake couple moment in which I completely indulged.

I backslid with the one and only unobtainable Ben. (Remember him? Handsome nerd, coworker, had a super serious gf?)

I backslid a lot.... and in a way that's incredibly inexcusable. I could try to come up with reasons (work stress, health scares, loneliness-- all true, but pathetic all the same), but really, who am I kidding? I did exactly what I wanted to in letting him back in and it all culminated in a "weekend of fun" together. Things kicked off on Thursday night when he came over for takeout and a movie. It was to be our very first opportunity for a sleepover, and allow us to get really cozy with each other. Thursday night was actually nothing short of enchanting, and waking up in his arms felt amazing. We both took off Friday from work and had an utterly couplelicious day. (yes, i know it's not a word, but bear with me). We lounged in my apt, grabbed a late breakfast, went to the pool, ate leftovers, failed to leave my apt to go play mini-golf, and then went our separate ways to get fancy for dinner. (A place where he had actually made reservations for us in advance.)

My joy about our fancy dinner was quickly squashed when I realized that he had booked us reservations in a place one of my boys lovingly refers to as "the gayborhood". Obviously, he had not only given some thought to taking me someplace nice, he had also determined exactly which area we could go to without fear of being caught. His, "you know, I never come here...", was really not lost on me. Our original (or so I thought), plans to go out for drinks were also tabled because he expressed feeling under the weather. This may be true, but I have my doubts.

Back to my place we went for a movie and playtime alone in my space. This was also charming, and we had another (seemingly?) great time.

The next morning, aka today, we awoke to him proclaiming still feeling sick and needing to skedaddle for some time with his boys. I asked if we were still on for this evening, and he reassured me that of course we were.

I almost believed him. As he methodically packed up his things, I couldn't help but feeling utter twinges of doubt. I had wanted to confront him at brunch this morning regarding our ridiculous situation, but he seems to be able to sniff out my every move before I can fully formulate the thought. (Sidenote: Someone, please, let me know what my tell is so I can work on it.) I calculated the odds of him showing tonight, and put them at 10-90 for.

We texted this afternoon and firmed up our plans to meet at my place around 9.

9 rolled around. As did 9:20, 9:30, 9:45 before I finally texted. I was giving him until 10:00 before I pulled the - "you're obviously not coming, so I'm heading out". But, I wanted to give him one last chance.

Why do we always do this? Seriously, ladies, back me up here-- you know it's going downhill, you can pull your move or be a doormat, but in that critical moment- you give up the power to a question, for one more soul-sucking moment of disappointment.

So... I finally heard back. Some accident on 14th street, blah, blah. He was still feeling sick, so sorry, and heading to bed.

I can't pretend I'm not upset. But I have No one but me to blame in this situation. I bit my tongue on the phone. (I called to get the final clarity I needed.) We're on for a farmer's market hangout tomorrow where I fully intend to end this entire thing. FO REALS this time. No regrets, no looking back. My intentions at sweetness and questions obviously won't work. And I can't pretend that I'm not having a conversation with myself that's straight out of "he's just not that into you".

As for tonight? I've booked myself into not just one, but two parties and need to find something seriously sexy to throw on. Hopefully, if the rest of my looks incredible, no one else will notice the traces of sadness etched on my face. This will probably be me later: Drunk Girls

On to salvaging Saturday night.

Un-matched.com

I'm starting to question whether online dating is really for me. I went all out with it and purchased a subscription to one of the sites that touts its algorithm as being among the best for creating lasting relationships. It's certainly done well in terms of the sheer number of matches it's been sending my way-- but there's rarely anyone that I'm excited to hear from.

I don't know if it's due to the entire premise of meeting someone online (lacking the natural progression and build up of meeting someone randomly) or if it's the fact that there are few people on the site that I'm even remotely attracted to. Either way, it makes it hard to keep my interest in the entire notion of meeting someone online.

It doesn't help that I obsess when there's finally someone who seems somewhat normal or attractive. When they fall off the map, it seems like a fruitless endeavor. Getting rejected from someone I've never even met seems like an extreme situation and maybe one that I should pull myself out of soon. 

Maybe I've just tapped out this market? yeeeesh. That's a brutal thought. But seriously, I've found maybe 3 attractive men to date (& one of them doesn't even live in this area). I went out with 1 (hello MAL) and the other dropped off. It seems really hard to warrant keeping this up when it's so clearly going nowhere.

I have one on-going communication taking place currently and if this also fails me, I think it'll be time to pull the plug on this whole endeavor.

I need to find a better plan of attack-- more brainstorming to come tomorrow. In the interim... fingers crossed and maybe this one last shot will get me somewhere. 

Accidental Romance with Finicky Creative

Said goodbye to the finicky creative this week-- he followed his dreams to the other coast and found hipster mecca. For his last night in the district, he asked to stay with me. I, (foolishly?), said yes immediately.

On his final evening I helped him pack up some final items and then we headed to the bar so he could say goodbye to some of his nearest and dearest. I've scaled back on my drinking, so I was sipping on one beverage throughout the course of the night. I watched his drinks and saw F.C. say goodbye to some of his best friends until it was down to us and a hipster girl who's long since had her sights on him. (She clearly loves me and has Just stopped short of baring her teeth at me to show her disdain for my presence.)

Ms. Hipster was clearly hoping he'd follow her home for a night- embracing the natural romance that exists for anyone's last night in a city. FC pointedly ignored her efforts, hugged her goodbye, and sent her off to bike away on her fixie. We cabbed back to my apt where he promptly pulled out some cigarettes and we lounged on my balcony for a couple of hours- talking away some of his fears about leaving and the upcoming changes to both of our lives.

As night turned to day, I couldn't hide my sleep deprivation any longer. For as much as I would have stayed awake all night just for the sake of spending more time with him, my eyelids had other ideas in mind. Sleeping is giving in.

We retired to my bed, and the awkward nature of our friendship showed its underbelly. He pulled me to him and I certainly wanted nothing more than his closeness. He asked if I was trying to seduce him and I asked if I should be. Knowing our history of physical disconnect I was really hesitant to go there: romantic last night or not. In a flurry of swirling emotions we started to make out and let the night go to where it wanted. With whispered "I'll miss you's" I couldn't say anything more about all of the feelings I had been harboring for him.

It's been a hard few days adjusting to life without being able to see F.C. every day- his wisecracks, awkward gait, and perpetual scent of marlboro reds are all imprinted in my brain in ways that I wish I had never let in, but all resulted in some of the strongest feelings I've had for anyone in a long time. He is my "never should have been" and remains the reason I need to churn.

Hopefully, with this distance between us: him on another coast and in another time zone, I'll actually be able to open myself up to someone new. (sorry again MAL, you never really stood a chance).


PS while FC's final night was probably not a date- he paid and presented me with parting gifts.

More spicy than sweet

I had not just one, but two dates with mr. awkward laughter (MAL) last week. I realize that doubling down on dates with one guy is probably not in the spirit of churning, but he seemed very gung-ho, so I figured I'd go along with it. "Why not" has often been a mantra of mine, but it frequently gets me into sticky situations.

Needless to say, this was no different. We hit up a movie night in my neck of the woods- more of the hipster scene than the Nova he represents. It was actually really fun to spend some time with him, hold hands, drink beers, and laugh at some kitschy films. That said, I question whether it was that fun since it required NO talking on either of our ends. MAL is incredibly nice, and as I've mentioned before, seems very sweet. In a word: vanilla.

But, I don't really jive with sweet. I really wish that I did- it'd be great to settle for Vanilla, and it would probably make my life a lot easier. I'm more of a spicy chocolate girl- cinnamon and often cayenne. Someone I really respect once called me out on the fact that as a Latina, I could never be satisfied with a traditionally "nice guy". I need someone who can handle my ups and downs and isn't afraid to put me in check. While I wish I could say he was wrong, he most definitely wasn't (& isn't).

So where does that take things with MAL? I fretted a bit after our movie date and asked him if he wanted to hang out in a few days. He promptly responded with a "yes" and planned a night for us. The night before our follow up date, he shot over a text around 10:30 saying he wanted to see me. The warning bells sounded, and red flags danced before my eyes. From my perspective this could only be one of two things:

1) He was not so subtly pushing me into girlfriend-landia. (TOO SOON, TOO SOON!!)
2) He was trying to push physical intimacy. (Again, Too Soon!)

Either option made me worry and I opted to not respond to his text. I had intended to shoot him a note early the next day to cancel on our plans for that night, but he beat me to the punch letting me know that he had bought tickets for the night. I didn't want to be That jerk, so I plotted an exit strategy and decided I'd leverage my exhaustion and ask to go home after the event. Per usual, he was a true gentleman-- drove me home and offered to pick up medicine so I could get better from my cold.

He followed up with me a couple of days later and asked what was up with the weird vibe- I confessed to freaking about his late night texts and thinking he wanted more of a booty call situation. He responded immediately with a text about how wrong I was-- but it was just the out I needed to get out of something I just wasn't that excited about.

MAL got more than the number of dates required by churning- but it's left me wondering if I have any idea what I want or how to go about getting it. Maybe another date will solve my confusion?

Arlington Date

Had my second date with Awkward Laughter last night & I'm still oh so very on the fence about him. He's very sweet and would probably fit a perfect checklist of what I want in a significant other- but it feels like we're missing a spark.

He took me to a lovely roof deck in Arlington last night- the weather was perfect for drinks and dinner outside. We bonded over a cheese plate and Bell's Oberon (so delicious). Big pro's from last night: he's looked up bands I mentioned I like, he speaks some spanish, he's Catholic-ish, and he owns a passport. Basically, he hits the real must-haves.

Here's my concern though. He's completely this person:

I don't know that being "Arlington" is a terrible thing- but I also don't know that it's a me thing. I ran away from the suburbs a while ago, and I kinda like it. Related: It's also tough to dive deeply into conversation with him. (I think) I'm a good conversationalist, so the fact that I can't get him to hold a back and forth is tough. He's sweet, but vanilla... He's arlington. I can't tell if I'm too used to the sordid weirdness of my other recent "relationships" to appreciate something normal or if this is actually a problem, but either way he wants to hang out again tonight. It seems like that's a little much, but I think he deserves one more shot.

Monster movie night- my territory, we'll see if that helps bring him out of his shell.

Creative heartbreak

Finicky Creative- (n.) a man who is by nature unable to make decisions, who will always say maybe, and who will chalk it all up to his artistic temperament.


I spent some time with the finicky creative recently, and I still can't quite place my confused feelings about him. While not exactly a date, we had a lovely night of drinks, dinner, more drinks, and ultimately time on my patio.

He's someone I've known for years (~3 to be imperfectly exact) and someone who seemed to come onto me with a bit of frequency. His demeanor is equal to that of a cat- unreliable, narcissistic, and overall focused on what I could provide him, rather than having an equal friendship.

Most of the time we spend together consists of too much drinking and fantastic conversation. In those moments of raw honesty it felt like something built up between us- the reality of knowing the best, bad, and utterly ugly of another person was a draw I wasn't accustomed to. After years of thinking I had been shooting him down, and some very obvious efforts that I had killed (I have a scar from his cigarettes from one night of ill-fated attempts), the build up was enough to blossom.

Many many drinks into a night together in Columbia Heights, we started the descent back towards our respective places. Awkwardly holding hands, and flirting like our lives depended on it- he extended an offer to go back to his place. I accepted, but with one caveat: we would not be sleeping together. I had confided in the finicky creative about all the gory details of Ben, and had no desire to increase the messiness.

When we got back to his studio we kept up the drinking and he handed me a change of clothes to get more comfortable. Trading tales and continually grazing each other- it became clear that something would happen that night. We climbed into bed a couple of hours (& many cigarettes) later and commenced making out. FC informed me that I'm the queen of mixed messages, which I agreed with and then proceeded to make his case for us continuing the connection.

Weeks went by, and in a whirlwind of excitement, I felt the shift. The subtle move from "friend" into someone I really care about. We started sleeping together, and while it was never perfect, I thought we were finally finding our rhythm.

As I noticed my feelings changing, I also noticed his behavior shifting. He pulled some classic moves and gave me a lot of "definite maybes" to spending time together. All internal alarms going off, I started to pull back. A couple of days later, he swung by after midnight to deliver a message: he didn't think we were physically compatible enough.

The crushing feeling and weight of his words wasn't something I was prepared for. He'd quickly become my confidante as well as one of my favorite people to spend time with. The twisted nature of our relationship kept me under his spell, and this communication was no different. I felt tortured, unattractive, and entirely undesirable. Simultaneously, I didn't want to let go of the friendship we'd cultivated for years, so I kept up our one-sided friendship.

With time and additional (painful) chats, the weirdness persists, but so does our friendship. I don't know that I'll never fully understand our disconnect, but I'm grateful for his presence in my life, so I hold on. He's moving to another city soon, so I'd like to not over-think things. Does it matter if he's moving? We spend plenty of time together one on one, in deep conversation, but all of that will soon come to an end. Our patio parties with excessive alcohol consumption will remain a temporary summer thing, until one day neither of us will remember what we discussed in them at all.

Toxic? Maybe. Fun? Frequently. Weirdest friendship ever? Consistently.

Love & Affection

First Timer

So, a few weeks ago I decided it was time to try something new. & not just a little new, but drastic. I wanted to take a foray into online dating.

I've often found online dating to be a weird, impersonal thing, that I had assumed only the desperate turned to. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. Not only have I been schooled on this topic by all of my friends- my ex, had a lot of luck with online dating. He unfortunately had a lot of success on okcupid.com while dating me-- but that's entirely beside the point.

Someone outline the reasons for the success of online dating- people do everything online these days, including finding their perfect significant other. Folks who are utterly quirky are able to find the ying to their yang, and meet that certain someone who is perfectly quirky just like them. If they could find love, couldn't I do the same?

I figured it was worth a shot. So, I jumped through the hoops, created a profile and after days of muddling with it, took the bigger plunge- I put up photos. Yikes! The immediate response from men on the site was overwhelming to say the least, but I was dedicated to churning. (Thanks again, Betti!) So I figured it was time to take the plunge. 

I responded, flirted, and tried to figure out what my dealbreakers were. Sooner than I was ready, I had a date. Let's call him Mr. Awkward Laugh. He's super sweet-- tonight was suddenly hit by rainfall so he unfortunately showed up to our date soaked to the bone. I tried to be diplomatic and put him at ease, but it was clear that he was so uncomfortable. (I definitely would be too, while getting caught in the rain is fun, it's never the first impression you want to make).

He took a moment to dry off in the bathroom, and then we started to warm up to each other. We probably spent 2.5 hours together at dinner, chatting through the mundane (TV shows we watch), to the more interesting (challenging roommates- my worst instance was someone with serious drug problems). 

Overall, It was a lot of fun. I came home with a smile on my face, and no real complaints. He insisted on driving me home, which I probably shouldn't have agreed to, but he was SO nice. He didn't try to kiss me, but we did exchange an effortless hug and phone numbers at the end of the night. 

We've already had a text back and forth and are making plans for Sunday night. He's looking up some bands that I mentioned this evening, and I'm processing it all. After some of the dating horror stories I've heard, could it really be this easy? Or did I just make it so?

On the flipside- Ben has NO idea how angry I am with him. I've gotten no less than 8 texts from him today. I'm waiting for the finnicky designer to come over (more on him later), but am unsure as to whether he'll still be in the mood to spend time with me once he's done riding his fixed gear bike to my apt from downtown.

Wish me luck blogosphere- tomorrow is certainly a new day

PS Mr. AL paid for dinner and drinks & gave me the leftovers.

Introducing Myself to Churning

I recently had the pleasure of grabbing drinks with Betti-- (it's always too long, btw), and while we were sipping wine I recounted the stories of my current love  trainwreck life with her. After grabbing another round, she shared the concept of churning with me, and let me know that I was due for some serious dating to shake off recent events. I agreed with the notion and set up an alias to enable some serious blogging. (What's the fun in churning if you can't share it?) Despite my best intentions, it took a couple weeks for me to finally decide that it was time to let this plan take action.

So what brought me here? It's a doozy.

A few months ago, I ended my on-again, off-again 3 year relationship with the man I thought I would end up marrying. While it was really hard to step away from the comfort that long term boyfriend brought, I knew it was the right decision.

It also didn't hurt that for months I'd been developing feelings for one of my coworkers, Ben, and that it had slowly been snowballing into something bigger. Neither of us had ever acted on anything, but the chemistry had been growing, and our texts had started coming in later and later into the night (as well as first thing in the morning). The one complication? My work husband had a real girlfriend. Of four years.

Now, I would never set out to do anything with someone I knew was taken. (I hadn't always known about his GF, that was a revelation that came a few months into our friendship.) I always assumed that Ben was too good of a guy to ever act on anything outside of his relationship and I thought I was too aware to ever let things go down that path. 4 years, after all, is a significant amount of time.

Obviously though, I knew I was catching feelings, and as our time started to shift from inside the office to bars and touristy activities on the weekend, I began to wonder if there may be more happening.

One night, after too many beers and too much flirting, we crossed the line from talk into action. I wondered if he was questioning his relationship- imagined that he had to be at a crossroads, determining what his next step was in his life. I had a huge pit in my stomach that night- the anxiety alone was keeping me up. I didn't really ask him about any of it, chalked it up to the drinking and tried to do damage control when I saw him the next day. (I left it at an "Are we ok?" The answer was a resounding "Yes".)

This is the part of the story when savvier women would have said more- and put an immediate end to things. Unfortunately, I am not yet one of those wise ladies. I let things continue. I let us keep getting into situations that would escalate, and kept up our constant contact. He was on my brain, in my heart, and unfortunately, in my bed.

Ben was a perfect boyfriend: great communicator-- someone I could discuss anything with, a snazzy dresser, our chemistry could rival nuclear weaponry, and above all else he made me laugh all the time. The only issue in that fairy tale? He wasn't mine.

The pit in my stomach started to gnaw at me at all hours, until finally I could take it no more. I asked him to lunch and ended things.  After much hemming and hawing, I spit out that our friendship was too important, having him in my life was something too special, and that I didn't really think we could be these two people.

Under different circumstances, I'd want nothing more than him, but in the current state: "cheater" & "homewrecker" are such awful titles to have looming over your head. He agreed, said he understood, and although he was visibly upset that was where we left things. Off we went, back to our respective cubes where we could log back into IM and proceed to talk as though nothing had changed.

I felt comfortable, freed, and so happy. He was still sending me texts non-stop, we were talking like normal, and flirting again. It was business as usual. In the back of my mind, I wondered whether this may be enough for him to leave her. Especially as the late night texts trickled in about missing me, I thought that he may be able to make a clean break and that we could start over.

Until today.

In the small world that is DC my friend Jane went out on a date with a friend of his. Yay connections! Obviously, I turned to her for a full report. My download: aside from an awesome date, Jane had learned that Ben had been keeping one more secret from me. Not only did he have a girlfriend, but they'd also been living together for years.

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

I realize that someone who's been cheating on their girlfriend has to be capable of keeping secrets, but this felt so different. I didn't understand how Ben could have possibly kept our dalliance up for so long without some serious lies, nor had I realized the extent to which he'd been hiding parts of his life from me. I felt betrayed and more than a little sick.

While our whole exchange had pushed the boundaries of what I could accept, I had always thought he was still figuring things out. The fact that he was living with his girlfriend pushed him over into very serious relationship territory, not the on again off again world I had existed in with my ex. My heart simultaneously raced and felt heavy as I came to terms with what I had done. I went running in an effort to sweat out every icky thought I was suddenly thinking, not just about him, but about me. What had I done?

Obviously, I had crossed some lines. Not only had I helped Ben betray someone, I had betrayed myself. Real Life.

So.... here we are now. I'm not happy about the turn things have taken in the past few months, but I'm ready to start anew. As I pull back from the person who's had the most consistent presence in my life of late, I need some serious distractions.

One date a week? Here we go. Date 1 is tomorrow. Wish me luck on new beginnings.

The Bartender

I went out with friends for brunch this past weekend. We went to a great place that has an 'all you can eat' menu. Danger #1: I have no will power when it comes to food that is delicious and unlimited. Danger #2: Cocktails were included, no additional note needed, you know how dangerous that is.

We got to the restaurant at 11:00am, right when they opened because we were a large party and didn't want to wait. When we got to the hostess stand, she told us we could either wait two hours or sit at the bar. The bar it was!

We sat. We drank. We ate. We chatted. We drank some more. Eight women with mimosas. And bloody marys. And summer shandies. And some tapas mixed in for good measure.

Our bartender was awesome. His name was Carlos. I asked his name during the first drink because I anticipated we'd be at his bar for a while and wanted to make friends. The more I drank, the chattier I got, and the cuter Carlos became.

Uh-oh. Bartenders are my kryptonite.

After about four hours (yes, you read that right - a four hour brunch), the overconsumption special ended, and as we were preparing to leave, I told my friend Dolly that I had a crush on the bartender. She fancies herself a master matchmaker, which I think is stupendous, and bellied up to the bar to talk to Carlos and find out if he was single, straight, a serial killer, etc.

Turns out he was looking for "a nice, young lady" so Dolly called me over and pulled a Barney Stinson, "Haaave you met my friend Betti?"

I gave him my number and told him where I would be hanging out that night should he want to stop by. Then Dolly, who is tall, but not exactly physically imposing, pulled down her cardigan to show off her guns. She then threatened Carlos, the slightly beefy bartender and said, "If you say you're going to call my friend, and you don't, I'm gonna beat you up". It was awesome.

Dolly's threats worked because I had a text from him 30 minutes later while we were enjoying another libation at a nearby establishment. After an hour we decided to make our way to a party at a friend's house-BBQ, with a quick pitstop at the wine bar where Carlos was drinking after his shift.

We arrived at the wine bar and there he was, talking to a couple in their 50s, who appeared to be from Utah. I got nervous. Really nervous. Thanks to encouragement (read: peer pressure) from Dolly and Veronica, I walked over and said hi rather than standing awkwardly.

He bought me a drink. My friends stayed at a safe distance. Then he bought me another drink, and my friends decided to head over to the party while I hung out with Carlos.

I learned some things about him, we talked about family and work, things we did for fun, what we did for work, cycling, running, etc. After a while he told me he was going to ask me out on a proper dinner date. (Hooray!) A nice, cute guy with killer calves wanted to ask me out on a proper date.

After I finished my seconds drink I told him I had to leave to walk my dog. He asked me not to go. I told him I had to leave, and I left. He texted me three times on my way home. Funny texts, charming texts, silly texts. I replied.

Later that night, after yet another drink with different friends, when I was on my way home, Carlos texted again and asked me to meet him out. I wanted to say, "Dude, you're cute, but come on! It's late, I've been out forever and I'm tired. Unless you're the hot guy from Criminal Minds I'm going home." Instead I texted back that I was on my way home, but was looking forward to seeing him "later".

That was Saturday, it's now Wednesday and I haven't heard from him.

All in all, I feel good about it. I met a nice guy for an afternoon. He added a bit of excitement to an already fun day - like the cherry on top of a sundae. When I was 25, I probably would have met up with him on my way home, become more invested, then felt stupid and sad when he didn't call. Now I just feel generally silly and kind of great. Saturday was a super day.

If he calls and asks me out, will I go? Yes, I probably would. Do I fancy him enough to pursue him? I do not. Not even with those calves. 

A Very Pleasant Date

I was nervous for the date with Smushed Andy, so nervous in fact I had a cocktail - whiskey on the rocks - while getting ready. I then changed my outfit six times in the last four minutes, destroying my room and ultimately panicking and wearing what I wore to work the day before. Note to self: stop wearing turtlenecks on first dates because I get sweaty and probably look like a puritanical prude.

So there I am, running down the street in skinny jeans, a turtleneck and a leather jacket, sweating. To add insult to injury I dyed my hair that afternoon and had inadvertently dyed a jet black widows peak into the skin on my forehead. I realized after I left my apartment that I had combined black hair dye, a white turtleneck and heat/sweat. Ultimately, I was a walking shitshow.

While trying to get out of my neurotic head I see an attractive person passing me. You've got to be kidding me! Hot neighbor! For the first time since I told him he was perfect, and he asked me out, I saw Hot Neighbor. Seriously? Come on universe, give a girl a break. I was late so I smiled silently and kept walking.

I got to the restaurant before Smushed Andy and waited inside trying to cool down and calm down. He got there shortly after. He was cute, totally a smushed down version of Andy Samberg, only a couple of inches taller than me with a nice smile.

We sat and talked and ordered and talked some more. There were no awkward silences or weird spans of time. We shared an appetizer and a dessert. It was a lovely dinner, very pleasant in fact. But it was work. You know when you're supposed to be charming so you actively engage in conversation? The date felt like a great job interview for job I'm not sure I'd want. I was "on" the whole time, focusing on body language, eye contact, etc but it didn't feel natural. I was trying too hard. After two days of reflection, I realized, quite simply, it was a very nice date but I didn't have any fun.

I talked to my mom about the sate on my way home - I should never call my mother when I have a buzz - and told her I was coming from a first (and probably last) date. Surprisingly she told me, almost pressured me to go out with him again. She mentioned it again last night. And after a moment of annoyance I said something that I believe says it all, "I'm working so many hours, I only go out one night a week. I want that night to be fun."

Was it a good date? Yes. Is Smushed Andy nice and smart and engaging? Yes. Do I feel more and more like there is something wrong with me? Yes. I mean, seriously, why is it so much harder for me than everyone else? Or is it equally difficult for everyone who is actively, and unsuccessfully, looking for a partner - and we all feel like we're broken at one time or another?

Grown Up Date

Date is official. I'm meeting Smushed Andy at 7:00 p.m. on Saturday night for dinner. We're meeting at a restaurant without a counter or need for me to pick up my own food. I have a dinner date, like a grown-up dinner date with post-date drinks scheduled. Doesn't he know that could be like three, four, five hours...? That is quite a time commitment. I like my first dates to be over coffee or a cocktail, something with an easy exit, not something that has involves multiple venues and additional chances for me to be awkward and trip over something in transit.

But maybe being outside of my dating comfort zone isn't a bad thing. Smushed Andy seems like a nice guy. He planned the date and provided thoughtful options based on location and convenience, mine not his. I didn't have to do anything but agree.

Now that I think about it, it may not be a bad thing. If I'm going on a grown-up date - maybe that means I'm going on a date with a grown-up. A gentleman, grown-up. Crap, I may be kind of excited. I'll let you know how it goes.

A Note From Peggy Sue

I once had a friend who evaluated guys by their gentleman factor. "All guys are gross," she would reason, "but a gentleman doesn't flaunt that grossness in front of you." Smushed down Andy Samberg is a gentleman. He comes across as smart and kind and genuine and measured--someone who would plan and take the time to find out more about you. See: after our initial emails about whether or not he'd be interested in meeting Betti, he followed up and asked me for some a few facts about her so that they would have some introductory topics to talk about. He's a client at my business, so I've had the pleasure of seeing him and making small talk over the past year or so and recently ran into him outside of work and had such a good time with him that I thought, "Man, this guy is so nice and smart and an actual, functioning adult. He should be dating someone I know." He would seemingly be a good date for one of my friends AND I could keep him in my social circle! Everybody wins! I thought of Betti as a potential match for him because they're both very knowledgeable about current events in a non-DC-snobby kind of a way, they're both thoughtful, they're both more athletic than I am, and neither of them owns a teevee, which I find equally admirable and mind-boggling. So here's to hoping that these two really down-to-earth, thoughtful, smart, lovely people hit it off. Fingers crossed!

A date is set, I think

I replied to Smushed Andy's email last night with a mini novel. I answered all of his questions and tried to ask good follow-up questions. I was kind of nervous to click send. Could excitement be brewing?

I found myself checking my personal email more than usual. I usually only check it on the train to and from work, but I was checking it during the day. Could excitement be brewing?

He wrote back this afternoon with an email twice the length of my novel. It turns out he's a writer. (Side note: I am now self conscious of my grammar in our communications. Damn.) At the end of his email, he asked me out. And I wasn't disappointed. Could excitement be brewing?

We set a date for this weekend. I'll let you know what happens, and if the excitement actually brews.

A Nice Email

Smushed Andy wrote to me last night. He sent a very thoughtful email, he had clearly asked Peggy Sue about me and crafted a tailored message geared to my interests. It was a great email, really. He seems like a smart guy. It reminded me of the first message you would send to someone you were trying to court in a long distance relationship.

I'm skeptical of small talk over email before meeting someone in person. I'm not sure if it's from my attempts at online dating from years back or something else, but I like just going out with someone
and getting to know them in person. I'm not sure if that makes me old school, jaded or simply impatient.  Probably all of the three. It sounds horrible, but I don't want to waste time emailing someone who isn't interested when he meets me in person and one of two things happen: 1) we have exhausted all small talk online and have nothing to say; or 2) I spend the time trying to remember what he wrote in his emails so I don't ask something that has already been covered.

Holy garbage, I am such a negative Nancy. A nice guy sent me a nice email. I'm just going to write back.

A Smushed Andy Samberg

Andy Samberg, not smushed, on a tricycle.

I was out with some friends this weekend, including those who waited for me the night I met Hot Neighbor, and one asked if he had called.

I told them that he had texted the next day, and then again shortly after, but so far: a big, fat nothing. He seems to be a non-follow-thru-er. Probably not going to happen.

I told them I needed to find a new guy to date and told them about the hope of having finding pairs of people to set me up with a dude, blog about it, etc.

Peggy Sue and Veronica looked at each other and said, "Smushed Andy Samberg". The story goes: Peggy Sue went on one date with Smushed Andy, but she had already gone out on a few dates with her current beau, so it didn't go any further.

Peggy Sue had seen Smushed Andy out recently and was thinking that she should set him up with someone ("because he's so nice") and had actually thought of me.

Why did she think of me? I don't know. She described him as a 32 year old grad student, who just recently got a tv and looks like, you know it already, a smushed Andy Samberg. We're the same age, so that could be something. Or it could be that we're both single and awesome. That's probably not it, but I'm going with it for the sake of my fragile ego after the radio silence from Hot Neighbor.

Peggy Sue asked if I would like her to reach out to him to see if he'd be down for a blind date with her friend. I said absolutely.

If he writes back and accepts the date, you'll know about it.

Motivation

I think I'm struggling with my dating motivation this time around. I don't have that spark when I talk to dudes. It's more like I feel that I've hit an age where I'm supposed to be on track to be married asap. I'm not sure if that obligation is adding stress, which makes me inadvertently shy away - kind of like how I stopped enjoying reading for fun when I went to grad school, because I HAD to read.

Most of my friends are paired up - married, engaged, co-habitating. The prevalence of coupledom seems to be more and more commonplace, especially among my friends who are in their 30s, and I have to wonder: Am I at a place where I want to meet someone with whom I can share my life? Or do I just feel the need to be with someone because I'm one of the few people who is alone?

To add to my internal crazy-making: I want to get married. I said this to a couple of friends and one seemed honestly shocked, and said he'd never heard me say that before. And I realized he was right, I had never said that out loud before. (Sidenote: my mother drank too much a few Christmases ago and said she was afraid she raised me to be too independent. Crap, maybe she did. Maybe I come across as someone destined and preferred to fly solo.) But I do want to get married and maybe even have kids, maybe. I'm not sure about the kids, but I'd like to have the option. And I only have three years until that gets much more difficult, biologically. Eek, no wonder I don't have a spark when I talk to dudes, I'm a total buzz-kill, must work on that.

Regardless, I'm not excited about dating. But like a friend told me over brunch, "Betti, you're not getting any younger." Ouch. So I guess, in my head, I'm trying to keep the dating pathways open so they don't close up forever, or at least, so they're open when the spark returns.

I talked to Hot Neighbor!!!

Imagine me singing that. Not well, more like a fog horn than a melody, but singing nonetheless.

I went out for St Patty's Day and had a beer, then another. I also had a whiskey and water, and then a few more beers. I definitely drank more than I typically do, and likely more than I should.

I was out with some friends, having a good time and, of course, 10:30p rolls around and we all start moving to the door. Because we're old. Further evidence of my Q-tipness (old people --> white hair --> Q-tip) was the fact that I chose to hit the head before heading home. Two very kind friends waited for me while I went to the bathroom.

Then, there I am, in the bathroom line at a hipster dive bar (that I kind of love). This sloppy, drunk, but clean and attractive girl stumbles by and plops down on a bench next to the bathroom line, that appears to be more decoration than furniture. I stood there wondering whether I should judge her when a TDH (tall, dark, handsome) strolls by. She grabs his hand and pulls him onto the bench. (Okay, it's furniture, or else that shit would have collapsed.) Then, realization enters my noggin - it's Hot Neighbor!

Or at least I think it is. I go into the bathroom, come out, and he's still there. I try not to stare, I think it's him.

I go back to my friends, relay the news, and receive encouragement to talk to him. Fueled by the booze, I turn around and head again for the bathroom, wondering how I'm going to talk to him while he's sharing a questionable bench with that chick... I see him at the bar on my way and stop. This is how my slightly fuzzy, boozy brain remembers the conversation:

Me: Hi. I think you're my neighbor.
Him: 3rd floor?
Me: No.
Him: 1212 Main Street?
Me: No, 1211 Main Street.
Him: Oh! You have a dog!
Me: Yes, I do.

Sidenote: He's hot, likely with girls all over the hood wondering if they should talk to him. He is probably a player, but whatever, he's a crush. Back to the conversation:

Him: I've been wanting to talk to you, but you never stop.
Me: I know, me too, but I stopped now. I'm Betti.
Him: I'm Andrew.
Me: Nice to meet you, Andrew. I always see you at random times, do you work a lot of hours, like me?
Him: Well, I work 80 hours a week.
Me: Me too, sometimes... what do you do that creates hours like that?
Him: I'm an attorney and I founded a non-profit, that advocates on behalf of children with disabilities.
Me: (awkwardly staring) If I'm looking at you skeptically, it's because you're perfect.

Yes, kids, I said that. Don't give Betti a beer.

Him: Well, the next time you see me while you're walking your dog you should stop and talk to me.
Me: I should, but I don't want to wait that long, who knows the next time we may see each other.
Him: Haha, maybe we should go out.
Me: Maybe we should.
Him: Would you go out with me?
Me: I would.
Him: Will you go on a date with me?
Me: Yes.

He reaches into his pocket and I say...

Me: Oh, ugh, are you giving me your card?
Him: No, I don't have a card.
Me: Me neither.
Him: Why don't you give me your number.
Me: I can put it in your phone or go old school with a napkin.
Him: Old school.

I gave him my number on a napkin, chatted with his friends about some of the people in the neighborhood and left. That was Thursday. He texted me on Friday (quick, right?) and asked me if I'd like to go out. I wrote back that day and haven't heard anything. Will anything come of it? Who knows, probably not. Don't get me wrong, I really hope it does, but this man is hot (like HOT, hot) and probably has a girl for every night of the week. I am not interested in anything like that.

Do I want to go out with him? Yes. Do I want him to surprise me and sweep me off my feet? Heck yes. But this isn't the movies, it's real life, and the good guys - the ones who follow through - are hard to find.

Bobby Wrote Back

It's pretty clear from Bobby's email - I talked too much about work and made myself unavailable.

His email:
I enjoyed dinner the other night-- it was nice to meet someone new and interesting.  I know your schedule is super busy, but if you'd like to catch a baseball game or go for a bike ride or run now that the weather is getting nicer, I'd be game.  Hope your work continues to go well.

Okay, so what did I learn here?
1. I need to stop talking about work
2. There are nice guys out there
3. I should keep trying to meet guys and date dudes in order to avoid dying alone and having my dog eat my face

I'm going to reply to Bobby's email and say something (hopefully) charming. If he's interested, he'll let me know. Then it's on to the next guy. Churn, baby, churn!