Alex texted me the address of the bar where I was to meet him at 9 pm.
Sure enough, he just couldn't let me off that easily...
As my phone vibrated next to me on the couch, I was met with the following message:
"I promise there are no beers there that taste like dirty cocks."
Ha. Good one.
As Alex walked into the bar, he seemed pretty true to his profile, which sadly, is a a rarity.
Suddenly, something caught my eye.
My eyes darted down to his shoes.
"Hey," he said, smiling. "Nice to meet you!"
Never one to filter, I blurted out the following.
"Do your shoes glow in the dark!?"
Awkward silence.
"Uh, yeah. But, uh, they are also, uh, really comfortable." As if that makes it ok...
Sure enough, this guy was wearing sneakers that full on glowed in the dark. As we moved from the entrance of the bar to a table in the back, he awkwardly joked, "just uh, follow my sneakers."
I tried not to let the glow-in-the-dark sneakers taint my opinion of Alex, I really did.
But cmon now, are we five?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Dirty Cocks
If you are a pervert who has stumbled across this blog, I am sorry to inform you that you will be greatly disappointed by this entry.
Alex instant messaged me on jdate this morning. His pictures were cute, nice dimples, full head of hair (rare on this site), 6 foot 1, works in finance (my weakness). So, I gladly responded.
After a brief chat (brief is my new goal so that I won't be disappointed), we agreed to meet up this Saturday evening.
That's when the conversation took a turn for the worst...who knew a single letter could change the meaning of a word so significantly...
Here is the conversation, cut and pasted straight from my instant message window with only the screennames changed for this poor fellow's protection...
Alex: Are you a wine person? A beer drinker? Cocktails?
Me: Wine and cocktails. I hate beer.
Alex: Hate?
Me: Hate.
Alex: As in ALL beer?
Me: Yup. It tastes like dirty cocks.
Alex: Like dirty cocks??????
Me: OMG, I meant socks! I meant socks!!!!
So, I'm still meeting Alex this Saturday. And I'm prepared to get mocked to the full extent for my typo.
Alex instant messaged me on jdate this morning. His pictures were cute, nice dimples, full head of hair (rare on this site), 6 foot 1, works in finance (my weakness). So, I gladly responded.
After a brief chat (brief is my new goal so that I won't be disappointed), we agreed to meet up this Saturday evening.
That's when the conversation took a turn for the worst...who knew a single letter could change the meaning of a word so significantly...
Here is the conversation, cut and pasted straight from my instant message window with only the screennames changed for this poor fellow's protection...
Alex: Are you a wine person? A beer drinker? Cocktails?
Me: Wine and cocktails. I hate beer.
Alex: Hate?
Me: Hate.
Alex: As in ALL beer?
Me: Yup. It tastes like dirty cocks.
Alex: Like dirty cocks??????
Me: OMG, I meant socks! I meant socks!!!!
So, I'm still meeting Alex this Saturday. And I'm prepared to get mocked to the full extent for my typo.
Uncle...or should I say Grandpa?
I tutor a darling boy named Bobby on Saturdays. So, when his very attractive mother asked me if she could set me up with her brother (Bobby's uncle,) I immediately responded "Sure!"
"He's 38 though - is that too old? You're what -- 26? He looks really young," she assured me.
Awkwardly, without thinking, I responded, "I'll take anything at this point."
Note to self: Think before speaking.
A few days later Uncle called me. We talked for hours. He sounded cute (I've learned that a man's voice can tell you a lot about their appearance), and had a wide variety of young-sounding interests. Over the next couple of days we talked on the phone, texted back and forth, and instant messaged. On a good note, no e-cards were involved.
We agreed to meet a few days later.
Thus began one of the most awkward dates of my life.
For starters, we agreed to meet at Bobby's family's apartment. The family was out of town for the weekend, and Uncle was babysitting their pet guinea pig. (Weird? Perhaps, but I found it endearing.)
The plan was to go out for drinks after meeting up at the apartment, but it was teeming outside, and neither one of us had the motivation to go anywhere.
So, instead we sat on the family's couch for 4 hours, forcing interaction and quickly realizing that a 12 year age difference is a lot of ground to cover. He kept referencing movies, people, and things I've never heard of.
The least awkward part of our date, was the time spent playing with Chuck, the gunea pig. I lay on the floor of Bobby's room for as long as I could without being rude, trying to coax Chuck out of his little gunea pig house, so that I would have something to do.
Why didn't I just leave, you ask?
Well for starters, when I say it was teeming, I mean like torential downpour. Second, I didn't want to be rude. I love Bobby's family, and I didn't want Uncle to tell his mom that I ran out after 20 minutes.
Finally, after four hours, I decided it was time to get the hell out of there.
With a quick awkward goodbye (I believe "uh, take it easy" was muttered from his neckless head) I ventured out into the rain.
Lesson learned? Well there are two.
One: Chemistry over the phone and instant messager does not determine chemistry in person.
Two: 38 is just too damn old.
"He's 38 though - is that too old? You're what -- 26? He looks really young," she assured me.
Awkwardly, without thinking, I responded, "I'll take anything at this point."
Note to self: Think before speaking.
A few days later Uncle called me. We talked for hours. He sounded cute (I've learned that a man's voice can tell you a lot about their appearance), and had a wide variety of young-sounding interests. Over the next couple of days we talked on the phone, texted back and forth, and instant messaged. On a good note, no e-cards were involved.
We agreed to meet a few days later.
Thus began one of the most awkward dates of my life.
For starters, we agreed to meet at Bobby's family's apartment. The family was out of town for the weekend, and Uncle was babysitting their pet guinea pig. (Weird? Perhaps, but I found it endearing.)
Uncle was about 5 foot 7 (I'm 5 foot 8), and appeared to have lost his neck somewhere along the way. With his head planted awkwardly into his shoulders, slightly hunched over, and wearing an old tee shirt, he greeted me at the door.
The plan was to go out for drinks after meeting up at the apartment, but it was teeming outside, and neither one of us had the motivation to go anywhere.
So, instead we sat on the family's couch for 4 hours, forcing interaction and quickly realizing that a 12 year age difference is a lot of ground to cover. He kept referencing movies, people, and things I've never heard of.
The least awkward part of our date, was the time spent playing with Chuck, the gunea pig. I lay on the floor of Bobby's room for as long as I could without being rude, trying to coax Chuck out of his little gunea pig house, so that I would have something to do.
Why didn't I just leave, you ask?
Well for starters, when I say it was teeming, I mean like torential downpour. Second, I didn't want to be rude. I love Bobby's family, and I didn't want Uncle to tell his mom that I ran out after 20 minutes.
Finally, after four hours, I decided it was time to get the hell out of there.
With a quick awkward goodbye (I believe "uh, take it easy" was muttered from his neckless head) I ventured out into the rain.
Lesson learned? Well there are two.
One: Chemistry over the phone and instant messager does not determine chemistry in person.
Two: 38 is just too damn old.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Hipster phase? Check.
It had been two days with no word from hipster. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not insane. As a semi-rational human being, I recognize that two days is not a long time to go without hearing from someone. People are busy, people have commitments, people get hit by buses...
But I knew that hipster had not gotten hit by a bus. As I sat gloomily at my work holiday party, sipping on a glass of pinot grigio (did I mention that pinot grigio is my poison of choice?), I just knew something was up.
"Don't worry," my work friends assured me. "It's only been two days!"
The next day, I still hadn't heard from hipster. As I sat on my computer, parousing facebook, I noticed he was online.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: What are you up to?
H: Nothing.
Me: Oh, ok.
H: Sorry if I've been kinda distant.
Me: Yeah.
H: It's just that, we have nothing in common.
Me: Um, ok.
H: I think you're really cool, but it's just not gonna work. I mean, if I
don't have 'that feeling' after 2 weeks, I'm definitely not gonna have it in the long run, ya know?
Me: Right. Well, take care.
H: Yeah, you too!
Within seconds he had been defriended on facebook, deleted in my phone, and all but erased from my life. (I promise I'm not crazy, but who wants memories of a romance gone bad?)
Goodbye hipster phase. You were fun while you lasted.
But I knew that hipster had not gotten hit by a bus. As I sat gloomily at my work holiday party, sipping on a glass of pinot grigio (did I mention that pinot grigio is my poison of choice?), I just knew something was up.
"Don't worry," my work friends assured me. "It's only been two days!"
The next day, I still hadn't heard from hipster. As I sat on my computer, parousing facebook, I noticed he was online.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: What are you up to?
H: Nothing.
Me: Oh, ok.
H: Sorry if I've been kinda distant.
Me: Yeah.
H: It's just that, we have nothing in common.
Me: Um, ok.
H: I think you're really cool, but it's just not gonna work. I mean, if I
don't have 'that feeling' after 2 weeks, I'm definitely not gonna have it in the long run, ya know?
Me: Right. Well, take care.
H: Yeah, you too!
Within seconds he had been defriended on facebook, deleted in my phone, and all but erased from my life. (I promise I'm not crazy, but who wants memories of a romance gone bad?)
Goodbye hipster phase. You were fun while you lasted.
Phone calls and text messages and e-cards, oh my!
When is the last time you got an e-card? And I'm not talking about an e-card from a grandma, or crazy aunt, I'm talking about an e-card from a romantic contender.
My answer? 2 weeks ago.
Things took off with the hipster. After meeting at the bar (remember, "you rode that bull really well"?) we were inseperable.
Hipster and I were complete opposites, but I didn't care. I tried to tone down my love of Justin Timberlake and all things pop, and pretended to be interested in his hipstery techno music and beer brewing hobby.
We went on a number of dates, after which he always called, texted, or sent an e-card. He friended me on facebook within 24 hours of our first meeting.
As I opened up my email, and saw the e-card waiting, butterflies fluttered through my stomach. Always the pessimist, I thought, Is he seriously ending things with me over an e-card?
"I had a great time on our date," I relayed to my mom via telephone. "Unless of course you didn't. In that case I didn't either."
Silence.
Finally: "I don't get it."
"It's cool mom," I explained. "Get it? It's kind of ironically funny."
"I still don't get it."
Truthfully, neither did I.
My answer? 2 weeks ago.
Things took off with the hipster. After meeting at the bar (remember, "you rode that bull really well"?) we were inseperable.
Hipster and I were complete opposites, but I didn't care. I tried to tone down my love of Justin Timberlake and all things pop, and pretended to be interested in his hipstery techno music and beer brewing hobby.
We went on a number of dates, after which he always called, texted, or sent an e-card. He friended me on facebook within 24 hours of our first meeting.
As I opened up my email, and saw the e-card waiting, butterflies fluttered through my stomach. Always the pessimist, I thought, Is he seriously ending things with me over an e-card?
"I had a great time on our date," I relayed to my mom via telephone. "Unless of course you didn't. In that case I didn't either."
Silence.
Finally: "I don't get it."
"It's cool mom," I explained. "Get it? It's kind of ironically funny."
"I still don't get it."
Truthfully, neither did I.
Send me men
So my friend Cybil just had a great point.
In Julie and Julia, her loyal fans send her cooking supplies. Nothing crazy, just some olive oil and other ingredients.
Once I have some loyal readers (and not just my two friends who I forced to become followers), what can they send me in support?
"Men," she said.
So, send me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore...
...unless it's the Jersey shore we're talking about. Those guys skeeve me out.
I'll be here waiting.
In Julie and Julia, her loyal fans send her cooking supplies. Nothing crazy, just some olive oil and other ingredients.
Once I have some loyal readers (and not just my two friends who I forced to become followers), what can they send me in support?
"Men," she said.
So, send me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of your teeming shore...
...unless it's the Jersey shore we're talking about. Those guys skeeve me out.
I'll be here waiting.
Is this fictional or real?
I lied.
I tend to do that.
I said that I would not show anyone this blog, until under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol.
But then I realized, what fun is a blog, without some fans?
So, I showed it to my three best friends, and emailed it to my best college friend.
Her response?
"Is this fictional or real?"
So let me address that. The only things that have been changed in these entries are names. The rest is pure fact.
Welcome to my life.
I tend to do that.
I said that I would not show anyone this blog, until under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol.
But then I realized, what fun is a blog, without some fans?
So, I showed it to my three best friends, and emailed it to my best college friend.
Her response?
"Is this fictional or real?"
So let me address that. The only things that have been changed in these entries are names. The rest is pure fact.
Welcome to my life.
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