Hipster Dan: Great Expectations

Despite my best efforts* I have developed incredibly high expectations of my first date with Hipster Dan.  Not only that, but Hipster Dan has more or less admitted his own high expectations.  During the past 3 days we have been messaging back and forth with varying frequency, but at least 5 or 6 times each day.  We haven't talked about anything in particular but we have realized we have even more in common than we initially thought.  Further, he made a statement in one of these messages that made me oddly happy:

"Is it weird that I'm excited to meet you?"

I'm obviously just hyping this fella up in my mind and only bad things can result, however, I decided I'm very pleased that a. he is excited to meet me and b. he is ok with admitting this to me in advance of our meeting.  It seems like such a simple, nothing sentiment, but it was far more forthright than 99% of the messages I have received.

Alas, we will imbibe beers tomorrow in a hipster dive bar.  I am idiotically nervous and can't decide what on earth to wear.  Normally, I don't think too hard about that, but I'm acting like a dumb, dumb idiot. :)


*Actually, I really made no effort beyond telling myself not to.

Thunder-man-dome: Two Men Enter, One Man Asks Me Out

Well, friends and family, it has been 2 months since I've posted.  In those months I have been living the exciting single life: sitting on my ass and occasionally cleaning the house.  I began and finished a cardigan, I spent some time with my parental units, did some serious babysitting (in the middle of that, actually) and saw a comedy show or two.  I know, try to calm your jealousy.  You can continue to read my blog and envy my glamorous, action-packed life style.

Two weeks ago a non-horrifying gentleman, AfroStan, messaged me.  He was so not atrocious that I decided I didn't mind the fact that he is at least 2 inches shorter than me.  Despite my pledge to date all applicants, I have had an issue agreeing to go out with those shorter than myself.  Plus, AfroStan, has a lot of hair and his photos suggest that this particular feature may very well bring his height close to or above mine.  However, we will likely never know exactly how tall AfroStan is, because the dummy stopped replying.  So, screw you AfroStan!  Just kidding, I hope you found a beautiful and talented internet lady.

Theeeeen, I got a message from HipsterDan.

Sellin' Stuff: How a Roommate Search is Kind of Like Dating

So merely 2 months ago my lovely newest roommate moved in.  I met several candidates prior to her and was "meh" about all of them.  Then in walked the charmer that is Stefa and I within five minutes I wanted her to move in.  Do you recall my recent post about my unfulfilled desire to feel a spark with a dude as I had with my douchebag  ex? At the risk of sounding like a crazy person (obviously, such a fear does not trump my desire to divulge my inner-most idiocy to you good folks), I kinda had that spark with Stefa IN A PLATONIC ROOMMATE-Y WAY.

What I'm Sellin' - Apartment Style

Now, we are about to embark on a joint roommate search as our 3d is moving out in a couple months.  Since I have had zero dates (zero invitations, to be honest) I have been thinking about the roommate search and how similar it is to dating.  As I was writing the apartment ad I realized I am basically looking for a nice, pleasant person that is close to my age, capable of communication, willing to do the dishes and has at least enough in common with me so that living together is easy.  That ain't so different from my OKCupid profile, but in the Craigslist ad I'm not really trying to make myself seem cooler than I am.

GUEST POST!!!: Mr. Sneeze-Socket; First (etc.) Date Edition

Well ladies and gentleman, have I got a treat for you!  My good friend has graced us with her wit-filled early-relationship saga.  It is amazing.  Read away and then tell her how awesome she is. 

Hello Readers! I am not able to divulge my real name, for fear my mother may stumble upon this one day. For now, just call me Zyzenthia Raspberry. 

I was so inspired by Lauren’s gutsy efforts with online dating that I decided to give it a whirl. I am honored to be invited to share my tale below. I should first note that I recently moved to a part of the country where the suitor pickins are frighteningly slim. After a girlfriend and I had a few glasses of wine, we decided to join OkCupid “just to see what is out there.” Well, as expected, I was thoroughly disgusted to find out that my potential suitors are comprised of nasty young boys who wear only underpants in their pictures, God-fearing dads who love football, and complete backwoods hicks who can’t write. 

Imagine my delight when I came across the profile of a man who I shall refer to as “Sneeze-Socket,” which rhymes with his actual profile name, but otherwise has nothing to do with anything. He had a candidly lengthy profile, which seemed to flow with ease as he described his drive to work, midday car nap, addiction to gum, musical preferences, contemplation on how to best solve some severe traffic issues in the tunnel, best places to shop for booze and sushi on the way home from work, and his passion for making music. I’m kind of a sucker for guys who can write, especially those who do not confuse “your” and “you’re.” Anyway, his words were endearing and hilarious to me for some reason, so naturally I saved his profile as a word document on my computer desktop.*

After much contemplation, I decided to write him a message because he specifically stated the he does not like sports or hunting, which means I found the ONE dude within a 250 mile radius who does not like sports or hunting. JACKPOT! We are obviously meant for one another. And as a bonus, he can grow a beard and cross his eyes.

He replied to my message and for about 3 weeks we exchanged daily tidbits, which were always entertaining. I noted that my pictures do not adequately display my third ear, and he responded that his photos did not do justice to his extra toe.  And then I asked him to meet me. We made a tentative plan for one Saturday, which neither of us prioritized since it was Mardi Gras weekend. We then made firm plans for the following weekend, but he canceled the night before because he was “in the hospital for two nights with an ELBOW infection.” WTF, right? I obviously started to doubt his interest…until he sent me a picture of himself in the hospital bed with the caption, “Just so you don’t think I’m bullshittin ya.” Since he looked really cute in the picture and there were some hospitaly-type things in the background, I decided he was honest. He suggested we go out the following weekend, and I suggested we not wait. If you’ve ever done online dating before, then you know that it is most often the case that you have this awesome email banter with someone and then you convince yourself that they are the perfect mix of masculinity and nerd, wit and sincerity, and also very hot. Then you meet them and they are ALL nerd, or have an abnormally giant face, or talk in a weird voice, or live with their mom or something awful. Well, I didn’t want to wait any longer to see how screwed up my expectations were. And I told him. 

Mr. Sneeze obliged, and met me at the local brewery the following Wednesday. We had beers, great conversation, lots of laughs. We even smashed our heads into each other as we were looking for the purse hook under the bar. How perfectly awkward we are! When the night was over and we exited the establishment, I reached out my hand to give his a shake. He mumbled something about how we should hug, and I agreed. He then accidentally rammed his shoulder into my chin, which induced my crush on him. I shot him a text when I got home, he text me back. We were both giddy (or buzzed). We decided to hang out the following Saturday.

The plan was to have a picnic followed by some hiking around this nice park, but it was raining. Backup plan: Picnic at Zyzenthia’s house! Since wine was always part of the plan, we started drinking at the commencement of our picnic, 1pm. I continued to drink until I became absolutely disgusting and out of control. I’m not quite sure what happened. I think my already low tolerance, mixed with my nerves and the fact that the most substantial thing on our picnic menu was stale crackers, did not work for me…but my behavior was truly inexcusable. I was repulsive. I couldn’t see right, I couldn’t walk right. I was saying the stupidest shit. I spilled wine multiple times and then called attention to the fact that I had saved his profile as a word document on my desktop. (GASP!!) I forgot about dinner, I didn’t see it get dark. We watched a couple movies that I have no recollection of. We made this giant tower puzzle, which was news to me. I barfed, and only at that point decided I was “too drunk.” I told him that I needed to go to bed, and realizing that he could possibly be a fraction as intoxicated as I was, I told him he could stay over. 

Next thing I know, I’m practically raping him in my bed, barf breath and all. While I don’t know how it all ended, I woke up the next morning needing to hurl (no surprise), but too scared to move for fear that I would wake him with my barf noises through the paper thin wall. I have never been so mortified or careless in my whole life. He surprisingly seemed to be dreaming away and would occasionally put his arms around me, which I had to keep tossing off because I had the nauseous sweats and needed to be able to easily make a run for the toilet. Eventually, he jumped up and announced, “I have to go.” I told him I couldn’t get up because I was going to barf as soon as I did. It was awkward, so I got up anyway and tried to pretend like I had a little class. He tried to hug me and give me a smooch as I turned my head away, apologized, and ran for the bathroom. While I was vomiting, he drove away. 

Well, I expected he would not want to see me again, but I was wrong. He was extremely understanding and kind about it all, and invited me to come watch a movie at his place the following Wednesday (I was easy after all!). I suggested we do dinner first, so he met me at the sushi restaurant, where I treated him to dinner as a small attempt at redeeming myself. After dinner, I followed him to his place. We walked in the front door, right into his roommate’s “band practice.” We drifted through the marijuana haze to the kitchen. I tried not to look around too much and followed him back to his bedroom.  

Okay.      

He’s 37 years old. His bed is a piece of memory foam mattress on the floor. He’s also got an incredibly uncomfortable futon, atop which he watches movies on his enormous computer monitor with some crazy speaker system. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to shout, “WHAT THE FUCK! YOU’RE 37, WHAT THE FUCK!??” But instead I said, “Hmmm, you’re such a duuude.” Needless to say, this was all so disappointing. We watched the movie, and I immediately got my shoes on to leave. He kissed me, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I kissed him back. It was OK. I was unimpressed and I felt like I was in a dorm room. 

For some reason I decided to give him another chance. I figured it might be like on The Bachelor when you think you want to get rid of the crazy drunk in the wedding dress and then you get to know her and you find out she is very sweet and worth keeping around. That, or I could just use him. So he came over the following Saturday night to hang. Long story short, I really liked him this time and I wanted to make out with him. So we did and it was awesome. Awesome awesome awesome. He was real, I was real and neither of us were intoxicated. Laying around in the dark, we talked about some real non small-talky things, which was great. I asked him why he doesn’t have a bed frame, and although his rationale was not acceptable, I still liked him. I couldn't believe it. I'm a little concerned that I could allow myself to fall for a 37 year old dude without a bed frame, and I'm looking forward to your reader advice. But you should know one more thing: Towards the end of the night, I asked him to tell me something I didn’t know about him, and he had me reach down and feel his extra toe. He really fucking has one people. It is small, but it is there. And it has a tiny little toenail.

*Editors note: This is a trick Zyzenthia taught me when I first tried online dating.  Every time you click on a person's OKCupid profile, they can see that.  So, instead of constantly clicking and appearing as a stalker, Zyzenthia thought of the genius plan of copying and saving the profile offline.  Brilliant lass, she is.  

Mr. Hyde: First Date Edition, and: Ruminations

So, friends. I just had a 2-ish hour drinks date with Mr. Hyde.  Here are some observations:
He is shorter than me.
He is more attractive than his super nerdy profile picture would suggest, yet not incredibly attractive.
He is smart and capable of holding an intelligent conversation.
He is finding out where his residency is in about two weeks.
He declined a 3d beer, and we parted ways at about 10:30 pm.

I am currently at Rudy's enjoying a Margarita and checking out the hot bartender (I know, a hot bartender at Rudy's? Might be the dark'n'stormies talkin') whilst writing this post.

I find myself thinking about this whole endeavor of mine. Mr. Hyde was a pleasant fellow.  I suspect he was uninterested in me, and that is ok.  Given the opportunity I would likely go out with him again, but I would not sweat the lack of communication that is sure to follow that date.  I just can't help but think of an amazing first date I exerienced. It was with a man that would turn out to be a scumbag but it was one hell of a first date, my friends.

All About: An Expiration Date, and some other irrational thoughts

It looks like he has an early puberty 'stache

So, this Friday marks my triumphant return to first-date-dom, after a nearly two week hiatus involving much illness of a very mild, but trying, nature.  My Expiration Date with Mr. Hyde is so titled because, according to his profile, he is a soon-to-be-finished graduate student who may or may not be leaving the fair city of Boston in the next several months.  And, based on my experience with graduate students of not-overly-saturated fields of study, I am willing to bet he already has a post-doc or job lined up and has simply failed to update his profile to that effect.  In other words, he's likely outta here in May and therefore, I am approaching this as an expiration date.

I don't really know much about Mr. Hyde, other than what I mentioned above about his current professional path and that he is either really dorky or really cute.  He has two pictures: in one he embodies the stereotype of nerdy MIT nerd, in the other he looks kind of dreamy and outdoorsy.  So, I have no clue what to expect.

Happy St. Hallmark's Day! Date Recap and Some Love Related Articles

Date Recap: Dudley Do Right Edition: Dinner, chit-chat, me awkwardly bringing up that I have pink-eye.  Also, here's a really good example of how awkward and weird I am on first-dates:
(I don't exactly remember the discussion that precipitated this gem, but let me make one up for demonstration purposes)
DDR: Yah, so my friend and her roommates bought a new stove but the landlord is such a dick that she had to practically beg him to put it in.
Me: Oh I bet that phrase comes up all the time!  Not!
DDR: Oh, rimshot. (imagined internal monologue: "oh, this is just the girl I want to take home to meet my parents")

So, between the (previously, not at the time of the date) communicable disease and my gutter-mind Tourrets  I bet Diddums (HP reference, get with it) can't wait to take me out again.  I also thought about how this ties back to openly displaying the evolutionary disadvantages I apparently suffer from, so now its not only an inability to chew and swallow life-sustaining food without a brush with death, but also an inability to fight off infection of such important organs as eyeballs.

Bucking Trends, Eschewing Advice

I look bemused, I blame it on the gnarly eyeball.

So I'm going out to dinner with Dudley Do Right tonight.  I have a ganky eye; it basically appears as though I'm super stoned in one eye and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the other.  It was really fun at work all day with people physically backing away from me at the mention of pink eye.  Listen, co-workers, I'm no dummy, I didn't come in to work contagious.  Psh.  Anyway, I'm producing a photo of myself so all can judge whether or not this is a bad idea.  I don't think it's THAT noticeable.  Now the past two days, that was another story.

Ok, the Dudster is skinny and has tattoos, continuing my trend of going out with skinny dudes.  Turns out some skinny dudes dig a non-skinny lady.  We will see how it goes.  We are getting dinner because (according to his profile) he does not imbibe alcoholic beverages, which is the primary activity comprising my first date of choice.

Schmidt is a "Mess" and Other Updates

Schmidt: Reasons I liked him: He's funny and fun to hang out with, he's attractive, he's "cool" and I thought he was too good for me but he seemed to like me anyway.  We hung out at my house on Monday evening.  He greeted me with an enthusiastic hug and then we sat around chit-chatting and watching TV.  We also became somewhat intoxicated.

After at least 2/3 of a Pixar film, I basically insisted we make out; he obliged.  However, perhaps because of the intoxication and late-night-ness of the moment, or perhaps because one or more of us wasn't that into it, or who knows what, the making out was not nearly as fun as it was the first time :(.  Anyway, we hung out til late and then I kicked him out.  The following afternoon, I received a text from ol' Schmidty saying, and I quote "Hey sorry if I was bein weird last I'm just kind of a mess/have been kind of a mess lately."  I responded saying that I was sorry to hear that, and, if he's ok with it could he please explain why he was a mess.  He replied with what should have been incredibly predictable, "Just the usual ex stuff.  Shitty cliche but accurate."  Pshhh.  The end.


Michael Cera:  I never fully described my Shy Canadian but he really doesn't require any description.  After a brief coffee date and a depressing movie date, MC asked me out for dinner.  I replied with,

"Hey MC, thanks for the invite but I'm not actually interested in going out again.  It was nice to meet you!"

I find in situations like this it is less painful for all involved to rip the rejection bandaid right off rather than the slow peel of repeated blowing-off and eventual ignoring.  Still, I always feel like a bit of a douche when I send these texts.  Well, MC pushed me right on over into feeling like a full-on-douche.  He replied with,

"That's disappointing and a bit unexpected, but I appreciate your unambiguous response."

Well played, sir.  Very direct and also a bit unexpected.

Mr. Manners: First Date Recap

I went out with Mr. M Friday night.  Following is a recap of the events that took place over approximately 4 hours, but mostly we just drank and chatted.

I saw Mr. Manners first, as he arrived at our agreed upon destination prior to me.  I was not attracted to him based on first impression.  We went to a different location immediately because my first choice was over crowded with the 50+ crowd, much to my surprise.  The second choice establishment was rather empty so we sidled up to the bar and tucked into a couple'a drinks.

Mr. Manners is funny and smart.  He was genuinely a joy to hang out with.  I drank too much (doesn't take much) and wound up blathering on like the moron that I am.  After realizing I needed to take it easy, I alternated between beer and water and tried to not to say idiotic things (probably unsuccesful).

So, by the end of the night I found Mr. Manners approximately 45% more attractive based on a combination of his sense of humor and alcohol.  Don't ask me for the breakdown because I can't break that down.  However, at the end of our date he gave me a really weird, brief, tight-lipped kiss.  That reduced the attraction by 2-3%.  But, as he was polite and funny, I would enjoy going out with him again.  He said he wants to, but that don't mean squat - all the boys say that.

Now, this Sunday afternoon, I am going on a second date with the Canadian physicist.  I don't particularly want to but he was so shy and dorky that I couldn't say no when he asked me out again. We're just going to the movies so I think I'll survive.

I've also continued to text back and forth regularly with Schmidt. Chances are incredibly slim that we will ever actually date.  But, he has been apologetic about his continued unavailability; he even apologized for "being a douche" and insists he has been a mess lately.  He seems sincere in his desire to get together, but who knows.  We will just have to wait.

Why I'm Tired of Going on First Dates

1. I'm tired of explaining my job.  My job is fine, I find it mildly interesting, but it is insanely boring to explain to people.  And let's be honest, most other people's jobs are pretty boring to hear about, so add hearing about other people's jobs to that list.

Layla is Tired; Her Life is Hard

2. I'm tired of thinking of different bars to go to, because the waitstaff at the most convenient/first-date-appropriate bars are going to start thinking I'm an escort.  Finding a good first date bar is tricky: it needs to be low-key enough that it's not packed and you can have a conversation, but enjoyable enough that you're not the only two people in there.  It's also convenient to find a place easily accessible via public transportation so no one has to worry about drinking/driving.  The Square-O-Bars closest to me is awesome for Sunday-Thursday night dates, but largely too crowded for Friday or Saturday night dates. Standing near a bar in a group of strangers and shouting over said strangers and/or bar music is not ideal.

3. I'm tired of worrying that my date is going to think I'm icky.

Me, trying on a (very unappealing) first date outfit

4. I'm tired of trying to find good first date outfits.  I'm vain, I admit.  I want a first date to think I'm attractive and at least somewhat appealing, even if I think they're the icky one.  Being out of shape and less-than thrilled with my physical appearance means strategic first date outfit choice is key.  Turns out this isn't really a big deal, as long as I avoid the pitfall of the same-bar-every-Friday-night-with-a-different-guy, I can more or less just wear the same outfit every first date.  Second date I'm far less concerned about looking appealing (I still attempt, but feel less pressure I suppose) because, theoretically, he finds me at least marginally attractive if we're going out again.

5. I'm tired of being disappointed by these dates.

Despite all these cranky complaints, I'm quite looking forward to my make-up date with Mr. Manners tomorrow (Friday) evening at an establishment of my choosing that I think will be a good first-date choice.  Mr. M seems very polite and kind and in possession of a sense of humor.  I'm working on approaching these dates with cautious optimism.

All About: Mr. Manners and a Quick Date Recap

Mr. M

Mr. Manners and I have been messaging back and forth for a bit now.  He was initially blown away by one of my profile answers (and obviously my stunning beauty): Q; What do you spend a lot of time thinking about? My A; Why people from New England are not called New English.  Obviously he is whip-smart for appreciating my biting wit.

Anyway, we went back and forth about my charm and good looks and finally made a date for drinks this Wednesday evening.  He seems like a sweet, funny guy who I need not describe other than: he is the kind of guy who simultaneously sports 5 o'clock shadow, a flannel and a hoodie.  On formal occasions it appears he wears a flannel and a v-neck sweater.  I'm pretty proud of my drawing of Mr. Manners, not because of my shining tallent, but rather because, image-wise, he's very easy to get down on colored tagboard with a sharpie.  He's kind of the Odie of OKCupid.

First Date: Joe Edition

Pro: Punctual

Con: Didn't say please and thank you to the waitress
Pro: Jovial
Con: borderline creepy dating record
Pro: He gave me a sweet-ass business card
Con: He's a little obnoxious
Pro: He's into high-fiving
Con: He had two cigarettes during our date and was consequently smelly*
Pro: I wasn't repulsed by the thought of making out with him
Con: I didn't particularly want to make out with him


*according to Joe, he only smokes when he drinks, but still, ew.


I had legitimate fun on this date, but that could be attributable to slight desperation on my part and a decent level of intoxication on both our parts.  He asked me out again for next weekend and I think I said ok but I'm not super stoked about it.

I'm feeling pretty discouraged for some reason right this mo.  I might need a bit of a break from these weirdos, and lets admit it, I'd probably be doing some good for the online dating community if I removed a few ounces of crazy for a few weeks.

All About Joe: Bad-Drawing Ressurection

Joe.

I have recently been lucky enough to receive OKCupid messages from two decent-to-attractive gents.  However, in both cases, they have not replied to my reply.  Instead, I have received an initial message and several replies from a very large (tall and big from what I can tell, not particularly fat?) average looking fellow, Joe.  Joe happens to have terrible spelling skills, which is an acceptable trait - in 1984! when we didn't have spell check!  Jeez, spell check your profile and 2 sentence messages, fella.

Anyway, I overlooked this horrific flaw and we exchanged witty pleasantries several times until he suggested we meet for drinks in the near future.  I am babysitting tomorrow evening (I expect my sister to give me extra AAPs [Awesome Auntie Points] for Saturday night babysitting) and had no plans this (Friday) evening.  However, upon entering South Station to head home from work I was forced to make plans: with me, my couch and the box of thin mints I purchased from some young pigtailed ladies in the T-station.  So, I told Joe that this weekend wasn't going to work, but any other time would pretty much work (to be honest, I told him as much before the thin mint purchase, but I like to take artistic license to make myself sound more pathetic).  He suggested next Friday and offered to venture into my neighborhood for drinks.  I have to say, I get pretty stoked when dudes immediately offer to come to me instead of either suggesting I trek to their hood or we meet on neutral ground.  Anyone who unwittingly fosters my laziness is A-Ok in my book!  Anyway, we exchanged numbers and I took on the serious responsibility of making the plans.  We have a drink-date a week from today in sweet, sweet Somerville.

The other (one-time?) suitors and a BigRed update:

The Internet if Full of Flakes, and, I Have Things to Say About an Article

So, my internet dream-boat (read: reasonably attractive, non-terrible person) Schmidt sent me a very disappointing text this evening in which he informed me that he is like every other interwebs-dating dufus: a huge flake.  I asked Schmidty to go to a show with me this coming Thursday evening, and he accepted this offer.  This evening he sent me a very apologetic text informing me that his "best bud from Chicago is playing" at the same time as the show he agreed to attend with me and that takes precedence.  While I am disappointed that he is bailing on our plans, at the same time, my internet-dating-ruined brain couldn't help but think, "Hey, he was very apologetic, gave me plenty of notice to find an alternative companion, and even offered to pay for his ticket in the event I could not do as much, what a gentleman."  Considering I dated a douchebag who regularly bailed on our plans for no reason other than he didn't feel like going, Schmidt seems like a Prince.  So, hopefully he will accept my suggested pennance and we will hang out another night.  And, he should be supper jeal-y as my new roommie and I will be seeing Harmontown together this Thursday :).

In other news, my other roommate brought a very interesting article to my attention from a little-known paper and internet publication.  I highly recommend reading it, especially if you are a single lady or lass in your mid-twenties to mid-thirties, but in sum, it postulates that courtship is dead and all single creatures of our generation just hang out and hook up and no one goes on dates.  The article goes on to suggest many reasons for and results of this supposed trend.  I think its an enourmous generalization based on a few young'uns in NYC and doesn't particularly correlate with my experience.  In the past few months I've gone on several "drink" dates and two dinner dates.  Personally, I prefer a drink date as it is much more flexible and allows the option of leaving at almost any time, whereas dinner requires a civilized person to, at the very least, scarf down a meal before making an exit.  I will also note that this article is obviously ill-researched as it doesn't mention the pre-eminent online-dating blog of 2013: Plentyofokstupidmatches.blogspot.com.  Duh.

Hopefully there will be a rescheduled date with Mr. Schmidt soon.  My roommie and I will surely enjoy ourselves on our date this week either way.

I Don't Know How to Talk to You: In Which I Go On A Date With a Dick

I have gone out on weird dates, internets.  I have gone out with weirdos, I have choked (literally) and I have chit-chatted my out of of awkwardness.  I have also watched thousands of television siutational-comedies (aka, sit-coms) where-in ladies go out with dicks.  Well, as of tonight, January 11, the year of our Lord 2013, I have now gona on a date with a dick.

This was the weirdest, most combative date I've ever been on.  This feller, BigRed, weirdly confronted me on every little thing I said, and then, on the rare occasion where I couldn't hold my tongue and called him out, he just said, "what? I'm just fucking with you!"  This kept happening, drink after drink (ok, for just 2 drinks).  By the time the waitress came to ask if we wanted another (our 3d) drink, I said yes for one reason, and one reason only: to see what other crazy shit this dude would say so I could tell you fools about it.  Well, the weird, contfontrational shit kept going.  This chap even went on to more or less mock me about what he percieved to be my "eagerness" to go out earlier this week.  This whole 2 hours/3 drinks we spent together came off, to me, as a man desperate to defend every sentence he uttered, including things said then, previously, and in the future. Also, I got the distinct impression that he severely disliked me. It was weird as weird can be.*  

First Date: About to go out/bad news edition

Skeptical Lauren

So, I'm going out with BigRed shortly.  Our initial plan was to meet in the nearest Sville Square at 8 p.m. (it is now 8:10 p.m.).  Then it got pushed to 8:30.  Now, he's thinking 9.  I moved the location approximately 0.5 mi. closer to my residence to accommodate for his pre-date douchebaggery.


Now, I understand that sometimes things happen and someone is late.  I also realize that sometimes people fall asleep at 6 p.m. and fail to follow through on previously made plans.  But, someone doing both of these in the span of four days, combined with the demise of my last relationship being directly related to similar actions, does not equal happy Lauren (see below).  So, I am going to meet him at a very nearby bar in, supposedly, about half an hour, but I'm not stoked about it.  He is not beyond redemption, but (I'm really, really sorry in advance for what I'm about to type) lets just say he must overcome a rebuttable presumption that he's a douche.

Happy Lauren

I'll be sure to let you know how it goes, but lets just say I have 2/3 of a bottle of wine sitting here awaiting my return.  Also, check back for more details about the Schmidt developments of the past several days.

BigRed: Timeline, and Schmidt: Update

So BigRed and I are going out Friday.  A timeline which captures the relevant events which led to this date follows:

Between January 2011 and March 2012: My douchbag ex made an awesome habit of falling asleep on the couch and thereby standing me up (among other asshole behavior).*

Several weeks ago (maybe 3?): I OKCupid messaged BigRed because he seemed normal and one of his profile pictures featured his giant cute floppy-looking dog.  Also, he lives nearby me and I'm way lazy.

An unfortunate theme of my dating life: naps

Between Xmas and New Years: sparse OKCupid Messaging about nothing in particular, then nada

Approximately January 3: I hadn't heard from the Red but I could see he was checking out my profile so I messaged and said Happy New Year!

Approximately January 4: He replied and said Touche, and I have no idea why.

Approximately January 5: I recommended we get a drink sometime.

All About Schmidt: First Date Edition

Schmidt somewhat resembles his name-sake, Schmidt, from New Girl.  I
chose this particular picture because I am obviously a beautiful model,
like his TV love interest, pictured here.  

So I went on a kind of last minute date last night with Schmidt.  We had been chatting on OKCupid a bit and on Saturday afternoon he suggested we grab drinks that evening.  And so we did, in my neighborhood.  

Prior to meeting, I was thinking perhaps Schmidt would not be super interested in me because his profile suggested he was tall and relatively attractive and several years younger than me.  After meeting, I was SURE he wouldn't be interested in me, he's tall, relatively attractive and skinny.  Note: thin and young is basically the opposite of "my type."  I have dated exclusively older chaps, and they've all been on the bigger side.  Now Schmidt, I am confident I weigh more than.  I am not a small person, so such a comparison wouldn't suggest this kid has an eating disorder or something, he's just a thin dude.  On top of him being attractive and thin, I also got the immediate impression he wasn't super interested in standing in a semi-crowded bar and speaking with me.  Either he was nervous initially, or my amazing charm and wit convinced him to look past my enormity and hideous appearance (I'm exaggerating, I'm kind of normal sized and kind of average looking).  While we were having a nice conversation that I was enjoying, I still felt the Schmidt-ster wasn't dying to make out with me, so, being a gracious date, I gave him several opportunities at the first bar we visited to dip out.  That first bar became even more crowded so I suggested we find someplace more pleasant to chat and drink.  (Note, another great opportunity for him to end our evening together, but he said he'd like to try another place)  

I'm Back, Bitches!

Just made out with an attractive fellow.  Way to make a comeback, me!

Details to follow.

Happy New Year!