Follow Up: Defining the Relationship, or Rather, Non-Relationship

A couple of you were kind enough to comment on last week's post and praised Jamie's succint rejection of Josh. In the same breath, you also criticized me for my inability to follow suit. But that's ok - I totally agree with you. I am a coward in this area!

On the plus side, though, I tend to end up with funny stories to share with others (and write about in this blog) as a result of my middle-school behavior. And, turns out, I'm not the only one who doesn't like to define the non-relationship.

My experience with Cory and the embarassing situation at O'Sullivans (where I unsuccessfully tried to hide my face behind my scarf, a girl's back and finally the collar of my jacket to avoid being recognized) was bad - but my friend Julia's got me beat on the mortification factor.

In college, we spent a summer in London, and after spending the second half of the trip hanging out with Matt, she finally went on a date with him when we got back to school. Except, turned out she really only liked him as a friend (and she was busy being infatuated with her eventual husband who she met at the same time). In Julia's words:

So Matt was the proverbial "nice guy" -- nice, funny, but not exactly Heath Ledger (who's always been my fav). We became good friends when we studied abroad together, and upon returning home, he asked me out. I thought to myself, "Why do
nice guys always have to finish last?" and set out to change the world by saying
yes.

The night of our date came, and I decided to wear slacks and a nice shirt -- an in-betweenly dressy outfit because I wasn't sure where we were going. I opened my dorm room door to find Matt in jeans, a T-shirt and dirty tennis shoes. Uh-oh, I was overdressed, but, seriously, at least a polo to impress a girl on a first date would have been nice.

He took me to a hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean place, which had good food but not good first-date atmosphere. Afterward, we played bocce ball on the lawn in front of my dorm, which turned out to be a fun post-dinner activity.

We talked and laughed, but I still wasn't feeling "the vibe." I had conveniently made plans after the date as an escape clause, so I mentioned it was time to go. He walked me to my car, and as I proceeded to awkwardly end the date with a handshake (yeah, I'm lame, I know), he swooped in for the kiss.

There's no way to describe that kiss besides that I thought a salamander was in my mouth. All I could think was "Get it out!"

Not that Matt himself was horrible. It could have been my own mortification that made the kiss weird, but we just didn't click.

But rather than just giving Matt the "let's just be drinking buddies" spiel, Julia instead became very, very busy in the next several weeks.

To further put a nail in his dating coffin, I had met my now-husband the night before my date with Matt, and I ran into him at the party I went to with friends after our dinner / bocce ball evening.

There was no hanky panky going on there, but, unlike my experience with Matt, I felt the vibe right away.

When Matt called a few days later to try to set up date No. 2, I made up an excuse. When he called later on, I let it go to voicemail and never called back.

There was just one problem - Matt, like the rest of us, was a journalism major. And rather than stalking Julia incessantly with text messages (crazy I know, but this was back before we were all attached to cell phones), he chose to write a column about it in the Maneater, Mizzou's student newspaper.

Framing it as a how-to guide about blowing him off, Matt shared with the entire student body (around 27,000 at the time) exactly how he felt about the situation in "Hey girls, don't let Pierson happen to you."

The column was clearly based on his experience with me, and I was ashamed and embarrassed. I should have just done the mature thing and told him it wasn't going to work, but I thought I was sparing his feelings by not saying outright: "Matt, I don't want to be with you and your salamander tongue."

Guess not.

So I'm not the only one with problems.

Scraping Bottom

Yep, it's official. I am now scraping bottom of the dating barrel.

I actually looked at someone on Monday, who I would never normally date and who's definitely off limits, and thought "Hmmm...I wonder what it would be like to be in a relationship with him?"

It is very definitely time to try Match.com...again.

I've been on a bit of a hiatus from online dating because - ok, excuse time now - I broke my foot last July on my first day of vacation in Italy and used it as an excuse to eat everything in sight. By the time I was able to run again, it was the holiday season, and I think we all know how that ususally works out, even for those with the best intentions.

Moral of the story is, I've been a bit scared of blind dates because I'm not sure my pictures match the real me at the moment. But that's all finally changing. I'm running Grandma's Marathon in June again this year, which puts me smack in the middle of the training program right now. And even better, this week I've actually STARTED the training. So, I'm giving myself a deadline.

I have until April 15 to shape up, and then it's back to fishing in the online dating pond.

Watch out boys...I'm going to be back before you know it

And in the meantime, I still have lots of other funny stories to write about. Here's a sneak peak: The Dating Radius, Lei Boy, The Year of the Lobster and many, many more. So keep reading!

Defining the Relationship, or Rather, Non-Relationship

In college, whenever one of the girls started to see a new guy, we’d laughingly begin to ask after a few dates (or drunken encounters at various house parties) if they’d had the DTR yet. The Defining the Relationship talk.

We’d get all excited and giggly about the prospect of someone’s soon-to-be new boyfriend. However, since school ended and the real world began, particularly the part where we’ve embraced the online dating concept, more often than not we seem to be Defining the Non-Relationship.

As my friends and I take turns regaling each other with stories about our many bad dates, each one worse than the last, the common thread is almost always, the boy wants to go out again. Although we spend many, many phone calls commiserating over our shared inability to find “The One,” we’re at least able to console ourselves with the fact that there are guys interested - just not the ones we like.

My friend Jamie is a case in point. She's recently been testing out PlentyofFish.com, and finally decided to meet up with someone, even though it involved traveling to the dreaded Bethesda (I'm sorry, but there's just no easy way to get there from Arlington!).

A couple of drinks later, followed by a parking ticket and the awkward hug good-bye, Jamie was on her way home again without having made a "Loooooove Connection."

But the next day, her inbox was home to the following:

Jamie,

It was nice to finally meet you in person.

I liked the way you looked into my eyes unwaveringly. The eyes are the windows to the soul. What did you see in mine? I'm interested to hear what you thought of me in person. You seem like a legitimately good person.

I'd like to see you again sometime, but in a different setting. Maybe I could show you around Great Falls if we have a nice weekend when we're both free. We could share our gratitude of nature as we walk through the trails along the Potomac.

How's that sound to you?

Josh

Thus the need for the Non-Relationship Talk. When I'm the one that has to give the speech, it typically involves a conversation where I say things like "Oh, I'd love to get together again, but I'm traveling for work this week...and next." Or, more likely, I just ignore my phone for days at a time to avoid having to explain the feelings are not mutual. He usually gets the message after the third unreturned text.

Clearly, I have a problem with having the non-break-up talk. I know I should just man up and tell it like it is, but my resolve always seems to break down somewhere between the dial tone and when the phone starts ringing, leaving me with awkwardy Cory-type moments.

I Think I'm Getting Old

I've reached a new low.

Last week on Friday night I decided to stay home and watch TV, rather than heading out on the town.

That in itself is bad enough - apparently, at the ripe old age of 26, the work week is just so exhausting that I have no energy left by the time the weekend rolls around. Instead, I now need a full 24 hours to rest up BEFORE hitting the bar. In my defense, this is the time of year when I travel a lot, and if I give it a few more weeks, I'm sure I'll return to my more lively, ready to rally at anytime self (I hope).

Anyway, it gets worse.

As I planned a blissful night with my DVR, catching up on such sophisticated television as "One Tree Hill," "Life Unexpected" and "The Bachelor," I decided a six-pack of my favorite hard cider and some cookies would really make the evening perfect.

I headed off to my local Giant in comfy sweatpants and favorite Mizzou sweatshirt, compromised with Woodchuck in place of Hornsby's (which this store apparently does not carry - mental note for next time), and headed to the register, grabbing the new US Weekly on the way (Vienna & Jake: Dark Secrets!).

The cashier rang up all my loot and - GASP - did NOT card me! How can this be? The grocery store always requests an id for booze - I think the birth date actually has to be entered into the computer to finish the sale.

Am I really so old and haggard that my being of legal drinking age is no longer even slightly questionable? Seriously?

This does not bode well for the chances of my aging gracefully. I think I need to go look up the latest on Botox - stat.

Repeat Sightings

Why is it that whenever I'm deliberately stalking someone, hoping to "conveniently" run into him at some local watering hole, I never seem to be in the same place at the same time? And yet, it never fails that when I have no desire to ever set sight on someone again, there he is?

There must be some law of physics to explain this, and perhaps if I hadn't been the girl to set almost everything on fire during my science class experiments I might know what it was (seriously, it's a miracle I passed ninth grade physical science without burning down the school).

In any case, you'll never guess who I saw on Friday. Drumroll please....that's right, the Teletubby!

Apparently, he not only hangs out in Arlington during massive blizzards, but also now travels as far as Tysons Corner for lunch - at Chipoltle to be exact.

And how incredibly apropos since I had just been telling a co-worker about this blog as we walked into the building.

Let me back up....for those of you who are not familiar with my Teletubby drama, you can read the whole story here.

There we were, a group of eight of us chowing down on our burritos, when I looked up to see him heading to a nearby table. Other than the sheer shock of running into him in such an unexpected place (he works in DC and lives in Springfield), it was actually a bit of a novelty to be able to point him out to some of the people that had previously read about him.

Luckily, he didn't notice me, but I had the "privilege" of walking out behind him and noticing once again just how impressively big he looks - definitely good "big spoon" potential. Tear.

As the saying goes, when it rains it pours, and apparently that's the case with unwanted "bad date" sightings because I also came across the horrible first kiss guy on Saturday at Clarendon Grill.

The place was packed with excited Journey fans who wanted to hear the cover band Frontiers, and I was suffering from a mild case of claustrophobia. You were lucky if you could manage to make it to the bar, much less keep track of who you came with (I had to search long and hard to find my roommate after a trip to the John Girl room), but of course, I had no problem running into the one person I'd rather run away from.

When I saw him outside, I did a bit of a double-take. "I know that guy," I thought. But it took me a second to place him. And then, it all came flooding back. His disgusting tongue thrusting into my mouth - repeatedly. Ewwwwww!!!! Again, who does that on a first date?

Thankfully, luck was still in my corner and I managed to turn away before he saw me.

Have I really run out of men to date in DC already?