DATE DIARY - Chicago Edition

Ski Trip!

2012-01-20T12:20:00.003-05:00

Ski trips and I have a great track record (see "Leaving on a Jet Plane" - and there’s a lot more to that story than what’s posted), and for the last year I’d been looking for a buddy to join me in hitting the slopes with one of the local ski clubs in Chicago (yes, I hate doing this kind of stuff alone, which is why I had to find a friend to go with me – and lost a year of skiing in the process!).

Luckily, my new running buddy likes cold-weather sports, too, and we couldn’t wait to spend a weekend at Granite Peak with a bus-load of what I was sure were going to be new lifelong friends!

We boarded the coach bus on Friday night, armed with a bottle of wine and several beers to help us survive the 4.5-hour ride to the “mountain” (it’s the Midwest – we use the term loosely around here).

I didn’t want to be overly pushy as I made my new friends, so we chose a seat toward the front figuring we’d have all weekend to get to know people. What we DIDN’T know was that the six middle-aged couples surrounding us were going to be the rowdiest crowd on the bus – and by that I mean DRUNK. No doubt if we’d been at a bar, I would have thought they were hilarious, but in a confined space the 50-something guy that was going up and down the aisle to hit on girls while his wife yelled stories to anyone who would listen rapidly lost its amusement factor.

Somehow, Kelly and I managed to make it to the hotel without bitch-slapping anyone, and piled onto the elevator with all our gear…and three very cute boys!

“Party in room 327,” we called to them as we all separated down the hallway, and as an aside I told Kelly, “THAT’s who we’re hanging out with this weekend.”

We were slow to get moving on Saturday, but that was ok since we had big plans for the evening. Once we got to the lift, we spent some time getting our “ski legs” on the bunny slope, before bouncing around the mountain with several pit stops for beer and hot chocolate – I forgot how COLD skiing in the Midwest can be.

All in all an uneventful day until it was time to après. Kelly, being the social butterfly she is, conveniently snagged us a prime viewing spot in the bar next to a friendly older gentleman we could chat the time away with until something better opened up.

An hour later, we were comfortably ensconced at the same table as a group of guys (NOT the same as in the hotel – we’ll call this Group #2) we’d been eyeing earlier in the day – at the time trying to figure out why they weren’t eyeing back. Turns out, they were much friendlier after skiing, and we were quickly fast friends.

In the interest of transparency, I should probably mention that I think they were all about 22, but we weren’t exactly being picky at that moment! As we continued to flirt, I was itching to do a couple night-skiing runs, but Kelly was done for the day and these guys all had their boots off.

Lucky me, but who should I notice at the table next to us? Group #1 of guys from the night before – and they’d been joined by the guy that I’d thought was VERY cute on the bus. Even better – their boots were still on and I was a few beers in, which allowed me to casually invite myself along for their next several runs. By the time we hit the lift, we were all fast friends, and becoming even more so thanks to an illicit bottle of Jim Beam.

After an exhilarating hour of buzzed skiing (don’t try this anywhere but the Midwest!) and chatting up my new friends, we all headed back to the hotel where it was time to hit the…you guessed it…HOT TUB!

Kelly and I headed down, well swaddled in our towels to limit the view of our shark-bait-white bodies, and slipped quickly in the wonderfully warm water. The numbers were in our favor –did I mention that we’d invited Group #2 back with us??? – and we were quickly SURROUNDED by boys. Yep, us two girls and eight guys in a hot tub that has a capacity limit of eight. BIG SMILE.

What’s not to love about this situation? Just one thing – it was decision-time. With so many choices, who should we cozy up with? And this was where it got a bit tricky – Group #2 were headed back to Green Bay that night, but they also seemed a bit more interested. On the other hand, Group #1 had long-term potential – these were my new lifelong friends who I wanted to spend every weekend skiing with!

Ohhh, the pros and cons of each – and trying to weigh them after several sips from that pesky Jim Beam bottle!

Luckily, it was easy to immediately rule out one of the boys from Group #2. No boy over the age of 12 should be seen in public wearing bikini briefs – even if they are black rather than the oh-so-not-attractive tighty whitey variety! Ugh – I’m still grimacing at the memory.

With options narrowed down, the choice was eventually made when one of the boys from Group #2 settled in next to me in the hot tub and quickly got cuddly. Remember – only 22, but I wasn’t being picky! Things were getting a bit steamy in the testosterone-filled tub so I hit the pool to cool off and the boy followed – along with his other friends, including Bikini Briefs.

At this point, things somehow deteriorated into a bellyflop contest, once Bikini Briefs demonstrated he didn’t know how to do one (a demo I certainly DON’T want to watch again). After sharing my own spectacular technique, I found myself in the arms of the cuddly one from the hot tub, and next thing I knew we were enjoying a very nice, PG make-out session.

After putting on a show for a minute or two, I looked up to see that Kelly was making her own luck with one of the boys from Group #1 – she definitely chose better than I did, as the following day she had a nice cuddle-buddy on the bus back to Chicago! Apparently, though, I left the cuddly one grinning ear-to-ear. Kissing is so much fun!

Finally, Group #2 decided to pack up and head home – and I wasn’t exactly sad to see them go. For one thing, I did not want to deal with the awkwardness of them hanging around all evening! And for another, I did NOT want to discuss sleeping arrangements later. Making out with a 22-year-old, yes, other stuff – not so much. Turns out, though, they left because the boy Kelly was talking to “killed it” for them – they couldn’t deal with the competition! Hilarious!

All in all, a very successful ski trip – and the slopes weren’t bad either!

Talking vs. Texting

2012-01-19T17:13:00.004-05:00

It’s no secret that new technology has caused the rules of dating to change. From Facebook stalking to texting, we’re a long way from “courting.” Although it’s not one of my favorite movies, there’s one scene I love in “He’s Just Not That Into You” where Drew Barrymore’s character wonderfully illustrates the change in dating as she bemoans the use of Myspace, Facebook, voicemail, email and all the other new modes of communication.

In theory, a guy definitely scores major points for calling, rather than texting. But, here’s the thing - I LIKE texting. Especially when it’s someone I don’t know very well. Since I’ve moved to Chicago and no longer spend an hour a day commuting, I talk on the phone a lot less – to my BEST friends. Why would I want to spend what little time I have making awkward conversation with someone I may not have even met yet (at least not sober)?

In my mind, texting is like those little candy hearts people give on Valentine’s Day – but all year long. It’s a quick hit to let someone know you’re thinking about them – which will put a smile on my face for the rest of the day – without having to find 30 minutes to chat about the weather. Don’t misunderstand me – texting should NOT replace the phone, but I think it’s a nice, flirtation complement to more traditional modes of communication.

This topic came up thanks to one of the two dates I mentioned in my last post. We connected through Match.com right before Christmas, and due to holiday schedules made plans to get together once things had died down. After exchanging a couple of emails, the guy suggested I give him a call. WHAT?! How forward!

First of all, I’d made the initial contact, so if anyone was going to make calls, it should have been him as I’d already stepped up to the plate. Secondly, talking to a stranger I hadn’t even met while at my parents’ house? Ugh. Thirdly, weren’t we both busy enough with family obligations that week?????

And finally, and most importantly, why would I want to invest the time in phone conversations when I knew there was a very good chance I’d meet the guy in person and realize immediately that I’d be counting down the minutes until I could gracefully end the date – never to speak to him again?

Pessimistic, yes, but also realistic. It’s not that I didn’t hope that I’d want to hang out many, many times after I met the guy, but based on my track record with Match.com dates, I knew this was unlikely – at least, enough so that I no longer want to put too much effort into things before the first date.

In any case, I did NOT take him up on his invitation to call, and the week after the holidays found us setting up a time to get together. At this point we did exchange a couple of texts about meeting details, but sadly, nothing flirtatious happening there – just straight coordination.

The day of our date finally arrived, and I actually went to the trouble of putting on not only my usual make-up, but even eyeliner! At this point we’d been talking via email for about three weeks, and to be honest, most of the excitement for me was gone. I’m all about the momentum in new relationships, and felt like it was long gone, but I was ready to start 2012 off with a bang and was certainly happy to be meeting someone new.

Except he canceled! Three hours before the date! He begged off claiming he was stuck at work, which didn’t bother me at all, as I’m guilty of that far more than I should be. BUT, he said he’d call that weekend to arrange another time – again with the phone call! Apparently, I wasn’t going to be able to meet the guy without talking to him on the phone first.

Turns out my anxiety over making small talk was all for naught – because he NEVER called. All that effort in emails and making plans…all wasted. Good thing I didn’t make a point of finding the time for a few awkward phone calls!

Not One, But TWO Dates

2012-01-07T16:34:00.001-05:00

It’s a new year, and in the spirit of starting off on the right foot, one of my resolutions is to meet more people. I’m off to a good start with two dates in the next week!

The only problem is that both guys asked ME to pick the place….grrrr! Generally speaking, I really prefer that the guy choose the location for the first date a) because even though I always offer to pay, typically I expect him to and want it to be somewhere he’s comfortable doing that, b) if someone suggests something that’s not your run-of-the-mill activity like ice skating I’m immediately smitten, and c) I apparently don’t get out enough in Chicago because I still struggle to suggest where to go for a drink, beyond the couple spots I got with co-workers.

If I was in DC, this wouldn’t be a problem. Four Courts was my SPOT. The Irish pub was perfect – busy enough that you didn’t feel weird, but quiet enough to hear each other talk. And, most importantly, they served Strongbow, my fave drink of choice!

Funnily enough, I’m pretty sure I was introduced to the place by a guy that picked it for our first date back in the day, but I quickly adopted it as my own.

In Chicago, though, I’m at a loss. If we’re meeting after work, it’s easiest to stay downtown but other than Jake Melnick’s and Mike Ditka’s, both of which are literally around the corner from my office, I just don’t even know what the options are…which ultimately ends up revealing to potential dates just how little I’ve been drinking lately. Ugh.

On the plus side, according to one of my upcoming dates, my lack of knowledge about the downtown area isn’t surprising.

“Bars downtown close at like 9 no one hangs out in the loop area,” he texted (lack of punctuation and all).

So guess I’m excused there! But, my other date suggested I pick a place near where I live in Lincoln Park – which is even worse! I know the couple bars near my house where I can grab a beer, but I have no idea what the “cool” places are to hang out, much less what would be a good spot for a first date.

The worst part is, the location can set the tone for the entire date. And not only that, it’s going to give them an idea of where I hang out (or more likely, where I’m clearly NOT spending time), allowing them to judge me before we’ve even got a beer in front of us.

Dating has become so fraught with pitfalls! If you’ve got any ideas of places that I could turn into my new first date place, PLEASE send them my way!

The New Love of My Life

2012-01-06T12:12:00.002-05:00

That’s right, I’m in LOVE…the dreamy, toe-tingling, can’t get enough of you, never wanting to let you go, cuddle all night, absolutely trusting kind of love…with my BED!

Ok, so maybe it’s not perfect – at only 3 ft. high it’s a bit vertically challenged, and at 5 ft. wide it has trouble fitting through doors for a night on the town – but it never disappoints. Each morning as I reluctantly leave the comfort of my soft, organic cotton, 325-thread count sheets, I begin to count the hours until I can sink back into the unique pillow-top design of my Westin Heavenly mattress. And when the day ends and I can finally pull my luxurious comforter up over my shoulders, a feeling of absolute bliss washes over me.

My faith in my bed is unshakeable – I KNOW it will always be there for me (and after paying to ship it from DC, it better be!). As I snuggle in to its comforting embrace, I feel safe, secured and loved – what you’re SUPPOSED to experience in a committed relationship, right?

Sure, it’s not all rainbows and butterflies, and like any relationship, compromises do have to be made. For instance, spooning can be a bit more difficult, but we get by just fine with some extra pillows and the help of my teddy bear. And as I mentioned, I’m still stuck having dinner alone – but how is that so different than with a boyfriend that regularly works late.

All in all, seems like a pretty satisfying pairing to me. But, not to worry – I haven’t gone completely bonkers and given up dating or anything. In fact, I’ve got dates lined up with two different men next week!

Oh My God, I Love Your Accent, Where Are You From?

2011-08-30T18:00:00.000-04:00

That was the tagline on the profile of my one and only Match.com date in the last six weeks.

Intriguing, though, to be sure. Further investigation revealed this gentleman to be 28, educated, solidly employed (with a salary of $75,001-$100,000 no less, although I do not understand why some people actually list that) and a lack of kids (lets face it, this is NOT a given anymore!).

Another bonus: The guy can write and clearly has a sense of humor, as his "recent passions include creating iPhone applications, mastering my Spaghetti Bolognese recipe, completing 100 push ups in a row and jumping from wake to wake while wake-boarding."

But the most exciting thing - you didn't forget that accent, did you? - He's from Ireland! Which, admittedly, was a lot more exciting until I thought to check a map and remembered that Ireland, unfortunately, is NOT part of the UK. Why does this matter? Because I desperately want to move to London, and as a kindly alum from the University of Missouri recently pointed out in response to a query for advice, my best hope of doing this is to marry a Brit.

So, convinced this was going to be my future husband (I hadn't checked the map yet), I happily agreed to meet him for a drink.

We initially agreed on Rockit Bar, which immediately had me questioning my future husband's choice of hang-outs. Although I've never been there, for some reason I have this picture in my head of it as a d-bag magnet, so my excitement was mildly dimmed over by the idea that this was his go-to first date spot.

Luckily, he texted a couple of hours before we were to meet and suggested a change of venue to McCormick & Schmicks - things were looking up! Granted, this brought up concerns (which turned out to be very real) that he'd want to do dinner instead of just drinks, and I always prefer to stick with just a beverage on the first night, but on the flip side I figured he must have re-thought just how excited he was to meet me.

I happily walked the short distance from work to the restaurant, convinced this would be a match made in heaven that I would be recounting years later for our kids and grandkids.

SCREEEEEEEECHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Or so the daydream in my head went the moment I met Ireland boy. I should have known that anyone whos posts only a single picture with their profile, and one that's truly a "profile pic" at that, isn't very likely to make me weak at the knees. "But looks aren't everything," I firmly told myself. And it's true - I really do think a person gets more attractive the more you get to know them.

But then he opened his mouth - and sadly, while a very pleasant person, we just did NOT click. To make things worse, as we were making awkward small talk about what to order (he clearly had no idea how expensive the restaurant was and quickly settled on a bowl of soup!), I had a sudden flashback of a near perfect date at the same restaurant (read about it here).

Needless to say, my hopes of being married and living in London this time next year have been squashed. Oh, well. There's always the company exchange program!

A Different Breed Of Men

2011-08-24T15:30:00.000-04:00

In a recent meeting at work, someone described the social media voice of a client as a Midwestern cross between the Brawny man and Conan O'Brien – except, apparently the client disagreed with the picture that was presented. Supposedly, the strapping young men in the area aren’t as attractive as what we put forward.

To which I thought, “WHAT?!” Who wears flannel better than a homegrown, boy-next-door type from somewhere in the Minnesota, Iowa and Illinois triangle? (As a random side note, check out one of my favorite YouTube videos here, in which flannel is prominently featured during a parody of Katy Perry's California Gurls.)

However, the client had a point - there does seem to be something a little off with the boys in Chicago. Specifically, a lack of interest in girls. Or at least me!

In an attempt to meet new people when I first moved here last year, I quickly joined Match.com - but despite dozens of winks and emails to the "supposedly" eligible bachelors (I'm convinced some of the better-looking possibilities are actually dummy profiles that have been planted to help keep you interested) in my area, I ended up with only a single date over the course of a month. Some of you may think this is all that can be expected from online dating, and that in fact, a single date with a decent guy in four weeks is actually a good track record.

However, I know better. When my roommates and I were at the height of our Match.com-ing in DC (think Monday nights spent on the couch with our laptops open to better compare potential matches while watching The Bachelor), I would occasionally have two to three dates - per week!

At the time, I chalked it up to the fact that we were in the middle of the holiday season. After all, from a strategic perspective, who wants to risk the possibility of having to Christmas shop for someone you've only known two weeks?

But now that it's August, and I'm having the same problem, I realize there must be something more going on. You could make the argument that during the summer, everyone is out and about happily meeting (and hooking-up) easily enough between happy hours, weekends at the beach, etc. Except that summer is winding down, and still no uptick in dates. And it's not just dates - it's responses in general. In the last six weeks, I've had a total of four qualified men email or wink at me (and by qualified, I do not mean they meet all my standard criteria - only that they're under the age of 40, and relatively nearby!).

So what gives? Are the men in Chicago just not as active in the online dating scene? Definitely a possibility, given that so many in this city seem to have moved here as a group with their college friends, limiting the necessity to expand their social circle (as opposed to DC, where everyone's looking for new partners-in-crime). But that can't be the only reason. If anything, there seem to be far more boys - particularly cute and gainfully employed ones - on the site in Chicago than there were out East.

Which leaves me to wonder what's the story? Is Match.com in this city a hoax? Is eHarmony the way to go (if you can get through that questionnaire, more power to you!)? Are the men here really aliens disgused to look like nice Midwesterners?

Please share your theories - I really want to know! And I'll keep you posted on any new clues I discover as I sleuth around the Windy City.

On The Prowl Again

2011-08-10T22:09:00.008-04:00

That's right, I said it - I'm ready to do some man-hunting! Granted, it's been awhile and my instincts may be a little rusty, but I'm ready to put them to the test.

But hold that thought - first, you have my sincerest apologies for the months of silence. Turns out that getting acclimated to a new city takes a lot out of you, and when I can't blog at work anymore - because I actually have WORK to do - it's a lot harder to find the time to write!

To bring you up to speed since I last filled you in, sadly, things with DMV Boy did not have a fairy tale ending. Sadly, DMV boy did not turn out to be a match made in heaven. As lovely as the story was of how we met, it just wasn't meant to be. He DID call (call, mind you, not text!) and we hung out several times - he even made me dinner and scored us tickets to Conan O'Brien's writers' show last fall. In the end, though, he was just a little too vanilla/Minnesota nice. I know - sounds horrible, right? I'm NOT looking for a bad boy! But unless there was alcohol involved, the conversation was far from scintillating, and when added to the fact that it took 45 minutes to get to his house on public transportation, I decided to cut my losses sooner rather than later. He remains a gchat friend, but we haven't met up in awhile.

Since then, a lot and yet nothing at all has happened. I'll let you in on a secret - one of the perks of leaving DC (in addition to an amazing job opportunity and the chance to live in the Windy City) was leaving behind a bit of heartbreak. A drastic change of location certainly helps a girl move on - until the boy in question suddenly reappears again. Too make a very long story short, a relationship I thought I had left behind with all my furniture and other castoffs turned out not to be as over as I thought. Unfortunately, although this boy is someone I now consider to be a very dear friend, he remains the object of some unrequited affection. And although I've done my best to convince him otherwise, repeatedly stressing how CRAZY he must be for not wanting to give things a go, it's time to truly leave the past in the past.

Which leaves me ready to take Chicago by storm! To that end, I'm meeting and greeting all over the city. To further hedge my bets, I've also joined Match.com again - after all, 1 in 5 relationships now begin online (or so their ads proudly proclaim!). At the very least, I'm hoping to expand my circle of Midwestern friends. Although I love my co-workers, a girl occasionally needs some non-Type A, less than uber-organized, self-professed "not" planning fiends to hang out with on the weekends.

So keep reading in the coming months for what are sure to be some hilarious dating stories:).

I've Got a Date!

2010-06-04T17:56:00.005-04:00

Helloooooo Chicago!

I'm happy to report that dating prospects in the Windy City look good...VERY good. In fact, I was asked out less than 48 hours after moving to town. And, it happened in the cutest way. What more can a girl ask for?

Like any good law-abiding citizen, I headed to the DMV immediately after settling into my new apartment (ok, admittedly, I may have learned the hard way that it's far easier to deal with this stuff on the front end than to fix it later, but that's not the point).

And, like anyone that has a driver's license, I dreaded the visit to this office. In an attempt to limit the amount of time devoted to the less-than-pleasant experience, I hopped on the bus with my newly purchased CTA pass before 8am.

Unfortunately, it was raining. A lot. And I got lost. Thus, I spent twenty minutes wandering around downtown looking for the right building, well aware that my chances for a good driver's license picture were vanishing with every wrong turn.

Anyway, I eventually arrived at the DMV, bedraggled, but determined. I had done my research and had every document I could possibly need - and then some - to prove my new residency in Illinois. There was just one thing the multiple state, city and DMV websites failed to mention - they don't take Visa! Discover, Mastercard, Amex and check - all a-ok. But Visa, the most widely recognized credit card in the world, known for being accepted globally, is NOT a valid form of payment in th eyes of Chicago driving authorities.

Out I went back into the rain to track down two different ATMs before I could compile the necessary cash for the day's expensive transactions (seriously, $200 to transfer the title of my car!).

Finally, finally, I had everything I needed and all I had to do was wait for the office to open. Luckily, I was second in line. Thinking it might be a good idea to silence my cell phone to prevent any untimely interruptions, I pulled out my new Nokia and began to fiddle with it. Except, I could not for the life of me figure out how to put it on vibrate, or worse, turn it off. At this point, I turned to the guy next to me and laughingly explained my problem. With a grin, he was kind enough to help me out (I knew I had missed Midwesterners for a reason).

As we followed each other from station to station within the office, filling out the required paperwork, I eyed him up and down. My age, blond hair, runner's build, 5'11"ish and definitely cute.

Hmmm....this has possibilities, I thought. Granted, he was there to register his new moped, but since I didn't know anyone else in the city yet, it wasn't like I really had a ton of people knocking down my door to hang out.

And then it happened. In true Jerry Springer-style, proving perhaps every stereotype about government employees, the DMV erupted into a legitimate cat fight. Two of the clerks, at windows across the room from each other, began to scream back and forth about how neither knew how to do her job - and the rest of the employees took it in stride as though it was a regular occurrence!

While entertaining, this ridiculous situation also afforded me the opportunity to chat with DMV-boy. Turns out, he went to a neighboring high school in Minnesota! With great happiness, I concluded my business, but sadly turned to leave. I started to wave good bye, while wondering if I should ask him to get a cup of coffee, when he read my mind and asked ME if I wanted to go out sometime. The Chicago dating stars had aligned!

Even better, as he was getting my number, it was his turn in line, and he told the DMV clerk "Just a minute." The shock reverbrated around the room - someone was telling a state employee, a person who had the power to make his life miserable, just a minute?

"I'm trying to get a date here!" he said loudly.

Sigh. If this works out, it's going to be an adorable story for the grandkids.

Date Diary DC Relocates to Chicago

2010-05-05T15:49:00.003-04:00

That's right! Date Diary DC is about to become Date Diary Chicago!

I've recently accepted a new position in the Windy City, and will be moving there at the end of the week.

Look for updates as I get settled and learn my way around a whole new dating pool!

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

2010-03-24T09:00:00.004-04:00

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

2010-03-18T09:00:00.005-04:00

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

2010-03-15T12:58:00.012-04:00

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.
My (unpopular and yes, immature) theory is if we've only been out once, I shouldn't have to let you down gently. Didn't I mention that being able to read my mind was a requirement for the first date? You should just know that I don't want to go out again. (In all fairness, I think my signals for interest and non-interest are very clear, but I guess if you haven't seen one to compare the other to, you might not think the same thing.
Jamie, however, at 23 is far more adult than I am. She bit the bull by the horns and responded to him with:
Josh,

It was nice meeting you as well. You seemed very genuine and sincere, which I appreciate. However, I don't think we're on the same page and I don't want to lead you on by continuing to see you. I wish you the best.

Jamie
So much better, right? Apparently, wisdom doesn't always come with age.

I Think I'm Getting Old

2010-03-09T08:00:00.004-05:00

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

2010-03-07T20:53:00.012-05:00

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?

Delete

2010-02-05T09:17:00.010-05:00

I did it. I have officially deleted Charlie's number from my cell phone. No more drunk dialing, or worse, calling him on my way home from work when I have nothing to do.

A clean break is best, right?

Of course, I do still have his work number, and his new landline, in my phone book but I've only ever called those in emergencies. So that's not the same thing, right? I mean, I've still cut him out of my life. Even if I do have his cell phone number written down on a post-it and tucked inside my wallet.

Or, so I thought. No sooner had I deleted him, than he suddenly reached out to me. It's as if he has a sixth sense letting him know when I've reached the breaking point, and it's time to reel me back in.

And, of course, I fell for it. At least, the first two times. Which inevitably ends up with me going out of my way to meet him somewhere, having a great time, spinning all kinds of daydreams in my head the next day about why it's different now, and then crashing back to earth when it's not.

But now, I'm done. For good.

It's not that Charlie's a jerk (or any of the other far more hostile euphemisms my friends prefer to use). He's honestly a good guy - he just happens to be toxic for me (yes, as in a bubbling green goo that eats you from the inside out) because I've been unable to accept the classic "He's Just Not That Into You" situation he presents.

Regardless of whether I'm in a crush stage with Charlie at any given moment, at one point I considered him my best friend in DC, and I'm not ok with the transition we've made to casual acquaintances who hang out once a month.

Thus, the reason he's able to have such a mind-altering effect on my day. I'm always hoping "this time" it will be back to the way it was. But I know now, in the infinite wisdom gained from being shot down again and again over a year, that sometimes you can't fix things just because you want to.

Definitely a good thing he's been deleted. Good-bye, Charlie.

The Perfect Date

2010-02-02T11:47:00.004-05:00

Last week, Melissa Blake was kind enough to invite me to be a guest on her blog, "So about what I said," at

melissabxoxo.blogspot.com. Every Tuesday, she posts dating stories as part of her "Tales from the Trenches" and I wanted to share my story about the perfect date.

Three and a half years ago, fresh out of college and on my first day of work at my new job in, my co-worker told me I’d never have a problem getting a date in Washington, DC.

Finding someone I’d want to have a second date with, however, would prove far more difficult. I think that was likely the most accurate statement I’ve heard since I’ve been in the area.

As many first dates as I go on, there are so few I have any interest seeing again. And of those that I do, almost always the second date then leaves little room for discussion about a third.

And then, it happened…the most perfect first date. I was on a business trip to Manhattan a few weeks before Christmas when all the stars aligned for a single wonderful evening.

Having finished my meetings for the day, I tried to arrange dinner with a friend, but was left to twiddle my thumbs when she had to work late. Rather than sitting alone in the room that night (all of my TV shows had already gone on hiatus for the holidays), I decided to call someone I’d met the last time I was in town.

Brad was the funny guy at the bar when I was waiting out a rainstorm in July. We’d kept in touch, and amazingly, he had no plans for the night. He was not, though, the type of guy I had any sort of romantic interest in.*

We arranged a meeting place, and from there, the whirlwind began. Drinks and a shared burrito at a little Mexican place on the Upper West Side, followed by a walk in Central Park. As we watched the Zamboni machine clean the skating rink, we bemoaned the fact it was already closed, but consoled ourselves by moving onto an Irish pub.

Walking the city by night in December is truly a beautiful sight. And, as any girl who likes romantic comedies knows, it’s an unforgettable experience when done with someone of the opposite sex.

Realizing neither of us was ready to head home after another Guinness, we instead walked up Fifth Avenue to see the display at Saks, and more importantly, the tree at Rockefeller Center.

And as we stood looking at the twinkling icon, he kissed me.

Good food, good conversation and a night filled with visits to the types of landmarks you find only on the big screen - what more could a girl ask for only a few days before Christmas?

And yet, perhaps the best part of the evening was that there would be no second date. Instead, it was a single evening of fun and romance, without any pressure for it to lead somewhere else.

We still text occasionally, and both know we’ll never be more than friends. But Brad will always be the guy I shared one perfect evening with.

*Several people commented at melissabxoxo.blogspot.com that I wrote Brad off too quickly. It's true that my friends tease me about all my "criteria" for dates, but this was one of those "what happens on a business trip stays on a business trip" types of circumstances - it was never supposed to go anywhere!

Mice are for Men

2010-01-20T08:40:00.009-05:00

I like to think I'm a pretty handy girl. I have my own tool box and a black belt in Ikea furniture assembly. Hair balls in the shower drain, no problem (even when of the ridiculously disgusting variety). Removing unidentifiable objects from the refrigerator? Got it covered. And somehow I became my house's resident IT department.

Granted, I think single people should receive a 50 percent off discount when trying to buy a home (how am I supposed to afford the same mortgage that two incomes can?), but overall, I consider myself pretty self-sufficient.

Except when it comes to Mickey Mouse.

I live in a cute, charming house in a nice neighborhood in Arlington. There's just one little problem - we've been overrun with mice for a year. On the plus side, I wouldn't say we're infested. We typically only have one or two at a time...but it's all the time! Numerous phone calls to the exterminator have yet to yield results. Yes, there are now poison and traps everywhere, but the mice keep coming. Our handyman has been over every inch of the exterior filling in anything that looks like it might be an entry point - and every couple of weeks we still wake up to a lovely (read: incredibly gross) surprise in the kitchen.

Turns out, as independent as I like to think I am, I'm utterly incapable of dealing with dead mice. I tried - once - but the trauma just proved too great for me. While I'm our house's expert trap-setter, I have a complete meltdown if I have to deal with the results. When I attempted to remove the offending creature, with the aid of a shovel and grill tongs, the situation quickly deteriorated to the point of screams and tears, leaving me emotionally drained.

Which brings me to the theory that mice are for men.

These are not cute, cuddly creatures. They are nasty, disease-spreading, cookie-eating rodents who have no place inside the four walls of our house. Disposing of them should be the work of men - this is your chance to prove your manliness and ability to protect house and home. I've seen the state of the bathrooms that many of you use blissfully every day - manhandling this six-inch long pest should prove no problem for you.

And yet, when we called upon the male specimen residing in a separate apartment in our basement during one particularly disturbing encounter with Mickey this summer, he proved useless.

As usual, we had set traps the night before and when we woke up that morning, noticed one of them was missing. A quick e-mail chain to various offices established that no one had made the early morning trip to outside with a furry corpse.

"The trap must have gotten pushed behind the trash," we all agreed. Except, a thorough inspection of the kitchen that night revealed it was really and truly missing. As we looked around the floor in confusion, our attention slowly turned to the stove.

"A mouse couldn't possibly drag the trap, could it?" I asked nervously.

With a considerable amount of trepidation, I pulled the stove away from the counter and cautiously peered into the space I'd created.

"Ummm, ladies....found the trap," I said. "And it's been sprung."

Thinking this an ideal opportunity to contribute something in the clean-up department, I grabbed the specially-designated mouse broom and started to slide the little wood and metal device away from the cupboard wall so I could reach in and grab it.

Except...it was stuck. "Eeeek!" I screamed. "There's something on it!" Everyone gathered around debating what to do. Far braver than I, Lauren reached for the broom and tried to move the trap into the open again.

"It's not just stuck on something, the mouse is still alive!" She shrieked.

That did it - I was not cut out for this kind of work. Luckily, there happened to be a speed trap stationed right outside our front door that night. "Is this the kind of thing we can ask a cop for help with?" I asked, in all seriousness.

We concluded we weren't ready to look that helpless just yet, and instead went in search of Matt, our downstairs neighbor. He was happy to help us deal with the situation - but his version of help was simply to bang his hand against the side of the cupboard to scare the mouse out of its hiding place. No such luck, of course, and that was as far as Matt was willing to go on the chivalrous front.

Finally, Kimberley - a petite 5'2" former sorority girl - took matters into her own hands.

"This is ridiculous," she said. "Hold my feet - I'm going in." And with that, she grabbed the grill tongs (seriously, these things are useful for so much more than just maneuvering food) and threw half her body into the cavity between the stove and the counter.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "Bag!" And we quickly handed over the makeshift shroud so she could toss everything inside and bolt for the door.

When she reappeared, the rest of us were in awe.

I guess mice aren't for men - they're for very brave women. Good thing too, since we caught another one last night.

Teletubby Trouble

2010-01-19T13:51:00.007-05:00

I'm baaaaaack!

And I have more to write about than ever. For those of you who read this regularly (particularly my friend Julia's husband who was kind enough to complain the other day about the lack of new posts - good to know boys think my stories are as funny as girls do!), I'm so sorry for my absence. Between the holidays and work, it was difficult to find time to write, but never fear - the dating did not stop!

While there have been many adventures recently, perhaps one of the most interesting is the story of the Teletubby - and yes, the fact that he was dressed in such a way should have been a clue this would not end well. I met said Teletubby, yellow not purple - a very key distinction to note, on Halloween.

My friend Jamie and I had headed to Sign of the Whale in an effort to stalk Charlie (who everyone will be happy to know I have since cut off all communication with, but more on that later). When my efforts were not panning out, I turned to the nearest boy. Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I'm happy as long as I'm at a bar and in costume, but someone fun to dance with always makes it that much more interesting - and all the better if his costume happens to be a great conversation starter.

Anyway, to skip to the more interesting parts, we exchanged numbers and went out for dinner a few nights later. It certainly seemed that the date went well - after we finished eating we grabbed a drink, and then lingered on the sidewalk saying good-bye (aka exchanging good night kisses - I know, ewwww on the pda). But then he never called!

And no, this was not a case of him waiting for me to get in touch as I texted the next day to see if he might want to do something later in the week. Clearly, he just wasn't that interested - which is fine, but why go to all the trouble of making it seem like you are? I mean, if I go out to dinner with someone and have no desire to see him again, you can bet I bolt out of the restaurant pretty quickly rather than suggesting another date.

Fast forward to December and Holiday Blizzzard of 2010 (16 inches of snow in 24 hours - enough for even this Minnesota girl), and I'd nearly forgotten about the Teletubby incident. As the DC area's snow removal services leave a little to be desired, most people were limited to walking places that particular weekend. In the true spirit of a snow day, my roommates and I gathered up all the Uggs and wellies in the house, pulled on our mittens and trekked to Carpool for one of the most fun Saturday nights I've had since I moved to the area. After a brief stint at Union Jack's, we returned to Carpool to finish out the evening before walking home.

As we flashed our ids at the bouncer, I did a double-take at the guy out on the porch - it was the Teletubby! Not only did he not call, he actually had the gall to show up at MY neighborhood bar - in a blizzard no less! This is not the same as the Corey situation (the bouncer at O'Sullivans) - the Teletubby lives a good 20 miles away, so I never really expected to run into him again, and certainly not in Arlington when the metro is shut down and the only thing moving were a few four-wheel drive vehicles.

I was so flabbergasted, I proceeded to share the entire story with the bouncer, including my absolute incredulity that the Teletubby could be there - albeit, out of costume. Fueled by a hard cider or two, my storytelling skills were just warming up, gesticulating included, when the guy walked inside with this bashful look on his face. I turned from the fascinated gaze of the bouncer (ok, it might have been more a look of amusement as he thought about how his friends were going to laugh when he told them about the "crazy" girl he met at work that night), and asked the Teletubby why he never called.

"I called," he said.

"Umm, no, you most definitely did not," I responded. And then returned to my friends at the bar, why the Teletubby moved off looking nicely chastened (this was not my imagination - even the bartender said he seemed pretty embarassed to have run into me).

Suffice it to say, by the end of the night I had made quite the impression on the bouncer, who now recognizes me each time I walk into Carpool as "the girl with the Teletubby story."

And nothing further from the Teletubby himself - but at the very least, he helped make the Holiday Blizzard of 2010 that much more memorable and continues to be good for a laugh among my roommates.

Online Dating Profiles

2009-10-22T15:54:00.015-04:00

I've tried Match.com on and off for the last year without much success. Sure, I've had lots of dates, and on the plus side, almost every one of the guys I've been out with wants to see me again - I just don't really want to see them!

In fact, I think I've only met one guy I was actually interested in - Jack - and clearly that did not work out well.

To be honest, it seems that I'm sending out all kinds of winks / e-mails (no waiting for guys to make the first move online!), but not getting much of a response.

Which leads me to believe there must be something inherently wrong with my profile.

I know there have been all kinds of articles written about what to include in online profiles, like "Three Ways to Build A Better Online Dating Profile" and "Dating Profile Don'ts", and I've tried to incorporate these ideas in moderation.

But something's still not working - so, for your viewing pleasure, I've posted the main body of my profile here. For those who have never checked out Match.com, this is subsidized by other brief answers (think Twitter length) about For Fun, My Job and Favorite Hot Spots, etc.

I think I sound totally date-worthy, but I ask you, where have I gone wrong?

ABOUT ME AND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR:

I'm originally from Minnesota, spent four years in Missouri at school and moved to DC because (ok, this is a little dorky) I loooove "The West Wing." Having been on the East Coast for three years, I've adopted the Steelers as my NFL team but still retain my Midwestern values. I'm just as comfortable in a dress and heels as my pajamas - which I pretty much change into as soon as I get home each night.

I love to travel and can pack light, or bring everything but the kitchen sink depending on the trip. Beach vacations in the spring and summer, ski trips in the winter and spontaneous weekend getaways are a few of my favorites.

When it comes to what I'm looking for, I like to be around people who, no matter the activity or occasion, make it more fun just by being there. I want to date someone who's also my best friend - someone who I can have a serious conversation with, but who I can also be a total goofball around. I want to hang with your friends, and you should be able to hang with mine - bonus points for sitting through a chick flick!

So, whether we're going for a run, visiting a museum or playing a round of golf or a game of Scrabble, let's hang out and see what happens - if you've made it this far, send me a wink or an e-mail:)

Random facts about me:

*My roommate and I tried out for The Amazing Race last spring - our video rocked!

*I read cheesy romance novels because I can finish them quickly, and if I have to put it down for awhile, I don't forget the plot line

*I've had to ban myself from watching Lost because I spend the whole time ranting about how things don't make sense and getting frustrated that we never seem to get any answers

*I don't cry often, but am almost guaranteed to shed a tear or two in the movie theater, no matter what the movie

*I'm really independent, but I crave cuddling with someone at night

*I love cake - seriously, they sell it by the slice at the grocery store and I think that might be the best invention ever

*I was valedictorian and a state swimmer in high school

*If a computer or copier breaks in the office, you can pretty much assume I must have touched it recently

Don't Date Where You Drink

2009-10-21T10:04:00.002-04:00

New Rule: Do not, under any circumstances, date someone at a bar you like to frequent. Unless you're ok with not being able to drink there again.

I made the mistake of going out once with Cory, the bouncer, from O'Sullivan's. The date was not something I wanted to repeat, to say the least, and after continuing to ask me out via text for weeks, he finally sent this as a last-ditch effort:

"So, did I screw up our date that badly or did you break your phone or something?"

And thus, I've been forced to avoid the bar for a few months. Until last weekend.

Since it was my birthday, I decided to be brave and bite the bullet (I'm not going to speculate on what role a large bottle of wine might have played in this newfound courage). I like going to O'Sullivan's occassionally and I would NOT be deterred any longer by one bad date.

It also helped that it was Friday, and Cory ususally works on Saturday.

Alas, my hopes of avoiding an awkward encounter were not realized. As the cab pulled up and I peered through the torrential downpour, I realized the face at the door was not that of an unknown stranger, but rather the one I recognized.

"Quick," I said to my friend Kelsey as I shoved her toward the door. "You have to go in first!"

She looked at me like I was crazy, which I probably am a bit, but gamely made her way to the door - allowing me to hide behind her.

When it was my turn to have my id checked, I studiously looked the other way while shoving my license into Cory's hand. Just as he started to look up and say something, I grabbed it back and ran into the bar.

I know, very ostrich-head-in-the-sand of me, and not exactly my most mature moment. And it gets worse.

Since O'Sullivan's is relatively small, the majority of standing room is in plain view of the doorway - and Cory. As we waited to order our drinks, I could feel him looking at me. This was not imagined - when I looked up, we definitely made eye contact. Argh! So much for avoidance.

And then he started to make his way into the room.

I looked frantically for someone to duck behind, but there wasn't a nice, solid guy presently available. Instead, we made our way toward the few tables, and luckily managed to find something hidden in the corner - well out of eyesight of the doorway.

Safe, at last.

At least until it was time to leave. Luckily, running out the door worked just as well as running in.

How Old is Too Old?

2009-10-20T11:52:00.000-04:00

At 26, I definitely feel older than 25. As my friend Melissa said, I'm now in my late mid-20s - and I'm not a fan of "late" anything.

But my question is, how old is too old for me to date? When I was fresh out of college, 27 seemed beyond me and 30 was certainly ancient. The guy that was a year behind me and still in school was acceptable, but 26 was questionable.

At 24, I reached the point where 30 was no longer so scary and 29 was definitely a good number. But now, as I contemplate tonight's date with No. 9.5 from last week, I'm not sure where the line is anymore.

Did I mention he's 36?

The decade age difference not withstanding, that seems a little too close to 40 for comfort. Let's say things did work out, does that mean I have to start having kids right away? I mean, even if we had our firstborn tomorrow, he'd be 54 by the time the kid went off to college. So much for doting on grandkids together. And what about the male/female life expectancy issue? Does this mean I'll hit my golden years by myself? Or will he be too frail by then to even enjoy them with me?

I suppose on the up side he'd be less likely to leave me later for a younger woman!

I know - I'm several, even hundreds, of steps ahead of myself. As I rattled off these concerns to my roommates the other night,they looked at me with a kind of horror over the new levels of crazy I had reached.

But isn't it better to rule someone out from the beginning than to find out later, once you really like them, there are any number of dealbreakers in the way?

Then again, given that the hottest thing I've got going right now is my lukewarm thing with Charlie, perhaps I can't afford to be so picky.

What now?

2009-10-19T08:35:00.008-04:00

Charlie's at it again - and I'm not sure I can translate his latest signals!

As we watched a movie one night last week, I found myself suddenly cuddled up in his lap - not our typical M.O. And even more confusing, he was actually stroking my hair while Cary Elwes pranced about in "Robin Hood: Men in Tights."

And then it gets really interesting: when I start to make noises about it getting late, he says in this incredibly adorable little boy way that he doesn't want me to leave.

Sounds like he's potentially interested in being more than friends, right? I mean, the guy doesn't even like to cuddle!

So we move into the bedroom - again, not at all weird for me to crash there when it's after dark, since his parking lot creeps me out - and he proceeds to engage in some hardcore spooning. But when he leans into kiss me - GASP! - I stop him. We've been down this road before and we both know we don't really make good friends with benefits. Someone (meaning me) always seems to end up disappointed and hurt.

Instead, I explain this to him and when greeted with silence tentatively add, "Unless there's something you're not telling me?" Yep, more crickets. So I start to chatter on about something else and when I stop to take a breath he makes another comment about wanting me to stay.

So I do.

And when we both wake up in the middle of the night, he leans over and says good-night with a kiss on the forehead and a quick peck on the lips.

What does all this mean??!! If I was sending someone these signals, obviously I'm interested in him. But Charlie seems to engage in some weird dialect of man-speak that even my other guy friends can't fully understand.

Birthday Celebration

2009-10-14T08:57:00.008-04:00

The best birthdays all seem to have three things in common: boys, booze and baked goods. Luckily, my week-long celebration (also known as the birthday extravaganza) kicked off last week with two of the three - and there's still plenty of time to work in the baked goods (mostly in the form of cupcakes).

The rules for the annual festivities dictate the partying doesn't start until the first present arrives - so thank you Grandma for timing the delivery of your gift with Friday night! Following the present opening, the girls and I headed to Carpool to start the night.

Turns out, the birthday chant my roommate Lauren does with her elementary school kids works just as well with beer as milk - and helps attract the guys. From the "babies" fresh out of school to one that was closer to 40 than 30, the men (I use the term loosely) began to swing by the table in droves. Seriously. I've never had that many talk to my group in one night before!

As we realized this had become the theme for the evening, we started to name and call them by number. At first we thought we'd be lucky to get to No. 5, but we quickly revised that to No. 12.

The number system was all in good fun and no one objected until we got to No.9.5. He seemed a bit offended, although we think he was really just upset that he was a half instead of a whole number (since Kimberley waved him over, we decided he didn't fully count since he did not approach our table on his own).

Not to worry though - as he moved away from our table in a huff, I followed to console him and we're going out on Tuesday.

Happy Birthday to me!

Dear Charlie

2009-10-06T08:31:00.006-04:00

Dear Charlie,

Remember when I said I like you? The sentiment is still floating free out there and without a response, I'm left to wonder. Is it possible you didn't actually understand the drunk text I sent with this message? Or the several sober follow-up texts later?

Or maybe you didn't get the phone call, voicemail and text I sent after I missed the one call you made to "talk about things."

Admittedly, I wasn't able to make it all the way through, "He's Just Not That Into You," but I grasped the general idea. It would be logical to conclude your avoidance of the topic is the equivalent of saying, "Thanks, but no thanks."

Except, you didn't say it, which leaves all of your actions open to interpretation.

For example, what did you mean by asking if I was going to spend the night after the Steelers game on Sunday? We both know I'd rather crash at your place than walk into your parking lot after dark, but if you're not interested in being more than friends, why suggest such an activity?

And were you just being funny during our conversation about heart disease versus breast cancer when you said you could help with a breast exam but I was on my own with the cholesterol stuff? Or was that you're way of testing the waters to see where I was at more than three weeks after I made my shocking announcement of positive feelings for you?

I can't help but remember the last time we danced around the idea of dating, and it came out after the fact that you're not very good at telling someone you like them. Are you afraid you missed the window and you're not sure how to bring it up?

You're sending mixed signals and I'm having trouble reading them. Is this just harmless flirting or are you trying to say something more?

Or is this just another case of me overanalyzing? Like when I spent days trying to figure out the underlying meaning of a simple text. And the times when I call everyone I know to dissect a situation, taking all opinions into account before deciding what actually happened. But I digress (And yes, I used a big word. I like them.)

If you can clear any of this up for me, I'd appreciate it. And, as I said before, no big deal if you're not interested. I still need a golf buddy - and at least with you, I know I'll always win!

Sincerely,

Andi

Hair Hottie

2009-10-01T22:13:00.006-04:00

I think I may have met the man of my dreams on Thursday. Sort of. Ok, "met" might be a bit strong - we didn't actually speak. But I did see him. Sort of.

Perhaps I should back up. I was at Bubbles getting my hair highlighted (just a little brightening up - really, I'm a natural blonde!) when a gorgeous guy walked in. He met all the minimum qualifications: over 6 ft. tall, solidly built, clean cut, dress pants and shirt speaking to gainful employment - all before he even opened his mouth.

Luckily, he was seated in the chair next to mine. As he told the stylist what he'd like done - "Straighten out the sideburns, they're getting a little mangy" - I tried to sneak a closer look. I peered out from under the fringe of hair currently in front of my eyes, prompting me to remember I was sporting a head of foil. Not exactly a prime "look at me" moment

As he made conversation with his stylist (extra points for friendliness), I eavesdropped shamelessly and his stock continued to climb. He was from the Midwest, normally went to the Bubbles in Pentagon City (he meets my 5-mile radius requirement) and had been to a wedding recently (more likely to be looking for a relationship?).

Sigh. I think I was in love.

I was working on my opening line - something about my recent trip to Chicago, since he had said he was going there for the weekend - when my stylist returned and walked me over to the sink.

"Ok," I thought. "Don't panic. She'll rinse me out and I'll be back in the chair before he's ready to leave. And sans foil."

Except she didn't rinse me out right away! Apparently, the highlights weren't done yet. By the time my head did meet water, I couldn't even enjoy the scalp massage (a main reason to even go to Bubbles) because I was craning my neck to make sure Dream Guy was still there.

Sadly, he took his leave before we moved onto the haircut portion of my evening. But I certainly enjoyed meeting him. Or seeing him.

Maybe I should be visiting Bubbles a little more often. I wonder how frequently I can ask to have "just half an inch" taken off without looking suspicious? Or I run out of hair?

The Clock is Ticking

2009-09-30T12:27:00.004-04:00

I think my wonderfully loving and supportive parents are starting to get a little concerned that neither me nor my sister are dating anyone.

Sign #1 - In response to my using bad teeth as a dealbreaker my dad said, "We can get him braces!"

Sign #2 - When I joined Match.com with my roommate, my mom wanted to be the one to create my profile.

Sign #3 - My dad has started asking on a recurring basis "Why don't you date Charlie?" (And he only knows Charlie as my golf buddy - no idea that I'm actually interested in being more than friends with him).

Midwest kids who were married at 21 and parents at 25 (to me!), they seem to be eyeing the clock a lot more these days - although, to be fair, they're not the only ones. As I plan my annual birthday extravaganza, it's not lost on me that at 26 I'm squarely in the mid-20s range, rather than early.

But I have enough problems fending off the likes of Short Bad Kisser Boy and Annoying Phone Guy without my parents chiming in, thinking they can do better! Trust me, I'm out there - and if he is too, I'll find him. I hope.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2009-09-28T13:06:00.005-04:00

I've always thought an airport is a great place to meet someone.

My theory is that whoever you might end up talking to has a connection to either the city you're coming from or the city you're going to, so you're already off to a good start. Maybe you'll get lucky, hit it off and he'll live down the street, or provide you with a fun place to visit for long weekends.

So, every time I fly somewhere, I check out the date possibilities as I wait to board, and once on the plane, look up at every cute guy hoping he just might have the seat next to me.

My trip to Chicago last weekend was no different. But instead of a dinner-worthy seatmate, I sat next to a 65-year-old woman - there and back (a different one on each flight, but same idea).

Barring one amazing flight from Texas to Jackson Hole where I was seated in the middle of a minor league hockey team (and as a result, was able to present my friend with several prospects for the weekend in place of the typical hostess gift), this particular dating strategy has yet to pan out for me. But I'm going to keep looking at every airport.

Random Run-Ins

2009-09-21T12:21:00.014-04:00

The DC metropolitan area has a population of more than 7.5 million - and yet, I keep running into the same people all the time!

How is this possible? And why does the rate of random run-ins seem to rise in direct proportion to how much I'm trying to avoid someone?

Not once, not twice, but three times this weekend did I see people I wasn't exactly overjoyed to encounter.

Run-in No. 1: Cory, the bouncer at O'Sullivans. Against my better judgment, we went out once for smoothies (I know, doesn't get much cornier) . Very nice guy, but VERY socially awkward. He spent the night before our "date" (I use the term loosely because I'm not sure 45 minutes over blended fruit really counts) memorizing the standings of the British Open to impress me. Potentially sweet if it had been someone else, but in this case just weird.

I was really feeling like a low-key night on Friday and O'Sullivans would have been perfect - except Cory was working the door. Given that he texted for weeks after our get-together (and I studiously avoided responding) I decided it wasn't worth the run-in. I immediately crossed the street (to avoid being seen) and headed to Carpool for...

Run-in No. 2: Jack*, from Match.com, was standing next to my roommate when I came out of the bathroom.

When I met Jack, he seemed perfect on paper (or online). I was really excited to see where things might go, and we went out several times before I headed home to Minnesota to run a marathon - he even gave me a good luck card our last night together - major cool points! We spoke for a few minutes every day while I was home, but on the night before my return flight he got all weird and defensive asking, "Do you even like me? I mean, you seem angry every time we talk. If this is how things are going to be, we might as well just stop now."

WHAT?! Obviously I liked him if I was calling every day. Granted, I tend to be pretty sarcastic when I'm unsure of myself and getting to know someone new, but he freaked out without giving me much of a chance. I was so disturbed by what felt like him laying down guidelines for an entire relationship, I wasn't sure what to do. It seemed like he was projecting feelings from a past incident onto me, but been there and done that - second-guessing everything I did because of how a boyfriend's previous girlfriend had behaved - and wasn't about to repeat the experience.

I waited a few weeks, but decided to try again because it seemed like we could have something great together. After asking him out several times (yes, I pursued him!), our schedules finally meshed and we got together once more. I thought things went pretty well (minus him backing into a parked car with his brand new truck - which didn't exactly set the mood for a good-night kiss), but he never called again.

And there he was at Carpool - which I don't think he'd ever even been to until I took him there on our first date - acting all nonchalant as he said hi!

I was so annoyed to have my night ruined. There was no need for him to be all buddy-buddy like we were friends or something! And he'd obviously sought me out - he even said he thought he'd seen me sitting in another part of the bar earlier.

I believe a stream of angry texting followed, but I prefer to block out the memory - and the embarrassment.

Run-in No. 3: CHARLIE! Who still had not called back, by the way. My roommate, Lori, and I were coming out of Rock Bottom after the Steelers disheartening loss to the Bears on Sunday, and I was trying to peer discreetly into Union Jack's to see if he was working when I realize the guy walking out the door toward me is him.

AWKWARD!

I think I mumbled something and bolted for the exit. At least I can take solace in the fact I was rockin' my Steelers jersey and denim skirt - I KNOW I looked good.

Really not a great weekend on the dating front.

*Changed at Jack's request from original post earlier today - yes, he's following my blog. Interesting...

Update: Friends....or More?

2009-09-17T08:59:00.010-04:00

I think there's a scene in "He's Just Not That Into You" where Ginnifer Goodwin's character is waiting for a guy to call and spends an evening running around like a nutcase checking to make sure her cell, landline and voicemail are working.

That was me last night.

Actually, calling me a nutcase might be a bit much, but I did check a couple of times to make sure my cell was getting service - which isn't THAT weird, as it's been known to go in and out. In fact, I missed a call from a tow truck just yesterday morning even though my phone was right next to me!

Anyway, a call from Charlie is what prompted this momentary craziness. He wanted to TALK.

But I missed it because I was at softball and when I called back, he didn't answer. As he doesn't check his voicemail and also has problems with his service, I was worried he wouldn't know I'd called him back. So I sent a text message as soon as I got home letting him know I was around if he wanted to call again.

And then proceeded to check my phone every few minutes for the rest of the night to make sure I hadn't missed a call or text.

Except he hasn't called back. What if the moment's passed and he's decided to just let it go? I have to know what he was going to say!

Friends...or More?

2009-09-16T12:57:00.001-04:00

I moved to the DC area three years ago not really knowing anyone. Sure, there was the odd acquaintance who was a friend of a friend or my mother's cousin type of thing, but for the most part, I was on my own.

Until I met my friend Charlie*.

We ran into each other for the first time at Clarendon Ballroom while I was waiting in line at the bar. He was with a bunch of guys, and as I stood behind them, he introduced himself by offering to buy me a drink - if I'd give his friend a birthday kiss! I laughed, but his smile was so adorable and the pick-up line so original, I ended up talking to him for the rest of the night.

At first, we flirted with dating, but it just didn't seem right. Instead, we started hanging out occasionally - platonically. Over the next several months, I started to think of him as one of my best friends in DC. Everything was just so comfortable - we'd watch movies, make dinner and spend most weekends on the golf course. If I was over late, it was easier to just crash at his house than go home to mine. He was my Dawson - with some casual benefits thrown in on the side if neither of us was seeing anyone else (so maybe it wasn't entirely platonic)!

About a year ago, we started circling around the idea of dating again, but neither of us was willing to say we were interested in the other. And then, one day, Charlie suddenly had a girlfriend and dumped me as a friend.

"I thought it would be awkward for you," he said. For me? Why? We'd always been buddies more than anything else - it didn't bother me that he was dating someone other than me, but I was incredibly hurt that he didn't want to spend time together anymore.

We crossed paths a few months later at Sign of the Whale during Nightmare on M Street. He was dressed as a cow (I was Jem from Jem and the Holograms), single again, incredibly drunk and out of nowhere asked me why we were never a couple. "We would have been perfect together!" he said.

WHAT?! Where did that come from?

I was seeing someone else at the time, so nothing came of it then. And it took me several more months to get over all the anger I felt about the way he severed our friendship. But then, a few weeks ago we were hanging out late one night and suddenly I felt differently. Not only was I having fun, but I wanted to jump the guy! (Something of a 180 for me - I've always thought Charlie was really cute, but the spine-tingling feeling was always been missing before.)

Over the next three weeks, I tried to tell Charlie that I liked him. There were going to be no missed signals this time around! But something always came up and the timing just didn't seem right.

Then this weekend, as Lauren and I made mac and cheese after a night at Clarendon Grill, we collectively (and intoxicatedly) decided it was a GREAT idea for her to repeatedly call the guy she's seeing and for me to text Charlie my epiphany.

"On the off chance u haven't figured it out yet, i have a crush on u...just wanted to lay it on the table:)," I punched into my phone and hit send, before I could change my mind.

No response that night.

When the return text did come the next day, there was no reference to the baring of my soul (Ok, that's a little dramatic. I was actually somewhat indifferent at this point, but firmly believe in putting everything on the line so that I walk out of every situation knowing it's not my fault it didn't work).

So I texted again. A very, very long text. Which, of course, then encountered technically difficulties in getting through, so I had to split it into three separate messages and send all of those. His reaction? "I'm at work. I'll call you later."

That was Sunday. I'm thinking he's probably not interested, but the worst part is, who am I going to play golf with now? At least with Charlie, I could always be assured of winning and never had to worry about a bad shot because it was almost guaranteed his ball would be further in the woods than mine!

*Name changed in the event Charlie finds out about this blog - although, he should recognize his role in this tale!

Like a Guy

2009-09-11T21:26:00.000-04:00

Kimberley came downstairs last night to see me in sweats with my feet on the coffee table, a half eaten box of pizza in front of me and the Steelers opening-season game on TV.

"Haha...you're like a guy!" she said.

Sort of. I certainly love sports (although I'm not the obnoxious know-it-all girl who rattles off every stat to impress guy friends) and am just as comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt as a dress and heels.

But I also like pedicures, prefer a nice hotel over camping (although one night in a tent next to a bonfire can be a lot of fun) and can spend a lot of time getting my makeup and hair just right (but spent a week backpacking through Europe this summer without a blowdrier or curling iron!).

If I were a guy, I'd think I was perfect - I'm in my element taking shots with his friends AND hunting through every store at the mall with the girls for a very specific outfit.

So where is he? Where is this guy that knows how amazing I am and can't wait to introduce me to everyone he knows?

Dating is so much harder than I ever thought it would be! Charlotte (Sex & the City) was right when she said even her hair hurts from searching for THE ONE.

Update: The First Kiss

2009-09-10T09:08:00.000-04:00

He hasn't called.

Of course, I didn't actually want him to call. I'd rather kiss a fish than risk locking lips with this guy again, but still...he hasn't called.

Did he actually think that horrible tongue on tongue action was my fault? I'm the one that was frantically wiping my mouth afterward and had to brush my teeth...repeatedly.

Why hasn't he called? I was bubbly and fun during dinner. He's the one that assaulted MY mouth at the end of the night - not the other way around. Haven't I earned the small joy of watching his name come up on my phone and sending him straight to voicemail? I want to be the one to decide that we'll not be going out again!

He should have called.

A Midnight Visitor

2009-09-08T09:05:00.000-04:00

My roommate Kimberley and I decided to take advantage of the long weekend and hit up Carpool on Sunday night. An old friend of hers was going to be there, and I was ready to have some fun after my friend Charlie* ditched me earlier in the evening - after which I ended up coming home from the grocery store with a bottle of wine instead of the milk I had intended to get. Bottoms up!

It was a low-key night at the bar, and we were just hanging out. I spent most of the night talking to Kimberley's buddy Dave*. Given that I'd finished the entire bottle of wine before heading to Carpool, I was ready for bed about midnight. I said my goodbyes, gave Dave my number and got into a cab. I was sound asleep 20 minutes later.

At 4am, though, I woke up to the sound of voices. Apparently, Kimberley had brought Dave home with her, because they weren't done catching up by the time the bar closed - which I learned as I walked out of my bedroom in a t-shirt and boy shorts with mascara caked around my eyes!

"What are YOU doing here?" I said. Not quite the reaction Dave had expected, I think. In fact, it seemed more like he was hoping I'd welcome him with open arms. Not likely!

Kimberley had just finished making Velveeta shells and cheese (a fav in our house) and I was happy to help her eat it. But by then she was ready for bed and left me alone to entertain Dave while he waited for his cab - the last thing I wanted to do. Poor guy, he couldn't seem to understand why I wasn't ecstatic to see him.

Generally speaking, I like to leave the bar scene at the bar. If a guy wants to see me again, he can ask me out on a proper date. While Dave was nice, I wasn't exactly waiting by the phone for him to call, and was NOT excited to see him in my house only a few hours later. Not to mention he'd just woken me up from a sound sleep, and made some comment about four-eyes (are we back in third grade?) in regard to the glasses I was rockin'. As I downed my late-night snack, I kept one eye out the window for the cab's headlights, and finally, finally it arrived.

I stopped just short of shoving Dave out the door as he looked at me with confusion on his face. "So, uh, you gave me your number earlier..." he said. "Yes," I replied. "Feel free to use it - but get out of my house!"

*Names changed to protect identities.

Update: The Socially Awkward

2009-09-03T13:59:00.001-04:00

Lauren's date texted to see if she'd like to go out again. Because she didn't want to beat around the bush, she wrote back and said "No thanks, we're not a good match."

He texted again and asked what he did wrong. It seems he's been out on a lot of dates lately, and things aren't going well, so any insight she can offer into why he's being rejected would be very helpful - his words!

Should she point out his wrong turn to him , or just let it go?

The Socially Awkward

2009-09-02T14:25:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been on a date and within the first 30 seconds, literally, realized it was a bad idea?

That's how my roommate would describe her experience last week. Like any veteran dater, Lauren* was unwilling to give up a Friday night for a first date (especially since she couldn't remember exactly where or when she'd met this guy), so she agreed to early drinks at Whitlow's before getting on with the rest of her evening.

Lauren's not what you'd call difficult to talk to - the exact opposite in fact. She's super bubbly and friendly, and is one of those people that just invites conversation. Granted, with her long blonde hair, preppy style and swimmer's body (D1 college athlete!), I could see where she might be intimidating to some guys. But she's an elementary school teacher - she's able to communicate with even the most emotionally stunted.

Apparently, the moment they sat down, though, Lauren's date began to pepper her with a series of questions rather than having a conversation - we can only assume he was doing his best to avoid the dreaded awkward silence. After covering everything from favorite movie, food and bar in rapid succession, he moved onto the less obvious.

"Do you know what the five German car brands are?" he asked.

Lauren was familiar with BMW, having spent some time near the plant in South Carolina while growing up, but didn't really care beyond that. So she changed the subject.

Big mistake. Investigative reporter guy was not to be deterrred. After a few minutes spent on another topic, he said, "Well, just in case you were wondering, the five brands are..." (I don't know all the manufacturers, and since Lauren was no longer really listening at that point, she was unable to relay them to me while telling this story).

He continued his line of questioning by asking Lauren if she knew of any other ice breakers, and she asked what his favorite color was. "Uh, I don't really have one," he said.

Her response: "You're asking me about German cars, and you can't even tell me what your favorite color is?"

She said afterward it was like being at an interview for a job she didn't want.

I think we can say this guy is safely in the barnacle category on the "Levels of Crustacean Love."

*Names have been changed to protect the subject's identity, and more importantly, the ego of the bad date, should he or his friends read this.

The First Kiss

2009-09-01T08:38:00.000-04:00

How can anyone, guy or girl, reach the age of 31 and not know how to kiss? I'm truly stumped by this question. I understand that not everyone is necessarily "popular," but we all find our place in a social circle and it would seem logical that from the age of 14 or so you'd get SOME type of practice - even if it's always while drunk.

In any case, I had a date last night at Sequoia with a guy I'd met two weeks before at Sign of the Whale. I wouldn't say I was dying to see this guy again, but he'd been pretty persistent in asking me out and seemed excited about taking me to dinner. Why turn down a good meal?

We met at the front door and while the food was good, it was obvious in about 20 minutes that I would not be going out with him again. He's a very nice guy, we just weren't really clicking. I figured we'd enjoy dinner, go our separate ways, and that would be that.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Since it was a gorgeous night, he wanted to walk by the waterfront after dinner. As I had no interest in prolonging the evening, I steered him instead toward my car so we could say good night. I take my personal bubble pretty seriously, and unless I really like a guy, do not invite him into my space. Keeping a good distance between us, I thanked him for dinner - and he took this as his cue to grab my chin and invade my mouth!

We're talking full tongue on tongue action for a good 45 seconds - even though I tried to pull away twice! And the kiss was NOT good. In fact, it was my worst kiss ever - I never judge a kisser by the first encounter, but this was soooo bad that even if I'd fallen madly in love with the guy, I would not have wanted to repeat the experience.

Just because a guy wants to drop $80 on dinner, does not mean I'm automatically going to make out with him. And that's what this was - there was no slow start with a grand finale, just full speed ahead from the start. As he walked away, I was furiously wiping my mouth and counting down the seconds until I could get to my toothbrush.

At least he didn't say he would call - let's hope he doesn't!

Levels of Crustacean Love

2009-08-28T14:11:00.000-04:00

Those 20-somethings who used to spend at least a portion of Thursday night glued to NBC for “Friends” may remember an episode in which Phoebe compares Ross and Rachel’s relationship to lobsters.

“Hang in there, it's gonna happen,” Phoebe says to Ross. “She’s your lobster.”

To the gang’s incredulity, Phoebe goes onto explain further with, “C'mon you guys,” she says. “It's a known fact that lobsters fall in love and mate for life. You know what, you can actually see old lobster couples walkin' around their tank, ya know, holding claws like...”

My roommates and I recently took Phoebe’s philosophy one step further – we’ve decided that all guys fall somewhere on the “Levels of Crustacean Love.”

As we sat at O’Sullivans one night checking out the possibilities (we just recently realized this bar tends to be more guys than girls, putting the odds in our favor!), we were laughing over someone’s date gone wrong. I don’t remember which boy we were discussing or why he just wasn’t cutting it, but one of the girls declared, “That’s not your lobster! He’s a shrimp!”

So true – both in height and general relationship potential! As we cracked up laughing, we searched for other types of crustaceans that might be a better fit - “He’s a crayfish!” and “No, he’s algae!” were some of the better ones.

With the help of Wikipedia the next day (it turns out, algae are NOT crustaceans) we put together the following chart and qualifications, from bottom to top, to categorize future dates’ potential:

Barnacle (not worth a second meeting)
Shrimp (doesn’t totally disgust you)
King Crab (fun to hang with, but no real connection)
Crayfish (you like him, but you’re not sure yet if he’s the real deal)
Lobster (aka soul mate)

The “Levels of Crustacean Love” are now posted on our fridge, and as we date, we’re keeping track of which group a guy is in. Movement between categories, up or down, is allowed in conjunction with group discussion about the reasons for the climb or fall.