Birthday Celebration

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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!