Single Gal with Smallpox Seeks Non-Judgmental Single Guy

Did you miss me?

I knew it.  You didn’t even know I was missing, did you.  That is just the reaction my cat would give me when I’d come back from a trip:  “You were gone?”  And then she’d go back to licking herself.

So where was I?

IMG_0841

Just another day at the office

Just another day at the office

The beautiful island of Oahu.  I had a great time visiting friends and eating multiple meals and desserts all throughout the day, every day.  Before I left for the trip, I was feeling vain and didn’t want to wear shorts, but being in Hawaii made me realize that a lot of the native and local women are comfortable with their bodies.  They just owned what they had.  It’s simply too uncomfortable to wear pants all of the time.  I mean, I brought a pair of jeans.  What was I thinking!?  And look ovah dere, yah?  My legs look like the others’!  Sure, there were skinny-legged women there, but I also saw my gene pool represented in the short, strong (well, I’m working towards strong) category.  So I put my shorts on and went native.  Well, until a few days later when I broke out in a hideous heat rash all over my feet, legs and arms.  I eventually covered myself up – I didn’t want to scare people into thinking I had a nasty case of smallpox.

So there I was in Paradise, minding my own heat rash, when I get a text.  From Wine Guy.  If you recall – which I barely do – I last left him a voicemail and got no response.  But WG moves sllllloooowwww…two and a half weeks later slow:  Hi, are you interested in going out to a movie or coffee?  Unless I’m missing something, is this a taste of what dating is like?  You get to know a person by not contacting them or responding to them every few weeks or so?  Call me a sucker, because you will, but I texted him back, told him I was traveling at the moment and asked if he wanted to get together at the end of the month.  Again, no response.  Well, it’s only been ten days, so I expect to hear from him in another week or two or three.

My behavior is indicative of someone who doesn’t have very many choices.  That’s why, despite my better judgment, I’m thinking about online dating.  A few weeks ago, when I was doing my research, I noticed that I could actually look at guys’ profiles.  I like knowing things, so I thought it was super handy to find out if a guy smoked or wanted kids or was crazy athletic.  And because I’m a non-smoking, non-childbearing, half-activewoman/half-slug, information like this is really important.  I didn’t anticipate that the filtering process could be so helpful.  The idea still scares me, but I’m getting closer to trying it out for a few months.

Don’t attempt to figure out who I am.  I won’t give out anymore clues.  You already know too much about me – after all, you’ve seen my right hand and both feet, and I’ve admitted to my Asian heritage and short, stout-leg nature.  You won’t catch me using these profile names:  sugahmama10, dontkrossmi, and ladeeyakuza.  I checked – they’re already taken.  All the good ones are.

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The Profiler

My friend – I’ll call her Patricia – recently purchased a trial period for Match.com. If you’re reading this P, please don’t get mad. I don’t think this will out you in any way. I’m very discreet. Haha, no I’m not. Anyways, I thought I would try and come up with a profile she could use because she said writing one for herself would be difficult. I know why: she’s too humble about herself. Maybe I’m not discreet, but I still want to keep her as a friend, so I won’t post Patricia’s Pulitzer prize-winning profile. Did you know she sells seashells down by the seashore? Many people don’t know that about her.

I’m incredibly frightened of online dating. Despite the fact that I blog about my personal life, I still like my privacy. I’ve never posted a photo of myself and most likely never will unless it’s of my right shoulder or my hand holding a fork, so the odds of putting my face on a dating site are very low. Especially since I live in a small community. But before closing the door on the whole thing, I wanted to do some research first.

I’m positive that all of this has been criticized before about dating sites, but since it was my first time looking through all the photos and profile names, I’m compelled to put in my two cents: I really don’t think it’s a good idea to use “lonely”, “angry”, “sad”, and “whoseurdaddy” as part of your profile name, unless, of course, those words are like magic to your ears. But then I saw this: sypholus. I hope it doesn’t refer to what it sounds like. I’m concerned. Maybe he should see a doctor?

I saw men in hoodies, sunglasses, baseball caps, far far away, posing shirtless…sometimes in different combinations. You – the one in the black watch cap and shades, could you step a few 100 feet closer to the camera? How can I tell if you have an extra arm growing out of your side? That’s a plus for me, so if you have one, I want to get a good look at it. I only searched for men over 40. I can’t imagine what the younger profiles are like. Well, I’m guessing the same, just more of them, right? There certainly were some good looking guys, and it helped that some of them used handsome as part of their profile name – I never would have known  if they hadn’t thoughtfully alerted me. But good looks don’t equal good character. My ex has a lot of handsome friends, and that focus group taught me not to get sucked in on good looks alone.

And (sort of) speaking of my ex, his mom reeeealllly wants me to broaden my choices through online dating. She even said she’d take my profile picture. Maybe I can use this one?

Pie

Profile: I like pie. I’m right-handed.

Is it my hand that’s tiny? Or is it a huge piece of pie? Did I eat the whole thing?

Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

**I just heard that Martha Stewart signed up for Match.com. Well, there you go. All my prospective three-armed men will now be flocking to her. Dammit, Martha! Must you be the center of attention of the whole online dating world, too??

The Dating Jitterbug: The Final Lesson?

After almost a week of not hearing from WG after our coffee date, I decided to take the lead (I’m having deja vu) and made one more good faith effort.  So I called him and left a message saying that I was going to the farmer’s market on Sunday and would he be interested in going?  He called back the next day.  This was his message:

“…yes, Sunday would be pretty good, I think.  I’m not sure…someone’s moving into the house for a few days and they’re coming on Sunday, but I’m not sure when.  Plus, I’m working on Sunday, but a little later.  And I’m transporting a friend to and from [more talking, details not important] and all of that happens on Saturday night, which probably won’t be an obstacle.  To make a long story short, Sunday might be tight for me.  If I can do it, I would love to do it.  And if not, [mumbling – sounds like: ‘I can shoot your way some time.’].  Anyways, I’ll call you real soon and we can discuss it further…thank you…bye.”

Hm.  Nervous rambling?  Perhaps.  Not that into me, but not quite sure how to tell me?  Could be.  I thought I asked a simple question, yet his answer turned into a big corn maze – I tried to follow him, but eventually, got lost.  A friend of mine said, “Seems like he wanted to see you, but didn’t know how to do that AND keep all of his other obligations.  I think he still wants to go out with you.”  Girlfriends are troublingly good at coming up with complex explanations for male behavior.

After consulting with my friend, I called him back.  This action, by the way, was not endorsed by my friend.  She told me not to call him, but I went rogue.  I left a message suggesting we go out another time when his schedule was more free, and that it would be fun to go out before I went out of town in a few weeks.

There’s attraction – that spark that sets off the whole thing – and then the rest is up to you to figure out.  And I’m figuring it out, despite the confusion.  I just didn’t think I would meet a guy who is, quite possibly, more scared of dating than I am.  But I don’t want to speculate on what he means, is thinking, or what he’s going through.  That would be a fruitless exercise in guessing what his truth might be.  Unless he tells me, I’ll never really know.  I left that message because I wanted to give him my truth.  What he does with it is up to him.

Whatever happens, it’s all a learning experience.  At least dating isn’t such a foreign concept now.  Not that it’s simple, but at least I can see the possibilities…

The Dating Jitterbug: Lesson Two

I went on my date with WG.  I still have my liver!!

Did you know that I initially met WG on Valentine’s Day?  Well, we met with our eyes.  As noted in a previous post, the way he stared at me was a little alarming. After I thought about it, I decided that he was either attracted to me or very, very frightened by me, which is completely understandable.  I honestly didn’t think much about it until three weeks later, when I went back to the store.  And look where I am now…it only took two months to get a date with him!  At this rate, I’ll have gone through menopause before our second date.

WG has mentioned that he sometimes has social anxiety, but I didn’t get a sense of a real disorder, at least not during the date.  Apparently, he’s one of those people that likes to fill their time doing stuff and can exist on four hours of sleep.  I, on the other hand, don’t always have to keep busy and wish my body would allow me to get more than six hours of sleep a night.  And I noticed that he seemed a little critical of himself, so maybe he doesn’t always feel comfortable in his own skin.  Who hasn’t been there?  What he doesn’t know about me is that I have a large capacity to accept quirky energy as long as the person doesn’t cross that fine line into, for lack of a better term, the truly bizarre.

I’ve told myself in the past to be open to dating all types of guys, even though I might not feel an instant attraction. But I have my limits. One of my tests for physical attraction is to think about the guy touching me in a very neutral place. For example, I might imagine him touching my elbow, where the wrinkly skin has hardly any nerve endings. If I react badly to this dead spot, I know I don’t want him touching me anywhere else and we probably shouldn’t date.

WG lightly touched my arm, shoulder, and back at different times during our date.  He got some game!  Well, he still seemed a little tentative, especially after I slapped him in the face.  Nooo…I didn’t do that.  In truth, I reacted…very well.  Of course, I wondered to myself if it was true attraction or effects of the man drought I’ve been experiencing, but that’s that damn over thinking thing I do.

Other stuff I noticed?  He seemed gentlemanly and polite.  Ate with his mouth closed.  Was willing to get hit first in a crosswalk.  Suggested we walk in the sun as opposed to the shady side of the street because he thought it might be too cold for me.  And I think he only looked at his phone once.  He said he recently got texting capability for his dinosaur of a phone, so I knew he wasn’t obsessed with needing to stay in contact with the world, i.e. Facebook, Twitter.  As you can tell, I like good manners, especially the getting-hit-first thing.  But he didn’t ask me many questions about myself, nor did he counter with his own when I asked him questions.  I think a good conversation has a nice back and forth to it, but I can’t fully weigh in on this yet until we talk more.  The date didn’t last that long – I think he fit me in between doing his other “stuff”, which yes, could be taken as a bad sign.

I have a question.  Is it a female faux pas to pay for something during the date?  I mean, I was the one that asked him out.  He paid for coffee and dessert, and then we also ended up at Pinkberry, so I insisted on treating him.  The guy shouldn’t always pay, right?  I’m realizing that I’m not a big fan of trying to understand the rules of dating.  It takes my brain into overdrive, and I can already tell that it could lead to mental exhaustion.  Nothing good can come of it.  To break it down, if I am myself (within reason, at least in the beginning) and he doesn’t like me, then I have to move on and find someone that does.  It helps if you can learn to not take it personally, as pointed out by thelovemanifesto.  That makes sense to me.  And besides, I think that’s what Tina Fey would do.

When WG walked me to my car, he asked if I would like to go wine tasting some time.  He used the Proactive, Yet Vague move on me.  Hey, that’s my move!  But it worked and I said yes.  When we hugged goodbye, I couldn’t have predicted that I would experience one of the best hugs of my life.  I may not have dated all that much, but I’ve hugged a lot of guys of differing shapes, sizes, and heights.  I’m like the Hugging Bimbo. Do people still use the word bimbo?  Remember Huggy Bear? That would be a cute nickname if you’re into that sort of thing, which I’m definitely not.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  I’m pretty short, so my face constantly gets smashed and my neck wrenched against a guy’s chest.  I’ve damaged guys’ windpipes because they leaned down too far at the same time I was lifting my shoulders to reach up as high as possible.  I like a solid and warm hug (unless it’s with the aforementioned creepy elbow toucher).  When WG and I embraced, my brain told me to let go after a few seconds, but my body and his unforeseen talent as a HuggyBear kept me from moving.  I literally could not let go even though my brain was saying release! release!!  To his credit, he didn’t call the cops on me.  Come on…I’m not saying I kept my claws wrapped around him in a five-minute death grip.  Or did I?  No, I’m pretty sure it lasted about five seconds.  Try it on someone and let me know if it feels a little too long.  But find someone willing.  A thrasher doesn’t make a good hugging experience.

By the way, other than the over hugging incident, I have no idea how I came across on the date.  He could very well think that I’m the weirdo.  And let’s face it, I am, but in a you-might-not-like-this-but-it’s-good-for-you kind of way.  Will there really be a second date?  I have no idea.  It’s been five days, and I haven’t heard from him.  But I’ll tell you this much: the next guy I hug is going to have some huge shoes to fill.

The Dating Jitterbug: Lesson One

After a few days of silence from WG (Wine Guy), I took the lead last week and followed up on our previous agreement to meet for coffee.  I left him a message one morning, asking when he might be free, but didn’t get any response from him that day.  After telling myself not to over think the situation, I realized that it might be a good idea to try and date different guys so that my neuroses would spread out a little more evenly rather than concentrate its full power on one person.

But how to find more dates without going the online dating route?  I don’t exactly appeal to the masses.  How would I describe myself?  I’m like Tina Fey’s Asian cousin – not exactly Tina in all her brilliance, but it’s as if we share some of the same genes.  Mm, that made more sense in my head.  Anyways, I do wear smart glasses like she does, so it means I’m pretty much just like her.  How about this:  I’m an ice cream flavor that appeals to very specific, sometimes odd people.  A scoop of vanilla with basil and chicken liver, anyone?  Hello?  And as I’ve mentioned before, every few years a guy comes along and thinks that flavor combination is intriguing.  When that happens, it’s in my best interest to take a critical look at his tastebuds.

Recently, a friend tried to jog my memory about the time we took a screenwriting class together when I was 19 years old:  “Remember that older guy in the class who was interested in you?  You said he wanted to build a home under the ground and that he only had the best of intentions for you.  You didn’t want to go back to the class after that.  Remember?”  I thought it was a little cruel of her to try and make me remember such a horrifying moment in my past.  Luckily, my memory was gifted enough to have blocked the whole thing and now I can use it as part of my ice cream analogy.

While I was in deep contemplation over all of these issues, WG called me the following day and left a message telling me which days he was free.  I made my friend listen to it.  She said, “He sounds nervous.”  So I gave her his name and number just in case he went mental on me and decided that my liver would taste pretty good, too.

No one eats my liver and gets away with it.