everything is coming up roses

I am violently opposed to roses.

Two thousand years ago I had a blind date who showed up at my front door with a single red rose. I recognized it as a sweet, albeit clichéd gesture and then challenged him to a duel. Well, that’s what I did on the inside. Momma didn’t raise no rude fool, so I thanked him and felt guilty for wanting to get combative with him. I mean, I couldn’t exactly blame him for not knowing I wasn’t a single-red-rose-type-of-girl.

(If “The Bachelor” ever gave me a rose, I would throw it on the ground and jump up and down on it while simultaneously laughing my head off. This will make good TV. Wait. Why am I on “The Bachelor”?? Let me speak to my agent…)

My blind date proceeded to take me to a Kenny G concert, which didn’t help his cause. Perhaps this is what soured me even more on roses. And blind dates.

One time, my ex returned from a backpacking trip with a small bunch of wilted wildflowers that he picked for me. I thought this was incredibly romantic, thus cementing the idea that every man should have the time and inclination to do this. However, there was this other time when he gave me a bouquet of roses the day after he was kinda horrible to me. Strike two, Roses.

But this spring, they’re everywhere. The damn things are haltingly beautiful and incredibly photogenic.

A good friend of mine has been growing a variety of roses and I looked at them with a new appreciation.

pink thorns

those thorns…

pink

this one is hypnotizing…it asked for my credit card and I immediately handed it over…

I still feel like stomping on that perfect, fragrance-less, long-stemmed rose. I still want wildflowers. But the beauty of the garden rose cannot be denied. I know you don’t need more convincing, but I’m going to leave you with Cherry Parfait (below). Stunned? Thought so.

By the way, can I borrow your credit card?

cherry parfait

 

“Dear Mr. Golden Heart…”

Im nice person dear, golden heart and generous. Im confident can be good friends. It would be honor. Please can you respond me if interested? All the best

Uh oh.

I’m not sure if he’s calling me dear or himself. No matter, because I don’t have the confidence that he has in our future friendship. By the way, that’s the second email he’s written to me. The first one was also grammar-challenged and equally troubling. I had taken a friend’s advice with his first email:  “If you’re not interested at all, don’t write back. Even a friendly rejection could give him some hope.” But maybe saying nothing still leaves the door open?

I’ve learned something from my date with The Chef. I think my nervous energy took over and I tried too hard. I really just need to calm the hell down. Perhaps I will meditate before my next date, assuming there will be another one. With someone. Anyone. During my post-date analysis, I thought about the fact that even if I had been the perfect amount of me, it still doesn’t mean The Chef would have been attracted to me.

Dating sure can play with your self-confidence. No wonder those Bachelorettes weep, go mad, turn on each other. They’re like lab rats in a Hollywood maze designed to make their insecurities bubble and rise to the surface. I’m surprised they don’t eat each others’ faces off. In my own very quiet reality, I tell myself that I have to learn from whatever I experience and keep moving. Besides, The Chef isn’t the only Bachelor out there to show interest in me. There is a guy in Chicago who has contacted me. That’s not too far from CA, right? I’m perfect for him because I fit into the age range of women he’s searching:  21-63 years old.

My love affair with Match isn’t looking so good.

Match #1: The Chef

I’m in love!!!  

Not really.  I haven’t been on the date yet.  This is the pre-date portion of the program (I’ll be adding my post-date thoughts below).  I wanted to know what it felt like to be one of those women – I’m convinced they’re a different species – on “The Bachelor”.  You know, already in love with the idea of falling in love and then getting their heart broken by a guy they hardly know.  I loved him and I thought he kinda liked me!weep, weep, feelings of despair…  Girl, get it together.  He’s dumber than a rock.  Join me on Match.com – we’ll find a guy for you that’s as smart as or even smarter than a rock!

You know, maybe I should get a job counseling these women.  Or work as a Marketing Strategist for Match.  I’ve found my new careers.

This is my first date through Match.  I’m trying to be optimistic by starting a numbering system, but that didn’t seem to work too well with Wine Guy.  One date, the possibility of another, and then he fell into the Bermuda Triangle of Missing/Non-Responsive Men.

My profile had been public for a few days when I was IM’ed by The Chef.  I was on the site, trying to figure out how to edit something in my profile:  how do you…but I just changed it…let me try!!PING!! [IM window popping up]ack!!  what the hell?!  I nearly jumped out of my skin.  When I peered at the small message box, I recognized the photo that came along with it.  He had viewed my profile earlier.  I thought he was kind of cute and more importantly, he appeared to be normal.  With shaking hands (I know, pathetic), I decided to respond.  And what do you know…our senses of humor were kind of the same.  Sarcastic?  Check.  Self-deprecating?  Check.  Age?  Oops.  He’s 41 years old.  I’m…older.  But that’s the good thing about Match.  He knew my age, height and hm, what else could have scared him off – oh, yes, the profile itself.  He read it and still contacted me.  He’s a brave man.  I have no idea what other women are writing, but I started my profile with sarcasm.  Isn’t that the way to a man’s heart?

Post-date Analysis  

Great date.  Fun, relaxed (well, he was), easy.  A guy’s guy, not a dude.  There’s a difference.  My ex was overly sensitive and emotional, so it was nice to be with someone who seemed at ease with himself and his guyness.  Not only is he a chef, he’s an Executive Chef, which I have to admit is kinda sexy.  Not the title itself, but the fact that he is in charge and has to know how to manage people.  Our sensibilities and senses of humor matched, and I thought he was cute, so I would definitely go out with him again.  The mystery question is whether he was attracted to me or not.  I have absolutely no idea, which is probably not a good sign.  I can’t think of anything positive said in my direction except he said I was tiny, he liked my boots, and that I eat slowly, which is the healthy way.  Like I said, nothing to go on.  I made him laugh, but so could a Chihuahua with an underbite, so that doesn’t say much either.  We hugged at the end of the date – don’t worry, I didn’t overhug him – and he said he would call me.  My first generic “I’ll call you”!!  I’ve officially joined the ranks of the dating masses!

By the way, I guess the sarcasm in my profile is not the way to a man’s heart like I thought.  I was talking about my profile when The Chef said, “Guys just look at the pictures.”  But I put a lot of thought into my profile and – “We’re guys – we just look at the pictures.”  Oh.  So much for that ‘A’ I was going for in creative writing.

I sent him a message today thanking him for the date.  If I don’t hear from him again I’ll have to chalk it up to his non-attraction of my 3-D self.  There’s nothing I can do about that.  I’ll simply have to go on *weep weep despair* and try to find a date that finds me more funny and charming than that damn Chihuahua.