The Singleship

Recent first dates

2012-02-21T10:12:00.000-08:00

Hello, dear readers! I know that in your free time, all you really do is sit around and fret about the status of my dating life, so I’m going to relieve your crushing anxiety with an update on what I’ve been up to in my few weeks off from blogging.

For starters, I went on two rather average first dates. There have actually been a number of dates like these in the past year that I haven’t written about, largely because I don’t think you’d find them all that interesting. I myself don’t find them all that interesting and unless the guy is a total douche, I’d feel like an asshole outlining exactly why each date fell short. Usually, it can be summed up by noting that one or both of us was just not that into it.

And there’s not a ton to say about these two recent first dates, either, though the first was enjoyable enough. We went to Circa in Foggy Bottom and had a few drinks, and though the venue was lovely and my date was perfectly nice and normal, I was not attracted to him in the slightest. Game over.

The second gentleman seemed initially to have potential, but time soon revealed that my date, while easy on the eyes, had the personality of a doorknob. Walking home after we said our goodbyes, I was astonished to see that only an hour and fifteen minutes had passed in what felt like an eternity. I’ve watched the entire Lord of the Rings series in what seemed like less time.

Following these dates, I was feeling a little defeated, like I was never going to meet a guy that wasn’t completely boring or a douchey man-child in disguise. I started to beat myself up a bit for my lack of success in the romance arena, noting that it’s becoming a little worrisome that I’ve managed to go on so many first dates with so little to show for them.

But then, I had one more first date. And what do you know? It ended up being kind of great.

Before we met, though, I had to do a little stalking. In the “exchange autobiographies” stage of eHarmony, it came up that Lee’s father had recently retired from my current place of employment. I grew very paranoid that he was the son of an inept, annoying man that I used to work with on occasion. I mean, how awkward would it be if Lee and I started dating and then I realized that his father was the recently retired gross dude that used to stare at all the young females in the office?

Fortunately, due to my super sleuth skills, I was able to confirm that this was not the case, and Lee and I made plans to meet the following week. Though he lives and works in Virginia, he offered to meet me near my office in DC, which earned him major bonus points.

And so, on a dark, cold Tuesday night, I walked into Chef Geoffs for my date with Lee. And the first thing I thought upon spotting him was, whoa, this guy is tall.

I used to only be interested in guys that were a fair amount taller than me, but lately I’ve been more open minded when it comes to height. My friend John and I joke that every year that passes that I’m still single, I lower my height standard one more inch -- by 2018 I’ll be dating men who have to look up to kiss me (if I’m still on eHarmony in 2018, you have permission to take me out back and shoot me).

Still, I remain a sucker for dudes that tower over me. Though I really liked the fact that Lee fell into this category, I reminded myself not to be blinded by the tall (it’s a real thing) and to reserve judgment until the conclusion of the date. I walked over and hugged him hello, and we finagled our way into an open space near the bar, where we stood and chatted for a while. I wanted to order a Super Mug of beer- 33.8 ounces of deliciousness- but I wasn’t sure yet how long the date would last and went with a pint instead. My caution proved to be unnecessary, since it wasn’t until four hours later- yes, FOUR- that we finally left the bar.

One reason we stayed for so long was because Lee turned out to be quite friendly and engaging, and very good at keeping the conversation going. Which was a refreshing change of pace from the less than stellar conversationalists I’ve encountered in dates past.

And the more we talked, the more I got the sense that he’s the type of positive, sociable person that everyone likes. He mentioned, for example, that he’ll be in four different weddings in the upcoming months. He has that quality of being friendly and easy to talk to and curious about people and I can’t imagine anyone not liking him. And that is something that I find really, really appealing.

We talked about a lot of different things on the date and it never felt forced, except for the time that he held his hand up to give me a high five and I waited a beat too long to respond. Durr. Our conversation was of the typical first date variety, in which we traded details about our families, friends, and hobbies, but without that tiresome feeling of being interviewer and interviewee. Seriously, is there anything more tedious than a date that feels like work?

About halfway through the night, we got on the topic of DC-area sports when I mentioned that, horror of horrors, I have yet to go to a Caps game. Though I’ve always thought the games looked fun, hockey spectating just hasn’t been that high on my list of must-do activities. I mean, what am I, Canadian?

As an avid fan, Lee was astounded to hear this. He held his hands out toward me, almost as if in plea. “Well, do you want to go sometime?”

To which I say: setting up the second date before the end of the first? More bonus points for you, sir.

Once we settled our tab, which Lee paid after rebuffing my offer to contribute, we walked to the Metro. As we approached the entrance closest to the Orange and Blue Line platform, I pointed out the entrance I usually use when commuting, the one closest to the Red Line.

“Aw, you’re walking me to my stop,” he replied.

“Well, you came all the way from Virginia, I figured it was the least I could do!”

After we passed through the turnstile, I saw that I only had a minute to make it across the station to catch my train and turned toward Lee to bid him farewell.

“I had fun,” he said. “I definitely want to see you again. I’ll call you when I get back from that work trip to Chicago.” But before I could reply, he amended his statement. “Wait, no, I’ll call you before then.” We exchanged a quick hug goodbye and I turned to run for my train.

It all sounds pretty good, right? And it was. But in the interest of full disclosure, I feel like I need to mention one other thing about Lee. The thing that kept me from acting like a giddy idiot as I have after previous noteworthy first dates.

And that thing is this: I did not feel 100% sure that I was all that attracted to him. I was attracted to his affability, to his tallness, to pretty much everything about him, but I couldn’t quite tell yet how much base physical attraction was present. I certainly didn’t find him unattractive, but I also wasn’t getting a clear sense that I wanted to be anything more than his friend.

Which is why, the following week, we went on date number two.

A guest post from Appealing Kate: the conclusion

2012-02-17T05:00:00.000-08:00

A huge thank you to Kate for filling in these last few weeks. The conclusion of her series is my favorite part, but I'm sad it's come to an end. For more of Kate, check out Doing the District or follow her on Twitter at @AppealingKate. Now, on with the story!

Sunday night, as I drove to Chinatown from Georgetown, I thought about the various men that had come back into my life over the past couple of months. Every single one of them was a repeat offender. As in, I had dated each of them before. And each was taking up unnecessary real estate in my brain. And a few even in my heart.

But as I drove down Constitution Avenue, I told myself, "Tonight, I just focus on Tom. I'm eliminating all the other men from my thoughts."

I walked into Jaleo and was greeted by Tom's sweet smile and a big hug. We were seated at a cute little table overlooking F Street. He ordered us two glasses of superb Spanish wine and a variety of tapas to share. He even remembered my peanut allergy and told our server. How adorable is that?

Over the next two hours we talked and ate and laughed. We just had so much to catch up on and tell each other. Which strikes me as somewhat funny now, because that night was really only our third time ever hanging out. But it seemed like our twentieth.

After dinner we walked out of the restaurant and stood on the street.

"I know that it's getting late, and you have to work tomorrow...but I don't want this night to end. Any chance I can convince you to stay out for one more drink?" he asked.

I hesitated for about ohhhh half a second before I accepted. We decided to walk up 7th Street to Fado. It was dead in Chinatown, and when he grabbed my hand and our fingers laced together, I nearly melted. I think that DC is such a romantic city, and I can think of nothing more perfect than walking hand in hand with a man I care about around our beautiful city at night.

We walked into Fado, which was also dead (probably because it was 10:30 on a Sunday night), and grabbed seats at the back bar. We each ordered a Guinness. We sipped our beers as we sat facing each other with our legs intertwined. And maybe it was because we were both slightly buzzed or because we both knew it was now or never, but we just started talking honestly and openly about things people would rarely talk about on a third date.

He told me that he could see himself dating me for a very long time. That he just has this feeling about me. I told him that I felt the same way. We told each other about our past relationships, and why they didn't work. We've both been hurt and disappointed and dated people that weren't right for us. We talked about what we have both learned from our different relationships and what we want and don't want in future ones.

You know when you see a couple in a bar or restaurant and they are just totally consumed with each other? That was us.

We talked about how we both really hoped to keep in touch while he was gone. He told me that he did not expect me to wait for him, but that he really hoped that we could email and skype and talk while he was gone. And that the first thing on his agenda when he gets back to the states will be seeing me.

We finished our second round of Guinness and for the first time I looked at my watch. "Shit, I have to head home," I said, remembering my early morning meeting the next day.

He closed our tab, and we walked back down 7th Street toward my car. Unlike every other time we had been together, we were both quiet. Neither of us talked. We both knew what was coming. A very sad goodbye.

We stopped in front of my car and faced each other. He hesitated. Then pulled me in.

It was so bittersweet--- a great first kiss and a goodbye kiss all wrapped into one. And then I got in my car and drove home.

As I was getting into bed, my phone buzzed with a text message: "I hope you made it home safely. I already miss you."

Tom is now living and working in Africa. We email and keep in touch, but it's hard. I hear reports about the war torn country he is in and it scares the shit out of me. He writes me and tells me that he loves the work he is doing. He also assures me that he is safe, but it's just so hard for me to imagine that he really truly is.

In the meantime, I've managed to eliminate all the repeat offenders from my life. I am still really sad about one in particular, but I know that it's for the best because I finally realized that he couldn't give me what I want. Is this due to Tom? Hard to say. But Tom definitely helped remind me that it's possible to meet someone and instantly have a connection and be on the same page. I had forgotten that for a while.

It's hard to know what the future holds for Tom and me. A lot can happen in six months. But I love our emails and talks and the thought of seeing him when he returns. And, right now, that is enough to keep me hopeful.

I would like to thank The Singleship for inviting me to guest blog. It's been fun sharing this story on her blog, and I hope you have all enjoyed it!

A guest post from Appealing Kate: Part 3

2012-02-03T05:00:00.000-08:00

I emailed Tom on Thursday to see what time he wanted to meet up the following night. A few hours later he wrote back to tell me that unfortunately our Zoo Lights date was not going to work, because his co-workers had just informed him that they were planning a wild and crazy night out for him to celebrate his last day of work. He invited me to join them. I thought about it and decided to just let him have the night with his friends. But I was bummed. He suggested Saturday night instead, but I had my office holiday party that night and unbeknownst to him, Mr. Hurricane was my date.

Tom reminded me that he was leaving for his home state of Michigan on Sunday and would be there until mid-January, so we made plans to touch base once he returned to D.C. I figured that we would talk while we were both home for the holidays and told him to have a blast with his friends.

When I didn't hear from Tom over Christmas, I did not think much of it. In fact, I didn't even realize that I had not heard from him. At that point, I had started seeing Mr. Hurricane again and between that, holiday parties, and my trip home to New England, I was pretty consumed with other things. The whole "Out of sight, out of mind" thing? Yeah, that happened. In fact, when a friend asked me about Tom on New Years Eve, I realized for the first time that he had not been in touch. "Huh, oh well, sometimes people come into your lives for a quick moment and that's that," I said.

But then things with Mr. Hurricane started to unravel. I was crazy about him the last time we dated, even told friends at the time that I could see myself falling in love with him. And while I still really enjoyed spending time with him this time around, I started to realize why we did not work the first time. Maybe we were not so compatible after all. Even if he can kiss me like no one else ever has...sigh. I also had two different ex boyfriends make appearances back into my life, which only made me realize that I still had some things to work through.

I was laying on my couch drinking wine with Thirsty Ivy a few weeks later when my phone buzzed. It was Tom.

"Holy crap, I totally forgot about this guy," I said to her as I read his texts.

He told me that he had just arrived back to town the day before, and asked if I wanted to go out that night and get a drink. Already in my sweatpants and cozy with Thirsty Ivy, I declined. Then he suggested dinner the next night.

"Hmmm, what should I do?" I asked Thirsty.

"Go for it," she said, "what do you have to lose?"

I told him I was free, and he suggested Jaleo in Chinatown.

"I don't know if I should be doing this, Thirsty," I said. "I have too many confusing men in my life right now. I don't need to add another one who is moving to Africa in a week."

She reminded me that it was just dinner, not a marriage proposal, and that I should go or else I might regret it.

So, Sunday night I put on a cute top, my skinny jeans and tall brown boots and headed off to Chinatown to meet the man that was moving to Africa less than week later...

Kate is the former author of A Single Girl Doing Single Things and is co-creator and contributor for Doing the District. You can follow her on twitter at @AppealingKate

A guest post from Appealing Kate: Part 2

2012-01-31T11:52:00.000-08:00

I woke up Saturday morning to a text from Tom telling me how much he enjoyed meeting me and that he wanted to see me again as soon as possible. He suggested dinner at Circa in Dupont Circle for the following Monday.

Mid-day Monday, though, something came up and I asked him if we could push our plans back to drinks instead of dinner. He said that would be fine. By the time we met up it was 9pm. We sat at the bar in Circa and just started talking. And laughing. And sharing stories. He told me all about his upcoming move to Africa and the work he would be doing over there as an international development consultant. He told me that he could be in Africa anywhere between six months and two years. And that he has been completely excited for this trip with zero hesitations about going until now.

"I don't want to freak you out since we just met, but now that I have met you I kind of wish I wasn't going so soon."

Now, some girls don't like it when a guy is just totally into them and tells them that they are. Me? I love honesty. And openness. Doesn't scare me away at all. Instead it makes me feel more comfortable and safe to open up to them, too. So, I loved that he was being so honest with me. I think it is rare to find.

While Tom and I talked time just seemed to stand still. We were both just totally consumed with each other. We ordered a plate of hummus but barely touched it. In fact the bartender came over and asked if there was something wrong with it and Tom just laughed and said, "I think we just keep forgetting that it is there."

We kept talking and did not realize that it was midnight. And that we were the last ones at Circa. When we finally came up for air, we noticed that the bartender was looking at us with "please can you continue this elsewhere" eyes.

Tom helped me into my coat and then we walked out of the restaurant. We were walking down Connecticut Avenue to Dupont Circle when the server came running out after us. We were so wrapped up in talking that Tom forgot to pay! He face turned all sorts of red as we walked back into the restaurant. It was adorable.

After he closed our tab, we walked back out and he hailed me a cab. I thought that maybe he would try to kiss me, but instead he just wrapped me in a giant hug. It was awesome. We lingered for a few minutes, and then I got into the cab. But not before we made plans to get together the following weekend to go look at the Zoo Lights at the National Zoo.

I giggled to myself as I headed home that night. Just my luck. These sorts of stories only happen to me.

I noticed I had an email from him while I was on my way to work the next morning. I had told him the night before about my former blog and he had decided to check it out. "I found your blog to be very pink, but although I tried not to read it, I did partially and think you've got a great outlook on life," he said in his email. We emailed back and forth about our plans for Friday. And we started texting back and forth cute things like:

My mom called me a few days later to check in and see how I was doing. I told her about Tom. "Don't you think it is a little soon to rush into something with someone new? Especially someone who is moving to Africa?" she asked in her concerned parental voice.

"What if James comes to his senses and realizes he made a mistake? I told her that while I was still sad about the end of my last relationship, and was still processing it, I didn't see the harm in spending time with an awesome guy before he moves away. And that I did not expect to hear from the ex. "Even if I did," I told her, "he doesn't want to date me, he made that painfully clear, so why would I wait around?"

"Be careful, Kate," she warned. "You probably do not realize it, but you are vulnerable right now. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

I hung up the phone and went for a run. As I was running along the Georgetown waterfront, I thought about what my mom said. Going out with Tom really did seem like a waste of time. But then I thought about our night at Circa. Even though he is leaving," I thought, "what is the harm? I have zero expectations." And while I had decided recently that ultimately what I want is a committed relationship with someone I can see a future with, sometimes you just need to live in the moment and have fun getting to know an interesting person. As I was sitting on my front porch steps cooling down from my run, my phone buzzed. Tom. Just texting to say hi and see how my day was.

And with that, I smiled and walked into the house excited to see him a few days later.

Kate is the former author of A Single Girl Doing Single Things and is co-creator and contributor for Doing the District. You can follow her on twitter at @AppealingKate

A guest post from Appealing Kate: Part 1

2012-01-24T08:45:00.000-08:00

Many thanks to my friend Kate for offering her guest posting services while my dating life is in hibernation. Check back soon for Part 2!

A guy I really liked broke up with me at the end of November. I kept my cool while I was at his place, having the break-up talk. But after we hugged goodbye and he closed the door behind me, I walked down the hallway to the elevators and I just felt myself slipping. By the time I was walking to my car, tears were starting to stream down my face. Rejection, especially from someone you really like, has got to be one of the worst feelings ever.

I immediately called my mom. Voicemail. Then I called Katie and asked if I could come over. She said she would have a glass of wine waiting for me.

My mom called me back while I was driving to Katie's. I was upset. I was crying. Most people in my life don't know how to deal with me when I cry, because it's so very rare that I do cry. And when I do, it's always in the privacy of my bedroom. Alone. So, even my mom doesn't always know what to do. I told her that I am exhausted from dating. All the men I like don't want to date me. All the men that like me, well, I don't want to date them. "I am 30 years old...why is it so hard?" I said.

Then she said something that I have reminded myself of often over the past couple of months. "Kate, God has a plan for you. You just need to have faith that he is leading you to exactly where you are supposed to go." I hung up the phone a few minutes later and went into Katie's apartment for some serious venting and wine drinking. I left an hour later feeling better. And she reminded me about our upcoming girls night out for TheSingleship's end of finals celebration.

That Friday, I put on a new dress, tights, and tall, sexy boots. I spent oodles of time on my hair and makeup. Did I think I would meet someone? Nope. But after feeling pretty sad all week, did I want to feel pretty and do some serious flirting? Yes, yes I did.

We all met up and the festivities began. We started off downtown and then hopped a cab to U Street to check out American Ice Company. We had heard that hot men like to hang out there. Sweet. Well, that did not turn out to be true, so instead we snagged a picnic table outside under the heat lamps and chatted and drank and laughed. It's amazing how I will completely forget about my sad heart when I am surrounded by my good friends.

When we decided to move on to another bar, I skipped inside to close my tab. As I was waiting to get the bartenders attention, a man leaned over and said, "You are cute, can I buy you a drink?"

"Ohhh, thank you," I responded, "but my friends and I are just leaving."

"That's a shame," he said, "because I have a whole group of friends with me, too. Let me introduce you."

I looked past him to the group of guys and immediately made eye contact with a tall man who had one of the friendliest, warmest smiles I have seen in a long time. We were introduced. "Hi, I'm Tom," he said with a grin. We chatted while I closed my tab and when Katie came in looking for me, I introduced her to the group. Tom wanted to know where we were going next. I said it was a girls' night and we were heading to another bar down the street. He said they would love to meet up with us later. Numbers were exchanged, and we were on our way.

A few hours later, Tom texted to see if we were still out. We were and they all met up with us. Tom and I sat next to each other and talked non-stop for the next hour. I rarely just feel drawn to someone. I was drawn to him. We talked about work, families, goals, ambitions, plans. All the things that are discussed on first, second, third dates. We got that all out of the way. He was just so easy to talk to, to open up to, to listen to.

BUT then, the kicker.

Suddenly he got serious. "I don't normally meet girls like you, Kate. You just seem awesome, and I would love to take you out to dinner," he paused, "but..."

BUT.

Never a good sign. I was waiting for him to tell me he had a girlfriend. Or at the very least, was seeing someone.

Instead his but followed with..."I just think you should know that I am moving to Africa in a month."

Well, that was not what I was expecting. So, I just responded, "Of course you are. Just my luck."

He laughed- said that he would still like to take me out and get to know me while he was still in town- but wanted to be up front about things. A few minutes later, all of us girls decided to call it a night. He walked me out of the bar, gave me a big hug and put me a cab. We made plans for the following week.

As the cab drove me back to Georgetown, I kept re-playing our conversations in my head. I smiled. You really can never predict who you will meet, when you will meet them, I thought. And after the week I had, maybe my mom was right. There is a plan for me...and I just need to let life happen and guide me along. I went to bed happy that night and excited for my date the following week with the man with the cute smile who was moving to the other side of the world a month later.

Kate is the former author of A Single Girl Doing Single Things and is co-creator and contributor for Doing the District. You can follow her on twitter at @AppealingKate

Man children vs. British men on holiday

2012-01-18T04:00:00.000-08:00

Here’s the problem with writing a blog about dating: it’s sort of contingent on, you know, actually dating. Lately, I’ve been spending my time traveling, drinking, watching hours of How I Met Your Mother on Netflix because I am six years behind popular culture- hey, have you heard about this iPhone contraption?- occasionally going to work, and even less occasionally actually working. But one thing I have not done recently is go on a date.

Whatever happened to Sam? you may be asking. Okay, you are probably not asking this, but I am.

After a series of pointless texts, followed by weeks of silence, I can confidently say that Sam has disappeared into a vortex of douchery. It wasn’t surprising, given how slow he was to set up the second date, but I find myself frustrated by his actions nonetheless.

In dating, everyone has the right to change their mind at any point. You could even say that for many people, that’s the whole point of dating- to spend time with a person until you know whether they’re someone you could make a real commitment to.

The thing is, I try to apply logic to my romantic life, but it’s one of the few instances where logic doesn’t always serve you well (see also: the teachings of Scientology and the popularity of Two and A Half Men). Logic would dictate that a second date- a date characterized by flirting and laughing and touching that culminated in a lingering goodbye kiss in the rain- would lead to a third date.

Apparently not.

Though I was initially disappointed by Sam’s disappearance, I think about all the bullshit he pulled right off the bat, and it no longer seems like much of a loss.

Allow me to further demonstrate this non-loss with the following story.

Once upon a time (okay, one month ago), I took a trip to Mexico with my friend Christina. We had envisioned a vacation filled with sunshine, the beach, tropical drinks, and attractive men. We arrived instead to find sunshine, the beach, tropical drinks, and a visible lack of single men that did not qualify for an AARP card.

After a disappointing first night in which we tried and failed to befriend the lone set of single girls we spotted, we resolved to make the most of our vacation and have fun on our own. But on our second night, we were happily sipping pina coladas from one of the many hotel bars and shooting the shit when a distinctly British voice spoke from a few seats over.

“Have you been to that bar down there? Bit lame, isn’t it?”

We turned to find two attractive British guys on the chairs to our right. Two attractive British guys who looked to be about 30. If this were a TV show, this is the point when you’d hear the chorus of angels singing.

The following night, we met our new British friends in the same spot, and ventured out into the nearby town. Though Christina and I had already gone out on our own, we were still afraid of accidentally getting into a rape taxi and were appreciative of our tall male company.

After a few hours at a loud, crazy club- the type of place that would make me want to punch myself in the face were it in the US, but was actually quite fun in Mexico- we left for a nearby beach bar. The music was loud and the crowd was dancing, but here we had some chairs on the beach that looked out onto the ocean.

After some time, Brian, the softer spoken of the two Brits, asked if I’d like to go over to the edge of the bar where there was a better view of the ocean. I agreed, and he took my hand as we walked closer to the water. After a few minutes, he leaned over and kissed me. So there I was, standing on warm white sand under a black sky glittering with stars, kissing an attractive British man and asking myself how I managed to arrive in such a beautiful dreamworld.

During this time, I glanced over to make sure I hadn’t abandoned Christina, and I saw her similarly sidled up to Brian’s friend. When I mentioned it to her later, she shrugged and said, “I wasn’t really into it, but I looked over and saw you two smooching and figured I’d take one for the team.” Is that a good friend, or what?

On our last night in Mexico, I sat with Brian next to the picturesque pool outside the building where Christina and I were staying. He held my hand in his as we talked.

“I’m glad we got to spend some time together,” he said. “It’s really a shame we don’t live closer.”

“I know. I wish Christina and I were staying a little longer.”

“Me too,” he smiled. “You sort of made my holiday, to be honest.”

Before you start booing me, I want to let it be known that I had no illusions about this going anywhere, and I am aware that when something is not a legitimate option, a lot of the bullshit naturally falls away. But it was still a really nice, really innocent, really timely reminder of how lovely things can and should be when you meet someone that you like.

Contrast this with a man-child who can’t even be bothered to make firm plans to meet for drinks at a bar, and it seems pretty clear that there are better things out there.

I’ll just have to daydream about kissing British strangers on the beach until I find them.

2011: a year of dating in review

2012-01-06T12:01:00.000-08:00

One of the upsides (and downsides) to having this blog is that it helps me track all of my dating experiences in excruciating detail- all the good, all the bad, and all the ugly. Here is a brief overview of the dating drama that went down in 2011.

January
Things came to an end with Andrew, a cute Texas boy that I was quite infatuated with. But then I met a tall Jewish boy named Cameron in a bar!

February
I had a series of marathon dates with Cameron. He was nice, cute, smart...and boring. So, so boring. I tried to make myself like him, but it didn’t really work.

March
I met two guys from eHarmony that seemed really promising. Alas, one turned out to kiss like a German Shepherd, and the other disappeared into a vortex of douchery.

April
I went on two dates with Harry, a friend of a friend. Total disaster. Harry is now dating a nurse with a large forehead, and they probably enjoy taking long walks in the rain together.

May
I met Myron and we had a great first date. Filled with hope! Hope was crushed. Then I met Felipe, a cute stranger in a bar.

June
I dated Felipe. Wrote a lot of cheesy things about him. But it became increasingly stressful to date him and I started cursing a lot in the date recaps.

July
Relationship with Felipe came to an end. Was set up with another cute Texas boy and had a decent first date. However, on the second date, we had nothing to talk about, and I stuffed my face with delicious cheese to overcome the awkwardness.

August
Lots of eHarmony nonsense that didn’t really lead to anything. Behaved like an undergrad at Dewey beach and decided I needed to remove the word “sober” from my blog title.

September
Officially gave up on trying to be friends with the ex, which made me both sad and happy. Sadpy. Met some annoying guys courtesy of eHarmony.

October
Went on a few dates with Brendan. Tried really hard to like him, but couldn’t shake the association with Bobby Moynihan. Knew I didn’t really want to date Bobby Moynihan.

November
Had a pointless sorta-fling with Josh after re-meeting him at a Halloween party.

December
Unknowingly went on a date with a dude I’d already gone on a date with years before. A new high in my dating life, or a new low? Don’t answer that.

Conclusion: I am bad at dating, and will soon run out of people to date in DC and need to relocate.

In truth, I am less disheartened by dating than I thought I would be at this point. Especially with the beginning of a new year, a period marked by optimism and fresh starts. I love New Years, because it reminds me that at any time, I can choose to be better. Choose to be more patient, more forgiving, more generous, more present. Less judgemental, less self-centered, less angry, less weak.

Not that it’s easy, of course. If it were, we’d all be naturally high and walking around with dumb-ass grins plastered on our faces. It’s not that easy. It does take work.

With dating, especially, it’s much easier to focus on the negative. To look at others who are in relationships and envy them their happiness and wonder why it still hasn’t happened for me. To slip into a state of doubt and self-pity after having gone on so many dates that have led absolutely nowhere (see above, months January through December).

It’s so much more difficult to look at it for the opportunity that it is- an opportunity to shape my life for the better. To look back on the past year and be glad for all that I’ve learned. To take away from it the good things I've experienced, and to leave the bad things in the past. To make the most of this fun, crazy, single life, because it won't last forever (dear god, I hope it won't last forever).

And just because dating so far has yet to be successful does not mean that that will always be the case. So it’s been a failure so far. So what? I’ll keep trying. I’ll approach it with as much of an open heart and open mind as I can. And I'll refrain from referencing Friday Night Lights right now even though I totally want to.

To 2012, and new beginnings.

Rage, rain, and Ryan Adams

2011-12-28T14:39:00.000-08:00

After my second “first” date with Sam- that will never not be funny to me- six days went by before he got in touch with me again. I took that as a major warning sign that he either wasn’t that into it, or wasn’t looking for the same kind of thing I’m looking for.

After we exchanged a few texts, he inquired about going out again and I decided I would proceed with caution. Since I was leaving for Mexico in a few days, we agreed to meet the Monday after I got back.

So on Sunday, the day before we’d planned on getting together, I texted him:

Hey, I’m back in DC- still up for doing something tomorrow?

He wrote back:

Let’s do something Tuesday night, tomorrow is my last final and a bunch of classmates are heading out afterward.

Oh, really? Because we talked about getting together on Monday. Which is an entirely different day than Tuesday. And I already have plans for Tuesday, since I don’t just sit around waiting to hang out with you, asshole.

I suggested Wednesday instead, but he said he had to work then, and we settled on Thursday. Actually, “settled on” might be too strong a phrase, since Sam’s text read: Let’s shoot for Thursday.

Why do we have to shoot for it? Why can’t we just establish that we WILL do something on Thursday? You know what would be even crazier? Picking both a date and time in advance!

The whole exchange left me feeling like agreeing to another date was a bad decision. A feeling that was exacerbated when he texted me on Thursday asking if I had any thoughts on what to do that night.

I wrote back that I was up for whatever, and asked if he had any ideas. I know that wasn’t the most helpful of responses, but he was the one that asked me on the date, and I wasn’t about to plan it for him.

In retrospect, I see that he was probably giving me an opportunity to establish my preference for a time or activity, and had I done that, he would’ve deferred to what I selected. But because I put it back on him to determine the details, he then felt it okay to ask if I could meet at 9:30. Which frustrated me so much that I almost hurled my phone against the wall. To his credit, he did ask me if that was too late, which I’m guessing means he would’ve pushed the time up if I said that it was.

The point is, our communication between dates left me with a bad taste in my mouth. His complete lack of effort and planning translated as: I do not care about this at all. And I thought: Okay, this is it. Just this one date, and if this BS continues, I am done. I reminded myself to have zero expectations and not to get my hopes up in the slightest.

Eventually I made myself shower so that I’d look presentable, and my rage subsided a bit when I discovered I was having a good hair day and found an outfit that I liked without much effort.

Then I walked from the metro to a Dupont bar in a downpour, and I was somewhat furious again, especially when 9:35 rolled around and he still hadn’t arrived.

The bar was packed, so I texted him to let him know I was there in case he was waiting for me and I had just failed to spot him (it wouldn’t be the first time).

Sorry, almost there, he wrote, and then immediately sent another text that said, I don’t know what happened, I promise, I’m normally pretty punctual.

A likely story, I wrote back. A nicer sentiment than what I was thinking, which was more along the lines of shove it up your ass.

However.

As soon as he walked into the bar, I was done. He had no umbrella, so rain was falling from his hair and his clothes, and when he spotted me, his face lit up in this big smile. I could feel my own face reflecting his smile back as he showed the bouncer his ID and made his way over to me.

So much for my “fuck this asshole” mutterings and “keep your expectations low” attitude, because it all flew out the window before he even said a word to me.

He walked over and hugged me hello, and though his somewhat unfortunately colored orange shirt was drenched and transferred some rain to me in the process, I still happily accepted his hug. And I was reminded, yet again, that when you are attracted to someone, you fucking know it. Future self, remember this if faced with any more Bobby Moynihans. Attraction, if present, is never in question; if you’re not sure, it means it’s not there.

The bar was so packed that Sam offered to grab us drinks so that I could stay in the small corner spot against the wall that I had claimed a few minutes earlier. He returned with two beers and we stood chatting for a bit, talking about how our weeks had gone.

As the night wore on and the crowd thinned out a bit, we made our way over to some open stools that were situated at a long countertop facing away from the bar. He put his hand on my back as we navigated through the sea of people.

Once we settled into our seats, we talked about a hodgepodge of random things. My trip to Mexico, his brothers, books and movies, and about our plans for the holidays- he was taking a trip with his family and I was planning to sit around and eat a lot.

“So you’re going to the football game with your brother on Christmas Eve,” he said. “What about Christmas?”

“Well, I’m Jewish,” I said. “So I’ll probably do the whole Chinese food and movie thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

“Most people don’t, I guess because I don’t have the typical dark hair and eyes.”

“I still think you’re Irish. Look at these freckles!” He tapped his fingers against the spots on my forearm as if they were an indictment against my heritage.

The longer we sat there, the more this happened. He commented on my patterned stockings and touched my knee; I made a joke and touched his arm. And it was all just fun. Everything a second date should be- laid back and easy and flirty and fun. Nothing serious, nothing boring, nothing more than just talking about nonsense and getting to know each other organically.

After nearly three hours of this, we left the bar and walked outside.

It was warm outside and lightly raining, despite the fact that it was December 22nd and the restaurants and shops nearby were adorned with wreaths and twinkling Christmas lights.

We crossed the street to where I could hail a cab home, since it was after midnight and the metro was no longer running.

For a few minutes, there were no empty cabs in sight. An occasional car drove by, but aside from that, we had Connecticut Avenue to ourselves. It seemed like the area was deserted, which it was, somewhat; many people had already fled the city to spend the holidays elsewhere.

I was glad for these few minutes that we stood in the rain together, his hand rubbing my back, the space between us gradually disappearing until my arm was around him in a half hug. I know we were talking about something during this time, but I have no idea what.

A cab sitting at a red light spotted us waiting and flashed his lights. And this made me sad. So, so sad, because I was having such a nice time. The cab pulled over, and we had to say goodbye.

“Let’s hang out again soon, okay?”

I smiled. “Okay.”

And then he kissed me goodbye. A brief kiss, a perfect kiss, a kiss imbued with the all the feeling of a standing-in-the-city-in-the-rain Ryan Adams song.

So, yeah, this “low expectations” thing is really going swimmingly.

I’m not an idiot though- I’m not picking out a color scheme for our wedding or making a scrapbook of our future children just yet (I’d wait until at least the fourth date to do that, anyway). I am still very much proceeding with caution and keeping my expectations exceedingly low.

But I'm not going to lie- it's starting to get difficult.

Josh, part three

2011-12-21T15:22:00.000-08:00

After Josh and I flirted our way through the end of Saturday evening, we exchanged some inept texts- beer make brain stupid- in which we both referenced hanging out again soon.

However, nearly two weeks passed, and no such hanging out occurred. Color me unsurprised that a dude who repeatedly ignored my refusals to go home with him the second time we met showed no interest in sober contact.

Which was 100 percent okay with me; I never viewed Josh as a legitimate prospect for anything other than a fun diversion, for some reason. Actually, I know these reasons, and they are as follows:

We never had any sort of communication in which we talked about meaningful things

When we did discuss things that bordered on meaningful, they were in relation to him, because he never actually showed any interest in my life
Josh has slightly perv-y eyes, and who wants to date a dude that’s going to creep out your friends?
Josh is a bad kisser who uses way too much tongue (seriously, stop)
Josh is overly aggressive
Josh lives with a (not-single) girl who is a good friend of his and the epitome of what it means to be a terrible human being

However, in spite of all this, a few weeks after we last saw each other, I got drunk at a friend’s Caribbean-themed holiday party and decided it would be a good idea to text him. You know, because my life is a composite of hundreds of tiny bad decisions.

Not helping the matter were Alicia and Ben, who insisted that I should text Josh and that it would benefit us both to get together.

“Yeah, but if he’s going to take no initiative on the matter, why should I help him out?” I asked.

Ben shrugged. “Josh is bad at these things. He needs a push sometimes.”

I considered it as I took another sip from my rum punch.

“Do you want me to text him?” he asked.

“NO!” I reached out to slap Ben’s hand when he began to pull out his phone. I get a little violent when I drink, but at least I don’t bite people like I used to.

“I just thought it would be nice if I could help one of my friends get laid,” he said.

“Two of your friends,” I corrected.

“Right! It would be a double mitzvah!”

Ultimately, I let boredom with my love life and the rum take over, and I texted Josh that I was at a party with Ben and Alicia and that he should come join us.

He declined, stating that he had to be up early for work the next day, but asked what I was doing the following night. We agreed that we’d all try to hang out then.

The following day, he sent me this text:

Going out in either Columbia Heights or Eastern Market tonight. Talk to Alicia.

Really? I thought. I know you’re working, but you can’t even correspond with me directly?

I almost washed my hands of it completely at that point, but again- tiny bad decisions.

That night, I met up with Alicia, Ben and Josh at the Red Derby, a low-key hipster bar in Columbia Heights. I was under the impression that there was a big group of them hanging out, so I took my sweet time getting ready. But when I showed up, Alicia and Ben were sitting on one side of a small table, and Josh on the other, an empty chair next to him. Whoops.

I greeted them and sat down, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It felt a little like Ben and Alicia were our chaperons; that they were there to shepherd the process of getting us together. While I certainly appreciated my friends’ eagerness to give my romantic life a boost, I still wasn’t sure at this point what I wanted from the whole situation.

I was having fun, though, as we laughed and talked about the awkward old couple that was making out at the table next to us. About halfway into the evening, Alicia decided that we needed to play a game, so Ben walked over to the selection of board games stacked against the wall and returned to the table with Pictionary.

Alicia and I made up one team, and Ben and Josh the other. I am ridiculously bad at drawing things unless they are right in front of me, and as such, Ben and Josh were kicking our asses.

During one round, Alicia was drawing and I was guessing. She drew a picture of a dress as I shouted out some related words. “Dress! Woman-clothing-outfit-FASHION!”

She added on a tag and touched the tip of her pen to it.

“Tag!”

Her eyes lit up as she prompted me to continue. She drew a dollar sign

“Tag price! Wait, price tag!”

Alicia dropped the pen and raised her hands in victory as Josh laughed beside me.

“Tag price?”

I laughed and elbowed him. “Hey, I got there eventually!”

He grinned and put his hand on my leg, kick-starting a series of touchy-feely events. He held my hand and I tapped my foot against his under the table, like we were being sly. In actuality, I’m sure we had all the subtlety of a traveling circus.

As the evening drew to a close, I invited everyone back to my apartment to hang out. There were several reasons for this: 1) I drank too much hipster beer; 2) it was still early; 3) Alicia and Ben had driven to the bar, and it would be easier to get home via car than metro; and 4) if I did want to spend time alone with Josh, it would be a lot less awkward to do so if he was already in my apartment.

After we arrived in my apartment and opened a bottle of wine, we all talked for a while before Alicia and Ben stood up to leave.

Of course, it wasn’t long after that that Josh and I were making out on the couch, which was an infinitely better scenario than making out on a stranger’s porch chairs. Still, though, it wasn’t particularly comfortable. Josh asked if I wanted to go into my bedroom.

I reluctantly agreed, but not before informing him that nothing was going to happen and he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Josh being Josh, though, seemed to think he could change my mind. I guess he thought that by shoving his tongue down my throat, I’d be so hot and bothered that I’d throw caution to the wind.

But here’s what it comes down to, really: I am just not the type of person that gets involved in “casual” situations. Not that there’s anything wrong with that (-Jerry Seinfeld), or because I hate fun, or because I’m a prude- but because I just can’t bring myself to strip hooking up of the intimacy that goes along with it.

Nor do I really want to. I’m an introverted person, and it takes time for me to be comfortable with people and to trust them, and even more so when it involves getting nekkid. I just can’t imagine a scenario in which I would want to sleep with someone that I didn’t have some sort of feelings for. I don’t know how to compartmentalize my feelings that way. I guess some people would say that makes me a prude, and I’m okay with that.

I told Josh all of this on Halloween, but again, just like that night, I found him to be pushy. He didn’t do anything that crossed the line, but I resented having to be constantly on the defensive. Like I was Ray Lewis trying to body slam him away as he inched toward the end zone.

By this time, it was very late, and Josh had a long way to go to get home.

“Do you mind if I stay over?” he murmured into my shoulder. I was laying on my side and his arm was draped around mine.

“No,” I said, my eyes closed. And then suddenly, bright morning light was filtering through the window.

We lay in my bed chatting for a while before Josh got up to head out. I walked him to the elevator and he kissed me goodbye. Naturally, I got fairly awkward at this point, and when he was gone, I was glad.

I crawled back into bed, hoping to sleep for another hour or so. I had a paper to write and finals to study for; Josh was the last thing on my mind.

Fast-forward about a week and a half.

I was done with my finals and packing for Mexico when this text from Josh popped up on my phone:

Hey J, I’m not ignoring you, I’ve just been thinking about whether or not I want to give this thing a real shot, and I’m just not feeling it. You’re a great girl, but the connection just isn’t there for me. Sorry.

My first reaction was to be filled with rage and respond with one of the following:

-I really wish the connection was there...the connection between my fist and your face

-Oh, no. I was really looking forward to being tongue-raped by you again :(

-Sorry to hear that. The good news is, you’ve still held onto the belief that you’re God’s gift to women and the most special snowflake in all the land

-Seriously, you are the worst kisser ever. What are you doing, hunting for treasure?

After a minute, I just laughed, shrugged, and said “whatever.”

I slid my phone open to respond, thinking ahead to the times we’d surely see each other again.

I was never under the impression that this was going anywhere, but I appreciate the text. Hope you’re doing well.

Josh wrote back, and we exchanged a few more texts before I deleted them on my phone. I was glad to be done with it all, and looking forward to getting on a plane to Mexico the next morning. And it just so happens that there, I met someone who was not only not terrible at kissing, but actually pretty good at it.

And that, my friends, is Josh, the end.
.

It's a small world, after all

2011-12-12T04:30:00.000-08:00

I have had a lot of really strange crap happen in my dating life, but this might just take the cake. It’s been seven days, and I’m still slightly stunned.

***

Want to meet somewhere on U Street?

This is the text I got a week ago from Sam.

A few weeks before, Sam and I had reached the “exchange autobiographies” stage on eHarmony, as my friend Wendy calls it. We volleyed a series of decently entertaining emails back and forth until he finally asked me on a real date.

But between Thanksgiving and finals and some other random events, the plans kept getting pushed back. Which was unfortunate, because according to his profile, Sam was 29, close to his brothers, and had the dirty blond hair of the perennially adorable Scott Speedman (it's my blog and I'll reference Scott Speedman as much as I want to).

Finally, we set up a date for Monday. When I read his text about meeting on U Street, I was a little put off. I knew he lived in that area; he knew I did not. I resented a bit that he hadn’t attempted to pick a spot that was more central, but that was probably overly judge-y and unfair. I mean, it’s not like he asked me to go to freaking Old Town.

Plus, I did like American Ice Company, the bar he suggested. It had a festive hipster feel to it, and when I arrived a few minutes early, I claimed two stools at the bar and ordered the seasonal beer on tap. I was fiddling with my phone when I heard footsteps approaching.

“Kind of a slow night, huh?”

Sam walked up to me with a smile, immediately friendly and at ease, and I thought: Yay, he’s cute.

To keep this post a reasonable length, I’ll skip the play-by-play and just sum it up with:

We drank a few beers. We laughed. We talked. We had the same sense of humor and general outlook on things. We laughed some more at the fact that we’d both been at the Katy Perry concert over the summer (though, this was mostly me laughing at him for going to a Katy Perry concert).

As the date progressed, we shifted from facing the bar to facing each other. I thought he was cute and laid back, and I was having a good time. It all felt very easy and promising, and I was pretty pleasantly surprised by the whole thing.

We were discussing upcoming vacation plans when I mentioned that I was afraid of burning in the Mexican sun.

“Just bring sunscreen," he said. "Lots and lots of sunscreen. That’s what I do.”

“I’m even paler than you, though,” I replied, pointing to my face to demonstrate.

He looked at me skeptically. “I don’t know, you should see my arms -- white as snow. You have some nice freckles, at least.”

I laughed and took a sip of my beer.

“Are you Irish?” he asked.

“No, my family is mostly from Russia and Germany. But there’s a little bit of Danish on my mom’s side.”

“Oh, really? What’s your last name?”

For the purpose of this post, we’ll say that it’s “Z”. Get it? Jay-Z? I know, my punishment for that should be having to listen to 99 Problems on repeat the next 99 times I turn on my iPod.

I have a pretty memorable last name, so after I told him what it was, I followed it up with the same joke I always follow it up with. But he didn’t respond the way I expected him to. Instead, he looked puzzled. He gave me a little smile to acknowledge that he’d heard me, but didn’t say anything in reply.

After he paid for our drinks, we walked out of the bar and out onto the empty sidewalk. We were on a dark, deserted side street and the twinkling Christmas lights from houses down the road grew brighter as we walked toward them.

“You know,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “Years ago, I went on a date with a girl whose last name was Z.”

Weird, I thought. Must have been some random girl with the same last name, since I have no sisters and my cousins are all much younger.

“It had to have been you,” he said.

“What?”

I looked at him and smiled. He must have had me confused with someone else.

“I think we met in...Adams Morgan, maybe? Yeah, Adams Morgan. And then we went on a date. To Cafe Citron.”

When he said Cafe Citron, that’s when I knew.

He was right.

I suddenly stopped walking. Following my lead, he stopped a second after I did. I was so stunned that I shrieked, “WHAT?”, and then turned around in a circle. I don’t know why this was my reaction. I guess the circuitry in my brain was all jumbled by this discovery?

After a minute, and a few oh my gods, I finally managed to get some real words out.

“I remember,” I said slowly. “We sat at the bar...”

“...and I drove you home.”

I giggled somewhat hysterically at this, remembering sitting in the car next to him. How was it that I just unknowingly spent two hours on a first date with someone that I had already been on a date with?

For some reason, Sam was a lot less freaked out by all this than I was.

“Well, eHarmony must be doing something right, huh?” He smiled at me. “We obviously saw something in each other both times.”

My pulse slowly returned to a normal rate as we resumed walking.

“God, how long ago was that? Four years ago? Five?”

He considered it. “Man, I don’t know. But I remember...it was right before I got back together with an ex.”

“Oh,” I said, and then proceeded onward because I was tipsy and lacked a filter. “Yeah, I remember thinking the date was good and being surprised that we never went out again.”

For whatever reason, the most vivid thing from the first first date that I can recall is that we talked about the movie Cache. I remember we were both surprised the other had seen it. It’s a foreign film that we both just happened to randomly watch in the weeks before, and I remember us laughing about how much we both hated it. And the whole date was like that- discovering little things we had in common, finding that we talked easily.

Later, when I got home, I searched my email, trying to find exactly when I had gone out with this guy. This led to the discovery of the following gchat with a friend, which apparently took place in August 2007:

J: i went out with this guy sam last week. the one i met in adams morgan

R: he’s the one you met in the bar? (<---This was around the time I met another guy on the Metro. I got around back then.)

J: yeah, we only talked for like 15 minutes, but he asked for my number
at first he just sent me text messages, and i was like, “F that”
but then he called and actually asked me out
even though it was just for drinks not dinner

R: so how was the date?

J: i'm not sure if it's because my expectations were really low but i actually had a pretty good time. and it went well, so, we'll see

R: any good night kisses?

J: no no. though i wouldn't have been opposed, because i was slightly drunk.
although, one strike against him- he called me “killer” at one point

R: killer??

J: yes!!!! why??

R: in what context?

J: i don't even know...there was really no context. i think he said it as i was getting out of the car. like, "talk to you later, killer."

But back to 2011...

We were walking back toward the Metro, when in a reverse of what happened earlier, he stopped suddenly. We had arrived in front of his house, and I scrambled to backtrack.

We stood, facing each other on the sidewalk.

“This was a nice second date.” He grinned when he said second. “Let’s do it again, soon, okay? Not let the same mistake happen twice.”

He hugged me goodbye, and I walked the rest of the way to the metro feeling strangely exhilarated by it all- like maybe we had been meant to meet again. We met years ago, and it didn’t work out; maybe this was our second chance.

Except.

He waited until yesterday to get in touch with me. Six days. I know there are different schools of thought on when an appropriate time to follow up after a date is, and that’s fine. I don’t really want to debate anyone about that. I only mention it to say that, for me, in this particular instance, it served as a good reminder to keep my expectations in check. If we do actually go on a second- errr, third- date, I will go in with my guard up. Way-the-fuck up. I will take things only for what they are, and not ascribe meaning to something that is really just a funny coincidence.

And if it doesn’t work out, who knows-- maybe we’ll completely forget it happened and then go on a third date in four more years.

In the meantime, I’m off to Mexico, and I am bringing lots of sunscreen. However, I will not be gone long, and shall post Josh, part 3 upon returning.

Talk to you later, killers!

Josh, part two

2011-12-06T12:11:00.000-08:00

Josh, part one can be found here

Shortly after Josh left the Halloween party, I said goodbye to my friends and walked the few blocks back to my apartment. After I dropped my deflated witches hat on the floor, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed, I pulled my phone out of my bag to place it on my nightstand and saw a little blinking envelope signaling a new message.

It was great re-meeting you, Jay.

I laughed to myself at his use of “Jay”. Every flirty douche bag I have ever liked has called me by this nickname.

Instead of replying, I just went to sleep. Not because I didn’t like Josh or have fun with him, but because I had no interest in making him my partner on a trip down drunken hookup lane. Such lanes lead to things like Facebook stalking and ugly-crying, and I do enough of those as it is.

The following Thursday, I was killing time on campus in between classes when I spotted Alicia coming out of the building that houses her grad program. I waved to her to come join me.

She waved back and walked over, slinging her bag onto the small table I had claimed and collapsing down in the chair next to me with a sigh.

“Long day?” I asked.

“The longest. I’ve hardly slept this week and I haven’t even started my final papers.” She looked over at the article I was highlighting and plucked a grape from the bag I had brought with me.

“So, Halloween,” I said.

“It’s all kind of fuzzy.”

“Apparently you told Josh that we should sleep together.”

Actually, she phrased it much more vulgarly, but I chose to be a lady for once and softened the language upon repeating it.

Alicia raised her eyebrows. “That does sound like something I would say.”

“And I asked him who he would save in a fire, you or Ben, and he said you.”

She started laughing. “What?”

“He also said I shouldn’t tell you he said that, but since we’ve been friends for years and I’ve met him all of twice, that was obviously never going to happen.”

It was nearly 70 degrees outside and the students had come out in full force to enjoy the November sunshine. Groups of girls with long hair and high boots sat huddled together on the quad, laughing as boys sporting fraternity letters exchanged fist bumps beside them.

One of my classmates walked by then, stopping at our table to chat. We joked about the ineptitude of our professor for a few minutes before he said goodbye and moved onward. I felt like I was back in undergrad, drinking coffee, studying, gossiping about boys amidst the beautiful, expansive grounds of the university.

“Apparently Josh felt bad about everything the next morning,” Alicia added.

“He felt bad? Why?”

“Well, I guess he’s sort of been seeing some girl.”

“Um...what?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t think they’re together or anything. I know he likes her and that they work together, but she’s moving away and he’s not happy about it.”

“Huh.” I was surprised to hear this, but didn’t have strong feelings about it either way. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go home with him, then.”

We stayed and talked some more as the sun began to wane and the air grew cold. Soon it was dark, and Alicia left to go home. I stood up and fished my scarf out of my bag, wrapping it tightly around my neck as I walked across campus.

***

Two weeks after Josh and I made out on a random person’s porch while dressed in Halloween costumes, I saw him again.

Alicia and I had plans to meet up with some of her old coworkers, whom I’d met before, but on Saturday night we found ourselves in Dupont with no coworkers to be found. We stood on the sidewalk outside Madhatter and discussed our other options.

“Mariah and Caleb are out,” said Alicia as she scrolled through some messages on her phone.

Mariah and Caleb are in grad school with Alicia, and though I wasn’t thrilled about crashing their gathering, I was even less thrilled about the prospect of turning around and going back home. Let me tell you, I would not take the time to straighten my hair and put on makeup just to watch SNL, unless Andy Samberg was going to come through the TV screen to sit on the couch with me.

When we walked into the bar area of a pizza place in Chinatown thirty minutes later, they were sitting at a round table; Mariah, Caleb, a few others I hadn’t met before, and Josh. Alicia and I pulled up chairs from the empty table nearby as she introduced me to her friends.

“Hey, Jay,” said Josh. He was sitting two people down from me and wearing a suit, as were the others. Apparently they had come from an awards ceremony, where Josh and Caleb had been recognized for a project they’d worked on.

I waved over at him as Alicia and I gave our drink orders to the waiter and the rest of the table returned to their conversation. Most of it was grad-school related, and I didn’t have much to contribute. After trying and failing to entertain myself by playing circus music in my head a la Homer Simpson, I attempted to steer the conversation to more general subjects, but ultimately it always veered back to topics I knew nothing about. I don’t blame them- I’d probably do the same thing if I were out with my friends from school- but I was growing rather bored.

Alicia looked over at me. I’m sorry, she mouthed. She could tell I was unhappy but was in the middle of a conversation with the girl to her left.

Perhaps seeing the exchange, or perhaps just recognizing that I felt left out, Josh caught my eye and leaned over.

“So, Jay, how’ve you been?”

It was a little hard to talk over the people sitting between us, but I was grateful to be included, and glad there was no awkwardness after our little Halloween rendezvous.

At one point, Josh was telling a story that involved him calling his brother. When he said “call,” he held his hand up to his ear and mimed talking into a phone.

“Oh yeah, you had to call him?” I asked, mirroring his movements.

“Yes,” he laughed. “I had to call him.” He again curved his hand to indicate a phone and smirked at me. “Smart ass.”

I smiled back.

As the pizza place began to close down, we settled our bill and put our coats back on. I had been prepared to leave at this point, but when the group decided to head to a nearby bar, I found myself agreeing to join.

At the bar, Alicia and I ordered beers. I was a little tipsy when Josh came over and stood next to me a few minutes later. I touched the arm of his suit.

“You look nice,” I said. “All fancy.”

“So do you,” he replied. “In your little red coat.”

We spent the rest of the night talking. He spoke fondly about his hometown and family and especially his brother, and I found it all really endearing. Then, out of nowhere, he said:

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you before.”

I was somewhat taken aback by this, and unsure of how to respond.

“It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to.”

“It’s just that you never responded to my text.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Well, I just didn’t...I don’t know...”

He smiled at me and waved his hand dismissively, as if to indicate I didn’t need to offer an explanation. We were sitting on bar stools, alone at a table, our legs touching just the slightest bit. He playfully grabbed my knee as he changed the subject.

After last call, we all walked outside together- Alicia and I were splitting a cab to go one way, the rest were splitting a cab to go another.

I texted Josh soon after I had settled into the backseat next to Alicia.

We should hang out some time.

Agreed. You’re a lot of fun.

Okay, well I will see you later then! (<---- Really, drunk self? This was the best you could come up with?)

Definitely. Let’s make a point of it.

My fingers hovered over the keypad as I thought about how to respond. I typed a few words and thought back to my conversation with Alicia the week before.

After a moment, I cancelled the text and snapped the phone closed. For now, at least, there wasn’t anything else to say.

Josh, part one

2011-11-28T14:48:00.000-08:00

The prelude to Josh, part one can be found here

The weekend of Halloween was not the classiest time for me.

Not because I was dressed as a sassy nurse or a seductive ladybug or a sexy homeless person (this year I just wore a black dress on par with my normal level of sluttiness, added some striped tights and a black hat from CVS, and called myself a witch- the latest in a long line of extremely half-assed Halloween costumes). But I did have a tad too much to drink, which issued a pretty big blow to my ability to behave like a lady.

Inexplicably, it was colder that Saturday that it’s been for all of November, and the prospect of freezing rain and snow had me envisioning a delightful evening comprised of Grey’s Anatomy and shoving candy corn into my mouth. However, I decided not to be a whiny crybaby and to put my lame costume on and go have fun. I had some pumpkin beer in the fridge and helped myself to some while getting ready.

I was in a cab on my way to a friend’s party when my phone rang. When I saw Alicia’s name on the screen, I hit the green Answer sign.

“Hey!”

“Hey, it’s actually Ben,” said Alicia’s boyfriend.

“Hi, Ben!”

“Alicia has requested your assistance.”

“Um, okay. Why?”

“She needs help curling her hair,” said Ben.

“She needs help curling her hair?”

“We may or may not have been drinking since noon.”

And a little piece of the puzzle just slid into place.

Ben handed the phone over to Alicia, who tried to bribe me into coming over to their apartment. But I was almost at the party, which had started a few hours before, and I held firm against her promises to produce vodka tonics.

“Okay, fine, but when my hair looks like a hot mess tonight, I’m going to blame you!”

Before we hung up, Alicia invited me to a party at her friend’s place. It was down the road from my apartment, and I told her I’d meet up with her there in a few hours.

Several hours of flip cup and shenanigans later, I was fairly intoxicated, and I left the party to go hail a cab. When I arrived at the address Alicia had given me, I saw the front door cracked open and walked inside.

The ground floor of the house was dark and nearly empty. I walked up the stairway adorned with streamers and balloons, light streaming down from upstairs. The noise grew louder as I reached the top, where I was met with a swarm of fairies and cats and vampires and skeletons.

I spotted Ben first, dressed like some sort of mobster and standing in a corner with a few others. We were chatting when Josh came over, dressed as Indiana Jones and clearly intoxicated. Not that I’m judging, because, glass houses and stones and whatever.

He looked at me and smiled.

“Hey, I’m Josh,” he said.

Of course. So much for our extremely memorable conversation!

I hit him lightly on the arm. “We’ve met before!”

He studied my face. “Oh, yeah...at the...”

“Sculpture garden.”

“Right!” He nodded. “I remember.”

I must have looked at him skeptically, because he then grabbed my hand.

“No, I do! Venn diagram!”

Okay, that’s better.

“Right, Venn diagram.”

Now, I’d love to give you a play-by-play of the rest of the night, but to be honest, I only vaguely remember how a lot of it went down.

For example, I don’t recall how it came up that one of the guys in the house owned a dog. I am somewhat dog-obsessed, so when I heard this news, I reacted like a child.

“There’s a dog here? Where!”

Josh pointed at a room down the hall. “Probably there, that’s where she sleeps.”

I clapped my hands. “Let’s go see it!”

The door was ajar, so we walked in and found a docile black lab mix laying on a dog bed on the floor of what was a surprisingly clean bedroom. As we approached, I heard the thump thump thump of her tail hitting the floor.

I sat down next to the dog to pet it, and Josh sat down next to me. We sat like that and talked for a long time, but I remember virtually nothing of our conversation, except for tidbits like:

Me: “Who would you save in a fire, Alicia or Ben?”

Him: “Who would I save in a fire??”

Me: “Yeah, I mean, if there was a fire at their apartment and you had to make a choice, who would you save first?”

Him, immediately: “Alicia. But don’t tell Ben that! Ben’s great, but c’mon, of course Alicia.”

As we sat there, petting the dog (who was probably like, when are these drunk fools going to let me go back to sleep), I heard people shouting and laughing and talking outside, occasionally walking by and poking a head into the room before smiling and continuing on.

Josh and I at this point were sitting very close together. Close enough that when he touched my knee, he didn’t have to lean over.

“You’re pretty cute, you know.”

This embarrassed me, but I was drunk enough to be honest in my response.

“You’re pretty cute yourself.”

He scooted over, and then we were kissing.

I’m not entirely sure how long this lasted, but I think Josh was concerned that his friends were going to walk in on us randomly making out next to a canine because he suggested we go outside.

“Go outside? But it’s like 30 degrees out.”

“I know,” he said. “But there’s no privacy here.”

I told him that he could go on, and I would meet him out there. After he left the room, I got up and found Alicia.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

I gestured in the direction of the bedroom. “Over there,” I said vaguely.

“What were you doing?” she asked innocently.

“Oh, you know. Petting the dog.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

I swatted her on the arm.

“You should go for it, though, really. Josh is a great guy.”

Josh, meanwhile, took advantage of the fact that I had given him my number earlier in the night and texted me to come meet him outside.

I walked downstairs and stepped outside, shutting the door behind me. The normally busy street in front of us was quiet and dark. Josh was standing on the sidewalk, fiddling with his phone.

“Hi,” I said.

He smiled and walked toward me.   “Hi.”

We picked up where we left off, but there was nowhere to sit. So then Josh somehow convinced me to move over to the porch of the house next door. A house of random people who had nothing to do with this party. Oh god.

I seriously hope that no one was actually home while we were sitting on their porch chairs- or, as it got later in the evening, chair- making out like we were in high school. The lights inside the house were all off, but I was still half-expecting someone my dad’s age to step outside and chase us away with a broom.

“We should probably not be here,” I whispered.

“Probably not,” he agreed. “We can go back to your apartment.” It was the second or third time he’d brought it up.

“No,” I said.

“Why don’t you come over to my place?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I didn’t really have a good reason to say no, but I didn’t have a good reason to say yes, either. The more time we spent together, the more aggressive he got. When I called him on it, he apologized and said it was because he was drunk. It’s not like he crossed any lines, but he was pushing me a little and I wasn’t thrilled about it.

After a while, we stood up. We were standing on the porch when his friends came outside; they were leaving for the metro to get a train home before it shut down for the night.

He looked at me. “I’m going to head out with them. But if you ever change your mind...”

“I’ll let you know.”

He hugged me goodbye. I watched him for a minute as he jogged to catch up with his friends before I turned back and went inside.

If things had ended there, I wouldn’t have written this post. I left the party that night feeling thoroughly indifferent about him- he was cute and he was fun, but it was hard to take him seriously when he clearly just wanted to hook up with me.

But things didn’t end there, exactly.

Josh, in the beginning

2011-11-22T19:00:00.000-08:00

To give you the full story on Josh, I have to back up a few months.

Actually, more like a year.

My friend Alicia has this friend Josh. Because I am the world’s biggest stalker, I decided last year that Josh was a person that I would like to meet. He was occasionally featured in Alicia’s Facebook photos, and I thought he was cute, plus Alicia always had good things to say about him.

One weekend I planned to go with her to a party that her grad school friend was hosting. I was intending to go before I learned that Josh would be there, but I do admit I spent more time than normal trying to tame my hair into submission in preparation to meet him. I was curious to see what he was like and if there was any potential there.

It was not the first time I had Facebook-stalked my way into the creation of a love interest.

Years ago, my coworker Steve had this roommate that I thought was cute, but had never met. I decided that I wanted to secretly make out with him at a party that he and Steve were throwing at their house. I say “secretly” because Steve has always treated me like a younger sister, which is to say that he mocks me frequently and with fervor. And I was not going to just offer up that taunting on a silver platter.

I went to the party, and lo and behold, succeeded in what I set out to do. I set some really admirable goals for myself, I know. Take that, marathoners!

Steve’s roommate turned out to be un-dateable on account of him being a total douche, but it didn’t stop me from sneaking off with him for a few hours during the party. Steve was trashed and hadn’t seemed to notice our absence, and I went home that night feeling very pleased with myself.

Except that I accidentally left my scarf in the roommate’s bedroom. I completely forgot I had even brought it with me to the party until I got to work on Monday, and there it was, coiled up in my office chair like a snake.

Steve strolled by moments later, bearing an enormous grin.

“Forget something, did you?”

Years later, I still get mocked for this incident.

But back to Josh.

For whatever reason, Josh and I didn’t end up crossing paths last year. He didn’t actually go to that party that I crashed. I had to bail on a bar outing that he was supposed to join. Alicia went abroad for a while and we didn’t have other friends in common. And so on. As time went on, I forgot about The Possibility of Josh.

Fast-forward to this summer, when I was dating Felipe.

I was at jazz in the sculpture garden at the National Gallery of Art with some friends, sitting on a blanket with some sangria and snacks, laughing and huddling under an umbrella when the occasional rain shower swept through.

It was shaping up to be a very fun night, except that I was fairly miserable over the current state of affairs with Felipe. I tried to put him out of my mind and just have fun with my friends, and it half-worked.

An hour into the evening, Alicia suddenly strolled up, Josh and one other friend standing beside her.

“Hey, guys!”

They sat down, Josh claiming the small square of blanket to my right. It was strange to see him out of the blue. I had wanted to meet him months before, and now, here he was, sitting next to me.

Everyone resumed talking, and after some time, Josh and I broke off into a separate conversation. I thought that he was cute and personable, but my attention was firmly on Felipe, or rather, the absence of Felipe at this particular event.

After the jazz ended and the security guards told us for the third time to leave, we gathered up the items we’d brought with us and exited the garden.

As we walked, Josh and I fell toward the back of the group.

“It’s strange that I’ve never met you guys before, when we’ve all been friends with Alicia for so long,” Josh said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But you’re in her grad school circle, and I’m in her college circle, and they seem to stay pretty separate.” I touched my fingertips together on each hand, making two circles to demonstrate.

“We should make them overlap more,” he replied. He held up his hands and formed two intertwined circles.

“Like a Venn diagram,” I laughed.

He smiled, his arms dropping back down to his sides.

“Like a Venn diagram.”

***

Things with Felipe ended shortly thereafter. Since that time, I've thought about that conversation with Josh once or twice- how there seemed to be some sparks between us, unless it was all in my imagination- but nothing ever came of it, because I never saw him.

Until the weekend of Halloween.

*I promise I won’t drag this out too long...I’ll post the next part in a timely fashion!

First date #269

2011-11-09T18:53:00.000-08:00

I had a first date on Friday night with a fellow named Stuart. We went to the Gibson and sat in a dimly lit room with flickering candles and talked for three hours.

But let’s back up a little.

As of late, eHarmony has been delivering the goods. Sometimes long periods of time go by with only virtual tumbleweeds where new messages should be, but occasionally there are periods when guys whom I would happily make out with in a bar contact me. Why this is my metric for judging potential matches, I don’t know.

One such individual was a hot doctor whose main picture was of him kissing a sting ray. This prompted a tweet of “A HOT DOCTOR KISSING A STING RAY CONTACTED ME ON EHARMONY,” which I accidentally sent before adding in any sort of context or commentary, because I was so excited about the hot doctor-ness of it all.

Another was a 6’2 fellow who emailed me directly, asking questions based on things stated in my profile, like my love of Parks and Rec and baked goods (email edited for brevity):

Guided communication slightly weirds me out, so I'll skip to a few of my own questions. I've also answered them below. Looking forward to getting to know you. -Stuart

(1) Would you rather spend a night at Tom Haverford's night club or Ron Swanson's cabin?

(2) Best bakery in DC?

(3) Last thing a friend did/said that made you laugh?

(4) Last book that you lost sleep over in order to finish?

(5) Most memorable night in DC (so far)?

---

(1) The cabin. Ron and I would rarely make eye contact, communicate by pointing and grunting, and spend most of our time whittling.

(2) This is a selfish question as I don't really have a go-to. I guess Sticky Fingers is the best bakery I can name.

...etc..

This email was a very refreshing change of pace from the crap I usually get: “Yo, how was ur weekend? Did you dress up 4 Halloween, I was a velociraptor, ha-ha-ha.”

I responded, and this led to a series of exchanges which were funny and awesome and reminiscent of those with He Who Shall Not Be Named. Since we had switched from eHarmony mail to Gmail pretty early on, I knew his full name and found out through some Googling that the dude is super successful for someone who is only 26. People, if you give me your full name, I will stalk you.

And from our emails, I learned that not only do we have loads of stuff in common, but he actually lives in my neighborhood. Talk about convenient! I tried to moderate my expectations, but I was already envisioning us hitting up the nearby farmers market on the weekends and how easy it would be to spend the night, since he lives all of four blocks from me.

Then I had the grand idea to do some more in-depth Google searching, taking my stalking from an everyday level to an Erika-Christensen-in-Swimfan level.

Anyhow, this led to the discovery of some truly unfortunate pictures of Stuart. They were a few years old, but he looked like a completely different person, and I knew it was him because of certain details he’d told me.

This bitch slap of reality caused my hopes to deflate a bit, which was actually a good thing because I was obviously getting way ahead of myself. I think I have a sickness which causes me to create imaginary relationships with perfect strangers; it started in elementary school with a blond boy named Chad Stevens, and I have yet to find a cure.

En route to U Street on Friday night, I found myself rather anxious. I don’t know why, since I’ve been on like 268 dates in the past year, but I guess all of the email banter had me feeling like there were high expectations on both our ends. Or maybe it was the crack?

At 9:30, I walked up to the unmarked door of the Gibson, spotting a tall, lean guy fiddling with his phone (we met at 9:30 because I had dinner plans and because he works crazy hours).

He hugged me hello, and we went inside and waited in the narrow, dark hallway until we were shown to our table.

Maybe it was the fact that I was nervous going into the date, but it took me a while- approximately two cocktails- before I really felt comfortable with him.

Though I did think he was cute- unlike the unflattering pictures I’d uncovered- I will admit that there was something about the way that he spoke that I found really strange. Not necessarily off-putting...but not necessarily attractive, either. It was this, like, overly formal type of voice that you would use if you were meeting with a bank representative to discuss your mortgage. I honestly can’t describe it. I think it was mostly his intonation. But obviously, I was not going to write the guy off because of his intonation. That would be truly insane, even for me.

Especially because he is very smart and very driven, and we have lots of interests in common. He was not that great at asking me questions, so whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I was usually the one to fill it, but we still talked pretty easily for the entire three hours of the date.

Come 12:30, the thought of my bed became extremely appealing and I began to wilt, big time.

He picked up on my tiredness, and asked if I’d like to get going. We took a cab back to our area, which I paid for since he had paid for the drinks.

When we got out, he said, “I’ll be a gentleman,” and walked me to my apartment. Which, granted, was all of one block from where we were standing, but it was still a nice thing to do.

He hugged me goodbye. “This was fun.”

And right then, I got a vibe from him that we were not going to go out again. I felt it earlier in the night, too, when he started a conversation about our experiences with eHarmony. Personally, I never want to talk about online dating with people I’m, you know, on a date with, but I mind it less when I have no real interest in the person. Just because I think that way doesn’t mean that he does, too, but I still suspect that it was a bad sign that he initiated such a conversation.
So I don’t really know.   I don’t want to speculate because I honestly have no idea anymore when it comes to dating. Maybe we will go out again and maybe we won’t. I’d be a little disappointed if we didn’t, but it would also rank pretty low on the scale of recent disappointing dating experiences.

Besides...

A HOT DOCTOR KISSING A STING RAY CONTACTED ME ON EHARMONY.

No context or commentary needed.

The least attractive SNL cast member

2011-10-31T21:01:00.000-07:00

Hello, readers! Do you still remember me? It’s been a while since I’ve written a proper post, and for that, I am sorry. While it is true that work, school and other commitments have kept me busy, it’s also true that I am a lazy procrastinator prone to wasting entire evenings in bed with Hulu and Cheez-Its. Rest assured, I have still been dating, albeit infrequently and with little success.

A little while back, I wrote about a nice date that started on a thoroughly embarrassing note when I approached a random married gentleman instead of my actual date. Fail.

I ended up having a nice time with the not-married guy, despite the fact that he didn’t really look much like his pictures. I told myself to be open minded (translation: less shallow) and give him a fair shot, and agreed to a second date.

On the second date, we were supposed to have dinner at Giovanni’s Trattu. While I love delicious, expensive Italian food, I was also somewhat wary of this dinner, as the only other time I had been to Giovanni’s Trattu was to celebrate an anniversary with the ex.

And now, if you’ll indulge me on a brief jaunt down memory lane…

On that evening, we sat with our wine and engaged in entirely too much PDA. There was an old man sitting in the corner playing the guitar, and much to my embarrassment, he walked over to our table and asked for my name so he could incorporate it into the next song. The ex delightedly offered it up and then gleefully sang along to My Girl, smirking every time my name popped up in the chorus. My cheeks burned and I swatted the ex on the arm to shut him up, and then he gave me a present with a card that said lots of lovey, gag-worthy things. The point of this tangent is just to say that it was all stupidly adorable and wonderful, which would’ve been great and all if we hadn’t broken up in a heart-crushing fashion ten months later.

And this is what I think of when I think of Giovanni’s Trattu. My Girl and the ex and the loveyness and the heart-crushing. But I love me some gnocchi, so, sure, let’s go to Giovanni’s Trattu!

I met Brendan outside the restaurant, and in a fortunate turn of events, he asked if I wanted to go elsewhere. It was late on a Wednesday night and the restaurant was dead, and since it is such a small place I could see why he thought it might not make the best environment for a date at that moment.

Since I also love delicious, inexpensive Italian food, we went instead to Bertucci’s. I was glad not only for the reasons explained above, but also because I was worried about going to a fancy-ish place with a guy I wasn’t sure I was into.   I would feel like a huge asshole if he dropped $100 on dinner and I had to follow it up with I’m just not that into you when he inquired about date three.

But actually, we did go on a third date. Because on the second date, I felt the same way as I did on the first:

This guy would be so awesome if I was attracted to him. Am I attracted to him? I really don’t know.

The Saturday that we were supposed to get together for date three, he cancelled our plans at the last minute. He was extremely apologetic and explained that his family had come into town unexpectedly. In a telling sign, I was relieved not to have to bother getting dressed up to go drink beer and think of funny stories to tell him.

We rescheduled for happy hour at Dirty Martini the following week.   I arrived early and grabbed us two seats at the long communal table off the bar. Other telling signs that this was doomed: I hadn’t bothered to straighten my hair and didn’t put any thought into what to wear. I’m a fairly shallow individual, so this was not insignificant.

And sure enough, after my second glass of wine, I felt with certainty that this was not meant to be.

You know Bobby Moynihan from SNL?

I am now picturing everyone reading this tilting their head to the side.

Who?

You know, this guy:

For whatever reason, Brendan reminded me of Bobby Moynihan. Not that he looks like him, exactly, but something about his mannerisms is similar. Something off-putting that I can’t quite put my finger on.

And I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to kiss Bobby Moynihan. At all. Ever.

So that was the end of that.

But I do have an upcoming date on Friday which I’m pretty darn excited about. For the first time in a while, I feel like this has true, legitimate potential. But I will do my best to manage my damn expectations and wait until I at least meet the guy before I get worked up over it.

And hopefully he’ll be a little less like Bobby Moynihan and a little more like Tina Fey. I mean, Andy Samberg. I am totally not a lesbian for Tina!