Tempus Fu**it
Yeah, that's not exactly Latin (or even Piggified), but I think it gets the message across. What the hell are we doing in September already? Wasn't it just May last week when I embarked upon This Summer's Misadventures (or as it's come to be called, online dating) yet again? Geez.
So here's a li'l example for the curious:
1. I met a massage therapist (MT) and got a free massage. Ok, that last part is a lie. But I did hear some interesting stories about his stock and trade (or is that stock in trade, hm), his life, his grandparents, his history, and his initiation into the world of the centerfold courtesy one of his kiddiehood friend's dad's (I hate double possessives!) nudie mag stash. It was actually a funny story.
2. During said meeting, this thought flitted across my mind: "I can't believe someone this good looking is talking to me."
3. Which was followed shortly thereafter by: "Wait, did he just say it was shaved to look like a Marx brother??"
4. At the end of the meeting, MT suggested we go for steak at such-and-such a place sometime. I was all, "Woo, great, gimme a ring, shoot me an e, we'll set it up blah blah."
5. So naturally I never heard from him again.
6. Replace items 1-4 with any Mr. Potato Head date of your choosing, all roads lead to 5 anyway.
But a few good things have come out of this summer's trials and tribulations, such as:
I finally ran into one of my around-the-corner neighbors (yes, she used to be one of the smokers, but she wasn't the scary mean one) after months of not seeing her. Time was, we used to leave the building around the same time and chat in the 'vator, but as you may or may not be aware, when summer comes, my internal clock gets a bit wonky, so I leave the house a bit later, and that usually means I'm left riding downstairs alone or with Miguel and a few bags of trash. Which wouldn't be so bad, except Miguel's command of the English language is only slightly better than the trash's. All of this to say, I see Miguel, I sometimes take the stairs.
Anyhoo, on this particular day, I'd just returned home from another disasterous afternoon of:
a. trying to keep my eyes from glazing over during the most boring lecture I've ever attended--and by lecture I mean monologue;
b. trying not to be appalled upon first glance at my companion, aka "bow-legged Johnny Cash wannabe," which, loosely translated, means he was dressed head-to-toe in heavy black clothing, boots included, which wouldn't have been so bad (maybe), but it was 95 degrees out and I think I sweated off a pound just looking at him;
c. I realize this is not in chronological order, but let's just chalk that up to my brain's being fried while I was sitting outside at a restaurant for 2 hours in 95-degree weather.
Anyhoo, I came home, ran into neighbor (we'll call her Lilia since she's Russian), and we began chatting about dating misfires, etc. Sure, the talk was all fine and dandy, it was kinda fun even, but that's not what saved the day for me. No, what saved the day is...Lilia invited me to come over and chat for a little bit and so...
I finally got to see the inside of a one-bedroom apartment in my building!!!
[Seriously, that's a major deal. There are only 2 per floor, y'know. And there are only 8 floors. And there are about 20 or so apartments per floor. If you're not good with the math, that means there are only 16 one-bedroom apartments. I've been on the waiting list for one (but secretly hoping my name never comes up, because truthfully, I can't afford a one-bedroom here) and have always wanted to see one up close and personal. In the meantime, I bide my time in a studio, but a decent-sized studio..well, for this building, anyway.]
Unfortunately, however, I didn't get to see the bedroom or the bathroom, because her 10-year-old daughter had a friend over, and it's the daughter's bedroom, but Lilia was quite hospitable nevertheless. She gave me some Russian soda, which was kind of nasty and yeasty. And then when she found out I'd just had my birthday, made a fancy drink of coffee-ish stuff and some type of liquor. I managed to get a few sips down, but felt bad about not drinking it all. Then she said I should come out salsa dancing with her and this Brazilian guy on Tuesday, but I told her I'd be out of town, so alas.
In the end, we exchanged contact info and talked about hanging out. Maybe having dinner or renting a movie. But wouldn't you know it, neither of us has gotten in touch with the other since, and that was almost two months ago.
Hm...it's almost like we met online!
So here's a li'l example for the curious:
1. I met a massage therapist (MT) and got a free massage. Ok, that last part is a lie. But I did hear some interesting stories about his stock and trade (or is that stock in trade, hm), his life, his grandparents, his history, and his initiation into the world of the centerfold courtesy one of his kiddiehood friend's dad's (I hate double possessives!) nudie mag stash. It was actually a funny story.
2. During said meeting, this thought flitted across my mind: "I can't believe someone this good looking is talking to me."
3. Which was followed shortly thereafter by: "Wait, did he just say it was shaved to look like a Marx brother??"
4. At the end of the meeting, MT suggested we go for steak at such-and-such a place sometime. I was all, "Woo, great, gimme a ring, shoot me an e, we'll set it up blah blah."
5. So naturally I never heard from him again.
6. Replace items 1-4 with any Mr. Potato Head date of your choosing, all roads lead to 5 anyway.
But a few good things have come out of this summer's trials and tribulations, such as:
I finally ran into one of my around-the-corner neighbors (yes, she used to be one of the smokers, but she wasn't the scary mean one) after months of not seeing her. Time was, we used to leave the building around the same time and chat in the 'vator, but as you may or may not be aware, when summer comes, my internal clock gets a bit wonky, so I leave the house a bit later, and that usually means I'm left riding downstairs alone or with Miguel and a few bags of trash. Which wouldn't be so bad, except Miguel's command of the English language is only slightly better than the trash's. All of this to say, I see Miguel, I sometimes take the stairs.
Anyhoo, on this particular day, I'd just returned home from another disasterous afternoon of:
a. trying to keep my eyes from glazing over during the most boring lecture I've ever attended--and by lecture I mean monologue;
b. trying not to be appalled upon first glance at my companion, aka "bow-legged Johnny Cash wannabe," which, loosely translated, means he was dressed head-to-toe in heavy black clothing, boots included, which wouldn't have been so bad (maybe), but it was 95 degrees out and I think I sweated off a pound just looking at him;
c. I realize this is not in chronological order, but let's just chalk that up to my brain's being fried while I was sitting outside at a restaurant for 2 hours in 95-degree weather.
Anyhoo, I came home, ran into neighbor (we'll call her Lilia since she's Russian), and we began chatting about dating misfires, etc. Sure, the talk was all fine and dandy, it was kinda fun even, but that's not what saved the day for me. No, what saved the day is...Lilia invited me to come over and chat for a little bit and so...
I finally got to see the inside of a one-bedroom apartment in my building!!!
[Seriously, that's a major deal. There are only 2 per floor, y'know. And there are only 8 floors. And there are about 20 or so apartments per floor. If you're not good with the math, that means there are only 16 one-bedroom apartments. I've been on the waiting list for one (but secretly hoping my name never comes up, because truthfully, I can't afford a one-bedroom here) and have always wanted to see one up close and personal. In the meantime, I bide my time in a studio, but a decent-sized studio..well, for this building, anyway.]
Unfortunately, however, I didn't get to see the bedroom or the bathroom, because her 10-year-old daughter had a friend over, and it's the daughter's bedroom, but Lilia was quite hospitable nevertheless. She gave me some Russian soda, which was kind of nasty and yeasty. And then when she found out I'd just had my birthday, made a fancy drink of coffee-ish stuff and some type of liquor. I managed to get a few sips down, but felt bad about not drinking it all. Then she said I should come out salsa dancing with her and this Brazilian guy on Tuesday, but I told her I'd be out of town, so alas.
In the end, we exchanged contact info and talked about hanging out. Maybe having dinner or renting a movie. But wouldn't you know it, neither of us has gotten in touch with the other since, and that was almost two months ago.
Hm...it's almost like we met online!
posted by H. at 11:59 PM
4 Comments:
Don't lose hope - I met my hubby online (with advice from Backpetal)and all is well. 4 yrs and 1 child later we're doing just fine.
It sounds like you get to meet some interesting peeps along the way though - maybe you should write a column/book describing the fellows you encounter.
I would buy that and pass it on.
Thanks, Lesli! Now, which service did you use, hm? (I know Backpetal used Yahoo!...)
A book...that's a good idea. I like it. (Except, of course, for the field research.) ;) Seriously tho, that's definitely something to think about.
I had an ad on both yahoo and aol - didn't put a pic. That way you let the guys answer you and you can weed out the icky ones. Once I found a winner(or so I thought)I sent an e-mail reply. Only after about a week of e-mailing I would talk with him on the phone - then if that went well we planned a date. Advice from Backpetal and others - don't e-mail/phone for too long with out meeting face to face - you have a false sense that you know him and your gut instinct doesn't kick in.
Let me know about the book - I can offer a couple of date stories.
Hm...very interesting, I never thought about that false sense of security thing... I've done with pics and without, but I think I prefer the latter.
Thanks for the tips, and I'll keep you posted (no pun intended) on the book idea, so don't forget your tales of woe. Oddly enough, I think I've forgotten the details of mine. (Or is it just because there have been so many...)
:}
Post a Comment
<< Home