ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

At this point in my life I generally get two questions:

1. Dating anyone special?


2. What's your next career move?

Seeing as the latter shat the bed last week, looks like I'll be focusing more on guiding conversation with the over 50 crowd to Question #1. Even as nails into my palm as it is, it remains much easier to explain than "well, I took the tests, began taking classes, have a 3.5 in those classes & was pretty much assured not to worry about getting in", I didn't. Poor me. Boo hoo.

P.S. Looks like I got an A in that last class. Yipee!

And although I've pretty much repeated "I don't want to date, I'm happy alone" and do mean it for the past 6 months (there was that spurt of dating, remember.....Dr. H (the Ethics professor who wasn't yet divorced....sorry D, it's ironic), Mono (the MIT grad student who wanted to be monogamous but didn't want a relationship), 25YO (the hot hot 25 year old who made me that awful mushroom house/Smoking Moon/Black Crows mix)), my door certainly isn't bolted shut because, well, who knows, right? I've received advice to go out more (no, waste of time & money), hang out in coffee shops, try finding a nice boy at church (which is sacrilege in my opinion since I'm not quite a "believer"....I have my own thing, but still sweet advice) and my favorite being to meet someone doing what I love to do (as we all know ballerinos generally steer clear of girls in the dating realm).

I've exhausted a few means (friends) & have looked toward how some friends have found people & figured what the hell. In fact, on a hazy (in my mind & outside) morning I actually signed up for eHarmony.


So I filled out the profile & was very honest about myself. No sugar-coating here. What you see is what you get. Granted, I left off that Henry sits at the edge of the tub while I shower & I dribble water into his mouth. Nor did I include that one of my favorite things to do on Friday night is to clean my apartment while drinking a really good bottle of wine & dance with the broom to "Naive Music (this must be the place)". And my borderline obsession with sweatpants, well, that can wait until later. They can find that out in due time & think it endearing.

I also included that looks are important to me.

Not that how someone looks necessarily counts them out, but let's be honest with ourselves here. It matters. I've met & dated a number of very good looking men & most of them have turned out as douchebags (please note that most of the men I've dated, period, turn out douchey in some way). And once someone opens their mouth it increases or decreases their attractiveness.

Humor=hot in the Book of Tron

Back to the main point, there are a lot of not-so-good-looking men out there who consider themselves good-looking. This, I learned upon receiving "matches". Woah. Yeah. No. Also, 38, 24 Store clerk with 2 kids? I think I'll pass on that inevitable drama. A few seemed interesting on electronic paper. Then you have these formulated questions to answer if the other person requests them and go from there. One guy requested the "fast track" approach, which is an expensive way of emailing.

He's cute. In emails funny. He asked if we could get a cup of coffee at some point soon. Sounds harmless enough. Mom visited for the weekend so that was out for me. Thursday night I went to a ballet class & said that it wouldn't be over until 8. He suggested we meet in Harvard Square after that since I'd already be there. Which I took as sweet & accommodating. At first I was a little nervous, you know, post ballet but hey, this way really what you see is what you get.

Tea went well. Great conversation & like his emails, quite funny. So we swung by Pinnocchio's for a quick bite. The "meeting" turned into a couple hours & at that point, I needed to head home & get the apartment ready for Mom (which I clearly did not do....that night the career question hit a grinding hault). He gave me a hug & a little kiss on the cheek.

We talked once more & I began to get a little happier about the prospect of seeing him again.

Then yesterday, while lounging in Harvard Yard before taking Mom to the airport before her flight back to Chicago I got a text.......

"Crazy idea but let me know if you want to drink wine in our underware."


How I responded: "Uh, I think I'll pass on that. I have a ballet class tonight. Sorry."

How I wish I'd responded: "Well, no. Because a.) We've met ONCE, b.) I'm really not into date rape, & c.) I can't date a guy who doesn't know how to spell underwear."

First things first, consult the friends. Yes, it's cliche, but hear me out on the fact that my track record of judging this sort of thing is BAD. 10 years ago I probably would have been like "hell yeah, that sounds fantastic!". Don't judge, I had (have) a wild streak. Now, yeah, I lean a bit more towards the other way, which I can blame mainly on the replacement of vodka with actual food in my diet.

Surprisingly, I've heard mixed results. But as petty as it sounds, I continue to lean towards "yeah, no" mainly because he misspelled underwear. Although, he didn't use "panties", which is just plain uncomfortable any way you slice it. Yes, it's picky. But that's how I've gotten myself into messes in the past. By not being picky enough.

So picky I shall be. Oh, and the new definition of picky just happens to be alone.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

Underware is like stone ware right? Underwear you can use in the oven...

You are right though, I did have a little giggle from your story.

The past week I have been getting hit on by married women. Kind of disturbing.

Picky doesn't mean being alone though, it just means you aren't settling on quick answers, which is a good thing! Why settle for someone that will not make you happy?

Picky means smart.

Although.... the Black Crows...

3:38 AM

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm with you. There's no excuse for poor spelling.

8:58 AM

Blogger emertron said...

P: Glad you got a kick out of the story. Married women? Uh, like cougars? MARRIED COUGARS?!?! Also, you're right. Picky is good. It's not settling, which would inevitably make me unhappy in the end. If I just wanted a guy around, I could have that but I think Ms. Phair said it best when she claimed "I want all of that boring old shit like letters & sodas".

S: YES! I'm not the best speller on the planet but underwear? Really? Come on.

10:01 AM

Blogger jaysie said...

Is it sad that all I'm walking away with is disappointment in the fact that you've replaced vodka with actual food?

12:04 PM

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Cougars and women in their 20's. In any case, if you are married then don't hit on people. Not cool.

Replace booze with food is alright depending on the kind of food... dessert and booze can be interchangeable or mixed. but burgers over booze, not so much.

12:59 PM

Blogger emertron said...

J: Ooooopsies! No no on the food booze thing. I EAT more & DRINK less. That's why I'm a bit less likely to lose my pants & am no longer a size 0. Sorry for the confusion! No worries, sweetheart, I'm eating, I'm eating, not drinking, my dinner (unless it's in the form of a smoothie or milkshake!).

P: Ha ha! Well, if I ever ran into you, I'd hit on you just so that you could add women in their 30's (in 2 months anyways). If it makes you feel any better, I NEVER get hit on. Like ever ever ever. No kidding. I must give off some weird vibe. Then again, on the rare occassion that I have been, my response is usually "oh yeah? what did you think of Candide?". That certainly doesn't help. Marrieds? Yeah, no. That's just bad. & booze. Not gonna lie, 2 of my favorite things.

1:35 PM

Anonymous Anonymous said...

See, this isn't at clubs or any usually place, this is at gas stations and supermarkets. Not really a place for flirting so much... maybe supermarkets. But no marrieds. At clubs, being hit on is too cool for people to do most of the time... or at the kind of clubs I go to.

Food and booze can be a perfect mix! Just think about it, you need food to look less boozed sometimes.

2:04 PM

Blogger emertron said...

OMG. Do they ask you if their melons look ripe? Because they should. Supermarkets, I could see. Gas stations, not so much. Although there you could get asked to pump their gas & then if you'd like to pump something else. Ha ha ha! I love this. The scenarios that are popping into my head as a result of putting gas stations, getting hit on & Oklahoma all together. What a brain treat.

Yes, food & booze go together like chocolate & peanut butter.

2:40 PM

Anonymous Anonymous said...


That reminds me of thinking what Todd from Scrubs may think every time he is anywhere!

11:43 PM

Blogger emertron said...

You know, I watched that show yesterday for the first time in a long time & it was quite good.

12:43 PM

Blogger jaysie said...

oops! i mis-wrote that! i understood, i'm just a dyslexic typist!

12:44 PM

Anonymous Jess said...

Well, first--as The Todd would say, "E-five!" And, cheers (with wine) to being picky. Amen, sister. I believe that something in you KNEW it wasn't right and the spelling was only the tip of that Titanian disaster. Plus, I HATE bad spellers. It says to me that they're not readers, as people who read subconsciously pick up on words and the right way to write them. Anyhooodledoo. Love!

9:00 PM


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