Give Me a Break.

I’d been meaning to get a post out to you, dear readers, to qualify what is clearly a blogging break, but my blogging imitates life and I’ve been experiencing an extended period of apathy. Apathy about my work, about my social calendar, and certainly about boys.

It happens to me sometimes, usually after an extended period of giving to others. This year’s been a doozy, complete with out-of-town weddings, multiple babies and long-time friends moving away. It can be unbelievably draining supporting others and now that I’m through the bulk of it I find I simply want to do… nothing.

So I didn’t have the push needed to put the pencil to the paper, so to speak, until this afternoon. I was in somewhat reluctant attendance at what is becoming an annual end of summer festival. This year two worlds collided, and one set of my friends met another set, a meeting that I should have engineered years ago. As it happened, group of friends #1 included The Great Blind Date, and group of friends #2 included N, whose initial reaction upon me pointing out said failed first date was “he’s not cute enough for you”.

Now what girl doesn’t want to hear that’s she’s pretty? Even from the bias of a good friend? Girls who are truly on a break. I appreciated the compliment, but after defending The Great Blind Date’s worthiness (he was smart and funny and interesting), I realized I simply didn’t care that he hadn’t been interested. It wasn’t awkward seeing him and attempting to make small talk, it wasn’t… anything.

So that’s where we’re at. I am on an indefinite break and so is the blog. I hope to be back soon.

Going to the Chapel

… where my wonderful cousin who never lost hope that she was going to get married is gonna get married! And not just married, but married to a wonderful man who loves her for the person that she is and brings out the best in her.

Which, quite honestly, is the only scenario in which one should get married. As my mother once said to me, “ anyone can get married”. It takes far less effort to get hitched than it does to find someone you truly want to share the rest of your life with.

That’s what she’s found, and I truly couldn’t be happier for her. Not just because she no longer has to date, which is reward in itself, but because despite making it to her early 30’s without having found her mate, she DID meet him. And they fell in love, and bought a house and a puppy and she’s so happy she says she has to pinch herself sometimes to believe that it’s true.

Of course I will be reprising my usual role of bridesmaid, with the added notch to MOH, which translates much closer to “Maid of Helping with every imaginable detail associated to a wedding that isn’t even yours” than “Maid of Honor”. I am honored, though, having beat out a sister and sister-in-law for the title, and I certainly have the skills for it. I even have almost everything you need for the wedding day emergency kit on hand in my condo.

So please join me in toasting to the health and happiness of the bride and groom, to an above-average selection of vodka at the bar, and that this will be my last run as a bridesmaid (or at least the maid part). Congratulations!

Slow Motion Man

smart, nice, architect
moving so slow we have stopped
still can’t build me love

You know that commercial for Jimmy Dean breakfast snacks where the little kid gets slowed waaaay down by the evil Slow Motion clock guy when he's running around in the gym? No? Well check it out here and then get back to reading because that's what appears to have happened with The Architect.

He’s the little kid being slowed down, and I’m the Jimmy Dean sun guy, throwing turkey sausages at him to try to give him the motivation to get going (I have no idea who the clock is in this analogy, I just really get a kick out of this line of commercials).

But despite him confirming he was interested and me clarifying that my interest was contingent on actually spending time with him, it seems we’ve slowed down even more than the initial slow down that prompted me questioning his interest in the first place. And lest you think that I’m rushing things, I’m talking about chatting over email a few times a week, hanging out maybe once a week and capping that hanging out with some old school make out activity, circa the 9th grade (or at least my 9th grade, I was good).

What’s happened instead is that after I reached out a few times, and saw him once, with not so much as a hand on my knee to indicate any physical interest, I have not heard from him at all. In two full weeks.

I am a lot of things dear readers, but delusional is not one of them. I know that I demonstrated clear and continued interest that has not been returned. And that even though there are plenty of reasons why someone might suddenly drop out of play, they all boil down to just one: “I’m not that into you”.

So no matter how awesome the custom wine cellar The Architect could have designed for my future single family home in the city could have been, I’m officially calling this one. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some delicious breakfast snacks to enjoy.

Fireworks.

I just made an amazing connection on a first date. We were sitting outside on my balcony, enjoying some fireworks and beers on a gorgeous summer night. We had everything in common. He has friends with a house on the same lake my parents do. He’s obsessed with the Midwest beer festival I go to every year (making me awesome, in his words). We talked about cycling, Champbana, water skiing, red wine…

The thing is, it wasn’t my first date, it was my neighbor’s. And I was on a date of my own, so to speak.

I had invited The Architect over as part of my “I’m pretty sure we’re heading down the friends path but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt” outreach program, and in a sangria-induced high my neighbor G and I had decided we should make it a double date so she tacked on the fireworks at the end of her first date she was in the midst of planning.

Things were going pretty well, I thought, given the randomness of the guest list, but then I noticed that he and I were doing most of the talking. When G and I stepped back inside to replenish the beverages I checked in with her to see how the earlier portion of the date had gone. And apologized for monopolizing him during the conversation. We joked about her giving me his number, but I’m pretty sure we just had common interests, not boyfriend-girlfriend chemistry.

As for the actual connection I was trying to develop, I can’t say I made any progress there, although we did find another crazy overlap. The Architect used to be neighbors with one of my current neighbor pals, a fact we realized when we spotted her outside walking the dogs. We all headed into the hallway for a meet and greet before winding down our evening.

I guess there weren’t any real love sparks flying around that night, I received a hug for my efforts and a terribly vague statement about getting together again some time.

And G? She got a hug, too, but I think she’s going to give her guy an actual shot as part of her “maybe I should date someone different than I usually do” plan. I think he’s a good choice, I mean he’s into everything I like so that’s probably more an endorsement for me, but we’re friends so it stands she’d like him too, right?

Back on Track. I Think.

Well. I can’t say that the break had quite the intended effect. In fact, it was lasting a lot longer than I had anticipated without any indication whatsoever from The Architect that he was interested in seeing me in person again.

It seems the only thing he wants to do is wish me a good morning via one of those pesky one-line emails. Or he shares those details about one’s life that I’d prefer to wait to learn until an actual relationship has commenced, since they in no way add to my desire to see him naked. You know, like that he’s been pounding water to encourage pee breaks at the office since his work load is so high. Or that he has a headache, but he didn’t drink any alcohol the night before, just a lot of iced tea.

I was finding myself losing interest, but I’d really thought the The Architect had some potential, excessive water drinking notwithstanding, so I put my big girl pants on and straight up asked him what was up.

I asked him whether he saw us in the friend zone or the dating zone… and that I’d been feeling the friend vibe from him so I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. He said he was interested in me “more than a friend”, but that he liked to take things slow so they didn’t burn out. I reciprocated the interest, and said that I could appreciate a slower speed, but that I’d need things to at least be moving forward. I defined moving forward as seeing each other on a semi-regular basis. We’re at close to two weeks since our last get together, for those of you keeping track at home.

He appreciated my perspective, agreed with my position. So... great! I had put myself out there and now we were back on track.

Or we would be, anyway, assuming he reaches back out sometime in the semi-near future.

One date, Two date, Three date, Break!

Drinks… check. Dinner… check. Movie… check. The Architect and I managed to sail through three dates in a little over a week, which isn’t a record for me but is pretty darn close. The frequency was in part due to the ridiculously overbooked, out of town summer schedule I’m working my way through, but honestly I think I liked seeing him.

I was starting to wonder where things were headed, though, since we hadn’t really made any progress on the making out scene. Truth be told, I was a teensy bit worried about it. In admitted double-standard fashion, when someone’s very into me physically I tend to discount his interest, but when someone seems genuinely interested in me sans the physical I suddenly feel… slighted. I mean, didn’t he want to make out with me?

I reviewed the evidence while we were on a work and travel schedule imposed break on any new dates:

Frequent communications… check. There was an almost daily communication initiated by him, usually those one-line, check in type messages (which I hate, but am trying to see as thoughtful). Great conversation… check. Every time we ended up chatting, in phone or in person I was completely engaged in talking to him and we rarely had any of those weird pauses. Attraction… check. At least for me, anyway. Something about this man was definitely desirable to me and I consistently felt like I was leaning in, trying to coax him into making a move (yes, I can make moves myself; I guess I just wanted him to).

Yep, everything a budding relationship needed seemed to be there. Maybe I was jumping the gun just a little, there was plenty of time for The Architect‘s affections to go straight from barely noticeable to downright smothering.

And perhaps the break would help. You know, so he could miss me. And so I could figure out some more effortless adorable outfits. Dating so frequently has been hell on my relatively lazy fashion sense.

First Date High

You know that crazy high you get when you have a great first date? When your mind swims with visions of you and your clearly-soon-to-be-new-boyfriend going on trips and holding hands while strolling about? When you’re so drunk with the promise this new relationship holds that you tell all your girlfriends about it, gushing about all the reasons you like him?

I feel that way right now, minus the gushing. I simply am not a gusher. I’m sure the crash is coming, but in the meantime, let’s all bask in the glow of that rarity that is the great first date.

It took about a week of emailing with The Architect to get the meet up in person, and it’s a good thing, too, since despite having only been chatting for a relatively short time I was starting to cross over into that dangerous place where I really like a guy on paper (or internet paper, anyway) and start panicking that the in-person interaction simply won’t match up.

It did, though. The Architect was normal cute and above-normal smart. We have lots of things in common. Like he drunk paints and I drunk clean. And we both like the driving range more than the actual golf course. And, very important, we both like PBR.

He seemed laid back, which is probably a good counterpoint for me, but passionate and opinionated at the same time. We were mutually impressed by the other’s careers. He’s grows strawberries on his deck and had the latest scoop on the NFL lock out. He’s a gentleman and I didn’t feel smothered letting him be one.

If anything he was more engaging than I’d found him in our very conversational emails. So much so that I resorted to slapping my hands over my mouth to stop myself from constantly interrupting him. He said it was adorable, but I’m guessing he wouldn’t have if he realized it was also keeping me from leaning over and kissing him right there at the bar.

It was like the longer we sat there the more attractive he became, and not because I had several beers over the course of our 3 hrs plus date, because I also had snacks during that time. There was just something about him.

He’s already suggested that we get together again and I (embarrassingly) can’t wait to see him. I hope he comes through, ‘cause I’m gonna need another hit of this stuff soon.

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Google

After receiving an email back from The Architect I decided to Google his screen name, since it looked a lot like his real name. Turns out it was, and there were a few links associated directly to him that returned. Not too many, though, just enough confirm his identity/job and pique my interest a bit more.

First, one of those websites that pulls information from other websites and then pretends you have a profile on their site came back with the small town in Michigan that my very good friend is from. The Architect had mentioned that he was from that state, and I was conveniently having drinks with that gal later that very day. I shot off a quick email to see if she knew him.

Second, the following question asked 6 months ago on one of those “how to get a job” websites: Is there any employers that will accept people with a felony conviction? Ignoring the obvious grammar error, I was momentarily concerned. I wasn’t able to pull back any information about the poster of the question, but a quick check of his LinkedIn profile assured me that six months ago The Architect was gainfully employed. Hopefully that clears that up.

The most intriguing thing that came up was that he appears to be kind of an artist. Off his LinkedIn profile he had a personal website, which linked to a Facebook album, with all these paintings and drawings that he had done. Maybe there was even a sculpture in there. I just glanced through them, though, too much investigation and I’ll appear like a stalker.

Not bad for 15 minutes, eh? I love the Internets.

I Love a Good ‘Stache.

After last week’s moment of weakness surrounding Summer Boy I realized I had been right. The only way to move past someone – or the lack of someone – is to find someone new. And better. Better for me, anyway. So I bit the bullet and re-instated my old online dating profile. The free one, of course, while I begrudgingly realize that I need the internets to find available men, I am certainly not on board with throwing any more of my hard earned cash at those sites.

Turns out it wasn’t so bad, there were some good finds out on good ‘ole OK Cupid! And some old friends, like the Karaoke King, who viewed my profile shortly after it re-posted. I decided not to return the viewing.

I did, however, send a few (two) emails to particularly good postings in an effort to be an active dater. I almost never send initial communications, despite being a (relatively) good writer, I find that I consistently fall short on the introductory email. Or at least that’s how it seems, since I have a very poor return percentage on initiating contact.

I’m trying to do something different than I have before, though, so I came up with a new strategy and decided to keep the emails short. A sentence or two complimenting something specific I had enjoyed about their profile and then an invitation to chat further should they be interested.

They went out to two gents, who drew me in with these details:

• The Architect, whose pictures include done of him with an awesome fake mustache. I heart mustaches.
• The Church Musician, whose profile included that he makes pie. I too, am a successful pie-maker.

So far I’ve received back and email from The Architect as well as some other random whose profile I hadn’t yet viewed. One out of two! That ain’t bad.

You Can Run but You Can't Hide

From your feelings, that is. You can avoid them for awhile, sure, by distracting yourself with anything you can find – boys, work, boys, running, boys – but eventually they’ll catch up with you and you’ll have to deal with them.

I am a master at avoiding my feelings; sometimes I hide them from myself so cleverly I literally am not aware that I’ve done it. They usually smack me down with excessive force well after the incident that caused them and then I’m stuck wading through them trying to figure out where they came from and why I ignored them in the first place. Ironically I often work through them while running.

I miss Summer Boy. There, I said it. I also said it in a text message I drunkenly drafted while out recently. I didn’t send it, thank god, but only because I’d deleted him out of my contacts after the first text I had sent him (which was a normal, albeit random, Saturday night text).

I have to say I thought I had already dealt with my feelings on this one. In fact, I’d been pretty impressed with how I hadn’t been missing him, how I hadn’t reached out when he left Chicago, how I really hadn’t felt any need to reach out to him since.

So what gives? I can’t tell if I miss him, specifically, or if I just miss having a go-to guy, but I do know that something has to be done about the weird, achy feeling I’ve started having on my insides.

I feel like I should go meet someone new, that as soon as I do I’ll stop feeling sentimental about Summer Boy, but I can’t help but drag my feet.

Because I hate dating. There, I said that, too. I hate it, and I don’t want to do it anymore and I don’t think I should have to. I was optimistic, I was hopeful! I went on many, many dates with all sorts of guys and I have nothing to show for it.

Come to think of it, despite a brief period around the start of the year I don’t think I ever really got back into first dates after I went on break last summer. My break of course, coincided with Summer Boy’s entrée into my life, which was unexpected and fun and easy.

So I guess that explains that. I miss Summer Boy because I hate dating. Therapy session over.

Best of Both Worlds

In the end I made my decision based purely on my love of German festivals. I had to rearrange my entire day, and hit all my pre-bachelorette events in my bachelorette outfit, but it was worth it for the 90 minutes or so I spent with friends, a large stein of bier (okay, two steins), some sort of tasty German sausage-jerky and a pretzel.

Turns out it I had been thinking about it all wrong. As soon as I thought it about it based on what I wanted to do, I didn’t even care whether The Great Blind Date was there. Or Marathon Guy. Or even The Bowler. If I ran into them I’d run into them (looking fabulous, as it happened).

I didn’t see any of them, though. It was a German Fest miracle!

Of course I’d like to think it wouldn’t have mattered if I had. I’m perfectly capable of being cordial with all manner of exes, but it’s nice when you don’t have to be. When you can just enjoy yourself without feeling like at any moment you might need to duck behind the sausages.

I got to have my bier and drink it too! Cheers to that.

Moment of Truth

Ugh, already? Before I knew it the first opportunity to not let being rejected by The Great Blind Date get in the way of shared social events has popped up on my calendar. Ironically it’s for the spring version of the festival we originally met at (see many, many posts on German Fest shenanigans).

Normally I’d be attending this particular fest, whether with this crew or another, but I have a conflict in the form of a bachelorette party. And normally I’d be happy to add some pre-drinking to a bachelorette event, but this one starts mid-afternoon so I’d basically be extending my expected drinking window to a full 12 hours.

If my first reservation was all day drinking, then my second was the possibility that The Great Blind Date would be there. Prior to recent events I’m pretty sure I had a tendency to ignore him, likely because I had our friend in my sub-conscious telling me we’d make a great couple, but I couldn’t ignore him now. I’d have to be social, despite the teeny bit of wounded pride I’m still carrying. It’s just a bit… too… soon.

Not that I haven’t found ways to make myself feel better about it. Oh shit. Marathon Guy’s probably going to be there, too. This could have some benefit in that I would already be traipsing around with a replacement, but then I’d probably have to meet his friends, and I definitely don’t want to do that if I’m just going to flake on him (likely). Now it just seems a bit… too…. much.

First awkward run-in first. I scanned the “Awaiting Reply” on the FB invite, and – yay! – The Great Blind Date wasn’t on it. But then I checked the “Attending” and of course he is.

Now if I decide to go I’ll think that he’ll think I’m going because he’ll be there. And if I decide not to go I’ll think everyone will be thinking that it’s because he’ll be there and RSVP’d first (I know this is probably an exaggeration of the amount of thought anyone but me is giving this event. I’m okay with that.)

It’ll have to be a game day decision. Stay tuned, dear readers.

I am Really Going to Miss This

I think you know what comes next, dear readers. Despite being thwarted by Yahoo the next time I had a few cocktails in me I couldn’t resist finding Marathon Guy’s phone number and sending him a text message. What? Like I was going to let a little thing like deleting every single email stop me?

You can improve technology all you want, but there’s always a paper trail. And by paper I mean online pdf versions of my cell phone bills which fortunately started with my new carrier *just* before I stopped talking to Marathon Guy last fall.

I tell you one thing that I’m going to miss if I ever find myself find myself in a monogamous relationship - randomly text messaging old flames and having it turn into unexpected meet ups. In this case, meet ups that come with shoulder rubs.

You can’t beat it! Especially when he showed up here, after suggesting said rub free all on his own! I had truly texted him about the hot dog stand - which apparently is very loud and all the neighbors are up in arms about it – although I know better than to say I didn't think there was a possible, albeit outside, chance that it might lead to more.

But I let him drive the meet up all on his own. It appears all it takes to invite such suggestions is one well placed text message. Sometimes I love being single.

Did You Know You Can Restore Your Gmail Contacts?

I didn’t! But learning this makes it even better that I use my Gmail for personal emails – almost never for maybe new boyfriend communications – and my Yahoo for my non-associated-to-me-in-anyway emails. I’d be surprised if Yahoo had a way to recover contacts, not that I’m going to find out for sure, and that is a good thing in the land of dating.

I’m a gal who needs to cut ties in order to move on, and to do that I need to erase all ways to get in touch with my ex-interests. Otherwise I’ll get mopey about being single, have one too many glasses of wine, and then reopen the lines of communication. This will usually result in weeks of wasted back and forth with someone who’s on the ex list for a reason.

Sometimes I’m not mopey and drunk, though, sometimes I believe my intentions are purely innocent (which they’re not, of course, how could they be?). Like just last week I heard on the news that this building that has been fighting to open will be opening as a Maxwell Street (classic Chicago polish place). Apparently the neighborhood is all up in arms and thinks they will be flooded by noise and hoodlums if they start selling hot dogs and Italian sausage sandwiches 24-hours a day. As soon as I saw it I wanted to tell Marathon Guy.

You see last fall when we were attempting to date again we walked past that building, which looked like a big white washed rectangle, and tried to figure out what it was supposed to be. It didn’t look like it would have much room for a kitchen, but I think maybe Marathon Guy thought it could have had a future life as some sort of hot dog stand.

As far as I know he was planning to move out of that neighborhood anyway, but I couldn’t help but want to tell him he’d been right! Not as a way to re-open communication, I swear, just to be able to share the updated information with the only person I could have.

But I couldn’t, because I’d purged him, purged him good. Every email in every folder – even search didn’t return him. He’d never transitioned to my real email, so I had no way to recover him. And that is probably for the best, for a lot of reasons, despite having spent about 15 minutes trying to see if I could still find him. Thanks, Yahoo, for keeping me in line.

Please Stop Saying That.

So after a breezy response from The Great Blind Date and one other email back from me I never heard back. And I was a bit disappointed, because he seemed to have some potential. Plus this particular disappointment had to be explained in a neutral way to my friend, who had expressed such high hopes for him and me. I felt a bit like I was letting her down, not being someone her friend wanted to date.

I felt a lot worse for me, of course, not being someone this guy wanted to date. And I shared this sentiment with more than one gal pal who were quick to say something like “don’t worry, you’ll meet the right guy” and other upbeat, unqualified nonsense phrases. I want people to stop saying things like that.

They might not actually be true, for one thing, and if anyone knew whether it was true you can bet your ass it isn’t my friend. Or my Magic8ball, for that matter. It doesn’t make me feel better, for another, it actually makes me feel worse. Trying to convince me that it’s just a matter of time before my Mr. Right appears only highlights the fact that he hasn’t, and it's getting harder not to feel like it’s at least partially my fault.

Without throwing myself a pity party, the older I get the more I think that my non-single friends just can’t help me as a single gal. How could they? They’ve already found their Mr. Rights, and what they remember about dating was forever ago. In fact, some of them are starting to get downright nostalgic about it. I know many of them have experienced the emotional roller coaster that dating can be, but not for nearly as long as I have.

I just don’t think they realize how draining it becomes. Oh sure, sometimes it’s fun, but over time it just turns into a huge waste of time and emotion and money and the perfect “I was at work but I’m still cute enough to meet you directly after” outfits. It’s exhausting.

I know they mean well. But to all you happy married folks with single friends, next time they come crying about some dating disaster do them a favor and just acknowledge the obvious. Dating sucks and you don’t envy them. Then you should offer to buy them a drink.

IIIIII’mmm Breezy!

And so was the email I sent The Great Blind Date. I had a follow up to something we had chatted about on our date and I also said it was really nice seeing him the day before at our friend’s event. It was the only move I felt comfortable making, and I use the word “move” with great exaggeration.

I also used the word “really” with exaggeration, it was just normal nice to see him, but G thought I should add it. We had talked at our friend’s get together, there were maybe some almost moments between us, but he arrived very late and left sort of abruptly so there was no indication that he was planning to see or talk to me after that party.

There’s nothing really misleading about the interaction I’ve been having with The Great Blind Date, there’s just the absence of clear direction. I don’t know him that well, but I have the impression if he was interested, I’d know. And if he’s on the fence it couldn’t hurt to let him know I’d say yes. Enter the breezy email.

I wonder if what I’m feeling is what my ex-suitors felt when they were getting to know me? That I seemed polite and social, but not necessarily into them? Seems likely. When I’m still weighing in on someone I don’t act interested, but I don’t act uninterested either.

It’s not that bad, being on the receiving end of it. Now I just have to wait to see what he does. Easy breezy.

The Great Blind Date

I’m not sure why I resisted getting to know Blind Date #1 for all these years, because he’s great. We went out for drinks and snacks – I find that sharing food is an excellent first date indication of compatibility (and/or sense of adventure, if the right location is chosen) – and I found him surprisingly engaging.

He’s smart, he’s attractive in that excellent not-too-attractive way, he’s smart, we have plenty of overlapping interests, oh and did I mention he’s smart? I feel the need to reiterate this one part not because this guy’s a crazy intellectual, but because he has opinions and he’s able to articulate and support them with actual details.

I’m interested, somewhat surprisingly, but definitely interested. And this is where it gets tricky.

When I can take or leave someone, I usually drive the conversation and help to make it interesting. This often results in the guy thinking we had a great date, and me thinking, eh, it was okay. But when I’m paying attention, when my interest is piqued, I think I get… nervous. I think I pull back physically, like crossing my arms or not making eye contact or whatever those subconscious body language signals are.

This is no good, for obvious reasons. Besides the fact that he may not think I like him, I’m left with that terribly uneasy feeling of not being able to read whether he likes me. So I start second guessing myself, was I too chatty? Not funny enough? Did he think I was attractive? I think these are probably good signs, that it matters to me what my date thought of me, but they make me super uncomfortable.

At least I'll have another chance with Blind Date #1, who I can’t seem to find a blog-appropriate nickname for despite thinking about it on and off for a few days, because we’re both attending a get together hosted by our mutual friend.

I had been holding off on my official RSVP until I had met up with him, but as we were ending our date he encouraged me to attend. I said I would be there. Hopefully I can get my nerves under control by then.

April Showers Bring May… Blind Dates?

Friday night I had a few neighbors over for drinks and dinner, and one of my neighbors asked if she could bring a guy for me. Man, when it rains date referrals from friends it pours! She had apparently just purchased furniture from him although he at one time was an actor and had been on 90210 (the original, I assume) and thought he was funny and good looking and sweet because he was taking his aunt out to dinner so would it be okay if he came later? I said sure, it was already going to one of those get togethers.

The group was pretty sauced by the time he arrived, so I’ll give it to him for being able to fit in easily. He seemed like a good guy, despite asking me at least three times whether I was sure that AT&T had blocked Swype from my phone (I am as of what the internets told me last time I checked) and whether I’d read all the books on my book shelves (I have, except for White House Ghosts). I’m guessing there’s more to him under the surface of his West Coast demeanor… he did specifically ask about a historical work I had on the shelf and recommended one of his favorites. And he brought homemade wine with him, which was half way decent when mixed in with my sangria.

I didn’t really make an effort to get to know him, though, and he left to meet up with other friends about an hour after arriving, so I was surprised when my neighbor asked me what I wanted her to tell him when he asked her about me.

"You think he’s going to ask about me?", I responded, thinking that we’d barely interacted and I hadn’t been very outgoing. "Uh, yeah", she replied, and when I thought about it we had really both seen all we’d needed to in order to know whether we were interested in a second get together.

It was pleasantly efficient, much better than a drawn out actual first date. And with my recent first date under my belt (which I promise I'll be telling you about soon enough!), I could really see the benefit of comparison shopping for boyfriends. You see this guy was okay, but he wasn’t as good at Blind Date #1. This guy was like waterproof shoes that get the job done, but Blind Date #1 had the potential to be that perfect pair of wellies that you find you simply cannot live without. You know, like when it's raining all the time?

He’s a Laywer. Or a Dentist.

One of my character flaws is that I have a hard time focusing. Often this translates to me not listening to people. Not because I’m not a good listener, I have an excellent memory and can almost always read between the lines. No, it’s because I’m simply not paying attention to what someone is saying when they say it. I’m focused elsewhere, like on the sports that are playing behind the person talking.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter, I never see the people I wasn’t listening to again. More often than not it comes back to bite me, like when friends of friends tell me their names but I’m too busy sipping my drink to retain it. Then I start running into those folks over and over again and they remember me and while I can place them, I can’t recall their name to save my life.

This appears to have happened with Blind Date #1. We originally met at German Fest, and while I may have been paying attention on that day I was also drinking large steins of beir. But while I’ve been given the spiel on him over and over by my gal pal, obviously I wasn’t ever listening. Because I think he’s a lawyer. Or a dentist.

As my brother pointed out, these are not at all the same. No, no they’re not. But I also happen to think he works for – or took over – a family business. And both of these professions would lend themselves to that additional partially remembered tidbit.

It doesn’t matter what he does, of course, but it might score me some bonus points for remembering it despite having not spent any real time chatting with him over the past several years.

He’s a lawyer, as it turns out. We are headed out on our first date later this week, as he'll be in the city for court. Unless he’ll be there testifying as an oral health expert, like those 3 out of 4 guys recommending Colgate, in which case he’s a dentist.

I've Already Met My Future Husband!

(not to be confused with I’ve Just Met Your Future Husband)

Things took a turn for the perplexing today when I decided to take a mental break from an overwhelming workload and ask my Magic 8ball a series of questions.

Question 1: Will I hear back from Blind Date 1? Asked after close to a two-day lag time in response to my email, which was a response to his first email to me after the FB introduction. Note: I wasn’t really worried. Yet.
Answer 1: No. Ouch, really?

Question 2: Is it because of the email I sent? Meaning, is there something about my email that is making him reluctant to write back? The Magic 8ball and I go way back, he understands what my questions mean even if the words are a bit off. I would have found a negative answer to this pretty discouraging, as I had thought my email was quite good. Open, interested, etc.
Answer 2: Very doubtful. Well that’s good, but maybe Magic 8ball doesn’t have a good read on my Blind Date. It would be pretty shitty for someone to invite you to drinks and then not accept your acceptance of said drinks.

Question 3: Will I ever hear back from my old friend? Asked because I really hadn’t, not since that terrible non-date, and that included a weekend when he was in town but clearly didn’t want to hang out with me.
Answer 3: My sources say no. Oh, bummer.

Question 4: Is it because he’s gotten back together with an ex? Asked because the only explanation I can come up with for his now reluctance to be friends is that he’s pursuing a romantic relationship and feels weird about me.
Answer 4: As I see it Yes. Man, boys are so dumb. Plus, which ex?!

I feel the need to share this latest insight with N, over gchat. She asks if I’ve ever asked the Magic 8ball whether I’ve already met my future husband. I didn't think I had, probably because it would just make me feel depressed since I wasn't anywhere near making it down the aisle with my spouse-to-be, despite having met him. And probably dated him in some fashion. But I'm not getting any younger, so...

Question 5: Have I already met my future husband?
Answer 5: Without a doubt.

Yikes. Well I guess that justifies having shut down my online dating, since I have no problem running into people I already know despite the size of the Chi. N wonders whether it’s someone I don’t even remember having met?

I don’t need my Magic 8ball to answer this one: Most likely. Now if I could just figure out which one he is...