I have this guy-frend. For all intents and puposes, let's call him Richard. Ol' Dick and I tend to spend a great deal of time with one another (few druken marriage proposals from him aside) and I truly tend to enjoy his company. To be honest, I allowed a dangerous flirtation with pseudo-dating, but considering neither of us is seriously interested in the dating business, we continue to pass the time by spontaneous friend dates. This is the kind of friend that I once asked "What would you change about me if you could?" And he answered. And I regretted asking. Figures.
There has been, however, one established date. And this is that story.
Before the Twilight series came to film, I jumped on the book bandwagon at the behest of my friends. I then journeyed on and eventually forced Dick to watch the movie with me (which he fondly entitled "Twister" or "Twizzler"). I then told him a brief synopsis of the rest of the story and he said that when the next movie (which he entitled "Boo Moon") came out, he would take me on a "real date" to see it. Free movie and dinner? Sure. My response: "As long as you pay and bring flowers."
I should mention that we referred back to the coming promise of this date for at least 3 months.
The day comes and we plan to attend with a couple of friends of ours (one a contributor to this blog who can attest to the validity of this story) and he arrives. Let me paint a picture:
1. He is wearing a tuxedo t-shrt, jeans,and sports coat (Really? are you MOCKING me?)
2. His first words are "I was going to stop by and get flowers ay CVS, but I didn't."
3. He has no money to pay for the movie ticket.
There is a phrase, a sort of MO if you will, that I have come to live by.
"I am sorry, but I do not have time to teach you how to be a man."
I do adore Dick; however, I am prepared for next time: I have a bikini t-shirt in my drawer ready and "allowed" him to buy my dinner/drinks at the next druken proposal opportunity. Fair is fair, ya know?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Did You Get My Message?
There are a lot of awful things a man could say to a woman. Some of the delightful gems I've been told in the past:
Today, I got another delightful little nugget:
"You look nice today. Kinda like the wicked witch."
"She just has the things that you don't... I'm attracted to her."
"You have a terrific personality; you are a great girl... you just aren't pretty enough to actually date."
"Just because he's seeing someone else doesn't mean that you are not a great girl..."
Funny, right?
Right.
Friday, December 3, 2010
The Joke's On Me
I signed in to my "LinkedIn" profile today (something I do about once a month, maybe), and I began browsing the suggested connections they had supplied for me. I noticed a vaguely familiar name, and as I stared at it, the story began rushing back.
I was a 23 year old full-time graduate student and part-time case manager for a local non-profit agency when one of my coworkers began talking to me about her nephew, Bobby. Bobby was a sweet guy, she said. Bobby has a good job, but he stays too busy to date much. Bobby goes to church. Bobby said he'd like to meet you...
Woah! What? Yes, not only had she been talking to me about Bobby, she had been talking to Bobby about me.
Reluctantly, I gave her permission to share my phone number with Bobby, and sure enough, he called. He sounded very normal and polite on the phone and suggested a lunch date the following week. That sounded easy enough.
Clue number one that it wasn't going to work out came about 10 minutes into lunch when Bobby proudly told me that he'd argued with his mother and taken an opposing view in the recent hubbub over a new Hooter's restaurant coming to town. He was all for it! Honestly, it wasn't his stance on Hooter's that bothered me as much as his complete lack of sense that perhaps that wasn't the best conversation for a first date with a woman enrolled in seminary.
At the end of our time together, we walked out to his car, so that he could give me a cd of sermons and music recorded at his church to listen to before our next date. (Yes, I agreed to a second outing. Dinner the following week.)
When I got in my car, I called a friend who was waiting anxiously for a report. She answered the phone sounding out of breath and said, "I'm in a hurry. I want to hear all about it later, but for now, give me two words to describe the date." The first two words that came to mind were: Black Cadillac. The man drove a black Cadillac sedan, and his business card from a local bank said "Vice President of Lending."
I know those should be very attractive things, but I was basically a very young, practically poor, grad student pursuing a career in full time ministry. He was a 32 year old bank executive that drove a black Caddy. I felt no connection to his world.
We went out the following week. I met him (because in my previous job, I'd taught sexual assault prevention classes and knew better than to give a man my home address too quickly) at a very nice restaurant. This was back when wearing clothing and carrying accessories with your first initial bedazzled onto it was popular. I'll never forget how hard I fought the urge to laugh when I took my coat off, and the "K" on my lapel was revealed. Bobby said, "Oooo, that's pretty," just like a little boy.
That night when I called my friend, and she asked for two words, I had them ready: Presidential Memorabilia. And, two more: Homeowner's Association. Bobby had spent nearly three hours over dinner describing for me (the 23 year old girl with the bedazzled 'K' on her lapel) his collection of presidential memorabilia and his epic struggles as president of his homeowner's association. I was bored to tears.
I was very busy the next two times Bobby called, and then he didn't call again. I saw him two years later at a charity event. There were two women standing very close to him, and he smiled and nodded politely across the room.
Today, I curiously clicked on his LinkedIn professional profile. He's with a different bank now, with a different title: President. Perhaps I should have tried a little harder to grow up a little quicker for good ol' Bobby.
I was a 23 year old full-time graduate student and part-time case manager for a local non-profit agency when one of my coworkers began talking to me about her nephew, Bobby. Bobby was a sweet guy, she said. Bobby has a good job, but he stays too busy to date much. Bobby goes to church. Bobby said he'd like to meet you...
Woah! What? Yes, not only had she been talking to me about Bobby, she had been talking to Bobby about me.
Reluctantly, I gave her permission to share my phone number with Bobby, and sure enough, he called. He sounded very normal and polite on the phone and suggested a lunch date the following week. That sounded easy enough.
Clue number one that it wasn't going to work out came about 10 minutes into lunch when Bobby proudly told me that he'd argued with his mother and taken an opposing view in the recent hubbub over a new Hooter's restaurant coming to town. He was all for it! Honestly, it wasn't his stance on Hooter's that bothered me as much as his complete lack of sense that perhaps that wasn't the best conversation for a first date with a woman enrolled in seminary.
At the end of our time together, we walked out to his car, so that he could give me a cd of sermons and music recorded at his church to listen to before our next date. (Yes, I agreed to a second outing. Dinner the following week.)
When I got in my car, I called a friend who was waiting anxiously for a report. She answered the phone sounding out of breath and said, "I'm in a hurry. I want to hear all about it later, but for now, give me two words to describe the date." The first two words that came to mind were: Black Cadillac. The man drove a black Cadillac sedan, and his business card from a local bank said "Vice President of Lending."
I know those should be very attractive things, but I was basically a very young, practically poor, grad student pursuing a career in full time ministry. He was a 32 year old bank executive that drove a black Caddy. I felt no connection to his world.
We went out the following week. I met him (because in my previous job, I'd taught sexual assault prevention classes and knew better than to give a man my home address too quickly) at a very nice restaurant. This was back when wearing clothing and carrying accessories with your first initial bedazzled onto it was popular. I'll never forget how hard I fought the urge to laugh when I took my coat off, and the "K" on my lapel was revealed. Bobby said, "Oooo, that's pretty," just like a little boy.
That night when I called my friend, and she asked for two words, I had them ready: Presidential Memorabilia. And, two more: Homeowner's Association. Bobby had spent nearly three hours over dinner describing for me (the 23 year old girl with the bedazzled 'K' on her lapel) his collection of presidential memorabilia and his epic struggles as president of his homeowner's association. I was bored to tears.
I was very busy the next two times Bobby called, and then he didn't call again. I saw him two years later at a charity event. There were two women standing very close to him, and he smiled and nodded politely across the room.
Today, I curiously clicked on his LinkedIn professional profile. He's with a different bank now, with a different title: President. Perhaps I should have tried a little harder to grow up a little quicker for good ol' Bobby.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Tip O' the Day
In effort to help the guilty be... well, less guilty, it's only fair that we provide tips - hints, if you will - on how not to wobble.
My first tip?
If you want to spend time with me, tell me.
(DISCLAIMER: This is fresh on my mind, so I'm not gonna mince words.) Here's the thing: It doesn't do anything for a girl to feel like you could take or leave her. If you want to hang out with her, not just some random female, tell her! I get that it's cute and flirtatious to be aloof and "breezy" (I am currently guilty of working very hard to maintain "breezy".), but chuck that mindset right out the window and be intentional (do it on purpose; not by accident or because someone "happens to..."). I don't want to hear "If you want to..." or "If you happen to be out you could swing by". Don't ask me if I want to, tell me that you want to and I'll be right over. None of this "happen to" or "want to" or "could". Nothing makes a girl feel replaceable like a haphazard ask like that.
This works: "I would love to see you." or "Haven't seen you in a while... I would love to hang out with you." or for goodness sakes, the direct: "I want to see you." wouldn't hurt either. I don't want to go into a situation feeling like it's got nothing to do with me personally, you'd be happy hanging out with any 'ol girl. I want to know that you are interested in who I personally am. Ask to hang out with me because you want to hang out with me, not because you know I'm a good kisser.
So take a hint and be direct. It'll go a long way, I promise.
My first tip?
If you want to spend time with me, tell me.
(DISCLAIMER: This is fresh on my mind, so I'm not gonna mince words.) Here's the thing: It doesn't do anything for a girl to feel like you could take or leave her. If you want to hang out with her, not just some random female, tell her! I get that it's cute and flirtatious to be aloof and "breezy" (I am currently guilty of working very hard to maintain "breezy".), but chuck that mindset right out the window and be intentional (do it on purpose; not by accident or because someone "happens to..."). I don't want to hear "If you want to..." or "If you happen to be out you could swing by". Don't ask me if I want to, tell me that you want to and I'll be right over. None of this "happen to" or "want to" or "could". Nothing makes a girl feel replaceable like a haphazard ask like that.
This works: "I would love to see you." or "Haven't seen you in a while... I would love to hang out with you." or for goodness sakes, the direct: "I want to see you." wouldn't hurt either. I don't want to go into a situation feeling like it's got nothing to do with me personally, you'd be happy hanging out with any 'ol girl. I want to know that you are interested in who I personally am. Ask to hang out with me because you want to hang out with me, not because you know I'm a good kisser.
So take a hint and be direct. It'll go a long way, I promise.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Not My Neighbor's Keeper
Several years ago, I lived in an apartment community that was full of people just like me. Lots of young, early twenties single people. My apartment was in a prime location in that it was on the third floor and over looked this courtyard/dog park in which my building and four others surrounded. There was a total of about 17 balconies that overlooked the park, and let me tell you - I did a LOT of people watching from mine.
One particular evening, I was camped out just outside my apartment with a Jane Austen novel and a beer. It was a particularly lovely evening after a particularly icky day. As I enjoyed the outdoors, the guy who had recently moved into my building came out to walk and play with his super cute dog.
Let's call this guy Bob.
Neighbor Bob acknowledges me, gives a quick nod of the head to say coyly "what's up" and goes along to play with his dog. Now, as I mentioned, it had been a particularly icky day, and regrettably, I am a sucker for a good nod of the head. Not to mention a nod of the head followed by some really adorable quality time with an equally adorable dog! He got some points right away, simply for having an adorable dog. Neighbor Bob had my attention. As he makes his way back to his apartment, he stops to chat:
"Rough day?" Points - I liked that he was intuitive. But then again, it's not every day you see a girl chillin with Jane Austen and beer, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she's had a rough day, right? I would soon learn that Neighbor Bob was far from genius.
"Pretty much." I say.
"You want some company?" Points - I liked that he & his adorable dog wanted to be my company. Neighbor Bob wanders up to where I was perched on the steps with the aforementioned adorable dog & introduces him as "Cain." Points - how cute - a biblical name!
We chat about Cain for a minute or two, all the while, I'm trying to be adorable myself and play with the dog. After all, who doesn't love a beer drinking girl who likes adorable dogs? Then Neighbor Bob asks if I happen to have an extra beer to share, and decides he's gonna put the dog up while we continue chatting. I was a little weirded out that he just came right out and asked if he could have a beer, but I did have some to share, and I did want some company, so I ran inside to get one for him while he put Cain back inside.
This is when it got really weird.
Neighbor Bob is coming out of his apartment to reclaim his seat and have his beer, and just as he steps outside he looks at me from across the way and says, "you don't happen to have any..." and proceeds to motion as if he were smoking a joint. (red flag.)
Interesting.
Now. I was a homeschool kid. So naturally, my little brain did not understand what he was asking me at first. I'm sure the way I cocked my head and peered at him questioningly was reminiscent of the dog. It didn't take long to figure it out though (the pantomime helped). I immediately called to mind my days in the D.A.R.E program and replied:
"What?! NO I don't have any of that!" (just said no.)
That went beyond ballsy, it was just down right appalling (to a homeschool kid). I was stunned that this guy would come right out and ask if I had any drugs!
Despite my complete bewilderment, Neighbor Bob & I chatted for a bit. I learned that he was from Louisiana & came to Fort Worth after Hurricane Katrina (red flag). I learned that his dog's name is short for Cannabis (biblical schmiblical). I also learned that he often "connected" with the 19 year old girl that lived on the first floor of our building (eew).
It didn't take Neighbor Bob very long to figure out that he was not really my type. Maybe it was the fact that I'd gone back to reading my book while he blabbed about his successful career as a waiter. He did what I can only assume was an effort to redeem himself: He started asking me questions about myself. He wanted to know what I did for a living, where I was from and what my parents did for a living.
"Oh, my Dad is a cop."
Bingo.
That'll sober up a toker real quick. It was really pretty entertaining to watch him freeze and his lazy, bloodshot eyes get as big as they should normally be.
"And I just asked if you had any weed."
Yes, yes you did.
It was really nice to meet you Neighbor Bob. I'm pretty sure first floor girl could use some company right about now.
One particular evening, I was camped out just outside my apartment with a Jane Austen novel and a beer. It was a particularly lovely evening after a particularly icky day. As I enjoyed the outdoors, the guy who had recently moved into my building came out to walk and play with his super cute dog.
Let's call this guy Bob.
Neighbor Bob acknowledges me, gives a quick nod of the head to say coyly "what's up" and goes along to play with his dog. Now, as I mentioned, it had been a particularly icky day, and regrettably, I am a sucker for a good nod of the head. Not to mention a nod of the head followed by some really adorable quality time with an equally adorable dog! He got some points right away, simply for having an adorable dog. Neighbor Bob had my attention. As he makes his way back to his apartment, he stops to chat:
"Rough day?" Points - I liked that he was intuitive. But then again, it's not every day you see a girl chillin with Jane Austen and beer, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she's had a rough day, right? I would soon learn that Neighbor Bob was far from genius.
"Pretty much." I say.
"You want some company?" Points - I liked that he & his adorable dog wanted to be my company. Neighbor Bob wanders up to where I was perched on the steps with the aforementioned adorable dog & introduces him as "Cain." Points - how cute - a biblical name!
We chat about Cain for a minute or two, all the while, I'm trying to be adorable myself and play with the dog. After all, who doesn't love a beer drinking girl who likes adorable dogs? Then Neighbor Bob asks if I happen to have an extra beer to share, and decides he's gonna put the dog up while we continue chatting. I was a little weirded out that he just came right out and asked if he could have a beer, but I did have some to share, and I did want some company, so I ran inside to get one for him while he put Cain back inside.
This is when it got really weird.
Neighbor Bob is coming out of his apartment to reclaim his seat and have his beer, and just as he steps outside he looks at me from across the way and says, "you don't happen to have any..." and proceeds to motion as if he were smoking a joint. (red flag.)
Interesting.
Now. I was a homeschool kid. So naturally, my little brain did not understand what he was asking me at first. I'm sure the way I cocked my head and peered at him questioningly was reminiscent of the dog. It didn't take long to figure it out though (the pantomime helped). I immediately called to mind my days in the D.A.R.E program and replied:
"What?! NO I don't have any of that!" (just said no.)
That went beyond ballsy, it was just down right appalling (to a homeschool kid). I was stunned that this guy would come right out and ask if I had any drugs!
Despite my complete bewilderment, Neighbor Bob & I chatted for a bit. I learned that he was from Louisiana & came to Fort Worth after Hurricane Katrina (red flag). I learned that his dog's name is short for Cannabis (biblical schmiblical). I also learned that he often "connected" with the 19 year old girl that lived on the first floor of our building (eew).
It didn't take Neighbor Bob very long to figure out that he was not really my type. Maybe it was the fact that I'd gone back to reading my book while he blabbed about his successful career as a waiter. He did what I can only assume was an effort to redeem himself: He started asking me questions about myself. He wanted to know what I did for a living, where I was from and what my parents did for a living.
"Oh, my Dad is a cop."
Bingo.
That'll sober up a toker real quick. It was really pretty entertaining to watch him freeze and his lazy, bloodshot eyes get as big as they should normally be.
"And I just asked if you had any weed."
Yes, yes you did.
It was really nice to meet you Neighbor Bob. I'm pretty sure first floor girl could use some company right about now.
Friday, November 5, 2010
All I Want for Christmas
One glorious fall, a coworker of mine decided that I would be a perfect match for her best friend's son. So, she set us up on a blind date - and by "blind date" I mean she had a game night at her house with 8-10 of her closest friends aged 50+ and invited me and this guy (both in our mid-twenties). Let's call said guy Elf. In all seriousness, this game night was fun and elf was pretty attractive so kuddos to my coworker. At this game night - by process of age elimination - Elf and I had a wonderful time talking and he asked me over to his house the next week for dinner. Promising dinner and "after dinner activity of my choice" this seems a perfectly normal and acceptable behavior for men and I have a little control of the evening, so I agree to come.
Well, in various conversations that week, we spoke about music and I learn that he is a student and teacher of music and theory. I know absolutely nothing of this but feign interest long enough to allow him to naturally change the subject on occasion (and he mentions that he is cooking filet mignon for me, so I assume it's worth a few boring minutes on the phone). Also during these talks, he asks of my interest in music artists. Now personally, my taste runs from Pearl Jam to Michael Buble to Amos Lee to Wade Bowen, so I'm a pretty diverse girl. Somewhere along the way I mention liking Josh Groban. I admit it. The man can sing. So here comes date #1.
I arrive to his house in which every door and every window is open and some random Josh Groban song is BLASTING on his sound system. Some people may think this is sweet. It is not. It is weird. Do not be fooled. The night goes on complete with Blokus and Scrabble (Looking back, I'm surprised that didn't run him off sufficiently) but his filet mignon wasn't too shabby so I answered the phone when he called the next day.
Date number 2 rolls up and somehow I am cooking for Elf (still not quite sure how that happened - what happened to Three Forks??) but he comes over and we eat and talk and after hearing that there is no necessity to know Scripture past John 3:16, I am fairly done with the evening, but Elf remains in my apartment and proceeds to tell me how he would love to take me on a carriage ride downtown. Now if you know me at all, I am NOT a girly girl and there are three reasons why I would like a carriage ride in downtown Fort Worth: One, I am an unknowing visitor and think the experience is "neat". Two, it is a joke and someone is filming. Three: I am Benjamina Button and I am now 10. However, since I am already done with this night, I nod politely and continue on.
And then he pops the question. [After only 2 weeks of dating] "So, I was talking to my mom and thinking what would you like for Christmas?" Did I mention this was SEPTEMBER? He had no fancy meal to back him up this time, so I wrapped things up neatly and picked up my dog as a buffer for the inevitable goodnight kiss (another great use of a very old and docile poodle) and show Elf to the door. What did Elf get me for Christmas that year? Use of the delete button.
Well, in various conversations that week, we spoke about music and I learn that he is a student and teacher of music and theory. I know absolutely nothing of this but feign interest long enough to allow him to naturally change the subject on occasion (and he mentions that he is cooking filet mignon for me, so I assume it's worth a few boring minutes on the phone). Also during these talks, he asks of my interest in music artists. Now personally, my taste runs from Pearl Jam to Michael Buble to Amos Lee to Wade Bowen, so I'm a pretty diverse girl. Somewhere along the way I mention liking Josh Groban. I admit it. The man can sing. So here comes date #1.
I arrive to his house in which every door and every window is open and some random Josh Groban song is BLASTING on his sound system. Some people may think this is sweet. It is not. It is weird. Do not be fooled. The night goes on complete with Blokus and Scrabble (Looking back, I'm surprised that didn't run him off sufficiently) but his filet mignon wasn't too shabby so I answered the phone when he called the next day.
Date number 2 rolls up and somehow I am cooking for Elf (still not quite sure how that happened - what happened to Three Forks??) but he comes over and we eat and talk and after hearing that there is no necessity to know Scripture past John 3:16, I am fairly done with the evening, but Elf remains in my apartment and proceeds to tell me how he would love to take me on a carriage ride downtown. Now if you know me at all, I am NOT a girly girl and there are three reasons why I would like a carriage ride in downtown Fort Worth: One, I am an unknowing visitor and think the experience is "neat". Two, it is a joke and someone is filming. Three: I am Benjamina Button and I am now 10. However, since I am already done with this night, I nod politely and continue on.
And then he pops the question. [After only 2 weeks of dating] "So, I was talking to my mom and thinking what would you like for Christmas?" Did I mention this was SEPTEMBER? He had no fancy meal to back him up this time, so I wrapped things up neatly and picked up my dog as a buffer for the inevitable goodnight kiss (another great use of a very old and docile poodle) and show Elf to the door. What did Elf get me for Christmas that year? Use of the delete button.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Once Upon a Weeble
Have you ever been on a date that you didn't know was a date until it was already under way? The experience gives a whole new meaning to the term surprise date, that's for sure.
A number of years ago, I agreed to an evening out with an old friend. We'd known each other for a number of years and reconnected in graduate school. We'd pass one another in the halls between classes and joke about needing to get together "when life slows down" but life never seemed to slow down. Then one night he called. There was a concert being put on by his organization, would I like to attend? The music wasn't really my style, but what the heck. I said, "sure!" Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew better than to invite my roommate along, but I couldn't say exactly why not.
At this point, it's probably best to give you some descriptive details. My friend is approximately 5'2" tall and the best description of his shape would be round ... sort of like a weeble. You remember those toys? I'm not being rude, I just need you to get the picture. There's absolutely nothing wrong with being 5'2" or round. I, however, while plenty round in my own right, am about 5'8". We made an odd pair as friends to begin with.
When the evening of the concert came, Mr. Weeble was late to pick me, didn't hold any doors for me, and got lost getting to the venue which caused us to miss out on dinner beforehand. At this point, I realized my fears about not inviting my roommate along were unfounded, this most definitely was not a date. I relaxed and found myself thoroughly enjoying an evening out with an old friend who was excellent company and an entertaining conversationalist.
He dropped me back off at my apartment a little before midnight, and I went inside and began preparing for bed. Fifteen minutes later, about the time I'd gotten the makeup washed off my face and changed into my pajamas, the phone rang. It was Mr. Weeble. He said he needed to talk. While not exactly convenient, this didn't strike me as all that odd at first. I was used to playing counselor for most of my friends from time to time, so I prayed silently for wisdom, took a deep breath, and said, "Sure, what's up?" He responded with, "I'll come get you." My roommate told me later that she knew in that moment it could only mean one of two things, he was gay or he was in love with me. There was no middle ground in her mind. How I wish she'd have warned me! I was clueless.
We ended up at the only 24 hour eating establishment in town a little after midnight, found a booth, and he began a story. The story was rambling, and I honestly don't remember all the points, but I do remember thinking, "God, at some point, Mr. Weeble's going to stop talking, and I'm going to have to say something. Help me know what to say." Then, from the other side of the booth, I heard Weeble say this, "So, I don't know if a dating relationship is something you're interested in ..." And, I thought, "Well, I mean, who isn't? I guess it would depend, but in general, I think dating's a pretty good thing." Then, Weeble finished his sentence, "... but I'm not really good at reading signals, so I'm just going to ask you if there's a chance for us."
All coherent thinking halted in that moment. I froze.
Slowly, cognitive functions returned, and I began formulating a response. I thanked him for his straightforwardness, assured him I was flattered (and in some way, I was), but confessed I didn't see a very bright future for a dating relationship between the two of us, the Weeble and I. He asked me if it was because he was short. It wasn't ... entirely. That would have been a great time to thank me for my time and take me home, but Mr. Weeble wasn't done talking. He proceeded to tell me about how he'd been thinking of asking me out since the first day we'd reconnected at school. He talked about his jealousy upon hearing about someone else I'd gone out with a few times. And, he told me how he'd dreamed of the work we could do together as a team. By the time he was done talking, I was every bit as miserable as he seemed to be. We drove back to my apartment in a very awkward silence, and managed to avoid one another rather successfully for the rest of the semester ... except that one time at Target, in the toilet paper aisle!
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down!
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