Just got this message from a guy on JDate who I’ve e-mailed with a few times. Weirdness pointed out in bold:
I too sense a great thirst for adventure in you, and to be perhaps too open, want to get to know you more. I’m in China on business till next tuesday but when I get back I would be very happy to get in touch with you. Can I take you out sometime? I’ll think of something quirky on the airplane ride home:)
Well, I woke up today thinking it was Tuesday until the roommate informed me of the wonderful news that it is in fact Wednesday. So, today is off to a moderately good start. Considering the horror that was my date last night.
Went on first JDate with C, a lawyer. He showed up wearing a pink button down and a purple tie. When he pulled out his wallet, I recognized the Le Goyard logo. Omigod, not only am I on a date with a gay man, but I am also on a date with a gay man who is better dressed than me.
Inside of me, a deep hatred started to percolate as I contemplated his perfect hair, chiseled jawline, and skinny physique. Why can’t I look that good?
Drank more to compensate for sadness, and found myself talking about my lesbian experiences. Not appropriate first date material. Cringe.
I just reinstated my membership on JDate. Lame. I tried it back in the fall and was horrified to find that none of my dates were cordial enough to pay for my drinks. Jews — I should have figured that my people would be cheap penny pinchers. There was one date with a documentary filmmaker who, after we had each had one $3 margarita, had put in his four bucks, then shoved the check over my way.
I have since learned, that on first dates, one should never do “the reach.” “The reach” is when the check comes, and out of politeness, a girl slowly reaches for her purse as if to offer to pay. Problem is, dudes in New York DO NOT STOP YOU. Now, when the check comes, I don’t even look at it. That’s right. Boom!
Not sure why I decided to sign up for the online thing again. It was late last night. Had nothing better to do.
I do have to say though, it is pretty astounding what guys think girls want to hear. So I’d like to take a minute to share some of the mind-blowingly awkward things I’ve come across in my experience with online dating.
1. The following statements, which guys think are funny/endearing, are not: “I like my women as I like my kebabs: discovered drunkenly by surprise late at night and covered in too much tahini”; “The world is a giant chicken waiting to be plucked”; “I like to be SPOOOOONED”; “I wear pants.”
2. Profile photos — a word of advice to guys out there — any photo of yourself that you have to preface with the caption, “I swear I’m not gay,” should not go on your profile. Also, what’s with all the dudes in sunglasses? If I can’t see your face, I’m not going to want to message or “hot list” you or whatever. And ladies, you never know if there’s gonna be a glass eye under there.
3. When certain dating sites like Nerve.com ask, “what’s your favorite sex scene” as a profile question, I’ve found that many guys list scenes that are not cute and quirky, but sound suspiciously like something they actually jerk off to. Gross.
4. I cannot believe that any woman would find the following profile names a good indication of a guy’s intelligence: 42inchtelevision, iatepaste, wastingtheday, bigpartyman4u.
We’ve mainly been texting over the past few days. Cute and polite things like, “How’s your day”; “Drinking margaritas and enjoying smoking indoors in Texas”; “Have a good morning?”
What is this? Are we in a relationship? I have to say, it is pretty fun. I don’t need to think seriously about Band Dude, but when I’m out and about or bored, I have someone to fantasize about and send messages to.
While it has all been very fun and flirtatious, I had a cold encounter with reality today that scared me. Well, maybe not scared, but put me outside of my comfort zone.
What was it? Well for one thing, Band Dude had said he was looking into flights to come visit me in NYC. He mentioned this once before, and I didn’t really think that he’d be so proactive. I wasn’t sure I wholeheartedly wanted him to come. Hosting someone for a weekend? Difficult. Hosting someone you barely know for a weekend? Exhausting. So, I was slightly relieved when he called and left me a message two nights ago, saying, “Well…been lookin’ on Cheaptickets.com…and, man ticket prices have gone up. I’ll keep my eyes out, but I am not a rich man. Gimme a call later.”
I did call him a bit later. I had just gotten home. It was 1:30 a.m., and I was, as usual, feeling lonely. His deep, tobacco coated breath calmed and comforted me. Without thinking, I said, “Well, T, maybe it’s me who needs to come fly out to see you.” He got excited. Begged me to come.
I started thinking about it, and, honestly, at the time the option was appealing…going to Dallas for a weekend, maybe not even tell anyone where I was going. It felt sexy.
The next morning, I felt more level-headed but still decided to check on ticket prices. Round trip was about $350. I sat staring at my computer screen thinking, is this money worth it? There are many other things I could do with $350. I could get my hair dyed and cut (my one splurge that I absolutely refuse to skimp on).
Hot time in Texas? Or hot hair?
I decided to go with the hair even though both options are transitory. A few days of love. Eight to ten weeks as a blond.
I picked up the phone and scheduled an appointment for later that day.
I didn’t think I would hear from T again after our kind of random, drunken flirtation. I hate to admit it, but I actually have a hard time remembering his name. It’s just one of those names that doesn’t come very easily to the tongue. And so I started referring to him as “Band Dude,” and the term seemed to stick. But I digress…
And then, late at night last Saturday, a text message: “Well hello little lady. What r u up to on this fine evening?”
I could almost hear his Texan drawl. It made me smile and swell. I texted him back: “Worst. Saturday. Ever.” It wasn’t the worst Saturday. I wanted him to give me his attention.
I was starting to wonder what it was he wanted. He mentioned coming back for a show in June. June! Nearly four months from now. Maybe he was desperate? I thought it unlikely—Band Dude, is after all, a Band Dude. It can’t be that hard to get chicks to screw you. Or can it? I don’t understand boys.
Anyhow the rest of the evening was as follows:
Drink. Text. Drink. Text. Finally, I wrote: “We could talk on the phone…”
Half an hour later, I am home and he calls.
"Seriously, Band—er, T, why are you still talking to me?"
"Uhh…well I maybe sorta had this crush on you all those years back. And I was thinkin’, maybe I could look into flights for next weekend."
Wow. Seriously? I mean…really? I’m not that special.
A few weeks ago, I recieved a MySpace message from T, an old acquaintance I met the summer I turned 20. It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years, and I’d decided to spend it in Dallas, working on the set of a family member’s first feature film.
There was a band in a few important scenes, and T was the drummer. We didn’t talk much that summer. Looking back, if I wasn’t so overwhelmed and caught up in hanging with movie stars, looking cute in cowboy boots, and drinking Tecate beer at lunch, I would have probably picked up on the fact that T was trying to hit on me. After the movie, we didn’t talk, so his message that I got three weeks ago was pretty surprising:
"Hey. I’ll be rolling through nyc next week, playing at Arlene’s Grocery. Let me know if you want to see the show. I’ll put you on the guest list."
I enthusiastically replied and showed up to his concert wearing skintight leggings and a low-cut top. Fuck yes. I rocked that.
After a few beers and his concert finished, we continued to drink more with the band, and I got up the courage to begin flirting with him. He responded well to it, and returned my smiles and playful touches.
At around 2 a.m., I had to stop and ask myself, “What the hell are you doing?” This guy wasn’t even spending the night in town (although the way things were going, it was clear I could have pursuaded him to stay). Yet, who knows when I would see him again. I was setting myself up for disaster. So I figured it was time to call it a night.
"Hey, come walk with me for a second," I said coyly as I pulled him away from his crowd of bandmates. "I think I need to go home…but it was really great to see you."
"Yeah. Uhhh…you too," He stammered. "Kind of a bummer that we barely got to hang."
"I know. Well, I had a great time." I paused, smiled, and then leaned in to kiss him. We swayed a little bit with the force from my lips, tipsy from beer and whiskey.
"Can I call you sometime?" He yelled as I got into a cab.
My friend is starting a project that’s going to be a compilation of photos from peoples awkward stages in childhood/teenage years. I think it’s great. And I fully plan on contributing. It might just be a photo of me now, though.