Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Gem #2 (or HOTHO)

Disclaimer: this entry is along non-PG level. Not even PG-13. If you have delicate sensibilities, you’ve been forewarned.

The second gem I met through my Craigslist experiment was a 30 year old English teacher living in Astoria; NYC born, NYC bred. His response was similar to Gem #1 in that it was funny and well written. He included pictures and the closest thing I can compare him to is Buddy Holly. He was a Hipster Of The Highest Order (HOTHO). This was going to be a departure for me.

I went out with HOTHO after my date with Fresh Meat when it didn’t seem like I was going to hear from him again. I wasn’t waiting around for Fresh Meat to get his act together, I was a rolling stone gathering no dating moss!

We made plans to meet the following week for some drinks, but in the meantime started gchatting each other. He was funny. And I think funny is hot. So by the undeniable high school math equation “If, then” is applied here we get: If he is funny and I think funny is hot, then he is hot. Making me laugh gives you brownie points so quickly, and it’s the easiest and funnest way to earn them! As a tiny red flag, he was already referring to me and us in the future tense. For example, he was already planning on taking me to Met’s games the following season. Hm. Um. Hold those horses Mr. Wayne.

I allowed him to choose the bar we would meet at and I trudged off to Astoria after work one fine Tuesday. We were texting as we were traveling and he told me he was wearing an orange hoodie. I was already skeptical. Hoodie to me says: I put absolutely no effort into this outfit whatsoever. However, the caveat here is that he was a HOTHO and therefore hoodies are part of the uniform. I still was able to sight him two blocks away, though.

I entered the bar where he was already ordering some of Brooklyn’s finest lager and we awkwardly said hello. He chose a corner booth where leg room was minimal and required knocking knees. I suspect(ed) this was on purpose. He frequently used the intimate space to emphasize his point by touching my thigh. Side note: not as cute in person. But, as online dating goes, you gotta just roll with it.

Backstory: while gchatting, we had discussed the merits of napping. Oh, the glories of napping!!! We were apparently both fans.

Segway back: After one drink he turns to me and asks, “So what do you want to do? Another drink? Dinner? …..nap?”

I’m sorry. Wait. Did you just ask me to “nap” after one drink??

It was raining outside and I used this as an excuse to respond with a, “um, it doesn’t look so hot out there, why don’t we get another drink?”

So we got another drink. At this point I’m thinking that he’s not a troll. I’m thinking that he’s not the yin to my yang, but I’m not having a terrible time. So after we finish our second drink, he asks again what I want to do. I respond, “’let’s take a nap!”. Please don’t misunderstand, dear reader, I’m not a total vamp. I was thinking some good old fashioned high school couch tonsil hockey could be nice.

Here’s where I learned a valuable dating lesson, which is why I’m sharing this story and still hoping you’re not judging me. Taken aback, he said stuttering, “oh! I’m sorry, I, I just, I just didn’t think you were into it….”

And there’s my dating feedback, my college moniker given to me by my dear friend Lindsay, the Ice Princess apparently lives on. Now, when I go on a date, I make sure I’m encouraging (if I’m into it) and not an ice cold bitch.

I back away from the invitation; his surprise wasn’t encouraging to me so I start to rescind my statement. But he now pursues it. He offers to drive me home. Perfect, 1) I don’t have to spend 45 minutes going two miles and 2) cars are perfect to make out in!

He drives me home and we end up in my apartment. I’m going to spare you the details of one of the most awkward experiences of my life. And yes, I realize how improbable that statement is, because all of my dates are landmines of discomfort.

He actually DID want to nap. We were NOT on the same page.

He whispered into my ear that he had already, um, pleasured himself to my photograph the previous weekend.

And the cherry on top: he asked me to toss his salad.

Nuff said.

I hope it’s needless to say, but we did not see each other after that.

Tossed Salad (too easy?):

Hard Boiled Egg
Oh, eff it – do you really need me to spell this out?

Monday, March 5, 2012

Gem #1 (Fresh Meat)

I apologize for the extreme delay in posting these adventures. Life has, let's say, taken some extreme and unplanned turns in the last half of 2011. But, back to dating, and more on ch, ch, changes in later installments!

As per my last post, I wound up with two genuine dates from my Craiglist experiment.

Gem #1 was a newly minted NYCer (hereby known as Fresh Meat) who had relocated from Minnesota to Queens about four weeks earlier. His response was lengthy and sweet, not to mention uber excited to be in contact with me. I gave him my number; he text me immediately. Homeboy was an eager beaver. I did not mind this.

We decided to go out the following weekend and he sweetly said, "why don't you let me take you to The Met?". I liked the wording of that communication. It implied assertiveness, no confusion on who was paying for the date, and it was also manly. Mommy likey. (Wow, is that creepy?)

Since he lived in Queens as well, we decided to meet at a common subway stop, Queensboro Plaza. I carefully choose what I deemed to be a cute, yet not trying too hard first date outfit and went on my way. I stood nervously at the station, watching for someone I thought I might recognize exit the N train. The trains came and went. And then as the train pulled out of the station, someone tapped me on the shoulder in that elementary school, I'm standing on your left, but am going to tap your right shoulder so you look the other way, kinda way - and there was Gem #1.


I almost didn't understand how someone who had never met me could be so excited to be on a first date with me. I mean, please, I get it, har har - no, but really. We dont know each other.... I AM pretty cool to hang with but he certainly hadn't been educated in proper NYC dating decorum. Didn't he know he was supposed to be aloof and withhold his true feelings?

We traveled to The Met and randomly walked around. His giddiness continued the entire time we were there, even reaching out to cup my shoulders from behind every 30 minutes or so. Normally, I'm a cynical person (read: bitch) but I actually liked this! I was liking this guy!


His enthusiasm was contagious! I was smiling! And flirting! And if I hadnt been such a dumb turd prude I would have gone with the moment and let him kiss me in front of the display of Roman war helmets.

After the museum closed, Fresh Meat took me to an early dinner at diner nearby. We exited and walked in the rain. I didn't mind (except for my goddamn curly hair that started to get all wonky Liz Lemon style).

Back to Queensboro Plaza we went, and even though I would have liked to kiss him goodbye, I really didn't want our first kiss to be on a subway platform in Long Island City. So I hugged him and we parted ways.

15 minutes later I receive a text from him saying what a great time he had, and how he wanted to see me again.

I had done it. I had been on a successful date! With someone *I* actually wanted to see again! Not someone who was going to slobber on my face in Grand Central, or tell me about Low Sodium Tacos being the highlight of their Friday night, but an actual potential dating partner! So many exclamation points!!!!


And here's where the enthusiasm ends. There was no second date. He randomly texted me over the next two-ish weeks saying that he was super busy but wanted to see me again (including texting me once at 2a saying he was thinking about me.....I'm sorry, but 2a and youre thinking about me? Whatchu thinkin' 'bout boi? Mmmhmm!). So eventually I just stopped trying.

I had thought I'd found the perfect dating solution - find a male who has recently moved to NYC so he hasn't had time to become a dating disaster. Find a middle america, homegrown quality dude and date him. Date him hard.

Sigh, NYC got to him before I did. Fresh Meat had already started to spoil.

Better Then Sex Cake
1 Box of Devils Food Cake mix
Cool Whip
Caramel Sauce
Heath Bar's crushed

(make that shiz according to directions in a 13x9 pan)
After it cools, poke holes in the cake and fill them holes with caramel sauce. Then cover it with Cool Whip and drizzle more of that caramel on top. Sprinkle the top with your crushed up Heath Bar. Eat.

It's better then sex because I didn't get any (and having cake is better than nothing). AND, after you have a taste, youre gonna want more....just like my first awesome first date ever.