When the Past Comes a Knockin'

Why do the dating gods seem to know exactly when you've gotten over someone, only to drop them back into your life? Friday morning I get into work, turn on my computer, and gchat loads up. When it does, a little box in the lower right hand corner scrolls through my unread messages and out of the corner of my eye I see it. His name. I actually sat there paralyzed, unable to believe that he's emailed me. Why?? What could he have to say to me? Why now? Why after all this time? Why when I'm entering what I hope to be a new dating chapter in my life where I don't gravitate towards men that are unavailable (emotionally and otherwise).

My story with B starts two years ago. It was six months of intense happiness, focus, attention. It was new and exciting. The possibilities were endless. Until one day he text me to tell me how busy he was and he'd be in touch soon. Soon actually translated to never. I was too proud to contact him and I stood my ground. Months went by. After three months I called him and we made plans to meet, the conversation was normal, we acted like no time had passed at all since communicating, all seemed well with the world. But, meet we did not. He stood me up. I didn't hear from him after that -- no explanation, no apology.

Fast forward to one year later, this past January. After a year of no contact and yet still wondering what happened to him and how he was, I broke down and emailed him. Hey B! I know this is out of the blue but in the light of the new year I thought I'd drop you a quick note to say hey, hope all is well.

Two days later, a response. My heart skipped a beat. He thought about me too, wondered how I was, didn't think I wanted to hear from him. I read and re-read this email over and over. I responded (of course) and then waited in silence. Nothing. I couldn't understand. Why did he bother to respond to me if he wasn't going to communicate with me? Why tell me he thought of me, if he was just going to cut me off again? And then, around one week later I got my answer. He drunk emailed me to tell me he was engaged. This was his M.O. -- only ever being frank about his feelings with me once he'd been drinking. So, for whatever reason, he felt the need to get drunk to tell me that he was getting married. I was reeling. Engaged? EnGAGED?!

Now I had to wonder, is this why he stood me up? When did he start seeing this girl? What was the overlap between her and I? So many questions. No answers. Because I'm sadistic, I emailed him back and pretended to be happy for him in an effort to get some answers. That's amazing! Congratulations! That's so great. How long have you two been together? What else is new?

Aaaaaaaaaand in true B fashion, no response. And so, this was all I needed to know to finally move on. I may not have gotten the closure I was looking for, but closure it was. He was getting married. Story over. Except it isn't. He emailed me last week.

Hey Emily! How are you? Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you, I promise I'll get better. Guess what? I'm coming to NYC! Can't wait! It's going to be an amazing trip...it'll be my honeymoon! Wwwwwwwwhhaaaaaaaaaaat?!?! Bomb, Bomb, Bomb. First - hearing from him. Second - he's going to get better at keeping in contact with me? Third - he's coming to NYC ON HIS HONEYMOON?!

I just don't get it. I guess I never did. Just when I've buried something, it bubbles back up. Very amusing dating gods, thank you, thank you so much. Dont get me wrong, I don't want him the way I used to. But sometimes I wish things would just stay in the past.

Recipe: Grilled Cheese Sandwich

Two slices of Irish Soda Bread
Irish Cheddar (make sure this is from the back of your fridge so it's nice and moldy. You know, the cheese you forgot you had?)
Butter

Heat a frying pan over medium heat. Butter the outside of the bread, place moldy cheese inside. Grill until it's hot and melty. Serve but don't eat because 1) it's too hot and it'll burn you and 2) it's moldly (this crap is BOUND to eff you up inside!!)

You're Going to Have to Get Me an Ice Block to Shove in my Pants

I'm probably better off with the burrito.

Three weeks ago, right at the beginning of this blog experiment, something kind of crazy happened. I met a boy I really liked, and he liked me back. It was insane. And clearly, short lived.

T-bag (as I will call him because I’m feeling neither creative nor affectionate) and I met online as many blossoming relationships do these days and we hit it off immediately. Jokes! We both had them. He worked in finance and does stand up, and myself, well I love douchbags and think I’m hysterical, so it was a match made in OkCupid heaven. We exchanged emails, wrote back and forth a few times, and decided to go on a real date.

And it was a real date. We went out to dinner and then saw a show. It was probably the most real date I’ve been on in my 24 years. We had so much fun, we talked for hours, played buck hunter, some other dude hit on me in front of him, it was perfect! We made out and he was totally a good kisser. This, I thought, could actually be going somewhere. As Aretha Franklin told me, it’s in his kiss.

We went out a few more times, real dates! And then he came to my birthday party after telling me he wasn’t sure if he could make it. He was actually at the bar waiting for me when I showed up with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. T-bag was so into me, all my friends could tell. They all congratulated me for dating a non-douchebag. I was either on, or somewhere near, cloud 9.

In this weird state of euphoria I decided to do something for him that I never do. Ever. I invited T-bag over for a huge brunch extravaganza that included spinach Gruyere crepes, roasted potatoes and blood orange mimosas. I even baked cookies with Mandy the night before. I stood in my kitchen and thought…this shit just got real.

It was his idea to have a “day-date,” and we’re both so busy that I didn’t really think anything of it, although perhaps that should have been my first sign. The second sign should have been that he didn’t show interest in taking any article of my clothing off. But he’s not a douchebag, and he likes me, and is interested in more than my fantastic, fantastic breasts. I thought the date went spectacularly. We talked about hanging out more during the week and how close my work is to his so we could even maybe meet up for lunch some times.

A couple of days pass and I don’t hear anything from him, but it’s not unusual because neither of us has the unreasonable expectation of immediate responses or daily communications, so I shoot him a quick email about grabbing dinner at some point during the week. He calls me that night, again nothing abnormal until he says, I need to tell you about something.

Oh fuck. I know what that means. I’ve been around this block plenty of times.

You see, T-bag had this ex girlfriend and they broke up a while ago, how long ago I’m unsure, but he randomly ran into her at a party last week. And wow, then randomly again, they ran into each a second time. Funny how that happens. And they had a long talk and they are going to try real hard to work things out between them because they were together for a long time, or something. And he is really, really sorry, I am an amazing girl and he had so much fun with me, and he has been on the receiving end of this so many times, so you see, he knows how it feels. But he really, really wants to be friends with me and maybe buy me a burrito some time.

Yes, he said a burrito.

And I said, "Well, T-bag, thank you for telling me, I understand. I hope everything works out for you. Maybe we will get a burrito some time, but I need to go, it’s late."

And thus ended my only some-what successful attempt at dating in ny (thus far), with a guy who would rather be in a complicated mess with an ex girlfriend and provide me, the described awesome girl he had so much fun with, the offer of a burrito.

I suppose it is time to try again. Hopefully next time my consolation prize will be upgraded to a veggie burger. I think if I work hard enough, and get enough couples back together, I can get probably get at least a few McDonalds gift cards.

Emily - My First Attempt: Online Dating

Oh, the stigma of online dating. It's said in hushed tones....they met....online. It's almost like it's an admission of being the worst kind of single - the one who couldn't actually meet someone in real life....they had to go ONLINE. Shock! Horror! Shame! Is meeting online the sexual equivalent to arriving at a dinner party with a pie, only having to admit that you bought it at the gas station on the way over? Looks like one thing, but is really a cheap, cheaters version of the real thing? Mmm, pie. Ok, distraction over.

In this digital age we live in where we google potential suitors names, search for them on facebook, follow their blogs, clandestine cyberstalk; you'd think meeting people online wouldn't be given a second thought. But it does. I love the split second hesitation I get when I tell people I'm going to try online dating and have a profile on eharmony. There is the briefest of pauses and then the, "wow! that's great! totally!" delivered with a smile and a glint of "thank god that is not me" behind their eyes. I actually know more than one couple that met on eharmony and are now married. And since the government says advertisements can't lie, I believe those ads with all those smiling couples that say they've found their soul mate on the site, and I can too!! (for the low, low price of $75 for three months). Wow, that didn't sound jaded now did it?

Regardless. I DID pay that price for the chance to meet someone to date.

I sign onto eharmony and am slightly daunted by what I'm faced with. I have 1,493 matches. Yes, over one thousand. Where do I even begin? Before I even start, I'm faced with a small delay -- lots of "closed" matches. These are guys that aren't interested. Awesome. Now, I get it - not every man on the planet is going to want to pursue a relationship with me - but imagine signing on and spending 45 minutes closing out matches that have already been closed. Let me tell you 45 minutes of acknowledging rejection after rejection can take a toll on your desire to continue this process. But, I trudge on. I am currently in the various stages of communication (on eharmony there are 4) with ten different guys.

How many am I excited about? Three. And one I haven't heard from in weeks (my suspicion is that his membership ran out). I'm trying to keep an open mind and am initiating communication with any man whose profile intrigues me. This usually means something that makes me laugh but I usually give consideration to: a complete profile (there are many that half-assed or not complete), someone that doesn't drone on and on about how buff they think they are, or how much they love their favorite sports teams. I am also suspicious of men who do not have profile pictures. Come on people! In this digital age, who DOESN'T have a digital photo of themselves?? Highly suspect. I'm not going beat around the bush here -- if HE'S too embarrassed to post a picture of himself, that doesn't bode well for me.

So what DOES make me quiver with excitement and anticipation? Well, that happened today. I received an email from a teacher in the Bronx, where he talked about something near and dear to my heart: Buffalo. Done! Funny, sweet, tied into my profile, and had a great writing voice. Understandably, he's a teacher, so I'd be really disappointed if he used bad grammar and punctuation, but he didn't! A fully completed profile! Pictures! Not too much for a girl to ask for, if you're asking this girl, that is.

So -- I'll leave here and go back over there, I have 1,493 men to cyberstalk.

Fresh Pressed Apple Juice & VHS

Any self-respecting woman would scoff at the idea of listing her best attributes and posting them on a public website for all to judge. Well, I’ve learned that when it comes to dating in NY, self respect along with pride and dignity are just a few of the things women are willing to sacrifice in order to snag the “perfect catch.” In this case, I am no exception. Sure, I could have been mad when Kelly posted that explicit, yet exceptionally well written, craigslist post without my permission but a part of me was relieved. I can’t count the number of times I complained that my life would be easier if I could say, "hey lets just cut through this whole process and I’ll give you a 3 point presentation why I'm awesome and you should date me."

After that, it’s completely out of your hands. You’re done selling yourself and your potential suitor either likes you or they don’t. If not, then move along because there is no point in wasting your or their time. And in a city like New York, it’s all about efficiency. Kelly had done all the work and put my plan into action without the stigma of actually posting the ad myself. Needless to say, I was totally gung-ho with the entire scenario. The entry below is a direct result of this dating endeavor….

The quick background:
Name: Mark
Age: 29
Location: Brooklyn
Attractive attributes: good witty banter, adorable ironic hipster glasses, a like for music and movies, a complete lack of knowledge of politics and an affinity for baked goods.

After many missed gchat messages, Mark (whose name has been changed to save his identity) and I finally decided to meet up at a bar downtown after I got off work. Despite the dreary and dismal weather I was upbeat about my new potential suitor. On my way to the bar, umbrella in hand, I literally ran right into him. Serendipitous I thought, truly this date was off on the right foot.

We started walking to the bar a 2 blocks away from our chance meeting on the corner. Off handedly he mentioned that he “didn’t really drink” but then instantly reassured me that he didn’t mind when others did. This immediately sparked my curiosity. Could it be that he was a recovering alcoholic? Did he have some major moral or religious objection to drinking? Was it something completely ridiculous, like it gives him terrible gas? Who knew… I mean, I did meet this guy on craigslist…. Anyway, we settled in to a table in the corner and after a brush off the first time, I asked again why he did not drink. The answer: “I don’t drink many liquids.” Wow, that came out of left field. What does that even mean?!

Apparently, our dear friend Mark has a liquid drinking regime. In the morning he likes to drink something green such as spinach, followed by something orange, then he moves on to a fresh fruit juice – perhaps a pressed apple… He continued to speak, but it was at this point that my brain stopped functioning for a half second.

Oh yes, I had in fact, agreed to go out on a date with “a crazy.” Now, after weighing my options and the severity/dangerousness of the crazy, I thought it was in the best interest of future storytelling and this blog to carry on with the rest of the date. It had only been 20 minutes…what other gems could come from this?

After deep contemplation, which to the normal person was only a fraction of a second, I fell back into step. Acting as though what he’d just said was not bat shit crazy. We continued to talk about various subjects such as music, school and the ever popular angst ridden teenage years. I can’t lie, there were several points in our conversation that I did enjoy. Namely our discussion of being a sound engineer, which, if you know me, is a topic I can talk about forever. Though, after about an hour of talking I had reached another solid conclusion: not only was he crazy, he was pretentious about it. No alcohol was good enough to drink, no teacher good enough to teach, no band good enough to listen to, no job good enough to do…… Did I mention that he was unemployed?

If nothing else, I was also determined to get a free meal out of this. So when he suggested a change in location I was all for it. I even threw out a plethora of suggestions, all of which did not seem to interest him in the least. I let him choose and we ended up at a local pizza place. Seriously! All I would get from dealing with this guy was a slice of Sicilian?! Oh no. I ended up getting much, much more.

If you thought his drinking regime was crazy… well stand back for his restrictions on eating.
The reason why he dismissed all of my suggestions is because when it comes to food, less is more. He did not like “ethnic food” because he had:

1. consistency issues; and
2. only liked foods with minimal ingredients.

Again, just like with the drinking, he reassured me that he did not look down on people who did eat those foods. He even went on to say that he was a great cook even though he, “wouldn’t touch the food that he made with a 10 foot pole.” Which begs the question, how does he know that he’s a good cook if he never eats it? I digress… in our extensive conversation about his food options the only thing I could get out of him that he ate on a regular basis was pizza and hamburgers. He also had in recent years developed an intolerance to dairy. Although, I question the validity to that statement since cheese on pizza has dairy. Don’t fret because after 4 years sans milk, this week, he discovered soy milk. The jury is still out as to whether or not it will make the cut. The one major exception to all of his rules… baked goods. I guess even a crazy can’t turn down a good chocolate croissant.

After much scintillating conversation about his VHS collection – primarily comedies between 1972 and 1986 - we started walking. I’m not sure where he was walking to but I knew I was heading straight to the subway. We ended up in Union square, said a quick and awkward goodbye, hugged, pretended that we would perhaps meet up again and went our own separate ways.

I will state for the record that I in no way regret this date. In fact, it may be one of the best – worst dates of all time. If nothing else I got quite the story out of it.

Lesson Learned: When life gives you apples… make some fresh pressed apple juice.

Recipe

Apple Shake (2 servings)

1 cup vanilla ice cream (Feel free to substitute a soy ice cream if you have some sort of dairy intolerance)
2 cups freshly pressed apple juice
2 ripe bananas
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
Combine all ingredients in blender until smooth.

It’s easy and has minimal ingredients. Enjoy!

Something Naughty I did to Mandy: A Craigslist Call for Proposals

Being the wonderful friend I am, and because Mandy kept talking about creating a 3-point presentation to give to potential suitors, I wrote the following and posted it on craigslist missed connections. I received many, many glorious responses, vetted them for Mandy and sent her out on dates, which you will hear about as they happen. <3 Kelly

This is what started it all:

A three point presentation on why Amanda would make the best gf ever.

In the fine spirit of camaraderie, I want to introduce everyone to your dream girl: Amanda. She is bangin, basically in every way. I would totally rail her myself, but I’m also a girl and we’re not into that. Well, maybe, but there would have to be a dude involved. A very hot dude. But, I digress…

So Amanda. She is gorgeous, tall, and brunette, in crazy amazing shape—runs every day. She is fun and funny and totally adorable, but for some reason she isn’t getting it on the regular. I have no idea why; she should be rolling five deep.

Being the children of corporate America that we are, I thought the best way to appeal to our target demographic is through a 3-point presentation on why she would make the best girlfriend ever. In the interest of time and efficiency, there is a conclusion statement at the bottom of each point that summarizes the key themes of the post.

If you are smart, funny and successful, between the ages of 24 and 32, I strongly encourage you to seriously consider the following:

1) Low Maintenance.
You want to go out with your dudes? She is cool with that. You want to split the check? She is cool with that. You want to wear gross old sweat pants and not shower for days? She is probably not ok with that, but we all have standards. Personal hygiene is one of them.

She loves drinking beer, singing karaoke, watching movies like the hangover, playing wii and tequila shots. Super chill doesn’t even begin to describe her temperament. She will bake you cookies all the time.

Conclusion: As long as you shower, you can hang out with your friends and drink beer whenever you want. Also, she is not crazy.

2) Sexual Relations.
She is down always. All the time. In the garden or in the dirt. You can do it in the pouring rain, runnin the train when it's hot or cold out How 'bout in the library on top of books? But you can’t be too loud.

I thought there was no better way to get the point across then with some Luda.

Conclusion: You will get to bone. A lot.

3) Smart & Hot & Funny: Whole Package
There are few ladies who are so accomplished, and do it with such polish (including slant rhymes). Mandy is the type of girl that your friends would tell you is way too good for you, and then hit on her behind your back. But never fear, she will politely decline their bold offers because she only has eyes for you. <- Precious.

She can quote dirty movies, talk like a sailor (when appropriate, of course) and wrestle a crocodile with one hand, all while looking fabulous. Intimidating as it may seem to be with someone who is basically perfect, she still has a few flaws to keep you interested, as in: she cannot speak French and she sometimes falls down. Other than that, I can think of nothing.

Conclusion: She is bangin.

If this sounds like the lady for you, please shoot me an email and I will put you through the vetting process.

Xoxo.

The Basics: Mandy

Name: Mandy

Age: 24 and on the brink of hitting my quarter life crisis

Fun Facts:

Sign: Virgo (barely)

Favorite Sport: Dodgeball – ( Yes, it’s a sport, don’t judge)

Favorite Food: Tropical Dots

Hobbies: Baking, crafting, people watching, sparkles, MTV’s the State, writing letters, making mixed CD’s, eating frozen yogurt, alternative big kid sports, running, post scripts

I’m usually thinking about: if I were making the soundtrack to my life what song would be playing right now.

Physical:

Height: 5’10 – Hence my complete and utter inability to wear heals

Hair color: after finally ditching my goth-ish black hair… I am now a completely normal shade of golden brown

Eye color: brown with a twinkle of hope in them

Things I find attractive on the opposite sex/first things I notice:

• Hygiene – are you slightly unkempt or dirty, yet still socially acceptable?
• Facial hair – I’ve grown to love a good beard or an ironic (well kept) mustache – though not a requirement, on the right person, I love it.
• Eyes – Yes, this is very cliché but it’s on everyone’s list for a reason. You can’t deny that beautiful eyes can make your heart melt.
• Someone that can make me laugh. Not just a polite chuckle but a belly laugh that makes your sides ache.

Dating history:
Well, my average number of dates per person tends to hover around 3 or 4. Is this by choice? Sometimes yes but mostly no. I think I might have “why aren’t they calling me back?” syndrome that many women suffer from. I’ve also discovered that people I have no interest in, love me. While those who make my heart go a flutter, stand clear.

Why I’m doing this:
My life often plays out like a sitcom, so why not share it with the world. Now, if only my life had a laugh track….

Perhaps this blog will:

1. Help me observe my dating habits
2. Make me reexamine the type of person that I would like to be dating
3. Finally validate that yes, it is in fact them and not me
4. Confirm my biggest fear that it is me and not them.

Dating plan:
I have decided to explore ALL methods of dating. I am going to try my hand at:

• Online dating
• Speed dating
• Self-help dating books
• Blind dates
• Bars/social events