I'm not that fascinating. But, my parents raised me to be polite. And, they gave me the conversational tools to make any conversation, with any person, an interesting one. It's not hard. And after a few dates post-Mr. Tater Tot I decide I've come up with, what I think is, a great strategy for first date conversation. I figure I've done it casually on previous dates, but I'll be more structured on this one. We'll call the test subject The Guy.
Goes a little something like this.
The Guy: So, I work at Company X, doing Job B and in my spare time I like to do 1, 2 and 3.
Me: Wow, that sounds interesting, tell me more about 2. (Because I'm not some money-grubbing gold digger who is only interested in X or B).
Guy: Talks on and on about 2 with some occasional glimpses into 15 and 16 (that which should be hidden for many more dates).
Me: "Mmmmhmmm." "Wow." "Sounds interesting." Peppered with a few "You don't say."
Guy: And you? It sounds like you're interested in 2 as well, tell me more.
Me: Not sure I like any of it, but we're on a first date so I find some way to wind 2 into some quippy little story that's always good for a laugh. If his #2 is hiking - I tell the story about my brother kicking a wasps nest; biking - my mom and I in some casual mountain bike race; his kids - nothing, because I don't talk about my kids on a first date. The Guy's #2 was Dave Matthews - quippy story about my brother and I going to a concert.
More about The Guy, now known as Mr. Hey-Can-I-Stalk-You-Online and the reason that I now avoid this strategy altogether next time.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Mr. Tot
"I love tater tots and I hate my kid."
No - this was not a sentence written by a date in an email, but it's how I remember this guy after our third date. First two dates, uneventful. Coffee at Starbucks (where he informed me he hated coffee) and a Bronco game (where the people seated around me informed me that he brings a lot of really stupid women to the game). But the third date was a Christmas party. I was still kindof getting to know the guy. 30 minutes of rushed, caffeinated conversation coupled with screaming at the Broncos to kill the Chiefs does not allow you to get to know someone well.
So, when Mr. Tot invited me to a client's Christmas party in south-suburbia I thought "what the hell". I met him at a neutral location (safety first, right?) and headed out into a blizzard with him towards Roxborough. He was a horrible driver, listened to country music the entire time and talked about how awful his kid was with the occasional mention about how great the food at this party always was.
When we showed up, people seemed surprised to see him, as if he was only invited out of courtesy. Turns out, he'd been laid off from a couple of positions where they had known him from. And, he didn't RSVP that he was bringing a date. And, did I mention, I just survived a harrowing snow storm driving with a guy who admitted it was probably his anger management issues which makes him not like his child. I had determined at that point that there was really no point in seeing him any more. But, he was my ride so I stuck around.
But the food, oh the food, was the memorable part of the evening. A cold spiral sliced ham and tater tot casserole. I'm not a huge fan of the tots. (Unless they're fried in the basement diner at my old dorm and covered in seasoned salt.) But if you shellac them with cream of mushroom soup and cover them with fried onions....I'm rather disgusted. But, dear Mr. Tot said it was the best darn tater tots I was ever going to eat in my life and proceeded to scoop up the biggest spoonful of the nastiness and throw it on my plate.
Covered my carrot sticks and everything.
No - this was not a sentence written by a date in an email, but it's how I remember this guy after our third date. First two dates, uneventful. Coffee at Starbucks (where he informed me he hated coffee) and a Bronco game (where the people seated around me informed me that he brings a lot of really stupid women to the game). But the third date was a Christmas party. I was still kindof getting to know the guy. 30 minutes of rushed, caffeinated conversation coupled with screaming at the Broncos to kill the Chiefs does not allow you to get to know someone well.
So, when Mr. Tot invited me to a client's Christmas party in south-suburbia I thought "what the hell". I met him at a neutral location (safety first, right?) and headed out into a blizzard with him towards Roxborough. He was a horrible driver, listened to country music the entire time and talked about how awful his kid was with the occasional mention about how great the food at this party always was.
When we showed up, people seemed surprised to see him, as if he was only invited out of courtesy. Turns out, he'd been laid off from a couple of positions where they had known him from. And, he didn't RSVP that he was bringing a date. And, did I mention, I just survived a harrowing snow storm driving with a guy who admitted it was probably his anger management issues which makes him not like his child. I had determined at that point that there was really no point in seeing him any more. But, he was my ride so I stuck around.
But the food, oh the food, was the memorable part of the evening. A cold spiral sliced ham and tater tot casserole. I'm not a huge fan of the tots. (Unless they're fried in the basement diner at my old dorm and covered in seasoned salt.) But if you shellac them with cream of mushroom soup and cover them with fried onions....I'm rather disgusted. But, dear Mr. Tot said it was the best darn tater tots I was ever going to eat in my life and proceeded to scoop up the biggest spoonful of the nastiness and throw it on my plate.
Covered my carrot sticks and everything.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Mr. Air
"Your breath really turned me on."
This was the closing statement in the "hey, I had a great time" email after my first post-divorce date. The kiss was brief, there was no heavy breathing, it was simply a "Well, gosh, I haven't kissed anyone in a long time and it looks like he wants to kiss me, what the hell" kiss goodnight next to my car in a downtown parking lot.
Let me rewind a bit - I was married for nearly 12 years before Mr. Air and there wasn't a lot of kissing going on there at the end of it all. I had a couple of random face-to-face contact immediately after the separation, but none were really dates. But this one, he was. Met him on Match.com mere minutes after posting my profile. He seemed adequate, "business owner, 5'11", sandy-blond hair". I went into the date knowing that I was just experimenting with the act of dating - sure it wouldn't be much more than just apps and drinks at this pub.
But, I was nervous. I must have tried on a half dozen shirts until I landed on what has now become my first-date standby - a bright turquoise sweater/shirt that makes my eyes change color. I considered cancelling. I mean really, who was I kidding. My life was busy. I wasn't sure I was ready to date again. But, I sucked it up and drove myself downtown. (First rule of self-inflicted blind dating. Always meet the guy somewhere away from your regular "hood".)
So I arrived. And he was not 5'11" - he was probably 5'8". This was my first experience with the "lets-round up" heighth disclosure. We started with the standard nice to meet you bull-shit that goes into dating. The more you do it the more you start to wonder, did I already tell this guy this story?
We were having a normal enough time. He ordered fish and chips, I ordered a quesadilla. I was thinking, he's not that interesting, but he's laughing when I say things and seems interested - I guess I'm not going to completely suck at dating afer all! And then....he took my feigned interest for a signal to open up and tell me things I don't need to know. This was to become a rather frequent occurence during my dating. And so, he shared the following:
He is the #2 (NUMBER TWO) Air Hockey player in the entire U.S. - he's been on ESPN and everything. I now know, with the help of the plate my guacamole came on, how to hold an air hockey paddle. The key is - use your fingers, keep them loose. And, he knows we just met, but a group of his friends were all getting together to play in a pick-up air hockey tournament later that night....would I like to go?
And obviously, I declined. But I kissed him. And it was fine - I guess. Something about my amber ale and quesadilla breath must have been fantastic.
Air Hockey + Loving my Breath = Creepy....right?
Next post:
Tater Tots Rule
This was the closing statement in the "hey, I had a great time" email after my first post-divorce date. The kiss was brief, there was no heavy breathing, it was simply a "Well, gosh, I haven't kissed anyone in a long time and it looks like he wants to kiss me, what the hell" kiss goodnight next to my car in a downtown parking lot.
Let me rewind a bit - I was married for nearly 12 years before Mr. Air and there wasn't a lot of kissing going on there at the end of it all. I had a couple of random face-to-face contact immediately after the separation, but none were really dates. But this one, he was. Met him on Match.com mere minutes after posting my profile. He seemed adequate, "business owner, 5'11", sandy-blond hair". I went into the date knowing that I was just experimenting with the act of dating - sure it wouldn't be much more than just apps and drinks at this pub.
But, I was nervous. I must have tried on a half dozen shirts until I landed on what has now become my first-date standby - a bright turquoise sweater/shirt that makes my eyes change color. I considered cancelling. I mean really, who was I kidding. My life was busy. I wasn't sure I was ready to date again. But, I sucked it up and drove myself downtown. (First rule of self-inflicted blind dating. Always meet the guy somewhere away from your regular "hood".)
So I arrived. And he was not 5'11" - he was probably 5'8". This was my first experience with the "lets-round up" heighth disclosure. We started with the standard nice to meet you bull-shit that goes into dating. The more you do it the more you start to wonder, did I already tell this guy this story?
We were having a normal enough time. He ordered fish and chips, I ordered a quesadilla. I was thinking, he's not that interesting, but he's laughing when I say things and seems interested - I guess I'm not going to completely suck at dating afer all! And then....he took my feigned interest for a signal to open up and tell me things I don't need to know. This was to become a rather frequent occurence during my dating. And so, he shared the following:
He is the #2 (NUMBER TWO) Air Hockey player in the entire U.S. - he's been on ESPN and everything. I now know, with the help of the plate my guacamole came on, how to hold an air hockey paddle. The key is - use your fingers, keep them loose. And, he knows we just met, but a group of his friends were all getting together to play in a pick-up air hockey tournament later that night....would I like to go?
And obviously, I declined. But I kissed him. And it was fine - I guess. Something about my amber ale and quesadilla breath must have been fantastic.
Air Hockey + Loving my Breath = Creepy....right?
Next post:
Tater Tots Rule
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Self Inflicted Blind Dating is Fun....
or maybe just funny.
After much cajoling by friends and family I've decided......it's time to write some of this shit down.
I was rereading parts of my journal of the last year and talking with friends, married and single and engaged, about the adventures of dating as a 30-something divorced mother of two. What I discovered is this: my experiences are not unique. They're not special. They are not "beautiful and unique snowflakes." My experiences are mimicked by single people, divorced people, married people who are dating (shame on you!) throughout the world. I just have a sense of humor about the whole blessed roller coaster ride.
So I'm going to take a deep breath and admit some of the best, the worst, the craziest. All names have been changed to quirky fake names to protect the innocent (or, simply because I've forgotten their names.)
More tomorrow.
After much cajoling by friends and family I've decided......it's time to write some of this shit down.
I was rereading parts of my journal of the last year and talking with friends, married and single and engaged, about the adventures of dating as a 30-something divorced mother of two. What I discovered is this: my experiences are not unique. They're not special. They are not "beautiful and unique snowflakes." My experiences are mimicked by single people, divorced people, married people who are dating (shame on you!) throughout the world. I just have a sense of humor about the whole blessed roller coaster ride.
So I'm going to take a deep breath and admit some of the best, the worst, the craziest. All names have been changed to quirky fake names to protect the innocent (or, simply because I've forgotten their names.)
More tomorrow.
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