J: Flying out of my comfort zone

Today I signed up for an evening of 8-minute dating.

Am I insane?

Stay tuned, friendly readers...my "Cupid party" (cheeeeeesy) is scheduled for the first week of February.

I'm sure I'll have a lot to report back.

J: If a bartender buys you a drink...

My PERFECT non-committal response to January (the First):

"I enjoyed meeting you too! Thanks so much for lunch!"

Duh. Why was that so hard? Really?

The truly pathetic thing is that I had to go to my bestest single guy friend to come up with this most basic of responses. Bestest single guy friend also said that I had to respond to his "thank you" text that same day, otherwise it would be rude. (Just throwing in that tidbit as a little bonus piece of boy intel for all you girls out there who are just as befuddled by all this as I am. )

That was...um...Monday...and here it is, Wednesday, and I've received no follow up response, which is absolutely fine.

Moving on...

Tonight, a bartender bought me a drink.

Well, not just me...he also got one for my (married) friend. Yes, the bartender was a boy. And, yes, one of the things I wanted from this experience was to be comfortable with a boy buying me a drink.

Still, I don't think I can officially check that box since (1) "comping" is not the same as "buying" (I tipped him for the drink, after all!), (2) his explanation for the shots was that my friend had to wait forever for me to get there (which was true...I got stuck at work and she got stuck learning all about his opinion on the Rams' draft picks) and then she had to leave early and I was stuck by myself and (3) he was bored. There were a total of four people in the entire establishment: Me, friend, bartender & a big sullen bald guy. If I were him, I'd want to hang out with us, too.

So, I'm not there yet but I'm heading in the right direction.

Ummm...unless those drinks were entirely meant to impress my (married) friend and I happened to benefit because I was near her. In which case I'm no further than when I started.

But, hey, it's only January!

S: Math Is Not My Friend

I had a few minutes to spare and did some figuring in my head.

I’ve been on 1 date so far this year. I have to find 11 more guys to go on dates with in the next 11 months.

It occurs to me that I have not even dated 12 guys in my entire life up to now.

Clearly I did not do the math before I agreed to this.

E: 13 Days to go, and Elle is feeling the pressure!

Girls, I have been a little late getting in the game but I'll have you know that I reached out to 3 friends today to ask for set ups and I'm feeling pretty confident they'll come through. :)

J: A text from January (The First)!

Soooo glad I waited!

HE texted ME today to thank ME for the nice date. Hmm...

NOW WHAT DO I DO???

Text him back, I guess.

WHAT DO I SAY???

Gawd..I dunno.

S: Ground Control to Major Tom

Ladies and gentlemen, we have achieved date liftoff.

I wasn’t rocketed into outer space or anything, but I didn’t lose my lunch on the launch pad either.

It was touch and go there for a while though. I’m not gonna lie. I spent the entire day working myself into a bit of a knot over the whole thing. I don’t know how I managed to make myself so nervous about it, but I’m adding “can freak herself out over nothing” to the list of skills on my resume. Anyway, I kept wondering if there was a way to get out of it, but no, there is a challenge at stake. And I refuse to be the first to throw $10 into the pot. I’m cheap like that.

(Date score: -5 for making me feel ooky)

At last the time had come. I know that if I’m not going to start things off on the right foot, I should at least start them off on the left foot, but instead, I decided to start them off on the wrong foot. Therefore, I left my house late. Because really, why should I leave enough time to get through rush hour traffic or conquer the trials and tribulations of parking? That’s what people who are good at dates do.

This meant that even before he had a chance to be impressed by me, I had to send January a text telling him I was running late. Of course, I am quite accustomed to tardiness. I have a tendency to be slightly behind schedule because I really don’t like being the first one anywhere. But I don’t like making people wait an inordinate amount of time for me, and the clock was creeping ever toward the 15-minute mark. Much like the traffic was creeping toward the…whatever it was that was making the traffic creep. Which was probably nothing. But, fine, whatever. Anyway, this kind of delay would only give him time to change his mind and leave, right? And now we’re right back to $10 in the pot.

(Date score: -3 because I’m already messing it up)

It gets better. Here’s the fun part. In a coincidental pre-date ice-breaker, we sent “I’m running a bit late” texts to each other at exactly the same time. And THEN, we sent “did we just send ‘I’m late’ messages at the same time?” messages to each other at…the…same…time. Yoiks! How cute is that?! Several degrees of cute, I tell ya’. And then at that point, he jinxed me and I’m pretty sure I still owe him a Coke. More cuteness.

(Date score: +9 for amusing anecdotal coincidence and common ground)

Bleep blooping (that’s my DVR noise) forward…I finally scored a decent parking spot and made my way to the booze house. (Oooh…they should call it that.) And much to my chagrin, I had arrived first. Seriously, I don’t know why, but I really don’t like being the first one there. I am destined never to claim land for my country or have the best seat at a new Star Wars release, that much I know.

(Date score: -5 because I so did not want to be first)

I had had just enough time to look sufficiently like I was waiting for someone and not like I was at a bar by myself like some kind of loser spinster when he arrived. It was probably a good thing that he wasn’t there first, because I don’t think I would have recognized him. That and I was standing right there by the door so he didn’t have an opportunity to run before I spotted him.

(Date score: +3 because it’s good I was first after all)

We sat at the nearest open table and a server arrived immediately to take our order. And then…stop the tape…the dreaded question was uttered. It was like she was saying it in slow motion as I listened to the sound of my pulse racing and my inner monologue freaking out and being no help what-so-ever. “Wooould yooooou liiiiiiike tooooo paaaaay caaaaash ooooor staaaaart aaaaaa taaaaaaab?”

And there it was. Out in the world. Like the diaphragm that just fell out of your purse in the school cafeteria and can’t be ignored.

(Date score: -15 for weird diaphragm-y moment)

I fully admit to not handling this well at all. Even in retrospect I cringe at how this went down and kind of want to write a check for the next 11 months so I don’t have to go through this again. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get past this pretense. But I have to learn, right?

So, o.k., let’s learn. Here’s how it happened. You be the judge of my mishandling.

The server had been speaking mostly to me. I think mainly because I was very confident in my drink selection and knew (because of previous discussions) that January wanted what I was having, so I…in my overly assertive and independent way…ordered for both of us. Bad move, Sheilsies. This meant her next question, the question, was then directed at me.

But I wasn’t ready! I hadn’t decided what to do in this situation yet. I don’t know when I was thinking I would decide but it was not at this moment. I needed liquor first. So, what did I do? I did what any other socially stunted 30-something spinster would do, I looked at January to see what he would do. Hesitation. That was his plan. Hesitate. Gauge my reaction. I responded in kind with more hesitation. It was like a little hesitation showdown. You could almost see a tumbleweed roll past. And then he pulled out his card and said to start a tab.

Done. Decided. I let him pay.

And I must admit, I feel kinda wrong for that. But my male BFF, with whom I conferred beforehand, said I should not. He said that it is universally understood that if January requested the meeting he should pay. Although, if this is the case, I don’t know why he hesitated. Was it because he too was unsure if we were on a “date?” Was he still thinking he might have an opportunity to cut and run if he did it right then? Did he not understand the question? Was he afraid he had forgotten his wallet? Did he think we were ordering an actual Tab? Well, whatever the reason, he manned up. And that was good.

(Date score: +13 for doing the socially correct thing)

After this awkwardness had passed, which it did quickly, we had a nice evening of conversation. I mean, it was fine. Nothing to write a blog about (like that would stop me), but good. There were moments of pause when I’m sure we were both thinking, “Umm…umm…umm…What should we talk about now?” You know that pause. But for the most part, there was no weirdness. We even bonded over a love of food seasonings. Which had the same degree of cute as the texting-at-the-same-time incident. But in the end, it was only o.k.

(Date score: +5 for decent conversation and food seasoning validation)

He did, at some point, order us an appetizer, which I did not request (having already saddled myself with the guilt of letting him buy the drinks), but helped choose and eat. And it’s good that he did, because it gave me an opportunity to do what I did next. I took advantage of that moment to bring up that I had dinner plans to get to after a bit, so I couldn’t eat too much. Or stay too long.

(Date score: +1 for food, because…well…it’s food, and the opportunity to skip out)

Yes, that was my very pansy way of making sure the date had an end. But you have to cut me some slack. I wasn’t sure how that was going to work with a “let’s grab a drink” kind of date. I mean, with a meal there is a specific end. Even with coffee, you go when you finish your coffee. But with drinks, you don’t know. You don’t have an out. You can’t just leave after you’ve had your drink. They bring you more. When does it end?

Because this quandary was haunting me, I actually attempted to set up a bail out dinner on the way to the date. That’s how “fail” I am at this. I attempted a bail out. (It’s like I’m the Goldman Sachs of dating or something.) But my friend was unresponsive and I had no out.

So…I lied. It was a really good and not blatant lie, so that makes it o.k., right? I was vague about who I was having dinner with, but very specific about the place. We even had a conversation about it. He totally bought it. Or, at least he pretended to. Maybe he needed an out too.

(Date score: -11 for me being a liar)

And that was it. A couple of drinks, an appetizer and then he made sure I left in time to get to my “dinner engagement.” He was polite enough not to keep me too long for my made up plans so that I could escape the date gracefully. AND, thank goodness he didn’t ask for another date while we were there. I think he maybe thought he should, but didn’t quite have the courage or couldn’t read the situation well enough to do so. Or, most likely, was sick of my crap and buying beer for me and was glad to be done with the whole ordeal. But this was good because I still have no idea how I would have responded. Most likely I would have moved in with him.

My final verdict is that I have no interest in him but he’s a decent guy to hang out with. I’d have a drink with him in a non-date setting and could even see fixing him up with the right girlfriend, should one present herself. So, my original assessment stands: Not interested, but a datable guy overall.

(Date score: +7 for being a datable guy and lucky enough to not be stuck with me)

He did email me the next day to say he realized he had never checked his watch or thought about a cigarette the entire time and we should do it again. I responded that it was fun and I’m always glad to keep someone from smoking (which is a HUGE deal breaker for me…but I bet I'll blog about that some other time) and I appreciated the drinks. And then I totally ignored the “we should do it again.”

Because, you know what? I don’t just live with cats, I am a cat. A ‘fraidy-cat.

(Final date score tally: -1 which means nothing because I forgot to set the curve)

So, that’s it. January has gone out of radar sight. Now, here’s hoping I can find 11 more gluttons for punishment.

J: January: CHECK!

Lunch with Mr. January (yes, he’s officially earned the name!) was actually quite nice. While he would not have been someone that I would have necessarily chosen for myself, my friend actually did a pretty good job picking him out. The worst blind dates are born out of: “You’re single and female…he’s single and male…you'll be PERFECT for each other!” Luckily, this friend dug a little deeper. This guy is a biker (of the yellow jersey variety) I’m a biker (also yellow jersey-although I'm not opposed to taking a spin with bikers of the black leather variety every now and then!) This guy listens to live music. I listen to live music. This guy has a job. I have a job. This guy likes Mexican food. I like Mexican food. See how much we have in common already? We must be PERFECT for each other.

I met Mr January (the First) at one of my favorite restaurants and we started off our late lunch with a quick drink in the bar. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, the bartender happened to be a bit heavy handed with the tequila. Usually that’s a quality to be admired in a bartender however this time, it was a strong drink on a very small amount of food and I was quickly quite tipsy. On top of that, the meds that I’ve been taking lately added to the general fuzziness of my brain. I was…shall we say…less than “sparkling” company.

Now that I’m safely ensconced at my favorite local coffee house with no one but my computer and cup of coffee for company, I can look back and admit that honestly, the date was a little bit cloudy. I’m just hoping that I held up my side of the conversation passably well…but really…I couldn’t completely say.

Time for a bit of post-date analysis: As I implied earlier...physically, Mr. January (the First) wasn’t my type at all. But, he was a good conversationalist and made me feel very comfortable right from the start. He had his card ready to go before the ticket was presented, both for the drink & dinner. I liked that a lot since it meant that there wasn’t the little awkward dance of reaching for my purse even though I know and he knows that he’s going to be picking it up. I also liked that he was the height of chivalry: opening doors, letting me choose the table, placing his hand on the small of my back to escort me through all crowd, etc. All those small gestures made me feel very ladylike and...well...appreciated.

The entire drink/meal took almost 2 hours and as we were leaving he suggested getting together again sometime. I said that that would be nice. I’m actually curious to see if he’ll call. If he does, I’d go out with him again. But quite honestly, post-date, I’m not wearing a big goofy grin. I’m not planning our wedding. I’m not trying to come up with some excuse (any excuse) to txt or call him—just to be in contact again. And really…I don’t think that he is either. We shall see, I guess.

What's next? Do I text him to say "thanks for lunch, I had a good time"? Would that be saying that I MUST see him again? Or, is it just the polite thing to do? Help me out, here! This is the "stupid at dating" stuff that I was talking about. I just don't really want to lead him on when I'm not feeling one way or the other about a 2nd date. But, I did appreciate the dinner & drink and despite my general fuzziness...I think had a good time.

In other news...unfortunately, I’m not going to get the elusive “Two dates in 24 hours” bragging rights afterall. Sigh… I just got a call from January (the Second) letting me know that his child was still sick and that he didn’t expect to be going in to work tomorrow…and therefore, would also not be available to meet for lunch. We’ve rescheduled for Friday, this week. If only it wasn’t so middle-of-the-month…I’d try to put him off and let him be February. Aaah well…