S: A Sporting Chance

I find myself with a unique dilemma. I am once again in uncharted territory on this little dating expedition.

I have been invited to 2 Super Bowl parties. Multiple party invites is not unusual. What’s unusual is the way I must choose between them.

The first is a party held by a friend every year. I was expecting to attend this party and have even already replied to the invite. I know, based on past experiences, there will be good, home brewed, beer and a lot of laughs. I will see several friends I have not seen for a while. And one friend in particular who I spent a good deal of time with a year or so ago, but whom I’ve not connected with in a while. I miss him and have been looking forward to catching back up and getting back on the friend track.

This sounds like a perfectly good party and I’ve already said I’d go, so, why consider not going, you ask? (Well, that’s what the voices in my head are asking anyway. Right before they ask about how much wood a woodchuck could chuck, provided that woodchuck could chuck wood. My voices need a hobby.)

Here’s why. The second party is being held by a friend who is always trying to fix me up with someone, so, here’s the real kicker, I know there will likely be more opportunities for date possibilities at this party. And someone there who would be trying to create those opportunities for me. If I were to attend this party, my chances of finding my February would increase, I am sure.

Never before would I have be based a decision on such factors. But now I have a challenge before me, along with a short month and no possibilities presenting themselves as of yet.

I do not want to completely skip the first party, but perhaps I should split my time. Although, I’m not sure how this would work. I don’t want to miss all the good commercials or all the good snacks. Also, if I’m going to have a beer or two, I’d rather not be doing a lot of driving around for a while. And what if I’m getting along with someone and then just have to ditch the whole thing to get somewhere else? Furthermore, and this would be tragic, what if I show up late in the game (literally) and the beer is gone?

Do you see how this might get complicated? This is just so abnormal. I never used to plan my social activities with these considerations in mind. I now must carefully decide where I go based on what my chances of finding a date are. I guess it will be a while before anyone sees me at a convent or a monastery. (O.k., that wasn’t ever going to happen, but now it’s REALLY not happening.)

In the end, I believe I will attend the first party. I know it will be fun and I’ve said I would be there. Fun is still important. As are old friends. As is home brewed beer. And, who knows, maybe there will be some fresh meat there. Or, maybe I’ll decide I need an out at some point and make my way to the other festivities. Probably if the beer or chip dip runs out. The beauty of being single is that I can go wherever the wind carries me and I don’t need anyone else’s permission to do so. Maybe I’ll show up at your party too. If you promise to get me a date.

E: I'm gearin' up...

Tomorrow is the day! My first date of the month, year, and decade, for that matter. Wow, this guy has no idea the pressure. LOL. I am very much looking forward to meeting this one. Phone convos have gone good, however, he teasingly (is that a word) refers to himself as "January." Still can't believe my friend told her friend who told him that; doesn't that go against some girl code or something?! Anyway, I think he gets a kick out of it and for whatever reason it hasn't turned him off so i guess that's a good thing. I had an epiphany yesterday, though, an "aha" moment so to speak. He asked me if i wanted to meet him at the restaurant or for him to pick me up. (Pick Me UP?!) You would have thought he had said want to board my jet to Paris for the weekend or something equally unbelievable. It was at that moment I realized that in all of 2009 I had never had even ONE date pick me up at my place. This was not of my choice - I'm an old fashioned gal who thinks its nice when a guy picks you up. I am not worried about serial killers - I had a sheltered upbringing and am still naive and it doesn't bother me in the least to have a friend of a friend come pick me up. I just hadn't gone out with any guys last year (9 in all) who picked me up like a real date. In their defense, a lot of them lived out of state so I did the picking up at the airport, but that is another topic for another day. (damn that online dating!) I didn't know how to respond, so I asked where he lived because I didn't want him to go out of his way. He said it really doesn't matter, he will pick me up from anywhere, except maybe ______(insert name of town here that is 1 1/2 hours south). What a nice fellow. I am impressed already.

The epiphany struck when I realized how much i appreciated this small chivalrous gesture. Wow, no wonder my recent dating has seemed "less than." Oh how lucky is the guy who falls for me, because I will appreciate every little thing he does. Score one for this dude, and he doesn't even know it yet. Besides, now I can have an extra margarita because I'm not driving.

S: On the Prowl

I am totally on the prowl for my February. It is a very strange feeling when dating is not a passive activity. When I actually have to be the aggressor. When I have to be the one to initiate the process because I have the specific goal of getting someone to go out with me.

Is this what it feels like to be a guy?

Every member of the opposite sex is a potential target. In every situation. All the time. I find myself sizing everyone up, from the guy who takes my keys at the auto mechanic, to the gentleman who held open the door for me at the post office (he had way too many bumper stickers on his car for me to follow him to his next destination and ask him out), to the guy who is the friend of a friend who I met and had to dissuade over the summer but who I am now in casual contact with again. None of them are safe.

I check for rings. I check for unzipped zippers or strange social practices. I start running them through my mental datability checklist. Every conversation is underscored by the Gollum-esque voice in my head saying, “Hmmm…maybe he could be our February. Should we ask him out? Would you have fun with him? Would he be weird? How should we do it? What would it mean? How would he respond? Do you think he likes sushi? Why can’t they make a muffin that tastes good AND is less than 500 calories?”

Pipe down!

Now I know why guys don’t ever seem to be listening. They are distracted by that voice in their head. And boobs.

Fair warning to the men in my path: You will get picked up. And you will like it.

J: Dancing Queen

Despite all of these years in the south, late last year was my very first time to experience country dancing. It happened at my church’s Christmas party for singles. As part of the evening's activities they had set up an hour of two-steppin' lessons and then opened up the dance floor. I LOVED it, adored it, couldn’t get enough of it! I literally went out 2 days later and bought a pair of cowboy boots so that at the next opportunity I would have the appropriate footwear. “Have boots, will dance” appeared as my facebook status. Nothing was holding me back. I was shocked that it took me 30ish years to discover this heady combination of socializing and exercise all rolled into one!

Admittedly, all of this dancing passion might have been due in part to the boy that I was first paired with on the dance floor. This guy had taken lessons and it showed. As he swung me around the floor, I felt like a princess. All I needed was a long swishy dress. Dancing with his strong lead I was just one rehearsal away from “Dancing With the Stars.”

This guy also just happened to be one of my friends…a friend that I was in the process of trying to figure out whether I liked in that way. After dancing with him, no more figuring was needed on my part. I felt sparks. I felt electricity. I felt…chemistry.

The problem was...I don’t think he was experiencing those fireworks with me. While I got to experience the magic of being swung around the dance floor for the first time he got the joy of having his feet trampled. The lucky guy also got the delightful chance to exercise extreme patience as I figured out how to keep the beat. (Okay, okay, so maybe it would take a few more than one rehearsal before I hit the competitive dance floor.)

Add to this the fact that I’ve been warned in no uncertain terms that this particular boy has intimacy issues. Big ones! My source had already informed me that many, many girls had cried on her shoulder over this same boy. Her advice was to stay far away if I didn’t want to end up like all the others. Grrrreat.

So, here it is almost February and almost every week since Christmas I’ve found at least one night to go dancing. If I’m being honest I must admit that each time I walk into a dance hall I am hoping my friend will be there. And each time I have to remind myself to pull back on those emotional reins. If he’s there, I can’t freak him out by letting him know that I’m so very into him. I can’t afford to have him feeling the least bit uncomfortable around me if it would lead to him feeling awkward dancing with me which would most likely lead to his avoiding dancing with me completely. (Did I mention his EXTREME intimacy issues?)

And, if he’s not there, I can’t let myself be too disappointed. I can’t spend the entire night watching the door. I have to keep my focus on other boys who actually have potential...not on the one who doesn’t seem to find me nearly as delightful as I think he should.

And so…no matter who is there (or not there)…I dance and I dance and I dance.

I dance with anyone & everyone who asks. I dance with the cute cowboy wannabes in their pristine cowboy hats and unscuffed boots. I dance with the old guys who are experienced, strong leaders. I dance with the cocky dance instructors who act as though they’re doing me a favor by flashing me a smile and I even dance with the geeky gangly guys with the fabulous dancing form & impeccable sense of rhythm. If it means another spin around the floor I've even been known to be the one to do the asking. I dance until I’m out of breath and dizzy from all the twirling . I dance until my hair has gone all curly from the sweat and my feet have blisters from the boots. I dance until I’ve recaptured that lovely princess flying around the ballroom feeling.

If I were a betting gal, I'd put money on the fact that at least one of my 12 dates this year will come from all of this dancing. I’d also bet that the dancing friend (ya know…that one that I’m crushing on) won’t be one of the 12. I don’t know if I would actually want to assign him just one month since I want him to be in my life for much longer than that. I guess, most of all, I don’t want that intimacy alarm of his to go off and to scare him into disappearing on me. If all this means that we’re just friends…so be it.

As long as our friendship involves dancing…lots and lots of dancing.

E: Mr. January is in the bag....I think

7 Days left in January and I still have not gone on my date! I cannot, WILL NOT set the stage to be a date club loser. I'd rather spend that $10 on make up, thank you very much. Although most of my make up costs more than $10...but that's beside the point. I must confess I frantically reached out to a few friends last week who have the best potential to set me up. I told one friend (with whom I have confided previous dating disasters) that it was a new year, and I am challenging myself to go out on at least 1 date per month. I knew she would like to hear that. Also, it gave her a sense of urgency to get me the date right away.

And she came through, as I suspected! Mr. January is a friend of her friend, and he called me last night (thank God for small miracles). We chatted on the phone for a bit, and somewhere in the conversation he remarked "I'll be your January!" HU-MIL-I-A-TION!!! I can't believe my friend told her friend who told him about my challenge! Moreover, I can't believe he called me anyway, knowing about my state of dating patheticness.

This is way out of my comfort zone, because although I am really looking forward to the date, I know next to nothing about him. The only details: He lives in my town, is 6'5 with sandy blond hair and plays beach volleyball. (so far, me likey!) But I don't know his age or what he does for a living, and for some reason that really bothers me! In a previous life I would have used those stats to size up a man to see if he fit my "dating standards." Not so anymore - this is the new Elle - and I am throwing my pre-conceived notions to the side.

One thing, he mentioned he likes country dancing. Giddyup! Even though I'm not Jane from the South, I too enjoy the HonkyTonk BaDonka Donk. So we've got commonality already...

As an aside, I had dinner with a dear friend on Friday night and was telling her my urgency to book Mr. January. After we left the restaurant that rascal told me she secretly passed my phone number to our waiter before we left!! Isn't it great to have friends who look after you?