Date 97 - Surprise Swordplay and Moons Over His Hammy

We'd been emailing for awhile and I looked forward to meeting J. With my travel and social schedules, it took weeks to synchronize. We finally met for drinks and dinner at Mesa Hills Cafe.

My first impression: He was cute, but much more casual than I expected, especially since we talked that afternoon and he said he was going home to shower and change for our date. I felt a bit overdone in my jersey dress. Engineering school evidently had not impacted him too much -- there was nothing remotely geeky about his appearance or demeanor.

A former cook, he's definitely a foodie, but he made deciding what to order and enjoying the food lots of fun. He invented some kind of fruity drink with a ridiculous number of liquors called the Soprano. (I had two during the evening and I gotta say I was more than sufficiently socially lubricated!) We moved on to appetizers and talked about politics, religion and generally all the stuff you're not supposed to when you first meet someone.

At one point the conversation turned to youthful antics, drugs, tatoos, etc. He took a plastic sword from his drink's garnish and demonstrated his formerly pierced septum. I was simultaneously startled, creeped out and amused.

It was a fun evening and he asked me to make room in my schedule to see him the next weekend.
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The Second date with J- live music downtown Sept 3

J is totally laid back about our plans for the evening, which is awesome because I was exhausted from working on a really intense home improvement project for the past several days (also known as pergo-tory).

Since he's more central, I picked him up and we headed downtown to catch some live music. We scored a perfect and FREE parking spot and head to a low key bar on 6th with some live blues. Obtained a couch in the back where the music wasn't ear splitting, then switched to a different couch that was actually made for adults instead of midgets. Stupid Eurway furniture and their elfin magic!

We had a few cocktails, some interesting conversation and a couple of nice smooches too. As the bar filled, we realized we had a great spot and probably couldn't top it, but we moved on to another bar to play some pool. I'm horrible at pool. Truly talentless. The way I play it's a contact sport. Helmets are de rigeur. Despite that, he's encouraging and patient.

More drinks. More fun! Two games and we called it a night, but not before grabbing a slice at the goth pizzeria on our way to the car - yum! All's well until 8th and Congress when he decides to take his shirt off to show me his ink. I knew he had tattoos from our previous conversations, but this is his entire back. OK. I'm cool. ...and now he's "dropping trou"... on 8th and Congress. I'm not OK anymore.

I'm trying to go to my happy place....
and I'm not succeeding.

La, la, la!

Date 98 - The Putt-Putt Put-Down

originally posted Wednesday, September 14, 2005

I was looking forward to meeting B. He seemed well rounded and possibly even sensitive. Brainy but down to earth. A geek who golfs. He asked me to meet him for some Putt Putt on Burnet. I thought it was cute and unconventional.

I arrive and it's so nice to finally see him. He looks just like his picture except he's a little twitchy - probably a little nervous. So, we walk up to the counter and he says "One, please."

It's all down hill from there. Is this really happening?

The fifteen year old boy is looking at me with pity. I'm confused and mortified. I'm looking back at the kid imploringly. My vision turns to slow-mo and I am looking for what? A camera? Ashton Kutcher? What the hell am I supposed to do now?

My stomach turns and I think, "I've got to get the hell outta here!" I want to bolt for my car. It seems so close. If I wasn't wearing these stupid sandals I bet I could make it over there before B even realized what was happening. I'm seriously considering making a run for it.

I hear my mom's voice inside my head telling me to be polite. I reach in my pocket and pull out a fiver. "One, please," I manage and soldier on.

The small talk is effortful. We cover the usual topics. I hit my ball at precisely the right angle to curve around a metal loop and sink a hole in one. I usually suck at mini-golf... and regular golf too. I'm afraid to go on a real course for fear that I'm liable to kill someone with the results of my errant swing.

We finish and he suggests "going for a beer or something". I'm still confused. Stunned. I try to look on the bright side and make excuses. My inner bitch wants to ask if I'm supposed to buy my own beer too. I stifle the inner bitch and we head to the Draught House on Medical Parkway. I decide to eliminate the problem by buying the first round - I'll reclaim my dignity and cut him off at the pass! He buys the second, and then has a third. Conditions don't improve.

I'm happy to be deposited back at my car and decide I need an exit strategy for future dates gone wrong. After this kind of humiliation an exit strategy will be imperative for me to survive the rest of these dates.

Date 99 - Lucky Red Sinuses

originally posted Monday, September 12, 2005

OK, so technically R shouldn't qualify.
He's illustrative of my problem of giving guys more chances than they deserve. But cut me some slack... my philosophy is still forming at this point. I'm early in the game still.

The back-story:
We had a first date a few months back... and a pretty good time. We saw Margaret Cho live. It was hilarious and if you can get through a first date listening to a comedian talk about the first lady's vagina and lemon pledge, you're pretty much good to go. Shared trauma forms bonds.

Logistics were a challenge. I went out of town for an extended period. There was some talk of a second date that just didn't materialize. I speculated that like the song on HeeHaw "He met another and pbbbbbfth! he was gone!".

Evidently, not.

The second chance or first date #2:
We went out to see the Mr. Sinus troupe do 'Red Dawn' at the Alamo. R picked me up in his sparkling new BMW convertible, and although I'm not impressed by yuppie artifacts in general, I must say the design elements were seductive. [He was driving a Nissan Z convertible on our previous date, and I have to say, I actually preferred the BMW.]

We had a solidly nice, if slightly awkward time at the early show. It's a Friday night and he's walking me back to his car... then after the parking lot attendant comments on us leaving so early, he seems to realize that this is actually a date and there's potential for more fun because it really is only 9:00 or so.

We head to Lucky Lounge for a drink and some live music. We discuss politics and economics for awhile and then he finally kisses me. A huge relief. And it's nice enough that we continue punctuating our conversation this way for awhile. Then it's off to Whiskey Bar for some more conversation and more smoochin'.

He brings me home and stays for awhile. Awhile in this case lasts until about 6 am. My dog is in love with him at this point. She's a sucker for the belly rub. Me too.

Date 100: Spooky coffee and more

originally posted Tuesday, September 06, 2005

R is a well traveled, very educated, former FBI agent in his mid 40's. I'm not sure the age is accurate; if it is, they've been tough years.

We agreed to meet for coffee at a nice little place out on 360. He appears out of nowhere and catches me off guard. We go inside and he's obviously attentive and well mannered. After finishing our drinks and enjoying some light conversation he decides he'd like to take me to dinner.

He's still fairly new to town, and I'm happy to play tour guide for him. We head out to Ski Shores for a burger and a little slice of the laid back Austin vibe. Bonus: it's a beautiful day, a great drive and their "border burger" is one of the best burgers to be had in town! It's a nice evening, except for another spooky appearance out of nowhere just before we left the restaurant.

The end of the date was awkward... I was thanking him for the date and he seemed to brush me off like I was going in for a smooch or something. I wasn't. He says something about wanting to "take things slow". I feel weird and icky as a result, like maybe somehow he thought I was coming on to him.

His phone call 2 minutes after I get home completely turned me off. It could be that he wanted to check to make sure I got home OK, but he didn't leave a message. There's voicemail and email waiting as soon as I get to work the next morning. There's a freakish intensity about him. He's contacting me incessantly. We speak on the phone once more eventually, but I'm wondering if I'll need to file a restraining order.

I feel guilty for not returning his calls, but something tells me it's better this way.

Weeks pass. I'm traveling for work and generally very busy with other things. He finally settles down, but just this morning was fishing for a second date. You gotta give the guy credit for stick-to-it-iveness.

100 First Dates

originally posted Thursday, September 01, 2005

I'm on a mission.

100 First Dates.

I've realized that I've been wasting alot of time and emotion getting involved with and attached to men that are beneath me (not necessarily in the fun way, either). Since I'm a pretty unusual woman, I figure it's going to take a fair amount of determination on my part to find a candidate that is interested in and worthy of a meaningful long term relationship.

Also, it's dawned on me that part of the problem is my openness. I'm willing to give anyone a chance. That's a good thing. Being willing to give anyone a second or third chance ...that's not so good. I make excuses for these inadequate men.

My new philosophy relies more heavily on Occam's Razor - the simplest explanation is the best. And 100 First Dates is a great way for me to practice this. So even though I can and occasionally do have a good time talking to a brick wall, when the brick wall calls to ask me out again I need to let bygones be bygones. He is, afterall, a brick wall... NOT someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.

And so, it begins.

The Countdown

Let the count down begin. First a couple of notes:
1. I've decided to count backwards on this so I have constant knowledge of how many more dates I'm committed to go on / must endure. I feel that after 100, I can legitimately give up or go gay. (Except I'm probably too lazy to switch teams and learn all the tricks that go with different anatomy).

2. Austin is a small town (and I think I've already dated half of the city anyway) but I will be changing names to protect the guilty, inept and clueless.

3. I am accepting applications for first dates. If you feel you are a worthy candidate or know of one, please send a note or comment.

The minimum criteria for candidates:
be in the Austin area
have a full set of teeth (Billy Bob or Austin Powers teeth do NOT qualify)
be a minimum of 5'10 (preferably 6' or taller)
have good hygiene and grooming
possess a modicum of intelligence or at least a bachelor's degree in underwater basket weaving or equivalent
be gainfully employed
be financially independent (this means being able to pay for a first date!)
have private transportation
have a sharp sense of humor and appreciation of the "dork" side
be generally well adjusted with hobbies and interests outside of work (videogames and porn do not qualify)

Bonus points will be awarded for good manners, good grooming, attractiveness, above average intelligence and creativity.