Annoying (but funny) things

I still get an e-mail once a week with the latest articles from HowAboutWe.com, the website I came upon by recommendation of the Cosmo dating article sent to me by Cousin J's fiancé 6 months ago, from which I fashioned the Great Cosmo Challenge of which I completed about 5 of the 22 tasks, and certainly not in the original month I planned..

(Yes, that is a bit of a wind-around sentence .... my brain is in a bit of wind-around mode today.)

Despite not having attended to my HAW profile or solicited the profiles of men who are attending to theirs -- although I wouldn't rule it out -- I am often amused by these advice articles and how spot-on and only mildly sarcastic they are.  Today's by Chiara Atik, particularly, made me dig into the link:

"The 9 Most Annoying Things to Say To A Single Person" 

"The good thing about being single is that people are usually pretty willing to talk about your romantic life, because, let's face it, it's probably more entertaining than that of your seriously coupled-up friends.  The bad news? 

"Sometimes, people will want to talk about your love life regardless of whether or not you're in the mood to talk about it.  And they will have opinions.  And questions...

Well, I certainly confess to having put my love life on the front burner whether or not other people are in the mood to hear about it or not.  And have left myself equally open to opinions and questions, which will infrequently annoy me and then make me feel like I shouldn't be annoyed, because I did put my life on the front burner.

Nonetheless, today I only print Ms. Atik's questions for your amusement.  Here are my favorite 3 of 9; the rest are behind the bold-faced link above:

"Are you seeing someone?  Why not?"
Amazingly, I get this question at least once a week.  At least once a week!  It's fun to turn the question around to the asker. "Why are you in a relationship?"  "Because I'm in love!" "Right, well, I'm not."  End of discussion!

"You need to put yourself out there more!"
Out where, exactly?  [Whenever some helpful soul suggests this to me, I immediately picture myself in the middle of some crowded piazza, waving my arms around, saying "yooo-hoooo!"]

"Why don't you join a group?"
It's a common misconception for people to think you're single because you just don't have enough hobbies.

Happy hour ....

.... bi-coastal style.

Which is to say, via cell phone.

9:31 pm (EST)

K: Stormy night calls for dark and stormy. (and ginger chocolate...:-)

6:40 pm (PST)

MSF:  ::smile:: I had just poured (and photo'd) a finger of Maker's-Rocks for myself while I figure out dinner when your TXT came in.

Porridge just right

I'll confess. I took Elle magazine's "Are You Too Picky?" dating quiz on my lunch break, ostensibly to "find out whether my standards are too high (or too low)."  Ten questions were asked, each offering 4 possible replies -- marked as (A) for the least picky and (D) for the most.

The breathless results...

1) How long ago was your last serious relationship? Your imaginary affair with Robert Pattinson? Still hot and heavy. (D)

(PS. He's 24 and looks as if the Hair Gel Monster attacked him. But there was no option for "never have had one, I think"....)

2) Your new guy picks you up at 8 P.M. You look fabulous! Then he takes you to…McDonald’s. You’ll have to find a sugar daddy on the side for this to work. (D)

3) You’ve always dreamed of having two kids. Of your own. Then your new beau drops a bomb: He has three rug rats from a previous relationship. The more the merrier! Hello, The Brady Bunch is your all-time favorite show! (A)

4) You love international travel more than anything. But he has a fear of flying. Suggest he get therapy. (C)

5) You meet a blind date at a bar. Things are going great! Then he stands up and you realize he’s only 5'2". Fine with you as long as he’s not threatened. (C)

6) Your idea of a deal-breaker is when a guy: Is still pining for his ex. (B)

7) Your last love interest most closely resembled: Paul Rudd. (C)

(PS. Actually true ... except Sunday Night Man sported a receding hairline....)

8) Your friends think your new suitor is a cad. What’s a girl to do? Keep dating him, but make sure you don’t blow them off. (C)

(PS. Cad? What's a cad?)

9) Education is important. Your ideal match earned his sheepskin at: A “public Ivy.” (C)

10) You think that most Kate Hudson rom-coms: Are fun to watch but a tad unrealistic. (B)

My score came by tallying the number of like-lettered to each response: 1 (A), 2 (B)s, 2 (D)s, and 5 (C)s. Which, you might rightly infer, in any measure, makes me perfectly average.

According to Elle, however, a prevalence of "Mostly (C)s" suggests:

"Congratulations! You’re showing discretion but keeping your expectations realistic."

Who knew?!

Quandry (I think)

Last night I started a load of laundry, did a short run, put a chicken breast on to saute with some onions and mushrooms, and called Piano Man at 11:22 for a phone date. We hung up at 2:38.  I had to get up for church this morning. He did not. He texted early this afternoon:

"Feel bad I kept you up so late.  Enjoyed talking though."

Whether it was the chardonnay I drank with my (very wee-hours) dinner, I also enjoyed talking. I recall being chatty. Piano Man, a good sport, indulged me as I talked about my hometown (Cando!) in North Dakota, my first job out of college in SW Minnesota (Pipestone!), my most recent Christmas Eve making sage risotto and breathing in incense for several hours at Church of the Advent. He in turn Googled to find reviews of the chardonnay (Bogle Vineyards) I was polishing off, which I indulged, amused by his seeming endless curiosity.

It was nearing 2 and we had transitioned into bedroom chat, at which point he said,

"I'm imagining right now how much more I'd enjoy this if you were here with me."

I thought that too, yes. Who wouldn't rather be kissing someone rather than talking over the phone about kissing? But I also thought, I can't say, really, that I know how much more I'd enjoy this. I've never watched his facial expression in response to a comment. Listened as he tried to sing and play "Ihr Bild" (Schubert). Had a chance to find out if affectations endearing on the phone are creepy in person. Or not. Kissed him.

I have no time to travel to New York in the next month to find it out, either, unless Piano Man figures out how to come here for a day. So we can meet in person.

And I can't figure out in the meantime, assuming our conversation continues, how much energy I should invest in him and not invest in other possibilities. Maybe I'm just not used to a man willing to talk to me about piano technique and wine varietals.  Who thinks about me on days after we talk and tells me so. Who called on Friday evening to say he was driving through Prospect Park, thinking of me, and just wanting to talk.

Maybe I'm just afraid to admit that we are indeed simpatico. Maybe I'm thinking that maybe if I just keep talking to him and have patience the answer will become obvious. Maybe he's a serial killer. Thrice-divorced and harboring moldy food in his cupboards. Talking to women in California, Montana and Vermont, too.

All questions I should ask. Although I don't want to assume this is serious. Or want to get emotionally tied up in something with no possibility. Or miss out if it is one. Or date someone who is 48. I don't think I have the stomach to start something that is long-distance from the get-go.

Yet I wonder if I should learn to have one, and try.

Or wonder if I'm being lame, idealistic, impatient or naive, or all of the above.

Day 16 of 30:  1.90 miles

Day 17 of 30: 5.51 miles

April Total: 36.99  

2011 Total: 190.93

What single guys do on weekends when they don't have dates

Can I call it ironic
to be sitting at Starbucks
alone
on Saturday night
when 2 feet to my left
a dozen adult males
(a dozen! and none bad-looking!)
in support-group format
thanks to Meet-In or Meet-Up
(I forget which, though they said it)
and
in all seriousness
strategize conversation starters
for meeting girls in nightclubs
and
conversation continuers
for when the starters succeed,
giving each other pointers
before leaving en masse to
ostensibly
try some out
at a nightclub.

Wingmen in flight.

I wonder
had I been wearing
something more alluring
than
a hoodie
tennis shoes
and
unwashed hair
they would have realized
they could have tried
some on me.

I was
too shy
to ask them.

Or
maybe
these men
weren't the type of men
who realize
that girls hang out
in other places
besides nightclubs.

But that isn't really my point.

Which is,
actually,
that
decent-looking
confident-sounding
guys
are just as
clueless
and
scared shitless
as the
rest of us.

It's
kind of
a relief.

Sunny day

Tuesdays are not universally better than Mondays, but today already beats yesterday by several miles. In part, because of the sun (duh!) after 4 days of none and 10 inches of rain. Shocking how that helps.

I am also jazzed at this perfect weather for my initial outing with Erudite Southie Runner -- who last week suggested I join him and his buddies for their Tuesday-night run out of the L Street gym. I'm in the mood to run. I'm in the mood to make new friends. The extra evening sunlight, plus the sun itself, makes this baseline foolproof.

(I hope.)

Meeting with a group -- including unattached men my age -- to work out and drink a few beers after: I should have aspired to this activity long, long ago. That my first chance came via unsolicited invitation from a man who, in a week of e-mails, has Not. Once. Mentioned. Either. Sex. Or. My. Legs. and is running his first marathon this weekend and just today admitted he co-wrote a musical (a musical!) about Watergate .....

.... not putting any eggs in any basket on this, other than I'll be disappointed if this doesn't turn out to be a mildly nice evening.

Game on.

Proposition of a different sort

My favorite type of message request on OKCupid is cryptic, direct, intelligent, and in no way uses the words "cutie" or "hot."

So, last night:

Subject: equally obsessed
Message: runner. running. run. I run with friends in Southie, generally on Tuesday nights. Might be a nice way to meet. What do you think?

The gentleman is mid-40s. Definite serious runner's physique. OKC's compare-o-meter suggests we "both like Watergate, and All the Presidents Men" and that we are a 67% friendly match.

I liked his response for I spend a lot of time thinking about ...

"Making a difference from this moment on. Not repeating the same stupid mistakes again. Avoiding making new stupid mistakes when possible. Accepting that making mistakes comes with committing to life. Admitting and correcting the mistakes I make ....

Getting faster (and smarter) when I race.

The incredible – and beautiful – improbability of it all. (Who the f*ck knew, and why wasn't I told when I was younger?!)"

Kind of a nice change of pace for this scene, eh?

Love Letters: Debriefing

Note to self:

Karin, remember.

You can try. But face it.

You're just not the kind of girl who goes solo into a bar with 200 mingling people you don't know, especially a crowd made up primarily of 20-something women drinking martinis and, most clearly obvious by virtue of dress and over-shouted confidence, dying to engage the handful of men in the room and, like you, seem dying to make some sort of adventure out of the awkwardness,

(and you're not looking down on this crowd, you're really not, but you can see them so clearly, see their hopes so obviously, and you can see yourself in contrast and in common, and wonder how the handful of men see both themselves and you)

so you should clearly do just what you did, which was to throw back that first glass of sangria, exit the scene in your (also too obvious, you think) knit dress and Mary Jane heels and instead go solo to the late movie at Kendall Square, (a far more forgiving endeavor, to be sure) without any regrets for having tried the former,

but again remembering what made you leave.

"VD" is for ....

.... Victory Dance?

Video Download?

Venereal Disease?

Vichyssoise Deluxe, perhaps?

I'm not trying to avoid Valentines Day. Really.

For a girl mired in some variation of is-it-or-isn't-it? relationship limbo about this time of year for the past 3, I have some awesome plans so far:

1) Mail card to Grandma.
2) Call Mom & Dad.
3) Wake up on February 15.
4) Buy half-priced bag of Necco hearts from CVS.

Other than that, I find it hard to get into.

When you're single on the Lovers Holiday, you are single on the Lovers Holiday. That means your friends either a) inundate you with well-wishes because they think you're feeling left out or b) ignore you because they know you write a blog about your dating life and aren't seeing anyone seriously, since you've told them as much, and they realize, based on the tone of your recent posts, you're acting a bit testily on the subject lately and maybe it would be both less painful and more PC just not to bring it up at all.

Folks, it's OK, really.

I give credit to Cousin J, who never seems to fear wading into the cesspool of my bad mood. She e-mailed from Nicaragua yesterday, asking me, rightly of course, to ease up and, well, just breathe.

" ..... get a date for next weekend with anyone to distract yourself and feel sexy so you can reduce the game we play of making med guy into someone before he has a chance to tell you who he is. and before you can decide whether you'd like him to like you."

It's good advice. Although I do need to share with her that, in fact, I had already brainstormed a potential great way to spend at least one evening .... Friday night at Noir in Harvard Square, attending the "Love Letters" party thrown by boston.com.

Love Letters is a blog moderated by columnist Meredith Goldstein, herself 30-something and single. It features a daily letter of woe, followed by some serious Meredith advice (usually pithy and wise), followed by about 450 pages of sometimes irreverant, sometimes scary reader comments. (I suspect many commenters will be at the party, making other attendees try to guess their on-line monikers and reminiscing over their favorite letters.)

Nonetheless, it sounds wacky. Curious. Fun. Like one of those things you always tell yourself you'll do, but never quite have the figurative balls to follow through on.

Besides, in the "FAQ" post linked to above, Meredith answers a question well worth asking:

Q: I'm a straight guy who's too cool to go to this type of thing. Any reason I should let my guard down and show up?

A: Not to sound shallow, but every straight, single woman I've met who reads Love Letters is quite pretty. That's not really important, of course, but it's just something worth mentioning. It's a hot bunch, and a social bunch. Just so you know.

I could be into this. Stay posted.

My Soulmate!

I am officially in love with the all-blogger website salon.com.

I wish I could marry it.

In all seriousness. I cannot say I've read a posting there I disagree with. The writers there-on must just be universally on my wavelength at this particular moment of my emotional life.

Take, for example, Kate Harding, who regularly tackles feminism issues on "Broadsheet." Today she wrote about Neenah Pickett, a 40-something woman who "launched a year-long husband-landing project at the blog 52 Weeks 2 Find Him." Who at the end of 52 weeks is still single. But who isn't heartbroken about it. She insists that the project allowed her to learn tons about herself, tons about the human condition in general.

In her discussion of 52 Weeks 2 Find Him, Ms. Harding pretty much says all I have ever thought about how a woman my age is often perceived for admitting she wants to find a companion .... and for aggressively going about doing so. Instead of paraphrasing or restating, I'll just link you to the piece, and pull out these paragraphs that well-articulate frustrations I often feel about the challenges of the male-female dynamic.

"Everyone knows a lot of things that grossly oversimplify the human desire for love and the nature of attraction, much of that "knowledge" revolving around the theme that women are peculiarly needy and, if they wish to date men, must focus all their energy on pretending they're not. The only way you'll get a man to commit to you is if you act like it's the furthest thing from your mind -- which means your best bet is to focus on being as pretty, charming and non-threatening as possible and, once a potential love is on the horizon, never doing anything that might spook him, like admitting what you want out of a relationship.

"That Neenah Pickett remains husband-free after knocking herself out to change that status can -- and no doubt will -- be presented as further evidence that desperation is the ultimate turn-off and playing hard to get is the only viable option for women who wish to be got. But focusing on her marital status means ignoring what she did achieve in the last 52 weeks. She went on over 30 dates -- some of which she describes as "awesome" -- gaining new insight into her preferences and her own behavior."

Almost (!)

You know you've been blogging for awhile, too long -- maybe, when you find yourself mimicking the exact same subject you wrote about on the exact same occasion you did the year before not once, not twice ...

(been there with the identical 2008 and 2009 pre-Christmas snow-ins .... and duplicate O'Hare outgoing madness )

.... but 3 times in 1 week.

This time the culprit was (wait for it) the return Christmas flight from Minneapolis.

I am always wistful on my return flight to Boston, from wherever. Even the rare times when a man is waiting at Logan to pick me up, me dying to see him. Even when there's an afghan to crochet or a pile of Christmas letters to address. Even when I'm drenched in a cynical, non-focused haze of self-regard like the one I can't seem to shake this season.

I desire, more than I desire most things, the possibility of a connection with a fellow traveller. I'm not a romantic. But what is romantic in me is easily stirred by the random encounter and (what seems could be) its endless possibilities.

Sunday, it actually kind of happened at MSP.

The storyline isn't special:

Brief flight delay, an hour to spare. Feel restless, carrying too much baggage to walk laps, with no desire to sit waiting. Desire instead a mid-afternoon Chardonnay and the Packers game at the bar across from the gate. Find a man on the next stool on his 8th hour of trying to get to Chicago, on his 3rd standby list, on his 3rd (or 4th?) tall Bud Light. (Gregarious, blond, animated.)

Enjoy inebriated bitch session about O'Hare and standby lists. Discover you both work in finance. You both love Boston. Pending his place on the list, you are on the same flight at 3:19. Talk so animatedly the guy on the other side of him leaves in annoyance at being left out.

Then ... lose track of each other in the slightly confused rush to gate upon realizing the time.

It's a natural part of the storyline: you will always lose each other in the slightly confused rush to the gate. As if stepping outside the bar confines is the harsh light of day after a one-night stand.

It was OK. He's a youngin'. He lives in Chicago. He drinks Bud Light.

But even that remote connection, for 15-minutes on the E Concourse at MSP, gave me and my resident cynicism a lift, at least until I stepped off the plane in Boston and resumed my real life.

If only he never had to write....

A couple nights ago, in the OKC inbox:

hello dear

what a nice lady u are I would like to talk to you more and know u better if you interrest just keep in touch see you bye!

Spam alert, of course.

Or maybe not. Just a moment later, he had sent a second message, this one more targeted :

awwwww

and I saw that u are a pianist also Im a pianist too I got dgree from julliard school in newyork:)

Ah, the courting ritual on OKC these days: first, troll for sex; second, check for common interests.

But Julliard for piano? Worth at least a minor delve.

It was as expected .... the prose of someone not familiar with English.. Half-Turkish half-Italian, he says, and in Boston as a concert pianist. Three of his 4 photos are of him playing, 1 showing him furiously ripping on a Chopin score. He is 26. When he is not practicing, he likes to go clubbing. (Or, in his spelling, "clupping.")

One of the very first posts on this blog described how a perfectly nice guy with a perfectly nice profile lost my allegiance when he revealed himself as a poor writer. More recently, I connected with a young man in Wisconsin with whom I almost fell in love on the strength of his wit and our shared facility for literary seduction, even if he proved to be a total troll.

I want to be attracted to talented, fun-loving people even if their language skills grind obnoxiously on my ear .... my brain .... my sensibility .... my libido ....

But it's not happening.

Writing isn't everything. Although, perhaps good writing is just too crucial and I'll have to face it, Julliard or not.

Perhaps I need to stress that criteria next time I update the profile?

Damn. I'm not THAT old.

About 6 months ago I followed the lead of my fine, Bible-scholar buddy Joshua (and his fine, Bible-centric blog), in experimenting to see if there were any God-given reason that, at this point in time, I could make a few bucks off this blog.

Well, truly, I never expected to actually make money. I think I know my audience, who doesn't come here on their way to somewhere else. The number of daily visitors is not enough to generate any substantial number of clicks. Even the occasional pick-up by match.com or boston.com, causing a massive spike in readership for one day, does not produce necessary traffic.

But I was temporarily seduced. Google makes it sound easy:

"AdSense for feeds places relevant ads into your feed's items. Google automatically chooses which ads to show based on your blog's content, and you earn money when visitors view or click on these ads."

So ... I just checked my "account", and my theory has been borne out. Ads here have generated 3 clicks in 6 months. Three. Earning me $2.77 that I won't see, anyway, anytime soon, since Google won't send the check until the balance exceeds $10....which at this rate, will be when I have grandchildren.

Meanwhile, I came on to post this morning and, paying attention for the first time, noticed the four ads "based on your blog's content" that Google's algorithms chose today (ostensibly based on either this or this entry?):

Meet Older Singles
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Virtual Directory for IdM
Virtualize all your datasources to create a single IdM infrastructure!

Senior dating (2 chances!). And, natch, dateacougar.com. Follwed by instructions on how to create an identity-management software application. So I clicked onto the arrow at the top of the box to see what the second set of ideas might be and was even more impressed:

Find a Date
Sign Up to Meet Local Singles.

Search 1000s of Profiles For Free !

Body Grooming Tips
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Tips & Tricks For Body Grooming.

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You never knew y'all were only being asked to visit here to find your Filipino Dream Woman?Folks. This perhaps is what Google thinks of y'all. Be afraid. Be very afraid. (Or, be very afraid of my writing.)

Hmm. It's a no-brainer. After you've had a chance to browse them today, I'm going to jettison the ad routine ... unless I am one day featured on "Good Morning, America."

At which point I'll add it back and retire to my Florida vacation home.

Seriousing up

Maybe it was the weekend with family, observing and rehashing details of the numerous long-lasting relationships all around.

Maybe it was my date last Wednesday with the big-handed man with the rock-climbing chest, from San Francisco, in town for a family wedding, intrigued at the idea of meeting an "elder" (his words!) woman. Which, even though I was prepared for a one-shot outing, nonetheless left my soul in a black-hole as it ended .... realizing, perhaps, that one-shot outings officially depress me.

Maybe, finally, it was the message at 1:48 a.m. on Monday, the sender (age 21) from East Weymouth, MA, whose photo looks vaguely like a senior picture, crew neck sweater and all, with no preamble or introduction:

"Would you have sex with me?"

Sigh.

And thus, yesterday, after 9 months on the OKC, I removed 2 items from my profile:

1) any reference to strong hands; and

2) as far as "what I'm looking for," my acquiescence for casual dating, replacing it with the scintillating

3) "I spend a lot of time thinking about: being 36 and unmarried and the delicious pros and occasional cons of such a status. "

Hopefully, insinuating some taste for wild streak in a man's character but removing any chance that I am advertising myself as a sex toy for college students.

Who knows. Maybe I'll still get hellos from those in the youth movement who appreciate girls with strong calves. Such inquiries have always amused me and, by toning things down, I must admit a twinge of sadness to becoming slightly more staid.

Oh well. It's only "slightly," right?

Quarter-end wish list

At lunch-hour yoga today, I was a bad yoga girl. I did not focus on my ujaii breathing or otherwise visualize my inhales washing my muscles with a warm, golden light.

Instead I composed, in my head, a list of pure brain candy.... my favorite things, if you will .... thinking perhaps when I find myself feeling that same goodness about a man, I can handcuff us together and book a reception hall. I'll be that certain.

In other words, if you are a man and wish to date me, it would be helpful to inspire feelings equating to:

-- the taste of the first Reese's Piece out of a jumbo bag

-- the way the hip relaxes and settles during a half-pigeon

-- the passion of Brahms Intermezzo in B minor (op. 119, no. 1) between 1:02 and 2:15 of this recording

-- the relief when an airplane's wheels touch runway, the brakes engage, and you can confirm you will not, on this trip anyway, be a crash statistic

-- that tenth-of-a-mile between 2 and 2.1 of 12 -- when pace, rhythm and energy meet and running is fun

-- the end of a date, maybe the first or second, when you decide it's worth it to reach in for a hug and the other person presses also reaches back, then presses back, and then holds on

There must be others. Stay tuned.

Hmmmm. (It's a Monday)

My energy level must be symbiotically connected to some database at OKCupid! that determines my profile rotation.

Because just when I think I have absolutely nothing to write about .... a sampling ....

Message #1

"I have strong hands for a non-toughguy. I'm only mediocre at the piano (I'm better at other instruments) but I want to play like Billy Preston more than anything in the world. Can you teach me?"

He's thirty-something and "seeing someone."

By his estimation, he's really good at "bumping my head, stubbing my toes, banging my shins into coffee tables, harmonizing, MacGyvering things, wilderness navigation, board games."

Hmmmm.

His self-summary?: 01101000 01101001 00100000 01110011 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100011 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110110 01101001 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101101.

He's also dark and attractive and evidently is up at 2:03 a.m. thinking about hiring a piano instructor.

I can't lie; I could use the extra cash.

Message #2

From a late-20s female, also in a relationship:

"Please understand that there aren't many avenues to search for such an adventure, thus, I'm writing you on here. If you're not interested, no worries, and I wish you the best.

"What I'm looking for is a girl to possibly wrestle/grapple with. I know it sounds funny, but my guy loves it and I'm trying to learn by practicing with someone my size (or at least a little closer in size). And by no means am I an expert, we can learn and try techniques together, this will be new for me as well. It's not a sexual request and we can just wear shorts, athletic tops, etc."

Hmmm. Her pictures show a beauty queen body, face hidden, who looks fit enough to lift cattle. Intriguing to contemplate as a cross-training activity, perhaps supplementing physical therapy. I also admire her chutzpah in just throwing it out there.

Although amazingly enough, not my first request to wrestle ....

Message #3

"Girl di North Dakota? Works for me!"

What a relief, because anyone writing is going to have to face the fact that I come from there.

In a rare feat, I seem to have attracted the only man in the Northeast (albeit about 3 hours away in Connecticut) who is on OKC and interested in more than casual sex. More bluntly, his profile states,

"I'm looking for that special woman -- "The One".

In fact,

"You should message me if: you're 'the one', a good candidate or curious."

Wonder what one's criteria for being "the one" is. He's a tall, curly-headed businessman who likes to golf. I'm a short, curly-haired businesswoman who likes to golf.

Maybe that's it.

Hmmm.

Deep thought: marry Neil Patrick Harris

My friend Kaitlyn posted this YouTube link on her Facebook page yesterday:

"Speaking of Neil Patrick Harris being an amazing host. Did you people see his closing number from the Tonys? Gayest man I've ever wanted to marry!"

(She's got good taste. I watched this clip, easily, 40 times after work. In fact, I skipped going to the gym because I was caught up in watching NPH delightfulness. It is so delightful I'm going to make you watch it too.)



As you might remember, Kaitlyn is currently my cohort, the director (to my music director) of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown." So I commented thusly, sparking this string o' comments:

Karin: Kaitlyn. I want to marry him too. And I'd like to hire him for our show. Can we?

Kaitlyn: Yes. We can. Who will break the news to [the members of our cast] Matt? And Mike? And Jason? And Rachel?

Mike (who plays Schroeder): I'll willingly offer my spot to NPH

Sandy (Kaitlyn's mother): Love him, too. So why aren't you watching him every week on TV? (Monday nights 8:00 CBS) The rest of the show is ordinary, but - go figure! - he's very fun!

Kaitlyn: Let's see... what am I doing at 8pm on Mondays? Oh yeah. I'm rehearsing a show. And since Mike just gave up his spot, that's what NPH is doing Mondays at 8pm too! Way to take one for the team, Schroeder. ♥

At rehearsal last night when greeting Kaitlyn, I brought up the Facebook posting .... and she smiled, and we sighed in unison ... the unspoken implication being, "he sings, he dances, he acts, he charms, he's stunning, he's witty, he's deft, he's smart, he's rich .... if only he didn't have a live-in boyfriend ...."

Our nearby stage manager, who happens to be lesbian, heard this exchange, to which she added:

"Neil Patrick Harris? LOVE him."

So let's review: 2 straight girls (1 single, 1 not), 1 straight guy, 1 married woman and 1 gay woman ... all in love with the gay man.

(And we are not alone. This article from yesterday's New York magazine goes fully all-in.)

NPH is a singular talent and more appealing than the average, gay or straight. Most likely he does not want to marry any of us. Although it is clear we all (pretend to, anyway) think that we would bypass his sexuality in exchange for a lifetime of hanging out with his appealing personality.

Eh. I'm not about to give up male/female sexual tension in my relationship; at least right now, it matters a lot to me. But is there a lesson about priorities in this observation?

Deep Thought: Go on a Date

The Young Scientist and I used to IM frequently, yet haven't done much since May, caught up in our respective dating lives and other lives.

Our gap wasn't due to anger or repellence, and we had had good chats, so I knew we'd reconnect eventually. Thus, not a surprise to log onto g-mail yesterday to find:

Young Scientist: hmm no dating news in your blog since the disaster date?

Karin: I'm not that swift on the turnaround...

K: I have to revamp and recoup...

YS: the readers demand a sacrifice

K: Such as? (example?)

YS: well not a literal sacrifice

YS: but perhaps you'll have to take one for the team and go on a date

Good point.

I know that one can only take so many stories of post-grad sex chats and old cars (with, BTW, a set of $300 ball-joint repairs my mechanic strongly recommended just this morning) and photos of either a) Henry or b) my toenails.

Young Scientist and I chatted for awhile. We reviewed my months-long experience with Saturday Date Meltdown man, concluding that in this fallout, what I really want rather than a Casual Boyfriend is a Boyfriend Boyfriend.

Meanwhile, YS just ended a relationship and is in the mood to casually date.

Acknowledging that in 7 months we have never made it onto the same dating page at the same time .... we could agree on the refreshment of fresh starts, and that we each should go forth boldly.

OKC may err on the slimy side. But it has, without peer, provided me with copious dating opportunities. I haven't updated my profile from the strong-hands "I'm a cynic" theme since mid-June. And if I want to go for a Boyfriend Boyfriend, I need to say that and stop being so coy.

So that's next on the agenda. The profile rewrite. When I re-do it (this weekend, perhaps?), you'll know about it.

Hint: you're allowed to hold me to this.

Communication conversation

I'm always glad to hear from Cousin J. But even more so during all this reflection on communication styles thanks to the Saturday Date Meltdown.

(It works doesn't it? "SDM" having the appropriate verbal resemblance to such satisfying-sounding words as Sodom, or Saddam, or Sadomachoism .... ? I'm not going to go on about this forever but giving a bad memory a title does sure make having to remember it more palatable.)

J's a right wise one, and a willing partner in experiments on self betterment. The note from Managua came in shortly after the initial Sunday post, which led to this exchange:

J: wow, too bad the date went south, but you are wise to take the learning route, i am going through little learning things with colleagues, trying to be more quiet and listening rather than reacting ... i'm working on my poker face more than usual bc i need to take in a bit more before judging these days ....

K: Your thoughts about listening more are wise ones, indeed, and I too will make an effort this week as an exercise. [My date] was an ass about how this happened but he did, originally, have a likely beef with me and I need to avoid that type of thing going forward. Thanks for the tip.

J: Ok, we're on. Listen more, think first, talk with wiseness not gut blabbering. I'm in! I'll report back if you will! (not to assume your issue is the same, simply that we can report on whatever it is) This week, I'll have lots of interaction with my volunteers, a perfect time to not be bossy but instead listen and help them answer their own questions.

K: I will suggest that I will simply talk less .... Since I had a blabberfest weekend, it will be a challenge. But will supposedly affect my workplace and rehearsals (that start tonight).

Then tonight:

K: So I'm happy to report that the conscientious listening was a big help at work today. It really just calmed me down in my communication. I made coherent, clear sentences when speaking at co-workers.

(Really, folks. You have to understand this is not normal.)

K: [The calmness] helps because ... I just read [my date's] e-mail again, and it's bothering me more today than it did yesterday. This whole bit of 'wow, that was so awful that we should throw out months of interaction over this.' For some reason, that rationale is aggravating the shit out of me at present. I'm sure it will fade.

J: You can probably take something from the incident and learn, be wiser, quieter, more cautious to hear the other person or to do a check-in right in the moment (and avoid later conflicts) but he is as at fault for the clusterf*** of a situation and even with months of history, still not worth your life of confusion.

I heart girl friends and their sagacity and for always being on my side.

Old-fashioned (or, 5 weeks to phone)

I grew up in the 1980s, many years before I had an e-mail address, much less daily access to a computer. Thusly, it took time for me to accept that Instant Messaging is now the accepted flirtation portion when dating.

Something about the word "chat," maybe, sounds juvenile.

But I'm now on board with IM, particularly after 4 months of being both good and bad on OKCupid!. It's the method of choice, actually. I myself have gotten much better at it, and now depend on it to get a painless and, well, instant sense about a man's crucial interpersonal skills. Such as .... how quickly he can type? Can he banter on the fly? Does he try to tempt me with lewdness or wit?

The last 5 weeks I've been engaged in a give-and-take on OKC with a dude from Cape Cod. He first hit me via IM on Friday, May 15. I was on the site only sporadically that day, so we didn't engage fully until after 5 p.m., when I was briefly on-line before leaving work. So I apologized for cutting it short, but said I'd chat with him later. He responded:

CC: (508) XXX-XXXX if you're interested, Karin. It's a better way to introduce oneself.

That was as quick as I have gotten anyone's phone number. In the meantime I had checked out some details of his profile, which included the following:

"I’m really good at ... making you uncomfortable, I would imagine. I'm not too shabby with loud electric guitars, either."

"You should message me if ... you're not going to flake out. Think hard about that one, please."

A sense of the demanding about this one. I wasn't going to call him after 15 lines of an innocuous IM chat. I went about my weekend, did not call him.

Sure enough on Monday, May 18, mid-afternoon, he reappeared:

CC: Hello again

K: Hey there.

CC: I dropped off my number just in case. I like recklessness.

Being at work, I couldn't talk for long.

K: Hey there, gotta go.

CC: Sorry sorry. Ah, well, use that number. : )

We returned for a slightly longer conversation after 5 p.m., but it ended abruptly when I had to take a work-related phone call. No goodbye or future plans. I still did not feel compelled to call him. Too vague.

Consequently, we fell out of touch, which happens frequently on the OKC. Weeks passed.

Then:

CC: Hi again (June 8, 4:51 pm)

CC: Hiiii. (June 9: 3:11 pm)

CC: Hi. (June 10: 4:12 pm)

CC: Hi . (June 10: 4:22 pm)

A barrage of chat requests, never at a point where I was in a position to answer them. But I had to admit falling prey to such persistance. So I that night I sent him an e-mail.

K (12:01 am): So the story seems to be that whenever you hit me to chat I have already gone offline and these scintillating "hi" messages show up in my e-mail instead. Sorry for the perceived ignoring. Not the case. How goes?

CC (7:29 am): They ARE scintillating, aren't they? I'm telling you - 508 XXX-XXX. It'll feel more human, AND there won't be any ambiguity where ignoring me is concerned. It's a wonderful idea.

A week passed. As you may guess, no phone call from me. And .... yesterday, again, he sent me a chat request when I wasn't online.

Sigh. At 5:09 p.m. I jumped back into the fray.

K: Hiiii....

CC: hahah Hi!

K: hahah hi! back

CC: You know I figured that I just freaked you out last time.

CC: But I'm nothing if not persistent.

K: What, by the whole "you must call me or else" bit?

CC: I don't remember, honestly. : )

K: Are you in the habit of freaking people out (or at least believing that you did)?

CC: The latter, absolutely.

K: It does give good credence to your argument that talking in person probably alleviates the unknown.

CC: Mm hmm. It does.

K: Although, why are you always worried about freaking people out? I'm just kind of wondering what that says....

CC: It says I freak people out often, and that I don't particularly enjoy it.

K: Oh.

K: My question more was .... what exactly is it that you are doing to cause such a(potential) reaction?

CC: Intensity, that's all.

CC: Call call call constant IM-ing. That weirds people out, believe it or not.

K: Well, I suppose it is all in the context. It's cool if it is welcome.

CC: Sometimes, determining that sort of thing is difficult.

CC: For me, anyway.

K: True.

K: Ah, online romance.

K: Awash in ambiguity and misunderstanding.

K: Mostly.

CC: hahah Romance, yeah.

K: Yes.

K: Perhaps romance is a misnomer.

CC: I think maybe yes.

K: What shall one call it then....

CC: Tryst-ism.

"Tryst-ism" became a word at 5:18 p.m. We chatted for another 30 minutes, about what traditionally ends up being a subject of a chat conversation between 2 folks who list "casual dating" as one of their interests: past dating activity on the OKC. Likes and dislikes. Sex. Him feeling "sheepish" because he had "prodded the living s#$*" out of me.

And it ended as such:

K: But we should chat.

CC: You have the number.

K: Because I agree that it would be interesting. When is a generally good time of day?

CC: The evening.

CC: Only took a month to seem interesting. ; )

K: F*#$ off! ;-)

K: OK. No waiting by the phone, but I'll check in sometime. Tomorrow might be better.

CC: heheheh I'll do my best to stop begging.

CC: Thanks for saying hi.

This better be one fan-damn-tastic phone call.