Chat not

On Saturday, I chatted online with yet another JDate guy. He was a 50-year-old widower with teenage kids--a professor at a university in a not-too-distant state. I didn't find our chat all that compelling, but he seemed non-crazy and wasn't very annoying. He asked me to lunch on Monday because he was going to be in DC for business. I agreed.

We talked, briefly, on Monday to firm up the plans. I had a bad feeling. I thought, "I'm making a terrible mistake." Even though I'd given him the name and the address of the restaurant twice he went to the wrong place. He called and I told him he was at the wrong place. It was an easy enough mistake to make, but why wasn't he paying attention or writing things down?

When I saw him, I wasn't attracted or horrified. He had a sloppy belly and wore a schlumpy suit. I could have ignored that, but I didn't think he was handsome. As the date wore on, I didn't get a sense of his personality and he did not become more attractive.

Still, it wasn't a disaster. I talked and he was a good listener. I was afraid of what he might say, so I talked, talked, talked. I didn't share anything particularly personal, though I did recount my recent run of Israel talk. In his favor, he just shook his head and did not force me to have that conversation again. He asked me about my attitude towards relationships. I said I wanted to get married and have kids. He said my focus on marriage was a "strategy" and possibly not a good one. He didn't understand how I rule guys in or out. He asked how long it took me to know if I was interested. I said I usually knew as soon as I met a guy if I was interested. But that upon further conversation, an attractive man could become unappealing and a not so good looking guy could become very attractive. I said I did require my boyfriends to find me attractive, "I don't have time to convince them I'm good looking. They need to be enthusiastic about how I look."

He said, "You're attractive."

I said, "Thank you. But I don't expect everyone to find me attractive." Really, I wasn't fishing for compliments. Never hurts, though, I suppose.

He was a good sounding board for some of the things that are on my mind. We said goodbye and shook hands and there was no mention of future contact. My impression was that I talked too much and he wasn't interested. I was relieved.

Later that night, he IMd me. He didn't just IM me, he drunk IMd me. What is the IM equivalent of a booty call? Whatever it is, that's what he did. I present the transcript below. I've compressed some of the lines--he wrote in two or three word bursts--but I've left our typos, misspellings and bad grammar in so you can get the full, drunken effect (I was not drunk, but a little tired, so I have typos too).

Prof: hi there. it was really a pleasure to meet you

Jamy: hi. you too. I was going to write an email...but thank you very much for lunch today. sorry for bending your ear! but it was an interesting talk.

Prof: don't be silly. it was really a pleasure to meet you. you are very beautiful. and clearly very smart. i was very impressed. really.

Jamy: well, ok then. thanks. Prof: ok then? what the f--- does that mean? i had a few drinks at this reception ready to bare my soul to you. what does THAT mean lol?

Jamy: nothing! it just means...i'm surprised you had such a positive reaction! geez.

Prof: lol you are so damned cute want to come to my hotel for a drink? or a snack? i feel like the big bad wolf. lol

Jamy: oh dear. no thank you. you are drunk IMing!

Prof: oh dear? calling ME dear? stop being so much smarter than me

Jamy: not much smarter...

Prof: lol so what was your impression? honestly? Jamy: i don't know--I did all the talking!

Prof: felt like i wasnt forthcoming enough? come here for a drink. i will tell you the story of my life. and look...no typos

Jamy: no, you are a good listener. and you seemed to get it.

Prof: so i am not THAT drunk. i get it. i am not dumb.

Jamy: but some stuff you did not get. so that was interesting.

Prof: and the most satisfying thing in the world to me. what didn't i get? taunting me?

Jamy: no, not taunting. like, you thought I was all "you must agree to marry me immediately! or else!" but you were surprised to find I'm not that way. that's all.

Prof: i know. so why arent we having dinner tonight. i have a confession to make. i wasn't that turned on at the outset. but as i talk to you i was totally intrigued

Jamy: see, you had that growing attraction thing! ah ha! why weren't you that turned on at the outset? [Curiosity got the better of me.]

Prof: not sure. to be honest. i think we should discuss it in person. come on over. i mean it. ill pay for the cab. buy you dinner or a snack. whatever

Jamy: not pretty enough? oh, you mean you didn't like personality at first? Let me say it clearly: I am not coming over. It doesn't matter how much you ask.

Prof: you are so cruel

Jamy: just honest.

Prof: we dont have to go upstairs. we could if you wanted lol. dinner in the lobby. open book here. take advantage of it lol.

Jamy: thanks for the offer, really. but i'm in for the night. pjs and all. i have to get up early in the am.

Prof: you are making a mistake. a career move.

Jamy: how's that? [Curiosity again.]

Prof: phone. back later

[Prof goes offline. Comes back about 30 minutes later.]

Prof: so what did YOU think of our lunch? are you smitten lol?

Jamy: what do you want me to say?

Prof: be honest. i am being honest.

Jamy: i am not smitten, but you seem like a decent man. intelligent, thoughtful.

Prof: sounds like youre interviewing for a new librarian lol

Jamy: hardy har har.

Prof: har har. funny. you would have had dinner with me tonight if i had asked earlier? right? [I would not have had dinner with him.]

Jamy: i get librarian a lot with the glasses.

Prof: you dont look like a librarian to me. very sexy. intelligent which is a MASSIVE turn on to me. didnt you feel like we both really relaxed toward the end of the lunch? i sure did.

Jamy: yes, we relaxed. i agree.

Prof: it was fun. i really appreciated you

Jamy: good. i'm glad you had a good time. Prof: i mean it. but in my heart. i am not at all sure. in fact less than sure that i coudl give you what you want. at least not in the short term. know what i mean?

Jamy: yes.

Prof: i fucked up alot of things in my life. in my marriage. i refuse to be less than honest now. although it sure would have been fun to have brought you back here to my room tonight after a romantic dinner

Jamy: it's not what i want.

Prof: and watched our friendship develop. thats pretty honest isnt it. i know that thats why its a nonstarter. alas bet you are a pleaser between the sheets if you know what i mean

Jamy: sigh. i'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.

Prof: in what sense?

Jamy: you seem to think I would have come back to your room if we had dinner. that was not going to happen.

Prof: alas. i didnt think that actually. want to hear something really weird? freaky? i dont rally want sex. i want intimacy. i want to open up to someone. bare my soul. be REAL friends. trust

Jamy: but you hardly talked at all!

Prof: naked is VERY secondary in my mind. the thing is

Jamy: if that's what you want, it takes time. [But hopefully not anymore of my time.]

Prof: that once i am THAT intimate with a woman

Jamy: oh...men! men can only do that after sex. Prof: then i want to sleep with her too lol

Jamy: right, i know that.

Prof: know what?

Jamy: that men find it easier to open up after sex.

Prof: not me but once i open up i want it all

Jamy: well, maybe it's just as well you didn't open up! i'm not prepared for that. [Because I don't like you!]

Prof: for what? sex with an old geyser. great chest hair can be sexy

Jamy: i'm just not right there with you. though I'm flattered.

Prof: you are? you have a beautiful face. intelligent

Jamy: sure, you think i'm sexy, you want to have sex with me, you want to confide in me...it's flattering. it's just not a good idea.

Prof: oh well. you are sexy. lovely face

Jamy: thank you.

Prof: you are most welcome

Jamy: I think we should say goodnight.

Prof: ok. goodnight

Jamy: goodnight. and thank you again for lunch.

Prof: you are most welcome. i wish you well

Jamy: you too.

The guy's a recent widower. I didn't want to crush him, which is the only reason I chatted with him for so long. But, boy, way to misread my nonexistent signals. I did not find him attractive. I feel kind of sorry for him though, reading over what he wrote. He just wants to connect with someone and who can blame him?

On Tuesday night the Prof IMd me again. I was not feeling generous. He asked if I missed him. I said no. He said ouch and asked if I was charmed. I said no, that getting a drunken IM booty call was not so charming. He said that he was kidding and that if I'd actually shown up at his hotel he would have turned me down. That is possible, but I didn't believe him and said I was annoyed. He got it and said goodbye. Now maybe he'll leave me alone. Sigh. I try so hard to be kind but they sure don't make it easy.

The same night, I heard from Pie-guy. (He has initiated every contact except for the very first time I emailed him--and that message was not about pie.) He wanted to know what my weekend availability was like. I think he's serious. I'm seriously weirded out by it.

Grateful for: [forgot to answer! it was just that bad.]

Weirdo

One of the JDate© emails I received recently was from a guy who thought he was my perfect match. One of the comments on that post suggested that he was only interested in sex.  I thought the comment was right and my further contact with him supports that view.

After I responded to his initial email he sent me his phone number and asked me to call.  A couple of days went by and I did nothing.  On Sunday, I was online, and he IM'd me.  We chatted for a while and then he asked me to call him again.  I was shy about it and gave him my number.  After he called, the conversation was slow to get started.  That can happen and it doesn't necessarily mean anything bad, though I don't think it ever means anything good.  

[Note: if it's hard to start a conversation, that's almost always bad.  If it's easy to start a conversation, that's always good, but not necessarily an indication of relationship potential.  However, since good rapport is a relationship essential, being able to hold a decent phone conversation is important.]

He said, "um" a lot.  His opener was, "Ask me anything you like!"  There is no surer way to shut me up than to start with that line.  Every thought I have flies out of my head.  

He tried again with, "Let's play a game.  You can ask the other person any question, no matter how personal, and they have to answer."

I said, without hesitation, "I'm not comfortable with that game.  I don't know that I would be willing to answer those questions.  I don't want to play."

"I'm just trying to get to know you."

"I think we should just have a conversation and the things we care about will come out naturally."  [Note: Why do I have to explain to so many internet guys how conversation works?  What planet are they from?]

He starts asking me some mild, un-intrusive questions that are easy to answer.  My chattiness emerges and I figure, once I get going, he'll participate and we'll be fine.  But every time there is a moment for him to chime in, there is silence.   He says, "I don't know what to say.  I don't want to ask you the wrong questions."  I try to ask him questions, but he doesn't elaborate much.  I talk more.  He is quiet.  I say, "Do I have to keep asking you questions? Are you ever going to feel comfortable chiming in?"

He demurs and says he's still getting comfortable and will answer anything I ask.  Sigh.  He'd mentioned delaying a camping trip so I asked him, "How often do you go camping?"

"One night a year."  One night a year?  That's your answer?  Not, "once a year"  Not, "I really like to go camping, but I don't go as often as I like"?   Weirdo.

There was also his remark that you needed to be really open in these conversations, "You have to find out as much as you can about the person so you can decide if you want to go forward."

"I think you have to see if you get along well enough to know if it's worth it to share all the intimate details.  Why would I want to tell you everything about me if we don't even get along?"

"I…um, uh, um, guess so. Maybe."

[Note: As should be obvious to from reading the blog, I love to talk. I often tell a lot about myself with no compunction at all.  But telling a lot of stories doesn't necessarily mean you know me.  And trying to take a shortcut around all the hard work of listening to stories is lame.  If you don't want to listen to my stories, forget it.  It won't work.  I'm delighted to listen to your long, personal stories too.  I'm not so interested in plumbing the depths of your soul in our first phone conversation.]

Then, he seems to either have memorized my profile or to be referring to it as we talk, and he asks, "Under the thing about smoking you have: 'Non-Smoker, Occasional Smoker, Smokes Regularly, Trying to quit.'  Is that right?  What's that about?"

"What's it about?  I don't care if you smoke.  It's not important to me.  Well, if you smoked a lot, I might bug you about it, but it's no big deal.  I've dated a smoker and it doesn't bother me."

"I don't smoke."

"I smoke occasionally.  Like a cigarette a week.  Or less.  Usually, if I'm out and having a beer, I might smoke.  It's something I picked up in college--the habit of smoking and drinking.  But I'm not a big drinker so I don't smoke that much."

"About you smoking, I'm against it, because, you know, it's not healthy." I'm expecting condemnation, or a request not to smoke around him, "But if you're going to do it, can you do it around me?"  Whoa.  Not expecting that.  I seem to have a lock on the fetish market.  "I find it…sexy."

"Um.  Sure.  I mean, if I'm going to smoke anyway."

Later on, I get this, "Are you a high libido girl or a low libido girl?"

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable talking about that with you.  And you need to define your terms."  He said, based on the opinion of a married female friend, that three times a week was a good amount.  I said, "I can't answer your question directly, but here's a little story that should tell you what you need to know."  The story:

When I was going steady with vip-ex, my grad school and most serious boyfriend to date, we fell into a pleasant little domestic routine.  Most days after school we would go to his house (it was closer to campus) and he'd make dinner. We would eat in front of the tv while watching the Simpsons.  I'd clean up and he would study.  He would continue to study in his room and  I would watch tv in the living room while pretending to study.  (It's amazing how little I studied in grad school.)  At 11:00 pm we watched "Law & Order" on A&E.  I would fall asleep during the last five minutes and wake up when the theme music played and ask, "What happened, what happened?"  Vip-ex would tell me if the trial was won or lost and we'd trundle ourselves off to sleep.  (There was one time we BOTH feel asleep before the conclusion of the show and never found out what happened.  That still makes me chuckle.)

Given these circumstances, we rarely had sex on the weeknights.  He complained that we weren't having enough sex.  He said it was because I didn't like sex as much as he did and I wasn't as interested.  I said he didn't know what he was talking about--that I liked sex just as much as he did, but I liked to be awake while having it.  I made a few suggestions.  "If you want to have more sex, we need to go to bed earlier.  I'm too tired if we stay up and watch Law & Order every night."

"But I really like to watch Law & Order."

"Me too, but do we have to watch it every night?  Maybe we could have sex in the morning.  When I'm awake.  I like that."

"You always want to have sex in the morning.  It's weird.  I'm not interested in the morning.  No one does that.  It's strange."

"We could have sex earlier in the evening, after dinner, before Law & Order."

"That seems awkward."

"We could make a plan, decide ahead when we will have sex.  Make time for it.  Make a date."

"You want to plan to have sex?  Sex should be spontaneous.  That won't work.  That's weird."  This from the guy who only wants to have sex in the bed, in the bedroom, after dinner, at night, with the lights off.  Sooo spontaneous.

"What do you want from me?"  (Whenever I tell this story, I have to ask myself why I was with this guy for so long.  He sure didn't make it easy.  He did have other good qualities, but we don't have time for that right now.)

I also suggested that he let me take the initiative for a month.  He was pressuring me so much to have sex that it was a turn off.  I felt guilty when I said no but it got harder and harder to say yes.  "A MONTH?  That's too long.  We'll never have sex again!"

"What about for a week?  Let me take the initiative for a week."  He agreed to that.  

(Are you wondering how it worked out, did we have more sex?  Good God, how should I know.  This happened something like nine years ago!  As I recall, taking the initiative helped and we did have more sex.  I think we tried earlier in the evening too, at least once.)

I said, "So, do you think that answers the question?"  Silence.

"Um, uh, maybe…"  He was sure he wanted to meet.  He said he would call me.

After we got off the phone, I thought, "What a weirdo!"  It wasn't so much that he wanted to watch me smoke.  Whatever--that's harmless.  Or that he cared about my libido--it could be an issue.  But it was all so cart in front of the horse.  I don't want to talk about my libido with someone until I'm sure I want to have sex with him.  I don't want to know about his sexual preferences until we're going to have sex.  I don't even know if I like this guy, let alone if sex is on the table.  It's an awfully intimate conversation to have with someone you haven't met.  Not to mention that this someone had almost no ability to express himself.  My main impression of him after our conversation?  Creepy.  

When he called me on Monday night to ask, "Are we still going to get together or have I scared you off?"  It wasn't too hard to say, "No, I don't think we'll be getting together.  But thanks for calling.  I'm flattered."  He said goodbye without asking for explanations or trying to win me over.  That's something to be grateful for.

Grateful for: weirdos.

Date update

I did not have a Saturday date. It was never firm and we decided to postpone. However, the vibe I got from our phone conversation was that I would not be hearing from him again. No problem.

The Sunday date was for lunch and I liked him. Frank was cute, smart, and pleasant. He passed the oh-so-important kiss test (would I like to kiss him? Yes. That was easy!). Mr. Friday Night did not pass this test.

Frank is 43 and doesn't look particularly young (or particularly old). What he looks like is a kind, caring man. How can you get this from someone's looks? I'm not sure, but that was my feeling. Our emails were fun and silly, but our one phone conversation was odd. In person, he was not as silly as the emails and not as awkward as the phone call. We had no problem chatting and after lunch we took a longish walk around the neighborhood (super-suburban MD). I asked him questions and he did most of the talking. I learned quite a bit about him--he's always lived around here, he's a computer science guy, he is close to his family. He is calm, good-natured and just a little sad. Maybe that's why I like him--I want to give him a big hug and make him feel better.

The most interesting part of our conversation happened in the last 15 minutes when I should have been on my way to softball (I made it just in time but we lost in the first round of the playoffs).

We talked about Israel. This is a recurrent theme in this round of dates. It has never been an issue before, probably because I never dated many Jewish guys before JDate©. Until this year, the only romantic experiences I had with Jewish guys were: my 6th grade boyfriend (lasted two weeks, then he had to "be free for the summer"); the fellow I had a crush on from age 15-17 (we kissed once); and a guy in grad school I liked, and probably went on the equivalent of one date with. (Mom accused me of not liking Jewish guys when I told her about him. I said, "I'd love to go out with him, but he's obsessed with Chinese women, so I don't think I'm his type.")

Israel keeps coming up because I am not a Zionist. I understand why people feel the need for there to be a Jewish State, but I think it's dangerous for nations to be founded on ethnicity. It gives such states the right to exclude and dehumanize those of different ethnicities. I've been told, in answer to my position, that there are 1.5 million Arab citizens of Israel (enfranchised around 1948, and none since, I believe). That there was a conspiracy on the part of the Arab League that is mostly responsible for the plight of the Palestinians and thus Israel is not the cause of their problems. That Israel must act to protect itself at any cost. And that the need for a Jewish homeland trumps any human rights issues.

I do not support the right of any government to oppress people. Just because Israel is a Jewish State, I will not support it unconditionally. I do not feel that Israel is my homeland.

I'm living in my homeland. A place where my family has been for five generations. A place, I am proud to say, that does not use ethnicity as a litmus test for citizenship. I'm way out of the American political mainstream, but this is my home, my culture and the place I want to be.

Yet, many of the people I've met on Jdate have very strong feelings about Israel. They feel it is their homeland. My views will be a deal breaker for these guys. And their incoherent or zealous views will be a deal breaker for me. Or, if they say that the Gaza evacuation was "ethnic cleansing." I mean, what, are you totally insane?

I had a conversation with Mr. Friday Night about Israel. He said he agreed with me (!) but he felt Israel was his homeland and he had no particular allegiance to the US. That he would fight for Israel if it came to that and that he would live there if he could afford it. My response: I never want to live in Israel and this is my homeland. I said to Pele that this conversation, and some other issues I won't bore you with, might mean we weren't suited. And, lo and behold, I get this email from him today (edited slightly):

I must admit that while I found you quite attractive, particularly in a physical sense, I think the areas where we have differences of opinion are too profound (i.e. Israel) to make a relationship worth pursuing. It's not that I begrudge you your views--it's just that one major thing I want out of a relationship is an environment where I feel secure and supported around things that are fundamentally important to me.

That much being said, I'd still be up for further conversations--you are a genuine original and as such you are quite refreshing.

I'm not surprised or offended, but just not getting in touch with me would have been sufficient. (Yes, yes, letting me down easy was fine, but I wasn't actually interested, which makes it annoying.) Anyone think he just wants to get laid?

Where was I? Right, Frank. Our discussion about Israel was interesting. He presented some of the same information I've heard recently, but he was more coherent, more moderate and not bothered by my views. He was genuinely surprised when I said I wasn't any kind of Zionist. The conversation brought us closer and led to a more enthusiastic endorsement of getting together again and a mutual goodbye hug. It was like, "Oh, you're really there, you're engaged. Yay!" I know I would like to see him again, but I'm not entirely sure how he feels. I'll give him a call tonight or tomorrow and go from there.

Grateful for: my homeland.

More pie?

Do you remember the fellow who wanted to throw a pie in my face? He hasn't completely disappeared. We exchanged a few emails over the last week while he's been out of town. Thursday night, we had a lengthy IM session all about pie throwing. (He started it!)

Rower: Hi. Jamy: Hey. What are you doing here?
Rower: I am still in [west coast town] and have late dinner reservations.
Jamy: Since you sent me email I thought you were back in DC.
Rower: I couldn't resist the idea of discussing a pie fight.
Jamy: Who could?
Rower: I dunno, ms. sarcastic.
Jamy: You never told me what your favorite kind of pie is. I need to know.
Rower: In my face? Hmmm. Some sort of cream pie. Perhaps chocolate or custard cream pie. How about you?
Jamy: Apple pie.
Rower: In your face? That would hurt.
Jamy: No, in my face, I think lemon meringue. An apple pie in the face is a terrible idea.
Rower: So 6 lemon meringue pies for you?
Jamy: Yes. Perhaps you could bring some back from your trip.
Rower: So what is the attire for our pie fight?
Jamy: Come as you are!
Rower: Nah, dressed up would be better.
Jamy: How formal? I gave away my old bridesmaid dress. I should have kept it!
Rower: No evening gowns for you?
Jamy: No, sadly.
Rower: Business suits?
Jamy: You are not getting pie on my suit!
Rower: Yes I am.
Jamy: Do you have a tux?
Rower: Do I own one? Nope. I should get one though.
Jamy: I should say so.
Rower: I'd only wear a tux if you were in formalwear.
Jamy: I'll wear something dressy. I promise.
Rower: No suit?
Jamy: My suits are pants...I think I should wear a skirt, don't you?
Rower: Yes, I think so.
Jamy: Ok, so I have a just below the knee straight black skirt...and a black sequin top. That's pretty dressy and sparkly.
Rower: Nothing more businessy?
Jamy: You are stuck on the business suit! Ok, I'll wear my black suit jacket. It goes with the skirt.
Rower: Perfect.
Jamy: And a nice white shirt.
Rower: Collar up?
Jamy: No, tacky!
Rower: Ha ha. Good. Lemon meringue pie will look good on it.
Jamy: I still don't know what you're wearing!
Rower: You tell me.
Jamy: If you don't have a tux, I don't know. Nothing waterproof. You have to get just as dirty as I do.
Rower: Black pants and a nice shirt?
Jamy: Slacks. Yes. And a tie! You have to wear a tie.
Rower: Black pants and a nice shirt? How about black pants, a grey shirt, and a shiny matching grey tie? Will you wear heels?
Jamy: I don't have any pointy heels, but I have these nice red wedgies...would that do? I suppose I'll need to wear heels around you, mr. tall.
Rower: Yep. So we're tossing pies at your place?
Jamy: You're killing me. Sure, why not? If you come over with some pie, I'm game. I should get some plastic sheeting for the furniture...
Rower: Though I don't think we should toss them, more like smoosh them.
Jamy: Ha ha ha! Yes!
Rower: You agree?
Jamy: Smooshing is the way to go. Can you imagine? You show up. Ding-dong. I come to the door...
Rower: I can see you sitting bookishly on a chair, while I smoosh away.
Jamy: In my suit...and smoosh. Can I take off my glasses first?
Rower: Of course. I can tell you like this idea. How far do I have to travel to get to you?
Jamy: I'm in DC.
Rower: Okay...where in DC?
Jamy: [Intersection given.]
Rower: Ah, Capitol Hill.
Jamy: Just a few blocks from Union Station. Do you need the exact address so you can surprise me? Where do you live?
Rower: Dupont Circle.
Jamy: So, it's not far. You can walk from union station with your six pies. If the drug dealers bother you, just share some pie.
Rower: Am I supposed to smoosh one just as you open the door, or should I allow you to settle in?
Jamy: I wouldn't presume to tell you when to start smooshing. Surprise me.
Rower: Hey, I thought I'd ask! Hmm.
Jamy: I think you like the idea of my sitting in a chair.
Rower: Yeah, I do.
Jamy: What if I sat on the steps outside my building? Reading a book and you just walk up and smoosh me.
Rower: The other residents in your building might take issue with that. Why, how did you want to get me?
Jamy: There are only four units in this building, so you're ok. How do I want to get you? By surprise!
Rower: I don't think I'll be surprised.
Jamy: Like...you'll be coming around a corner and bam. Pie. Sure, you know there is a pie in your future, but not exactly when. Actually, are you sure you wouldn't be surprised if this happened?
Rower: Well, I'd be coming to your house. so presumably there. Why?
Jamy: You are actually planning to come to my house with a pie?
Rower: Isn't that what we've been talking about?
Jamy: Yes, but I thought we were joking. Am I spoiling it?
Rower: You just did.
Jamy: I suck.
Rower: Yep.
Jamy: Well, you would get your pie when you were here, but you won't know EXACTLY when. And you will be surprised.
Rower: So I am not showing up with pies?
Jamy: Just tell me when so I can be home.
Rower: ...and dressed.
Jamy: Yes, I want to be dressed appropriately. Maybe you should take a cab.
Rower: So now we ARE doing this?
Jamy: Oh yes, we're doing it. I'm all in. I may not be able to stop laughing, but I suppose that is the point. Shouldn't laugh about serious pie business.
Rower: Yes, nothing like humiliation with desserts to dry up the laughter.
Jamy: No laughing happening RIGHT NOW. When are you coming back?
Rower: Tomorrow
Jamy: What about Sunday night? I'll go grocery shopping after my softball game. Maybe I can pick up you-know-what.
Rower: Sunday might work.
Jamy: Monday might be better. I'm usually pretty tired after softball. Monday, the suit would make more sense. I could wear it to work.
Rower: Hmm, I can see that. Tough to know how busy I'll be after I am back in the office.
Jamy: How can you be too busy for pie? I am busy too, but for pie, I would change my plans. Sun is good, but then I don't want to wear the suit.
Rower: So many conflicts! You might have to just make due on Sunday.
Jamy: That is the story of my life. What about just the skirt and no jacket? Can you live with that?
Rower: Nope.
Jamy: So demanding! I can be ready by 7.
Rower: We'll confirm when I return. Perhaps you should sit on my lap when you deliver my pie.
Jamy: I like it. It wouldn't be so much a surprise then...maybe pie number 2?
Rower: Naybe a better impact, then.
Jamy: Are you sure you don't want to sit on my lap? When I'm in my chair? Heh.
Rower: Nah, I'd hurt you.
Jamy: I'm tough. (That's what the coach used to tell me.)
Rower: I bet. I gotta run.

As unbelievable as that entire exchange was, we did it all over again on Saturday afternoon. He sent a message late on Friday, which I missed, then found me online on Saturday. After the exchange of a few pleasantries, we began the pie-based conversation. This time he said he was going to make the pies and lure me to his apartment after work one day next week. Um, sure, that's going to happen. I mean, is it going to happen? I'd rather go to his house--I don't want all that mess at my place. He said he'd put down newspapers. It is one of the oddest continuing conversations I've ever had.

He sent me this picture and said, "So it's quite possible you'll closely resemble the girl in the pic. Think you can handle being that messy?"


I know we're flirting. I'm sure there is something sexual about it but no references to sex were ever made. Who goes to someone's house to throw around pies? If he gives me his address, who knows what I'll do.

Grateful for: pie-based flirting.

The rest of the story

After the abrupt ending of things with the Philosopher on Friday afternoon, I talked to Pele. She called me after I sent her an email with a summary of what happened. I picked up the phone and she said, "Un-fucking-believable." Which is strong coming from Pele. I managed to laugh because it was unbelievable.

It was full fantasy snap-back. I wanted to like him. I liked a lot of things about him. But the email he sent on Thursday had raised some questions. I wasn't the first woman he'd started an international romance with. That surprised me. I thought I was special, an exception. Lord knows I was making an exception for him.

We had an IM chat on Friday that lasted much too long and I questioned him about that. The answers were not completely satisfactory. He asked me many questions about a past relationship (vip-ex) which I'd made the mistake of mentioning. He wanted to know how many boyfriends I'd had. What he really wanted to know was how many men I'd slept with. I didn't want to tell him and he said I was being evasive. This was before I confessed all my relationship mistakes to him.

As soon as he started asking for my "number" I knew we had a problem that was not resolvable, though I clung to a little hope. He thought that he could know me by knowing my number. I said that I only slept with boyfriends and I'd never had a one-night stand. I asked what he thought the number would tell him. He said he wanted to know how promiscuous I was and how likely I was to be faithful. (I did tell him the number because he badgered me into it. I insisted that he tell me his. His was higher than mine (naturally, he's older, he pointed out). He said he had had one-night stands, but didn't like them.)

I confessed my past indiscretions because I didn't care anymore. As I typed the words, "What's really annoying is that you are going to reject me for all the wrong reasons." He was writing, "I can't handle this."

I argued with him a little while longer, not because I wanted to convince him to change his mind (ugh), but because I hated the idea that someone, anyone, thought I was evasive and untrustworthy and likely to be unfaithful.

I would describe myself (among other things) as straightforward, honest and loyal. How could anyone decide I was just the opposite?

We went a couple of rounds and then I wrote, "Forget it. Goodbye." And that was that.

After I talked to Pele, I wanted to call vip-ex, I wanted to drink, I wanted to email Jay and ask what ever happened to him. I wanted to call Audrey (the best friend from Seattle). I was glad I had a date, but I knew that poor guy was going to get an earful.

After I met my date, Nathan, I restrained myself for the first hour or so.

I mentioned that I'd had a shitty day and I could be in a better mood. We got drinks. He said he was hungry. I said, "Order some appetizers. I should eat something. I'm not hungry, but I should eat." I told him there was something on my mind but I shouldn't talk about it, it would be rude. But it was all I could think of. He said, "Why don't I tell you about my day?" He started to talk, but I kept interrupting. I said, "I can't stop talking."

I told him that I'd broken up with someone. "You might ask, why is she on a date with me when she just broke up with someone? Well, I wasn't really dating him. I never met him. We were corresponding. We wrote to each other every day for the last two weeks." And I explained just a little bit about what happened.

He said, "See how I haven't flinched?" I was confused. He continued, "You did nothing wrong. The only problem is that you are making a big deal out of any of those things. You are very hard on everyone."

"But I'm harder on myself. That's exactly what Pele said. I felt bad at the time, but I had to let it go. I know you just met me, but do I seem like I would be unfaithful?"

"You couldn't do it. You can't stop talking. You wouldn't be able to keep it to yourself." That was funny and just about right, though I have been known to keep a secret.

He mentioned that he liked my photos but said I didn't look like them (?). There is one frowny photo posted for the purpose of showing me without a smile, "I smile a lot, but I don't smile all the time. Also, it's a full length shot, so you can see my whole body."

"Not your whole body."

"Well, just the front. I can't show my rear in a photo! That has to be either a wonderful surprise or a horrible disappointment."

"I say it's a wonderful surprise."

Later, I bewailed my recent two-year dry spell. (It was broken in February. Now I'm working on a six-month dry spell.) Apparently, after being rejected for promiscuity and lack of faithfulness, I needed to declare my desire to have sex. He said, "You! Off the market for two years! That's a crime!"

Sometimes it's nice to be appreciated.

I know my date sounds like a great guy. He is a great guy. Unfortunately, I have a strong feeling that he is not the guy for me. But my new policy is that any guy who I even moderately enjoy one date with gets a second date. If this guy asks me out again, I will say yes.

Grateful for: flattery.

Nobody's perfect

When I was 23, I cheated on my Seattle boyfriend after I moved to Chapel Hill. I kissed another guy and I never told my boyfriend. (A couple of months later, when I saw that I would get involved more seriously with another man, I broke up with my Seattle boyfriend.)

When I was 27, I slept with my grad school boyfriend (aka vip-ex) after we'd broken up. He'd moved to NY and I vaguely knew he was dating someone else, but he'd come to Chapel Hill to visit me and I thought we might get back together. We didn't.

When I 18, I kissed my best friend's boyfriend (under the influence of illicit drugs--which is no excuse, but I don't think it would have happened otherwise). I was consumed with guilt for months. I eventually confessed. She eventually forgave me. They are married now and we are all still friends.

These things happened 18, 13 and 9 years ago. I felt appropriately bad at the time (well, not so bad about sleeping with vip-ex). I have learned from these mistakes. I have not repeated my mistakes.

After the Philosopher painfully extracted this information from me, he said goodbye.

He said he couldn't handle it. He thought that learning these things about me, at any time, would have caused him to reject me. He said, isn't it better to know how I feel now, rather than in a year?

I agree it's better to know that he's completely insane now rather than in a year.

The Philosopher's standard is so ridiculously high that it's no surprise he is single. It is actually surprising that he has ever had a girlfriend.

Such a view of me (that I am prone to cheat) is completely out of whack with the reality of who I am. My readers who know me in real life know what I'm talking about. I suspect that even those of you who don't know me in real life would think this is ridiculous. I am someone who has learned from her experiences and is a better person for it.

In addition, I am a woman with a date on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

I have nothing to be worried about.

Grateful for: finding out sooner rather than later.

The new me

I've been wondering about the issue that Neil and a few others raised--as soon as I get interested in someone all these other men come out of the woodwork (what does that mean exactly? What were they doing in the woodwork? How did they get in there?).

Usually, this happens because you present yourself differently after you get interested in someone. You are more relaxed, you don't censor yourself, you lose any slight desperate aura. You become more attractive.  It's no accident that you meet the perfect boyfriend six months before planning to leave town or when actively avoiding relationships.

But, since all of these new guys are online, there is no way they can see any difference in my behavior, my mood or the way I carry myself.  They are responding to my profile.

The profile that I changed just a few days ago--based on comments from the Philosopher.  Oh, the irony!

When you change your profile on JDate© it gets flagged as "new" and, depending on the person's settings, he may be more likely to see it because of that.  But a few of the responses have specifically mentioned the part of the profile I changed.  I think that all of the responses, with maybe one or two exceptions, came in after I made these changes.

The part I changed was where you have to write about your "perfect match."  My old profile said something like, "Flexible, open-minded, easy-going. Somebody who would complement me, introduce me to new things and be able to roll with the punches. I don't care about your politics, your religion or your job.  I do care about how you treat others."

One of the first things the Philosopher said to me was, "I have a disagreement with you."

Jamy: About what?

Phil: Politics of all things.

Jamy [bracing myself for another Republican]:  Do tell.

Phil: If you are really a socialist, you have to change what you wrote.  You do care about politics.  You'll pull in the wrong kind of people with that statement.

Jamy: Of course I care, but my point was that actions, how you treat people, are more important than politics.

Phil: Then say that.

Jamy: You're right.  I'll have to revise it.

And I did.  I thought what I wrote would scare people off, but au contraire, mon frère.  This is the new perfect match description:

Flexible, open-minded, easy-going. Somebody who would complement me, introduce me to new things and be able to roll with the punches. We don't have to have the same politics, but you can't deride mine. You should spend your life doing something that actively promotes good in the world or at the very least does no harm. I care about how we get along, how you treat me and other people and what you want from life. It's not just enough to talk a good game, actions matter.

And I'm a hit!  Who knew?

Men!

The oddest first line in a JDate© profile:

I attempt to view all situations in which I may find myself in a balanced fashion so that I am better able to act in an appropriate and fair way.

The most amusing answer to the question, "learned from past relationships":

Once the relationship ends, you may find yourself joining online dating services and attempting to answer questions like this.

Surprisingly, they are from the same profile. I did not respond to his less than inspiring email. A most amusing opening line from a JDate© email (the sender is 28, I am 36):

it's a bit strange writing to somebody older than me (no offense, please), but i did have to write because your profile struck a chord with me.

I suppose I will write back, but I'm not sure what to say. He wrote quite a long message. I was tempted to open with, "Do you actually think you would want to meet considering how old I am?" But I decided that was the tired me talking and I would have to sit on it a bit before I figure out what to say. And another candidate with a good line:

Seems to me I certainly do fit the attributes you list for a "perfect match."

I did write back, but I'm skeptical. This is my favorite of the current batch. I think he's sweet:

I enjoyed your profile...it kinda made me wish I had been creative, yet to the point, enough to have written something similar.

There's another two who are also interesting, but not so quotable. Dates have been scheduled. Scary. Grateful for: the masses.

Arms length

I met my Italian step-cousin, Marco, in Berkeley the summer I was 16. We were both staying with my dad and step-mom (his aunt). We did not have a romance, but I adored him. Lord, he was sexy. A year and a half later, I went to Italy for three weeks at winter break. I'd had my braces off, my hair was longer, and I was just a little bit more grown-up. My father was living in Florence for a year and Marco and his family lived there also.

While I was in Florence, Marco and I had a brief romance. The full story will have to wait for another day, but the basics were: spending time drinking with his friends after family events, making out in his car, making out in his father's studio, holding hands, kissing in the park, having a big fight at a New Year's Eve party, feeling so bad I wanted to die, not being able to tell anyone about it, Marco calling, making up before I went home, and not staying in touch later.

After I came back from Italy, even though he was not my boyfriend, I still harbored a fantasy about Marco. I didn't think we'd end up together. I knew I didn't want the kind of marriage he wanted. (Even then, my mind frequently ran to marriage.) Yet, I liked the idea of a long distance romance. I would say, "It's perfect. It's romantic and wonderful, but doesn't interfere with my everyday life." My fantasy about Marco did not withstand the reality of boys who I could actually talk to and touch.

When I was 17 I didn't want a "big deal" relationship. I just wanted a boyfriend. Someone to kiss and to count on for dates. I didn't want to be engaged or have my entire life wrapped up in another person. I wanted to be able to study and learn something, even though I hated most of my classes. I did not want to spend all of my time worrying about boys. I was not very successful.

Sometimes I still feel the same way. I wish I didn't spend so much time worrying about boys (worrying seems to transform men into boys). I wish I could focus more on my life and what I want. However, if I what I want is marriage and children I have to give it some energy. I have been trying. Pele even said so, "You said you were going to get out there and date and you have!" Really, I have? It doesn't feel like it. But I suppose she is right. I have been working hard at it. Between the dating and the blog, it's almost like I have a second job. Throw in the "little sister," softball, kickball and book group, and I'm working hard at something!

But where am I? Captivated by an entirely literary relationship. I have to say yes. Yes, that is so me! I can shape it to be whatever I want. But I know that he is doing exactly the same thing. It is delightful to go down this fantasy path hand-in-hand with the fantasy object. Is he, perhaps, too good to be true? Let's see what I know so far:

• What kind of relationship does he want? Marriage and kids. (In his JDate profile, this is the only option checked--even I have several things listed: "A date, Friend, Marriage & Children." The other options are "long-term relationship" and "marriage.")
• Politics? Same as mine or close enough.
• Religion? Same, but he is less religious than me (which is better than more).
• Smart enough? Yes.
• Deep enough? Yes.
• Intense? Yes.
• Honest? Yes.
• Humor? Yes. He's quite funny. Quirky observations funny. Upon closer reading of his profile, I found several (intentionally) humorous bits.
• Good conversations? Yes--based on the chats and the level of engagement in the letters.
• Attractive? I like his brain. The one picture I've seen indicates sufficient level of attractiveness, but I'd like to see more.
• Will we get along in real life? I think so, but what the hell do I know?

It's entirely possible that I may not continue to like him as much as I do now. The glow of the fantasy is starting to pale--it has a dark side. When I put so many hopes on one, ephemeral object, the disappointments can be brutal. Here is where I go wrong: on Sunday, after spending time writing a long, heartfelt letter, I felt just a tiny bit sad because I did not hear from him the same day. There were a million good reasons why he wouldn't have written, but instead my mind went here: he didn't like the picture I sent. On Monday, I got this email (some editing on my part):

This is just a short note, to let you know that I read your letter. The attached photo arrived as garbled text. Could you please send it again, attached to an empty message? Thanks in advance.

In five minutes, I will take my niece and mom to the Edinburgh airport…. I will return late at night and won’t get to write to you, unfortunately.

Yesterday, we took a boat ride on Loch [not Ness!] where I fell in love with a five year-old girl called [Jamy (no, not really, but she had my same first name)]. [Niece] took photos of us. I will mail one to you soon.

I really have to run now. It was a pleasure reading your long letter. I plan to write a reply tomorrow. Please write more, if you can.

It's all very sweet and I really like him and I feel foolish and I don't care.

In the meantime, I have become very popular over at JDate. Seven new fellows have contacted me since Friday. Amazing. Only three are even vaguely acceptable. I'm breaking my rules by not responding at all to the others--I just don't have the heart. I will dutifully send email, call and arrange dates with these men. I will keep one foot in reality and one foot in fantasy. Even if it kills me.

Grateful for: the fantasy.

PS I'm out of town for work on Tuesday and Wednesday and may not be able to post. No need to send a search party. I'll be back on Thursday for sure.

The third engagement

I want to reassure you that I am not engaged. I'm not even dating anyone. I have, however, embarked on what I like to think of as an international epistolary romance.

It started a little over week ago. I was working late trying to get some things finished before leaving for Philly. It was after 7:00 pm and I was wrapping things up when the Philosopher (as he shall be known) buzzed me on JDate.

The conversation was good. He asked me tons of questions and gave me unsolicited (but interesting) advice. I didn't even mind. But he lives in Scotland. That's kind of far away. When I asked him about it he said he was writing from Israel. I said that I never want to live in Israel. He said he didn't want to live there either but he was there to visit his family. (What is this strange fascination I seem to hold for Israeli men?) I suggested that the distance was a potential impediment to our budding romance. He responded that he would be looking for work in the States soon (he went to grad school in the US) and that he had a green card. I said, "Marry me!"

His response? "Yes."

I thought, 'what just happened? Did I get engaged?'

When he asked me how many children I wanted, I knew what his "yes" meant. We chatted as though we were actually engaged and I thought it was hilarious. Who does that? "Now you don't have to worry about meeting new people--we're engaged!" We ended with a non-humorous discussion of our situation. I wrote, "You're serious? You mean you really want to marry me?"

"No, I was not serious about that--but I am serious too. We should stay in contact. It's hard to meet the right person."

I was hesitant but I agreed. He said he would be in the States soon. What did I have to lose? What was I risking? Nothing.

He was funny and unabashed and ready to talk about the things (like marriage) that I've been avoiding for years. He asked me interesting questions that made me think. I enjoy that. He asked, "When did you know you were ready to get married?" That was a stumper. I said, "I knew maybe five or six years ago." But I'm not sure that's true. I only started joking about future husbands this year. Sure, my second DC boyfriend was sacrificed on the alter of my desire to get married--but dating a guy because he was the "marrying kind" didn't work out too well and I haven't tried it again. Sometimes I wonder if I'm ready now. Sometimes I just wonder.

By the end of the first chat I knew his full name, email address, field of study, place of employment, that he wants two kids and has a girl's name picked out (to be revealed after marriage), he was born and raised in Israel, his English is perfect, and we have a similar sense of humor.

The next day we had our second chat. I asked him if he had questions he always asked--our conversation seemed like an interview. He said he did have regular questions and the point was to see what kind of thinker I was. "You feel like you are being interrogated. That's not good." I assured him that I enjoyed answering the questions, I was just wondering if he had a plan. It didn't bother me that he did.

He was still in Israel and told me that his dad and stepmom thought I was sweet. What? He'd shown them my profile. That was surprising. He wrote, "My father is emotionally involved in my search, but he cannot make sense of my pickiness." I told him that I would not be mentioning him to my parents anytime soon (I think you all understand why).

At the end of the chat he asked me to come visit him in Scotland. I told him I'd think about it. And even though I knew it was crazy, I started thinking about it. I showed JenA his profile. She liked him. She thought he should come and visit me first, though. But, you know, it's Scotland. And it's so pretty. And we're already engaged, so what's the big deal? Ah, that's just like me, running out a little nothing into a full-blown fantasy. You've never seen me do that before, now have you?

On Monday, I had some free time and I'd found a café with free wifi. I decided to send the Philosopher an email. I wasn't sure what to write, but I started with the conference and ended up with about two pages of single-spaced letter. It was like an old-fashioned paper letter. I was surprised I'd written so much and I worried about how he would react. Was it too much? Would it scare him off? I knew that was foolish thinking because in all of our conversations he was way more over the top than I was. He was the one rushing things along, inviting me to Scotland. The letter was personal, but in a getting-to-know-you way, not a, we're-actually-going-to-get-married-and-have-babies way.

I received his equally long response to my letter on Tuesday. I sent another letter on Wednesday. He wrote back on Thursday. I sent my answer on Friday. I got a short note from him on Saturday morning and I responded with a short note. His mom and niece are visiting and he does not have internet at home, which means he is getting to the office each day so we can correspond. On Saturday evening, right before I left to meet Pele, I got a long letter from him. I sent my answer Sunday morning.

I love writing letters. It is exciting to get mail from him. When I got his answer to my first letter, I was so nervous I didn't want to open it. I was afraid he wasn't interested or wouldn't like what I had to say. Or, even worse, I wouldn't like what he had to say. But I did like what he had to say. He's funny and shares the odd details of his days touring with his family. He keeps asking me those interesting questions and answers all of mine. I'm afraid I could get used to this.

I like this guy but it doesn't mean I won't be dating guys right here at home. When I talked to Pele last night she said, "After Jay, isn't it good to know he's interested? That should be the first thing on the list and you can just check it off." Indeed. (She also asked if anything else ever happened with Jay. The answer is "no." Nothing. I haven't heard word one from him. Loser.)

Getting to know the Philosopher through letters is appealing. What have I got to lose?

Grateful for: letters.

Engaging

I have been engaged three times.

The first time I was engaged, it was to Ricky, the boy who lived one house over on Yellow Green Street in Middletown, Connecticut. Ricky and I walked around holding hands and kissed when no one was looking. If grown-ups asked us about our relationship, we told them we were getting married. I don't remember how we came to this understanding, but I was serious about it. We hid in the forsythia bushes at the edge of my yard and lay on top of each other and kissed with our mouths closed. We'd both glimpsed our parents in bed together and knew that lying on top of each other was part of being married. We didn't understand what they were doing and we were always clothed. We did see each other naked, as I recall taking a bath with him one night when his sister was babysitting. Did I mention that we were four?

We moved to Knoxville, Tennessee before I started kindergarten and that was the last time I saw Ricky. I used to tell my best friend, Carla, stories about him. I was sure that I would see him again. I talked about him so much that Carla was mentioned him in letters to me when we were fifteen after I'd moved to Seattle. I had other little boyfriends when I lived in Knoxville, but I thought about Ricky for many years. I know we weren't really engaged. But weren't we? If you're reading this, Ricky, please get in touch.

The second time I was engaged was not as serious as the first time. My "friends" Claire and Jude were having a casual sexual relationship facilitated by living in the same house. Then they took the drug known as "ecstasy," realized they were in love (!) and decided to get married. They were sixteen and seventeen. I was sixteen. I'd heard the story, but I didn't quite believe it. I was in the HUB (student union) cafeteria with my friend Shawn (who was at least twenty), who I met when he began a casual sexual relationship with Claire that turned into a serious year plus relationship. Shawn and I were friends and destined to become close friends (we're still friends--he's married now with a couple of kids). Claire came by our table and told us how wonderful Jude was (he was far from wonderful), how their engagement was serious and that no one understood how deep their (drug-assisted) feelings were.

This was a particularly insulting speech to give to Shawn, who had come relatively close to being engaged to Claire--they lived together for a school year and even moved to San Francisco together. Shawn moved back after they broke up and Claire came home a few months later.

When Claire left that day, after announcing her engagement to Jude, I turned to Shawn and said, "We'll get married before they do. I want to get engaged. Why don't we get engaged?" And we did. I told every single girlfriend Shawn had for the next eight years that we were engaged. "It's ok," I'd say, "it's an open engagement." It was also an unconsummated engagement.

When Shawn got engaged to Sara, the woman he married, we had to break it off. We were both a little sad. What, you might ask, happened to Claire and Jude? They started fighting but renewed their deep connection by taking drugs again. When they broke up a few months later, Claire demanded that Jude return an expensive leather jacket she'd given him. When she got it back, it had a tear, so she took him to small claims court. Ah, the course of true love never did run smooth.

The third time I was engaged...well, that's a little more complicated, because I'm engaged right now. (It's a joke engagement, but a serious joke engagement.) I've been hiding it from you, dear readers, because I am a bad, bad person.

I'll tell you more about it tomorrow. I do expect you to hate me for being a tease.

Bring it on.

Grateful for: young love.

Natasha

One of the great pleasures of my trip to Philly was spending time with JenA. For the last three (?) years we've shared a hotel room at the conference. It's great fun to see her and she keeps me from getting lonely. And, she always gives me a sweet parting gift. This year it was a super-duper silicone spatula. Two years ago it was a desk troll with a magnet in its head to hold paperclips (a bit hit with some 5 year olds who hung out in my office recently). Jen is a good friend and an interesting person. She thinks I'm doing her a favor by sharing my government-funded hotel room with her, but I think it's the other way around.

Recently, Jen made a documentary about an all-female high school band called Natasha. The film is showing (and has shown) at independent film festivals around the country--it's even gotten some awards! The film will be screened in DC at the DC Underground Film Festival at the end of September. I haven't had the chance to see it yet, so you know I'll be there.

Screens: Friday, September 30, 6:00 pm at the Goethe-Institute, 812 7th Street, NW near the Gallery Place metro station.

Grateful for: good friends.

Dance, hate, dance

I went dancing with CK tonight at Platinum (a fancy-ish nightclub; not very impressive). The theme was swing versus salsa. We all agreed that dancing both dances one after the other felt strange and decadent. Like you were doing something you weren't supposed to do.

The second fellow who asked me to dance was younger than me, handsome and Asian. And he tried to give me a lesson. I HATE that. He was the worst dancer who has ever tried to give me a lesson. I said, "You don't need to show me. I know how to dance." He was attempting to swing dance and utterly failing. He turned me twice and never got into closed position. The reason he tried to teach me was that I was dancing with the music and he was dancing...to the music in his head? Later on, I saw him getting a woman's phone number. Guess I didn't play that one right.

The next man who asked me to dance was Latino, a bit older (late 40's, early 50's?). I'd seen him dance and I could tell he knew what he was doing. Almost as soon as we started dancing he started instructing. Did I mention that I HATE that? "After the turn, you need to hold, then step back...that's better...you need to practice. It seems forced." Un-fucking-believable.

I started salsa dancing about ten years ago. I danced once or twice a week for over a year and more sporadically after that. I've taken dozens (more?) of lessons. I'm a good dancer. I started swing dancing a couple of years ago and I haven't been salsa dancing since. At worst, I'm a little out of practice, but I haven't forgotten how to dance. I don't need a lesson. I didn't ask you for a lesson. I'm not stepping on your toes. Shut up. SHUT UP.

I listened to all of his tips with a smile on my face. Unfortunately, my fake smile is not very convincing. Nevertheless, about half an hour later, my older-man instructor asked me to dance again. And he wouldn't stop. "Why are your eyes closed? Open your eyes!"
"My eyes are open."
"Why were they closed?"
"They weren't closed. I don't know what you're talking about."
"It's better to dance with some eye contact. It helps keep the rhythm. As long as the one looking is keeping the right time."
I didn't even try to fake smile, "My eyes weren't closed."
"Why aren't you smiling? Smile." I did smile--at the absurdity of it. "It's good exercise," he said. What the--huh? Fuck you.

After the dance was over, I complained to CK. "I can't believe it. He wouldn't stop, 'Why aren't you smiling?'! Why isn't my knee in your groin? I may have to hurt him if he asks me to dance again. Stay away." That got a good long, laugh from CK. Everyone loves the hate.

The rest of the evening went well. I danced a fair amount, mostly with one fellow who is a regular at the swing dances. I like him fine and even though he's not the best lead in the world, I like dancing with him. There was a very informal dance contest (judging was by applause) and we participated (we did not win). I wondered if I'm an exhibitionist at heart. I'm too shy to ask a boy to dance, but I was thrilled to dance in the contest.

CK and I left at 10:30. Work is crazy busy and I need a good night's sleep. I may go to the swing dance tomorrow night if I'm in the mood. I'm not sure I can take it, though, if one more man tries to teach me how to dance.

Grateful for: loving the hate.

Mercy

I got home yesterday, but I was so beat I could barely think let alone write. I took a day off. Sue me.

Tonight was kickball. I opted for that instead of the weblogger meet up. I was tempted, but fiddled around at work and then got on the phone with Pele for so long that it was too late for meeting up. I walked over to the kickball game even though I was in no mood for socializing. I was full of hate. For example, I am doing the JDate thing, but as I said to my old friend who I saw in Philly, "I am prepared to hate everyone I meet that way."
She said, "That sounds reasonable."

If you are in need of some hating or the worst possible perspective on things, I'm your gal. Walking to Pele's car after kickball with two young women on our team, I was subjected to this:

Clueless girl #1: [Indicating the Capitol Building] Is that "the Hill"? Is there really a hill there?

Jamy: Yes. There is a hill. Technically it's a plateau, but there is a hill.

In the car, a discussion of where we work:

Clueless girl #2: Where do you work?

Jamy: [Cabinet level department.] I'm in the research office.

Clueless girl #1: Oh, so you work for the government too?

Sigh.

Grateful for: knowing the hate will end.

Conference highlights

It's just about heaven. Sitting a cobblestone alley in Philadelphia, hooked up to free wifi and drinking iced tea after a long day of unproductive conferencing. The weather broke last night and it's breezy and mild. Lovely.

Some conference highlights:

Hearing, "You haven't changed a bit--you look exactly the same!" From a fellow I haven't seen in six years. He stared at me. The friend with him said, "You do look the same--we hate that." Puzzling, because I'm sure I've changed--but it's nice to know the exterior is holding up well.

Almost getting a pick up at one of the evening receptions. It's exceedingly hard to meet new people at conferences. You hang out with friends or your advisor introduces you to people. Since I'm not in academia and I don't have an advisor (she died, but even if she were here, I wouldn't need to be introduced around), I mostly meet friends. I do meet people through my friends, sometimes at sessions and during section activities, but I don't meet random strangers. Except, one night I found myself standing next to a very tall man who smiled at me and I smiled at him. My friend was talking to someone and so was his friend. He took the bold step to introduce himself and shake my hand. I was getting the vibe. My friend left, I stayed, but the man she had been talking to wanted to pick my brain about my government job and the tall guy went back to his friends. I could have stuck around and tried to get his attention, but I went back to my room instead and hung out with JenA.

Getting stuck on an elevator with the doors open. Getting on another elevator with a guy who had also gotten stuck (he had been actually stuck in the first elevator for a while earlier on). He told people to stop getting into our car and said he'd been trying to get upstairs for 20 minutes. I laughed a little and shook my head. He said, "What could possibly be funny about this?"
"It's absurd."
"No it's not."
"You can laugh or you can cry." I got off at my floor and was happy not to be stuck on an elevator with him.

Being taken seriously on my committee of high-powered academic types. My election to this committee was something of a fluke, but I'm excited to be part of it. The committee's role is to "oversee" the operations of a peer-reviewed journal published by our section. (The association has many thousands of members and creates "sections" for sub-specialties. I've become relatively active in my section--I co-edit our twice-a-year email newsletter and now I'm on this committee.) A fellow that used to be my boss (he is my age and was a political appointee at my government agency--he hired me to be a summer intern--he's teaching now) is on the committee as well as two very big cheeses in our world. My ex-boss made a suggestion, "Let's have a special issue once a year where we invite articles."
Big cheese #1 said, "Our editor has been resistant to that, but I think it's a good idea."
I said, "I think once a year is too often and could cause us to be taken less seriously. I think every other year is a good idea." In the end they agreed with me. Big cheese #1 said, "Jamy made a persuasive case for every other year." Ex-boss nodded along. Color me proud. I could see big cheese #1 taking me more seriously as the meeting continued. I'm an unknown, I don't have loads of publications but I'm a good administrator, clear thinker and a problem solver. They can use me.

Grateful for: enjoying the conference.

Pie?

On Friday, I noticed a fellow on JDate©--he viewed my profile. Even though he was too young for me (25) I sent him an email, to his personal account, because he'd managed to sneak it into his profile. I figured I had nothing to lose. From his screen name and pictures I could tell he was a rower. I rowed for a couple of years in grad school and that, plus the cute picture, made him attractive. Our email exchange (to date) follows:

Jamy: Oh, how I love gaming the jdate system. (You can find me there: xxxxxxx) [Bunch of rowing questions redacted. He never answered any of them. What's up with that?]

Rower: Old movies, eh? How about the Three Stooges? [I mention a love of old movies in my profile.]

Jamy: Three Stooges, eh. Not my favorite. Give me the Marx Brothers any day. Slapstick is good, but not so much the brute force.

Rower: Not a fan of the pie in the face?

Jamy: Pie in face=good. Finger in eye=bad.

Rower: Let's test your pie in the face theory.

Jamy: Are you headed this way with a pie? My favorite is apple, but perhaps lemon meringue or boston cream would be better for in-the-face purposes.

Rower: Of course -- you'd be the recipient. If you wanted to truly make it accurate, you'd need to be dressed up for some formal occasion, as that's when the pie fights usually break out in the 3 Stooges, if I am not mistaken.

Jamy: Luckily, I keep my pearls and floor length gown here in the office in case of emergency. Would you remain amazingly pie free despite the free-for-all surrounding you?

Rower: I don't know -- what's your read on that?

Jamy: Well, the pie-free individual is necessary--it's someone who doesn't seem to notice that a pie fight is going on. Or it can be a smirker who is very pleased about remaining clean--he gets hit in the last frame. It can't be you if you intend to throw the first pie (if you throw it by accident (see Charlie Chaplin) that's different). You get it at about pie 6 or 7. But if I'm sneaky, pie #2 has your name on it.

[Many hours later.] Rower: So when do we find out whether it has my name on it?

[Saturday, when the last message was received.] Jamy: I'm in Philadelphia until Tuesday so we won't find out until next week :)

That's all I want, a 25 year old, 6'4", 220 lb rower who wants to throw a pie in my face. Is it too much to ask?

Grateful for: whelps.

Are you getting this?

A real life IM session from the nameless site. This happened a week or so ago. It helps to know that my tagline used to read "Surprise me."

member2000: how?
jamy: that's up to you.
member2000: are you certain?
jamy: no because I'm not sure what you mean.
member2000: do you know you're looking magnificent?
jamy: no, but thanks.
member2000: then take it from me.
jamy: are you really in Ghana?
member2000: yes, i'm in ghana. do you want to come?
jamy: no! too far.
member2000: why?
jamy: too far. my life is here.
member2000: i wish you can come and see things.
jamy: Well, it would be interesting.
member2000: look, from this month till august ending we have festivals around. pls try and come.
jamy: thank you so much for inviting me.
member2000: so how can i hear from you? i hope you're happy being with me?
jamy: I don't know you. I'm sure you mean well.
member2000: certain, but my pic's are on? or because this is my first time being with you?
jamy: Yes, I can see your pic. You are nice looking.
member2000: so do you love me as i said?
jamy: Do I love you? Are you kidding? I do not love you. I am not coming to Ghana. I have to go.
member2000: why, just let me know because you're killing me with your charming face and words.

You just can't make this stuff up.

Grateful for: college trys.

Worst or just bad?

My candidate for the worst on-line profile ever:

I am a unique guy who is looking for a long-term relationship that could lead to marriage. I am a sensitive person with a great sense of humor, and I love to have interesting conversations and debates. I like to dance and listen to music. I am very open and honest, and I don't B.S. I like to talk about interesting things, and not just about the weather. I am very passionate and romantic. I love to laugh.

Why are you unique? It's a mystery. You want to get married? You like interesting conversation? Perhaps that's why you are unique. You are unlike the rest of us who prefer boring conversations and want to die alone. Oh, you like to talk about interesting things and not just the weather? (Need I point out the two mentions of "interesting" in connection with conversation?) Heavenly day, you are NOT unique. 99.9% of guys don't like small talk (but they will engage in it when pressed). You know what? I LOVE to talk about the weather. I'm not a weather fanatic or anything, but for god's sake, there is an entire TV STATION devoted to the weather. You had to go pick on the weather. Poor little weather, never did you any harm and can't even defend itself. (I know the weather can do one harm, but conversations about the weather are usually harmless.)

I wanted to leave you with something wonderful because you have been so kind, patient and understanding, but this will have to do. I'm off to Philadelphia tomorrow to hang out with a few thousand other folks in my field. I'll be going to meetings, seeing friends and enjoying a couple of nights in a hotel. Ever heard this old joke? "First prize--1 week in Philadelphia. Second prize--two weeks in Philadelphia!" Rim shot, please. I always have a good time in Philly so I'm looking forward to my four days.

I'll post if I can, but it's the old strange-city-unknown-internet-access-options-not-too-much-free-time problem. Unlike the week in Atlanta, most of my evenings in Philly will be booked with social outings (yay!). If I'm good, I'll spend the mornings listening to current research on topics of importance to our government (they are paying me to be there after all). I'll be back on Tuesday night with lots of interesting things to share, though I doubt any will be dating related. It's nice to get out of the routine, if only for a couple of days.

By the way, I'm so over Jay. Jay who?

Grateful for: Philadelphia!

Oh dear

I'm getting back in the swing of online dating and boy do I hate it. Hate it. IMs like this don't help any:

when i am on a trail - riding - the sounds of nature - the smells - the cosmic realities - a symphony of experiences - it all comes at me at once, yet some how I am able to process each part of it singularly and simultaneously without the information overload -- and still enjoy being with this other living creater [sic] - my horse that i would be riding and working with - a team of minds looking to have a great time on the trail

Then he writes, "what's your response to that?"

I don't know. You are a pretentious boob?

No, I didn't say that. I wrote, "Sounds like you really like horseback riding. That's good. You can call me tonight, if you like." Ah, that conversation will be a dream come true.

Can you blame me for choosing (if I could) Jay over this? I just tried to send him a really stupid email and look what happened:

Internal Server Error

The server encountered an internal error or misconfiguration and was unable to complete your request.

Maybe the creater is trying to tell me something. I'm going to get a beer.
Grateful for: technology.

No mas, por favor

I'd like to talk to you about Jay, but before I do, I need to ask a favor.

No more advice or opinions. If you want to say, "you go!" or "you have the best blog in the world!" that would be fine. But no more speculation about how Jay feels, thinks or should act. No more telling me things that you think may hurt.

I may fall on my face. I may make a fool of myself. But there's nothing you can do about it. I will survive to tell you amusing dating and boyfriend stories. But I've gotten completely overwhelmed by the cacophony of advice. It's out there, swirling around me, confusing me and making me sad. I'm sad enough already.

I know that each and every one of you means well. I love you all. I love comments. I crave comments. But for the sake of my sanity, please, restrain yourselves.

I did not send Jay an email on Tuesday. I talked to SB (I know, I know) about it today and found myself in tears. I'm not much of a crier and it was not a lot of fun. She said, "you have to sit quietly with this and your gut will tell you what to do." You know why I was so upset? Because I thought I had to give up. When I asked my gut what to do, it said, "call him." So I did. He did not answer and I did not leave a message, but I felt much better. I still feel better.

I felt like I should let it go. I reviewed the guidelines, I listened to the advice and it was clear that I had to stop. Either he's slow or he doesn't like me. If he's slow, I'll hear from him eventually. If he doesn't like me, I won't hear from him.

But, this is what I think. If I need to tell him what to do to make it work, I'll tell him. If he's not interested, he can say no. There's really no wrecking it. If he likes me and he's slow, calling him for a date won't ruin things. I'm not exactly in the fast lane here. I haven't been beating down his door, leaving lots of messages or emailing constantly.

If I feel like calling again I will. If I don't, I won't. And that's that. I'll be sure to keep you apprised of any developments.

Grateful for: making up my mind.

Vanity?

This graph shows the number of unique visitors to Grateful Dating since January 19, 2005.

The slow upward trend warms my heart. The cyclical nature of visits is due to the weekends. Luckily we all have better things to do on Saturday and Sunday than read blogs. Mondays are usually high traffic days. The weekdays bop around a little but stay within a narrow range.

I suppose the slow and steady uptick is due to time and word of blog/mouth. It's very cool.

I am humbled and gratified that so many of you return time after time. Thank you.

Grateful for: readers.

The blog crush

What is it? Where does it come from? How can it be?

I find myself nursing (minor) crushes on boy bloggers. I think...I like him. He's single, I'm single. We could go out. Unless, he's read everything on my blog. In which case, he doesn't want to date me. Or, perhaps, he's taken pity on pathetic me and thinks he can help. Maybe he can. I'd tell you who my boy crushes are, but I'm too shy.

Sometimes I wonder if the boy commenters have little crushes on me, but I don't want to presume.

There are some girl bloggers who inspire something like love. The one who comes to mind is Lola. Lola has such a kick-ass, take no prisoners attitude that I can't help but admire her. There is a vulnerableness underneath it that makes her irresistible.

Then, of course, there is I am, therefore I date, one of the first blogs I read from cover to cover. When she goes through hard times, it almost breaks my heart. I read with fascination the entire arc of her relationship with her recent ex. So well written. So raw and real.

There's the Dating Hell Diarist who once called me her dating guru. I was flattered and scared. I don't think she needs me that much these days. I have to admit, I like to be needed. Anything to stop me talking about myself!

Then there are the bloggers that feel like friends. I knew I had a connection to NML when she was the first person I thought of on the morning of the London bombings. Somehow, through our comments and some emails, we've become friends. Isn't that great?

I feel the same friendly feelings for serially single, who I find myself worrying about in a mother hen way. She unfailingly leaves kind and friendly comments for me and takes my advice with good grace.

And, of course, there's Damian, the first blogger I met in person (but not the last!). I got to know him though his comments. I admit I had a little comment-based crush on him. I brought things to a head by asking him to a baseball game. We had a great time and ended up friends. I was worried he would stop commenting after that, but he didn't--and he better stick around!

Grateful for: the blogosphere.

Number 7

I packed the weekend full of activities to get my mind off of Jay. Did it work? Sort of. When I was actively engaged in something, I wasn't thinking about him. When I was walking somewhere or driving somewhere, my mind would stray in that direction.

Friday was swing dancing with CK. The male half of the pair who teach the lessons asked me to dance early on; probably because he hadn't seen me for a while. He's a bit of a letch (but such a good dancer, I tolerate it). He told me (with CK standing by) that I should buy a push up bra and unfasten a few more buttons on my shirt and then more guys would ask me to dance. Oh, I wish I were kidding.

I went to a party on Saturday night and I hated it. Full of gay men and 25 year old women. Maybe not all of the men were gay, but it was hard to tell with all the stripedy shirts. What's up with this striped shirt craze? I lasted a little over an hour at the party and only had real conversations with four people (two sets of guy friends). In an attempt to salvage the evening, I dropped by a cool neighborhood bar on the way home. Another bust, but much better people watching. It's rare that I would go out like that and not get a single hit or flicker of interest. Usually I would blame my looks or my outfit, but I was not the least attractive woman around in either place. I don't know what was going on. I think it doesn't work to do this stuff solo, which sucks because I don't have enough going out companions. Or maybe it was me and that unfriendly scowl on my face.

Sunday was softball and another wondrous loss. The softball guy (cute one with girlfriend) was there and being his usual friendly self. So annoying about the girlfriend. I got the small of the back encouragement pat from him. He is a nice guy. What can you do?

I was busy, but Jay was still on my mind. I'm getting all kinds of semi-conflicting advice about what do because of so many differing interpretations of Jay. Don't we all love a mystery? (No!) Here are the opinions and what I think they mean.

Opinion 1: He has a big crush on me. He likes me. Possibly, he's not sure I like him. Back off and let him show me how he feels.

What it means: You are buying my version of events and feeding off of my enthusiasm.

Opinion 2: He's not sure he likes me. He's too much bother. If I wait for him, then I'm letting him set the agenda. It's not right that he gets to control everything. I'm too impatient to let him come to me. I'll rush things and wreck "it." His behavior is already out of line.

What it means: You are worried about me and don't want me to get hurt. You think I've invested too much in it already. You have trust questions about relationships in general and this situation in particular.

Opinion 3: He's a player and is toying with me. He won't call. (Does the email he sent put the lie to this?)

What it means: You are a player (one person with this view is definitely a player). You might also be jealous.

Opinion 4: Be aggressive and he's yours. Take control and set the terms. Go to his office, kiss him and leave. A few days later, tell him when you will see him.

What it means: You think all men cave to sexual aggression. Also, you don't know me very well. [Note: I have seduced a guy before, but it was vip-ex, he was a sure thing, so I don't think it counts.]

I've tried to figure out how to think about it. I go back and forth. My mood goes up and down. How do I not think about it? How do I not hope? That's the trick. No expectations. Believe that he should recognize how great I am (feel vain just writing that).

[Note: while it's great to hear how wonderful you think I am, I'm not fishing for compliments. The problem is that when I start with a guy, I stop seeing how great I am and start worrying about how the guy feels about me. Then I wonder why anyone would possibly like me. Hmm...maybe I am fishing--bring on the self-esteem enhancing compliments!]

With Jay, I've been right and wrong about everything. I thought things would easily fall into place. Then I thought he didn't like me. Then we spent the night together. And things still haven't fallen easily into place. Maybe it's too hard.

If I see him this week, it will have been a two-week wait. He is the slowest boy in the history of the world. It's hard to believe that he likes me when things move this slowly. But, I've been wrong before. I think it's not on, and it's on. I think it's on...and it's ambiguous. Sigh.

The only thing to be done is to try and date other people. Not focus only on Jay. To that end, I signed up for JDate again. Stupid, horrible JDate. Oh, how I've missed you. Signed up on Saturday and I have four contacts already. It is my best online venue by far. I am sure I will hate all the guys I meet this way, which is very wrong. But, maybe I won't hate them all and I'll get some goddamn perspective.

As sick as I am of writing about Jay and thinking about Jay, I can't brush it off. I can't convince myself it won't happen. This is dangerous ground.

Grateful for: perspective (when I have it).

Number 6

It's after 6:00pm and I'm not getting any more work done. It can wait until Monday. In that spirit, I will catch up on one more loose end before I disappear for the weekend.

6. The email I sent to Jay.

Despite what a couple of comments advised, I never had any intention of waiting to respond to his email. It's a miracle I didn't call him immediately upon receiving it. I did, however, confer with level-headed friend, Nancy, as to what I should say before I sent him a message on Thursday. My first draft was short but chatty and enthusiastically agreed to the suggestion of getting together next week. This was Nancy's suggestion:

I'd go with this:

No problem. Have a great time at the beach.

Because...you don't want to sound like you have no plans, or you're overeager. It's kind of ambiguous, so he can have to wonder whether you're into him. That's good. Then, after the weekend, like on Tuesday, you can send another email if you want to...as in Hey, want to go out on Saturday?

The "everybody" is cover in case you don't really like him.

My reaction to that is how could he think for one second that I don't like him? But more than one person has suggested it so maybe it's possible.

I like Nancy's approach because it leaves me room to email him again without being pushy. Because I feel at sea with Jay, not having much experience with shy, slow-moving types, I went with her suggestion, only slightly modified:

No problem. Work is really busy today--too many meetings. But at least I'm getting things done.

Have a great time at the beach.

I did not expect a response, nor did I receive one. I give myself the option of emailing him next week...or not. If I'm sick of him by next week, then I won't do anything. Heh. How likely do you think that is?

Not very.

Grateful for: options.