Graduating with a Bachelor of Hearts

I have always thought that men had it way too easy in the DC area. There is a disproportionate number of single, educated, professional women – so much so that it often seems that there is approximately one acceptable single guy per like 100 acceptable single women.

This morning, having a more leisurely morning than usual, I was watching a morning news/entertainment program while getting ready to start the day, and I happened upon the featured story of a dating school for men in Washington, D.C. Seriously, these two guys –neither of whom seem like the hottest of tamales out there—have convinced men to pay them to take 4 week dating seminars at a little under $1,000 a pop OR to take the abridged (no, I’m not making up this title) “How to be Awesome” seminars. The video clip didn’t give a lot of details but apparently they give them little lectures and then take them out to bars and clubs to have them try out the theories and mingle with the singles. Oddly enough the one bar that they featured was the site of the infamous “Never Have I Ever” happy hour, oh about a decade ago when I learned a lot of about some of my then coworkers. Of course they also learned quite a bit about me, insuring that we would all maintain the sacred trust of whatever happens at happy hour, stays at happy hour. But I digress…

This dating school really got me thinking. First of all, could I possibly have dated any of the guys that have taken any of the seminars? That one I quickly answered with a resounding NO. Secondly, is it really that hard out there for single guys? I have a tougher time answering this one. My first instinct is to say that of course it’s not that hard for them. The numbers are definitely on their side, for one thing. For another, even some of the skeevier guys I see somehow manage to snag awesome ladies. But maybe there are all these great guys out there and I just never go to any of the places that they go to? That seems slightly unlikely but not totally impossible.

The third question this school raised is do they have a dating school for women? I think I could teach a “how to survive a really weird date” class or a seminar on “dating S.O.P. to not end up trapped in a guy’s trunk” but I could actually use some lessons in how to successfully date non-crazies. But how would I find such an institution and how would I really know that the people teaching it were remotely qualified. I mean, have they served time in the dating trenches in this area, have they survived innumerable social events where they were the only single person there, have they found a great guy and been able to stay in a relationship with him for some length of time? It’s not like there are certification tests for dating that would objectively measure someone’s qualifications in this skillset.

Could this one day be on the curriculum at major institutions of learning? Could I go back to school and get a minor in Dating? Would I even want to? I feel like I should already have enough credit hours for at least a minor, but the end results of all my study sessions have been decidedly less than successful.

A Tale of Too Many Trainers

Proving again that I am incapable of having a normal relationship with trainers (see It’s Not Me, It’s You for the full backstory), I am now being pursued by one of the trainers at the gym. Not my Trainer who is awesome (but entirely too young so don’t go getting any ideas as I have not embraced my inner cougar) and for who I finally caved and signed up for additional sessions (see Waiting Game), but with another one who we will call Calvin.* I was chatting with my Trainer a few weeks ago and Calvin* kept trying to butt into the conversation. At first I thought he was just overly friendly. So I finished up my convo and worked out. When I was getting ready to leave I heard someone yelling my name. I walk toward my Trainer who I thought was calling me, but it turned out it was Calvin.*


I’m standing there red-faced and sweating and clearly trying to leave and he says, “I made you this oatmeal and got you your own bowl.” I must have asked him to repeat himself a few times as I thought I had to have misunderstood him. But no, he was in fact offering me a post-workout bowl of oatmeal. Unsure what was proper etiquette I think I said that that was very odd but nice but very weird and no thank you. He kept coming at me with the bowl so I tried to sidestep over to my Trainer while laughing nervously and talking about needing to get home to take my dog for a walk.


I kinda thought that would be the end of it, but every time I’ve gone into the gym the past few weeks and he’s been there, Calvin* looks at me kinda strangely and makes bizarre references to how we’re going to go out. I usually go with a nervous laugh and briskly striding away, but he seems undeterred. When I tried to sign up for more sessions with my Trainer, Calvin* told me that he was busy all that week and I would need to see Calvin* instead.


Then this past week I had my first session of my new series with my Trainer* and he waited until I was on that leg press thingy where you’re sitting upside down with like 1,000 lbs of weight bearing down on you (ok, it was closer to 90 lbs but still it was HEAVY) to tell me that Calvin* has been talking about me and saying how he’s going to take me out and sort of not letting it drop even though my Trainer has been trying to discourage him and tell him I’m not interested. He said that Calvin* asks when I’m coming in next and tries to find ways to be around then. Should I just be flattered or slightly creeped out?


I do have to admit that the offer of oatmeal from a total stranger when it is approximately 6:30pm and I am highly sweaty and gross, is perhaps one of the strangest offers I’ve had from a guy in quite a while. It made me think of all the weird and/or undesirable offers I’ve had, including seeing what’s in their guest bedroom closet, a jar of fermented tea for my very own (see The Tales of the Seductive Beekeeper and the Angry Midget), a possible romantic situation with the guy I’d been on 3 or 4 dates with and our very nice waitress (see A Brief Period of Normalcy with a Side of Squeamishness), to become a baby momma for a man and his four children under the age of six (see The Dangers of Social Networking), etc.


What happened to flowers or a box of chocolates?



*Name has been changed

Self-torture: Romance Amongst the Cubicles

After receiving an overly familiar, slightly flirtatious email from an instructor of some fairly obnoxious and mandatory work training earlier this week, I have been pondering the usually horrible decision to become interested in someone from the office.  Not that I was contemplating going out with said instructor (not bad looking but with a somewhat repellent personality), but just the idea itself.  When it works out, it seems to be fairly fabulous.  What could make more sense then meeting a potential spouse/partner than the place where you spend the majority of your waking hours?  Also you know that you have at least one thing in common to talk about, so that’s gotta be good, right?  I know of I think five or six couples that all met at work and things seemed to have worked out well there.  But that’s not always the case.

I have never had wonderful experiences in this area.  First let’s get the unrequited ones out of the way.  There have been three total that I can think off the top of my head and while all were pretty painful, the last was perhaps the most crushing of crushes.  The whole time I knew that there was really no chance, but an emotional cutter, I couldn’t resist upping the stakes by actually declaring my feelings.  By declaring my feelings I mean that after several feeble attempts to speak to said coworker and friend, I chickened out and typed out a painfully honest email. 

I had this particular crush for I guess almost a year although I picked what was probably the best and worst time to come clean.  Instead of making a move when he was between girlfriends, by the time I decided it was better to say something and know for sure than to always think “what if”, well by that time, he was solidly involved with his current girlfriend.  It was the best time as we were both leaving that particular workplace so that even when things were painfully awkward, it only lasted for a brief time.  It seemed like FOREVER at the time but was in all reality pretty short.  It was made all the worse when he asked me for vacation recommendations for where he should travel with his girlfriend, but I managed not to staple his head to the floor and moved on.

Then there were the beyond awkward times when I was approached, early on in my career, by married coworkers.  This was both horrifying and disheartening.  Particularly with the one, as I had actually looked up to him as something of a mentor and had met his wife and kids…ugh, I’m shuddering just remembering it.  I beat myself up for a while about that one – not that I did anything but I kept wondering why he thought I would.  It was difficult to be around him then, but there wasn’t much I could do other than just trying to avoid him in non-work situations.

With all this in mind, I’ve always advised younger coworkers to think twice about office place romances.  Unfortunately I didn’t always take my own advice, or to be more precise, with three situations did I ignore the voice that was telling me that this would not end well.  So the first one, much like J. Frisco Blingtime (see They Don’t Make Phone Booths Anymore) made me wish that I had not made that rule up about not revealing guys’ real names on this blog as his name was HILARIOUS.  Seriously.   I’m cracking up just remembering it.  We’ll call him Bernard Trevor Turkeypants, III.* Although you probably don’t believe me, this is actually pretty close to his real name. 

Trevor* was too suave.  Southern accent, too cute, a little preppy, very witty – that type.  We only had a brief, mini-liaison and I only knew that his name was Trevor because he didn’t reveal his full reveal name.  A few days later when discussing said mini-liaison with a female coworker who threw the party where I met Trevor*, she told me his full real name and I almost peed my pants.  We kept gasping for air, hysterically laughing and just shouting “Mrs. Turkeypants, III” over and over.  I’d say that I felt mean about that, but this was after seeing him at work after the incident when he did that old standby of pretending that I didn’t exist and that we had never met. 

The “hit it then quit it” mentality is perhaps my least favorite trait of men. I’m not saying all men behave that way, but I’ve seen enough of it where it really just makes me want to kick them in the head.  With Trevor*, I wasn’t expecting a declaration of love and eternal devotion, but him acting as if he had no idea who I was really stung.  Thankfully it wasn’t too horrible as we didn’t work in the same office and rarely ran into each other.  Because he was a duke of douchebaggery, I got over it pretty quickly but it was still embarrassing to run into him at all.  Ugh.

About a year later I got into another ill-advised situation with a guy who worked in the same building and was the coworker of a friend.  Smith* was cute and funny but did not do wonders for my self-esteem as after our first meet, he kept getting my name wrong.  This was also when I learned that it is not easy to go from hooking up with someone to actually dating them.   He started traveling a lot for work and it just kind of naturally ended.  Unfortunately when I switched buildings on a temporary rotation, he did the same so I got to see him in the halls from time to time but as time wore on, it was less awkward and eventually he changed jobs and I haven’t seen him since.

After that incident I renewed my resolve not to seek love amongst the cubicles (wouldn’t that make an awesome grocery store, romance novel?), which disintegrated when I met Brad.*  Now Brad* was even better/worse in that he worked and lived way the hell away from me, but we saw each other from time to time at conferences.  We started emailing occasionally in between conferences, had an almost liaison one year that was blocked effectively by a friend, kept emailing and then you guessed it, after we actually hooked up, he acted as if he had never met me before. 

I don’t know what I was expecting – I mean I didn’t think he would change jobs and move and I don’t even know that I would really want to have any sort of real relationship with him.  But what I didn’t expect was that he would completely ignore me afterwards, and I mean completely.  He stopped emailing, didn’t respond to the one or two that I sent, and then I got to see his lovely face every week on a weekly video-teleconference that our offices held.  Ugh. 

Shortly after Brad*, I decided to end things with the Professor* (see The Notorious Tale of Professor Hickey) and just a few months later I started this very blog to review my previous attempts at dating to find out where I went wrong and improve my dating strategy. 

Of course the awkwardness of attempting a relationship in the workplace where you could be confronted with the potential assclown’s face day after day if things go sour, pales by comparison to the horror of being a smitten kitten for a guy who lives in line of sight of one’s casa, but we’ll have to address that another day as I’m still trying not to jinx things with DW.  Sigh.   So for now, I’ll take my long-suffering dog out for a jaunt before meeting up with some pals for dinner and much needed libations. 

*Name has been changed

How to Survive Weddings and Even Enjoy them as a Singleton – Part II

Have you finally recovered from Royal Wedding fever?  After saying that I wouldn’t get up early to watch any part of it, my eyes magically popped open just before 6am and I was able to see the lovely bride step out of the car and show her secret wedding dress off to the world.  And then for pretty much 48 hours, every TV channel on planet earth beamed the wedding coverage so that given how many times I actually saw the wedding, I know all of Prince William’s middle names, what the toddler granddaughter of the Duchess of Cornwall was holding in the royal wedding pictures, and I could now convincingly deliver an explanation of why the sister of the bride wore white in a way that makes sense in the fashion world. 

After all the regal romance, I needed a bit of a breather before I contemplated the rest of the sage advice I wanted to impart to all of you future singleton wedding guests (and also to you wedding holders.  Wedding holders?  Is that even a real expression?  But I digress…) 

Ok, so all ye about to attend a wedding, here’s a quick reminder of all the pearls of wisdom to be found in Part I:

1. If you’re going to attend, decide that you’re going to have a good time and be a fun guest. 
2. Get out there and shake your groove thang on the dance floor
3. Unless it’s a slow song, and if it is, get the hell out of there.  STAT!!
4. Enjoy the open bar, but don’t lose your damn mind.

So next on the list, in no order of importance:

5. Make sure you look G-O-O-D!

I am not suggesting, of course, that you attempt to upstage the bride, but you should make a serious effort to look hot.  Make sure you find out what the bridesmaids and groomsmen are wearing and don’t wear anything remotely close to that as it just looks like you’re a wannabe.  Wear something that makes you feel fantastically attractive.  Not slutty or anything overly promiscuous or complicated, but pick something out that highlights your best features but that still allows you to dance (i.e. is not too tight or insanely short).  If you choose style over comfort in shoes (if you can’t find both in one pair which is pretty much impossible), make sure you’re ok with dancing in your bare feet since rule 2 (shaking your money maker on the dance floor) applies whether you choose sensible flats or the highest high heels in all the land. 

This part of the advice is crucially important – wear these clothes and look your best for yourself.  Please, oh please, don’t dress to impress some awesomely wonderful singleton of the opposite sex that you are convinced will miraculously be attending the wedding and catch sight of you in all your loveliness and decide to sweep you off your feet, because the next piece of wedding advice is…

6. Be reasonable in your expectations of the ability of this wedding to introduce you to the man/woman of your dreams.

Let’s get real here people, if you are a good friend of the bride or groom, we’d have to hope that if they actually knew of any hot, wonderful, kind singletons of the opposite sex that they would have introduced you to them ALREADY.  Why would they know and think the world of you and know that you are a single looking to mingle and NOT introduce you to the eligible bachelor or bachelorette that could be the answer to your prayers?  That would just be cruel (although it is one of my now not so secret fears that my friends have virtual slews of potential boyfriend-material types that they aren’t introducing me to for reasons unbeknownst to me). 

There is a small chance that there could be some distant cousin or old college friend of his or her soon to be spouse that your friend hadn’t met before and that your eyes could meet across the crowded floor, in line for the bar, whilst throwing rice or blowing bubbles or whatever the hell trendy thing is done to or thrown at couples these days, but don’t go to the wedding thinking this is a likely scenario. 

In all the many weddings I have attended, I have procured only one semi-boyfriend that lasted a few months, one guy I danced with who never called to ask me out on an actual date, one guy I danced with who I probably would have had some sort of liaison with had I not decided to go shot-for-shot with some of the out of town wedding guests who were also bartenders and I passed out en route to the after party (see rule 4), and a couple of semi-creepy guys that were okay dancing partners but no real potential for relationships. 

I would recommend avoiding any movies, made for TV movies, and card commercials that make it sound like virtually every couple out there met each other at a wedding.  You may have heard friends of friends that met their future spouses at a wedding but I’m semi-convinced these are urban legends.  It’s like the commercials where all the internet dating sites show attractive, funny, eligible singletons who found each other on that dating site, married, and are now eternally blissful.  Even if it is true, it hasn’t happened to me yet and over-thinking scenarios where this could happen is probably not the best idea.

Before I sign off for the evening, here’s a few basic suggestions for ye who are soon to be wed and have singleton friends attending said nuptials (most of the explanations for these can be found previously in this post or in Part I – I just thought it would be helpful for the wedding planners to have it all in one list they could thoughtfully check off):

1. Don’t make your bridesmaids wear outfits that are disgusting, degrading, overly complicated, and/or insanely expensive (c’mon, ladies, you are better than that.  These women have been there for you before you found the clown in the monkey suit and if it comes to it, they’ll be there for you after he hits the road if your ‘ever after’ doesn’t turn out to be so happy.  Regardless, you should never need to make other people look ugly to look good)
2. Open bar – doesn’t have to be top shelf but there should be some bevvies of the adult variety
3. Dance music – including at least a few cheesy songs
4. Keep services to an hour or less, unless you are providing refreshments and adequate entertainment
5. Don’t let the d.j. play more than 2 slow songs in a row
6. If you only have a few single female friends, don’t throw your bouquet (see Part I)
7. Remember to have fun (This should go without saying but all too often, the stress that had been building up prior to the wedding plus all the pressure of the big day seems to make this advice sadly worth uttering)
8. Try to invite other singletons if possible.  Preferably attractive ones of the opposite sex.  If you don’t know any, go meet some.  There’s still time. 
9. Have good cake.  Wedding food itself is not always that great but good cake is essential.  If necessary spend less time and resources on wedding favors and more on the cake. 
10. Don’t go crazy in the wedding planning.  If you think you might go too crazy, think about a smaller and even better, a destination wedding.  I’ve been to one in Florida and one in St. Thomas and they were fantastic.  Although the one in St. Thomas now has ruined me slightly as I sampled 125 year old Grand Marnier at that reception and pretty much everything else pales in comparison after that treat.  I still feel warm fuzzies thinking about it.  It was like lazy, liquid nookie in a snifter.  Mmm…

I think that’s pretty much all I got in me for now.  If I think of any other pearls of wisdom to pass along, I will add them later.  This is a very weird lack of weddings type of year for me so the advice isn’t right on the tip of my tongue. 

***DISCLAIMER: The author of this blog (that’s me) doesn’t want any of the wonderful couples who have invited her to share in their Big Days to read anything into the author’s enjoyment levels at their particular weddings.  She is nothing but grateful for being invited to your nuptials and truly had a blast and continues to be happy for all y’all.  She apologizes heartily for any comments that make it sound that anything was lacking or not as fun as it could have been at your weddings as that was definitely not the case.  She wouldn’t have traded the time she spent at your festivities for anything.

How to Survive Weddings and Even Enjoy them as a Singleton – Part I

In all the furious fervor of the royal wedding it has occurred to me that for the first time in at least 10 years, I will have an entire year where I don’t attend any weddings.  At one point I think I was averaging 5 or more weddings a year.  And as someone who has only had a romantic-type date to one of those weddings in the entire decade, I feel extremely qualified to offer sage advice on How to Survive Weddings and Even Enjoy them as a Singleton (for a few of those weddings, I did have a spectacular ‘date’ in the form a fabulous female friend but only once in ten years did I have a non-platonic plus one).  I’ll also try to offer Helpful Hints to blushing brides and grooms on how to improve the fun quotient for their single pals.  So in no particular order of importance…

1.  If you’re going to attend, decide that you’re going to have a good time and be a fun guest. 

This kind of should go without saying, like don’t wear white to a wedding and if you’re a bride don’t try to make your bridesmaids look so disgusting that people will turn into stone just by looking at them, but sadly, this advice needs verbalizing.  If you’re going to répondez s'il vous plaît, and take up a dinner plate and spot on the dance floor, get your booty out there and have a good time.  Yes, you’re single and yes, the older you get, there will be fewer single friends at the table with you.   So the hell what?  Are you happy for your friend that’s about to be hitched?  Are you a fun person who likes to have fun?  That is a legitimate question as there are plenty of people out there who like to be miserable.  But if you answered yes to both of those questions, then go the wedding and be happy. 

If you can’t be happy, regretfully decline.  Don’t go and be a mope.  You may think that everyone is thinking about how you’re still single (yes, I’ve had these thoughts countless times) and how awful it will be if year after year you go to everyone else’s wedding and never have one of your own, but actually neither of those things is true.  People aren’t thinking of your seemingly perpetual single state – most of the time, they’re thinking about their own problems.  And even if you never have a wedding, it won’t be awful.  Just my opinion, but it is far, far worse to marry the wrong person than to live your life on your own.  If only I could figure out how to successfully register for gifts and have people throw me a big party even if I don’t become lawfully wed.  Hmmmm…. but that’s another thought for another day.

I have learned from my younger days when I took things a bit too seriously, that you can either be fun and have fun or be lame and have a lame time.  Sometimes I take it a bit too extreme (will cover that topic when discussing open bars), but on the whole I have to shake off any attempts at modesty and admit that I am a totally awesome wedding guest.  In fact, at a destination wedding a few years ago, I was voted “most fun guest” by the DJ, photographer, bartender, and some of the waitstaff.  Granted, I was in rare form that night on the dance floor and inspired some of my fellow guests to get off their butts and strut their stuff.  But they seriously did name me the funnest guest ever and even fetched me stuff like better drinks, a birthday smoke, and played every song that I requested.  That was a pretty awesome wedding as my friends that got hitched actually got me my own birthday cake and had them play “Baby Got Back” instead of “Happy Birthday.”  But I digress.

2. Speaking of that dance floor, get out there and shake your groove thang!

There are fewer things I adore more than a solid d.j. (no, not of the DJ 3-way variety) and a chance to bust a move (provided there’s an open bar but we’ll discuss that later).  It is proven fact that you will have a better time if you get up there, grab your friends, and hit the dance floor.  Even for the cheesy songs – the cheesier the better.  And I’m a BIG fan of interpretative dancing and lip syncing.  I’m not suggesting that you grab the microphone and try to take the stage, but when the music starts get up and dance.  For most of the songs, you don’t need a partner.  And don’t get all maudlin that if you were married, you’d have a spouse to dance with blah, blah, blah.  Most of the time, this is total crap. A lot of the married guys I know refuse to dance with their spouses.  Were I married to any of them, I would put an end to that kind of behavior post haste but we’ve learned over the course of my blog that I might be a bit too particular.  Regardless, dancing is almost always a fabulous idea.  To quote the ineffable Lady Gaga, just dance.  That is of course with the exception of slow songs.

3.  Unless it’s a slow song, and if it is, get the hell out of there.  STAT!

Slow songs are poison to the singleton who actually likes to dance and is all by her or his lonesome at a wedding.  I can pull up my big girl panties and have a good time at almost any wedding, but the slow songs will bring me to knees and have me curling up in the fetal position, convinced that I will be all alone for the rest of my life and will learn to crochet sweaters for all 13,000 of my dogs and cats that I will hoard in my house.  I have been to weddings where I was literally the ONLY dateless sap in attendance other than the bride’s infant niece and 90-something year old grandma.  This became completely obvious during the first slow song as EVERY OTHER PERSON IN THE ROOM HAD SOMEONE TO SLOW DANCE WITH EXCEPT ME.  Two of the couples even included the niece and grandma.  It felt like it was all in caps and they were all staring at me and pitying me and worse than that I was pitying myself, and that I just won’t stand for.

So what to do in this situation?  If your friends are kind, some of them may lend you their dates for a slow dance or two but sometimes that can feel even sadder than sad.  If your friends are kinder, they will invite some damn other single people and make them hot too (will discuss later).  But if those things aren’t happening, take matters into your own hands.  No, don’t get up there by yourself and sway.  It looks creepy and pathetic and you’ll feel horrible.  The only thing that kind of works is to haul ass out of there the second a slow song comes on and don’t come back for at least 6 minutes.  DJ’s almost always follow up a slow song with other dumbass slow song, so you have to find a way out of that joint for at least the duration of two songs, three if the DJ is extra cruel.  Don’t break into a sprint to get out of there, but don’t dawdle.  And don’t worry if people give you funny looks, most of the time those perceived funny looks are all in your head.  Take a restroom break, get some air, something.  Just get out of dodge.

4. Enjoy the open bar, but don’t lose your damn mind.

Ah, the lure of an open bar!  Its siren call has caused me to commit egregious acts in years past…okay, it wasn’t all that far in the past.  One of my least proud open bar incident (or at least the only one tame enough for me to share on the Internet) was during my “two drink strategy period.”  Open bar lines seemed exceedingly long and so for a period of time, I would always get two drinks each time I made it to the front of the line and my standards at the time were gin and tonics.  So at what still remains after 8 years the most fun wedding I have ever attended (largely but not exclusively due to my friend’s husband inviting hot single guys), I might have gone to the bar for a two-for a few too many times.  On one trip, I overheard a wedding guest who happened to be the fiancée of a guy that I had dated a year or two earlier comment cattily to her friend “I can’t believe she’s getting another drink!”   So on my return trip, I stopped in front of the fiancée, clinked both of my drinks together in her face and said I drink both of those to her health and good luck in her marriage. 

At that wedding I also caught the bouquet (disproving that myth) and as I’d had a few or several too many, I spiked the bouquet to the ground and ran out of the reception laughing.  Those were really my only ridiculous moments other than the very queasy car ride; all in all that wedding still goes down as the most fun wedding of all time.  How could it not when there were hot and interested single guys, a crazy d.j., and a plethora of good friends.  One very good friend crashed a wedding next door and came back with a long blond wig and a 3^rd place bronze medal, declaring herself to now be named “Svetlana.” I did shots with the groom who I had never really talked with before, danced with all my pals, and had two guys hitting on me.  It was a HILARIOUS good time and I even got a semi-boyfriend out of that who I dated for a few months before he fell into the single guy black hole.  I really should have chosen the guy with the spiky hair and tongue ring rather than the dud I picked.  Another tale for another time.

But used judiciously, an open bar will loosen you up and get you on that dance floor. 

This is a pretty long post so I’m going to have to wrap it up for now and work on Part Deux later.  If you’re heading to a wedding in the meantime, bring a nice gift on the registry (or money), comfortable shoes or be willing to dance shoeless, and have fun!  If you’re the one getting married, I wish you health, wealth, happiness, and love.  It is of course Your Special Day, but please remember your friends who were there for you before you met The One and will more than likely be there when you want to strangle The One or if The One should turn out to be Not The One.  These are the friends who spend a large portion of their adult lives being happy for friends around them celebrating engagements, showers, weddings, baby showers, births, kids’ birthday parties, etc.  At a minimum, if there’s only one or two of your single gal friends attending your wedding, don’t throw a bouquet.  I find the whole process basically a mortifying cattle call and generally attempt to be elsewhere while it is ongoing, but it is even more pronounced if it’s just you and one other chic up there.  Having caught the bouquet twice in my life and not having been wed once, I think the power of it is at best suspect. 

Alright, now that’s really it.  Good night to all my readers, be ye single or hitched.  If you’re so inclined I think the royal wedding coverage starts at the butt crack of dawn on Friday.  Myself, I will be snoozing away and looking forward to the day when news coverage doesn’t focus on the horrors of Kate driving by herself just 48 hours prior to the wedding with no security OR what type of jelly bowls will be served.  But if you have a spare invitation and a plane ticket to Heathrow, I’ve been practicing my princess wave would be more than happy to show British wedding guests how to do the lawnmower, shopping cart, or any of my other patented dance moves.

The Waiting Game

This has been the longest period in which I haven’t blogged since I started this adventure.  It feels pretty weird, to not be sharing my ridiculous stories and vast insecurities with whoever is still actually reading this.  Sadly I haven’t had that much to relay with regards to dating, extreme or otherwise.  It feels like a century since my last date although I believe it is really only less than a month.  There is still vast uncertainty with regards to DW and I have joined no other dating sites.  I feel like I’m in this weird pause while I wait to see if anything develops “in the real world” before giving up and trying yet another dating site.

Recent news stories probably should give me pause in the pursuit of online dating.  It is scary out there, and while I’ve never assumed that any of the services I’ve tried have done anything close to a background check (or if they did, man do they suck at it considering some of the dates I’ve had!), I usually assume that the guys aren’t truly evil.  But since I’m never certain what their deal is and how much rage or whatever they’ve got going on, I have a Standard Operating Procedure (SOP) when it comes to meeting a new guy for the first time in real life.

First of all, it’s always a public place and usually one that I’ve been to before so I can have exit strategies in place.  Secondly, I like to only agree to a drink or coffee at first to see if the guy is even too scary to join for a full meal.  Thirdly, and this is probably the smartest move in the SOP, I always inform my sister of the date, including what I know about the guy, what time we’re meeting, and where.  I also give her a specific time that I will call or text by to inform her of my safety.  If the date is going well, I try to discreetly text my sister that I’m ok and give her a new deadline that she should hear from me by.  If she doesn’t hear from me, she is to inform the authorities or at least some of my brothers. 

This is definite SOP for the first date and usually for the 2^nd and 3^rd if it comes to that.  I don’t like the dates to know where I live until 3^rd or 4^th date at the earliest and even then I still give my sister the details prior to my date.  She remains, as she has been since my earliest memories, my strongest protection, my security blanket, and my bestest pal. 

But I’m still in the midst of the Waiting Game.  Do I join another service or continue to wait?  If I join another service, which one?  Do I try one I’ve already tried before or try to find something completely different? GAH!!!! These are way too many questions for someone who hates making decisions.  I’m even waiting when it comes to my new trainer and deciding if I should sign up for more sessions. 

So my new trainer is pretty legit.  He has yet to stand me up and he is never late.  More than that, he doesn’t spend the whole time yapping about how I need to eat 5 times a day and mainly have protein shakes, showing me complicated stretches, or yammering about various exercises while I stand there and feel my butt growing bigger.  He actually spends the whole time making me work out intensely.  I like it but it makes me mad too.  He also has said I am his most entertaining client, but sadly not because of my athletic prowess or my big guns.  Nope, I’m the most entertaining in terms of the crazy faces I make while lifting, the fact that I almost passed out once, and how often I dissolve into fits of snorting laughter when he tries to make me do impossible things. 

I’ve finished all my free sessions with him – I think he even threw in an extra one because he thinks I’m funny or at least I look and sound funny when I work out – and am actually considering signing up for more as next to my dog, my relationship with him may be the most consistent and healthy one I’ve had with a male in forever.

Mr. Twilight has been Eclipsed

The final nail in the coffin so to speak was when he forwarded me a list of upcoming entertainment events in the area and it included an ad for a Twilight convention in D.C.  

I met Mr. Twilight (aka Franklin*) back before New Year’s Eve on our very first date.  To recap briefly, he was charming and funny and had about a billion hobbies, including a disconcerting love of vampires and the Twilight saga (see Curse of the Toxic Wine Bar for more info).  What he didn’t have was that certain j’ne sais quois or chemistry-ish spark.  I liked hanging out with him but I wasn’t excited to see him again.  That being said, I recognized that first impressions can be tinged with nervousness and he was pretty fun so I decided in favor of a second date.

Unfortunately, he became the second guy to stand me up that weekend in mid-January.  We hadn’t set a specific time or location to meet but had generally agreed on a Sunday evening which I dutifully set aside and then heard nothing from him as the date approached.  A week or two later he emailed to say that he was sorry that his flights back from snowboarding out west that weekend had been delayed and he should have texted or called but he forgot. 

Since he did seem pretty swell and my expectations had been tempered by my recent encounter with the potential satanic worshiping poop-lover (see Deal with the Devil for more info), I decided to give Franklin* another go but unfortunately due to the insanity in both of our schedules we couldn’t meet up again until a few weeks ago.  At that point all I could really remember about him was that he liked very odd board games, volleyball, and vampires.  That third point was reinforced when he asked to make our second date a little later in the evening so he could go home and watch an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  To the uninformed, I must relay that Buffy (a truly exceptional program) has been off the air for oh, about 10 years.  And that if he was a real fan, as I suspected he was, he probably had the whole series on DVD anyway.  So it is highly odd that he would need to delay our date that had been delayed for two months to watch an episode of a t.v. show that has been in syndication for 10 years.  But I digress.

As work had continued to suck the very life from my veins and rendered me incapable of making decisions, I left the event planning up to him.  He chose sushi for the event and a local restaurant near the both of us as the location.  This makes it even stranger to me that he then spent a significant portion of the evening commenting on the expensiveness of the menu items.  I mean if the costs is that much of a concern, why not choose a less expensive type of food?  Not even the jumbo pitcher of sake mitigated his unhappiness with the prices.  A little aghast I offered repeatedly to contribute to the bill, particularly as I had begun to see our ‘relationship’ as heading solidly in the friend direction, but he would have none of that.  The conversation, other than mentions of the price of the meal, was fairly pleasant but not as enchanting as I remembered from our first date.  Rather than seeming as a renaissance man with many different interests, he came across as someone who had no time for anyone or anything that didn’t conform to his schedule and interests. 

This could, of course, have something to do with my rapidly increasing and hopeless-feeling crush on the Dog Whisperer.  There’s not a lot of potential matches on my horizon right now, but the best any of them can hope for at this point is a distant second to DW (see “Stalking the Dog Whisperer” and “Dorks Anonymous” for more info).  And yes, I am still too superstitious about it to say anything so there will be no further updates on that situation for the time being.

I will, however, provide an update to the melodramatic relationships I have with a string of personal trainers (see “It’s Not Me, It's You” for more info).  That’s right folks, I was stood up by yet another personal trainer.  I was supposed to meet the tatted up trainer number two this past Friday but he “got mixed up” and then was surprised that I didn’t want to hang out the gym waiting for him for an additional 90 minutes as he attempted to come from Germantown across the always-daunting Capitol Beltway to my gym.  During rush hour.  On a Friday.  I have now been given yet another new trainer and yet another free session.  We’re scheduled to meet tomorrow for our first of three sessions.  At this point I’ll be more surprised if he actually shows at all, let alone shows up remotely on time.  

*Name has been changed.