Tuesday, July 6, 2010

The Impeccable Taste

The other day I had the pleasure of experiencing another fantastic date. I say this despite the minor mishaps I endured. The Impeccable Taste provided not only an enjoyable experience but he was a generally enjoyable person. A handsome fella, the IT worked in some sort of technological field. He must be good at his job because he could afford to live in a lovely condo in an expensive part of town. Because he was so clever, attractive, and a great planner I felt absolutely terrible for being about fifteen minutes late to our date. He had arranged for us to see a concert in a great outdoor amphitheater I'd never been to despite having lived near it most of my life.

I met IT at his place and we trekked to the market together where we picked up the contents of what would be our picnic. He picked out wine like a pro, taking into account my tastes and we took our bounty back to his condo where we left my car and walked to the amphitheater. The walk was about a mile and I definitely wore the wrong shoes. Add that to missing sidewalk on certain parts of our journey and close-calls with oncoming traffic were not unheard of. Somehow he managed to get us to our destination unscathed. We walked up a big hill with a massive indie crowd. Hip hairstyles, cool clothes, and aloof attitudes abounded as I gawked (and panted) the whole way. Naturally, being a bit conservative I felt slightly out of place but that didn't stop me from enjoying the scenery.

IT was a little closer to me in dress but obviously closer to the indie folks in lifestyle. As we walked he talked about his vegetarianism, his love of earth and life, and socially liberal ideals. Of course I was a bit surprised to hear about his fiscally conservative outlook. The Democrat at heart was very Republican on issues of spending. So I goaded him like any good gal would. After a while I realized arguing about politics may not be his idea of a good time. Usually, this wouldn't bother me but I wanted IT to know I was grateful for his time and effort on this date so I changed the subject to something more pleasant.

The chatter lightened and while we searched for our seats we talked about my inexperience at the venue and how it really doesn't matter what you see, just that you make an event of it. Much to our dismay our row was looking rather crowded so we opted to sit in the seats directly in front of our assigned ones. "Brilliant idea!" I commended him. That was until the real owners of those seats showed up. So we crammed ourselves into our paid seats and settled in with wine, cheese, and a berry salad.

The night was fantastic! The music was great as was the company and the wine. In fact, after just enough wine I happily followed IT on the walk back to his house so that I could let the sobering begin before my drive home. Our conversation struggled a bit while the loud, live music was entertaining us, but once we were walking on the quiet street it picked right up. By the time we arrived at his house, we were really hitting it off. That's exactly why I did not mind at all when IT decided to move in for a kiss. It was sweet and not too aggressive and I was very pleased, which would make what would happen very disappointing.

IT gave me a quick tour of his apartment. It was nice, but definitely a bachelor pad. He insisted I try the absinthe he had recently procured. After one sip I decided it was not for me, especially since my goal was to get less tipsy. It seemed his goal for me was not the same as he continued to offer various wines that I continued to decline. I assume IT could sense my desire to head home since he started reaching for new ways to keep me entertained--music, art, stories, more kissing. Finally, while we sat on the couch he clued me in to what I assume was the real reason he invited me up. He unzipped his pants, removed his member, and suggested I give him some manual pleasure. I declined. I also promptly headed for the door.

It was a short ride home, infused with much laughter. The date was 90% fantastic and I enjoyed it for the most part. It was a shame it ended in such a vulgar way. At least IT was polite about his offer, as tasteless as it was.

XO Jane

Monday, June 7, 2010

The Good Sport

The Good Sport was a kind, considerate, and some may say traditional sort of gentleman. He believed in opening doors, pulling out chairs, and picking up the tab. It had been a long time since I'd encountered his type and was impressed. Working for a sports radio station he had a good, stable job that he loved. He lived with a roommate in a decent apartment and was more knowledgeable about pop culture than was probably necessary. Unfortunately, I could tell very quickly that he was not my type. Looking back, I realize I should have moved along immediately but during this time in my long and varied dating career I still believed chemistry could develop. In reality, I would waste more time than I should have trying to convince myself to like someone that I was never going to like. The Good Sport is a good example of that.

However, that's not what this story is about. This is a story about what a bad date I can be when I really put my mind to it. The more time I spent with GS, the more he annoyed me. His mannerisms were beyond corny. Sometimes I thought he was playing a part he deemed appealing. Why he would think this pseudo-contemplative, mostly cliched character was appealing was beyond my comprehension. I listened to story after story about his experiences in high school, what a good friend he can be, and how many girls have mistreated him.
It became more than I could stand and on third and final date I decided to start amusing myself. Granted, my antics began after waiting roughly an hour for a table at the busiest upscale, chain Chinese restaurant in town. I was frustrated, starving, and absolutely bored to tears of listening to GS. It all started when I decided to tell a story of my own. It was the tale of how I'd shaved my dog earlier that day (don't worry, I didn't shave him bald, just got most of his long hair off so he wasn't uncomfortable in the summer heat). I spoke to GS for seven to ten full minutes about the process of shaving my dog. What tools I'd used, where I did it, how I got the dog to stand still, how it takes practice to get an even cut and I'm not that practiced. It went on and on and he sat there seemingly listening intently.

It was about that time that I lost all respect for GS. How could he listen to my ramblings and not speak up? Not even try to change the subject? What's worse is he appeared to care. While I mistakenly sat quietly while GS rambled on with his stories I could not say I gave any indication I was interested in what he was saying and I often tried to change the subject. Is it really necessary to share story after story about high school, which was nearly 10 years ago?

My bad behavior did not stop there. Among other things I began negating almost everything he said, playing devil's advocate for scenarios in which I agreed with him or couldn't care less about. I even found a way to work into conversation a statement along the lines of "I wouldn't mind sacrificing the lives of many innocent people in the name of science". It was completely false and meant to garner a shocked response. Instead, he nodded politely and insisted on hearing more.

Eventually, the date ended and he was free. Sadly, he continued to call and text requesting more dates. It was GS that taught me a valuable lesson about breaking things off. Until then I'd often used the "ignore them away" tactic. He was ignore-proof. No amount of unanswered messages or "sorry, I'm busy" excuses would deter him. Eventually, I had gather my moxy and tell him I wasn't interested. His response was life changing--"why didn't you say something sooner?" From then on, I didn't drag anything out. If I was uninterested in a guy he would be the first to know. Don't feel bad for GS about the terrible date I put him through. I had a bit of fun with it and he apparently didn't even notice what a train-wreck it really was since he sought more dates. Either he didn't notice or he was just a really good sport.

XO Jane

Saturday, May 22, 2010

The Punny Geologist

The story of the Punny Geologist is one of mixed reactions. The PG himself was a lovely gentleman. He was sweet, but maybe a little naive and very cute. That's why it was so torturous to have to sit through such a terribly awkward date. He tried so hard to be entertaining and I guess in the end he succeeded, just not in the way he'd hoped to.

I met the PG at a coffee shop near me. We politely shook hands, purchased beverages, and took our seats next to a window. He was very typically cute with strong features tempered by a boyish smile. He spoke softly and eagerly and seemed genuinely pleased to be conversing with me. We quickly got on to the topic of hobbies because I was aware that he had a specific one. That's hardly common where I live. People are far too aloof to have hobbies, especially hobbies that didn't positively contribute to a perceived "cool factor".

Rock collecting was PG's passion. He hiked every weekend and was planning a big trip up North to go scavenging some mountains for un-precious and some semi-precious rocks. He delighted in telling stories of finding rocks on accident or finding gems and interesting patterns inside rocks he'd collected. In the spirit of show-and-tell, PG had brought one such rock. He pulled it out from his pocket and placed it in front of me.

Looking at the outside of the rock, which was shaped like an oval cut in half length-wise it was rough and egg-shell white. Upon turning it over I could see he'd polished the rock to exhibit the intriguing interior. I immediately recognized the shape. It was a slimmer oval shape down the middle with a little nob at the top. It was, unmistakably a vagina. I stared at the rock for a minute trying to gather my thoughts. I looked up at PG searching for clues in his expression. Did he know what this was? Was this some kind of innuendo? He couldn't know. His face gave no hint of guilt or intention. He was completely innocent. So now came the question, should I bring it up? Should I point out the provocative nature of this geode? I chose to not. Instead, I would periodically glance at the stone and try not to giggle.

Naturally, an unintentionally inappropriate mineral is not enough to drive me away from a fella. A complete lack of chemistry and the pain of listening terrible jokes is enough. And PG had plenty of terrible jokes. He would make these puns, these very silly and sophomoric jokes to which I just could not laugh. He would then follow them up by saying something like "I was just joking" to which I could only reply "I know" while trying my hardest to turn my cringe into a smile.

While describing the nature of his job working in a geologically related department for the city, he revealed that he would spend a lot of time underground or crawling around in pipes. I commented that he must get very grimey. He responded "as long as I don't get Leanne Grimes-ey" looking very pleased with himself. I smiled and took a sip of my drink--a technique I'd developed to excuse myself from not laughing. He followed up with "I was just being funny" and it took every ounce of will-power to not say "no you weren't".

Even PG's terrible jokes may have been tolerable, but his intrusion on my personal space was unforgivable. At some point during the date, probably towards the middle PG must have noticed me fiddling with my hair--something I absent-mindedly do throughout the day. He decided this would be the ideal time to inform me about his hair fetish. I promptly got out a hair tie and put my hair up and out of the way in a pony tail. That is far more information than I need when the conversation has remained platonic and very G-rated. There was no flirtation that may indicate I would be open to hearing about his sexual fetishes. Even after that I could have left and still thought fondly of this fella. However, upon saying goodbye he requested a hug and with a twinkle in his eye PG proceeded to run his fingers through my hair. Whoa! Knowing what effect this may have on him (because of his own admission) I felt incredibly uncomfortable and slightly violated.

In the end PG may have been kind of awkward, but it was our lack of compatibility that helped me decide not to pursue anything further with him. He may have been cute and sweet but I don't think I could listen to anymore of those jokes or find out what other kinds of rocks he had stashed away. Also, feeding his fetish without my permission was too far over the line.

XO Jane

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The Hairy Situation

This afternoon I experienced what could easily be described as the most awkward situations I have ever endured in my life. It all started weeks ago when I received a message from a gentleman on a dating website. He started with a message he probably considered clever and presented his instant messenger screenname (presumably so I could contact him in that venue). Upon inspection of the messenger's profile I found essays that suggested he wouldn't be my type (You should message me if: You are loving, rich, and gorgeous... a close paraphrase) and pictures of a man in which you could never see his face but you could see his extensive facial hair. It was a rather long beard. You could tell he had been growing it for some time and he frequently expressed pride in it. My response prompted about two weeks of emails, IMs, and phone calls about life, love, and everything else.

The Hairy Situation seemed like a nice person but overly concerned with "our" relationship and the fact that I was not currently head over heels for him. Excepting the occasional rant about how I was not truly happy and how being with him would change that he was a source of decent conversation. Because of that I didn't rule out the idea of friendship. However, his stance on intimacy (radical advocate) as well as his penchant for calling me "babe" drastically turned me off to him romantically.

Between work and school I found it difficult to make time to meet HS until this afternoon. Usually, I prefer to get meetings over with before there is opportunity to grow attached via phone and/or email. Unfortunately, I could already tell HS was growing attached by the way he would frequently contact me. He had described himself multiple times early on in our conversations as someone who never called women; he let women chase him, not vice versa. Contrary to this self-description he contacted me first every day for the last week. That, his general disposition, and statements such as "relationships are hard but I'll make it comfortable for you" hinted that HS may have a crush on me.

Finally, we met. On a crowded street halfway between our respective towns we said hello in person. The pictures did not do his beard justice and the rest of his face seemed strangely familiar, though I was never able to place it. While chatting away under the shade of a large tree, HS would periodically point out female passersby that he apparently found attractive. Many of whom were in short-shorts (understandable in the heat) and seemed very young (17 to 25 years old). When I noticed his preference for younger ladies I decided to point it out and poke a little fun. "Go talk to her if you think she's cute, but make sure to check her ID," I quipped. He found this hilarious and we talked about the issues associated with hitting on younger women for longer than I would've liked to.

In attempt to escape the view of wandering jail-bait I suggested we take a walk down the street. It seemed safe enough as I knew he was parked a ways away and there were plenty of pedestrians walking up and down this street. As we walked he talked about pursuing more dates. I hemmed and hawed and sidestepped the issue, always redirecting to scenery or people I saw walking by. He pushed to establish that he thought we should keep spending time together and presumably get more intimate as he said things like, "next time at my place for sure," or "when school's over you're coming over." My reply was always a staunch "we'll see what happens," which has always been my polite way of saying "no thank you." It would appear that I need to develop a stronger, less polite refusal since this one gave him no indication that I was not interested. Or, if it did he paid no attention.

Growing less patient and more uncomfortable with his advances I suggested it was time to go. HS insisted on walking me to my car, which he propped himself against. He then grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. With an astonished and confused look on my face I complied. He wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me very close to him. I grew more worried and less comfortable and must have looked very stressed.

"So," he said.
"So what??" I responded in a perturbed tone. He smiled in response.
"Why are you holding me? You're way too close to me," I declared.
"You don't like it?" How could he ask that?
"I'm incredibly uncomfortable right now, you're t00 close" I clarified. Like a dear caught in the headlights I couldn't run away. I pushed against him slightly to keep some distance but was so distracted by the thoughts running through my head--what is he doing? How can he think this is a good thing? I told him I'm uncomfortable, who wouldn't find that unappealing?
My worst fears came true as he held onto the back of my head and slowly pulled his face towards mine. He tried to kiss my tightly closed lips. As I pulled back, he moved forward until he let go. It had to be a full 20 seconds. That may not seem like much to you now but when someone's face is on yours and you don't want it there 20 seconds may as well be forever. He pulled away and looked very pleased with himself. He also looked as if he expected me to be pleased as well. I imagine I looked horrified because that's how I felt.

"I'd really like to see you again," he stated so matter-of-factly.
"I know. I can tell," was all that I could say.
"You're supposed to say you want to see me again too," he replied with feigned offense.
"I can't say that because it's not true."
"Why not?" Now he actually seemed confused.
"I didn't want you to kiss me. I don't like being this close to you. You're trying to push intimacy on me that I just don't feel." Now he really seemed offended. He spoke about how much we've talked and how close we actually are. I explained that we see our interaction differently and he can't convince me to feel intimacy that I don't. If I'm not comfortable he needs to respect that. He claimed to understand and for a moment I believed him. That was until he opened the car door for me, allowed me to sit in the seat, and sat himself next to me on the edge of the car. As he moved in for another kiss I tried to move back but the seat was in the way so I had to push him away with my hands. Again, he looked offended.

At this point, HS's intense sense of entitlement and arrogance became clear to me. He could not or would not comprehend that I did not want him to touch me. Still under the assumption that the interaction had gone well, he removed himself from my car doorway and told me to call him and once again suggested we should get together again very soon. I shut my door, started the car, and drove away quickly. I could not get away from this man fast enough.

On many occasions I've considered what I would do in a situation such as this one. Sadly, I did not live up to my own expectations. However, I can pat myself on the back knowing I will never speak to HS again. He is one of many men who only consider their own feelings, desires, and intentions. Of course it must be recognized he is not representative of all men. None of the men I write about are. The Hairy Situation was just an example of someone who perhaps couldn't see beyond his own beard.

XO Jane

Friday, April 16, 2010

The Grip

It wasn't more than a few nights ago that I ventured out on another date. This time it was with a seemingly lovely gentleman who worked in the entertainment industry (usually a red flag for as I'm not very "Hollywood"). Regardless of his affiliations he was kind and polite and interested and cute, too. Having met him through a dating website, I took all the necessary precautions. Public meeting place, busy time with lots of people (witnesses?), and something casual that wouldn't lead to a second location.

The Grip suggested one of those free movie passes that come along every so often. I do adore going to those pre-release screenings and filling out the surveys so I was excited. We met, first at the coffee shop near the theater for greetings. My general rule about first dates is to wear flats as they provide some versatility in the event of the decision to walk around, the need to run, or to keep a decent range in height. Many men I've encountered seem to prefer shorter women and at 5'7" a pair of heels makes that difficult. Unfortunately, due to wardrobe issues flats were not an option and I wore some conservative mary-jane high heels. Much to my dismay, the Grip would have been shorter than me even if I wasn't wearing heels, making me tower above him now.

He didn't appear to mind and we had our greetings, purchased our coffees and made our way to the theater. He was nice, a little corny, seemingly rehearsed, but overall a good guy. He allowed me to ramble about my studies a bit before I caught myself and directed the conversation to something we had in common--our love of movies. It wasn't long before the Grip's cheesy demeanor was starting to wear on me. In fact, he often laughed at his own jokes enough for the both of us. So when he would look to me after saying something not all that funny I would always be sure to be smiling politely or sipping my drink. A mutual respect, but a lack of chemistry. It happens but it doesn't mean I can't enjoy the rest of the night.

Waiting for the movie to start seemed to take ages. While more and more people filed into the theater we sat patiently. Actually, I sat patiently while he fidgeted like a mad-person. He played with his clothes, shifted in his seat, looked all over the theater. He couldn't be still. Unfortunately, the one part of him that did seem capable of concentration were his eyes and they were often fixated on my chest. Wearing a high necked shirt and a flashy necklace, I gave the Grip the benefit of the doubt.

"Maybe he's just staring at the necklace," I concluded. That was until he noticed and pointed out to me the lovely, large chested woman with the revealing dress who had just entered the theater.

"Daaamn!" he exclaimed. "She's really..." he motioned to his chest, "she's got some major..." I interjected before he could continue.

"Well, I can't see as her back is turned to me but maybe she's showing off for her boyfriend, the guy she's with," I hoped putting her cleavage in the context of a relationship may make him back off. No luck.

"She's all hanging out," he continued.

Luckily for me, one of the market researchers interrupted when she came over to ask us to participate in the focus group that would follow the film. A welcomed interruption and a welcomed offer, I eagerly agreed.

After the woman left to continue her search for participants, the Grip went back to fidgeting and making bad jokes that he thought were hilarious. After he finished cracking up at a particularly cornball joke I looked over at the Grip to see him crossing one of his legs over the other and clutching his shoe with his hand. Fondling the bottom of his shoe. My jaw dropped. How incredibly unhygienic. Even for a normal person, not a mild neat-freak like myself this is gross (I took a poll of all my reasonable friends).

Maybe he sensed the general discomfort (though I doubt it) but he decided to go get some popcorn. He returned with a small tub, propped himself next to me, and offered me some of my favorite snack. Dismayed, I took a few pieces knowing that after he digs in I will not be able to eat the contaminated popcorn. Of course there was hope if he was able to pick out piece by piece without touching any that he didn't take. Not the case. The Grip fondled every piece of popcorn his fingers could reach before picking out two kernels. Ew. Just Ew. And that's how he ate the whole bucket. Groping and molesting the popcorn one handful at a time before popping it in his mouth.

The movie was enjoyable. The focus group was entertaining. But I was looking forward to finally being in the car and on the way home. The Grip insisted on walking me to my car. He spent a few minutes scuffing his feet against the ground and twirling with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging down. He kinda-sorta-almost asked me to hang out again and I quickly brushed it off and went for my car. But I didn't stand a chance. He came in for a hug and I was forced to oblige. He squeezed his arms around me tightly and quickly before stalking off across the parking lot to his car. Free at last from the Grip's smothering crush, I drove home in peace, excited to tell the tale of my adventure with the Grip.

XO Jane

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Legal Action

Tonight I went on what was by far one of the best dates I've been on in my dating career. For the first time I felt like I took advantage of what my town has to offer. This wasn't my first date with Mr. Legal Action and after tonight it definitely wont be my last.

We began with a trip to the Museum of Jurassic Technology, which is absolutely not what you're expecting. Check it out, but I advise the website does not do what I nicknamed "the Haunted House" justice: www.mjt.org. Together, LA and I explored the wonders offered by the Museum including Collections from Los Angeles Area Mobile Homes; Micromosaics; Floral Radiographs; and our favorite exhibit a collection about superstitions, old wives tales, and remedies for bad mojo (one that really made an impression: "One of a bridegrooms shoes (left) should be left untied during the marriage ceremony 'to prevent on the bridal night his being deprived of the power of loosening the virgin zone'.") . As we investigated the labyrinthian Museum room by room we found all kinds of treasures and plenty of opportunities to flirt.

So many of the exhibits required closer inspection and thus closer proximity for LA and me. We teased and toyed as we walked around; we laughed and joked about the exhibits and this Museum of oddities. So many dark corners made a stolen kiss here or there possible, but neither of us gave in regardless of the growing tension. The Cat's Cradle and Russian Space Dog exhibits did alleviate much of that tension through sheer ridiculousness and soon the Museum's proprietor instructed us they were closing. LA and I decided move on to phase two of the evening--dinner.

We walked a few blocks to a sort of restaurant row and picked a Korean Barbecue that appeared to have potential. It was a fantastic place, I assure you and I tried very hard to remember the name, but alas I did not. We spent a few hours cooking and devouring delicious meets and vegetables. We gabbed for hours about everything and none of the silences were awkward.
Of course, it didn't come as a surprise when LA invited me to his house for a nightcap. Like a good girl, I declined the offer. However, I welcomed his advances when LA leaned in for a kiss. So LA only saw a little action, but it was definitely good and I'm confident he'll be calling back for more.

XO Jane

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Blunt Object

The Blunt Object seemed nice enough at first. Very laid back, very easy going. He seemed interested without being overly eager and complimentary without being cheesy. There was one major red-flag. He was unemployed. Supposedly he got a settlement from some kind of accident (he didn't feel comfortable disclosing the details so early) and was just enjoying his time off and considering going back to school. Regardless, I agreed to a my favorite kind of pre-date--coffee.

He asked if I would meet him at the large, chain coffee shop near him and I agreed. It was only about ten minutes drive away. Upon arrival, I found him sitting outside across from a lovely young lady. Both were clutching their respective cigarettes intently as they carried on what appeared to be an engaging conversation. I would find out later it was actually sad and boring.

I sat down next to the Blunt Object without introductions as soon as we recognized each other. The woman introduced herself and proceeded to catch me up on her life's story and inform me she was impatiently waiting for her no-good boyfriend to pick her up. When she finally left, twenty to thirty minutes later, the Blunt Object and I officially greeted each other. He had managed to stop smoking long enough to shake my hand and I noticed he was polite, cute in a boyish way, and apparently very happy to see me.

"I have a plan for our evening" he informed me. I perked up immediately! Having been accustomed to gentlemen who left all the planning to me, I was really looking forward to being entertained.

"Please! Tell me!" I encouraged him.

"Well, first we're going to go back to my house and get our smokage on."

My face dropped.

"And then we can see what happens fr..."

I stopped him. "I don't smoke."

There was a pause. "I don't smoke weed at all so I'm not up for that."

More pausing.

"Okay, well..." he began again. "I'm really sorry for dragging you out here and wasting your time." I can only imagine the shocked look on my face but I can guarantee you I was working especially hard that evening to hold in my laughter.

"That's okay," and I meant it. I just couldn't wait to get back to my car to call my friend and tell her the story. In fact, as he began his apologies I was just nodding, smiling, agreeing and trying to get back to my car as quickly as possible. He explained that he was at "a certain time in his life" and that maybe "when things are different" he'd really like to hang out with me again. I encouraged him to just keep doing what he does and "really, have a lovely evening".

It was probably the shortest of any kind of date I had ever been on but I don't think I had ever laughed quite so hard on the way home.

XO Jane

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


On this calm and lovely Tuesday evening I sit at my computer with the resolve to finally record the events of my ongoing dating career. After much prompting by friends who have heard the stories I've succumbed to pressure by them and my own desire to share these experiences with the world.

I've been dating for roughly two years now. Some dates have been fantastic and led to great places. Some dates have been atrocious or embarrassing. The latter usually make the better stories.

There was a time when I dated in the hopes of finding a relationship. Sometimes I was looking for love. Sometimes I was looking for a good time. At this point I'm just trying to go out, have fun, meet new people, and get new stories.

Maybe you'll get a giggle, maybe you'll get inspiration, maybe you'll just find this a convenient way to waste time at work (I wont tell your boss). Regardless of the motivations behind the writing and reading of this blog, I encourage everyone to take away from this that dating is fun. It doesn't have to be an interview for the position of "spouse", it doesn't have to be an outdated social ceremony, it doesn't have to feared or judged or put on a pedestal. Wherever you find your dates, wherever you go with them, and whatever you do just have fun and be safe!

XO- Jane