I had a history of ditching dates. Not one of my better habits and yes, therapy worked wonders. Anyway, I thought I would start with the story that wins the award for “Largest Quantity Of Date Ditching In The Same Location.” This all occurred in a local bar here in Oakland that I was 86ed from (until recently). I think due to the fact that the bartender and I probably both want to forget this whole series of events, I am going to keep the bar name anonymous.
This bar is the perfect blind date spot. It’s a bar I wouldn’t normally go to so chances were low I would run into anyone I knew. It had a fair amount of regulars, so someone might notice if anything should happen to me. Especially since I had decided to make this my regular “blind date bar.” And probably the greatest reason I loved this spot, it had a window in the bathroom. All I had to do was stand on the toilet, push the screen out, pull myself up, hop out the window and put the screen back. Simple.
Truthfully, I didn’t decide to go there with the express purpose of jumping out the window. The first few times I went there I actually left out the front door. But there was the first time. It was one of those dates you either wanted to charge $120/hour for your time while listening to his “my daddy never loved me story” or in my case you jump out the window. I remember excusing myself to the bathroom after my date had launched into his story about his father serving time in San Quentin. I got into the bathroom and as I sat there contemplating how the hell I was ever going to leave; I noticed the window. I wiggled the screen and found it freed quite easily. I had myself pulled up and out in moments. I was free.
As I walked to my car, I began to think of the email I would send to my date explaining what happened. What do you say after ditching your date out a window? There really isn’t a great explanation.
I think after that first time, I got a little hooked. Honestly, I did reserve this for particularly bad dates, but I was also going through a tremendous string of bad luck with dating. All in all I ditched about 17 dates there. I remember the last one was a guy who took my Craigslist ad about liking scrabble a bit too literally. He showed up on the date with a frame pack on. You know the kind you use when you are trekking in Alaska for one month. I was concerned. He then pulled out Scrabble. Okay, cute. Then he pulled out the official Scrabble Dictionary. Okay, that makes sense. Then he pulled out a Webster’s Dictionary. This was getting me a bit concerned. And then he pulled out an Unabridged Dictionary. You know those enormous dictionary’s you find in the library on its own bookstand that is supposed to have all the words known to humankind. The backpack now made sense and I now had the heebie-jeebies.
But not thinking this was a window-worthy situation; I played Scrabble. This changed rather quickly. I remember his first word was mayhem. And then the next word he laid out was death. Then came blood. I had no choice. This was exactly why this bathroom was designed with a window. And sure enough I was out the window within moments of entering the stall.
Technically this was the last date I ditched. The next time I came in, the bartender pulled me aside. He tells me that after each time I climb out the window, my dates apparently go up to the bartender asking if he had seen me leave and each time he has lied and said yes. He had quickly figured out I had climbed out the window from the get go. Years of tending bar had taught him the look of a woman who desperately wanted to get away from her date. And I wasn’t the first woman to have done it. I just had carried this on the longest. He was tired of being the one to let these guys know I wasn’t interested. And then having to buy a few of them a shot because they seemed genuinely bummed. I apologized and offered to buy the bartender a drink. He told me I just needed to go before my date got there and that I wasn’t welcome back.
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Hour...
Comfort comes in different shapes and sizes. As I walk in I see all the eager faces. There are the ones barking for my attention and the others drooling with excitement. And then there are the more shy and reserve who I catch glancing at me out of the corner of their eyes.
As I take a sip of my drink, it is Cisco who catches my eye. I am immediately attracted to his disinterested stare and his beautiful two-toned eyes. He is gorgeous in that unconventional sort of way; perfect in his imperfections. There is the obvious scar on the side of his nose and his expressive thick eyebrows. He is flirting with me from across the room. His eyes beckoning me to walk over to him. I do.
As I get closer, he sits up. He is bigger and huskier than I had originally thought. I notice the touches of gray that hint of his life experience. He smiles sweetly and I feel my heart in my chest. Today, he is the one. I am impatient waiting to leave. I want him all to myself, to feel him close, so close I feel his breath against my face.
I wait for him outside. As he approaches me, I notice the confidence in his gait and the huge grin on his face. I can’t help but smile, giving away my own excitement. We begin to walk in silence and enter the park. Upon the sound of the latch closing on the gate, we speak for the first time. I ask Cisco if he wants to play and he lets out this huge bark. We both move hurriedly with anticipation through the park, also known to me as my sanctuary.
This is where I can be found during those bad days in which I just want to feel good, even if it’s just for a short while. I am never quite sure who I will choose to spend my time with. Sometimes it’s the big older guys, sometimes it’s the youngsters with no manners and sometimes the lady in the uniform behind the counter will introduce me to my new best friend for the day. I can’t help but to have a smile on my face whenever I come here.
Today it’s Cisco with his long black coat and shepherd features. We take to one another immediately and for a moment I wonder if I could just take him home and make it work. I remember I can’t with my long hours at work and the other hours taken over by performing. We will have to just meet here.
His endurance is incredible and the way his body moves is amazing. He is quiet with the exception of his panting. His tongue grows longer as minutes turn to hours. He finally finishes, laying down next to his toy just far enough away I can’t reach. I sit down and he quickly runs over and lays his head in my lap. It’s time to say goodbye.
We walk back into the building as the lady asks me how he was. Out of breath, I answer, “amazing.” I can’t help but fall in love a little. I say goodbye to Cisco as she asks me if I will be back next week. I remind her it’s the holidays, so I will be here more often. This place always cheers me up.
I know that one day I will get a dog, but for now there is always the Oakland Animal Shelter.
As I take a sip of my drink, it is Cisco who catches my eye. I am immediately attracted to his disinterested stare and his beautiful two-toned eyes. He is gorgeous in that unconventional sort of way; perfect in his imperfections. There is the obvious scar on the side of his nose and his expressive thick eyebrows. He is flirting with me from across the room. His eyes beckoning me to walk over to him. I do.
As I get closer, he sits up. He is bigger and huskier than I had originally thought. I notice the touches of gray that hint of his life experience. He smiles sweetly and I feel my heart in my chest. Today, he is the one. I am impatient waiting to leave. I want him all to myself, to feel him close, so close I feel his breath against my face.
I wait for him outside. As he approaches me, I notice the confidence in his gait and the huge grin on his face. I can’t help but smile, giving away my own excitement. We begin to walk in silence and enter the park. Upon the sound of the latch closing on the gate, we speak for the first time. I ask Cisco if he wants to play and he lets out this huge bark. We both move hurriedly with anticipation through the park, also known to me as my sanctuary.
This is where I can be found during those bad days in which I just want to feel good, even if it’s just for a short while. I am never quite sure who I will choose to spend my time with. Sometimes it’s the big older guys, sometimes it’s the youngsters with no manners and sometimes the lady in the uniform behind the counter will introduce me to my new best friend for the day. I can’t help but to have a smile on my face whenever I come here.
Today it’s Cisco with his long black coat and shepherd features. We take to one another immediately and for a moment I wonder if I could just take him home and make it work. I remember I can’t with my long hours at work and the other hours taken over by performing. We will have to just meet here.
His endurance is incredible and the way his body moves is amazing. He is quiet with the exception of his panting. His tongue grows longer as minutes turn to hours. He finally finishes, laying down next to his toy just far enough away I can’t reach. I sit down and he quickly runs over and lays his head in my lap. It’s time to say goodbye.
We walk back into the building as the lady asks me how he was. Out of breath, I answer, “amazing.” I can’t help but fall in love a little. I say goodbye to Cisco as she asks me if I will be back next week. I remind her it’s the holidays, so I will be here more often. This place always cheers me up.
I know that one day I will get a dog, but for now there is always the Oakland Animal Shelter.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
30 Dates in 30 Days
About 7 years ago one of my friends dared me to go on 30 dates in 30 days. I didn’t originally agree to the dare. I really hadn’t dated in the true sense of going out on dates. I was scared. I had spent the last 10 years in a relationship; 8 actually being in the relationship and 2 getting over it. I agreed to the dare because I really believed that if I was going to start dating again, then this would be the way to do it. This was like diving into the deep end of the pool and I am not the “dip a toe in” kind of girl.
I knew that in order to be able to stack the odds in my favor that I actually could rack up enough guys to participate in this, there was only one option… craigslist. I was a newbie to dating, so I had limited perspective. I began looking at the Men seeking Women. I remember reading the posts and being totally freaked out. Who were these guys that posted? What does this guy even look like? And how do I respond?. “Hi, I’m a 30 year old bay area native who likes to hike and do yoga.” I had no idea what I was looking for or really how to describe myself. I started to hate the idea of “selling” myself.
Then I read the women seeking men posts. I was more freaked. I was snarky as I read post after post of women seeking their prince. Except these princes drove a BMW, worked in finance, and were ready to procreate immediately. I was more scared now. I wasn’t one of them, but at the same time I was. We shared at least one thing in common: we wanted a date. So I began to craft the profile. I remember it simply said, “I just want to meet for a drink. You’ll let me beat you at pool even though I am the worst player ever and know what whiskey to order. You know a dive from a hotspot. You are the kind of guy who is known for being funny, the drier the better.” And then I included some basic facts about me, the age, location kind of stuff. Then I clicked “Post”.
The next morning I was overwhelmed. I had to go through all these responses. I think the first group I eliminated was the “dirty bird” group. These were the guys who sent the nude pics or outrageous descriptions of what they were going to do to me. I think my favorite of the bunch was the picture of the cowboy in chaps and nothing else. Next to go were the guys who sent what I termed the “form responses”. You knew, just like the dirty birds, the form response guys didn’t read anything you wrote and probably copy pasted the same reply to ever women seeking men post on craigslist. I figured if they didn’t bother reading the post, then drinks would probably not be very fun. I would end up listening to some stranger talk about himself endlessly until I could finally figure out some way to end the evening. And I think last to go were the guys I deemed age/location incompatible.
Of course, I also viewed this as an opportunity to meet all kinds of men. My selection ran the gamut from computer tech types to surgeons to carpenters to students and even one bounty hunter. Actually it turned out he wasn’t really a bounty hunter. He had been on disability for 5 years and I didn’t get to hear any good bounty hunting stories, which was very disappointing. But I digress.
30 dates in 30 days was exhausting. There were days I had to book morning and evening shifts, due to scheduling. There were the countless nights of staying out too late. And then even the dates that ended early still included giggling with girlfriends over the phone talking about it. The worst date ended with me climbing out a bathroom window of a dive bar and the best included a couple friends I still have. Not much has changed since I posted back then. I still drink whiskey, I still love a great dive, and I still am terrible at pool. I think the only thing that has changed is my selection process.
I knew that in order to be able to stack the odds in my favor that I actually could rack up enough guys to participate in this, there was only one option… craigslist. I was a newbie to dating, so I had limited perspective. I began looking at the Men seeking Women. I remember reading the posts and being totally freaked out. Who were these guys that posted? What does this guy even look like? And how do I respond?. “Hi, I’m a 30 year old bay area native who likes to hike and do yoga.” I had no idea what I was looking for or really how to describe myself. I started to hate the idea of “selling” myself.
Then I read the women seeking men posts. I was more freaked. I was snarky as I read post after post of women seeking their prince. Except these princes drove a BMW, worked in finance, and were ready to procreate immediately. I was more scared now. I wasn’t one of them, but at the same time I was. We shared at least one thing in common: we wanted a date. So I began to craft the profile. I remember it simply said, “I just want to meet for a drink. You’ll let me beat you at pool even though I am the worst player ever and know what whiskey to order. You know a dive from a hotspot. You are the kind of guy who is known for being funny, the drier the better.” And then I included some basic facts about me, the age, location kind of stuff. Then I clicked “Post”.
The next morning I was overwhelmed. I had to go through all these responses. I think the first group I eliminated was the “dirty bird” group. These were the guys who sent the nude pics or outrageous descriptions of what they were going to do to me. I think my favorite of the bunch was the picture of the cowboy in chaps and nothing else. Next to go were the guys who sent what I termed the “form responses”. You knew, just like the dirty birds, the form response guys didn’t read anything you wrote and probably copy pasted the same reply to ever women seeking men post on craigslist. I figured if they didn’t bother reading the post, then drinks would probably not be very fun. I would end up listening to some stranger talk about himself endlessly until I could finally figure out some way to end the evening. And I think last to go were the guys I deemed age/location incompatible.
Of course, I also viewed this as an opportunity to meet all kinds of men. My selection ran the gamut from computer tech types to surgeons to carpenters to students and even one bounty hunter. Actually it turned out he wasn’t really a bounty hunter. He had been on disability for 5 years and I didn’t get to hear any good bounty hunting stories, which was very disappointing. But I digress.
30 dates in 30 days was exhausting. There were days I had to book morning and evening shifts, due to scheduling. There were the countless nights of staying out too late. And then even the dates that ended early still included giggling with girlfriends over the phone talking about it. The worst date ended with me climbing out a bathroom window of a dive bar and the best included a couple friends I still have. Not much has changed since I posted back then. I still drink whiskey, I still love a great dive, and I still am terrible at pool. I think the only thing that has changed is my selection process.
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