I Got The Power

Since last post I’ve enjoyed two Appalachian Mountain Club outings (it should have been 3, but I’ll get to that), I bought a bike and I got back into the game with TWO online dates.

My AMC weekend at Fire Island was joyful, inspiring and just a good old kick ass time with a bunch of people who DO stuff. There were a dozen adventurers however these people were SO active I felt like a lazy nub in a swamp, good thing I at least had my recent 10k victory to add to the accomplishments pile cause otherwise I would have been low lady on the amazing persons totem pole. By the end of the weekend I gained a few more friends, was not presented with ONE summons for the various and innumerable misdemeanors I committed and I also had some bad ass raw inner thumbs from killing it like an Olympic rower in the kayak.

Next up was my first AMC hike in Harriman, it was a gloomy gray day but warm so I pulled on my hiking skirt, deet-ed up and headed on out with great expectations of meeting another set of powerful happy people. Well let’s just say THIS group of AMCers were a little too over confident in their athletic abilities to handle a such a hike and MUCH too underprepared to remain jolly – oh well they all can’t be winners. BUT I did get to flirt with the burly bartender/ outdoorsman group leader for 6 hours and I made a new outdoorsy friend who, like me, is an overachieving newbee wanna do everything action girl.

After the hike I contacted both Mr. Leader and Action Girl, guess which one wanted to see more of me? Yeah, Mr. Leader… not so much. Anyways Action Girl invited me on a 25 mile bike ride along the Old Croton Aqueduct on Oct. 27^th to which I instinctively typed “YES I will do that!” then immediately bought a bike, bike tights, gloves, helmet, jacket, etc… and started riding. Those of you who KNOW me know that all I need is the suggestion of an action for me to get on board and DO it. One of my other AMC palls responded to my admission of being susceptible to gentle suggestion with, “I’ll invite you on a horseback riding and homemade whiskey hike, you'll need a horse, waspy gear and a peat bog!” Damn my kitchen is gonna be tight with my bike AND a pony.

The two internet dates/ meetings were not even worth my lip gloss application. Both men fell head over heels in LUST for me the moment my gams crossed the room. One thought it best to lead with talk of his penis girth while the other just threw caution to the wind and thrust his hand up my skirt and into my crotch. His explanation, he likes to “live in the moment” oh and I was so hot he couldn’t help himself. Now that’s a way to romance a lady. Penis Girth really sealed the deal when he took a call from his mother while I was in the WC so when I returned I was present for his profanity filled regret to his Mother’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. I love a man who screams at his mother at a bar – HOT! After hanging up he paused and asked, “So I guess my chances of making out with you right now are kinda low, right?”

There is hope on the horizon, as there always is in my Pollyanna sunshine filled optimistic world, Melba has a cute co-worker buddy (black hair/ blue eyes… yummmm) that she is trying to convince to call me – unfortunately my Facebook awesomeness has less than inspired him to reach out. I gotta start posting photos of me enjoying a chocolate shake and cheeseburger on my couch… not so daunting. AND one of my Mom’s yenta friends has given my number to a local newly divorced friend of the family in hopes that she scores a match, she has done this before with no result, but maybe this time……

Back to my not a hike yesterday. After gearing up and arriving at Port Authority 45 minutes before

my scheduled bus departure I somehow never boarded a bus. Yep me and a troupe of 3 others waited and waited and then waited some more for the 8:15am to Nyack but it never showed. Of course Adventure Girl was waiting for me in Nyack but even after I explained that NOBODY got on the bus I think she assumed I was a numb nut and began to second guess our burgeoning friendship. Proof of my ding-a-ling status, last night she sent me an email with detailed instructions regarding how to access Grand Central Terminal along with the train schedule and an offer to help in any way she can if I have trouble with navigating the train system. GOOD LORD how did I mess this up? I AM THE TRANSIT QUEEN! Damn I am gonna have to be a super star on Sunday. Maybe I should bake cookies?

 

 

I Hate The Hunt

One week into online dating (2013 edition) and I’m already weary of the process. For those of you who live a magical life bursting with rainbows and unicorns, who have always found your Mr./ Ms. wonderful in the ‘real’ world and believe that internet dating must be FUN and EXCITING– let me lay some truth on you, it SUCKS!  Imagine being laid off, you reflect for a moment then realize you gotta get back into the game, you quickly post your resume online  and start answering job postings with well-crafted introductory cover letters. Days pass and your letters go unanswered however your mailbox is overflowing with offers to flip burgers in Oklahoma or scrub motel bathrooms in Idaho. Then you sit and think, what the FUCK!? What in my resume would make a perspective employer think that I want THAT? So you review your resume, edit and re-post, all the while continuing to send out cover letters for jobs that match your skill set. More days pass and still your letters go unanswered as more distasteful offers from far away states fill your empty inbox. And that my friends is me on the dating hunt.

I know men don’t read my profile but what amazes me is that they don’t read their own. I received an offer for drinks from a dude who proclaimed after reading my profile we  would be a great match. I discovered through his posting that he had a large family with whom he spent every free moment and that he wanted a woman who was “extremely family oriented” as well. Also he was an avid church goer and wanted his match to “make God a major priority”. As to pets he had dogs and wanted to date a women with dogs so that they could all share in the fun (good lord). I replied to his email (I know I should have just deleted it BUT I had a few drinks before logging on) explaining that all the things he required in a partner I did not possess and that I was rather confused at his claim that we would be a great match. His reply, “I never thought of it, I guess it all depends on expectations, I am ultimately looking for someone with those qualities, but I could date others now.” To which I responded (and again I know I should have deleted his email), “I expect to become someone's "ultimate" one day, but going into a dating situation knowing that being the ultimate would never happen, is not for me.” SURPRISE ending, the guy thanked me for pointing out the incongruities between his email and his posting and within the hour updated his profile with this edit, “I’m not ready to commit to dating anybody right now, I have many things and people in my life that take priority but I would like to find a friend maybe for now.” – WOW check me out, I did good for this guy.

 

Notes regarding internet dating photos:
Besides the classic bathroom selfie (still going strong for the over 40 set) here are the top three straight male middle aged photo ops that are trending on the interwebs:

Men sleeping on the couch, cause there is no better way to say “I’m a virile, athletic man who will take you out and knock your socks off!” than napping. Bonus points if holding a dog/ cat/ blankie in a cuddle death grip.

Men indulging their narcissistic compulsions by snapping 5-10 photos of their refection the rearview mirror of their car – who knew a man could look so hot rockin’ a nylon webbed shoulder seatbelt? Bonus points if wearing sunglasses and an Ed Hardy T shirt.

Lastly the ubiquitous photo of a guy talking on the phone, cause ya know ladies go crazy for a guy who won’t even give us the courtesy as a viewer of a photo to put down a blackberry. Bonus points if he’s pointing his index finger as his brows furrow in that, “Hey, shhhhh, wait a minute, I’m on the phone bitch.” way.

 

Breaking All the Rules

As I get older I find that I am way more susceptible to the power of others’ “suggestions”. Mostly these are all very good suggestions, take for example Jesus telling me “You need to buy a bigger bed” or Swason instructing, “You would be an idiot if you DIDN’T buy that Ralph Lauren Olympic Jacket” and then last night… let’s just say the power of suggestion really did me a solid.

Last evening I had my first of THREE blind dates scheduled for this week. I don’t think any of these gents are relationship material however I’m rather sure I am not looking for a relationship at this time SO…. It’s all good. 

Mr. Tuesday (AKA Mr. Woods) was handsome and charming, he was on time and most importantly he was not a MESS! Seriously it’s been so long since I had a date that didn’t include a drink landing in my lap, a profuse face sweater, a social misfit, etc., etc… that this guy totally blew me away. Sure he has short comings but they are minuscule when it comes to all the other plusses. CRAP he even picked up the check without flinching – very unlike the Investment Banker Brit who took me out for a $9.00 brunch then harassed the waiter when he informed Cheap-o that “Sausage is an extra $1.50.” Cheap-o actually asked the waiter how MANY sausages he would get for $1.50, since he felt this was an exorbitant price to pay for breakfast pork since in Brittan you NEVER pay extra for anything …..hmmmm that’s questionable. 

But I digress, back to last night. After hours of bar side chatting and drinking with Mr. Woods there came that moment when decisions must be made – it’s either THIS or it’s THAT. My head was so THIS, totally THIS, no doubt I am fully THIS. There were so many rational reasons why THIS was the correct choice BUT damn that power of suggestion. Somehow even Mr. Woods sensed that I could be easily swayed to THAT with just a gentle nudge, cause really who doesn’t like a little of THAT.

I ended up tossing all of THIS out the window and extending my evening way past my bed time with a whole lot of THAT going on.  And DAMN, THAT was super fun.

Does My Face Make Me Look Old?

Just in case you all thought I put the internet dating hunt on hold, you are very much mistaken. My virtual pursuit to find a man who is not a mess is thriving, yet I’m only giving my time to the free site OKCupid for my cash is too dear to flush an unending stream of ducats down the world wide web sewer of Match, Jdate, Eharmony, etc… Yet even though I continue to fervently chum the dating waters my nets are habitually devoid of any daily catch.

Besides the random electronic missives from the usual illiterate wack jobs or photos of engorged “erect members” taken in the reflection of a public bathroom mirror, my inbox has experienced an uptick in emails from men who are completely delusional regarding their age vs. physical appearance. Since I turned 40 a few months back I guess the robot monkeys over at OKCupid have dumped me into a higher age bracket pool (they obviously do not know me) so now I have the comedic pleasure of receiving emails from the 45+ crowd, the majority of whom begin their courtship by confidently announcing, “I look younger than my age”. What the Who told you that? And by the way internet dude vying for my pleasure, I can SEE your photo so allow me to be the judge of that statement. Side note I have no issues with baldness, or beards, or age, just OWN IT dudes! Good lord I tell people I’m 54 just so they can look at me in shook and proclaim “You Look Terrific!!”

Just this morning I received an email from a 46 year old who was 60% bald with a salt and peppered beard who in ALL CAPS not only stated that he looked a decade younger than his actual age, but he went further and bragged about his “baby face”. First, no 46 year old man should ever favorably compare any part of his being to that of a baby and guess what 46 year old – YOU LOOK FORTY SIX (actually if he said he was 53 I would have believed that). It must be amazing to have the blinding confidence that a man possesses, no wonder they make war so often, they must truly believe they are all super-beings.

Cause I know you love it – here’s an excerpt from an actual email I received yesterday:
You are very pretty, do you want to get a druink? I am 5,10 and 160 pounds.I came to New York on October 2005.I like Tropicana Orange Juice.I do my laundry in my days off.I like Google and Wikipedia a lot.I can make your computer run faster.I am a pedicab driver. I work 3-4 days a week. I work near Central Park. In less than half an hour, you can notice that I am f.r.i.e.n.d.l.y.

Yes I Would Love To Join You!

I’ve recently been inundated with a new social phenomenon, the “non invite, invite”. The non invite, invite is infiltrating my social circle’s modus operandi like a legion of phragmites headed towards the marshy flatlands of eastern Long Island (Too random a reference?). Like its predecessor the ever popular lack luster “Non RSVP” the Non Invite, Invite (or NII) has taken hold of the new millennium’s masses and I fear it is sticking.

I first noticed the NII a few years back when Scooter in his awesomely manipulating manner would ask, “Hey are you doing anything later?” I would answer, “No totally free. Wanna do something?” He would then respond, “Ummm not too sure. Give me a call later and I’ll let you know if I can.” WHAT THE FUCK!? Seriously, and he would get me every time. I let it slide cause… well…. it was Scooter and that was how we rolled. Now not only do I get this behavior from a multitude of close friends I’m also on the receiving end of NII from random acquaintances. What is going on? Why would anybody seek me out, extend an invitation, then when I am enthusiastically agreeable to their suggested socialization - drop me. Maybe I should be more like the NON RSVPers, and stay remote. Refuse not only to respond to the invitation but indeed not even acknowledge the receipt of said invitation. Those are the people when asked, “Did you get my invitation I sent last week to the dinner party I am hosting in 3 days?” respond with “Oh yeah I saw that email in my inbox, I just haven’t opened it yet”. Really, my invitation didn’t even rate the sudden double twitch of your pointer finger? Be-Je-Bus Christ! The good thing is that I have weeded most Non RSVPers out of my life, F You controlling bastards; Gail does not wait on you. However the NII is secretive, you never know when the NII will strike or who will hand it out, therefore making it much less easily preemptively eradicated.

Case in point just yesterday I was on the receiving end of a NII from a perspective suitor from OK Cupid. After exchanging a litany of drunken flirtatious emails on Wednesday evening (side note under “things I learned this summer” - my drunken flirting yields high results) he asked, “Do you want to meet for a drink or something this weekend?” I replied agreeably and gave him my gmail address so we could continue our communication removed from the OKCupid conduit. Next is an excerpt from our exchange yesterday:

He: “Hi still up for going out this weekend?”
Me: “Great! Tomorrow or Sunday would be perfect, Saturday not so free”
He: “I guess tomorrow is Ok. Any part of town?”
Me: “In Manhattan any place between Canal and the 70’s is fine. And I’m free after 5pm”
He: “How about Union Square or NoHo?”
Me: PERFECT! I know both neighborhoods really well.

SILENCE……………

Yep for the next 5.5 hours there was no communication. WTF? By 10:30pm last night I hadn’t heard anything and was totally unsure if we were still on for tonight. Now I’m not being all Type A or wacko, I just need to know if (1) was he the one guy killed in the NYC tornado and (2) do I need to dress for a date (and pack makeup, hair goop, and heels) when I leave my apartment at 8:45 am or will I be returning back to Queens after work to change cause the “date” isn’t till 9pm? Ughhhh so annoying and controlling to leave me hanging therefore I had to be that chick and email him, “Hi, wanted to know if there is a time that we are meeting up tomorrow?” he responded, “Oh I guess after work sometime, my schedule is totally open. I’ll text you sometime tomorrow”. And again, WHAT THE FUCK!!?? If your schedule is totally open and you are asking me out then TELL ME WHEN AND WHERE!!!! Am I supposed to show up at work today with 3 sets of clothes, and shoes, and bags patiently awaiting your text with baited breath in hopes that SOMETHING may be appropriate for this mystery date?

So long story longer - feeling totally apathetic to tonight’s date I tossed on some random clothes this morning and awaited the buzz of my silenced blackberry. At 3pm I got the info and of course the dude went rogue and picked a place a little more posh than I had expected, oh well hopefully it will be dark and I’ll be drunk quickly.

The Talented Mr. Ripley’s Believe it or Not

Ok Cupid finally came through with a very entertaining, yet mildly age inappropriate dating situation.

Back tracking - a few weeks ago a wise talking (email= talking) 29 year old peeked my interest with his witty and biting e-banter. Of course our 4:30am drunken IM exchange was a hoot (I still cannot for the life of me remember what I was typing or HOW) which lead to The Talented Mr. Ripley’s Believe it or Not asking me out on a real live date.

The days between the asking and the going were filled with one of my favorite activities, internet snooping, compiling of facktoids and fashioning a fully rounded persona, chock full of assumptions and creative conjecture. I quickly discovered that I may be socializing with the new millennium’s Talented Mr. Ripley (the Believe it or Not part just kinda rolls off the tongue after one says The Talented Mr. Ripley… or maybe that’s just me). Anyways the guy is the type who may or may not write grad students’ doctorial dissertations for cash, and/ or use his wits not always for good but most certainly for gain. The more I read the more I liked. My date was showing signs of brilliance and craftiness combined with a very low moral set…… yummmmmm.

The locale for our rendezvous was ladies choice but he picked the time 9:30pm (oh these kids and their late nights out) and the borough, Queens. What the what? NOBODY who lives in Manhattan chooses to go to Queens unless there is a baseball or racquet involved, but I was happy considering that this old lady would not have to drag her ass across the river in the middle of the night.

I picked a swank hidden speakeasy-ish bar in LIC where the bartenders ne ‘mixologists’ sport suspenders, custom chop your ice, and utilize at least 7 ingredients per beverage. I arrived 2 minutes early (as per usual) while The Talented Mr. Ripley’s Believe it or Not wandered aimlessly along the banks of the East River. Once he realized that “Queens is hard” his call for help was answered with my booming instructions, “WALK NORTH EAST” while the circa 1928 live jazz band rocked out a Cole Porter ditty.

He finally arrived looking like a cross between an undergrad shuffling across the quad to grab a slice and person who was rudely shaken out of bed by the words, “Call 911, the apartment is on fire” This guy was one button fly away from wearing sweat pants… really? But I swallowed my pride and put all my faith in his charm, and thank god the kid had charm.

We talked and laughed and after several fancy drinks (and one Jameson’s – that one’s for you Swason) we gazed glassy eyed at each other across the table. Of course he was adamant that I become a performer (oh sweet child) and demanded that I begin writing my 7 min. stand up routine ASAP. He also told me stories with no endings, or stories that ended like, “So Shelly Long and I spent the afternoon placing 60 mini cottage cheese containers into her fridge”. Maybe it was the free flowing liquor or the jaunty way his head of bobbing black curls danced as he spoke but I was entertained.

The evening ended with a bit of snogging on the empty dark streets of LIC and a walk to the 7 train. I don’t want to tip my hand in fear that The Talented Mr. Ripley’s Believe it or Not may actually read the blog (even though he has stated that he probably will not) so I will just say that it would be lovely to hang out again and maybe hear more about those intriguing D list celebrity cottage cheese containers.

Idle Hands

I have two more days of leisure until my boss returns from her big holiday trip to North Africa. I have so far filled my down time at Mi7 with celebrating my office’s very first Holiday Party and…. well really that is about it. I could do some filing and tidying and still have time to mourn the recent death of our desktop orchids but I felt that I should use this time to close the door on 2009 with a revisit to the world of INTERNET DATING!!!!

How could I leave you all high and dry? How could I ignore your cries for MORE stories from the wide world of faceless email courting? Well today is your lucky day, for no other reason than lack of anything to do I signed onto OK Cupid and within 20 minutes I received a letter in the ol’ inbox. Now this guy is not really crazy as compared to the “I like blue” gent of months past however all of you who know me will recognize immediately this guy’s major mistake. Please read an excerpt from his email below:

(set up – his email is in response to my posting. Specifically to my response to the OK Cupid question, “What are you doing with your life right now?” My answer is, “Discovering creative ways to inhibit the sub arctic air from seeping in around my AC unit”.)

Subject: STOP with the creative ways...
“Go to the Home Depot down on 23rd Street and look for Painters tape (don’t be overwhelmed just ask a man in an orange apron to help you). This is a blue tape and you can use a regular scissors to cut it to the lengths you need.”

Continued - “Good stuff foam, this is something that comes in a red can with big letters on the label that say GOOD STUFF. Just be cautious in application, you can wind up making a mess if you aren't careful with it, and you should be wearing gloves.”

Continued -“ It sounds harder than it is but it's the best solution to your problem.”

I was going to delete the email BUT then I decided to respond, here is my retort in total:

Thank you for putting a pragmatic spin to my AC situation and for REALLY over explaining the process. I however worked as a professional Prop Master for years (had my own corporate Home Depot credit card within 2 weeks of undergrad graduation) so I am very aware of blue tape. YOU should however graduate to Gaff Tape - if you are intimidated by the black colored Gaff Tape you may want to first purchase the white (it’s more unassuming). I would never spray good stuff on my AC – it dries like cement and the yellow gunk is not only unsightly but permanent. I have already in cased my unit with soft insulating foam, tape backed foam, and have heat sealed the window with shrink wrap plastic (did you think this 'sounded hard' or did you assume I thought it 'sounded hard'?)- this is why I am NOW exploring creative ways in which to battle the biting cold. And no I will not stop my “creative ways” for that is vehicle that propels me towards creative solutions.