Apparently does not include riding a motorcycle. Bummer.
So, months ago I decided that since I can no longer pay for a trip on a motorcycle, as in the Third World, I needed to learn how to ride myself, and I had signed up for a motorcycle riding course taught at Northern Virginia Community College. The course is taught in a weekend, and they're pretty emphatic that you have to be on time in order to pass the class.
My class began yesterday at 6:00 PM. I left work at 4:15 to get there on time, but unfortunately, between traffic and the lack of signage that is Northern Virginia, I spent twenty minutes looking for the entrance onto campus and for the building in which the class was held. I was 15 minutes late, right in time for one of the teachers, who had the very sore look of a stick up his a**, to tell me that I couldn't join the class because it started fifteen minutes ago. Which is so ridiculous because dammit, I'm a smart girl and could have figured it out.
Whatever.
So, after bursting hysterically into tears (unfortunately, not in front of the mean teacher, who might have let me into the class because men can't handle tears), I jumped in Greta and Michael's car that they had loaned me (sorry, Greta and Michael--perhaps not the wisest thing for me to do in terms of driver safety!) and drove their car back to their house.
Their house is in Alexandria, right by the Braddock Road metro, which is coincidentally, very close to where Superman lives. Superman had invited me out on a date for Friday, which I had had to push back because of my motorcycle class, so after cleaning myself up a bit, I call him and ask if he's made alternative plans.
He had none that involved other people, so instead of heading off to Bed Bath and Beyond to improve his apartment, he drove the metro, picked me up, and we went out to dinner at Five Guys (burger and fries). True to form, we closed down the restaurant and contemplated what to do next. It was really cold, so walking around Old Town was out, but we both knew we wanted to continue the date. So, we opted to go back to his house to watch a movie (which I had really sworn to myself that I wouldn't do until date #4, but when have I ever exercised self-restraint?).
I'm proud to say that we actually watched the movie before we started our marathon makeout session (another thing I had promised myself wouldn't happen until date #4--I suck at this game!). When he finally took me home around 4 AM, we had covered, once again, all possible avenues of conversation--religion again, morbid art, sexual and marital histories (really, kids, this is only date #2!), vomiting, wow.
It's like we're on a train, and I'm not sure where we're going, but we're definitely traveling at a high rate of speed. And probably not on a motorcycle.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Pick up a Penguin
Really, every girl should pick herself up a penguin.
My penguin comes, of course, from my speed dating experience a couple weeks ago. The penguin was my first post-speed-dating date (about 20 minutes after speed dating finished, actually), and while I can't say he has the sheer effect on me that Superman has (and just ask Danny DeVito how fair that is), I can say that we always have a good time. He is the party.
A well-planned date it was, too. We started at Ching Ching Cha in Georgetown, a lovely little tea house. After snacking on chicken dumplings and tea, we made our way to DC Improv, an activity I have literally wanted to do since I moved to DC in 2000.
It was definitely worth the wait. The comic tonight was a hypnotist, and after making several lazy sperm jokes (apparently, conception was a problem for his family), he moved on to the main event, hypnotizing about ten people on the stage. It was hysterical! He gave one poor woman MPD, where she had two hands that disagreed with each other and each had their own opinions about what he was saying. One woman looked truly pained as she discussed the aliens that came and destroyed her trailer park and made her pregnant, while the man in front of her jumped onto his chair and formed letters with his body. The highlight of the evening came when one woman was compelled to tell a joke and demanded that the comic snap in her ear so that she could tell the proper punchline (the first compulsion was to forget the punchline).
It was a great time--the penguin and I get along well and have a fair amount in common (I still think he lives with his parents). Our date was a respectable four hours long, and while I can't say I floated home, I still had an excellent time.
My penguin comes, of course, from my speed dating experience a couple weeks ago. The penguin was my first post-speed-dating date (about 20 minutes after speed dating finished, actually), and while I can't say he has the sheer effect on me that Superman has (and just ask Danny DeVito how fair that is), I can say that we always have a good time. He is the party.
A well-planned date it was, too. We started at Ching Ching Cha in Georgetown, a lovely little tea house. After snacking on chicken dumplings and tea, we made our way to DC Improv, an activity I have literally wanted to do since I moved to DC in 2000.
It was definitely worth the wait. The comic tonight was a hypnotist, and after making several lazy sperm jokes (apparently, conception was a problem for his family), he moved on to the main event, hypnotizing about ten people on the stage. It was hysterical! He gave one poor woman MPD, where she had two hands that disagreed with each other and each had their own opinions about what he was saying. One woman looked truly pained as she discussed the aliens that came and destroyed her trailer park and made her pregnant, while the man in front of her jumped onto his chair and formed letters with his body. The highlight of the evening came when one woman was compelled to tell a joke and demanded that the comic snap in her ear so that she could tell the proper punchline (the first compulsion was to forget the punchline).
It was a great time--the penguin and I get along well and have a fair amount in common (I still think he lives with his parents). Our date was a respectable four hours long, and while I can't say I floated home, I still had an excellent time.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Dating Dream
Okay, I may have just been on the best first date EVER. Yes, it stems from my mini-speed dating experience, but WHATEVER.
So, Superman and I completely hit it off at the speed dating, and rather than waiting for Professionals in the City to weigh in on whether we were a match, we just exchanged emails. After a couple of emails, he makes the comment that it feels like we're passing notes in class. My response: "When I passed notes in class, I folded them into little t-shirts." The next day, I get an invitation titled "psst--pass this to Julie." He had created a picture (Superman is a graphic designer) of a notebook paper t-shirt that said "I think you're cute. Do you wanna go to dinner with me?" with a checkbox indicating yes or no. WHO could resist such an invitation? Obviously, I said yes.
Thursday was the big night, with a dinner at Mei Wah planned (after telling me he was gastronomically adventurous, he suggested Chinese). We met at 7:00. At around 10:00, after enduring literally hours of waiter glares, we decided that perhaps we should move to greener pastures--Kramerbooks for dessert. Again, chatted for hours. About everything. Corn flavored condoms (a given with me), thinking in colors, living in the city vs living in the suburbs, birds chirping in the morning, pulling all nighters in college, Pixar movies, you name it.
Finally, at 1:00 AM, we could no longer ignore the people sweeping the floors, balancing the tills, turning off all the lights in the store. Or our ever-increasing need to sleep. So, we finally left for the metro, which was--HAHA--closed. This poor boy had to charter a taxi to Alexandria--no fun task. We flag down a taxi, and he asks for a good night kiss. Given that I just spent the last several hours actively restraining myself from grabbing his face over the dessert table and planting a big, wet one on him, I was only too happy to oblige.
And there went the taxi.
But, it's Dupont, so we were able to find another without too much fuss (although obviously with some more kissing in between), and I made my way home. I could have floated, but given the hour and the temperature, I opted for the taxi, instead.
There was no point. I don't think I got to sleep that night until 3:00, anyway.
So, Superman and I completely hit it off at the speed dating, and rather than waiting for Professionals in the City to weigh in on whether we were a match, we just exchanged emails. After a couple of emails, he makes the comment that it feels like we're passing notes in class. My response: "When I passed notes in class, I folded them into little t-shirts." The next day, I get an invitation titled "psst--pass this to Julie." He had created a picture (Superman is a graphic designer) of a notebook paper t-shirt that said "I think you're cute. Do you wanna go to dinner with me?" with a checkbox indicating yes or no. WHO could resist such an invitation? Obviously, I said yes.
Thursday was the big night, with a dinner at Mei Wah planned (after telling me he was gastronomically adventurous, he suggested Chinese). We met at 7:00. At around 10:00, after enduring literally hours of waiter glares, we decided that perhaps we should move to greener pastures--Kramerbooks for dessert. Again, chatted for hours. About everything. Corn flavored condoms (a given with me), thinking in colors, living in the city vs living in the suburbs, birds chirping in the morning, pulling all nighters in college, Pixar movies, you name it.
Finally, at 1:00 AM, we could no longer ignore the people sweeping the floors, balancing the tills, turning off all the lights in the store. Or our ever-increasing need to sleep. So, we finally left for the metro, which was--HAHA--closed. This poor boy had to charter a taxi to Alexandria--no fun task. We flag down a taxi, and he asks for a good night kiss. Given that I just spent the last several hours actively restraining myself from grabbing his face over the dessert table and planting a big, wet one on him, I was only too happy to oblige.
And there went the taxi.
But, it's Dupont, so we were able to find another without too much fuss (although obviously with some more kissing in between), and I made my way home. I could have floated, but given the hour and the temperature, I opted for the taxi, instead.
There was no point. I don't think I got to sleep that night until 3:00, anyway.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Because I Can (and My Friends Can't)
Things married people generally can't do:
1) Move abroad in 5 weeks
2) Be apathetic about unemployment
3) Speed date
In my quest to fully enjoy being single, I have finally accomplished number 3. An events service in DC has a speed dating event something like every Tuesday, and I finally decided that that would be a fantastic way to jump start my dating life.
And a jump start it was! Speed dating is just like it is in the movies (although, sadly, Will Smith did not make an appearance)--women on the outside of the circle, men on the inside, men rotate. Make the men work for it, that's what I always say. You talk for 4 minutes--which truly is enough time for a basic screening--and then the men move on. You write down each name on a sheet and put an "x" next to "interested" or "uninterested," so that mutually interested people can contact each other.
You get kind of a typical assortment of people--some fairly cool people, some young people, some old people, some scary people. Well, I don't know if the women ran the full gamut, but the men certainly did. There were, I think, 7 men (and 7 women). I've been contacted by 5, I think, so far. Not bad odds.
Actually, not only have I been contacted several times, but I've actually already had my first date! As I left the event, I left with a guy that I particularly hit it off with, and he confided that he had marked "interested" for me. I was delighted, as he was the one guy in the joint that I actually was hoping would mark "interested" for me, and we walked together for a few blocks before we parted ways.
I crossed the street and found yet another guy I had met at the evening, and he and I started chatting. After a couple of minutes, he mentioned that he was hungry and invited me to dinner (we were standing right outside a restaurant). I accepted, and we had a great time chatting over Ethiopian food. It turns out that he has an MPH (and he knows what epidemiology means, which leads me to believe that he's telling me the truth), he's interested in travel, and he doesn't like spicy food. A great match! I won't mention that I think he's 24 and lives with his parents. After all, these are just hypotheses of mine.
So, that was my evening. The only downside (and it's hardly a downside) is that I didn't get home early enough to put my hair in curlers for Halloween. Whatever; I didn't win the costume contest, anyway. Much more profitable to go on my date!
1) Move abroad in 5 weeks
2) Be apathetic about unemployment
3) Speed date
In my quest to fully enjoy being single, I have finally accomplished number 3. An events service in DC has a speed dating event something like every Tuesday, and I finally decided that that would be a fantastic way to jump start my dating life.
And a jump start it was! Speed dating is just like it is in the movies (although, sadly, Will Smith did not make an appearance)--women on the outside of the circle, men on the inside, men rotate. Make the men work for it, that's what I always say. You talk for 4 minutes--which truly is enough time for a basic screening--and then the men move on. You write down each name on a sheet and put an "x" next to "interested" or "uninterested," so that mutually interested people can contact each other.
You get kind of a typical assortment of people--some fairly cool people, some young people, some old people, some scary people. Well, I don't know if the women ran the full gamut, but the men certainly did. There were, I think, 7 men (and 7 women). I've been contacted by 5, I think, so far. Not bad odds.
Actually, not only have I been contacted several times, but I've actually already had my first date! As I left the event, I left with a guy that I particularly hit it off with, and he confided that he had marked "interested" for me. I was delighted, as he was the one guy in the joint that I actually was hoping would mark "interested" for me, and we walked together for a few blocks before we parted ways.
I crossed the street and found yet another guy I had met at the evening, and he and I started chatting. After a couple of minutes, he mentioned that he was hungry and invited me to dinner (we were standing right outside a restaurant). I accepted, and we had a great time chatting over Ethiopian food. It turns out that he has an MPH (and he knows what epidemiology means, which leads me to believe that he's telling me the truth), he's interested in travel, and he doesn't like spicy food. A great match! I won't mention that I think he's 24 and lives with his parents. After all, these are just hypotheses of mine.
So, that was my evening. The only downside (and it's hardly a downside) is that I didn't get home early enough to put my hair in curlers for Halloween. Whatever; I didn't win the costume contest, anyway. Much more profitable to go on my date!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Back on the wagon
I've done it--I've officially signed up (and paid for!) the Halloween 4-minute dating experience courtesy of Professionals in the City. Hopefully, more food and fun to come... Now, I just have to figure out what to wear! :)
Monday, October 1, 2007
Sneaky!
I've decided that Mormon #1 is very sneaky.
We were in choir practice (there's something really wrong with this), and I was sitting next to Mormon #1--he sings bass, I was singing soprano. Another bass comes in and sits in the 3rd row, and I inform this new guy that the choir director is likely to want him to sit in the second row (between Mormon #1 and me). He declines because "he doesn't want to interrupt anything," at which point Mormon #1 says, "We wouldn't do anything here, in public," to which I add, "Certainly not in the chapel." Mormon #1 and I cackle in the back, while the choir director is trying to maintain order (just for a bit more weirdness, Mormon #1 is actually dating the choir director, albeit inexclusively).
So, Mormon #1 gives me a ride home after choir practice--a mercy, given that it was fast Sunday, and I hadn't eaten anything yet. As we're driving into the city, he tells me that he had this image from choir practice that he was having trouble getting out of his head--that of scoring a little "necmo" with me. For those of you who don't know, "necmo" is NCMO, and it stands for "non-committal make-out," and I haven't heard this term since college. I can't believe someone used that term around me. Anyway.
Just to clarify, while I did invite him to stay for my dinner/break-fasting meal, and we hung out for a couple of hours, THERE WAS NO NECMO. I just want to make that clear. He did, however, as he was leaving, say that he intended to score some with me at some point.
So, here's my take: if we're going out on little tete-a-tetes to see the Mets (hee hee--that rhymes) and we're also making out, how does that constitute not dating? I say that's looking for a loophole.
On the other hand, the Big B has been remarkably reclusive lately. I think I may need a new make-out buddy. What to do, what to do?
We were in choir practice (there's something really wrong with this), and I was sitting next to Mormon #1--he sings bass, I was singing soprano. Another bass comes in and sits in the 3rd row, and I inform this new guy that the choir director is likely to want him to sit in the second row (between Mormon #1 and me). He declines because "he doesn't want to interrupt anything," at which point Mormon #1 says, "We wouldn't do anything here, in public," to which I add, "Certainly not in the chapel." Mormon #1 and I cackle in the back, while the choir director is trying to maintain order (just for a bit more weirdness, Mormon #1 is actually dating the choir director, albeit inexclusively).
So, Mormon #1 gives me a ride home after choir practice--a mercy, given that it was fast Sunday, and I hadn't eaten anything yet. As we're driving into the city, he tells me that he had this image from choir practice that he was having trouble getting out of his head--that of scoring a little "necmo" with me. For those of you who don't know, "necmo" is NCMO, and it stands for "non-committal make-out," and I haven't heard this term since college. I can't believe someone used that term around me. Anyway.
Just to clarify, while I did invite him to stay for my dinner/break-fasting meal, and we hung out for a couple of hours, THERE WAS NO NECMO. I just want to make that clear. He did, however, as he was leaving, say that he intended to score some with me at some point.
So, here's my take: if we're going out on little tete-a-tetes to see the Mets (hee hee--that rhymes) and we're also making out, how does that constitute not dating? I say that's looking for a loophole.
On the other hand, the Big B has been remarkably reclusive lately. I think I may need a new make-out buddy. What to do, what to do?
Friday, August 31, 2007
A date?
So, I'm not sure, but I think I may have just been on a date.
Now, I've kind of been on hiatus--I went home for my brother's wedding, caught my sister-in-laws bouquet, and decided that I'd better back off and not tempt fate, lest I see the bouquet's promise brought to fruition.
Scary thought.
So, I put myself "on the shelf," as my friend Gina likes to call it. Of course I visit the Big B, but that hardly counts. Stopped calling the Nigerian, broke it off with Mormon #1, and Mormon #2 has taken to avoiding me in church, so that was easy.
Mormon #1 and I are still pretty good friends--he took me out for my birthday, even while I was on the shelf, and we chat every week in church. So, when he emailed me today and asked what I was up to, I was more than happy to go with him to a baseball game (this is our regular date, apparently).
So, we went to the Nationals/Giants game (Nationals lost--why do I always end up cheering for the losing team?) and had an awesome time. I'm finding that now that I'm no longer dating him, I'm so much more comfortable with Mormon #1! But then he said something about us being on a date. And while I get that we're not "dating," so I didn't need to panic, it did throw me into some sort of weird ambiguity.
I decided to ignore it. I deal with many of life's inconsistencies that way. It works very well for me.
But, we still had a great time--date or not--and I love hanging out with him. I didn't even feel the need to call the Big B afterwards, even though he was clearly home. Go me. My life, my shelf.
Now, I've kind of been on hiatus--I went home for my brother's wedding, caught my sister-in-laws bouquet, and decided that I'd better back off and not tempt fate, lest I see the bouquet's promise brought to fruition.
Scary thought.
So, I put myself "on the shelf," as my friend Gina likes to call it. Of course I visit the Big B, but that hardly counts. Stopped calling the Nigerian, broke it off with Mormon #1, and Mormon #2 has taken to avoiding me in church, so that was easy.
Mormon #1 and I are still pretty good friends--he took me out for my birthday, even while I was on the shelf, and we chat every week in church. So, when he emailed me today and asked what I was up to, I was more than happy to go with him to a baseball game (this is our regular date, apparently).
So, we went to the Nationals/Giants game (Nationals lost--why do I always end up cheering for the losing team?) and had an awesome time. I'm finding that now that I'm no longer dating him, I'm so much more comfortable with Mormon #1! But then he said something about us being on a date. And while I get that we're not "dating," so I didn't need to panic, it did throw me into some sort of weird ambiguity.
I decided to ignore it. I deal with many of life's inconsistencies that way. It works very well for me.
But, we still had a great time--date or not--and I love hanging out with him. I didn't even feel the need to call the Big B afterwards, even though he was clearly home. Go me. My life, my shelf.
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