Monday, December 10, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The Christmas Season
So, for date #4, I took Superman to see the King's Singers Joy to the World Christmas concert. Superman is, of course, Jewish, and is a visual, not musical artist, but whatever. He said he would enjoy it, so we went.
Well, I can't say anything about his enjoyment (although he did a very good job of appearing rapt), but I LOVED it!!! The King's Singers are a singing group that originated at King's College in Cambridge, but they sort of graduated from the university and never stopped singing. It's a sextet (I think--there are six of them, anyway), and they are AWESOME. They sang all sorts of medieval carols from all over--Russia, Spain, Germany, England. They sang the Coventry Carol (a personal favorite), a beautiful rendition of Stille Nacht, and a jazzy version of Deck the Halls. They did just an amazing job, and I really, really enjoyed listening to them.
The rest of the date ended a little less auspiciously, sadly. We had gone to dinner beforehand, and I had come up with the brilliant idea of splitting our meal. Normally, that's totally fine, but I was really, really hungry, and I actually probably could have eaten a full meal by myself. So, I ended the meal still feeling a weensy bit peckish. Needless to say, by the time the concert ended, I was famished, and even the freshly baked cookies that Superman had brought me couldn't assuage my hunger pains. By the time we actually got out of the parking lot and to a restaurant, I was in full-blown low-blood sugar ickiness. I felt like throwing up, and I was babbling incoherently.
Superman, ever the gentleman (at least so far), was very patient and kind. Because the concert was in Fairfax--or about 30 minutes closer to his house than mine--he took me back to his house and installed me on his couch (when I've gone so long without eating, the only thing that helps is food and a horizontal position), and we started watching a movie. We didn't finish it because we were both falling asleep, so we finally went to bed (he offered to drive me home, but I wasn't feeling good enough for 30 minutes sitting up, and anyway, he was clearly exhausted and I don't want to die). The next morning, he eventually took me home (okay, it was the afternoon by that time), where I left immediately for a friend's party, seeing as how I was two hours late. Oops.
I also, due to my overwhelming nausea, missed my friend's birthday party. People are going to think I'm one of those girls who blows everyone off when she meets a new boy...
Well, I can't say anything about his enjoyment (although he did a very good job of appearing rapt), but I LOVED it!!! The King's Singers are a singing group that originated at King's College in Cambridge, but they sort of graduated from the university and never stopped singing. It's a sextet (I think--there are six of them, anyway), and they are AWESOME. They sang all sorts of medieval carols from all over--Russia, Spain, Germany, England. They sang the Coventry Carol (a personal favorite), a beautiful rendition of Stille Nacht, and a jazzy version of Deck the Halls. They did just an amazing job, and I really, really enjoyed listening to them.
The rest of the date ended a little less auspiciously, sadly. We had gone to dinner beforehand, and I had come up with the brilliant idea of splitting our meal. Normally, that's totally fine, but I was really, really hungry, and I actually probably could have eaten a full meal by myself. So, I ended the meal still feeling a weensy bit peckish. Needless to say, by the time the concert ended, I was famished, and even the freshly baked cookies that Superman had brought me couldn't assuage my hunger pains. By the time we actually got out of the parking lot and to a restaurant, I was in full-blown low-blood sugar ickiness. I felt like throwing up, and I was babbling incoherently.
Superman, ever the gentleman (at least so far), was very patient and kind. Because the concert was in Fairfax--or about 30 minutes closer to his house than mine--he took me back to his house and installed me on his couch (when I've gone so long without eating, the only thing that helps is food and a horizontal position), and we started watching a movie. We didn't finish it because we were both falling asleep, so we finally went to bed (he offered to drive me home, but I wasn't feeling good enough for 30 minutes sitting up, and anyway, he was clearly exhausted and I don't want to die). The next morning, he eventually took me home (okay, it was the afternoon by that time), where I left immediately for a friend's party, seeing as how I was two hours late. Oops.
I also, due to my overwhelming nausea, missed my friend's birthday party. People are going to think I'm one of those girls who blows everyone off when she meets a new boy...
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
And Again
So, yesterday night Superman and I had date #3. His office party. Apparently, no one told him that office parties are serious dates to which you usually bring actual girlfriends, as opposed to cute girls with nice legs.
I was the cute girl with nice legs, by the way; I just want to make that clear. On Friday, I found myself an excellent trapeze dress that, when paired with my fun, red, patent leather shoes, really just showed my legs to their best advantage. Superman may have commented as soon as he saw me. :)
So, we went to his office party, where his coworkers are not only the people he works with but also some of his best friends-he's known one coworker for literally ten years. That was, um, interesting. Actually, his friends were really cool--I enjoyed hanging out with them. His boss danced with me for a while because her husband is apparently unwilling to make that sacrifice (really, people, Superman danced with me!), and another of his bosses attempted to introduce me to everyone twice (apparently, she thought I was charming ;).
Actually, it was a pretty good time--we were on one of those dinner cruise things, and we just chatted a lot, and I tried to pressure Superman into drinking (yes, that would be the Mormon girl). It was so exciting to see someone else be the target of that pressure! It was great.
Afterwards, of course, we came back to my place and had wild making out. I have a hickie. Thankfully, nobody put together that I went on a date on Monday and came into work with a scarf around my neck on Tuesday... Poor Superman had to wear a tie to work. Ha!
I was the cute girl with nice legs, by the way; I just want to make that clear. On Friday, I found myself an excellent trapeze dress that, when paired with my fun, red, patent leather shoes, really just showed my legs to their best advantage. Superman may have commented as soon as he saw me. :)
So, we went to his office party, where his coworkers are not only the people he works with but also some of his best friends-he's known one coworker for literally ten years. That was, um, interesting. Actually, his friends were really cool--I enjoyed hanging out with them. His boss danced with me for a while because her husband is apparently unwilling to make that sacrifice (really, people, Superman danced with me!), and another of his bosses attempted to introduce me to everyone twice (apparently, she thought I was charming ;).
Actually, it was a pretty good time--we were on one of those dinner cruise things, and we just chatted a lot, and I tried to pressure Superman into drinking (yes, that would be the Mormon girl). It was so exciting to see someone else be the target of that pressure! It was great.
Afterwards, of course, we came back to my place and had wild making out. I have a hickie. Thankfully, nobody put together that I went on a date on Monday and came into work with a scarf around my neck on Tuesday... Poor Superman had to wear a tie to work. Ha!
Analyze That
So, I went out with an analyst. Not of the psychological variety, mind you, but of the mathematical.
I have to say, I'm digging the geeks. I met this one at Tryst, a coffeehouse by my house. I sat next to him on a couch because that's what you do at Tryst, and he started chatting with me because, hello, it's DC.
Our evening started Saturday at 7:00 at Tryst because it's a spot we both know. This boy had done actual research about where to go in the city and had chosen Cafe Bonaparte in Georgetown. I have to say, I dig going out in Georgetown, if only because I never do it. The restaurant was small--maybe 10-14 tables or so--and the ambiance was very charming. Dark wood, red curtains, the works--it was all attempting to be out of Amelie, and it did reasonably well.
We had a lovely time. The analyst is more watcher than talker, but he said that he was glad I'm a talker because he isn't always (I'm not sure if that's code for I'm not getting a second date--I'm not the code breaker at the table). We chatted about all sorts of stuff--he's from the Northwest, so we had lots to talk about there. He's incredibly smart, being a math PhD, so that was lots of fun.
We walked around Georgetown, sat at Starbucks until it closed, and then went to Adams Morgan. I'd been looking to try The Potter House coffee shop for a while now, and it looked like the perfect opportunity until we walked in and found out it had actually closed 10 minutes before. They graciously allowed me to use their bathroom, where I discovered a friend that had come to visit, which may have brought our date to a premature close. Ah, well. Perhaps there will be another. This is a boy that follows the rules, so I suppose I won't know until tomorrow.
I have to say, I'm digging the geeks. I met this one at Tryst, a coffeehouse by my house. I sat next to him on a couch because that's what you do at Tryst, and he started chatting with me because, hello, it's DC.
Our evening started Saturday at 7:00 at Tryst because it's a spot we both know. This boy had done actual research about where to go in the city and had chosen Cafe Bonaparte in Georgetown. I have to say, I dig going out in Georgetown, if only because I never do it. The restaurant was small--maybe 10-14 tables or so--and the ambiance was very charming. Dark wood, red curtains, the works--it was all attempting to be out of Amelie, and it did reasonably well.
We had a lovely time. The analyst is more watcher than talker, but he said that he was glad I'm a talker because he isn't always (I'm not sure if that's code for I'm not getting a second date--I'm not the code breaker at the table). We chatted about all sorts of stuff--he's from the Northwest, so we had lots to talk about there. He's incredibly smart, being a math PhD, so that was lots of fun.
We walked around Georgetown, sat at Starbucks until it closed, and then went to Adams Morgan. I'd been looking to try The Potter House coffee shop for a while now, and it looked like the perfect opportunity until we walked in and found out it had actually closed 10 minutes before. They graciously allowed me to use their bathroom, where I discovered a friend that had come to visit, which may have brought our date to a premature close. Ah, well. Perhaps there will be another. This is a boy that follows the rules, so I suppose I won't know until tomorrow.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
God's Plan for Me
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)