So, the Deputy Guitarist and I finally went on our first official, pre-planned date.
A lovely night it was, indeed. DG picked me up at my house a little after 7:00 (he wanted to give me time to go home and get freshened up--I mostly took a power-nap), and we drove to U Street, parking in what I imagine was an illegal parking lot. He has a large car--there's no way we were finding street parking. We went to one of his favorite restaurants in the area (and why he doesn't live in U Street is actually completely a mystery to me) called U-topia--although, unbeknownst to me, some of my coworkers were trolling around U Street and knew I had a date at that restaurant and were peaking in the window to see if I was there. I wasn't--they were a little early.
U-topia's an awesome restaurant. Like most restaurants on U Street, it's a converted rowhouse, but it appears that they actually consolidated two rowhouses. There's a lot of art on the wall--apparently, the owner is an artist and originally envisioned U-topia as a place to eat and sell art. There's also usually a jazz band that plays, although they were only setting up by the time we left the restaurant.
After eating, we went down to the monuments, which was really cute because I had been thinking it would be a nice idea, even though it was a little bit cold out, and DG suggested it after dinner. I thought that was sweet. We couldn't figure out where to park near the Jefferson (and there was a cop making sure we didn't improvise), so we went to Roosevelt instead, which is actually my favorite, anyway. I love the waterfalls, and it's particularly nice in the evening on a date. It was pretty cold, though, and there were a shocking number of children there for 11:00 at night, which really interrupted our quiet enjoyment of making out in front of the pretty waterfalls.
So, we went back to my place, where I learned that some boys handle that whole law of chastity thing better than others. It was a little awkward to have this poor boy rocking and shaking on my couch as if he had a really bad stomach flu. In the interest of road safety as boys leave my apartment, I might need to have a little mercy....
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Freaky Friday
Okay, Superman's kind of a freak. I mean, we knew he was bizarre, right? We knew he wasn't precisely normal and that he was lacking in some fairly basic socialization with regards to the opposite sex?
So, he and I still speak sometimes. I am weak; I admit it. I like chatting with him, and so I continue to do so even though there's no really good reason. Nothing substantive, mind you--just snarky one-liners, the likes of which have always passed between us.
So, sometime maybe last week or two weeks ago or something, he sent around a video clip to me and several of his other friends. I gave him a hard time about putting me on a bulk email list and didn't think too much of it. Then, the other day, he sends me another clip--this time just to me. It's a very disturbing video illustrated in stick figures narrating the story of a marital relationship, from the standpoint of a woman. The video is called "I Guess You'll Do," which pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the video.
I honestly found the video kind of appalling. The woman, after acknowledging that she and the man in question come from similar socioeconomic backgrounds and are equally attractive, dates, shags, moves in with, and eventually marries said male romantic lead (such as he is--stick figure and everything). It struck me as a little misogynistic--the engagement lasts for a year and a half so that she can be the center of attention and draw it out as long as possible, and she has no aspirations to travel, educate herself, or think interesting thoughts--she just wants to be skinnier than her bridesmaids in her wedding dress.
And I get that this was a 5 minute short that was drawn out of stick figures, but for some reason, this movie really FREAKED ME OUT. I guess it's the whole anti-commitment combined with fear of mediocrity in my life, and oh yeah, this video was sent to me by a man who I just dated, who coincidentally, also just got a divorce (and yeah, bitter much?). He told me later that he had actually sent it out to several people and just had sent me my own copy to avoid getting flack about a group email, but that didn't mollify me much. At some point, I think it would be really great if he remembered that whatever our relationship is now (and I really don't know what it is), we met at a speed dating event. We dated for a month. He dumped me. It's not appropriate to send me videos about marriage. Or, by the way, to complain about how little action you're getting--also annoying. There are lines. And lines of lines.
So, he and I still speak sometimes. I am weak; I admit it. I like chatting with him, and so I continue to do so even though there's no really good reason. Nothing substantive, mind you--just snarky one-liners, the likes of which have always passed between us.
So, sometime maybe last week or two weeks ago or something, he sent around a video clip to me and several of his other friends. I gave him a hard time about putting me on a bulk email list and didn't think too much of it. Then, the other day, he sends me another clip--this time just to me. It's a very disturbing video illustrated in stick figures narrating the story of a marital relationship, from the standpoint of a woman. The video is called "I Guess You'll Do," which pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the video.
I honestly found the video kind of appalling. The woman, after acknowledging that she and the man in question come from similar socioeconomic backgrounds and are equally attractive, dates, shags, moves in with, and eventually marries said male romantic lead (such as he is--stick figure and everything). It struck me as a little misogynistic--the engagement lasts for a year and a half so that she can be the center of attention and draw it out as long as possible, and she has no aspirations to travel, educate herself, or think interesting thoughts--she just wants to be skinnier than her bridesmaids in her wedding dress.
And I get that this was a 5 minute short that was drawn out of stick figures, but for some reason, this movie really FREAKED ME OUT. I guess it's the whole anti-commitment combined with fear of mediocrity in my life, and oh yeah, this video was sent to me by a man who I just dated, who coincidentally, also just got a divorce (and yeah, bitter much?). He told me later that he had actually sent it out to several people and just had sent me my own copy to avoid getting flack about a group email, but that didn't mollify me much. At some point, I think it would be really great if he remembered that whatever our relationship is now (and I really don't know what it is), we met at a speed dating event. We dated for a month. He dumped me. It's not appropriate to send me videos about marriage. Or, by the way, to complain about how little action you're getting--also annoying. There are lines. And lines of lines.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
March Madness
I don't know that a two-hour make-out session counts as a date, but why not?
So, Deputy Guitarist is from the island of Dominica, in the Caribbean. He went back home last week, so it had been a while since I last saw him (although he very sweetly emailed several times and called me from the airport in Puerto Rico on his way back). Although he came back on Monday, it wasn't looking good for me to see him before Friday--I'm booked all this week, and he had a meeting that directly conflicted with our Tuesday practice. But he called me in the evening, saying that he was going to stop by practice because he wanted to see me, and sure enough, about ten minutes after I arrived, there he was.
He was only able to stay for maybe 45 minutes before he had to dash off to the meeting, which was disappointing. We continued our practice in his absence only to have him rejoin us about 30 minutes later. He had rescheduled his meeting to 5:30 AM the next morning so that he could return.
After band practice, he and I drove to his office so that I could see his digs--and so that we would have a comfortable, heated place to make out. :D Of course, we had lots of conversation, as well--I realized last night that my make-out sessions have to involve conversation to keep me engaged. I really think it's just me. I can't say that my ability to retain information is as strong when my brain is addled by hormones, but my inquisitiveness does not rest just because I'm sucking face. So, we talked about his trip, the island, his business. I don't think I had a lot to add to the conversation, but I love hearing him describe his home--he's so fond of it. Of course, so is everyone else I've ever known who's gone to Dominica.
In other news, I think my relationship with the Penguin may be officially over: I bought a new phone, and I tossed my old phone without actually copying all of my phone numbers. The Penguin's was one that was lost, and since he most recently asked me out, I think that means we might be done. Alas, I was so hoping for date #5!
So, Deputy Guitarist is from the island of Dominica, in the Caribbean. He went back home last week, so it had been a while since I last saw him (although he very sweetly emailed several times and called me from the airport in Puerto Rico on his way back). Although he came back on Monday, it wasn't looking good for me to see him before Friday--I'm booked all this week, and he had a meeting that directly conflicted with our Tuesday practice. But he called me in the evening, saying that he was going to stop by practice because he wanted to see me, and sure enough, about ten minutes after I arrived, there he was.
He was only able to stay for maybe 45 minutes before he had to dash off to the meeting, which was disappointing. We continued our practice in his absence only to have him rejoin us about 30 minutes later. He had rescheduled his meeting to 5:30 AM the next morning so that he could return.
After band practice, he and I drove to his office so that I could see his digs--and so that we would have a comfortable, heated place to make out. :D Of course, we had lots of conversation, as well--I realized last night that my make-out sessions have to involve conversation to keep me engaged. I really think it's just me. I can't say that my ability to retain information is as strong when my brain is addled by hormones, but my inquisitiveness does not rest just because I'm sucking face. So, we talked about his trip, the island, his business. I don't think I had a lot to add to the conversation, but I love hearing him describe his home--he's so fond of it. Of course, so is everyone else I've ever known who's gone to Dominica.
In other news, I think my relationship with the Penguin may be officially over: I bought a new phone, and I tossed my old phone without actually copying all of my phone numbers. The Penguin's was one that was lost, and since he most recently asked me out, I think that means we might be done. Alas, I was so hoping for date #5!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I'm late? For a very important date?
So, after Saturday night's drama, I have to confess I wasn't so much looking forward to band rehearsal. We'd lost our drummer, who I adore, we lost our bass player, who I though was uber-cool, and I just wasn't actually excited about it. But, I knew I'd see the Deputy Guitarist, and that was a small bone thrown in my direction.
Not shockingly to anyone who knows me, I was late. And the band was actually totally rocking the Police when I arrived. Good for us. And Deputy Guitarist was HOT. Well, he is. So, after about an hour and a half of practice, Deputy Guitarist and I said good-night, and he asked me if he wanted to go somewhere to talk. Well, of course I did, but I was also extremely hungry, so we needed to talk at McDonald's.
We chatted for a fairly long while over cheeseburger and fries--what music we thought would be good to play, our weeks, etc. Chit chat, really, but it was pleasant. And I made him eat McDonald's fries, which apparently aren't his thing. After I was finished, we made our way out of the restaurant and into his car so we could continue our chat. And of course by that I mean make out like the make-out bandit I am! But there was talking, too.
Yeah, we chatted/made out for probably 2 hours or thereabouts. I think the Deputy Guitarist was a little taken aback by this behavior--normal people don't kiss for this long. But I do. And we talked some more--I confirmed his age (37), his marital status (divorced--and what is it with me and these divorcees?), what else? I'm the first white girl he's ever kissed (apparently, white girls have a reputation for being very aggressive--we all know that I fulfill that very well). I don't know--it was very chill. I enjoyed it. He's very effusive and poetic in the way that so many men from the Third World I've dated are. Commented on my warm aura and openness. I try not to take it too seriously.
As I get to know him, he reminds me less of Austine and becomes more of his own person. I can almost believe that he's a reserved person (almost). But I still don't entirely trust a ridiculously hot, guitar-playing, reggae-singing non-native English speaker. Too bloody hot and not exactly sure what his expectations are (or what stereotypes have invaded that mind of his). But, he's thus far been the perfect gentleman, and he followed me half of the way home to make sure that I was going the right way (I wasn't). This is a good sign.
Not shockingly to anyone who knows me, I was late. And the band was actually totally rocking the Police when I arrived. Good for us. And Deputy Guitarist was HOT. Well, he is. So, after about an hour and a half of practice, Deputy Guitarist and I said good-night, and he asked me if he wanted to go somewhere to talk. Well, of course I did, but I was also extremely hungry, so we needed to talk at McDonald's.
We chatted for a fairly long while over cheeseburger and fries--what music we thought would be good to play, our weeks, etc. Chit chat, really, but it was pleasant. And I made him eat McDonald's fries, which apparently aren't his thing. After I was finished, we made our way out of the restaurant and into his car so we could continue our chat. And of course by that I mean make out like the make-out bandit I am! But there was talking, too.
Yeah, we chatted/made out for probably 2 hours or thereabouts. I think the Deputy Guitarist was a little taken aback by this behavior--normal people don't kiss for this long. But I do. And we talked some more--I confirmed his age (37), his marital status (divorced--and what is it with me and these divorcees?), what else? I'm the first white girl he's ever kissed (apparently, white girls have a reputation for being very aggressive--we all know that I fulfill that very well). I don't know--it was very chill. I enjoyed it. He's very effusive and poetic in the way that so many men from the Third World I've dated are. Commented on my warm aura and openness. I try not to take it too seriously.
As I get to know him, he reminds me less of Austine and becomes more of his own person. I can almost believe that he's a reserved person (almost). But I still don't entirely trust a ridiculously hot, guitar-playing, reggae-singing non-native English speaker. Too bloody hot and not exactly sure what his expectations are (or what stereotypes have invaded that mind of his). But, he's thus far been the perfect gentleman, and he followed me half of the way home to make sure that I was going the right way (I wasn't). This is a good sign.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Sink and Swim
I'm in a band. It's huge fun--it's probably the coolest thing I'm doing right now. I love it.
Tonight, we performed at a charitable event in the city. And, sadly, to say, we sucked. As in bombed. I'm not really sure what happened--I mean, our last performance was really strong! And suddenly, everything just fell apart. Our songs that we usually nail were crap. The whole thing was off. And sadly, even the songs we did nail were so old that the audience members (mostly my peers) were just not into it. And, oh yeah, there was a far superior band upstairs.
But the upside to all of this--my budding flirtation with on of our guitarists (apparently, I may or may not have learned my lesson about not dating coworkers, but I clearly have not managed to extrapolate from that lesson anything about dating other band members) came to a head tonight.
The Deputy Guitarist in our band is cute (actually looks a little like Austine, but I try not to hold that against him), has an amazing voice, and understands music incredibly well. He's affable, a good dresser, and has a charming Caribbean accent. And he flirts with me like nobody's business.
He asked for my number after last Wednesday's rehearsal, and there was no questioning the intent. And I had my suspicions when he offered me a ride home after our performance. Sure enough, we chatted in the car for probably an hour, hour and a half. When I made to leave, he got out of the car to open my car door and actually locked me into the car as he came over because my hand was too close to the door latch. He let me out of the car and gave me a big hug, which not shockingly turned into a kiss, which even less shockingly turned into fifteen minutes.
I have no decided that anything less than an hour is a goodnight kiss.
We undoubtedly could have kissed longer except that it's about 25 degrees or something in DC, and I was in my super-short sparkly dress procured for Superman's office party. Such a good purchase that was!
Under an hour.
Tonight, we performed at a charitable event in the city. And, sadly, to say, we sucked. As in bombed. I'm not really sure what happened--I mean, our last performance was really strong! And suddenly, everything just fell apart. Our songs that we usually nail were crap. The whole thing was off. And sadly, even the songs we did nail were so old that the audience members (mostly my peers) were just not into it. And, oh yeah, there was a far superior band upstairs.
But the upside to all of this--my budding flirtation with on of our guitarists (apparently, I may or may not have learned my lesson about not dating coworkers, but I clearly have not managed to extrapolate from that lesson anything about dating other band members) came to a head tonight.
The Deputy Guitarist in our band is cute (actually looks a little like Austine, but I try not to hold that against him), has an amazing voice, and understands music incredibly well. He's affable, a good dresser, and has a charming Caribbean accent. And he flirts with me like nobody's business.
He asked for my number after last Wednesday's rehearsal, and there was no questioning the intent. And I had my suspicions when he offered me a ride home after our performance. Sure enough, we chatted in the car for probably an hour, hour and a half. When I made to leave, he got out of the car to open my car door and actually locked me into the car as he came over because my hand was too close to the door latch. He let me out of the car and gave me a big hug, which not shockingly turned into a kiss, which even less shockingly turned into fifteen minutes.
I have no decided that anything less than an hour is a goodnight kiss.
We undoubtedly could have kissed longer except that it's about 25 degrees or something in DC, and I was in my super-short sparkly dress procured for Superman's office party. Such a good purchase that was!
Under an hour.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Best Laid Plans...
As previously noted, it's been kind of a slow year so far. So, determined after my trip to Zambia to get things going, I texted the Penguin and arranged for an outing. He was a little slow to respond--apparently, there are limits to how much you can neglect a guy before he loses interest (I can't say I wasn't warned, seeing as how that was one of the first things the Penguin told me on our second date).
But, after a modicum of effort, I was able to worm my way back into the Penguin's good graces, and he agreed to a Saturday date to the Spy Museum. Squinched between brunch with a friend and a Saturday night performance with my band, I didn't actually have a huge amount of time for the date. So, I experienced a little chagrin when we got to the Spy Museum and there was a block-long line to get in. We opted to forego the espionage for another outing (the Penguin has been to the Spy Museum, so he didn't mind, but I was pretty disappointed). Lucky Strike proved to be a misnomer, as we found out that there was a two hour wait to get a lane. So, thus disenfranchised, we wandered around Chinatown looking for something to do.
Our walk was limited, by the way, by the Penguin's shoes, which were apparently not made for walking. HA!!! Since when are the BOY's shoes the limiting factor!?!!? The Penguin expressed disappointment, by the way, that his boots did not have spurs, which I thought was funny because he didn't actually know what spurs are for ("fashion?" he said).
So, instead, we found a fortune teller and had our tarot read. The Penguin went first, and I played with the puppy in the hall (aptly named Sugar). Then it was my turn. The woman did a tarot reading with which I'm unfamiliar (I'm not actually up on all the ways to read tarot card--it's not so much my thing, generally). She told me that my childhood was pleasant and that my family is supportive of what I do--true. She said that I've already found my true love, and that he's surrounded by evil. Okay, Mattie's definitely the love of my life, and he's definitely surrounded by evil. She then said that she thought that the "gentleman outside" was the love of my life because he's my "twin flame soul mate," which I thought was HYSTERICAL. I mean, honestly--we're on date #4!!!! The love of my life??? Yes, that is what I would tell him if I wanted to get rid of him quickly.
In any case, she went on with her prediction--I will get married in the next two years and have children (by the way, I remember when I had my runes read once, and the guy said that I would receive a proposal for marriage in the next 6 months or something, and it was true except that the fortune teller neglected to tell me that I wouldn't like the guy making the offer), and that my job involves travel--well, she got that right, at least! She also, by the way, offered a more in-depth service to figure out what the evil is that's plaguing the Penguin. He thought that a 3 hour trance, which was the service she offered, would obviously make the evil go away because I would get bored and leave.
Afterwards, we went to the National Portrait Gallery and made out in the stairwell for an hour. Because I've graduated from high school. And I've found my twin-flame soul mate.
But, after a modicum of effort, I was able to worm my way back into the Penguin's good graces, and he agreed to a Saturday date to the Spy Museum. Squinched between brunch with a friend and a Saturday night performance with my band, I didn't actually have a huge amount of time for the date. So, I experienced a little chagrin when we got to the Spy Museum and there was a block-long line to get in. We opted to forego the espionage for another outing (the Penguin has been to the Spy Museum, so he didn't mind, but I was pretty disappointed). Lucky Strike proved to be a misnomer, as we found out that there was a two hour wait to get a lane. So, thus disenfranchised, we wandered around Chinatown looking for something to do.
Our walk was limited, by the way, by the Penguin's shoes, which were apparently not made for walking. HA!!! Since when are the BOY's shoes the limiting factor!?!!? The Penguin expressed disappointment, by the way, that his boots did not have spurs, which I thought was funny because he didn't actually know what spurs are for ("fashion?" he said).
So, instead, we found a fortune teller and had our tarot read. The Penguin went first, and I played with the puppy in the hall (aptly named Sugar). Then it was my turn. The woman did a tarot reading with which I'm unfamiliar (I'm not actually up on all the ways to read tarot card--it's not so much my thing, generally). She told me that my childhood was pleasant and that my family is supportive of what I do--true. She said that I've already found my true love, and that he's surrounded by evil. Okay, Mattie's definitely the love of my life, and he's definitely surrounded by evil. She then said that she thought that the "gentleman outside" was the love of my life because he's my "twin flame soul mate," which I thought was HYSTERICAL. I mean, honestly--we're on date #4!!!! The love of my life??? Yes, that is what I would tell him if I wanted to get rid of him quickly.
In any case, she went on with her prediction--I will get married in the next two years and have children (by the way, I remember when I had my runes read once, and the guy said that I would receive a proposal for marriage in the next 6 months or something, and it was true except that the fortune teller neglected to tell me that I wouldn't like the guy making the offer), and that my job involves travel--well, she got that right, at least! She also, by the way, offered a more in-depth service to figure out what the evil is that's plaguing the Penguin. He thought that a 3 hour trance, which was the service she offered, would obviously make the evil go away because I would get bored and leave.
Afterwards, we went to the National Portrait Gallery and made out in the stairwell for an hour. Because I've graduated from high school. And I've found my twin-flame soul mate.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Like Molasses in Winter
Okay, so it has not escaped my attention that we're close to V-Day (or, as Mormon #1 likes to call it, Singles Awareness Day) and I actually have not gone on a date this year. It's been a slow year so far--so much for my horoscope. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to have a good year.
Noting my particular lack of engaging activities with the opposite sex, I went to a breast cancer fund raiser last night, fully prepared to buy a date at the auction. Yes, I know that I'm cute enough that I shouldn't have to buy my date, but really--I've never won a date at an auction. I thought it would be fun.
Except that it's EXPENSIVE!!! I thought I'd be willing to put out about $50, maybe a little bit more. The cheapest guy went for, I think, $65. The most expensive was $150! Can you imagine that!?! I guess this is what it means to be in DC with such a ridiculous ratio. In other news, I put together small group dinners for church, where every party had 2 guys and 4 women. Except for the 1 party that had no women. Wow. Kind of a rough town, I guess.
I will be going out with the Penguin on Saturday. This will be date #4 (it's only taken 3 months to get there); we'll see how it goes!
Noting my particular lack of engaging activities with the opposite sex, I went to a breast cancer fund raiser last night, fully prepared to buy a date at the auction. Yes, I know that I'm cute enough that I shouldn't have to buy my date, but really--I've never won a date at an auction. I thought it would be fun.
Except that it's EXPENSIVE!!! I thought I'd be willing to put out about $50, maybe a little bit more. The cheapest guy went for, I think, $65. The most expensive was $150! Can you imagine that!?! I guess this is what it means to be in DC with such a ridiculous ratio. In other news, I put together small group dinners for church, where every party had 2 guys and 4 women. Except for the 1 party that had no women. Wow. Kind of a rough town, I guess.
I will be going out with the Penguin on Saturday. This will be date #4 (it's only taken 3 months to get there); we'll see how it goes!
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