I think I may have just had the best date ever. I think I need to date more Mormon boys--the effort they put into dating is astounding!
This was a spectacularly well thought-out date. No catching dinner and a movie here; no, reservations were made at a Chinese restaurant, followed by a superb concert. Dinner was lovely (I'm not sure I've ever been on a date that involved a dinner RESERVATION), but the concert was AWESOME. It was the a band from my hometown, accompanied by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. Phenomenal. I stood up, clapped my hands, bopped around, all that jazz. Fantastic.
Otherwise, the date was pleasant. I'll be curious to see whether the boy in question will ask me out again. He and I are extremely different--he's far more conservative than I am and is pretty unafraid of judgement. I'm the queen of liberal, non-judgemental types (except on thoroughly petty issues like sense of rhythm), so there was a certain disconnect. But, we certainly had a nice time, and this boy is wicked-smart. I'm amazed by how much random stuff he just knows--it's pretty awesome.
But he made RESERVATIONS.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Yet More
Okay, dating is now officially exhausting. I had, what, two dates last week? Yup, two. And my lesson there: I need to learn to be more opinionated BEFORE I actually go on the date to ensure a pleasant evening.
Don't get me wrong--both were pleasant. One with the Mormon and another with the Nigerian. But I may have done well to have told the Mormon that I really don't enjoy pool.
Well, it's been a while since I've played, and I have a vague memory of enjoying going out to pool bar once. Granted, that was once, long ago, and with a pretty good sized group of friends, so there was no actual playing on my part--I just danced around the pool table to Rammstein and Metallica. Good times.
This time around I was not so fortunate--we went to a sports bar in I don't even know where except that it wasn't metro-accessible. I think I suffered through three games of pool before I decided that I needed to not fake it anymore. I enjoy watching people play pool, so I sat down and watched for a little while before we left, but I really should know at this point in my life that I don't enjoy playing. I decided that our next date would be a screening of Harry Potter--now THAT'S something I'll enjoy.
The date with the Nigerian was a little better. After my really mortifying faux pas, one could only improve. Well, I was still horribly rude and a half hour late--I had made arrangements to meet someone from church beforehand, expecting that we wouldn't have much to say to each other and it would be quick. I was wrong--we were fast friends and chatted for several hours, including part of the time I was supposed to be on my date.
But, I got to my date, we ate some tasty Thai food and walked the length of DC from U Street to the Mayflower Hotel. I'm a little suspicious that he could go into such a nice bar and order a rum and coke--I'm a little suspicious of men who don't drink beer or bourbon--if they drink alcohol, anyway. I don't know why. But girly drinks notwithstanding, we had another evening of amusing conversation where I learned that when he was little he beat up a girl over a doll. Needless to say, that continues to come up.
I've since been asked out by yet ANOTHER Mormon boy. How can I juggle so many men? Last week, I got a fortune cookie that said "Lovers in triangle not on square." Luckily, I'm not in a lover's triangle--more like a pentagon! So, I guess I'm safe.
Don't get me wrong--both were pleasant. One with the Mormon and another with the Nigerian. But I may have done well to have told the Mormon that I really don't enjoy pool.
Well, it's been a while since I've played, and I have a vague memory of enjoying going out to pool bar once. Granted, that was once, long ago, and with a pretty good sized group of friends, so there was no actual playing on my part--I just danced around the pool table to Rammstein and Metallica. Good times.
This time around I was not so fortunate--we went to a sports bar in I don't even know where except that it wasn't metro-accessible. I think I suffered through three games of pool before I decided that I needed to not fake it anymore. I enjoy watching people play pool, so I sat down and watched for a little while before we left, but I really should know at this point in my life that I don't enjoy playing. I decided that our next date would be a screening of Harry Potter--now THAT'S something I'll enjoy.
The date with the Nigerian was a little better. After my really mortifying faux pas, one could only improve. Well, I was still horribly rude and a half hour late--I had made arrangements to meet someone from church beforehand, expecting that we wouldn't have much to say to each other and it would be quick. I was wrong--we were fast friends and chatted for several hours, including part of the time I was supposed to be on my date.
But, I got to my date, we ate some tasty Thai food and walked the length of DC from U Street to the Mayflower Hotel. I'm a little suspicious that he could go into such a nice bar and order a rum and coke--I'm a little suspicious of men who don't drink beer or bourbon--if they drink alcohol, anyway. I don't know why. But girly drinks notwithstanding, we had another evening of amusing conversation where I learned that when he was little he beat up a girl over a doll. Needless to say, that continues to come up.
I've since been asked out by yet ANOTHER Mormon boy. How can I juggle so many men? Last week, I got a fortune cookie that said "Lovers in triangle not on square." Luckily, I'm not in a lover's triangle--more like a pentagon! So, I guess I'm safe.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Good Lord, Another?
Yes, I had another date. I feel like I've been a datin' fool, but whatever. It's been good.
This was probably my most successful date to date (ha ha), despite my egregious lack of manners. After staying out late on Friday night, I decided to take a nap on Saturday so I wouldn't be Miss Narcolepsy on my date (always awkward). It was a good idea to take a nap. It would have been a better idea to set my alarm. I woke up at 6:00 (the time I was supposed to meet my date on U Street, a half hour away). I texted him and did my best to wake up and run a brush through my hair and walked as quickly as I could to our appointed meeting place.
We started at Starbucks--hardly original, but I knew where it was without looking--and passed a couple of hours without blinking an eye. We had a great time chatting--he has a great sense of humor and is great fun to talk to. He was very patient with my lack of timeliness (an important quality in anyone looking for date #2). After coffee, we went for Italian food, which was where my second egregious faux pas occurred.
I don't know a huge number of restaurants in U Street, so I suggested Coppi's, which is where my girlfriends and I go for a Nutella calzone (amazing, btw). So, we arrived, and to my dismay, I realized that the restaurant is a much higher price point than I anticipated (it's been a while since I've eaten there). I felt horrible--this poor guy is a teacher, after all--so, I ordered a salad instead of a meal. The only problem (aside from the obvious threat of being that girl who doesn't eat dinner) is that the salads are appetizers--meant to make you hungry, not fill you up. And they do that with aplomb. But I really didn't want to make a fuss, so I just got dessert (which, to be fair, is pretty filling).
Afterwards, we went to this fun little saloon that has about 4 pages of beer on its menu, where I found out that this poor boy doesn't like beer. And yet, he seems to want to go out again--he even asked me to call him when I got home to assure him that I got home safe.
So, yes, very patient with my faux pas in general (and what is faux pas in plural?)--an excellent date. There will definitely be a #2.
This was probably my most successful date to date (ha ha), despite my egregious lack of manners. After staying out late on Friday night, I decided to take a nap on Saturday so I wouldn't be Miss Narcolepsy on my date (always awkward). It was a good idea to take a nap. It would have been a better idea to set my alarm. I woke up at 6:00 (the time I was supposed to meet my date on U Street, a half hour away). I texted him and did my best to wake up and run a brush through my hair and walked as quickly as I could to our appointed meeting place.
We started at Starbucks--hardly original, but I knew where it was without looking--and passed a couple of hours without blinking an eye. We had a great time chatting--he has a great sense of humor and is great fun to talk to. He was very patient with my lack of timeliness (an important quality in anyone looking for date #2). After coffee, we went for Italian food, which was where my second egregious faux pas occurred.
I don't know a huge number of restaurants in U Street, so I suggested Coppi's, which is where my girlfriends and I go for a Nutella calzone (amazing, btw). So, we arrived, and to my dismay, I realized that the restaurant is a much higher price point than I anticipated (it's been a while since I've eaten there). I felt horrible--this poor guy is a teacher, after all--so, I ordered a salad instead of a meal. The only problem (aside from the obvious threat of being that girl who doesn't eat dinner) is that the salads are appetizers--meant to make you hungry, not fill you up. And they do that with aplomb. But I really didn't want to make a fuss, so I just got dessert (which, to be fair, is pretty filling).
Afterwards, we went to this fun little saloon that has about 4 pages of beer on its menu, where I found out that this poor boy doesn't like beer. And yet, he seems to want to go out again--he even asked me to call him when I got home to assure him that I got home safe.
So, yes, very patient with my faux pas in general (and what is faux pas in plural?)--an excellent date. There will definitely be a #2.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Freedom Fries
Again with the Frenchie...
He was still in town this week, so we decided to go out for a second date in a week. Whew! There's something about going out two Wednesdays in a row that feels vaguely significant... Or at least like it aspires to be.
I opted for Madam's Organ, a neighborhood institution. Wednesday is bluegrass night, to which I'd never been. Madam's Organ, btw, completely deserves its place in the Adam's Morgan Hall of Fame--the atmosphere is fantastic, and the food really cheap. And I liked the bluegrass.
So, on this really horribly rainy night, we settled down at a table in the back of the bar, ordered food, and prepared to be entertained--if not by each other, at least by the band. That's not true--Frenchie and I always have a great time, and tonight was no exception.
The only really embarassing moment was at a point when we were kissing (and I really have gotten shy about kissing in public, but since I haven't brought him back to my apartment, I suppose it's kind of a necessary evil), and I was pulling away because there were people coming down the stairs right by our table. That, in my mind, is an audience. Not nearly as much, though, as when we finally actually pulled apart, and there were three guys sitting with us, despite the presence of other, empty tables. One looks at us and says, "Are we disturbing you?" And I'm surreptitiously wiping my mouth as we says, perhaps too vehemently, "Not at all!" And then, as if he just noticed that we might be on a date, he says, "Oh my gosh, we are, aren't we! We'll move over to another table!" And he and one of his friends moves, but the last friend is going to stay right there, thank you very much, and he starts chatting with us for the rest of the evening.
He was still in town this week, so we decided to go out for a second date in a week. Whew! There's something about going out two Wednesdays in a row that feels vaguely significant... Or at least like it aspires to be.
I opted for Madam's Organ, a neighborhood institution. Wednesday is bluegrass night, to which I'd never been. Madam's Organ, btw, completely deserves its place in the Adam's Morgan Hall of Fame--the atmosphere is fantastic, and the food really cheap. And I liked the bluegrass.
So, on this really horribly rainy night, we settled down at a table in the back of the bar, ordered food, and prepared to be entertained--if not by each other, at least by the band. That's not true--Frenchie and I always have a great time, and tonight was no exception.
The only really embarassing moment was at a point when we were kissing (and I really have gotten shy about kissing in public, but since I haven't brought him back to my apartment, I suppose it's kind of a necessary evil), and I was pulling away because there were people coming down the stairs right by our table. That, in my mind, is an audience. Not nearly as much, though, as when we finally actually pulled apart, and there were three guys sitting with us, despite the presence of other, empty tables. One looks at us and says, "Are we disturbing you?" And I'm surreptitiously wiping my mouth as we says, perhaps too vehemently, "Not at all!" And then, as if he just noticed that we might be on a date, he says, "Oh my gosh, we are, aren't we! We'll move over to another table!" And he and one of his friends moves, but the last friend is going to stay right there, thank you very much, and he starts chatting with us for the rest of the evening.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Forget Paris
So, tonight I had a date with the Frenchie. And as an aside, I just want to say how wonderful it was at my boss's birthday lunch when she says, "So, how's your job search going?" And I said, "I have an interview tomorrow afternoon." And she says, "How's your dating life?" And I say, "I have a date tonight." I love that.
And how much when people ask who I'm going out with, and I say, "Oh, he's this guy who lives in Paris, but I met him in Malawi. His company sends him to Washington for work periodically, and when they do, we go out on a date." Nothing like a man who will travel across an ocean to see you (okay, so technically he's working--but whatever).
So, I've technically known this guy for, like, two or three years now. Of course, I met him once and talked to him for a few hours, and the we kept in contact for a few years, and then he came to Washington last February and we met, and then he came again last Sunday, and we had a date again. Whatever; I've known him for a few years.
We met outside Tryst, Adams Morgan's coffeehouse, and then we ate at Meze. Excellent food, but unfortunately, I had waited so long to eat that I felt a little sick when I started eating. How annoying. So, we ate, and then because I wasn't up for trekking around, per my usual, I led him to a cute little park in the Kalorama triangle, where dogs often congregate. It was very pleasant, if a bit cold, but of course, he wouldn't let me stay cold for long. He lent me his coat, and oh yeah, we probably made out for a total of 40 minutes or so. It was a little ackward because I've somehow become very shy and I try not to force people to watch me (whatever happened to the tease that didn't care?)--so, I kept stopping whenever I heard dog collars jingling. And we'd admire the dog for a moment and then start making out again. It was kind of comical.
So, are the French really as good as they think they are? In some cases yes--I recall a Frenchman I made out with in Lilongwe who was seriously probably the second best kisser I've ever kissed (and that actually is saying something). In this case, I don't know that I can agree. If I can taste the effort, it's not auspicious; and Frenchie, um, doesn't get dry mouth, apparently. But, I have to applaud his deep kissing skill--he penetrates well, and he definitely has variety going for him--lots of different plays with a very small surface area.
Overall, though, it was a good night. I actually love going out with the Frenchie because we really have great conversation. And the kissing, while not the best I've ever experienced, is certainly a good change from London and pretty enjoyable in its own right.
And how much when people ask who I'm going out with, and I say, "Oh, he's this guy who lives in Paris, but I met him in Malawi. His company sends him to Washington for work periodically, and when they do, we go out on a date." Nothing like a man who will travel across an ocean to see you (okay, so technically he's working--but whatever).
So, I've technically known this guy for, like, two or three years now. Of course, I met him once and talked to him for a few hours, and the we kept in contact for a few years, and then he came to Washington last February and we met, and then he came again last Sunday, and we had a date again. Whatever; I've known him for a few years.
We met outside Tryst, Adams Morgan's coffeehouse, and then we ate at Meze. Excellent food, but unfortunately, I had waited so long to eat that I felt a little sick when I started eating. How annoying. So, we ate, and then because I wasn't up for trekking around, per my usual, I led him to a cute little park in the Kalorama triangle, where dogs often congregate. It was very pleasant, if a bit cold, but of course, he wouldn't let me stay cold for long. He lent me his coat, and oh yeah, we probably made out for a total of 40 minutes or so. It was a little ackward because I've somehow become very shy and I try not to force people to watch me (whatever happened to the tease that didn't care?)--so, I kept stopping whenever I heard dog collars jingling. And we'd admire the dog for a moment and then start making out again. It was kind of comical.
So, are the French really as good as they think they are? In some cases yes--I recall a Frenchman I made out with in Lilongwe who was seriously probably the second best kisser I've ever kissed (and that actually is saying something). In this case, I don't know that I can agree. If I can taste the effort, it's not auspicious; and Frenchie, um, doesn't get dry mouth, apparently. But, I have to applaud his deep kissing skill--he penetrates well, and he definitely has variety going for him--lots of different plays with a very small surface area.
Overall, though, it was a good night. I actually love going out with the Frenchie because we really have great conversation. And the kissing, while not the best I've ever experienced, is certainly a good change from London and pretty enjoyable in its own right.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
So, I know a guy fwho really likes baseball. And apparently really likes me. Sweet. We go to baseball games together. So far, that represents 2/3 of our dates. Today was date number 3.
I find that he's growing on me. When we first went out, I was kind of dreading it--I wasn't really interested, but we seemed to have a good time together, so I thought I might as well go. The second time, I had had such a good time on the first date, I felt like I might as well go. This time, I said yes in a moment of weakness, when I thought I might be losing my favorite make-out buddy and felt a need to grasp at any alternative options available.
I had dinner with a friend last night, and she said that she wanted a taste of the baseball fan. She likes tall (he's definitely that), and she loves chivalry--a quality this man has in abundance, which really does nothing for me. She has decided that date number four will be a DC United game to which she will be invited. But I digress.
Perhaps it was the thought of competition from my best friend--a terribly attractive redhead--or just the fact that the baseball fan seems to be backing off from me a bit, but I found myself a little more intrigued this time than previous dates. I actually very nearly kissed him (but that would be awfully forward of me, wouldn't it?). I was a little disappointed when he didn't kiss me. Me!!! Disappointed!!! Tis a strange world, indeed.
The DC United game should be fascinating....
I find that he's growing on me. When we first went out, I was kind of dreading it--I wasn't really interested, but we seemed to have a good time together, so I thought I might as well go. The second time, I had had such a good time on the first date, I felt like I might as well go. This time, I said yes in a moment of weakness, when I thought I might be losing my favorite make-out buddy and felt a need to grasp at any alternative options available.
I had dinner with a friend last night, and she said that she wanted a taste of the baseball fan. She likes tall (he's definitely that), and she loves chivalry--a quality this man has in abundance, which really does nothing for me. She has decided that date number four will be a DC United game to which she will be invited. But I digress.
Perhaps it was the thought of competition from my best friend--a terribly attractive redhead--or just the fact that the baseball fan seems to be backing off from me a bit, but I found myself a little more intrigued this time than previous dates. I actually very nearly kissed him (but that would be awfully forward of me, wouldn't it?). I was a little disappointed when he didn't kiss me. Me!!! Disappointed!!! Tis a strange world, indeed.
The DC United game should be fascinating....
Friday, May 18, 2007
Yahoo #1
So, today was my first date with an online match. Florence (names have been changed to protect, well, me) and I have messaged each other a few times and spoken on the phone I think twice. That sounds about right.
My state of being may not have been the best for a first date... I've had an, um, exciting week--two live concerts, two evenings with less than 4 hours of sleep, and an incredibly boring day at work (stimulating it was not). Florence and I spoke on Sunday and decided that we should meet Friday (today--or, technically, yesterday), but I actually didn't hear from him all week.
Today at 5:30, Florence calls me, and we decide to meet up at a restaurant in the suburbs. We agree on 8:00, which will give me time to go home and change, which I do. Of course, I think I need to leave at 7:30, and at 7:30 when I'm putting on my shoes, I realize there's no way in hell I can get to Ballston from my current locale in 30 minutes. So, I call him to tell him I'll be late.
When I get to the metro (our determined meeting place), I see him for the first time. Perhaps I should have reviewed his profile before meeting him--he was a bit shorter than I expected. Not short--my height--but for some reason I thought he broke 6'. He doesn't.
He was a little, um, younger-looking than I expected. His photo is a very flattering one--clearly him, but very flattering, and he looks rather sculpted in his picture. In person, he looks about 16. And there was something about him that reminded me of Jason, a bagger at the grocery store I worked at in college. There was something watery about his eyes--not conjunctivitis, just something watery and soft. His skin was really soft, too--it was a little disconcerting.
We went to a Lebanese restaurant in Ballston and had a really hard time ordering--we kept chatting instead of concentrating on our menus. He's a very avid listener as well as talker, and it took a really long time for us to decide what to order. The waitress kept coming and asking, apparently having never learned the trick of waiting until your diners have put down the menu. We both got meat plates--he got lamb. His lamb looked incredible and I suffered a bit of food envy as he ate it. We also got the baba ghanoush, which was excellent. They were pretty stingy with the bread, though, and we had far too much baba.
After dinner, we went to Dr Dremo's. The last time I went to Dremo's was 2002 with my boyz. My, how things have changed! But not at Dremo's. It's still dirty and cool and has lots of microbrews that I don't drink. It was fun, although I probably should not mention on a first date how many proposals I get in Africa.
Overall, it was a good date, neither incredibly good nor incredibly bad. A strict 5. Florence was a little timid for my taste--he clearly wanted to pay for my dinner (I should have let him); he wanted to in some way physically mark the end of our date (I didn't let him), and he just seemed very timid. A stronger personality for the international tease, please!
My state of being may not have been the best for a first date... I've had an, um, exciting week--two live concerts, two evenings with less than 4 hours of sleep, and an incredibly boring day at work (stimulating it was not). Florence and I spoke on Sunday and decided that we should meet Friday (today--or, technically, yesterday), but I actually didn't hear from him all week.
Today at 5:30, Florence calls me, and we decide to meet up at a restaurant in the suburbs. We agree on 8:00, which will give me time to go home and change, which I do. Of course, I think I need to leave at 7:30, and at 7:30 when I'm putting on my shoes, I realize there's no way in hell I can get to Ballston from my current locale in 30 minutes. So, I call him to tell him I'll be late.
When I get to the metro (our determined meeting place), I see him for the first time. Perhaps I should have reviewed his profile before meeting him--he was a bit shorter than I expected. Not short--my height--but for some reason I thought he broke 6'. He doesn't.
He was a little, um, younger-looking than I expected. His photo is a very flattering one--clearly him, but very flattering, and he looks rather sculpted in his picture. In person, he looks about 16. And there was something about him that reminded me of Jason, a bagger at the grocery store I worked at in college. There was something watery about his eyes--not conjunctivitis, just something watery and soft. His skin was really soft, too--it was a little disconcerting.
We went to a Lebanese restaurant in Ballston and had a really hard time ordering--we kept chatting instead of concentrating on our menus. He's a very avid listener as well as talker, and it took a really long time for us to decide what to order. The waitress kept coming and asking, apparently having never learned the trick of waiting until your diners have put down the menu. We both got meat plates--he got lamb. His lamb looked incredible and I suffered a bit of food envy as he ate it. We also got the baba ghanoush, which was excellent. They were pretty stingy with the bread, though, and we had far too much baba.
After dinner, we went to Dr Dremo's. The last time I went to Dremo's was 2002 with my boyz. My, how things have changed! But not at Dremo's. It's still dirty and cool and has lots of microbrews that I don't drink. It was fun, although I probably should not mention on a first date how many proposals I get in Africa.
Overall, it was a good date, neither incredibly good nor incredibly bad. A strict 5. Florence was a little timid for my taste--he clearly wanted to pay for my dinner (I should have let him); he wanted to in some way physically mark the end of our date (I didn't let him), and he just seemed very timid. A stronger personality for the international tease, please!
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