Tuesday, June 19, 2007

miss match 5

Well, so last night I had drinks with a guy I'd approached on match whom I thought looked cute and sounded fun. It took us 2 weeks to get in touch with each other (phone tag) and synch schedules, which I barely noticed because I've been pretty busy. In between we weren't really in touch at all, which I figured was fine because I just wanted to check him out in person.

So we drank and talked amiably enough for a couple of hours at the always-nice Harvest Moon. It was light chatter with very little direction and, I noted, very little in the way of personal exploration, or chemistry for that matter. He dodged my questions about him, and asked zero questions about me. He cut it short by saying he had to get up in the morning and lamely shook my hand on the street corner near where I had parked, and dragged out the deathless phrase "I'll call you."

Guys, guys, guys. Let me tell you something.

ONE thing you do NOT have to do is protect a gal's ego - and you WON'T look chivalrous and polite by the way - by pretending that you're going to do something you have no intention of doing. It just confirms that you're a doofus and we're glad you won't be calling.

Monday, June 18, 2007

miss match 4

Bibliofilly has a date, or at least is meeting someone in the actual flesh, tonight.

This is a welcome relief because although I am pursuing other "leads" as well as this lucky bachelor, I have been somewhat underwhelmed by the e-repartee.

I joined a site called Chemistry, which is Match's answer to eHarmony. You take a bunch of vaguely psychological tests, fill out a profile, then wait to be matched according to your test results and who you say you're looking for. So I filled out the necessary forms and waited. And I waited. And finally, I got someone saying they were interested in me. We jumped through the website's hoops, which require you to first fill out a sliding scale of relationship essentials (ranking the importance of things like personal hygiene, level of ambition, sense of humor, etc), then wait for the other person to do the same. Then you review these and move on to the next little task, asking the other person some canned questions and waiting for their questions to you. Then, and only then, are you allowed to email them in your own voice. Today, after all that hoop-jumping, I got an email from my potential beau, and this is ALL it said:

How are you doing? I hope all is well. Have you been a member long? Do anything exciting this weekend?

So, uh...this is romance?

Forgive me for being the least little bit picky. I know that making a move is hard. I just think that an email to a potential sweetheart should sound a little less like a letter to Grandma and a little more like you are willing to explore new horizons and get to know someone new. Bibliofilly wants to be wooed! I have nothing to work with in that email...

Sunday, June 17, 2007

reunited and it feels so good

What, for heaven's sake, can I write in the tiny space on the back of the registration form for my 20th high school reunion that would adequately sum up what I've been doing since 1987?

"Got the hell out of Dodge" doesn't take that much space, I suppose...

The closer the day gets the less I look forward to it. Fortunately, I will have every right to get piss-drunk, and I plan to warn my mother, whom I will be staying with, accordingly.

As you can see, I do not have all kinds of nostalgia for my high school days. I was a miserable teen and I couldn't wait to get away. Why am I going, you ask? Because it seems like some sort of rite of passage, a useful way to connect with my past and be that much happier about who I am now and how far I've come. Also, I promised my good friend Jennifer I'd be her memory for when she can't remember names.