Orange Juice

Online dating feels like shopping to me. Looking for the best deal in a relationship, comparing brands of t-shirts in photos and prices of favored vacations, reading the carefully detailed ingredients of a "perfect date," I have come to the conclusion that more choices actually doth not a informed decision make. In fact, too many choices just wears upon your sanity and ability to actually make clear decisions. Market saturation by mid-twenties to thirties men looking to get out of the "bar scene" and who describe themselves as "easy-going" has left me completely unable to make a decision and overly wary of taking the next step for fear of a missed opportunity with perhaps a better, Consumer Report rated, friend-approved option.

It's like orange juice. With options like pulp or no pulp, organic or regular, fortified with calcium or not, from concentrate or 100% juice, mixed with other juices or straight, making a decision is nearly impossible for me. I'd like to be able to march right up to the juice section and select with great aplomb the no-pulp-organic-fortified-100% juice-mixed with peach option. But wait, it's mixed with pineapple, an addition which makes my tongue violently itch. My second selection has heavy pulp and a frothy aftertaste designed for geriatrics and toddlers. Should I compromise on the no pulp-from-concentrate just because it's on special? I thought I knew what I wanted until I was presented with so many choices and now in the face of compromise, I'm no longer certain what adaptations to my original idea I am willing to accept. Pineapple is a deal breaker in juice, but is pulp? Using "U" for "you" and seriously writing "PaRtYiNg LikE A RoCkStAr" when you are in your mid-thirties are definitely not what I am looking for, but how do I really feel about the uber-runner, organic eating, engineer who enjoys sport fishing?

The only way to make a choice when presented with far too many options is to go into a situation already having a predetermined idea of what you want so that you may maximize your options. A competitive and occasionally back-stabbing species, it is also hard not to compare your acquisitions to another's selection or regret impromptu purchases (ahem, dates). When presented with fewer options, we are more inclined to make a definitive choice. In the face of hundreds of fairly attractive, semi-successful and generaly adventurous men, however, I have come to the conclusion that browsing just isn't for me. I know what I want in some sense, someone who is as crazy and eccentric as I am with a flair for fashion and a love of snorty dogs, but sifting through the countless options of rock-climbing tow truck drivers and beer-snob finance guys has finally gotten to me. (And, I haven't even touched on the dismal odds of finding my eccentric, fashionable, squish-faced dog loving man who has a sudden urge to date a busty opera singer who is into lobster trivia, whiny folk music and Buddhist psychology...though I may now add that to my profile.)

I guess I need to figure out what I am really looking for before I make a purchase, so to say. To peruse with a purpose instead of just aimlessly browsing, waiting for a deal to just jump out at me. For now, I'm going to just enjoy this almost right glass of orange juice while I wait for my my almost right guy to write me back.

Queen of Spades

Pouring

After two lovely dates with the Fancy Man (or "Mr. Calamari", as the Queen calls him) I'm really quite pleased. Date the Third, well, the DATE of Date the Third, is still in negotiations. I've enjoyed spending time with him so far and I'm curious to see what comes next.

However...being that we HAVE only been on two dates, there's certainly nothing written in stone, so when my friend L said she had a guy she thought I should meet, I thought, "Why not?" Nothing wrong with keeping one's options open, and no reason to pass on an opportunity at this point.

But then...today I got a very unexpected e-mail. Several months ago (like, six months ago) a friend and I jokingly sent applications in to a local magazine. They were looking for single people willing to be matched up, go on a date, and let the magazine write about it. At the time I was pretty bored as far as dating and I thought it might be kind of a laugh. I never heard from them and I'd basically forgotten about it...until now.

Today they e-mailed me to ask if I was still interested. I'm naturally quite intrigued, but I wonder...is this asking for trouble? Of course, when you're in a casual dating situation, it's almost to be expected that you might date more than one person casually for a bit. But to do that and have it written up in the local press...is that going too far? Don't get me wrong- I don't feel committed to Mr. Calamari at this point, and I haven't even met L's friend yet. But am I setting myself up for some drama later if I do this? Help me, internets! I need some advice.

Dating Against Type

It all started a couple of Fridays ago, when my friend A and I decided to change up the routine, get dressed up, and go to the fancy cocktail bar instead of our usual beer bar. And so it came to pass that I was sitting on a leather bar stool, sipping a pink drink, and chatting with a cocktail bar man.

The cocktail bar man is a species I don't have much experience with. Most of the guys I've dated have been of the beer bar variety. Their wardrobes consisted of worn and torn jeans and slogan t-shirts and the same baseball hat they'd been wearing since freshman year of college. Their year was divided into three seasons: baseball, football, and basketball (and sometimes hockey). Often I found myself engaging in conversations with themes like, "Why a short-sleeved dress shirt is never appropriate at the office, even in summer" and, "There are more interesting things to read than the Onion, trust me". Don't get me wrong, I enjoy some lowbrow humor and sports too, but sometimes you just wish they had finer taste about something, you know?

So the cocktail bar man was intriguing. He clearly shopped for himself and dressed himself well. He could hold forth on obscure '70s music, sports, and film all in one conversation (for some reason the bar was playing "AM Radio Favorites" that night, to our amusement. Seals and Crofts, anyone?). And because he was funny, and interesting, and nice, when he gave me his card and told me that if I decided to end my strike anytime soon, I should let him know, I found myself thinking that might not be such a bad idea. I was a little uneasy about it...in addition to diving back in after the strike, I was also wondering- could I date a guy like this? One who seemed to be so definitely NOT my type? But of course it made sense to me to just let that go for a bit and see what happened...because if my usual type of guy usually didn't work out, trying out someone who seemed against type for me could be a good thing.

So after a few witty e-mails back and forth, we met for drinks and spent nearly five hours talking, eating, and...kissing. (That was a small portion of the five hours but rather a memorable one.) And it made me a little nervous when he ordered martinis with some kind of vodka I'd never heard of (Chopin, in case anyone was wondering)...but then I remembered that at the beginning of the evening he'd ordered a Miller High Life. So perhaps I won't be as out of my element as I'd feared. I'll let you know how date number two goes...

I Think I'm in Love

Lately my weekday evening entertainment has been browsing through profiles on various online dating websites. I came across a profile last night, and I couldn't help but laugh and say "finally." Here is my favorite part:

Physically? I am a fan of full lips, glasses (I thought Tina Fey was hot before it was popular), smiles and curves, be they the solid kind that come from time in the gym or the softer kind that come naturally. Confused? Do you have to mix-n-match her swimsuit tops n bottoms or hates button up shirts? Do know who Lady Grace is? Now all of that said, if the only thing about you to like is the way you look then stop reading and click on the next guy.

The pessimist in me says he's a T&A guy...but the optimist has winked at him!

xx NB

Chemistry

I would like to say that I have had nothing to write about, spending days lounging on a chaise lounge and eating chocolate Mochi by the dozen. Instead, I have too much to write. It just happens to be awkward, painful, and not so very entertaining. Chronicling the end of a year and half relationship does not make for the witty comments and urbane observations.

I went out to dinner with my ex, My Favorite Mistake, tonight for our first foray into a "platonic" relationship. This is certainly a pleasant fiction. However, cutting off all contact tends to make him act like a pre-teen girl, the calling, the pining, the mopey text messages, the mood swings. It would not be hard to imagine him doodling my name on his notebooks surrounded by little hearts and stars.

Our entire relationship was based on pure chemistry. Always was and continues to be even in the slow fade-out by way of friendship. It's so hard to let someone go when even a touch or smile makes you forget all your ideas about moving on in love. I keep beating down the butterflies of recognition whenever I see him, but it does not make them disappear.

Love, in fact, is not enough. Chemistry alone does not grow into something more even with all the best intentions. What a hard and shocking lesson to learn in the face of all the fairy tales we grow up believing.

What do you feel when you say you have great chemistry with another person? Can it grow into something more?

Queen of Spades

My Reply

I am feeling jaded/cynical today so decided to reply to Mr. Creativity:

25+15+21 8+1+22+5 1 6+5+23 20+25+16+15+19. 2+5+20+20+5+18 12+21+3+11 14+5+24+20 20+9+13+5.

And then I promptly blocked him from being able to contact me. Sue me.

XX NB

Someone must have misplaced his copy of the Fuck Buddy Manual

It's been a stressful week, folks. Busy at work, and to top it off my very awesome Grandma had a heart attack (luckily she is home from the hospital and doing just fine as of this writing). So when I heard I was going to get to see a certain "friend" of mine Wednesday night, I was looking forward to it. I mean, who doesn't look forward to that? Not to mention that while I could have gone to the gym or something to relieve some of my tension, a roll in the hay is clearly more fun than half an hour on the elliptical.

Well, imagine my surprise when my "friend" waited till the ride home to announce that he wouldn't be staying. It seemed his people were expecting him back at a certain hour and the hour was non-negotiable. But I shouldn't be insulted, I was assured.

I only pointed out that he could be back half an hour later and the world wouldn't end once, and then I gave up. Because I wasn't ready to feel like I was begging, for the love of pete. But seriously, last time I checked, the FB contract doesn't include a last-minute bailout. At least, ours didn't.

Oh well. It may be for the best, as I woke up this morning with a fever and a sore throat. So at least he didn't get sick. Silver linings all around!

Creative?

I have to give this guy on a dating website credit, he's trying to be creative and cute:

Hey there, I am a little shy,so i came up with a code for you!Won't be tough for a smart,cute girl like yourself! If 1=a and 26=z 9 20+7+9+14+11 25+15+22 18+15+3+11

Either I'm really tired, or he can't count and/or spell (or I can't?)? Someone, anyone? I mean, it would be cute if he at least got it right. But really I was just wasting time counting out the alphabet in my head, for a misspelled fragmented sentence, rather than just reading a normal email.

I'm cranky.

XX NB

An End to the Strike?

I almost had myself convinced that I was finally owning my strike. You know, really consciously choosing NOT to even try and meet men, because I needed a break. And really, as boring as the break was in some ways, it has been less stressful just not having to worry about some guy and whether he was going to call.

But then last night when the very nice guy I'd been hanging out with at this concert asked for my number, I caved. Because it was too loud in there to explain how I was on strike, and he would have thought I was crazy. And also because if nothing else, I'll have yet another story.

His codename will be The Minstrel. It's not entirely accurate, but he does play the mandolin.

In other news, I am almost sure I'll be seeing an Old Buddy From The Navy next week. Also known as my favorite mood enhancer. Who needs drugs?

The Fool

Hello. My name is Queen of Spades and I'm a co-dependent relationship fuck-up.

(Hi, Queen of Spades.)

After spending an entire day of trying to track down My Favorite Mistake, I decided to end it tonight by concise email based on the realization that questions like "where are you?" and "what are you doing?" should not be great mysteries. He makes me crazy to the point where I find myself hating my own behavior and then, in turn, myself. I loved him so much before and now all I can think about is that I feel like a complete fool.

On the bright side, these revelations came only two dates into the rehashing of our romance.

Better now than later?

I am still in utter awe about how emotionally messy this entire drawn-out process has been. I am wounded again, but not heart broken. Mostly, I am ready to no longer be so fucked up about relationships.

Are good relationships easy? Not easy in the way of lack of fighting, but perhaps easy in communication style and trust? What do relationships need in order to stand the test of time?

Go ahead, click "WTF" down there. I totally deserve it.

Queen of Spades