I don't think that it's news to anyone that there is a test that happens when you're a on a first date and the waiter drops the bill on your table. The girl reaches into her pocketbook to pretend like she's going to pay and the guy tells her not to worry about it. The girl fails the test if she doesn't even bother to reach and the guy fails the test if he agrees to take her money. (I can hear my male readers' voices rising up in protest. Guys, don't shoot the messenger. I don't write the rules.)
I had a date a few years ago. I don't remember his name. I couldn't tell you what he looked like. I have no clue what he did for a living. I don't even know what we talked about. Truthfully, I don't remember anything about that night except that it was at Stephanie's on Newbury Street and that the conversation was incredibly awkward. Now, I'm not the one who suggested this restaurant. I tend to leave that to the guy because 1.) I like to get a feel for what kind of restaurants he's into and 2.) if I pick an expensive restaurant, I feel like I'll come off as high maintenance. So, I generally will suggest a "neighborhood" to have dinner in (Back Bay, Downtown Crossing, Seaport District, etc.) and leave it to my date to pick the specific place.When he chose Stephanie's, I remember thinking, "Wow, for a first date, this guy is going all out."
We had dinner which as I said, I have no memory of whatsoever, except that Annie Sullivan probably had an easier time getting Helen Keller to engage in verbal conversation than I had with this guy. Then, the bill came. (*cue High Noon whistle) There it was, standing up, in between the two of us...just waiting for someone to grab it. As we weren't really talking to each other, we just sat there in awkward silence, glancing at the bill, then at each other. Unsure of what to do, I tried "the reach." I took my wallet out of my purse, and he just sat there, staring at me.
It slowly dawned on me that this guy expected ME to take care of the bill. His hands remained on his lap as I performed the reach. I lay my wallet on the table. Still, he didn't make a move.
I can tell you this: I wasn't footing the entire bill! First of all, he asked me out. Secondly, I wasn't the one who chose the pricey restaurant. So, my wallet stayed on the table. And we sat there staring at each other. For a total of forty-five minutes. The waiter kept breezing by the table, trying not to make it obvious that he was looking to see if the bill was exactly where he left it, and making it painfully obvious how annoyed he was when he saw that it was. My date and I made small talk, both of us refusing to acknowledge that it was there.
Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer! I didn't want to spend another 45 minutes making awkward conversation, so I grabbed the bill. I expected him to at least give me the courtesy of the reach. He didn't. So, I looked at the bill, looked back at him, and said, "That'll be 65 dollars."
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Two Random Thoughts from this weekend
1.) This is why Crazy Pete is easily one of my most favorite people in this world:
I was out to dinner with a good friend from high school, Erin. We started discussing how much we love oysters. Which led me to talk about my oyster kick with Andrea lately. Which led me to talk about the food and wine festival in Miami coming up in February. Which led Erin to say that she really wants to go. Which led me to talk about Crazy Pete. Which led to this conversation:
Erin: Is he on facebook?
Me: Yeah, but his page is probably set to private. You should just friend request him.
Erin: But, he doesn't know me.
Me: It doesn't matter. I'm like 99.99% positive that he'll accept it.
Erin: Should I say I'm your friend?
Me: You can. But, I still think it doesn't matter.
Erin: Ok.
(38 seconds later...literally)
Erin (Laughing): Oh my God, he just accepted my friend request.
2.) A man walked by us carrying a balloon in the shape of breasts. Both Erin and I thought to ourselves, this probably won't end well. Let this be a lesson to you...here's the result of what happens when you carry a boob balloon through a restaurant with low-hanging ceiling fans.
I was out to dinner with a good friend from high school, Erin. We started discussing how much we love oysters. Which led me to talk about my oyster kick with Andrea lately. Which led me to talk about the food and wine festival in Miami coming up in February. Which led Erin to say that she really wants to go. Which led me to talk about Crazy Pete. Which led to this conversation:
Erin: Is he on facebook?
Me: Yeah, but his page is probably set to private. You should just friend request him.
Erin: But, he doesn't know me.
Me: It doesn't matter. I'm like 99.99% positive that he'll accept it.
Erin: Should I say I'm your friend?
Me: You can. But, I still think it doesn't matter.
Erin: Ok.
(38 seconds later...literally)
Erin (Laughing): Oh my God, he just accepted my friend request.
2.) A man walked by us carrying a balloon in the shape of breasts. Both Erin and I thought to ourselves, this probably won't end well. Let this be a lesson to you...here's the result of what happens when you carry a boob balloon through a restaurant with low-hanging ceiling fans.
Friday, July 27, 2012
160 Pounds of Tiger Meat
Anyone that has been to Gillette stadium for a Patriots game knows how frustrating going home can be. Literally, hours are spent in the parking lot next to the stadium while you wait to get onto Route 1, which is a nightmare in itself. So, of course, you need to entertain yourself with your surroundings. It helps when you drive a convertible. It makes it easy to see your surroundings and easy for your surroundings to see you, if you know what I mean and I think that you do.
During one particular parking lot party, I was sitting in traffic with three of my girlfriends after a game. My friend pointed out that we were sitting next to two guys in a silver Volkswagen Beetle. If you’re unfamiliar with these cars, they look something like this:
Hello Kitty optional, but can be exchanged for bumper stickers that say “Women are great leaders. You’re following one now”. In short, the sight of two young men sitting side by side in a VW beetle is uncommon. This particular beetle did not have cats or bumper stickers. But, it did have a sign on it that said "Chris Collins” with a phone number.
Not being able to withstand my curiosity any longer, I called to the guy in the passenger seat and said, “What’s Chris Collins?” He replied, “What do you mean?” And I said, “Is it a business or what? What is that sign on the car for?” The driver leaned over and said, “Chris Collins-A hundred and sixty pounds of pure tiger meat trapped in a steel cage.”
My friends and I all looked at each other, not really knowing what to do with that information. So, I did the most obvious thing. I called the number.
The driver of the beetle reached into his pocket, answered his phone and said, “Hello.”
"Excuse me,” I said, “I’m looking for one hundred and sixty pounds of pure tiger meat trapped in a steel cage.” And the driver laughed.
We spent the next twenty minutes on the phone getting to know each other. He was Chris. I asked him how old he was, since he looked very young to me. He asked how old I was. I told him that I was almost thirty (this was in 2009) and he replied that he was twenty-seven. At some point, clearly, I needed to ask him why he had his phone number on his car. He replied that his friends had made it as a joke to cheer him up. He was going through a rocky divorce. My friends and I were also curious as to why a VW beetle was his car of choice. His response was, “Let’s just say that it was left to me”, which I took to mean that it was his ex-wife’s car. By the end of the phone call, we had agreed that we would talk soon and my friends were looking at me, in amazement of my mastery of flirtation.
After I dropped the girls off, my phone rang. It was Chris. He was still driving home to Attleboro and he wanted to talk more. We had a really fantastic conversation. He asked me out for that following Friday and I agreed. But, something seemed a bit off. For example, when I asked him where he went to college, he evaded the answer. When I asked him what he liked to do in his free time, he said, “Let’s talk more about you.” When I brought up his messy divorce, he somehow changed direction of the conversation and before I knew it, I was telling him about my last breakup.
When I hung up, being the stalker that I am, I immediately went to my computer to google him. I found him on facebook. After he accepted my friend request, I greedily looked onto his info page so that I could learn more about him: where he went to college, what he did for work, what kind of music he liked.
I saw one thing and one thing only. Like it was in bold letters, underlined, with a neon sign and a tap-dancing gigantic-handed cartoon character pointing to it. He was a graduate of Attleboro high school…Class of 2009. I’m not usually a math whiz, but considering that at that time, it was 2009, it wasn’t hard to deduce that this boy WAS EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD!!! So, after a quip on his facebook page sympathizing with him for being the only twenty-seven year old in his senior class, I never spoke with him again.
P.S. I love the way he thought that throwing in the "divorce" would make his story legit. P.P.S. The beetle was his mom's car.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Drivers be Driving me Crazy
It's time to get real. I'm not a violent person, by any means. In fact, I'm pretty laid back and easy going most of the time. The one exception is when I'm driving. Being from Massachusetts, we have a reputation for driving like "massholes". However, whether you're a courteous driver or not, there are certain implied rules of the road that everyone behind the wheel should follow. When someone breaks one of those rules, I can't help myself...I want to punch them in the face. So here are the driving habits of others that make me want to drive off a cliff:
1.) Being bad at merging. Some of the items in this list fall under the category of having no common sense and some of them fall under the category of being an asshole. This one is an example of having no common sense. I'm writing you from the land of the never-ending story, the Big Dig (Bastian, call my name!!). Merging, in general, is pretty easy. You go with the flow of traffic, and find a space to fit in.When your lane closes due to construction, you follow it to the end and then you file in line, every other car. You do NOT slam on your brakes and try to squeeze yourself into a stopped lane of traffic. Because that equals two stopped lanes of traffic. And 400 desperate drivers in need of Falcor.
2.) Cutting in line/Breakdown lane travel. Clearly, this is in the category of being an asshole. You know the situation. You're in line to get off an exit, or take a turn, and here comes some jerkface (probably in a BMW) who flies past everyone and cuts in front of some unassuming weak link (probably in a Prius) up at the front of the line. The self-entitled attitude of these people is astounding. We're going back to kindergarten law here-as Mrs. Buckley taught me, you wait your turn. Out of all the people on this list that I want to punch in the face, this douche is at the top.
3.) Business in the fast lane. Look, I understand that there are people that like to conduct their business (i.e., check their morning e-mail, put on lipstick, make their follow-up calls, read the paper, mix a smoothie, whatever) in the car on the way to work. I'm not opposed to that, as long as they stay out of my way. The fast lane is for the driving people. While I'm on the subject of the fast lane...
4.) Left-lane hogs. What is wrong with these people? If there is enough space between you and the car in front of you to hold an entire Macy's Day Parade, and there are at least 13 cars behind you, riding each other's bumper like there are magnets attached...then you know, move over.
5.) RAIN!! DRIVE FOR YOUR LIVES!!! Here in Mass, we drive in the snow. It's dangerous. It's slippery. If you don't have four-wheel drive, it can be scary. We drive slowly in the snow. However, this doesn't mean that we have to drive slowly in all precipitation. If it's not raining hard enough to make the road wet, then you can go normal speed--no need to call FEMA.
6.) Drive-thru know-how. This one's probably just me. I cannot stand when you're in the drive-thru line and the person in front of you hasn't pulled up right behind the car in front of it, meaning you can't be in front of the intercom. I feel stupid enough talking into a rectangle box decorated with pictures of food. Craning your neck and yelling at the top of your lungs to a rectangle box decorated with pictures of food makes it so so much worse.
7.) Unnecessary honking. We've all been there. You're sitting in traffic that just isn't moving. Maybe there's an accident. Maybe there's a traffic light delay. Maybe there's a flock of geese crossing the road. Whatever. If there is more than one person in front of you who's not moving, odds are there is something in their way. Laying out on your horn will not "blast" the obstacle out of the way, no matter how long you honk. Stop trying.
8.) Premature pull-outs. I drive down this street in Braintree almost every morning on my way to work and there are tons of side streets that enter into it. Almost every morning, the same thing happens. There is no one behind me. I'm zipping down at a good clip and I think I'm in great shape to make it to work on time. Then, someone, instead of waiting for me to pass before turning onto the street, feels as though it's now or never and pulls out in front of me. I may have tolerance for this if they speed up afterwards. They probably would have been tailgating me anyway. But, typically, without fail, this premature evacuater drives about 15 mph all the way to the highway.
9.) The Brake-happy Bunch. Nothing makes me want to bang my head against the windshield more than people who overuse their brakes, like the ones who stop at green arrows. There are times when brakes are good: red lights, stop signs, squirrels, etc. But, green means brakes are bad. Along the same lines, if you're already ten miles under the speed limit when you're driving down the highway, there's no need to brake when you see a state trooper. He's not going to pull you over, except maybe for being a dumbass.
1.) Being bad at merging. Some of the items in this list fall under the category of having no common sense and some of them fall under the category of being an asshole. This one is an example of having no common sense. I'm writing you from the land of the never-ending story, the Big Dig (Bastian, call my name!!). Merging, in general, is pretty easy. You go with the flow of traffic, and find a space to fit in.When your lane closes due to construction, you follow it to the end and then you file in line, every other car. You do NOT slam on your brakes and try to squeeze yourself into a stopped lane of traffic. Because that equals two stopped lanes of traffic. And 400 desperate drivers in need of Falcor.
2.) Cutting in line/Breakdown lane travel. Clearly, this is in the category of being an asshole. You know the situation. You're in line to get off an exit, or take a turn, and here comes some jerkface (probably in a BMW) who flies past everyone and cuts in front of some unassuming weak link (probably in a Prius) up at the front of the line. The self-entitled attitude of these people is astounding. We're going back to kindergarten law here-as Mrs. Buckley taught me, you wait your turn. Out of all the people on this list that I want to punch in the face, this douche is at the top.
3.) Business in the fast lane. Look, I understand that there are people that like to conduct their business (i.e., check their morning e-mail, put on lipstick, make their follow-up calls, read the paper, mix a smoothie, whatever) in the car on the way to work. I'm not opposed to that, as long as they stay out of my way. The fast lane is for the driving people. While I'm on the subject of the fast lane...
4.) Left-lane hogs. What is wrong with these people? If there is enough space between you and the car in front of you to hold an entire Macy's Day Parade, and there are at least 13 cars behind you, riding each other's bumper like there are magnets attached...then you know, move over.
5.) RAIN!! DRIVE FOR YOUR LIVES!!! Here in Mass, we drive in the snow. It's dangerous. It's slippery. If you don't have four-wheel drive, it can be scary. We drive slowly in the snow. However, this doesn't mean that we have to drive slowly in all precipitation. If it's not raining hard enough to make the road wet, then you can go normal speed--no need to call FEMA.
6.) Drive-thru know-how. This one's probably just me. I cannot stand when you're in the drive-thru line and the person in front of you hasn't pulled up right behind the car in front of it, meaning you can't be in front of the intercom. I feel stupid enough talking into a rectangle box decorated with pictures of food. Craning your neck and yelling at the top of your lungs to a rectangle box decorated with pictures of food makes it so so much worse.
7.) Unnecessary honking. We've all been there. You're sitting in traffic that just isn't moving. Maybe there's an accident. Maybe there's a traffic light delay. Maybe there's a flock of geese crossing the road. Whatever. If there is more than one person in front of you who's not moving, odds are there is something in their way. Laying out on your horn will not "blast" the obstacle out of the way, no matter how long you honk. Stop trying.
8.) Premature pull-outs. I drive down this street in Braintree almost every morning on my way to work and there are tons of side streets that enter into it. Almost every morning, the same thing happens. There is no one behind me. I'm zipping down at a good clip and I think I'm in great shape to make it to work on time. Then, someone, instead of waiting for me to pass before turning onto the street, feels as though it's now or never and pulls out in front of me. I may have tolerance for this if they speed up afterwards. They probably would have been tailgating me anyway. But, typically, without fail, this premature evacuater drives about 15 mph all the way to the highway.
9.) The Brake-happy Bunch. Nothing makes me want to bang my head against the windshield more than people who overuse their brakes, like the ones who stop at green arrows. There are times when brakes are good: red lights, stop signs, squirrels, etc. But, green means brakes are bad. Along the same lines, if you're already ten miles under the speed limit when you're driving down the highway, there's no need to brake when you see a state trooper. He's not going to pull you over, except maybe for being a dumbass.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Conversations with friends
One of the traits that I admire in others is a sense of humor and as a result, my friends are all hilarious. I was also lucky enough to inherit a sense of humor from my parents. I frequently take note of our conversations so that I can remember them later. Here are a few of my favorites (mixed in with some that were not meant to be funny, but surprised us).
1. Ants and Cockroaches
Me: Do you think it's weird that when I kill ants, I always leave one alive so that he can go back and tell the other ants not to come in my apartment?
Friend: You're talking to a guy who once put a cockroach's head on a toothpick to let it be a warning to all of the other cockroaches.
2. Yay for Monday!
Me: I've had a couple of beers tonight, sorry if I'm not making sense.
Friend: Good for you! What's the occasion?
Me: Monday
3. The Truth about Melly
Me: I feel like I always get the last word in my arguments.
Friend: That's because you argue to the point that the other person thinks, "Ok, so it's either let it go or get arrested for second degree murder..."
4. Tomato/To-mah-to
Friend: We're invited to a homecoming party on Sunday
Me: A homecoming party?
Friend: Yep
Me: A HOMECOMING party???
Friend: (a little less sure of himself) Yep.
Me: Are these people in high school?
Friend: (confused) Nope.
Me: Are you sure that it's not a housewarming party.
Friend: ohhhhhhhh....
5. Good Question
Mom: Do you think that cannibals keep kosher? Like, there's probably a difference between eating someone who just had bacon vs. like, an orthodox rabbi, right?
6. What happens when two deaf people talk to each other
Mom: How was your date?
Me: It was good. I like him. I'm not sure about a future though. He has four kids.
Mom: Ew, he has blackheads?
Me: No, FOUR kids...but why would I care if he had black kids?
Mom: I don't know...it's kind of gross, isn't it?
Me: You have black kids.
Mom: I DO????
7. Eating Habits.
Me: I haven't been to the grocery store since March 2009
Friend: What?? How do you get food?
Me: I'm out to eat all the time, I go to my parents' house, things like that.
Friend: Where do you get your chips and snacks and stuff?
Me: Uh, the liquor store?
1. Ants and Cockroaches
Me: Do you think it's weird that when I kill ants, I always leave one alive so that he can go back and tell the other ants not to come in my apartment?
Friend: You're talking to a guy who once put a cockroach's head on a toothpick to let it be a warning to all of the other cockroaches.
2. Yay for Monday!
Me: I've had a couple of beers tonight, sorry if I'm not making sense.
Friend: Good for you! What's the occasion?
Me: Monday
3. The Truth about Melly
Me: I feel like I always get the last word in my arguments.
Friend: That's because you argue to the point that the other person thinks, "Ok, so it's either let it go or get arrested for second degree murder..."
4. Tomato/To-mah-to
Friend: We're invited to a homecoming party on Sunday
Me: A homecoming party?
Friend: Yep
Me: A HOMECOMING party???
Friend: (a little less sure of himself) Yep.
Me: Are these people in high school?
Friend: (confused) Nope.
Me: Are you sure that it's not a housewarming party.
Friend: ohhhhhhhh....
5. Good Question
Mom: Do you think that cannibals keep kosher? Like, there's probably a difference between eating someone who just had bacon vs. like, an orthodox rabbi, right?
6. What happens when two deaf people talk to each other
Mom: How was your date?
Me: It was good. I like him. I'm not sure about a future though. He has four kids.
Mom: Ew, he has blackheads?
Me: No, FOUR kids...but why would I care if he had black kids?
Mom: I don't know...it's kind of gross, isn't it?
Me: You have black kids.
Mom: I DO????
7. Eating Habits.
Me: I haven't been to the grocery store since March 2009
Friend: What?? How do you get food?
Me: I'm out to eat all the time, I go to my parents' house, things like that.
Friend: Where do you get your chips and snacks and stuff?
Me: Uh, the liquor store?
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I Eventually Made it to Aruba
Yes, I arrived in Aruba a day late. And yes, there was family gossip about why I was a day late (i.e., getting action; kidnapped by Aruban pirates; just plain, old-fashioned irresponsibility). And yes, my parents were a tad bit "perturbed". But, I made it just in time for my cousin's pre-wedding boat cruise--sigh, another boat. After all of these boat rides that I've taken lately, I've come to the conclusion that I'm no longer afraid of boats...I just don't like them very much.
Boat notwithstanding, we had a great time on the cruise. Twice, the master of ceremonies asked us to give three cheers to the bride and groom: "Hip Hip HOORAY!", causing my cousin, Mike, to whisper to me, "Who's going to tell this guy that no one says 'hip hip hooray' anymore?", which of course led me to break into a rousing rendition of "For he's a jolly good fellow." After the boat ride, Mike, my sister, Stacy, and I went to this restaurant that my friends had recommended: Texas de Brazil. Who knew that they had these in the States??? I sure didn't. The closest one to Boston is in Chicago and I'm thinking of flying there just so I can eat there again. It's that delicious. It's a traditional Brazilian steakhouse...all-you-can-eat-meat, a carnivore's wet dream.
So far, I was loving Aruba. And I hadn't even been to the beach yet. I've never been a beach person. I don't like being in the sun all day. I'm not a big fan of sand. It's never really been my thing. I realized, on this vacation, that it's because I've been DOING IT WRONG MY WHOLE LIFE! You are supposed to be at the beach on a comfortable beach lounge chair, under a gigantic umbrella, with a mojito in hand. By the time I left Aruba, I loved the beach!
We did a little sightseeing: saw some ruins, went into a cave, saw a bat and ran like hell out of the cave, went to the Natural Bridge. For most of this, I stayed in the car because I was cranky and wanted to go back to the beach, but my parents and Stacy enjoyed it. Fortunately for my family, I was the sole participant in the "running out of the cave" part which gave them all a good laugh.
My cousin's wedding was on the beach at sunset and was gorgeous. Katie's stunning in sweatpants, so in her wedding dress, she looked amazing! I'm very happy for her and the new member of our family, Kevin.
It was a terrific week. We had a bit of a scare on the way home. The plane took a nasty drop. There are a bunch of things that I'm scared of...boats (maybe), spiders, vomit, failure. I've never been scared of flying. But, this drop was scary. I gasped. Others screamed. It felt like the engine stopped. And for a split second, I thought that this would be end of me and my blog. (Yes, I was worried about not being able to continue my blog.)Luckily, it was just a very very big air pocket. And although there was a bit of turbulence on the way home, there were no more drops like that. I'm sure you, as readers, are all very grateful!
Boat notwithstanding, we had a great time on the cruise. Twice, the master of ceremonies asked us to give three cheers to the bride and groom: "Hip Hip HOORAY!", causing my cousin, Mike, to whisper to me, "Who's going to tell this guy that no one says 'hip hip hooray' anymore?", which of course led me to break into a rousing rendition of "For he's a jolly good fellow." After the boat ride, Mike, my sister, Stacy, and I went to this restaurant that my friends had recommended: Texas de Brazil. Who knew that they had these in the States??? I sure didn't. The closest one to Boston is in Chicago and I'm thinking of flying there just so I can eat there again. It's that delicious. It's a traditional Brazilian steakhouse...all-you-can-eat-meat, a carnivore's wet dream.
So far, I was loving Aruba. And I hadn't even been to the beach yet. I've never been a beach person. I don't like being in the sun all day. I'm not a big fan of sand. It's never really been my thing. I realized, on this vacation, that it's because I've been DOING IT WRONG MY WHOLE LIFE! You are supposed to be at the beach on a comfortable beach lounge chair, under a gigantic umbrella, with a mojito in hand. By the time I left Aruba, I loved the beach!
We did a little sightseeing: saw some ruins, went into a cave, saw a bat and ran like hell out of the cave, went to the Natural Bridge. For most of this, I stayed in the car because I was cranky and wanted to go back to the beach, but my parents and Stacy enjoyed it. Fortunately for my family, I was the sole participant in the "running out of the cave" part which gave them all a good laugh.
My cousin's wedding was on the beach at sunset and was gorgeous. Katie's stunning in sweatpants, so in her wedding dress, she looked amazing! I'm very happy for her and the new member of our family, Kevin.
It was a terrific week. We had a bit of a scare on the way home. The plane took a nasty drop. There are a bunch of things that I'm scared of...boats (maybe), spiders, vomit, failure. I've never been scared of flying. But, this drop was scary. I gasped. Others screamed. It felt like the engine stopped. And for a split second, I thought that this would be end of me and my blog. (Yes, I was worried about not being able to continue my blog.)Luckily, it was just a very very big air pocket. And although there was a bit of turbulence on the way home, there were no more drops like that. I'm sure you, as readers, are all very grateful!
Monday, July 23, 2012
The Night before Aruba
I've been away in Aruba for the week, and I plan on writing about that tomorrow. But I would like to share the happenings of the night before:
A few weeks ago, when a friend from college whom we affectionately "Crazy Pete" said that he was coming to visit Boston, I was happy that I would get to see him while he was in town, but a bit cautious, knowing that I had to catch an early flight to Aruba the next day for my cousin's wedding. Pete's uttering of the sentence, "I hope you don't miss your flight..." when we were discussing our plans didn't make me feel any more secure. Add to this the fact that this all fell on Friday 13th, as my close friend, Patrick, pointed out, and we reached a trifecta of "uh-oh" news.
The plan was to meet at Sam's at Louis Boston for drinks, and then see where the night would take us. I met Pete around 2:00 p.m., and by the time Andrea and Patrick came along, we were about three cocktails in. We shared an early and delicious dinner.
That night, I had plans to meet a few other friends to go see one of my favorite bands, Dear Leader on a boat cruise through Boston Harbor. Pete, Andrea and Pat went out to yet another dinner, and I left them to meet up with friends, Jeff, Scott, Marianne, Joy and Sean. Now, I've mentioned before that I have a great fear of boats. Luckily, that afternoon, Pete kept refilling my wine glass and the future boat excursion seemed less like an ominous boat ride on Friday the 13th and more like a ride on It's a Small World through rainbows and sunshine. The concert was excellent! While typically, at concerts, I stand at the back of the room, nodding my head in time with the music like a true emo kid all grown up, here I was, jumping up and down at the front, shout-singing along with the band. I'm sure they were cool with it. At one point, the boat was rocking back and forth and we all stumbled around for a minute or so. I found out later that it was because my friend, Marianne, had made her way to the helm and asked the captain if she could drive for a little while. I had always thought that it would be against some law or regulation to allow a booze cruise guest to drive the boat, but apparently, all you have to do is ask.
When we docked in Boston, I met up with Pete again. The original plan for me was to leave after the concert and go home and sleep, then wake up feeling refreshed with bees buzzing and birds singing, and leap to my car with my suitcase, head to the airport, jump on my plane, and jetset to Aruba. But, of course, as I'm sure Pete knew would happen all along, the best-laid plans of revelers and night owls...
Off we went to the North End to eat yet more food. We settled on Bricco and enjoyed a really delicious meal of shrimp scampi, octopus, and pumpkin tortelli. Finally, at 2 am, we headed home. We did hit a hiccup on the drive home, when we hit a sobriety checkpoint. Luckily, I had slowed down on the boat, and gorged myself on heavy Italian food, so I was fine to drive. However, I was thrown a curve ball when the officer asked if I was sober, "for the most part." How are you supposed to answer that question? A yes response implies that I am "for the most part" and a no response would be very very bad. My inherently sarcastic nature wanted to answer, "I'm not sure that you fully understand the purpose of a sobriety checkpoint." But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, smiled my answer at him, and he let us drive on.
As we stumbled into my apartment and the clock struck three, I turned to Pete and said, "I don't think I'll be making my flight." To which he responded, "How many dinners did I have tonight?" And that is the story of why I arrived in Aruba one day late. Stay tuned for Tales from the Trip.
A few weeks ago, when a friend from college whom we affectionately "Crazy Pete" said that he was coming to visit Boston, I was happy that I would get to see him while he was in town, but a bit cautious, knowing that I had to catch an early flight to Aruba the next day for my cousin's wedding. Pete's uttering of the sentence, "I hope you don't miss your flight..." when we were discussing our plans didn't make me feel any more secure. Add to this the fact that this all fell on Friday 13th, as my close friend, Patrick, pointed out, and we reached a trifecta of "uh-oh" news.
The plan was to meet at Sam's at Louis Boston for drinks, and then see where the night would take us. I met Pete around 2:00 p.m., and by the time Andrea and Patrick came along, we were about three cocktails in. We shared an early and delicious dinner.
That night, I had plans to meet a few other friends to go see one of my favorite bands, Dear Leader on a boat cruise through Boston Harbor. Pete, Andrea and Pat went out to yet another dinner, and I left them to meet up with friends, Jeff, Scott, Marianne, Joy and Sean. Now, I've mentioned before that I have a great fear of boats. Luckily, that afternoon, Pete kept refilling my wine glass and the future boat excursion seemed less like an ominous boat ride on Friday the 13th and more like a ride on It's a Small World through rainbows and sunshine. The concert was excellent! While typically, at concerts, I stand at the back of the room, nodding my head in time with the music like a true emo kid all grown up, here I was, jumping up and down at the front, shout-singing along with the band. I'm sure they were cool with it. At one point, the boat was rocking back and forth and we all stumbled around for a minute or so. I found out later that it was because my friend, Marianne, had made her way to the helm and asked the captain if she could drive for a little while. I had always thought that it would be against some law or regulation to allow a booze cruise guest to drive the boat, but apparently, all you have to do is ask.
When we docked in Boston, I met up with Pete again. The original plan for me was to leave after the concert and go home and sleep, then wake up feeling refreshed with bees buzzing and birds singing, and leap to my car with my suitcase, head to the airport, jump on my plane, and jetset to Aruba. But, of course, as I'm sure Pete knew would happen all along, the best-laid plans of revelers and night owls...
Off we went to the North End to eat yet more food. We settled on Bricco and enjoyed a really delicious meal of shrimp scampi, octopus, and pumpkin tortelli. Finally, at 2 am, we headed home. We did hit a hiccup on the drive home, when we hit a sobriety checkpoint. Luckily, I had slowed down on the boat, and gorged myself on heavy Italian food, so I was fine to drive. However, I was thrown a curve ball when the officer asked if I was sober, "for the most part." How are you supposed to answer that question? A yes response implies that I am "for the most part" and a no response would be very very bad. My inherently sarcastic nature wanted to answer, "I'm not sure that you fully understand the purpose of a sobriety checkpoint." But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, smiled my answer at him, and he let us drive on.
As we stumbled into my apartment and the clock struck three, I turned to Pete and said, "I don't think I'll be making my flight." To which he responded, "How many dinners did I have tonight?" And that is the story of why I arrived in Aruba one day late. Stay tuned for Tales from the Trip.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Bowling for Weirdos
There was once a segment on The Ellen Degeneres Show in which Ellen interviewed two people who had met on Craigslist missed connections. This man and woman started talking in line for the bathroom on an airplane. They talked for 45 minutes, and by the time the plane landed, he realized that this woman was his future wife. Stricken with nerves, he was unable to ask for her phone number. After they said goodbye at the baggage claim, she walked out of his life for what he thought was forever.
A few days later, he was talking to his friend about it and his friend suggested that he post a personal ad on Craigslist missed connections. So, he posted a missed connection for her. A friend of hers saw it and forwarded it to her. They began a long distance relationship. Two years later, she moved to Chicago to be with him and they were house-hunting. He emailed her a Craigslist ad from its real estate section and said that she should check out the house he found. When she opened the ad, it said, “Will you marry me?”
The story was definitely romantic and inspiring. I had gone bowling with some friends a few nights before I heard about this, and I spent most of the night talking to this adorable man named Topher. Before I had gathered up the courage to give him my number, his friends grabbed him and with a “Come on, man, we’re leaving” dragged him away. "Topher" was an unusual name...most people opt for the first half, "Chris". Missed connections had worked for the Ellen people. I thought, I should post on missed connections. There's no way this plan could fail!
I posted the ad: “Topher, you disappeared before I could challenge you to a bowling match. Scared?-Melissa”.
Within an hour, I had received a number of frightening responses. Some in English, some not; some with close up pictures of male genitalia, some without. One even used a definition of the word “bowling” that I was unfamiliar with and I won't repeat here. Just when I was about to delete my ad, scared that gmail would close my email account for violating some sort of rule that only applies to desperate women, he responded. The man that I was looking for! “Melissa? My friend found this and sent it to me. I’m psyched that you found a way to contact me!”
I admit that I was skeptical. This was a little bit too easy. I posted the ad and the same day, Topher appeared. But, he answered all of the questions right. He knew the name of the bowling alley where we met. He was from the area that Topher had told me he was from. Everything seemed to "ad" up, eh, folks? Am I right? *hears groans and sees eye rolls*
After some lovey-dovey emails back and forth, he asked me out to dinner. I was thrilled and couldn’t wait to see him. I counted down the hours to our date Friday night. When Friday came, I walked into the sushi restaurant where we had agreed to meet. And then this scruffy, smelly man approached me. I just looked at him. “I’m Topher,” he said.
"No, you’re not,” I replied.
“Yes, I am,” he said.
I just stared at him. He said, “I got us a table.”
I told him, “You’re not the Topher that I was expecting.”
“My name is Topher.” He said.
“Well, that’s great,” I replied, “But, unfortunately, that wasn’t the only criteria that I was looking for. I was looking for the guy that I met in a bowling alley.”
“I have met girls at bowling alleys before,” he replied.
“Ok, but did you meet me at a bowling alley?”
“Well, no.”
“See what I’m getting at here?”
ImposTopher looked quizzically at me, mulling this over.
I didn’t understand this guy’s logic. I was looking for the Topher that I had met at the bowling alley. This guy seemed to think that it was enough that people called him Topher and that he had been to a bowling alley at some point.
I immediately said that it was nice meeting him and left the restaurant, shaking my head, sad that I would not be getting my Ellen story after all.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Wine Weekend Part 3: Jumbo Coffees and Pint-sized Middle-Schoolers
I haven't gotten to the wining and biking portion of our weekend yet-- the reason that we traveled to the North Fork in the first place. When we were organizing the trip, we started an e-mail train with some ideas. Someone suggested visiting the wine trail up in North Fork. We all responded that that was a great idea! The next email someone mentioned that they took the ferry and rented bikes and biked from winery to winery. Next, someone wrote about how that would be great because our bachelorette loves to bike. The next girl responded with "great idea" and an offer to find a place to rent the bikes. I was sitting at my computer screen watching these emails go back and forth with a look of terror. I couldn't stop the runaway e-mail train and before I knew it, I had plans to bike.
The winery idea I was completely on board with. Wine, check. Being outside, check. Day drinking, check. Hanging with the girls, six checks. So far this plan was all very "me". But on a bike? I hadn't been on a bike since the 10th grade, and that is completely by choice. I'm not exactly what you would call an athlete. I recycle and donate trees and whatever, but if I have a choice between riding a bicycle and driving my convertible, I'll choose the convertible 100 times out of 100, environment be damned. My thoughts were that we were going to rent a party bus or a van or limo or something and drive from place to place. So, I wasn't quite sure about the biking idea.
As it turned out, it was the best decision of the weekend. I sang the praises of Dan the Bike guy in yesterday's post. Not only that, I had no idea that North Fork Wine Trail was part of Bachelorette Party, U.S.A. I mean it goes 1.) Thunder Down Under, 2.) Drag show, 3.) Piano bar, 4.) North Fork. So there were tons and tons of bachelorettes in the area. And my two favorite vineyards that we visited were The Old Field Vineyards and Croteaux. Both places had beautiful and tranquil gardens overlooking the vineyard where you could sit and sip wine. And both places had gigantic signs out front that said "No Buses or Limos". So, biking was for the best as we wouldn't have been able to visit these gorgeous vineyards if we had gone with my plan. Plus, I looked pretty boss on a bike
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After what was an amazing afternoon, we got dolled up and went out to a phenomenal dinner at Noah's restaurant in Greenport. Here's a list of what we ate so that you can be jealous: 1.) Blue Point Oysters, 2.)Pipes Cove Oysters, 3.) Beer and Bacon Glazed Spiced Almonds, 4.) Gorgonzola Rosemary Fries, 5.) Warm Lobster Rolls, 6.) Striped bass, 7.) Jalapeno Ginger Glazed Chicken Wings, and 8.) Squash Blossoms. I ate everything on that list and I'm not ashamed. I would shout it out from the fattiest fatty's rooftop with reckless abandon.
We then went out for a night on the town. [Edited to remove details: What happens in Greenport stays there.]
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The winery idea I was completely on board with. Wine, check. Being outside, check. Day drinking, check. Hanging with the girls, six checks. So far this plan was all very "me". But on a bike? I hadn't been on a bike since the 10th grade, and that is completely by choice. I'm not exactly what you would call an athlete. I recycle and donate trees and whatever, but if I have a choice between riding a bicycle and driving my convertible, I'll choose the convertible 100 times out of 100, environment be damned. My thoughts were that we were going to rent a party bus or a van or limo or something and drive from place to place. So, I wasn't quite sure about the biking idea.
As it turned out, it was the best decision of the weekend. I sang the praises of Dan the Bike guy in yesterday's post. Not only that, I had no idea that North Fork Wine Trail was part of Bachelorette Party, U.S.A. I mean it goes 1.) Thunder Down Under, 2.) Drag show, 3.) Piano bar, 4.) North Fork. So there were tons and tons of bachelorettes in the area. And my two favorite vineyards that we visited were The Old Field Vineyards and Croteaux. Both places had beautiful and tranquil gardens overlooking the vineyard where you could sit and sip wine. And both places had gigantic signs out front that said "No Buses or Limos". So, biking was for the best as we wouldn't have been able to visit these gorgeous vineyards if we had gone with my plan. Plus, I looked pretty boss on a bike
We then went out for a night on the town. [Edited to remove details: What happens in Greenport stays there.]
I definitely didn't want to say goodbye to everyone the next day. It's nice that I'll see them for the wedding weekend in September, but the boys will be there this time and it just won't be the same. Andrea and I went on another coffee run on Sunday morning. For the non-Dunkin addicts, we stopped at the cafe next door. Back to the clueless locals...this coffee shop had two sizes of iced coffee. Small Weenie Dixie Cup and Super Gigantic Incredibly Hulky In-Your-Face size. It seemed that they didn't think that people might actually want a normal-sized iced coffee. Faced with a tough decision, we got everyone the Mega-buckets...I think they were grateful(?). For scale purposes, we put them next to my Dunkins medium:
After coffee, we packed up and went back to the ferry. Andrea and I didn't get on the same boat as the others...again. But, we were old pros at this by now and that was par for the course. We were however on the same boat as about 150-200 boy scouts. They were everywhere you looked and scurrying around like mice. It definitely could have been worse...if you're going to be stuck with 200 male tweens, it's nice to be stuck with ones who act like...well, boy scouts. But, the line for the snack bar was a monstrosity.
So, that does it for our wine weekend. I definitely recommend a trip up there if you're ok with ferries and you like mega-buckets of coffee and wine. Check out the links because the places that I mentioned are really fantastic. And feel free to let me know what you think of them.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Wine Weekend Part 2: I'm on a bike!
One thing about Greenport, NY. The locals are very hospitable and friendly, but I found that in general, when it came to common sense, they were a few puddins short of a Snack Pack. My theory is that they drink way too much wine, which is something that I can relate to. But, here's what happened when I decided to start Day 2 with a coffee run:
Me to coffee guy: Hi there, I'm ordering 7 coffees.
Coffee guy: Ok, I can handle that.
Me: [handing him two refillable cups] First, I need one iced coffee with milk.
Coffee guy: [handing the cups to the girl next to him] One with coffee and one with milk.
Now, I was thinking that maybe he was just speaking coffee shop lingo. Like when you order two scrambled eggs on toast and the waitress yells "An Adam and Eve on a raft and wreck 'em" to the cook in the back. But, then the girl handed me a cup filled with milk and a cup filled with coffee. The next 20 minutes went something like this: "I need two more iced coffees." "you just ordered two." "Right, I need four altogether" "Ok, get me four more iced coffees!" "Wait! What?". That exchange was how most of the weekend was when we asked for things. It was a weekend-long "Who's on First" sketch.
For example, I was in dire need of a Dunkin Donuts. (I suspect that they may lace their coffee with crack cocaine.) So, I asked the girl at the front desk of the resort if there was one in the area. She gave me some directions, ending with "You'll see it on your right." I drove where she told me to and after about 2 miles of not seeing the Dunkins, I decided to stop and ask someone else. I pulled into a gas station to ask a guy pumping gas, and he pointed in the direction that I had come from and said, "You'll see it on your left." So, I drove back in that direction. After another 2 miles, still no Dunkins. So, I stopped at a 7-11. The cashier pointed in the direction that I had come from and said, "You'll see it on the right." Again, I was completely lost. In driving through the town the fourth time, I saw a shopping center, so I thought to myself...could that be where the Dunkin Donuts is? I pulled into the parking lot, and lo and behold, there is the Dunkin Donuts. I thought that it was funny that out of the three people that I asked, none of them thought to mention that the DD's was in a shopping center. Isn't that like a KEY step in the directions?
Anyway, once you get used to the locals being clueless, the whole North Fork area of LI is a pretty nice place. I'd like to stop and give a shout out to Dan the Bike Guy. How great is this: Basically, you can rent bikes from him for $25-$30 per person. He'll drop them off anywhere and he'll pick them up anywhere. And I have to admit we were a little high maintenance...we didn't tell him that we wanted helmets, he came back to the condo and dropped off the helmets. We forgot to turn in the helmets with the bikes, he came back and picked up the helmets. All with a smile on his face. I definitely recommend renting a bike through him if you're planning on biking through the North Fork. Which I wasn't, but I'll get to that in Part 3.
Me to coffee guy: Hi there, I'm ordering 7 coffees.
Coffee guy: Ok, I can handle that.
Me: [handing him two refillable cups] First, I need one iced coffee with milk.
Coffee guy: [handing the cups to the girl next to him] One with coffee and one with milk.
Now, I was thinking that maybe he was just speaking coffee shop lingo. Like when you order two scrambled eggs on toast and the waitress yells "An Adam and Eve on a raft and wreck 'em" to the cook in the back. But, then the girl handed me a cup filled with milk and a cup filled with coffee. The next 20 minutes went something like this: "I need two more iced coffees." "you just ordered two." "Right, I need four altogether" "Ok, get me four more iced coffees!" "Wait! What?". That exchange was how most of the weekend was when we asked for things. It was a weekend-long "Who's on First" sketch.
For example, I was in dire need of a Dunkin Donuts. (I suspect that they may lace their coffee with crack cocaine.) So, I asked the girl at the front desk of the resort if there was one in the area. She gave me some directions, ending with "You'll see it on your right." I drove where she told me to and after about 2 miles of not seeing the Dunkins, I decided to stop and ask someone else. I pulled into a gas station to ask a guy pumping gas, and he pointed in the direction that I had come from and said, "You'll see it on your left." So, I drove back in that direction. After another 2 miles, still no Dunkins. So, I stopped at a 7-11. The cashier pointed in the direction that I had come from and said, "You'll see it on the right." Again, I was completely lost. In driving through the town the fourth time, I saw a shopping center, so I thought to myself...could that be where the Dunkin Donuts is? I pulled into the parking lot, and lo and behold, there is the Dunkin Donuts. I thought that it was funny that out of the three people that I asked, none of them thought to mention that the DD's was in a shopping center. Isn't that like a KEY step in the directions?
Anyway, once you get used to the locals being clueless, the whole North Fork area of LI is a pretty nice place. I'd like to stop and give a shout out to Dan the Bike Guy. How great is this: Basically, you can rent bikes from him for $25-$30 per person. He'll drop them off anywhere and he'll pick them up anywhere. And I have to admit we were a little high maintenance...we didn't tell him that we wanted helmets, he came back to the condo and dropped off the helmets. We forgot to turn in the helmets with the bikes, he came back and picked up the helmets. All with a smile on his face. I definitely recommend renting a bike through him if you're planning on biking through the North Fork. Which I wasn't, but I'll get to that in Part 3.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Wine Weekend Part 1: I'm on a boat...but my friends aren't.
This past weekend, I traveled to Wine Country, Long Island(?) to attend the bachelorette party of an old college friend. I knew that the weekend was going to be a blast--7 girls (most of whom I went to college with) in a condo for the weekend drinking wine, eating food, having some girl time. All good things. But, the getting there was worrying me. I'm not a big boat fan. I don't like the idea of not being able to leave a place if I don't want to stay there anymore. I went on a whale watch in the 10th grade during a stormy, rainy day that was less of a whale watch and more of a puke watch. Like a whole boat of Norovirus. I've been boat-wary ever since.
But, the neurotic in me couldn't stand the thought of not taking the most direct route to my destination. How could I drive 7.5 hours around the Long Island Sound instead of just taking the 1.5 hour ferry? So, that's how my friend Andrea and I found ourselves driving to the New London ferry.
We were meeting three other girls at the ferry itself. I had heard in the past that if you're taking more than one car on a ferry and traveling stand-by, it's nearly impossible to get your whole party on the same boat. However, we arrived at the same time and I couldn't believe our luck when a cute boat guy told us to go into the same lane that my friends were in. (Side note: If you ever want to go guy-watching and you don't feel weird ogling 20-year olds, hit a ferry dock!) I drove over to lane 3 where another cute boat guy was directing me straight ahead in the lane. Suddenly, the another-cute-boat-guy looked over his shoulder and moved me over to lane 2. As I got closer, he waved me over again, and moved me to Lane 1. Then, he directed me to the left, at which point I yelled to him, "Where am I going?" And he yelled back, "you're going on the boat." I just kept following his directions until he told me to park. But, as I believed that we were still in the parking lot, I didn't think much of it. I was a little bit confused when Andrea asked him, "Is this the 3:30?" And another-cute-boat-guy leaned over, looked at the clock on my dashboard and said, "yep". Slowly and finally, it dawned on me that I was actually on the boat, with the rest of my friends still in the parking lot. Somehow, even though there were six or seven cars in front of us, another-cute-boat-guy had helped us cut to the front of the line just as the boat began to leave. Andrea and I looked at each other...and burst out laughing. I think this picture accurately depicts how confused I was...
See the blue car that looks like it's about to fall off the back. Yeah, that's mine. The good news is that it happened so fast, I didn't have time to think about how much I didn't want to get on the boat. And guess what...I survived!
We ended up getting to the Cliffside Resort in Greenport, NY without any further confusion. I tossed a "Hey! You should come to the Cliffside. We can buy you beer!" to another-cute-boat-guy as we drove away. The others arrived safely and Night One was a great night of grilling burgers (well, I didn't grill burgers) and laughing and drinking and catching up. We ate a lot of cheese. We reminisced about college until we discovered that three out of the five of us who went to undergrad together had hooked up with the same guy, making it weird. (Just kidding about the weirdness: it was actually a running joke for the rest of the weekend) We sat on our condo patio and watched a beautiful sunset. I mused about how interesting it is to be able to watch the sun set over the water on the East Coast. To which my friend responded, "Uh, that's setting over Connecticut, but yes, very pretty." And we went to sleep looking forward to our wine weekend.
But, the neurotic in me couldn't stand the thought of not taking the most direct route to my destination. How could I drive 7.5 hours around the Long Island Sound instead of just taking the 1.5 hour ferry? So, that's how my friend Andrea and I found ourselves driving to the New London ferry.
We were meeting three other girls at the ferry itself. I had heard in the past that if you're taking more than one car on a ferry and traveling stand-by, it's nearly impossible to get your whole party on the same boat. However, we arrived at the same time and I couldn't believe our luck when a cute boat guy told us to go into the same lane that my friends were in. (Side note: If you ever want to go guy-watching and you don't feel weird ogling 20-year olds, hit a ferry dock!) I drove over to lane 3 where another cute boat guy was directing me straight ahead in the lane. Suddenly, the another-cute-boat-guy looked over his shoulder and moved me over to lane 2. As I got closer, he waved me over again, and moved me to Lane 1. Then, he directed me to the left, at which point I yelled to him, "Where am I going?" And he yelled back, "you're going on the boat." I just kept following his directions until he told me to park. But, as I believed that we were still in the parking lot, I didn't think much of it. I was a little bit confused when Andrea asked him, "Is this the 3:30?" And another-cute-boat-guy leaned over, looked at the clock on my dashboard and said, "yep". Slowly and finally, it dawned on me that I was actually on the boat, with the rest of my friends still in the parking lot. Somehow, even though there were six or seven cars in front of us, another-cute-boat-guy had helped us cut to the front of the line just as the boat began to leave. Andrea and I looked at each other...and burst out laughing. I think this picture accurately depicts how confused I was...
See the blue car that looks like it's about to fall off the back. Yeah, that's mine. The good news is that it happened so fast, I didn't have time to think about how much I didn't want to get on the boat. And guess what...I survived!
We ended up getting to the Cliffside Resort in Greenport, NY without any further confusion. I tossed a "Hey! You should come to the Cliffside. We can buy you beer!" to another-cute-boat-guy as we drove away. The others arrived safely and Night One was a great night of grilling burgers (well, I didn't grill burgers) and laughing and drinking and catching up. We ate a lot of cheese. We reminisced about college until we discovered that three out of the five of us who went to undergrad together had hooked up with the same guy, making it weird. (Just kidding about the weirdness: it was actually a running joke for the rest of the weekend) We sat on our condo patio and watched a beautiful sunset. I mused about how interesting it is to be able to watch the sun set over the water on the East Coast. To which my friend responded, "Uh, that's setting over Connecticut, but yes, very pretty." And we went to sleep looking forward to our wine weekend.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Two Girls and A Chart
I'm on a roll with my dating stories, so here's another. I've definitely dated sleaze. One, in particular, is a guy that I will call Mr. Writer. After Mr. Writer and I had been dating for a few months, we had the "talk" about being exclusive. The following weekend (and I mean, just two days after the talk), Mr. Writer went on a ski trip with some of his friends. That Saturday night, I received a text from Mr. Writer that said, "I'm watching two girls having sex right now and not joining in. You owe me." I was floored! But, my mother always told me not to jump to conclusions. [Note: Later she told me that this was probably one of those times when jumping was ok.] I told myself that I didn't have all of the facts and I shouldn't skin him alive and throw him into a lemon juice kiddie pool until I knew exactly what happened.
But, the "you owe me" line really got to me. I owe him? Really? That's like your delivery guy saying, "Well, I forgot your soda, but I did bring your pizza, so you owe me." Or like your investment banker saying, "Well, I lost one million of your dollars, but I was thinking of investing your whole life savings in that money pit, so if you think about it, you owe me." It's like Charles Manson saying, "Well, I robbed that guy's house, but I didn't tell my minions to kill him, so really, he owes me." The text was bad enough, but those three words were just so unbelievably arrogant.
So, I did what any other self-respecting woman would do...I made a flow chart.
After I sent it to him (yes, I sent it to him), he told me he was in the "sort of ok" category. And when he got home, I sort of dumped him.
But, the "you owe me" line really got to me. I owe him? Really? That's like your delivery guy saying, "Well, I forgot your soda, but I did bring your pizza, so you owe me." Or like your investment banker saying, "Well, I lost one million of your dollars, but I was thinking of investing your whole life savings in that money pit, so if you think about it, you owe me." It's like Charles Manson saying, "Well, I robbed that guy's house, but I didn't tell my minions to kill him, so really, he owes me." The text was bad enough, but those three words were just so unbelievably arrogant.
So, I did what any other self-respecting woman would do...I made a flow chart.
After I sent it to him (yes, I sent it to him), he told me he was in the "sort of ok" category. And when he got home, I sort of dumped him.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Great Escapes
I hope everyone had a great 4th! I spent the night of the 3rd at a friend's annual party. The hostess brought up my blog, and some of the ladies and I began to talk about horrible dating experiences. We agreed that one thing that every person, man or woman, needs when going into a first date is an escape plan. How do you get out of it if the date is a night- or daymare? Do you feign sickness? Unless you're a really good actress, your date can probably see right through that. Do you have your sister call you back with a "family emergency"? Ugh too typical. There are elaborate schemes such as having your friend come in 20 minutes after the date starts and if you say, "Hey, what's up?", she knows it's going well and leaves you alone, and if you say, "It's so good to see you!", she parks herself at your table and joins you, bringing a much-needed change of dynamic. And a certain someone I know has pulled the old-"I just have to run to the restroom" then-sneak-out-the-back-routine.*
One of the party guests, "S", had an excellent escape plan, which I'll get to in a bit. It's a modified version of my own plan, which I thought was fail-proof....but here's the story of the man who thwarted me.**
I met Joe at a party. We started talking about what foodies we are and how there was a new restaurant that we were both looking forward to trying and so, we set up a date at 7 p.m. for dinner that following Wednesday. That night, once we were both seated at the restaurant and scanning the menu, I said to Joe, "I'm starving...want to order an appetizer?" Joe looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "Oh, I'm just drinking beer actually. I just had some pizza at work." I was completely confused. Was this the same guy who told me that he was a foodie and couldn't wait to try the food at the new place and made a plan at 7 pm for dinner? What was I supposed to do? Eat a three-course meal while he sat there watching me?
Immediately, I thought that this must be his escape plan. Maybe he had been drinking too much at the party and wasn't really that into me and he was using the "I already ate." to make it an early night? It would make sense. But, I was still hungry. So, I responded, "I thought we were grabbing dinner, so I didn't eat. Is it ok with you if I order something?" He said, "Sure. I was planning on dinner too, but you know, the pizza was free."
So, there we were on an extremely awkward date. He's sitting there watching me eat. I'm sitting there knowing that he really doesn't want to be there and thinking of a good way to say, "You know, I'm a grown-up and I have eaten by myself before, so you don't have to stay and watch." As we made small talk, I realized that we weren't that great of a match anyway. He was 32 years old, living with 6 (no typo--that's a six) guys who had just turned twenty-one. When I asked him about the living situation, thinking in my head that it was temporary until he could find a better place, he answered, "Well, I found them on Craigslist and they have a hot tub. That's f*ckin money!"
Mercifully, I soon finished my appetizer and waved the waitress over for the check (which I paid for in its entirety, Joe's three beers included). I picked up my purse and started to get up to go on my merry way, when Joe said, "What's up next?" What?? This guy was completely confusing. I thought that the whole "I just ate" was his escape plan, but could it actually be because he was too cheap for dinner when work was springing for free pizza? So, it was time to implement my own escape. One that had never NEVER failed. I said, hopefully with convincing regret, "I have to run to the library before it closes. This is the last day that they'll hold my book for me." And then that scheming devil uttered the words that completely thwarted*** my Great Escape: "Sounds good. I'll go with you!"
Now, let's go back to "S" at the party. She shared a similar story. Her date didn't last as long as mine did. They sat down at the table and he started the conversation off with, "So...what do you think would be a good way to die?" I'm pretty sure that's how Dahmer started off his dates, too. As this was in the age of payphones and pagers, she excused herself, called her friend from a payphone and told her to page her in a few minutes. Once she sat back down and got the page, she said, "Oh, I have an emergency at work. I'm going to have to cut this short." And he responded, "No problem. I'll go with you!"
"S" had a much better escape tactic than I did. They got on the subway together. He asked her what stop it was. She looked up at the map and gave him some random stop. Then, at the very next stop, just as the doors were about to close, she jumped onto the platform and said, "See you later!" She never saw him after that.
I'm not sure if I'll use the "library" excuse again for fear that I might run into another devious wit who offers to accompany me. But, if I do, I'm taking a cue from "S" and making sure that it's a library that's accessible by T.
*After I laid a good old-fashioned Jewish guilt trip on her, she promised to never do that again.
**I don't think that I've used the word "thwart" before. Not sure that I will again.
***I was wrong.
One of the party guests, "S", had an excellent escape plan, which I'll get to in a bit. It's a modified version of my own plan, which I thought was fail-proof....but here's the story of the man who thwarted me.**
I met Joe at a party. We started talking about what foodies we are and how there was a new restaurant that we were both looking forward to trying and so, we set up a date at 7 p.m. for dinner that following Wednesday. That night, once we were both seated at the restaurant and scanning the menu, I said to Joe, "I'm starving...want to order an appetizer?" Joe looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "Oh, I'm just drinking beer actually. I just had some pizza at work." I was completely confused. Was this the same guy who told me that he was a foodie and couldn't wait to try the food at the new place and made a plan at 7 pm for dinner? What was I supposed to do? Eat a three-course meal while he sat there watching me?
Immediately, I thought that this must be his escape plan. Maybe he had been drinking too much at the party and wasn't really that into me and he was using the "I already ate." to make it an early night? It would make sense. But, I was still hungry. So, I responded, "I thought we were grabbing dinner, so I didn't eat. Is it ok with you if I order something?" He said, "Sure. I was planning on dinner too, but you know, the pizza was free."
So, there we were on an extremely awkward date. He's sitting there watching me eat. I'm sitting there knowing that he really doesn't want to be there and thinking of a good way to say, "You know, I'm a grown-up and I have eaten by myself before, so you don't have to stay and watch." As we made small talk, I realized that we weren't that great of a match anyway. He was 32 years old, living with 6 (no typo--that's a six) guys who had just turned twenty-one. When I asked him about the living situation, thinking in my head that it was temporary until he could find a better place, he answered, "Well, I found them on Craigslist and they have a hot tub. That's f*ckin money!"
Mercifully, I soon finished my appetizer and waved the waitress over for the check (which I paid for in its entirety, Joe's three beers included). I picked up my purse and started to get up to go on my merry way, when Joe said, "What's up next?" What?? This guy was completely confusing. I thought that the whole "I just ate" was his escape plan, but could it actually be because he was too cheap for dinner when work was springing for free pizza? So, it was time to implement my own escape. One that had never NEVER failed. I said, hopefully with convincing regret, "I have to run to the library before it closes. This is the last day that they'll hold my book for me." And then that scheming devil uttered the words that completely thwarted*** my Great Escape: "Sounds good. I'll go with you!"
Now, let's go back to "S" at the party. She shared a similar story. Her date didn't last as long as mine did. They sat down at the table and he started the conversation off with, "So...what do you think would be a good way to die?" I'm pretty sure that's how Dahmer started off his dates, too. As this was in the age of payphones and pagers, she excused herself, called her friend from a payphone and told her to page her in a few minutes. Once she sat back down and got the page, she said, "Oh, I have an emergency at work. I'm going to have to cut this short." And he responded, "No problem. I'll go with you!"
"S" had a much better escape tactic than I did. They got on the subway together. He asked her what stop it was. She looked up at the map and gave him some random stop. Then, at the very next stop, just as the doors were about to close, she jumped onto the platform and said, "See you later!" She never saw him after that.
I'm not sure if I'll use the "library" excuse again for fear that I might run into another devious wit who offers to accompany me. But, if I do, I'm taking a cue from "S" and making sure that it's a library that's accessible by T.
*After I laid a good old-fashioned Jewish guilt trip on her, she promised to never do that again.
**I don't think that I've used the word "thwart" before. Not sure that I will again.
***I was wrong.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Judging with Judgy Judges
Yesterday's post prompted a debate with a friend of mine regarding whether blogging about dating will deter men from asking me out. From his perspective, if my potential date knew that I would be analyzing him the whole time, ready to write my review later that night, he wouldn't want to take me out for fear of being judged like that. I jokingly responded that no one cares about the good dates; it's the bad ones that are fun to hear about and I'll never see those guys again anyway. However, after more reflection, I realized that if I'm writing about my life, I will be writing about the people in it, including the person that I'm seeing.
Which led me to... why should that be a bad thing? That's what we do on dates...we judge. We shake each other's hand or give each other a hug and then sit down and size each other up. Men and women may have different methods of analysis. She's asking herself, "Does he seem like he'd be good with kids? Would he get along with my family? Is he a romantic? A good kisser?" He's asking himself, "Will my friends think she's hot?" and "How long will it take me to get her out of her pants?" But, we're both doing the judging. I'm just being vocal about it.
And that's not necessarily a bad thing. The type of man that I will ultimately end up with is someone who's kind, intelligent, funny and caring; in other words, the type of man that I'd want to tell the world about. If that's who you are, why wouldn't you want the general public to know about you?
But, just in case you're worried about being painted in a bad light, here's a list of the type of men that I would probably say judgy things about:
Which led me to... why should that be a bad thing? That's what we do on dates...we judge. We shake each other's hand or give each other a hug and then sit down and size each other up. Men and women may have different methods of analysis. She's asking herself, "Does he seem like he'd be good with kids? Would he get along with my family? Is he a romantic? A good kisser?" He's asking himself, "Will my friends think she's hot?" and "How long will it take me to get her out of her pants?" But, we're both doing the judging. I'm just being vocal about it.
And that's not necessarily a bad thing. The type of man that I will ultimately end up with is someone who's kind, intelligent, funny and caring; in other words, the type of man that I'd want to tell the world about. If that's who you are, why wouldn't you want the general public to know about you?
But, just in case you're worried about being painted in a bad light, here's a list of the type of men that I would probably say judgy things about:
1.) Men who spell "cool" with a "k". As in "kool" or, even worse, "kewl". This comes up in text conversations and drives me bananas.
2.) Men who take shirtless pictures of themselves in bathroom mirrors. You know how sometimes men say that it's better if women dress to "leave something for the imagination"? Yeah, we feel that way too.
3.) Men who start their online dating profiles with "I can't believe that I'm online dating...". If you can't believe that you're online dating, then what are you saying about me, who doesn't see anything wrong with it? And why are you even on there in the first place? Man up! This also applies to the headlines "Let's tell people we met in a grocery store" and "My friend/sister/brother/cousin/boss/dog/other put me up to this."
4.) Men who make fun of other men wearing pink shirts. There are straight men who look great in pink shirts. Deal with it. I may begin questioning your sexuality if you make a comment about another man's sexuality based on his choice of button-down color.
5.) Men in sweater vests. I realize that this is my own personal taste and there are women out there, like my sister, Lori [Note to Lori: I told you I'd work you in here somehow] who love men in sweater vests. But, unless you're in Boyz II Men, I'm not a fan.
6.) Men who wear bluetooth in their ear around the home or office or at McDonald's. Yes, I said McDonald's. These men exist.
7.) Men who walk with their palms facing backward...gorilla style. We don't get a lot of these in New England due to our lack of muscle beaches. But, whenever I see this, I get curious and when I get curious, I get distracted. Does he have to train his muscles to turn that way? Do his wrists get tired? Are his elbows on backwards?
8.) Men who will not at least pretend to be interested in coming to my dance recitals. Look, I realize that sitting through three and a half hours of watching girls aged 3 and up in sequins run and skip across the stage to old Broadway tunes isn't exactly your ideal way of spending a Friday night. But, all I ask is that you half-smile and say "sounds fun". And I promise that I'll do the same while listening to a hole-by-hole recap of your golf game.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Things that went way over my head when I was a kid
While visiting with my mom last weekend, I was feeling a little bit under the weather. So, just like old times, I lay on the couch and let her bring me stuff. While lounging, I caught an episode of Three's Company. It was the one where Jack tries to get Chrissy and/or Janet in bed, and Mr. Furley makes fun of Jack for being "light on his feet", and then there's this huge misunderstanding. You've seen it. Anyway, about five minutes into it, I exclaimed to my mother, "Wow, when I watched this as a kid, I did not get this at all." So, that led me to think about other things that I encountered as a kid that went completely over my head. Here we go:
1.) Three's Company. I was convinced that Jack was just really really friendly.
2.) Paradise by the Dashboard Light. I was never quite sure why Meatloaf was in his car at a baseball game, but I just sang along and went with it.
3.) The entire movie Grease. You know the part in Grease where Rizzo says that she feels like a defective typewriter because she skipped a period and Marty asks her if she's PG? To the ten-year old me, that meant that Rizzo felt broken like a typewriter that skips periods because she and Kenickie french kissed and only kept it PG.
4.) Racism. We all knew that the "n-word" was bad and something that we should never say. But, after lecturing my friends on how bad of a word it is, I would then go off into the cul de sac with my jump rope singing "Chinese Japanese".
5.) Sesame Street. A square-shaped muppet singing "It's Hip to Be Square." Smokey Robinson singing "u've really got a hold on me" to the letter U. The "Beetles" singing "Letter B". Granted, the Children's Television Workshop meant for these things to go over my head. Kids are just supposed to think the songs are fun. They make the parodies for the parents. However, I think that most kids have figured out Sesame Street's schtick by age 9. Most kids.
6.) White Lines (Don't Do It). This one is embarrassing because it's SOOOO obvious! Sugar! Kane! Rock! White lines...what do white lines do? Blow away.... BLOW! I was probably 12 the first time that I heard this song. I knew what cocaine was. I knew it was called blow. I knew that people snorted it in white lines. Hell, in a way, the song even has "Just Say No" written into its title. Yet, I still had no idea what this song was about. I just thought it was catchy.
7.) Dirty Dancing. My favorite movie ever and I had no clue about the storyline. I would watch it on VHS, press rewind, and watch it again right after. But, really, the only line that I understood was "I carried a watermelon" and only because it involved being awkward and saying the wrong thing around boys, something with which I had a ton of experience. A lot of my confusion had to do with historical context. I grew up in a world where abortion was legal. So, I was completely confused about why Penny would trust a guy with a dirty knife and folding table. Also, every scene with Robby...over my head completely. I thought Johnny was the father of Penny's baby until 1996. And why was Baby so mad about the Fountainhead? Yeah...I didn't get that movie at all. But it had dancing. And Patrick Swayze's butt if you paused the VCR in the right place.
1.) Three's Company. I was convinced that Jack was just really really friendly.
2.) Paradise by the Dashboard Light. I was never quite sure why Meatloaf was in his car at a baseball game, but I just sang along and went with it.
3.) The entire movie Grease. You know the part in Grease where Rizzo says that she feels like a defective typewriter because she skipped a period and Marty asks her if she's PG? To the ten-year old me, that meant that Rizzo felt broken like a typewriter that skips periods because she and Kenickie french kissed and only kept it PG.
4.) Racism. We all knew that the "n-word" was bad and something that we should never say. But, after lecturing my friends on how bad of a word it is, I would then go off into the cul de sac with my jump rope singing "Chinese Japanese".
5.) Sesame Street. A square-shaped muppet singing "It's Hip to Be Square." Smokey Robinson singing "u've really got a hold on me" to the letter U. The "Beetles" singing "Letter B". Granted, the Children's Television Workshop meant for these things to go over my head. Kids are just supposed to think the songs are fun. They make the parodies for the parents. However, I think that most kids have figured out Sesame Street's schtick by age 9. Most kids.
6.) White Lines (Don't Do It). This one is embarrassing because it's SOOOO obvious! Sugar! Kane! Rock! White lines...what do white lines do? Blow away.... BLOW! I was probably 12 the first time that I heard this song. I knew what cocaine was. I knew it was called blow. I knew that people snorted it in white lines. Hell, in a way, the song even has "Just Say No" written into its title. Yet, I still had no idea what this song was about. I just thought it was catchy.
7.) Dirty Dancing. My favorite movie ever and I had no clue about the storyline. I would watch it on VHS, press rewind, and watch it again right after. But, really, the only line that I understood was "I carried a watermelon" and only because it involved being awkward and saying the wrong thing around boys, something with which I had a ton of experience. A lot of my confusion had to do with historical context. I grew up in a world where abortion was legal. So, I was completely confused about why Penny would trust a guy with a dirty knife and folding table. Also, every scene with Robby...over my head completely. I thought Johnny was the father of Penny's baby until 1996. And why was Baby so mad about the Fountainhead? Yeah...I didn't get that movie at all. But it had dancing. And Patrick Swayze's butt if you paused the VCR in the right place.
Adventures in Dating: The Drunk of the Irish
Being a single lady in my 30's, I've had some interesting dates in my time. I don't think it's going that far out on a limb to say that online dating has probably made some of those dates more interesting than others. I'm reminded of a man that I met on the internet...let's call him "Patrick".
From what I read on his dating profile (and from what I may or may not have discovered from googling his name), Patrick sounded amazing. He worked for a large investment firm in Boston Ireland
I arrived at the restaurant before Patrick and stood in the entryway to wait. A few minutes later, I received a text from him that said, “pulling in now” and I knew that he would probably be the one of the next few people to walk in. An attractive male redhead came through the door. I smiled. He smiled. I said “hi.” He said "hi". Aaaaaaaaand then, he walked right by me and went into the restaurant. I stood there for a few seconds trying to figure out what had happened. Then, the redhead came out again. He said, “Are you waiting for someone?” in an Irish brogue. And I said, “Yes. Patrick?” And he answered, “Wow, you’re actually hot. I didn’t expect you to be hot.” I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, so I just smiled and said, “uh thank you [question mark]”.
As we walked up to the hostess stand, we heard a male voice yell, “Hey Patrick!” We turned to see a taller man approaching us with a blonde woman. Patrick shook the man's hand and then stepped away with him, leaving me alone with the woman. I made small talk with her, having no idea who these people were. Patrick and the man came back with beers for the four of us. I noticed that Patrick’s eyes weren’t really focusing when he talked to me, but I thought maybe he has some kind of far sightedness and he didn't want to wear his glasses for our date. Although the woman that I was speaking with was very nice, I sensed some awkwardness between the two men, but thought maybe they just didn't know each other that well. Then, the hostess came over to us and asked, “Would you like me to change your table to a table for four?” Before the woman and I had a chance to answer, Patrick and the other man shouted, “NO!” very loudly and forcefully. The hostess, the woman and I looked at the men strangely and the hostess paused for a beat before she said to the other couple, “Ok, then your table is ready.” The man and the woman walked toward the dining room.
I asked Patrick, who was beginning to sway back and forth, “Why didn’t you want to sit with your friend? I wouldn’t have minded.” Patrick replied, “That wasn’t my friend. Up until three months ago, that was my brother-in-law.” So, yes, unbeknownst to me, Patrick had just filed for divorce three months prior. And of all the people that we could have run into on our date... Now, I understood the awkwardness. Added to this, I realized that part of B-i-L's discomfort was stemming from the fact that Patrick was highly, HIGHLY intoxicated.
See, I hadn’t noticed that during my conversation with B-i-L's date, Patrick had finished two beers in the time that I had taken two sips. And in replaying the night up to that point, I'm sure that those weren't his first two. While we waited for a table, I noticed that Patrick was leaning into the woman next to him, much to the chagrin of that woman’s husband sitting on the other side. I pulled Patrick’s arm back to warn him to give her a little space. He turned to me and yelled at the top of his lungs, “I can’t believe how hot you are.” and proceeded to shove his tongue down my throat. I wasn’t really sure how to handle the situation. Not being a strong advocate for public displays of affection in the first place, here I was with a drunk-ass almost-stranger who had just announced to the bar how “hot” he thought I was (possibly through his beer goggles) before attempting to make out with me like a fourteen year old wallflower and his Selena Gomez poster. I managed to extricate myself from Patrick and before I could tell him that he probably didn’t need any more beer, he went back up to the bar. After a whispered conversation between Patrick and the bartender that I couldn’t quite hear, Patrick came over to me and said, “Apparently, they are not going to serve me any more at this establishment tonight”.
The next few minutes are a bit of blur. I think there was wrestling involved, although I'm not sure if it was started by me trying to wrestle away Patrick's car keys or him trying to Pepe Le Pew me. He managed to slur directions at me as I drove him home, full of the terror that he was going to puke in my car, and I never spoke to him again. I just hope he remembered where put his truck.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Boston, you're my not-so-friendly home!
I love Boston. Truly. I love crossing the Charles River over the Mass Ave bridge on a sunny day. I love being at the Harbor at night and looking toward the lit-up city skyline. I love walking through the streets and watching the neighborhoods change, each of them unique and wonderful.
But, we, Bostonians, have a reputation. I'm guilty of it as well. We don't take kindly to strangers. Our first reaction to a random stranger approaching us and starting a conversation is "why the hell is this person talking to me?" We think they're either a) homeless and panhandling, b) crazy and actually talking to the imaginary man standing next to us, c) lost and looking for directions, or d) weird. Once we've figured out the "why", we have no problem talking to you, even if the answer is "d". But, if you're not used to our initial reaction, you may feel put off and not continue the conversation. Bostonians have a tough time making new friends.
I was thinking about this last Friday. One of my sisters (Stacy) and I went to a preview for the Martha's Vineyard Film Festival which takes place on the island September 6-9, 2012. The preview was in Boston. It was a night of five short films, a reception with wine and appetizers, then a feature film. It was fantastic and I'm thinking about going to the film festival itself. But, back to my night at the movies.
A shortage of seating at the reception compelled Stacy and me to ask if we could share a table with a young couple sitting at a table for four. When they agreed, they made eye contact with us! Now, this is unheard of in Boston. But, their openness led me to begin asking them questions about how they heard about the film festival, etc. Soon we were engaged in lively conversation. They were charming! They had moved from Houston last year (which explains the eye contact). The female member of the couple and I have tons in common. She loves the Boston Ballet and Sixteen Candles is one of her favorite movies. She's very intelligent (a doctor) so she's good at book-learnin', but she also knows quite a bit about pop culture, like me. When we went back into the theater, we sat next to them. We exchanged numbers and hopefully, it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
The whole night got me thinking...it was really easy for me to make that friend. Yet, I've been finding it difficult to meet new people in this city. I've been blaming others for not approaching me. But, it's my own fault. I have made myself completely unapproachable. Eye contact, a smile, a "good morning", a "have a good night"...I need to start doing and saying these things. That's all that it takes. And I also need to remember that the "make new friends" piece of the old adage is just as important as "keeping the old".
But, we, Bostonians, have a reputation. I'm guilty of it as well. We don't take kindly to strangers. Our first reaction to a random stranger approaching us and starting a conversation is "why the hell is this person talking to me?" We think they're either a) homeless and panhandling, b) crazy and actually talking to the imaginary man standing next to us, c) lost and looking for directions, or d) weird. Once we've figured out the "why", we have no problem talking to you, even if the answer is "d". But, if you're not used to our initial reaction, you may feel put off and not continue the conversation. Bostonians have a tough time making new friends.
I was thinking about this last Friday. One of my sisters (Stacy) and I went to a preview for the Martha's Vineyard Film Festival which takes place on the island September 6-9, 2012. The preview was in Boston. It was a night of five short films, a reception with wine and appetizers, then a feature film. It was fantastic and I'm thinking about going to the film festival itself. But, back to my night at the movies.
A shortage of seating at the reception compelled Stacy and me to ask if we could share a table with a young couple sitting at a table for four. When they agreed, they made eye contact with us! Now, this is unheard of in Boston. But, their openness led me to begin asking them questions about how they heard about the film festival, etc. Soon we were engaged in lively conversation. They were charming! They had moved from Houston last year (which explains the eye contact). The female member of the couple and I have tons in common. She loves the Boston Ballet and Sixteen Candles is one of her favorite movies. She's very intelligent (a doctor) so she's good at book-learnin', but she also knows quite a bit about pop culture, like me. When we went back into the theater, we sat next to them. We exchanged numbers and hopefully, it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
The whole night got me thinking...it was really easy for me to make that friend. Yet, I've been finding it difficult to meet new people in this city. I've been blaming others for not approaching me. But, it's my own fault. I have made myself completely unapproachable. Eye contact, a smile, a "good morning", a "have a good night"...I need to start doing and saying these things. That's all that it takes. And I also need to remember that the "make new friends" piece of the old adage is just as important as "keeping the old".
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