So last week, Murray, Gulliver and I headed over to the church building where I could be set apart for my new calling (Ward Newsletter! Awesome!) and Murray could have a home teaching interview. I was finished first, so I waited in the foyer with Gulliver. There were other men who were also there, waiting around. And there was one boy who looked about 14 years old. I didn't interact at all with anyone, but I was privy to any of their conversations. And this is what I overheard.
Man: So I see that you're pretty popular with the girls. It's like, any time I see you in church, there are a bunch of girls surrounding you, and it doesn't matter what ward they're from either. They all know you and can't say enough good things about you. You just wait till you're 16. Your phone will be ringing off the hook with all these girls asking you out.
Boy: Yeah. Uh... I thought that guys were supposed to ask girls out.
Man: Yeah, that's not really how it is anymore. These days, the girls do all the asking out.
Boy: Oh. Well. I think I'd rather be the one to ask the girls out on dates.
Let's pause here to congratulate the boy, by the way. And to note that this could have been a very good moment where a thought like this was properly encouraged and nurtured. Just like a tiny little seed that needs good soil and water and light and love.
Man: Are you kidding? Do you even know how much a date costs? Once you've done just basic dinner and a movie you're already out thirty bucks. Do you have that kind of money to spend? Trust me. You can't afford to ask girls out on dates. It's easier to just let them ask you.
So instead of getting soil, water, and light, that tiny little nugget of a good, proper thought, was poisoned. Poisoned. I weep for the future.
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Commence Indignation
I have a friend. We'll call her Polly.
Polly is one of my favorite people. She is kind, smart, pretty, friendly, fun, and dresses well. Really, it's a winning combination. If I were a guy, I'd date her.
Apparently not all guys think the way I think guys should think.
When I asked Polly about the guy she's been dating over the past month or so, she told me that they broke things off this weekend. I asked why. She said that he came over to visit her one evening and asked her where she thought things were going. She thought this was going to be a "good talk." Then he said that he had some concerns about her.
1) She's vain.
First of all, Polly is not what I would call a vain person. She is certainly pretty, and she does a great job of staying in shape and wearing fantastic clothes. But she's very down-to-earth. When she shared his first point with me, she said, "I only shop sales!!" She also pointed out that this conversation took place while she was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. She also said that on their first date, when he was talking about what he valued in women, he mentioned that his wife had to be beautiful. I don't think that you can be more beautiful and down-to-earth than Polly. This guy is crazy. (And I'm glad that the craziness came out this early so that they could break things off!)
2) She has a low standard for the company she keeps.
Polly is the only active LDS member of her family. A lot of her friends aren't members of the church. One thing that has always impressed me about Polly is her ability to accept people as they are. I think that it's admirable that she doesn't pass judgment on others just because they make different choices than she does. She doesn't let their actions influence her, either. She honors her beliefs. She also wants to date good members of the church and marry someone who has the same beliefs and lifestyle that she does. That sounds pretty grounded to me. This guy indicated that she should not allow anyone to practice anything that is not in line with her beliefs in front of her, and gave the example that if he is in a bar, he expects everyone to refrain from swearing and expects the bartender to not offer him any alcoholic beverage because the bartender needs to respect his beliefs.
I may add here that this guy is a beer delivery man. So while he's judging Polly for associating with people who drink, he's stocking the city with alcohol.
3) She works too much.
Polly works a full time job. She also does some freelance reporting on the side. In addition to that, she teaches a dance class and does volunteer work. To me, that all looks impressive. It shows an ability to manage time well (and since she's so happy all the time, you know that she's got some good balance in her life). To him, this kind of work ethic, initiative, and income is too much. And I guess in this point I must concede. I totally understand how a beer deliverer would be threatened by her accomplishments and success.
After bringing up all these issues, Polly said that she'd be willing to go 50-50 with him and try to reach a compromise (that may be Polly's only mistake in this whole thing because in my opinion, she should have kicked him out on the curb after he brought up his three concerns). He told her, "Your faults are my mountains and I will die on those mountains before I will ever compromise."
We can only hope that he finds some mountains to die on.
Polly is one of my favorite people. She is kind, smart, pretty, friendly, fun, and dresses well. Really, it's a winning combination. If I were a guy, I'd date her.
Apparently not all guys think the way I think guys should think.
When I asked Polly about the guy she's been dating over the past month or so, she told me that they broke things off this weekend. I asked why. She said that he came over to visit her one evening and asked her where she thought things were going. She thought this was going to be a "good talk." Then he said that he had some concerns about her.
1) She's vain.
First of all, Polly is not what I would call a vain person. She is certainly pretty, and she does a great job of staying in shape and wearing fantastic clothes. But she's very down-to-earth. When she shared his first point with me, she said, "I only shop sales!!" She also pointed out that this conversation took place while she was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. She also said that on their first date, when he was talking about what he valued in women, he mentioned that his wife had to be beautiful. I don't think that you can be more beautiful and down-to-earth than Polly. This guy is crazy. (And I'm glad that the craziness came out this early so that they could break things off!)
2) She has a low standard for the company she keeps.
Polly is the only active LDS member of her family. A lot of her friends aren't members of the church. One thing that has always impressed me about Polly is her ability to accept people as they are. I think that it's admirable that she doesn't pass judgment on others just because they make different choices than she does. She doesn't let their actions influence her, either. She honors her beliefs. She also wants to date good members of the church and marry someone who has the same beliefs and lifestyle that she does. That sounds pretty grounded to me. This guy indicated that she should not allow anyone to practice anything that is not in line with her beliefs in front of her, and gave the example that if he is in a bar, he expects everyone to refrain from swearing and expects the bartender to not offer him any alcoholic beverage because the bartender needs to respect his beliefs.
I may add here that this guy is a beer delivery man. So while he's judging Polly for associating with people who drink, he's stocking the city with alcohol.
3) She works too much.
Polly works a full time job. She also does some freelance reporting on the side. In addition to that, she teaches a dance class and does volunteer work. To me, that all looks impressive. It shows an ability to manage time well (and since she's so happy all the time, you know that she's got some good balance in her life). To him, this kind of work ethic, initiative, and income is too much. And I guess in this point I must concede. I totally understand how a beer deliverer would be threatened by her accomplishments and success.
After bringing up all these issues, Polly said that she'd be willing to go 50-50 with him and try to reach a compromise (that may be Polly's only mistake in this whole thing because in my opinion, she should have kicked him out on the curb after he brought up his three concerns). He told her, "Your faults are my mountains and I will die on those mountains before I will ever compromise."
We can only hope that he finds some mountains to die on.
Singles Sensitivity Training
Wednesdays are my day off work and they are, therefore, my day to get things done. I look forward to the "break" from work, but I am beginning to realize that a Wednesday of errands can be more exhausting than a day sitting in front of my computer.
Among yesterday's errands was going to the jeweler to have my watch battery replaced. I went to the place where Murray and I bought our wedding rings because the service is so great. Our salesperson, T, even greets us by name when we come in, which is crazy because I figure he sees and works with so many people.
So T greeted me this time, and we chatted---he asked me about married life, and I went on about how great it is because I thought that he was married. (I guess the wedding band he'd been wearing every time we went in was just for show.) In the manner of making chit chat, I asked him, "How are things? People still getting married?" I know it's not the most brilliant dialog, but there it is. I said it. His response was completely unexpected.
He said, "Nope. I'm still not married."
With absolute horror I realized that he thought I asked him, "Still not married?" As if three and a half weeks of marriage were long enough to make me lose all sensitivity toward singles. But I couldn't really say, "No, I didn't ask if you were still not married. I asked if people were still getting married... and buying rings and stuff... you know... how's business?" because that just would have sounded lame.
Because of the misunderstanding he ended up telling me all about how he just broke up with his girlfriend and that he's a terrible boyfriend. And then, as a married person, I wisely bestowed wisdom upon him by telling him that if you're really not into the person, breaking up before the holidays is really the only way to do it, because otherwise, you're locked into the relationship until at least Valentine's Day. Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day: Those are three really awkward holidays to go through when you know you don't really like the person you're dating. (Of course, I would have bestowed that same wisdom had I been a single person because it was a lesson that Richie taught me years ago. Not that he followed his own advice, which meant that I had to help him find a slew of non-committal gifts for the holidays. Scarves and mittens anyone?)
And T really appreciated that insight because it hadn't occurred to him, and it made him feel better about his breakup.
Unfortunately, it didn't make me feel any better about the fact that someone misunderstood the words from my mouth and thought that I was asking a horrible, insensitive question that only smugly married people ask.
Among yesterday's errands was going to the jeweler to have my watch battery replaced. I went to the place where Murray and I bought our wedding rings because the service is so great. Our salesperson, T, even greets us by name when we come in, which is crazy because I figure he sees and works with so many people.
So T greeted me this time, and we chatted---he asked me about married life, and I went on about how great it is because I thought that he was married. (I guess the wedding band he'd been wearing every time we went in was just for show.) In the manner of making chit chat, I asked him, "How are things? People still getting married?" I know it's not the most brilliant dialog, but there it is. I said it. His response was completely unexpected.
He said, "Nope. I'm still not married."
With absolute horror I realized that he thought I asked him, "Still not married?" As if three and a half weeks of marriage were long enough to make me lose all sensitivity toward singles. But I couldn't really say, "No, I didn't ask if you were still not married. I asked if people were still getting married... and buying rings and stuff... you know... how's business?" because that just would have sounded lame.
Because of the misunderstanding he ended up telling me all about how he just broke up with his girlfriend and that he's a terrible boyfriend. And then, as a married person, I wisely bestowed wisdom upon him by telling him that if you're really not into the person, breaking up before the holidays is really the only way to do it, because otherwise, you're locked into the relationship until at least Valentine's Day. Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day: Those are three really awkward holidays to go through when you know you don't really like the person you're dating. (Of course, I would have bestowed that same wisdom had I been a single person because it was a lesson that Richie taught me years ago. Not that he followed his own advice, which meant that I had to help him find a slew of non-committal gifts for the holidays. Scarves and mittens anyone?)
And T really appreciated that insight because it hadn't occurred to him, and it made him feel better about his breakup.
Unfortunately, it didn't make me feel any better about the fact that someone misunderstood the words from my mouth and thought that I was asking a horrible, insensitive question that only smugly married people ask.
Je manque a Murray
Want proof that Murray misses me, too? He's in Paris, he has the opportunity to draw cool European pictures. And what does he choose to draw?
Just to explain why he's in Europe right now, he works for a stock photography company. He's not a photographer, but he's an expert on composing shots artistically. At the office, he does all the PhotoShop work---touching up colors, cleaning up the pictures, etc.
Also, he is an artist (now you can tell). He has illustrated a few children's books, including one about the life of Senator Orrin Hatch. (I told him I always wanted to date someone who's illustrated the life of Senator Orrin Hatch.)
Here's a paragraph from a recent email. The trouble he's having with the AZERTY keyboard cracks me up:
You will hqte me but I cqnt write much there just isn t time:::::::they qre qctuqlly zqiting for me now::::::::::I hqve so much I wqnt to qsk you qnd tell you qbout::::::::::two asain men got in a fist fight fright in front of me while i reqd one of your messqges:::the bloodied eqch other it was crqzy:::::::i am neqr q hippopotumus resturqnt and the cinemqs:::::sound fqmiliqr
Anyway, he's the best. And he'll be back in six days.
Just to explain why he's in Europe right now, he works for a stock photography company. He's not a photographer, but he's an expert on composing shots artistically. At the office, he does all the PhotoShop work---touching up colors, cleaning up the pictures, etc.
Also, he is an artist (now you can tell). He has illustrated a few children's books, including one about the life of Senator Orrin Hatch. (I told him I always wanted to date someone who's illustrated the life of Senator Orrin Hatch.)
Here's a paragraph from a recent email. The trouble he's having with the AZERTY keyboard cracks me up:
You will hqte me but I cqnt write much there just isn t time:::::::they qre qctuqlly zqiting for me now::::::::::I hqve so much I wqnt to qsk you qnd tell you qbout::::::::::two asain men got in a fist fight fright in front of me while i reqd one of your messqges:::the bloodied eqch other it was crqzy:::::::i am neqr q hippopotumus resturqnt and the cinemqs:::::sound fqmiliqr
Anyway, he's the best. And he'll be back in six days.
Missing Murray
For the first time since he's been in Europe, Murray didn't email me today. I was worried, of course.
At about 2:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m. Paris time, Murray sent me a text message saying that he will be unable to get to an internet cafe today, and that he was still filming at the base of Sacre Coeur.
So I went online to look at a nighttime picture of Sacre Coeur so that I could really imagine where he was and what he was doing.
Here is a series of pictures of me missing him. If you're really lucky, I might put them together in another musical animation this weekend...
(NB: These pictures are mirror images. You're looking at my right hand, not my left.)
At about 2:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m. Paris time, Murray sent me a text message saying that he will be unable to get to an internet cafe today, and that he was still filming at the base of Sacre Coeur.
So I went online to look at a nighttime picture of Sacre Coeur so that I could really imagine where he was and what he was doing.
Here is a series of pictures of me missing him. If you're really lucky, I might put them together in another musical animation this weekend...
(NB: These pictures are mirror images. You're looking at my right hand, not my left.)
Dating a Patriot
While Murray's away in Europe for the next two weeks, maybe I won't have so much schmoop fodder. This story involves Murray but it involves very little schmoop.
For the Memorial Day weekend, I went down to Springville (where Murray lives) and spent my days with him and my nights with Patience in Spanish Fork. Murray and I are pretty much fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants sort of people (he pretty much melted when he saw that every single day on my planner is completely blank and unscheduled... beyond dentist appointments, what do I have to schedule?), so we were flying-by-the-seat-of-our-pants.
On Saturday, his friend (who we'll call Danger) called to invite us to go floating/rafting down the Provo river (last year, Redras and I wanted to float down the Provo river, but we were never able to execute that plan). Murray, without consulting me, politely declined. When he got off the phone, he apologized for answering for me, and explained in a somewhat non-excited voice that Danger had invited us floating/river rafting. My eyes lit up and I said, "That sounds like so much fun." Murray was surprised, and I sensed a little hesitation on his part, but to be honest, I wasn't sure if he was hesitating because he didn't want to do it or if he was hesitating because he didn't really believe that I would honestly want to go floating down the Provo river.
But Murray will do anything to make me happy (it's one of his finest qualities). So he called Danger back and said we were coming.
On our way to Provo river, Murray asked me how excited I was to be doing this. I said a 9. He was a little dumbstruck. If only I knew what he knew. (That's a little foreshadowing.)
We met up with the group (about 10 people in all). We deposited half our vehicles at Vivian Park and piled into the other half to go a little farther up the river. Then, our group members began to inflate our craft. It was then that I realized that Murray, Danger, Some Other Guy, and I were all expected to squeeze into a tiny, cheap, inflatable raft. Still, I didn't think it could be that bad.
Until I got into the water and began to have an inkling. For some reason, I thought that that mountain snow-melt-run-off wouldn't be so very freezing cold. I was wrong. I really knew how wrong I was when, after four adults got into the dinghy, our craft filled most of the way with the frigid water. Oh, and by the way, the four of us were basically spooning to even be in that raft. I've never felt closer to Murray. He was literally sitting in my lap.
And then we were off. No one was comfortable. Everyone was cold. We were moving slowly. And when we got to water that was moving a little more quickly, we bottomed out, hitting the submerged rocks and tree trunks with out knees and feet. It was painful. And our boat was only getting fuller and fuller of water.
Luckily, we came to a complete stop at one point, and Murray and I decided to jump ship and just walk the rest of the way on the nice trail beside the river. That decision possibly saved our lives, and the life of Becker. (That's a little more foreshadowing for you.)
Murray and I were strolling hand-in-hand down the nice little riverside path, Danger and co. gladly out of sight and earshot so that we could start complaining about our experience. At this point, I described the experience as a 2. And things weren't getting much better. True, we were out of the water, but Murray had no shirt and no sunscreen and was burning. And our trail ended, leaving us only train tracks to walk on the rest of the way. I just kept telling myself that the Heber Creeper creeps and surely we'd have time to jump into the bushes were it to creep up on us.
Despite this, Murray and I were still blissfully enjoying one another's company---so much so in fact that we even started singing some hymns. Lame, I know, but I think it's important that my parents at least know that Murray is the kind of guy who, when walking on train tracks without his shirt on, will choose to sing "The Lord Is My Light" rather than drag me into the bushes and ravage me. These things are good to know.
But it wasn't just the two of us for very long, because Fate intervened and introduced us to Becker. Becker was sitting on the bank of the river in his inner tube. He was wearing a life jacket. He was about our age and looked like a normal sort of fellow. But when we passed by, he asked if it was okay if he followed us for a bit---he was "unfamiliar with the terrain." Something about his slurred speech, inability to walk in a straight line, and ignorance of the fact that simply following the river was as much "familiarity with the terrain" he needed, tipped me off to the fact that something was wrong. I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was not 100% mentally. Or worse, maybe he had hypothermia (from the water) or heat stroke (from the sun) or both (is it possible?), and his behavior was just a symptom.
Whatever it was, Murray and I invited Becker to walk with us, even though it required us to slow down our pace considerably. Once, when I got close to Becker, I smelled the alcohol on him. So then I knew for sure that he was just drunk. Really, really drunk.
We walked and visited with Becker for a really long time. Unfortunately, Becker didn't have shoes. Between the railway ties was gravel. So either he was walking on burning-hot wood (from the sun) or sharp gravel. It was hard enough for him to walk straight (or to stay on his feet) and the pain wasn't making things any better. Finally, I offered him my flip flops (I have leather, calloused feet). Becker refused. But I kept on insisting, and unfortunately, this caused Murray to give Becker his flip flops (there's no way Murray's feet are as leathery as mine). Becker accepted them (his feet were getting cut up) and as we helped him put them on (he was too drunk to do it himself) he said, "That is the most patriotic thing you can do is give another man your shoes."
Keep that in mind people. Really, it bears repeating:
The most patriotic thing you can do is give another man your shoes.
Eventually, when Becker could no longer walk at all (maybe after 45 minutes of walking together), we decided to put him back in the water. He had a life jacket after all. Unfortunately, when he was in the water, he was too drunk to actually get back onto the tube. So he just hung off the side and began to freeze to death. Murray and I concernedly ran along beside him as he floated down the river. Finally a group of people appeared on the other side of the river while Murray was on that same side, trying again (fruitlessly) to get back onto his tube. They asked if there was a man in a life jacket. We called to Becker and told him his friends were there to get him. He waved at us. We told him his friends were there to get him. He waved at us. His friends called to him and told him they were there to get him. He waved at them.
And we considered that the end of our moral obligation to Becker. Of course, you should know that Becker was appreciative of our help. He even told us where he lived so that in case we ever needed anything, we can come to him for help. Actually, I'll just extend his offer of help to Daltongirl, because apparently they're pretty much neighbors. I'm sure that Daltongirl will need Becker's help gathering eggs from her chickens in August. Becker will be there to help. And he might even offer her his shoes, if he's feeling particularly patriotic.
After getting rid of Becker (but helping him long enough to earn blessings), we made our way back to Vivian Park where we reunited with Danger and co.
Now during a dating period, you need to be learning as much as possible about your potential future spouse. (Is it weird that I just said that? I'm just stating a fact.) What did I learn about Murray?
1) Trust his hesitation. When he declines to go river rafting, trust that instinct.
2) His delicate, fair skin burns easily. Poor, poor Murray.
3) He is a patriot.
4) He is willing to help drunks.
5) He maintains a positive attitude in a not-so-great situation.
For the Memorial Day weekend, I went down to Springville (where Murray lives) and spent my days with him and my nights with Patience in Spanish Fork. Murray and I are pretty much fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants sort of people (he pretty much melted when he saw that every single day on my planner is completely blank and unscheduled... beyond dentist appointments, what do I have to schedule?), so we were flying-by-the-seat-of-our-pants.
On Saturday, his friend (who we'll call Danger) called to invite us to go floating/rafting down the Provo river (last year, Redras and I wanted to float down the Provo river, but we were never able to execute that plan). Murray, without consulting me, politely declined. When he got off the phone, he apologized for answering for me, and explained in a somewhat non-excited voice that Danger had invited us floating/river rafting. My eyes lit up and I said, "That sounds like so much fun." Murray was surprised, and I sensed a little hesitation on his part, but to be honest, I wasn't sure if he was hesitating because he didn't want to do it or if he was hesitating because he didn't really believe that I would honestly want to go floating down the Provo river.
But Murray will do anything to make me happy (it's one of his finest qualities). So he called Danger back and said we were coming.
On our way to Provo river, Murray asked me how excited I was to be doing this. I said a 9. He was a little dumbstruck. If only I knew what he knew. (That's a little foreshadowing.)
We met up with the group (about 10 people in all). We deposited half our vehicles at Vivian Park and piled into the other half to go a little farther up the river. Then, our group members began to inflate our craft. It was then that I realized that Murray, Danger, Some Other Guy, and I were all expected to squeeze into a tiny, cheap, inflatable raft. Still, I didn't think it could be that bad.
Until I got into the water and began to have an inkling. For some reason, I thought that that mountain snow-melt-run-off wouldn't be so very freezing cold. I was wrong. I really knew how wrong I was when, after four adults got into the dinghy, our craft filled most of the way with the frigid water. Oh, and by the way, the four of us were basically spooning to even be in that raft. I've never felt closer to Murray. He was literally sitting in my lap.
And then we were off. No one was comfortable. Everyone was cold. We were moving slowly. And when we got to water that was moving a little more quickly, we bottomed out, hitting the submerged rocks and tree trunks with out knees and feet. It was painful. And our boat was only getting fuller and fuller of water.
Luckily, we came to a complete stop at one point, and Murray and I decided to jump ship and just walk the rest of the way on the nice trail beside the river. That decision possibly saved our lives, and the life of Becker. (That's a little more foreshadowing for you.)
Murray and I were strolling hand-in-hand down the nice little riverside path, Danger and co. gladly out of sight and earshot so that we could start complaining about our experience. At this point, I described the experience as a 2. And things weren't getting much better. True, we were out of the water, but Murray had no shirt and no sunscreen and was burning. And our trail ended, leaving us only train tracks to walk on the rest of the way. I just kept telling myself that the Heber Creeper creeps and surely we'd have time to jump into the bushes were it to creep up on us.
Despite this, Murray and I were still blissfully enjoying one another's company---so much so in fact that we even started singing some hymns. Lame, I know, but I think it's important that my parents at least know that Murray is the kind of guy who, when walking on train tracks without his shirt on, will choose to sing "The Lord Is My Light" rather than drag me into the bushes and ravage me. These things are good to know.
But it wasn't just the two of us for very long, because Fate intervened and introduced us to Becker. Becker was sitting on the bank of the river in his inner tube. He was wearing a life jacket. He was about our age and looked like a normal sort of fellow. But when we passed by, he asked if it was okay if he followed us for a bit---he was "unfamiliar with the terrain." Something about his slurred speech, inability to walk in a straight line, and ignorance of the fact that simply following the river was as much "familiarity with the terrain" he needed, tipped me off to the fact that something was wrong. I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was not 100% mentally. Or worse, maybe he had hypothermia (from the water) or heat stroke (from the sun) or both (is it possible?), and his behavior was just a symptom.
Whatever it was, Murray and I invited Becker to walk with us, even though it required us to slow down our pace considerably. Once, when I got close to Becker, I smelled the alcohol on him. So then I knew for sure that he was just drunk. Really, really drunk.
We walked and visited with Becker for a really long time. Unfortunately, Becker didn't have shoes. Between the railway ties was gravel. So either he was walking on burning-hot wood (from the sun) or sharp gravel. It was hard enough for him to walk straight (or to stay on his feet) and the pain wasn't making things any better. Finally, I offered him my flip flops (I have leather, calloused feet). Becker refused. But I kept on insisting, and unfortunately, this caused Murray to give Becker his flip flops (there's no way Murray's feet are as leathery as mine). Becker accepted them (his feet were getting cut up) and as we helped him put them on (he was too drunk to do it himself) he said, "That is the most patriotic thing you can do is give another man your shoes."
Keep that in mind people. Really, it bears repeating:
The most patriotic thing you can do is give another man your shoes.
Eventually, when Becker could no longer walk at all (maybe after 45 minutes of walking together), we decided to put him back in the water. He had a life jacket after all. Unfortunately, when he was in the water, he was too drunk to actually get back onto the tube. So he just hung off the side and began to freeze to death. Murray and I concernedly ran along beside him as he floated down the river. Finally a group of people appeared on the other side of the river while Murray was on that same side, trying again (fruitlessly) to get back onto his tube. They asked if there was a man in a life jacket. We called to Becker and told him his friends were there to get him. He waved at us. We told him his friends were there to get him. He waved at us. His friends called to him and told him they were there to get him. He waved at them.
And we considered that the end of our moral obligation to Becker. Of course, you should know that Becker was appreciative of our help. He even told us where he lived so that in case we ever needed anything, we can come to him for help. Actually, I'll just extend his offer of help to Daltongirl, because apparently they're pretty much neighbors. I'm sure that Daltongirl will need Becker's help gathering eggs from her chickens in August. Becker will be there to help. And he might even offer her his shoes, if he's feeling particularly patriotic.
After getting rid of Becker (but helping him long enough to earn blessings), we made our way back to Vivian Park where we reunited with Danger and co.
Now during a dating period, you need to be learning as much as possible about your potential future spouse. (Is it weird that I just said that? I'm just stating a fact.) What did I learn about Murray?
1) Trust his hesitation. When he declines to go river rafting, trust that instinct.
2) His delicate, fair skin burns easily. Poor, poor Murray.
3) He is a patriot.
4) He is willing to help drunks.
5) He maintains a positive attitude in a not-so-great situation.
Fact vs. Fiction
Tonight at Nat's house, she introduced me to all her friends as, "This is Cicada. She met her boyfriend on the internet." I think that maybe she's trying to get me used to the fact that now that Murray and I are dating-dating, people are going to ask us how we met, and I'm going to have to admit that we met online. Actually, everyone I met tonight really thought it was cool that Murray and I met through my blog. And my grandpa up in Canada, who thinks that computers are of the devil, said, "You know, people don't like to admit that they met on the internet because there's some sort of stigma attached to it. But it's really not much different than my day when we went to dances to meet friends of friends. That's how we met new people to date."
If Grandpa doesn't think it's so bad, why should I?
If Murray doesn't think it's so bad, why should I? (He made this horrible fake-crying face when I told him that the way we met embarrasses me, and it almost broke my heart.)
In fact, I have several successfully-married friends who met online (whoa---not that we're talking about marriage here---we're just talking about the fact that Murray and I are dating, okay?). Should I out you all? Off the top of my head, there's Daltongirl and Daltonboy, Squirrel Boy and Brinestone, and Ambrosia and Bawb. I don't know if three couples counts as "several" but you get what I'm saying.
Still, I'm embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met on the internet." That sounds like internet dating sites (not that there's anything wrong with that...). I'm even embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met through my blog" because that generally leads to "What is your blog address" and maybe I don't want to give my blog address to everyone I talk to about Murray.
I'm going to have to come up with some alternate explanations of how we met. Some can be half truths. Some may be lies. Let me know which is your favorite, and feel free to suggest alternatives.
1. We met through a friend of a friend. (True: He linked to my blog from the blog of a friend of a friend.)
2. Well, we were dating for a while, then we broke up, but we got back together again. (This is El Senor's solution. He said we just have to break up at some point and get back together again. This answer is "deflection" where I wouldn't actually be answering the question, but people wouldn't notice that I wasn't actually answering the question.)
3. We happened to go to the same restaurant one night and started talking while we waited to be seated, and decided to sit together. (True: Although, we arranged online to meet at that restaurant... I'd just omit that detail.)
4. We met in the Mac store and our love of Macs brought us together. (False. But we both love Macs.)
5. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a boy from a James Christensen painting who I had always dreamed of meeting. (False. But he's in a James Christensen painting.)
6. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a guy in Saints and Soldiers. (False, but he was an extra in Saints and Soldiers.)
7. We were both abducted by aliens at the same time and met on the mother ship. When we returned to earth, we found each other and our shared horrifying experience really brought us closer together. (True, but claiming to have met on the internet is much less embarrassing.)
If Grandpa doesn't think it's so bad, why should I?
If Murray doesn't think it's so bad, why should I? (He made this horrible fake-crying face when I told him that the way we met embarrasses me, and it almost broke my heart.)
In fact, I have several successfully-married friends who met online (whoa---not that we're talking about marriage here---we're just talking about the fact that Murray and I are dating, okay?). Should I out you all? Off the top of my head, there's Daltongirl and Daltonboy, Squirrel Boy and Brinestone, and Ambrosia and Bawb. I don't know if three couples counts as "several" but you get what I'm saying.
Still, I'm embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met on the internet." That sounds like internet dating sites (not that there's anything wrong with that...). I'm even embarrassed to say, "Murray and I met through my blog" because that generally leads to "What is your blog address" and maybe I don't want to give my blog address to everyone I talk to about Murray.
I'm going to have to come up with some alternate explanations of how we met. Some can be half truths. Some may be lies. Let me know which is your favorite, and feel free to suggest alternatives.
1. We met through a friend of a friend. (True: He linked to my blog from the blog of a friend of a friend.)
2. Well, we were dating for a while, then we broke up, but we got back together again. (This is El Senor's solution. He said we just have to break up at some point and get back together again. This answer is "deflection" where I wouldn't actually be answering the question, but people wouldn't notice that I wasn't actually answering the question.)
3. We happened to go to the same restaurant one night and started talking while we waited to be seated, and decided to sit together. (True: Although, we arranged online to meet at that restaurant... I'd just omit that detail.)
4. We met in the Mac store and our love of Macs brought us together. (False. But we both love Macs.)
5. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a boy from a James Christensen painting who I had always dreamed of meeting. (False. But he's in a James Christensen painting.)
6. I saw him on the street and recognized him as a guy in Saints and Soldiers. (False, but he was an extra in Saints and Soldiers.)
7. We were both abducted by aliens at the same time and met on the mother ship. When we returned to earth, we found each other and our shared horrifying experience really brought us closer together. (True, but claiming to have met on the internet is much less embarrassing.)
Missing Redras, Part II
Are you still not convinced why I loved living with Redras so much? She's hysterical. Today, I'd like you to read an excerpt from an email she wrote. If she's this funny by email, just imagine how funny she is to have as a roommate.
First you have to know that she asked me about Murray, so I emailed her and joked about the fact that he still could be an internet predator---after going out with him and realizing that he's best described as "sweet," I watched an episode of Law and Order where everyone described the serial killer at "sweet." That doesn't help me to sleep at night.
(Daltongirl met Daltonboy with help from the internet and she reports: "Daltonboy so far has not turned out to be a rapist, serial killer, or predator. Although he did come home half an hour late from work today so I should probably be concerned. His true colors are coming out, and I only had to wait seven years. But those seven years were pretty darn good, so I can't complain.")
Here is Redras's email:
Murray sounds really sweet and funny. Does he live in Provo? How did he find your blog? I just googled "hot mormon chick salt lake" and your blog was not on the first page of search results. So if he IS an internet predator, he is either more creative or more persistent than me. Instead of thinking of him as a "predator", you could think of him as a "pre-dator", or one who "pre-dates", meaning he takes a test drive with someone's blog personality before taking their real personality on a date. Considering how dangerous and chock full of crazies the world is, pre-dating is actually pretty smart. You can add "intelligent" and "cautious" to his list of good qualities.
(I must admit that I am fully aware that now that I've posted "hot mormon chick salt lake" on my blog, my chances of being found by an internet predator have increased.)
First you have to know that she asked me about Murray, so I emailed her and joked about the fact that he still could be an internet predator---after going out with him and realizing that he's best described as "sweet," I watched an episode of Law and Order where everyone described the serial killer at "sweet." That doesn't help me to sleep at night.
(Daltongirl met Daltonboy with help from the internet and she reports: "Daltonboy so far has not turned out to be a rapist, serial killer, or predator. Although he did come home half an hour late from work today so I should probably be concerned. His true colors are coming out, and I only had to wait seven years. But those seven years were pretty darn good, so I can't complain.")
Here is Redras's email:
Murray sounds really sweet and funny. Does he live in Provo? How did he find your blog? I just googled "hot mormon chick salt lake" and your blog was not on the first page of search results. So if he IS an internet predator, he is either more creative or more persistent than me. Instead of thinking of him as a "predator", you could think of him as a "pre-dator", or one who "pre-dates", meaning he takes a test drive with someone's blog personality before taking their real personality on a date. Considering how dangerous and chock full of crazies the world is, pre-dating is actually pretty smart. You can add "intelligent" and "cautious" to his list of good qualities.
(I must admit that I am fully aware that now that I've posted "hot mormon chick salt lake" on my blog, my chances of being found by an internet predator have increased.)
Practical Ass
Why would I ever continue to go out with a man who called me a practical ass? I guess I can't really help myself.
On Saturday, after a funny event that I have yet to blog about (just waiting on pictures), Murray and I got together for a fun-filled afternoon. First I went to his house and upon inspection, deemed it very clean for a surprise visit.
We were in the predicament of having to find something to do that didn't involve food because I'd just eaten lunch with some ex-companions. Fortunately, I remembered how fond I always was of the Bean Museum, so we took a trip there to look at the liger, the dik diks, and the terrifying lion who was sawn in half mid-jump. This was only our second outing together, but we found lots to talk about. Like clothing choices. I told him that I buy most of my clothes at Target and Old Navy lately. He called me a practical lass. But that sounds like practical ass. I'm just saying.
We had so much to talk about in fact that the Bean Museum simply wasn't enough. We had to find something else to do, so we went to the BYU art museum to see an exhibit that a friend recommended. One of the coolest parts of going to the museum with Murray was the history he was able to give me on the artists. It was like having my own personal tour guide. The last piece we saw was the piece I wanted most to see: The Nativity, by Brian Kershisnik. I really can't say enough about how much I loved it. Which is funny because when I realized that I recognize other paintings he's done, I realized that I've always hated all his other work. But he's sold me on this one. I'd like to buy the original, but I'll settle for a print when one becomes available.
Even after two museums, we weren't really done talking, so Murray suggested we go to Art City Trolley for sodas and an appetizer. There, more talking ensued. A funny thing about spending time with him was realizing that he actually knew a lot about me because he's read a lot of my blog. Like when he mentioned Dirty Jobs (a show on Discovery Channel), I mentioned that he should watch Hazard Pay, because I know the host, Curt Dousett. When I explained that I know him because I dated a guy last year who was in Comedy Sportz, Murray actually already knew. And then he apologized for knowing. Which was endearing.
So even though he called me a practical ass, I decided I wanted to get together with him again. So he came up tonight. I had made him magnets to comemmorate our Saturday together (a liger, a trolley, and a blazer because we were both wearing blazers--like the one pictured to the right). A few days ago, I had sent him some PDFs of designs I did and meant to print out for wall art but hadn't gotten around to doing so. Tonight, he showed up with color printouts of all three of my designs. And then he apologized for not having the time to frame them. Those printouts were so incredibly sweet and thoughtful. So then I gave him his comemmorative magnets, and he seemed to think that what I did was cooler than what he did. I think we might be pretty evenly matched.
On Saturday, after a funny event that I have yet to blog about (just waiting on pictures), Murray and I got together for a fun-filled afternoon. First I went to his house and upon inspection, deemed it very clean for a surprise visit.
We were in the predicament of having to find something to do that didn't involve food because I'd just eaten lunch with some ex-companions. Fortunately, I remembered how fond I always was of the Bean Museum, so we took a trip there to look at the liger, the dik diks, and the terrifying lion who was sawn in half mid-jump. This was only our second outing together, but we found lots to talk about. Like clothing choices. I told him that I buy most of my clothes at Target and Old Navy lately. He called me a practical lass. But that sounds like practical ass. I'm just saying.
We had so much to talk about in fact that the Bean Museum simply wasn't enough. We had to find something else to do, so we went to the BYU art museum to see an exhibit that a friend recommended. One of the coolest parts of going to the museum with Murray was the history he was able to give me on the artists. It was like having my own personal tour guide. The last piece we saw was the piece I wanted most to see: The Nativity, by Brian Kershisnik. I really can't say enough about how much I loved it. Which is funny because when I realized that I recognize other paintings he's done, I realized that I've always hated all his other work. But he's sold me on this one. I'd like to buy the original, but I'll settle for a print when one becomes available.
Even after two museums, we weren't really done talking, so Murray suggested we go to Art City Trolley for sodas and an appetizer. There, more talking ensued. A funny thing about spending time with him was realizing that he actually knew a lot about me because he's read a lot of my blog. Like when he mentioned Dirty Jobs (a show on Discovery Channel), I mentioned that he should watch Hazard Pay, because I know the host, Curt Dousett. When I explained that I know him because I dated a guy last year who was in Comedy Sportz, Murray actually already knew. And then he apologized for knowing. Which was endearing.
So even though he called me a practical ass, I decided I wanted to get together with him again. So he came up tonight. I had made him magnets to comemmorate our Saturday together (a liger, a trolley, and a blazer because we were both wearing blazers--like the one pictured to the right). A few days ago, I had sent him some PDFs of designs I did and meant to print out for wall art but hadn't gotten around to doing so. Tonight, he showed up with color printouts of all three of my designs. And then he apologized for not having the time to frame them. Those printouts were so incredibly sweet and thoughtful. So then I gave him his comemmorative magnets, and he seemed to think that what I did was cooler than what he did. I think we might be pretty evenly matched.
Blog Boyfriend vs. Blog Boyfriend
Tonight was the date. You'll likely want to know what I ended up wearing. Well, right before I left work, I decided to go shopping at Gap again. I ended up buying a tuxedo shirt and a pair of jeans. Which is funny because I had planned on wearing a tuxedo shirt and pair of jeans that I already owned. So basically, I just went out and bought a new, different version of what I'd already been planning to wear. I tried to take a picture, but my camera battery ran out as soon as I pushed the button, so I'm afraid you won't see what I looked like on my date. No matter.
Anyway, so let me give you the background story. See, this guy I went on a date with---we'll call him Murray---emailed me a little while ago to say that he'd been reading my blog. We emailed back and forth a little and then decided that we should get together and meet. Of course, I ran the risk of him being a psycho killer (qu'est-ce que c'est?) (fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa) from whom I'd have to run run run run run run run away (oh oh oh oh... ai ai ai ai ai). So we arranged a meeting in a public place (Bombay House) and I brought back-ups---Nat and OldEnough. Of course, that was three-on-one for poor Murray, who would have been in real danger had we turned out to be the psycho killers (qu'est-ce que c'est?). But Nat and OldEnough were the obvious choice. You see, they recently met through their blogs, too. So it was like a blog-boyfriend-double-date. (Note: The use of the word "boyfriend" here does not mean a committed relationship, rather it means "person who has dating potential.")
Murray and I met in the waiting area and Nat and OldEnough showed up soon after. When we got to our table, OldEnough pulled out the chair for Nat to sit in, and Murray then said that he had to pull out my chair now, too, because he couldn't not do it after OldEnough did it. Nat mentioned that OldEnough earned points by pulling out the chair. We weren't sure if Murray earned points because he just did it out of peer pressure. But I announced that Murray earned points when he told me I looked nice (of course, he had read all about the date shopping experience). And this led to a points discussion where Nat and I were able to discuss our dates' point statuses in front of them. Murray pitched in that he might lose points for "packing a few extra pounds" but he might gain points for "ability to lose weight" which I didn't acknowledge as funny at the time, but I've got to admit, I'm still laughing about it. In fact, I must mention here that one of the best parts about this double-date was the body matching that went on. Nat and OldEnough were the skinny couple. Murry and I were the ability-to-lose-weight couple. Such a good match.
By the end of the evening, we all knew each other a little better. In fact, OldEnough and Murray even exchanged emails. This could be a really good thing. Or, of course, it could be a really bad thing when Murray and OldEnough decide to run off together and leave Nat and me alone and destitute. After the date, Nat called me to tell me that both she and OldEnough approve of Murray. Approval is very important. OldEnough thought it was cool that Murray prefaced half his sentences with apologies for possibly sounding creepy, or internet-stalkery, or really apologizing for anything. Nat thought it was cool that Murray pointed out that he did actually consider giving me references who I could call to make sure he wasn't a psycho killer. (I think, actually, Nat and OldEnough and I were all at least slightly disappointed to find out that Murray was normal and cool... but like I've said, it's not like the feather-weights would have been much help in defending me anyway.)
Anyway, I'm sure that you're all dying to know Murray's point status by the end of the night. Here it is:
Being on time: 1
Dressing nicely (great jeans and a nice, striped button-up shirt): 1
Commenting on my appearance: 1
Not forcing an awkward hug on me: 5
Being easy to talk to and fitting in well: 2
Making a racist comment: -2 (that's actually an inside joke---we have those already; he didn't make any racist comments---I just had to put in a negative)
Knowing how to use PhotoShop: 10 (because the program is cryptic to me, anyone who knows how to use it is a genius)
Having two G5s with two 23-inch monitors at work: 10 (dead sexy)
Knowing what to do at Utah Lake if you're a man who wants to have sex with a man: -10
Not offering to take me bowling after dinner: 20
Deferring to my food judgment and ordering the same thing as me: 1
Allowing me to order the Peshwari Nan: 2
Not forcing another awkward hug on me at the end of the evening: 5
There are plenty of other things that earned him points, but Nat keeps Google Talking me to ask if I've finished the post. Okay, really, my creativity has run out. Suffice it to say that he ended with positive points. I don't know how OldEnough fared in the end, but I wish him the same success. Of course, I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that Murray and OldEnough don't take a trip together to Utah Lake.
Anyway, so let me give you the background story. See, this guy I went on a date with---we'll call him Murray---emailed me a little while ago to say that he'd been reading my blog. We emailed back and forth a little and then decided that we should get together and meet. Of course, I ran the risk of him being a psycho killer (qu'est-ce que c'est?) (fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa) from whom I'd have to run run run run run run run away (oh oh oh oh... ai ai ai ai ai). So we arranged a meeting in a public place (Bombay House) and I brought back-ups---Nat and OldEnough. Of course, that was three-on-one for poor Murray, who would have been in real danger had we turned out to be the psycho killers (qu'est-ce que c'est?). But Nat and OldEnough were the obvious choice. You see, they recently met through their blogs, too. So it was like a blog-boyfriend-double-date. (Note: The use of the word "boyfriend" here does not mean a committed relationship, rather it means "person who has dating potential.")
Murray and I met in the waiting area and Nat and OldEnough showed up soon after. When we got to our table, OldEnough pulled out the chair for Nat to sit in, and Murray then said that he had to pull out my chair now, too, because he couldn't not do it after OldEnough did it. Nat mentioned that OldEnough earned points by pulling out the chair. We weren't sure if Murray earned points because he just did it out of peer pressure. But I announced that Murray earned points when he told me I looked nice (of course, he had read all about the date shopping experience). And this led to a points discussion where Nat and I were able to discuss our dates' point statuses in front of them. Murray pitched in that he might lose points for "packing a few extra pounds" but he might gain points for "ability to lose weight" which I didn't acknowledge as funny at the time, but I've got to admit, I'm still laughing about it. In fact, I must mention here that one of the best parts about this double-date was the body matching that went on. Nat and OldEnough were the skinny couple. Murry and I were the ability-to-lose-weight couple. Such a good match.
By the end of the evening, we all knew each other a little better. In fact, OldEnough and Murray even exchanged emails. This could be a really good thing. Or, of course, it could be a really bad thing when Murray and OldEnough decide to run off together and leave Nat and me alone and destitute. After the date, Nat called me to tell me that both she and OldEnough approve of Murray. Approval is very important. OldEnough thought it was cool that Murray prefaced half his sentences with apologies for possibly sounding creepy, or internet-stalkery, or really apologizing for anything. Nat thought it was cool that Murray pointed out that he did actually consider giving me references who I could call to make sure he wasn't a psycho killer. (I think, actually, Nat and OldEnough and I were all at least slightly disappointed to find out that Murray was normal and cool... but like I've said, it's not like the feather-weights would have been much help in defending me anyway.)
Anyway, I'm sure that you're all dying to know Murray's point status by the end of the night. Here it is:
Being on time: 1
Dressing nicely (great jeans and a nice, striped button-up shirt): 1
Commenting on my appearance: 1
Not forcing an awkward hug on me: 5
Being easy to talk to and fitting in well: 2
Making a racist comment: -2 (that's actually an inside joke---we have those already; he didn't make any racist comments---I just had to put in a negative)
Knowing how to use PhotoShop: 10 (because the program is cryptic to me, anyone who knows how to use it is a genius)
Having two G5s with two 23-inch monitors at work: 10 (dead sexy)
Knowing what to do at Utah Lake if you're a man who wants to have sex with a man: -10
Not offering to take me bowling after dinner: 20
Deferring to my food judgment and ordering the same thing as me: 1
Allowing me to order the Peshwari Nan: 2
Not forcing another awkward hug on me at the end of the evening: 5
There are plenty of other things that earned him points, but Nat keeps Google Talking me to ask if I've finished the post. Okay, really, my creativity has run out. Suffice it to say that he ended with positive points. I don't know how OldEnough fared in the end, but I wish him the same success. Of course, I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that Murray and OldEnough don't take a trip together to Utah Lake.
Date Shopping
Today after work, I went date shopping. The funny (read: pointless) thing about buying a new outfit for a date with someone you've never met is that all of your clothes and outfits are new to your date, so really you can just wear anything.
Today's shopping started with a trip to Nordstrom to buy a bra. Not because my date's going to get lucky or anything, but because I really just needed a new bra. From Nordstrom, I went to Gap because I had actually already chosen my outfit online before making the trip to buy it. The shopping trip was going to be expensive (bra=$60, pants=$50, shirt=$40) but worth it because not only was the outfit going to be good for the date, it was going to be good for work.
I carefully chose a nice pair of white summer pants and a striped blue shirt, but when I got to the store, I found out they didn't have the pants in my size. Neither did any other Gaps in town. They had the shirt, but I wasn't going to buy the shirt if I couldn't have the pants.
I set out to find another pair of white pants and I swear to you, I visited almost every store in existence. The whole experience was ridiculous and absolutely fruitless. Do you want the list of stores I visited?
Gap
Banana Republic
J Crew
Ann Taylor
Vanity
Macy's
Sears
Dillards
Express
American Eagle
Bebe
Charlotte Russe
White House | Black Market
Old Navy
TJ Maxx
Target
Of course, many of these stores had white pants, but none that fit me like the Gap's white pants would have fit me (also, the pants are no longer available online in my size either, so I can't even buy them online and wear them on another occasion). It's sad that ultimately, Target actually had great white pants (and I had a gift card to Target) but they were also sold out of my size.
In the end, the shopping trip ended up being a lot cheaper than I expected, but I feel that I've at least invested some good time into this date. You see, date dressing is difficult---especially if it's someone you're meeting for the very first time.
First of all, I'm sorry to say, but you have no guarantee that it's even worth the investment. If you're just meeting the person for the first time, chances are fairly good that you'll get together, enjoy a good meal, and ultimately decide that you didn't really click. It's best when this feeling is mutual. It's better when you mutually feel that you did click. But let's be honest---that doesn't happen very often in encounters such as this.
Second of all, you have to dress nicely in a planned outfit, but you have to dress carefully. You don't want to overdress for the event and make your date feel like a schmuck. You don't want to underdress for the event and feel like a schmuck. You also don't want to dress like the girl you're doubling with. (Nat has informed me that she'll be wearing a blue shirt, jeans, and red shoes. I warned her that there's a fair chance that I, too, will be wearing red shoes.) Currently, I have overdressing and underdressing ideas.
Overdressing: I like a bunch of skirts that I have right now. I like a bunch of button-up shirts that I have right now. However, I would comfortably wear any of these outfits to church, and I don't want to go on a date in a church outfit.
Underdressing: I like my most recent Threadless purchases, most specifically my Lions Are Smarter Than I Am t-shirt. But I figure if I wear that, it may as well be an I Don't Give A Damn About You t-shirt. Of course, if I really wanted to send the "I don't give a damn" message, I would wear the Bob Saget t-shirt that Redras made for me, letting him know that Bob Saget is the only man who does it for me.
Unless I get some flashes of retail inspiration tomorrow and find a new outfit to buy, I'll probably end up wearing nice jeans and a button-up tuxedo shirt. I'm sure you can never go wrong showing up for a first date in a tuxedo.
Today's shopping started with a trip to Nordstrom to buy a bra. Not because my date's going to get lucky or anything, but because I really just needed a new bra. From Nordstrom, I went to Gap because I had actually already chosen my outfit online before making the trip to buy it. The shopping trip was going to be expensive (bra=$60, pants=$50, shirt=$40) but worth it because not only was the outfit going to be good for the date, it was going to be good for work.
I carefully chose a nice pair of white summer pants and a striped blue shirt, but when I got to the store, I found out they didn't have the pants in my size. Neither did any other Gaps in town. They had the shirt, but I wasn't going to buy the shirt if I couldn't have the pants.
I set out to find another pair of white pants and I swear to you, I visited almost every store in existence. The whole experience was ridiculous and absolutely fruitless. Do you want the list of stores I visited?
Gap
Banana Republic
J Crew
Ann Taylor
Vanity
Macy's
Sears
Dillards
Express
American Eagle
Bebe
Charlotte Russe
White House | Black Market
Old Navy
TJ Maxx
Target
Of course, many of these stores had white pants, but none that fit me like the Gap's white pants would have fit me (also, the pants are no longer available online in my size either, so I can't even buy them online and wear them on another occasion). It's sad that ultimately, Target actually had great white pants (and I had a gift card to Target) but they were also sold out of my size.
In the end, the shopping trip ended up being a lot cheaper than I expected, but I feel that I've at least invested some good time into this date. You see, date dressing is difficult---especially if it's someone you're meeting for the very first time.
First of all, I'm sorry to say, but you have no guarantee that it's even worth the investment. If you're just meeting the person for the first time, chances are fairly good that you'll get together, enjoy a good meal, and ultimately decide that you didn't really click. It's best when this feeling is mutual. It's better when you mutually feel that you did click. But let's be honest---that doesn't happen very often in encounters such as this.
Second of all, you have to dress nicely in a planned outfit, but you have to dress carefully. You don't want to overdress for the event and make your date feel like a schmuck. You don't want to underdress for the event and feel like a schmuck. You also don't want to dress like the girl you're doubling with. (Nat has informed me that she'll be wearing a blue shirt, jeans, and red shoes. I warned her that there's a fair chance that I, too, will be wearing red shoes.) Currently, I have overdressing and underdressing ideas.
Overdressing: I like a bunch of skirts that I have right now. I like a bunch of button-up shirts that I have right now. However, I would comfortably wear any of these outfits to church, and I don't want to go on a date in a church outfit.
Underdressing: I like my most recent Threadless purchases, most specifically my Lions Are Smarter Than I Am t-shirt. But I figure if I wear that, it may as well be an I Don't Give A Damn About You t-shirt. Of course, if I really wanted to send the "I don't give a damn" message, I would wear the Bob Saget t-shirt that Redras made for me, letting him know that Bob Saget is the only man who does it for me.
Unless I get some flashes of retail inspiration tomorrow and find a new outfit to buy, I'll probably end up wearing nice jeans and a button-up tuxedo shirt. I'm sure you can never go wrong showing up for a first date in a tuxedo.
Dating the Brothers
(With apologies for the length of this post.)
It's funny... before I left for college my mom once admitted to me that her worst fear for us kids was that we'd go our separate ways and have nothing to do with each other. We've basically done the opposite. Four of the five of us came to Utah. We all lived in Provo. Now we all live in Salt Lake. And we'd give just about anything to have the fifth sibling out here with us. I prefer spending time with my siblings (and this includes my sister-in-law because she's as much a sibling as the brothers) more than spending time with anyone else. Basically a standard of measurement for the men I date is to want to spend the evening with my significant other rather than spend the evening with my siblings. When hanging out at a funeral with The Boy and El Senor sounds like more fun than spending the evening with the guy I'm dating, basically it's a good indication that the relationship should end. True story.
But I guess you can have too much of a good thing. Let's face it, I'm 26 and unmarried with no prospects. About six years ago, my dad sat down with me and told me that I needed to stop spending so much time with my brothers---I needed to actually go out and meet other people. Six years later, I'm still working on going out and meeting other people.
Tonight, after work, I met up with El Senor at REI to buy goo-filled, puncture-resistant tubes. We made it just in time for closing, and decided to grab dinner at Go Sushi, just down the road. When we were finished with our dinner, our waiter came to our table with the bill. It's always interesting to see what a server will do with a bill, because I know that the assumption is that we're NOT brother and sister. This waiter decided to take a direct approach and asked, "How would you like me to do the bill?" I immediately volunteered to pay because I'm just about to give El Senor the rent check anyway, so it would be easy for me to subtract his dinner from rent. But although the waiter asked confidently what to do with the check, he clearly didn't expect me to volunteer to pay it. At first he said nothing. Then he laughed. All the while, he looked frantically from me to El Senor, from El Senor to me, trying to see if it was a joke. It wasn't, though. Really, the girl was going to pay for the meal and that was just fine.
I have dating experiences like this with each of my brothers. I actually enjoy the fact that people assume I'm on a date with my brother. It makes the outing that much more fun. You'll understand why...
Dating Experiences with The Boy
My most recent date with The Boy was a trip to Red Iguana. Our after-meal experience was opposite to the one I just had with El Senor. I had cash, so I gave The Boy my half of the meal. He would put the whole bill on his card. But our waitress only dealt with me when sorting out the bill. For example, after we'd been waiting a long time to sign the bill and leave, the waitress came to our table and explained to me that their credit card machine wasn't working properly, so that's why it was taking so long. Several minutes later, she returned, gave me The Boy's credit card, and asked if I had another form of payment I could use. The Boy opened his wallet and paid cash for the meal. This is probably the only experience I've ever had where the server assumed that the woman was paying for the meal. (Maybe she thought we were married?)
Another great experience with The Boy was, of course, living with him while attending BYU. You may remember that I was assigned to be his home teaching companion. We also had several very confused ward members come to our door: "Oh. I'm sorry. I must be at the wrong house... I was looking for The Boy." I'd say, "The Boy lives here." They'd say, "I'm sorry---I thought you lived here." I'd say, "I live here, too." Then they'd be even more confused. This and similar situations repeated the whole time The Boy and I lived together. And it never got old.
Dating Experiences with Richie
Richie and I have fewer dating experiences because we've never really spent much of our adult lives living in the same city. But we have a precious couple. Like after his first year away at school in Southern Ontario. I hadn't seen him in months and the first evening we were able to see each other again, we were forced to go to a regional YSA dance. Neither of us liked to dance, and we weren't interested in meeting new people, so we went to a lobby couch to catch up. I suggested we play a game: See how long it takes for us to get in trouble. So he put his arm around me and I put my hand on his knee and we chatted like that for a few minutes. It wasn't long before a leader came across us. He looked at the two of us and looked at a girl down the hall chatting on the phone. "Is she your chaperone?" he sarcastically asked, pointing to the girl down the hall. I said, "Oh, we don't need a chaperone. This is actually my brother." Richie immediately chimed in, "Yeah, yeah. This is my SISTER. Ha ha!" The leader left perplexed, unsure about whether we were lying or telling the truth.
More recently, Richie and I went car shopping together. He wanted to bring me along to give him some legitimacy. Sure he had a hippie beard and hippie hair, but if he had a WIFE, the car dealers might take him seriously. I commented to him at one point that for young marrieds, we certainly weren't very touchy-feely. Richie said, "We got married when we were sixteen. It's been so long now that the love's basically died out."
Dating Experiences with El Senor
Other than tonight's experience, I particularly remember El Senor being the last of a few men who came out to visit my family in Maryland during the months after my mission. The first was a guy I dated but shouldn't have. The second was a guy I didn't date but should have. The third was a married family friend ("marriedin") staying with our family. The fourth was El Senor. As El Senor and I were sitting together in the YSA Sunday School, one class member commented to another, "Well, Cicada certainly wins the award for bringing the most guys home to meet her parents this summer."
Another date with El Senor that sticks out in my mind was a date to the Symphony back when we were both living in Provo. We were wearing our nice Symphony clothes. He picked me up and I figured out quickly in the car on the way up to SLC that El Senor wasn't in a very chatty mood. So we rode up to SLC in silence. Then we attended the Symphony and we didn't say anything to each other before the performance. During the intermission, we went into the reception area, stood with our arms folded, and continued to say nothing. After the performance, he asked if I wanted to go to the Red Iguana. We went and enjoyed a silent meal together. Nothing actually happened on that date, but during the whole thing, I wondered what people watchers would think of us. They'd think surely that the relationship was about to end.
Dating Experiences with Captain Fabuloso
Years ago, when Captain Fabuloso and I went to Calgary for a close family friend's wedding (the aforementioned "marriedin," though we knew his wife much better than we knew him back then) we spent the weekend meeting lots of different people. Every time we were introduced, we were introduced by our last name: These are the XXXXXXXXs. We didn't clue in till later that of course, everyone assumed that we were married. When one of us mentioned BYU, someone asked, "Is that where you two met?" Captain Fabuloso and I looked at each other and then CF said, "No... we've known each other a lot longer than that." I added, "We actually grew up together---we've known each other our whole lives." People thought that was just so sweet.
A year before that trip to Calgary, CF was in a ward whose bishop liked to fly hot air balloons. In an effort to get his ward members dating, he invited a different apartment each week to bring dates and have a balloon ride with him. CF, a dating wizard (just ask his wife), asked me to be his date. That was all well and good until the bishop found out that I was CF's sister and almost had a nervous breakdown, crying that he was doing all he could to marry off his ward members, but if the guys insisted on dating their sisters, no progress would ever be made.
And I guess he was right. As long as I keep dating my brothers, I'll make no real progress. But unless some guy measures up to the high standard my brothers have set, I won't be happy with him anyway, knowing that I'd rather be hanging out with my brothers than making out with him.
It's funny... before I left for college my mom once admitted to me that her worst fear for us kids was that we'd go our separate ways and have nothing to do with each other. We've basically done the opposite. Four of the five of us came to Utah. We all lived in Provo. Now we all live in Salt Lake. And we'd give just about anything to have the fifth sibling out here with us. I prefer spending time with my siblings (and this includes my sister-in-law because she's as much a sibling as the brothers) more than spending time with anyone else. Basically a standard of measurement for the men I date is to want to spend the evening with my significant other rather than spend the evening with my siblings. When hanging out at a funeral with The Boy and El Senor sounds like more fun than spending the evening with the guy I'm dating, basically it's a good indication that the relationship should end. True story.
But I guess you can have too much of a good thing. Let's face it, I'm 26 and unmarried with no prospects. About six years ago, my dad sat down with me and told me that I needed to stop spending so much time with my brothers---I needed to actually go out and meet other people. Six years later, I'm still working on going out and meeting other people.
Tonight, after work, I met up with El Senor at REI to buy goo-filled, puncture-resistant tubes. We made it just in time for closing, and decided to grab dinner at Go Sushi, just down the road. When we were finished with our dinner, our waiter came to our table with the bill. It's always interesting to see what a server will do with a bill, because I know that the assumption is that we're NOT brother and sister. This waiter decided to take a direct approach and asked, "How would you like me to do the bill?" I immediately volunteered to pay because I'm just about to give El Senor the rent check anyway, so it would be easy for me to subtract his dinner from rent. But although the waiter asked confidently what to do with the check, he clearly didn't expect me to volunteer to pay it. At first he said nothing. Then he laughed. All the while, he looked frantically from me to El Senor, from El Senor to me, trying to see if it was a joke. It wasn't, though. Really, the girl was going to pay for the meal and that was just fine.
I have dating experiences like this with each of my brothers. I actually enjoy the fact that people assume I'm on a date with my brother. It makes the outing that much more fun. You'll understand why...
Dating Experiences with The Boy
My most recent date with The Boy was a trip to Red Iguana. Our after-meal experience was opposite to the one I just had with El Senor. I had cash, so I gave The Boy my half of the meal. He would put the whole bill on his card. But our waitress only dealt with me when sorting out the bill. For example, after we'd been waiting a long time to sign the bill and leave, the waitress came to our table and explained to me that their credit card machine wasn't working properly, so that's why it was taking so long. Several minutes later, she returned, gave me The Boy's credit card, and asked if I had another form of payment I could use. The Boy opened his wallet and paid cash for the meal. This is probably the only experience I've ever had where the server assumed that the woman was paying for the meal. (Maybe she thought we were married?)
Another great experience with The Boy was, of course, living with him while attending BYU. You may remember that I was assigned to be his home teaching companion. We also had several very confused ward members come to our door: "Oh. I'm sorry. I must be at the wrong house... I was looking for The Boy." I'd say, "The Boy lives here." They'd say, "I'm sorry---I thought you lived here." I'd say, "I live here, too." Then they'd be even more confused. This and similar situations repeated the whole time The Boy and I lived together. And it never got old.
Dating Experiences with Richie
Richie and I have fewer dating experiences because we've never really spent much of our adult lives living in the same city. But we have a precious couple. Like after his first year away at school in Southern Ontario. I hadn't seen him in months and the first evening we were able to see each other again, we were forced to go to a regional YSA dance. Neither of us liked to dance, and we weren't interested in meeting new people, so we went to a lobby couch to catch up. I suggested we play a game: See how long it takes for us to get in trouble. So he put his arm around me and I put my hand on his knee and we chatted like that for a few minutes. It wasn't long before a leader came across us. He looked at the two of us and looked at a girl down the hall chatting on the phone. "Is she your chaperone?" he sarcastically asked, pointing to the girl down the hall. I said, "Oh, we don't need a chaperone. This is actually my brother." Richie immediately chimed in, "Yeah, yeah. This is my SISTER. Ha ha!" The leader left perplexed, unsure about whether we were lying or telling the truth.
More recently, Richie and I went car shopping together. He wanted to bring me along to give him some legitimacy. Sure he had a hippie beard and hippie hair, but if he had a WIFE, the car dealers might take him seriously. I commented to him at one point that for young marrieds, we certainly weren't very touchy-feely. Richie said, "We got married when we were sixteen. It's been so long now that the love's basically died out."
Dating Experiences with El Senor
Other than tonight's experience, I particularly remember El Senor being the last of a few men who came out to visit my family in Maryland during the months after my mission. The first was a guy I dated but shouldn't have. The second was a guy I didn't date but should have. The third was a married family friend ("marriedin") staying with our family. The fourth was El Senor. As El Senor and I were sitting together in the YSA Sunday School, one class member commented to another, "Well, Cicada certainly wins the award for bringing the most guys home to meet her parents this summer."
Another date with El Senor that sticks out in my mind was a date to the Symphony back when we were both living in Provo. We were wearing our nice Symphony clothes. He picked me up and I figured out quickly in the car on the way up to SLC that El Senor wasn't in a very chatty mood. So we rode up to SLC in silence. Then we attended the Symphony and we didn't say anything to each other before the performance. During the intermission, we went into the reception area, stood with our arms folded, and continued to say nothing. After the performance, he asked if I wanted to go to the Red Iguana. We went and enjoyed a silent meal together. Nothing actually happened on that date, but during the whole thing, I wondered what people watchers would think of us. They'd think surely that the relationship was about to end.
Dating Experiences with Captain Fabuloso
Years ago, when Captain Fabuloso and I went to Calgary for a close family friend's wedding (the aforementioned "marriedin," though we knew his wife much better than we knew him back then) we spent the weekend meeting lots of different people. Every time we were introduced, we were introduced by our last name: These are the XXXXXXXXs. We didn't clue in till later that of course, everyone assumed that we were married. When one of us mentioned BYU, someone asked, "Is that where you two met?" Captain Fabuloso and I looked at each other and then CF said, "No... we've known each other a lot longer than that." I added, "We actually grew up together---we've known each other our whole lives." People thought that was just so sweet.
A year before that trip to Calgary, CF was in a ward whose bishop liked to fly hot air balloons. In an effort to get his ward members dating, he invited a different apartment each week to bring dates and have a balloon ride with him. CF, a dating wizard (just ask his wife), asked me to be his date. That was all well and good until the bishop found out that I was CF's sister and almost had a nervous breakdown, crying that he was doing all he could to marry off his ward members, but if the guys insisted on dating their sisters, no progress would ever be made.
And I guess he was right. As long as I keep dating my brothers, I'll make no real progress. But unless some guy measures up to the high standard my brothers have set, I won't be happy with him anyway, knowing that I'd rather be hanging out with my brothers than making out with him.
Nem's Men
(It's a palendrome, in case I need to point out to you how clever I am. On Saturday, El Senor and I were looking at lighting fixtures. There was this racecar light fixture and an airplane light fixture. El Senor said to me, "Do you know what racecar is spelled backwards? ---Racecar." I looked at the airplane and said, "Do you know what airplane is spelled backwards?" El Senor said, "Enalpria.")
This weekend I had the occasion to have two slumber parties with Nemesis, whereat we tickled each other, braided each other's hair, and told each other our deepest, secretest secrets. Saturday night, I had already invited our friend Kit over for crepes (pronounced CRAYPES) and Nemesis and I were already planning to hit a matinee on Saturday, so I decided to invite Nem down for crepes and a sleepover. Then Saturday after our matinee, we went down to visit the Daltonclan, not only to see the chicks and share a chicken-free meal, but also to be gay. (While we were there, we saw a copy of some ancient manner book for teens wherein we read that guests are not invited over to eat food, they're invited over to be gay.) On the whole, it was a wonderful weekend that kindof made me feel like I was back on my mission because I had a companion, but kindof didn't make me feel like I was on a mission because of Nem's men, who were basically the whole point of the weekend. (Unless, of course, you count getting together at Daltongirl's house as the whole "point" of the weekend, which basically it was and all other activities were planned around that point, but the point of this post is Nem's men.)
Let's be honest. Sometimes I look at me and Nem and I wonder why we're both still single (however, as gay as we are when we get together at Daltongirl's house, I think that we're both still looking for men). Then I spend a weekend with her and Mr. Rochester and Mr. Wilberforce, and I realize that we're both single because no men actually compare to the Mr. Rochesters and the Mr. Wilberforces. And the Mr. Darcys and the Col. Brandons, and the Mr. Knightleys. And as long as we keep watching and reading men written by women (with the fine exception of Mr. Wilberforce) then we'll never make any real progress in our love lives.
I think that we can remedy this, however. I recorded The Sixth Day, an Arnold Schwarzenegger film, this weekend. It's a movie about a man, written by a man/men. And I lent Nemesis the book Eve's Apple, which is about a man, written by a man. I think that coming to love male characters created by men will help us develop more realistic expectations for our lives. And if I spend enough time at the gym, I may just happen to find my own Arnold. One can dream.
This weekend I had the occasion to have two slumber parties with Nemesis, whereat we tickled each other, braided each other's hair, and told each other our deepest, secretest secrets. Saturday night, I had already invited our friend Kit over for crepes (pronounced CRAYPES) and Nemesis and I were already planning to hit a matinee on Saturday, so I decided to invite Nem down for crepes and a sleepover. Then Saturday after our matinee, we went down to visit the Daltonclan, not only to see the chicks and share a chicken-free meal, but also to be gay. (While we were there, we saw a copy of some ancient manner book for teens wherein we read that guests are not invited over to eat food, they're invited over to be gay.) On the whole, it was a wonderful weekend that kindof made me feel like I was back on my mission because I had a companion, but kindof didn't make me feel like I was on a mission because of Nem's men, who were basically the whole point of the weekend. (Unless, of course, you count getting together at Daltongirl's house as the whole "point" of the weekend, which basically it was and all other activities were planned around that point, but the point of this post is Nem's men.)
Let's be honest. Sometimes I look at me and Nem and I wonder why we're both still single (however, as gay as we are when we get together at Daltongirl's house, I think that we're both still looking for men). Then I spend a weekend with her and Mr. Rochester and Mr. Wilberforce, and I realize that we're both single because no men actually compare to the Mr. Rochesters and the Mr. Wilberforces. And the Mr. Darcys and the Col. Brandons, and the Mr. Knightleys. And as long as we keep watching and reading men written by women (with the fine exception of Mr. Wilberforce) then we'll never make any real progress in our love lives.
I think that we can remedy this, however. I recorded The Sixth Day, an Arnold Schwarzenegger film, this weekend. It's a movie about a man, written by a man/men. And I lent Nemesis the book Eve's Apple, which is about a man, written by a man. I think that coming to love male characters created by men will help us develop more realistic expectations for our lives. And if I spend enough time at the gym, I may just happen to find my own Arnold. One can dream.
This and That
I haven't updated in so long and I've had a lot to say, so I'll see how I can do at giving you a life update as concisely as possible.
1. I booked a gaycation with Switchback. Of course, neither of us is gay, but it just turned into what we called our gaycation. She called me one night with news that I could get a round-trip ticket to San Diego for $60. Since Switchback is always worth at least $60, I went online to book my trip, only to discover that the fare was non-existent. One thing led to another and before we knew it, we were both purchasing tickets to Maryland for the end of March while she's on Spring Break. We plan on staying with my parents and doing DC and Baltimore. When I didn't blog about this, she wrote me the following email:
2. This leads me into my next story. I was google chatting with Saule Cogneur the other day. My google chat tagline at the time read, "I'm going on gaycation." He asked me how I was doing and pointed out that I seemed busy lately. I mentioned that I've been busy at work and that I've recently started dating someone. Several minutes later, I realized that my tagline read, "I'm going on gaycation" and I told him that I had recently started dating someone, so I felt a strong need to clarify to him that I am dating a MAN.
3. This leads me into my next story. I'm dating a MAN. No seriously. He's ten years older than me. He's suggested we round it down to nine, but I pointed out that it's almost exactly nine and three-quarters years, so it really makes more sense to round up to ten. Since you're all dying to know everything there is to know about him, I'll give you only the most relevant details:
Which doesn't lead me to any more points. I'll try to be better at updating, promise.
1. I booked a gaycation with Switchback. Of course, neither of us is gay, but it just turned into what we called our gaycation. She called me one night with news that I could get a round-trip ticket to San Diego for $60. Since Switchback is always worth at least $60, I went online to book my trip, only to discover that the fare was non-existent. One thing led to another and before we knew it, we were both purchasing tickets to Maryland for the end of March while she's on Spring Break. We plan on staying with my parents and doing DC and Baltimore. When I didn't blog about this, she wrote me the following email:
so I couldn't help but notice that you havent put up our plans for a gaycation on the blog. Are you afraid to admit to everyone who you are and what our relationship is really? Because if you can't, I serious think we should reconsider me meeting your parents.
2. This leads me into my next story. I was google chatting with Saule Cogneur the other day. My google chat tagline at the time read, "I'm going on gaycation." He asked me how I was doing and pointed out that I seemed busy lately. I mentioned that I've been busy at work and that I've recently started dating someone. Several minutes later, I realized that my tagline read, "I'm going on gaycation" and I told him that I had recently started dating someone, so I felt a strong need to clarify to him that I am dating a MAN.
3. This leads me into my next story. I'm dating a MAN. No seriously. He's ten years older than me. He's suggested we round it down to nine, but I pointed out that it's almost exactly nine and three-quarters years, so it really makes more sense to round up to ten. Since you're all dying to know everything there is to know about him, I'll give you only the most relevant details:
- He has only missed flossing three times in the last decade (like, since when he was my age). He was traveling all three times.
- He thinks that Banana Republic is "low-end" and "cheap."
- His Republicanism has already made me angry enough to have caused me to excuse myself from dinner and go to the bathroom to sing repeatedly the first line of Mary Cox and the Pop Rocks' song "All I Care about Is You," which goes, "I don't care if you're Republican; I don't care 'cause that's not quite the worst sin..." I tried unsuccessfully to convince myself that it was true.
- One of his hobbies is photography, and I haven't admitted to him yet that I kindof want to make him go to Antelope Island with me to show me how to take good pictures of birds, because I'm afraid that he'll think I'm cooky. I admit it. It's cooky, which is a word I never use but is entirely applicable in this case. (Luckily, since I am grounded in reality, I'm sure that he'll tell me that he doesn't have the right lens for taking pictures of birds on Antelope Island.)
CICADA: Oh! Wait! Oh my gosh!
RICE: What!
CICADA: I almost forgot!
RICE: OMG! [That’s her making fun of me.] WHAT!
CICADA: El Senor told me the story about the SQUIRREL in your HOUSE and you were SCREAMING and you didn't know what to do!!! Rogers Rice! Of ALL people, I thought you would know BEST what to do with a squirrel. Didn't you have hot dogs and a pole and a string???!
RICE: Oh Cicada. That was Hilarious. And squirrels in homes are much scarier than those in the wild. It started charging me while I was talking to El Senor. No hot dog was going to quell his want of my blood. I fear that I've made an enemy. He now sits on my porch and watches me.
CICADA: How did you get him out?
RICE: It was so awesome. We set up an elaborate obstacle course for him, so he had to charge at me. But I was waiting, holding a broom, at which point I was able to hockey puck out the open door, and he ran up a tree in front of my house. And now he stalks me.
CICADA: Wait... so he really was after YOU the whole time??
RICE: That's what I'm saying. He even peed on my bed
CICADA: I bet it's squirrel revenge. Oh, Rice!
RICE: We made some powerful enemies, Cicada. The hot dog on the stick... Biggest mistake of my life
CICADA: I'm going to have to watch my back from now on. And my bed.
RICE: Word. They'll get you
Which doesn't lead me to any more points. I'll try to be better at updating, promise.
Suddenly Single
Well, it's official. I've dumped all my TV boyfriends this season. Yes, I'm heartbroken, and yes I'm lonely, but gosh darnit, I have standards, and if I'm going to have to live alone with those standards and a pride of cats for the rest of my life, then so be it.
We'll start with Jack Bauer:
Dear Jack,
Oh, how can I express my disapp0intment? Sure, there was enough material in the four-hour season premiere to seriously test my ability to suspend disbelief, but when hour 5 turned into a soap opera, how could I not laugh out loud? I'm sorry, Jack, but your evil twin brother? (Okay, so he's actually not a twin, but please---can we get any cornier?) And not only that, but you have a "history" with your brother's wife? (And whose son is that, really??) Please. Jack, I'm dumping you because you are a man whore. Every woman loves you and you break every woman's heart because your true love is your country (but possibly you have a little man-crush on ex-terrorist-turned-really-nice-guy, Hassad). By the end of this season, we'll find out that Chloe is actually carrying your baby, and that she got pregnant before you went to China, but that your super-spawn requires an extra-long incubation period. We're through.
Next, we'll go with Danny Taylor:
Dear Danny,
There's just something about you this season that has left me feeling empty and disillusioned. You have continued to dress extremely well, and your hair is still perfectly fuzzy, but there's just something I can't quite put my finger on. You no longer appeal to me. Don't think that I'm leaving you for your coworker whom you call "brother," Martin. Don't think I'm leaving you for your boss who has serious issues, Jack. No, Danny, I'm leaving you because I prefer being alone to being your girlfriend. I know that hurts, but you have to face the facts. And yes, this may have something to do with the fact that you recently hooked up with your Hispanic coworker, Elena. I mean, did the writers of the show really have to do that to you? I don't even like her! And did they write her into the show just so that the two Hispanics could hook up? Oh Danny. How could you forget that I have a Latin name? Wasn't that enough for you? Why, Danny? Why?
And of course House:
Dear Greg,
Sometimes I feel like I'm watching the same. exact. thing. every. week. Get off the freaking pain killers. I'm sure that your writers can still make you interesting without the drug addiction. Or maybe they can't and that's why you're still an addict. I no longer care about you, Greggie. And I'm not leaving you for Wilson, either, because I haven't been impressed at all with his behavior this season.
There's always Gob...
Dear Gob,
I miss you. Please come back to me, Gob. Come back!
Aaaaaand of course Jim...
Dear Jim,
Actually, you were never my boyfriend because I always thought that you and Pam really deserve each other. Best of luck with that---I think you're doing a good job. Yours truly, your BFF, Cicada.
And although none of the men on Lost have ever been my boyfriends, here's a shout-out to them all:
Dear Lost,
We'll be seeing each other again very soon. And you know what? I really couldn't care less. Your show was good first season. It was okay second season. Third season? It's a load of crap. And it's proof that although some American shows really should plan a plot and execute it over a finite and planned number of seasons, no American shows ever actually do that. Your show would have been so much cooler if you had actually planned a beginning and an end, rather than trying to keep this group of people on an island for longer than anyone cares to pay attention. So you came back for a few episodes in the fall and then left off for another four months. Who do you think cares enough to tune back in next month? I'm dumping you.
**Please note that although I have "dumped" all my boyfriends and all my shows, this in no way will affect my watching their shows. I will continue to watch each of these shows (except Arrested Development for obvious reasons) because I still have an emotional attachment to each of my boyfriends that I cannot immediately sever.
We'll start with Jack Bauer:
Dear Jack,
Oh, how can I express my disapp0intment? Sure, there was enough material in the four-hour season premiere to seriously test my ability to suspend disbelief, but when hour 5 turned into a soap opera, how could I not laugh out loud? I'm sorry, Jack, but your evil twin brother? (Okay, so he's actually not a twin, but please---can we get any cornier?) And not only that, but you have a "history" with your brother's wife? (And whose son is that, really??) Please. Jack, I'm dumping you because you are a man whore. Every woman loves you and you break every woman's heart because your true love is your country (but possibly you have a little man-crush on ex-terrorist-turned-really-nice-guy, Hassad). By the end of this season, we'll find out that Chloe is actually carrying your baby, and that she got pregnant before you went to China, but that your super-spawn requires an extra-long incubation period. We're through.
Next, we'll go with Danny Taylor:
Dear Danny,
There's just something about you this season that has left me feeling empty and disillusioned. You have continued to dress extremely well, and your hair is still perfectly fuzzy, but there's just something I can't quite put my finger on. You no longer appeal to me. Don't think that I'm leaving you for your coworker whom you call "brother," Martin. Don't think I'm leaving you for your boss who has serious issues, Jack. No, Danny, I'm leaving you because I prefer being alone to being your girlfriend. I know that hurts, but you have to face the facts. And yes, this may have something to do with the fact that you recently hooked up with your Hispanic coworker, Elena. I mean, did the writers of the show really have to do that to you? I don't even like her! And did they write her into the show just so that the two Hispanics could hook up? Oh Danny. How could you forget that I have a Latin name? Wasn't that enough for you? Why, Danny? Why?
And of course House:
Dear Greg,
Sometimes I feel like I'm watching the same. exact. thing. every. week. Get off the freaking pain killers. I'm sure that your writers can still make you interesting without the drug addiction. Or maybe they can't and that's why you're still an addict. I no longer care about you, Greggie. And I'm not leaving you for Wilson, either, because I haven't been impressed at all with his behavior this season.
There's always Gob...
Dear Gob,
I miss you. Please come back to me, Gob. Come back!
Aaaaaand of course Jim...
Dear Jim,
Actually, you were never my boyfriend because I always thought that you and Pam really deserve each other. Best of luck with that---I think you're doing a good job. Yours truly, your BFF, Cicada.
And although none of the men on Lost have ever been my boyfriends, here's a shout-out to them all:
Dear Lost,
We'll be seeing each other again very soon. And you know what? I really couldn't care less. Your show was good first season. It was okay second season. Third season? It's a load of crap. And it's proof that although some American shows really should plan a plot and execute it over a finite and planned number of seasons, no American shows ever actually do that. Your show would have been so much cooler if you had actually planned a beginning and an end, rather than trying to keep this group of people on an island for longer than anyone cares to pay attention. So you came back for a few episodes in the fall and then left off for another four months. Who do you think cares enough to tune back in next month? I'm dumping you.
**Please note that although I have "dumped" all my boyfriends and all my shows, this in no way will affect my watching their shows. I will continue to watch each of these shows (except Arrested Development for obvious reasons) because I still have an emotional attachment to each of my boyfriends that I cannot immediately sever.
My boyfriend's back and you're gonna be in trouble...
As everyone knows, my boyfriend Jack Bauer is back from China. We had a Sunday and a Monday date this week, but we've decided to cut it back to just Mondays for the next few months. You know, he's a very busy man, so I've got to give him his space. In honor of 24's return to television, I'd like to share with you 24 observations from Sunday and Monday evenings:
1. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. No, for reals though.
2. I know that Jack is having a hard time adjusting from being tortured in a Chinese prison where he didn't speak for 20 months because it took him a full hour and twenty minutes to get a gun. An hour and twenty minutes, people!! Jack's obviously a little sluggish.
3. Jack didn't get much red meat in prison, which actually made killing his first terrorist by biting him in the neck, vampire-style, a tasty, tasty kill.
4. The blood reactivated Jack's vocal chords. No more whispering after biting the guy to death.
5. Some families get up and are all ready for school and work by 6:00 in the morning. Some neighbors are up and ready to beat up or kill prospective-terrorist-neighbors before 7:00 a.m. Some people are really, really morning people. I'm not.
6. The American government does not negotiate with terrorists. Except sometimes they do, you know, like when the terrorist threats are really, really bad. And then they meet terrorist demands because maybe the terrorists will be trustworthy. But then, you know, Los Angeles gets nuked. Maybe the American government should go back to its policy of not negotiating with terrorists.
7. If the American government had arranged for Jack's release about an hour earlier, he would have been sufficiently rehabilitated to stop the nuking of Los Angeles.
8. Speaking of Jack's rehabilitation, I learned that a man can recover from an amazing amount in just four hours. Well, if that man is Jack. Jack was able to speak again, resocialize himself, regain his killer instinct, correctly assess the state of terrorist affairs in America, and get up to full running and killing speed after his Chinese imprisonment and after being tortured briefly. On the other hand, Ahmed (he's going to kill me because I don't know how to spell his name, but gosh-darnit, I know how to pronounce it!) was unable to recover from mere glass being stuck in his leg. Come on. Jack had his nerve bundle tweaked, and he had some horrid, horrid stick thing shivved into him.
9. Speaking of torture, jabbing a pen into a man's shoulder will not make him give up his terrorist secrets. Sliding a knife underneath his knee cap will.
10. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Did you think we were kidding?
11. It's really easy to walk into any person's house and find clothes that are such a perfect fit that even while you're not quite "with it" after your Chinese imprisonment and stuff, everyone watching you is thinking, Dang, he looks good.
12. The American government does not negotiate or work with terrorists. Especially not ones who have been terrorists for the past 20 years. Well, except when they are deciding to renounce terrorism and become a legitimate political force now. Then the American government will work with them. It helps if they're tall, dark, and handsome. It also helps if they're really basically pleasant chaps.
13. I really want a Toyota. I can't quite figure out why...
14. I really like Nextel. I can't figure out why...
15. The product placement in 24 provides some much-needed comedic relief. The only thing better would be the actors actually doing the commercials for these products during the breaks. I can see Hassad (Assad?) saying, "Buy Toyota! The ex-terrorist-turned-legitimate-political-entity car of choice!"
16. You should really sacrifice your family members whenever possible. If the wounded terrorist neighbor kid tells you to deliver a package for him or he'll kill your family, let him kill your family for heaven's sakes...
17. ...or call 911 because the cool thing is that they'll put you right on the phone with Jack Bauer. But do that right away because if you wait too long to do that, Jack Bauer won't be able to save the city from the nuclear bomb.
18. In a previous season, the producers discovered that the viewers liked it when Jack Bauer shows his weakness and cries. They cashed in on that pretty early on this season. Poor Jack Bauer. Poor, poor Jack Bauer. If I were him, I'd consider death pretty welcome, too.
19. Girlfriends don't tend to really stick around after you intentionally disappear for a couple of years, reappear for one day (24 hours to be precise), and then go to Chinese prison for another 20 months. Well, girlfriends like Audrey. Girlfriends like me? They're always there for Jack.
20. You shouldn't assume that all persons of Middle Eastern descent are terrorists. Only, on the whole, you'd be safer if you did. Except in the case where the bus driver wouldn't let on the Middle Eastern man who just wanted to get to work. In that case, the Middle Eastern man was safer because he was discriminated against and the bus driver got blown up. By an Asian suicide bomber. Ironic, really. Still, it's a good thing it wasn't Whitey and that it was, in the end, a visible minority. It makes me feel so much safer when the white guys are not the terrorists.
21. Except who's going to be the CTU mole this year? We've had one every year without fail, and it's usually Whitey. Why did I ever trust you, Whitey? Why?
22. When Jack said not to let Kim know he was back, I was kindof glad. And by kindof glad, I mean really, really glad.
23. Even though Jack says he can't do it, he can do it. Poor, poor Jack. He has to do it because no one else can. The world needs Jack Bauer.
24. Did we mention that VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED AND THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM MAY CONTAIN CONTENT THAT WILL MAKE YOUR EYES BLEED.
1. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. No, for reals though.
2. I know that Jack is having a hard time adjusting from being tortured in a Chinese prison where he didn't speak for 20 months because it took him a full hour and twenty minutes to get a gun. An hour and twenty minutes, people!! Jack's obviously a little sluggish.
3. Jack didn't get much red meat in prison, which actually made killing his first terrorist by biting him in the neck, vampire-style, a tasty, tasty kill.
4. The blood reactivated Jack's vocal chords. No more whispering after biting the guy to death.
5. Some families get up and are all ready for school and work by 6:00 in the morning. Some neighbors are up and ready to beat up or kill prospective-terrorist-neighbors before 7:00 a.m. Some people are really, really morning people. I'm not.
6. The American government does not negotiate with terrorists. Except sometimes they do, you know, like when the terrorist threats are really, really bad. And then they meet terrorist demands because maybe the terrorists will be trustworthy. But then, you know, Los Angeles gets nuked. Maybe the American government should go back to its policy of not negotiating with terrorists.
7. If the American government had arranged for Jack's release about an hour earlier, he would have been sufficiently rehabilitated to stop the nuking of Los Angeles.
8. Speaking of Jack's rehabilitation, I learned that a man can recover from an amazing amount in just four hours. Well, if that man is Jack. Jack was able to speak again, resocialize himself, regain his killer instinct, correctly assess the state of terrorist affairs in America, and get up to full running and killing speed after his Chinese imprisonment and after being tortured briefly. On the other hand, Ahmed (he's going to kill me because I don't know how to spell his name, but gosh-darnit, I know how to pronounce it!) was unable to recover from mere glass being stuck in his leg. Come on. Jack had his nerve bundle tweaked, and he had some horrid, horrid stick thing shivved into him.
9. Speaking of torture, jabbing a pen into a man's shoulder will not make him give up his terrorist secrets. Sliding a knife underneath his knee cap will.
10. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Did you think we were kidding?
11. It's really easy to walk into any person's house and find clothes that are such a perfect fit that even while you're not quite "with it" after your Chinese imprisonment and stuff, everyone watching you is thinking, Dang, he looks good.
12. The American government does not negotiate or work with terrorists. Especially not ones who have been terrorists for the past 20 years. Well, except when they are deciding to renounce terrorism and become a legitimate political force now. Then the American government will work with them. It helps if they're tall, dark, and handsome. It also helps if they're really basically pleasant chaps.
13. I really want a Toyota. I can't quite figure out why...
14. I really like Nextel. I can't figure out why...
15. The product placement in 24 provides some much-needed comedic relief. The only thing better would be the actors actually doing the commercials for these products during the breaks. I can see Hassad (Assad?) saying, "Buy Toyota! The ex-terrorist-turned-legitimate-political-entity car of choice!"
16. You should really sacrifice your family members whenever possible. If the wounded terrorist neighbor kid tells you to deliver a package for him or he'll kill your family, let him kill your family for heaven's sakes...
17. ...or call 911 because the cool thing is that they'll put you right on the phone with Jack Bauer. But do that right away because if you wait too long to do that, Jack Bauer won't be able to save the city from the nuclear bomb.
18. In a previous season, the producers discovered that the viewers liked it when Jack Bauer shows his weakness and cries. They cashed in on that pretty early on this season. Poor Jack Bauer. Poor, poor Jack Bauer. If I were him, I'd consider death pretty welcome, too.
19. Girlfriends don't tend to really stick around after you intentionally disappear for a couple of years, reappear for one day (24 hours to be precise), and then go to Chinese prison for another 20 months. Well, girlfriends like Audrey. Girlfriends like me? They're always there for Jack.
20. You shouldn't assume that all persons of Middle Eastern descent are terrorists. Only, on the whole, you'd be safer if you did. Except in the case where the bus driver wouldn't let on the Middle Eastern man who just wanted to get to work. In that case, the Middle Eastern man was safer because he was discriminated against and the bus driver got blown up. By an Asian suicide bomber. Ironic, really. Still, it's a good thing it wasn't Whitey and that it was, in the end, a visible minority. It makes me feel so much safer when the white guys are not the terrorists.
21. Except who's going to be the CTU mole this year? We've had one every year without fail, and it's usually Whitey. Why did I ever trust you, Whitey? Why?
22. When Jack said not to let Kim know he was back, I was kindof glad. And by kindof glad, I mean really, really glad.
23. Even though Jack says he can't do it, he can do it. Poor, poor Jack. He has to do it because no one else can. The world needs Jack Bauer.
24. Did we mention that VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED AND THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM MAY CONTAIN CONTENT THAT WILL MAKE YOUR EYES BLEED.
My Boyfriends
It has come to my attention recently that I have a number of dysfunctional boyfriends. They are, of course, my TV boyfriends, but still their dysfunction disturbs me. Why can't I love a normal man? Let's examine together my TV boyfriends.
4. Gregory House
I wrote about this last year. While it's still true that Gregory House is one of my TV boyfriends, he has been demoted to the least of my TV boyfriends (which isn't bad seeing as how none of the men from Lost have even qualified as a TV boyfriend). Let's review his qualities.
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
He is mean, misogynistic, self-centered, emotionally unbalanced, and addicted to pain killers.
Why I Love Him Anyway:
He is good looking. (But you didn't see me falling all over myself for Wooster, now did you?) He is brilliant and hilarious and gifted and dreamy.
3. Gob Bluth
Here is my secret confession, which I have only ever confessed to Redras and which I am now announcing to the Internet. I heart Gob Bluth. For those of you who don't know who he is, you have no idea how sorry I am for you. For those of you who do know who he is, I can explain! I can explain! My attraction to Gob Bluth is purely hormonal, but when those hormones rage, so does my attraction to Gob. Redras understands.
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
For goodness sakes, he's Gob Bluth. He's moronical, unethical, and selfish. He's a magician and he sucks. He treats women and his family poorly.
Why I Love Him Anyway:
Hormones. Only hormones.
2. Jack Bauer
How can a girl not love Jack Bauer? Even straight men cannot deny their crushes on him. He is absolutely irresistible and indestructible. It's a killer combination.
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
The man manages to kill anywhere between seventeen and one hundred and two individuals per day.* He stops at absolutely nothing to get the truth. He cannot manage any relationship (by the way, Audrey isn't in the previews for season 6 and the actress who plays her is now starring in another television show, so either Audrey gets killed or decides to no longer be with Jack). People whom Jack loves die (highlight the following space for a list of names, not in any order: Teri Bauer, Nina Myers, David Palmer, Tony Almeida, Richard Walsh, George Mason, Michelle Dessler, Ryan Chappelle, Gael Ortega, Edgar Stiles). He behaves rashly and breaks rules all the time. He doesn't follow correct government protocol. I hate to think that Jack Bauers exist in the real world.
Why I Love Him Anyway:
He's so hot when he's got his gun pointed at someone else's head and yells "WHERE'S THE BOMB" and blasts off knee caps. He's vulnerable when no one but the camera is watching.
1. Danny Taylor
Danny Taylor is my full-time TV boyfriend, and I'm embarrassed to admit that my DVR allows me to watch all ten hours of Without a Trace that air every week. He is not as troubled as the men previously listed, and he's also not a boyfriend that I have in common with many women, which is nice not to have to share. But I realize that although I love him dearly and almost desperately, I still wouldn't love him in the real world. Why?
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
He is an FBI agent and he kills people fairly regularly. It's got to be tough leaving that baggage at the office. I shouldn't hold this against him, but he's an alcoholic who's been sober for years. Like I said, I shouldn't hold it against him but I can't help but judge. He's too smooth with the ladies. I catch him making eyes at women all the time. He's a cocky sonofagun with a really bad temper. We can blame the temper on his Latin American blood (he's Cuban). No, really, sometimes he's just too cocky. He blames himself for his parents' deaths (again, baggage).
Why I Love Him Anyway:
He is so dreamy. And he's strong and he would protect me. And he's smart and he comes from a rough background but he pulled himself out of it. And he is pretty much the best dresser I have ever seen. How many suits can a guy afford on an FBI agent's budget? Because the man has many, many different suits. And different coats. But I caught him wearing boots with---I hesitate to say---heels on them. He doesn't need to be any taller, but does any man who is straight and not a cable installer have heels on his boots?
So there are my TV boyfriends. Recently, I told Rachel about my number one boyfriend, even Danny Taylor. Before I told her who my boyfriend was, she said, "It better not be Jim Halpert because he's mine." When I told Redras about my TV boyfriend, she remembered my feelings for Gob but knew from the context that it couldn't possibly be Gob. She asked who it was, telling me that her TV boyfriend was Jim Halpert. Not that I want to steal anybody's boyfriend, but...
I simply must add... Jim Halpert
Jim Halpert is the only stable, non-violent man on television right now, from what I gather. Of course he's every girl's TV boyfriend! Of course he's what every girl is looking for!
Why I Love Him:
He is down-to-earth. He's hilarious. He's normal. He's sweet. He's perfect.
So as much as I love my Gregs, Gobs, Jacks, and Dannys, I need to find a Jim. I need to find a man who is stable and funny and doesn't kill people. In the meantime, I'll continue my turbulent love affair with Special Agent Danny Taylor and just borrow Jim every Thursday night.
*These are not precise statistics.
4. Gregory House
I wrote about this last year. While it's still true that Gregory House is one of my TV boyfriends, he has been demoted to the least of my TV boyfriends (which isn't bad seeing as how none of the men from Lost have even qualified as a TV boyfriend). Let's review his qualities.
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
He is mean, misogynistic, self-centered, emotionally unbalanced, and addicted to pain killers.
Why I Love Him Anyway:
He is good looking. (But you didn't see me falling all over myself for Wooster, now did you?) He is brilliant and hilarious and gifted and dreamy.
3. Gob Bluth
Here is my secret confession, which I have only ever confessed to Redras and which I am now announcing to the Internet. I heart Gob Bluth. For those of you who don't know who he is, you have no idea how sorry I am for you. For those of you who do know who he is, I can explain! I can explain! My attraction to Gob Bluth is purely hormonal, but when those hormones rage, so does my attraction to Gob. Redras understands.
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
For goodness sakes, he's Gob Bluth. He's moronical, unethical, and selfish. He's a magician and he sucks. He treats women and his family poorly.
Why I Love Him Anyway:
Hormones. Only hormones.
2. Jack Bauer
How can a girl not love Jack Bauer? Even straight men cannot deny their crushes on him. He is absolutely irresistible and indestructible. It's a killer combination.
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
The man manages to kill anywhere between seventeen and one hundred and two individuals per day.* He stops at absolutely nothing to get the truth. He cannot manage any relationship (by the way, Audrey isn't in the previews for season 6 and the actress who plays her is now starring in another television show, so either Audrey gets killed or decides to no longer be with Jack). People whom Jack loves die (highlight the following space for a list of names, not in any order: Teri Bauer, Nina Myers, David Palmer, Tony Almeida, Richard Walsh, George Mason, Michelle Dessler, Ryan Chappelle, Gael Ortega, Edgar Stiles). He behaves rashly and breaks rules all the time. He doesn't follow correct government protocol. I hate to think that Jack Bauers exist in the real world.
Why I Love Him Anyway:
He's so hot when he's got his gun pointed at someone else's head and yells "WHERE'S THE BOMB" and blasts off knee caps. He's vulnerable when no one but the camera is watching.
1. Danny Taylor
Danny Taylor is my full-time TV boyfriend, and I'm embarrassed to admit that my DVR allows me to watch all ten hours of Without a Trace that air every week. He is not as troubled as the men previously listed, and he's also not a boyfriend that I have in common with many women, which is nice not to have to share. But I realize that although I love him dearly and almost desperately, I still wouldn't love him in the real world. Why?
Why I Shouldn't Love Him:
He is an FBI agent and he kills people fairly regularly. It's got to be tough leaving that baggage at the office. I shouldn't hold this against him, but he's an alcoholic who's been sober for years. Like I said, I shouldn't hold it against him but I can't help but judge. He's too smooth with the ladies. I catch him making eyes at women all the time. He's a cocky sonofagun with a really bad temper. We can blame the temper on his Latin American blood (he's Cuban). No, really, sometimes he's just too cocky. He blames himself for his parents' deaths (again, baggage).
Why I Love Him Anyway:
He is so dreamy. And he's strong and he would protect me. And he's smart and he comes from a rough background but he pulled himself out of it. And he is pretty much the best dresser I have ever seen. How many suits can a guy afford on an FBI agent's budget? Because the man has many, many different suits. And different coats. But I caught him wearing boots with---I hesitate to say---heels on them. He doesn't need to be any taller, but does any man who is straight and not a cable installer have heels on his boots?
So there are my TV boyfriends. Recently, I told Rachel about my number one boyfriend, even Danny Taylor. Before I told her who my boyfriend was, she said, "It better not be Jim Halpert because he's mine." When I told Redras about my TV boyfriend, she remembered my feelings for Gob but knew from the context that it couldn't possibly be Gob. She asked who it was, telling me that her TV boyfriend was Jim Halpert. Not that I want to steal anybody's boyfriend, but...
I simply must add... Jim Halpert
Jim Halpert is the only stable, non-violent man on television right now, from what I gather. Of course he's every girl's TV boyfriend! Of course he's what every girl is looking for!
Why I Love Him:
He is down-to-earth. He's hilarious. He's normal. He's sweet. He's perfect.
So as much as I love my Gregs, Gobs, Jacks, and Dannys, I need to find a Jim. I need to find a man who is stable and funny and doesn't kill people. In the meantime, I'll continue my turbulent love affair with Special Agent Danny Taylor and just borrow Jim every Thursday night.
*These are not precise statistics.
Inoubliable
Tonight, after David Sedaris shared three pieces I'd never heard before, he filled some time by reading entries from his diary. These entries were short, to-the-point, and hilarious. One mentioned that in a conversation in French about his experience observing work in a morgue(?) for a week, he tried to sum it up by saying, "On the whole it was---" only to realize that he'd forgotten the French word for unforgettable.
Sedaris's performance tonight was certainly inoubliable---unforgettable. But I hope that, in a way, his experience with me might have also been just a little inoubliable. It certainly made an impression.
Let me start at the beginning. Rachel came and picked me up a little early. She opened my car door, and there was a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in the passenger seat (my mom was worried that people might think that I'm gay because I ended up choosing Rachel for the date, and I must admit that in that moment, I felt just a little bit gay). In just those two gestures, she outdid any other first date I've ever had. We went to Red Rock Brewery for a delicious meal (paid for by Rachel) and then we made our way over to Capitol Theater.
We immediately saw my ex-boyfriend, Big-D. It's hard not to see him---at 6'5, his head always pokes above the crowd. Big-D and I are certainly not uncivil towards one another. In fact, I'd venture to say we're on pretty good terms these days. So we stopped to talk and he told me about his horrible book-signing experience with David Sedaris. He'd given his book to Sedaris to sign, and Sedaris started asking Big-D about his ex-girlfriend as he drew a picture.
"Do you have one particular ex-girlfriend who you really hate?" he asked.
"Uh... actually..."
I don't remember their conversation verbatim, but after David Sedaris drew a picture of Big-D's ex-girlfriend (that's me) throwing up on the title page of Big-D's book, it came out that Big-D was gay, and that he did not, actually dislike his ex-girlfriend, and in fact, she'd be there at the performance as well.
I guess for some reason, having David Sedaris draw a picture of me vomiting in Big-D's book was not what Big-D was expecting, and Big-D was upset. I still don't understand this, but it's true. Big-D was upset.
After the (spectacular!) performance, I got in line to have David Sedaris sign my book. I was a little nervous at the thought of actually meeting him and actually having to say something to him. Instead of having him sign my title page, I asked if he would sign my favorite essay, "The End of the Affair." He wrote, "To [Cicada], my---" here he stopped to think.
"Do you go to the movies all the time?" he asked.
"Well, not all the time," I answered.
He thought a little more and explained that he just couldn't figure out what to write. I said, "Well, earlier this evening, you drew a picture of me vomiting in my ex-boyfriend's book."
He certainly remembered the experience, and told it from his perspective: "I just got this great new idea, that I would just draw a picture of some guy's ex-girlfriend vomiting in his book. So I did it, but this guy was not happy about it at all, and it turns out that he and his ex-girlfriend are actually still on good terms. He really was not pleased that I drew that picture in his book."
"Yeah," I said. "That was me."
"Well then." He started to finish his autograph in my book. "That's it, then. To [Cicada], my mistake."
So maybe, in a small way, Big-D and I were inoubliable. Or maybe tonight, Sedaris will go to sleep and completely forget about that time that he drew a picture of a gay man's ex-girlfriend vomiting and upset his fan. For my part, I will always remember that I am David Sedaris's mistake.
Sedaris's performance tonight was certainly inoubliable---unforgettable. But I hope that, in a way, his experience with me might have also been just a little inoubliable. It certainly made an impression.
Let me start at the beginning. Rachel came and picked me up a little early. She opened my car door, and there was a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in the passenger seat (my mom was worried that people might think that I'm gay because I ended up choosing Rachel for the date, and I must admit that in that moment, I felt just a little bit gay). In just those two gestures, she outdid any other first date I've ever had. We went to Red Rock Brewery for a delicious meal (paid for by Rachel) and then we made our way over to Capitol Theater.
We immediately saw my ex-boyfriend, Big-D. It's hard not to see him---at 6'5, his head always pokes above the crowd. Big-D and I are certainly not uncivil towards one another. In fact, I'd venture to say we're on pretty good terms these days. So we stopped to talk and he told me about his horrible book-signing experience with David Sedaris. He'd given his book to Sedaris to sign, and Sedaris started asking Big-D about his ex-girlfriend as he drew a picture.
"Do you have one particular ex-girlfriend who you really hate?" he asked.
"Uh... actually..."
I don't remember their conversation verbatim, but after David Sedaris drew a picture of Big-D's ex-girlfriend (that's me) throwing up on the title page of Big-D's book, it came out that Big-D was gay, and that he did not, actually dislike his ex-girlfriend, and in fact, she'd be there at the performance as well.
I guess for some reason, having David Sedaris draw a picture of me vomiting in Big-D's book was not what Big-D was expecting, and Big-D was upset. I still don't understand this, but it's true. Big-D was upset.
After the (spectacular!) performance, I got in line to have David Sedaris sign my book. I was a little nervous at the thought of actually meeting him and actually having to say something to him. Instead of having him sign my title page, I asked if he would sign my favorite essay, "The End of the Affair." He wrote, "To [Cicada], my---" here he stopped to think.
"Do you go to the movies all the time?" he asked.
"Well, not all the time," I answered.
He thought a little more and explained that he just couldn't figure out what to write. I said, "Well, earlier this evening, you drew a picture of me vomiting in my ex-boyfriend's book."
He certainly remembered the experience, and told it from his perspective: "I just got this great new idea, that I would just draw a picture of some guy's ex-girlfriend vomiting in his book. So I did it, but this guy was not happy about it at all, and it turns out that he and his ex-girlfriend are actually still on good terms. He really was not pleased that I drew that picture in his book."
"Yeah," I said. "That was me."
"Well then." He started to finish his autograph in my book. "That's it, then. To [Cicada], my mistake."
So maybe, in a small way, Big-D and I were inoubliable. Or maybe tonight, Sedaris will go to sleep and completely forget about that time that he drew a picture of a gay man's ex-girlfriend vomiting and upset his fan. For my part, I will always remember that I am David Sedaris's mistake.
And the winner is...
(Crappy formatting of this post brought to you by Safari, the wanna-be-browser.)
Because I try to be a courteous dater, I have determined the Go on a Date with Cicada winner one week in advance. You may note that October 24th is less than a week away now, but rest assured, I informed the winner yesterday by email.
The winner was determined by a completely unbiased mathematical calculation of suitability for this date. Feel free to review your application to see why you did or did not win and how you can improve future applications to go on a date with me.
Saule Cogneur____5
+2_____being the first to apply
+3_____being male
+3_____offer to make me bread and subsequent private endorsement by Ambrosia
+3_____offer to take me out for Thai food at a future date (I love me some Tom Ka Gai)
-2_____trying to be funny by using bad English in his essay---I didn't know if this was a play off from Sedaris's "Me Talk Pretty One Day" or just pointless bad English. The uncertainty caused a loss of points.
+2_____sucking up
-5_____insincerity/uncertainty---I didn't know if he was just filling out the application to be funny or because he really wanted to go out and see David Sedaris.
-1_____the missed opportunity of sneaking in some French to woo me
Rachel____7
-3_____being female
+3_____sincere offer of dinner
+3_____previous knowledge that David Sedaris was in town and attempt to find someone to go with her
+3_____ownership of several David Sedaris books
+3_____love of David Sedaris strong enough to make her take a picture of his door
-4_____creepiness factor of having taken a picture of David Sedaris's door
+1_____offer to speak Canadian French
+1_____funniness of extreme yahtzee comment
Melyngoch____0
-3_____being female
+2_____turning her application into her own blog post
-1_____use of bilabial plosives in her application
+1_____disclosure of her non-sexual crush on me
+3_____links to possible outfits
+3_____knowing David Sedaris from NPR
+1_____writing a poem (only one point because poetry comes so naturally to her)
-6_____having to buy a plane ticket for her to attend the event with me
Ginsberg____0
+3_____being male
-3_____admitting defeat before ever actually applying
Limon____-1
+3_____being male
+3_____being funny
+3_____futuristic date promise
+6_____promise to sing French songs
-3_____obvious unfamiliarity with David Sedaris
+2_____sucking up
-15____the fact that he was cringing so violently during _The Producers_ that I thought he was going to implode (proves unsuitability for a David Sedaris performance)
The math doesn't lie---Rachel is the best-suited date for this event! Congratulations!
Thank you all for applying. Remember, any of you are eligible for a future (or futuristic) date with Cicada. Please note where you lost points and try to improve those areas in the future. Possible dates include:
* a trip to the Tracy Aviary followed by hot beverages and chili or soup
* dinner and a movie
* I'm already out of ideas, but seriously, cash in on that trip to the Tracy Aviary while there's still time!
Because I try to be a courteous dater, I have determined the Go on a Date with Cicada winner one week in advance. You may note that October 24th is less than a week away now, but rest assured, I informed the winner yesterday by email.
The winner was determined by a completely unbiased mathematical calculation of suitability for this date. Feel free to review your application to see why you did or did not win and how you can improve future applications to go on a date with me.
Saule Cogneur____5
+2_____being the first to apply
+3_____being male
+3_____offer to make me bread and subsequent private endorsement by Ambrosia
+3_____offer to take me out for Thai food at a future date (I love me some Tom Ka Gai)
-2_____trying to be funny by using bad English in his essay---I didn't know if this was a play off from Sedaris's "Me Talk Pretty One Day" or just pointless bad English. The uncertainty caused a loss of points.
+2_____sucking up
-5_____insincerity/uncertainty---I didn't know if he was just filling out the application to be funny or because he really wanted to go out and see David Sedaris.
-1_____the missed opportunity of sneaking in some French to woo me
Rachel____7
-3_____being female
+3_____sincere offer of dinner
+3_____previous knowledge that David Sedaris was in town and attempt to find someone to go with her
+3_____ownership of several David Sedaris books
+3_____love of David Sedaris strong enough to make her take a picture of his door
-4_____creepiness factor of having taken a picture of David Sedaris's door
+1_____offer to speak Canadian French
+1_____funniness of extreme yahtzee comment
Melyngoch____0
-3_____being female
+2_____turning her application into her own blog post
-1_____use of bilabial plosives in her application
+1_____disclosure of her non-sexual crush on me
+3_____links to possible outfits
+3_____knowing David Sedaris from NPR
+1_____writing a poem (only one point because poetry comes so naturally to her)
-6_____having to buy a plane ticket for her to attend the event with me
Ginsberg____0
+3_____being male
-3_____admitting defeat before ever actually applying
Limon____-1
+3_____being male
+3_____being funny
+3_____futuristic date promise
+6_____promise to sing French songs
-3_____obvious unfamiliarity with David Sedaris
+2_____sucking up
-15____the fact that he was cringing so violently during _The Producers_ that I thought he was going to implode (proves unsuitability for a David Sedaris performance)
The math doesn't lie---Rachel is the best-suited date for this event! Congratulations!
Thank you all for applying. Remember, any of you are eligible for a future (or futuristic) date with Cicada. Please note where you lost points and try to improve those areas in the future. Possible dates include:
* a trip to the Tracy Aviary followed by hot beverages and chili or soup
* dinner and a movie
* I'm already out of ideas, but seriously, cash in on that trip to the Tracy Aviary while there's still time!
application to go on a date with cicada
************
What: David Sedaris at the Capitol Theatre
When: October 24, 2006 at 7:00
************
I have purchased two tickets to see David Sedaris---one for me and one for Mystery Date. If you are interested in the position of Mystery Date, please fill out the application below and either post it in the comments section for everyone to laugh at you or email me at stet.me@gmail.com so that I can laugh at you privately.* Women are free to apply but men will be given preferential treatment.
*I am not actually interested in finding a stranger to take on this date. Mostly this is just to be funny. If you know me, feel free to apply and I may choose you. If you know someone who knows me, feel free to apply and fill out the "references" section. If you don't know anyone who knows me, forget it. You have no chance. Buy your own freaking ticket.
Although this application is specifically for seeing David Sedaris on October 24, if you would like to go on a date with Cicada on another day, feel free to compose an essay explaining why you would be a good date for Cicada.
APPLICATION TO GO ON A DATE WITH CICADA
(to see David Sedaris on October 24)
Are you homophobic? (If yes, you need not continue.)
Will you be put off by potential use of the f-word in the reading/performance? (I will not be using the f-word at all during the date.)
The tickets were not inexpensive. What are you willing to do to show appreciation? (Check all that apply.)
0......arrive on time
0......bring flowers
0......dress nicely
0......compliment you (Cicada) on how nice you look
0......treat you (Cicada) to homemade dinner
0......treat you (Cicada) to restaurant dinner
0......take you (Cicada) on a future date
0......make out at the end of the evening
I don't want to waste this ticket on someone who isn't familiar with David Sedaris's works and isn't incredibly excited to see him live. Please write a brief essay on which is your favorite David Sedaris piece. If you are not familiar with David Sedaris but feel that for some other reason you should qualify for this date, write a brief essay detailing your reasoning.
Shamelessly suck up to me right here:
Thank you! I will be announcing the winner as soon as I find one. To all my friends who actually love me, please refer a friend.
What: David Sedaris at the Capitol Theatre
When: October 24, 2006 at 7:00
************
I have purchased two tickets to see David Sedaris---one for me and one for Mystery Date. If you are interested in the position of Mystery Date, please fill out the application below and either post it in the comments section for everyone to laugh at you or email me at stet.me@gmail.com so that I can laugh at you privately.* Women are free to apply but men will be given preferential treatment.
*I am not actually interested in finding a stranger to take on this date. Mostly this is just to be funny. If you know me, feel free to apply and I may choose you. If you know someone who knows me, feel free to apply and fill out the "references" section. If you don't know anyone who knows me, forget it. You have no chance. Buy your own freaking ticket.
Although this application is specifically for seeing David Sedaris on October 24, if you would like to go on a date with Cicada on another day, feel free to compose an essay explaining why you would be a good date for Cicada.
APPLICATION TO GO ON A DATE WITH CICADA
(to see David Sedaris on October 24)
Are you homophobic? (If yes, you need not continue.)
Will you be put off by potential use of the f-word in the reading/performance? (I will not be using the f-word at all during the date.)
The tickets were not inexpensive. What are you willing to do to show appreciation? (Check all that apply.)
0......arrive on time
0......bring flowers
0......dress nicely
0......compliment you (Cicada) on how nice you look
0......treat you (Cicada) to homemade dinner
0......treat you (Cicada) to restaurant dinner
0......take you (Cicada) on a future date
0......make out at the end of the evening
I don't want to waste this ticket on someone who isn't familiar with David Sedaris's works and isn't incredibly excited to see him live. Please write a brief essay on which is your favorite David Sedaris piece. If you are not familiar with David Sedaris but feel that for some other reason you should qualify for this date, write a brief essay detailing your reasoning.
Shamelessly suck up to me right here:
Thank you! I will be announcing the winner as soon as I find one. To all my friends who actually love me, please refer a friend.
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