WWMD?

Earlier this evening my cellphone beeped to tell me I'd gotten a text message. I automatically groaned. Mustard looked up from the model plane he's building and said, "What was that for?"

"It's my text message stalker. He sends me the most pointless texts. I Haaaaaate it." I replied. Mustard just shrugged and turned back to his model, but it occurred to me that I need a little bit of advice on how to squelch this stalker. Ruthless advice would be best. And who better to give ruthless advice than our own dear Mustard?

"Listen," I said, "you're a guy, er ... sort of. Maybe you can help. This is the fourth text I've gotten from him today. Every single one of them said, 'Morning' - even the one I got at 8:45 at night. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Did you respond?" he asked.

"No. He doesn't give me anything to respond to! What am I supposed to say back? Hi? I have to pay 10 cents a text, and I don't want to say hi to him at all, let alone pay 10 cents to say hi. In fact, ALL of his texts are a greeting of some sort: 'Hey', 'Yo girl', 'What's up?' A couple of times I tried to get some conversation going by responding back with 'Hey, what are you up to?' and do you want to know what he said to me? '6 2 200!' Which took me about 5 minutes to figure out means 6'2" 200lbs."

Mustard raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know. RETARDED, right?"

"Mentally" he agreed.

"I finally started being mean to him and saying things like, 'Do you ever say anything beside different variants of hello?' and do you know what he wrote back? 'Yes.' That was it! Just 'Yes.' And he's still sending these hello-style texts. Its been about two weeks now. I don't respond and he won't stop!" I concluded.

"Well, Gretchen, I'm glad you've come to me for advice." and he drew up a little closer. "You think you're being mean by sending a nicely worded message subtly highlighting that his texting style is irritating, but what you don't understand is that giant morons don't understand subtle. You're essentially saying, 'tee-hee-hee, silly boy, you say hi a lot.' but what his giant moron ears hear is, 'You are clever and charming and I love it that you say hi all the time because I'm as needy as you are!' This form of female-male conversation is pretty common. I'm surprised you don't speak idiot-man fluently by now."

I grinned. This is exactly what I needed to hear.

"But it looks like what you've got on your hands here is actually pretty rare. Looks like you've got a genuine ass face loser. Can I say ass face? No? Well sorry. You might need to get a little more comfortable with profanity if you want my advice in the future. Anyway, the point is that this guy seems like he's a real tool. A doofus. An idiotic twit. A ..."

"Right, I get it. How do I get rid of him?"

"You've got to spell it out for him. Don't let there be any room for confusion or misunderstanding. You've got to idiot proof it. Obviously.... Because he is an idiot." he clarified, in case he hadn't spelled it out well enough for me.

"I see." and I did. His logic is irrefutable. "And what if he keeps texting me?" I asked not relishing the idea of the straightforward message I would have to send.

"If that fails then you think, What Would Mustard Do?"

I looked at him expectantly. What would Mustard do?

He looked back with a "no-duh" look on his face and said, "Swear at him. Then block him. Then swear again, for emphasis. Man! It's like you don't know me at all!" And he turned back with a humph to glue the propeller onto his plane.

I sighed, picked up my phone, and chanting "WWMD, WWMD" sent a VERY straightforward text.

Wherein I'm Blessed For Going to Church

I go to church regularly, but some days its a real struggle. 9 AM is such a HARD time for me to be anywhere. Especially because I love to stay up late, as I think I've mentioned before. And Friday and Saturday nights are sacred because they are the only two I can really stay up as late as I'd like. So this morning there was the usual battle with myself over whether I should stay in bed or get up and go to church. It was a long and bitter fight, but in the end I got up and went. That's the nice thing about church, even when I don't want to go, I'm always glad when I make the effort and go. It's always worth it. (Plus afternoon naps are so delightful.)

So anyway, after church I was standing in the hallway talking with some people when this guy came up to me and said, "Is your name Gretchen?"

And I was like, "Yes" on the outside, but on the inside I was like, "Oh crap. Do I know this guy? I don't think I do, but I wish I did because he's crazy cute!"

And he said, "Do you recognize me?"

Unfortunately, I had to say no. Oh WHY!? WHY did my answer have to be no?!

But he pressed on, "I don't look familiar to you at all?" He seemed so disappointed that I didn't know who he was that I considered 'fake remembering' him. But I didn't; I just apologized and asked his name (hoping like crazy that I'd recognize it). Which was when he told me that he was the brother of one of my favorite roommates from BYU. A roommate that I've been looking for for years! I Google her about every 3 months, but I can't find her. Do you guys have friends like that? They get married, change their names, and just seem to drop off the map. And HERE! - here was her handsome and very cool brother delivered neatly into my life to solve this mystery. He should have come with a bow on his head.

As we talked, all of these little details started creeping back. Things like the names of the other members of the family, what their parents do and where they lived, and oh yeah, that he and I went out on a date or two once upon a time. He reminded me that we went to a Thai restaurant that had really slow service and was named "Wok Right In" (naturally). He obviously has a top-notch brain because that's a lot of detail to remember about a date that happened 13 years ago! (I can barely remember the event at all - but I don't blame myself. That was like a century ago. Geez!)

So anyway, I can't decide what I'm more excited about. Getting back in touch with my long-lost friend, or renewing my friendship with her brother.

But, as excited as I am, I'm also a girl and so I'm just a tad self-conscious that he was able to recognize me so easily. I know I look young, but do I still look just like I did at 19? I don't consider my college years to have been my most attractive years. They were full of frumpy clothes, bad skin, and other horrors like feathered bangs. I hope I'm not having a relapse.

A Date, In Three Parts

So, my date on Friday night.

Y'all want a report, right? Well, the best way to describe it is to compare it to a Jr. High Spring Musical. It started off poorly, then got sort of OK in the middle, ended pretty well, but in retrospect should never have happened.

In Which It Started Off Poorly:
So Captain Awesome (that's his nickname, because he thinks he's so awesome) was supposed to call me on Thursday night with the details of where we would be going to dinner on Friday. We were planning on meeting in Baltimore. Here's a rough transcript of the call:

CA: Hi, what are you doing?
Me: I'm busy watching The Office season finale.
CA: That's cool. So I hope your day was good. This is what I did today, blah, blah, blah, blah [transaction not recorded because it was way less interesting than The Office.] blah, blah, blah, blaaaaaaahh.
Me: hmmmm. Ok.
CA: So I haven't figured out where we should go tomorrow. Have you ever heard of "Johnny's"?
Me: No. I never go out to eat in Baltimore so I don't know any restaurants there.
CA: Well, it sounds like it's a diner so I don't think we should go there.
Me: Alright, let's not go there.
CA: Have you ever been on Broadway?
Me: No. I never go out in Baltimore, so I don't really know the street names.
CA: It looks like there are a lot of places on Broadway, we could just walk into one.
Me: [getting impatient because I'm missing some really funny parts in The Office.] That'd be fine, but there will be a wait. I'm just sayin. .......... Alright. [clearly, I have to take control of this situation, otherwise this will take all night.] I have heard of one restaurant called The Blue Agave. It's supposed to be pretty good mexican food.
CA: The blue what?
Me: Agave. It's a cactus.
CA: What?
Me: AGAVE. A-G-A-V-E. Agave.
CA: Oh! The Blue Agate?
Me: No. Agave, with a V! V as in Victor. AGAVE!
CA: Oh, Agave. Ok. I'll look that one up and call you tomorrow with details.
Me: Great. Bye.

That little convo didn't win big points with me. The next day I got a text followed by a phone call that said, "Hey let's go to the Blue Agave, it's the best Mexican food in Baltimore." And I was like, Yeah, I know - I told you that, moron.

So I was less jazzed than before to go out. But I just kept thinking, Tortillas ... mmmm, Tortillas ... to keep up my spirits as I drove up to Baltimore.

I should have known better than to go into Baltimore with only roughly copied out directions. Baltimore is the equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle for me and I NEVER go into Baltimore without getting hopelessly lost. So there I was following my directions, when suddenly the street I was supposed to be following disappeared. Poof! Gone!! I drove all around the intersection where it disappeared, but it never reappeared. And then ... well, then, what was there to do besides just keep driving? With no idea of where I was going I quickly found myself deep in the heart of The Ghetto. And I'm not talking about some grungy area that white people call the ghetto because they've never seen a trash pile on a street before, but the REAL LIFE GHETTO with rows of abandoned and boarded up buildings and people out on the corner looking all shifty-eyed. Ghet-TO.

The only thing to do was to keep driving. Yes, keep driving, because if I were to stop the scene would probably have looked a lot like those Amazonian Army Ants that swarm along their path leaving only a MINI steering wheel behind.

As I drove, I called Captain Awesome to tell him how much I hate Baltimore and that I was hopelessly lost. Fortunately, he had a GPS and so he got my coordinates and came and rescued me. Which was .... embarrassing. To say the least. He thought it was great though. Like some knight in shining armor and I was his damsel in distress. Whatever.

By the time we got back to where the restaurant was, our reservation was long gone. Not willing to postpone eating any further we went to The Hard Rock Cafe in the Inner Harbor. When I told Camie this later she burst out laughing. And I was like "What's so funny about that?" And she said that she couldn't think of any situation that was LESS like me. "You hate the Inner Harbor and you hate Hard Rock Cafe." Which is true. She knows me well.

In Which it Got OK and Ended Pretty Well:

Things really picked up when I finally got to eat some food. I was starving. And irritated after my tour of the Slums of Baltimore. I ordered a salad, which was ok despite the 1/4 inch of water in the bottom of the dish. He ordered a chicken sandwich with fries. I reflected on how they should really serve salads with a side of fries. I mention this because later we were talking about our eating habits and he said this: "What I ate tonight? I never eat like this. Really. I don't. Never. I can't believe I ate it tonight. I don't know what I was thinking." I made some comment about how I eat a hearty diet of junk food, but inside I was thinking, "Shoot! I should have asked for his fries!"

After eating, we headed back to our cars, and I headed home without incident.

In Which I Reflect:

So on the phone Captain Awesome talks and talks and talks and talks. Which at first was OK. But now it's mostly annoying, because every once in a while I'd like to say something. But I can't, because he's talking. I hoped that in person this wouldn't be such a problem, because he'd see from the Shut-The-Hell-Up expression on my face that I had something to say. And it was slightly better ... but when I looked back on our conversation I realized that he would let me start a story, but then interrupt and we'd end up talking about whatever he had brought up. And I was bamboozled into never actually getting to say anything.

Also, he's amazingly narrow minded and judgmental. And I've got enough weirdness in my life that I don't need anyone walking into it with a lot of opinions about how I should be living it. (He'd definitely not approve of the amount of cheeseburgers I consume in a given year, for example.)

So. As far as second date's go, it wasn't too bad. Not great - especially the getting lost part. But not terrible. Do I want to go out again? No, not really. But I don't really want to go out with anyone. Dating is just way more effort than its worth. I can buy my own watered down salad, thankyouverymuch.

Plans

So many of you have asked about the outcome of the date I went on recently. Sorry I was oh so mysterious by giving all of the pre-date details and then failing to report on the actual date. This was partly an attempt to make the post a little more intriguing, and partly to cover myself if the second date never materialized.

Well here's the report, albeit belatedly. We went to dinner. We had a very nice time. He was a perfect gentleman. We laughed. He carried most of the conversation. I was glad to let him carry it. We both said we wanted to go out again. (I actually was interested in going out again, which practically never happens. Seriously. Never.)

I've learned over my long and rocky dating career, that if there's anything you want to happen you would be wise to keep mum about it. Otherwise it will never happen. And then you have to make up some excuse to tell people about how you never really wanted it in the first place and you are SO RELIEVED that you didn't end up having to deal with it, just so they can't see how disappointed you really are. Believe me, a little forbearance when sharing your hopes and dreams goes a long way in the dating world.

So yes, I was interested in going out again. But days and weeks started slipping by, and while we were still talking on the phone regularly saying things like, "we should definitely go out again soon" and "yes, definitely" somehow it never really managed to get put together.

Until tonight.

Tonight we finally made plans to go out this weekend. Friday, in fact.

Pity I'm sort of over it now. The second date I was eagerly anticipating three weeks ago has deflated like a bad soufflé. Going from the "Fairy tales do come true!" category to the "This might be slightly better than staying home watching Lifetime. But not if there's a Will and Grace marathon." category.

I've come to the conclusion that I am not desperate enough or not patient enough to be good at dating. Either way, I lose interest too fast for my own good.

Success Really Takes A Lot of Work

I went on a date this Saturday. I think this was the first date I've been excited to go on since my Senior Prom. I forgot that when I'm excited to go on a date, I care about making a good impression. And like, what if he comes into my apartment, and the throw pillows aren't properly plumped!? Obviously, that's the kiss of death to any budding relationship. So I spent all last week stressing out about getting everything shipshape.

Monday - Got serious about my salad-for-lunch diet and do not, under any circumstances, let the IT boys persuade me to go out to eat. Rocked it at the gym for a couple of hours.

Tuesday - Cleaned my kitchen, including sweeping and mopping the floors.

Wednesday - Researched spray gel and spray shine; the right hair product is essential! Then went to the gym, and vacuumed my house.

Thursday - Went to Sephora to get some expert advice on the spray gel and spray shine.

Friday - Consulted at length with my girlfriends about what's better to wear on a first date (dinner, possibly dancing): jeans, skirt, or pants? And what kind of top? FOR THE LOVE, WHAT KIND OF TOP??

Saturday - The big day! Last chance work out at the gym. Checked Macy's, Target, and some local boutiques for a cute top. Couldn't find one (shocking!) so had to settle for something I already had, which was fine, but still nerve-wracking (there's something so confidence-boosting about new clothes). Cleaned my house to within an inch of it's life. Showered, shaved legs, plucked eyebrows, dressed, did hair and make up with extra care, put on perfume, and selected jewelery. Finally, I watched the news until he arrived to cram some current events into my brain, so I'd seem smarter.

Phew!

Now, after all of that work you can imagine how nervous I was that we would have a terrible time, or that I wouldn't like him, and all of that work would have been worthless. Yup, I was pretty nervous. But that's nothing compared to how nervous I am for our second date! At least my house is clean this time, which fortunately leaves more time to track down a cute top.

Wherin I Beware The Ides of March

Last Monday night I was at the gym busy getting my butt kicked by a set of Karate Kid Squats when I looked over and made eye contact with someone I thought I recognized. But I wasn't quite sure. It could have been an ex-coworker who had had a raging crush on me a couple of years ago. But it might not have been. I knew I had to tread lightly before making a positive ID. After two more sets, when I caught him sneaking a few glances at me, I decided it must be him.

Deciding that dodging him would be stupid I approached him, confirmed his identity, and proceeded with all of the "so where are you working now" chatter. About 35 seconds later I remembered why I didn't return his crush oh so many years ago when we worked together. He's a super nice guy, but super, super, SUPER shy. So shy it makes it practically impossible to get any interesting conversation out of him at all. I'm just not patient enough to sit there and wait for him to build up the courage to ask me if I still live in the same place. It takes a little more razzle-dazzle to get my interest.

Now seems like a good time for the high-level history of our acquaintance:

• We worked at the same company for about a year
• Every two weeks during that year, he'd come by my cube, and stand there and blush while trying to think of something to say.
  
• He brought me a mug from Las Vegas.
• We never made it past the chit-chat stage.
• Then one day, we both happened to be walking out of the building at the same time, and when it came time to part ways, he called me back and finally built up the courage to ask me out.
• Still not interested, but I couldn't in good conscience crush what had obviously been a huge win against his shyness.
• I said yes.
  
• But then I re-planned the date he had planned so that it would be more convenient for me. (I'm super nice that way, eh?)

The date wasn't so bad ... just painful to make conversation. Afterwards he called me a couple of times, and left some messages. But then he changed jobs, and I was happy to let it all just slip into the woodwork of my dating life.

So ... after our accidental meeting at the gym, I wasn't too surprised to get a text from him asking me out again for this Saturday. I'm trying to be more open minded about dating. You know, what with the online dating thing and all. I figure my elitist attitude hasn't gotten me very far. So I agreed to go out.

But I reserved the right to not be very excited to go. And I actually hoped it would be a disaster so I'd have a great Beware the Ides of March story to tell you guys. (I'm all about the bad date story, you know. It's really the main reason I agree to do this kind of thing).

Imagine my surprise when we had a really nice time! And while the conversation could never be described as "bubbly" or "exciting" it was steady and somewhat interesting. And when I found myself sitting quietly in his car as we drove home in a very comfortable silence, I thought, "The fact that I had a pretty nice time might be more unnerving than if this had been a complete disaster."

Beware the Ides of March, indeed.

Report Card

So they were right when they said that online dating takes a lot of time. I've sort of gotten sucked into it. Sorry the blogging has been light, but I can only be clever for so long during the day. And, well, while I love you guys, none of you are going to promise to subsidize my lifestyle one day. A girl has to have priorities while distributing her charms, you know what I'm saying?

Overall, it's going pretty well. I've met quite a few normalish fellows, and even a few that are down right funny. Of course there are the straight-up crazies, such as ...

The guy who's first message said, "Don't you think we should meet?" And I was like, um, no.

Or the guy who's message was practically incomprehensible. Let me know if this makes any sense to you:

Subject: Hello Charming Princess ... [an auspicious start]

Stop searching is what everyone keeps on telling me ... so, stop searching is what I did. And on that day I sign on on the dating site , I encountered the sweetest smile I have ever seen complimented with such beautiful eyes. My heart skipped a beat,
I couldn't catch my breath and the only thing I could really say is, "Thanks, but I'm just looking around." [uh, you lost me on that one.] I wanted to say so much more than that. I will like to stare into your eyes and talk to your heart [sorry, i opted for the non-talking heart model.] but am not sure the way you will feel yet because I was nervous, so nervous I wanted to that i want to close your profile page . [by all means, please do.] But I stayed; and something tells me i have found love this is not a compliments this is what i felt deep down my heart ..pls give me a chance to get to know so that i can love you [no.] ... or you can add me to your Yahoo bubby[sic] or drop me your Chatting id. [no.]
Impatiently i wait
to hear from you... [hope you're not holding your breath]

[this is where it drifts into Text Message lingo, which in this case makes almost no sense to me.]

Note:I did like you to get back to me! with ur yahoo mail or email address and let me send you a mile with few pic of me i hate to post my pic on phote cuz f plz used ppl pic to scam..lol [whaa?]

A real keeper, eh! It's rough out here. Fortunately, so far the non-wackos are outnumbering the wackos.

And so I press on.

Poor Syntax Turns Me Off

OK. So online dating. What do you think about it?

I'll admit that I have been pretty anti. I probably shouldn't be, because I know a ton of people that have found THE ONE using it. But I don't know. I'm hesitant. Every time I dip my toe in the online dating pool I get some freak-o that wants to smell my feet.

Maybe it's just me, but I've never really met any quality people online. Of course, I've never been willing to pay so it's just been all of the other cheap weirdos and me out there. So it's probably no surprise that the quality has been ... er ... low.

I've always sort of thought that online dating would be the place I'd land when I had exhausted all of my other options and was too emotionally worn out to do anything other than swap mindless small talk via email. When I was ready to settle for settling I figured I'd see what was up in the Online Dating world.

And while I'm not quite at the end of my dating rope, lately I'm warming to this philosophy:

Doesn't that sound great!?

So the other night I dialed up a singles website and set up a profile to check it out a little more seriously. I've got the watered-down free version at this point and can't use some of the features like getting messages.

So far, so good. I'm getting a fair amount of traffic (they like me, they really like me!) And there are THREE messages in my inbox waiting for me to subscribe before I can read them. I'm a little bit tempted to sign up and see what they say. They will likely be lame messages, like "cool profile." But see, these website people are smart about getting me to subscribe. They, like GI Joe, know that knowing is half the battle. And since I don't know, I'm losing the battle and will probably end up subscribing because I'm just TOO DAMN CURIOUS! (See! I'm already bitter just anticipating the bitterness I'm bound to feel.)

So what do you guys think? Is online dating worth it? Have you had success? What makes it really work out well? Am I going to have to have a more lenient policy regarding basic grammar and spelling errors? Cuz that might be a problem. (I mean most browsers HIGHLIGHT any misspelled words. Is it too much to ask you to right-click and pick the correct spelling?!? If it is, then I certainly can't expect you to put forth the amount of effort required to honor and cherish me as I deserve, can I?)

Basically, it's either online dating or I just continue picking up guys at bars and making out with them. Honestly, either one works for me.

Email, The Modern Caveman's Club

To: Gretchen
From : Captain Underpants
Subject: Dinner?

Hey, would you allow me "take" you to dinner sometime this week? Or next?

Captain Underpants

P.S. If the restaurant isn't metro accessible, I'll let you provide the transportation. :-)

And here I thought chivalry was dead. Silly me!

The Perfect Man. (Revised)

The other week I had to teach a lesson on Journaling to my Young Women. Now, I'm a very accomplished journalist having kept one since I was 14, so I was very excited to impart my wisdom on this topic. I pulled out every journal I had lurking around and took a long and leisurely stroll down memory lane. To my surprise/delight/embarrassment, tucked into the back of my mission journal (a particularly action packed volume what with violent mood swings and all) I found a list labeled: "The Perfect Man!"

And here it is, for your amusement: The Perfect Man!

• The Givens (aka a Returned Missionary)
• Successful
• Smart - really smart - book and street
• Funny - witty, clever
• Creative
• Self-motivated
• Good style
• Great with children/teens
• Romantic
• Loves me sooooo much
• Tells me how much he loves me
  
• Good health - good looking
• Traveled
• A good people person
• Comfortable at a rock concert or the opera
• Simple pleasures - but with style
  

My favorite companion Mary Kay and I came up with Perfect Man list more or less together, and I think we were both planning on marrying a J Crew ad. And actually, not to be conceited in light of the J Crew comment, this list is pretty much a list of my traits (except for maybe the "great" with children part. That should probably read "will tolerate and might even like children/teens"). After all, I do love myself "sooooo much" and I tell myself so frequently.

Fortunately, I'm scads wiser now thanks to ten years of countless dates and one TOOL of a would-be fiance. One or two dates with a clown (costume included) will teach you pretty quickly that it doesn't do any good to have a checklist of features in mind. Believe me, he'll only disappoint - how could he not? So in my aged wisdom I've changed my tack a bit and am abandoning the feature list and focusing on these carefully selected baseline requirements:

The Perfect Man (revised)

1. Heterosexual.
   
2. Enough initiative to ask me out.
3. Can initiate and carry on their fair share of conversations
   
4. Conversation topics range outside of X-Box scores/maneuvers or Body Mass Index percentiles
   
5. Doesn't tuck his shirt into his underwear

If he can manage to bring ALL of these things to the table and we're attracted to each other, well then, can perfection be far off?