Posts Tagged ‘dating’

Dating: A Post That Should Have Gone Up 10 Days Ago

Note: My beloved apartment has not had a good Internet connection, and I started writing this post on June 6… anyway, thought I’d add it now. Better late than never, right?

I had every intention of posting last night, but I got distracted with a 2 mile run, personal hygiene, and, um, a date.

I have a love-hate relationship with dating. There’s nothing romantic about a first date—it’s disconcerting. What to wear? What to talk about? Where to go? Should we meet or should he pick me up? It’s also exciting to get to know someone new, explore the city, and eat a meal that isn’t pasta.

Yesterday was a long day at work. The whole team is working on a pitch for a new client that could result in a $100-million contract. That’s a lot of money—it’s so much that it doesn’t seem like anything at all because my strapped-for-cash brain can’t even fathom that many zeros, unless there’s no number preceding them, in which case it resembles my own bank account.


The point is, that this proposal is draining. It’s in an industry I know—not even exaggerating here—nothing about. That means excessive research complements the actual work load and that equals my coming into the office at about 8:30am and not leaving until well after 6pm with a 10 minute lunch break in there somewhere. Needless to say, visions of down blankets, sweatpants, my bed, and junkfood danced in my head the whole metro ride home.

And then, my phone rang. It was my roommate (who I love, by the way) asking if I wanted to go for a run. The weather was beautiful and she tempted me with a slow jog down by the waterfront, so I agreed.

When we got back, I noticed my phone blinking– I had a missed call. Long story short, it was Boston Boy asking if I wanted to grab dinner. After a lot of pressure/support from the roomie, I decided to go.

Dating seems so obscure these days. Hanging out, meeting up, grabbing a drink– those are gerunds I understand and fully support, but dating?! Come on… who does that anymore?

So, he picked me up and we went to dinner and ate while watching the Celtics game. The conversation wasn’t mind blowing, but it was enjoyable enough. When he asked if I wanted to grab a drink after dinner, I politely told him it was past my bed time (I had work the next day) and he took me home.

I ran away before the potential awkwardness that surrounds the “do we hug, do we kiss” fiasco.

PS, I had pasta… so much for that pro in the pro/con of dating.


67 Ways to Keep Men Interested: These Tips Will Blow Your Mind

First of all, call the false advertisement police, this post will not have 67 ways to keep men interested. I wish I knew one way to keep men interested or, hell, keep one good man interesting, but I’ve yet to figure out either. My friends, however, think I’ve got it down:

FriendyMcFrienderson(12:19:29 AM): how do you keep men interested

Audreyesque1 (12:19:37 AM): WHAT?

Audreyesque1 (12:19:41 AM): are you kidding?

Audreyesque1 (12:19:43 AM): you’re asking me this?

FriendyMcFrienderson (12:19:49 AM): no I’m not kidding

FriendyMcFrienderson (12:20:48 AM): nevermind, i’ll just look on

Ahh, Cosmo and the false hopes it gives women each month as they stand in the checkout line, deciding which new flavor of Orbit gum they should buy. Speaking of which, how many do they have now and how do I get that job… official gum-flavor-maker-upper for Orbit.

But I digress…

My friend’s IM arrived simultaneously with this pleasant bit of online chatter from my current ex friend-boy:

JustAnothaPEN15(11:08:21 PM): i’ve just begun to resent you for the rest of my life.


I’m not a member of the she-woman man-haters club so before I start sounding like I’m bashing this guy, I should preface by saying I’m confused. My whole quasi-relationship with… let’s call him S… has been half-Nicholas Sparks’ novel, half-Fatal Attraction. We don’t live anywhere near each other and we’ve only seen each other 3 times, but there’s a genuine affection that stems from the deep communion we share. Essentially, we’re both crazy and need psychiatric help so we bond over that, but you know, deep communion sounds a lot more romantic.

Anyway, S. has severe admiration for talented musicians who are true to their art, or some shit. His favorite artists include the Beatles, Crowded House, and some guy named—actually, I don’t even remember, but this guy is why S now resents me. See, S and I aren’t very good at debating, especially when it comes to music because, well, I usually just don’t care. I like what I like, whether it’s the Beatles or Fleetwood Mac or the latest Carrie Underwood song. There’s no pattern to my iPod—it is what it is.

Not S. He meticulously determines which songs have value and which don’t, and he tries to argue with me even though, news flash, HE’LL ALWAYS WIN because the only technical thing I understand about music is that it magically travels from my iPod to my ears and makes me dance awkwardly when I’ve consumed too much whisky. So S made me listen to this guy and I found him pretty boring. When I told S this, he got defensive and wanted to have a debate about why this guy is capable of curing cancer with his guitar. To which I replied, “I don’t want to talk about this, because I know we’ll end up fighting and it really doesn’t matter.”

Mature enough, right?

S’s response: you can’t debate like an adult because you’re insecure and fucked up.

Say what?!

If this were a 1999 teen flick, Usher’s record would have just come to a screeching halt as the room full of wannabe prom queens and kings fell eerily silent so that they could stare at me covered in pig’s blood (oops, combining decades there).

For two hours, we argued. Ad-hominem attacks were slung, ignored phone calls took place, and an eventual ceasefire that ended in silence from both parties was called. Now, I don’t know where S and I stand, which is nothing new when it comes to us. Except this time, I’m not crying. This time, I’m a lot calmer. This time, I’m not so worried about the future.

Because, when it comes down to it, I’m not sure if there’s a particular pattern you can follow to keep anyone interested. If they’re interested, they’ll stay that way without any help.

Time to go read He’s Just Not That Into You. For the 108th time… this year.