Last night I asked my friend, Matilda (not her name), her thoughts on Separated Mark. "You dated when you were separated, right? Am I being unreasonable?" I asked.
"I had sex when I was separated. I wasn't anywhere near ready for a relationship," she said and raised her eyebrows to emphasize the truth. Fair enough. I will let Mark off the hook.
Already this morning I've been on the phone with Guy #1 and Guy #2 (who will get actual names if our impending dates go well). The phone is exhausting to me, you know? But necessary. Very necessary. Guy #1 is on the shyer side but interesting and attractive in his profile--both in pictures and written words. He has a charming sense of humor. I felt the ping of attraction in our exchanges. Guy #2 is much chattier but we have things in common ... No ping of attraction, but who knows? I felt comfortable enough in our conversation that I agreed to meet him tomorrow.
Guy #1 and I are meeting in a couple of hours. Whew! Whirlwind days here.
UPDATE: A wonderful first date with Guy #1, as luck would have it, which has me worried since I know that the chance of this working out are so slim. The date lasted five hours and I enjoyed every moment of it. He's cute and humble and shy. That kind of guy I want to eat up with a spoon!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
What Match Hath Wrought
I'd forgotten Match can be so overwhelming. I'm emailing three guys at the moment (ignoring others), and while I guess that doesn't seem like a lot, three is really my max. I don't know yet if any of these will turn into dates, all of them seem especially smart--which I like. So far I am liking my somewhat nerdy headline--it seems to attract literary types.
One guy, though, is going to have to be cut loose. Mark (not his name) writes freakin' long emails. His first email was short and funny but subsequent emails have been downright missives, and I just can't handle it. Men (ladies too!), keep your emails brief! Assume that the women (men) you are writing have scads (or even just five) other emails to read and either delete or respond to. The briefer you are, the more attractive you will be--because it'll be SO easy to write back to you!.
Mark also has another black mark against him: he's separated.
Now, I wasn't going to write him off immediately because of that technicality. Remember, his first email was a charmer. Instead, I thought I'd ask him about it. Sure enough, his wife is out of the house (not sure the exact details--not my business at this point) and they're heading towards divorce. He said he'd been through the range of emotions and felt relatively whole. Fair enough.
I asked him that before the weekend. Last night (and despite his long-ass emails) I thought I'd better ask him how long they've been separated. Guess what? A few months. (He didn't number the months, but I guess it could be anywhere from 3 - 12.) Uh, no.
See, I've dated guys 12 months out of the divorce shoot--12 months after the ink dried on divorce papers--and that was no joy. Essentially, the recently divorced (in my experience) aren't looking for another full-blown relationship (full of ups and downs)--they need something to heal the heart, a little easy lovin'. Which I understand, and I want to say, "A shame you didn't meet me five years ago."
Anyway, I'll have to bid Mark farewell. Not sure how, exactly--I suppose I'll just tell him the gentle truth. On the bright side, that will open a new spot in my "max of three" email queue.
One guy, though, is going to have to be cut loose. Mark (not his name) writes freakin' long emails. His first email was short and funny but subsequent emails have been downright missives, and I just can't handle it. Men (ladies too!), keep your emails brief! Assume that the women (men) you are writing have scads (or even just five) other emails to read and either delete or respond to. The briefer you are, the more attractive you will be--because it'll be SO easy to write back to you!.
Mark also has another black mark against him: he's separated.
Now, I wasn't going to write him off immediately because of that technicality. Remember, his first email was a charmer. Instead, I thought I'd ask him about it. Sure enough, his wife is out of the house (not sure the exact details--not my business at this point) and they're heading towards divorce. He said he'd been through the range of emotions and felt relatively whole. Fair enough.
I asked him that before the weekend. Last night (and despite his long-ass emails) I thought I'd better ask him how long they've been separated. Guess what? A few months. (He didn't number the months, but I guess it could be anywhere from 3 - 12.) Uh, no.
See, I've dated guys 12 months out of the divorce shoot--12 months after the ink dried on divorce papers--and that was no joy. Essentially, the recently divorced (in my experience) aren't looking for another full-blown relationship (full of ups and downs)--they need something to heal the heart, a little easy lovin'. Which I understand, and I want to say, "A shame you didn't meet me five years ago."
Anyway, I'll have to bid Mark farewell. Not sure how, exactly--I suppose I'll just tell him the gentle truth. On the bright side, that will open a new spot in my "max of three" email queue.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Run-in with TOTGA
Up to a certain point today, today was gorgeous and good, just as you would expect a Saturday in the Napa Valley to be. I puttered around the house and cleaned and prepared for an event tomorrow and did stuff. I decided to go shopping for food and other necessities, and so pulled on jeans and a top (one that emphasized my chest--an important factor as you will later see). I skipped the makeup (also important, as I am not blessed with perfect skintones and have lately been battling circles and bags) except for a shine of pink gloss.
I was happy; I smiled at clerks, chose my vegetables, treated myself to a new nail polish from OPI. (A wonderfully dark purple--so dark it's practically black.) And then I decided to dart into TJ's for beer and a salad. The moment I stepped into the store I saw him, TOTGA, and his girlfriend. My heart clenched and I made a beeline for the salads, making sure I stayed out of his line of sight. I skirted around to the beer section and grabbed a six-pack of Pilsner. So far, so good--I would make it out of TJ's with my treasures and without having to look at him.
As in a romantic comedy, I was foiled at the checkout. There they were, next to the checkout stand I was planning to use! I decided to continue with the plan and slipped into line, conveniently bending down to examine the chocolate on offer. Maybe I wouldn't be seen, but of course, the checkout stations at TJ's are designed to have the customers face each other ...
I felt ill; my hands were shaking. The checkout girl probably wondered what the heck was up with me. I looked up at TOTGA, pretending to have just seen him and smiled and said hey. He had the phone to his ear and smiled back, all calm, cool and collected--phased by my presence not in the least.
Of course.
I paid and left TJ's so quickly the automatic sliding door couldn't open fast enough. I probably appeared dramatic, but I couldn't stand to be in there. I felt nauseated for the next two hours.
Even without the makeup, I feel confident that I looked good (thanks to Mama and what she gave me). This counts for a fleeting something, as you ladies know.
I just wonder when I'll stop feeling this way. No matter how many times I tell myself he's an old geezer and a bit of an asshole for The Whole Thing*, I can't help but get Weird when I see him. Dammit.
*He wasn't an asshole. On a scale of 1 - 10, 10 being the worst, he was a 3-4 overall.
I was happy; I smiled at clerks, chose my vegetables, treated myself to a new nail polish from OPI. (A wonderfully dark purple--so dark it's practically black.) And then I decided to dart into TJ's for beer and a salad. The moment I stepped into the store I saw him, TOTGA, and his girlfriend. My heart clenched and I made a beeline for the salads, making sure I stayed out of his line of sight. I skirted around to the beer section and grabbed a six-pack of Pilsner. So far, so good--I would make it out of TJ's with my treasures and without having to look at him.
As in a romantic comedy, I was foiled at the checkout. There they were, next to the checkout stand I was planning to use! I decided to continue with the plan and slipped into line, conveniently bending down to examine the chocolate on offer. Maybe I wouldn't be seen, but of course, the checkout stations at TJ's are designed to have the customers face each other ...
I felt ill; my hands were shaking. The checkout girl probably wondered what the heck was up with me. I looked up at TOTGA, pretending to have just seen him and smiled and said hey. He had the phone to his ear and smiled back, all calm, cool and collected--phased by my presence not in the least.
Of course.
I paid and left TJ's so quickly the automatic sliding door couldn't open fast enough. I probably appeared dramatic, but I couldn't stand to be in there. I felt nauseated for the next two hours.
Even without the makeup, I feel confident that I looked good (thanks to Mama and what she gave me). This counts for a fleeting something, as you ladies know.
I just wonder when I'll stop feeling this way. No matter how many times I tell myself he's an old geezer and a bit of an asshole for The Whole Thing*, I can't help but get Weird when I see him. Dammit.
*He wasn't an asshole. On a scale of 1 - 10, 10 being the worst, he was a 3-4 overall.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
That's Not My Bag
New rule: I am not responding to men without their pictures.
I know, you're saying to yourselves, "Oh, Ruby! That's the first rule of online dating!" Well, I had it as a quasi rule before, and now it is a freakin' firm rule.
Why? I only have a moment to tell you before I rush to work.
BigD contacted me the other night. No pic, brief profile. What the heck? I was bored. I emailed him after work yesterday--something light and fluffy. He wrote back and I let the email sit. I try not to judge a person by their writing, knowing that many people can't arrange words to they adequately express themselves. But red flag: He wanted to meet right away. Um, I haven't even seen your picture, and I don't know anything about you! His last question "Have you read my profile ... All of it?" made me curious. He must have a clue in there because his profile was quite scant of info.
So this morning, while thinking of how to handle the sitch, I looked at his profile and googled his latest reads. My friends, the man is looking for a Dominant.
Next!
I know, you're saying to yourselves, "Oh, Ruby! That's the first rule of online dating!" Well, I had it as a quasi rule before, and now it is a freakin' firm rule.
Why? I only have a moment to tell you before I rush to work.
BigD contacted me the other night. No pic, brief profile. What the heck? I was bored. I emailed him after work yesterday--something light and fluffy. He wrote back and I let the email sit. I try not to judge a person by their writing, knowing that many people can't arrange words to they adequately express themselves. But red flag: He wanted to meet right away. Um, I haven't even seen your picture, and I don't know anything about you! His last question "Have you read my profile ... All of it?" made me curious. He must have a clue in there because his profile was quite scant of info.
So this morning, while thinking of how to handle the sitch, I looked at his profile and googled his latest reads. My friends, the man is looking for a Dominant.
Next!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
A More Better Profile
A quick question: Doesn't a 49-year-old male who is searching for women aged 18-65 sound really suspicious? At the very least, he's throwing it all against the wall to see what will stick.
I'm working on getting some cuter pictures on my profile. And by "cuter" I mean "sexier." Nothing overt, mind you. I think my attractiveness comes from the way I carry myself, etc, not from an abundance of cleavage. I wouldn't want to have a crazy-hot, staged shot on my profile and then not live up to it in person, you know? But I do realize that I have to be clickable. Must hunt through my summer-wear and see what can be done ...
Mostly, this Match thing reminds me of college, where the guys just weren't asking the ladies out much--and the ones that were, were fatally flawed in some way or other. (see the 49yo dude at top)
Monday, October 19, 2009
Match: Day One
So the profile is up and limping along with one picture--and not the picture I hired a photog to take. No, for some reason, though I have received emails from Match telling me the professional shots are approved, they have yet to appear on the site. Well, as luck has it, my eyes had Serious Bags the day of the photo shoot, so maybe it's all well and good that those pictures haven't appeared.
An observation: online dating makes you picky. As I was peering at profiles this evening I came across this good looking guy and in one of his pictures, what do I see but a pair of pleated shorts! It's so hard to envision that a man in pleated shorts (something a middle-aged man might wear to the pier with loafers and a sweater tossed around his shoulders just so) could be The One.
And yet I imagine (because I do have a good imagination) that my next guy will have some abominable habits. Maybe he even has a pair of pleated pants! And, when you think about it, does something this trivial (but unsavory) really mean that much when you love that person? No. The One That Got Away had a hairy back, for Pete's sake and I adored him still.
Ah, but this is a far leap, from Match to love, and I think this is where online dating fails: it's too easy to click the back button on the browser when you come upon an egregious misspelling or some other tiny thing. The guy with a kid at home you ignore online tonight might be the guy you're ogling in the grocery store tomorrow. In real life, we don't hand potential dates our lives on spreadsheets--yet that's essentially what online dating is.
Well, I emailed a guy ... I don't get this winking business, do you? It's like, if you're interested, shoot me a couple of lines. Is it so difficult? Anyway, I emailed a guy who had an interesting profile. No, not even the fact that he has children living at home with him deterred me. I've decided to be really selective about things I wasn't so selective about before. I'm looking for a guy with above-average intelligence who expresses himself well--who isn't out of a recent divorce. The kid thing? That's a complicating factor, but I'm headed towards my mid-thirties. A girl has got to be realistic.
Oh, and the guy? He wrote back already. It's the small successes that keep me motivated.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Brief Crush
Work has me snowed under, so I have hardly given matters of the heart a thought.
For a period of 24 hours, I had a crush on a local guy--one who is married and therefore unattainable. If you're horrified by my crush on a married man, know that these sorts of crushes happen all the time to many people who would never, ever dream of acting on such a crush. (Heck, I have a hard enough time acting on crushes involving available men!) Anyway, the crush blossomed and fizzled, lovely while it existed. I can't quite do the Unattainable Crush like I could in grade school.
I drove by Bill's house (he lives on a main road) and noticed a car in his driveway. I suspect he had an overnight guest, which is all fine and dandy, since I don't love him and threw him back into the ocean to seek out a better partner. But I can't help but feel a little "Oh, shoot ..." about it. Or I felt that way for about two hours.
Today I wondered why I went out with Bill at all--why I couldn't have just said, "No, my heart is broken and I can't be in a relationship right now." Oh well. It's done, and I tried to love him for 9 months.
I'm off to meet a friend for a glass of wine. It's gorgeous here in the Napa Valley--leaves on the trees and vineyards are beginning to turn and the air is boozy with harvest smells. This is a great place.
(Oh interesting. Bill just texted me, hoping I was still in his neighborhood. Well, well ...)
For a period of 24 hours, I had a crush on a local guy--one who is married and therefore unattainable. If you're horrified by my crush on a married man, know that these sorts of crushes happen all the time to many people who would never, ever dream of acting on such a crush. (Heck, I have a hard enough time acting on crushes involving available men!) Anyway, the crush blossomed and fizzled, lovely while it existed. I can't quite do the Unattainable Crush like I could in grade school.
I drove by Bill's house (he lives on a main road) and noticed a car in his driveway. I suspect he had an overnight guest, which is all fine and dandy, since I don't love him and threw him back into the ocean to seek out a better partner. But I can't help but feel a little "Oh, shoot ..." about it. Or I felt that way for about two hours.
Today I wondered why I went out with Bill at all--why I couldn't have just said, "No, my heart is broken and I can't be in a relationship right now." Oh well. It's done, and I tried to love him for 9 months.
I'm off to meet a friend for a glass of wine. It's gorgeous here in the Napa Valley--leaves on the trees and vineyards are beginning to turn and the air is boozy with harvest smells. This is a great place.
(Oh interesting. Bill just texted me, hoping I was still in his neighborhood. Well, well ...)
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Profile
A storm is rushing towards the West Coast and here in the Napa Valley people are scrambling to get their grapes in--or hoping to ride out the storm.
Me, I am enjoying this blustery turn to the weather, though wishing I'd managed to clear the gutters.
I spoke with Evan Marc Katz Friday. Interesting guy. As in online dating, the image you have in your head never quite gels with your mental image. (Evan is a lot more energetic than I had envisioned.) Interesting conversation, though. I wanted to go through with it; I wanted to sign up for one of his profile/coaching packages. But in the end, the phone consultation hours just don't work for me--and the price was steeper than I had anticipated. (Well worth it, I'm sure, but food on the table and a roof over the head are also valuable. And so a girl makes her choices.)
On Sunday I went on a photo shoot jaunt with a woman I've worked with for other projects. I can't wait to see the results--she's really good at capturing a person as she is. Now if I just didn't have these bags under my eyes ...
So, yes, things are progressing as far as The Profile is concerned. Work is hectic at the moment, though, so that may put a chink in the momentum.
Scary stuff, going back online. Here's hoping I meet someone in "real life" who can rescue me from that particular horror ...
Me, I am enjoying this blustery turn to the weather, though wishing I'd managed to clear the gutters.
I spoke with Evan Marc Katz Friday. Interesting guy. As in online dating, the image you have in your head never quite gels with your mental image. (Evan is a lot more energetic than I had envisioned.) Interesting conversation, though. I wanted to go through with it; I wanted to sign up for one of his profile/coaching packages. But in the end, the phone consultation hours just don't work for me--and the price was steeper than I had anticipated. (Well worth it, I'm sure, but food on the table and a roof over the head are also valuable. And so a girl makes her choices.)
On Sunday I went on a photo shoot jaunt with a woman I've worked with for other projects. I can't wait to see the results--she's really good at capturing a person as she is. Now if I just didn't have these bags under my eyes ...
So, yes, things are progressing as far as The Profile is concerned. Work is hectic at the moment, though, so that may put a chink in the momentum.
Scary stuff, going back online. Here's hoping I meet someone in "real life" who can rescue me from that particular horror ...
Thursday, October 8, 2009
E is Also for Epiphany
I read back over my last post and found the tone rather ... terse and angsty. Since I am not a terse or angsty person in general, I chalk it up to a stressful time at work. The entry was truth, of course, but I'd like to think a gentler, more gracious version of that post would better reflect me.
Whatever. You're not here to judge. (And if you are, have at it. ;))
Anyway, I've been patting myself on the back these last few months for making women friends right and left. This is where the epiphany comes in: making friends is just like dating. (Minus the sex.) I know--revolutionary!
Once upon most of my life, I made friends with those who I knew were good as gold, in it for the long haul. Seriously. I didn't do "acquaintanceships." I didn't know how to do them! And then suddenly, a few months ago, I broke up with my boyfriend and began making casual friends. I don't know what changed, but it's great!
We call each other when we want to, make plans when we want to, and if one or the other of us falls off the radar, no harm done. I like it, and I wish I had managed this before.
My hope is, of course, that I will be able to carry this devil-may-care attitude into dating: enjoy the men I like and not worry about long-term results. It's a good way to get to know someone, you know? One of my current friends, for example, drove me a little nuts at first--but now, I've been able to put her quirks into context and I find that I really enjoy her genuine-ness and creativity. Who cares if she can be a little intense? (And another friend's darker side has started to emerge, and I am not so sure that our friendship will go the distance.)
So this is my plan: get to know lots of men and enjoy myself before narrowing in on one. This is an investment of time--and money. Because remember, I live in a small, beautiful corner of the globe and cannot meet these interesting, wonderful men on my own.
Which is why (and this is The Big Reveal) I am heading back to Match.com. And I am going all in, too. I've lined up a photographer (she takes great, natural portraits) and I have an appointment with Evan Marc Katz tomorrow so he can help me polish my profile. (Not embellish, but help me focus on the attributes and interests that truly reflect me. My old profile is one big snoozer--thank goodness it hasn't been up in years!) I figure that if I am going to do this thing yet again, I have to put my best foot forward.
As I was telling someone the other day, my youth is one of my more salable points. I'll always be intelligent, funny, kind, yadda ya, but I'll be 33 for just a few more months. From what I hear (over and over again) it only gets harder the older you get. So.
Here goes.
Whatever. You're not here to judge. (And if you are, have at it. ;))
Anyway, I've been patting myself on the back these last few months for making women friends right and left. This is where the epiphany comes in: making friends is just like dating. (Minus the sex.) I know--revolutionary!
Once upon most of my life, I made friends with those who I knew were good as gold, in it for the long haul. Seriously. I didn't do "acquaintanceships." I didn't know how to do them! And then suddenly, a few months ago, I broke up with my boyfriend and began making casual friends. I don't know what changed, but it's great!
We call each other when we want to, make plans when we want to, and if one or the other of us falls off the radar, no harm done. I like it, and I wish I had managed this before.
My hope is, of course, that I will be able to carry this devil-may-care attitude into dating: enjoy the men I like and not worry about long-term results. It's a good way to get to know someone, you know? One of my current friends, for example, drove me a little nuts at first--but now, I've been able to put her quirks into context and I find that I really enjoy her genuine-ness and creativity. Who cares if she can be a little intense? (And another friend's darker side has started to emerge, and I am not so sure that our friendship will go the distance.)
So this is my plan: get to know lots of men and enjoy myself before narrowing in on one. This is an investment of time--and money. Because remember, I live in a small, beautiful corner of the globe and cannot meet these interesting, wonderful men on my own.
Which is why (and this is The Big Reveal) I am heading back to Match.com. And I am going all in, too. I've lined up a photographer (she takes great, natural portraits) and I have an appointment with Evan Marc Katz tomorrow so he can help me polish my profile. (Not embellish, but help me focus on the attributes and interests that truly reflect me. My old profile is one big snoozer--thank goodness it hasn't been up in years!) I figure that if I am going to do this thing yet again, I have to put my best foot forward.
As I was telling someone the other day, my youth is one of my more salable points. I'll always be intelligent, funny, kind, yadda ya, but I'll be 33 for just a few more months. From what I hear (over and over again) it only gets harder the older you get. So.
Here goes.
Monday, October 5, 2009
E is for Effort
This afternoon at a business lunch my boss, a motherly sort, asked me whether I had any romantic prospects. "No," I said, quite emphatically. "Not even someone who interests you from afar?" She asked. "Not even," I said.
So there you have it, the fascinating, whirlwind life of a single girl in the Napa Valley. Oh and Ryan? He didn't show at the wine release party. I hadn't heard a peep from him since our last phone call, so I wasn't surprised. And now that I think about it, I really didn't care that he didn't bother to show (or call)--must have something to do with, I don't know, not being interested. Mostly I'm amazed. I don't think Ryan is being intentionally rude; I just think this is further sign of him not having his shit together.
And that, my friends, is one quality I can't live without--I don't care how tall, short, bald, handsome, charming you are. If you're over 33, you've got to make an effort with yourself, your life, other people. I'm not looking for perfection here, I'm just looking for effort. It's that simple.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Crash & Burn
I have not felt so awkward since high school--I swear!
Tonight at a major event (anything that draws 3000+ people in the Napa Valley is a major event) I screwed up the courage to talk to a guy. I'd seen him before--met him, even, under strange circumstances. Well, I walked up to him and said hi and didn't he know so and so? And then I referenced the strange circumstance, which he didn't remember, and the awkwardness only increased from there.
We were both clearly nervous, and either he thought I was cute, too, and was thrown for one gigantic loop, or he just has a hard time shooting the breeze with girls who find him attractive. I even asked him about one of the wines he was pouring, figuring that would put him at ease, and instead of extrapolating, as he easily could have done, he said, "Oh, that's a cab." Really?
I finally just walked away, basically. I probably said it was nice to meet him or something, I don't know.
Wow. I was equally the dork in this situation, but ... jeez. I'd forgotten it could be so bad! Chances are, he probably feels like an idiot.
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