Doctor, Doctor

Being set up on blind dates is a good way to find out what your friends really think of you. They may treat you well to your face, but whom among their social circle do they see as a match for your charming idiosyncrasies? That, ladies, tells you more than you want to know about how they truly feel.

Blondie had to seriously ponder this issue when it was arranged for her to meet the anesthesiologist colleague of a nurse friend. A well-meaning fellow, he proved numb to Blondie's admittedly high privacy preferences, querying long and loudly over dinner at a very small table placed absurdly close to the next pair of seafood lovers. As if in a social coma, he battered her with different versions of "What are you looking for in a relationship, Blondie? Blondie, what would you like in your future?" The questions were slightly aggressive for a first intro, but it was the volume of his investigation and the repetition of her name that made her wish she had a tank of laughing gas and an ergonomic mask -- for herself or for him, she would happily let him choose! Alas, she was sufficiently dazed by the force of his desensitization that she couldn't quite muster a "Please, hush!" nor a "What I would really like is for the couple next to us to hear every gory detail of my future trip!"

The date ended cordially, Blondie's embarrassment subsiding once they left the table. More importantly, she eventually was reassured that the nurse pal probably didn't hate her. After all, as the friend pointed out, "He seems so different when he's in his scrubs."

The Grass is Always Greener

WBEZ Has Ruined Me

How has it come to this? I blame Ira Glass and his gosh-darned brilliant This American Life. I have no other explanation for the fact that, despite the warning signs, I am actually somewhat charmed by a man who, on Date #2 (and this might start to sound familiar), told me that I remind him of Starlee Kine. WHAT? That's the comparison comes to mind as we stroll the summer street in prickly and delicious pre-first-kiss tension? The most annoying-voiced of all my beloved TAL contributors -- nasal, lispy, and high-pitched? THAT Starlee Kine??  I blurted out my protest -- which only made things worse.

Squawked I: "The one with the insanely annoying voice?!"

Replied he: "Well, not your voice, really, but, just your whole annoyingly happy personality." !!!

He went on to describe what I admit is a pretty fabulous piece about the time she turned to Phil Collins for help writing a break-up song. THAT, my friends, is nerve. On Starlee's part, on the gentleman's part, and sort of, somehow, on my part. We wrangled about a bit, and based solely on his lack of trying to couch his words or defend his position, he (or I) convinced me that he was joking. Damn you, public radio, for turning me into a softie! (Or could this be the fault of some deeper influence...)

PS: As for Starlee -- I Googled her, and, for what it's worth she is way cuter than I had imagined. The gent in question wouldn't know this, though, never having seen her pic. Still, she deserves lots of kudos for being a generally awesome storyteller -- like here, at the Moth. Good job, Starlee!

Careful What You Weesh For

Witness little Blondie, blithely traipsing through her dating life, meeting and greeting Bachelors #1 through 50 with her ears wide open. These men are, by turns, kind, funny, impeccably-dressed, tall, creative, or dedicated to recycling... but, she has a few favorite bones to pick. And one of these is the brains bone. If they are fun, they're a bit thick. If they're kind, they're a tad slow. If they remember her siblings' names, they don't read anything but the Metro and speculative fiction. Of particular charm and challenge, of course, is a certain regional accent for which her home-city is so infamous. Sigh. Never was there a verbal style so simultaneously entertaining and guaranteed to make even the shahpest suitah sound, well, like his antonym.

What's a self-diagnosed smarty-pants, linguistically flexible word nerd to do? I guess the answer is: suck it up when you're out with Bachelor #PhD/MBA, and he points out that you have mispronounced the word "epoch." (Really? It's like "epic" not "eeepoch?" What's up with that??)

I guess it couldn't hurt to brush up my Shakespeare.

How Not to Woo a Middle Sister

Having recently returned from a slightly rivalrous weekend with my generally beloved older and younger gal sibs, I was, perhaps, a tad bit sensitive. The littlest and eldest Blondies stuck together, while I felt like the odd girl out -- picky, bossy, and slightly self-righteous.

But, hey, nothing lifts one's spirits like a first date with an attractive and promising suitor, right? In fact, this particular outing was worthy of a BPG first -- a blogpost in the form of verse! Without further ado, dear reader, I give you:

"How Not to Woo a Middle Sister"

How not to woo a middle sister

Is really not much of a myst'ry, Mister.

Simply gaze over your drink at the fair-haired lady,

And say "You totally remind me of (cough) Jan Brady."

Yes he DID.

Report Card

Wow. This 20-First-Dates goal turned out to be a lot of work! I was so exhausted by all my summertime encounters, I couldn't muster the energy to blab (er, blog) about them (even just nicknaming them to protect the innocent & guilty was too much effort until now). Who'd a thunk I'd EVER tire of my very favorite hobby? Shows to go: though some is good, more isn't always better. Finding and squeezing in the original dates would have been hard enough, but the common result of a first date is a second date, and 
sometime even a third. You can see my dilemma.

An aside:
1. During my theatre-major days, I performed a dance duet with an Italian guy. Our fellow cast-members, watching from backstage, could not help nicknaming our piece "The Chipmunk and the Hawk."
2. A former beau, when asked to name his favorite of my physical features, drove the point home, but kept things G-rated, answering: "Her (face) cheeks."
After this experiment, I can say for sure that I mimic this animal in behavior as well as physique.
pic: http://marymgrin.tumblr.com

The challenge played out on every level. Physically, who can really make that much time in her schedule? Mentally, who can keep all those family stories and careers and hobbies straight? Emotionally, it takes a better Blondie than me to maintain the romantic pace I set for myself and see beneath the flannel/silk/T-shirt-draped surface of each Greg/Peter/Bobby to the sensitive/curious/visionary truth in each of their hearts. All this is to say, I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach. Still, I stated the goal and I'll state the results.


Reader(s), allow me to direct your attention to the the scoreboard: 


Summer Dating Intentions 
1. 20 dates with different gentlemen (i.e. 20 First Dates)
2. Of those, 5 must be people I met NOT online
3. Of those, 3 must be "strangers," i.e. people I meet out and about, in public or at a party


Summer Dating Reality
1. 12 First Dates. An even dozen. 
2. Only THREE non-online dates -- all 3 being set-ups. (Thanks, helpers!)
3. Only ONE stranger date. I have no problem striking up random convos, but it's harder than it might seem to turn a chitchat with a complete stranger in the waiting room of Hogan Tire into a cup of herbal tea at my favorite little coffeehouse.  


Ladies and... Ladies (yes, you are my target audience) of the Blonde-o-sphere, I give you, the Pseudonyms:   
Baby Tim - set-up
Jon - online
John - online
Don - online. photographer
Julierme - online
Brent - online
Matt - online
Hakim - online 
Dan - set-up. he smoked!
Harry - *stranger!*
Cape Tim - set-up
Jeremy - online


Stay tuned for highs and lows. For now, I'm just glad to have caught my breath!

Judge Not, Lest Ye...

I had a total book/cover moment recently. Describing an upcoming first date, I said, "He's not bad-looking, but he's is obviously totally awkward. Look at his smile in that photo! It looks pained. He's gonna be a huge geek! I am not looking forward to this one."

Imagine my surprise when the moment arrived and J_____ was totally pleasant. He's developing drugs to fight multiple sclerosis (an issue dear to my heart), and he sails and golfs in his free time. He was definitely not suave, but he was smart and interesting and I thought we hit it off. Actually, I figured I had pretty well charmed him. At the end, he mentioned going salsa dancing, and I warmly agreed. I walked home thinking he was pretty lucky to have met a cute girl like me, who doesn't judge him for being a bit nerdy. Contrary to my expectations, I looked forward to hearing from him again.

And then...You guessed it! I didn't. Not a peep. Silencio. Pin drop. A great hush. No salsa dancing. No nothing.

http://diapersanddivinity.com/2011/07/06/humble-pie/









Make mine sugar-free, if you please.

Dating Dictionary

Taste-Text [teyst-text]- noun

image: bostonfieldfocus.com

1. using text messages to determine the suitability/character/appeal of a potential date.
2. non-verbal "conversation" in 160-character snippets, often employing now-standard abbreviations and several variations of smiley faces.
3. has generally replaced the phone call in pre-first-date or inter-date communications.

4. does no favors for gents who haven't mastered the art of the being witty, wise, and warm via a touchscreen keypad -- "Hey. What's Up?" won't get him far.

5. conversely: beware, ladies, the text king who can wrap you around his little finger with a flick of his "send" button. You never can tell what will happen when you try to move from the test kitchen to the dining room! (Yes, there's a story there...)

Mid-Term Progress Report

Time has been tight, but I am slowly chipping away at my Summer Dating Goals. Herewith, a brief update:

Summer Dating Intentions Progress To Date (6 weeks into the 16)
1. 8 different gents out of 20
2. 2 non-online dude out of the requisite 5
3. 1 stranger! out of 3

Clearly, I have some catching up to do! Subtracting some upcoming travel days, I am halfway through my dating semester. I am glad to report that I continue to fill the pipeline, and snagged a potential "stranger date" this afternoon while lolling at a nearby pond with a girlfriend. Stay tuned for details!

Meanwhile, I want to send a Blonde-Out to Yoel, for his inspiring work charting his own dating adventures. This level of specificity and good record-keeping is way beyond Blondie's sights, but I share a couple examples of his, just so you can see how a master does it. 

graph: http://yoyoel.com

graphs: http://yoyoel.com

Q: What Have We Learned About a Philosophiae Doctors??

I have already presented Exhibits A & B, validating my hands-off-the-prof policy. Need more proof? Read on...

He was the Hot Visiting Professor lecturing on anthropology/ethnomusicology. I was, in his e-words, "the really cute blonde chick" seated next to his co-presenter.


HVP (no.pun.intended.) was cute, smart, irreverent, and completing a yearlong residency in my neck of the woods. Nothing seemed more logical than electronically come-hithering him mere weeks before he returned the 900 miles from whence he had come. I jotted off a quick congrats on his presentation and, just like that, I met my match and quickly realize I needed to extinguish that spark before yours truly became the really cute, blonde, tinder.

He was WAY flirtatious, and quite aggressive in his academic mumbo-jumbo word play. Lots of "Who is the viewer? Is this an authentic performance? Yada, yada." The exchange lasted only a few days and culminated in this surprising-yet-unsurprising message from him:

shall we proceed to following Bakhtin's utopian advice and temporarily suspend social hierarchies and normative forms of etiquette and behavior in the near term future and ponder over the nature of the occasional beauty of grotesque bodies? it might be extremely gratifying, even if only temporarily so.

Translation, for those who don't speak Psuedo-Erudite Academician: "Let's get naked and *&%$!" Needless to say, Bakhtin went unheeded by Blondie this time.

ER Dr. PS:

How could I have forgotten to mention that the first thing that buttoned-up ER doc said when he came into my recovery tent was "I got your thank you note. Thank you for that."

!!!

He is SO serious, it's beyond-tempting to prod him further. Lucky for him I was still basically paralyzed from the neck down. (Get your mind out of the gutter! I just mean I was Lady Groggy-a and therefore incapable of launching my usual verbal wit parade.)

My follow-up appointment approaches, and the poor surgeon will no doubt get an earful on this subject. (Ha. Earful. Says moi, the Bride of FrankenGogh!)

Where Not to Meet a Man, v.Vacation

Or, rather:
"Where Not to Meet a Single, Straight, Child-free Man Over the Age of 18 Who Does Not Live With His Mother"

www.nanbacondesigns.com

...Browsing fabulous items like handmade wampum jewelry, "upcycled" sweaters, or handblown glassware at the Chilmark Flea Market. 

That said, browse away! Supporting local vendors and being well-accessorized are, perhaps, a couple of the luxuries of single ladies, before Costco becomes your one-stop-shop for diapers, dinner, and deceptively adorable discount duds.

Doctor Love

(What does it say that I have all kinds of real dates, but the moments that inspire blog posts are all the brushes-with-boys? For one, the full-on dates require more editing. For another...sigh...yes, the thrill is in the chase...)

Anyway...Ladies! I caught up with the ER doc again! Yes, it's true. I almost couldn't believe my good luck. And yet, cruel irony, our meeting found yours truly in full, queasy, post-surgical haze of only slightly-worn-off general anesthesia. I could barely lift my head or complete a sentence, and I might add that Blondie had not yet been handed her spectacles, so our meeting was definitely a foggy one in all senses of the word.

Vincent Van Gogh, "Selfportrait with fur hat, bandaged ear and tobacco pipe," 1889.

Remove the fur hat and tobacco pipe, add a hospital Johnny and retain the dazed expression. This is a decent interpretation of Blondie during her 2nd pass at El Doctore.

As far as I can recall, he commented on my low heart rate and asked if that was normal. [Answer: Come a little closer and let's see if we can't speed it up!] Then, he asked for a smile. [Nothing too romantic -- he was checking to make sure my facial nerves were intact. They were.]

Prior to the procedure, I had boldly admitted to my nurse and my surgeon that I thought he was dreamy. They seemed amused, and someone commented that he might be married. Boo.* Still, no one had mentioned that he would be stopping by. Maybe they sent him as a post-operative surprise? I won't look that blurry gift-horse in the mouth.

*I have scant few rules, but that, of course, is one of them. There are sooo many fish in the sea that there is no need to dip into other gal's nets. If this gets confirmed, he's off the list, plain and simple. Until then: fair game!

Romantic Espionage

They say our weaknesses can also be our strengths, but I never thought my eavesdropping could be a dating device!

Thisbe, John William Waterhouse, 1909

I admit, I am a repeat and stealth-free offender. I have been called out on numerous occasions, by friends as well as by victims who notice me practically taking notes during their juicy private-in-public conversations. Something about my slack jaw and craned neck gives me away, every time. It's embarrassing, of course, but I just can't help myself. People are so interesting!

At the local art museum, this shortfall became a man-catching asset. As I reached out to open the big, glass front doors, I heard a guy finishing up a cell phone conversation. Something about his voice caught my attention and I glanced back. He was a few steps behind us on the stairs, with dark hair, carrying a sporty yellow backpack.

Moments later, in the ticket line, we got to chatting and I blurted out, "So, you're meeting your parents here this afternoon?" Yes, folks, I blatantly admitted it. He was all, "How did you..?" and I was all, "You just said so a minute ago into your cell phone." Like, duh. He thought this was pretty funny. Indeed, when he texted later that week, he reminded me, "We met last Saturday after u 'overheard' my phone conversation a-HEM."

As I've said before, it's very helpful if a guy has something to tease you about. It's like a craggy indent on a rock climb -- it's a foothold as they hoist themselves upwards toward the peak.

His next question: "Are you also a Peeping Tom?"

[Answer: Negatory! I play espionage by ear, only. I don't peek.]

The Science (Library) Guy

The subtle pursuit of the science librarian continues. I generally don't like to be the hunter, but it is sometimes necessary set the stage. Our recent exchange was via email, since he wasn't in his office the last time I had cause to pop by.

On Tue, Jun 28, 2011 at 10:45 AM, Blondie wrote:

Do you work in the summertime? I am very much enjoying my M. Mouse pencil and have a reciprocal donation for your prize closet-or-more-accurately-prize-"drawer."

On Tuesday, June 28, 2011 at 1:15 PM, Science Guy wrote:

I'm on vacation (Yay!). I'll be back on the 11th. I look forward to the reciprocal donation, and I have an airplane shaped pencil for you.

Which begs the question... is he shopping for me in the airport gift store while en route to his vacation destination??

Ya Gotta Have a Goal

On June 5, with the encouragement of a pal, I established a few objectives. While I don't really think of dating as a numbers game, I thought it would be fun to set some targets. The only parameter I established was regarding the origin of the date -- i.e. how I came to meet the guy. I didn't make a rule about geography, profession, breeding, or anything else -- this is purely an experiment in quantity and access. Oh, and a date is defined as a pre-arranged appointment. The first meeting at someone's birthday party or in the grocery checkout line doesn't count.

No wisecracks about scoring, kids. This is a PG blog.
image: http://www.caughtoffside.com

Summer Dating Intentions
June 5-September 5, 2011 (a mere 13 weeks)
1. 20 dates with different gentlemen
2. Of those, 5 must be people I met NOT online
3. Of those, 3 must be "strangers," i.e. people I meet out and about, in public or at a party

Progress To Date (3 weeks into the 16)
1. 5 different gents (E, E, D, G, and J)
2. 1 non-online dude (J)
3. Zero strangers

That last category is tricky, but I am pleased to say that I have at least one solid lead (more on that soon). My progress may be hampered when I'm out for two weeks after a small surgery, but that will only increase my determination. Wish me luck!

Something Cheesey This Way Flirts

My last encounter with Monsieur Fromage was, by far, my favorite. Without too much convincing, I recruited a similarly flirtatious and shameless pal, E, to join me in the intrigue. The ruse: my picking up a present for my mother, whom I'd be visiting that weekend. He was happy to oblige.

image:http://itscheese.com

Highlights

At the mention that I happen to be teetotalling Blondie...
E: How will he take you out for a drink?
Blondie: I'm a cheap date!
M. Fromage: [head down, paying extremely close attention to the Manchego]



After I basically admitted to semi-stalking him, we establish that I'm a lot older than I look (and handful of years ahead of him -- see what I mean? This is becoming a theme)...
B to E: He went to [X College] -- just like my acupuncturist!
M. Fromage: Maybe I know him, what year did he graduate?
B: 19xx, just like me!
[cue astonished look]
MF: I'm doing the math in my head...

Later, the afore-mentioned acupuncturist (who galls me with his presumptions, which is why I consult him so often) asserted that I was subconsciously thwarting MF's potential advances by announcing these romance-deterrents. He might be right, I'm not sure.

Anyway, we left in high spirits, E later stating, "I think there is real potential here." Poor Mr. Cheese. He won't be free of me anytime soon.

Hug it Out

image: http://www.reamesdreams.com/pattern.htm

Hurrying down the street to my 2nd of three dates the other day, I wished I had been walking more slowly, the better to pick up what I was hearing and seeing. A middle-aged woman sitting behind a small table, which held what could have been an obscure string instrument or a large jewelry-making machine (use your imagination -- I had no clue), saying into her cell phone, "...nothing too intense. Friends with benefits -- hugging benefits."

Romantic Thriathalon

Do's and Don'ts for a Three-First-Dates Sunday

image: www.womanaroundtown.com

DO make sure all three dates are within walking distance from your house.

Also, DO wear comfortable shoes.
DON'T blow your lead. If you have 10 minutes before you have to leave for the next date, don't start folding laundry, reading another chapter in your book, or doing one more chore in the kitchen.

DO buy a few bags of frozen veggies -- there will be scant time for workweek-food prep in between seeing your suitors.

DON'T schedule them all exactly back-to-back. You'll need time to change your shirt if it's a hot day.

DO take a moment to refresh your memory about each gentleman before each date. There is nothing worse than asking, "So, do you have any siblings?" when he has already told you over email that he just returned from a trip to Brazil with his sister, who also happens to be his best friend in the whole, wide, world.

What's more, DO practice saying the person's name once or twice, especially if, say, two of the guys have names that right with each other ("Thanks for the tea, Ronald. I mean, DONALD!").
DON'T do anything silly like stuff your still-damp hair under your sunhat the hour before Date #1, imagining that this will somehow "set" your summer-humidity curls. If you do, you may find yourself with five minutes to fix a situation like this:

Then again, if such a situation arises,
DO play it off like it was exactly the look you
were going for! image: www.myspaceantics.com

DON'T forget to take a moment of quiet in between rendezvous, to cleanse your palate and get centered. By Numero Tres, you may start to feel a tad winded.

DO pinch yourself as you're hurrying to meet Mr. Third, since, what a fun life you live!

On-Call Dating

We all receive work calls/emails outside the office now and then, and, yes, they interrupt social functions. Bummer, but, I get it. And, obviously, doctors have that whole "potential life-threatening emergency" thing to deal with, so slack can be cut for medical professionals.

Nonetheless, I was entirely amazed during a date with a psychiatrist who was not, it must be stated, officially on-call that night. After returning a page from the car on the way to the restaurant ("I really shouldn't be having this conversation in front of you, for confidentiality reasons, but..."), he took two more calls regarding the same not-on-death's-door patient. Props to him for being responsible. The calls aren't my beef. But, I really thought he might step away from the table while he worked. Au contraire, mes amies! Instead, he sat there the whole time, and I heard every not-my-beeswax word. Maybe he thought it would have been ruder to leave me alone, but I'd opt for my own company rather than silently chewing my steak and trying not to listen/make eye contact as he negotiated with irate relatives about the care plan for a seriously troubled woman whose husband had left it to the sisters to advocate on her behalf while he stayed home. (See what I mean? TMI x 100!)

On the other hand, I guess I could have retreated, myself, and called him on his other line: "Paging Dr. ______. This date is in Code Red!"

In sum, this reminds me to glad things never got off the ground with the ER doc. There is always a silver lining...