Pie + Bacon = LUV

Several weeks ago, I began chatting online with Spice. He's a 28 year old computer nerd and general geek- right up my alley! But Spice is different in a couple very important ways. For starters, he's also poly. He lives with his girlfriend, whose other significant other is often over. That's right- there are three levels of OSOs. Spice, his girlfriend, her other boyfriend, and that boyfriend's wife. My roommate calls it “the family tree,” which is as good a description as I've ever heard. The limbs branch out and intersect, without necessarily coming back in on each other.

So like I said, Spice lives with his girlfriend. They were once primary partners, meaning they were deeply involved with one another. Now, it seems that they are no less deeply committed, but the nature of their relationship has changed. You see, Spice got really sick several years ago. He eventually received a kidney transplant and got better, but there were some scary times which led to some realizations about both him and his girlfriend. In the end, they decided to still be together, but not in the same way. This means that Spice is in the unique position of already being in a dedicated poly relationship while still looking for a primary partner.

I knew all of this going into our date Friday night. Now, I've done a lot of long-distance online dating, and the first few weeks reminded me of that. Online relationships often lead to quick connections, since you can spend time talking deeply, but the danger is that you only know what they put forward online. Since I was enjoying talking to Spice so much, I was nervous that he wasn't going to live up to it in person. The only way to find out was to go out.

We met for sushi. If you're anything like me, eating sushi is rife with opportunities for low-level humor, of the “that's what she said” persuasion. Yes, I still enjoy “that's what she said” jokes. I'm not too proud to admit it! Even better, Spice does too. We spent the entire dinner talking and laughing and giggling at jokes. It was like we already knew each other; there was none of that first date awkwardness.

Halfway through dinner, he realized that we'd gone somewhere that didn't really have dessert. I'd prepared for that, though, and suggested we walk over to the nearby Trader Joe's and pick up a pie. I have to give credit for that idea to my awesome roommate. Her suggestion was that we eat it on the street somewhere, which sounds wonderfully romantic, but when we bought the pie I realized we didn't have anything to eat it with. So I invited him back to my house.

(A side-note: while at Trader Joe's, Spice needed to pick up a couple things. He explained that there isn't one convenient to him, so it made total sense. He grabbed coffee and buttermilk, but the awesome part was the bacon. He grabbed two packs of the applewood-smoked bacon. Then two more. Then two more. I was nearly rolling in the aisle! Don't worry, he saw the humor in it too.)

After eating the pie we sat together on the living room couch, with me curled up into him. No surprise, it shortly led to making out; it was glorious. I couldn't get enough of his lips. As I remarked to him at one point, it's a sad thing that after two people start sleeping together, they often stop just making out. It should be more than just a means to an end- it's worth enjoying just for what it is.

We did eventually head up to my bed, but nothing happened beyond more making out and a bit of foreplay. Is it still foreplay when it doesn't lead to more? He texted his girlfriend to let her know he was staying over, and we cuddled up to fall asleep.

Until about 4am. That time, it definitely was foreplay. We had to fumble around in the dark for a condom, but eventually everything was in place. Things were a little bumbling, as first times often are, but he was clearly concerned with making sure I was enjoying myself. I most definitely was.

I “enjoyed myself” again in the morning. This time, being able to see what we were doing and not half-asleep, it was even better. His hands were tender yet demanding as he held me; his skin was smooth yet firm to my lips.

We finally dragged ourselves down to breakfast. I was out of almost everything (I'm a master at putting off going to the grocery store), so we had pie and bacon. I loved it.

Spice and I have continued to talk online every day since then. I have to say, whereas I felt smothered by Isaiah, I anxiously await each conversation with Spice. We're going out again this week, so you can expect to see his name again.

It Was Nice in the Beginning...

Sunday night, I met the Triathlete for dessert. I'd suggested brunch, but he was off running, swimming, and biking that morning. I've known of the Triathlete for a while as we have several mutual friends, but it wasn't until I recognized him on OKCupid that I got the chance to actually “talk” to him.

He picked me up at my house, right on time, and we headed down the street to an awesome bar/restaurant that serves all locally-sourced foods. He couldn't resist the allure of the salted caramel cupcake with bacon, and I had a delicious peach crumble. If only it had been a la mode.

I had a lot of fun talking to him, and I thought we had a nice balance going of talking and listening. I hate those dates where it feels like one person is doing all the talking. Especially when I'm that person. I hate feeling like I'm on a job interview and I have to give the “right” answers. But it wasn't like that with the Triathlete. I think it helped that we already knew a little bit about each other. Or maybe more accurately, I knew a little bit about him, including his accordion playing and museum work. (I'm starting to wonder if I have a “thing” for accordion players.)

As I write this, though, I'm starting to wonder- how much did he actually ask about me and my interests? We talked about my thesis, and we talked about our political views (I know, never something that should come up on a first date, but we were both in agreement so it wasn't horribly uncomfortable,) but I can't remember talking about “me.” Hm.

We sat at the table for about three hours, sharing a couple beers, and then we decided it was time to head out. We got the check, and I asked my usual question- “do you want to split?” He said sure. I was honestly taken a little aback. It's not that it was a trick question at all- I was totally willing to pay my half- but he'd had twice as many drinks as me, and he let me pay for half the bill. Maybe he didn't realize it? I don't know.

So we walked back to the car and he drove me home. As we arrived at my house, he parked, but kept his seatbelt on. In the words of a teenage girl, he was like, “okay...” and I was like, “okay...” and then he was like “okay...” some more. Finally, I asked for a hug, and he unbuckled his seatbelt and gave me one. There was no attempt for a kiss.

Obviously, this entire exchange left me confused. The date had seemed to have gone well, but the end was just so...strange. I immediately got online to some of my guy friends to get their take on it. There was no consensus- comments ranged from “maybe he's just awkward” to “maybe he doesn't kiss on the first date” to “maybe he wasn't feeling it.” Since I wasn't sure which one of those it was, I decided to go out on a limb and message him again the next morning on the dating site. My message was brief, just a “I had fun, let's do it again?” type of thing.

Then I waited.

Finally, several hours later, I got a response back. It said (very nicely) that he'd sincerely had fun talking, but he wasn't up for another date. The kicker was his closer- “I'm sure I'll see you around.”

So, in case anyone was wondering, I do occasionally strike out.

In the Immortal Words of Ms. Joplin- Get it While You Can

This weekend, two of my friends got married in Seattle! As a former wedding coordinator (one of my many previous incarnations,) they asked me to lend a hand to make sure everything went well for their day. It was very much a friends and family affair- seven of us took a trip to the farmer's market in the morning to pick up flowers, the bride's aunt tied the bouquets, and the officiant was one of the bride and groom's closest friends in Seattle who was ordained on the internet.

And that officiant. Oh my. The groom had told me ahead of time that the officiant, Antimony* was available, but he hadn't warned me that he was gloriously tall, cute in that needs-a-haircut kind of way, and amazingly sweet. I noticed at the wedding rehearsal and the rehearsal brunch that Antimony was showing me a bit of attention. My suspicions were confirmed (in a good way) when he walked me partway back to my hotel afterward.

It was the next day at the wedding, though, that the we really connected. As the officiant and the official reception emcee, Antimony and I were in constant contact. Even when we weren't doing work-type things, we were hanging out- including sharing bites of the ice cream that the bride and groom had brought in instead of cake (brilliant idea, by the way!) Still, that was as far as it went- some smiles, a bit of touching on the arm, and once I'm pretty sure I laid my head on his shoulder. He wasn't making any moves and I wasn't really willing to put it all out there during our friends' wedding, so things kind of stalled. Then he mentioned that he was flying to Michigan on the red-eye that night, and I figured that was the end of things. I'll admit, I was more than a little disappointed.

When everything was packed up afterwards, I noticed Antimony hanging around even though it was just me and the parents left putting things into cars. I decided it was my last chance, regardless of him flying out that night, and that there was no harm in rejection, so I asked if he would walk me back to my hotel again. He did. When we got there, I asked if he would come up and see my fancy hotel room. He did that too.

As we were looking out the window at the awesome view (I told you it was a fancy hotel room) I laid my head on his shoulder again, and he put his arm around me. As I looked up to smile at him, he leaned down and kissed me. It couldn't have been better if I planned it. He was a very passionate kisser, with his hands on my waist and in my hair and a delicious electricity between us. When we finally broke the kiss, I took a step back and offered him something to drink. He replied, “I'd rather have another kiss.” Believe me, he didn't need to ask twice.

The next thing I knew, we were sideways on the bed, his arms around me and my legs around him. Even with our clothes on, we rotated through several positions while making out- me on top, him on top, my legs over his shoulders, both of us sitting up- and with each change in position, another piece of clothing came off.

We were down to our underwear as I straddled him. That is, until I began kissing my way down his chest and stomach, until I finally got to his boxers. I wanted to see what I'd been feeling, and I was not disappointed. Neither was he, as I kept kissing my way down a little further.

Eventually he pulled me back up to him so I was straddling him again, this time pulling off my panties in the process. With a few strokes, I was in heaven. It was like Antimony was shaped especially for me- he hit all the right places. We're not just talking good sex- we're talking AMAZING sex. Had I known in advance how my body was going to react I would have put a towel down, as the sheets quickly became a sopping wet mess. Afterwards, we lay there close together, my head on his shoulder, talking and laughing and marveling in what we'd both just experienced.

And that was just round one. Before I knew it we were kissing again, and I could feel him pressing into me. I climbed back on. This time, he got tired before finishing again (not that I blame him in the least- he was doing most of the work) so we collapsed back down onto the bed. “I hope you know we're not finished,” he told me. And we weren't. The final round was my favorite. It was a bit slower than the first two, but no less passionate. We held each other close as he moved inside of me until we'd both reached our ends.

For the last time, we lay with his arms around me and my head nestled in his shoulder, caressing each other and watching the sky slowly get dark outside the window. We both had to fight the urge to fall asleep and make him miss his flight to Michigan. Finally, as the street lights came on, we got dressed and I showed him out.

Long live weddings, and the amazing friends who have them.

(*A note on the nickname: Seattle Barista = SB = Sb = Antimony! Yay Periodic Table of Elements!)

Getting Back on the Horse

With the implosion of things with the Diplomat, the vultures immediately began to circle. I had two booty call offers that weekend, but I chose not to take either one. Instead, I went to see a burlesque show by myself on Friday night. I was able to just enjoy myself, being by myself. Though the Pirate joined me halfway through the show, there was no pressure to make it a date.

I had been talking to a new guy online just before the breakup, and he chose that week to finally ask me out. I was really nervous about whether or not I was ready to go on a date with a new person, but I ultimately decided that I wanted to give it a shot. Worst case scenario, I could be that crazy woman that breaks down in the middle of dinner shouting “I just can't do this!”

We agreed to meet for drinks on Wednesday night, which also happened to be my last day at my internship. What I didn't realize is that my coworkers had planned to take me out for happy hour that night as well. When I found that out, I was stuck. I could cancel the date and go to happy hour, meet my date later that night, or invite him to come to happy hour with us. I took the last route.

That's right, I changed plans on a first date to bring him to happy hour with six coworkers. I'm a bad person.

Isaiah was a good sport about the whole situation. One of my coworkers teased that it was the first test- if he couldn't deal with me changing plans to something crazy at the last minute, we probably wouldn't last. He got along well with all of us, and was laughing and talking with everyone. On my end of things, it took a lot of pressure off the first date. I didn't feel like I had to fill the silences or come up with endless interesting conversation, because there were other people who had things to say as well. I'm sure it wasn't quite so easy for him, but at the end of the day, I liked it.

As people began to dwindle away from the happy hour, Isaiah and I decided to go down the block to a nearby cafe and get some dessert. We split a brownie sundae, and had really interesting conversation about music (he's a bass player), the fluidity of sexuality (we're both somewhere in the middle of the Kinsey scale), and how hot that Old Spice commercial guy is (he can imitate Isaiah Mustafa's booming voice perfectly- thus this date's nickname). He was really easy to talk to! It also helped that he is super hot- tall and muscular, with medium-length dreds. At one point I touched his arm, and it took all my willpower not to rub all the way up to his bicep.

Things were winding down with dessert, and as I was about to ask him to walk me to my car, he suggested we go down to the neighborhood park. I was really not wanting the date to end yet, so I agreed. We found the little playground at the side of the park, and sat down on the swing-set. How much cuter can you get on a first date than brownie sundaes and a swing-set? I was killing myself with the sugary sweetness of the whole situation, and loving every minute of it.

He did walk me back to my car after that, and as we were saying goodbye we kissed. The entire date I'd been thinking to myself, “This is going so well. Please don't let him turn out to be a bad kisser!” I was worried over nothing- that boy knew what he was doing.

Ideally, I wouldn't suggest that someone go on a date just a week after a hurtful breakup. But I've never been one for following my own advice. He may be a rebound, or he may be around for a while- only time will tell. Either way, having a good date with Isaiah was a wonderful reminder that life goes on.

Monday- That Cute Anarchist Bartender

I met the Mad Scientist at the anarchist party last weekend; he was the cute bartender that kept checking me out. We texted a few times Saturday and Sunday, and made plans to go out after my class Tuesday. I got a phone call Monday night from my professor telling me my classes Tuesday morning were canceled, though, so I asked the Mad Scientist if he wanted to move our date up a day.

First he suggested a super hipster bar that I've been to before. When I called him out on the hipster-ness of it, he laughed and asked if I'd rather see his favorite dive bar instead.

The place was a total dive, but that was exactly what I was hoping for. There's nothing better than a corner dive bar to get to know someone over a few drinks. I found out that he's 27, and is starting a PhD program in chemistry at the well-known local university in the fall. In the meantime, he's working at the anarchist collective's coffee shop and bartending under the table. It's very anarchistic, I suppose. He worked on his master's degree in England, and has traveled a lot. He's totally the lefty, social activist type- he's even a vegetarian.

As we were sitting at the bar talking, he kept pausing and giving me a look. I couldn't place what it was, until he finally leaned in and kissed me. I don't think I stopped grinning afterwards. He also had me giggling and blushing the whole time. He's very much the strong, silent type, but it's covering a razor-sharp wit that I can't get enough of.

We planned to move on to another bar, but it was closed. Instead, he suggested going back to his place for some beers. I giggled and agreed. When we got there, he asked me if I was the kind of girl that was going to call him 40 times the next day.

“No,” I assured him. “Only 25 or so.”

“That's the sweet spot,” he told me, grinning.

For a Mad Scientist, he's unfailingly polite. He asked me if I wanted to go back to his bedroom, and I readily agreed. We made out on his bed for literally hours. He's such a good kisser. In between kissing and caressing he would give me massages- I was falling, hard. Finally I told him I wanted him. “But do you want me tonight?” he asked. When I told him I wasn't sure, he told me I should make sure I am first.

Seriously, what kind of guy does that? I know, I know- the good kind. I guess I'm just not used to being treated right.

I spent the night, and we cuddled together under the blankets. You know how when you're sleeping with someone, you'll sometimes wake up just a little bit in the middle of the night when you're rolling over? Well, whenever that happened he'd whisper to me, “hey, gorgeous.”

We ate Amish blueberry muffins in bed the next morning. Then he had to get to work, so we parted ways.

I can't wait to see him again.

Wednesday- In Which I Learn about Electronics Packaging

I have realized that I definitely have a “thing” for the geek uniform of shaved head and facial hair. It's not a conscious thing, but when I see guys like McCool or the Blues Man I'm attracted to them, and only later do I realize that they are in that category. When I saw photos of Mr. Dimple on the dating website, I had the same reaction.

We'd originally planned to meet for dinner Thursday night, in the city where he lives about an hour from me. I had a job interview closer by on Wednesday morning, though, so I suggested we move the date to lunch on Wednesday. It was a good thing I did, as he discovered he'd double booked on Thursday night. Apparently, keeping track of plans isn't his strong point.

He chose a Thai restaurant he really likes. I haven't been able to find a pad thai that lives up to my standards yet, so I was excited to try it. Unfortunately the pad thai wasn't great, but Mr. Dimple was.

The first thing I noticed when he walked through the door was his giant grin. Well, that and the aforementioned geek uniform of shaved head and facial hair. It just does something for me, I can't help it! The next time he grinned at me while we were sitting down, my eyes were drawn to the big dimple that popped up. It made me want to lean across the table and kiss his cheek right then.

Surprisingly, I showed some self restraint. We had a great time talking over lunch, though, and kept telling terrible, off-color jokes to make each other laugh. He also explained to me his research that he is completing to finish his PhD dissertation. It's in “electronics packaging,” and would you believe it? It has nothing to do with how Amazon.com chooses to put your new DVD player in a cardboard box!

When we got up to leave, he discovered a common problem for most men that date me- I am taller than he was. Especially in my 3-inch heels. That isn't something that concerns me at all, but for some men, it really makes them uncomfortable. I had to tease him about it, of course, saying “I like to wear heels to intimidate men.” “I'm not intimidated,” he told me, and I'm pretty sure he meant it.

We stopped to say goodbye at the curb, and I stepped off while he was still standing on the sidewalk so that he could feel taller for a minute. I'm kidding. Or am I? Either way, he noticed and laughed about it, and I told him we should just carry a stool around for him. He gave me a big hug, but I hesitated in going in for a kiss, and so did he. So we separated and went to our cars.

When I got there, I couldn't resist teasing him a little more, so I texted “what, no kiss?” I got a “I could ask you the same thing!” in return. Touche, Mr. Dimple. Touche.

Thursday- Text Dates?

As someone who has had her share of long-distance relationships, I often wonder what exactly defines something as a “date.” There is something that has become ubiquitous about dinner and a movie, but that isn't the only thing to do on a date. So, if it isn't the activities that make something a date, is it something about how those activities are done? Isn't a date at its core just two people spending time together in order to get to know each other better? It's an imperfect definition, but I think that's what it is.

A few months ago, I began texting with the Nigerian, who is actually the Anarchist's neighbor. We'd met in passing, and he asked the Anarchist for my phone number. The first day, we sent a couple hundred texts back and forth, spanning the period of the entire day. We talked about everything from our backgrounds to life goals to food likes and dislikes. Not only were all the basic topics from a first date covered, we delved deeper than one probably would. That's the benefit of having an 8 hour date instead of a 2 hour one. At the end of the day when I was going to bed, the Nigerian thanked me for a great “text date.”

Things with the Nigerian didn't work out, but that phrase has stuck with me.

Thursday night after getting home from the terrible date with Ill-Fitting Suit, I was lounging outside with my housemates when the Dreamer texted me asking if I wanted to go to Ikea with him. If you know me, you know that question might as well have been rhetorical. After a trip there and a short stopover at Home Depot to get him some stuff for work, we went back to my place and went to bed.

Around 2am, he woke me up. His toothache was killing him, he couldn't sleep, and he wanted to go home. He couldn't let himself out, though, so I had to get up with him to unlock the door and then lock it back. Right as I was about to climb back into bed, my phone rang- he'd forgotten his glasses. So I had to get back up, bring them down to him, and go back to bed for a second time.

This time, though, I couldn't fall back asleep. I got on Facebook to try and kill some time before trying again. I had a message waiting for me from the Blues Man.

The Blues Man is actually one of my colleagues at school. He's a leftist-leaning Jewish drummer, which seems like a strange combination, but he totally makes it work. I'd been eying him since the first class, but only recently worked up the nerve to ask him out. Over Facebook, of course. It's the new way to pass notes in class. We agreed to go out the following Saturday, but kept messaging back and forth anyway.

I responded to the Blues Man's message and went about doing other internet-type things, when another message from him popped up. After a few more messages and responses, he pointed out that we could move off the internet, and gave me his phone number. So we started texting.

That night, we texted from about 3am until 7am, constant banter back and forth. In the course of it, we talked about work, school, our families, our friends- no topic was off limits. It didn't help that it was the middle of the night, when I get a lot freer with my willingness to share. It was so much fun! Truly, I felt like I could talk to him about anything, and was so comfortable with him it was as though I'd known him for years.

Around 7am, I asked him if he wanted to meet for breakfast. It seemed only appropriate, since we'd spent the entire night building up a delicious romantic and sexual tension. He agreed, and we made plans to meet up a few hours later.

Was this a date? I think so. It was everything you'd hope for in a great first date- witty banter back and forth, opening up about your pasts, playful flirting. The only thing it lacked was a kiss at the end.

Thankfully, that came at breakfast.

Thursday- The Difference Between a Lawyer and a Catfish

From the moment he began messaging me on the dating website, I knew this guy wasn't going to work out. Still, for some misguided reason, I agreed to go on a date with him. I mean, after 4 months of messages, I almost felt like I owed him at least one date. Plus you never know, right? Maybe he would have come across better in person that he did in his profile.

He didn't.

He showed up in an ill-fitting suit. Admittedly, he did tell me he'd be in a suit since he was coming straight from work, but I'd thought a lawyer would have had to know how to dress himself. I was clearly wrong. I'm sure it didn't help that Ill-Fitting Suit is a public defender, so it's not even like he's making the big bucks that I thought were the only reason one became a defense attorney for in the first place. Not my place to judge his chosen profession, though.

He's picked one of his “favorite local hangouts,” and it was a local pub with a median clientele age of probably 25. That would have been fine, except he was close to 20 years older than that. If there's a sure-fire way to make yourself seem insecure about your age, that's it. When we sat down at a table, he told me that the reason he liked it was because he knew all the waitresses.

“Like Kelly,” he said, the one we had that evening. “She knows that when I tip her an absurd amount, it's not because I'm trying to sleep with her. It's just because I have extra money and want to give it to someone that needs it.”

Oookay then.

At least the food was good. I had a burger with pepper jack cheese and jalapeno slices- heavenly. The conversation kept veering into awkward places, though. Like when he started telling me about how he liked to cook from his mother's recipes. Sweet, right? Except when he told me about how when she was on her deathbed, it took her a while to die from the cancer, so she was able to write down all the recipes for him and his siblings. “When I cook them, I can feel her standing over me saying 'no, you idiot! Do it this way!'” I know that's just how I want my food prepared- with the undead presence of an Italian mother berating the cook.

Then he started telling me about how he was planning to take one of his dogs back to the breeder. “That's horrible!” I said. “How long have you had him?”

“3 years. But my other dog is getting old and sick, and I've had her longer, so I'm going to give the Newfie back to pay more attention to her.”

Great.

Lawyer- check. Mommy issues- check. Serious ethical differences (which I should have figured out with the whole defense attorney thing)- check. It was like he was created from the checklist of my nightmares!

I let him walk me back to my car and gave him an awkward hug. When I drove away, he was standing on the corner talking to some random guys hanging out in front of the library. I wonder if he was looking for new clients.

As my mom always said, what's the difference between a lawyer and a catfish?

One's a scum-sucking bottom feeder.

The other's a fish.

Friday- Choking the Smurf

I'll admit, I went into the date already not in the best of moods, but I still wanted to give the guy a fair chance. We'd chatted online and talked on the phone once and I'd enjoyed them. So I ordered a glass of Sangria, put on a smile, and made the best of it.

Unfortunately, the best of it was that Sangria.

We went to a trendy cafe/bar/tea shop he suggested. When I got there, I discovered that it was a live music night. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but we somehow managed to sit directly below a hidden speaker. Every time the trio hit the chorus of their songs, the music got so loud it completely drowned out our conversation. That left us to stare uncomfortably at each other, waiting to be able to finish our sentences.

That is, when we had sentences to finish. We also spent a fair amount of time in that awkward silence where you both look at your hands and try to steal glances at your watch without the other person noticing. When we did find things to talk about, they were often disjointed and strange. At one point we got on the topic of Smurfs. Let me tell you, this man knew way too much about childhood cartoon characters. I tried to make that passing joke about what color does a Smurf turn if you choke it, and he had an actual answer! “Purple,” he said. “They had an episode once where a Smurf was choking, and it started to turn purple.”

Choking the Smurf just sounds like a bad euphemism for masturbation, if you ask me.

The problem was, this man was gorgeous. He's half Chinese and half white, and at least 6'2”. He had those impossibly broad shoulders, longish, tousled hair, and a huge smile. And he showed up in a motorcycle jacket and band tee! I just wish he'd had the personality to match the body.

The kicker was towards the end of the night, when he started talking about his ex-girlfriends. He started by telling me about the time he was making out with a girl at a party, and she bust out crying. I laughed uncomfortably, and I guess he took that as a sign of encouragement. He then began complaining about his ex-girlfriends that wouldn't put out.

Record screech.

Yeah, that's right. He might as well have come out and asked, “Will YOU sleep with me, or am I going to be complaining about you to a future date?” I don't think so.

So, Smurf Guy, you need to work on your skills. I even told him as much when I emailed him a few days (and two missed calls from him) later to say that I wasn't interested in a second date. He asked me why, and in the interest of sparing the world from yet another hot but useless man, I answered honestly. “You need to work on letting your personality show through [subtext: you are bland], work on finding common ground with your date to talk about [subtext: at least pretend like you're interested in them as a person], and don't complain about your exes on a date [subtext: seriously. Don't complain about your ex-girlfriends on a date!!!].

P.S. Anybody who likes Spiderman more than Batman should be immediately suspect. That's all I'm saying about that.

Thursday- My Date with a Married Man

Thursday night was my first date with the Linguist. No, he's not a Cunning Linguist...or maybe he is, and I just don't know it yet. He was a translator with the Army, though, and he “speaks” an astounding number of computer programming languages, so it's a fitting title.

Now, the Linguist is a happily married father of two. No, he's not cheating on his wife. They have a polyamorous relationship, even though they're married. Before agreeing to go out with him, I asked what kind of rules or arrangement they have regarding their relationship. He told me that they don't really put rules on other relationships, which I like, but the main thing is that he doesn't date women who want him to leave his wife, and she doesn't date men who do the same. They are committed to each other, even though they have other relationships.

When the Linguist first messaged me on the dating site, I initially turned him down. He had sent such a well thought-out letter, though, that I didn't want to leave him hanging. Instead, I sent him a quick note thanking him for messaging me but saying that at almost 40, he's outside of my comfort zone. A few days later, though, I reconsidered. It's not so much that I thought he would be too old, but that the last couple relationships I've had with older guys didn't end well. Still, he seemed nice and funny, so I emailed him again saying I'd like to meet.

The Linguist lives south of the city, while I live in the northern part. It was very sweet when he offered to come up to my neighborhood to go out instead of acting put out that he would have to travel so far. He professed a love for Indian food in his profile, so we decided on a place that I'd gone a couple times before. It was really cute when he walked in and I was already seated at a table. He waved and grinned. When he got to the table I had to ask him, “what if you were just waving at some random person?” That's totally something that would happen to me.

Dinner went great. We had a few pauses in conversation, as can be expected on a first date, but they were never awkward or uncomfortable. He let me try a bite of his food, but I teased him that I wasn't going to let him have any of mine. He kept inching closer to me throughout the night, and by the time we were ready for the check, we were holding hands across the table.

After he paid the bill, he asked if I'd be interested in walking around the neighborhood. It's a great place to do that- lots of little shops and restaurants. We stopped by his car first to put his leftovers up, and when he turned around from putting them on the seat, he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close, and took my breath away with a passionate kiss.

Based on that, he probably is a cunning linguist.

We walked over to the bookstore holding hands. We are both book fiends, so it was fun walking around, giving each other recommendations and making fun of others. Apparently his tween-aged daughter is obsessed with Twilight (of course), and he read the books for her. How sweet is that? We both ended up buying a couple books, which is surprisingly restrained for me, including him getting one for his wife. That spawned a conversation about being married while polyamorous.

“Most of our friends don't get it,” he said. “They ask, 'you go on dates with other people? And you sometimes talk about your wife with them?' Of course I talk about my wife- she's a major part of my life!”

He also told me that his daughter is aware of their polyamory. “It's not a big deal to her. We didn't make a big thing of it, so she doesn't either.” I think that's a really cool way to go about it.

After the bookstore, he walked me back to my car. A goodbye kiss turned into a goodbye makeout session next to my car, and after several tries we finally stopped long enough for me to get in my car and go. We already have plans for another date in a couple weeks, after he gets back from a business trip. I'm definitely glad I took the chance and went out with him.

Saturday, Pt 1- When a Second Date Goes Right

The Dreamer had to leave early Saturday morning to go to work, which was good because I had to get ready to go on another date at 10 am. This was my second date with the Diplomat, and he was picking me up at my house.

Now, on a first date, I almost always insist on meeting the person somewhere. There are two reasons for this- if they turn out to be psycho, at least they don't know where you live; and if the date is going horribly wrong, you don't have to endure a car ride back to your house before you can get away from it. My first date with the Diplomat was for Thai food in a boutique neighborhood not far from my house, and it definitely fell into the “bad first impression” category.

The name “The Diplomat” is a bit of a misnomer, I'll admit. He's actually an electrical engineer that works for a government contract office. His father was a diplomat, though, and I definitely get that vibe from him. He's rather reserved, shy, and to be perfectly honest, awkward. During the first date, he actually started asking me to make lists! “Name your top five authors. Your three favorite colors. Your best recipes,” etc. (In regards to this, Henry Rollins explains it better than I ever could- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9S5-EB8dR8 )

At the close of the first date, I thought he was nice but not someone I really felt the need to go out with again. I didn't count on him being so persistent. A half dozen phone calls and two emails later, I found myself agreeing to a second date.

This time, we decided to hit a nearby city that I hadn't been to yet. I figured if nothing else, at least I'd get to see the sights. After he picked me up, we used a Park and Ride to take public transit in instead of having to fight the city traffic. It was definitely the right choice, especially as I got him to loosen up a little bit during the ride by joking with him about the other riders. There's nothing like making fun of fringe Republicans to help two liberals bond.

When we got to the city we walked around a bit, seeing sights that I've only ever experienced in photos. It was almost surreal. At one point while walking down the street, I took the Diplomat's arm. I love walking with my arm in someone else's, especially when you can get the stride going right so you're not bouncing up and down in different time. That broke the ice- we spent the rest of the date playfully touching each other, holding hands, and him putting his arm around my waist while we stood.

For lunch we went to a historic building that has been turned into a food court. It wasn't your usual food court fare of Chick-Fil-A and Hotdog on a Stick, though- they had Indian, Chinese, pizza, and ice cream. We both decided on falafel from the Greek stand. The guy behind the counter kept trying to foist samples of chicken and beef onto the passersby, often to no avail. “Can't even give away free food!” he lamented to us as we waited.

The Diplomat and I had planned to stay in the city for a while after lunch, but I was tired and my feet were starting to hurt from my cute heels. We took the train back to his car, and drove back to my place talking easily about a myriad of topics from religion to music to indoor soccer.

We decided to meet again, and this time he won't have to wear me down.

Saturday- Taking Dating With Me, Wherever I Go

I was in Portland this past weekend for a conference. I'm lucky enough to be one of those people who has friends scattered across the United States, so when I go somewhere, I always try to sneak in a visit with a friend or two. This time, it was the Buddhist. The Buddhist actually lives in Seattle, but it's only a couple hours drive away, so he came down to see me on Saturday.

Saturday morning he went in to his company's Portland office for some work thing he wanted to be trained on- I'm not sure I would be willing to go in to work on a Saturday for voluntary training, but I guess that just means I don't love my (hypothetical future) job as much as he does. That afternoon, he came to see my presentation at the conference. It's a true friend who will brave a professional conference just to give you moral support, let me tell you. After I was done presenting and shaking hands (go networking!), we went out to dinner.

One of the problems I'm having in my current city is a distinctive lack of good Thai food options. There are a few restaurants, but none that live up to my standards. The Buddhist knew of a place on the east side of Portland that he'd been to once and was incredible, so we decided to go there.

The first thing we noticed when we got there was the crowd of people milling about outside. We went up to the hostess, who told us there was an hour long wait. But, she said, we could go wait across the street at their bar, have some appetizers, and they'd let us know when our table was ready. They have a walkie-talkie system set up just for that purpose.

That sounded like a plan, so we went over to the bar and sat down. And waited. And waited. And waited. After almost two hours, several drinks, and some delicious Thai fritters (I really wish I'd paid more attention to what they are called- they were delicious!) we finally gave up. We'd thought about going to a movie, but I was still on east coast time, so I was exhausted even though it was only 7pm.

Instead, we went back to my hotel room and watched HBO in bed. I have to say, that's my favorite part about hotels. I don't have a tv in my room and haven't for years, so it feels particularly indulgent to watch tv from bed. It was even better when I saw what was on- Tremors! That terrible Kevin Bacon movie about the giant worm creatures under the ground. I remember loving that movie so much when it came out, and my brother was even worse- he tied up my parents' Netflix queue with all four (that's right, they made four) Tremors movies for months. The Buddhist had never seen it from start to finish, and it had us rolling the entire time.

Naturally, lying in bed together watching a movie led to cuddling, and cuddling led to making out, and making out led to...well, you can figure it out. I hadn't planned for that- truly, I hadn't! I don't go into every date with friends or romantic interests thinking it's going to end it bed- so I was glad I keep a condom in my wallet. I know, it sounds like a guy thing right? But I consider it a feminist act- I am taking control of my own sexuality without relying on a man to be responsible for my health and safety. I outright refuse to have sex without a condom, and it would suck to get to the the point of needing one only to have to stop because he didn't have one. So, I bring my own.

The next morning, we were woken up by the sound of someone on a loudspeaker. Looking out the window we saw people running by dressed in wigs and costumes- apparently it was the 32nd Annual Leprechaun Run. Had I known about it in advance, I totally would have participated! We even saw someone running dressed up as a giant pint of Guinness. We went and got breakfast, barely beating the post-run crowd, and then decided to walk over to the Saturday Market.

Yes, the Saturday Market is also open on Sunday.

We walked around for a bit looking at the different artists and stalls. My favorite part, though, was watching the Buddhist light up when he saw all the Tibetan goods. You see, the Buddhist is so named because he actually is a Buddhist. He even lived in Tibet for several years, and used to work with Buddhist monks in the U.S. At one shop, he found a vendor who he was able to speak a few words of Tibetan with. It's cliché, but seeing him so happy made me happy, too.

After the market, we went and had coffee and chatted while I waited for another friend I was spending the evening with. We both remarked upon how comfortable we felt with each other, especially since this was the first time we'd spent a significant amount of time alone together. It was a great day, but it made me miss all my friends out on the west coast. I'm going back for another friend's wedding in August, though, so this trip will hopefully tide me over until then.

Hookers and Zombies and Great Dates, Oh My!

Back in January, just after moving to this city, I went on a date with McCool. It was one of the best first dates I've ever been on- we completely hit it off over dinner, great chemistry, so much fun to talk to- the works. He's a video game writer, and has worked on some big name games that I'm sure all of you, even non-gamers, have heard of. He's 30 (I'm beginning to think that's the ideal age for me to date, since all my good dates lately have been with 30ish year olds), a little taller than me, with a shaved head, goatee, and piercing green eyes. He wears glasses- ah, glasses. Let me explain.

I've always been a very liberal arts-minded person, thriving in language, literature, and history classes. I'm also a very competitive person. This has lead to me feeling uncomfortable dating people who also have liberal arts backgrounds, because I don't like competing with them to see who is “better” at literature or history. But I also find intelligence immensely attractive. It's not actually about getting a degree or having a repository of tons of knowledge, but having the mental aptitude and critical thinking skills. So in general, I'm attracted to math and science-type people. I find it incredibly hot when the person I'm with can excel at something I'm not good at. Of course, while glasses don't make one smarter, they give the impression of nerdyness. So glasses are a definitely plus.

McCool has an extremely busy schedule, especially when projects are started or nearing completion. Because of this, he didn't have a lot of freetime available for a date. Instead of doing dinner or another evening activity, we decided to meet for lunch. Even though we only had about an hour, it was really fun. We talked about hookers, and video games, and zombies. We were both laughing like fools, and I felt really comfortable just being myself around him. Afterwards, he walked me to his car and right as we kissed, it started to rain. It was a very sweet moment.

The date went so well that I broke the rule about waiting a day to contact him. (Side note: I want to know who wrote these “rules.” Some of them are just so stupid and arbitrary. Don't we at least get to vote on them first?) I told him over instant messenger what a great time I'd had, and he said the feeling was mutual. When I asked when we were going to get together again, he asked when I wanted to and I told him that night. He said he wished he could.

With such a great beginning, then, it was surprising to me what happened next. We scheduled a second date for late on a weeknight, after I got out of class. At the last minute, he had to cancel because of work. That was no problem, of course- I know what it's like to be busy beyond belief. But when I tried to reschedule a few days later, he kept dodging giving a date. Finally, I left it as “when you find a time that will work for you, you let me know.”

But he didn't let me know anything. A couple days went by without hearing anything from him, and when I did, it was just idle nerdy chit-chat over IM. I didn't want to come across as the weird girl that kept pushing another date, but I did mention it at least once that I was still hoping we could get together again. He just seemed to blow it off.

Eventually I gave up. I figured that he either had started dating someone else, or had lost interest in me as anything more than an internet friend. Either way, I wasn't going to push it. I stopped initiating IMs, and before I knew it a couple weeks had passed.

Then Thursday night, my chat box pinged with a new message, from McCool. We spent a few minutes catching up, and he asked me what I'd been up to. I told him just school and dates, the usual. Then I asked about him. Had he been on any fun dates recently?

“No,” he said. “I've been on one date since you.”

Well, that blew my first theory out of the water! It wasn't that he was seeing someone else, so it must have been that he wasn't interested in having another with me.

“Well, why not?” I asked.

“I guess women don't find me that attractive.”

“That's not true,” I said, “and besides, you know I would love to go out with you again.”

“I actually didn't know that,” he replied.

My heart started skipped a beat. This entire time, he figured I had been the one to lose interest! He apologized again for canceling our second date, and I explained that it wasn't upsetting that he'd canceled it, but rather that I had felt pushy in always being the one to bring up re-scheduling. I told him flat-out that I needed him to show more interest in getting together again, even if it wasn't able to be right away because of his work schedule.

“Wow,” he told me, “that's really direct. I like it.”

We left things at that for now, but we'll see. If he does as I hope and initiates another date, maybe McCool will be staying in the picture!

Saturday- Of Pirates and Backrubs

Last night was my second date with the Pirate. I must admit, it started off much better than our first.

After messaging him on the dating site (he actually just told me last night that the fact I messaged him first was a huge turn-on), we made plans to go bar-hopping so he could show me some of his favorite places around his neighborhood. We were supposed to meet at 8 at the first bar, but I realized a few minutes before that I was going to be late because of the hunt for parking. So, like any good date should, I texted him that I was nearby and would be there shortly.

No response.

I got to the bar and had a look around, to see if I could recognize him from his pictures. I usually am pretty good about it, but you never know. I didn't see him, so I tried giving him a call.

No answer.

At this point, it was 8:10. I fired off a text to a couple friends asking “How long do I wait before it's considered being stood up?” Their replies varied from 15 minutes to an hour. I figured I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and grab myself a drink while I waited.

At 8:20 I finally got a text from him- “10 minutes away.” Okay then. I still don't know what took him so long- I didn't feel like grilling him after he showed up- but it definitely wasn't a good first impression.

Thankfully for him, the night got better. We hit three different bars and had a great time, when he suggested karaoke. Apparently he's a huge karaoke fanatic, and I'm not half bad myself, so we went to this little dive bar that I didn't even catch the name of. It was so much fun! There was an old woman there named Lois who had a bright yellow beehive and about 4 teeth. It was her birthday, and so we all sang to her and she told us she was 39. That's what I love about true dive bars; there is never a shortage of interesting characters. I was no condition to drive after karaoke (come on, would you sing karaoke sober? Me neither) so we went back to his place and I crashed on the couch. Contrary to what some may believe, I rarely put out on the first date. Not that there aren't exceptions made for extraordinary circumstances, mind you.

So last night, the Pirate was driving back from a city a couple hours away where his tattoo artist is located. The tattoos are what inspired his name- they're all nautical and pirate themed. They're really neat and well done- he's got most of one sleeve, the beginnings of the other, a full chest piece, and his upper back. While I can't stand chest tattoos on women- why would someone do that to beautiful breasts??- they can look really good on the right guy. He's one of those guys. We ate dinner at a restaurant/bar near his house, and then decided to head back to his place. I was already a little tipsy before we met up, and I had another drink with dinner, so I was feeling good. I'm a total lightweight when it comes to alcohol; a true two-drink drunk.

While we were hanging out and listening to music, he offered me a backrub. I'm no fool, I won't turn down a massage! Of course you can't get a decent backrub with clothing in the way, so that had to go. And not surprisingly, a good backrub can lead to a good frontrub, if you know what I'm saying. And how.

There is nothing hotter than a man who growls during sex. We're not talking like creepy howl-at-the-moon growling, just that low, deep sound of rampant desire. It's the dominant equivalent of feeling a woman melt in your arms- pure, hungry, and satisfying. Wow, did it suddenly get hotter in here? I think I need a cool shower.

There was a repeat performance in the morning.

When we finally stumbled out of bed several hours after waking up, he got ready to go for a run and I had to come back home to do some homework. Such is the life of a grad student, I suppose! As my roommate likes to tease me, it's sometimes easy to forget that I'm a student with all the running around I do. It's all about balance, though. Work hard, play hard, right? Right.

Friday, Part 1- Cute girls and chocolate chip cookies

Friday afternoon was a first date with a girl I met through my favorite online dating site. We'd been talking back and forth, and a week ago I finally took the initiative to ask her out. We arbitrarily picked a time and date (well, she arbitrarily picked. I had to make sure it fit in my schedule) and she suggested a local cafe that has good coffee and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Of course I was sold on the idea.

She's a graphic design student (henceforth, the Design Student) at the local artsy college. My first introduction to the students at this school came via the Anarchist, who took me to a house party at a collective house. It was a vegan house, with at least 10 students living there, and no one had a key. My favorite part was when someone showed up with Guinness and all the people were warning each other “don't drink the Guinness! It's not vegan!” Ah, vegans. Thankfully, the Design Student wasn't one of these types. She's super cute and bubbly-looking- wavy bobbed brown hair, purple glasses, curvy in the right places- just the way I like them. And she's tall, too- the last girl I dated was maybe 5'2”, and I'm 5'9” when I'm not wearing heels (which is rare) so a girl that comes up above my chin is a rare treat.

The date went really well. It's always so hard to tell with a first date how you're doing, but we made plans to get together again soon, so I think that's a good sign. She's very into swing dancing, which I've never done, so we decided that she'll take me swing dancing and I'll take her to yoga, which she's always wanted to try. She was nervous about going out with someone new since she's graduating in May and planning to move back to the west coast, but I don't think that's a problem. I don't think every date has to turn into a relationship, and I don't think that every relationship has to end in marriage to have made it worth while. One of the benefits of polyamory, I suppose!

The date ended with a hug. I'm a first date kisser, but I know a lot of people aren't, so I'm not going to read into it. Then she bounced off down the street to catch a bus...so cute.

I'll have to save my third date of the day as another post. Does that count as three dates? Maybe two and a half, since the Anarchist was a holdover from the night before. The point is, Friday was a very good, very busy day.