The Set-Up
About a day after speed dating I received an e-mail with my matches. That night I get an e-mail asking for a phone number and by the end of the week I had a lunch date lined up- the day after date number five. This posed to be only a minor ethical dilemma for me (the more major dilemma was that date five and date six have the same name- so their names are hugging relatives on my phone, causing panic any time I try to contact one of them). We agree to meet at the same place I went for date number one.
The Date
I plan on going to the restaurant a little early so he will have to search for me. This is all because I don’t remember who this guy is exactly. Remember, I went on thirty three-minute dates. Names, faces, majors, and interests all blur together. So my big plan is to have him reveal himself to me. Due to my disaster of a room, (seriously, I’m like Ke$ha, I wake up every morning, not by brushing my teeth with a bottle of Jack, but by being surrounded by glitter and garbage) I end up being about five minutes late. It is all good though, because he is already there with a perfect table, away from doors, windows and ordering counters and next to the bookshelf. This is good feug shui and a great omen.
So once again I do the typical first date thing. We chat. Our waiter comes by and asks if we know what we want to order. We had both been so busy talking we were unable to look at the menu. This happens three times. Luckily the waiter is understanding about the whole ordeal and gives is an hour (yes, one hour) before we order our food. Yes, this I am sure, is another sign of us hitting it off. Who knew speed dating would work so well?
We chat about a lot. We have enough in common, but not a ridiculous amount (so unlike match number one, it wasn’t like dating the male, extra chill, hippie me). He is interesting and has a lot of neat experiences. But he lets me talk about myself, too. He comes off as intelligent and driven, but still able to relax and have fun. We basically hit it off (or so it seemed) and he blows off his office hours so we can continue our conversation. When the bill comes and he tries to pay I tell him no, but he insists and tells me that next time I’ll get it.
After the date I go to Grandma for a post-date chat. He immediately texts me complaining that he cannot Facebook-friend me. He doesn’t text/message/call that day or anything. But 48 hours later he asks me out again.
The Results:
Well he asked me out again. So... Plus this might be the first "aww" inducing entry in the blog...
Grade of Match: B+ (We could chat forever. But you know, it was just a first date)
Grade of Date: B (Okay, these lunches are getting a little old, but it wasn't awkward, so that's awesome)
Next time: The first second date
xoxo Serial Dater
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Date Five
The Set-Up
Some stories are told so many times that they become well-rehearsed masterpieces. The pauses in which the audience should “ooh” and the dramatized moments have all been practiced to perfection. The story of how I met this match is one such story.
I met him in the fall through Yental CM. CM thought that it would be hilarious to have the two of us hang out as he is an alcoholic with yellow fever and I am the correct shade of not-white (or not all white).
I was also curious about this boy, as I had been hearing legends of his drunken behavior through my roommates. I was fascinated and impressed by his creative drunkenness. The story how he used a Patron bottle to hold the foulest, cheapest vodka (all to look classy at the various trashy house parties and frats, of course) had gone around campus and spread like freshmen year mono. Of course I had to meet this guy.
Anyways, CM arranges him to come along with a group of us to see a comedian at the Union. Well his history (also known as alcoholism) in combination with my ethnicity caused the boy to get very, very drunk, all so he could hit on me. I, of course, was incredibly disturbed (okay, yes and a tiny bit amused). He tried sitting next to me and I, being sound of mind, freaked out at his drunken sexual advances and moved (he kept on trying to feel my knitted tights). He spent the remainder of the show crying about his lack of game. This obviously did not help him. Things only improved when, after the show, he tried to have an actual conversation with me, but proceeded to bash all of my guy friends. His rant lasted until the Union closed, at which time Grandma pointed out that it was much too late and dark for me to walk home by myself. She then suggested that the boy who had been hitting on me all night walk me home. Luckily I made it home safely and was able to give Grandma a lovely guilt trip the next day (she was apparently unaware of his advances).
So when Yental CM heard about my project and began picking out guys for me to date, she naturally suggested this guy. I said okay. After all, could it be worse than the first time I met him?
The Date
So the guy tells Yental CM that he is going to take me out on a date. An actual date. Not coffee, not lunch but a dinner. CM then warns me that the match is an emotional disaster and he may show up to the date drunk. She also informs me that he is employed at a fast-food sandwich shop and his idea of a dinner date might involve a speedy bite there. This is not the kind of pep-talk I am looking for and I dread the actual date. Actually, it’s not even dread. I’m terrified of this date.
The boy picks me up for dinner. I enter his car and, to my delight, I smell no alcohol. It however, becomes very clear that he lacks prodigious skills of planning. He has no idea where to take me. After working so hard to get me the first time, one would have thought he would have had a plan. We discuss where we should go as he drives his car with his legs (it takes a special type of athlete to do this). We end up going to a Chinese place. To my horror, it is the very same place my parents had
their very first date.
Once I get over my shock, I begin the usual first date interrogation. I begin to wonder how much time he spends alone as he talks nonstop. Even when he mentions that he has been talking all night and finally asks me a question, he quickly hijacks my answer. I begin to run out of questions and pick out the smallest details of his answers to encourage conversation. Eventually I give up and resort to mocking our enormously awkward and uncomfortably quiet waiter. This lasts for a surprisingly long two and half hours.
Results:
Ultimately I was expecting the date to be a lot worse than it actually was. Really, it wasn’t that bad. He is just an example of a guy who doesn’t know how to date. He knew how to go through the motions, but his execution was flawed. He wanted to take me to dinner, but didn't have a plan on where to go. He paid for dinner, but he didn’t hold the door open for me. He would answer my questions, but never bother to get to know me. I also never really got to know him. As much as I to dig into a “life story” he just kept on circling around the same three answers the whole night (I got to know a lot about internet security and creating music on a computer though, so that’s something). So again, it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be.
Grade of Match: C (We don’t have a lot in common, but I can see us being friends.
Maybe if he would relax and be the goof of the legends I would be more amused.
I was not incredibly interested by him, and that seems to be the number one
requirement for his partners)
Grade of Date: B (Chinese dinner. He really made an effort. He was just not good at
dating.)
Next Time: Speed Dating Results!
Some stories are told so many times that they become well-rehearsed masterpieces. The pauses in which the audience should “ooh” and the dramatized moments have all been practiced to perfection. The story of how I met this match is one such story.
I met him in the fall through Yental CM. CM thought that it would be hilarious to have the two of us hang out as he is an alcoholic with yellow fever and I am the correct shade of not-white (or not all white).
I was also curious about this boy, as I had been hearing legends of his drunken behavior through my roommates. I was fascinated and impressed by his creative drunkenness. The story how he used a Patron bottle to hold the foulest, cheapest vodka (all to look classy at the various trashy house parties and frats, of course) had gone around campus and spread like freshmen year mono. Of course I had to meet this guy.
Anyways, CM arranges him to come along with a group of us to see a comedian at the Union. Well his history (also known as alcoholism) in combination with my ethnicity caused the boy to get very, very drunk, all so he could hit on me. I, of course, was incredibly disturbed (okay, yes and a tiny bit amused). He tried sitting next to me and I, being sound of mind, freaked out at his drunken sexual advances and moved (he kept on trying to feel my knitted tights). He spent the remainder of the show crying about his lack of game. This obviously did not help him. Things only improved when, after the show, he tried to have an actual conversation with me, but proceeded to bash all of my guy friends. His rant lasted until the Union closed, at which time Grandma pointed out that it was much too late and dark for me to walk home by myself. She then suggested that the boy who had been hitting on me all night walk me home. Luckily I made it home safely and was able to give Grandma a lovely guilt trip the next day (she was apparently unaware of his advances).
So when Yental CM heard about my project and began picking out guys for me to date, she naturally suggested this guy. I said okay. After all, could it be worse than the first time I met him?
The Date
So the guy tells Yental CM that he is going to take me out on a date. An actual date. Not coffee, not lunch but a dinner. CM then warns me that the match is an emotional disaster and he may show up to the date drunk. She also informs me that he is employed at a fast-food sandwich shop and his idea of a dinner date might involve a speedy bite there. This is not the kind of pep-talk I am looking for and I dread the actual date. Actually, it’s not even dread. I’m terrified of this date.
The boy picks me up for dinner. I enter his car and, to my delight, I smell no alcohol. It however, becomes very clear that he lacks prodigious skills of planning. He has no idea where to take me. After working so hard to get me the first time, one would have thought he would have had a plan. We discuss where we should go as he drives his car with his legs (it takes a special type of athlete to do this). We end up going to a Chinese place. To my horror, it is the very same place my parents had
their very first date.
Once I get over my shock, I begin the usual first date interrogation. I begin to wonder how much time he spends alone as he talks nonstop. Even when he mentions that he has been talking all night and finally asks me a question, he quickly hijacks my answer. I begin to run out of questions and pick out the smallest details of his answers to encourage conversation. Eventually I give up and resort to mocking our enormously awkward and uncomfortably quiet waiter. This lasts for a surprisingly long two and half hours.
Results:
Ultimately I was expecting the date to be a lot worse than it actually was. Really, it wasn’t that bad. He is just an example of a guy who doesn’t know how to date. He knew how to go through the motions, but his execution was flawed. He wanted to take me to dinner, but didn't have a plan on where to go. He paid for dinner, but he didn’t hold the door open for me. He would answer my questions, but never bother to get to know me. I also never really got to know him. As much as I to dig into a “life story” he just kept on circling around the same three answers the whole night (I got to know a lot about internet security and creating music on a computer though, so that’s something). So again, it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be.
Grade of Match: C (We don’t have a lot in common, but I can see us being friends.
Maybe if he would relax and be the goof of the legends I would be more amused.
I was not incredibly interested by him, and that seems to be the number one
requirement for his partners)
Grade of Date: B (Chinese dinner. He really made an effort. He was just not good at
dating.)
Next Time: Speed Dating Results!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Date Number Three- Four and a Half (Speed Dating Edition)
The Set-Up
So when I first got asked to go speed dating, I immediately thought of desperate
thirty year-old martini-swilling women. Surely, I am not as desperate as those baby-
hungry cougars. However, this whole affair was to take place on Valentines Day
and what else does a single 20 year old have to do on the day where couples are so violently celebrated? Certainly not sit alone in an apartment, consuming chalky conversation hearts while watching “Friday Night Lights”, that’s for sure.
I refusing to let myself wallow in my singular and lonesome self-pity. No, I was going to rally. Who needs a relationship? I know how awesome I am and Valentines day would be an excuse to demonstrate my awesomeness to everyone I would come in contact with (which hopefully would mostly be single men).
The Experience
So Valentines Day night with the aid of three friends, I venture into the unknown world of speed dating. We fill out forms that request our insurance information and emergency contacts, pay ten dollars (paying ten dollars to date and be dated… is that why they requested insurance information?), have a number placed upon us, and then finally we enter the a small 100-person capacity room with about 160 people. The people in the room are obviously segregated by sex. The women sit on one side, the men on another. In three minutes the pairing would chat and make the deep connection needed to make babies. At the end of three minutes the men would switch seats and attempt to make that connection once again (the very fact that I was not going to have to move during this event thrilled me and told me very clearly that chivalry is not dead).
As beautiful and romantic as this whole scenario sounds – it had a few flaws. The first was that there were considerably more men than women. This problem only made me glad of my lack of Y chromosome. The second problem (other than you know, how the situation makes being single feel like an illness so terrible that the people of this status must be sequestered in tiny spaces AND the fact that LGBT singles wouldn’t be able to meet their match) was that 160 people in a small space make a lot of noise. The noise was so loud that every participant had to either yell or put their faces so close together their noses would be touching, all in order to be heard. Due to the unexpected crowd the speed dating stopped earlier than expected and lead to a mixer, which without and beverage or food, was a complete fail.
Ultimately I go thirty dates. To be quite honest they all pretty much were the same.
Typical Conversation:
If you want the details though, this is how I would spend the three minutes:
Me :(yelling) HI! What’s your name and major?
Him: [incoherent mumbles]
Me: (still yelling) What?!
Him: (getting the hint that he should yell) ANSWER!! You?
Me: Answer
Him: What are you planning on doing with that?
Me: Answer
This is when the conversation could break into three possibilities
Why did you go to Iowa State/ Where are you from?
What do you do for fun?
Him: Response
Me: Witty banter
Him: Repeated Question
Me: Clever response
(Lights turn off signaling the end of the three minutes)
Him: Nice to meet you
Me: You too
Occasionally a witty partner switches the pattern. I attempt this by playing “Would you rather?" However, this does not result into any great unveiling of a deep soul as my would you rather questions of “Would you rather have a tail or a pouch? Fly or be invisible?” are often met with blank stares of utter confusion.
The Interesting Date
Even though this follows a formula I still do have a few memorable dates – or actually maybe just one memorable date. An old man comes through the cycle. I have no idea why he is attending this event, however, my dreams of meeting a serial killer may soon be realized. He talks to me about what he does at Iowa State. I try to talk to him about something –anything- as he brings out a piece of paper with a picture of a man made out of soda boxes. He goes on and on about its creation. I, obviously, react to this by telling him about Andy Warhol.
Results:
So I met a lot of interesting people (and watched a lot of interesting people including sorority girls who were absolutely hammered and would yell out typical absurd drunk phrases whenever an announcement was to be made. Yes. Drunk on a Monday night. Classy) . I talked to people about spelunking, time traveling, flying airplanes, having seven siblings, Radiohead, poetry, GPS driven tractors, motorcycles, dyslexia, Harry Potter, Inception and pho. Also I had the first conflict-free conversations with one of my guy friends. If you know us, you know that this was pretty amazing. After scribbling down several random numbers, as I could not remember anyone’s name. I came away with two matches. We shall see how it goes.
Date: C (While the experience was fun, the set-up was messy and well thirty three minute dates for ten dollars? Plus a mixer instead of actual speed dating? I better be meeting my hubby.)
Match: ??? (I can't make any judgments right now, but I did get two matches and two phone numbers)
Next Time: A re-return?
xoxo Serial Dater
So when I first got asked to go speed dating, I immediately thought of desperate
thirty year-old martini-swilling women. Surely, I am not as desperate as those baby-
hungry cougars. However, this whole affair was to take place on Valentines Day
and what else does a single 20 year old have to do on the day where couples are so violently celebrated? Certainly not sit alone in an apartment, consuming chalky conversation hearts while watching “Friday Night Lights”, that’s for sure.
I refusing to let myself wallow in my singular and lonesome self-pity. No, I was going to rally. Who needs a relationship? I know how awesome I am and Valentines day would be an excuse to demonstrate my awesomeness to everyone I would come in contact with (which hopefully would mostly be single men).
The Experience
So Valentines Day night with the aid of three friends, I venture into the unknown world of speed dating. We fill out forms that request our insurance information and emergency contacts, pay ten dollars (paying ten dollars to date and be dated… is that why they requested insurance information?), have a number placed upon us, and then finally we enter the a small 100-person capacity room with about 160 people. The people in the room are obviously segregated by sex. The women sit on one side, the men on another. In three minutes the pairing would chat and make the deep connection needed to make babies. At the end of three minutes the men would switch seats and attempt to make that connection once again (the very fact that I was not going to have to move during this event thrilled me and told me very clearly that chivalry is not dead).
As beautiful and romantic as this whole scenario sounds – it had a few flaws. The first was that there were considerably more men than women. This problem only made me glad of my lack of Y chromosome. The second problem (other than you know, how the situation makes being single feel like an illness so terrible that the people of this status must be sequestered in tiny spaces AND the fact that LGBT singles wouldn’t be able to meet their match) was that 160 people in a small space make a lot of noise. The noise was so loud that every participant had to either yell or put their faces so close together their noses would be touching, all in order to be heard. Due to the unexpected crowd the speed dating stopped earlier than expected and lead to a mixer, which without and beverage or food, was a complete fail.
Ultimately I go thirty dates. To be quite honest they all pretty much were the same.
Typical Conversation:
If you want the details though, this is how I would spend the three minutes:
Me :(yelling) HI! What’s your name and major?
Him: [incoherent mumbles]
Me: (still yelling) What?!
Him: (getting the hint that he should yell) ANSWER!! You?
Me: Answer
Him: What are you planning on doing with that?
Me: Answer
This is when the conversation could break into three possibilities
Why did you go to Iowa State/ Where are you from?
What do you do for fun?
Him: Response
Me: Witty banter
Him: Repeated Question
Me: Clever response
(Lights turn off signaling the end of the three minutes)
Him: Nice to meet you
Me: You too
Occasionally a witty partner switches the pattern. I attempt this by playing “Would you rather?" However, this does not result into any great unveiling of a deep soul as my would you rather questions of “Would you rather have a tail or a pouch? Fly or be invisible?” are often met with blank stares of utter confusion.
The Interesting Date
Even though this follows a formula I still do have a few memorable dates – or actually maybe just one memorable date. An old man comes through the cycle. I have no idea why he is attending this event, however, my dreams of meeting a serial killer may soon be realized. He talks to me about what he does at Iowa State. I try to talk to him about something –anything- as he brings out a piece of paper with a picture of a man made out of soda boxes. He goes on and on about its creation. I, obviously, react to this by telling him about Andy Warhol.
Results:
So I met a lot of interesting people (and watched a lot of interesting people including sorority girls who were absolutely hammered and would yell out typical absurd drunk phrases whenever an announcement was to be made. Yes. Drunk on a Monday night. Classy) . I talked to people about spelunking, time traveling, flying airplanes, having seven siblings, Radiohead, poetry, GPS driven tractors, motorcycles, dyslexia, Harry Potter, Inception and pho. Also I had the first conflict-free conversations with one of my guy friends. If you know us, you know that this was pretty amazing. After scribbling down several random numbers, as I could not remember anyone’s name. I came away with two matches. We shall see how it goes.
Date: C (While the experience was fun, the set-up was messy and well thirty three minute dates for ten dollars? Plus a mixer instead of actual speed dating? I better be meeting my hubby.)
Match: ??? (I can't make any judgments right now, but I did get two matches and two phone numbers)
Next Time: A re-return?
xoxo Serial Dater
Friday, February 11, 2011
Date Number One
Background:
Yental Grandma has been trying to better herself throughout the year by taking on a different challenge each week (evidenced at Grandma's Blog of Joy and Love). At this point in time, I was crying to her about my sad and lonely nights of eating Chips Ahoy and watching "The O.C." and "Weeds". Well this lined up very well with one of her challenges: invite a stranger to hangout.
From what I’ve been told, Grandma was walking to class and listening on a tall, dark stranger’s conversation. These two minutes of eavesdropping was all Grandma needed to hear to know that this was going to be the love of my life. He liked philosophy (!) and literature (!!)She stops him and inquires about his love life.
This is the point in my narrative where I’d like to thank Grandma, for having more moxie than pretty much anyone I know. Anyways she told him to call me so we
could get together sometime. He didn’t. So Grandma did the only logical thing and texted him…
Date Inducing Text Exchange:
Grandma- hey . this is grandma - the girl who talked to you today about how you should meet my friend. well, she's definitely interested, but she's being coy. she says that you should meet her at [room number] at 10pm. we're having a faux wedding party. she'll be wearing fishnets! (she wants you to know she's not a skank and does not normally do things like this) also, she wants to know your last name so she can stalk you :) thanks ! sorry no caps.
Boy - I'm confused. What day does she want me to meet her. It's past 10 last I checked. Also I don't have a Facebook. So I'm unstalkable.
Grandma - oops. Sorry - wedding party is on Friday!! Minor details :) And you should get facebook! Shame on you. Can I tell her you'll meet her on Friday?
Boy - I'm thinking about it but I have to ask. Is she a freshman?
Grandma - Nope, junior standing - 2nd year. Who are you asking? What year are you?
… There is a reason Grandma has been in a relationship since she was shopping at LimitedToo.
He still didn’t call so the next day with help from Grandma, I called him. I had no
idea what to expect. Grandma literally picked this stranger up off of the streets.
The Date:
I meet him on Saturday for coffee at a local shop. He greets me with a shifty smile. He is tall with dark hair and light eyes. He has hipster hair and a hipster hat, but to his credit he doesn’t look like a pretentious douche.
Anyways we get to the coffee shop and he pays for my order (This must mean that he thinks I’m attractive, right? I mean right??) We grab a table and begin to chat. We discover we have a lot in common. We both find apathy in youth incredibly disheartening. We think that the American educational system is failing its students. We feel like the people of generation are addicted to technology. We feel like this is the time for social change in the country. We both listen to vinyl that we've stolen from our fathers. We attend music festivals and we've seen the same bands. We both like “Parks and Recreation”. We both read poetry. We actually read novels. We had the same professors. We were in the same class (hmm… and I didn’t notice my potential suitor… Bad sign?) We both enjoy philosophy. We both grew up in the same town. Yeah, seriously. We even went to the same high school… This is when I begin to think that someone can have too much in common with another person.
About two hours later he apologizes and says he has to go to work. He tells me that we should hang out again and he’ll give me a call sometime. He explains that he was kind of dreading the date, but was pleasantly surprised.
He doesn’t call…
The Next Week:
My friends repeatedly bug me about how the date went. I have no idea what to tell them so I say it was fun and that we have a lot in common and that he said he wanted to hang out again. They beg me to text him, as it has been almost a week and he has not contacted me. So in the middle of dinner I send out the most eloquent text message ever viewed by human eyes: “Hey. What’s up?” I press the send button and my table of friends applaud. As applause is contagious especially in small spaces filled with college students, the rest of the dining center follows suit so I take a quick bow and wait for the text message that never comes.
The next day, Grandma, sick of the lack of response texts him. He tells her that I am “cute” and “as smart as a tack” but something like we’re going different places. I, of course, break down into a million tears. We had so much in common! However, there just wasn't that "I can see you as a future romantic partner" spark. We might have had too much in common and perhaps if we had just hung out as friends and not gone on a date we could have been friends. (And nope, there are no other possibilities for the rejection). Anyways, Grandma’s boyfriend hears about this exchange and deletes the boy’s phone number from her phone so she can no longer meddle. And I am once again left single and searching for that perfect fish to swim on by.
Date: B (Casual coffee shop conversation. Perhaps not casual enough, though)
Match: B+ (Although we will never see one another again unless we are awkwardly
in the same class, we had a lot in common and had a great discussion. Plus, in a different life I could see him as being that cool older brother type who would sell drugs to all of my friends)
Next Time: This is when I will have definitions and speed dating. I couldn't forget about this first date, though.
xoxo serialdater
Yental Grandma has been trying to better herself throughout the year by taking on a different challenge each week (evidenced at Grandma's Blog of Joy and Love). At this point in time, I was crying to her about my sad and lonely nights of eating Chips Ahoy and watching "The O.C." and "Weeds". Well this lined up very well with one of her challenges: invite a stranger to hangout.
From what I’ve been told, Grandma was walking to class and listening on a tall, dark stranger’s conversation. These two minutes of eavesdropping was all Grandma needed to hear to know that this was going to be the love of my life. He liked philosophy (!) and literature (!!)She stops him and inquires about his love life.
This is the point in my narrative where I’d like to thank Grandma, for having more moxie than pretty much anyone I know. Anyways she told him to call me so we
could get together sometime. He didn’t. So Grandma did the only logical thing and texted him…
Date Inducing Text Exchange:
Grandma- hey . this is grandma - the girl who talked to you today about how you should meet my friend. well, she's definitely interested, but she's being coy. she says that you should meet her at [room number] at 10pm. we're having a faux wedding party. she'll be wearing fishnets! (she wants you to know she's not a skank and does not normally do things like this) also, she wants to know your last name so she can stalk you :) thanks ! sorry no caps.
Boy - I'm confused. What day does she want me to meet her. It's past 10 last I checked. Also I don't have a Facebook. So I'm unstalkable.
Grandma - oops. Sorry - wedding party is on Friday!! Minor details :) And you should get facebook! Shame on you. Can I tell her you'll meet her on Friday?
Boy - I'm thinking about it but I have to ask. Is she a freshman?
Grandma - Nope, junior standing - 2nd year. Who are you asking? What year are you?
… There is a reason Grandma has been in a relationship since she was shopping at LimitedToo.
He still didn’t call so the next day with help from Grandma, I called him. I had no
idea what to expect. Grandma literally picked this stranger up off of the streets.
The Date:
I meet him on Saturday for coffee at a local shop. He greets me with a shifty smile. He is tall with dark hair and light eyes. He has hipster hair and a hipster hat, but to his credit he doesn’t look like a pretentious douche.
Anyways we get to the coffee shop and he pays for my order (This must mean that he thinks I’m attractive, right? I mean right??) We grab a table and begin to chat. We discover we have a lot in common. We both find apathy in youth incredibly disheartening. We think that the American educational system is failing its students. We feel like the people of generation are addicted to technology. We feel like this is the time for social change in the country. We both listen to vinyl that we've stolen from our fathers. We attend music festivals and we've seen the same bands. We both like “Parks and Recreation”. We both read poetry. We actually read novels. We had the same professors. We were in the same class (hmm… and I didn’t notice my potential suitor… Bad sign?) We both enjoy philosophy. We both grew up in the same town. Yeah, seriously. We even went to the same high school… This is when I begin to think that someone can have too much in common with another person.
About two hours later he apologizes and says he has to go to work. He tells me that we should hang out again and he’ll give me a call sometime. He explains that he was kind of dreading the date, but was pleasantly surprised.
He doesn’t call…
The Next Week:
My friends repeatedly bug me about how the date went. I have no idea what to tell them so I say it was fun and that we have a lot in common and that he said he wanted to hang out again. They beg me to text him, as it has been almost a week and he has not contacted me. So in the middle of dinner I send out the most eloquent text message ever viewed by human eyes: “Hey. What’s up?” I press the send button and my table of friends applaud. As applause is contagious especially in small spaces filled with college students, the rest of the dining center follows suit so I take a quick bow and wait for the text message that never comes.
The next day, Grandma, sick of the lack of response texts him. He tells her that I am “cute” and “as smart as a tack” but something like we’re going different places. I, of course, break down into a million tears. We had so much in common! However, there just wasn't that "I can see you as a future romantic partner" spark. We might have had too much in common and perhaps if we had just hung out as friends and not gone on a date we could have been friends. (And nope, there are no other possibilities for the rejection). Anyways, Grandma’s boyfriend hears about this exchange and deletes the boy’s phone number from her phone so she can no longer meddle. And I am once again left single and searching for that perfect fish to swim on by.
Date: B (Casual coffee shop conversation. Perhaps not casual enough, though)
Match: B+ (Although we will never see one another again unless we are awkwardly
in the same class, we had a lot in common and had a great discussion. Plus, in a different life I could see him as being that cool older brother type who would sell drugs to all of my friends)
Next Time: This is when I will have definitions and speed dating. I couldn't forget about this first date, though.
xoxo serialdater
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Date Number Two
Okay, so even though this was the second date it is going to be the first entry because this is the date that started it all.
Background Information:
Yental Grandma created this match, pleased with her first success. Also she is extremely terrified that I will die alone surrounded by dogs named after the children I might have conceived. Yental Grandma made a very interesting match as you will see...
WHY THINGS WENT WRONG ON MY END
To be fair to Grandma, I really wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone new. The
single caffeinated Coke I consumed last night caused an entire night of insomnia.
Insomnia often results in either crankiness or craziness. In addition I had a morning
exam, so I had been drained of all of my mental capacities. Whoever would be
meeting me would be meeting an exhausted bumbling shell of a being.
HOW PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING ELSE WENT WRONG
So I go to the designated meeting spot (Clyde’s) with Grandma in hopes of meeting the love of my life. Grandma had prevented me from knowing anything other than the boy’s major and name. No facebook stalking or stalker-netting. This was a truly blind date. After some searching Grandma locates my new boyfriend. He has long school-shooter hair that covers his entire face and a Nintendo beanie. Headphones remain glued to the side of his head and it is questionable as to whether they ever leave. OOO (romantic ooo) Grandma has picked well, this is love at first sight. Grandma introduces us to each other and then, to my complete horror, leaves me with this Klebold-type.
As most of you know, going to Clyde’s at noon is a complete noob mistake. It is packed. The thought of standing in line for twenty minutes and then waiting for food for an additional twenty minutes, not including actual eating time horrifies me so I lead this brave freshmen to the C-store to grab some cold sandwiches on this chilly day. We quickly grab our gas-station style food and take the only available table, a dirty table stationed near the door- totally bad feng shui.
We begin our conversation with the basic get to know you questions. Year, major, hometown, blah, blah, blah. I remain hopelessly optimistic as he tells me that he works at Wal-Mart. I can live out my gold-digging dreams! He tells me not to smile about this fact. Apparently I should not react to any information he tells me. That or I have a large piece of turkey in my teeth. This is the highlight of our half hour conversation.
He asks me what I want to do with my future. I explain my interest in law.
He then tells that his “morals” would never allow him to become a lawyer. I ask why
and he gives his limited view of what law is (aka criminal law) and explains how
corrupt the justice system is. I do what I do best and question why he feels that way.
He says that it’s immoral for prisoners to sit around and do stuff ( you know watch
television, exercise, read and try to become better citizens) and that Hammurabi’s
Code should be in effect – yes an eye for an eye Old Testament Style (see the whole accusation of me being immoral). I ask what about people who were raised in bad environments. He doesn’t know- he hasn’t researched it enough to form an opinion – he just knows that our system is wrong, wrong, wrong. So our conversation goes. He would attack something and then couldn’t find a solution because he hadn’t researched it. I tell him he is a true post-modernist while I think in my head what a freshmen, unable to come up with any opinion. Apathy at its finest!
We were clearly making one another angry. I was sputtering about in my
half-awake state and he was mumbling responses like a 14 year old wanna-be
drummer. As it was clear we had nothing in common and that my questions
annoyed him – I did the one thing a person should do to someone they hate – I
recommend the 1000+ paged Atlas Shrugged and informed him that he was a
libertarian.
He apologized for the terrible time. I said it was okay and that I’d see him
around, maybe. He said probably not and told me to inform Grandma to not match
make again.
Grade of Match: F (A freshmen libertarian with hair that would embarrass Justin Beiber)
Grade of Date: F (A cold sandwich in the Union. Really?)
NEXT TIME:
Definitions of a "Dateaholic" and speed dating. Guys, I can already hear my wedding bells ringing.
xoxo serialdater
Background Information:
Yental Grandma created this match, pleased with her first success. Also she is extremely terrified that I will die alone surrounded by dogs named after the children I might have conceived. Yental Grandma made a very interesting match as you will see...
WHY THINGS WENT WRONG ON MY END
To be fair to Grandma, I really wasn’t in the mood to meet anyone new. The
single caffeinated Coke I consumed last night caused an entire night of insomnia.
Insomnia often results in either crankiness or craziness. In addition I had a morning
exam, so I had been drained of all of my mental capacities. Whoever would be
meeting me would be meeting an exhausted bumbling shell of a being.
HOW PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING ELSE WENT WRONG
So I go to the designated meeting spot (Clyde’s) with Grandma in hopes of meeting the love of my life. Grandma had prevented me from knowing anything other than the boy’s major and name. No facebook stalking or stalker-netting. This was a truly blind date. After some searching Grandma locates my new boyfriend. He has long school-shooter hair that covers his entire face and a Nintendo beanie. Headphones remain glued to the side of his head and it is questionable as to whether they ever leave. OOO (romantic ooo) Grandma has picked well, this is love at first sight. Grandma introduces us to each other and then, to my complete horror, leaves me with this Klebold-type.
As most of you know, going to Clyde’s at noon is a complete noob mistake. It is packed. The thought of standing in line for twenty minutes and then waiting for food for an additional twenty minutes, not including actual eating time horrifies me so I lead this brave freshmen to the C-store to grab some cold sandwiches on this chilly day. We quickly grab our gas-station style food and take the only available table, a dirty table stationed near the door- totally bad feng shui.
We begin our conversation with the basic get to know you questions. Year, major, hometown, blah, blah, blah. I remain hopelessly optimistic as he tells me that he works at Wal-Mart. I can live out my gold-digging dreams! He tells me not to smile about this fact. Apparently I should not react to any information he tells me. That or I have a large piece of turkey in my teeth. This is the highlight of our half hour conversation.
He asks me what I want to do with my future. I explain my interest in law.
He then tells that his “morals” would never allow him to become a lawyer. I ask why
and he gives his limited view of what law is (aka criminal law) and explains how
corrupt the justice system is. I do what I do best and question why he feels that way.
He says that it’s immoral for prisoners to sit around and do stuff ( you know watch
television, exercise, read and try to become better citizens) and that Hammurabi’s
Code should be in effect – yes an eye for an eye Old Testament Style (see the whole accusation of me being immoral). I ask what about people who were raised in bad environments. He doesn’t know- he hasn’t researched it enough to form an opinion – he just knows that our system is wrong, wrong, wrong. So our conversation goes. He would attack something and then couldn’t find a solution because he hadn’t researched it. I tell him he is a true post-modernist while I think in my head what a freshmen, unable to come up with any opinion. Apathy at its finest!
We were clearly making one another angry. I was sputtering about in my
half-awake state and he was mumbling responses like a 14 year old wanna-be
drummer. As it was clear we had nothing in common and that my questions
annoyed him – I did the one thing a person should do to someone they hate – I
recommend the 1000+ paged Atlas Shrugged and informed him that he was a
libertarian.
He apologized for the terrible time. I said it was okay and that I’d see him
around, maybe. He said probably not and told me to inform Grandma to not match
make again.
Grade of Match: F (A freshmen libertarian with hair that would embarrass Justin Beiber)
Grade of Date: F (A cold sandwich in the Union. Really?)
NEXT TIME:
Definitions of a "Dateaholic" and speed dating. Guys, I can already hear my wedding bells ringing.
xoxo serialdater
My Commandments
So the Yentals have been given a ton of rules, however, this does not mean that I can
go ape-shit, either.
Rachelle’s Rules (For Sanity and Other)
1. Thou Shalt not Facebook befriend Thy Daters – This is to ensure no
Facebook stalking takes place. Also it will make sure I actually talk to the
people.
2. Thou Shalt Never EVER Mention Thy Project to Thy Matches
3. Thou Shalt Say Yes to All Thy Yental’s Blind Matches - Provided Thy Yentals
Followed Thy Commandments
4. Thou Shalt Not Get Angry at Yentals for Bad Matches5. Thou Shalt Abandon the Laws of the Trollop and not Kiss a Dater (on the first
date anyways)
6. Thou Shalt Not Stand Up Any of Thy Dates
HOWEVER
7. If Thou Art in a Scary Situation Thou Shalt Call Thy Yental
8. Thou Shalt Put Effort into Thy Dates
9. Thou Shalt Not Identify Any Of Thy Dates By Given Names In This Blog
10. Have fun...
xoxo serialdater
go ape-shit, either.
Rachelle’s Rules (For Sanity and Other)
1. Thou Shalt not Facebook befriend Thy Daters – This is to ensure no
Facebook stalking takes place. Also it will make sure I actually talk to the
people.
2. Thou Shalt Never EVER Mention Thy Project to Thy Matches
3. Thou Shalt Say Yes to All Thy Yental’s Blind Matches - Provided Thy Yentals
Followed Thy Commandments
4. Thou Shalt Not Get Angry at Yentals for Bad Matches5. Thou Shalt Abandon the Laws of the Trollop and not Kiss a Dater (on the first
date anyways)
6. Thou Shalt Not Stand Up Any of Thy Dates
HOWEVER
7. If Thou Art in a Scary Situation Thou Shalt Call Thy Yental
8. Thou Shalt Put Effort into Thy Dates
9. Thou Shalt Not Identify Any Of Thy Dates By Given Names In This Blog
10. Have fun...
xoxo serialdater
Yental Rules
First of all this is going to be the most boring entry, for this I apologize. However,
my matchmakers are going to need some guidelines or I might end up dead in a
gutter (You never know with these crazy Iowa Staters).
Okay Definitions!!!!
Yental:
Definition according to Urban Dictionary
1. Usually Jewish and usually a woman, a matchmaker.
“Don’t be a yetal, mom, I don’t want a blind date with one of your friend’s
kids.”
Yenta
Definition according to Wikipedia
A busybody or gossipmonger. The name was used as the name of the
matchmaker in the Broadway musical hit, Fiddler on the Roof, was further
popularized in the famous movie “Yentl”, by Barbara Streisand, and the word has
also come to mean “matchmaker” in modern usage.
For my intents and purposes a matchmaker will be referred to as a “Yental”
because not only are they a matchmaker, they are trying to fix my future and also
they’re interested in the gory details of my personal life – which in fact – is the
reason why the are all setting me up!
Being a Yental isn’t going to be soooo easy. I mean a Yental can’t just grab a
hobo off of the street and expect me to marry him – right?
So guidelines. To be a Yental- you must be chosen – a personal friend- in my
inner sanctum. You must love me enough to want the best for me and look out for
me.
Yental Ground rules:
1. If you would never want to date this person or spend time alone with this
person do not set me up with this person. (So this means no hobos, crazy
people, potential Dateline players and none of your drug dealers) Really – this is a common
collegiate sense. I do not want to come away with bruises that I do not want.
2. Do not inform the dater of this project. Again common sense.
3. You can only be involved up to the first date. While I will most likely inform
you of my private life anyways this just means no more meddling.
4. You should be available for a “rescue” if the date goes downhill. This can
be as simple as a phone call or an emergency text. I just don’t want to be stranded in West Ames or even in the HUB with a person who has aventriloquist collection.
5.If you think the dater is ugly, I will also probably think the same. ( I can be a little shallow here. My blog, my rules = I WIN)
6. Don’t set me up on a failure date or just for the “lulz” (not my term). There
will be snark and sass even if the date is okay.
7. If the you primarily desire friendship between the dater and myself then the
you will be present at the “date”.
Please – use your best judgment. We’ve all heard scary stories and I’m using
my life as a social experiment. Yentals – you have my life in your hands…
Yental Rules for Predate:
1. It is up to the Yental as to how much information the dater receives.
However, both the dater and myself must receive the same information.
For example if the Yental gives the dater my name and major, I must also
receive the dater’s name and major.
2. Facebook stalking is prohibited however phone calls and text messages
are okay
3. The Yental will be the primary means of communication between the
dater and myself.
If any of these rules are broken the Yental’s license will be revoked. I know, I’m
being a sourpuss, but these things can be seriously uncomfortable.
XOXO
my matchmakers are going to need some guidelines or I might end up dead in a
gutter (You never know with these crazy Iowa Staters).
Okay Definitions!!!!
Yental:
Definition according to Urban Dictionary
1. Usually Jewish and usually a woman, a matchmaker.
“Don’t be a yetal, mom, I don’t want a blind date with one of your friend’s
kids.”
Yenta
Definition according to Wikipedia
A busybody or gossipmonger. The name was used as the name of the
matchmaker in the Broadway musical hit, Fiddler on the Roof, was further
popularized in the famous movie “Yentl”, by Barbara Streisand, and the word has
also come to mean “matchmaker” in modern usage.
For my intents and purposes a matchmaker will be referred to as a “Yental”
because not only are they a matchmaker, they are trying to fix my future and also
they’re interested in the gory details of my personal life – which in fact – is the
reason why the are all setting me up!
Being a Yental isn’t going to be soooo easy. I mean a Yental can’t just grab a
hobo off of the street and expect me to marry him – right?
So guidelines. To be a Yental- you must be chosen – a personal friend- in my
inner sanctum. You must love me enough to want the best for me and look out for
me.
Yental Ground rules:
1. If you would never want to date this person or spend time alone with this
person do not set me up with this person. (So this means no hobos, crazy
people, potential Dateline players and none of your drug dealers) Really – this is a common
collegiate sense. I do not want to come away with bruises that I do not want.
2. Do not inform the dater of this project. Again common sense.
3. You can only be involved up to the first date. While I will most likely inform
you of my private life anyways this just means no more meddling.
4. You should be available for a “rescue” if the date goes downhill. This can
be as simple as a phone call or an emergency text. I just don’t want to be stranded in West Ames or even in the HUB with a person who has aventriloquist collection.
5.If you think the dater is ugly, I will also probably think the same. ( I can be a little shallow here. My blog, my rules = I WIN)
6. Don’t set me up on a failure date or just for the “lulz” (not my term). There
will be snark and sass even if the date is okay.
7. If the you primarily desire friendship between the dater and myself then the
you will be present at the “date”.
Please – use your best judgment. We’ve all heard scary stories and I’m using
my life as a social experiment. Yentals – you have my life in your hands…
Yental Rules for Predate:
1. It is up to the Yental as to how much information the dater receives.
However, both the dater and myself must receive the same information.
For example if the Yental gives the dater my name and major, I must also
receive the dater’s name and major.
2. Facebook stalking is prohibited however phone calls and text messages
are okay
3. The Yental will be the primary means of communication between the
dater and myself.
If any of these rules are broken the Yental’s license will be revoked. I know, I’m
being a sourpuss, but these things can be seriously uncomfortable.
XOXO
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Virgin Entry
Okay, so I feel obligated to first explain why I'm putting my thoughts out in public like this. I'm not voyeuristic and I think that most college kids have a problem with overexposure (seriously- have you ever hit Welch on Friday night and then Facebook the morning after? Yikes). However, many friends have propositioned me into doing this and I'm up for the challenge. What is the challenge? The challenge is figuring out what dating actually is in college. In order to render a definition of "college dating" I am going to go on as many dates as I possibly can.
Background
All of this started when my good friend set me up on a blind date. The date went well but had no follow-up. My buddy was so impressed with her matchmaking abilities that she decided to try again. This time, however the results were disastrous. So I did what everyone does after a bad blind date. I sent out a mass e-mail to all of my friends detailing the horrible experience. This e-mail resulted in my friends wanting to set me up. Apparently I am very single and very desperate and as a single, desperate lady, who am I to turn any of these eligible bachelors away. Who knows? One of my friend's hidden men might be my future husband. So this is where we are today.
So...
Am I opening a can of worms with this whole thing? Yes. Do I know what I'm getting into? No. Hopefully I can at least learn something with all of these dates. If not, at least it's going to be an entertaining ride.
xoxo Serial Dater
Background
All of this started when my good friend set me up on a blind date. The date went well but had no follow-up. My buddy was so impressed with her matchmaking abilities that she decided to try again. This time, however the results were disastrous. So I did what everyone does after a bad blind date. I sent out a mass e-mail to all of my friends detailing the horrible experience. This e-mail resulted in my friends wanting to set me up. Apparently I am very single and very desperate and as a single, desperate lady, who am I to turn any of these eligible bachelors away. Who knows? One of my friend's hidden men might be my future husband. So this is where we are today.
So...
Am I opening a can of worms with this whole thing? Yes. Do I know what I'm getting into? No. Hopefully I can at least learn something with all of these dates. If not, at least it's going to be an entertaining ride.
xoxo Serial Dater
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