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402 days. 402 (plus or minus… mostly minus) posts.

Category: Dating

Day 90: She’s Funny

I started dating a guy (not from the Internet, although I do think he would appreciate my burning gingerbread house profile picture) who likes reading my blogs out loud to me. It’s a sweet but strange experience that makes me painfully aware of my tendency to use awkwardly long lists and excessive qualifiers.

A couple of evenings ago, he read aloud to me while I sat on the couch and tried to concentrate on a riveting episode of Chopped. In response to my squirming and grumbling, he amicably switched to reading someone else’s blog out loud. I liked that much better until he laughed and said, “She’s funny!”

In general, I don’t feel necessarily competitive (I was more of a “social athlete” in college), but I did feel a little “Oh-no-she-isn’t” twinge kick an extra beat into my heart. Three funny blogs in, I asked him to please go back to reading mine out loud instead.

Days later, I’m trying to figure out what stirred in me. Was it blog envy? Some kind of primal urge to mark my digital territory? Could I have been jealous of her humor prowess?

One of the wonderful things about blogging is that everyone can do it, regardless of how “good” they are. Any 13-year-old with public library access and a dash of tenacity can scoop up some online earth to call their own. So, I’ve always been comfortable knowing there are bloggers out there who are funnier, smarter, deeper, more cultured and more well-read than I am (even some of those 13-year-olds). They challenge the rest of us to be better writers.

As this post is read aloud to me, I’ll listen quietly and dig deep into my soul to source the cause of my discomfort. I’ll also try to use more metaphors.

Day 82: Sample Valentines

Not sure what to say today? Here are some sample Valentine’s Day wishes you can share with your loved ones.

To the friend you see all the time:
You are the coolest. Thank you for drinking that bottle of wine with me last week and for always telling me when it’s been too long between showers. #besties

To the friend you haven’t seen in a while:
Hey, you. I miss you. Come visit me soon and we’ll go to the park and pretend to be robots just like the good old days when we were nine. Me-Malfunction-Without-You.

To that person you just started dating:
We haven’t been dating long enough for me to comfortably say anything other than that you smell good. Have a great day!

To that person you’ve been dating forever:
You still look good in those sweatpants, babe. Also, I saved you three pieces of chocolate.

To your parents:
Do you remember back in 1999 when someone hit the side of our house with a car? That was me. Love you!

To your kids:
One day, someone will fall in love with you and you will fall in love with someone. On that day, the “someones” might not be the same people. Don’t sweat it.

To yourself:
Treat yourself today—to some chocolate cake, to a spin class at that fancy gym, to the new sweater you were eyeing last December (it’s on sale now!). You rock.


Day 76: Dating Dancers

Here are nine things you should know about dating dancers (inspired by this clever post about dating architects).

1. Dancers’ tastes are highly prone to change. They might love pancakes and blues music on Sunday and then think pancakes and blues music are the worst on Monday. This adaptability serves them well in the studio. If a movement they imagine doesn’t seem to work in real life, they’ll change it. Or, they’ll spend three hours trying to execute it before realizing they don’t like it anymore anyway.

2. They’re a little stubborn. It’s impossible to lift another dancer while doing a handstand, you say? Watch and learn, buddy. Real-world translation: the dimensions of that bookshelf are too large for the allotted area, you say? Watch and learn, buddy. Two dented walls and a broken bookshelf later, everything fits.

3. They like dance and they’re pretty sure you’ll like it too if you see as much of it as they do. They may shield you from the two-hour “Objectified: Why Ketchup Makes Me Look Like Meat” solo show, but they’ll invite you go to see anything and everything moderately audience-friendly. The great thing is that you’ll actually really enjoy it (most of it).

4. They have anywhere from three to fifteen different jobs, at least two of which are unpaid. This makes them seem scatterbrained at times, but they’re actually highly organized and dedicated.

5. Dancers’ financial planning skills enable them to get from Point A to Point B, but Point B is probably only two months away. Or it’s tomorrow. Dancers’ art is ephemeral and so is their money. That said, they don’t want you to buy them things. They can take care of themselves.

6. They talk a lot about their perpetual injuries, especially when with other dancers. It’s important to note that they aren’t complaining; injuries are just common conversation topics. “How’s that strained psoas today, Jen?” “Oh, it’s fine. But my IT band is killing me. How’s your knee healing?” “Pretty slow. Check out these bruises!” “Ooh, pretty!”

7. To combat the injuries, they’re constantly getting massages, acupuncture, acupressure and a variety of other bodywork methods that aren’t covered by the insurance they probably don’t have. If they’ve been in the field for a while, they have a pile of bodywork receipts somewhere that you should please not touch or move. It’s their accounting pile and it’s arranged just-so.

8. Dancers’ wardrobes tend to be either vintage-trendy or I’ve-been-wearing-this-disgusting-shirt-since-sixth-grade-and-it’s-still-comfortable-so-I-love-it. They have mastered the art of layering and are generally un-bashful when it comes to changing clothes in public.

9. They’re quirky by nature and they appreciate other quirky people. Don’t hide your collection of 1960s troll dolls or the fact that you can’t get up from a table without knocking on it first. Their freak flags are generally pretty close to the surface, so you should always feel free to fly yours.

Day 37: Not About Dating, Part 3

Good morning, blogeeps… er, blops (What’s the shorthand for “blog readers?”), and happy New Year’s Eve to you.

On this last day of 2012, it seems only appropriate to summarize something—like a year of refusing to date. For most of 2012, I was happily buried in enormous work and dance projects. During the rest of it, I complained about how I stink at online dating.

See past blog posts for parts one and two of the “not about dating” series. You will be riveted.

Over the holidays, I took my friend Russ’s Tweeted advice to play hard to get. I stayed far away from Match and ignored every online message and wink that came my way (there were at least three). I also threw a buffer friend between myself and that guy who approached me at the dance club. I don’t go to clubs terribly often, but when I do, I go to dance, not fraternize. C’mon, man!

In retrospect, playing hard to get isn’t really that fun if there’s only one player.

That said, I do have two prospective real-life interests. Make that three.

1) A former high school classmate who lives somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000 miles away from me. Also, he might be in a relationship. And gay.

2) The cute United Express pilot who smiled at me in the PDX airport yesterday and then proceeded to get on another flight. What’s up with that? Also, I scowled at him. But don’t worry—my internet sleuthing skills rival the best researchers’ out there. I’ll find him and then do nothing.

3) Seth from The O.C. He’s smart, funny, nerdy and plays music in his real life. He’s the best!

Based on my interests, I’d say my next step is therapy.

Here’s to a year in which I avoided dating at all costs, we all survived a non-apocalypse, Girl Scouts turned 100, my friends and I laughed a thousand timessomeone reviewed my Fringe show as “a thing of wonder” and one of my neighbors burned down our dumpster. Bon Voyage, 2012! You truly were a good year.

Day 23: Not About Dating, Part 2

After last week’s post about how much I hate online dating, one of my BFFs (yeah, I said it) encouraged me to buck up and “actually try.”

Here is a collection of conversations she and I have had since then. Her husband (someone I lovingly refer to as one of my Blunt Ones) also participated.


BFF: “Your profile photo looks great!”
BFF’s husband: “What? No it doesn’t. What is that, your LinkedIn photo? You look too professional. And old.”

Action taken: A new photograph has been installed as my profile photo. I did not remove my original photo; I just made it a secondary image. (I like that photo! However, most of the gentlemen who also expressed an affinity for it were admittedly about a decade older than my preferred mate.)


Me: “Seriously, I’m done with Match. I emailed two guys and neither of them wrote back.”
BFF: “What did you say?”
Me: “Something about how I hate emailing back and forth with strangers. And how everything in Lowertown has either ‘bull’ or ‘dog’ in the name.”
BFF: “We need to work on your emails.”

Action taken: I agreed to tone down the awkwardness of my emails. I also decided to pick less normal guys.


Me: “My favorite photo is the one I posted of the gingerbread house my family and I made a couple of years ago. It’s sitting outside in the snow, sort of askew. And it’s on fire.”
BFF: (silence)
BFF’s husband: “That photo makes you seem creepy and weird.”

Action taken: I added a caption: “My family makes the best gingerbread houses.” We do.


BFF: (looking at matches on my account) “That guy looks nice! And he cooks! It says here he’s a really good chef, and he even has some pictures of his dishes… a fancy beet salad, some tuna crostini things… You should message him.”
Me: “What would I say?”
BFF’s husband: “How about, ‘Do crostinis make you feel like a giant because they’re so small?’”

Action taken: I laughed until pink champagne stung the inside of my nose. And then BFF (who is quite pregnant) asked if husband and I were going to drink the entire bottle of champagne by ourselves. We said yes.


BFF: (still looking at matches on my account) “I think you’re being too picky.”
Me: “Why, because I won’t date a smoker who thinks college is an ‘evil empire?’ And that last guy you picked for me had really big wrists.”
BFF’s husband: “Man. It’s a good thing I’m married. I would have cleaned up on Match.”

Action taken: Two sets of eye-rolls.


So. I’ll keep you posted every once in a while. Even though it pains me to blog about dating, it pains me even more to admit that it’s sort of therapeutic.