And One Podunk Town…

S mentioned that one of us was moving to the ‘burbs. That would be me (which you probably already figured out from the color-coded comment “the ‘burbs is a generous description for where I’m headed.”) That comment was maybe a liiiiitle exaggerated. Poughkeepsie, NY isn’t really a little podunk town. Technically speaking, it’s actually a city, so our tagline can probably stay as is. But it feels a lot like a podunk town. I can say that, because it’s where I grew up.

That’s right folks. I moved home. Specifically, into my younger brother’s childhood bedroom (he took over my bedroom when I was off at college – teenage boys are disgusting, and also I’m too lazy to swap rooms). This move transpired really quickly, and very unexpectedly, so my parents are letting me stay at home for a a little bit to give me enough time to find a place I like, rather than just whatever was available in the couple weeks between accepting a job back home and moving back home. They’re the best. (It’s not lost on me that I once said that a guy who lives with his parents raises a red flag, and here I am, 30 and living with my parents (though just for 2-3 months, max) At least I’m employed, right?)

It feels really strange to be back here. I left for Boston when I was 18. That was 12 years ago. The only place I’ve ever lived as an adult is Boston. And even though I’ve come home plenty over the last 12 years, it’s so different to be living here again. I’ve only been home for 2 weeks, but in that time I’ve re-lived a lot of forgotten memories running errands and being down on Main Street for work. It’s really bizarre to live and work somewhere so familiar, but at the same time so in the past. This is going to be really fucking weird. Weird in general, and weird for dating. And that’s what you all come here to read about, now isn’t it?

I had 3 weeks between when I accepted this new job and gave my notice, and when I actually moved. Getting matches and viewing profiles of eligible bachelors in the greater Boston area, when I was packing to move over 3 hours away, got real old real fast. So I changed my location on OKC, Coffee Meets Bagel, and Hinge.

It took 24 hours before Hinge matched me with someone I went to high school with.

First of all, I knew that would be coming, but christ it happened fast. Is that some sort of sign? I didn’t have a horrible high school existence, but still. What a jarring start to my transition home. Secondly, there are actually a handful or so of guys that I went to high school with that I would happily date. Sadly, none of them were this match. At first I just knew that he looked familiar. And then, perusing his pictures, I saw someone else that I immediately recognized, and it hit me who the match was. A nice enough guy, but not someone I would ever date for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the other person I recognized in the photos. The two have always been close. And as I explained to one of my closest friends from high school, I would rather die alone and be eaten by 408 cats than live a life that includes that asshole friend in any capacity.

I’ve since been matched with a few more guys from high school, none of whom I would date either (though I don’t hate any of their friends, so maybe…).

I also started messaging with a guy on OKC who seemed really cool and who I was actually excited about meeting. And then, the week we intended to plan a date, he informed me that he had just accepted a job down in Maryland and would be moving out of the state. Right as I was moving in. Oh universe… Lastly, on the online front, there was a guy who texted me to death, without making any attempt to actually meet me in person. I just wasn’t interested enough to ask him out, so that faded out.

There is a guy offline that I’ve been interested in for a long time. But since we lived 4 hours away from each other, I never did much about it. By never did much, I mean drunkenly texted him about my feelings once last spring at 1 am after having been out with him and a bunch of others all night. Can you say sloppy drunk?

Although nothing came of that text, I have a feeling that had more to do with distance than anything else. We’ll see if that feeling is right or not, now that I live a lot closer and will be seeing him a lot more. Cross your fingers, ’cause he’s definitely got a little Tim Riggins in him (the good parts, not the emotionally unstable parts).

So – I’m back in New York. This is going to be verrrrrrry interesting. Guys find race car border wallpaper sexy right?

Advertisements

My Date with The Kid: Sometimes, I’m the worst

I’ll admit we have a pretty formulaic party line here at StuCu which is basically: “Men. They’re the worst.” While our man-hate and complaining may be a little excessive at times (a certain reader recently called us whiny COUGHMrsSCOUGH), we’re not about to stop it anytime soon. However, today is a brief respite from the usual “they’re the worst,” theme so I can tell you that sometimes, I’m actually, kinda, the Worst.

I was at my worst most recently with an unsuspecting victim date who we shall call The Kid. The Kid was a 26 year old bro who shares a name with a famous criminal, and also with another guy I “dated” in high school who was a few years younger than me. What can I say? The youths think I’m hip.

how do you do kids

http://www.buzzfeed.com/perpetua/feeling-old

The Kid was attractive, and we shared the very unique interests of: traveling, basketball (sort of), and going out with friends. (This is the stuff love connections are made of, folks). Perhaps it was our uninspiring list of shared interests, or his boring, bro-y messages, but, sadly for The Kid, he brought out the worst in me. Behold….

I’m the Worst Exhibit A: Prolonged messaging

How many times on this blog have I declared that I hate prolonged messaging? And that I love to just cut to the chase and go out dates? Because, after all, I hate to waste people’s time. Well, the Kid literally started messaging me in June, and asked me about after about three messages. However, I I stalled on going on a date with him until mid July. This  was partially due to the unfortunate timing of vacations and work travel, but also partially due to the fact that I had met GPU around the same time, and  was determined to follow my New Year’s Resolution to date one guy at a time (especially because I was convinced he was the Elton John to my Kiki Dee. In a purely musical sense of course).

BEST. DUET. EVER.

I digress. (But what is more digression-worthy than these two British chums, belting out what would become one of the defining karaoke duets of the 21st century? Nothing.) The point was, I took my sweet ass time getting back to this guy’s messages, until I decided to stop being such an asshole bite the bullet and grant The Kid a date. (Oh yeah, and by this time, GPU had come down with a fictional summer cold that rivaled the Ebola virus.) Oh, is it TOO SOON for Ebola jokes? Sorry, I’m the Worst, remember?

I’m the Worst Exhibit B: Downgrading date location

The Kid was very excited our date was finally happening  and immediately suggested dinner. Now, if you are a devout reader of this blog, you will remember that very early in my dating “career,” I set a “no meals on a first date” rule. After a few bouts of drunkeness/dizziness/starvation, I’ve relaxed this rule considerably, and, if after 1-2 drinks I’m having a decent time, I will certainly agree to dinner or some apps if suggested. But unless the guy is a unicorn, or taking me somewhere amazing where I can literally sip chocolate and inhale cheese, I like to start off in a bar-like atmosphere. So, I gently redirected The Kid to a dive bar near my office. And yes, in retrospect, I realize that I just traded a nice meal for a few pints of Yuengling and some wings. But I’m not sorry. That’s just how I roll.

I’m the Worst Exhibit C: Persistently talking about how old I was

Anyway, as the date neared, I have to tell you, I was less than excited. I was still stinging from the GPU fadeaway, bummed that the Balkan vacay was over, and just in an all around man-hating mood (yes, more than usual).

So when I arrived at our date (to which the Kid was 15 minutes early, and texting me enthusiastically to fill the minutes until I arrived), this was kinda me:

scar charmed

http://fuckyeahreactions.tumblr.com/post/7091262520

Did that temper the Kid’s enthusiasm at all? NOPE. I mean, today’s youth have lots of energy! And gumption! They cannot be discouraged! He immediately jumped out of his seat, gave me a big hug, and started asking me lots of nice polite questions.  The Kid was outgoing. The Kid was as tall as he claimed to be on OKC (6’2). The kid was blond haired and blue-eyed. I decided to let his youthful optimism (and good looks) inspire me, and have a good time. Apparently, my version of a good time involved me talking about how old I was for a good 10 minutes without stopping.

tied an onion

http://www.quickmeme.com/meme/3ri9zw

Weirdly, this did not seem to be deterring The Kid. He kept saying, “We’ll, you’re as old as you feel.” To which I’d reply, “I mean, I feel really old. My knee can tell when it’s about to rain.”

I’m the Worst Exhibit D: Bringing up painful childhood memories

Me: “How many siblings do you have?”

The Kid: “None. I’m an only child. “

Me: “Ew. I hate only children. I have like, two friends who are only children but otherwise, I avoid them at all costs.” (Insert half hearted apology to only children friends here. Sorry, most of your peers are selfish weirdos.)

The Kid (nervously): “Hehe, why?”

Me: “I mean, they’re weird. They grew up playing checkers against THEMSELVES. Their toys were their best friends. And they tend to be selfish. They don’t understand the needs of others!  I mean, why didn’t your parents have more kids??”

The Kid: “My father passed away.”

Me: (HUGE GULP. SLIGHT SILENCE.) “OH. GOD. I am SO SORRY.”

The Kid: “Nah, no worries, you didn’t know. But I bet you’ll think twice the next time you bash only children on your dates.”

I mean, you gotta give it to the kid. Laid back and  a sense of humor. This exchange happened about five minutes into the date, BTW, and my rudeness, though accidental, certainly gave him cause to chug his drink and leave. But he didn’t. He stuck around. And was super friendly and nice to me. Even when I ate more than my share of wings. And basically all of our nachos.

As we finished our 4th drink, I told The Kid I had to get home. The truth was, I couldn’t stand myself much longer. The Kid however, due to some cruel twist of fate, seemed to be enjoying my worst-i-ness. 

The Kid: “I had an amazing time. Can we get together this weekend?”

Me. “No, I’m busy.”

The Kid: “Aww, why not? You’re not free at all? Not even for breakfast?”

Me: “Wellll….my friend is having a house party on Saturday night in Dupont. So, if you are in the city, and you text me, and I’m by my phone mayyyybeeeee I can meet up.”

The Kid: “Great! I’ll plan on that!”

The Kid walked me to my bus stop, and went in for a first date kiss. Apparently, my lack of eye contact, one word responses, and literal insults hurled at his family were a complete turn on for him. Because I’m the Worst, I turned my head and the poor guy got a mouthful of face. 

Date Rating: 6/10. The Kid was actually a good date. If he had been on the date with someone else, it is likely it would have scored a 8 or 9. But I’m the Worst, and all my insane behavior made it a bit more unpleasant than one would hope for a first date.

Epilogue: The Kid reached out to schedule another date, and I sent him a gentle rejection text. I’m not proud of the way I acted that night, but I figured I could salvage some karma by politely and directly letting homeboy know I was not in a place to date right now, rather than subject him to another round of theatrics.

The moral of this story is this: nobody is perfect. We all have our bad days, even those of us who are self proclaimed dating gurus. The funny thing is, life is so unpredictable and strange, someone just might find you charming anyway. 

 (You’re welcome for that gratitous clip of an angsty Jake Gyllenhaal.) It’s a mad world, readers.  If you figure it out, let me know.

That time D went on 2 Dates in 1 Day

Well hello there everyone. Happy Monday! I know we’ve been a little delinquent on our posting lately. We’re working on it, we promise! And to prove it to you, on this Monday, rather than a standard Message Monday post, I’ve got a post about a real date! That I went on! This is a dating blog, after all, so we should probably tell you about these things. This particular date was awhile back. In fact, this post is actually long overdue. Remember that time I alluded to the time I went on 2 dates in 1 day? Well, today’s the day I finally tell you all about it.

Back in mid-April (sidenote: how the F is it already the end of August?), I was dating D. As you may recall, following what ended up being our last date, on a Saturday afternoon, I went on an impromptu first date with another guy. We’ll call him Gillette. As luck would have it, the ultimate take away from my date with Gillette was that I really did like D. Annnnnd then D dumped me 4 days later. I don’t know if that’s karma, or what, but I know I probably won’t ever go on 2 dates in 1 day again.

To backtrack, earlier that week I got a message from Gillette on OKC. A really, really great message. Of the unicorn variety. And even though I was seeing D, that was still new, and I admittedly had a few reservations about getting involved with D. So I responded to Gillette, because unicorns are such a rare and mystical thing, and we hit it off immediately. He was a fantastic texter, and I’m super picky about texting. He was really funny, and there was a LOT of banter. I love banter. So when he texted me late Saturday afternoon and asked if I wanted to get dinner, I rolled with it. (By rolled with it, I mean called S AND L panicking that accepting made me a super slut somehow). 

He’d never had hibachi, and there’s a hibachi restaurant at Patriot Place, the outdoor mall built around Gillette stadium. His pictures, though not an outright lie, were misleading. But as soon as we got into the restaurant, the charming, witty banter began, and I had a blast with him. I thought it would be a little awkward at first, because when we got there, I remembered that hibachi is typically shared with strangers, but we had such a good rapor that that aspect wasn’t weird at all.

When we had finished our meal, he asked if I wanted to take a walk. I agreed, but wanted to head to my car first to grab a coat, and to drop off my leftovers. Long story short, we ended up driving over to the parking lot by the nature trail and cranberry bog that are behind the stadium, under the guise of taking our walk there. We didn’t even get out of the car. Well, that’s technically not true. We did get out of the car, but only to the get into the backseat for more comfortable make-out conditions. Also, I did a little re-arranging of stuff from the backseat to the trunk, because as Norman Bates can attest, the interior of my car is “not bad,” but also not great. My trunk is full of a bunch of random shit, including a sleeping bag I affectionately call The Sleeping Bag of Broken Dreams (which has actually come in really handy on more than one occasion). Which made the task of moving the junk that had accumulated in my back seat to the trunk comical. But I digress.

Now, to give you the full effect, let me just describe to you the conditions. This parking lot is more just like a gravel pit. There were maybe 3 other cars parked, and about 20 or so dry-docked boats in shrink wrap. Can you say romance? It was still light out, and I parked my trusty little Corolla in the most conspicuous spot possible. AKA right out in the open, rather than tucked in between two boats.

We ended up making out in the back of my car for awhile. I knew almost immediately that I was not into Gillette at all, despite the genuinely good time I had had at dinner. He was not a very good kisser. I know the existence of bad kissers is a hotly debated topic (actually, it’s not, because everyone knows bad kissers exist in this world), so I’ll rephrase and say that his style was not my favorite – he was of the sloppy variety. Also, all I could really think about the whole time was that I really wanted to be making out with D. But, Gillette wasn’t a totally terrible kisser either, and it was nice to be making out with someone (D was getting over a cold so there had been no making out earlier in the day while I was with him).

The next day Gillette texted me asking to see me again. I felt bad letting him down, but he was super awesome about it. I figured that was the last I would hear from Gillette.

I left the whole thing feeling a little bad about both Gillette and D, and kind of skeezy for going on 2 dates in 1 day. It’s not something I’ll likely ever repeat. I can barely handle going out with multiple guys in a week when there’s a chance that I’ll see at least one of them again. I know there’s no reason to feel bad about that, but it’s just not my style.

I wrote the bones of this post awhile ago, but had yet to finish it until this past weekend. Cut to a little over a month ago. I was seeing someone (who I’m no longer seeing, womp womp, and I’m not really ready to address it on the blog yet). Gillette texted me out of the blue and started chatting me up. He asked if I wanted to “hook up” again. I told him I was seeing someone. He said that he had started seeing someone too, but they weren’t exclusive yet, and I had been fun to hook up with. “Are you and your guy exclusive yet?” Ohhhh, Gillette, how the mighty have fallen. I mean, at no point were you actually mighty, but you had been a pleasant memory until that question.

I have a bunch of stuff to post about in the near future. I promise to be better about actually posting, rather than just thinking about it on the commuter rail. In the meantime, I know L has a date story to regale you all with later this week. We’re getting back on track folks (you know, if “on track” means going on dates that are blog worthy for all the wrong reasons). Good job us!

Confessions of a private investigator: J, C, and me

If you couldn’t already tell, I consider myself a woman who wears many hats. (Not literally. I look terrible in hats. Mediocre bone structure.) But figuratively, I do a lot of things besides my day job. There is blogging, there is book clubbing, there is babysitting, there is some serious Pilates devotion. Am I good at all these things? Not necessarily. But you know one side hobby I’m quite good at? INVESTIGATING. (Some people call it online stalking). Now, I have to give credit where credit is due. I learned 30% of my tricks from Law and Order and CSI Miami, which is why I have conferred on myself an honorary police academy degree.

And, I learned most of my skills from watching this chick:

veronica mars

Via: http://veronicamars-is-smarterthanme.tumblr.com/

Seriously Veronica, I won’t stop it, because you’re a goddess among mortals. For those of you who  were, sadly, deprived an adolescence, that beautiful, brilliant vixen you see is Veronica Mars, star of the self titled UPN series about a teenage, butt-kicking detective. Who my friends and I worshiped, and to this day, strive to be (minus all the near death experiences she has). 

Anyway, here’s the deal with investigating these days. It’s SO FREAKING EASY PEOPLE. I mean, remember how easy it was for S’s current dude to find our blog? 

Usually my investigation into my dates begins and ends with what I like to call “a little healthy googling.” Usually, the guy has shared enough with me via messages and his profile that I can perform an accurate enough google search to find his last name, and from there, perform another google search to learn everything about him. For example, if someone named Harry tells me he works at the World Bank and has 1984 in his username, I just search Harry, World Bank, DC, and, if needed, add the words graduated 2007 or 2006 and see if anything comes up. Once I realize his last name, I perform another search which usually reveals any letters he ever wrote to the editor, an old Myspace profile, his Meetup.com profile, and, if I’m lucky, perhaps some wonderful biography in his college alumni newsletter. Or I’ll get to listen to some wonderful tracks he and his band uploaded to Soundcloud.

Now, please don’t get all Judy Judgmental about “a little healthy googling.” First of all , information is POWER (and safety. You’re welcome mom. Told you I was taking care of myself). I am not meeting these guys through my cousin or mutual friends, I’m meeting them through the internet, a “place” where you can pretend to be anyone you want, including a bisexual Chechen with gastrointestinal problems. I want to make sure the guys I’m chatting with are who they say they are.

I understand that people often associate romantic things with mystery and surprise, but I believe that stuff belongs in the movies, or an at anniversary party you plan for your grandparents.

Now, the only thing about online stalking before your first date is that you learn things your date might want to tell you in a first meeting, such as where he went to college, what he does for a living, what his hobbies are, etc. And, for the sake of the conversation, you need to be able to nod along  as if you’re interested and ask interesting follow-up questions. It’s no good for your chemistry if you act like you know more about his background than he does.

Top-25-Ron-Hermione-movie-moments-24-Wingardium-Leviosa-romione-28675714-245-130

Via: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/romione/images/28675714/title/top-25-ron-hermione-movie-moments-24-fanart 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stalk J,a guy I first went out with in mid-December, before our first date. Every once in awhile, a guy has a  very common first name, and a nondescript job like “analyst at a think tank,” which describes 40% of the men in DC. So, I went into my first date with J blind. Fortunately, the date was super fun. He made a reservation at one of those exclusive little speakeasy places I’d be been wanting to try. And in addition to being really handsome, he was smart and a gifted conversationalist. We talked for two hours, and he asked me out again for a second date before our first date was over. He sent me a couple of texts over the weekend, reiterating what a great time he had, and confirming our date for the following week.

Of course, on the date, J had revealed his undergrad university and his hometown, which provided me with more than enough information to do a Veronica-esque internet search on his background, which basically confirmed all the facts he told me on our first date.  

Or so I thought…

Enter second date, which happened two weeks after our first date due to Christmas vacation. We met up a bar in his neighborhood for drinks, dinner, and another great conversation. I mean, I will admit that while J was interesting and smart, he wasn’t the nicest person in the world.  But, I figured, I was on the market for  a fun date, not like, new candidates for pope.  So I ignored that part of his personality for the time being.  

At the end of the evening, J asked me if I wanted to come over for “a nightcap.”

Now here’s the thing people. I know I talked a bit about how I wanted to run a longer game in 2014. But you should have seen J’s body. I mean, I could see it under his shirt. His button down, preppy shirt. I swear, it was in the neighborhood of this:

ryan-gosling-hey-girl-8

Via primarybeats.com 

So, I hope you will not judge me when I tell you that I said yes to the nightcap. And when we got up to his apartment and he said, “Actually, I don’t even really have any alcohol. We can split a beer if you want.” I stayed. I wasn’t in it for the beer, friends.

So, an hour later, I am using J’s restroom, and I decide to do another investigator move called, “a little healthy snooping.”  Before you get all Jay-Z on me and tell me I’m gonna need a warrant for that, let me explain the parameters of this exercise:

  • Anything in plain view is fair game. Always. If you don’t want me to see your DVD copy of “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” put it away.
  • If I’m staying over, the medicine cabinet and under the bathroom sink are fair game. I mean, don’t you want me to brush my teeth? Change the toilet paper roll? C’mon.
  • Thou shalt not inquire about any prescription bottles that she finds. (Googling prescriptions surreptitiously on your phone is allowed, however.)
  • Never ever ever open any dresser drawers or that bedside table drawer. Just don’t.

Per rule #2, I was staying over and therefore had grounds to access anything in the bathroom. (Don’t you like all my legal jargon? I told you I had an honorary police academy degree!)  PLUS, J had just moved apartments and his stuff was in little boxes all over the floor. And what did I see on top of a box but a hair dryer? Now, J had pretty short hair, so I was guessing the hair dryer wasn’t his. But who knows? Maybe he kept it for guests, or used it to dry his socks? But then I opened the medicine cabinet (ostensibly looking for toothpaste and face wash). And, sitting on one of the shelves was an open pack of Neutrogena Eye Makeup Remover wipes.

My spidey senses told me something was off here. So, what did I do? First, I used the makeup wipes to take the mascara off my eyes. Nobody wants to go to bed with that on. But then, I went back to J’s room and said, “Why do you have makeup wipes and a hair dryer in your bathroom? Did you just break up with a girlfriend or something?”

J looked a little caught off guard. “Uh…yeah…that’s it.  I just broke up with my ex-girlfriend. How did you know?”

“Why else would you have feminine products in your apartment?” I replied.

But then, without missing another beat, J said, “I kept the hair dryer because I might need it again someday. And I use the make-up wipes for camping trips.”

Maybe I was tired. Maybe I wanted to believe him, just for a few hours, because we were having so much fun. But I dropped the subject and we got back to business.

But the next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. When he kissed me goodbye, and said, “See you later, right?,” I decided to take a stand and not respond like a normal, conflict-averse person. I said, “Listen J. It’s fine if this was just a fun fling, and you don’t want to see me later. But there is no reason to tell me that if you have no intention of calling me again.”

Now, between last night’s investigative plunge into his bathroom supplies and this aggressive statement, J’s spidey-senses were probably going off too. And, while, they may have said, “This lady is CRAY,” they most certainly must have said, “This girl is ON TO ME.” Of course, J, was like, “No, I really want to see you again. As long as you want to see me too.”

When I returned home, I decided to find out a little more about who J’s ex girlfriend was. So, I returned to his facebook page, and examined the public posts on his wall, and who had liked and commented on his photo. I noticed one girl commenting and liking photos again and again. Her name was C. I clicked on C’s profile and what did I find? A picture of her and J, together, arms around each other.

Now, some of you may be thinking:That means nothing. C could be a sister,  a cousin, a friend. But J didn’t have any sisters. And if she was a relative, he was holding her a little too close for comfort. 

Now you still may be thinking: Maybe that’s an old profile picture. But she had just posted it a week ago. And someone had commented, “Is that you two at Christmas?”

Our old friends Benson and Stabler would call this circumstantial evidence. And indeed it was. So I decided to dig deeper. And what did I find? C had a wildly public online presence, complete with a blog, public Instragram, Pinterest, and Twitter account. Instagram featured a bunch of pictures of her and J together. On Twitter, she was promoting some articles J had written. And, on Pinterest, C had a Pinboard dedicated to J, and one dedicated to, presumably, her future wedding.

So, what’s an investigator’s next move? Bring in a trusted team of consultants, of course. I immediately g chatted my friend K and asked her to review the evidence:

k and l chat about j                            

Of course, I reached out to S for a good old reality check:

l AND s DISCUSS J

So what was the result of these investigations? I never contacted J again and he never contacted me either. Maybe it was just a regular old fade away, but I like to think that I avoided an untimely death by a hot, Gos-bodied sociopath.  And, for the record, while C’s obit hasn’t appeared in the paper yet, she has not updated her social media in awhile, indicating a possible disappearance. I mean, when you put all the evidence together, J was one sketchy individual. And, after a careful review of the evidence, even S came to that conclusion:

j serial killer

So cheers to being alive readers, even it’s alive and going on lots of first dates. See you next week, unless J gets to me first.