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Fancy Dining

I went to dinner the other night at a "nice" local restaurant.

Living in a college town, you forget that there are "nice" places. I still get excited when there is a special on wings and a pitcher of margarita is on sale. I had a corndog (ok, two) for lunch today, and I'M NOT  ONLY SLIGHTLY SORRY.

When preparing to go to a "nice" dinner, I had that moment of sheer panic that I get when I remember that I am in no way fancy. I am jeans and a sweater and a 90% chance that my socks don't match. As we speak I'm not even 100% convinced my underwear is on the right way. So to go to a fancy dinner is, in fact, a big deal for me.

After trying on ever dress in stores in town, I remembered that I hate dresses. I think there was only one small window of time in my life where I enjoyed dresses, and it wasn't even a dress, it was a purple tutu.

that's me on the far left, with the unfortunate glasses and the look of pure contentment.

I quickly began bargaining with myself over clothes. I didn't have to wear a dress or skirt if I at least wore high heels and curled my hair. I could do this. I'm not total shit at walking in heels and I only usually burn myself once or twice when trying to curl my hair. This was a fair trade off. I would even slap on some lipstick and call it a day.

So I get picked up and we go to the nice restaurant. It really is nice. This is not a lie. It has a lovely view of the river (which wasn't smelly that day, which is always a major plus) and is fancy without anyone turning their nose up at you. But the menu nearly made me cower under the table.

I don't know if you've picked up on it yet, but I'm pretty low key. I like low key foods. I don't mind trying new things, but I'm not good with the unexpected. And EVERYTHING on the menu was unexpected. This place is one of those places that the food changes daily at the whim of the chef. And the foods aren't normal things. There is no 'steak plus fries' or 'chicken plus fries'. There is 'fancy type of steak that I cannot remember plus lime riced cauliflower plus some sauce that feels like alfredo but does not taste like alfredo' or 'eggplant that has an assortment of things that dont sound like they should ever go together ever.'  even the burger special was a buffalo burger with horseraddish and brussels sprouts and aioli and tears from baby seals. (possible slight exaggeration on the last ingredient).

Being a fancy place, the prices were also fancy. And even though I knew this dinner was getting paid for by someone else, I didn't want to be a total dickbag and get the most expensive thing on the menu that sounded ok. I also didn't want to get the cheapest thing on the menu bc then it's obvious what you are trying to do. And also bc the cheapest thing was a salad and if I'm going to curl my hair for fancy dinner, then you best believe my meal is gonna involve meat.

So I got the mid-range priced fancy steak.

Maybe I go to chain restaurants too often, but when I think of steak for dinner, I think it will be a decent sized slab of meat. At least halfish of a plate. I'd already planned to take the other half home for lunch the next day, and was congratulating myself for being so frugal. So when my dinner arrived, I was very confused.

Bc I forgot that at fancy restaurants, you don't actually go to eat the food. You go to witness the artwork that happens to be made of edible parts. Sure, it comes on a big plate. That's just a better canvas for their masterpiece. It's like the Mona Lisa of meat. Have you ever seen how small the Mona Lisa is in real life?

So after cutting up four bites of steak into 24 bites of steak just to have something to do for more than eight seconds of eating, I already determined that I would be getting Taco Bell once the date was over. Don't get me wrong, I was having a really really great time on the date. But I was also really REALLY hungry. I jumped at the chance when the date suggested we get dessert. I love dessert and if I got dessert, maybe I would only eat one taco later instead of two. So we ordered cheesecake TO SHARE bc that's what you do on dates.

Only you don't do it at fancy restaurants bc the cheesecake comes out and it's the size of an oreo.

An. Oreo.

It was the most fucking depressing thing I had ever seen. Have you ever tried to SHARE an oreo? No, you haven't, because that would be stupid.

I DID NOT CURL MY HAIR TO EAT TINY CHEESECAKE. I don't even know whether or not it was delicious because it was too small to actually taste.

If I hadn't had enjoyed the company so much, it would have fallen under a bad date category. But I did have a great time and I hope to do so again soon. And if I'm being honest, I'll probably go back there at some point for another fancy date. But for $7, I will skip dessert and go buy myself a gallon of milk and two packages of oreos.

Vollyball William

I don't even know how to begin this one.

When I first got into online dating, I tried the free sites. Partly bc I was just out of college and poor, partly because i hadn't really bought into the idea yet. I was clueless and didn't realize that the free sites were mainly geared toward people who just want to get laid. Meaningful relationship seekers need not apply; We're going to pound town.

Now, on most of these, you can set your age preferences and it will, in theory, try to filter to your specified settings. I set my over/under at three years younger/ six years older. I felt like that was pretty fair; hopefully it would catch a range of people who like me were either just starting their "real" jobs but also weren't four times divorced with three different baby mamas, cruising toward retirement.

So I get a message from someone who's screenname was something about Volleyball, with an assortment of numbers. I don't remember specifically.  I could tell immediately that I wasn't going to be interested because his age was listed at 35 years older than me. Sorry, but I don't want to date someone my parents' age. Unless you have recently won the mega millions lotto and have no other family to inherit the money. Then we could talk.

He also looked vaguely like the CryptKeeper. 

Why don't I remember the CryptKeeper ever wearing a Hawaiian shirt?

I decided I at least wanted to open the email and see what this guy had to say, bc it surely had to be entertaining. And I was right!

It basically informed me of all the dangers of online dating, how young girls like me were wont to fall victim to scams and evil men, and how we needed to be protected and take care of ourselves. That online dating "wasn't much different than meeting guys in bars... they all want one thing." (a Bud Lite and a extra pepperoni pizza...right?). He then offered to save me from these terrible situations by inviting me over to play volleyball.

I can't even make this shit up.

His theory went as follows: He invites many people over to play volleyball all the time. This was a SAFE and FRIENDLY environment in which to meet people. Located a mere 45 minutes outside of town on some road that does not show up on GPS.

So. let us examine this.
Invites probably means kidnaps.
Play volleyball surely equals "ties up in basement".
And the safe and friendly environment is probably something out of that Saw movie that I tried to watch once and left ten minutes in because having my Achilles tendons sliced is a top ten biggest fear.

The best part, THE BEST PART. is that I'm not the only person who has been sent this email. I know not one, but two other people who have been invited over for sports and leisure.

Clearly if he read my profile, the closest thing I do to athletics is get drunk at baseball games.  Sorry Volleyball Willy, this game is not for me.

Getting Picked Up By My Prom Date

This is all a joke and just goes to show you how small my world really is and how much of a terrible sense of humor my friends also have.

I was trolling my online matches recently and received an email that caused me to laugh until I cried.

You guys, the internet is trying to hook me up with my high school prom date.

For anyone who doesn't know, my high school prom date (henceforth known as HSPD) was, is, and will probably be one of my closest male friends. He's an asshole and I'm ok with this fact; it is why we are friends.

So by receiving this message, I find that he too has entered the cesspool of internet dating:

I feel like I should get some sort of award for being in SOMEONE ELSE'S dating profile photo (red arrow points toward half my face). Does that get me street cred? Does that at least get me a burrito? I could really go for a burrito right now.

I can't decide whether I am offended or ok with the fact that my HSPD and I are only 72% matched. But then maybe that is the correct percent for a buddy who once had to hold me down and dig a seven foot splinter out of my foot. Literally seven foot, I am in no way exaggerating this or how badly it hurt.

 I did just remember that I AM offended over the fact that he told me he would take me to dinner for my birthday, and that was in the neighborhood of seven months ago. I need to cash in on this meal.

Maybe I should change this blog to "Things I do for a Free Meal."

But yes. I get online to try to meet new people, and what do I get? I get home. It makes me laugh/smile/cringe.

I can't remember whether he and I made one of those dumb agreements in high school that if we're still single at 40 we'll just marry one another for the tax benefits. Well. 40's a whole lot closer than it used to be, and I could really use that tax return to fix my kitchen.

Internet lady readership, if you want to meet a nice upstanding fella, let me know. He's a good guy, other than the fact that he still owes me dinner.

Jeepers Creepers, Where'd you get those Peepers?

This did not happen to me, but to a friend. I can feel her pain, and wanted to share because it is a very common thing when internet dating.

I've quickly realized that some people approach online dating in a very different way than I do. I look at profiles and try to decide if there might be a meaningful connection there somewhere. According to most internet trolls, I should be throwing shit out there and just seeing what sticks.

Many guys (and gals) seem to have a standard "go to" introductory email. More than once I've seen a sub-par play on the "Call Me Maybe" lyrics.  What's crazy here, sir, is that you think your rhyming abilities will get you laid. The Cat in the Hat called, and he is appalled. (see what I did there?)

So back to my friend. She's a great girl, and decided to get on one of the free dating sites just for fun. She put up one picture and a brief profile, just to see what would happen.  This one guy, we will call him Troll, sent her a message about how he was really drawn to her beautiful eyes and it made him really want to get to know her on a deeper level because her eyes were those of an old soul or some garbage like that.

Now, that is true and all, my friend does have really beautiful eyes. However, her picture was something like this:

Note: this is not my friend. This is a representation. However, if someone out there wanted to buy me these glasses, I wouldn't be opposed to it.


That's correct. In the photo, you could not see my friend's beautiful eyes. You could see her beautiful Oakley sunglasses, but not her beautiful eyes. 

PEOPLE. If you are going to hit on someone, at least take the thirty seconds to make sure the line you are throwing out is relevant. This will significantly increase your chances of getting laid.

I will help you now, with a fill-in-the-blank type email.

Hello!

My name is NAME and I wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed your profile. Specifically, the part about PICK A WORD FROM PROFILE.  I too enjoy SAME WORD. I hope this isn't too forward, but I find your PICK A FEATURE OTHER THAN BOOBS to be very striking. I would love the opportunity to get to know you. Please take a minute to look over my profile and if you think we could hit it off, feel free to send me a  message. I would love to hear from you.

SOME SORT OF WITTY LINE HERE.

NAME


You're welcome internet. May you get all the bitches. 

The One Where I Fell Asleep

So I've been getting over the plague recently. Not the actual PLAGUE, but whatever virus garbage that has been going around that everyone seems to be getting lately.

Said in best diet commercial voice.. "I lost nine pounds in 36 hours on the Norovirus diet! Thanks total dehydration!!!!"

Needless to say, this has put a halt on my dating escapades. Also, my total disinterest in dealing with meeting new people. It comes and goes in waves. The tide is turning toward hermit.

At any rate. I'm getting over the gunk when I am asked to hang out with a guy. This guy is a repeat offender (she says in the nicest possible way) so I knew it would be no big deal. We collectively are pretty low key, and low key is what I need right now. So an evening sponsored by Netflix and yoga pants is not something I will turn down. Especially because, well, I like him a lot. We have been spending a lot of time together and I figure, here's my chance to see if he can deal with me at not my best.

I forgot though that I was not yet 100% back to normal health. I am no dating superman. And fifteenish minutes into the movie, I fell asleep.

But not just like... light nap. I was sleep through an earthquake, drooling on myself, mumbling in Russian, probably farting (oh shit, I just realized I probably was farting) in a coma sleep. The kind where you aren't sure if you're asleep for three minutes or three hours. I'm still unclear on this one.

I have no idea what the guy did during this time. In a perfect world he also fell asleep. Or reorganized his closet. Or put together a 5000 piece puzzle. Or solved world hunger.

I think that waking up on a couch of drool when you're 30 and its only 7:30pm is much more embarrassing than those girls who make the walk of shame in college. It's still light out for fuck sake. And nobody got laid. Which is a good thing, bc we were in grandma undwear city, folks.

Luckily, he's a nice guy and didn't make me feel bad or embarrassed about it.

He said next week, once I'm back to 100% health, that he wants to take me out to a fancy dinner somewhere.  I don't know what exactly is involved in a fancy dinner, but I'm sure I'll manage to screw it up somehow. I'll be sure to let you know all about it.

Thinkin

I looked at my viewer stats and the most read post is the one about Anal Fissures.

Y'all are dirty.