Monday, June 9, 2008

How to Date: It's Simple, Idiot.


















How to date:

1. Find a guy.
2. Agree on a place to meet him.
3. Dress nice.
4. Arrive.
5. Talk about things.

The movies make dating look so easy. Probably because when a date goes poorly, you see only five seconds of it. Julia Roberts looks bored. Kate Hudson trips over something. Date talks about shellfish allergy, eats shellfish. Head explodes. Good dates always end with a nice long walk near a scenic bridge and a kiss with a guy who doesn't try to eat our heroine's face or collect a bacteria sample from her tonsils.

Reality is not so kind. When a date goes poorly, you slowly begin to imagine what life would be like if this were your arranged marriage. You wonder what your husband would look like in 50 years and if he would still be talking about the rash he got from his laundry detergent by then. You imagine yourself squirting out his no-chinned, giant-foreheaded babies. And finally, the fantasy ends when you pull the plug on the machines keeping him alive after he slips into a coma from drinking too much imported ale and repeatedly declaring it the best he's ever had.

I'm not a person who goes on dates terribly often, maybe four in an entire year. For one thing, it takes a lot to get me to break my routine. I like getting up in the morning, planning my day around what time the game starts, getting my morning exercise, and buying vegetables. Anything outside of those scheduled events will inevitably make me tired. Secondly, I'm picky about dates. Not in a snobbish kind of "What do you mean he doesn't shit in a solid gold toilet?" kind of a way. More of a really simple, "Is this guy even interesting?" kind of way. Do we have anything at all in common, or am I just mesmerized by the length of his eyelashes? I've also never been attracted to standard, by-the-book, good-lookingness. I like guys with interesting faces. My first boyfriend looked like a bloodhound.

So, I met a dude at a party last night. He seemed nice. I drunkenly agreed to go to brunch with him today, not really remembering much about what we talked about. Just knowing that I like brunch and guys with curly hair. We'll call him Dude Guy. And here is how our date went.

Dude Guy: I'm sorry I'm late. I was at the sauna, having a steam, and ridding my body of toxins from all the alcohol I drank last night.

Me: That sounds nice. I woke up at 10 and took four Tylenol. Then I drank a liter bottle of tap water and spent the next hour peeing every four minutes.

Dude Guy: I really like to take care of myself. I'm healthy. That's why I'm going to drink a lot of cranberry juice and tell you about how delicious and healthy it is.

Me: I like mine with vodka.

Dude Guy: I'm a musician. I play two instruments. Sometimes I sit down in my basement and improv on my drums. Let me demonstrate how beautifully I play here on the table.

Me: Wow. You're sure good at hitting the table with your fingers in a rhythmic manner.

Dude Guy: Isn't this food delicious? I love to sit and eat meals that last hours and hours and hours. I like to eat slowly and enjoy my food.

Me: I eat faster because I am hungry and I skipped motherfucking breakfast.

Dude Guy: You are beautiful like a sunflower.

Me: Uh. Your hair is shiny like an oil slick.

Dude Guy: What's your favorite book?

Me: Harry Potter.

Dude Guy: Oh, I really enjoyed the first movie.


I fled.


Dude Guy and I had nothing in common. We were never going to have Kids-in-the-Hall-quoting inside jokes. Or have slow, romantical sex to his jazz CDs. So I left our relationship there with the organic egg omelets and went off to play some motherfucking Wii.

In theory, dating is easy. I like men. I like meeting them at a designated location and eating and drinking things. But sometimes the dude you originally thought was awesome ends up droning on and on about jazz, while all you can think about is the hilarious Kids in the Hall sketch where Bruce McCullough calls jazz "musical barf" and knowing that if you mention that, it will only perplex him.

I pride myself in knowing when to pull the plug.

More on my dating experiences in future posts...

14 comments:

t.c. said...

This blog is getting very interesting. (curls mutton chops) Nyez, quite.

bbryan84 said...

Yep, sounds familiar. Only replace jazz with ESPN texas hold em and conversations on health and music with akward silences. Oh hell.

jody! said...

i think t.c. is combining your manish likes with mine. (yours being curls, mine being mutton chops.)



whose going to arrange the deathmatch between us for him? (sorry e.lo.) i'll battle you forever for a man with mutton chops. and i'll win.



perhaps we can have a deathbattle with a jazz-inspired musical score. dude guy can play the table drums. it occurs to me that perhaps by the time the deathmatch is arranged, t.c. will have changed his facial hair style and the deathmatch will be pointless. so we must act in haste!

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

OMG, Jody. The chops are awesome. (Watch out, Elo. She's crazy.) In combination with T's new walk of manliness...ooh la la.

That actually sounds more interesting than jazz, Your Mayorness. Hahahaha...

Thanks, T! I'm trying to take it up a notch. Tomorrow, a puppet show!

Lalaland13 said...

Best description of dating ever. I was cracking up at my desk. And I am so tired that I want to lay my head down on my dirty filthy germy desk and nap. So laughing is good.

I don't date. Because men suck. Well, the last semi-date I had ended with me saying, "We should do this again sometime."

Him: I dunno, I usually sleep on my days off.

pamela said...

disclaimer: ive never blogged before so i apologize if this is unblogingly long. nevertheless i hope you enjoy...
in response to movie dating vs. real-life dating: i have found that dating in the city is really unromantic if you dont live walking distance from the meeting place. take, for example, Carrie Bradshaw. Carrie gets walked to her front steps of her beautiful brownstone and gets to take a step or two up depending on the height of her date to give him a smooch. She also gets to look out her conveniently perfect window to the surprisingly clean street to watch a drunk declare his love for her and tell her how amazing she is in bed, or to fall in love with Aden again...So although these things happened in the show, it is still "from the movies". Now, lets contrast that with me and the banker:
me: "im taking the subway home"
banker: "ill wait with you"
me: "for the train? you are going to come underground?"
banker: "yeah, sure"
me: "ok"
(meanwhile, the level of romance on the subway platform= -48; level of desire to kiss banker on our 3rd date= a solid 0)
then as my train approaches he stands about 12" away from me, grabs my head with both open hands, and hastily puts his face on mine so that our lips are in the same area. it lasted approximately 4 seconds (count it out in your head to get the full horror) i was so caught off guard i think the look on my face would be equivalent to him telling me he pooped his pants.
and this would actually make a good movie...my character would be played by Kate Hudson because she could really nail "the look".

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

OMG, Lala. That's rifuckingdiculous. I mean...dude, if you don't want to have a follow up date at least grow an excuse. Also, give it time with the dating thing.

Oh, Pam. I have a wonderful story about a dude waiting with me on the subway platform. I will post it soon. :) There's nothing grosser than knowing that a dude is going to try to kiss you when you really don't want him to. And know that if you resist him, it will make your escape more difficult.

That said, I did give Dude Guy a brief peck. He did pay for brunch and bought me a jazz CD I didn't really want. Haha... I just kinda left it at T's place after Wii-ing.

peach said...

jody with an exclamation point, just get your own chops. it's not like st. andrew is incapable of growing them, like some terribly unfortunate, genetically-challenged people named beth. for example.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

Oh, pour salt in the wound, why dontcha, Peach?

peach said...

okay, i really need to know where you got that picture! it is too awesome.

ps. i have no air conditioner. i think i am withering.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

I googled something lame like "dating" and that was the first pic that came up.

How do you not have an air conditioner?

jody! said...

even if e.lo did have an AC, i wouldn't help her put it in until she apologizes for her chops comment. that really wounded me. you know i have extremely light facial hair and can't grow my own. i have tried many times to become the next bearded lady for the sideshow, but alas, i am destined to remain facial hair free for all my days. now, if e.lo would just grow some mutton chops for me to enjoy at work, that would be mighty nice of her. if she did that, i might consider helping her put an AC unit in the window. you know, if she owned one and if t.c. was busy that night styling his own chops.


and to the mayor, i don't have an AC either. ain't nothing wrong with that...

peach said...

"extremely light facial hair"? i think i'm talking to the wrong jody....

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

Uh. Jody. What happened to the AC that used to be in your living room? Also, I thought you were my handy-lady. I thought what we had was special.