A friend sent me an investment banker’s cover letter for a second date, saying it reminded her of me.
First, read it. It’s…it’s special.
Second, yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Or two times, anyway. Two men (both engineers) have asked me out on a second date again after I said no, and two men (an economist and an engineer) have asked me for feedback as to why I said no.
So, I’ve gone on enough dates that I don’t get nervous anymore. It would be like getting nervous about brushing my teeth.
But good lord, am I nervous now.
A few days ago I woke up to an email I was CC’d on, written by my dear, hyperconnected friend D. It started “Dear Erin.”
And that’s how I got set up on a coffee date with Erin McKean.
Now I have to decide whether to read her new book over the weekend. Is it better to be a fanboy who knows too much, or too little?
Also, I have to remember how to breathe.
So, things with T are really great. The other day over dinner, he made this admission:
Him: So, I tried to get you a date, but it didn’t work out.
Me: Huh?
Him: I know you have a total nerdcrush on Erin McKean. So I was reading up on her, saw that she works on Wordnik in San Mateo, and asked her out to lunch for you.
Me: Oh. Wow.
Him: But she said no.
Me: Wellllll, that makes sense. I mean, she lives in Chicago and everything. But wow. That would have been so amazing. Seriously amazing. That’s, like, a proposal-level stunt. ::pause:: But you know, you couldn’t just spring that on me! I’d, like, need to do homework first!
Him: Oh, I know! That’s why I’m telling you now–in case she ever changes her mind.
So Erin McKean, if I ever see you (in your tetris dress?), I’ll start looking around desperately for T., my family, and all the other makings of a proposal scene 
Last night I met up with my female friend A. for dinner and we went to Three Seasons. I’d been there on several dates, including one with a Ph.D. candidate from Stanford who hypothesized that hot air rises “because hot air is lighter than gravity.”
I shit you not.
Anyway, this female friend has also struggled with the world of online dating. She quoted the last message she had bothered to read:
Shalom.
More if you write back.
Namaste.
“Is he a Hin-Jew?” I asked.
In reply, she shook her head–communicating 1 part ‘probably not’ and 9 parts ‘I give up.’
Last night I hiked up to the city to hang out with J., my most recent ex. As we were walking to sushi, I thought I saw D., my college ex and BFF. I called out his name, he turned around, and soon we were chatting with him and his new girlfriend about pork donuts. A couple minutes later we parted ways.
“Did you date him?” J. asked.
“Yeah, but a million years ago–freshman year of college. Why?”
“Because the four of us have explored all possible dating combinations.”
::quizzical look::
“Well, you dated both guys, and he dated both girls, and then I had an awkward date with her, too. At Hog & Rocks, actually.”
“Oh, the restaurant where I cried in public?”
“Yup.”
After dinner, J. teased me by bringing up the far-too-young guy whom I briefly dated, and with whom J. now works. “Y’know, I had a good conversation with your 20-year-old today.”
“Shut up. He was, like, 22 at the time.”
At the end of the night, I came home to an email from the 22-year-old. We’re not really in touch, but I had emailed him earlier in the day upon realizing we had a bizarre six-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon type connection. In his reply, he mentioned “I’ve enjoyed chatting with J. in our little nerd club. He’s a cool dude (even complemented my comic books today).”
Oh, my men.
“A date is an experience you have with another person that makes you appreciate being alone.” – Larry David
A few years ago, I was at a wedding reception with my younger sister and her boyfriend when someone asked when they’d be getting married. Her boyfriend replied, with a sly grin, that someone would have to marry me first. In case you’re not up on your Shakespearean allusions, he was comparing me to Kate from The Taming of the Shrew. As Wikipedia explains:
Katherina’s temper is notorious and it is thought no man would ever wish to marry her. On the other hand, two men – Hortensio and Gremio – are eager to marry her younger sister Bianca. However, Baptista has sworn not to allow his younger daughter to marry before Katherina is wed, much to the despair of her suitors, who agree that they will work together to marry off Katherina.
But I guess the joke got old. Last month they finally stopped waiting on me and got engaged.
J. has changed jobs. With a quiet smile, he informed me that he now works with my 22-year-old. Ack.
As part of his transition to the new job, J. is moving to a new, smaller place and has to get rid of tons of stuff. I spent my birthday helping him sort all his books, which makes my little OCD heart sing. But it also made my little OCD heart break: He was going to donate away dozens and dozens of practically untouched books about programming, AI, RPG’s…expensive, even gorgeous, books that a random thrift store shopper couldn’t possibly appreciate. So like a normal woman would leap to embrace an orphaned baby, I swept in and took home about $1,000 worth of these orphaned books, moved them to my garage, and listed them for sale on Amazon.
A few days later J. mused, “Somewhere out there, there this lonely guy who happens upon a D&D listing with your name next to it. And then, disbelieving, he goes and looks up the other listings by this mysterious nerd girl. And he just swoons.”
I went to a party last night with T. and started talking with a fellow named Al. Swore I knew him, but couldn’t place him, even with a series of questions. Finally he started talking about his work. As soon as his referred to “wide area networks”, I remembered our date.
A couple weeks ago I was on door duty at another party. A guy introduced himself as Grue and asked, “Do I know you?” He had apparently forgotten our date, which included this exchange:
Me: “I have to go to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back. In the meantime, come up with something interesting.”
Him: “OK.”
(I return to find a fluorescent blue drink with a maraschino cherry in it.)
Me: “What’s that?”
Him: “I asked the bartender for something interesting.”
Me: “What’s in it?”
Him: “I don’t know.”
Me: “Hope it’s not roofies.”
Him: “Eh, probably not.”
On OKCupid I’m marked as “seeing someone,” but that doesn’t prevent the occasional email from sneaking through. Here’s a recent one, yes, in its entirety:
Evolution is by definition fluidity. Now is just a snapshot in the process of everything’s ongoing adaptation. Maladaptive is a qualitative assessment only made after circumstances have changed and survival has been evaluated-by us. Is survival necessarily the best metric of success? Sharks are cool because they have existed relatively unchanged for millions of years but what about the fantastically complex and therefore fragile adaptation of a parasitic wasp hopelessly dependent upon a singular caterpillar?
I’m like, “Who is this guy?” and visit his profile. It begins, “I identify as a father and an organic farmer.”
Over the weekend I trekked up to the city to visit a dear college friend visiting from the East Coast. As I drove her to her drop-off point at the end of the night, she chirped, “Oh, wait! Can you stop a minute! I know him!”
“Jacob!” she shouted.
“Jacob [last name]?” I asked, incredulous.
The both swiveled towards me sharply. He clearly didn’t recognize me. But I recognized him.
“Uh, sorry, we had sushi once a million years ago,” I stammered.
Perhaps eager to change the subject, Jacob turned and introduced me to the girl standing next to him. Who is, hand to Jesus, my coworker.
a girl’s-eye-view of the dating world–100% true, because truth is stranger than fiction.
