Chatty Pants strikes again! Granny is going for round two with Tim tomorrow night. He’s a total flirt, which Granny says repulses her… I don’t buy it.
“He’s got a my way or the highway attitude,” she said, “I like the highway.” Granny’s fiercely independent and exactly the same way.
“What he wants is to go to bed,” she insisted, “The old man wants to go to bed. I don’t think he wants to invest in a second meal unless he gets some action.” Although it’s hard for me to imagine an old man trying to get frisky after a second date, Granny’s witchy intuition is often on point.
LISTEN TO OUR CALL: he wants action
I’m doing my best to get her to keep her options open and judgments to a minimum. Their date will either end in fireworks or a vicious arm wrestle.
Yesterday I had coffee with Will. My feelings before the date hit a wide spectrum from excited to intimidated. It wasn’t so much because I thought we’d click, overwhelmed from the possibility of real sparks; it was more because after reading his HowAboutWe profile I concluded that the chances he was a psychopath were not bad, but of course that was the reason I was “intrigued” to begin with.
He posted the following dates that caught my eye:
Date Option 1. How about we… go out for drinks and you can listen to me talk about my last relationship. I’ll detail how we met, the great memories we had and what led to its downfall. I’ll conclude by talking about how awful she is and why she has made me a miserable person. If time permits, you can say a few words about yourself.
Date Option 2. How about we… We make our own hot toddies at our apartments (or your parent’s house if that’s where you live) and Skype for a couple hours. That way we can continue to browse howaboutwe.com for people that we’d actually want to go on dates with AND we can improve on our multi-tasking skills.
Date Option 3. How about we… dress up, head to a park with my buddy dave who is a professional photographer and take engagement photos. We’ll then post the photos and update our facebook relationship status to “engaged” and confuse our friends who didn’t even realize we were dating anyone.
Date Option 4. How about we… Get a box of Oreos, go to times square and flip a coin to see who has to throw each one at a police officer. First one to get arrested loses and spends the night in jail.
His dates were the first that made me laugh. I was pretty sure they were jokes but they were still the most creative ones I saw on the site. I clicked “Intrigued” for the first one. He then messaged me back to try and talk me out of the date. I wouldn’t budge. He clearly had a sarcastic, albeit dark, sense of humor that I was attracted to.
I gave him my number and he called. This was the first time I’ve talked on the phone with someone prior to meeting them on a date. I know that’s typical protocol for many online daters, including Granny, but so far I’ve only dealt with men of the 21st century who stick strictly with readable communication (i.e. online messages, emails, texts, and sexts).
Our phone conversation was just as bizarre as his date suggestions. I was unsure of what was sincere and what was bullshit. He played me Rihanna’s “We Found Love” and asked me if the chorus “we found love in a hopeless place” reminded me of the online dating process. I was sold.
I knew what I was getting myself into, on his profile he answered: “For me, a first date no-no is: being serious.” And, “What I would bring to show and tell: 2 dozen mice and a lock for the door. A story you should remind me to tell you on our first date: I brought two dozen mice to show and tell and locked the door on everyone.”
We grabbed a coffee at a café in Union Square. As soon as we spotted each other neither of us knew how to react. We had an awkward introduction until I asked him to please recount the story (fictional or realistic) of his last relationship as he said he would on the website
He began to get into it, “She slept with my dad… and my mom… then my brother caught them,” he joked, but in person it was hard for him to keep up his schtick. “Okay, she’s actually a super sweet girl. We dated for six years, since high school, but neither of us were ready to get married so we broke up,” he confessed.
We both cracked up, settled down, and dropped our guards. He was clearly taking the piss out of the site but I was still amused. Now that the band-aid was peeled back on his ex, he let his theory on relationships flow. We talked about how when you’ve had a serious relationship fail at such a young age, in our society where marriage is a crumbling institution, it’s hard to let yourself seriously fall for someone again.
Now he’s basically just looking for a girl to attend all of his buddies weddings with and maybe grab a beer or two during the week. Commitment seemed to terrify him. He told me about how he likes online dating because it’s an ego-boost. He’s very self-confident and finds that he is able to dominate conversations and work on his game through online dates. He told his friend before our date, “This girl, she thinks she’s gonna win, but I’m gonna win.”
I tilted my head and gave him a look that read, “Come on, bud, we both know whose in charge here.”
“Yeah, I think this one is a draw,” he said. Then he gave me some advice, “You’re very self-assured, I think it’s probably intimidating to the guys you’re meeting from the sites.” I know he didn’t mean it as a compliment but I chose to take it as one anyway.
We crossed into friend territory very fast. We looked around the coffee shop and decided that anyone who looked at our table would assume we had been pals for years. We were definitely like-minded people, masters of TMI. Will was more than intriguing. We were both clear on the fact that romantically we’d both slaughter each other but we as friends we’d kill it. Next time we hang we’re gonna go with date option number 4.
Granny was visiting me in New York over the weekend. We were at dinner when she caught me texting. I must have had a flirty look on my face and Granny is too quick to miss a beat. “You’re messaging a man, aren’t ya?” she said, her eyes narrowing in on me like a detective on the case.
I tried to deny it but Granny wouldn’t accept any of my bullshit. She threw her hand over my phone and sternly said, “Scarcity makes everything more in demand.”
If there’s a building full of empty apartments the buying price is low. If there are only a few left and people are buying fast the price shoots up. Simple economics. The same rules apply in the laws of attraction. “Follow me I will flee, flee from me, I will follow,” is a French saying that a male friend of mine has often imparted on me. As soon as you pull back they want you more.
“Remember Prune face?” she began, “If he likes me he’s really playing his cards right.”
“I thought you weren’t that in to him?” I asked.
“Well I wasn’t, but now that I haven’t heard from him I’m liking him more and more,” she said. “If he called me now I’d probably have to stop myself from panting into the receiver and proposing marriage.”
I still sent my text. I’m not big on playing games but it’s refreshing to know that the same rules apply at every age.
I haven’t heard from the Bully since his foreboding, “I’ve fried bigger fish than you toots,” text. I wasn’t even sure if I liked him after the date but now that I haven’t heard from him… Urgh, why is Granny always right?
Last month I received a message from Drew who responded to the line in my profile: “You should message me if: You’re not creepy and you are wearing a shirt in your pic.”
Drew: all i have to do is be shirtfull for you to love me huh? that’s easy. hi there, i’m drew. hi. hi hi.
Me: hi. hi. hi. i never promised love in exchange for a shirt, but it helps
And so it began. We bantered back and forth for weeks until we finally locked down a date. I suggested meeting at a bar downtown but he told me we couldn’t go there because it would be “awkward” for him due to an “incident” with one of their bartenders. Perhaps I should have read this as a warning sign.
We ended up going to a bar of his choice, one where he had safely not slept with any of the staff. When I arrived he was waiting at the bar with a bottle a wine. Bold move, not only did he pick our poison but he got a whole bottle which meant multiple drinks.
Our get to know you bit quickly turned into entertaining reenactments of other OKCupid dates and reveals on past relationships. Typically I wouldn’t think that kind of chat is appropriate for a first date but it was comical and since I already knew he had a promiscuous streak, it felt organic.
“I date older women, you’re too young for me,” he said. He was 31 and I am 24. Facts we already knew from our profiles. He was trying reverse psychology on me. I grew up with Granny; I am no stranger to this technique.
We spent the majority of the date critiquing each other. He didn’t like my shirt. I didn’t like his tie. I didn’t believe he was really 6’1. He didn’t like the neighborhood I live in. “I can see why you need to be online dating,” he teased.
“I can guess why you need to overcompensate with arrogance,” I replied.
The bickering went back and forth, falling somewhere between silly and sadistic. By the end of the date I wasn’t sure if we were buds, enemies, or potential lovers. As soon as I jumped in a cab he texted: “See how normal I can be? It doesn’t last long…”
I replied, “I’m worried. Psych. You should be terrified.”
“I’ve fried bigger fish than you toots,” he warned. Oh, he’s a bully, but so am I…
Typically I’m a punctual person, but recently I’ve started showing up fashionably late for my OKCupid dates. I’ll admit it; it’s totally a power play. If I’m late I can avoid sitting at the bar, awkwardly balancing on a stool, trying to maintain good posture and a nonchalant/sexy/intelligent/approachable pout while scanning the crowd on repeat looking for a face that resembles the one that I’ve seen online. I figure that if I give myself a five to ten minute window, my date can suffer through those moments rather than me.
Last night I was late to meet Rob, a man who bravely admits on his profile, “I like reading the Times Wedding Section.” I was impressed by his reveal and curious to find out if he was a wife hunter or just a romantic with an affinity for a gal in a white dress.
When I arrived at the bar I spotted him ordering drinks, my scheme was going exactly as planned. I was about to wave when I saw him hand the bartender money for two drinks, a glass of wine and a beer. I considered. Did he already choose a drink for me before I got there? This wedding lover was more macho than I expected.
“Hey Rob,” I said as I approached. He looked up from the drinks and stared at me like a deer in headlights. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Oh man,” he laughed, “Something very weird is going on here. I already started a date with another woman.” This was a surprising backlash that I did not anticipate in my tardy tactics. I stared at him dumbfounded as he pointed to a table where a woman sat alone. “I thought it was you,” he said.
Reader, this woman was a tiny little thang with stick straight blond hair (and I’d later find out a Scottish accent). I am a curvy brunette with curly hair and for sure no accent of any kind. We didn’t even look like we were from the same species, let alone the same woman.
He explained that he was sitting at the table waiting for me as she approached and sat down. He thought it was odd that her looks differed from my photos but he assumed that some people put false pictures on the site. She was definitely a babe so it wasn’t the worst scenario for him… until I showed up. I suggested that we have a three-way date, let the best woman win.
He didn’t like that idea. “I’m going to tell her to go,” he said, his face turning beet red over his blunder. I insisted that it might be less uncomfortable if woman to woman I explained the situation.
“Excuse me,” I said, sitting down across from the Scottish gal. She looked up at me with an alarmed expression. “Are you here on an OKCupid date?” I asked.
At first she looked offended then confused, “Uh, no I’m here on a Match.com date.” It’s official, online dating is taking over the city. I explained that she had the wrong guy. She looked up to scan the crowd and at the bar saw her real date (who actually looked quite similar to Rob), he was probably running the same late trick as me. “Jesus, that’s embarrassing,” she said as she darted up grabbed her coat and ran to meet her guy.
It was an entertaining introduction. Unfortunately the rest of the date wasn’t as thrilling. Rob was a very sweet man but we didn’t have any chemistry. Part of me feels guilty that I ruined his chances with the blond. Maybe he’ll join Match to track her down. That would make an excellent love story in the Times Wedding Section…
There’s an annoying fad this week in my OKCupid inbox. Taking a spin on the typical “copy-paste” generic message that I often receive, I’m finding that men are adding their own hint of self-deprecation. Men of the online dating world: this technique is not working.
Hi I’m Travis. You seem fun and intelligent, and I’d like to get to know you beyond just what’s on your profile. Would you be interested in getting to know me as well, possibly over coffee or drinks? Please don’t ignore me like the other girls.
Hey how are you? Saying hello AGAIN hoping you skipped over me because you were so busy. -Matt
Time to roll the dice here. I saw your page and thought I should shoot you a quick note. I am an artist, pursuing acting in this fine city. Please check me out and write back if you kind of feel the same way. Have no worries if I do not hear back from you, I am sure it is just because the internet is no longer working or you died. -RICK
wouldn’t life be great if girls like you were into guys like me???… ahhh, *sighh*— -Ned
Travis, Rick, Matt, and Ned, no offense, but no thanks. None of you are Woody Allen.
Granny got stuck between two bridges along the intercoastal on her way to her date with Jay. She took this time to call me and complain about the restaurant he chose. “I hate Too-Jays,” she huffed.
This was a blatant lie. It is actually me who hates Too-Jays. Whenever I go visit, she insists on at least one trip to the gourmet deli. I reminded her of this. “Only for breakfast, I only like their breakfast. It’s already past 12, this is clearly a lunch date.”
“Go wild, order breakfast for lunch,” I suggested.
“Only old people eat at Too-Jays,” she whined.
“You are old,” I reminded her. This has become part of Granny’s pre-date routine. She’s like the skinny girl complaining that she’s fat. Even though she knows she’s a size 0 she still needs me to remind her that she has no cellulite.
She hung up and didn’t call me back until two hours had passed and her date was through. Her debriefing began, “If ya spent 24 hours with the guy, 23 would be about him.” I was glad to hear they already had that in common.
They started off the date by fessing up about their real ages. Apparently both of them fibbed on their profiles. Jay was actually 81 and impressed by Granny’s looks. “You look damn good,” he told her.
“I know,” she replied without a shred of modesty. “I told him he did too, but it was a lie. The man looked like a prune.”
Listen to our conversation where she explains Jay’s looks: prune
After she got some solid complaints out of her system, she began to divulge more about Jay. They were from the same area in New York, both had only one child, had traveled to many of the same places, and shared several interests.
I listened attentively, she was sounding pretty smitten. “Are ya ready for the real kicker?” she asked. “I lost my tooth, my front tooth mid-date.”
Granny’s got a movie-star smile, which is the product of movie-star maintenance. She had veneers put in years ago, which although look killer, at times fall out. “What?” I asked part horrified, part amused.
“Yup. Ya told me to go with breakfast. So I got one of those bagels. Ya know, with the lox and the cream cheese? I take one bite, and what do ya know? My top front tooth falls right out.”
I tried to stifle my giggles. “Oh God, what did you do?”
“I said to myself, ‘Ya lost your tooth. Don’t be obvious and don’t swallow it.’ The tooth had other plans. It popped straight out of my lips and on to the plate.” We both broke out into hysterical laughter. Granny and I share the ability to laugh at ourselves even in the most humiliating situations. This quality is perhaps one of the best that Granny has imparted on me.
Luckily Jay was a like-minded individual. He looked at her and said, “Please don’t be embarrassed. I don’t mind a bit, I’m enjoying every moment of being with you.” My heart melted.
He picked up their conversation just from where they left off, from the sounds of it they really got along. “I actually enjoyed his company,” she said, both surprising herself and me.
“He asked me to call him, but I said, ‘I don’t think so mister, you call me, that’s how it works,’” she explained. Albeit old fashioned, I agree. That is how it works.
“When we said good-bye I extended my arms to shake his hand but he hugged me. A big hug, a prune sandwich!” she giggled.
It sounds like she may be using witchcraft to convince me to join JDate…
Granny loves lawyers and I love Granny. Travis, a corporate lawyer (a profession I don’t have the best history with) messaged me “Can we hang out if I’m creepy but I wear shirts in all my pics?” in response to my “You should message me if: You’re not creepy and you are wearing a shirt in your pic.” I gave him the green light even though he only met half of my strict requirements to please Granny (and because I was intrigued by a self-admitted creep).
I thought Travis’ profile was intentionally funny. He stated digging “80’s jamz” more than once. I love a “z” substituted for an “s” so that scored him a point. However, when I arrived at the bar he chose and realized they strictly played 80’s jamz, I concluded there was no intended irony in several parts of his profile.
To fight the initial nerves Travis made several jokes about heroin and meth as we waited for our bourbons by the bar. Not typical ice-breaker chatter but I indulged him until we took a seat and transitioned into a more comfortable get-to-know-you conversation. Somehow we got on the topic of sleep-away camp and before I knew it I was belting out cheers with verses like “la-dee-doddy shake that body, tootie fruity shake that booty.” He quickly realized he wasn’t the only creep at the table.
Camp cheers led to ghost stories. This is the part where Travis began to win me over. Not only is he a corporate lawyer but he is also a very talented scary storyteller. As he got to the climax of his second story full of blood, knives, an escaped convict, and a rabie-ridden dog a real-life homeless person approached us. He had wandered into the bar with roses and came straight up to me. “You are beautiful,” he said, “How did you get so lucky?” he asked Travis. This man was clearly making Travis uncomfortable.
“She’s okay, beautiful is a stretch,” he joked (I’m pretty sure it was a joke).
The homeless man touched my one dimple, “You’re very lucky, you’ve been kissed by an angel,” he told me. I was liking this homeless man more and more. “You two, you’re gonna get married. I know this,” he prophesized.
Both Travis and I shifted. “Uh, this is our first date and we met on a dating website,” I said.
The homeless man gave me confused look so I repeated myself louder, adding, “Ya know OKCupid? For singles?” Heads turned. Travis blushed. The homeless man walked away and took his roses with him.
Now that OKCupid was out of the bag we began talking about how we got into online dating. Travis and his roommate, also a corporate lawyer, are both on the site together. It sounded like the makings of an excellent reality show. Two corporate lawyers, one office, one apartment, and a revolving door of OKCupid gals. Drama, sex, legal services… I’m getting hot just thinking about it.
After our second drink Travis told me he had to get home to catch an early flight to Utah for a bachelor party. I wished him fresh snow for the slopes and hot strippers for the party then we went our separate ways.
For a corporate lawyer, he was much more entertaining than I expected. I’m sure once I tell Granny his profession she’ll hit me with the same predictions as the homeless man.
New Years Eve is a big night to go out. It beats Halloween and July 4th with it’s hype and crowds. For weeks prior everyone asks what your plans are, who are you going to spend it with, what are your resolutions going to be, and have you bought a hot glittery dress yet? If you’re single, you of course are wondering if there will be a special someone for you to swap spit with when the clock reaches midnight. A kiss to start off the year, ooh lala. So romantic, so cliché, so 2009 (do I sound bitter?).
I work in a nightclub so this year, like many years prior, I shuffled around a club swinging sparklers, popping bottles, avoiding creeps, and trying not to slap crazy girls in sequined bando dresses. It might sound lame but I enjoy it because it takes the pressure off the night, you make good money, avoid the hectic lines, and drink for free. Cha-ching.
I also love watching drunk people; on New Years Eve people get wasted. Bopping to the music, getting snippy, walking into walls, shamelessly flirting. It’s adorable until they start giving the waitress some lip. This year I took a page out of Granny’s notebook. Whenever someone started in with some attitude I told them with wide sincere eyes, “Listen, I’m a little bit of a witch,” this is something Granny has told me about herself more than once when she wants respect. On New Years Eve people are superstitious, telling them I’m a witch works. “I have a feeling 2011 was sort of shitty for you, huh?” they nod, “But it’s weird, I have this crazy intuition that 2012 is going to be different. This is your year.” Suddenly the rude customer is on my team, with hope and witchcraft I have won them over.
In all my years in New York I’ve never been as single as I was this New Years Eve. This may sound lame but it was actually liberating to have no expectations, drama, or responsibilities. My lips could kiss anyone they wanted. At midnight they went for my best girl friends. My single ladies came in to keep me company at work and bring in the New Year. We happily danced, played, drank, and laughed (Yes, I was working. No, I am not a good waitress.) As the clock struck midnight we all kissed, stuffed money in our inside out yellow panties, and ate twelve grapes. (My Colombian friend, who legitimately might be a witch because of all her traditions, supplied the necessary props.)
I would have been content with my friend’s kisses and company but sometimes when you keep low expectations you get to be pleasantly surprised. Around 3am Nate, the 6’6 Australian came in and gave me a real New Years kiss. So it might be cliché and a little cheesy and he is still way too good-looking but goddamn, it was a great way to kick off 2012.
Also, now that it’s 2012 I’ve decided to get with it and join Twitter, follow me @grannywingman!