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!
2011, you were fantastic. The good, the bad, and the ugly—as Granny would say, “Embrace it all, kid.”
Ah, New Years. Here’s to new men, new experiences, new adventures, new relationships, new laughs, and new loves. Both Granny and I have dates planned for 2012. Her next prospect? Jay, a Brooklyn-born widow who states breakfast as his favorite meal of the day. I like him already.
Listen to her voicemail where she gives me New Year’s wishes and a sneak peak of what’s to come: new years wishes
I have created a monster. A man-hunting love monster. Seniors of South Florida: Watch out, Granny is on the loose.
Granny called me the other day, when I picked up she was laughing so hard I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. Finally she choked out, “Kid, I grew a pair. I did something I wouldn’t do in a million years.”
She was perusing the aisles of Whole Foods when she came across a case of cheap wine. $2.99 a bottle. She thought it could make a good Christmas present for her co-workers but then she asked herself, “Am I that cheap?” I’m pretty sure we both already knew the answer to this.
As she pondered the dilemma a darker skinned, older man showed up on the scene. “An Arab,” she said proudly in her thick Jewish New Yorker accent.
“A what?” I asked.
“He was an Egyptian, ya know like walk like an Egyptian?” she elaborated.
Aha. Got it. So this Egyptian fellow began filling his cart with the wine. Granny took note of this and asked him, “Have ya tried this wine before? Ya know if it’s any good?”
“In fact I have and really enjoyed the red,” he said, “but I didn’t care for the white.”
The two of them began an intelligent conversation about wine until Granny suggestively asked, “Well maybe your wife enjoys the white?”
He explained that his wife died six months prior. Now he was a bachelor, a lonely bachelor that was confiding his life story with her in the liquor aisle of Whole Foods. She listened and gave her two cents wherever it allowed then finally said, “Look, you’re a very sad man, and you have every right to be. Let me give you my number, when you’re done mourning call me and we’ll go out.”
She said his eye lit up as he quickly scrambled to get a pen and paper. “I will, I definitely will,” he said enthusiastically.
I was impressed and I was about to tell her so when she said, “Kid, I got more juice.”
After saying goodbye and grabbing the carton of wine she made her way to the deli counter, “I wanted some roast beef, ya know sliced for a sandwich? Whole Foods has beautiful roast beef,” she explained. At the counter she caught the eye of another silver-haired gentleman who struck up a conversation with her. “I was on a roll, kid, a goddamn roll.”
Long after her roast beef had been sliced she remained talking to this new gentleman when low and behold the Egyptian returned to the scene, “Thank you so much for your number,” he exclaimed, “I’m gonna call you, you’re definitely gonna hear from me. I really am looking forward to it.”
The silver fox gave Granny a confused look, “He must have thought, ‘Is this an old hooker? Does she do this for a profession? A Whole Foods hooker?’” she said. Completely flustered and overwhelmed by her own mojo, Granny decided to flee the scene. She said bye to both of them, quickly considered checking out one more aisle to see if she could find a third suitor, but changed her mind and headed for the check-out counter.
I suggested we cancel her Match.com account and have her stake out Whole Foods full-time instead. When I asked where her bold behavior came from she laughed hysterically and said, “The devil made me do it, and kid, you’re the devil.”
I sat sipping my green tea while I waited for Owen. He was late but texted me twice to apologize. He also texted four separate times in the days leading up to our date to tell me he was “really excited to meet”. His gestures were sweet but the masochist inside of me was slightly turned off by his overly enthusiastic nature.
Once he finally arrived and got a coffee we settled down to talk. He told me there was a lot of traffic coming in from New Jersey. “You live in Jersey?” I asked. His profile definitely stated his location to be New York, NY.
“Well no, not really. I’m transitioning in between my parents place in Jersey and crashing on my brother’s couch in Hoboken,” he said.
“So you live in Jersey?” I repeated.
He denied it again, explaining that he didn’t consider Hoboken part of New Jersey. There’s a state line and a dividing river that says differently, but okay I let him take New Yorker status, I had bigger matters to uncover…
“So you live with your parents?” I asked.
“Temporarily, since July,” he said. He explained that he had been living and working in Argentina for the past two years and was back in the area trying to figure out his next move.
When questioned about his work abroad he explained that he was an “entrepreneur”, a five-syllable word he used at least another dozen times to describe himself throughout our one-hour date.
When I asked him about his career ambitions for the future, besides continuing to be an “entrepreneur” he told me of plans to study quantum physics, not for his career but for fun. He then began to break down quantum physics for me, like realllllly break it down. Although I barely followed any of what he said I was definitely intrigued by his intellect and impressed by his passion for the subject.
As our conversation progressed our differences kept surfacing. He’s into the sciences, I’m into the arts. He doesn’t drink, I work in a bar. He considers New Jersey New York, I do not. I enjoyed my conversation with Owen but I think our inability to relate on most topics was apparent on both ends. I kind of felt like Granny with the Walrus. He was definitely interesting and I’d probably even go out with him again if asked but he hasn’t asked… and being that prior to our date he knew how to operate his phone to text my number multiple times I think it’s safe to assume that Owen feels the same way.
Granny called to tell me about her date yesterday. “I’m gonna start from the end, he’s a very nice man,” she said.
I breathed a premature sigh of relief.
“A very nice man, but he looks like a walrus.”
“What?” I asked.
She began to explain to me what a walrus is, I already knew of the animal but it was fun to hear her break it down for me. “Ya know a large wooly sea mammal? Cousin to the seal? This guy was a walrus. Big chest and belly, silver facial hair like whiskers, and on top of it he was wearing stripes. Stripes that went the wrong way.”
You would think that once you pass your seventies attraction wouldn’t be related to looks and fashion, but apparently that’s not the case. The lady has standards that surpass my own.
They met up at Dunkin Donuts for coffee but once he took a look at the little hotcake that is my Granny he said, “I don’t want just coffee with you, I wanna take you somewhere to have a whole meal.”
On the way to the restaurant they discussed where they live. “I’m in a mobile,” he said.
“Mogul?” she asked.
“Mobile,” he repeated.
This exchange went on a few too many times until Granny said, “The only moguls I know are on a ski slope and I don’t know any of those in South Florida.”
“No, I got myself a double wide,” he said.
It sounded like the rest of the night’s conversation was full of these misunderstandings and inabilities to relate.
He took her to a restaurant in my hometown called the Thirsty Turtle, known for their hot wings and rowdy teenage crowd. “I was eating my dinner at a quarter after five,” she said, “I’ve never had dinner so early in my life. Only old people eat dinner before six,” she said without any intended irony.
Granny alerted my mom, who lives around the corner from Thirsty Turtle, to her whereabouts. She conducted a covert operation to spy on the date. I haven’t gotten all the details yet but it sounds like there was a window and some not-so-discreet waving and awkward neck flicking gestures.
“Overall, how was it? A fun night?” I asked.
“Kid, my night was over before seven. It was a pleasant evening. Like I said, he’s a nice man, but we move at different speeds.”
Okay, fair enough. I’m just glad Granny broke the dry spell. A date with a walrus is better than no date at all.
Granny’s dating jets are fired back up and ready for a ride. Sort of…
Last week she began messaging with Todd. Based off his profile, the guy sounds like a total catch. He is retired from NASA. An astronaut! The man worked on Apollo, a bit of information that I thought sexy but Granny found wholly intimidating. “This is a kind of smart that isn’t in my world, this is different smart,” she said.
Right before their phone call she turned up the drama and went into freak out mode trying to convince both of us why it wouldn’t work. She’s always preaching to me that I need to date men in different fields; it’s time for her to take a dose of her own medicine.
Listen to our chat: pep talk
A friend of mine wants to set me up with one of his coworkers. When the potential suitor friended me on Facebook I accepted his request. I then found myself examining his profile with the same eye that I use on OKCupid. The two social media sites are strikingly similar if you think about it. Both have pictures and content that sell a person and represent an online image that they want to portray, regardless of whether it’s accurate to their character or not. The biggest difference is Facebook doesn’t state height… a shallow bit of information that I admittedly appreciate on OKCupid.
This morning Granny and me were chatting about my online men. “Ya gotta put yourself out there more. Ya know, in the real world. These online guys are fine and good but ya got the goods, go out there and work em.”
I questioned where I should be “working my goods”. The street corner? Whole Foods?
She suggested hotel dances, a meeting place for singles before the invention of Facebook, online dating, booty pop, or any other modern day wooing device. Her explanation: hotel dances
I’m pretty sure the current interpretation of the dignified hotel dance is a sweaty nightclub with a loud DJ, full of people air-humping, fist-pumping, and occasionally doing the party shuffle. However, I enjoyed hearing her tale of yesteryear, I want a man to woo me with his “really hot cha-cha-cha”. I’m going to take Granny’s advice, these goods of mine? I’m going to work them.
I have some new knowledge on the “typical male” after getting Granny’s two cents on Brad . With her detective hat on, she suspiciously hypothesized all the possible reasons for his lackluster demeanor. She said, “An interesting man wants you to let you know that he’s an interesting man. And how does he do that? Conversationally or sexually.” Well, it seems Brad was 0 for 2.
Here’s our conversation where she breaks it down for me: convo