Assignment America

So, since my easily-ridiculed dating life seems to be slowing down, I'd like for my loyal readers to email me with stories of their own bad dates. You don't need to tell huge long stories-- even just a one-liner of something someone said to you. Anything that sticks out in your mind as being like, "Wow, remember that date? That guy? That was retarded." I'm going to edit and form them all into a new post, to share the joy.

What's Going On?

Hello children. Before you say it, I miss myself. I know I haven't posted in awhile. I almost feel like going on a couple of ludicrous dates just to have something to write about.

I went on one date Friday and another Saturday. Friday's was boring: nice cute guy, fun date, no spark. Saturday's was with the subject of the "good date" nerd blog! Another good date!

As far as blogworthiness goes . . . the subject of Friday's date said nothing-- nothing!-- about my job. He asked what I do. I said, "I'm a Federal agent." He said, "Wow! Cool." And then we talked about something else. He did not ask what agency I work for, he did not ask what I actually do as a Fed, nothing! What's up with that, loyal readers? Do we think he was just intimidated? First of all, and not to toot my own horn or anything, but I have a damn cool job. And even if you don't think it's as cool as I do, you're on a first date. Don't first date rules dictate that you make small talk about people's jobs? Sheesh.

Saturday's date with Senor Nerd was fun! He has potential, people. And I have nothing more to make fun of him about. However, I can make fun of our date! After an hour walk in Central Park, dinner, and drinks, we went to a comedy club. The show consisted of short sets by like 15 different amateur stand-up comediens. Now, from the performances, I can safely say that amateur stand-up comediens revolve their sets around two general themes: race jokes and sex jokes. I don't think I mentioned this but Senor Nerd is black, whereas I am white. In New York interracial couples are a dime a dozen so this isn't an issue-- until you go to an amateur stand-up show. The good news is that he laughed at all the race jokes (which, of course, are rarely about white people). I could have expected this: on our first date, when he told me about D&D, I told him, "I'd actually like to know how many black men are into Dungeons and Dragons," and he replied that he was probably the only one. He then said, "Yeah, some of my friends told me I need to be really careful running around the woods with a whole bunch of white guys," which I thought was hysterical (it's funny because it's true!)-- maybe he can have his own stand-up act.

It was the sex stuff that makes for a good blog. Have you ever watched sex-related things on a second date? It's kind of like watching sex scenes in the movies with your parents, but much worse, because, you know, there's sexual tension between the two of you so each joke just tweaks the tension. Ha! Funny discomfort, let me tell you. And I have both an active imagination and a ridiculously logical mind, which makes for intense brain-vs-imagination jousting matches on virtually everything I encounter, so you can imagine the battles in my head during this. (Example: a female comic describes the lack of oral sex skills of a man she is no longer dating. My brain: illicits laughter and an analysis of her relationship and personality; my imagination: takes everything she is saying, multiplies it by 100, applies it to Senor Nerd, plots an escape route from the club so I just won't have to deal with the situation, then changes course to show me the X-rated visuals of Nerd and myself it has come up with, which makes me blush . . . etc. etc.)

But it gets worse! I am by no means a prude, and thanks to my job, I am very comfortable being in the middle of cursing, sexual harrassment, and man talk. I've heard it all and then some. And therein lies the comedy-- change the situation and you can change the person. A white male comic describes how a black girl he was dating broke up with him because his junk wasn't up to the par of the black men she's been with. Holy shit, people! Can you feel the pain of being in this situation? Hahaha! In my normal life I would've shot back with some witty naughty remark, but on a date with a black man it's all I can do to just blush profusely and thank god the lights are dim. The worst moment was during the last comic-- his ending joke-story was about how he convinced his girlfriend to let him come on her face. Yeah. It was actually a really funny story, but holy pornographic! And then, like, if I laugh, am I perverted? If he doesn't laugh, is he easily offended? Does the fact that I have my hand on his knee during the performance suddenly take on a whole new life once pornography is introduced? Ah, the dating golden moments. In the end, we took the safe route-- we both laughed at the comics, and then never spoke of it again.

Lesson of the day: It's probably a safe bet to just avoid stand-up comedy during early dates. I actually thought later that it's a good thing I saw Tracy Morgan with a girlfriend and not Senor Nerd, because Tracy is DAMN dirty. And his bit about the difference, as a black man, between banging white girls and banging black girls almost certainly would have made me choke on my drink in certain company.

A good date!?

It's true! I actually had two. I define this as: we have chemistry, I'm attracted to him, he seems to be attracted to me, we have a good time, and he makes some effort afterwards. The first good date was apparently not so for the first guy cause the date was 1 1/2 weeks ago and I haven't heard from him. The bastard. Oh well. His loss! Right? Right?

So the 2nd good date was a couple of days ago. He was 6'2" and broad, which is what I like. Glasses, which I like. Very good-looking! He's a journalist and is writing his Great American Novel on the side. We have a lot in common-- we both love to read (he said he "could get lost in a bookstore"-- ugh, that's like the most romantic thing a man can say to me), we like to salsa dance. He's close to his family and loves animals. He once rescued a bag full of fluffy puppies from certain destruction while walking an elderly lady across the street. Ha, that's not true . . .

Now, a caveat: I love nerds. Not like Napolean Dynamite (who I would classify as a geek or dork more than a nerd, in the hierarchy)-- just really smart and passionate folks. My friends are all generally nerdy and despite my kick-ass profession, I myself am a bit of a nerd. I always say that my ex, despite being a huge stinking slimeball, would tell me the title of his neurology-PhD-thesis and I loved the fact that I didn't understand a word of it. Ha. So, I have references to this nerd thing on my Match profile, and I think between that and the whole grammar clause, I'm generally attracting only the nerds (and the truly intrepid losers).

I don't really know where this came from, this love of nerds. My dad is one, and he's awesome, so it probably has something to do with growing up with nerdiness equating fabulousness. My mother told all of us at a young age: "Nerds make the best husbands: they'll treat you like a queen and will make all the money one day." Ha! Motherly gold. But I love nerdy friends, too, so . . .?

Anyway, I'm off topic. This guy is nerd-central. And in some-- ack, I can't admit it!-- N. Dynamite ways. Exhibit A: He used to do live-action Dungeons and Dragons. And when I say 'used to,' I mean in his late 20s and early 30s. Ha! Exhibit B: He auditioned for the reality show 'Make Me A Superhero.' Which I actually find fabulous, since I am a nerd, and neurology-PhD-ex had, after all, auditioned for 'Beauty And the Geek,' so . . . But with 'Superhero'-- Exhibit C: His superpower was going to be . . . wait for it . . . the ability to amplify torque. Hahahaha! Oh my, I almost fell off my bar stool laughing at him at that one. Which, to his credit, he took in complete stride. (Like any good nerd, he is fully cognizant of his own nerdiness and is not ashamed of any of it-- so hot.)

In the end, though, he put my coat on for me, held doors for me, and even stood when I stood to go to the bathroom. Now, I don't expect this behavior from people, but I have to say, when a man does those things of his own accord, it's something to pay attention to. He's the first guy from Match and only the 2nd guy in my entire life to have such chivalrous manners. I really think it says a lot about a man-- i.e., he's thoughtful, polite, respectful, was raised well-- that sort of goes beyond just having manners.

Oh, and he was an excellent kisser. : ) And when I said-- and I actually said this-- "You're a good kisser for a nerd," he took it all in stride. Now that's a man.

Lesson of the day: I probably just jinxed myself by posting this. Stay tuned-- will there be more? Will I play D&D?? (Um, that's going to be a 'no.')

Really?

My sister says that I'm funny, but mean. Really? Please vote at left.

The Docta.

So, sorry to be so MIA. I’ve actually had two dates recently, but both were good! I didn’t think you sick freaks would want to hear the good stuff. But a request did come in for a blog about the last good one, so I will comply. Juuuuust . . . one more bad one.

Much to my mother’s delight, I did have a date with a docta. This was a few weeks ago. Our date was postponed a bit because he was in Nepal doing volunteer medical work. Aaaw. Yeah. But then he comes back all fresh-faced from his do-gooding and we go out.

We meet at a bar on 49th Street and 9th Avenue, which is a happening place and there are lots of places around there. He’s wearing a suit, which seems nice. He’s very attractive, which is nice. We go into designated bar and the waitress seats us in the back of the bar. We sit down, and Docta says, “I don’t like this seat,” and we leave. OK . . . Ew. I think we’ll just go next door to one of the hundreds of other bars in the 'hood, but no. We get in a cab and go to 5th Avenue and 56th Street. This doesn’t sound like much but that was a good 20 minutes away. For what?? (We end up at a very ritzy bar that my friend told me later is where they hold, like, Grammy after-parties and shit. Ew. And besides from being pretty, I don't think they had alcohol that the other places didn't have. Pretentious . . .)

In the cab over, I ask, “So, you do always have to wear a suit to work?” He responds, “No, I didn’t have work today. I have an event later.” I ask what the ‘event’ is, and he tells me that some friends are getting together at a bar on the Upper East Side. There are so many things wrong with this: a friends’ get-together is not 'an event'; you wear a suit to meet your friends?; you planned a date for a night where you have something else going on? Ew.

Then we discover that we are both twins—I have a fraternal twin sister, he has an identical twin brother. This excites me—I like meeting other twins. He apparently thinks the whole thing is banal. I ask him stuff about his brother. Then I say, “do you know what he’s thinking right now?” I say this because this is the #1 question I get asked as a twin, and it is so stupid and annoying. I figured he would feel the same and we would have a good laugh over our shared disdain for stupid-non-twin people. Instead, he said, “Let’s see.” He then text-messages his brother “what number am I thinking of?” I watch him do this, and he tells me he’s thinking of the number 285. His brother texts back quickly, “287?” At first, I fall for it. I’m like, “wow! My sister wouldn’t even get the text message until like a week from now!” Then, I catch on. I accuse him of having this whole thing set up beforehand with his brother, for the moments when stupid-non-twin people ask him their questions. He admits that indeed, they have a set-on number, flower, and animal. Now, that’s funny. However, I am not a stupid-non-twin person. The fact that he didn’t catch on to the sarcasm of me asking him if he knew what his brother was thinking was really annoying, and even more annoying (and arrogant) was him taking in to the level of playing his trick on me as if I were a common non-twin. And it made me feel stupid, even though he was the one who didn't get it. Maybe he was trying to make me feel stupid for even making the joke. The whole thing just reeked. Ew.

The date was downhill from there. Despite making SO much money that he only has to work one week a month (and owns apartments in both NYC and Napa Valley), he accepted my polite-but-not-real offer of $20 for the bill at the bar. Not only that, but I had only had a $10 glass of wine. He had skinny legs. His stupid suit. We also made a one million dollar bet about the words to a George Michael song (I wagered the $1 mil, because I knew I was right). As the date dragged on, he began to kiss my hand. He said, “That was a $5 kiss. I’m working off my debt.” Ew. Then he says, “Do you want to see the $10 kiss?” I say, “No. I’d rather have the money.” But he gives me the $10 kiss anyway, on my forearm. Ew. He then asks if I want the $40 kiss. I yawn and say look how late it is getting. The whole thing stunk like he’d been rehearsing it for years, which he probably had. He and his stupid twin brother probably had agreed on a number, an animal, a flower, and a stupid make-a-bet-with-a-girl-and-kiss-her-as-payment thing back when they were all being stupid and shit.

Lesson of the day: I don't know. Twin doctas = devilspawn.