I'm Bored.

It's Friday. 2:51pm. My boss is off today. Whoever he left in charge as my "acting supervisor" is unknown to me. I've been surfing the 'net all day and am tired of that. I'm waiting till 3pm and then I run for it.

So. Yup. What's going on with all of you guys? No way. That's fascinating. Can all of my friends who have blogs please write on them, so I have something with which to procrastinate?? I suppose you might feel the same way about my blog, since it's been a week or so since my last post.

Well, I have nothing to report. In the last five days I've gotten 11 new emails and 10 new winks from Match men, but I'm not interested. I read all their emails and looked at their profiles. In my old life, I might have responded to one or two of them, but they didn't seem better than Joe, so I'm leaving it alone.

Joe. We have date #4 tonight. He also invited me to a wedding on July 4th, which is big. That may or not be date #5. It won't be #5 because my birthday is on Tuesday. If he's as good as I think he is, he will attempt to see me/take me out on my birthday. So the wedding will be date #6. Mine and Joe's wedding will be date #7. But I jest. Christ! Get me out of here!

Lesson of the day: I'm boring myself here. I might have to change the name of this blog if my non-dating streak continues. What can I write about. . . Trashy TV with the Law (ooh, I'd LOVE to write that one). What The Law Looked At On The Web Today. What the Law's Cats Do and Don't Do. The Law's Favorite Restaurants. The Law at Home.

Protect the baby.

So. A lot of you have asked me how it's going with Vas deferens guy, with whom I have had 2 good dates (I believe I referenced the 1st date, briefly, in the June 9th post). The second date was better than the first-- just as many laughs, great conversation, but without all the stupid weirdness there is on a first/semi-blind date. And in between those two dates and since the 2nd on until now, lots of good phone calls and text messages and emails. Forgive me, please, for saying this, but it is very apparent that he is "just that into me." And, I am into him. And, I love it when a guy makes it apparent that he is into you. But I suppose that's the definition of it. And I will give him a new nickname, since 'Vas deferens guy' is getting annoying. From now on I will call him "Joey Joe Joe Junior Shabadoo." Hahahahaha. . . OK no. How about. . . Joe.

Here's the thing. A very dear friend of mine was given a little nugget of gold from her omniscient therapist. Said therapist reminded her that people don't reveal that they are pregnant until after the first trimester. Biologically, this is because the chances of miscarriage and the like are high in the first trimester; psychologically, it is harder for people to tell everyone they know about the pregnancy, have something happen, and then have to be all "psych!," than to just wait and say something when they are sure. The therapist coined this "protecting the baby." She then applied this to my friend's relationship, in telling her that it was very important to not talk too much about a relationship, both good and bad things, especially when the relationship is new-- essentially, to protect the baby. There is a myriad of reasons for this, according to the therapist, such as to protect the relationship from negative energy from potential nay-sayers and jealous types. Also, of course, to prevent you from having to be all 'psych!'

[Incidentally, during the course of my internet research for this blog post, I discovered that it is a matter of current and continual debate over whether 'psych' or 'sike' is the correct way to spell that. Being a studious type, I opted for the nerdier, less ghetto version, but to each their own.]

Why am I talking about protecting the baby? Because I am a deeply, deeply cynical person, who tends to believe the worst about humanity and all that jazz. I am therefore a very cautious person with being open with my emotions and so on, and am pretty sure that things will not work out the way I want them to. So I fall square into the category of people who should protect the baby for fear of having to write one giant PSYCH-titled blog post about Joe.

So that is why there is so little information on him on this blog. That alone says a lot-- as evidenced by my flagrant kiss-and-tell behavior, I have yet to protect the baby. Indeed, there have been no babies to protect. So the fact that I am even worried about telling you all the great things about him and how it's going so far for fear that it won't last shows just how into him I am.

Alas, given all that, I still like to talk, and write, and amuse, and . . . brag. I will discuss this about Joe: he has already, in 2 dates, rivalled the now-2nd-place guy in terms of treating me well. He holds open doors for me and won't let me pay for meals, but that's not what I mean. So far he has already complimented me in the most amazing ways. On physicality, he has said some unbelievable things. Bragging interlude-- these are direct quotes from text messages and/or emails: "you are a stone cold fox," "you are a wonderful example of what a woman SHOULD look like," and, "you are so ridiculously gorgeous that I get a little nervous sometimes". Come on! But more than that, he has already commented on personality traits. When I was telling him a story about how all the guys at work tease me about my voice and stuff (they think I sound like Stewart, the man-child from 'Mad TV'), he commented that it was ridiculous because I was so obviously tough. I laughed and said I talk a tough game but really am not all that tough. He said something about how he didn't doubt my physical toughness, but that he was really talking about a core of inner strength. It didn't sound nearly as hokey as it does now, I promise. And he knew I was strong and tough that way because I exude confidence, and I'm able to be so "demure" because I don't have to prove anything to anyone. Wow.

Whether or not it's true, it's a truly amazing thing to have someone-- a freaking man-- notice such non-surface things about you and tell you about them. Even more so, that someone might see something in you, and appreciate it, that you don't see in yourself (because I really would have bet my life that 'demure' would be a word never used to describe me). You know what I mean? Joe went most of the way towards a Master's in psychology because he wanted to be a therapist, and I'm pretty sure this is that coming out. The attention to nuance, the listening, the machismo that is being able to be open and honest with your feelings . . .

Lesson of the day: FUCK! I have a crush.

Apology of the day: For this being a somewhat sappy and not so funny post. Eek. If any of you ever see me with that glazed-over dopey look in my eyes, please punch me in the face.

Now that's what I'm talking about.

Is this a real man or what?? Email I received today, from a new Match dude:

From: XXX
To: XXX
Date received: June 14, 2008
Subject: so nice to see

I just wanted to say that I think it's great that you're curvy, and comfortable posting a bikini photo. It says I'm comfortable with who I am. And that's damn sexy.

Shit!! His mother raised him right.

Fun!

Aaaw.. .. my sister made 'art' from my blog! Biggest words are the most used. Fun to look at, if you're into my blog that much (I am). .. click on the mini-pic for a bigger one.

I have Match stalkers. How quaint.

So, any of my loyal followers know about the man I affectionately refer to as "Cat Boy," who also goes by "Bob," who can be read about in the blog post from April 29, 2008, entitled "The Cat Story."

For some unknown reason, Cat Boy text messages me the other day (a full month after I told him to go away, and a full month with no contact whatsoever). His text message says something like, 'we almost ran into each other the other day [he lives in my 'hood]. how have you been?' So I write back something pleasant-but-why-are-you-texting-me: 'Oh? I'm fine.' So he writes back, 'yeah, and it was weird because I was just thinking about you. We should grab a beer and catch up. I want to see you.' Get a beer and catch up? Catch up? Dude, I don't need more friends. I have plenty of friends. And about what exactly are we 'catching up' on? For chrissakes.

This guy is worse. He wrote me for the first time in late April, maybe? I didn't write back, because he/his profile wasn't as appealing to me as others. So he wrote me a second email maybe 2 weeks later, expanding on why I should write to him. I figured he was putting a lot of effort into me, so I'd give him a chance. I write back and ask him something mundane like where he's from. He proceeds to write me this long-ass email describing his day that day, which, as a public-interest attorney, consisted of giving a lecture on the 4th Amendment to a Police Academy. But he wrote like 2 long paragraphs about the nature of his speech, and how it can sometimes be 'intimidating' addressing a roomfull of cops. Now, to anyone I think the email would have seemed arrogant and braggy, but to a cop, it was not only that but also it just fell so flat of being impressive-- which is what he was clearly going for. I just wanted to write to him and tell him to be mindful of his audience, cause you don't know what you're writing to who, you know? He's just lucky he didn't say anything bad about cops.

So I don't write back. Maybe 3-4 weeks later, I get another email from him, entitled something like 'my third try.' I have cut-and-pasted it for your amusement (I would've done so with the others but they aren't saved in Match for that long....): "I thought it would behoove me to write to you but one more time, hoping for some sort of continuous exchange of sweetly comedic nerdity. I decided to paint for you a paragraph: I'm sweetly sardonic, which is kinduv a rare thing (most sarcasm rots away in a sea of dark and rather unpleasant wit). I am graceful in my goofiness and I can give you an analysis of Muholland Drive that will knock you off your ass (really). I'd like to shift between irreverence and acute pertinence with you at one time or another." What? Dude, give it a rest! Sweetly comedic nerdity? Nerdity? You want to shift between irreverence and acute pertinence? What? I want to shift between you're-trying-too-hard and leave-me-the-fuck-alone. Then maybe my fist will shift into your balls. By accident.

So I write back. Something like this: "Your persistence is impressive. And I appreciate your offer of a Mullholland Drive break-down. I'm actually more or less dating someone now, seeing how it goes . . . so thanks again for flattering me with your numerous emails, and good luck with Match." It's only half-true, but I figured telling him I was seeing somebody would save his pride a bit more than me telling him he's a stupid jerk who can't write emails. However, dude is SO not intent on saving his own pride.

Not hours after I send my thanks-but-no-thanks email, I get this response email: "Well, my personality, wit, intelligence, humour, and artistic ability, to name a few, are even more impressive. You're missing out by not giving me a chance. Take care (no need to write back, it's over, as you said). " OK. One hour after that email, I get this: "Actually, if that last email sounded bitter (it probably did), then I apologize. Bottom line is that I take a lot of stock in myself, and when I see someone who I like, I don't take rejection well. Frankly, the idea of two attractive, intelligent, humorous, creative people not spending time and enjoying each other's company as friends is foreign to me. Whatever the case, best of luck."

You don't take rejection well? Dude, this is online dating. I get rejected on a daily basis, and I don't go home and cry about it. And enjoying each other's company as friends? What's with these guys? We're not doing online dating to make friends! Maybe I should email him back and ask if he wants to grab a beer and 'catch up'? Christ.

Lesson of the day: Boys are stupid.

Good dates, bad dates, and curvy confirmation.

Sooo . . . I had three new dates last week. One was fine, one was great, and one was bad. The fine one I can't write about, it's too boring: nice guy, nice date, I'd go out with him again but won't be heartbroken if he doesn't contact me, etc.

Great date was with Vas deferens guy! The only thing bad about him was his goatee, which I knew about beforehand, because he brags about it on his profile that it is "long enough to braid," which it was, and which I do not find appealing. However, I referenced his "scary goatee" during the date (the dude is shaved-head-bald with a long goatee-- I also told him he could be an extra in American History X), and he suggested it was some sort of exercise in personal tolerance or something, so it shouldn't be too hard to cut that sucker off if we get to that point in our relationship. And he has already contacted me looking for date #2. It was great just because we have a lot in common, and it was one of those dates where we talked and laughed the whole time. At one point he sheepishly mentioned that he almost became a sex therapist and that he was really interested in various things about sexuality, to which I replied that I am obsessed with deviant sexual behavior (which I am-- it's partly why I got into law enforcement, because I want to lock up/interview sex offenders), and he responded by asking what my 'favorite' paraphilia is. Got that people? One IM session and one date and we've already covered male anatomy and freaky fetishes. We should just get married.

The bad date guy was awful. For those in NYC, he was a Williamsburg Hipster type, only less trendy and somehow more arrogant. We go to a dive bar and play pool all night, which is fine. Before I get to the bad stuff, a funny anecdote that relates to my previous post: during our first game of pool, he says, "sooo, it took a lot of guts to put that picture in a bathing suit up, huh?" I laugh and say it's a long story, then tell him the story. He has a really funny look on his face. I say, "What?" He says, "it's not our fault." I say, "what's not whose fault?" He says, "that guys on Match think curvy means fat." I say, "So it IS true!" He nods and suggests that I change my body type category. He also tells me that his old college roommate is also on Match and just for fun they tell each other about all their dates. So Roommate had queried my profile and allegedly told BadDate, "funny, she doesn't look curvy . . ." Niiice.

Bad stuff: it's so funny how the little things seem so much more significant after you've had a few days to think about them-- the good little things and the bad little things. BadDate guy was just a bunch of bad little things that add up into a big flaming doucheball. He suggests that we play our own music on the jukebox since the alcoholic regulars in the bar had some craptacular country shit on. I think this will be fun-- we will scroll through the jukebox's offerings together and laugh at the bad songs we should play and so on. But no. He, like, searches for specific artists and creates this playlist that is just soooo. . . pretentious. Not just the playlist, but that he created it in a bar on a fucking jukebox with a date standing right there who had no input. It just seemed so contrived. So we ended up with Bob Dylan, followed by Kinky Friedman, followed by The Staple Singers, followed by Sam Cooke . . . whatever, dude. Then this random guy came over and put a quarter on the pool table to play the winner of our game. Which turned out to be me, because even though BadDate and I were fairly equally matched on pool skills, he was slowly getting drunk on the Jameson-on-the-rockses he was drinking. So I'm trying to play this new guy, and I think it was the Allman Brothers playing now, and BadDate says something to this guy like, "Have you ever heard the so-and-so version of this song on the such-and-such album?" I had never heard of either so-and-so or the such-and-such, and doubted the dude I was playing had, and I was right, and he gave BadDate a weird look, but BadDate just kept on talking about music like he was a fucking record producer, and it was just arrogant. I really doubt that how distasteful all of this was is coming through over the blog, but trust me.

So then, after a 3 hour date, BadDate is drunk on Jameson. I am perfectly sober, having limited myself to three Amstel Lights, because I think-- unlike some, obviously-- that getting drunk on a first date is not desirable for either person. I'm sitting in one of those bar-high swivel-stools and he's standing next to me. He thinks it will be fun to swivel my chair for me, loses his balance, falls into me, and almost causes me to fall off the stool. I say, trying to be polite, "Um, you're pushing me off the chair." Can anybody guess what his response is? "No, I'm not." Sigh. So I start yawning, which, unfortunately, is common for me these days at 11pm on a Friday night (long week, etc.). Then I start yawning even more, on purpose. I admit this probably wasn't the most tactful or forward of ways to end the date, but whatever. But instead of being considerate himself (not to mention saving his own pride), and saying something like, "Well, it is late, do you want to call it a night?" He gets defensive and starts saying things like, "What? You're so lame! You're tired already??" Um. I manage to sit at the bar for another half-hour, genuinely yawning, before I had to be like, "OK, well, I'm going to go home now."

Oh yeah, and in three hours, he managed to not ask about my job at all. Dude has no idea what I do . . . or, for that matter, much about me at all, save that I yawn late at night and can kick his drunk ass in pool repeatedly. What did we talk about for 3 hours? Him, and music (courtesy of him), and . . . I don't even know.

Lesson of the day: It's funny how you can read people so quickly-- at least in terms of whether or not you like them. I was just thinking how I never tell people about my deviant-sex-obsession until I've known them for awhile (it's just one of those things you don't bring up too often in casual conversation), and how it was just natural to tell Vas deferens guy about it. And on the flipside, that if BadDate had asked me what my favorite paraphilia was, I probably would've punched his non-curvy hipster body to the floor.

I think I found a husband.

You all recall, no doubt, my love of nerdy men: intelligent, witty, funny, sarcastic. Love 'em. I have a date tomorrow night with a new guy. Today we IM'ed over Match and had a lovely conversation. At one point, he made me laugh so hard with the nerdiest joke ever, I just had to share.

Some background: On my profile, under "last read," I have that I am currently reading a book about "sex from the evolutionary perspective," which I am. I then write: "Such insight! Ask me about your testicles." I like this. I think it's flirty but too funny and weird to be straight-up sexual; slightly nerdy; and a good conversation-starter (for the right guys). Indeed, many men have used this as an opener in their emails. So. (For those of you dying to know, there is apparently a direct correlation-- in any species-- between the size of the males' testicles and the level of sex competition (finding a mate). Yup. Now you know.)

So during today's IM session, NewGuy writes: "actually, I'd like to ask you what you know about my testicles . . . because there's a Vas deferens between reading about them and KNOWING about them."

Vas deferens!! oh my god. I have to marry him.

Who's nerdier? Him for saying that or me for thinking that that pun makes marriage material? Maybe we're just perfect for each other . . .

Lesson of the day: I can't believe I enjoyed that joke so much I blogged about it. I am a DORK.

He made me dinner! And bathing suits.

Yep. Senor Nerd. And it was good-- really good! And he used whole-wheat pasta cause he knows I'm trying to eat healthy. How cute is that?

OK, every time I get together with my friends they yell at me about the lack of activity on my blog. I'm sorry people!! Because I value the integrity of my writing/stories, I only write the truth. Therefore it follows that I must go on blog-worthy dates to have experiences to write about. And although it doesn't seem far off, I'm not quite at the level of pimping myself out on dates just for y'all's entertainment. However! I am conversing with a few men right now which I assume will lead to a first date, so fear not.

So, since I haven't had any dates to talk about (besides one-- did I mention he made me dinner?) I'm reverting back to making fun of people. Well, one person.

Here's the thing. After much deliberation, I added as one of my Match profile pictures (you can have up to 25 or something) a picture of me in a bathing suit. This took major cojones, because like most people I have problems with the way I look and definitely the way I look in a bathing suit. However, it's as flattering a shot I've ever seen, and I was having an issue. My issue was that the multiple choice answer I chose for my Match 'body type' was 'curvy,' which I am. I started to think-- and was corroborated in my thoughts by a friend who told me that a guy actually told her this was true-- that men might think 'curvy' is a euphemism for 'fat.' Curvy I am, fat I am not. Some dudes don't find me attractive and others do, obviously. So I wanted to preserve the 'curvy' answer for those awesome guys who appreciate a woman who looks like a woman, while also showing that I am not fat. Hence, the bikini picture. You can see I have thighs, hips, boobs, and a little meat (more cushion for the pushin', I say), but you can also see that I am not a poster child for gastric-bypass surgery.

The good news is that many men still contact me, and I'll never have to know about those who look at me in a bikini and don't contact me because of it. However, I recently got an email from a Match guy, and this is who I am going to make fun of.

Here is what he wrote: "hello pretty lady. i like your profile especially the bikini pic. i just want to grab u. i have a really nice bod also, u might not be able to tell in my pics."

OK. Obviously, it is always flattering to be told someone likes the way you look in a bikini and that you have "a really nice bod." But is it really necessary to tell me that you "just want to grab" me? That sort of turned the whole thing from a compliment into a weird sexual context, no? And why the "u" in an email? Just type the extra two letters. And "bod"? Also, that was the extent of the email (well, beyond a 'get back to me' and his name), so between telling me he wants to grab me and telling me about his own nice bod, it's like, what the fuck? Even if I didn't find that email kind of creepy, what sort of dialogue are you hoping to initiate with an email like that? I can see my response now: "Hi! Thanks for noticing my hot bod. I'm glad yours is equally hot because I'd really love to grab u 2!!!! So, who do you think will get the Democratic nomination?" Sheesh.

On another, but related, note, I got another Match email from another guy with the subject line "hey there cutie." This bothers me also, although I'm not entirely sure why. I think what it boils down to is your first email is my first impression of you, so it's akin to you hitting on me in a bar. And while I always appreciate being called cute and do kind of think it's sweet of this guy to admit it, I think that if he approached me in a bar with the line "hey there, cutie" I wouldn't fall for it. Plus, I've gotten so many other emails from guys where what they focus on is something I actually wrote in my profile. They make a joke about me or it in their subject line . . . so perhaps I feel that to write "hey there cutie" as opposed to something more intellectual suggests that this dude is focusing more on my looks than on my personality. Which is a harsh thing to say coming from someone who posted a picture of herself in a bikini on her profile, but that same person also used 1900 of the maximum 2000-word limit to describe herself and what she is looking for, so.

No matter what I write my sister is going to tell me I'm mean.

Lesson of the day: You are all a bunch of fuckers. Not a single one of you emailed with a dating story, as per my Assignment America. So you just want me to date and date until my brain explodes, and write all about it to help you live vicariously through me, or perhaps just to procrastinate at work, and I don't get a single bit of effort on your part at all? Selfish readers! For shame. Thank you for your attention.