Facebook is Not JDate

My standards? Pretty low. If you can string together two relatively coherent sentences, chances are good that I'll go out with you. Ok, not really but here's my point -- there are a thousand reasons why I may never elect to go out with you but the manner of your asking should never be one of them.

A few weeks ago, a friend of a friend decided to set me up. He called the target, gave him my name and phone number and told me to expect a call. But he never called. Instead, he chose to friend me on Facebook. Which is awesome. Not only did he decide to friend me on Facebook but he decided to do it without any note or any email. I just got a little notification that Bigfatloser has added me as a friend. Please note that Bigfatloser is forty and should be perfectly capable of interpersonal communication at this point. Delete.

Last week I met a guy at a lecture although I think "met" would be a stretch. I believe we may have been introduced but I am 99% sure that the conversation did not extend beyond "nice to meet you." By the time I got home that night, he had found me on Facebook and sent an email asking me to join the Shabbat dinner he was planning. I politely declined and he responded by adding me as a friend. Fine, we're friends.

Not five minutes ago, my new friend sent me this email: Hi Tiny, Hope you had an easy fast. You missed a really nice meal Friday night but you'll catch the next one. Lets grab a drink either next Tuesday or Wednesday evening, which is better for you?

Holy aggressive Batman! Looks like someone has been reading Getting to Yes or Who Moved My Cheese or some other sales shit but -- newsflash -- I'm no monthly target. Save it for your cold calls. Delete.

Fishbone

I went out for sushi the other night. At Haru. On Park Avenue South. And there was a lovely little fish bone running it's bony little way through my yellowtail scallion roll. Two things you should know about me: One, I am a very pleasant diner even if you are a horrible and mean waiter. Two, I get phrases stuck in my head sometimes, like a skipping record, and I can't shake them for days. The first point is just a statement of fact that is still true after what went down with the fish bone. And the second point explains the title of this post. It's been on repeat in my brain since Wednesday.

As for the bone: After I discovered it -- while an entire piece of roll was in my mouth which I had to spit out because I couldn't figure out a way to separate the bone from the rest of the fish while the whole thing was crammed in my mouth -- I told the waiter that I found a bone, would finish my other roll, would not eat the yellowtail and was not interested in a replacement. Well, he brought me a replacement AND charged me for it. Unacceptable dining experience. Just saying.

But you probably didn't come here to read about the fish bone. Fish bone. Fish bone. You are probably here to read about the latest goings on with Ross. And oh my God, would you believe me if I said I still didn't know? Because of the Jewish holiday and life in general, I've only seen him once since the last post but I may be leaning a little more towards "like him" now.

Neither one of us had a free night this week but we decided to meet up late on Wednesday (after other, separate plans) and grabbed a drink at a bar between our two apartments. We really have so much fun together. I can be completely myself and don't worry about judgments or anything. When he asks how I spent yet another day without a job, I don't have to make up stories about saving orphans or donating blood. I tell him I watched six straight hours of America's Top Model and he thinks it's charming. (It's more pathetic than charming but who am I to argue?)

So the making out. We went back to my apartment and had a blast. But I've been "dating" this guy for a month and he's never even seen a boob! I can't even imagine what he thinks of a 37 year old, NYC-dweller that won't get naked with him after five weeks and a dozen dates. But we may be moving closer to nakedness. As I said, I had a lot of fun with him this week and I'm still willing to hang in there and give it a try.

It's not that I'm trying to convince myself of something that isn't there but I'm trying to recognize the possibility of something great while getting over all the shit that's probably gotten in my way in past relationships. It's just tough. I'm such a black and white person, or I've always been such a black and white person, that I have to figure out how to deal with shades of gray.

(And thanks for all your comments on the last post. I responded there also.)

Heart Flips

I don't want to keep you in suspense any longer - there has been zero progress in the Ross Situation since last post. We spent two nights together since last week and although making out has continued, it hasn't gone much further than that. Here's the problem: I like this guy. A lot. He's funny and he's smart and he's considerate and I know, if given the chance, he would treat me like gold. But I'm just not all that attracted to him and I think I need to be.

I don't think chemistry is the end all and be all but I think I need a little more than just a little of it. Kissing him is fun but I have never -- not once -- initiated a smooch. So does this not feel right because he's not a challenge? Or because I'm legitimately not attracted to him? Is it possible to be only a little attracted to someone? To like kissing them but not wanting to shred their clothes? Is that enough?

I know what's going to happen. I'm going to 'break up' with him, he's going to hate me and within three months he's going to update his Facebook status to 'In a Relationship' and I'm going to want to shoot myself. I'm going to be jealous of his girlfriend (who will quickly become his fiance then wife) because I know she's living only a slightly modified variation of the fairy tale I was hoping for and I'm going to wonder if I could have lived my life with a fantastic man that doesn't make my heart flip.

Is there a point at which I'm supposed to give up on the heart flip? Am I supposed to settle for something less because I've been out there too long and the heart flippers have all been taken? I'm just not ready to do it. I truly believe there is someone out there that equals Ross plus heart flip. But seriously? Where the fuck is he?

And Then There Was One

I AM BORED. There. I said it. I've been unemployed since July 1, enjoyed my summer thoroughly and now I sort of want to slash my own throat. My very tanned, very relaxed throat. (By the way, is it just me or is 'throat' a really sexy sounding word? Just me? Okay.) Everyone is all back to school and back to work and no one has beach houses I can crash and no one has summer Fridays with which to sit in the park with me and play Scrabble and no one cares because they're all I'm making money today, thank you very much. So I'm bored. Anyone want to meet me for lunch?

But wait, you say. What the heck happened to Barte? Oh boy. So after I texted him back that my intention was not to blow him off for all eternity, he wrote back -- hours later -- that maybe he overreacted but he wasn't sure how I felt. I FELT LIKE MY DOG DIED. But I didn't think I needed to respond to him because I was kind of done worrying about his feelings when I was the one with the dead pet. Later that night he texted again asking if I wanted to meet for lunch or coffee the next day. Um, no. I texted back that canceling the date was not personal, I think he's great but his reaction was too much and that maybe we're just very different people. He said he understood and to call him if I ever changed my mind.

Isn't breaking up with people just sucky? Even by text, to a boy I had been out with three times, it sucked. But it didn't stick. He called a few days later and left me a voicemail saying that I totally misunderstood and that he was just saying that he was okay if I didn't want to see him that week and that losing a pet is awful and he was so sympathetic and totally understood if I needed some time alone. Except that if you go back and read the transcript that is SO not what he meant. He took it personally, went all crazy and was trying to take it back. Can't do it, buddy.

So I voicemail sneak attacked (called my voicemail system, entered his phone number and went directly to his voicemail so I didn't have to risk him answering my call) and told him that I appreciated the explanation and blah, blah, blah. I think he's gone now.

Which brings us to the one. Not The One but just the only one left in rotation right now - Ross. Since I last mentioned him, we've been out two more times. Last week we went to an amazing sushi restaurant that I love but I had been fighting an uncooperative stomach so I ate like a girl -- which sucks. I like Ross. He's funny and fun and we laugh a lot. It's like being out with an old friend but I couldn't decide if I was attracted to him. Fortunately, on our way to a bar after dinner he went in for the middle of the street kiss and it was a good one.

On our way home, I told the cab to stop by my apartment and told him he could just walk home from me -- he lives a few blocks away -- and he asked if I wanted to come up to his place. For some reason, I wasn't ready for the big hook up and plead 'innocent girl' and told him I would come up next time.

Next time was this past Monday. I had plans that night so we spent the day wandering around the city, eating brunch outside and wandering the city some more. It was so much fun but I find myself obsessing over whether or not I ever want to see this guy naked. I really can't decide and it's killing my buzz. He's cute and funny and considerate and fun to kiss and totally digs me but I'm on the fence.

The popular consensus is that I have to go out with him, get smashed and go back to his place to check it out for sure. Yes, that's totally sick and wrong but I think it's the way to go on this one. Unfortunately, we have no plans in the works and my nights are filling up. Wouldn't I reach out to him to make a plan if I were really interested . . .

You'll Have to Come Up With Something Better Than "My Dog Died"

This past weekend I was supposed to be out east with girl friends but because of the weather, we decided to bag it. Fortunately, it gave me two full days of Bess-time which was great. For those of you reading for the first time, Bess was my family's ten-year old Golden Retriever/Yellow Labrador mix and we had to make the heart-wrenching decision to put her down yesterday afternoon. Blech.

Before the weekend, I had made a plan to see Barte last night. Of course, I texted him in the afternoon to let him know that I would be out on Long Island with the puppy and asked if he wanted to spend Tuesday afternoon together instead. As expected, he was very understanding and called me last night to make sure I was doing okay. It was sweet but I started to feel like I wasn't feeling him much anymore. I definitely wanted to see him again though, just to make sure.

Important side note: I am a hideous crier. I look like a rabid animal while crying and a punching bag post-crying. I am not exaggerating. I spent hours lying down with ice cubes on my lids to try and reduce the redness, the puffiness and the swelling and all it did was make my eyeballs really, really cold. I went to bed early and hoped for the best.

The best did not occur. I woke up this morning and was not surprised to find that I looked like someone with two pretty serious eye infections and someone who definitely did not want to be seen. I waited until Barte texted me (he sleeps past noon because of his work schedule) and asked him if it would be okay if I canceled our date. I said I looked hideous and was not fit for public consumption. I apologized and said canceling two days in a row was not my typical M.O. but I hoped he understood.

His response? "OK." It's kind of hard to read intention into two letters but I felt pretty strongly that he was bent out of shape. Trying to make nice, I asked what his schedule looked like for the rest of the week. His response? "Look if you don't want to see me don't feel obligated. I get it. Be well."

Woah, dude. I canceled last night because um, I PUT MY DOG TO SLEEP. I thought I would be okay less than twenty-four hours later and, for the most part, I am BUT MY EYEBALLS ARE ON FIRE AND LOOK LIKE INFECTIONS. Silly me for thinking you might understand.

Now granted, if I liked this guy and thought we had a future, I might have handled this differently but I'm sure I wouldn't have seen him regardless. I'm quite a fright. In fact, I bailed on going out for drinks with my girls because I'm ridiculously vain and no amount of Preparation H (yes, I tried) is making me look better. So while I was bummed that he took it personally, it confirmed that our relationship potential is hovering somewhere around zero. I wasn't sure how to respond because I'm certainly not interested in convincing him that we should still go out so I hit him back with "wow -- that wasn't my intention at all" trying for a mix of incredulity and apology. I'm not sure if I struck the balance but I'm sure I don't care.

In a completely unrelated side note, the Dugger family is pregnant with another fucking child. It's gross. Just stop. But it reminded me that I've complained about their past two pregnancies and those two entries were pretty amusing. If I do say so myself. Check them out here and here.

RIP Bess

I was going to post this in the comments but figured I would put it here:

Thanks so much for all your kind thoughts.

Unfortunately, her lung cancer -- which we had operated on in May -- came back and she was starting to struggle to breathe. It wasn't until the past few days that she stopped eating and grew uncomfortable. It was a terrible decision to make but it was necessary. I don't think we waited a moment too long and don't think we did it a moment too soon. And none of us regret having her undergo the surgery because she was able to enjoy three great months and a terrific summer.

Again, it was heartbreaking but I can't say enough wonderful things about the vet and their office. They were so compassionate and so kind and clearly loved our pup as much as we did, and made an awful afternoon as easy to handle as possible.

Where Were We?

I rehashed my first date with Barte and Roooss (who is now known as Ross because the other way is too hard to type) and mentioned a second date with both of them and a third date with one. Follow me? Here we go:

Last Friday I went to my parents house for the weekend in order to dogsit for my best girl, Bess. The weekend involved dog puke and a blackout which sucked a lot but I got to hang with the pooch which was awesome since she's not doing very well.

After that, Ross thought I could use a drink so he asked to meet up on Sunday afternoon. No problem but I had to cut out by 7 so I could meet Barte for dinner. A double header indeed! Ross and I met at a bar in the neighborhood and knocked back a couple of drinks. He's still a bit nervous and sweaty but he's funny and we had a good time. He's also still doing that thing where he's planning our future but it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it should. Don't get me wrong! I'm not envisioning my future with him and it sort of freaks me out but I can ignore it without letting it get to me. We also email and/or text pretty regularly but mostly just to mention random crap or to mock each other. It's kind of fun. I don't have a set plan to meet up with him but I would like to. There's been no making out and I need to see how that goes.

After drinks with Ross, I got home, changed, and met Barte for dinner. Also in my neighborhood. I had already confirmed that Ross was going to be in another part of the city for dinner so I didn't need to worry about running into him. Could you imagine?

After dinner, which was nice and fun, Barte came back to my apartment and we went up to the roof deck. Building management thinks it's a great idea to remove all of the outdoor furniture each night so we just sat on the concrete, watched the one star you can see in Manhattan, and smooched. Oh wow. So much fun.

Unfortunately, I'm not certain that Barte is my future husband, or future anything for that matter but if Ross is planning the next few months, Barte is planning the next few years, organizing our wedding and naming my babies. He says wonderfully sweet things and tells me how beautiful I am (who doesn't love that) but I can't shake the feeling that I'm not in this for the long haul. Of course, I am unbelievably attracted to this guy so when he asked to meet me in the park for the day on Tuesday, I couldn't say no.

We spent the day in the park, had dinner and ended up on my couch making out like teenagers. Typically, I would have no issue but I feel like Barte thinks he has a girlfriend. He's not what I would call a sophisticated dater. He tells me how happy he is, that he can't believe his luck, and that he's going to miss me since I'm going out of town for the weekend. I know I can't lead him on but I'm not sure how to let him down without hurting him. It's ridiculous to be worried after only three dates and I'm not arrogant enough to think I'm going to break his heart or anything, but I get the impression he's in this pretty deep already.

I just wish he wasn't so damn fun to kiss.