Oct. 29, 2003: A Ray of hope?
I had my audition with Ray last night, and I think it went well. I actually got the sense that he was interested and pleased that we were hitting it off in person, which isn't a feeling I get very often. We'll have to wait and see if I was right, though; if I was a betting man, I wouldn't bet on it.
I arrived at Southport Lanes a few minutes after 8pm, and he'd been waiting long enough to have a beer sitting in front of him. I suppose some women would think it rude to go ahead and order without me, but I prefer to focus on the punctuality. He stood up after I approached him and, although I was prepared to hug, he went in for the handshake. When he stood up, my first thoughts were that he wasn't very cute and perhaps even effeminate—something in his voice made me think the latter. But I changed my mind on both fronts. His voice was fine, and, as the evening progressed (for three hours—so much for making these auditions shorter), I caught myself several times thinking that he was really cute, if a bit of a pretty boy or maybe even a metrosexual. He stood about my height, wearing jeans and a cable-knit sweater, with a big turtleneck. I'm not wild about guys in turtlenecks, but a girl has to make some concessions.
Or, as I almost said at one point, beggars can't be choosers. Ray had commented on being surprised to see in my profile that I'm 5'11”; he said he'd have thought I'd want someone taller (well, in a perfect world, yeah). Thankfully, and uncharacteristically, I didn't say the first thing to cross my mind, which was the beggars remark. There might be some hope for me, yet.
I guess nerves had hold of me at first. I was gushing out responses non-stop, to be honest, but I turned back the faucet and settled down. We had a lot in common, and lots to talk about—few conversational lulls. He started out asking me question after question about my work life—as he put it, trying to get a timeline. Like most people, he assumed I'd practiced law for a while and then burned out. The questions helped me relax (I mean, I did know all the answers and could talk at length). It dawned on me that we were talking only about me, so I asked where he worked. That's when he mentioned he's unemployed (which explains why he's such a good emailer—lots of free time). He was laid off from Fannie May/Fannie Farmer in the spring and took the summer off, after he finished his master's degree program. He just started searching for work again in September—ugh, what a drag. Ray mentioned off-handedly that he'd used his time off to get to know himself better, and, oddly, that wasn't a turnoff. It's not the most manly thing to say, I think, but it didn't bother me at all. Very gracious of me, I know.
That's how he found Emode. He was dating a girl who was very into astrology (o-o-kay…), and she directed him to the site because it's bursting with all sorts of quizzes and evaluations and stuff. The dating part only takes up one section.
Overall, the conversation was very loose and easy, flowing, and we never got around to playing pool. He seems quite open, and we covered a lot of ground: families, particularly our mothers (his is in Kalamazoo but is a snowbird in Ft. Myers) and older siblings (it was nice that he could understand how my oldest sister and I aren't close, rather than judging it), and having older parents while growing up—we’re both the youngest in our families by far and accidents. He grew up in Michigan—mom and brothers still live up there, including one brother who’s around 50 and lives with the mom in Kalamazoo. Talked about Flint and Michael Moore—Ray has family roots there, and they worked for GM. Didn't seem too into pot, which is a good thing—when it came up in conversation, he didn't come across as someone who still partakes—his brother does and it was obvious he thinks he’s a loser. Fantasy football, including the KFFL Web site for fantasy football players (I googled him—hey, that's a precaution every single gal should take—and found an endorsement he gave KFFL; didn't mention that, of course). Broke up with his girlfriend in May. Hasn't traveled much, talked about his bachelor party trip to New Orleans and how he had to bring school books. Seems like he also has toned down his drinking from earlier days. Also bothered by smoke, but we agreed you have to accept that in bars. In response to my inquiry, he estimated 90 percent of his friends are married, which made me think, "What's wrong with you, that you aren't married?," which is totally absurd, for obvious reasons. Big hockey fan, especially the Red Wings—I could live with that, if I must; your interests don't need to be perfectly compatible. We shared some condo ownership tales and woes—he moved into a garden unit about four years ago and said he probably knows more about sump pumps than 25 people I know combined, which seems like a safe bet. Cats—probably shouldn't have told him about how my old cat Sam would eat my other cat Jack's puke. Reality TV. Concerts.
We sat at the bar but swiveled toward each other on our stools. Open-faced, if you will. I didn't, as I'd planned to going in, do much of the casual touching. I'm not good or comfortable at that at all, I think because I'm so self-conscious about it. I worry it'll seem too obvious or pathetic or be very unwelcome. I don't think it comes off as natural from me, like I'm just a touchy-feely person where I can put my hand on someone's arm or thigh and it doesn't mean anything because it's just the way I am. I think it's quite obvious that I'm not that kind of person naturally, and that my touch is a conscious attempt at something.
I drove Ray home, and we talked about Fannie May candy (each different kind has a distinctive swirl on top—who knew?) and an Indian wedding he'd attended, how people mingled during the actual ceremony. When I pulled up in front of his place, I shifted in my seat a bit to face him better. He went in for another handshake pretty quickly, though, and not with the firmest of grips, I might add. I'm sure my hand was freezing, as usual. He thanked me for coming out, and said he'd email or call and if I needed to find him, now I knew where to look. Not the most encouraging parting, but I'm starting to wonder if anyone ever wants to be overly enthusiastic in those situations, when they're not sure what the other person thinks. Is it different when you've met online versus in a bar or a blind date?
I kind of came away with the impression that he was trying to play by the rules, so to speak. I guess it was the handshakes and how we split the check that prompted me to think that. Of course, he is unemployed, so maybe that was a factor with the check.
I've vowed not to email him today, and I'm sure he won't—no guy ever does. And he didn't pay, so I don't have the handy "thank-you note" excuse. By waiting until tomorrow, Thursday, I can ask the innocuous question of whether his weekend plans are starting to come together. He mentioned that, with all his friends married and having other obligations, he can't even begin to try to pin them down for a weekend until the preceding Thursday. I know he's not into the Halloween thing, so maybe, just maybe, we can get together Friday. I shouldn't be thinking ahead like that, though—when will I learn? Rhetorical question.
Barry responded to yesterday's email this morning. He said his schedule this week isn't going to lighten up:
"There is no way this schedule is gonna let up. Somebody somewhere must think I've been slacking off for a while, and now I've got to make up for all of that lounging around time. It's getting a little tricky, because I really need to fit these training runs in."
He asked if anything new and exciting is happening with me, but I'm holding off on responding for a while. I'm definitely getting the idea that he's not much for email. Good—maybe that'll stop him from entering into passionate exchanges with some Match whore. Some other Match whore, that is.
In EH, Paul from Roselle requested communication. He's 43, so I'm hesitant, even if he is 6'2”. I suppose it can't hurt to go a round or two.
I've also got a Yahoo Icebreaker, from crazanimal82. He's 43, conservative, mustachioed, and lives in Romeoville.
***
Paul responded to my five close-ended questions. He wants two kids (don't mind the fact that he's already 43) and says he's serious most of the time but likes an occasional good laugh. I'm going to close this and not even bother with drawing his attention to our divergent attitudes on kids. Ah—I just discovered that the reasons offered for putting someone on hold aren't the same as those for closing.
I responded to Barry's email but kept it light and relatively brief. I didn't even allude to getting together. I'm so coy, doncha know. I did mention my trip to Hawaii in three weeks—maybe that will convey a sense of urgency.
***
Instant Icebreaker from Emoder ravedancer. He wants kids. Leave me alone. He's also a triathlete (too serious for me) and gives only two lines in his text. He's into yoga and takes ballroom dancing class. Metrosexual, anyone?
I think one of these days (I'm not there yet), I'm going to take a different approach when shopping. I'm going to go into a site with a set number of guys that I must email. That will force me to be less picky about location, etc.
As if the gods are eavesdropping, I just heard from another Emoder, who actually starts his email by asserting that the suburb of Darien isn't that far. OK—I'll take a peek. Interesting—a Native American with red hair, according to his profile. Wish he had a photo, I'd like to see that. Skimpy profile, but I note one of his hangouts is singles dances. Uh, no thanks.
In a weird stroke of luck (so to speak), I came across an article online today about the casual sex section of Craig's List. I used the Criag's List Web site last year to find a short-term apartment in DC, but I didn't know about that section until Ray mentioned it last night. I'd been talking about some of the email I receive proposing one-night stands (just to let him know how desirable other deviates, I mean guys, find me). Anyway, it gives me some material to email him with tomorrow. I think I'm going to be more direct than usual, just to cut to the chase. Something along the lines of "It was good to meet you the other night. Hope to hear from you again." Not too pushy but leaving no doubt about my inclinations. In my fantasy world, he'd follow up by suggesting we get together Friday night, with dinner at Magnolia (right near him) and then the Marshall Crenshaw show at the Abbey Pub. What am I smoking?
I arrived at Southport Lanes a few minutes after 8pm, and he'd been waiting long enough to have a beer sitting in front of him. I suppose some women would think it rude to go ahead and order without me, but I prefer to focus on the punctuality. He stood up after I approached him and, although I was prepared to hug, he went in for the handshake. When he stood up, my first thoughts were that he wasn't very cute and perhaps even effeminate—something in his voice made me think the latter. But I changed my mind on both fronts. His voice was fine, and, as the evening progressed (for three hours—so much for making these auditions shorter), I caught myself several times thinking that he was really cute, if a bit of a pretty boy or maybe even a metrosexual. He stood about my height, wearing jeans and a cable-knit sweater, with a big turtleneck. I'm not wild about guys in turtlenecks, but a girl has to make some concessions.
Or, as I almost said at one point, beggars can't be choosers. Ray had commented on being surprised to see in my profile that I'm 5'11”; he said he'd have thought I'd want someone taller (well, in a perfect world, yeah). Thankfully, and uncharacteristically, I didn't say the first thing to cross my mind, which was the beggars remark. There might be some hope for me, yet.
I guess nerves had hold of me at first. I was gushing out responses non-stop, to be honest, but I turned back the faucet and settled down. We had a lot in common, and lots to talk about—few conversational lulls. He started out asking me question after question about my work life—as he put it, trying to get a timeline. Like most people, he assumed I'd practiced law for a while and then burned out. The questions helped me relax (I mean, I did know all the answers and could talk at length). It dawned on me that we were talking only about me, so I asked where he worked. That's when he mentioned he's unemployed (which explains why he's such a good emailer—lots of free time). He was laid off from Fannie May/Fannie Farmer in the spring and took the summer off, after he finished his master's degree program. He just started searching for work again in September—ugh, what a drag. Ray mentioned off-handedly that he'd used his time off to get to know himself better, and, oddly, that wasn't a turnoff. It's not the most manly thing to say, I think, but it didn't bother me at all. Very gracious of me, I know.
That's how he found Emode. He was dating a girl who was very into astrology (o-o-kay…), and she directed him to the site because it's bursting with all sorts of quizzes and evaluations and stuff. The dating part only takes up one section.
Overall, the conversation was very loose and easy, flowing, and we never got around to playing pool. He seems quite open, and we covered a lot of ground: families, particularly our mothers (his is in Kalamazoo but is a snowbird in Ft. Myers) and older siblings (it was nice that he could understand how my oldest sister and I aren't close, rather than judging it), and having older parents while growing up—we’re both the youngest in our families by far and accidents. He grew up in Michigan—mom and brothers still live up there, including one brother who’s around 50 and lives with the mom in Kalamazoo. Talked about Flint and Michael Moore—Ray has family roots there, and they worked for GM. Didn't seem too into pot, which is a good thing—when it came up in conversation, he didn't come across as someone who still partakes—his brother does and it was obvious he thinks he’s a loser. Fantasy football, including the KFFL Web site for fantasy football players (I googled him—hey, that's a precaution every single gal should take—and found an endorsement he gave KFFL; didn't mention that, of course). Broke up with his girlfriend in May. Hasn't traveled much, talked about his bachelor party trip to New Orleans and how he had to bring school books. Seems like he also has toned down his drinking from earlier days. Also bothered by smoke, but we agreed you have to accept that in bars. In response to my inquiry, he estimated 90 percent of his friends are married, which made me think, "What's wrong with you, that you aren't married?," which is totally absurd, for obvious reasons. Big hockey fan, especially the Red Wings—I could live with that, if I must; your interests don't need to be perfectly compatible. We shared some condo ownership tales and woes—he moved into a garden unit about four years ago and said he probably knows more about sump pumps than 25 people I know combined, which seems like a safe bet. Cats—probably shouldn't have told him about how my old cat Sam would eat my other cat Jack's puke. Reality TV. Concerts.
We sat at the bar but swiveled toward each other on our stools. Open-faced, if you will. I didn't, as I'd planned to going in, do much of the casual touching. I'm not good or comfortable at that at all, I think because I'm so self-conscious about it. I worry it'll seem too obvious or pathetic or be very unwelcome. I don't think it comes off as natural from me, like I'm just a touchy-feely person where I can put my hand on someone's arm or thigh and it doesn't mean anything because it's just the way I am. I think it's quite obvious that I'm not that kind of person naturally, and that my touch is a conscious attempt at something.
I drove Ray home, and we talked about Fannie May candy (each different kind has a distinctive swirl on top—who knew?) and an Indian wedding he'd attended, how people mingled during the actual ceremony. When I pulled up in front of his place, I shifted in my seat a bit to face him better. He went in for another handshake pretty quickly, though, and not with the firmest of grips, I might add. I'm sure my hand was freezing, as usual. He thanked me for coming out, and said he'd email or call and if I needed to find him, now I knew where to look. Not the most encouraging parting, but I'm starting to wonder if anyone ever wants to be overly enthusiastic in those situations, when they're not sure what the other person thinks. Is it different when you've met online versus in a bar or a blind date?
I kind of came away with the impression that he was trying to play by the rules, so to speak. I guess it was the handshakes and how we split the check that prompted me to think that. Of course, he is unemployed, so maybe that was a factor with the check.
I've vowed not to email him today, and I'm sure he won't—no guy ever does. And he didn't pay, so I don't have the handy "thank-you note" excuse. By waiting until tomorrow, Thursday, I can ask the innocuous question of whether his weekend plans are starting to come together. He mentioned that, with all his friends married and having other obligations, he can't even begin to try to pin them down for a weekend until the preceding Thursday. I know he's not into the Halloween thing, so maybe, just maybe, we can get together Friday. I shouldn't be thinking ahead like that, though—when will I learn? Rhetorical question.
Barry responded to yesterday's email this morning. He said his schedule this week isn't going to lighten up:
"There is no way this schedule is gonna let up. Somebody somewhere must think I've been slacking off for a while, and now I've got to make up for all of that lounging around time. It's getting a little tricky, because I really need to fit these training runs in."
He asked if anything new and exciting is happening with me, but I'm holding off on responding for a while. I'm definitely getting the idea that he's not much for email. Good—maybe that'll stop him from entering into passionate exchanges with some Match whore. Some other Match whore, that is.
In EH, Paul from Roselle requested communication. He's 43, so I'm hesitant, even if he is 6'2”. I suppose it can't hurt to go a round or two.
I've also got a Yahoo Icebreaker, from crazanimal82. He's 43, conservative, mustachioed, and lives in Romeoville.
***
Paul responded to my five close-ended questions. He wants two kids (don't mind the fact that he's already 43) and says he's serious most of the time but likes an occasional good laugh. I'm going to close this and not even bother with drawing his attention to our divergent attitudes on kids. Ah—I just discovered that the reasons offered for putting someone on hold aren't the same as those for closing.
I responded to Barry's email but kept it light and relatively brief. I didn't even allude to getting together. I'm so coy, doncha know. I did mention my trip to Hawaii in three weeks—maybe that will convey a sense of urgency.
***
Instant Icebreaker from Emoder ravedancer. He wants kids. Leave me alone. He's also a triathlete (too serious for me) and gives only two lines in his text. He's into yoga and takes ballroom dancing class. Metrosexual, anyone?
I think one of these days (I'm not there yet), I'm going to take a different approach when shopping. I'm going to go into a site with a set number of guys that I must email. That will force me to be less picky about location, etc.
As if the gods are eavesdropping, I just heard from another Emoder, who actually starts his email by asserting that the suburb of Darien isn't that far. OK—I'll take a peek. Interesting—a Native American with red hair, according to his profile. Wish he had a photo, I'd like to see that. Skimpy profile, but I note one of his hangouts is singles dances. Uh, no thanks.
In a weird stroke of luck (so to speak), I came across an article online today about the casual sex section of Craig's List. I used the Criag's List Web site last year to find a short-term apartment in DC, but I didn't know about that section until Ray mentioned it last night. I'd been talking about some of the email I receive proposing one-night stands (just to let him know how desirable other deviates, I mean guys, find me). Anyway, it gives me some material to email him with tomorrow. I think I'm going to be more direct than usual, just to cut to the chase. Something along the lines of "It was good to meet you the other night. Hope to hear from you again." Not too pushy but leaving no doubt about my inclinations. In my fantasy world, he'd follow up by suggesting we get together Friday night, with dinner at Magnolia (right near him) and then the Marshall Crenshaw show at the Abbey Pub. What am I smoking?
posted by Bemused @ 8:27 AM
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