Dec. 3, 2003: Nails on a chalkboard

Greg called last night, around 8:30pm. The word that comes to mind to describe the conversation, which lasted about 35 lo-o-ong minutes, is excruciating. He showed some sense of humor in his profile and emails, but on the phone—total dud. We spoke a little about how he'd like to try kayaking, and a lot about his latest hobby—geocaching. He goes out on weekends—just him and his handheld GPS device—and combs forest preserves and wetlands to find 35mm film canisters or similar objects of no value secreted by other "geocachers." Yep, that's what he does for fun. When he's not at the library. He mentioned the library in his profile, and his email, but I assumed he dropped by, checked out books, and left. Now I'm under the impression that he hangs out there for hours at a time. He seems—how can I put this diplomatically?—really boring.

But that wasn't the worst of it. What made the conversation truly agonizing was his painful speaking voice. I spent most of the conversation not so much listening to the boring information coming out of his mouth, as trying to put my finger on what it was that his voice resembled. At first, I thought he might be speaking in some weird dialect—he's from Alabama, so maybe they've engaged in some cross-breeding with Cajuns who wandered over from Louisiana. Then I decided his voice sounded like an automated voice, based on the voice of someone who speaks English as a second language, being downloaded from the Internet over a dial-up connection. In other words, lots of stopping and starting. And a strong emphasis on the "-ing" syllable in words like kayaking. Or boring. My speech patterns tend toward the lazy side at times as it is; talking to Greg, I could hear my voice countering his over-enunciation with my own use of "–in'" (as in, "when you use your GPS on the golf course, do the other players think you're cheatin'?").
Finally, I thought he might sound like someone with a hearing impairment, which made me feel horrible for being so nasty in formulating the other theories.

I'll never know. I drew the conversation to a close a little past 9:00pm, saying I had laundry to do (which I did, not that I planned on doing it last night). I hoped to get off the phone and leave it at that, but he jumped in and asked if I'd like to meet for coffee some time. The boring, nails-on-chalkboard conversation failed to evoke any desire in me to meet him, plus he lives a good distance away. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to come right out and say no. I ended up saying this week was bad and suggesting he email me Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. And then I'll devise an excuse to weasel out of it. I will answer him, though, and I'll be gentle, which is more than I can say about some of the guys I've encountered.

In my Yahoo mailbox, I received a response for traveltoomuch, or Curtis. He didn't give me much to work with:

"Hey Barb, Thanks for the note..

I did enjoy your profile..

Almost Everyone tell me I am too picky.. I disagree. I can't really say what I am looking for exactly, but it should be somebody that I think about when they are not around.. Somebody that I look forward to making happy... I guess that is the best way to describe it...

Enough of that....

It is always fun to meet new people..

That is great that you travel so much. Unfortunately, most of mine is with work... I love vacations, but hate to plan them..

Well, I will keep this short... Talk to you later.. Curtis"

"Talk to you later"? What kind of sign-off is that? Well, anyway, I responded by saying it wasn't picky to want to be with someone you look forward to seeing and to doing things for, blah, blah, blah. Injected a little travel talk, too. No biggie.

Jflusman wrote again today. He acknowledged he's tried once before "but would really like to chat more." More? We haven't chatted at all, nor shall we—he's married.

Nothing from Greg I. He must have been offended by my question about whether he's gone on any dates or remains wary. Just as well. I shouldn't have started up with him again, anyway. Easy for me to say when I've got an audition in half an hour.

So, yeah, I'm meeting James in a little while. Unlike the audition with Matt, which was probably the most similar as far as how limited our communication has been to this point, I don't feel ambivalent—I'm really hoping this goes well. In both directions, that is. On paper, he sounds great, even though there are a couple things that I wouldn't call ideal—his affinity for discos and self-description as "very chatty, sometimes flamboyant,” for example. Nobody's perfect, though. I could really use a good audition. Just once, I'd like to find myself instantly attracted to one of these guys or, if not instantly, by the time I'm in my car and headed home.

Notes to self, pre-audition: touch his arm a couple times; don't talk too much; don't focus on sports; show you're intelligent, fun, and funny; don't be quiet but do create some air of mystery. And don't talk with food in your mouth.