Lauren explores the sordid world of blind-dating.
As anyone new to a small town will understand, getting "out there" to meet people and socialize can always be a difficult task, especially if you're in the middle of a brutal winter with a daily average temperature of about 12 degrees.
Also, as you might remember from my last post, Northampton, MA (the home of Smith College) is widely renowned for its gay/lesbian/trans population; if you don't necessarily fall under one of those categories but find that the majority of your friends do, you may, like me, find yourself in the position of weighing your possibilities and coming to the uncomfortable realization of "naw, this just isn't happening" after dancing to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" at a local bar after having four whiskey sours and your roommate tells you to "just go for it."
Well needless to say it's been a little difficult meeting single people of similar-mindset in my most recent endeavors and I've gotten to the point where a "getting to know you" conversation has become crippling. My idea of flirtation has transformed into going to the public library, spotting someone attractive in the stacks or reading at a table and then staring at them from across the room. If they make eye contact, I leave feeling as though it "went well".
Since moving to the area in September I've gone on a couple dates: The first guy was really nice--we met at a local pub where we were both doing open mic. After exchanging numbers, he would call me about three times a week, but only to invite me to similar events. Not once in the period that we were seeing each other was the date not for the purpose of some open-mic/lecture event. Also, any time we spent alone was ridden with awkward silences and sentences like, "Did you wanna do something else?" or "What would you rather be doing..." and "Did you say something?"
The next guy was one of those persistent flatterers who has to convince you all the time that he's so glad you're going out together and he thinks you're so totally worth his time. Puke.
Aaaaaanyway, I recently took up a part time job working as a grant writer for a local holistic institute. My boss--a well-intentioned mad Russian who loves to plug her colonic (ha) regimen as a way to alienate the possibility of cancer--after having a few conversations has taken a special interest in my personal life. Not long after hiring a second developmenter, she implored me to meet with him and discuss our plans and see if we were "compatible". That should have been my first tip off.
After having a conversation with him through g-chat, I reported back to my boss that he seemed like a nice enough guy. She then hinted at the fact that he lived close to my home and even mentioned to me that he was a "beeeeg sterrongggg maaang" and wasn't I interested in meeting him for coffee at a local cafe? Sure, what the hell? After receiving a call the night before with instructions to wear that blue scarf I wore to the office last Thursday cause it brought out my eyes, my boss wished me good luck. I couldn't believe that I had stooped to the dismal point in my life where my boss was setting me up on dates and telling me what to wear.
Then the moment came to go meet--for all intents and purposes, let's call him Ralphie--the man of my dreams. With an intention to just walk to the cafe, I left my house only five minutes before I was supposed to meet him and had to drive.
I arrived with a minute to spare and even got there before he did! Beforehand we told each other what we'd be be wearing so I knew right away when the curly-haired guy in brown carharts came into the place looking confused and holding his phone. My reaction was to immediately hide behind a big painting and pretend like I didn't see him, so I avoided him at all costs until he came up to me and physically tapped me on the shoulder to make sure I was the one he was looking for. Right... thaaaat's me.
The cafe was so crowded by the time we met up, that after waiting for a while and not getting a table, we decided to try somewhere else. We went to three other places with no luck and then finally settled on sitting at a plastic table with accompanied lawn chairs in the middle of an indoor shopping galleria.
Ralphie went to a really good school in D.C., now attends a local university and is working on his PhD. He's been doing non-profit work for five years now and loves hiking, cliff-diving, traveling to the west coast. Lauren went to a liberal arts college in the middle of no where that no one's ever heard of, is working on creating a successful alter ego, loves David Duchovny, and is interested in putting her cat in different hats and seeing which ones he likes best... mutual interests include bbqing, photography, comic book superheroes, and adventures in the woods. Basically we spoke for about an hour and upon leaving found out that we only lived about three blocks away from each other.
It was around that time that Ralphie offered to walk me home, and for one reason or another, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I had driven myself to town so I accepted his invitation. That being said, we walked back to my house where he promised to call but preemptively warned me that he's a "standoffish kind of guy" but reassured me that he had a really great time and hoped to see me again. I then hid out on my porch and waited until I could no longer see him and then set out to walk back into town and retrieve my car. I made a point to dodge behind landmarks on my way back, just in case we ran into each other.
All in all, I had a good time with Ralphie. He was a nice guy with a pleasant gap between his front teeth and a good sense of humor. He didn't have any noticeable isms that I could pinpoint nor did he say anything really out of line or tasteless (neither did I, I don't think!!!!). After getting back to my house and telling my roommates how it went and sadly admitting that no, he wasn't a vampire nor was he a viking (is it weird those are the sort of things I look for?) I collapsed onto my papasan chair, promptly ate two garlic dill pickles and watched a marathon of Ramsey's Kitchen Disasters.
It is now Tuesday and I haven't heard from Ralphie. Am I bummed that I didn't meet the man I'm likely to spend the rest of my life with? Nah. Do I have hopes for the future of my ability to date people I don't already know? Yeah, I guess I do. I learned that you can be a crude, shy and somewhat inept girl and still meet people. They may not find you the end all of their romantic problems, but hey, you might get to take an unnecessary walk through the neighborhood and receive a one-armed hug from a perfect stranger who finds your idiosyncratic clumsiness at least somewhat charming.
I hope that this little anecdote has been somewhat helpful in light of Valentine's Day and that you're feeling like you might even expand your horizons and try to get yourself out there. I know it's a pain in the ass to go and "meet people" but if you're lonely, blue, or even bored, nothing spices up a bland day like a chance encounter with a perfect stranger. Even if you don't find the one, you can put your single status to good use and create a marketing strategy that will likely prove successful in the future. Happy hunting and happy Valentine's Day!
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