Underwear Limbo

I am just sitting here at my desk in nothing but underwear and a green reindeer bathrobe. Why am I sharing this excess of useless information that has probably put a random and unpleasant picture in your mind? Because I may or may not have a date tonight. And because I'm not exactly sure, I don't know whether to put on my comfy pajamas, or get all cuted up for some boy. We started IMing and things were going well. We bantered about the poorly chosen location for West Hollywood, as well as how much commuting sucks. Then he asked me to meet for a drink and I said, sure, why not? (He's 6'' and lives less than a half hour away, so those are the first requirements right there. He's also a writer so he was able to spell correctly and express himself using real words. Score!)

This is not me, but that is my bathrobe.
 And my happy face slippers, aww I miss those!
My friend was wearing them as a costume
for when she played a crazy person in one of my movies
in college. It was a good wardrobe choice for crazy.

I had to cut the conversation short because I was headed out to yoga. I totally would have ditched it, but I already signed up and would have lost a credit. Not to mention I skipped last week to go to my parents' house and already felt guilty enough about it. So I gave him my number and told him to text me if he wanted to hang out later. I also gave him the name of an awesome Irish pub conveniently located near my house. Then I skedaddled because there's nothing worse than running late to yoga class (you get hate stares when you interrupt the flow of the chi.)

I found this when googling "yoga bitch face."

No text while I was in yoga, and no message when I got back to my apartment. Since the original plan was to meet at about 8:30pm, I knew I had to book it to get showered and ready. But there was no real confirmation that he got my message about my number and the bar. So I proceeded with my routine up until the point where I have to decide, makeup or no makeup? Cute butt jeans and ever-so-slighty padded bra (which always feel like false advertising, but man do they do the trick!) or yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt? Thus the reindeer bathrobe. Because there's no commitment with a reindeer bathrobe.

Haha, and this had the caption, "Unbuttlievable!"

I re-read the IM conversation we had and realized that unfortunately our conversation could be interpreted in a couple ways. The first, that we were going to meet tonight at around 8:30pm. The second, that on some unspecified day this week (other than Wednesday because I have a date with another guy, BALLA!!!) we would be meeting at around 8:30pm. Oops. That's what you get for trying to be casual and noncommittal. You end up not making commitments like when and/or where you're going to meet up!

Lady pimp.

Why am I stressing about this so much? I don't owe this guy anything. It's not like it's a meeting with my parole officer (that's tomorrow night. HAH!). But I feel guilty because it would be a bit of a drive for him and he has to wake up at 4:30am every day for work. He was already going to be staying out late just to meet me (awwwww! Sounds like good people to me!). So because of this modified sleep schedule, it's possible that he's either asleep right now and that's why I can't get a hold of him. Or he's sitting at the Irish pub waiting for me to show up in my cute butt jeans and padded bra (side note, the padded bra has become a necessity since I started losing weight in the one area I could not afford to shrink).

This could be him, all sad and lonely
with only his girly cocktail to comfort him
from the devastation of being stood up by me!

So what do you think? Is he fast asleep, secure in the knowledge that we'll set up a date at a later time? Or is he all sad and lonely at a bar in an unfamiliar town waiting for this delightful creature who may very well be the love of his life? I DON'T KNOW! I already sent him a message essentially asking him if he wanted to reschedule, and no response. He may not have a smart phone (I don't either), so he doesn't get the OkCupid app. He also may be slightly dumb and forgot to take down my phone number and left the house without a way to contact me. I know I'm way over-thinking this. But I would hate to take the trouble to get cute (ugh), and then go sit at a bar by myself for an hour. However, I think I would hate to do that to someone else that's going out of his way for me (eventually affecting his work tomorrow).

I haven't even met this guy and already I'm going psycho on him (though that would explain the reindeer on the bathrobe I'm wearing in June). And I'm not really a psycho girl, I swear. I just would like some confirmation so I can at least put some goddamn clothes on!

Plenty of Awkward

The past few weeks have been filled with awkwardness of the most acute variety. Mainly from two sources which I will now proceed to break down like a late 80s neon-clad subway busker on a cardboard dance floor:

PART ONE: Here fishy fishy!

I have mentioned before that I have twice dipped my toe into the proverbial ocean of online dating via Plentyoffish.com. First, I just looked around, was disappointed in the kind of menfolk that were available, and ran away screaming. The second time, I gave it some more thought and actually tried to fill out a profile. This just made me depressed and caused hours of tipsy self-analysis. Since then I hadn't really given plenty o' fish another though. My life is complicated and stressful enough without adding some guy's baggage to it.

My own baggage is already full enough.

But a few weeks ago I was clearing out spam from my personal e-mail, already bored with my weekend. I noticed an e-mail with the headline "Hutch, you have 17 new matches!" Woop-de-doo. Doesn't mean jack. But still, it piqued my interest. Why the hell not take a look? So I finished my profile (queasy the whole time) and started fishing for real. It seemed like every guy listed 'working out' or 'going to the gym' as one of his interests. Whether he really is a gym rat, or thinks that by saying he is, he will get more girls, I don't know. But anyone who views exercise as fun and not a necessary evil is clearly someone who will not be interested in me (who works out faithfully for months at a time, only to go months without working out at all.) Not that staying healthy and active isn't important. But if you spend over twelve hours a week in the gym running in circles and lifting heavy things, your priorities are out of order. Or they just aren't in sync with mine.

Just seems rather pointless, doesn't it?

I also noticed an inordinate amount of guys with pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror taken with their iPhone. Whether they were fully clothed, shirtless, or lifting up their Ed Hardy shirt Situation-style, this was a major turnoff (*salutes* "Major Turnoff!"). I don't know why it bothers me so much. Some guys may just not have a good picture of themselves, but can't they have their friend or mom or cat take two seconds to snap a photo that doesn't have a toilet seat in the background that clearly hasn't been cleaned in years? Nothing says sexy like seeing which kind of deodorant and shaving cream a guy uses while he throws up some lame peace sign. Of course I'm judging these guys, but I'm sure my profile is just as lame in other ways. Because as I observed previously, it's impossible to create these things and not come off as some type of tool.

Typical. And just silly. Stop it, boys.

Within a few minutes with my face permanently fixed in stinkeye position, I already had a couple guys interested in meeting me (meaning they probably just pushed the 'yes' button while scanning my picture for .5 seconds without actually reading my profile. Not really flattering, but I'll take what I can get). I also had a message from one guy. It wasn't much, but it was a start. So I started e-mailing back and forth with this one guy, as well as a couple others. The problem is, what on earth do you talk about with a complete stranger?

The basic theme of the conversations seemed to be "Hi, how are you today?" Me, being the witty conversationalist that I am, always tried to throw them off with something adorable and quirky, but they didn't seem to really appreciate my sense of humor. Many of them just wanted to get my phone number so we could text. Like I'm going to give out my number to someone who could be an axe murderer. (Which could conceivably happen in a bar or other socially acceptable arena, but at least then I would know what he was really like in person first and if it was worth the risk). Plus, and more importantly, I don't have unlimited texting and this could get expensive.

This kind of messaging went on for a few days until one night when I got a chat request from some guy I had never heard of. He was kind of cute, and had a profile I would actually consider. (The ratio seems to be one in twenty-four profiles is not completely abhorrent to me. That sounds like I'm really picky, but I just don't want to waste my time with Douches. Note the capital 'D.') So we're chatting away, which seems to be slightly less stilted than e-mailing back and forth. Discussing relationships, men and women, even sex (but in a general, philosophical sense). Then he started getting dirty. Like really dirty. Which freaked me out big time. Aaaah! What the heck? Am I here just for some cyber one-night stand? Plus he still lives with his parents at 26 and uses 'u' instead of 'you'. NOPE!

"Well as far as I'm concerned, the internet is just another way of being rejected by a woman."

-George from "You've Got Mail"

So that put me off the whole process for a while, but there were a few nice guys I was still talking to. I like that you can sort of get to know each other first before giving out any personal information lest they turn out to be an uber-creeper like the aforementioned. And you can always block a guy if he says something really random but cruel like one guy did. I won't repeat what he said, but it didn't warrant a response. Just a swift click of the 'block user' button. I got that message, another chat request from dirty perv boy, and made a connection with one of the good guys all within about 10 seconds of each other. A little overwhelming ride of emotions, from pain to disgust to delight. I'm meeting one of the guys for the first time in a few hours (in a public place in mid-day). We'll see how that goes...

PART TWO So when did you get saved?

Yesterday I was invited to my neighbor's birthday party. He's a nice guy that I've talked to a few times since moving in in March. I always kind of got the feeling he dug me. Which put this whole fantasy in my head a la Friends or Big Bang Theory of falling in love with the guy across the hall. Not that I was that into him, but that's a pretty powerful pop culture image. Plus, it sure would be convenient seeing as it's the complete opposite of a long distance relationship.

I miss "Friends" a lot.

I stopped by about 30-45 minutes late because I thought it would be awkward to be the first one there. Hah. Also I was watching Friday Night Lights which is my new favorite thing in the world. (Sorry Desperate Housewives, you've been replaced. I don't give a crap about high school football, but this show is riveting and so well-done! Plus I met one of the actors and wanted to get more familiar with his oeuvre of work. Tee hee, oeuvre sounds dirty doesn't it? Anyway, back to my story.)

Hell yes!!

I walked across the way to my neighbor's apartment where several people had already crammed in the tiny one-bedroom. Picture this, a room full of nicely dressed though slightly douchey looking dudes sitting in silence around a veggie tray watching a subtitled kung fu movie. There was one other girl, but she didn't seem to have anything to say other than "Are you sure you don't want any potato chips?" Maybe she was just as bored as I was. I could tell something was off about this party. But not wanting to sit awkwardly much longer, I asked, "So, how do you guys all know each other?"

"Oh, we all go to the same church."

Oh....

I should have suspected this when I noticed the cutesy angel sign reading 'God Bless This House' over the bedroom. Not that there's anything wrong with going to church. By all means, if it makes you feel good and provides the social atmosphere that people crave, that's fantastic. I just knew I was even more out of place than I thought (besides being underdressed in just jeans and a t-shirt). So more awkward silence persisted while the kung fu movie gave us something to look at besides our shoes.

Hell no!

Then one of the guys turns to the guy to his right and asks, "So when did you get saved?" The guy responded, "Once when I was seventeen, then again when I was twenty-six and gave my life to god to be a pastor."

It was at that moment that I knew I had to get out of there. Luckily, I had a good and true excuse that I had to go meet up with a friend. But our host was hiding in his room talking on the phone and folding laundry. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Because we were all sitting silently, I couldn't just slip out unnoticed. So I counted the minutes until my neighbor was done with his laundry so I could say "Happy Birthday" and take off. He gave me a hug, (which I am not a hugger, but whatevs) and said to stop by when I got back.

Finally I was free!!!! I drove off like I had the devil after me (tee hee). I went to my friend Eric's house for our Sunday tradition of quiche and True Blood (which is a whole lot more satisfying than church in my opinion.) Why quiche you may ask? Because it's effing delicious for one thing. And for another, Eric and I have been making quiche ever since his 21st birthday almost exactly five years ago when we got drunk and were craving quiche even though we had never made it before and ended up making the best quiche ever even without any recipe or soberness and proceeded to eat it on the floor of my kitchen with two random girls we met at the supermarket at midnight after work. So that's my quiche story which I've probably told a million times, but it was such an awesome memory I don't care.

After True Blood, I headed back from Koreatown to NoHo only to find an ambush waiting for me in the parking lot. My neighbor's "party" had turned into a late night bible discussion. My neighbor called me over and I couldn't very well say no even though it was late at night and I was tired. True Blood takes a lot out of you, you know. He asked me about my faith, which I tried to sum up succinctly. "I believe in something, but I'm not a fan of organized religion." Of course, my religious history is a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but it was too late to get into it.

But he kept goading me in the polite, well-meaning way Christians often do. And I just couldn't deny my Hutch heritage to debate circles around an opponent. Normally I hate debating, but he wouldn't let it go. So I let him have it. And I explained how many horrible things I have witnessed under the guise of religion. How I don't believe in the bible, so don't use that to support your arguments. How my biggest political believe is that religion has no business in politics. How I don't agree with a large majority of what is considered to be a sin. How pretentious, insincere and commercial religion has become. How religion has mistreated a large number of my friends who happen to be gay and caused them so much pain and heartbreak. For all the good things religion does, it destroys and divides just as much.

It was a calm, respectful discussion for the most part, but it did raise my hackles quite a bit. Especially when an older gentleman got involved and tried to convince me that people aren't born gay. I tried to make him understand that why would someone choose to be estranged from their family, bullied and beaten at school, not given equal rights under the law, and suffer so much derision from people like him if they weren't being true to themselves?

Anyway, so now it's going to be suuuuper awkward whenever I see my neighbor. I used to think he wanted in my pants, but now I know he just wants to save my soul. Which is kind of hurtful to my ego, but whatevs.

Plentyoffish Revisited

The other night whilst imbibing a White Diamonds cocktail (patent pending), I was indulging in far too much Grey's Anatomy and cursing the world that Dr. Owen Hunt doesn't actually exist. Screw McDreamy or McSteamy. Give me Dr. Hunt anyday. He's all manly and interesting-looking with a deep voice and a vulnerable badass quality that just makes my eyes lose focus and forget what I was talking about....what? Oh yes. Anyway, add him to my list of Fictional Men who have Ruined Real Men for Life. The point was that I got super-bummed all of a sudden that he's not real.

That's right Patrick Dempsey.

Take a backseat to the much manlier Kevin McKidd.

The only ginger who deserves the title of World's Sexiest Fake Doctor.

As I mentioned in a previous blog about my troubles with menfolk, my standards for real men are actually not that high. It boils down to being taller than me, a non-smoker, aaaand that's about it. Preferably not younger too, but I'm flexible if he is (hey-oh!). Hell, I'd settle for any guy who shows the slightest bit of interest (who isn't some crazy one-legged ghetto guy at a gas station expecting me to drop trou right by pump #4 forcing me to invent a fake boyfriend to make him skedaddle. Or a homeless downtown jazz trumpeter named Tiny with similar assumptions and consequences.True stories both).

I was slightly tipsy from my cocktail and feeling melodramatic that I was never going to find a decent man candy in LA (blame the Grey's). So I decided to give online dating another try. Once again I went to plentyoffish.com simply because it's free. Absolutely miserable once more. I looked at a few guys' profiles to see if it was even worth it. So pathetic. I couldn't take any of them seriously. I wanted to either slap them for their douchery or laugh in their internet-profile faces for their stupidity. Is this what we've been reduced to? After a while, it wouldn't even let me look without signing up. So I started my profile. But with every field on the questionairre, I wanted to slap myself. There is no way to write those things and not sound completely ridiculous.

Searching for my mythical rainbow fish.

Is it possible to construct a profile for one of these sites without sounding a) pathetic, b) mentally handicapped, c) like a total tool? And how is it possible to consolidate everything about you into a few short text boxes and represent yourself at your best while being honest so if you do ever meet you don't disappoint them?

One final bone to pick with dating sites: Body type. I agree that it's important to know what you're looking for and not to lie about yourself. But when your choices are "a few extra pounds," or "big and tall/BBW," how does that not just kill your soul? I actually had to google BBW. If you look it up on Urban Dictionary, it means 'big, beautiful women.' First of all, egads. Second of all, those definitions are so cruel and ridiculous. There's no way I would want to associate myself with either of those connotations.

Anyway, the whole experience just pissed me off. So halfway through I gave up. I finished my drink and a few more episodes of Grey's and went to bed.

Plenty of Fish? A Brief Foray into Online Dating

This morning on a whim I decided to check out plentyoffish.com after being constantly bombarded by their ads on Facebook. Dating sites, diet pills, and get rich quick schemes are all I ever seem to get, in fact. It's kind of creepy how the internet knows I'm single, overweight, and poor and wants to a) rub it in my face and b) make money off of my misery. But a friend actually recommended plentyoffish, claiming to have known people who've had success with it. So I idly typed it into my browser this fine Saturday morning.

I refused to actually sign up and get a profile, not wanting to commit even to a website (my commitment-phobia could be a problem when it comes to actual dating). I figured I should check out my options before I sold my soul and e-mail address. This got me thinking about my requirements in a potential mate.

1. Male

2. Straight (This has been a problem for me in the past, since despite my bevy of fabulous friends, my gaydar is often broken)

3. Interested in dating, not just friends with potential (my other kryptonite. Most people say it's better to be friends first, but who, when, and how does one decide to cross the line? And what if that ruins the friendship? It's a valid concern. If you're dating from the start, you don't lose anything if it goes sour).

4. Non-Smoker (Smoking makes me literally vomit. I think I'm allergic. Plus I don't want him to die, or smell bad, and I would rather not catch the second-hand black lung).

5. Taller than me. (This may seem completely arbitrary, a socially constructed ideal, and probably cuts me off from a world of kickass men who happen to fall short of 5'8''. But that's just how I roll.)

6. Preferably older than me, or at least not younger. (Another socially constructed ideal, since I know plenty of wonderful, happy couples in which the woman is older. But it's a fact that women mature faster than men, and therefore often want different things in life. However I can be flexible on this issue if the guy is unusually mature and/or awesome.)

7. Employed. (But only because I won't be in about two weeks. It would be nice to have a sugar daddy until I get back on my feet. Wow, that's a terrible image. I apologize. But I'm not picky as to profession or salary)

8. Good hygiene, a regular doer of laundry. (Is it too much to ask that he be clean?)

9. Must love movies, (otherwise we'll have nothing to say to each other. Fact.)

10. Must not mind that I'm packing quite a bit o' junk in the trunk. (In fact, I'd be cool if he were also not in great shape.)

Bonus points for being Canadian and/or Jewish. If he's a Canadian Jew (now that Seth Rogen is off the market), we're headed for Vegas after the first date.

I really don't think that's too much to ask. I know most women have a huuuuge list that comprises their ideal man. And sure I have some more preferences (college educated, sense of humor, or at least likes my sense of humor, likes board games but lets me win occasionally). But this list is pretty much the baseline of what I'm looking for.

Judging by what plentyoffish had to offer, I'm not so sure I'm going to find that anytime soon. At least not in L.A. Because what most L.A. guys seem to be looking for is one-night-stands or future former model/actress/porn star trophy wives. I don't begrudge them that. But it does make finding one's soulmate a bit tricky if you are a different kind of fabulous (no self-pity here!)

This toe-dip into the pool of online dating has made me realize that the system does have its pros and cons. It's nice to know from the start what each of you is looking for. As opposed to the unrequited friendship, or the 'tell-em-what-they-wanna-hear hook-up.' It also makes sense to weed out the people you would meet organically but discover a major deal-breaker ten dates in. And if you don't really go to places often where you would meet a potential man-candy, that also makes dating difficult. So it's definitely a good idea. But online dating does still have a major stigma attached. The idea that there must be something wrong with you if you can't find a date in real life. (Some of us would rather stay home and watch the Exorcist on a Friday night than go clubbing in some obnoxious, cold, slutty Halloween costume, ok! And who meets their soulmate at a loud, sweaty, crappy music-playing club, anyway?)

It's not that I'm looking for a soulmate right now. In fact the idea of going out on a first date, let alone an internet blind date, terrifies me. Especially since I so don't have my own s#@! together, so how can I expect a man to have his? But it would be nice every once in a while to actually go out with someone and do the whole dinner and a movie thing. Which I've never actually done. The few encounters I've had that could be considered dating have all been awkward and disappointing in their own, unique ways. So I'll keep plentyoffish in the back of my mind, seeing as I'm only 23 and shouldn't give up on finding someone who meets my requirements and more, who also happens to think I'm pretty swell.

UPDATE!!! I forgot to add that I can't handle Jesus Freaks. Having faith and being spiritual is just fine, but Psycho Born Agains, Orthodox Jews, Full-On Muslims, Straight-Up Mormons, and religious extremists of any kind need not apply. That's just a fundamental dealbreaker.