Adventures #6: This party just took a turn...for the douche

One of the side effects of working with all women (essentially) is bonding through sharing news about our lives and the lives of the others (yes, this could also be called gossip). Some of it isn't so nice ("oh my gosh, you could see her underwear THROUGH HER DRESS"), but most of it is just sharing the happenings of our lives. Which is why my excursion into the realm of online dating is no secret. It's okay, really; I think it's funny to get everyone's perspective and to hear their own tales of awkward dates. It's even more okay because my boss is also female and wants the details. Which is how the following conversation happened:

Boss: Ooo, so what ever happened with that guy?

Me: Oh. He turned out to be kind of a douche.

Boss: Really?? What happened?

Me: I'm not sure, but he ultimately seemed only interested in talking about being physical. Not so much about "how was your day?" or "what do you do?" I mean, physical stuff is fine and good but I need dinner and a conversation first, you know?

Boss (mumbles something about men only thinking with their penises): "I'm convinced that only 15% of men are actually good men. You know? Like actually good men. I think I married one, but I definitely haven't dated them. Jim, did your daughters marry in the 15%?"

Jim (the part time finance guy who happened to walk around the corner at that moment. Jim has 3 married daughters): Nope. I don't even think they think did.

Me: Yeah, 15% might be a little high.

In this uphill part of life's journey, the party certainly has taken a turn for the douche. At first it was the perfect party; now there's just a lot of Ed Hardy. Seriously. In recent years of counseling I've realized that I've basically held the belief that men are stupid ass hats who care nothing about anyone but themselves (which seems to be all that is expected of them). But I think my boss may have been on to something. I know men in the 15% - my male friends, some family members, etc - and I have hope that every man can be in that 15%. How do we define good, though? Is it relative? Subjective? I'm attracted to humor and intelligence, but I don't think that makes someone good. I think goodness in part is humility and honesty and caring about other people; it's listening and remembering what someone says. It's kindness and generosity and fidelity. So yeah, if that's my definition, then there really are probably only about 15%. I don't know what the % would be for women - probably not much higher, to be honest - but I'm not dating women so I'm not worried with that statistic.

So perhaps this is the breakdown: if 15% are good, 30% are probably decent (they might not care, but they won't steal your purse and probably won't let someone else steal it), 20% are average (they don't care and they won't stop someone from stealing your purse), and the last 35% are just douche bags.

Which leads to my shout out to Sue Lundeen for saying "douche" at the baby shower today when she asked about Old Gregg. You're my favorite, Sue-Sue.

A Very Happy Birthday ... #28isNotTheNew18

The alternate title was "Anna + Alcohol = Diet Coke for Life." But though I am seriously considering imposing a 2 drink limit on the rest of my life, I did have a happy birthday. I'm not a big birthday person when it comes to celebrating my own but I do enjoy spending time with people I love, so any excuse for that is a good one. The day started with an early morning nap from 6-8am after taking my roomie to the airport at 530. I didn't set an alarm because I wasn't worried about getting into work on time because, well, I just wasn't. The work day was fairly uneventful and when my coworkers found out it was my birthday, I was summarily directed to leave the office and enjoy the day. So I did (a few hours later) and went for a nice run/walk in a swanky neighborhood in Brookhaven. I can't imagine having a house as big as those, but to show that everyone is subject to the laws of nature I submit this picture:

Inflatable Halloween decoration down.

I also did the requisite personal reflection. I always get a little introspective around holidays and birthdays and this year was no different. I realized I've done things I never imagined doing, been through things I could never have expected to go through, and grown in ways I never thought I could have. I blame most of this on being an adult. Being an adult can really suck sometimes, but I also think I've become more self aware and able to act in the moment (and own my actions). There is some good in having a fully formed brain. Anyhow, I got this from my niece - along with a hand "written" card, a non-objective drawing of a tree, and a tie-dye painting collection of her handprints - so at least I still get to be a kid at night:

I was thinking I needed a night light.

I facetimed with my bff and bbf, which always makes me happy. I love seeing their faces but it would be really nice to be closer. Or at least be able to Apparate. That would be really helpful. Then I took two bottles of Riesling with me to my friendy's house and had chili with most of my Atlanta family. And drank too much of the Riesling, which was fun until the room wouldn't stop spinning. Hence the 2 drink limit. But I woke up in a warm bed with Advil and water on the nightstand:

Seriously.

Yellow Straws

I wish the pack of straws was all yellow. Yellow isn't my favorite color overall, but it is definitely my favorite colored straw. It's calming, not overstimulating; peaceful and joyful...the perfect color for a striped bendy straw. The other ones are party straws and I just want a nice end-of-the-day straw.

I also want to post this video. After haranguing sideline reporting, this is me being part of the solution. If sideline reporting goes in this direction, I think it will be more enjoyable for the rest of us.

New bed frame. Now I don't hit
my head on the wall
nearly as much.

But I actually want to write about my bed. I love it. All of it. So very much. It's my spot. Like Huck and Emmers have their bed, Bella has the bay window, and Colby lays on top of you wherever you are - I have my bed. That is, I have a queen bed frame and a full mattress. It's basically the best of both worlds right now. I'm not ready to get rid of my mattress and sheets and down (alternative) comforter. I have an emotional attachment to them that I'm not ready to let go of yet. I've only had them for 4 years but we've been through a lot together: laughter, tears, short nights, long naps...essentially, seminary. But I also want a queen mattress in the future so I bought the queen bed frame in preparation. I know I will bond with the new mattress and its new sheets - probably pretty quickly if anyone knows how much I love to snuggle in bed. It's just the getting to that point that's the problem. I've had a lot of life happen in the past 4 years and this bed has been my safe haven. Plus, I roll around like a 2 year old - I hit at least 3 of the 4 corners of the bed most nights - and my mattress is the perfect size for that. For a visual, here's an almost 2 year old who does the same thing...

Bug sleeps like me,
though she's much cuter. And I
don't wear a diaper.

Starting to roll around.

This is me about halfway through the night.
And usually how I wake up. 

So I don't see any reason to rush a new mattress (especially since they're ridic expensive). But I am preparing myself for the future...albeit in baby steps.

I hate sideline reporting

This isn't a sideline reporter
and I actually get creeped
out by humans in
giant animal costumes.

I hate sideline reporting. And I might actually mean hate. "Coach, you're down 10 points going into halftime. What are you going to tell your players in the locker room?" "Well, Katie, we're probably just going to give ourselves two minutes, color some of our My Little Pony coloring sheets, and maybe do some deep meditation if we still have time." Really? Really? What do you think he's going to do?? No one cares. No one. No one. Stop. You just sound stupid. Please just stop. Or at least ask something like, "Coach, it looks like it's going to rain later. Are you afraid you're going to get struck by lightning?" And maybe dress up like a giant chicken. That at least would add a level of intrigue.

I love Ramen. I wasn't one of those college students who lived off Ramen so it's only recently that I've realized an undiscovered love for the salty little cheap package of pasta that cooks in 3 minutes. I try to keep one in the cupboard just in case I can't think of anything else to eat. I know it has a day's worth of sodium, but let's be honest - who cares?

Julia Ginger

I have a beautiful office plant named Julia Ginger. She - along with a Diet Coke Tervis tumbler - was a gift from my parents. A sort of "yay you have a real grown up job one year after your graduated from a master's program that didn't give you any marketable skills, only a bunch of theology that now makes us think you might not love Jesus" gift...just kidding. But I do love Julia Ginger. And am shocked that she is still alive after four months. I have never been able to keep a plant alive - not one that bloomed anyway. Julia doesn't bloom, but the fact that she has new little baby leaves and hasn't turned brown and crispy make my heart leap. She's not just surviving - she is thriving.

Part of me wants to be the tall
yellow one, but part of me wants to
be the one smacking the
yellow one in the face. 

After these past couple weeks at work, I've realized how deep my loathing of politics and politicians runs. I think they're all selfish little power mongers who don't actually know or care to know what is really going on with their constituents. Want to take the grant money that funds my program because you think you can do something better with it by throwing it at a state or national program? Come sit in my office for a day and tell me how you're going to do that. I'll give you stats, old white man in your ivory tower office, if you want stats. I'll gather up a group of audiologists and patients and we'll sit on your office chairs and show you how that money is being used. Do you even know what goes in to getting a hearing professional to take on a patient knowing they aren't going to be reimbursed much more than the cost of the staples in the patient's file? How successful have you been at that? Come at me, Po. My inner mountain lion is ready for a good rumble... I will actually probably let my boss handle you because I struggle with being diplomatic when someone's being a power hungry ass hat, and we actually do need state reps to like us. So while you're physically safe, I will continue to tear you to shreds with my vicious online rhetoric.

420 Pause for the Cause

So VW turned out to be a stage 5 clinger (I don't think you understand the urgency of the situation!) with no emotional boundaries; ergo, no second date. I actually canceled the second date on the day we were supposed to go out. Sorry, bud, but I'm not your self esteem coach or your therapist, and we're not in a relationship so perhaps consider keeping certain things to yourself. Like how much you hated your last job, how you think you're a loser with no talent, and how you don't think you've made your father proud. I really feel for you buddy, but that's not lighting any fires.

So I'm drawing on the board again. 39 (alternative nickname: Oldie) and I have tentative plans for a date once he gets back from out of town, and I still check the site every couple days sending smiles and answering people's questions. I'm preparing myself for the fact that the only thing I might have after my membership ends is a strong arsenal of first date anecdotes and stories that start with "holy shit, so this one guy I got matched with..." Classic. And 39 might should be off the list because he's like 11 years older than I am. But let's be honest: He's handsome. And shorter than he is tall, which I think is kinda cute. And he's probably a little more emotionally mature than a 23 year old. My concerns with Oldie are mainly that he could be too mature (read: boring. Dull. Age Spots. Creaky. Old) and wants to get married yesterday. I'm still a young spring chicken! I still have a pep in my step (as long as it's before 10pm)!! Though my doctor reminded me I'm nearing 30 so I should be getting baseline things done like blood tests and shit, which is ridiculous because I still feel 26. Besides, I thought 27 was the new 17! Shouldn't I be going to prom, not getting my cholesterol checked?

One of only a few
pics I have where
she's fully clothed.

Anyhow, blah blah blah. Let's talk about something else because online dating gets boring and tiring to do and to talk about. So in other news, my niece is awesome. She can count to three; say words like cheese, shoes, cookie, and Nnenna (that's me!!); say sentences like "what's that?" and "I did it!" while clapping for herself; and is basically a little 18 month old nudist. That girl never has clothes on.

I bought a real big girl grown up bed and I'm excited about it! I love my bed - my mattress, I guess - but I still have the metal frame it came with four years ago. Time to upgrade. Thank you, Rooms To Go sale. And I'm getting closer (like 2 months!) from having my own apartment, so it's time to get things I want and love. And don't have to worry about roommates ruining. Like a crockpot and a KitchenAid mixer and real dishes. And a big comfy wingback to read in. And sharp knives and a little eating table with matching chairs. Fuck a registry; I have my own list.

I also still love my job, though I've been there long enough to have had days where I really hate old deaf people and their families. Like days when they yell and curse at you over the phone, speak condescendingly because you aren't ancient like they are, and in general act like little sniveling brats because you won't give them something for free that would actually cost them thousands of dollars. But for the most part I like what I do and I love love the people I work with. Even my boss who is pregnant, which explains why she was a little...moody for a month or so. Poor thing was just hormonal.

Adventures #4: For Real?

So after Big Country turned out to be full of air (and himself), it was back to the drawing board. The big overwhelming board that is online dating. Being matched with men almost twice your age. Being matched with men almost three times your size. Men who literally list "i am proud to be an American" as one of the three things they are most grateful for. Part of me wishes I was a sociologist with some sort of analytical program to do outcome measuring on the number of men who list outdoors, sports, and physical fitness as their life passions. More than a little part of me wishes I could see what kind of women are on this site. I bet it's just as interesting as the men...

Anyhow, so Big Country was a big bust and I was back to work (because this shit is definitely work). I had it down to another set of three - VW, 39, and K-O - but 39 kind of fell off the list because that's his age, which I failed to realize until we were doing the questions thing and then I went, yeah 39 is a little old for me. 12 years, really? Too much. K-O seems normal, whatever. But VW was the first to jump and ask for my number so we set the first date. For a Tuesday night. At 7:30pm.

And that's when things went to shit.

Tuesday evening he calls to confirm (a welcomed move), but says he's had a hard day at work and wound up leaving later than expected; would I mind pushing it back to 7:45? I say, of course, no problem, let's make it 8pm. Who doesn't understand work getting crazy and leaving late, right? Except now we're pushing my bed time and I'm trying to hold off eating so I'll actually be hungry when I get there, but I'm already hungry and starting to get tired and, well, that's not always a winning combination for me.

So I leave in time to make our (now) 8-o-clock date and as I'm on my way I get a text saying to drive slowly because he's running behind. I don't like late. But there's the benefit of the doubt and all that, so I continue on my way and get there just before 8. I sit on the bench outside the restaurant and wait. And wait. He texts me at 8:07 saying he's five minutes away from leaving. At 8:17 I text him and say I'm heading back to my car and I'm leaving. Text, text, text, text. I'm pissed and leaving long ranting voicemails on friends' phones. And then he texts that he values my time but he lost his job that day and had to pack up his stuff and it took longer than he'd expected...

SERIOUSLY???!!! (yes, that's me yelling).

So now I feel like shit because someone lost their job and that's scary and sad. I feel badly for him, like I should call and ask how he's doing and let him talk it out. But I don't want to do that because I don't know him and he's a big boy - he can call a friend. Instead I just texted how sorry I was and that I would be willing to try again for a second first date. I was a glass case of emotion and I don't like glass cases - not on first dates, which are already stressful enough.

Who has the energy for this stuff?? These are things you go through with your besties, with your people. Not with first dates you don't know. If anything, this online dating process has taught me that I value deep, meaningful relationships and that I actually feel fairly full of deep and meaningful (except for the life partner part). The romantic relationships I have loved being in were with people I knew before dating - I knew who they were and I liked them as people - so this "meet and get to know each other while dating and trying to be awesome" crap is kinda for the birds. It's exhausting. If life's about the journey, this must be an uphill part.

Adventures #3: Three Dates is Enough

So I had things narrowed down to three guys: Lawyer Red, a new lawyer with his own firm; Big Country, an Alabamian software engineer; and Indiana Tim...I don't really remember what he did. Lawyer Red was a strong front runner - great smile online, seemed like a nice guy - and then the conversations dwindled and stopped altogether. No worries. Indiana Tim seemed like a nice guy; he certainly had a really nice voice. But one date confirmed that those were his only redeeming qualities (seriously, when I mention the three things you aren't supposed to talk about on a first date - religion, politics, your exes - don't launch into a conversation about religion and the other dates you've been on).

Which leaves us Big Country. Seeming like ever the Southern gentleman, Big Country had a strong (like, really strong) southern accent. Our first date was dinner. Our second date was dinner and mini golf. And our third - and final - date was dinner (but at a really nice place that I always want to go to but it's a little expensive. Thanks, Big Country. The mac-n-cheese was great). After date #1 I thought, he's kinda cute. A little self-absorbed, his accent a lot too much, but kinda cute. After date #2 I thought, well he's not perfect but no one is, and holy cow I forgot how much I love putt putt. Somewhere between dates #2 and #3, though, it became time to really figure this out. How much time do you put into someone you aren't sure about? The answer seemed to be a third date. It was on this date that I decided - because of some of his own comments - to tell him that I was new to this online dating thing, I typically was friends with someone first, friendship in a romantic relationship is really important to me, etc etc etc. and see if there was the possibility of at least a friendship. After an hour and a half the answer was no, and I left feeling sad and offended. Not sad because it wasn't going to work out, but sad because most of who he is (or who he presents himself to be) is exactly the kind of person I think makes this world a really sad place to live in. And offended because his statements about life and humanity were more Ayn Rand than Gandhi and he essentially called my beliefs invalid. Don't get me wrong - I think a strong logical, rational case can be made for libertarianism. But the same case can be made for socialism and while both sound fine in theory, in practice they turn to shit.

But back to Big Country, because he really did say some things that made my inner mountain lion pounce across the table. I've comprised a list of things to never, ever, ever say unless you are intending to turn someone off and/or start a riot:

1. I'm really intelligent/really educated.
2. I don't live paycheck to paycheck/I have a lot of disposable income so I can do whatever I want.
3. So like, obviously, I am the most important person to me, and then it would be my wife/kids, and then after that like, my family. I don't think people are "called" or whatever to go overseas and neglect their families.
4. Yeah, I'm pretty selfish.
5. My passions in life are Alabama football and movies. (no, that's really all he could come up with)
6. I don't need to go to church because I, like, know all the dogma and religion and there's nothing new for me to learn.
7. Did I mention that I'm really intelligent/really educated?
8. Perhaps I should tell you that my family is also all very educated and are doing very well for themselves. And so am I.
9. I've been called judgmental...but I have good qualities, too.
10. Libertarianism is best because, like, if you wanted to help people you could open a store and help people and people like me who don't want to (my paraphrase) don't have to.
11. I don't know what it is, but all of my prayers get answered!
12. Poor people in this country are so much better off than in other countries. Here they have nice cars, HD televisions, running water...
13. I don't think I've mentioned that I'm really intelligent/really educated in a while. I just want to be clear than I am.
14. I'm very efficient at my job. My job isn't my passion but I have a lot of disposable income. I get in late and leave early if I can. "I hope you're not a workaholic because that's one of my pet peeves" (oh yes, that's a direct quote).
15. I didn't watch the movie Iron Lady because Meryl Streep is so left wing and Margaret Thatcher was conservative.

Seriously. We had that conversation. Or, should I say, he had that conversation and I ate my salad and his mac-n-cheese and drank about 4 glasses of Diet Coke. I told the waitress it (the DC) was the best part of my day, and I wasn't lying.

He claimed intelligence but confused it for opinion. He glorified selfishness as a positive character trait (typical for an Ayn Rand libertarian) and saw no need to help his neighbor because someone like me could set up a shop and do it. If you want to save the environment and the spotted owl, buy some land and go for it, but I'm going to dump my toxic waste all over my land because I can. He misunderstood and oversimplified poverty. He interrupted me several times to prove his "intelligence" over mine (but let's be honest, my IQ is higher). At several points I wanted to ask what happened in his past to make him so insecure, but I'm not in charge of his internal growth and development and part of me thinks he just really is that shallow.

Also, I totally peeked, and he's a terrible tipper.