I have done something this past week and a half that is quite strange for me… I haven’t dated. Instead, I’ve spent my spare time hanging out with friends and in one case an ex-boyfriend that I’m now friends with. My ‘date nights’ have turned into ‘friend nights’ (or ‘drama-free nights’).
Last weekend, my friend Amelia and I spent an entire evening discussing the finer points of religion, the new Harry Potter book, and what it would be like to be armless. It was great fun and became even more fun after we finished off our first bottle of Chardonay. Our second bottle had us sitting on the floor trying to drink our glasses of wine with just our feet and toes. The experiment was a failure, but we laughed so hard it made us snort.
The next evening I met up with my friend Margo. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her, because she travels so much for her job. Margo is my ‘romantic British flick friend’. Last Christmas her mother-in-law gave her the A&E Romance Collection DVD set. (Her husband refuses to watch them with her.) Throughout the year we’ve worked our way through mini-series after mini-series. We finished up ‘Emma’, ‘Tom Jones’ and ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Our next conquest is ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’.
On occasion we try to mix things up. Once we interrupted our ‘romantic British movie’ night with the Sci-Fi Channels production of ‘The Legend of Earth Sea’ (Margo and I share the same terrible taste in television). Another time (when I was depressed about the ’40 Year Old’ situation) we watched ‘The Sweetest Thing’. (Did you really think I could go an entire blog entry without mentioning him?) Anyway, we love that movie and Margo always jokes that she’s Christina Applegate (sexy and savy attorney) and I’m Cameron Diaz (non-committal blonde)…. (Awe, sookie sookie!)
Last weekend was one of those occasions when we decided to divert from the norm. (Don’t worry Colin Firth, we won’t neglect you for long.) We decided to see ‘Fantastic Four’. The movie was so-so, but the fun part about hanging out with Margo is going to the super market before the movie, buying all of our candy and goodies cheap and then smuggling the items into the theater undetected in her Gucci purse. I love living on the edge!
As I mentioned earlier, I even hung out with an ex-boyfriend this past week. It’s a surreal experience to hang out with an ex. Especially when he reads your blog. It was really nice. We sat on my couch for four hours, watched PBS, ate Dairy Queen and discussed each other’s current dating situations. Some of his insights into my dating predicaments were quite refreshing.
Now, I’m sure some of you were wondering what ever happened on my date with Keith. Let me tell you… nothing. Keith has a demanding job. He didn’t have a lot of energy left on the evening we were supposed to go on our date.
Instead, we just met at his townhouse, sat around, watched Comedy Central and joked for a few hours. (It’s really hard to pull yourself away from the T.V. when Reno 911 is on.) He was really tired and to be honest, so was I. It was great to catch up with him and I had a good time, but it wasn’t much of a date. We’ve been emailing and calling each other a few times a week since then. But, we’re starting to run into the same problem that we had the last few times we tried dating… we can’t get our schedules to match. Hhmmm… maybe we are destined to always ‘just be friends’. (Bridget has actually been saying that for a while…)
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 22, 2005
The Conclusion To A Long Drawn Out Story...
"40 Year Old" was in town last weekend. I picked him up from the airport on Saturday and we had a fantastic evening out. The old feelings were still there along with that undeniable spark. It was one of the best dates I've ever had with him. (Yes, for all intents and purposes... it was a date.)
He was busy all day Sunday and Monday with meetings and wrapping up the final details with moving the rest of his belongings. Monday evening I called him. I was tired (and I admit, a bit cranky because of certain female factors).
He was exhausted and apparently not extremely tolerant. I told him I wanted to see him again before he left on Tuesday.
"Jane, that's impossible... it's just not going to work out with my schedule." He yawned into the phone.
I whined at him, "Yeah, yeah... it's always about you and your schedule."
"Jane, I told you on Saturday evening that I wasn't going to have anymore time to see you. Listen, I'll call you in a few weeks." His voice started to raise... just a little.
In my mind, I thought to myself, 'a few weeks, that's a load of *expletive*'. But instead I mumbled under my breath... "Whatever."
He didn't like that. He got mad. "Why are you being so passive aggressive with me?"
I don't like being called passive aggressive, but it's funny because he's about the 3rd person in the past six months to have called me that. (Interesting... I'll explore that thought in another blog post.) Anyway, the tone of my voice became defensive and I went back at him, "Simply because I'm disappointed that we aren't able to meet up before you leave doesn't make me passive aggressive! Do you expect me to be happy when you tell me you'll call me IN A FEW WEEKS!"
He yelled, "I'm never going to call or talk to you again if this is how you're going to act!"
I let loose, "That is the most manipulative and mean thing anyone has ever said to me, why are you so hostile?"
He yelled back, "I'm lying in bed. I'm exhausted. I just want to go to sleep. I shouldn't have even picked up the phone, but it was you so I made an (expletive) exception!" (For the record, I didn't know he was almost asleep when I called. Also, there were alot more expletives mixed into this conversation.)
I tried to gain my composure and lowered my voice. "Listen, it's obvious that we're both tired and we're going to say something we'll regret. Let's talk about this later, okay?"
"Okay." Then the phone clicked on his end.
I was really upset.
The next morning I woke up and knew exactly what I needed to do. I sent him an email apologizing and telling him that what he said hurt me. He emailed back shortly thereafter and apologized saying that he would call me when he got off the plane so we could talk.
When he called later, we 'calmly' discussed 'us'. I told him that I couldn't see him anymore. That at most, we could be friends but preferably, friends that rarely (if ever) see each other. He said that he was disappointed with my decision, but understood.
THE END.
He was busy all day Sunday and Monday with meetings and wrapping up the final details with moving the rest of his belongings. Monday evening I called him. I was tired (and I admit, a bit cranky because of certain female factors).
He was exhausted and apparently not extremely tolerant. I told him I wanted to see him again before he left on Tuesday.
"Jane, that's impossible... it's just not going to work out with my schedule." He yawned into the phone.
I whined at him, "Yeah, yeah... it's always about you and your schedule."
"Jane, I told you on Saturday evening that I wasn't going to have anymore time to see you. Listen, I'll call you in a few weeks." His voice started to raise... just a little.
In my mind, I thought to myself, 'a few weeks, that's a load of *expletive*'. But instead I mumbled under my breath... "Whatever."
He didn't like that. He got mad. "Why are you being so passive aggressive with me?"
I don't like being called passive aggressive, but it's funny because he's about the 3rd person in the past six months to have called me that. (Interesting... I'll explore that thought in another blog post.) Anyway, the tone of my voice became defensive and I went back at him, "Simply because I'm disappointed that we aren't able to meet up before you leave doesn't make me passive aggressive! Do you expect me to be happy when you tell me you'll call me IN A FEW WEEKS!"
He yelled, "I'm never going to call or talk to you again if this is how you're going to act!"
I let loose, "That is the most manipulative and mean thing anyone has ever said to me, why are you so hostile?"
He yelled back, "I'm lying in bed. I'm exhausted. I just want to go to sleep. I shouldn't have even picked up the phone, but it was you so I made an (expletive) exception!" (For the record, I didn't know he was almost asleep when I called. Also, there were alot more expletives mixed into this conversation.)
I tried to gain my composure and lowered my voice. "Listen, it's obvious that we're both tired and we're going to say something we'll regret. Let's talk about this later, okay?"
"Okay." Then the phone clicked on his end.
I was really upset.
The next morning I woke up and knew exactly what I needed to do. I sent him an email apologizing and telling him that what he said hurt me. He emailed back shortly thereafter and apologized saying that he would call me when he got off the plane so we could talk.
When he called later, we 'calmly' discussed 'us'. I told him that I couldn't see him anymore. That at most, we could be friends but preferably, friends that rarely (if ever) see each other. He said that he was disappointed with my decision, but understood.
THE END.
To Blog Or Not To Blog (straight from the horse's mouth)
Dutch and I walked into the pub near my apartment (I can’t tell you how great it is to live 2 blocks from one of the best Irish pubs in the Twin Cities).
We sat down opposite each other with our backs to the wall and our feet hanging over the front edge into the aisle. (This was our regular people watching pose.) I looked back and forth at the variety of butts sitting on the stools in front of us at the bar.
“Hey Dutch, I think I can see that chick’s butt crack.”
He leaned over and looked, “Yeah, just a little bit… cool.”
Our discussion this night varied in many respects, but it primarily focused on whether or not I should post my next blog about “40 Year Old”. I ended things with him earlier this week. (Permanently in my mind.) I said goodbye and good luck. It’s a drama filled blog about our final encounter.
I had already talked to "Bridget" about it. She thinks I need to post it and bring some closure the matter. She thinks I’ve been protecting “40 Year Old” to some extent… that I haven’t showed my friends, family and fellow bloggers what a jerk he is. But, "Bridget" has never met him. Her opinion is based solely on what I’ve vented to her about. In fact, I’ve never introduced him to any of my friends.
"Austin HP", agrees and thinks it will help me move on and forget him. But, he said he would understand if the subject matter was too personal to share with everyone. (Hhhmmm, but there’s something to be said about the power of confession.)
Tonight, I’m talking to “Dutch” about it. These were his thoughts:
“Don’t post it! You’re going to see him again, because you always do. By posting a final conclusion to the “40 Year Old” saga, you are setting yourself up for major criticism from everyone. Because, you and I both know that the next time he’s in town you will go out with him. Don’t do it!”
“I think I’m going to do it!" ("Dutch" rolled his eyes) "But, don’t worry Dutch… I’m going to wait a few days until my hormones calm down and then I’ll be able to think and write more clearly.”
“Dutch” shrugged off my decision, “Honestly Jane, I don’t care… I don’t read your blog anyway. Why should I when I can hear it directly from the horse’s mouth? I only read it when you tell me that you mentioned me in it.”
(Neigh…Neigh... Clippidy Clop) “Dutch” is still bitter about how I described him in the blog entry “Off the Hook”. This was his comment:
“Jane, I wasn’t even sitting on a stool, you made me sound like a complete idiot by making me fall off of it when you said, “Off the Hook”… you aren’t that funny… you’re entertaining… but you aren’t that funny!"
"Dutch" and I sat at the bar until 1:00 a.m. (on a school night no less) I was perfectly content to keep sitting there, but Dutch made me leave when Oasis’ Wonderwall started playing on the overhead.
“Today is gonna be the day, when I’m… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…” I couldn’t remember the words exactly. But, I sang them anyway.
“Jane, get up, we’re leaving now!”
“Dutch, I want to finish singing the song. They haven’t gotten to the chorus yet. I love this song.” (I was singing it just loud enough for the people around us to enjoy it.)
“Jane, I’ll leave you here and you’ll have to walk home if you don’t leave with me now.” (the two blocks to home weren’t scaring me… his threats were idle.) “Listen, It’s not that you don’t have a nice voice. I just don’t want to listen to it.”
I looked at him and said, “Okay.” (He had a valid point.) I let him drive me home and I went to bed.
We sat down opposite each other with our backs to the wall and our feet hanging over the front edge into the aisle. (This was our regular people watching pose.) I looked back and forth at the variety of butts sitting on the stools in front of us at the bar.
“Hey Dutch, I think I can see that chick’s butt crack.”
He leaned over and looked, “Yeah, just a little bit… cool.”
Our discussion this night varied in many respects, but it primarily focused on whether or not I should post my next blog about “40 Year Old”. I ended things with him earlier this week. (Permanently in my mind.) I said goodbye and good luck. It’s a drama filled blog about our final encounter.
I had already talked to "Bridget" about it. She thinks I need to post it and bring some closure the matter. She thinks I’ve been protecting “40 Year Old” to some extent… that I haven’t showed my friends, family and fellow bloggers what a jerk he is. But, "Bridget" has never met him. Her opinion is based solely on what I’ve vented to her about. In fact, I’ve never introduced him to any of my friends.
"Austin HP", agrees and thinks it will help me move on and forget him. But, he said he would understand if the subject matter was too personal to share with everyone. (Hhhmmm, but there’s something to be said about the power of confession.)
Tonight, I’m talking to “Dutch” about it. These were his thoughts:
“Don’t post it! You’re going to see him again, because you always do. By posting a final conclusion to the “40 Year Old” saga, you are setting yourself up for major criticism from everyone. Because, you and I both know that the next time he’s in town you will go out with him. Don’t do it!”
“I think I’m going to do it!" ("Dutch" rolled his eyes) "But, don’t worry Dutch… I’m going to wait a few days until my hormones calm down and then I’ll be able to think and write more clearly.”
“Dutch” shrugged off my decision, “Honestly Jane, I don’t care… I don’t read your blog anyway. Why should I when I can hear it directly from the horse’s mouth? I only read it when you tell me that you mentioned me in it.”
(Neigh…Neigh... Clippidy Clop) “Dutch” is still bitter about how I described him in the blog entry “Off the Hook”. This was his comment:
“Jane, I wasn’t even sitting on a stool, you made me sound like a complete idiot by making me fall off of it when you said, “Off the Hook”… you aren’t that funny… you’re entertaining… but you aren’t that funny!"
"Dutch" and I sat at the bar until 1:00 a.m. (on a school night no less) I was perfectly content to keep sitting there, but Dutch made me leave when Oasis’ Wonderwall started playing on the overhead.
“Today is gonna be the day, when I’m… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…” I couldn’t remember the words exactly. But, I sang them anyway.
“Jane, get up, we’re leaving now!”
“Dutch, I want to finish singing the song. They haven’t gotten to the chorus yet. I love this song.” (I was singing it just loud enough for the people around us to enjoy it.)
“Jane, I’ll leave you here and you’ll have to walk home if you don’t leave with me now.” (the two blocks to home weren’t scaring me… his threats were idle.) “Listen, It’s not that you don’t have a nice voice. I just don’t want to listen to it.”
I looked at him and said, “Okay.” (He had a valid point.) I let him drive me home and I went to bed.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
The Trouble With Audis (Part II)
I have been receiving an overwhelming amount of feedback from my friends about the psychology of cars and in particular "Audis".
This is what "Bridget" had to say:
"There are a few blogs that say: Real men drive Audis. Which is of course to say, men who feel inadequate drive the bigger names, Mercedes, BMW, Lexus. Men who drive Audis could have two reasons for choosing them. One, they appreciate the German engineering and luxury of the Audi but don't feel the need to acquire the big name. Conversely, by not acquiring the big name, they do not acquire the big payment. 'Austin HP' who drives the country cousin is a smart man. He bought the German engineering and comfort without the big price tag. You see, even though Audi salesmen deny that VW and Audi are the same company or the same manufacturer, VW salesmen claim that the Passat is the exact same thing, made on the same platform with the same engine, as the A4. Both can't be true, but they look an awful lot alike.
So, real men drive Audis. Or so they tell themselves. -Bridget"
"Bridget" also recommended this website, and I have to say... it has a pretty interesting take on the subject... http://www.bankrate.com/brm/news/auto/20021204a.asp
This is what "Bridget" had to say:
"There are a few blogs that say: Real men drive Audis. Which is of course to say, men who feel inadequate drive the bigger names, Mercedes, BMW, Lexus. Men who drive Audis could have two reasons for choosing them. One, they appreciate the German engineering and luxury of the Audi but don't feel the need to acquire the big name. Conversely, by not acquiring the big name, they do not acquire the big payment. 'Austin HP' who drives the country cousin is a smart man. He bought the German engineering and comfort without the big price tag. You see, even though Audi salesmen deny that VW and Audi are the same company or the same manufacturer, VW salesmen claim that the Passat is the exact same thing, made on the same platform with the same engine, as the A4. Both can't be true, but they look an awful lot alike.
So, real men drive Audis. Or so they tell themselves. -Bridget"
"Bridget" also recommended this website, and I have to say... it has a pretty interesting take on the subject... http://www.bankrate.com/brm/news/auto/20021204a.asp
The Trouble With Audis (Part I)
I noticed a trend with many of the men I’ve dated recently. None of them have any particular qualities or looks in common, except one thing. They drive Audis!
I’ve never completely understood the psychology of cars and men. (Or as Tom Cruise calls it, the pseudo science of cars and men.) Supposedly, the type of car that a man drives can give you insight into his personality. Hopefully, one of my readers can explain this to me.
“40 Year Old” drove a white Audi A4. It was a nice car, but nothing extravagant. He even let me drive it on occasion. (The fool!)
“Creepy John” drove a black Audi A6. (FYI, “Creepy John” has been renamed by many of my friends and readers as “Boob Grabber”.) Anyway, his was a beautiful car. The wheels were… well, they were just…lovely. (You all thought I was going to say “off the hook” didn’t you!)
“Mr. Personality” drove a white Audi A6. This car was even prettier than “Boob Grabber’s” A6. When I rode in it. It felt like I was on a yacht. There was wood paneling everywhere. But, he lied about everything… so who’s to say that it was even his car?
I have a date tomorrow with “Keith”. I’ve been on dates with “Keith” before, a few times two years ago and again one year ago. I enjoy going out with him and he enjoys going out with me, but we have never (and I mean never) been able to get our schedules to work out. (Everything from vacations, funerals and final exams have interfered with our plans.) He travels a lot for his job and I have two jobs. We started emailing each other lately. He is notorious for not stepping up and making the first move (because typically with him, the girls make the first move). To expedite matters, I sent him the following email:
“Dear Keith, I’m sending you this emailing to subtly suggest that you ask me out for drinks or dinner or both. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to ask you myself. –Jane”
He emailed right back, “Dear Jane, I have a great idea! How about we meet for drinks or dinner or both? When are you available? – Keith”
We’re going out tomorrow (unless the gods intervene and cause some unforeseen event to prevent us from going out…. honestly it wouldn’t surprise me).
Okay, now that you have the background on “Keith”… here’s the snafu. “Keith” drives a black Audi A4!
What does this mean? (Beats me…) I feel like I’ve come full circle with Audis (and perhaps men).
I talked to “Austin HP” about this trend. He flipped out, “Jane, oh my god… does this mean I have to sell my blue Passat? (He loves his Passat.) The Passat is the country cousin to the Audi A6. I don’t want my car to be distantly related to ‘Boob Grabber's’ or ‘Mr. Personality's’ cars!”
I told him he was fine, because his Passat was blue and I’ve never met a blue car I didn’t like.
Maybe my friend “Schnickers” will have some insight into this subject. He drove an Audi A4 for years, but it was a burnt orange or metallic sunset color. I’ll have to ask him.
I’ve never completely understood the psychology of cars and men. (Or as Tom Cruise calls it, the pseudo science of cars and men.) Supposedly, the type of car that a man drives can give you insight into his personality. Hopefully, one of my readers can explain this to me.
“40 Year Old” drove a white Audi A4. It was a nice car, but nothing extravagant. He even let me drive it on occasion. (The fool!)
“Creepy John” drove a black Audi A6. (FYI, “Creepy John” has been renamed by many of my friends and readers as “Boob Grabber”.) Anyway, his was a beautiful car. The wheels were… well, they were just…lovely. (You all thought I was going to say “off the hook” didn’t you!)
“Mr. Personality” drove a white Audi A6. This car was even prettier than “Boob Grabber’s” A6. When I rode in it. It felt like I was on a yacht. There was wood paneling everywhere. But, he lied about everything… so who’s to say that it was even his car?
I have a date tomorrow with “Keith”. I’ve been on dates with “Keith” before, a few times two years ago and again one year ago. I enjoy going out with him and he enjoys going out with me, but we have never (and I mean never) been able to get our schedules to work out. (Everything from vacations, funerals and final exams have interfered with our plans.) He travels a lot for his job and I have two jobs. We started emailing each other lately. He is notorious for not stepping up and making the first move (because typically with him, the girls make the first move). To expedite matters, I sent him the following email:
“Dear Keith, I’m sending you this emailing to subtly suggest that you ask me out for drinks or dinner or both. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to ask you myself. –Jane”
He emailed right back, “Dear Jane, I have a great idea! How about we meet for drinks or dinner or both? When are you available? – Keith”
We’re going out tomorrow (unless the gods intervene and cause some unforeseen event to prevent us from going out…. honestly it wouldn’t surprise me).
Okay, now that you have the background on “Keith”… here’s the snafu. “Keith” drives a black Audi A4!
What does this mean? (Beats me…) I feel like I’ve come full circle with Audis (and perhaps men).
I talked to “Austin HP” about this trend. He flipped out, “Jane, oh my god… does this mean I have to sell my blue Passat? (He loves his Passat.) The Passat is the country cousin to the Audi A6. I don’t want my car to be distantly related to ‘Boob Grabber's’ or ‘Mr. Personality's’ cars!”
I told him he was fine, because his Passat was blue and I’ve never met a blue car I didn’t like.
Maybe my friend “Schnickers” will have some insight into this subject. He drove an Audi A4 for years, but it was a burnt orange or metallic sunset color. I’ll have to ask him.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Peep Show
The heat wave here in the Twin Cities has been relentless. The enthusiasm that we Minnesotans normally exert with the onset of warmer weather has waned. We are being forced back inside.
Yesterday we experienced a brief hiatus from the oppressive temperatures… a slight breeze began to blow. It was heavenly and the patios in downtown Minneapolis once again began to fill up and smiles returned the faces of its fine citizens.
Downtown was where I was heading... to meet a friend for drinks after work.
I was driving along I-94 when a big blue van started pacing along side my car. I didn’t notice it at first, but eventually I looked over at the driver and passenger. They were middle-aged men who were both looking down into my car… at me. I looked ahead and thought to myself, “why are they staring at me?”
It was extremely uncomfortable and I could see out of the corner of my eye that they were still staring down at me. This went on for over a minute (which is an eternity when you’re driving). I was starting to get mad, when I inadvertently glanced down at the front of my shirt.
(Oops!) Because of the way I had sat down in my car, my loose fitting sleeveless V-neck silk shirt gaped wide open. The two gentlemen in the van next to me had a clear and unobstructed view of the front of my bra and boobies.
I started steering my car with my knees and adjusted my blouse. The men knew they were caught and promptly sped away. The peep show was over! Although I can’t imagine that the size of my assets provided much entertainment. (I know I’d be disappointed.)
However, as they sped away, I noticed a logo on the side of their van. It said, “First Baptist Church”.
Classic!
Yesterday we experienced a brief hiatus from the oppressive temperatures… a slight breeze began to blow. It was heavenly and the patios in downtown Minneapolis once again began to fill up and smiles returned the faces of its fine citizens.
Downtown was where I was heading... to meet a friend for drinks after work.
I was driving along I-94 when a big blue van started pacing along side my car. I didn’t notice it at first, but eventually I looked over at the driver and passenger. They were middle-aged men who were both looking down into my car… at me. I looked ahead and thought to myself, “why are they staring at me?”
It was extremely uncomfortable and I could see out of the corner of my eye that they were still staring down at me. This went on for over a minute (which is an eternity when you’re driving). I was starting to get mad, when I inadvertently glanced down at the front of my shirt.
(Oops!) Because of the way I had sat down in my car, my loose fitting sleeveless V-neck silk shirt gaped wide open. The two gentlemen in the van next to me had a clear and unobstructed view of the front of my bra and boobies.
I started steering my car with my knees and adjusted my blouse. The men knew they were caught and promptly sped away. The peep show was over! Although I can’t imagine that the size of my assets provided much entertainment. (I know I’d be disappointed.)
However, as they sped away, I noticed a logo on the side of their van. It said, “First Baptist Church”.
Classic!
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Dry Spell
Of late, my dating life has slowed down dramatically. The saying holds true, ‘when it rains… it pours’. This spring I was bombarded with dates. I think the warming weather triggers a reaction in men. I call it ‘The Twitterpated Factor’. (See the movie ‘Bambi’ for a more in depth discussion on Twitterpation.)
However, now my dating life has come to a halt (not a screeching halt, but a definite halt). The springtime dating frenzy is over and the summer lull has set in.
I realize that I’m supposed to be on a dating sabbatical and I am enjoying my down time (really I am... I know Cali-Goose has a hard time believing that one), but right now I don’t even have the option of dating, even if I wanted to.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked to “40 Year Old”. Yeah, I get an email here and there (once… maybe twice a week), but it’s just short chitchat between us. I mean, what else can it be? He lives half way across the country.
My prediction is that my dating life will remain sluggish if not dead in the water until the fall. The fall weather has an effect similar to the spring’s ‘Twitterpated Factor’. I call it “The Snuggle Factor” (for lack of a better catch phrase). I theorize that the chill in the air and the shorter nights entice people to seek out other people for the purpose of cuddling.
Hopefully, “The Snuggle Factor” and me kicking my social life up a notch or two (after my sabbatical is over) will do the trick and produce more dates (hopefully). Otherwise, I may have to change my name from Jane Dater to Jane Dateless.
However, now my dating life has come to a halt (not a screeching halt, but a definite halt). The springtime dating frenzy is over and the summer lull has set in.
I realize that I’m supposed to be on a dating sabbatical and I am enjoying my down time (really I am... I know Cali-Goose has a hard time believing that one), but right now I don’t even have the option of dating, even if I wanted to.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked to “40 Year Old”. Yeah, I get an email here and there (once… maybe twice a week), but it’s just short chitchat between us. I mean, what else can it be? He lives half way across the country.
My prediction is that my dating life will remain sluggish if not dead in the water until the fall. The fall weather has an effect similar to the spring’s ‘Twitterpated Factor’. I call it “The Snuggle Factor” (for lack of a better catch phrase). I theorize that the chill in the air and the shorter nights entice people to seek out other people for the purpose of cuddling.
Hopefully, “The Snuggle Factor” and me kicking my social life up a notch or two (after my sabbatical is over) will do the trick and produce more dates (hopefully). Otherwise, I may have to change my name from Jane Dater to Jane Dateless.
Off the Hook!
I was informed this weekend that I am the only person who still uses the phrase “off the hook”.
I was at Gabe’s with a group of friends that included “Bridget” (who was visiting from out of town) and “Dutch”. The topic of our discussion… Where was the best place to have breakfast in the Twin Cities? “Dutch” relentlessly defended ‘Keys Café’, (but only the White Bear Lake location). “Bridget” insisted upon the Grandview Grill. My restaurant of choice, “Rudolph’s”!
The Coors Light had gone down easily that night and I was determined to get my point across. To emphasize my belief that Rudolph’s had the best breakfast around, I got everyone’s attention at the bar and said in my most confident voice, ”Rudolph’s has the best Sunday brunch. It’s off the hook!”
I was confused for a good 30 seconds, because everyone at the bar (about 10 people) started laughing… at me. “Dutch” fell off his stool. Another friend, “Sandra” had to put her head down on the bar, because she was laughing so hard. Even the bartender had to put his shaker down. I didn’t get it until “Bridget” piped in, “Jane, I think you’re the only person left in the free world… or at least since 1990, that still uses the phrase, ‘Off the hook’.”
My face turned red (as usual... I hate having the complexion of Larry Bird). I shouted across the bar, “Bridget, I know for a fact that people were still saying ‘off the hook’ well into 1994!”
That probably wasn’t the best thing for me to say, because it just made everyone laugh even harder. “Bridget” gained her composure and looked at me sympathetically. “You’re right honey. I take it back. I think you’re the only person to use that phrase since the last decade.”
I appreciated that “Bridget” qualified her statement.
A FOLLOW UP NOTE:
“Dutch” and I went to the fireworks in downtown St. Paul yesterday evening. As we were walking to the patch of grass by the Science Museum with the best view, he started laughing to himself.
“What’s so funny Dutch?”
He shook his head, but had a huge smile on his face. “Jane, you know how I went to the Boys to Men concert at the Taste of Minnesota?”
I looked at him and said, “Yeah.”
“Well, you aren’t the only person that still says ‘off the hook’. One of the guys from ‘Boys to Men’ referred to something as ‘off the hook’ while he was on stage. It made me laugh out loud. I got a few strange looks from the people around me. No one could figure out what was so funny.”
I was vindicated! I WASN'T the only person left in the world that still says ‘off the hook’. Boys to Men still said it! Actually, I think “Junior” still says it to.
Anyway... to my friends, family and fellow bloggers: I hope your 4th of July weekend was ‘off the hook!’
I was at Gabe’s with a group of friends that included “Bridget” (who was visiting from out of town) and “Dutch”. The topic of our discussion… Where was the best place to have breakfast in the Twin Cities? “Dutch” relentlessly defended ‘Keys Café’, (but only the White Bear Lake location). “Bridget” insisted upon the Grandview Grill. My restaurant of choice, “Rudolph’s”!
The Coors Light had gone down easily that night and I was determined to get my point across. To emphasize my belief that Rudolph’s had the best breakfast around, I got everyone’s attention at the bar and said in my most confident voice, ”Rudolph’s has the best Sunday brunch. It’s off the hook!”
I was confused for a good 30 seconds, because everyone at the bar (about 10 people) started laughing… at me. “Dutch” fell off his stool. Another friend, “Sandra” had to put her head down on the bar, because she was laughing so hard. Even the bartender had to put his shaker down. I didn’t get it until “Bridget” piped in, “Jane, I think you’re the only person left in the free world… or at least since 1990, that still uses the phrase, ‘Off the hook’.”
My face turned red (as usual... I hate having the complexion of Larry Bird). I shouted across the bar, “Bridget, I know for a fact that people were still saying ‘off the hook’ well into 1994!”
That probably wasn’t the best thing for me to say, because it just made everyone laugh even harder. “Bridget” gained her composure and looked at me sympathetically. “You’re right honey. I take it back. I think you’re the only person to use that phrase since the last decade.”
I appreciated that “Bridget” qualified her statement.
A FOLLOW UP NOTE:
“Dutch” and I went to the fireworks in downtown St. Paul yesterday evening. As we were walking to the patch of grass by the Science Museum with the best view, he started laughing to himself.
“What’s so funny Dutch?”
He shook his head, but had a huge smile on his face. “Jane, you know how I went to the Boys to Men concert at the Taste of Minnesota?”
I looked at him and said, “Yeah.”
“Well, you aren’t the only person that still says ‘off the hook’. One of the guys from ‘Boys to Men’ referred to something as ‘off the hook’ while he was on stage. It made me laugh out loud. I got a few strange looks from the people around me. No one could figure out what was so funny.”
I was vindicated! I WASN'T the only person left in the world that still says ‘off the hook’. Boys to Men still said it! Actually, I think “Junior” still says it to.
Anyway... to my friends, family and fellow bloggers: I hope your 4th of July weekend was ‘off the hook!’
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