I Don't Like Dating

I've been out with C2 a total of three times now, and I've realized that the reason I'm not in a relationship might be that I don't like to date. My second date with C2 was at a fondue restaurant. I like cheese and I like C2, but I was sort of indifferent to being there. I thought maybe I was worried about the money. So, I laid it out: I do not make much money, I have student loans to pay, I am willing to pay for my portion of this meal, but I cannot afford to eat out often. He graciously offered to pay the bill, which I excepted (because OH MY GOD, it cost $40 for a pot of cheese), but he seemed concerned that I had student loans and made light of my worries by saying, "I think it would be fun to live from pay check to pay check." I said nothing because I'm not the confrontational type, but what? Do you realize that I do live from pay check to pay check? That it is not an adventure or a choice, but just the way it is for many, may people including myself? I think there is a fundamental difference in the way C2 and I live and the way we grew up. He does not have student loans because his parents paid for school. I cannot hold that against him. If my parents had had the means to help me with school, they would have and I would have taken it. But he seemed surprised that I had student loans, and that's what worries me--the assumption that I am like him. What will he think when he finds out that I'm not?

Despite everything, C2 still wanted to go on a 3rd date. I couldn't think of anything really wrong with him (he had now spent quite a bit of money on me and had been nothing but perfectly nice), so I agreed. I said that I had plans on Saturday (a trip to the Brooklyn Museum with Elle to see the Hide/Seek exhibit followed by a game of hide and seek in Prospect Park), but would see him after. Sunday really would have been better, but he was busy. He suggested we meet in Hoboken, where he lives. I was not excited and kind of nervous about going to New Jersey, but it seemed like the polite thing to do since we had previously met in Manhattan. Mostly, I didn't want to go because it was a different transit system and I would have to buy a ticket, but a three dollar bus ticket wasn't much to ask after all he'd spent on me.

I arrived in Hoboken all bundled up in my hide and seek clothes, two pairs of pants (I had wiped the dirt off the outer layer rather than wasting time going home to change). C2 and I ate pizza at a nice Italian restaurant. He paid again. I didn't even offer. Now we've set a precedent: he picks the restaurant, he picks what we eat, he pays. Really, he decides everything. I realized that at the Italian restaurant and thought "this is not a good habit to get into," but then I didn't feel like I had the right to complain--his money and all. After the restaurant, I really could have gone home. I don't like to be out late, and it takes quite a while to get to the part of Brooklyn where I live, but C2 had somewhere else for us to go. He didn't tell me where, just that we couldn't go yet, so we went back to his apartment and awkwardly watched a movie until it was time.

It turned out that we were waiting for a limo--a free limo that this bar has--to pick us up and bring us to the bar. I'll admit, it was pretty cool. The only other time I've ever been in a limo was Junior Prom. And, though I don't really like loud, crowded places, the bar had a live band that played music I liked and C2 bought me a drink and we danced badly. There was a black light on the dance floor that glowed off of people's white t-shirts and neon bracelets and bright orange bras under thin black tank tops and all the cat hair on the lumpy sweater I was wearing because, as you'll recall, I was dressed to play hide and seek.Two pairs of pants, and I was very very warm and definitely not the prettiest of the girls on the dance floor.

When we finally headed out, I wasn't sure if I was happy or if I'd had fun. I had liked the band, but I didn't want to be in New Jersey. It was late and I wanted to be home in my bed. I was thinking about all the time I had spent and how I could have been on the internet or reading a book or sleeping, and then I thought that maybe I didn't really like this person who I was spending time with. But, again, he was so nice. How could I not? Then he asked me to see him the next day, the day he supposedly was busy, and I said yes because I didn't know what else to say. But the more I thought about it, the more upset I became because why did I have to go to New Jersey on Saturday if he was going to be in Brooklyn on Sunday and could see me after his plans. And two days in a row was too much. I needed to spend more time alone in my apartment. I had only seen him three times, but it seemed like much more. I felt overwhelmed. And so I texted him and told him that I couldn't see him on Sunday. I needed to do my laundry and buy groceries--that really was the truth.

So, I've concluded that I really don't like dating. I don't like spending money unnecessarily even if it's someone else's money. Really, especially if it's someone else's money. It seems so fake, so forced. And really, I'd rather be home. I'm seeing C2 again on Saturday, but I'm not sure what to do from there. I'm definitely not his girl friend and I don't want to be his girl friend, so I feel like I'm leading him on, which is mean. But not seeing him anymore after he has invested in me is mean too. And there is no reason for me not to like him. I don't not like. I'm totally indifferent. Maybe that's worse.

I need to stop being so stupid and wishy washy and easily manipulated. But I have so many excuses.

I Consume: Does Your Face Hurt?

...Because it's killing me.

Okay, that joke isn't funny. It's a favorite of my uncle's, and to be honest, it has never been funny. But sometimes my face does hurt, especially in the winter. Walking through the city, the cold wind feels like steel wool scraping against my skin. It leaves my face feeling tight and raw. The worst part is face dandruff. You think that's gross, but you know exactly what I'm talking about: those little bits of dead skin that pill up on your face like fuzz on a sweater. Not only is it disgusting and uncomfortable, but it make it nearly impossible to properly apply make-up. So you gob moisturizer onto your face, you smear it into your foundation until you are good and greased and you get some momentary relief. Still, by the time you get to work, your face is dry and burning, and there is nothing you can do about it except try to massage some hand lotion into the really dry spots without messing up your eye shadow. This is a sucky problem I thought had no solution.

Then last winter, I was introduced to a very exciting product. I was late meeting up with some friends (as I often am), and I explained that my lateness was due to a problem with my face. No matter how much lotion I put on, my face still felt dry. My friend Elle (not to be confused with my sister Elle) said, "Your face does look dry," pulled a bottle out of her purse and sprayed me in the face. "Um, I'm wearing make-up," I said, but she said that it was alright. A person could spray this product on his or her face before or after make-up, whenever the face felt dry, and it would not mess up the make-up. The spray provided immediate relief to my burning face, and somehow it did not cause my mascara to run down my cheeks. For the rest of the day, I was surprise attacked. Elle would squint at me, apparently deciding I looked dry, say, "Close your eyes," and spray before she had finished talking. I needed to get myself some of this stuff.

So, this is the part where I mention that the event just described took place in Korea, which I left very soon after without much notice. I returned to the US with the desire for a Korean product I knew only as "face moisture spray." The salespeople at the stores (drug stores, bath product stores and cosmetics shops) I tried did not know what I meant. Though I suspected a similar product to the Korean product must exist, I gave up and soon forgot about my quest.

Then a few weeks ago I was in Sears with Elle (my sister), and I came across Mineral Essentials Antioxidant Hydrating Mist. Could it be? I read the description on the back: "for thirsty skin," "part bliss," "soothe your skin and uplift your mood," revitalizing dose of moisture alone or over [...] make-up." My brain immediately categorized this as a need. "You're paying $16 for something you spray on your face?" Elle asked. Yes. Some things are worth the money.

Contestants Two and Three

I took some time off from OkCupid during the holiday season, and I only recently got in touch with two guys I had agreed to meet, one with whom I actually wanted to go on a date and another with whom I did not (more on that to come). The way my schedule worked out, I was available on both Friday and Saturday, so I figured I'd set up dates for both nights and get them both out of the way in one weekend. It sounds slutty, but really it's just that I think of meeting men like completing homework assignments. If you're a therapist, maybe you can tell me why that is.

Anyway, Friday night I met the first guy. We'll call him Contestant Two, or C2 (if you're wondering what happened to C1, it's this guy). Based on his profile, he seemed intelligent and maybe even witty. I wasn't totally sure that we had common interests, but he at least seemed worth meeting. He suggested a coffee shop in the East Village, and after a little internet research, I concluded that it was exactly the sort of place I would enjoy spending time, but that a person who spent time in such an establishment might be a hipster and therefore cooler than me. I also learned that the establishment did not take debit cards and armed myself with cash. I ate pizza before I went, intending to buy a coffee and drink it very slowly to minimize spending. I became a little worried when he texted me multiple times before our date. If he was someone who needed to be in constant contact with everyone he knew, things were not going to work out. Had he texted anyone during our date, I might have left.

When C2 arrived at the locale I had three first impressions of him (no, I don't think that's too many). One: he had a beard. I believe I've made it clear that I'm not a fan of beards, but it seemed to suit him. And despite the beard he was rather good looking. Really, it only struck me because why does every guy I meet have a beard? Two: he was wearing a suit. I later learned that he had just come from work, but I felt a little out of place in my jeans and button down blouse even though I was technically in place and he was the one who was out of place wearing a suit in a coffee shop. Three: he hugged me. I am not against hugging, but I felt a little uncomfortable. Dude, I don't know you. Take a step back.

Once we got past the awkward hug and into the restaurant, I felt quite comfortable with C2, though he did touch my arm a few more times than I thought was appropriate. We had a good long conversation, learned a lot about each other and caught the flower in the vase on our table on fire via the small candle sitting next to it. I passed up food, explaining that I had already eaten pizza and ordered a chai latte. He had tea and a sandwich. It was a decidedly unpretentious order. I approved. Somehow we ended up talking about board games and switched venues to a bar with board games. We played Connect Four over cocktails.

All in all it was an enjoyable evening with someone who was easy to spend time with, and I am no longer worried about the texting (I think he was just confirming). But, here is what I am worried about: C2 bought my tea at the coffee shop and my appletini at the bar. Perhaps he was just being gentlemanly, but I think he also has significantly more money than I have. He has a career at a major financial institution. He owns his own home. Why would he be interested in dating someone with no career, with a low paying job, with incredible debt? Economically, at least, I am not his equal. I can't afford to go out all the time, but I can't let him pay all the time either. Then I'm indebted to him. He's not going to sacrifice going out because I can't afford it. Perhaps I'm worried about nothing, but it is a foreseeable problem.

Anyway, I'm meeting him again tomorrow.

To explain my date with Contestant 3--C3, if you will, I will refer you to the first 14 seconds of the following clip from Scooby Doo.

I was not enthusiastic about meeting C3. I honestly cannot remember why I ever agreed to meet him in the first place. He was one of the first people to message me on OkCupid, and I deleted the message because he didn't sound that interesting. Then he messaged me again and I responded. Maybe it was because I was new to the site and he was paying attention to me. I can't really say. But I agreed to meet him. I think this was in October. Then I thought about it and decided I didn't want to meet him. Then I stopped going to the site for a while and totally forgot about him, but when I returned to the site, there he was. I felt bad for ignoring him for months. According to his profile, we had nothing in common, but I told him to meet me at my favorite coffee shop.

I showed up 15 minutes late, which was not intentional, but was rude. We went into the shop where I bought myself a scone and he bought himself a hot chocolate. Since there was no place to sit, I suggested we walk in the park. C3 was sweet and totally nonthreatening, but it quickly became apparent that he did not know how to hold a conversation. I would ask him a question, and he would respond with one word. He did not elaborate. He did not offer amusing anecdotes. He did not even reciprocate the questions. Sometimes the answers he gave didn't seem relevant to my questions, and on the rare occasions that he spoke more than a few words, the things he said didn't make much sense. He finally started telling me about a trip he'd once taken to DC when he asked for permission to segue. I'd never felt so powerful. "Sure. Go ahead and segue," I said, but it turned out that what he meant by segue was completely change topic. He had no dazzling transition to offer. 

Then he asked me what I thought of him, which was incredibly awkward. I said that he seemed nice, but I didn't think we had anything in common. He insisted that he liked books: in high school he read In Cold Blood and he often read the news paper. Luckily, I had made plans to meet a friend for dinner (and for her to hem my pants) exactly two hours after the start of my date with C3, so I wasn't lying when I said I had to leave to bring my pants somewhere. 

He called today to ask me to go to a museum with him. I said, "Um............I'm okay." Poor Creeper. 

Evergreen

me: When do you think we should take down the tree?

Elle: When we move out?

I Consume: Essie Matte About You

On Saturday Elle and I did a little post-holiday shopping at Kings Plaza (a big mall in Brooklyn). We had two objectives: find Elle a pair of boots (failure) and spend Elle's Sears gift card (success). I was not supposed to buy anything except for lunch at Panera. I was the moral support. But I just couldn't resist. While Elle was in the fitting room in Sears, I wandered through the nearby make-up section (dangerous, I know), and I spotted this one lonely bottle of Essie matte top coat. I have desired such a product since Claire informed me of the existence of matte top coat, but when it was only available on Sephora's website, it was easy to stop myself. I did not need to spend $10 plus shipping on a nail polish. Then there it was: a matte top coat made by Essie, my new love, no less.  This was worth $8 at Sears. I'm painting everything matte.

My Thoughts on Babies

A friend of mine (who some of you know) has a six month old baby and her friends and family have their opinions on if and when she should have another baby. I have no baby, no experience with babies, nothing on which to found my opinion and no business telling anyone else that she should or should not have babies. I don't want to add to the problem of people butting in, and that's why I did not include my opinion on babies on my friend's post. I'm writing my own post. Because I just can't help it.

I grew up with siblings, and I enjoyed their company. Siblings are built in friends and playmates. Of course, they're also built-in enemies, but I can't imagine growing up without them. I envision a sad and lonely childhood with no one to form alliances with against the adults, no co-conspirators or partners in crime. And I've heard that siblings born five or more years apart might as well be only children because they don't have the same relationship as children who are closer in age. 

At the same time, when people have too many babies too close together I think that those people must either be religious freaks or too stupid to use birth control (because I am judgmental like that). Of course, perfectly intelligent people can fail at using birth control. It happens. It's only when it happens three or four times in as many years that I really start to doubt a person's ability to follow instructions. And as for not using birth control for religious purposes, that is totally legitimate, and it is absolutely inconsiderate and wrong for me to disrespect and insult other's beliefs in that manner. But it would be dishonest to say I didn't feel that way. 

So, I think it is appropriate to have two to four children who are one and a half to three years apart. Who cares what I think? Probably no one. And I know people who are only children who had perfectly happy childhoods who grew up to be functioning members of society. So it's obviously not necessary to a child's social development that he or she have siblings. To be honest, I'm not sure I'm fully socially developed myself. 

I guess my point is, I think it's nice to have a sister or brother or two, but no one can tell anyone else what's right for their family. 

I Consume: Christmas Surprises

I knew my Christmas gift (my Corelle set) well before Christmas, and that really was plenty. But my mom wouldn't be satisfied without throwing in a few surprise presents. So these are the presents I unwrapped on Christmas: a hefty copy of Les Mis, a nice hardcover edition of To Kill a Mockingbird, a play for good measure--Death of a Salesman and The Help on DVD. 

Les Mis is one of those books I've always meant to read, but never have. I adore the musical. I would even go as far to say that it is my favorite musical. I've seen the movie. But I've never read the book. A few years back I picked up a very pretty copy of Les Mis at a book sale--faux Victorian binding and all, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a condensed version of the novel, and though I cannot read the novel in its original French (due to lack of understanding of the French language), I at least wanted to read the translation in full. So this pretty volume has never left the shelf. Now that I have a more legitimate copy of Les Mis, I have to commit to reading it. I am apprehensive, but determined. (I'm currently reading The Last of the Mohicans, which is somewhat fascinating since it takes place in my hometown, but dense and slow and alright, I find it boring.)

 To Kill a Mockingbird and Death of a Salesman run more along the lines of pleasure reading. I've loved To Kill a Mockingbird and desired a copy since I first read it in high school, and Death of a Salesman proves my theory that regents exams lead to death.

I had not seen the help before I received it for Christmas, but I watched it a few days ago and find it worth owning. I would be interested in reading the book.

Overall, not a bad take.