Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Wednesday, December 31, 2008 New Year's Evolution They finally let me out of Oklahoma City. I wasn't in some weird limbo with airport muzak while waiting my final judgment after all. I hated to think the Oklahoma City airport is where we go when we die, but on the other hand, the bathrooms were clean and the people were friendly and they had good veggie burgers. Limbo or eternity could be a lot worse.
It's New Year’s Eve, and along with all the year-end re-cap lists and astrology forecasts, the guide to resolutions, the step-by-step procedures for saving money, quitting smoking, losing weight, securing a new job and finding love are bombarding us from everywhere. Magazines, television, newspapers and the internet (oh my, the internet) are brimming over with guides and steps and advice and how-to and services which will help us set and maintain goals and resolutions to fill our new calendars. We can all be new! and improved! in every aspect of our lives if we just follow someone else’s plan/guide/steps/advice.
I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. If you want or need to change something - a behavior, a situation, an attitude – why wait for a specific date on a calendar? New Year’s resolutions are for procrastinators. January 1 offers a fresh start on a numerical year, and if that inspires you, great. But more often than not it’s an excuse for people to delay starting a course of change because they’re going to “wait for the new year.” The new year arrives and for a few days or weeks they make their change and then they fall right back into their old habits. The new year was merely an excuse to not embark upon change when they first realized something needed changing. If you don’t start and stick to a diet in September, you may do it for a while in January, but odds are good you’re lacking the true motivation and desire to change. If you had that fire in your desire you would have started in September. Just an observation, not an absolute.
Sure, reflection is a natural reaction to the end of a calendar year. There’s a bittersweet paradox to throwing out a calendar at the end of the year. It’s cathartic but melancholy, too. And there, in its place is a new calendar offering 12 new months of opportunity. Out with the old, in with the new. Literally.
Last year I was dating that guy for a couple months. I was still recovering from surgery, and my dad had just had cancer surgery, but the year ahead looked hopeful, maybe even promising. The pain in my ankle was decreasing, my dad's cancer was completely gone, I had an interview lined up with a company I respect, and there was that guy I was dating. Meanwhile a friend was recovering from a break-up. She’s a divorced serial dater and rarely goes more than a month or two between men. She’s had a couple long term relationships but more of the "couple months then fizzle out" types of relationships. You and I know what her “problem” is, it’s easy to see it from our vantage point. She dates for the sake of dating. She’s afraid to be alone.
When her relationships end she suffers. She cries. She berates herself. She berates him. She gets angry. That's all normal. But then she gets even by rebounding. Fast. Really fast. Every time.
Last year, a few days before New Year’s Eve we had a long chat. She's the type who drops all her friends when she's dating a guy, so it was our first long chat in ages. I have to catch her between men if I want to have any real conversation with her or see her. Through her sobs and rants she asked me why "this" kept happening to her.
I know. Me? She's asking me this loaded question? Me? Man pariah Trillian?
Phew. Well.
I’ve spent a lot of time not in a relationship. I keep busy. I volunteer. I travel. I take classes. I read. I spend time with my family. I’m an active participant in the world.
And I pay attention to how I’m evolving. What I liked three years ago I might not like now. Until last year I kept trying yoga because I thought I liked it, or that I would like it. I don’t. I hate it. So I stopped trying it. I used used to be too polite to say no. Now I say no unapologetically and without lingering guilt.
It’s personal evolution, no big deal, happens to everyone. But I pay attention to it. The men I wanted to date - my ideal guys five years ago – are far from my ideal now. I take a running inventory of myself and try to change the things I don’t like and cultivate the things I do like. Sure, the core is there, the values, the intrinsic characteristics, and I have a few Big Things, lifetime “goals” about who I want to be, the sort of person I am. But other things change. New experiences and insights evolve. So the running inventory check helps keep my perspective on myself fresh, keeps me on track with my goals and gives me a strong sense of myself.
When I go on dates I learn from them. Even the bad dates teach me something useful. I make notes about what I liked or didn’t like about the guy, or how I felt with him. Positive and negative are useful as long as you pay attention and remember what you liked, or didn’t like, when you meet men in the future.
By knowing myself and what traits in men evoke positive responses I know a “right” one when I meet him. The “wrong” ones have big neon arrows saying “stay away.” Why? Because I have a strong sense of myself. There’s nothing wrong (usually) with the “wrong” men, they’re just not right for me at that point in my personal evolution.
I hear you say, “That’s all very zen and enlightened of you, but if you’re constantly changing what you want in a man and relationship you’re never going to have a long term relationship. That's your problem with men, Trill, maybe you don't really know what you want.”
Maybe. Maybe that’s why I’m still single. But I think it has more to do with timing. Meeting the right person at the right time, when your personal evolutions are in synch with each other.
It’s also about winnowing down the traits. Basing a relationship on a specific commonality like a particular band or sport will lead nowhere. Think about your favorite band when you were 17. Think about your favorite band now. What if you married a person who liked your favorite band at 17 - and they still loved that band as much as they did then. Your taste in music evolved and theirs did not. In all but a few rare cases this would be disastrous.
Taking music as an example, is it enough to find someone who likes music in general? It’s a good start. Granted, a Flaming Lips fan and a Celine Dion fan are probably not going to ignite a lot of romance sparks, but get to the heart of the matter. A Flaming Lips fan is probably creative, open minded with an offbeat sense of humor and a proclivity for loud music and raucous concerts. A Celine Dion fan is probably more predictable, doesn’t like surprises, watches American Idol and prefers quiet evenings by the fire or in the company of like minded civilized people in large, lush, expensive auditoriums.
See where I’m going with this? Dig down to the roots and open your mind to possibilities that could sprout from those roots. So what if the new person you meet doesn’t share your enthusiasm for a band or sport. What do they like? Are the roots similar? Ta dah.
Back to last year and my friend. She took my idea and ran with it. Instead of getting drunk and crying and drunk dialing her ex-boyfriend, or falling into the arms of whomever she could find, she stayed sober and took a personal inventory of herself and what she wanted in a man and a relationship. She made a list.
You know where this is going. In April she met that guy. He possesses 96% of the traits on her list. All she needed to do was spend some time alone getting to know herself, be honest with herself, acknowledge herself and her likes and dislikes, and focus on what she wanted in a man and from a relationship.
It’s not magic. It’s shifting focus from what you’ve lost to what you want, and from what you dislike to what you like. Her determination to stop feeling sorry for herself and take responsibility for her own life and desires was the biggest hurdle. It meant spending time alone not dating whomever came along. It meant focusing on what she needed long term and not what she thought she wanted in the moment.
It’s like taking a look in the cupboards, planning meals and making a list before going to the grocery store rather than just stopping at the grocery because you’re hungry and will eat whatever looks good in the store. We might not like broccoli but we know it’s good for us and we have a recipe which calls for it. Put it on the list, buy it, make the recipe on Wednesday night and voila! healthy eating. Better for us than that impromptu frozen pizza and ice cream. A healthy relationship with the right person is the planned meal of broccoli. A bad relationship with the wrong person is frozen pizza and ice cream. Maybe satisfying in the moment, but you know it’s bad for you, you know there’s nothing lasting in it and you’re going to regret it later.
It all sounds so simple that it’s embarrassing to even think this weekend motivational seminar drivel. It’s the fodder of self-help authors with cliché catch phrases and Dr. Phil non-advice. And if I’m so smart about dating why am I single? Valid point. I’m not implying I’m perfect. My evolution has many stages left to conquer. And I haven’t met the man whose personal evolution is in synch with mine. But I’ve had a few good relationships and some great dates. And I’ve avoided some potentially disastrous dates and relationships because I paid attention to the huge neon arrows flashing “stay away.” I haven’t met The One. Maybe I never will. But. I evolve and so does my dating life. I don't keep dating the same type of guy over and over.
When you’re honest with yourself and know yourself the “wrong” people become blazingly obvious. You develop a keen sense of what matters most to you. The better you know yourself and what matters to you, the better your judgment becomes in terms of weeding out the “wrong” people. The people who don’t share those outlooks tend to have the “stay away” neon arrows pointing to them. They’re not bad, they’re just not right for you right now. Timing.
Last New Year’s Eve my friend was crying and angry over a break-up. Last week her 96% guy proposed to her on Christmas Eve. The moral is not that marriage is not the be all and end all ultimate prize. The moral is that you have to be honest with yourself and make knowledgeable choices about who you date if you want a healthy, fulfilling, long term relationship. Frozen pizza can be good in the moment, but broccoli is better for you. Take the inventory, make the list and evolve.
This year it’s me who’s alone on New Year’s Eve. I’m not crying over a break-up. Those January 2008 points of hope turned out to be false. My dad's cancer surgery rid him of cancer but gave him a deadly bacterial infection. My foot and ankle are still swollen and painful, and now scarred. That job interview didn't lead to a new job. That guy I was dating unceremoniously dumped me. That's one reason why I don't make New Year's Resolutions. The calendar dates are meaningless. They're just ways to mark the passing of time for historians and scientists. My 2008 calendar was filled with promise in January. By April the dates were marked with hospital stays, doctor appointments and no dates with that guy or anyone else. The coming months brought dates which will now forever be sad anniversaries for me.
It's evolution, not resolution. I’m sticking to my rule about no New Year’s resolutions. But I'm running a personal inventory check and bringing my list up to date with my evolution. A lot has happened since my last full personal inventory. It’s not out with the old. The old is useful, I’m keeping most of it. And it’s not in with the new. Magic will not happen at the stroke of midnight. I'm using the old to update my inventory so I can embrace whatever new comes along on my path of personal evolution as the person I am now, not who I was a year ago.
So, happy 2009. I hope it's healthy, happy, prosperous and evolutionary for all of you.
7:15 PM
Sunday, December 28, 2008
It's December 28.
I'm staring at a sign that reads: Welcome to Oklahoma City!
So apparently I'm in Oklahoma City.
I felt the plane decreasing altitude. I heard the pilot tell us there was a problem at O'Hare and our flight was being diverted. I looked out the airplane window and saw black dots on green ground. As our altitude decreased the black dots took the form of cows. Kansas, I thought. Kansas City. But no. Oklahoma. The re-booked ticket the agent gave me says OKC to ORD. So. I am not in Kansas. I'm in OKC. The sign and my ticket say so.
I'm not supposed to be in Oklahoma City. I'm supposed to be home in Chicago unpacking and heaving a sigh of relief that I got through the first Christmas without my dad. You know the movie Trains, Planes and Automobiles? Steve Martin's character Neil Page has fantasy moments of his warm home, wife and kids, all the pleasant, happy, comforting places he'd be, should be, if he wasn't in travel Hell. I keep having fantasy moments of my little condo, the sheets freshly laundered waiting for my arrival, my unpacked suitcase tucked in the closet...
In the past seven days I've logged 4,800 air miles.
I'm on my fifth flight in seven days. I'm entering my 18th hour of flight delay time. Actual time in the air: 8.25 hours. If I ever leave Oklahoma City (which is looking doubtful today, and I'm considering relocating simply because I was on a plane that was diverted here and here seems as good as place as any to just say: I'm here. I'm done. This is it. My last stop. Ever.) If I do decide to leave I have another two hours in the air.
Using mph in flight time I've earned 581.8181 air miles/hour of air time. using the same ratio I've earned 10,472.727 miles on the ground waiting in airports or on tarmacs. Thus far. (I like how the equation works out to .727. It's a little math joke the airlines are playing on me.)
I've learned a few things traveling across, up and down America in the past seven days.
If the wind chill is low enough plane de-icing trucks will, themselves, freeze. I know this because I sat on the runway at O'Hare for three hours when the air temp was -10 and the wind chill was -40. We needed to be de-iced before take-off. We couldn't get de-iced because two of de-icing trucks were frozen and inoperable. I would think they could just squirt the de-ice slime on the truck and voila! back in action. But apparently that's an over-simplistic presumption. I'm all for safety first. I'm not complaining. But. I did spend those three hours contemplating the safety of taking off at all if the temperature is so low and wind is so strong that de-icing trucks are frozen and wondering when (and why) I choose to trust flight crews and airline management with my life. Note to self: Evaluate judgment.
Amid the surly gate agents, unhelpful phone reps, and TSA agents with power gone to their heads there are many unsung heroes of air travel. The people who clean the airport bathrooms. The wheelchair assistants. The guys who work the de-ice trucks. By definition these people do the difficult and unpleasant jobs. We don't really "notice" them when things are running smoothly, but just wait until a bathroom runs out of toilet paper, a handicapped passenger has to get from gate C78 to gate F42B or it's -10°. Without the people working those jobs air travel would be truly awful, unsafe or impossible.
Every flight has to have a cabin crew. The ratio is one flight attendant/50 passengers. I know this because I spent five hours in Detroit waiting for a flight attendant to arrive from another flight so my mother and I could take off to O'Hare. Yes. We could have driven to Chicago in those five hours. But we still would have missed our connecting flight to Los Angeles. So. No real point in driving when, eventually, a flight attendant will arrive. Right? Right?? I also learned that apparently there is a flight attendant shortage in Detroit. Or maybe it was because not enough flight attendants in Detroit wanted to work on December 23rd. Note to self: Look into flight attendant salaries.
When some flights are delayed or there is a "flight slow down" at an airport, airlines have a built-in excuse to cancel other flights. My mother and I missed our connecting flight to Los Angeles (see above, MIA flight attendant) but no big deal, right? There are flights from Chicago to Los Angeles every hour. No big deal if you miss your flight. Unless the airlines cancel those flights. I'm not saying the weather wasn't bad. It was unpleasant. I understand why there was a runway slow-down. But. I don't understand why a slow-down meant four out of six flights to Los Angeles were canceled. Not delayed, canceled. Again, I'm all for safety. If it's not safe to fly a plane, then by all means, don't even attempt it. Angry passengers be damned. But. Flights were taking off - just at a slower pace than normal. So why cancel flights full of holiday travelers? Don't know. Don't get it. But there it is. It just is.
Traveling with a senior citizen in a wheel chair greatly increases your odds of getting rebooked on another flight when yours is canceled. If you're lucky enough to have healthy senior citizens in your family, consider borrowing a wheel-chair bound travel companion if you plan to travel during the holidays or during a runway "slow-down." I wish my mother didn't have physical limitations. Don't get me wrong, I'm not basking in glory of her impairment. But. Since she's already physically challenged, well, it's a nice perk to get priority treatment for re-booking and boarding. I saw agents who were surly to other passengers turn to pleasant, customer service oriented professionals when they saw my mother. Strings were pulled. Exceptions were made. We got on a flight where there were 124 people on stand-by.
Having frequent flyer status never hurts. A log of thousands of miles and a few banked upgrades comes in handy. I hate to jinx myself, but, so far on United I've never paid for an "Economy Plus" upgrade but inevitably I am offered one at the gate. Do they "owe" me a seat with a few inches more legroom considering I've logged thousands of miles on their planes? Well...to some that's debatable. I should have to pay like everyone else. ($39 on most flights) But. If no one takes the bait for the few inches more leg room and the seats are going to go empty, why not upgrade a frequent flyer which will then give a non-frequent flyer more space due to the vacated seat? I mean really, everyone wins. As for those upgrades, when our flight was canceled I had enough upgrades banked to put my mother and I in first class. There were seats available in first class on other flights long before there were seats in the rest of the planes. If we hadn't made the first hoped for re-booked flight, we were assured first class seats when (if) the next flight left. (Note to self: Hate them though you do, those air miles on those stupid airlines come in handy so keep using your frequent flyer number.)
What does the X in LAX stand for? I've pondered this in the past, but just thought this was an opportune time to present it to the Universe. I know the IATA codes have to be three letters, but why X? Why not LAG? or LAN? ORD, by the way, comes from ORcharD which was the original name of an airstrip in the area. Conveniently, Butch O'Hare, a WWII Navy Commander, had a last name starting with O so it was an easy rename. Though I question the appropriateness of naming an airport after a Navy airman who died in a plane crash. I can see both sides of the discussion and it's nice to have some kind of tribute, but given the circumstances of his death I'm not sure how fitting the tribute is. Seems a little crass, a little insensitive. But I'm not a pilot and maybe pilots think the best tribute and honor they can achieve is to have an airport named after them, even if they die in a plane crash. But the X in LAX is an elusive mystery. Note to self: Talk to pilot about questionable taste in naming airports.
Also a good place to interject that the Getty Museum in Los Angeles is awe inspiring. Every time I've been there I've been knocked off my feet by its stunning beauty. (Happy place happy place)
The Theme Building at LAX (the arched quintessential jet-age poster child of architecture and LA) is still under re-construction. I have it on good authority, though, that the original plans and construction are being strictly adhered to and the design integrity of the building will remain unchanged and unscathed. (Whew!) The Encounter restaurant will still be there when it re-opens. (drums fingers on laptop...waiting waiting waiting patiently waiting waiting waiting) For those of us who are not keen on the whole SoCal scene the Theme Building is a comfortable welcoming committee to a place we'd rather not be. I hate LA and dread trips there - passionately - but every time the plane touches down and the Theme Building comes into view I get a rush of excitement and a smile finds its way to my face. The building says, "Look, I know LA is a weird, pretentious, shallow, expensive, phony charade, but we're not all that way. Good can be found, here, or at least hope can be found here. There are hopeful places, inspired places, just ignore all the rest of it and seek out the sincere. It'll be okay, I promise, and when you leave I'll be right here waiting for you and will bid you a safe journey." Note to self: Make peace with Los Angeles.
Oklahoma City, OKC, is now Will Rogers Airport. I did not know that. Now I do. I did know that Will Rogers died in a plane crash, though, and naming an airport after him seems a little inappropriate. (See above, O'Hare.) I like Will Rogers. I don't go around thinking about Will Rogers accept when they play that Will Rogers Institute thing before movies, which, now that I think about it, I haven't seen in a long time. But I like Will Rogers. Had I known I would be stopping in Oklahoma City I would have been more excited about landing at "his" airport. I guess if Will Rogers liked Oklahoma then it's okay (OK!) by me. It's just that I hadn't planned on stopping here now, today. Looking out over the runway from the terminal it's very flat. Very, very flat. I can see for miles and miles and miles. A couple hours ago I saw a beautiful sunset over Oklahoma. The Sun lingered on the horizon for a very long time. And then the purples and oranges of twilight lasted a long time. I guess that's how it is here in Oklahoma City. Out on the wide open prairie. I bought some crackers and gum in the Capital City gift shop. They had a nook of Native American pottery, jewelry, books, photographic prints, and a postcard showing "Popular Indian Symbols." The back of the post card refers to "white man" and "red man." I guess out here in the real prairie they don't go much for political correctness. Nonetheless I winced when I read some of the vernacular. Every now and then I'm really, really, really proud that my family is very new to this country and "we" missed all the socially accepted degrading racial stereotyping that went on here way back when. (Speaking of socially acceptable degrading stereotyping, I saw the original Holiday Inn a few days ago. I'd never seen the uncut version. Holy weird and uncomfortable racial weirdness. Bing Crosby in blackface? What the...? Even for 1942 this seems insensitive and racist.)
The airport is very clean. Small, but very clean. I like that. And the people who work in the airport are very friendly. They all seem like they could be neighbors or relatives of Will Rogers. That's cool. I'm guessing they're so darned friendly because several flights have been diverted here and they're busier than normal. There are lots of stranded travelers who are hungry, thirsty and bored. Their cash registers are ringing up bigger sales than expected. The weather snarls around the country are a boon to the economy in Oklahoma City.
One negative aspect of the airport: Lack of electrical outlets. One per gate is what I've found thus far. I'm guessing they don't have a lot of travelers spending enough time here that they need a lot of outlets. But. On a day like today with flights diverted and stalled here, outlets are premium real estate. I found one in the ladies room and re-charged there. Thankfully the ladies room was exceptionally clean and quite large and my laptop charges fast.
There's a grill by my gate. I gave in to hunger and sauntered over to look at the menu. Burgers. All kinds of burgers. And steak. And a veggie burger. Wait. Am I just delusional from the long delay and possible loss of oxygen on during the unplanned landing? Veggie burgers in the Oklahoma City airport??? Is it a joke on us non-meat eating travelers? Is it really animal free? I just came from LAX and I had difficulty finding veg friendly food fare in salad heaven LA and yet here, in Oklahoma City, at the airport, they offer a veggie burger? I timidly walked up to the order area of the counter. A very, very friendly man beamed a big smile at me. "Good evening, ma'am, you look tired and hungry. I can't help you with the tired part but I can get you something good to eat! Where you trying to get to tonight?" (I told you they were friendly and happy to see us diverted travelers. Cha ching.)
"Chicago."
"SWEET HOME CHICAGO!! Small world! My sister went there last year for a teachers' conference!"
Yeah. What are the odds. I wasn't going to get into the discussion about my destination and his sister's work conference not qualifying us for small world status. And he was just trying to be friendly. So I smiled and said, "yep, getting smaller every day."
"So what can we make for you?"
"Erm, a, erm, *veggie* burger, please." I quietly said, leaning close to him so no one around me heard me order a veggie burger. My instincts told me ordering a veggie burger in Oklahoma City is cause for stares and whispers. After all, across the concourse they're selling postcards using the term "red man." But on the other hand, they do offer veggie burgers, there must have been some demand, some reason. Still, I felt an instinctual need to keep it on the down low. But the super friendly order taker blew my cover, "You a vegetarian?!" He seemed a bit too enthused. Like maybe I was the first one he'd ever met. Or that he was going to get a good laugh out of faking out the vegetarian with some kind of an animal disguised as a veggie burger.
"Erm, yes." I said as shortly and quietly as possible.
"Alrighty then! ONE VEGGIE BURGER!!!" he yelled to the short order cook who was no more than six feet away. "Do you eat dairy? We've got three kinds of cheese if you want to dress up that VEGGIE BURGER."
"Um, sure, yeah, that'd be great."
"We have Cheddar, Provolone and Swiss!"
Wait. Cheddar, Provolone and Swiss? At an airport? Huh? Where am I?
"Swiss, please."
"SWISS ON THE VEGGIE FOR THE LITTLE LADY FROM CHICAGO!!!"
Aw crap. Ya know, friendly is nice, really, I appreciate friendly. But. There are limits. Boundaries. Too much joviality in an obviously bad situation is uncalled for and annoying. I was still wondering if this was some sort of mockery, making fun of vegetarians and weary travelers.
"Now don't you worry, we cook our veggie burgers separate from the cows!"
Okay. I was worried. Was my look of dismay that obvious or did this guy have telepathic powers?
"Great! Thanks! Appreciate that. A lot." I paid and in 10 minutes my veggie burger was ready. Made to order. On the "special" end of the grill.
And on my honor it was the best veggie burger I've had in ages. Maybe it was an animal and maybe the joke was on me. But, two hours later and no stomach issues have arisen indicating that it was indeed veggie friendly.
Somehow, someday, I may leave Oklahoma City. All the shops and restaurants except one bar have now closed. The night cleaning and security crews have arrived. They're all friendly and helpful. Which is making me wonder if my plane crashed and I have in fact died and am in some afterlife waiting area for people who die in plane crashes. "Will Rogers Airport" my ass. It's OKC, not WRA. Will Rogers seems like a fitting welcoming station for people who died in plane crashes. Comforting, friendly, non-threatening...yep, it's all starting to make sense, now. Will Rogers...the beautiful lingering sunset...the clean bathrooms...the veggie burger...the Swiss cheese...I was worried about getting home to Chicago tonight, but now I'm scared about what this diverted layover really is and where my next flight will be taking me. 9:13 PM
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I just received another gift from the Universe.
Sure, I'm not perfect. I have my personal issues with men and dating. I am not blameless.
But.
I feel a lot better, now. It's not just me. It's not entirely my fault.
The Man Situation, the dating scene in Chicago is so bad that Drew Peterson, thatDrew Peterson, is engaged.
A woman, a young woman with her entire life ahead of her, finds dating prospects in Chicago so bleak that she has agreed to marry Drew Peterson.
For those keeping score, Drew has divorced two wives, one wife "drowned," and one is "missing." This new girl will be wife #5. Henry VIII had six wives - divorced two, had two executed, one died and last was his widow. Just saying...
But hey, like Peterson's publicist says, "He's got a right to be happy."
Oh, where to begin with that assertion. Wait. Drew Peterson has a publicist?
3:36 PM
Monday, December 15, 2008
The holiday party season is in full swing. Office parties, neighborhood get-togethers and business lunches are on most social agendas this week.
I had two such affairs in the past few days. I saw some of the usual behaviors among attendees at these events. Behavior falling short of the pleasant, polite and mature adult marks. Reminded me of an old post which apparently needs to be brushed off, revisited and reposted. There are people out there who need some reminders in party behavior.
The Esoteric Poseur Long ago and far away I was at a party. A rather "cool" affair with some art, music and academic types in heavy attendance. A guy came up to me and, without introduction announced, "I have nothing to offer anyone except my own confusion." It was like one of those '80s Calvin Klein Obsession commercials so I laughed - I thought he was joking. He was not joking.
He left me in a snooty huff, on to pounce and announce on the next girl. An hour or so later he targeted me again, this time announcing, "Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken."
I knew he was quoting Kerouac with his first attempt at "shocking" me, which is why I felt so certain he was joking, assuming I knew Kerouac, assuming I knew the perfume commercials, assuming I'd think it was funny that he was making fun of self-important scene makers. This second assault, after his dismissive huff, left me annoyed. This guy was not Andy Warhol any more than he was Jerry Seinfeld.
You wanna talk to me? Talk. Use your words.
Or, if you feel it appropriate, use someone else's words in an either jokingly poignant or sadly ironic tone, acknowledging the origin of the quote and then moving along quickly to conversation with your own words.
If you're not smooth with the prose or if you just have a hard time approaching people, use that as your opening, "Hi, my name's Eric and I'm really awful at party banter. I'm a software designer, I grew up in New Foundland, I have two cats, I like manufacturing documentaries and I'm wearing a new shirt." Or something like that. Honesty is usually the best policy. Trying to come off as something you are not will almost always backfire. Badly.
This guy made a lot of assumptions. He assumed either a) I have not read Kerouac and would not recognize the quotes, thus assuming I would find him original and provocative (when in fact he was plagiarizing in an attempt to make an esoteric and deep impression), or b) that I have read Kerouac and would be impressed that he, too, “knows” Kerouac.
Both approaches are flawed. The first assumes ignorance, the second assumes arrogance.
Ever since the Kerouac poseur I've had a serious dislike for people who try too hard to be esoteric. I didn't like them before the Kerouac poseur, but I've seriously disliked them since. I made a conscious decision to avoid them.
Esotericism is not something you can fake - you are or you are not. Striving to be esoteric is like striving to be blond. Some people, with enough effort, time and influence, can achieve a close proximity, close enough to almost pass for natural. But most come off looking fake, cheap, insecure and stupid. Like frequent salon trips for root touch-ups, maintaining the charade of esotericism takes a lot of effort. And everyone always knows the truth anyway.
Better to make peace with who you are and what you have, or don't have. Approach the world (and other people) with honesty. Yes, that means exposing yourself and letting yourself be vulnerable. However, the lessons learned while allowing yourself the vulnerability of honesty are the soul enriching lessons which help you understand yourself. Understanding yourself, knowing yourself, makes you comfortable in your own skin (or hair or personality).
The Drunk Girl Oh boy. Here we go. The bar is open. The food is bite sized appetizers passed on small trays. None of the girls have eaten much (if anything) for a couple days in order to fit into their cute holiday party outfits. It’s a recipe for disaster. She starts with a few sips of wine. She is really not intending to drink much at the party. But a few friends arrive, they all have a cocktail, she has another. And then another. And then another.
The next thing she knows she’s leading the room in the chorus of “I Like Big Butts” punctuating butts by salaciously slapping her own butt.
My observation is that The Drunk Girl is not someone who normally engages in loud, obnoxious behavior. But on the other hand…no one’s terribly surprised, either. She’s the sort of girl who is outgoing among her circle of friends, and has a pretty solid reputation…but also has a few stories circulated about her, too. She’s professional, but will seize an opportunity for “fun.”
In the grand scheme of things every party has a Drunk Girl. Someone has to do it. And letting off a little steam at a party isn’t a bad thing, releasing a little steam might even charge up the energy vibe at a dull event. But. If this is a company party, or an event attended by professional colleagues and you want to advance in your career, do not be the Drunk Girl at the party.
Sure, the chances are good that most everyone else is imbibing, too. Sure, other people are going to do stupid stuff at the party. Sure, the chances of your loud, obnoxious behavior being held against you next June when budgets are being reviewed for lay-offs are slim. But why take the chance?
A) eat something substantial before the event and B) keep your alcohol intake to a minimum. Have a cocktail, or two, but when you feel your cheeks flushing and your inhibitions waning, cut yourself off. If you can’t trust yourself to do this use the buddy system. Make a pact with a friend before the party that you’ll watch out for each other during the party. If one of you notices the other getting louder, laughing too loud, or, worse, singing, you get the other out of there, immediately. Have a safe word, or a safe phrase, like, “Jen, we have to go, remember? We’re meeting Mark and Susan? We really need to get going. Now.” A friend and I used to use the safe word, “Kirsten.” If you’ve seen Days of Wine and Roses this will make sense to you.
My observation is that serious drinkers, the real “Kirsten’s” of the world, are “good” at being drunk. They might get loud and sloppy, but at professional gatherings they can down several drinks and not become The Drunk Girl. They may be drunk, but they’re not the one everyone will remember the next day or next year. The Drunk Girl, the one everyone remembers, is usually not an alcoholic, or the one people suspect “has a problem” with booze. Which makes her loud, obnoxious, party-girl behavior all the more noticeable.
The Drunk Guy Different from the Drunk Girl. The Drunk Guy is the one everyone knows puts away a lot of booze on weekends. He’s the guy who gets the kegs for the summer barbecues, the one who brings the hard stuff to the tail gate parties, the one who organizes happy hour get togethers after work and knows where the best drink deals for each night of the week. Looking for a two-for-one martini special after work on a particularly difficult Wednesday? This is your go-to guy. He’ll not only know where to go he’ll give you the names of bartenders, tell you mention his name and you’ll get an even more “special” deal. The Drunk Guy at holiday parties is pretty much what everyone expects. He drinks. A lot. And mingles. A lot. And from the moment he arrives he’s organizing a party after the party.
Okay. Not such a huge deal, right? Well, no. Unless you’re hosting the party. And Drunk Guy is effectively sabotaging your event by instigating an early departure for another location – a more promising party with stronger cocktails.
The Drunk Guy will also go around hugging and kissing women, perhaps even coming up behind an unsuspecting victim and grinding into her backside, or mock-grinding into her from behind. Everyone knows he’s had too much to drink and his behavior is to be expected. Everyone feels sorry for the women he assaults, but no one does anything. It’s pointless to call out or argue with a Drunk Guy. He’ll make a scene and make the whole thing worse. Better to tolerate him for a few minutes knowing he’s making the rounds and will move on to his next victim in a few minutes. And then he’ll move the party elsewhere.
One of the differences between the Drunk Guy and the Drunk Girl is that in real life, even without alcohol, Drunk Guys are usually teetering on the edge of obnoxious. Whereas alcohol brings out deeply buried party girl desires in the Drunk Girl, alcohol merely magnifies existing irritating personality traits in Drunk Guys.
Don’t be the Drunk Guy. Just because no one slags you off doesn’t mean everyone thinks you’re cool and loves your behavior at parties. Use the same tactic as Drunk Girls. Engage the help of a trusted friend who will limit your alcohol intake. Plan ahead of time to limit your socializing to a few people and engage them in conversation rather than shot drinking contests. Enjoy the party for what it is, not what it could be when you get a group together and leave for a club down the street.
The Topper Like esoteric poseurs, I have little patience for Toppers in general. But their urge to impress seems to swell in party situations. I’m going to share another recent experience.
I could also call this section: How to Insult Your Host and Never Get Another Invite I have two clients who know each other. CA and CB. A third client, CC worked on a charity with CB. So. To make an even foursome for a holiday dinner I invited the three clients to a nice restaurant. I mentioned the “guest list” to each of them, all three were enthusiastic about our little get-together.
The evening of the dinner arrived and CC showed up with their spouse. The spouse was never mentioned, by me or by CC, yet, there, in the flesh, was CC’s spouse. The reservation was for four people. Not five. The restaurant is very popular and it’s very difficult to get a reservation. Adding another person, a fifth, would mean a different table than what I reserved—if there was even a large enough table available. I tried to be polite and gracious to CC and the spouse, then excused myself to talk to the host of the restaurant. Fortunately this is one of those places where the staff is very polite and talks in hushed tones. I explained my dilemma. He understood. Rearranged the reservations and switched our table to one which would accommodate a fifth person.
Our original table had a stunning view. The new, larger table had an okay view. Not a huge deal, but, the unexpected addition of the spouse stole some of my hosting aplomb. CA and CB arrived, both a bit surprised to see CC’s spouse. CA is recently married. I felt horrible – it looked like I invited CC’s spouse and omitted CA’s new spouse. (Fortunately, I guess, CB is divorced so there is no spouse to neglect.)
Sure, I could have called attention to the fact that CC showed up with the spouse, uninvited. But. I’m a nice person and I try really hard to be a gracious host and put my guests’ needs and feelings above my own. Especially when my guests are clients. So I stayed mum on the topic and just bit the dignity bullet. I let the spouse issue hang over my head, not CC’s.
Turns out the spouse is a very pleasant person. Unlike CC who continued to manipulate and control the entire evening.
How?
Here are a few examples of a Topper at work.
The host escorted us to our newly revised table. The view was obviously not the best in the restaurant. Underscoring this fact was the empty table with a stunning view, the table which would have been ours if the spouse hadn’t been there. CC said, “Oh. I’ve never sat here. I’ve always been over there,” pointing to the primo area with the empty table which by rights was “ours.” Oh yes. I could have said many, many things. The host could have said many, many things. But no one said anything. CC’s obvious disdain for the “inferior” area of our table got no response.
The first thing CC did was appraise the silver and crystal. CC thought the silver should have been heavier. CC’s silver at home is heavier. CC’s silver is “real” and “solid.” CC’s crystal is the same as the restaurant’s crystal. CC approves of the crystal. CC didn’t like the “new” china in the restaurant. CC told us about the china the restaurant used to use and how the new china is inferior. And how CC’s china at home was purchased on one of many trips to Florence. Everyone at the table now knows exactly how much CC paid for said china and what the shipping and customs fees were to have said china delivered from Florence. CB, trying very hard to swing the conversation away from CC, said, “Trillian, do your have your grandmother’s lovely china out of storage from your move, yet?”
“No, not yet. My goal for the next year is to finally get settled into my place.”
CC then jumped in talking about the home they purchased and how they just paid the moving company and decorator to do all the unpacking and organizing.
I asked CA about the recent wedding and getting settled into a new home with the new spouse. CA got two sentences out about the wedding and CC chimed in with a lengthy description of her son’s wedding – two years ago – and how stunning it was, how fabulous all the details were (we know the details were fabulous because we heard every detail about the details – right down to the price tag for each detail).
The menus arrived and CC naturally had much to say about each item on the menu – and speculation as to how the items would stack up against similar food CC has ingested in France, Italy, New York and most recently Hong Kong. “The truffles here cannot possibly compare to those we had in Italy so I’m avoiding the dishes with truffles.”
And on and on and on it went. It’s not just that CC likes to brag. There’s more to it than that. CC feels a need to top everything. Doesn’t matter what the topic, doesn’t matter how slight or incidental the statement, CC must top it. CB mentioned the recent cold snap and wind and how difficult it was to walk her 10 pound dog. CC told us it was much worse where they live, that their 100 pound lab was struggling to do his business in the back yard because of the cold and wind. Which was much worse in their back yard than downtown. Okay, then!
The evening was painful. The tricky topic of wine arose. I asked if anyone had any requests or suggestions. I even said, “CC, you’ve just been to France, maybe you discovered something great when you were there.” Everyone, including CC, deferred to my judgment. The sommelier made a few suggestions based on what was being discussed for entrées. I made two choices. CC liked them both but of course thought they didn’t compare to what they had at another restaurant and naturally nothing compares to the wine they had in Italy and France. Of course. I did notice, though, that somehow both CC and the spouse managed to choke down several glasses – at least two bottles between them. I know, I know, that’s catty. I know. I’m just saying…for two people who hold such strong opinions about wine and my inferior selections, they sure guzzled down the stuff.
I know the psychologists in the crowd will point to inferiority complexes, insecurity issues, competitive drive and something stemming from a childhood trauma. Obviously CC, and all other toppers, have a need to “prove” their worthiness. I suppose one could make arguments in favor of pitying them. But. In the context of a dinner where they are guests, and there are other guests present, pity needs to be directed at the other guests graciously suffering through an evening with the Topper.
Pity, too, for the host who is left trying to accommodate all the guests and navigate around the Topper to include the other guests and their feelings. Every time a Topper opens their mouth someone is going to be belittled. The host is left trying to repair the damage. Toppers offend everyone and put the host in very awkward situations.
The bottom line is being a gracious guest and thoughtful human being. Even if you had a great experience in Tuscany or the weather really is horrific in your backyard, parties, events, are about socializing. Focus your attention and conversation on other people. If someone mentions how their tiny dog nearly blew away in the wind, offer sympathy and agreement that yes, the wind and cold are unseasonable. Done. You could ask them about their dog and maybe mention that you’re a dog parent, too. If they ask you about your dog you can add a few details. But there’s no need to launch into a “my dog is bigger/smarter/cuter than your dog” conversation.
This is a party not a competition. Prizes will not be given for best in show.
The Wallflower Oh I know. I know. Of all the party personality types this is the least offensive. And how can I, a very shy person, stand in judgment of wallflowers? And, Wallflowers at holiday parties???
It’s not an oxymoron. Plenty of shy people have jobs. At those jobs they make contacts with clients and vendors. A lot of shy people are even outgoing in one-on-one situations. It’s the crowded rooms full of strangers which freak us out. During the holiday season there are professional obligations shy people have to navigate. Those clients and vendors will send invitations and truly want their colleague to attend their party/event. Wallflowers: Being shy is not a reason to shirk your professional obligations.
Nor is it an excuse to stand frozen in panic with your coat on next to the door/entry. Shyness can cause people to be inwardly panicked, or afraid, or nervous. Sometimes their panic/fear/nervousness reads as such on their face and body language. But unfortunately more often the panic on the inside reads as aloof or bored on the outside. Fear can read as disdain or contempt. Nervousness often comes off as frustration and irritation.
Yes. I'm saying shy people are often misunderstood. Because we tend to be quiet in group settings we're often labeled aloof, bored, snobby and, the one I hate most: Intimidating. I'm standing or sitting there gripped to the bone with social anxiety, barely able to speak and horrified that I may pee my pants if someone talks to me, only to find out later that people were intimidated by me and think I'm bitchy. If you're shy or have social anxieties I can see you nodding in agreement and feel your warm embrace through my monitor. You're welcome. I know. I don't get it, either. Never have. But. It's a cruel paradox we shy people have to deal with on a regular basis.
So, going into a party, especially a festive! holiday event, we have to be even more mindful of our body language and appearance. Smile. Summon every "I'm a warm, friendly person" vibe you have and shout it through every pore. Your demeanor is a reflection on the party, the party is a reflection of the host, the host is probably a client or vendor, so for the love of your paycheck, do whatever you have to do to look and act happy to be there.
This advice goes for non-shy people, too. But the shy among us might need the reminders because our social awkwardness tends to get the best of us in these situations and leave us looking for any excuse for less than gracious behavior. The good news is that this is a very busy time of year. Chances are high that you’ll have many invitations, some on the same day/night. Even if you don’t, this is a good “excuse” to leave a little early. Do not, I repeat, do not tell your host you can only stay a few minutes because you have to attend another client’s/vendor’s event. Do not arrive before the scheduled start time or 15 minutes before the end. Show up at a reasonable time, check your coat, get a drink (doesn’t have to be alcohol) seek out your host, say hello, make conversation, enjoy an hors d’oeuvre act as if you have all the time in the world to spend there, then, seek out your host again, thank them for the lovely party and say good night.
If they say something like, “So soon? You just got here!” Make a very polite reply of, “I know, I’m really sorry, but it’s such a busy time of year…” If the host presses you for details about where you’re heading next, keep it brief and vague. “Our charity drive committee is getting together” or “My building’s having a tenant door decoration contest” are two that always work for me. Whether I’m going to another client’s party or straight home to bed, those two escape plans have never failed me and have spared the host from thinking I’d prefer to be somewhere other than their party. Yes, honesty is the best policy, but I like to be a gracious guest…and if it were my party how would I feel if one of my guests told me they were bailing out of my party in favor of a rival vendor/client’s party, or simply because I’m too shy to stand another second of social awkwardness? This is an instance where a white lie is the best policy. Letting your host maintain dignity and the impression that you want to be at their party are your responsibilities to the host. They're giving you food and drink, the least you can do is let them think you want to be there.
You have to make a real visit at the party. No ducking in, saying hi and leaving.
Do check your coat; Do not keep checking your watch; Do not hover by the door/entrance; Do not find a dark corner behind a Christmas tree and hide; Do remember you’re an invited guest, you’re special!; Do remember that many other people there probably don’t know anyone, either.
Holiday Party Tip for Shy People: Volunteer to help! There is usually a registration/name badge desk, a charity raffle table or some other aspect which requires “staffing.” These are great opportunities for shy/socially anxious people to be involved and help take steps toward dealing with their social issues. (But do not force a shy person to “volunteer” thinking you’re doing them a favor – you could throw them into weeks of anxiety and resentment.) But for all the shy people out there, take it from one who shares your social concerns: Focusing on tasks is a great way to divert your attention from the room full of people you don’t know. And if it happens to be your work event, chances are good the CEO will see you volunteering and interacting with your coworkers. This is always a good thing. Plus, you’ll get to know other volunteers and you’ll meet a lot of people who pass through your station in a one on one setting which is much more manageable than walking into a crowd and approaching someone you don’t know. Once your volunteer job ends and you go into the party, people will recognize you from the registration or charity table. You have an instant point of conversation. Your fellow volunteers may know people and they’ll introduce you to the people they know. It’s still rough on us shy people, and I know it sounds daunting, but after years of trying to navigate holiday events with crippling shyness, I learned this “trick.” I have come to even (gasp!) look forward to a few events where I know almost no one there but I volunteer to help because it’s an obligatory work event and I “have” to be there. Better to have some control. If I can do it, anyone can.
The Rude Taboo Cad Okay. These are holiday events. Parties. Chances are very good there will be many guests and you will not know all of them. But you might know many of them and so you might have a comfort level beyond social manners. You might have a false sense of camaraderie. Remember, no matter how many attendees you know and how well you know them, this is a party. Most likely a work-related party. The addition of twinkling lights, festive attire and alcohol does not eliminate the rules of office/professional decorum.
Politics, religion, sex and money are off limits for most conversations.
I cannot believe I even have to mention this, but after an experience over the weekend apparently this year’s political events are giving people a false sense of lax social rules. Unless (and in some cases even if) this is a political fundraiser, do not talk politics. You may still be living in an Obama victory haze, but other people may not share your enthusiasm, or they are appreciative of the party manners regarding avoiding political topics at social events. Respect them. Respect your host. Do. Not. Talk. Politics. Even if this is the hap-hap-happiest time of your life due to the recent election, cool it at holiday parties and events. And for the love of Emily Post do not take this opportunity to gloat your party’s or candidate’s victory over someone you know supported the opposing candidate. I know, I know, it should go without saying, right? But I witnessed a scene straight out of a bad soap opera the other night when a party guest took the opportunity to mock another guest about his political views. The attendee being harassed tried several times to change the topic, the host even intervened, but the political cad kept pushing and pushing and pushing his candidate’s victory. He caused a scene. The tone of the party went from festive and relaxed to subdued and tense. This was an adult, a professional, intelligent adult who knows better but is too caught up in the election year hype to see rudeness of his jocularity. He single-handedly ended the party. The hosts did their best to lighten the mood and get the festive buzz moving again, but people started leaving and the evening ended early.
If you’ve had surgery, an illness or other physical anomaly this is not the time to discuss it in great detail. (Unless you're over the age of 70 and live in Florida where illness, injury and doctors are the expected topic of conversation at get-togethers.) If you see a colleague who says, “Hi! I haven’t seen you in a while! How’d the ankle surgery go?” You can say, “Great!” or “Still in physical therapy but getting better every day!” Make one short, upbeat response and then steer the topic away from your surgery or illness. No one really wants to see your surgical scar, nor do they want to hear the details of the surgery and recovery. They want to know if everything’s okay, if you’re feeling okay. And yes, people do care if you’re not feeling well, but this is a party, keep the mood light. If they know you they’ll be able to tell if you’re not quite yourself. If you know someone has been going through a health issue, it’s okay to ask about their health but don’t press for details. They probably went to the party hoping to forget about their health issues for a few hours. It’s polite to inquire about their health but if you think they’re not feeling great, don’t press the issue at the party. Later, in a week or two, give them a call or an email. Show them you care and are concerned in a more personal way – not by calling attention to their issue at a crowded party.
Ditto with divorce/break-up. If you’ve gone (or are going) through a nasty break-up, do not look upon holiday events as opportunities to spread stories about your ex. Seriously. Again, I can’t believe I’m even discussing this. But, inevitably at some holiday event I hear the gory details of someone’s ex’s sordid affair. Even if everyone there hates your ex and can’t believe you ever went out with them in the first place, this is not the time nor place to spread hate or misery. It’s just not. If you’re having a hard time with a break up the holidays are going to be rough. I’m sorry. Really, I am sorry. I’ve been through a pre-holiday break-up and it’s painful. If you’re hurting (rule of thumb, if you’re still having crying jags) you might want to bow out of all but the most integral social obligations this season. My advice is go to the parties, but the second you start feeling depressed, lonesome or angry: Leave. Do not stay and attempt to lighten your mood with alcohol. A lot of couples are very happy and festive during the holidays. Maybe it’s the jewelry commercials or red glow of holiday lights or “Winter Wonderland” piped through every store in town or true Christmas magic, whatever the source or catalyst, couples do get all happy glowy gooey showy during the holidays. Be happy for them. Don’t kill their buzz. Let them have this.
Maybe you have a new addition to your family. A new baby, puppy, kitten, automobile, or house. Cool! It’s perfectly okay to talk about these great new additions, but a) don’t brag and b) don’t hog the conversation or steer every discussion to your new addition. It’s most likely the biggest thing in your life right now (or ever) and that’s cool, but it’s not as important to other people. They care and maybe are even sincerely interested, but polite, short conversation is a must – one or maybe, maybe two photographs, tops. End then and move the conversation away from your new addition. Or maybe you can meet another new mom or puppy parent or homeowner and have those in-depth conversations with them. If it’s a large party chances are good there’s someone who is going through the same event as you. Mingle! Talk! Do the rest of us a favor and find someone with that common interest to share your 500 digital photos, someone who, unlike the rest of us, will find the conversation endlessly fascinating. Especially this year with many people unemployed, do not go on and on about the marvelous new addition to your home (or huge new home) or extravagant vacation to Fiji. It’s fine to mention these things in passing but don’t go on and on about them. Especially at events where you don’t know everyone or their back-story. At said event with the political cad, the host invited several people who were laid off from the company over summer. Some of them will be back to work soon, but others will not. The host opted to invite these people because they’re still part of the company “family” and because it would offer a networking opportunity for the laid-off employees to mingle with clients and vendors who might know of job opportunities. I debate the “right/wrong” aspects of this, but it’s a reminder that these events call for modesty. You don’t have to feel guilty about your successes, but don’t brag about them at holiday parties (or in your holiday greeting cards, either).
For all party types: Be a gracious guest. Focus your attention on other people rather than yourself. Engage yourself in the event. Even if you're having the worst time of your life, do your best to cover up that fact for the sake of your host who has probably worked very hard at planning the event. Volunteer to work the charity table or registration desk – this will allow social interaction with a lot of people but will also require you to focus on specific tasks. Alcohol intake will be restricted simply because you’ll be busy working. Where you might normally drink two drinks in an hour, if you’re busy working you will only have time for a few sips occasionally – reducing your intake probably at least by half. Plus, the head honchos will be around the charity table or reg desk so there’s more unspoken pressure to “behave.” Most people have the sense (and fear) to not be seen downing drink after drink in front of the company CEO.
10:59 AM
Friday, December 12, 2008
I think the Universe is sending me messages.
I canceled my online dating site memberships last week. But I have a couple weeks remaining until until they "end" because you pay ahead for dating sites. Starting on the day I decided to stop online dating every man who has contacted me has validated my decision to quit. Every weirdo, bully, stalker and real estate agent in the greater Chicago area is contacting me. With each new email the message is clear: "Trillian, this is the Universe. You made the right decision. Leave online dating sites and never look back."
People, even some of you, tell me that confidence is sexy. Physical looks don't matter - it's confidence that drives men wild. Confidence, confidence, confidence.
Oh yeah. Confidence is really sexy. To wit, the guy who has sent me three emails in as many days. He's very confident. You tell me: Do you think he's sexy?
Exhibit A. Email #1 sent on Monday. HELLO LET ME FIRST SAY THAT I AM LOOKING FOR AN OLDER WOMAN TO BECOME INVOLVED WITH. YOU HAPPEN TO BE OLDER THAN I AM AND THATS JUST MY TYPE. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME AND YOU ARE WELCOME TO PICK AT MY BRAIN. I CONSIDER MYSELF CLOSE TO PERFECT AND I AM INTELLIGENT AND NO FLAWS APPLY TO ME. I AM EMPLOYEED WITH NO WOMAN OR KIDS. MOST WOMEN FIND ME SEXY AND I NEVER GET TURNED DOWN. LETS START BY GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER THROUGH EMAIL AND I WILL TRAVEL TO CHICAGO TO TAKE YOU ON A DATE WHEN WE GET CLOSE TO ONE ANOTHER. A LOVELY LADY SUCH AS YOUR SELF HAS RUN INTO SOME REAL LUCK COMMING ACROSS ME SO DONT THROW ME ASIDE AND KNOW I AM THE BEST DAMN GUY YOULL EVER MEET. THANK YA LOVE YA AND PEACE
I kid you not. Verbatim, folks. Cut. Paste. From my in box to your eyes. (Yes, he wrote it in all caps and without benefit of punctuation. Confidence! Apostrophes are for the insecure.)
Exhibit B. Email #2 sent on Tuesday. NOONE IS A MORE INTERESTING GUY THEN MYSELF AND I AM AVAILABLE TO WOMEN EVERYWHERE. I KIND OF LIKE THE LOOKS OF YOU SO DONT WASTE TIME I AM THE MOST INTERESTING GUY YOULL EVER MEET. ILL BE WAITING. LOVE YA
Hey, I mean, he "kind of" likes the looks of me so I should seize the opportunity, right? I haven't had a compliment like that in years! And from a younger man, no less! Wow! Why am I wasting time?! He's so darned confident! Confidence is sexy, right? And who's Noone? Love ya?! Seriously? What the...?
Exhibit C. Email #2 sent Thursday. DONT LET AGE GET IN YOUR WAY OF ME. I AM AN INTELLIGENT ATHLETIC SEXY MAN. I WANT TO FIND A SOUL MATE AND A LIFE LONG FRIEND OR A SEXY FEMALE TO HANG OUT WITH. I AM THE NICEST GUY IN THE WORLD.
Distance and age. Yeh. Those are the only things "getting in my way of him." Nice to know if the soul mate thing doesn't work out he's equally happy to find a sexy female to hang out with. For the record I'm two years older than him. Is it just me feeling insecure or is he making it sound as if I'm 20 years older than him? And notice there's no "LOVE YA" this time?
Oh well, there are other men...
Like the guy who wrote only this: Always keep a garbage bag in your car it doesnt take up much space and if it gets full you can always toss it out the window. Errrrm. Okay. I'm not in the habit of littering and on behalf of nature and the environment and other people who drive on road I prefer that other people don't litter, either. But maybe this guy is really deep and that's a metaphor. Or something. Is he calling me, or my profile, garbage? Dunno. Can't tell. That was all he wrote to me. No. I do not find the ambiguity attractive or enticing.
Or this guy who also kept his introduction short. And confusing. im thinking to be at home tonight so feels kind of tierd i was going to bed around 5 last night so long day my name is Peter honey like to know you.
Okay then! I'm thinking English is a second language for Peter. But even so, he represents the other end of the spectrum from Garbage Man. Peter has cut out all the preliminary niceties and conversation and gone straight into the every day routine and lack of conversation of several years of a not-so-exciting marriage.
Somewhere between Garbage Man, Peter and the Confidence is Sexy guy is "normal." But normal isn't appearing in my in-box.
Thank you, Universe, for confirming my decision to cease online dating.
8:44 PM
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The thing about life imitating art is that unlike in art, in real life there's a continuum. A tomorrow, a next week, next month, etc. In art there's just the moment. It's a stand alone without consequences.
I've had a couple of situations where my life imitated art. Specifically, Seinfeld episodes. More specifically, difficult Elaine situations.
The day I moved into my "new" place I met one of my neighbors. She had taken the day off work and was catching up on errands and chores, so I kept running into her as I was in and out with the movers. We introduced ourselves and at one point she mentioned her husband's name.
It was a really hectic day and I forgot her name about two seconds after she told me. But for some reason I remember her husband's name. Yes. The man I didn't even meet face-to-face had a name etched in my memory yet I couldn't remember hers.
A couple weeks later I was waiting for the elevator and she came out into the hall, also on her way to work. We chatted and I apologized that I forgot her name and she told me her name, again.
And the next time I saw her, a week later, I realized I had promptly forgotten her name. Again. I couldn't ask her again, too embarrassing, and I thought certainly it would come to me.
I started to see her quite frequently on our ways to work. I finally met her husband face-to-face. She introduced me to him, even though I remembered his name like he was a best friend. I introduced myself to him and that was that. Neighbors, friends, cool. Except the complete mental block on this woman's name remained.
When I had surgery they were great about watching out for me and offering help - even offered to get groceries for me.
Somewhere about that time I realized the woman was calling me the wrong name. And I mean really wrong. Not even close. I didn't catch it at first. She tends to assume I know everyone in the building by name. I know most of my neighbors by sight, at least, and several by name, but not all of them. But this woman tends to talk like we're one huge family and that we all know each other and what's going on with each other. She's very familiar. And not in an annoying way - she's very nice, very inclusive, a good neighbor. So when she said Dorothy I thought she was talking about another neighbor. I didn't catch on that she was addressing me as Dorothy.
I know. Dorothy! I mean, huh? No disrespect to the Dorothys out there, but of all the names I've been called in confusion Dorothy is the farthest off of the mark. Even Dot or Dottie would be more in keeping with my personality, but Dorothy? I get Christine a lot. People frequently mistake me for a Christine. I can kind of see that. I think I could pass for a Christine pretty easily. And it's interesting that it's never Chris or Chrissie or Christina, it's always Christine. But Dorothy? I dunno. I just don't see it.
It finally dawned on me that she thinks my name is Dorothy. And I let it go for a few months so it would be weird to correct her at that point.
And worse, I still didn't have a swutting clue what her name is. Not a clue.
So we've been existing in this weird state of misunderstanding. I see her frequently, we leave for work at the same time-ish, we often do our laundry on the same night, I see them at the grocery...
Her husband had serious surgery a few months ago and I always ask her about him, by name because I remember his name. During his hospital stay her daughter came to visit from Colorado (I remember that detail but not her name?!). I didn't meet her in person, but my neighbor talked about her and called her by name, and I remembered her daughter's name, so I'd say things like, "Kelly's such a great help for you" and "Did Kelly make it back to Colorado okay?" I even invited them down for drinks or pizza and a movie. They couldn't make it but she seemed grateful for the invite. One day I ran into her after she'd spent a long day at hospital. When we got on the elevator she broke down in tears. I gave her a hug and helped her into her place, sat with her a few minutes until she was feeling better. So it all seems normal and friendly except that I have no idea what her name is. And she's calling me by the wrong name.
In the Seinfeld episode Elaine has a coworker who calls her Susie. Elaine is in a similar uncomfortable situation of not knowing how to approach the topic of her actual name and why she'd "answered" to the wrong name for so long. Madcap hilarity ensues and Elaine finally kills Susie and Peterman holds a big funeral for Susie, a person who didn't actually exist.
I'm not gong to get off that lucky.
A couple days ago I came home from work and tucked into my door was a Christmas card with "my" name, Dorothy, written out in calligraphy. Seeing it all formal and fancy in that tenderly scribed writing I felt horrible for perpetuating this whole thing simply because I was too polite to correct this woman right from the get-go. And too embarrassed to admit I could not remember her name.
Well, one problem is solved. She and her husband wrote a very nice note in the card, wishing me a peaceful holiday and a healing new year. And they signed their names. And no, it didn't hit me like a ton of bricks. If the card hadn't been tucked in my door addressed to Dorothy, I wouldn't have had a clue who it was from. Whatever she told me her name was when we first met, I'd bet a paycheck it wasn't the name signed in the card. But it's obviously from them, her husband's name is "correct." But I'm certain I would have remembered that her name was the same as my gran's. It's kind of an unusual name so I'm sure I would have remarked, "Oh! That was my grandmother's name." At the very least I would have remembered it was the name of a relative.
I envisioned her and her husband sitting at the kitchen table with the cards and the calligraphy pens, fresh pot of coffee brewing, holiday music softly playing, compiling the list and writing out the greetings and envelopes. "Okay, that's the Williams and the Smiths. Now, let's see, did you get Mike from downstairs? And oh! Dorothy, of course, Dorothy. Such a nice girl, poor thing is really having a hard time since her dad died."
"Oh yes, use one of the nice cards with the foil lined envelope for her. She was so thoughtful when you were in hospital and Kelly was here."
"Okie doke, nice card for Dorothy and how about a cute puffy snowman sticker, too?! You know how Dorothy loves snow!"
"She sure does! She was out walking on the beach in a blizzard last weekend! Ha! That Dorothy!"
Okay great. Now I know her name. I feel tremendously relieved.
But I've built a friendship with these people under the name Dorothy. The woman cried in my arms for crying out loud. How am I supposed to correct her now? And the web of deception grows. I already encountered this problem but now I really have to face it. When he was in hospital I wanted to give him a get well card. But if I signed with my name he, they, wouldn't have a clue who it was from. But I can't bring myself to put the deception in writing, I can't sign a card "Dorothy." I mean, I just can't. So instead I made a fruit basket, waited until I knew they were home and took it down to them, without a card.
But now I have to send them a holiday card. They went to all the trouble to use the nice foil envelope card for me with calligraphy and a puffy snowman sticker, too. I have to send them a card. I want to send them a card. I like these people. But they're not going to have a stinking clue who it's from. And even if the dawn of realization hits (if I put my return address with unit number) they're going feel all kinds of negative things by finding out, that way, that they've been calling me the wrong name for over a year. It's completely inappropriate to drop this name bomb on them via a holiday greeting card, but how else do I do it?
If only it were as easy as killing Dorothy and holding a funeral for her.
9:52 PM
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
The election's over so is it okay if I express a personal political opinion?
I am one hap-hap-happy girl this morning. There is much rejoicing in my heart. I never thought this day would arrive. I gave up on truth and justice.
But.
Holy. Swutting. Belgium.
Illinois governor (and smarmy, corrupt, embarrassment of a human being) Rod Blagojevich got nailed by the Feds. Maybe he'll get to share a jail cell with his predecessor George Ryan (unless Bush pardons Ryan).
I'm jubilant for many, many reasons but mainly because finally, finally there's acknowlegment that this guy is as shady as they come and should never be in a position of power. I doubt it's a dawn of a new day for politics in Illinois - Daley will be shown on tv with hair askew, red face, forehead vein throbbing, yelling that he didn't know anything. Illinois political life will continue in its slimy, disgusting, greedy way. Our tax dollars will continue to evaporate without a trace or explanation.
But, today there's one small bright spot. We have confirmation that someone knows. Someone in a position to do something noticed and cared. Someone acknowledges the corruption, lies and money that are the driving motivation from the top and all the way down to the hired henchmen in Illinois politics.
I feel...good. Today Blagojevich tomorrow Daley? Ha! I doubt that very much. And honestly? I'm not sure I could handle that. I'd be like the people who win the lottery and have a heart attack from the excitement.
But today, now, I'm savoring the moment. Even if it all "blows over" and he's released a la Rostenkowski, the public besmirching is glorious.
Sure, we Illinoisans are being seen as stupid because "we" vote for these guys. "We" are besmirched, too. I should be embarrassed to be a tax paying citizen of Illinois right now. Sure, I understand that I'm seen as part of the Illinois voting pool who let these people get into power and therefore I have to shoulder some responsibility or at least some of the besmirching. So I'm loudly saying: Not all Illinoisans voted for these guys. Many of us are aware and smart enough to not want them in office...but somehow (vote early, vote often) they get into power anyway. Some of us Illinoisans are rejoicing as if the Bastille had just been stormed. We're no longer the asterisked disclaimer to the pledge of "With liberty and justice for all." "All" now includes us, too.
9:20 AM
Thursday, December 04, 2008
And so, that's it, it's over. No more using internet dating sites as a dating tool.
I finally met the man who embodies many of the negative stereotypes and worst online dating nightmare stories ever told.
But it took this guy to break me. Oh sure. I was at my tipping point. Let the record state that my patience was wearing thin. But I was willing to keep internet dating sites in my toolbelt. I have met some very nice men. I have had some fun. A lot of laughs, okay, sure, mostly about weird emails men send, but still, a lot of laughs. In spite of it all I do believe there are some great people on internet dating sites. I still maintain they can be a great way to meet people. It can "work." It does "work."
But not for me. It's over for me. I'm done.
Looking back I could have (and should have) permanently signed off internet dating sites when I was rejected by eHarmony. Not because eHarmony is the ultimate authority on dating. But. I failed eHarmony's screening process because I don't fall into specific niches. I don't score high enough in the areas where a majority of other people score high. I'm really not "different" from other people. I'm just not average, plus or minus a few points, in a majority of areas. eHarmony uses average common denominators to assess matching success. If you score higher or lower than average in more than a few areas there is a smaller margin of people who will be compatible. Diminishing returns = dissatisfied customers = negative word of mouth advertising. They want to keep the most people satisfied therefore they exclude people who are not firmly within the average scores in a enough areas to garner viable matches. Meaning, a couple of very high or very low scores, even with solidly average scores elsewhere, will knock a person out of the operative arc of the date matching bell curve.
There are also physical factors. And one in particular serves as a good example of how averages work in terms of online dating. The average height for American women is 5'3" or 5'4" (depending on what stats you believe). I'm 5'11" — 7" or 8" taller than the average woman. The average height for men is 5'9" or 5'10". That's easy math. That alone nearly eliminates me from the averages. But, there are tall men and there are men who like tall women so that'll keep me in the game. But they're not in the average majority. So now my dating pool has greatly decreased. Factor in non-negotiables like religious beliefs and smoking preference. Now look at how many people in a geographic area are using the site. See? My quirks that fall above and below the average denominator aren't such a big deal - and that's just using height. Choose any other area where I'm above or below average and use the same equation - and watch the number of viable matches decrease.
Maybe you're utterly average. But you don't want children. That alone isn't enough to get you a rejection notice from eHarmony, but, as with my height, it's going to greatly decrease the amount of viable matches and skew your matching results data. If you live in a family oriented area where there are not a lot of people who don't want children...well...it could be enough to score you a rejection notice from eHarmony. You're otherwise average so there are probably several perfect in every way people who live a few blocks away from you, but if they want kids it's pointless and even cruel to introduce you to each other for dating purposes. You might not care if they want kids, you're not looking for a long term relationship anyway, but that other person might care - a lot - and doesn't want to risk the heartbreaking choices that will have to be made when they're ready to have kids. eHarmony is avoiding that possibility - maybe because they care about people but more likely because they want good, viable matching to create positive buzz about their service.
It pains me to admit that as goes eHarmony, so goes the world. But. It does. We are all averages. We're all marketing data. If your data isn't average enough for a dating site loaded and ready with other single people, it stands to reason you're going to have difficulty meeting compatible people in ways other than dating sites. I can vouch for that.
I took a long look at the people I know who've been successful at forming relationships or even marriages from online dating sites. Most of them were successful at meeting people in real life. They used dating sites because they wanted to hone in on a specific type (non-smokers, children-oriented, for instance) not because they couldn't meet people and get dates on their own. The dating sites helped them narrow their strike zone. The people I know like this are, not surprisingly, incredibly average. Within the average age for a single person, average height, average taste in entertainment, average religious beliefs for their location (Catholic in Chicago or Boston, for instance), average number of previous relationships, average desires in members of the opposite sex. They're destined for online dating success.
The rest of us have to be a little more patient, try a little harder, be more open and flexible. A couple dating sites I no longer use suggested that if I would simply date smokers I'd have more dates than I could handle. My refusal to date smokers was all that was standing between me and the love of my life, they said. One of the sites even went so far as to suggest that I might be able to change him - "Trillian, with the right inspiration people quit smoking every day, don't limit your relationship happiness on smoking preference." Ummmm. Right. That's a healthy frame of mind to be in at the start of a relationship. "I'll change him!" Cripes. (And yes, that was a "credible" dating site widely used by many people.)
And yes, I have changed since I threw my profile into the rings of dating sites. And I have changed since my dad died. I can't articulate how because it's too new and my emotions about it are still too raw. But I know I'm different. And I suspect one of the differences is my tolerance and patience levels where men are concerned.
Go ahead, throw every Freudian cliché theory at me. Fine. So be it. My dad died. And now I have a lower level of tolerance with men who are disrespectful, crude, immature, shallow jerks. Which unfortunately, apparently, eliminates most single men in my demographic dynamic. Especially those who use internet dating sites and are attracted to my profile. Call me cliché. Call me trapped in a Freudian theory. Whatever.
So, back to the guy who broke me, the guy who ended it all.
Oh where to begin? Okay. I'll begin with the email he sent me two days after our first (and last) date. "The problem with women like you is that you think you deserve the best of everything. Your(sic) not perfect. Perfection doesn't exist and the sooner you except (sic) that the sooner youl (sic) grow up and find a man whose (sic) willing to date you. I'm not Brad Pitt but your(sic) not Angelina Jolie. I knew you weren't the prettiest woman on the site but that means you have to try harder. Their (sic) are much prettier women on the site than you you should look at them and you'll see how lucky you were to even get a date."
Um. Okay. Gee. Wow. Oh the things I've learned in my adventures in online dating.
Here's what I would write him if I were going to dignify that with a response. I'm not but I'll share it with you because it will explain why I'm never going to use online dating sites again. In fact the way I feel right now I'm never going to date anyone ever - clearly I'm a dating pariah and I'm sick of trying. Sick of "getting out there," sick of the whole thing.
In an effort to make me see reason, so stop chasing and unrealistic dream, someone once told me not everyone gets to love and be loved. There's not someone for everyone - it's statistically impossible - and that I need to accept that I may be one of those people who doesn't get to be loved. Whatever. I'm getting used to loneliness. I've learned loneliness without rejection is less painful than loneliness as a result of rejection. Yes. Better to not try, better to not love than to love and get rejected. But, har har, you have to experience that to understand it so by the time you figure out that it really is better to have never loved at all it's too late, you've already loved, lost and have to live with that rejection and pain. And the Universe points a finger and yells, "Psych!"
Dear last internet date ever,
It’s not about your looks.
But since you seem to feel that's what I care about, and since you found it necessary to point out my physical limitations, let's discuss.
You said you are 5’11”. I’m 5’11”. I know what 5’11” looks like. And you sir, are not 5’11”. But no big deal. I’ve used online dating sites enough to know the basic principles. When a man lists his height at 6’ or below it's wise to subtract two inches from the stated height.
Interesting, that. Men over 6’ rarely lie about their height. I guess they don’t feel a need to lie. Maybe they’re even smugly bragging. But men under 6’ almost always lie about their height. It’s so common most women just expect it. I’ve met a lot of men from online dating sites. One. One of them who stated he was 5’11’’ was actually 5’11”. The others were all two – three inches below the height stated on their profile. (Insert old joke about how men measure 6 inches…) What remains surprising to me is that these guys are genuinely visibly surprised when I show up and am, in fact, 5’11”. Adding to the mystery is that they act annoyed that I am, in fact, the height I state in my profile. Apparently they think because they lie about their height that everyone else does, too. Not so, boys, not so. And you, last internet date, are clearly delusional or in need of a new ruler. Because you are more in the 5’7” neighborhood. I’ll give you 5’8” to be generous. But you are not 5’11”. The irony is that I don’t care about height.
But I do care about honesty. Had you been honest about your height I wouldn’t have noticed the lie because there wouldn’t have been one. And yes, I would have agreed to meet you if you stated in your profile that you are 5’7”. But you didn’t. So you’re just a big, fat liar.
And speaking of fat, your photo shows a man with broad shoulders, no gut and nice jaw line. The guy who showed up had sloping shoulders, a belly the size of a healthy 8 month pregnancy and no discernable chin. Or neck. Just bands of chubby flesh stacked from hip to ears.
And speaking of photos, the guy in the photos online has wavy dark brown hair cut in a flattering style that said, “Clean, casual, current, but not overdone and metrosexual.” The guy who showed up for the date had long, thinning, stringy gray hair that needed washing.
And speaking of the wrong color and hygiene, what’s up with the yellow teeth? I don’t expect movie star bright pearly whites, but, your photo showed a nice smile with “normal” colored teeth. The guy who showed up had badly yellowed teeth. And I mean bad, as in years of smoking resulting in yellow shards protruding from strange colored gums. As in, get thee to a dentist before gum disease kills you. The only thing more prominently pointing to a health problem were your yellow and bloodshot eyes.
I’m giving you a pass on the bulbous, swollen, reddish purple, gin-blossomed nose. There's a possibility that's just genetics. Maybe.
But appearance is not my priority.
Fortunately I wasn't wildly physically attracted to the man in the photos. I would have been horribly disappointed. And angry. Lucky for you those weren't issues. But it helps if I can visually identify you well enough to find when I'm meeting you in person.
You said you had a good sense of humor so I assume the photos on your profile are a joke. Ha ha. But when you play jokes like that don’t be surprised when your date doesn’t recognize you from the only thing she has to go by: Your photos posted online.
When you greeted me and I was confused then said, “Oh! There you are. I didn’t recognize you.” Instead of saying, “Yeah, everyone posts old photos online. Har har.” you might have said, “Ha! That’s a little joke I like to play on dates!” Sure, it’s a stupid, lame, deceptive joke, but at least it gives the benefit of the doubt – maybe it was an ill-advised attempt at humor. But by saying, “Everyone posts old photos online,” you remove all possibility of a lame joke. You also prove your lack of intelligence. You also insult your date in a number of ways. For instance, in my case, I do not post old photos on my online profiles. And I don’t presume that “everyone” else does. For you to insinuate that I do (as part of the all-inclusive everyone) is insulting.
But honestly it’s not about looks. For the record I have, and will, willingly date short, fat bald men. What matters to me is intelligence, respect, sense of humor, kindness, compassion, sincerity and honesty.
So once I figured out who you were I excused the lies of appearance and accepted that you haven’t quite accepted that you’re aging, I cut you a lot of slack. And I knew you, several years older than I, would show some signs of aging. I knew the photos were probably not exactly recent.
Oh sure, apart from all that the unfortunate but uncanny resemblance to Mayor Daley was, erm, difficult at first, but I was willing to work to get past that, too. I mean, hey, there are women who find Daley attractive. So, you know. Maybe in time I could be one of them.
I was totally willing to overlook all of that surface stuff and get to know you. So I proceeded with the “date.”
Other women, even prettier women, would not do this. By the way. But I’m about personality, not looks.
Speaking of Daley, they say confidence is sexy. I’ve yet to witness conclusive evidence of that. For instance, like Daley, you’re dripping in confidence. Ooozing out of every enlarged, sweating pore is confidence to spare. Clearly you think you’re the cat’s meow. Because laying out a string of lies the likes of which you told about yourself requires boundless confidence to back them up. Mayor Daley oozes confidence, too. Oh sure, it verges on loud-mouthed insecure, defensive bullying and ranting a lot of the time, but it takes a lot of confidence to stand up and let loose like that.
Especially when you know every other statement you make is a bold-faced lie. You have to be confident that people are too stupid to realize you’re lying. Or you have to be confident that people will overlook your dishonesty because you’re so charming. Or you have to be confident in your ability to lie to cover the lies. Confidence that you can bully, cajole and strong arm your way past the nay-sayers and doubters, the people who challenge you and your lies. That’s a lot of confidence. A big heap of confidence. Yet I don’t find it remotely sexy. In fact it turns me off.
But I’m getting ahead of things.
It’s not about your looks. I’m saying that one more time to be clear. I didn’t like that you were dishonest about your appearance, but I understand. I was willing to overlook the discrepancies and find out what a great guy you are.
This is why I never, ever want to see you again. This is why, as of today, I am never going to meet another man from an online dating site.
Once I figured out who you were and returned your greeting it was obvious by the stench of stale booze that you had a few drinks before you met me. Okay. I guess. No big deal. I guess. But. Showing up for a first date reeking of stale beer and cigarettes is not a good way to make a positive first impression. Then again, given your apparent abundance of confidence, apparently you don’t need to worry about making a good first impression.
But. The cigarette smell? Yeah. Combined with the yellow gum diseased teeth it’s obvious you smoke. Chicago is a non-smoking town, now. So the days of smelling like you smoked a carton simply because you stopped into a smoky bar for a drink are over. If you smell like you smoked a carton of unfiltered Camels you’re most likely the one doing the smoking. Your profile states that you’re a non-smoker. My profile states that I date non-smokers only. One of us is lying. It’s not me. The several long trips you made to the “bathroom” only further solidified this suspicion. Especially because you did this four times in 45 minutes and returned smelling more strongly of cigarettes each time.
I mean it when I state that I do not date smokers.
So. Your smoking habit is enough to eliminate you from all realm of possible future dates. I. Do. Not. Date. Smokers. How much more plainly can I say it? You obviously say things which are not true. But other people are honest and mean what they say. I’m one of them. And when it comes to smoking preference most other people are very honest, too. If someone says they don’t date smokers, they’re not lying. They mean it. For real. No joking.
So you lost me at the first whiff of stale cigarette smoke. And yes, I should have left right then and there. I apologize that I didn’t say, “You smell like you just smoked a carton of cigarettes in a small confined space like a car. I told you I don’t date smokers, so, good night and good-bye.”
Instead I was polite. And I thought, “Oh what the heck, I’m here, he seemed nice on the phone, maybe we can be friends, I’ll have a drink with him.”
And I did have a drink. I had one glass of wine and a glass of water. In that time you downed four beers and a shot of tequila. That is, of course, between the trips to the “bathroom.”
Ya know, after your second trip to the “bathroom” I almost left. But I am a nice person, I got myself into this and so I did the “right” thing and didn’t leave. I did not make you return to find me gone.
But it wasn’t just the power drinking and power smoking that bothered me.
Adding to the growing heap of "what the heck?" was how you never, ever shut up. How you talked and talked and talked and talked barely coming up for air never pausing long enough for me to say anything. Did you not notice how, after 15 minutes, my eyes started glazing over? Did you not notice that every now and then I looked like I was going to say something, respond to something you said, but couldn't get in one word? Did it never occur to you that if you’re so in love with the sound of your own voice you don’t have to go out with anyone - you can just stay home and talk to yourself?
But that's not even what tipped me over the edge of never wanting to see you again, even as friends. What you said and how you said it were increasingly disconcerting. If you'd engaged in normal back and forth conversation, talking, asking questions, listening, exchanging ideas, that sort of thing, your hostility and annoying loud voice might not have been so noticeable. But you didn't. You talked and talked and talked and talked, angry rant after angry rant, louder and louder and louder. Story after story you "proved" how you were right and everyone else involved was wrong. Your ex wife, your family, your many bosses from many jobs, your former neighbors...everyone, everyone you talked about was stupid, lame or otherwise wrong and you were right.
You are a defensive, loud mouthed bullying liar, apparently with a tendency to drink heavily.
When I made a polite excuse to leave because I had to travel the next day, you barked, “Call me when you get back to town.”
I thought, “a) Who do you think you are to tell me, demand, that I call you? Ever? And b) No way am I ever going to call this guy. So, Trill, be the honest, kind person you are and tell him that. Yeah, but Trill, this guy is drunk and a loud-mouthed jerk with a bad temper. He’s not going to take rejection well.”
So I said, “I don’t think we’re right for each other. It’s best if we just say good-bye and leave it at that.”
You were there, you know how it went down. But then, based on your personality traits and alcohol intake I'm guessing you might have a skewed perspective. So here's what you said: “Oh yeah? You ‘don’t think’ we’re right for each other? Yeah? Well sister, I don’t ‘think’ you know what’s good for you. I don’t ‘think’ you’re very smart. I ‘think’ you don’t know what you want. I ‘think’ you’re a bitch who’s going to end up alone with a bunch of cats. I ‘think’ you’re never gonna find a guy as good as me willing to give you a chance so I ‘think’ you oughta ‘think’ about calling me ‘and leave it at that.’”
When I responded with a smile it wasn't because I was trying to cover for you in the crowded restaurant. I smiled because that was exactly the sort of response I expected from you.
When I said, “Be careful driving home. Good luck finding the right woman" and started walking away I didn't expect your response.
I didn't expect you to grab my wrist and jerk my arm with enough force to make me wonder if you sprained it. I didn't expect you to say, “I don’t need any luck, you’re da one who needs luck.”
I didn't expect you to call the host a "fuckin' faggot" simply because he attempted to give you an easy out by saying, "Ma'am, I'll get you a cab."
When the noisy din of eating and drinking stopped and people stared at us I took advantage of the all eyes on us moment, pulled my arm free of his grasp and walked toward the host. Everyone was still staring at you. I was surprised that you showed some signs of embarrassment. You didn't seem like the type to feel self conscious. Maybe I did get the wrong impression of you. For a second I almost felt bad for misinterpreting your depth. But then you reconfirmed my estimation of you. When you grab a woman's arm and jerk it and a restaurant full of people are staring at you, shouting “Fag hag. S’all you’re good for" is the best way to confirm your immature, bullying personality. Shouting, “UGLY FAG HAG! FAG HAG!” after me as I left was a nice touch.
Fortunately for me I've been online dating for a while. I've had a lot of strange, embarrassing, ridiculous experiences. I told the host and dinners in the immediate area, "I'm sorry for the interruption. That’s the last time I try internet dating.”
My wrist still hurts, there's a huge thumb and finger shaped bruise around it. My friend says I should at least fill out a police incident report against you. That seems extreme to me. Why? Because I don't think anyone would be as stupid as I was to go out with you and not leave the second you showed up appearing not even remotely as you said you were.
I didn't send that email. I just blocked him from my in box and canceled my internet dating memberships.
I'm done.
Fini.
I never expected to meet my The One online, but I thought it was best to keep all options open. I’ve carefully screened the men I correspond and especially the men I meet in person. I’ve been really, really careful. But even so, I’ve had some scary experiences.
Most of the scary experiences involved men who had too much alcohol. I’m not saying all men who use dating sites are alcoholics. I’m saying having alcohol on a first date is a really bad idea. Although it certainly cuts straight to the chase: If a guy gets belligerently (or violently) drunk on a first date you know what you’re facing if you choose to see him again. No skeletons in that liquor cabinet.
And you have to expect to meet some jerks no matter how you meet people, online, in classes, through friends…no medium is immune to jerks. Ditto liars, abusers, con men, insurance sales people and real estate agents.
But now that I’m done with internet dating I am relieved and happy to not spend time weeding through profiles trying to separate the sincere from the phony, the good from the bad. It’s so easy to lie or embellish online. Anyone with a thesaurus and a 7th grade education can fabricate a “nice” profile. Anyone who’s taken the time to read enough profiles can compose a profile listing off attributes frequently desired by online daters. It’s easy to present yourself, market yourself, as someone you are not.
Of course we all list our better qualities and most of us don’t list our negative traits. But. There’s a huge difference between not mentioning your roof raising snoring and stating you’re a non-smoker when you inhale a carton a day.
My rule of thumb is 33%. Based on years of internet dating 33% is a fair calculation. Expect 33% less than what is presented in the profile. You might get lucky and meet one of the few who are exactly as presented on their profile. But even in that case if you go in expecting 33% less you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
That’s the big wisdom I can impart.
I thought a lot about ending internet dating. I didn’t want that guy to be the last one. I didn’t want him to be the one who broke me.
But.
I’m one parent away from being an orphan. And the longer I’m single, the less I have in common with my friends and the more alienated I become from them. I'm reaching the age where many men on dating sites are divorced with baggage, married and looking to spice things up outside their marriage, or never married for solid reasons requiring therapy. Those are generalizations and the same can be said about women in my age range on dating sites. But statistically there are a lot more women "like me" than men "like me." Which is why I'm so bewildered as to why I have difficulty meeting and making friends with other people "like me."
Meeting new people, other single, childless people, is really, really difficult. I know there are a lot of us out here, but in my day-to-day life I rarely meet single women, let alone single women who share enough commonality to form a friendship. The few single women I know who are around my age are on desperate, single-focused missions to find husbands. They’re not interested in striking up friendships with other single women simply for the sake of friendship. They like the idea of a wing-woman, a manhunting partner, but they don’t want more depth than that. They’re looking for a man. Period. One woman I thought had friend potential told me her theory is that the more married people you're around, the greater your chances of getting married yourself. Her lemming theory hasn't paid off for her yet: She's as single as I am and is having a serious crisis regarding her biological clock and the lack of a husband in her life. She's Hellbent on finding a man, NOW, and getting married, NOW, and having a baby, NOW. I think all that hanging around with married with children people is causing her more despondancy and heartache. She sees what they have and it fuels not only her motivation and desire, but her envy and fear. Many of my friendships have faded, or are fading because I'm still single and they're married with kids. It hurts, I miss them, but I accept that this is how life is - people come and go, friends aren't always forever. She doesn't understand or accept this. She clings to her married mob mentality charm and avoids spending time with other single women, her "competition" in what she calls the Man Race.
I know that’s not true of every single woman out there. I know there are more women like me out there. Somewhere. But meeting them is as difficult as meeting that one great guy.
Consequently, I’m leading a shockingly solitary life. Internet dating is great for someone “like me.” It puts me in touch with people I’d never meet in my regular life. Dating sites accommodate busy work schedules and weekends spent helping my mother. They give me a sense of connection, a sense of community. Things that are lacking in my very single, very alone life. Simply by logging onto a dating site I feel less alone. I’m not the only single person left on the planet. I feel solidarity with all the other online daters.
And I have met some great guys. Men I really liked. Men I would have dated longer term. Unfortunately for me they did not feel the same way about me. I honestly hope those guys went on to meet women they liked and have had successful, rewarding relationships. The nice guys I met, the "good ones" were what makes online dating worth the effort of dealing with the crap of the "bad ones."
So the decision to cut myself off from that wasn’t easy. Without dating sites I have to face my loneliness alone. Without dating sites there’s no more safety in numbers. It’s just me, disconnected from the others like me.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “A ha! See? Trillian? Get it? You’ve been crutching on dating sites! This is good! This will force you to get out and do something other than work. This will force you to socialize, meet new people, make new friends.”
Maybe. I thought that, too. But I also know my reality. I’m fighting to keep my job so I work. A lot. I have a disabled, widowed mother. If I'm not at work I'm traveling to help her. I’m tired. Physically, mentally, emotinally drained. I’m tired of trying. And I’m tired of first dates that rarely lead to second dates and even more rarely result in friendships.
Of all the men I’ve met online I’m friends with exactly two of them. And one of those is distancing himself from me due to a girlfriend with a jealous streak. Online dating hasn't brought me any closer to a fulfilling relationship. It hasn't introduced me to great new friends. It hasn't taught me anything about men and dating. It has, however, brought more insults and rejection into my life. There were some nice men, some positive experiences, but the negatives far outweigh the positive and the neutral far outweigh the negative.
Neutrality is a good way to leave. It's how I want to feel about dating, men and my inability to find someone who likes me enough to let it develop into love and a lasting relationship.
I don't want to be one of those spinsters who's bitter and resentful. But I am lonely and sad. I want mutual love and a healthy relationship. But since that's not going to happen being neutral is the best option for me. Neutral keeps me from being bitter and resentful. It keeps me from being consumed with trying to figure out what's so horribly wrong with me that I'm unworthy of a man, a good relationship or love. Neutral, like Switzerland, is the best option for my emotional stability. Neutral is how I will avoid rotting unnoticed for a year after I'm dead. Neutral won't prevent me from dying alone apart from a bunch of cats. That's inevitable - but neutral will keep me from becoming bitter which will keep me in good graces with friends and neighbors.
So, actually, I have gained something from online dating: Neutrality. I've given up plenty of times but the thing about giving up is that you're giving up. And when you give up on something there's some unfinished business, a sense of yearning for more that you didn't accomplish. Giving up tends to springboard me into trying again, or at least thinking about a different approach. Neutrality doesn't leave a sense of anything. It's neutral. I don't want to give up - I want to be neutral. And I've come full circle with that in terms of online dating. And dating in general. It's not even that I don't care - I do care, but it's never been about apathy. At times I've cared too much. But neutral is good. It acknowledges the existence but doesn't yearn, yet it's not apathetic, either. It's neutral.
