And the verdict...

Okay! It was okay! He's moderately attractive, he's very smart, he's charming, I had a good time!

I'm not going to marry him any time soon, so my eHarmony investment is intact, but still, it was a pleasant way to spend the evening. We're going out again on Saturday night, and I'm calling him tonight to nail down the details, but all in all, a positive experience.

Several uncanny coincidences:

We have the same phone. I know, I know. Most of America has the same phone as me, but still. Same color and everything.

He just finished reading "The Reader". I'm halfway through it right now.

His brother is 16 months younger than he is. My brother is 16 months younger than I am.

Several odd occurrences:

We sat down at the restaurant, and the waitress came up to us and said to me, "I'm so sorry, I have to tell you, your perfume smells SO GOOD. I love it! You smell AMAZING!" Awwwwkward pause. Then, I said, "Um...are you hitting on me?" We laughed, awkwardness deflected. Still, weird.

We went out to a bar after dinner, just to grab drinks and talk about life a little bit. My back was to the very young looking and obviously extremely inebriated guy on my right. I did notice, however, that though the bar was nearly empty, he was scooting closer and closer and closer to me. Finally, he elbows me in the back and gestures to the 5 screens of basketball that are on at the bar. Here's how the whole exchange went down.

(and note: I will replace the profanity with "fudge" for now, but know this, gentle reader. I didn't say "fudge".)

Drunk Kid: You watching this?
Me: (surprised) Um...well, it's on the 5 screens in front of my face, so I guess so.
Drunk Kid: (flips the bird at the TV screen) Fudge you, basketball.
Me: Yes. Fudge you, basketball. Fudge you. That'll show 'em.
Drunk Kid: (instantly irate) You know what, lady? Fudge you!
Me: You know what, pal? Fudge YOU!
Drunk Kid: (pause) I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I love you.
Me: Aw...you know I can't stay mad at you.
Drunk Kid: (stumbles away to bother someone else, and is immediately escorted out by a burly hostess.)

When he walked away, R. was like, "what the hell just happened?" And I proudly said, "It's important for you to know that I can hold my own in a bar fight." Seriously, I was ready. The kid weighed 135, tops. I could have kicked his ass. But I was wearing a skirt, and was really trying to make a good impression.

I think I did.

Anyway, R. is an editor for one of the big papers in town, so I shall dub him: The Editor! Voila! A nickname is born!

As for Paul, whom I mentioned several blogs ago, he has dropped off the face of the earth. That's for the best. I was already envisioning how hard it would be to dump someone with dimples like that.

There's one more guy on the horizon right now: P. He's a scientist, and lives very close to where I live. How convenient!

Pros:
Funny.
Smart.
Lives in my neighborhood.

Cons:
Short.
No, REALLY short.
Lives in my neighborhood (I once had to avoid my grocery store for 6 months after an awkward in-town breakup...sheesh).

The other interesting thing is that I am being consistently set up with Southern men who have recently relocated to this area. Who knew that there was a tsunami of single men heading this way from the deep South? I feel like there should be a TV channel devoted to the migration patterns of bachelors.

I ate meat while out with The Editor last night, and I explained that I was magically turning myself into a vegetarian on Monday. He found it amusing. I found that endearing.

The deed has been done.

I have spoken to my first bachelor, even before I give up meat.  

What an odd sentence.

His name, R., is the same as my best friend.  Not an unusual name, and I actually have a rather painful-to-think-of ex with the same name (just conjured up a painful memory...ow).    Anywho, I went to put his name in my phone today and, realizing that I didn't know his last name, had to do it in all caps to differentiate it from that of my own dear R.  

We spoke on the phone this morning--I was commuting to a seminar/talk-back session about 35 minutes away, and his only free time today was before 11.  Perfect.  I called him, we talked. He seems like a sensible guy with very little to like or dislike--just a normal person.

He does have a southern accent.  Yee-haw!

R. works as an editor for one of the local papers--a great job, really, and it guarantees that he knows how to spell.  A positive trait in any man.

However, before I could do my usual "You seem really nice, let's meet for coffee" bit, he leaped in and asked me to have dinner with him.  DINNER?!  What if I don't like him?  I'm in it for the long haul!  Coffee's half an hour, 45 minutes tops.  DINNER is an event!

(You know you're reading the blog of a commitmentphobe when DINNER raises red flags.)

So we're on.  For DINNER.  Tomorrow night.  I'm not really nervous, because let's be honest.  I paid good money for eHarmony.  And I started a freaking blog, with plans for a summer-log project of vegetarianism and online dating.  Unless he is the culmination of all of my wildest dreams come true, I'm going to continue to get my money's worth and eHarm it up until September!

(And before you get up in my grill, folks, I promise to give him a fair and true evaluation, and not avoid making a love connection simply based on a small financial investment.)

(probably.)

I also received an email from a guy named P. (who shares a name with another of my dearest pals)--on paper, he's much more my type.  Very witty, very smart.  I giggled at least 3 times when I read the email.  So I'd anticipate a date at some point this week.  Stay tuned for updates.

T-minus 4 days until the Veggies hit the streets.

(by "the streets", I mean "my tummy")

In which I realize that I might be crazy.

Chances are good that if you know me (and if you're reading this, you probably do), you know that I have a deep and abiding love of Free Time. Free Time in all of its manifestations--really, just time spent accountable to no one but myself.

As I find myself looking toward being in a "relationship" (that word kind of squicks me out a little), I wonder, how much compromise on my Free Time am I willing to make? Would I really be better off in a trailer full of cats, shaping their turds into jewelry and selling it on the side of the road? Can I really inflict my lame-ass hobbies on someone else, and trust that they won't a) resent me or b) make fun of me?

I don't know. I have limited experience with all things Relationshippy. I'm happiest when Bouncing Between Boyfriends

(side note: PERFECT name for my band)

and talking about how I've been done wrong, or have done someone wrong, or am making fun of what someone has done wrong. I've never been happy in a relationship. Mostly my fault.

Sometimes my fault.

(usually his fault)

I'm beginning to wonder if it's not what I thought it was, my penchant for singlehood. What if it's not Terminal Unmarriability--what if it's fear?

It might be.

Fear of failure (Atychiphobia)
Fear of being alone (Monophobia)
Fear of bald people (Peladophobia)


I ate chicken nuggets for lunch today, and am having a hamburger for dinner. Five more days until I
Kiss Meat Goodbye.
(side note: questionable title for my band's first album)

I knew it wouldn't be easy.

Or fun.

I was greeted this morning with 7 new matches, all of whom I can sum them all up in 3 words:
Bald Graduate Students.

I find that rather amusing--I mean, I work within blocks of two huge universities. I see bald dudes all the time. Who knew they were all looking for love?

And don't get me wrong. I don't mind a bald dude. But I am sensing a trend in their profiles. They're all self-proclaimed quiet, shy introverts. Hm...I can handle bald, but I'm not sure I can handle shy. Or, for that matter, whether shy can handle me.

I'm not going to talk about every person eHarmony matches me up with--I'll just throw the ones I'm communicating with out there, and talk about their pros/cons. Eventually, if I go out with him, he'll get himself a nickname like so many before him.

Examples:
Shrimpy Keith
Condescending Stephen
Barf Bill

On slow days, I'll dip into the vast well of experience and talk about boys of my past and their quirks and foibles.

Oh, and vegetarianism. I'm becoming a vegetarian on June 1st. I keep forgetting.

Anywho, today I'm communicating with Paul. Paul is 38, and a Bald Graduate Student. Paul's friends describe him as "hardworking, intelligent, perceptive, and quiet".

(yeeeeesh)

The first thing I'll notice about Paul is: "quiet".

(yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh)

Five things Paul can't live without:
Apples
Bicycling
Cross country skiing
Water
Italy

(what an unusual list of unrelated things.)

Paul also informs the world that he has ADD. He informs us twice. I'm not sure if he's serious, and wants to date someone who's not stimulating, or if it's an attempt at humor. Either way, I'm not really sure things with Quiet, ADD Paul and I are destined for love.

He does have dimples, though. That's cute.

Meats and Greets

In this, the Summer of 2009, I, a humble blogger (blogette?) will take on two vastly different and yet equally intimidating worlds:
Vegetarianism and Online Dating.
The eHarmony profile has been posted.
I've been eating Chicken McNuggets at an alarming rate; as though, camel-esque, I can store up for the meatless months ahead.
June 1st it all begins.
Join me on this journey into lunacy, won't you?