hazardous cargo

D: Okay, it’s been over a month. I think I can talk about The Cargo Shorts Incident without PTSD.

The (heh) short of it: some time back (like early June?) I ran into PB in the bike lane en route to work. Immediate reaction: revulsion.The cause: his ensemble of a novelty-logo t-shirt, athletic shoes sans socks, and CARGO SHORTS. Not Jack Spade-esque slim cargos, oh no. These were the worst offering of Abercrombie & Fitch circa, like, 2001. The kind of cargo shorts with pockets upon pockets. So very puffy. I think a built-in webbed belt was involved. These were the shorts you'd wear if you were a college sophomore playing frisbee golf on the quad with your fraternity brothers.

A Lady: Oh god I lost it at logo-tee. A grown man wearing cargo shorts? I mean, sure, I think the Current/Elliott skinny cargo pants for ladies are kinda cute but ON A DUDE? AND SHORTS? I can’t.

D: IMAGINE HOW I FELT.
At least he was wearing a bike helmet?

A Lady: This confirms my belief that you place too much emphasis on the presence of a bike helmet when evaluating people.

D: I went to work and immediately bitched about the outfit to a sympathetic coworker, who pointed out that perhaps since it is summer and he was biking to work at his fancy not-at-all-unlikely-to-require-a-suit-occasionally job, he was probably going to shower at the office gym and change into Real Person Clothes there. I grudgingly accepted this idea, but oh man, I did not entirely trust the hypothesis.

A Lady: Had you bitched to me instead you KNOW I would not have let that slide or told you to give him the benefit of the doubt. Which is probably why you bitched to the coworker instead. Also, if I can bike in a pencil skirt and four-inch heels, he can bike in pants.

D: Heh. So, the next day we had date plans to see a play and have dinner. Note that I hauled ass home after work to change from work clothes (which would have been entirely serviceable, but not particularly date-worthy) into something more going-on-a-date appropriate.

AND THEN. OH MY GOD AND THEN. HE SHOWS UP ON THIS DATE WEARING THE SAME LOGO TEE, CARGO SHORTS (CARGO. FUCKING. SHORTS.) AND SNEAKERS SANS SOCKS.

I could. not. deal.

Post-show, post-dinner (what, like I was going to bail on a free dinner?) we start biking homeward. I turn off a few blocks early like SEE YOU NEVER, GOOD NIGHT.

I have not seen him since.

A Lady: Okay, remind me that we need to have a Serious Conversation about the relative value of a free meal, and how lentils can be just as delicious and will cost you $0.50 and no self-respect. Standards!

D: I have standards! Occasionally low and situationally-flexible as they may be: STANDARDS. And puffy, excessively-pocketed cargo shorts do not meet them.

AND THE THING IS: HE SAW ME SEE HIM the day before in that same ensemble. COME ON DUDE. Repeating sweaty biking clothes for a date the next night, no matter the contents of that outfit, is just fucking unacceptable. It's a symptom of a total lack of effort. If you cannot be bothered to change your goddamn clothes into something that does not suggest you might go home, get stoned, and listen to Phish, then I CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO GO OUT WITH YOU EVER AGAIN.

Fuck that. I might not always be immaculately pulled-together and turned out, but for the fuck of shit, I make an EFFORT. Not always a successful effort, but come on.

socially clumsy

I can't argue with A Lady on this. She notes:

"D, your dating life is like the social interaction equivalent of a montage of people walking into doors."

don't quit your day job

Backstory: IM from D, received two nights previously. "Upside of last night: got the digits of a hella hella cute butch at the bar. Downside: when she mentioned that she lives in an "intentional community."

A Lady: Good morning! Questions: 1. Why don’t I have a horse? 2. Why am I not a supermodel?

D: Mooooooooooooorning. Oh god so tired.
Anyway, guess who texts me last night when I get home? MS. INTENTIONAL COMMUNITY, THAT'S WHO. I have no interest in your hippie intentions, lady. None. It's a short hop from "intentional community" to "becoming a freegan and wearing dreadlocks."

A Lady: Oh, come now. You said she's hot. This way you could keep the Dating Moratorium on and get a much-needed fix.

D: Dunno, let's not forget "intentional community." Oh my god, that's like lesbian hell: a hippie house full of ex-girlfriends. If she'd just kept that to herself last week, I'd be up on that like white on rice, but anyone who brings that up ON PURPOSE with someone they're trying to impress? There is something wroooooooong with that person.

A Lady: Yes, but at least there's never a shortage of conversation. These types are always very enthusiastic. You probably won't even have to say anything. Or listen.

D: Hmmmmmm. My standards, if not exactly low, are nothing if not situationally flexible. She is enthused about EVERYTHING, it's true. Which causes me to roll my eyes, but at least I can do that silently. Perhaps I will text her back tonight between spray-painting snakes gold and pickling grapes.

A Lady: Exactly. Lie back and think of England, as it were.

D: You are a bad influence. My favorite kind.
Now, what does one DO with a hot-but-hippie girl that is only a clear signal for Let's Go Hook Up and not Let's Converse and Have Feeeeeeeeelings?

A Lady: Bowling. Or whiskey.

D: Whiskey is always the answer, innit? When in doubt, delicious bourbon shall lead the way.

So as the counterpoint to the "Why aren't I a model? With a pony?" lifequest, I just saw this:
and IMMEDIATELY thought "I should play Isabella Blow, duh." Oh, former career path as an actor, how you pop up unexpectedly.

A Lady: Oh dude. You need to come to New York for next Halloween. You’ll be Issy Blow, I’ll be Lee McQueen.
Too soon?

D: Nooooooooooooo. Brilliant. So brilliant.
Issy Blow falls squarely into my Halloween Theme of always, always creating an elaborate headpiece for costumes. Win!

A Lady: Omgomg can we put on a Vicar of Dibley-inspired Christmas pageant? With three kings: Martin Luther, Billie Jean, and Stephen.

D: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
What about Nat King Cole?

A Lady: RODNEY.

D: YOU WIN.
Truly, why is no one paying us for thoughts like these?

alleycat

D: I have a story for you. It involves bacon, being awkward, and stalking a cute boy in my alley.

I wake up this past Sat morning with a well-deserved hangover and am addressing this by making a huge fucking pan of bacon on the stove, next to my large kitchen window. The phone rings, and I smush myself up against this window to get a little cell reception. I happen to glance outside into the alley and there is a totally cute boy out there. Ginger hair, nice glasses. And you know I am a sucker for nice glasses.

A Lady: Uh huh

D: Then, as I am a spaz, I exclaim into the phone "Dude! There’s a cute boy in my alley!" ... before realizing that I am standing in front of an open window, facing this boy who is now looking up at my window. Who totally heard me.

Then I realize that I am wearing a bathrobe and rocking seriously matted hangover hair, so I run away from the window.

But dude! The bacon! I cannot let the bacon burn!

A Lady: Ahahahaha

D: So I scoot BACK to the stove, next to the window. Cute Boy is still there.

A Lady: Noooo

D: I then proceed to press myself up against that window most of the day in the hopes that he'll come back.

A Lady: Please tell me you peeked from behind your frying pan.

D: Nah. But I should've dangled bacon out the window like a lure.

A Lady: Totally.

D: THEN! I'm out on the back steps later that night and I see him again. He is totally the houseguest of someone in my building! I must go forth and be detective-y!

A Lady: Wait, what was he doing in the alley? Are we sure he's not just loitering?

D: The first time, he was looking confused and looking up at the window as if he’d been accidentally locked out.

The second time, he clearly left from within my building and was heading out on an errand of some sort. Not a homeless dude in the alley, it would seem.

A Lady: Did he recognize you?

D: Nah, I only saw him as he disappeared down the alley.

BUT!

On Monday night, I'm leaving the building via the back steps, and I run into my downstairs neighbor and I ask: “Hey, you guys didn't have houseguests this weekend, didja?"

(neighbor) "no, why?"

A Lady: Ohoho!

D: (me) Oh, there was this really cute boy in the alley on Saturday who I saw from my kitchen window, and he was looking up at your window like he was locked out."

(neighbor) "Um. How cute? What did he look like?"

(me) "Exceedingly cute. Ginger, nice glasses."

(neighbor) "THAT IS TOTALLY MY BROTHER."

A Lady: OMG

D: (neighbor) "HE HUNG OUT HERE ON SATURDAY."

A Lady: OMGEEZY

D: (me) "You have a very cute brother."

A Lady: Et????

D: (neighbor) "Mind if I pass along the compliment? …and are you single?"

(me) "Please do …and YES."

A Lady: OMFG. Open-mouth grin.

D: I knooooooooooooow.

Alleystalking: the new meet-cute.

I am hoping to run into the downstairs neighbor again soon to push the Hook A Sister UP With Your Cute Brother agenda.

A Lady: This is amazing. And without the awkward dating-friends'-siblings thing, because he's just a neighbor.

D: YUP.

Although, jumping waaaaay ahead into the Realm of Possibility ZOMG, if we do end up hooking up, it may be awkward as his brother's apartment downstairs is the exact same layout as mine. Meaning: my bedroom is directly over theirs.

A Lady: D’oh.

D: (I plan ahead.)

unsustainable

A Lady has (um, had) an online shopping moratorium. I have a dating moratorium, spurred by a series of underwhelming dates and the realization that I’d rather go to yoga class/ read a book (currently: Hugh Laurie’s The Gun Seller, recommended by Helen)/ make dinner with my friends than go forth and date.

My plan is met with, shall we say, skepticism.

D: No, seriously, I am committed to this DATING MORATORIUM. I am sticking with this. The only dates I have this month are hanging-out-with-my-awesome-friends dates, and that keeps me plenty busy.

Miss North Star: How long will the moratorium stand?

D: Indefinitely. I vote through at least November.

Miss North Star: So… September?

D: Hush!

Miss North Star: You know I’m right.

D: No! I had only started doing the all-dating-all-the-time thing as of, like, this March. And that only really lasted through June. It was tiring.

Miss North Star: I'm not saying you'll go back to dating all the time…

D: Four months on, four months off. Like that farming thing where you let the land lie dormant for a while. It's good for it. Or something. I don’t know, I don’t have farmer cred.

Miss North Star: Right. Sure.

I think it's a load. I'm just going to deplete the nutrients in my soil until it's dry and desperate.

D: Ha.

Miss North Star: And then some nasty weed will take hold. And I'll get married to it.

how to date us

“But I did not ask you about this, you trollops,” you say. Scroll down to the bottom of the post, note the tag “advice you did not ask us for," and just go with it.

Good Ideas/Bad Ideas for Dating D
Making an effort is required. And by “making an effort”, I mean that one must take the trouble to make plans in advance, and not just assuming that a last-minute text message is going to cause me to drop whatever plans I already have and make myself available to you. Spontaneity is cute within reason, but if you are unable to formulate a plan that includes a date, time, and location, I am going to be unable to go out with you. I joke about my color-coded calendar, but really: I have an absurdly anal-retentive color-coded calendar, and it fills up with Stuff.


Making an effort also includes things like wearing clean clothes, turning off the volume on your phone unless you have some legitimately pressing situation requiring your availability (Is your best friend due to birth a child soon? That counts. Are you waiting to see if your friends are doing anything fun tonight? That does not count; please go fuck yourself), and making me brunch. I am a total sucker for brunch.
I cannot believe that I’ve just had to clarify that one should wear clean clothes and not continually check one’s phone on a date. Fucking basic, right? You would hope so, but apparently you would be mistaken.

Flowers are also a Really Good Idea. Not stuffy Floral Arrangements, though, because those are formal and kind of weird me out: the last time I got Romantical Flowers the card said “happy one-month anniversary”, which caused me to freak out and drive to another state that night to escape the suffocating awkwardness. But: a peony in a jelly jar? I am guaranteed to adore it.

Apparently if you make me brunch and hand me a peony, I will go into a swoon.

I send pretty clear signals, really: if I make out with you at the bar/ on the street/ while hailing a cab, I like you. If I do not, well, you're going home alone.


Good Ideas/Bad Ideas for Dating A Lady
I favor tulips and calla lilies over peonies, but, like D says, simpler is better. The making an effort bit is, for me, a moot point: if I've agreed to go out with you or have asked you out, I'll already have noted that you are, in fact, making an effort.

Spontaneity is always charming, but only in a "Ooh, you didn't have to bring me coffee on your break!" kind of way. I like plans: they are something to anticipate and show that the other person is looking forward to the next time they see you as much as you are. If you call me up (NB: I hate the phone) after a week of silence and want me to do something three hours later, I will say No, on principle.

Be an adventurous eater and drinker. Make eye contact. Keep up with my horrible attempts at banter. Have rolled-up shirt-sleeves. It's okay to be a little possessive, too, if that's your thing. If you know any old school chivalry (which side of the sidewalk to occupy, whether you should let a lady walk ahead or behind you, standing when she leaves the table, etc.), that's pretty awesome. (Caveat: don't suddenly try to start putting these things in action if you haven't been doing it forever. I wish I were kidding, but I've been knocked aside and jostled by people trying to get me on the right side of the sidewalk. Not cool. Don't call attention to your manners, ever.) If you know how to partner dance and lead well, that's even better.

If you help me on with my coat, I'll go home with you immediately: you'll have just earned the James Brown Seal of Approval.

words to live by

D: Hmmm. C.A. is texting.
A Lady: ?
D: Wants to go out again. I can't be arsed to reply promptly.
A Lady: So that's a no.
D: ...but I do need to get out.
A Lady: Dude. Not that much.
D: Sigh. Standards are low.
But maybe not that low.
Dunno. I have no squishy-stomach feelings for him
A Lady: That's a No, dude.
D: Word.
Who knew! Apparently I have standards.
A Lady: This is a good thing
D: I suppose.
Decent human being underneath it all, perhaps.

D: I'll likely run into him this weekend, so I have to play nice-ish til then.

A Lady: How nice?
D: Not THAT nice. Just return an occasional text, etc., rather than be a total dick and just ignore him completely.
A Lady: You are a better person than I am.
D: Well, I'm certain to run into him.
A Lady: So is he trying to date you, or just... ?
D: Dunno. He's making a half-assed effort in either case.
A Lady: Bizarre. I don't get that.
Either do it or don't.
D: I know. Either go full-on or just stfu.
A Lady: Heh. Life Wisdom.

D: That doesn't seem to be a crazy equation, non?

…

D: Aha! Just found out C.A. will NOT be around this weekend. Avoided!
A Lady: Oh word.
D: Commence ignoring him!
A Lady: Clearly you were really into this.
D: If he cannot be bothered to make ANY EFFORT AT ALL... neither can I.
A Lady: We have self-respect.
D: Well, sometimes.

Sometimes I just have inertia.

really bad at this

In news that will surprise no one, this did not end well for me. Well, scratch that: the night ended well (videochat and drinks with A Lady, which was lovely), but the date itself mentioned below was high-school-dance levels of awkward.


A Lady: Are we both dating because we feel required to do so?

D: Hmmm, possibly? Though I catch myself cruising HARD lately. I'm giving myself whiplash with all the head turning. I think I am mostly dating because I want to get laid.

A Lady: Yeah.

D: Also: makeouts.

A Lady: Oh, mutual attraction. How elusive you are.

D: Hell. Seriously, hell.

So, yes, my date this week: I need a comfy-hot-bikeable-sweat-mitigating outfit.

A Lady: Cutoffs with a loose top might be ideal.

D: Hmmmmmm, cutoffs could do. I need to acquire jeans to cut off. Promising.

A Lady: Legs, but roomy.

D: Yup. Legs, always good.

A Lady: And probably less sweaty than a dress.

D: I like this. To the thrift store tonight!

(Later that day)

D: Pah. The Jewish thrift shop is closed, and I am too tired to walk to the Mexican thrift shop. I settled for $10 jeans at the Russian thrift shop.

A Lady: Ha. I love that your thrift shops have ethnicities.

D: They totally do. Hmmmm. There’s a fine line between Too Short and Awesomely Short shorts. I’m not sure that I care about that line, however.

A Lady: Daisy Dukes: which frankly, I feel are okay.

D: Agreed. I've got to work as much leg as I can, however I can.

A Lady: So. You excited for your date?

D: Actually, yes. We'll see. A text warning will be in effect from 7:30-10 pm Central, with a chance of moderate to severe self-doubt.

A Lady: Due precautions will be taken.

D: The National Date Warning Service suggests that those affected by this alert have a plan for shelter and gin.

A Lady: In case of emergency, seek shelter in front of a computer.

(the next evening)

D: OMG. The date was so bad. So, so bad.

#1: wore her retainer ON A DATE.

#2: lives with her parents.

#3: oh fuck number three, it’s time for wine and takeout.

…Well, at least I have cutoffs now. So that's something.

we're bad at dating

A Lady: AHEM
I HAVE A DATE TONIGHT

D: WITH THE UNICORN, DON'T YOU.

A Lady: YES
YES I DO
Oh God. Will this be weird? Am I expected to be the dude?

D: This will not be weird. this will be TOTALLY CUTE.
What's the date plan, hmm?

A Lady: Drinks (typed drunks) at a bar around the corner, 8.30

D: Drunks works too.
(This weekend I was mid-whiskey flight when C.A. texted saying "what are you up to." Left in the typo after brief consideration; sent him a message saying "drankin' whiskey flights w houseguests")

A Lady: What to wear tonight...will it be weird if I've changed clothes from this morning?

D: No! She is totally gonna change clothes, too.
It's a Date, after all. An evening date.

A Lady: I'm thinking the Comme dress, with flat sandals

D: Ooh which Comme dress?

A Lady: The new one!
Black, strapless, long, casual.

D: Oooooooooooooooh. I vote yes.
Accessories?

A Lady: Earrings, bracelet, hair twisted to the side.
Minimal, in other words.

D: Swaaaaaaaaaaaank.

A Lady: But not too swank because it's West Philly, aka Park Slope.
Like, equal parts crunchy and Bugaboo

D: Heh. Vegans.

A Lady: Yup. Don't wanna overdo it, you know?

D: So hot-but-casual.

A Lady: Yeah

D: Hence the flat sandals

A Lady: Exactly.
Also, she's as tall/barely taller than I am.
And in very good shape.

D: Um, swoon.

A Lady: She's probably a pagan widow, though.
Or 20.

D: Ahahahaha

A Lady: Or lives with 10 freegans.

D: Or kicks puppies in her spare time.

A Lady: Exactly.

D: Or doesn't drink.

A Lady: Naw, meeting at a bar, remember?

D: ...where she will order a Diet Coke and say "oh by the way am alcoholic"

D: No, wait, diet SPRITE. Because she'll be allergic to caffeine.

A Lady: And wheat.

D: So really, if none of the above occur tonight: successful date.

A Lady: Standards at 50% and falling
Expect shitstorms late this evening
Possible hail of texts

D: A severe texting alert will be in place tonight. May be downgraded to a chance of hilarity with scattered horrors.