Something Else Borrowed

So you made it through your first date. Cool. You've asked her out again and she said 'yes'. Awesome! Now, no stalking allowed for at least the next thirty-two hours.

Sunday 2:00pm:

Eleanor: Well Vince, I had a nice time, thanks.
Vince: Me too. Would you like to do it again sometime?
Eleanor: Yeah. I'd like that.
Vince: Great. I'll call you later.
Eleanor: Bye.

Sunday 9:00pm:

Eleanor begins to get organized for her week and starts by opening her email:

YOU HAVE MAIL. Seeing it's from Vince, she opens it curiously,

Eleanor, I wanted to say again what a wonderful time I had today. I'll call you later, Vince

That was sweet, she thinks as she motions her mouse to click 'close'.

Monday 8:15pm:

Eleanor, exhausted from a long day at work, walks through the door and tosses her bag on the couch. While on her way to let the dog out back, she hits 'play' on her feverishly blinking machine.

The robotic voice responds, "First message. Sent. Today. At. 3:00 pm:"

Hi Eleanor, it's Vince. I hope you got my email last night, I didn't hear back from you. Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you and I'm looking forward to our next date.

"Next message. Sent. Today. At. 5:30 pm:"

Eleanor, it's Vince. I haven't heard back from you, so I just wanted to make sure we're still on for our next date. Later.

"Next message. Sent. Today. At. 8:00 pm:"

Eleanor, look, if you didn't want to go out with me, you could have just said so. I don't think I want to date anyone so inconsiderate anyway.

Monday 8:30pm:

Energy renewed by Vince's audacity, Eleanor quickly opens her computer and begins pecking furiously,

Vince, I didn't let you know sooner because I didn't realize it until now. We won't be going out again. Eleanor.

~Thanks Ei

Ask, Don't Tell

I wrote a post a few months back titled, Don't Ask, Don't Tell. In that case, a guy asked me to a fancy dinner, then told me to pay. More recently I have learned that some guys need to learn to ask, not tell.

I met Bob at a bar not far from my home. After talking for a while, we discovered that we lived in the same complex. The area's great. Lots of grass and trees, with a path along a river perfect for biking and running. Shortly after discovering we were neighbors, Bob became a perfect candidate not for my heart, but my blog.

Bob: You live there? I just moved into that neighborhood. I live on the corner near the water.

Me: Oh yeah? The neighborhood's great. You'll love it.

Bob: Yeah. I like that bike path down there. Do you have a bike?

Me: Yep.

Bob: Tell you what. You bring your bike down my way and we'll go for a ride together.

Me: Hmm. That sounded a bit arrogant. What happened to asking? Maybe I'll tell him about the last time I rode a bike. That'll be a turn off. I'm not much of a bike rider these days. the last time I rode my bike, I actually had to get off of it and walk it up a hill! (yes, sad, but true)

Bob: Wow, that's pretty bad.

Me: Good. It worked.

Bob: Well then, bring your running shoes down and we'll go for a run instead.

Me: Shit. Another statement. How do I say no to a statement? I've got to go to the bathroom. See you later.

Ok, so my exit was neither kind nor graceful. But, If you're telling me what to do and we don't even know each other, that red flag negates all rules of engagement.

The Gambler

Rolling the dice in Vegas, fun. Rolling the dice on Match, not so fun. When communicating and subsequently going out with a woman whose picture you have never seen, you need to know your odds. Consider me your bookie.

If a guy doesn't have his picture posted, women know it's because he's 1. married, or 2. ugly. If a woman doesn't have her picture posted, it's because she's 1. ugly 2. married.

After a friend got burned on his fourth photo-less dated, one of my girls laid it out for him better than I ever could: "C'mon. It's not like her picture's not on there because she's too hot!"

Gamble all you want men, but don't be surprised when you leave the table empty-handed. Your odds of being happy with your date are about 10,000 to 1. After all, the House always wins.

~Thanks KJ

Try Not to Remind Me of a Horror Film

I went out with 'Carlos', a fellow dog owner, not too long ago. Now, I can't claim to be the best dog owner in the world, but I can assure you I'm better than Carlos.

Here's how I found out:

"Yeah, my life changed a lot after my accident. It sucked trying to get around with broken ribs."

"That had to be awful," I replied.

"Yeah. Especially because I lived on the second floor. My poor dog had to put up with the worst of it though."

"Your dog? Why's that?"

"Well, I couldn't really go up and down the stairs to let him out. So, I tied a rope to a bucket..."

Wait a minute. This sounds familiar.

Carlos continued, "I stuck my little pup in the bucket and lowered him down. Then he would hop out and do his business. Besides a couple of close calls, it worked out alright."

Ok, so he wasn't exactly luring the dog into a well to hold him ransom, but it still kind of creeped me out. Why not just get a dog walker Carlos?