This plane’s circling the runway

Is it just me or does it seem like when you finally get to that point in a relationship when you’re thinking, “yeah, this might actually work out,” little tests start cropping up all over the place.

I realize normal people aren’t broadcasting their dating life over the Internet, but when you are, and when you’re counting your dates to 100, you (as in I) start to hear from men across America that perhaps you came in for a landing a little too soon.

It was a Saturday night a couple weeks ago. It had been about a week since I got to spend quality time with SG#1, and Coqueta and I were spending a quiet night cooking, eating and chatting. She started to tell me a story about a guy she heard from on an online dating site (read the whole story here: It’s a small world Part I: Internet stalkers?). Apparently he knew who she was and claimed to be an avid follower of the blog. He said he found the blog through a friend’s Facebook page, got hooked on the stories and then noticed one of the bloggers (Coqueta) had the same alias on the dating Web site he was surfing. We racked our brains to figure out who it was and it occurred to me that I had met a guy in a bar (sadly, I’m so old that it was 7 years ago now) that fit his description pretty well.

We ended up chatting over the dating Web site’s chat widget and he was shocked to find out I was the other 100 Dates blogger. And then he typed, “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t look me up in your rolodex for one of your hundred dates before settling down.”

Settling down. Had I really settled? Although completely convinced that being SG#1’s girlfriend had nothing to do with settling, and everything to do with miraculously finding someone with whom I was actually looking forward to date #3 (not to mention date #78!)…it still caught me a little off guard.

A week later, I started wondering if SG#1 remembered what I looked like after almost two weeks with nothing more than a quick “hello,” and up cropped test-a-roo number two. I received this text from a friend in Portland:

I’m hanging out with a guy I work with who knows u from your blog

WHAT?!

…he wanted to go on a date with you. He’s our director of analytics.

I had no idea who this guy was. I had never met him, I didn’t know what he looked like and he didn’t even live in the same city as me, but for some reason – maybe the time away from SG#1 or the looming meet-the-parents-weekend up ahead – the text gave me a little twinge: had the landing gear dropped prematurely?

The next night SG#1 had planned a surprise catch-up date. As I was getting ready, I was notably nervous and pulled my typical try-on-every-outfit-in-my-closet move. Finally pulling on an acceptable shirt, I heard SG#1 knocking at the door. I anxiously unlocked the double-lock and pulled open the door and with the first site of SG#1, two weeks’ worth of doubt and senseless fretting melted through the cracks of the front deck.

The evening was absolutely what we needed: a delicious dinner at WANN, a comedy show (Mike Birbiglia at the Moore) that we almost missed from talking too long at dinner, and drinks at Amber. So, sorry to all the men out there just dying to go on a date with me (HA!! Just kidding), but it seems this plane is circling the runway, the landing gear hasn’t dropped, but the flight attendants are preparing the cabin for landing and the city lights below are sparkling with potential.

3 Oldies + 1 Newbie = An Interesting Night!

Last weekend, we decided to have a girl's night out. In typical girl style, we met beforehand to get ready and have a few drinks. I might be biased, but we were lookin' pretty good! Amber was the destination of the evening (I had only been once prior, around the time our dating project commenced).

We drove downtown, spent too much time searching for parking, and finally started the long trek to the bar. On they way, "Looking for a Spark" nudged me and signaled at something up ahead. Uh oh--it was a guy ("Waldo") with whom I had gone on three dates! He didn't notice us--Phew!

As we settled into the bar scene with our first round of drinks, I turned around and saw a familiar face. It was someone I had met on my birthday. We had gone rock climbing once afterwards, but, despite his attempts, never met up again. Oops! We talked at the bar--might reconnect in the future.

Another hour passed. Suddenly, a very attractive guy caught my eye. He stopped in front of me. And started talking:

"What....you already forgot who I am?!"

It took a minute to realize it was the guy from the Vagina Dialogues. I didn't remember how hot he was! I wonder why we lost touch!? Anyway, he bought me a drink, we re-exchanged numbers, and he had to leave the bar for an early morning flight. Hope that spark reignites!

As last call neared, I met someone new. He was Costa Rican, so we flirted in Spanish for the rest of the night. And we planned a date for the next day. Fun!

Apparently, after 70 dates, I have to expect to see familiar faces wherever I go! I feel like I've dated most of the eligible bachelors in Seattle!

Nothing says classy first date like bike-riding naked people and warm beer dripping down your leg

I met Mic* at Amber in Belltown, a bar that boasts “first class service and culinary delights…dedicated to providing exceptional service that contributes to a truly memorable experience.” Well, a memorable experience is definitely an understatement. Just to get this straight, I don’t recommend meeting dates in bars, but something told me this one was extra special.

He’s just in Seattle for a short trip to visit friends so after meeting on Friday, he decided we just simply had to spend all day together on Saturday. He took me to the Fremont Fair to rub elbows with drunken naked people dripping in rained-on body paint (the first clue the day would be nothing less than total classiness and chivalry). Honestly, he was quite the gentleman: he carried my purse, offered his arm when walking through the crowds and even ruffled through gum wrappers and tampons to find my ID and show it to the doorman at the beer garden (and then announced the full contents of my purse to all within earshot – jerk face!)

After a few beers down the hatch and down my leg (good thing I was wearing galoshes) we met some friends at Brouwers where I tried the girliest beer ever brewed: Lindemans’s Framboise. I recommend it for those of you who don’t like beer much, but it was a tad sweet even for me (one of the girliest girls I know). We then ventured through think crowds of Seattle’s finest hippies to Gasworks Park to try to catch The Jesus Rehab, a self proclaimed “laid back, fun, and rockin’” band. On the way to the park we passed three Ride the Duck trucks and Mic took full advantage of the enthusiastic and captive audience and flashed each truck of quacking tourists as it drove by – I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard all day as I did with Mic, but I will say just one more time, classiness just might not be his thang. We arrived at the park just in time to see the band packing up their equipment, but we did get to meet the band members and get a few autographs (I’m a pretty big fan).

I do have to give Mic props for choosing such a diverse schedule of activities for a first date. SG#1 might have some serious competition moving forward – the day ended with a pretty steamy make-out session…JUST KIDDING!!!

Okay, Okay, I know all you SG#1 fans are having a conniption fit right now (and maybe SG#1 a little bit too, good thing he has a good sense of humor). I didn’t go on a date with Mic. He’s one of SG#1’s friends from out of town and I had the pleasure of hanging out with him and some of SG#1’s other friends at the Fremont Fair. The day did feel at times like some kind of it’s-the-new-girl-initiation-ceremony, but the jokes were all in good fun and each friend had something very nice to say about SG#1 (I definitely got a little bit of the inside scoop!). The rest of the post is true, minus the steamy make-out session, with Mic anyway ;), and Mic is a super fun and I’m sure very classy guy in most situations (he is a very accomplished Naval Officer after all). I wish Mic the best of luck finding a main squeeze, I know she’ll always be laughing, she’ll never have to carry her purse, and she’ll have to dish out the fun just as much as Mic to keep up with his never-ending quest for amusement.

*As always, his name has been changed for blogging purposes