Belltown Poetry

Early in the night, my date mentioned that he always liked to support street musicians and performers. As we walked down the street in Belltown, searching for a restaurant, he was dropping bills into tattered hats and guitar cases. And then we were approached by a young, African American guy.

"I'm an artist and would love to recite my poetry for you...I'll only take two minutes of your time!"

Of course, my date humored him.

"Go ahead"

The poet warned us that this wasn't any old Shakespeare work, but that it required our participation. We accepted the challenge.

"So, you guys are in love, huh?" (No, we shook our heads.) "First date, then?" (Yes, we nodded.) "Ok, I need you guys to look into each others' eyes...keep looking, don't break the connection"

(AWKWARD! But we kept going with it)

"Love--love is blossoming. Love is a beautiful thing. Love...warms the heart and the soul. Love on a Saturday night. Two souls, beautifully intertwined, growing closer each minute as they stare in each other's eyes......"

Hmmm...maybe this wasn't such a wise activity for a first date... Soon enough, though, it was nearing the end. But there was a grand finale:

"...and now, you must kiss! Go on, kiss so the world can witness the beauty of your love!"

(Dude, this is a first date, remember?!)

My date looked at me awkwardly, and I, at him. Very gentlemanly, he kissed me on the cheek. At the poet's urging, I did the same. A dollar was handed over, and we continued on our way. We found a restaurant, ate, and parted ways.

Our love did not blossom.

Da-da-na-na! Wing-man to the rescue!

A couple of Saturdays ago Coqueta and I were invited to happy hour with some guys we met through a mutual friend. We had all become acquainted over sushi in December and then lost touch, so we were excited to hang out with him and his friends again. However, when we arrived at the bar there were just two guys there: the guy Coqueta had been pining over and his wing-man.

I immediately assumed wing-woman position and we all ended up having great conversation and some delicious strawberry margaritas at Barrio (one of my favorite Capitol Hill hang outs).

But the whole situation got me thinking...Do guys actually discuss the wing-man scenario before approaching a girl in a bar? Do they decide who gets the girl and who has to entertain her wing-woman? I was happy to play wing-woman for Coqueta because it had already been established that she was in-like with the guy who arranged the happy hour, but I wonder how many friendships are broken over these types of situations (A guy is never worth breaking a friendship!). What if I liked him too? What if I didn't feel like talking to his wing-man (he happened to be a very interesting guy)... and on the flip side, how many wing-people end up dating in the end?

I guess this post has more questions than answers, so I open it up to all you blog followers...what are the rules around the job of the wing-man?

In case you need some extra wing-man advice, there's a TON of info out there. My favorite site: Wingmanlaws.com "because getting lucky is a team effort!" How awesome is that?!

Other wing-man tips:
Ask Men.com
Pick Up 101
The Bachelor Guy

What not to wear…

It’s the truth: girls usually take hours to get ready for a date. Fussing over make-up, styling hair, spritzing perfume in all the right places, and picking out a suitable (yet sexy) outfit (with shoes, accessories, and bag to match)….it’s a process! While I tend to be a minimalist, first impressions matter! And so, I do my darnedest to be appropriately dressed for the date—whether it be a hike or a fancy dinner.

When I got to the Indian restaurant we had agreed upon, I was taken aback by his attire. It was a casual place, in a casual town—so I wasn’t surprised by the jeans and hoodie he was wearing (though I was noticeably more dressed up). From the very beginning, however, the image on the sweatshirt caught my eye: two bears in an amorous embrace (to put it politely).

Despite efforts to maintain eye contact, my field of view continued to drift downward, trying to understand the meaning of the shirt. Perhaps his intention was to “break the ice,” so to speak (were the bears balanced on a sheet of ice?)—but we never actually discussed the image.

By the end of the date, I came to the conclusion that apparel embossed with pornographic bears is not my idea of fitting first date attire. I’m sure he’ll find his soul mate out there—and maybe she’ll be dressed to the nines with humping penguins all over!

Dating my friends

I've been a little disenchanted with the whole dating project lately. It's really hard to go through a divorce (even when it's in your head). And it is especially upsetting when you're super excited about the other person and they seem to be equally as excited about you...until it all comes to a screeching halt for no apparent reason.

Anyway, to remedy my need for date nights, with no sign of a prospect of the opposite sex, I've decided to "date my friends." I haven't spend nearly enough time with my girlfriends since starting this nursing program and it's been fun to catch up!

Instead of cooking up a storm for some guy that probably wouldn't appreciate it nearly enough, I invited a friend to experiment with barbecuing pizza. She is a master chef so she was the perfect choice for such an adventurous meal. Although the BBQ wasn't hot enough to actually bake the pizza we brainstormed about solutions, caught up on our busy lives and I got to hear her engagement story (which gave me a renewed sense of hope!). There's something really special about spending time with someone that you feel like really gets you and it was so nice to not have to go through the whole first date conversation for a change! (You know the drill, "where are you from?" How many siblings do you have?" "What's your favorite color?" etc.)

And to fulfill an urge to be fancy, another friend took me to the symphony! ($10 tickets for students!!) We sat in fancy box seats, dressed to the nines and ate decadent desserts afterward. I was pretty much the worst date ever (note to self: don't go on a real date to the symphony): I completely fell asleep and when she turned to me to comment on the concerto I did a full head bob! Isn't that considered a complement in symphony-land...the music was so soothing I fell asleep!

All I have to say is my future dates have some serious competition because my friends are pretty awesome. Thanks ladies!

Fifty, nifty exciting dates...

I reached a pretty significant milestone—halfway through this little dating challenge! Though you wouldn’t be able to tell from the infrequency of my blog posts (oh school…), I have passed the 50 date mark!

And so, of late, I’ve been asked on many occasions: “how is it?”

After 50 dates, I’ve done so many amazing things! I’ve traveled the world through restaurants: Japanese, Ethiopian, Indian, Italian, and everywhere in between! Traipsing through museums, aquariums, and participating in trivia nights have allowed me to expand my mind. I’ve gone on numerous adventures, including rock climbing, hiking, and skiing. Movies, plays, and roller derby have offered quality entertainment. And throughout, I’ve met some really amazing people!

It’s seems like an oxymoron, but despite the overabundance of social activities in my (already busy) life, dating feels…lonely. The problem is, every first date involves the same conversation: “How many brothers and sisters do you have? Where did you grow up? What do you do, day-to-day, in your job?.....” And by the second or third date, I’ve usually decided that I’m not really into the person. The connection rarely feels authentic or sincere.

At the end of a long, hard day in the hospital, when all I want to do is snuggle up to a movie or talk about my day, no one is there. While many of the guys I have dated are willing to vent about their lives on the first date, I’m a little more reserved. I need to feel a real level of trust and understanding.

And so, increasingly, I find myself craving a “real” relationship.

Splash…ploop…oOooOooo

I hadn’t been to an aquarium in years. When he mentioned that he was interested in going, I was thrilled! And so, we set a date.

After the initial introduction and a quick bite to eat, we headed into the looming building. The first room was the one I remembered from childhood—the petting tank!

Me: “Have you ever pet anemone?”
Him: “Uhhh….no.”
Me: “Oh it was so cool to do when I was SCUBA diving in Africa…they’re so soft ….you have to do it! You just go like this…”

And so, I reached into the tank to pet my long-lost marine friends. Immediately after bending over the 3 foot wall, I heard a splash. When I looked down, I saw my cell phone gracefully tumbling down to the bottom of the tank, resembling an awkward, new species of fish.

As the bubbles floated to the surface, I began frantically asking my date to reach in (he was over 6 feet tall, after all). After some hesitation, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and retrieved the rare "fish" which didn’t belong in this habitat. Alas, it was too late. Despite some attempts at drying the phone out, it was done for.

My date was forlorn! He apologized every couple minutes despite my reassurances that it was not a big deal and that I needed a new phone anyway. And really, this was true. Additionally, I couldn't stop laughing about it...I knew it'd make a funny date story! He didn't find it quite as amusing!

We left the aquarium after doing a quick sweep through—but it wasn’t as exciting as it probably could have been, had the phone incident not occurred. The mood had changed drastically.

After the date, I contacted him to thank him and to let him know that the phone issue had been resolved. But, like the phone, that was the end.

I married him in my head

I had kind of given up on dating (obviously, I haven't written a post since January!). And then one day I was bored in Psych and decided to check my e-harmony account. And there it was: an e-mail from a super cute surgical resident wondering why he hadn't seen me around the hospital. He asked me out to Black Bottle (one of my favorite restaurant/bars in Seattle) and we talked about everything from the typical "how many siblings do you have?" to discussing the uses of the bulbar reflex. It was nice to finally talk to a date about my day - the entire day, without having to leave out any of the gross details. We laughed and shared stories for hours and as the topics grew more and more personal we decided we weren't on the first date anymore - by the end of the first date, we had gone on five dates.

Date two and three moved us six months down the dating road. And of my 20 or so dates, it was the best night I've had so far. It felt like a whirlwind weekend of getting to know each other and falling madly in-like with him. Unfortunately, I got a little too far in-like and at the end of the weekend I found myself retelling the story of the past week that had turned into half of a year, I had the worst case of perma-grin any dating girl could have and there were so many butterflies in my chest I could have floated off into the clouds.

And then it happened. I did the worst thing a girl could do: I married him in my head.

I hate to play "the game" and usually I pride myself on being a person that wears her heart on her sleeve, but when you marry him in your head all dating hell breaks loose. You say things you would never tell a person you had only been on three dates with, you do things you might not do on the third date and you turn into a cheesy head-over-heels in-like crazy person. And then, just as anyone who has married someone in your head knows, that's when he stops calling. Maybe it's because he married you in his head and it freaked him out, maybe he moved on to another nurse, maybe three dates (or six months) was enough for him, or maybe he's just really busy, but when you're married to someone in your head and he's not calling in real life it's time for a divorce in your head...and then you're not just crazy in-like with someone, you're just plain crazy!