Still twenty-something, and still searching

Phew. It's been years since I've been here.  It's been two years since my last post (and, not surprisingly, since my last relationship), and months since my last legitimate date. I don't say that as a 'woe is me', but more as a 'let's get back in it'.

A lot has happened since last being here.  A lot of thought has gone into why I wrote a blog before, and why I hope to write a bit more in the coming months. I've gone through a lot since last being here: a lot of mistakes, a lot of joy, a lot of fear, a lot of sincerity, a lot of vulnerability, a lot of 'wins', a lot of 'losses', a lot of revelations, a lot of searching, a lot of lessons learned, and a lot of Friday nights with Netflix and wine.

Typical

More on all of the above, as I continue to blog more frequently, I promise.

As the title suggests, I'm still twenty-something and still searching.   But before writing about all of the searching, I wanted to address the 'why' of this blog.  I questioned the "why" of this blog for a long time, and I came to a few major revelations.  

1) Writing here allows me the outlet to 'get out there'- I've haphazardly danced around the pretend dating world for years now, (and...trust... I'm a horrible dancer) but now, I'm committing more to getting out there. Not that I need a reason to date, or a blog to get me out there, but it puts onus on me to commit a bit more. Plus, that little clock is ticking- I can only be a twenty-something-year-old for a few more years.  Maybe 9 or 10. (Side note: I never really knew the word 'onus' until a few minutes ago. I always thought it was 'ownness'. The more you know...)

Tick-Tock..  everyone else is getting married!

2) For years, our dating lives have been secret.  For years, we weren't out, weren't allowed to discuss men that we were interested in, and pretended that our dating life involved women, or no one at all. And now, without hesitation, I can not only talk about dating, but I can scream about it from the....comfort of my living room. I want to blog because well.... I can.  Which leads me to 3...

3) Not only CAN I write about the trials and tribulations of my dating life, but I can help others see that the shit that I deal with, the crazies that I encounter, the feelings of vulnerability, and the simple joys in a 'good morning' text are no different than what anyone else experiences. Dating in my world is no different than dating in any world, and my hope is that what I reflect on through this blog is relatable, even if I'm undatable.

So, stay tuned. Read (or don't read) as I learn a bit more about myself, about this world of dating, and about 'the one' who is out there, just waiting to have a few blog posts written about him.

Lesson learned: our journeys are all the same.  I'm just dumb enough to write about them.

A new leaf

Gays don't eat Lays, so I'm not sure anyone will get that reference.

Ahhhh.... Summer in Boystown. Summer is intended for crazy parties, long days at the beach, 4am breakfast at Nookies, SundayFunday at Scarlet, and overall enjoying the single life. No one is really looking to settle down, because in the summer, there are so many shirtless, drunk, fun, random things going on. No one wants to be attached during the pride parade. It ruins the fun!  Summer in Boystown is like Lays Potato Chips: You can't have just one. (Fitting, to be named Lays...). No one wants to have just one guy during the summer. (Shoutout to Grandma!)

NUTS

Cue "Fall". More and more guys download Grindr. More and more guys look to settle down.  It's a trend I call "Noah's Ark": Two by two, boys are off the market until the flood (AKA winter) is over. They hibernate over the winter months, they find someone to cuddle with, they don't go out to the bars as often. More dinner parties, more game nights, more "couple things".  They feed on their stored nuts until the winter thaw is over, and emerge, once spring hits, rested, relaxed, (fat) and ready for another summer. (Just kidding. We are gays. We don't 'get' fat.)

So I'm back. I'm on the grid. I'm putting myself on Grindr in a new hood, with new expectations. I'm back on OKCupid with a more sincere profile (Seriously, it now includes such gems as "I beat all of Candy Crush" and "I'm 27 years old (previously, I wasn't REALLY using my real age.  Oops)). But I'm taking a different approach to this blog. I went on dates before LOOKING for something fun to post. I hoped that after a date, I'd have good material, because, lets be real- that's what the readers wanted. Now, I'm going on dates looking for a reason NOT to post a blog. Before, dating was a joke to me. Now, dating is a real, sincere, hope to find my Mr. Right. I'm 27. It's about time I start acting, and dating, like I'm 27.

It's been months since I've gone on a sincere date. The last sincere date was with a guy I met off an app called Coffee Meets Bagel. It's a cute app, with a cute idea. Every day, at noon, you are sent ONE guy. The app eliminates the need to scroll through endless profiles. The app eliminates hours of wasting. The app really just provides you with one person. And if you like him, and he likes you, the app sets up a mutual phone line for you to text for a week. If you text, and you like each other, you can exchange your real numbers and even meet up for a cocktail. Or coffee. Or a bagel. But gays don't eat bagels.

We texted for a week via the shared phone line. Things got hot and heavy and we decided to text via a real phone number. We were pen pals for a bit too long, and finally decided to meet up, after many weeks. It was a great date. He worked in higher ed, he was sporty and athletic (just like me!), he was very easy to chat with. Minutes after we parted, I get a text from him. "I had fun too. I hope this isn't weird, but I actually met someone between when we started talking and when we met who I'm currently dating. I wanted to meet you and would be down for friend activities- especially flip cup at Scarlet (side note: HE KNOWS ME SO WELL). I'm too old to play games" (side note: did he realize that flip cup was a game?! Was he talking about the game flip cup, or the dating games that we all play with eachother??)

Damn. I met a guy who wasn't BSing me through this dating thing. He wasn't playing games (except flip cup). He was upfront, honest, sincere, transparent. I actually appreciated this text more than you can image. So often we are strung along. We hope he doesn't meet someone better before the next date. Hope he isn't still in love with his ex. Hope he left his baggage behind.  Hope he isn't seeing three guys at the same time. Hope he doesn't have a snarky blog where he posts mean things about all of his dates.

I hope to have that much respect for other dates as I move forward in a more mature approach to dating. 

By turning a new leaf, I'm simply changing my approach to dating. There will ALWAYS be clarinet boys. And when I meet them, you'll be the first to read about it. I'm just going to be more honest, more mature, and more respectful through this process.

Lesson Learned: Once you're 27 years old, once it's fall, and once you have an honest guy sending you an honest text, you start to find a need to take a more honest approach to dating. And you hope to find Mr Right, who is as honest as you. 

Joe Fox (RE: You've got Mail)

Grind her? I hardly know her...

I would be remiss if I blogged about the misadventures of dating in Chicago and excluded the ever-popular app, Grindr. Knowing that many of my loyal readers are that of the "straight" variety, I figured I'd take time to explain Grindr!

Grindr is 100% location based, and is only for the gay (male) community. You post your photo, you post a witty tagline, and you log-in to see who is near you. Whether or not you want to know who is around you...

I know that you're dying to know what my profile looks like.

Too bad. You're too far away from me.

Just kidding. My Grindr picture is a classy, shirt-on, you-can-see-my-face, photo of me.

Let's break down that sentence, because, unfortunately, it needs being broken down.

"Classy": We see a wide variety of non-classy pictures on Grindr. Because it's an apple app, it has to remain PG-13, but somehow to gays have a way to get over that. I'd go into more detail, but I encourage you to just use your imagination.

Sorry, James. You've made my blog.

"Shirt-on": I just opened my Grindr, and will note that among the 100 guys that I can see tonight, 26 don't have a shirt on. It's kinda like going to the beach, except most of the people with their shirt off should REALLY consider putting their shirt back on.

This one lost his arms, too!

"You-can-see-my-face": In addition to shirtless, many of them are headless. Never in my life have I met so many casualties of some war in which their shirt and head were taken. It's a shame. Of the headless torsos, you then have a few varieties. 1) The Butterfaces. (She's got a great body, but her face....)  2) The secret gays. (SHHHH. Don't tell my wife that I'm on this. Dude. She probably saw that you have a random orange app on your phone that keeps buzzing... And now that she reads my blog, she knows what that app is for. Busted.)  3) Put a shirt on. And a bag over your head. (the worst variety)

"Photo of me": You didn't think I was going to break this down, but note that many put photos of the sunset, their dog, some ecards, or a very-close-up shot of their armpit. I kid you not, these show up, right now, in my closest 100. In no other dating app could people get away with pictures of anonymous objects. Usually when these guys message me, I reply with something along the lines of "OMG I DIDN'T KNOW A SUNSET HAD AN IPHONE?!?" This is why I'm single.

My personal favorite: When the picture is a guy with his dog, I usually ask "Which one are you". I'm prettttttty sure they block me.

Then, you have some space for a quick blurb. Mine is "My love life is like my iPhone 5. I do not have an iPhone 5". With that witty little ditty, I get tons of messages from my 3 mile radius pals who offer to buy me an iPhone 5. Someday, I'm going to take one up on that offer.

The past 3 weeks, I have gone on 10 dates off of Grindr. And I hesitated to blog about this, but the more I considered it, the more I realized that it's becoming more of a "thing that we do".  These have usually been coffee dates, or meeting at the bar the next night for a drink. (I did this last night, and it went incredibly well!) I also have been using Grindr as I search for a new apartment in Boystown, just to see how the electronic view is...

The tricky part of navigating this app is weeding through those looking for only one thing. SEX. That problem probably exists with most straight and gay dating services, but knowing that there is someone literally 450 ft away from you cruising the interwebs to find sex is a little creepy. Especially when you see him at the gym tomorrow.

We've come a long way as a community from previously being deprived of even knowing who was gay in your family to knowing everyone who is gay in your 3 mile radius. It's impressive that we are able to embrace such an app in our community. Yeah, it takes away from the "you're cute, let me buy you a drink" and the "OMG, it's raining, and I have an extra umbrella just for you", but I have many friends in my circle that have met off Grindr, and they haven't been chopped to pieces yet....

My final word of warning, for my gay friends who read my blog. When, on the dance floor at Scarlet, you find yourself logging into Grindr to see where the nearest gays are, LOOK UP FROM YOUR PHONE. They are all around. If we get too consumed in this app to find love amongst the shirtless, headless photos of sunsets, we lose the ability to make true connections with those around us.

Joe Fox (RE: You've got Mail)

Mr-too-perfect

"I supposed it would start with a plan to meet up for coffee at the bourgeois pig in the middle of the afternoon- and then we find that we like each other so well, that we end up deciding to take a walk together, and end up at Lincoln Park Conservatory. While walking through the bounteous foliage, along the narrow paths- we share a few poignant moments of connection. The air starts to thicken between us. You casually grab my elbow. I brush your hair out of your eyes.... We both decide to cancel our plans for the rest of the day- despite being very important. We take an impromptu trip to the art institute. I enjoy the modern wing, while you want to see the Monet. You impress me with your knowledge of impressionism, I wow you with my passion for Cy Twombly. We wander around the museum until we double around every exhibit.... From there, your friend is performing in a casual cabaret. He's not very good, but there's a two drink minimum, and we have a fun time listening to our favorite Broadway pastimes get destroyed by your friend. Afterward, you're too polite to call him out on his sub par performance. Nothing but hugs, kisses, and "brava, great show" because you are a good human being like that....We part ways on the train platform, what with me heading north and you headed south. We make small talk until the my train comes first. I hop on, give a coy smile, and hope secretly that you'll text me in a few minutes when your train arrives. We part with nothing but a timid hug, I lean in, you lean in, yet with both miss the lean in. I wait by my phone for you to text on the train. "trains here. Thanks for a great night". I smile."

Dreamy, right? This is, I kid you not, a recent exchange I've shared on OKCupid with someone asking me for my ideal date. He sent me his, I sent him mine (ideal date, not XXX pics. Shout out to Grandma!) and it actually made me incredibly anxious to meet him. He is perfect. He's a hopeless romantic. He has an appreciation for the arts, he is an amazing writer (JUST LIKE ME!), and what's more, he's an actor. McDreamy.

We text for weeks. Every conversation is as casual and comfortable as the last. Debating why Eric Whitacre needs to learn new chords. Commenting on the clever lyrics of Into the Woods, but recognizing that Sondheim's voiceleading, while impossible, also draws the listener in. See, none of my loyal readers care for any of that, which is why we currently aren't dating. (side note. If you care about those things, hit me up.) But he did care for those. Which is why we text for weeks.

We decided to meet for dinner. I let him take the lead, hoping it would be every bit as romantic and sensual as his ideal date. We meet for Ethiopian food. (I had to google where Ethiopia was prior to this date. I'm a Klassy Lady)

In case you were about to google it, too...

Now. If you know me, I'm a pretty square guy. I like my sushi dry, my office desk meticulous, my shirts ironed. I don't eat with my hands. I don't share my food. I don't need that type of adventure in my life.  Why? Because God invented sporks for a reason. So even in the most dire of situations, you have at least a spoon and a fork (and, if you're lucky, you get the ones with

FAAAAAANCY

the knife feature, too!)  I learn that Ethiopia is a country in Africa, and one where you eat with your hands. I literally almost cancelled the date with this knowledge. But he sounds so perfect. And part of my dating mantra was to try something new. So, I stocked up on handiwipes, hid a spork in my pocket, and set off.

The waiter comes by. Something to drink gentlemen? Hell. I've never been to an Ethiopian Restaurant. Let's try the honey wine. (YUM). And for you? "I don't drink"










Crickets







Excuse me?







Ok, that's fine. I'll just have one glass of wine. There is nothing wrong with not drinking. Let's look at the menu. Explain to me how this works. When I look into your eyes I melt because you are so convincing. You draw me in. I'll have this chicken with the egg and beets. And for you? "I don't eat meat"









Crickets






I do meditation every morning with the people living in my building. I teach yoga once a week. I work out in a group in the south loop where no one is allowed to use weights. We just use each others energy. I have an audition tomorrow for a movie (and not even an XXX movie...WTF?) I've never been to a gay bar. I've never had a long term relationship.

This guy did the impossible. He was literally too perfect. I couldn't share with him that the Sunday before, I was hungover in bed until 2pm because of St. Patrick's Day celebrations. I couldn't meet him and his friends at Scarlet for a Frat Night party because he doesn't even know where Scarlet is. I couldn't explain my struggle with having a mid-life crisis at 26, causing me to Blog.

Then, he asks me to tell him about a date recently that went well. Listen, Mr. Perfect. If I recently had a date that went well, do you seriously think I'd be on OKCupid? Or, for that matter, out with you right now? I suck at dating. Let me tell you about how I suck at dating. Then he asks me if I've even fallen in love with someone after just a few dates.

Remember before Pinterest, when we had to use our imagination??

The thing with dating actors is that they are convincing. The way he spoke to me was similar to the way he delivered his lines as "Lincoln" in his traveling production that visits middle schools to talk about segregation.  He made me care, he drew me in, but everything was superficial. His ideal date was so perfect, but not an actuality, because his job as an actor is to be drawn in by the fantasy, to only step back and realize the intermission is in 5 minutes, and the actors top-hat is actually construction paper and cardboard. He tells me stories of his coming out, of the first guy he fell in love with, and his success of OKCupid, and I realize, I got tickets to the theater tonight, and didn't even have to pay (except, he's a poor actor, so I had to pay for dinner. Damn). He did his job tonight. He sold his story. Yet it wasn't real.

The reason he wanted to share perfect dates via OKCupid, and the reason he asked me questions about my perfect first dates, was because he himself never had one. I knew I would never be able to connect with him because he was unwilling to connect with reality. Perfection has its limitations, and in this case, its fault of imperfection in understanding the dating world. I was, like all of us, drawn in by the story, to only realize that the story was impossible. That perfect date, at least with him, would never happen.

Lesson Learned: The perfect date will be possible, but it'll take many perfect guys, imperfect guys, coffee dates, missed connections, and hangovers to bring it into reality. I'd rather be imperfect and struggling than perfect and not experiencing life. Even if that struggle means a hangover until 2pm.

Joe Fox (RE: You've got Mail)

Subway, Stood up, and Sobriety

First, as a disclaimer, I'm three martinis in. And annoyed. So read on if you'd like (but note that I'm funnier this way anyway!)

Dear Subway. Thanks for reminding me that the month 'February" is hard enough to say, and now we need to say "FebruANY". I can barely say the first one.  And while we are on this month, let me remind you that it's literally THE WORST MONTH EVER. I mean, first off, you only have 28 days. Grow a pair. Literally.

Second off, you celebrate love. Over, and over, and over again. I swear, I saw 88 pictures of flowers on Facebook. I read 55 status updates about how much in love you all were. I also had the distinct pleasure, as an Illinoisian, to be reminded that soon enough, we can get married if Marriage Equality passes in the House. Grandma always gets a shout-out, and Grandma wants me to get married soon! (So, call your congressmen, so my grandma can live a happy ending!)

FebruANY also reminded me that I'm in a dry spell. It's been a month since a blog post because it's been a month since a real date (and, mind you, not a real month. A FebruANY month. They hardly count).This dry spell has been brought to you by CertainDri. CertainDri: No fun, so therefor, no need to sweat.

But seriously, it's been more of a month of redefining myself. Updating my OKCupid. I realized, this month, that my OKCupid comes off a bit too...Joe. And noone wants that (if they did, I wouldn't be writing this blog.) So I modified the OKCupid to be more... Joe3.0.  Don't worry. He's as handsome as Joe. Just with less sass and attitude in the "About me" section.

I'd stay home on a Fri night for Bartlett...

This Dry Spell hasn't been completely my fault. Several guys have been **cough cough sick**. Gays are flightly. (but don't worry, I do it too!) They are all talk, and when it comes to meeting out, they are sick. I've been cancelled this month by 3 different guys. Three. Because of them, I've been able to watch 6 additional episodes of West Wing. I don't know if I should thank them, or hate them.

"Too big to fit in here..."

And what do you do after you're stood up? Give them a second chance? Hope they will text back? re-visit their OKCupid page, text them all night, and creepily stalk them (see Blog Post #1, RE Clarinet Boy).  We are all guilty of doing it, but at what point do we stop?  This week I was reminded of my favorite movie, "The Sweetest Thing". While the movie is silly, there are poignant themes, and one actually stood out above the rest. Allow me to paraphrase: "Don't look for Mr. Right. Look for Mr. Right Now. And after a while, if all goes well, you'll drop the 'now'". We stop when we think we found the Mr. Right amongst the Right Nows. I actually had one guy on OKCupid send me a message saying he really enjoyed our conversation, but he has starting dating someone else. I admired his tenacity to tell me that, amongst a group of "right nows".  So my quest for Mr. Right actually DOES include a Mr. Right Now. It includes a Grindr, or an OKCupid, or a Missed Connection on a train, or someone I meet at Scarlet, or someone who was my server at brunch. These are all OK circumstances, but know that I'm looking to drop the "now" at some point. The story is cuter that way, too.

So tonight I went on a date with a "Mr Right Now". The only issue was the inebriation. At 7pm. For dinner. We actually met at brunch last week, and he's adorable. But drank ALL DAY today. If we can't have a cohesive conversation on date one, I'm not sure my mother and father would appreciate your company. And if you can't be sober on a Wednesday in FebruANY, I fear a Friday night date in MarchANY. (We're just supposed to add "ANY" to the name of the month, right??)

Granted, a little liquid courage is all we all need. I've done it before, too. But know your audience before you show up drunk on a first date with a Klassy Lady like me. Unfortunately, there will be no second date with Mr. Designated Driver.

Is it so hard to find a sober, substantial, sincere, sexy, sensitive guy in your mid-twenties? Is it so hard to say "February" without Subway messing us up even more? Is it so hard to follow-through with a date if you are in fact interested in someone?

Lesson learned? Maybe Mr. Right Now is the way to go. And maybe apps, websites, and otherwise promoting of finding Mr. Right Now isn't so off. This doesn't mean to get slutty. It just means to put yourself out there. Essentially, that's what I'm doing. I'm out there. Now come find me (and be sober on the first date!)

Joe Fox (RE: You've got Mail)

Here's the Male, it never fails...

I'll start by saying I had the most incredible date last night. It was literally the best date that I've had in months. I'll get to the details at the end, but of course, I have other things to cover before the juicy date details.

Is there any question...

This week I was able to connect with an old friend from college. It was great to reminisce, share old stories. It was also great to be reminded that one time, while spending time in London, I tried talking to the pigeons. And a picture exists. So in case, after several blog posts and countless hours of questioning "Why is Joe Fox still single?", I present Reason #489. This photo.

Everyone who has ever been in the single-bar-scene knows the scariness of "the approach". You are standing there, you see him from across the bar, you think he's adorable in his purple shirt, glasses and incredible smile. But aside from the superficial, you know nothing else about him. Is that guy next to him his boyfriend? Is he just visiting? Does he have any interest in you? If I approach him, what will happen....

I have a problem with "the approach". There isn't enough liquid courage or wing-man-coverage that can help me approach this hottie from across the bar. That's half the appeal of online-dating. You don't have to deal with the rejection, you don't have to question his interest (or, in some cases, his sexuality), and you don't have to create some 'line' to get his attention (A personal favorite of mine: Were you a nursing major? Because you've been nursing your drink for 15 minutes, and I've been waiting to buy you a drink, but it's damn near impossible with all of that nursing you've been doing) (subtle, I know).

Helllllllllllo nurse!

The first step in the approach is analyzing the situation. There could be a variety of situations, but each one needs its own unique approach. Is it 3am at Berlin? The approach is easy. Just have a pulse. Is it 9pm at SideTrack? The approach becomes more complicated. The good news and bad news about SideTrack is that SideTrack allows you to have conversation (GASP) with someone. An actual, audible, conversation. So in analyzing the situation, know that it's so much more than your cute shirt and smile. Is is Sunday night at Roscoes? The approach is called Male Call.

Male Call is a gay phenomenon. You have to see it to believe it, but every Sunday night, gays in Chicago flock to Roscoes and throw a number on their shirt. You cruise the bar, check out other guys 'numbers' (Shout out to Grandma!), and then write a message to a specific number. "Number 38, you are lookin great. Love, Number 140." A drag queen then takes your note, posts it to a board at the front of the bar, and voila. Love at first sight. This method of dating combines the online with the actual. It allows you to have multiple "Clarinet Boy" experiences without actually having to have a conversation with them if you don't want to.  It allows you to remain anonymous while still being able to put yourself out there. Tonight, I head to Male Call. Tonight, I participate in the weekly mating ritual of Male Call, all for the sake of my loyal readers.

"The approach" has many layers, and I'll work to cover all of the intricate levels in the coming weeks, as I struggle with the approach myself.

I was thinking about you all night, too.

So about that date. This juicy, amazing, incredible, date. I was celebrating a good friend's birthday last night, and we had tapas. And me, being the lush that I am, ordered #67, The Bacon Wrapped Dates. They were SO good. For a taste of my date last night, I provide this very-PG-video showing you how you, too, can have an awesome date every Saturday night. (And a special thanks for MySpace for providing that video. Myspace: Keeping Justin Timberlake in business while he attempts to start a music career again)

Lesson learned: Don't get too excited about the dates, because you might get burned in the end. Especially if they are right out of the oven, they are a little too hot to handle. But hey, #67 (Bacon wrapped Date), you had me thinking about you all night.

Love,

Joe Fox

Blind, But Not-So-Blind, Dating

I can't quite decide yet. Either my loyal readers (Shout-out to Grandma!) a) were craving some funny material, b) really want to see me meet someone, or c) really want to see me murdered. In a 24 hour window, I received multiple requests to check out OK Cupids newest launch: Crazy Blind Date. I've alluded to this before, and I'll do it again, if you preface the term "Blind Date" with the word "Crazy"...who knows what kind of crazies you'll encounter. I'll get to the 'blind date' portion of the date in a minute (scroll down a few paragraphs if that's all you care to read, but trust me, this next part is kinda funny, too)

Let's talk about date preparation, first. The date started at 7:30pm, so prior to the date, I ensured that I had friends that were going to check in with me during the 8:00 hour to make sure I was still alive. I have to give public thanks here to my good friend, who I reached out to, to text me at 8:00pm to make sure I was still alive. At 8:17, he texted me. As anyone who has watched a Lifetime movie knows, ANYTHING COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN THOSE 17 LOST MINUTES! Thanks, friend. I'll remember that. Next time your house is on fire, I'll wait 17 minutes to call the fire department. We'll see who has the last laugh.

Also prior to the date, I had a few minutes to get ready. I'm not sure about everyone else that reads this, but I have a few go-to-outfits for a first date. And given that it is winter in Chicago, I have a limited number of cute-first-date-sweaters-with-cute-button-down-shirts-underneath-options. These go-to-outfits are perfect because I feel that the color compliments my eyes nicely and I feel they look great on me (what doesn't...) (plus, you should see me out of them). You have to be careful in the dating world in Chicago so as not to re-use an outfit too soon after the first encounter. You have to keep tabs on what outfit you wore for what first date. (The same goes for underwear, but I feel that is an entire blog entry in itself)

My wind-blown hair. Sexy.

The issue came in not with the outfit, but with the transportation. I am a Chicagoan now. I bike to the train, I bike to the gym, I bike to dinner. I hate spending $2.25 on a bus when my body is fully capable of getting there via a Schwinn. I had forgotten, in my preparation for this date, that not only was I going to bike there (3 miles), but I was going to be in a cute sweater. And that I have a massive sweating problem (I'll chalk that up to "Reason I'm Single #488) The plus side is that my hair has this sexy 'wind blown' look. The other plus side is that sweaters don't show sweaty pits. (TMI? I told you to scroll down if you just wanted to read about the blind date portion...) Luckily, I arrived with time to spare to put my outfit back together in the bathroom of Starbucks.

Note This is not me

Here we are. The actual blind date portion. To be honest, this date wasn't actually blind. I'll explain the app first, and then I'll explain why it wasn't "blind". "Crazy Blind Date" takes your "OK Cupid" main photo, jumbles up the image, and provides only the most basic stats (age, gender identity, sexual orientation) (Don't I get mad props for being politically correct here?!) So all I knew about this guy was that he is 33, male, and gay. I also know that his ideal date would be at Starbucks at 7:30 on Wednesday. My ideal date, for your reference, (and in case you want to sweep me off my feet) is at a martini bar. Obviously that says a lot about me. There are several guys that show up, with pixelated jumbled photos, and with their ideal date, and you choose which one sounds appealing, and then the app contacts the guy and says, hey, this jumbled guy is interested in your date proposition. Whaddya say? If he accepts, then the app notifies you. The tricky part is that you can't communicate with the gay until an hour before your date. GASP. You can't learn anything about them, you can't stalk, you can't even see other pictures. Unless, of course, he finds you on "OK Cupid" with the same photo and messages you.

FOILED. He found me on "OK Cupid". He recognized my bowtie (yes, Klassy Lady has a bowtie picture for his OK Cupid) He stalked my writing, my photos, my everything (I wonder if he reads my blog??) So it wasn't so blind, afterall. We messaged back and forth via OK Cupid and decided that though we saw some basic stuff about eachother, we'd still go through with it. And I'm happy we did.

"Meyer", as I will call him, looked exactly like his picture (expect, of course, he was not pixalated or jumbled). In hindsight, perhaps I should be mad at him for not looking like his picture...

He has a huge smile, cute eyes, and an adorable personality. Truthfully, there isn't much to blog about regarding him, because we had a great conversation. We talked about OK Cupid, and me being new to it, and our decision to try out to Crazy Blind Date portion. It made sense. Guys on OK Cupid are allowed to linger. You're allowed to have small talk for a long time, you're allowed to get by with a quick 'hello' to show that you're still interested. At least with this blind date portion, you're forced to jump out of your comfort zone immediately. And it could either go really well, given the right personality, or really horribly. Meyer was very comfortable immediately, and that helped. He was my first meet-up of the new year (not counting Clarinet Boy) and it helped that it was a quicker, more forced, but not-picture-based meeting.

Meyer and I talked movies, we talked Jody Foster, we talked jobs, we talked vacations. We're going back out on Friday night, after an awkward exchange of phone number, because all-in-all, it was a really cool experience. I'm happy that I felt pushed in this direction, because it really moved me out of my comfort zone. 

Lesson learned: Maybe you don't NEED to look like your picture? Or maybe we all need to break out of our comfort zone once in a while and try something new. Kylie Minogue's newest hit reminded me, in the first few lines, "What's the worse thing, that could happen to you? Take a chance tonight and try something new". In retrospect, the worst thing is that my story would be the next featured Lifetime Movie (I hope they'd include my awesome blog in the movie)

Next post (Spoiler Alert): Male Call. A cruising experience like none-other on Sunday nights at Roscoes.

Joe Fox (Re: You've Got Mail)