Dating, part 5: Practice

I found some lotion the other day. The perfume I wear makes my office-mate sneeze, and I’ve been using up lotions that were packed carefully and moved with the rest of my belongings.

"Satiny smooth” just as the bottle promises, in a way that made me coo with delight, the Night Blooming Jasmine scent I have brings lilacs to mind for me. Product placement aside, I was wondering earlier that day how well this series was going to go at this point. Because a lot of these men aren’t very clear in my mind.

But then I put on the lotion and the texture and fragrance brought everything back. And just that neatly, I can tell my stories again because the experiences still remain in my mind. Not lost at all, just tucked away because they weren’t necessary to recall.

The big parts of the story, after all, have been told already. And I’m still alone, so it’s not like these are going to be breathless rushes through the text because we know my happily ever after, if it is to exist, hasn't happened yet.

The pattern, since it happened more than 3 times, for this experience was that men would arrive in pairs. It was a good deal for me – there was an immediate replacement if the first guy didn’t pass muster. Sucked for them, at least when dealing with someone like me, because there was an inherent comparison happening. That I’d like one more than the other, and regardless of his interest, I could never date the second-best guy long term.

An envelope arrived in the mail less than a week after I signed up. It was summer, and M had taken a job away from grad school, so I had the time to devote to my little experiment. There were 4 pages inside. Two were thin, yellow carbon copies, because men get the top copy apparently, that contained a name and telephone number. That’s it.

Naturally, the service requested that you call and introduce yourself – get to know each other a bit on the phone, then set up a meeting. If you were nervous, you could call them for some intial details prior to your first contact. Profession, age, enough physical information to form a mental picture, and a few random facts.

There had been one question on dancing within the questionnaires. You had to check a box, I think. So you A) loved to dance, B) would dance at weddings, or C) didn’t like dancing much. So when I’d call for information (which was every time, because, well, why wouldn’t you?), there would invariably be a statement about how he “liked to dance at weddings.” So then I’d picture some guy jumping up and down after finding a wedding invitation the mail, thrilled with his opportunity to finally dance.

Michael and Matthew were up first, and I thought I’d like Matthew more from the descriptions. But Michael called almost immediately, so we set up a day to meet. He was very busy at house hunting, and the plan involved me waiting at my apartment until he could call, then meet him at a bar nearby. So with a raise of my eyebrows and philosophical shrug, I said that was fine.

That makes it sound as if I was handling this quite well, but I remember the intense nervous feelings I endured before meeting. Applying my lipstick three times, constant checking of clothes, shoes, hair, everything. It was incredibly nerve-wracking. Though he probably wouldn't be the one, it was hard not have a bit of hope that he was. Plus, it's nice when people like me - think I'm impressive in some way.

So we met – I was early, but that’s typical for me – and had a drink at the bar, but after his arrival, he stood the whole time. He sort of leaned on a stool, but continued to stand, shifting from foot to foot. Through 3 hours (way too long for a first date in my mind, especially one where you’re having continuous conversation) and 2 drinks (way too few drinks for a 3 hour date in my mind where you’re having continuous conversation), he stood. I’ve always wondered why.

It was tough at first – awkward and weird in all the ways you hope a first date won’t be. Though, after Fred, Michael was completely normal, average looking, dressed appropriately, not desperate at all. But negative – goodness, the boy was quite negative.

But I tried to put him at ease, asked questions, nodded to show interest, payed attention. It’s not always easy – sometimes he launched into how he worked with a credit union, but there’s no union for him to join!

“And that’s a problem?” I asked, confused.

“Of course! Unions keep companies honest.” Which lead into his rather uninformed discourse on corporate greed, and how this janitor that he so saintly befriended could be fired for any reason!

“And that’s a problem?” I asked again, because by then I was starting to watch television over his shoulder. A tennis game. He went into another monologue, and when he finished, I nodded and smiled.

“Tennis is a long game, isn’t it?” I commented.

“What?”

“Tennis,” I repeated, with a nod at the television over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize they played for so long. It seems like they’d get really tired.” Because I, for one, was exhausted by then.

So I finally said it was getting late, and decided to head home. I declined his offer of a ride (it was 2 blocks and I didn’t have anything more to say!), but I was sincere when I thanked him for the evening. I felt like it was a respectable first effort. And in the interest of remaining fair to my clay pot plan, I would have accepted a second date had he asked. But will admit to relief when he didn’t.

I wrote some of this with the help of the evaluation forms the dating service provided, the other 2 pages in that enveloped, and I saved. In addition to the yellow carbon copy, there was a single page that contained some questions – your impressions, what was good, what was bad, what you wanted next. Like me, the dating service people knew that it takes practice – going on some mediocre dates and wondering what would have made them better.

I scoff at the idea of a single page holding any sort of my discussion, because then, where would the run-on sentences, 3-4 adjectives when 1 is sufficient, and endless descriptions of my feelings go?

So I typed my own forms. Rambled on, offered them advice, figured out what I thought of the dates. I also saved copies, knowing perhaps that I’d fail in this experience and would eventually want to go over it and see what happened.

To sum up this first date, I’ll use words from my first feedback form. One that makes me wince and roll my eyes as I read words I wrote years ago. It give me great pause to think that someday, I'll look back on what I placed here - the words I'm writing now - and think, "You let people read this?! You didn't know anything at all! And the sentence structure! For shame!"

But maybe there are small gems of knowledge and understanding too. Because one line on that first form? Amidst the feedback nonsense that 30 was pretty old, and wondering what was in a bombay tonic, there was something true.

“If nothing else, this will make the next time a little easier.”