Boyz Noize

Greetings readers, one and all,

Tonight, the eve of June 4th, serves as the entr’acte between an epic 5-day dating marathon. It wasn’t intentional exactly. It just kind of worked out that the handful of guys I was messging on OkC and the one guy I met in a bar a few weeks ago (those met in live settings will henceforth be known as ‘day-walkers’) all wanted in on this on consecutive nights this week. And I was all for it. Heading into this week of wonders, I commented to my roommate that my odds of actually liking once of the guys I was meeting up with were probably pretty good, especially given the help of my Harvard Math friends and my own shallow vetting process, a mix of profile pic attreactiveness, my level of interest in their job/studies, and music/movie taste overlap. Place your bets now, cause I’m about to break it down. Wikki wikki.

Monday night: OkTeacher was a last minute addition to the line up. He got my number over the weekend, and texted me early Monday asking if I was free that night to hang out, since he’d be out of town for a few days. I thought I might as well start the week off right, and was smitten with OkT’s offer to drive to Culver to hang out. We’d exchanged a few messages prior. He asked about my time in Spain, and mentioned that he would be traveling to Europe over the summer to chaperone a teenage tour group for work. We also touched on Ernest Hemingway, as he was reading my favorite Hemingway book that takes place in Spain.

OkTeach was waiting outside the designated bar when I parked, and was quick to call me out on my claim that I was a regular who was generally ‘waved in’ by theI.D. checking staff. Not so much the case this time, and we had a good laugh at my expense. I learned pretty quickly that OkTeach grew up in Chula V, just like this proud Chula Beast, and a few other interesting ‘small-world’ type commonalities were discovered. Like the fact that he is an alumni of the NorCal state school that both my parents went to. I checked in with a friend who attended elemenary school with OkT, but the verdict is still out as she only vaguely remebered him. Not quite sure what type of 15-year-old evidence would be incriminating, but you never know, right? Some kid in my elementary school once stabbed a bird with a stick and I’m positive that MoFo didn’t grow into a well-adjusted member of society.

But OkT seems to have. He taught (surprise!) with TFA after graduating, and has since worked with them recruiting young,idealistic college students. He was ernest and unabashed in asking about things I had mentioned in my profile. He seems to not know about the cardinal rule of online dating in L.A; the less you seem to care or be available to the other person the cooler you are. Not like I give a fuck what he does or how he feels about me.

OkT walked me to the parking lot where there was a pretty good goodbye kiss, and there has been some light texting since. Seeing him again Friday. Daaaawwww.

Tuesday night: The live-walker I met while in San Diego over Memorial weekend invited me to Venice to check out some of the projects he was working on. Projects being homes because homie is an architect. He’d been pretty drunk the night we met in Pacific Beach and, can’t lie, even with my sllight buzz, I wasn’t really feeling Ted Mosby. But OH the ability that getting attention from a live human male has to dull the senses of one whose ego and confidence are so closely linked to the number of messages she gets. Anywayzzzzz. The night can be summed up by a highlight, he bought my delicious fish tacos, and a lowlight, Mosby asking me to define a word I’d just used. The word, was ‘brooding.’ Quite certain that there was no future for me and Mr. Mosby, I talked about something I never bring up with guys that I’m actually interested in, my past relationships, or lack thereof. Mosby admitted that he’d only had one real relationship which had lasted 9 months, and that it was back when he was in high school. For my fellow non-boyfriendable, too picky, commitment phobes, or whatever other label people like to give you, there are many more of us out there than you realize. Power in numbers. Or maybe just simultaneously convincing yourself that the one is out there while wondering what the hell is wrong with you – in droves.

While I had a date lined up for tonight, I decided to take the night
off and cancelled early this morning. Enough advance notice so I’m not the WORST person, right? To be fair, I think we exchanged a grand total of 3 messages before I gave him my number just to be rid of my boring message obligation.

A taste of what’s to come: Tomorrow I’m metting up with Finn, a fellow Adventure Time fan wih a flair for the spiritual and philosophical. Then, Friday is my second with OkTeach at the Natural History Museum, Saturday I make it to MOCA at long last with Dr. Robert, and next week you really wont wanna miss what we have in store.

 

There are plenty of dating apps in the sea.

Hey gang. Remember my last entry which proudly announced my return to OkC? Welllllll I may have deactivated again once the one week window in which newly reactivated accounts must stay public closed. But fear not. Influenced by an eligible roommate who had just started an account of her own, I became one more user in the Plenty of Fish sea.  I know I half-assed that metaphor. Would feel too cheesy if I did it full justice. But let’s dive right in.

POF, as it’s social media obsessed, short memory spanned users call it, is kind of a Tinder/OkC hybrid. Like OkC it makes use of a profile where users can share charming facts about themselves such as their music interests, how obsessed they are with exercise, whether they are an aspiring actor or screenwriter, or whathaveyou, but it’s less wordy and more image-driven with a touch of the the raw urgency of Tinder. My experience so far has been pretty lighthearted and fun. May have shamelessly flirted with a 21-year-old marine in Spanish with no intention of meeting up. May have also responded to some dreadful messages sarcastically to see if homies could hang.

Last weekend I decided to meet up with one Social Savant, who was a 30-year-old, new to the ways of the online dating game. I wanted to check out a music festival being put on by a local college radio station, and I asked Mr. Savant if he’d like to join, since the majority of our exchanges had been about music and because he was familiar with the station.

I got there long before he did, and passed out in the grass amongst the 18-year-olds and dulcet tones of Grmln. Woke up to a missed call from Savant and a voicemail that he’d arrived. I called him back and we search through he crowd for each other. I spotted him first, as I always seem to do, and may have considered hanging up and returning to my grass nap, but instead I waved to him, and embarked on my most recent first- and last.

Savant was alright. A nice person, just lacking in any identifiable sense of humor, and equally fascinated and bewildered by social media with a strong need to talk about it. To be honest, I was kind of running on fumes after a 65 hour week and I put little effort into the convo. Savant had a habit of interrupting each of my answers to his thoughtful questions with yet another thoughtful question. Maybe he knew our time was limited and he wanted to get it all in before he started writing my biography…or maybe stealing my identity? I don’t think I gave him my exact birthdate or ssn, but who can say?

Alt musicked out, we walked through the cozy neighborhood that surrounded the campus for about an hour. At one point Savant rambled something about not wanting to be my father figure. It seemed pretty out of context. I laughed as he trailed off and said I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. He didn’t laugh but said he didn’t know either…ELLIPSES cannot adequately recreate the awkwardness of the moment…

I was eager to cut things short, and said I had to get back to take care of some car maintenance stuff (true). He asked if he could walk me back to my car. I said yes. I am tired. Does my sentence structure show it? He asked if I wanted to hang out again, and mentioned that he’d love to take me to a restaurant were both fans of. And at that moment something amazing happened. It appears that when subjected to little sleep and high amounts of stress, my brain abandons it’s default ‘invent the answer they want to hear’ response and I said, without a second thought, ‘To be honest, I don’t see this going anywhere.’ Wearing sunglasses and not really having to see Savant’s face as we walked side by side probably helped too. There were a few more steps taken together, then Savant decided to abandon his attempts and left me to walk the remainder of the way to my car alone.

I may be mid text convo with two other fish right now. One whom I had tentative hang out plans with last week that fell trough (Science Guy) and another who I might be hanging out with sometime this weekend (Mr. Deeds). I’ll keep you posted.

Saturday night – an archetype of singlehood.

As you can all see by the image below I have been welcomed back to OkC with open arms. The prodigal son, who not five minutes after reactivating (at 5:44 pm because I have better things to do than be seen logged onto OkC after 8 pm on a Saturday, duhhhh) was propositioned by guitar_man,  a 54-year-old, 23% match who detailed how he was probably more successful and would be a better influence on my life than guys my age. Maybe guitar_man,  who is ‘6’6” and in great shape’ is onto something. Things haven’t quite panned out with the under 30s so far.

The cause of this return to OkC, which has repeatedly failed to perform in the past? Despite working 60 hour weeks in the new job and thinking I hadn’t the time nor the need to date, I find myself home alone on a rainy Saturday night, eating hazelnut marscapone ice cream recently purchased from a Ralph’s that claimed to have a copy of Silver Linings Playbook for rent at Redbox- but didn’t- where I saw an ex-coworker who I may have had a very G rated, but nonetheless affecting, dream about, buying home goods with his girlfriend at the next checkout over- and I feel like a change might be in order. Have also thrown Moulin Rouge on in the background just to heighten the artistic/pathetic effect of this post. 

I confess that I held out on you guys a bit. Plan B and I went on a third date and then things tapered off before he left to visit family for Christmas. Also had January dates with two guys I met in the great big world, but nothing to write home about. So, after beseeching my coworkers to introduce me to their hot cousins (everyone has at least one) and getting nowhere, I’m back in the online game. Looks like OkC has a fresh pool of meat(mixed metaphors?)to recommend, including a few girls. Maybe once your OkC profile’s lifetime eclipses the length of your longest relationship 10 times over, the Harvard math guys start to subtly suggest that you become more open minded about the gender of who you’ll consider dating.

Guitar_man excluded, there are three OkProspects who have piqued my interest thus far. One has asked me to coffee. Code name pending. Heeeeeerrrre we go!

Guess whose back?

In comparison.

Hey gang,

What, you ask, am I doing at 9:43 pm on a Friday night writing a post and not out sampling the infinite men that L.A. has to offer? I was actually just dropped off at this respectable hour by the UCLA med student I had a Starbucks date with last week, aka Thing 2. While not being a complete disaster, it has earned a coveted spot in the bottom three, as one of my least enjoyable dates ever. The other two were briefly alluded to in my first post. One was with a pretentious hip-type who spent the three hours that we were together in an Echo Park speakeasy complaining about how shit L.A. was compared to New York and detailing for me the measures he used to determine his inferiors’ ‘intellectual ages.’ And yes. Rejection of religion and openness to new stimuli were two very important criteria in determining this fucking elitist measure. He also invited me to a blood rave with him, as mentioned in the OG post. The other bottom 3 story was more of a confusing night than anything else. He was an OkComedian and if you’ve ever imagined that dating a comedian would involve a lot of fast-talk, hyperbolic one-liners, accusations that you are a cat lady, and a makeout sesh in a lifeguard tower then you’d be right.

So tonight. Thing 2 and I had made plans for him to pick me up and take me to a mystery restaurant of his choosing. Although I hadn’t been too hyped to see him again after our first date, I was intrigued and appreciated that Thing 2 was going to come collect me from my apartment. He was a little late due to 405 traffic, and when I got in the car his crazy energy level was translated directly to his crazy spastic driving style. We walked towards the restaurant, a nice Italian place in Culver, from the parking structure and I thought, “His quirkiness and need to do strange, high-pitched voices is kind of fun and peppy.” Ah. Fast forward two minutes. Thing 2 revealed his very critical view of vegetarians and his skepticism about any and all of the starters on the menu. He may have also made some disparaging comments about the homeless. And veterans…Granted, he was just finishing a rotation at the V.A. hospital and had dealt with some pretty unstable patients, but still.

The restaurant and prices were definitely a bit beyond what this guy usually sees, but Thing 2 was unimpressed by our dishes. Fortunately, upon returning from the bathroom, T2 told me that his friend was having an engagement party that he had to head to in about an hour, so I suggested a quick walking tour of downtown Culver. I highlighted Culver Blvd’s two loveliest buildings, city hall and the Culver Hotel, which everyone who travels to visit from foreign area codes will have the pleasure of me forcing them to see. Thing 2 agreed that our City Hall was pretty amazing, but approx. 5 minutes later said that he wouldn’t be terribly saddened if he learned that Culver City had been obliterated off the face of the earth. No- he would be sad for a few minutes, but then he’d get over it. Yes. Please do shit all over the city I live in and clearly like. Would you also like me to show you my elementary school pictures so you can tell me how jacked-up my teeth were pre-orthodontia? Thing 2 also “isn’t sure how he feels about live theatre” and can’t be bothered with reading. Where were you this time, Harvard math majors?

So Thing 2 drove me home, without any near collisions time. He dropped me off and I hoped the goodbye could have been completed in his car, but no. He gave me a ‘proper goodbye’ which involved the peckiest kiss ever and a mutual “See you around.” Not if I can help it, bro. One productive thing that came out of this night, besides a stomach full of delicious fettuccine Bolognese and duck ragu, was that Plan B came out looking a whole hell of a lot better in comparison. We had a second date last night. It was a movie date, which I’m really not too keen on in the early stages of dating, since there is little opportunity to talk and little progress is made in gauging if you are interested in the other person or not. The movie date is a place holder date, that just ups the number of dates you’ve been on and edges you even closer to the ‘time to have sex now’ date. PB and I went to a special screening of a 1983 Robert Duvall film which we ran out on right as the credits began to roll and before the actress who played the female protagonist was about to lead a q&a. “You guys are leaving now?” she asked as we brushed past her in the wing of the theatre. “Oh, no, we’re just going to the bathroom,” PB lied poorly. #L.A.Problems.

Plan B and I decided to take a walk after the film- as is our tradition. We walked up and down the charmless Westwood Blvd, talking about his recent lasik surgery, football mascots, and the intricacies and ritual of male shaving and facial hair styling. Conversation was ok, but I somehow fell out of it at one point and was just being passively agreeable. We made it back to the garage near the theatre and had a minor expedition when my car wasn’t visible in the section of the floor that I remembered parking on. We scanned the two floors above mine, before returning to G3 and seeing darling Corolla (fresh out of the shop!) on the wall opposite where I thought I’d parked. Relieved, and both knowing what came next, we had a good minute or two of making out between sections A and B before agreeing to see each other again soon, and going our separate ways.

Today Plan B found out if he passed the California Bar exam. He’d been pretty nervous about it yesterday, and told me he’d send the good news my way if there was any to be shared. I texted him an hour ago to check out google’s Dr. Who theme because he mentioned being a supa fan. He responded “Best. Day. Ever.” which led me to think he was referring to his bar results, but his next text was something about killing daliks, so he may just have been expressing extreme enthusiasm for google’s interactive Dr. Who theme…I will leave the ball in his court, and hopefully have more material for you soon.

Auf wiedersehen, goodnight.