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.

 

Productive?

Good evening dear friends,

I start this entry about ten minutes after having received a text from P.P. that I am grappling with. He called a few hours ago while I was at a work event, then followed up with a couple texts to see if I wanted to check out a cool film screening tomorrow night. Instead of first deciding how I wanted to proceed with P.P, as I should have done, I responded with a short ‘hey, just got out of a work thing’ text to which he replied ‘Productive?’ Yes. My work night was productive, but I don’t know if I want to launch into more boring text talk and I don’t know if I want to go on a third date with P.P after a pretty mediocre second date.

P.P. and I met for the second time two nights ago. Since we’d first met last Monday we had exchanged a few texts, I tried to subtly hint that he shouldn’t call me “dear” or go too text crazy by selectively ignoring his more grating messages. The worst are those that ask multiple questions that require answers while also containing extensive statements that it would be rude not to respond to, and require equally awkward paragraph responses. Kicked this game Thursday evening when a particularly unnecessary text came my way suggesting that my roommates dress as Little Red Riding Hood and Grandma to complement my Big Bad Wolf Halloween costume, then joking that I huff and puff at any bartenders that aren’t giving me good service…Wait. That didn’t include any questions to answer, it was just painful to read and could not illicit any civil response from me. I let that one hang out on a limb for a few days, then texted him Sunday night to make plans for this week.

P.P. asked me out to get a drink at a bar downtown, but I countered with the suggestion that we go to the Grammy Museum where I had won tickets months before which I had been trying-and repeatedly failing- to use. I was actually meant to check the museum out with Wells a few weeks back, before he got flakey and confessed to not being over his ex. I thought it would be great since P.P. was very into classic rock and we had pretty similar music taste, but I quickly learned that walking through exhibits that require lengthy reading and the use of headphones aren’t the best when you are trying to talk to and get to know someone. En route to meet P.P. at the Grammy Museum, I and my fellow metro car mates were victims to/witnesses of an INSANE confrontation between an old man and another rather drug-addled, gentlemen who claimed to have killed four men and told the aforementioned to lick the crack of his ass. Metro real talk. After about 20 minutes of threatening to knife the older guy, the junky, or “poor shadow of a man” as his opponent referred to him, proceeded to hock a loogey and spit on the older guy right before getting off on the same stop as me. So Kewl.

When I met P.P at the Grammy Museum, there was a hello hug, which he turned into a hello kiss, that I was just not feeling. You might point out that this is completely contrary to my feelings about the first date goodbye kiss, and you’d be right. But Sliz (that’s Sober Liz) was not in quite the same carefree/charmed state that Tliz had been the week before (that’s Tipsy Liz). This overtly affectionate behavior continued a few minutes after we got into the museum and this guy was JND. Just not down. Perhaps some of the attraction from last week had gone the way of Asher Roth’s career and faded away during the sober up process. Chemistry, or even just a comfortable flow of conversation was lacking.

Maybe it was this evident barrier that led P.P. to share loads of intimate stuff about himself. Like how old he was when he had sex for the first time. Or how he used to steal alcohol from convenience stores a few years ago. Or what he saw (and felt) one night after doing 12 tabs of acid. It didn’t help that I felt like a musical idiot when he was rolling off all the instruments he played and watching me while I was trying to use the interactive DJ equipment. There was the potential for what could have been a ridiculously cute moment when we went into a closet-like studio that was part of the Ringo exhibit to karaoke Yellow Submarine. But it didn’t happen.

We walked to a nearby bar once the museum closed and kind of rehashed a lot of the convo that had already been had the week before. Dysfunctional families, Catholic disappointment, yadda yadda yadda. I had a single beer, while homeboy had two and plans for a third before I said I should head back. He also may have tried to be cute by playing peekaboo from behind his menu but that ish fell flat. I wonder- could anyone have made that cute? Had I already decided that I wasn’t into P.P and therefore his actions and the fact that he was showing me animal videos was annoying, or are those really annoying things? I’m fairly positive that I wouldn’t have let anyone get away with that.

P.P. and I walked to the metro station together, and he waited with me until my train came, missing his own once or twice. As luck would have it, we were standing on the wrong platform, so before running down the stairs that led to the opposite side of the tracks I delivered a rather frigid hug goodbye and just met his lips that ARE SOMEHOW ALWAYS THERE, gave a terse, “Well have a good night,” and was glad that I didn’t allow things to go any further.

I don’t know why I am so conflicted. It seems pretty clear that I am not into this guy, but he is a nice person who has shared a lot with me and who I wouldn’t mind hanging out with as a friend. I even want to see that movie with him tomorrow…Oh universe, is this my time? Am I being given the downgrade-to-friendzone challenge that I have never been adept enough at tactfully communicating my lack of attraction to  another person while praising their other qualities to complete?

Two great side notes: 1) Apparently, when I had been stalking P.P’s linkedin to send a few of you a screenshot of his profile picture I had been logged in, so he knew that I had creeped on him. I just thought it was hilarious, but P.P. said how embarrassed he was that I’d seen his shitty (not really) resume and how he now knew after viewing my profile how poorly his GPA measured up. And 2) He asked me at one point what I thought of people who put a lot of faith in horoscopes. I replied that last year I had a coworker and roommate who were really into astrology so I would check with them on occasion when I needed some horoscope insight. He proceeded to accuse me of having already looked up his sign, which I unconvincingly laughed off and denied.

Another text tells me he’s going to bed soon, and suggests that I watch the movie trailer for tomorrow night and have a good day tomorrow. So on the fence. If the trailer is good, I’ll go. But can I go and reject his hello kiss, and all subsequent kisses that I don’t want to be part of?