Coffee Talk

"You are seeing him again, right?"

"Well..."

"You have too!" "Oh Yes!" "He sounds sooo sweet!"

"Yes, he..."

The truth is I really don't know these women very well and I'm not totally comfortable spilling my guts to them (I know, I know, I write a blog- I spill my guts to anyone who wants to read it...). Lucky for me they really aren't interested in an answer.

"Did he call?" "Or Text?" "He didn't just send an e-mail did he?" "Oh that would be the brush-off." "Never text- too much opportunity for misinterpretation..."

"I..."

"Don't you think you're a little old for him?" " Leave her alone, your husband is six years younger!" "She's right, don't be so Age-est!"

"Oh god... ugh..."

Three sets of eyes stare at me from around the table...

"My dates this year..."

They blink...

"Well..."

They lean in... half a croissant crushes between the table and Mrs. R's t-shirt.

She doesn't even notice. Ms S nods her head as if encouraging me to continue. The future Mrs. E tilts her head to the side. Coffee cups poised mid-air.

I blink back- not really sure what to say. Maybe it's time for a change of tactics...

"We were going to go out tonight, but something came up..."

I realize this is the wrong tactic as soon as it's out of my mouth.

Here comes the look... Mrs. R's eyebrows go up, Ms. S makes a pained expression and the future Mrs. E whispers "Oh..." like she just stepped in something unmentionable...

Maybe, if I'm lucky the floor will swallow me.

"Well I'm sure it's nothing..." "These things happen all the time!" "You are Soooo cute and super fun... if it doesn't work out you'll can always..."

They laugh, nod at each other as if they've said something wise. Mrs R brushes crumbs off her blouse and I notice a grease spot in the green silk.

"Your hair looks fantastic!" "Sooo fantastic..." "Oh, thank you- I had it done yesterday..."

And just like that- I'm off the hook.

Date 94, Guy 8

I’ve never been known as a rebel. Sure, I’m comfortable in gray areas but a rule breaker? No. I like rules- even the ones I bend-because they give structure and when push comes to shove a little structure isn’t a bad thing.
…And there are rules to dating- rules I subscribe to because I have always felt they were useful and when in doubt, gave you an easy way to handle what could be a difficult situation.
So I went on Date #94 with a clear idea of what rules would be followed.
1. Have a set plan and stick to it- that way you have a very clear beginning and end to the date. (yeah…that one- not so much with the set plan)
2. Don’t go somewhere where it would be difficult to hear each other… (Like a Bart train… or a bar where the world series is playing?)
3. On first dates you should stick to neutral topics of conversation. No Politics ( humm… that didn’t happen...we were already talking politics on the first phone conversation…), No Religion ( oups… covered that in the first hour in the bar…), No past relationships ( damn… yeah broke that rule too…)
4. You should always stay lady like and maintain an air of dignity and grace…( I guess that shoe change in the middle of the street may have messed up that one… or maybe it was when I kept stacking napkin after napkin in my lap at dinner… or the hic-ups… )
5. Play your cards close to your chest- maintain a bit of mystery… (seriously? Because I was neither sneaky nor had much mystery… and he’s read the blog…)
Basic rules really- I broke every one.
And I didn’t care one bit.
Because when he smiled and talked about his pets, or laughed at my less than lady like moments, or brought me into a comic book store and passionately convinced me that they were more than “just comic books”, when he taught me to play chess in the middle of a bar and then took my hand on the bart ride home… breaking the rules didn’t seem all bad…
It felt a little rebellious… and I liked it.

Unanticipated Paranoia

"Oh- good luck on Sunday..."

Such a friendly little phrase, such a seemly encouraging one. Used all the time. Nothing unusual- shouldn't be at all surprising to hear...

Except with that little phrase- muttered as I'm walking down to my car at the end of a mellow evening filled with take-out and a comfortable sense of ease...

Comes total horror.

It means one thing.

The man who has muttered it has read the blog.

And has read it recently.

I once walked across an entire restaurant with my skirt tucked into the back of my tights- not just a little- the entire back of my skirt was mashed in them- exposed to a restaurant full of diners. Wrinkles and folds of taffeta held glued to my ample tush by nylon and spandex- how I didn't notice as I left the restroom is still beyond me. I marched through a room of strangers back to my seat with my head held high- thinking not a hair was out of place and (because I'm that girl) what a great entrance I'd make coming across the room. All sweet and sass.

Not even a hushed "Um... you have a problem with your skirt... " from my dinner companion as I got to the table phased me.

No, it was the moment when I went to sit down, when my hand went to brush my beautiful purple skirt out of the way and found... no skirt... that the truth really sunk in.

The Blog- a total exercise in self indulgence... a way for me to keep my friends in the loop and to somehow document my odd little resolution, has been read by others. It may have been read by friends of friends. It may have been read by my sister... and Oh, lord perhaps even my brother. But what really throws me for a loop is it has been read by people I've written about- and I'm not just talking Ms. K.

And just like that purple taffeta moment- I'm oddly exposed... and a little bit horrified.

The Three B's of the Bay Area

Cardboard boxes, stolen fast food trays and one extremely dangerous two story cement slide located in the heart of the city- Seward Street Slides. This was my date idea. The plan was to channel my inner 7 year old... I thought it would be great- despite the danger of minor bodily harm and a vicious tongue lashing from a cranky neighbor. It was something I hadn't done, it was something that made for easy conversation, it was quirky and charming and fun (or at least I had hoped it would be). I was excited for it. Toss in a smattering of fun little text messages and a beautiful day...

My plan- so carefully thought out, so perfect (at least in my head) has been waylaid by a falling chunk of steel and a tragic accident on a Bart platform. Damn.

My date was very apologetic and the fact is he couldn't make it into the city due to issues beyond his control. No one's fault. Well maybe Cal-Tran's fault. I'll choose to say Bart & the Bay Bridge have conspired against me today... On the other hand, maybe it was just a quick reality check- combined with a good reminder on the lost art of rolling with the punches.

We'll re-schedule.