The Semantics of Speed Dating

One bar in the financial district on a cold winter night.  Seventeen women looking for find love.  Five minutes each.  Ready.  Set.  Go.

I was panicking about this five hours prior.

I’ll explain.  Since I’ve said that for the first time in my life, I want to be serious, that implies I have to find someone.  But with my normal routine of working, going to yoga and volunteering they aren’t showing up in my usual hangout spots.  So I had to branch out and try new things to try to find them.  Which is why I signed up for speed dating.  It seemed more organized than going to a bar or a club, and since everyone was going for the same thing, it’d be easier to decipher if these were the right ones for me.  Plus, I’d go to a bar to get a date — speed dating would give me an abundance of a lot of people.

Then came the actual day of the speed dating event.  Work dragged on painfully and even though I looked at the clock constantly, I was trying to mentally prepare for all those women, that bar, that loud, noisy atmosphere because I knew I’d be overstimulated.  But nothing could’ve prepared me for that event.

For several reasons.  One, the event was disorganized.  The registration wasn’t capped off so even though they ‘accepted’ 15 girls, about 24 showed up, and since they didn’t organize the seating arrangements, not everyone got to meet everyone else.  The event began an hour late, so instead of having five minutes, we had three. And I never thought I’d say this, but I think they should’ve charged more.  Many of the girls I met weren’t seeking a date, but came with their friends as an interesting experience and were mostly looking for hot chicks.  If the event had been more expensive, I doubt those people would be there.

Perhaps the most difficult of all was that I had intense communication with so many girls on all different levels.  I had to pay attention to their body language and mine, what they said and what I said, the questions they asked and what I asked, and perhaps most importantly,what wors they used to describe themselves and what they were looking for.

A lot of girls said that same thing probably not out of lack of originality but more because we only had 180 seconds to decipher if we liked each other.  But I noticed that in my head I began to translate a sort of a shorthand. A list of euphemisms and what they really meant.  In Annie Hall they had a short scene where Woody Allen and Diane Keaton spoke about mundane tasks at hand when they were really trying to figure out if they’d like to sleep together.  It was sort of like that.

I picked up this trait when once from my father, and it cemented itself in high school when my AP English Language teacher handed out a list of polite euphemisms if you want to insult someone.  Stuff like, “She has a strong personality.”  You know she’s a bitch.  “He has a cute face.”  Fat.  “He knows how to treat a lady.” He’s probably a jerk who wouldn’t hold your door open if you were stumbling with five bags of groceries.

So I went into this mode while I sat comfortably at my chair in my teal blouse and demi bra, playing with my hair as a sign of flirting (or because I like playing in my hair).  A lot of girls said the same thing.  And I translated it into a shorthand.

“I’m looking to hang out and have fun.” (Probably looking for a hookup and not a relationship).

A lot of girls mentioned “someone who can keep up with me!” and “no drama/drama free.”  Of course you’re going to want someone without drama.  What am I going to say?  I’m looking for a soul crushing, drama filled relationship with someone who has anger management problems, unemployed and still has issues with their ex? That, and when someone mentions the ‘no drama’ cliche, chances are, they are drama, so be prepared for one really intense time with them.

Since this is they Bay Area of course several girls mentioned a requirement for a girl is that she be “sex positive.”  I swear.  This phrase has haunted me since undergrad introduced me to it.  I’ve taken that this means they want someone who’s sexually open, which I am.  But I don’t broadcast my sexual prowess to complete strangers, which may give off the impression that I’m a prude to many.  So now “sex positive” can be replaced with “slutty.”  Which is not easy.  There’s a difference.

When it came to hobbies, drinking was at the top of the list.  A lot of girls said they hit the bars with their girlfriends and go to clubs.  Anyone who’s main hobby includes, “I could drink my friend under the table!” is probably a barfly and a fledgling alcoholic.  Sure, that’s unhealthy, but more importantly, not compatible with how I spend my time.

I wish we had the full five minutes to talk to each other girls since three is rather short.  You can’t do a lot in three. The average conversation has a lapse in seven minutes, so that would be ideal.  But I spent most of the second half of the time shouting out “I can’t hear you!  Huh!  What!  It’s so loud in here!’ not the best ambiance for romance huh?

There’s also the question of how people present and describe themselves.  I thought about this a lot when I had an online profile and decided I don’t know how to present myself online or in real life for that matter.  But a lot of people say that I’m sweet, caring, attractive, intelligent, and witty, multifaceted and deep — the type of woman you could take home to mom, the type you should marry…yada yada yada.  I have a problem with this presentation and I’ve never been sure on how to change it.  It’s not that I see those things as being inherently bad.  They’re just not popular with anyone under 40.

I’ll explain.  In Ariel Levy’s “Female Chauvinist Pigs” she touched lightly on how the word “sexy” is overused.  Because of the second wave feminist movement, we’ve twisted ourselves into new shackles and in order to be seen as good as men, we prefer masculine adjectives when describing ourselves.  Who wants to be sweet and caring? Cats and old ladies are those things, not the girl you want to get naked with.  Many of the adjectives I used to describe myself are feminine, and therefore perceived as weak.  Who wants someone sweet?  Not most people.  And don’t believe the hype — the Girl Next Door stays there.  What draws people in is someone who’s fun, exciting, sexy, daring, and mysterious!  Someone who’s going to make you work for their affections.

The problem with applying so many masculine adjectives is that they polarize any feminine ones so they’re not only seen as weak, but contradictory, which they not always are.  This dude was wondering why women describe themselves as bitches, and it’s because it’s masculine, therefore scary, therefore respected and therefore more desirable than someone who’s sweet.  Although I think you can be sweet and strong.  A bitch doesn’t imply someone who won’t take crap from anyone.  A bitch just implies a woman with a hard shell who’s unpleasant and might be uncomfortable with her own vulnerability so she puts up a front like that.

A lot of the women at the event were self proclaimed bitches (the same ones who desired someone drama free).  One in particular stood out.  I noticed her because she wore a too tight mini skirt and we had the same drink, a mojito.  The second she sat down she rattled off that she was a bitch, in her life, at her job.  She had control of everything and had everything she wanted.  So the person who comes to her better come correct.  Surprisingly I did not want to see her again.

The main reason wasn’t because of how she looked.  It was because she didn’t show me and vulnerability.  Of course I knew she didn’t have it all together — why the hell would she be at a speed dating event if she had everything she needed?  To laugh at the rest of us mortals who want to connect?  But with her loud claim that she had everything, it told me that I wouldn’t be able to offer her anything.  She wouldn’t need me.  I might be a pawn.  But who wants to be that?

When I was eight my father said that he’s all for a woman being strong and doing everything a man was, but it shouldn’t be the main part of her persona.  “Strong women frequently attract weak men who are looking to be led around.”  He said.  I wonder if that’s true.  Maybe bitches attract weak people who are looking to be abused.  That’s the 2008 version.

Anyway, with all the complaining I did about the event, out of seventeen, I said yes to three and got one mutual match.  I wouldn’t have been able to meet that many women on my own in such a short time.  And it was a learning experience.  Maybe I’ll have to try it again.  Like when it’s better organized or I can find another place that’s more established.

Convoluted and Confusing Thoughts of the Year

As a precursor to the resolutions and in the spirit of continuing my thoughts of the day, here are some things that have run through my mind during 2008.

1.  I’m getting my own place!  Due to all sorts of unnecessary drama, I’ve decided that even though I need to work on how I relate to other people, the price is too high to work on this in a space where I live. Why?  Because I’ve felt uncomfortable in almost every living situation I’ve engaged in for the past three years.  Hell is other people, especially when other people are your roommates.

2.  In random moments faxing contracts and making copies or seeing the college kids bond in the lobby of our yoga studio (and blocking any space where people can put their things) I miss school.  Like really miss it.  Sure I miss my friends and the continuity I had in those friendships, but I even miss the novelty of eating breakfast any time of the day, the midterms, the finals, the workshops, plays, cheap concerts and people who were more or less on similar planes to you.  I want to go back to school.  But I don’t think this is the right time to pursue a Masters.

3.  I’ve spent a lot of time preoccupied with age.  Partially because of my last job since I engaged with a lot of older adults and youth.  Now I think about youth in terms of presentation.  My roommates claim they are young minded but to me they seem rather immature and callow.  Then again, I seem old and stodgy to most.  I keep thinking that if I could somehow match what the quintessential 24 year old is, I could meet more people.  But I wouldn’t be me.

4.  I also spend a lot of time thinking about friends.  How to form friendships or what they look like, because I am all sorts of confused.  I meet lots of people who claim they are friends with me, but they only come around for good times and hanging out with them is almost impossible.  A friend of mine recently returned from his aunt’s wake and was annoyed when I asked him how he was, so I said, “would you prefer for me to be the kind of friend that’s only around when stuff goes well and when you’re a ray of sunshine?  I do all this [calling, offering to hang out, asking how he is] because I’m trying to be your friend and I thought that’s what friends do.”  But I may be mistaken.  Is the adult world full of lost opportunities for intimate friendships?  I hope not.

4.  To go off that  I’ve been more prone to word vomit, whether it’s cussing someone out who asked for a friends with benefits situation or telling my ex I can’t be his friend right now.  I’m not sure if word vomit is a bad thing anymore.

5.  I don’t spend as much time online, and I’ve given up on finding new friends and dates online.  It’s too time consuming and there’s a high probability that I may not even get to meet the other person.  My feelings may change but I’m not sure when they will.

6.  I spend too much time investing in hobbies.  With volunteering, salsa dancing, yoga, work, writing’s groups, meet in, meet up, girlfriendscircle, etc.  I am spreading myself thin.  I’d like more time with real friends and more time alone so I can focus on my writing, but I’m investing a lot of energy on the in between stuff and it’s starting to feel like busy work, to the point where I don’t fully decompress when I am alone.  The point of getting involved in all that is to meet people, but it feels like I’m in this weird limbo of becoming a casual acquaintance and it doesn’t change and the activity becomes less fulfilling.  I may just pick two or three and focus on those, but, how in the hell am I going to meet any new friends?  I still don’t know.

7.  The tough part about developing friendships is that it takes time, which is perhaps why I feel like I’ve become a serial monogamist when it comes to friendship.  I can’t commit to anyone because I don’t know if that space in their life is open, or if it is, 1.  is it just open in a limited way (like they want to be online friends) or 2. they may assume that when I want to be someones friend that I’m actually pursuing them romantically (see 4).

8.  The sucky part about time is that I have to be patient.  After all of my bitching and hollering about just wanting to go on a real, normal date I finally went on one!  Just to figure out I wasn’t compatible with this guy because of timing issues.  I feel like I’ve waited so long for the right person to come along I am just like, where the hell are they?  But if I would’ve gotten involved with him it would’ve been a bad decision.

9.  Since I’m still complaining about time and romance, here’s another one:  I reconnected with someone who I had great chemistry with last year, but after finding things out about him I couldn’t pursue a romance with him either.  (If you want to know the full story, email me) He’s wonderful, charming and amazingly handsome and I adore him, but I know that he’d be fun in the moment and cause me a great deal of misery later.  I told a friend that I’m trying to avoid train wrecks as opposed to walking straight into them and he replied, “maturity sucks huh?” which it does.  I want to not have this foresight so I can have experiences but that’s almost like a dieter devouring 8 triple six dollar burgers — it defeats the purpose.

10.  Professionally I’m not where I want to be with this job, but right now I welcome the mind numbing work before I venture out to something more complicated.  I still have dreams of being a writer, of having my short story collection and nonfiction essays published in paperback along with my pensive black and white on the back, but I am content to just have a job that decently pays and doesn’t stress me out, like VISTA.

11.  I miss Americorps dearly, but I no longer want to be a full time hero.

13.  Since I’m serious about finding romance, I decided to change my tactics:  like actually meeting people for that purpose.  I’m attending a girls only speed dating event tonight so I’m sure I’ll write about that.  And I’m really nervous about the whole endeavor of well, having to step out there and find this person.

12.  I daydream often about returning to Chicago.  Or Europe.  Or South America.  Or anywhere for that matter, but I feel compelled to see if I can make a life here.

 

Those are mine!  What are your convoluted and confusing thoughts of 2008?

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Open letter to Oakland

To the City of Oakland:

During the sunset, sunrise or when I look at the trees turning into shade of autumn, or when I see the busses or look at the lake, or even when I’m on my way to work that I have the urge to tell others how I feel about you.  However, I don’t know who I should talk to.  The trees?  My reflection in the lake that’s clouded and green?   The crackheads the street or the normal ones standing on the corner of 14th and Broadway about how much I love you?  I don’t know whom I should talk to, anyone or anything, so I’m writing you a letter and posting it on this blog, just to tell you know how much I adore you.

On the brink of graduating and participating in the VISTA program I decided to nestle and make my home in Oakland (or the Bay Area in general) because my former supervisor said that the programs are more refined in that part of the state, and it’s the city that reminded me most of Chicago.  I know it seemed weird, and most people don’t understand it, unless they’re native s of Chicago.  I felt an immediate kinship with the city.  Possibly because it was larger than Oceanside, or Riverside, but it wasn’t as large as London, which made me feel alienated for how big it is.

I love being here for other reasons.  Like that there are so many different kinds of people, neighborhoods and things.  Outsiders who have never been to Oakland are surprised when they meet people who love it out here.  It’s because it’s a gem, and not all parts of Oakland are created equal.  It’s mostly known for its violence (I think it’s the 4th most violent city in the nation), particularly in East Oakland, but no one talks about the Taco Trucks, the Old School ice cream trucks that serve Mexican ice cream and soft serve (sometimes in the same truck!) or the sense of community.  There’s the Oakland in Glenview (the rich wannabe Piedmont part), Oakland in Downtown (the nightlife part), Oakland by the lake (the central part with the Famer’s Market), Oakland in the West (another residential low income part that’s much like East Oakland, but slightly quieter and where folks say good morning to each other), Oakland in Temescal (where the Berkeley-esque people kick it), Oakland in Montclair (see Glenview) and Oakland and Piedmont — which is actually not Oakland, but they can use our libraries.  Each of these neighborhoods are distinctive in different ways, so of course the most common question Oakland residents ask one another is “What part of Oakland do you live?”  where it’s ok to represent your address.  Believe me– I get a lot of props for living in Adam’s Point even those I may have to leave that neighborhood sadly .

It’s a place where people jog the lake wearing wife beaters, nylon running shorts and gloves or mittens to protect their hands from the cold.  It’s a place where people wander the farmer’s markets with their yoga mats and struggle to find the freshest organic produce at Whole Foods.  There’s the Oakland where the rich play and the East Oakland which everyone joke about avoiding.  There’s College Ave with posh shops, boutiques and restaraunts and International Blvd. which is notorious for having bad things happen to good and bad people alike.  But the Oakland I love is when these two worlds meet.  The other day I saw a teenager with dark wash skin tight jeans, Kool Aid red extensions and an airbrushed jacket sporting a LIVE FEED bag from the Whole Foods.  Those are times when I love this city because how would a tourist know that site even exists?

The seasons feel realer than Riverside and we get leaves, tons of gold, maroon and hunter green leaves that scatter the city and when I people spraying them with hoses off the street, I wonder, why bother?  We get rain in the winter, sure, but snowbirds still migrate there.  On any Saturday I would attend a poetry slam, climb a rock, go to a dance class or eat at several wonderful, reasonably priced vegetarian restaraunts, which I couldn’t do in Riverside.  I could stumble onto a garage sale.  Or not even pay for an item.  A few weeks ago my roommate’s cat managed to break my mirror and one evening I was thinking, “where am I going to find another full length mirror?” and while I walked up Vernon Ave. that evening, I found one, along with several containers, and mugs.  Since their owners placed them on the street it was free for the taking.  I also found some artwork on large oil canvases and I confiscated those, even though I had to haul them for over a mile.

There are also more people here than my university and almost all of them are proud to live in Oakland.  One of the nice things about the Bay Area is that everyone has a since of pride for where they live.  Oaklanders hate on Berkleyites even though I feel the East Bay is a unified front against the City (SF).  Why go there when there’s so much to do here for less?  I can meet a lot of different people, even though it’s a bit of a drawback.  Because there’s so much to do, people become more committed to events than they do to people, hobbies are spread thin and we’re all looking for the bigger better deal — the friend or person who’s more fun and exciting than the one we’re strolling through the artist’s walk with.  I admit I even have this problem although I want to remedy my Social ADD and committ to a group of friends.  Oakland is large enough to avoid anyone you don’t want to see, although you may be subjected to them accidentally.  Like last month.  I was craving some Ethiopian food, and I went to my favorite place and there I saw my ex.  It’s totally fine that he can break my heart and play mind games, but Oakland, why does he have to come to my favorite game in town for Gomen when I’m PMSing and all I want is some comfort food?  And it was on my side of the lake, for crying out loud.  Outside of that, this place is large enough I can avoid and not worry about running into him spontaneously and small enough I can carve out my own spots that aren’t associated with him– most of the time.

It makes me sad that so many people die on your streets.  That I met someone lively and funny and he died senselessly.  That there are so many posters of men, women and children who vanished and the police won’t look for them.  That a common way to asking if you met someone is saying, “Didn’t I meet you a so and so’s funeral?”  Maybe the community is so strong because these streets are so uncertain, and you never know when the one you love is going to go.  It’s not entirely dangerous but it is eerie.

And yet, I am humored when those typical Oakland dudes try to holler at me and when I told one no, he chucked a beer bottle at me in broad daylight.  Or when someone complains that their purse was stolen and she needed money for the BART, and when she explains that she left it unattended, I smile and ask, “You’re not from here are you?”  and she isn’t.  I do not know if we will be together forever, but despite my loneliness, missing my friends from school and missing Riverside, I must say it’s been lovely getting to know you. 

I love you.  That’s all I wanted to say.

The gift of receiving

For the first time, in my twenty four years of existence, I have a secret admirer.  In fact I have two!  When I first began working at the hardware store, I’d notice weird things in the office.  First, it was a bag of chips.  Then a pack of cookies.  Then a sandwich.  Finally, this secret admirer revealed themselves because I had asked about the sandwich (come on, even that’s stretch).  He said he didn’t want to startle me, and he didn’t intend for it be a come on.  He just wanted to give me food as token for my loveliness. 

My obsession with food must be obvious because the second admirer wanted to give me food-  or at least try.  He’s actually my friend’s son and he works as a stock boy at Trader Joe’s, my favorite grocery store.  I piled the ingredients in my grocery cart for an Egyptian multi bean and noodle soup when he asked if he could help me with lentils, and I told him not to worry about.  However, he worried about it so much he spoke to management about why can’t Trader Joe’s carry pre cooked lentils, and he thought I was gorgeous and wanted to help me.  He didn’t tell me that.  His father — my friend told me he confessed all of this over dinner. 

I should be excited, or elated to know that someone wants to give me something, but instead I’m worried and a little confused.  I give people stuff all the time — my friends get Christmas cards and birthday gifts, I brought my friend soup when he fell ill, and since I was young, I always bought my mom gift whenever I went to museums and theme parks just to say I was thinking of her.  However, I don’t receive a lot of things, particularly because I don’t ask, and I don’t have the sense of entitlement some people do.  So when I’m offered something it feels awkward at best, and when I’m at my worst, I am cynical.

I told a friend about this.  “Girl, you a woman now.  You need to get used to people giving you stuff,” she said as she put on her Avon lipstick.  “You mean no one’s given you anything?  For real?”

I shook my head no.

Apparently she’s one of those girls.  You know.  The girls have men clamoring over them, who have men buy them dinner, buy them diamond earrings and stuff, who will give them cars, let them spend money like crazy, who know that if their current relationship ends they’ll find another one in a few weeks because so many people want to hook up with them.  That kind of girl.  She’s even raising her daughter to be the same way.  “My child is lovely,” she once told me over enchilada’s.  “When she was a baby people used to give her things as a token for her beauty.”

To me her daughter is cute, not stunning, but what six year old is stunningly beautiful?  To me they all look awkward, including her daughter at times.  Perhaps the experience of most women is that they are used to people giving them things in return for their affection.  That was my friend’s reality, which unfortunately, I don’t share.  My reality has been to work hard  to achieve goals and always be independent, always because there’s no guarantee that you can depend on anything to help you, much less give you stuff.  And I’ve carried on that mentality, which may explain why I view most relationships as work, instead of play or an opportunity to receive. 

Perhaps I am stuck with the idea that there is no such thing as a “gift.”  Anything anyone has given me has come at a price, either emotionally, physically or financially, or as my little brother stated in his seven year old wisdom, “ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”  Perhaps it’s because no one has given me anything that’s been free, including a friendship.  I particularly have this problem with men, since the friendship is a scam and we always end up having conversations that sound like this:

Me:  I’m so glad you came into my life.  I really needed a friend at this time.

Him:  Same here.  Look, I’ve given this a lot of thought and I want to know your opinion

Me:  Okay.  Talk on.

Him:  I’m thinking a lot about my life and what I want out of it.  I really like you, and I’m physically attracted to you, but I think you’re quirky/crazy/clingy/may want a relationship (it’s one of these things) and I don’t want that with you, but I think it’d be great if we could begin sleeping together as friends.  What do you think?

Me:  I only want to sleep with someone who’s romantically interested in me, so no.

Him:  Then I can’t be your friend.

–Or they just sop returning phone calls altogether.  When it come to receiving things, it always feels like there’s an ulterior motive that I may not be aware of, and the first is a trick.  Or that if they give me their time, they carry a sense of entitlement that I owe them whatever they want. 

When I accept a gift, I feel a loss of control.  I’m giving up some weird, mythical powers and allowing someone to do something for me.  Which explains why if I go out with one friend I always pay — to make sure I have the upper hand and he can’t say I led him on by allowing him to pay for my tea.  Sometimes I don’t want to do this, and allow myself to believe that someone may want to nuture me, care for me and not ask for anything in return, but like I said, that’s not part of my past, so when I heard that someone just wants to do nice things for me, just to do them, I still feel horribly awkward around it.  I’m not gracious with receiving gifts.

But with my not so secret admirers there’s a level of sweetness to it.  Neither has asked me for anything in return.  I am young enough to be the first one’s daughter and the could mentor the second one since he is still in high school and filling out college applications, no neither has a romantic future.  But it’s nice to know that I didn’t need to do anything, and someone still noticed me.  I caught their eye and I didn’t have to give, or do anything for them.  They wanted to do it for me.