Setting Myself Up

(see note at bottom)

I started online dating. Eh, that's not totally correct. I haven't actually started online dating. I signed up on a dating site. I haven't dated anyone or met anyone in person or spoken to anyone. I didn't quite know what to expect, and I still don't, but I find the whole enterprise really odd. You fill out a profile for yourself of what you look like and what you like to do and if you have kids and if you like pina coladas, then you answer  questions about what you're looking for in a mate. Do you just want a booty call? Do you want to get married upon meeting? Do you want to chat constantly for 2 days and then stop communicating abruptly? What's your religion? Do you only side-hug like Duggars or will you try to round third on the 1st date? What are your feelings towards 420? What's your "shoe size"? Do you speak any other languages? Greek, perhaps?

It's odd. It's hard to interpret someone's tone of voice or inflection in type. I wish there was a standardized way to do that in type since that's how people communicate these days. You'd think the written language would evolve to include punctuation to indicate intention; sarcasm, sadness, regret, pride, humor, love, etc. Maybe emoticons serve that purpose. I'd rather see it reflected in punctuation rather than symbols, but that's just me.

Anyhow

I have to tell you, I'd rather meet someone naturally, or be set up with by a friend. Being set up by a friend seems to be like a good option because I know my friend will grill any guy to a stub of nothing to make sure he's a good catch for me. At least if the friend does the set up, he's already been through the toughest part of the initiation. By being set up, I can be sure he passes their tests.

 I'm not looking for a husband. I'm not looking for a booty call. I'm not even looking for something really serious.
So what am I looking to get out of this experience? Hmmmm. You know what I want? Someone who is more than a friend who I can be me around; someone I look forward to seeing and get all giddy when a text from him comes through, someone I get along with and enjoy being around but referred to mostly as "this guy I'm seeing."  Maybe there are dates here and there with other people, but "this guy I'm seeing" stays in the picture.  "This guy I'm seeing" is a good guy. I just want to take my time in finding out if he's the right guy. Think I'll find him?

That said, I have chatted through the dating site to a few people. There have been a few creepers but those conversations are quickly ignored and go away soon enough. There have been a few who decide it's not to be and communication stops. We'll see how this all turns out. I'll probably pee my pants a little if anyone actually suggests we meet in person.

(note at the bottom)
I wrote this piece a few weeks ago. Look for an update soon.

I Should Have Had a V8

The first Catholic church I had ever been in was in Long Beach. I was about 7 years old. My sister and I were with a family friend. The family friend was supposed to take us to see the Angels' play. She told us we had to go to Mass first. We didn't know what Mass was. We knew what Church was, but we never called it Mass. It was just Church. My sister and I were so mad when we realized we were going to church. Who went to church on a Tuesday? This church was the biggest one I had ever seen; statues and candles, weird little alcoves, foot rests kneeling pads. We sighed and fidgeted the whole time. We were certain we were going to miss the game. Finally Mass ended. We made our way to Anaheim to watch some baseball. We weren't late at all. We arrived just in time for the National Anthem; of course performed beautifully by Chuck Mangione on his fluglehorn*.

When we thought we were moving to Long Beach, I got The Boy registered at the school run by this particular church. I let the school know we wouldn't be attending. The school must have already contacted their host families because my host family sent me an email today. The host family invited me out to drinks to talk about school. Now I've been a host parent before and I call the family, send them and email and invite them to the welcome parent breakfast, and introduce myself, but I've never thought to invite them out to a pub in the neighborhood. I am totally doing this the next time I am a host parent.




*I don't actually remember who did the national anthem at this game, but I did go to an Angels' game where Chuck Mangione did perform so I am only kind of lying, but maybe not

Me Time

Last night was one of those nights where a switch flicked in my head and with that flick I came to the conclusion that I needed to get the H E Double Hockey Sticks out of the house for just a little while. I love my kiddies more than anything but sometimes I just want to get away for an hour where I can be a person, an individual, a woman, and not necessarily a mom.

I put the smallest one to bed, got the middle one ready for bed and asked the oldest one to very sweetly watch over her sibling, telling her I'd be back in a little over an hour.

I threw on a bit of mascara, put on some shoes and headed out the door. I ended up at my local watering hole. I sat at the bar. I ordered a beer and watched the band set up. I saw a dad from my kid's school. I gave him a head nod; a nonverbal "'sup." He replied in kind before joining his friends.

A few minutes later some guy came up to me and asked me if I came there tonight to see the band that was setting up. I told him no, but the drummer was taking a long time to set up. Who did he think he was? Neil Peart? The guy laughed so hard he bought me a beer. He told me he just moved to SF. We talked about the Sunset a bit. He told me he surfed and we talked about Kelly Slater and 2011 Rip Curl event that we both went to. I totally held my own. I don't know how I did it but I totally pulled off talking to a surfer talk about surfing, or maybe I didn't and he was just humoring me.

I ended up talking to him, plus two of his friends he came with; two girls. I think one of them was his girlfriend (oh well, can't win 'em all).

For a night where the only conversation I thought I was going to have started with "What'll it be?" and ending with "IPA, please," I had a fun night.