The Mall
My office is located close to a mall, and last night I decided to go after work. I am in the market for some plain black dress shoes, and maybe some pants.
As soon as I got to the there, I knew it was a mistake. Throngs of teenagers were roaming around in an old-making way. I ate some food court food. It came in a styrofoam container, and I'm still imagining it choking some sea turtle somewhere. The merch was either slutty, overpriced, or unflattering. I tried on a few things and they fit poorly. Worse, I took a look at myself in the scary full-length dressing room mirror, under the scary dressing room lighting, and had a minor meltdown about a mole on my back (has it become more irregularly shaped since the last time I looked at it - which was, who knows, maybe last year?) and a visible vein on the back of my leg (is it revolting? are my days of skirt-wearing numbered?).
Also: fashion designers of America? Lots of us are
not pregnant. So could you please, please make some tops that aren't fitted right under the bustline?
It's so confusing - one would think the mall would entice us to stay and buy, rather than leaving with a bad mood and no stuff.
Posted by Dori at 9:27 AM
A Whale of a Tale: UpDATES #500,225 and #500,226
First off, date #2 with the writer (the one who is not so social and not so into kids) was fine but also final. We went to the Museum of Natural History, and checked out
glass flowers and a prehistoric whale. However, we did not fall in love and I don't think we'll be seeing each other again.
Then I went out with a journalist, whose profile made reference to Proust, Schubert, and several other hoity-toity cultural icons. I emailed him hoping that I'd be sufficiently high brow, and we exchanged a few messages before deciding to meet. Meanwhile, I googled him and found only a handful of bylines; he writes for a small paper in a nearby fishing town (we'll call it Roucester).
So I arrived at the cafe and waited for Mr. Roucester. An intense-looking guy careened past me, our eyes locked in that urgent are-you-who-I-think-you-are-because- if-not-we're-staring-weirdly -at-each-other manner. He kept walking; I assumed he was meeting someone else. Then he whirled around and asked me if I needed anything, which I understood meant that he was a random coffee house patron/staff member offering to get me some coffee. But no. That awkward, non-introduction? That was my date.
Once I realized who he was, we settled into the longest hour-long conversation of all time. He talked about growing up in Roucester. He told me about clams. And swordfish. And scallops. And haddock. He told me about going tuna fishing and about how everyone on the boat did drugs, and lobbed dynamite around the deck, and how they didn't catch anything after two long days at sea (shocking).
He told me about how he used to write for a conspiracy theory website, and how he also wrote a "very poorly edited" young adult book about the KGB, which got "lukewarm-to-negative reviews," but which scored him an inquiry from a Haitian newsmagazine with no Internet access. The clincher?
He also once wrote for a youth culture website, and was among the first to test-drive a nifty drug called
GHB, and he tried it and shared it among his friends, before realizing that it wasn't so nice and then pitching it into the trash ("my friends were wicked disappointed, but what are you gonna do?"). I checked to make sure the lid on my coffee cup was securely attached, and then suggested we get going.
I did not want to be rude, but could not stop thinking about how much I wanted to go home, and how blog-worthy this experience was, and about how it is possible to a fucking
journalist to talk for a solid hour about fucking seafood without asking me a single question.
I thanked him for teaching me about marine life, and he gave me his card and asked if he could call me. I referred him to my email address, and then stumbled to the subway.
Ahoy, mateys.
Posted by Dori at 8:10 PM
Cancel that - the universe is chuckling
So my conversation partner (CP) is awesome. Despite the inherent weirdness of meeting up with a stranger and then speaking clumsily in a foreign language, we had fun. CP is super cute (but not hot, so he did not incite lust), and nice, and funny. He is not hooked into a network of countrymen, as I had hoped, and so he will probably not be introducing me to my future husband. In fact, he's been here since August and received nary a helping hand from his people. Apparently many international students actively and intentionally avoid one another, either because they've defected from their homelands for a reason, or because they're striving to integrate with the locals. Apparently the Americans have not extended friendship either, or rolled out a welcome mat of any kind. It seemed like CP's only friend so far is his officemate, who has self-professed issues.
I would like to reach out to CP and his wife, especially since they really like it here, and feel comfortable with the prospect of spending the next 6-8 years (PhD time) in the area, and perhaps staying forever after that. This is refreshing, since often international students/faculty are in permanent "departure mode,"and don't want to establish roots or meaningful relationships because their stay is temporary.
Also: I learned many new words. We plan to meet up again next week. So as my wise friend A. pointed out, the universe is gently chuckling, and not cackling after all.
Posted by Dori at 8:06 PM
Another Cackle from the Universe
At the university where I work, there is a program that matches up Americans with international students/faculty for language exchange. I filled out the form and asked to be matched with a native Spanish speaker (because my once-fluent Spanish has become an embarrassment), or a native Hebrew speaker (I rarely use my similarly once-fluent Hebrew, and would prefer not to suck when when my Israeli cousins come to visit in May).
On the form, I indicated that I would also be amenable to being matched with someone from some random country who just wants to practice English. I envisioned chatting it up with a hip Czech or Korean or Moroccan girl, who might become my new BFF, and I'd take her to see the Freedom Trail, and drive her to Target, and she'd teach me Czech/Korean/Arabic swears, and how to make dumplings/kimchee/tagine.
Somehow I just assumed that I'd be matched with a woman. However, the coordinator emailed a few days ago and announced that my conversation partner is "Ziv." Some facebooking and linkedin-ing yielded a hot photo of an Israeli guy who is a few years older than me, who studied at some prestigious university and is now doing groundbreaking research in Boston. You'll be surprised to know that while I entertained some fleeting hopeful feelings about a love connection with Ziv, my general response was disappointment. Truly, I am not seeking out more stilted interactions with Jewish strangers. As you well know, I have enough of that in my life already.
It turns out, of course, that Ziv is married, so the fleeting hope was instantly crushed, and I was presented with an even more annoying scenario. I am not looking for awkward encounters with single guys, and I am
definitely not looking to hang out with someone hot, Jewish, accomplished, and fucking unavailable. I seriously considered ditching the whole thing, and telling Ziv that I am just too busy to take on a conversation partner right now.
But then key members of Team Dori weighed in, and they all pointed out that if Ziv is nice, his wife might also be nice, and maybe even a BFF prospect. Ziv and his lady might have cool friends to whom I could be introduced. And it's possible (though unlikely) that Ziv himself may have a twin brother in search of a green card.
My non-date is on Monday night, and I will keep you posted.
Posted by Dori at 6:35 PM
The Deluge Abates (and upDATE #500,224)
The flood of JDates is pretty much done, but after IP Boy, there was one more date with this writer.
We had a nice coffee date in which it became apparent that:
1) He's cute in a very nerdy, edgy way
2) He's smart and cultured
3) He's not into babies
4) He's kind of a loner, and has a few close friends in other states
So I have some concerns about items 3 and 4. While I was happy to commiserate with him about the (generally detrimental) impact that other people's babies have on one's social life, and even express my fear of someday becoming an uber mommy who uses the term
play date without scorn, I still like to think of myself as a future parent, and would like to be with someone who entertains that notion as well. The writer has two nieces who live nearby, and he has only babysat on a few occasions and thus far never changed a diaper. Worrisome.
Further, he talked about how he's kind of a solitary guy. Playing sports is his main social scene. He has some close friends but they're not local. While this is totally cool and no reflection of his possible loveliness, my aforementioned social life could use a jumpstart right about now. Too many of my friends have defected to other states or suburbia, so ideally, my future husband will be part of a cool crew. We'll all bond and have dinners together, and picnic on the fourth of July, and play Taboo on snowy evenings, and maybe help each other with interior painting.
Me and the writer will probably hang out again, but I'm just saying.
Posted by Dori at 7:23 PM
upDATE #500,223: Google Mastery Edition
I thought I was a good Internet stalker, I really did. I can work all kinds of googling magic and explore one's possible whereabouts on Facebook, LinkedIn, alumni directories, phone directories, image searches, and professional associations. I do this because I might come across general information that might endear me to a guy (or not), and also because I want to confirm that a guy is telling the truth. So, if we're going on a date, and you tell me you're a lawyer, I may very well look you up on the local Bar Association website. While membership in the bar association does not prevent you from being crazy or scary, it does make it more likely that the other information you're sharing is honest and accurate.
Knowing that others also engage in this information-gathering behavior, I am very careful about what information I put out. When corresponding with internet dating prospects, I do not reveal my last name, specifics about my work, or my phone number. I use a yahoo email account that
does not include my name in the "from" field. This is not about being cagey. This is about protecting my safety. I recognize, however, that if someone truly wanted to stalk me (God forbid), I have enough of an Internet trail to make it happen. Last night this was confirmed.
I went out with this guy who told me almost immediately that I had challenged his googling skills, and that it took him several minutes (as opposed to the mere seconds it typically takes) to find out my last name, past three residential addresses, workplace, age, and work history. He
did this because yahoo attaches an IP address to every message, and because I emailed from a work computer (in the student computer cluster, no less--not the one in my office), he was able to trace the source of the email and then combine my first name and the name of my workplace to find me on LinkedIn. And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to everything else.
Apparently IP Boy has orchestrated the top 10 google hits that come up when
his name is googled, to present himself in the most flattering and competent light. He actually mentioned this: "as you must have seen in my LinkedIn profile, I attended blah blah school and worked at blah blah company." In fact, he actually contacted the very prestigious school he attended, and asked them to re-tag an article that mentions him, thus catapulting his affiliation far up on his google search results.
It turns out that IP Boy and I actually have friends in common, and we had a fairly interesting convo in which he really did ask questions and listened. That was cool. However, it felt like an informational interview. He actually asked me where I see myself headed, career-wise: "So. You want to be a dean. Tell me more. Where do you see yourself doing that?" And then he'd mention all the deans he knows and how he's fully going to introduce me to them. And I'm all: Whoa. I am so not ready to link my professional reputation with yours.
He seemed like a genuinely nice person, though (albeit way slick). We really did talk about meaningful topics. While he is definitely not my husband (not even my boyfriend, not even my next fling), I could totally see kicking it over coffee sometime.
And then we left the bar and I noted the real problem. More than the slickness and the stalking? He drives the most revolting car of all time. It is a monstrous, boxy, Hummer-esque, gas-guzzling affront to all that is good, and green, and anti-war.
And there was no way I could have googled that.
Posted by Dori at 7:10 PM
