Balloon Bombardment

20150429_122222

My boss’s birthday was today, so my coworkers and I bought him some balloons.  Three cars full, approximately 36 (the sales girl threw in some extra).  We played with windup toys at Party City while we waited for the balloons to be inflated.  Then we drove VERY CAREFULLY back to work.  We snuck the balloons upstairs to his office,  keeping an eye out for him.  He was supposed to be at lunch for another 30 minutes. But he walked up the stairs right after we shut his door.  The look on his face when he saw the balloons was priceless!  He turned red. He asked who was responsible.   Omg it was great!

The only problem is, now my other coworkers want the same treatment for their bdays.  Sorry, guys, I only buy $40 in balloons once a year!

Cheers!

Time Lord

TARDIS

“Where’s the TARDIS?” Mr. Blue eyes asked, peeping his head into my office.

He had only come to see me once before, so I was thrilled that he was talking to me.  “It’s hard to find; always elsewhere when you’re looking for it.  But if you wait, and listen for the sound, it may appear!” I said.  Not exactly what Mickey said to Rose’s Mom, but close enough to get the point across.

Mr. Blue Eyes smiled.  “Watch out, we’ll start calling you, ‘The Doctor,’” he said, and turned to go.

“I’ll need a companion!  Now taking applications!” I called after him.

I sighed.  He’s soooo cute!

“I don’t know what that was all about,” my boss admitted, with a friendly smile.  “We you talking about some TV show?”

I about choked.  Doctor Who is not some TV show, it is a cult classic!  It is the best!  It is… “Yes, a TV show, Doctor Who,” I said.  “Our electronics assembly for Program A is a big blue box, so we call it the TARDIS.  We put a sticker on the side that says, Police Call Box, and threw a safety light on the top.”

He didn’t ask for more information.  Which was fine, because I could have talked for quite a while, and shown him my Halloween costume of an exploding TARDIS.  I thought about wearing it to work, but that might send the wrong signal.  “Whatcha tryin to say?  That you want to blow up Program D?  SECURITY!!”

Later that day, the Professor texted to ask me about my day.  I texted, “Worked on the TARDIS.”

He answered, “You traveled in time and space?!”

Awww, he gets it!  TARDIS = Time and Relative Dimension in Space.  Bigger on the inside than on the outside.  It’s a time machine, essentially (but so much more!).

“LOL.  I’m now called The Doctor!” I texted, proud of my new nickname.  I really, really hope it sticks!

“That’s quite a promotion!” The Prof texted.  “I don’t think I’ve ever dated a Time Lord before!”

Wow.  He really gets it.  It’s one thing to know what a TARDIS is; to know that the Doctor is a time lord – well, you’ve had to have seen more than one episode to throw that name around.

He continued, “My daughter was very clear that she wanted a TARDIS blue car.  She calls hers, Cardis.”  He included a pic.

I laughed!  That’s perfect!

I texted back, “That’s the same as color as mine!”  Truly, my little car is royal blue!  I just never associated it with time travel before.  Ok, I’ve earned a speeding ticket or two since I got her, but I was going nowhere near the speed of light.

So, in short, The Professor is dating The Doctor, who is designing the TARDIS.

It’s good to be a Time Lord!

Cheers!

The Professor and Julianne, Part 2, Jazz Fest

JazzFest_PooLiveCrew

Poo Live Crew, a parody of Too Live Crew, was hilarious!

“It kinda weirds me out that you found my blog,” I admitted.

“It kinda weirds me out, too!” Professor Ryan Papaya admitted.  “You gave me your email address to send you directions, and I found your Google+ Profile with a link to your blog.  There are writers in my family, so I’m a character in two books already.  I’m used to the fact that what I remember and what is printed, are sometimes a little different.  For example, I said that there were tap dancers on the side stages, and the blog quotes me as saying tap dancers and baton twirlers.  Your version is actually better; adding the baton twirlers makes sense.”

I blushed a little.  “I don’t like misquoting people, but my memory isn’t perfect, and so I take poetic license.  I’m glad you think that was an improvement,” I said.

“Oh yes!  And I have to remember—whether in your blog or in my sister-in-law’s books—that the character Ryan said this or that.  The real Ryan—me, the person—may have said something different.  The writer has the freedom to change things,” he agreed.

I hadn’t yet told him that he shared my brother’s first name.  That fact seemed insignificant at the time.  Besides, I liked calling him The Professor.  Later when I found out that he was named after his grandfather, I told him that I have a grandfather by the same name.  The conversation made a turn and I didn’t add that my brother was named after our grandfather, too.  I think it’s a cool coincidence, just one more thing that we have in common.

JazzFest_Singer_April 2015

Bonnie and Nick Norris – She had a powerful voice and sang awesome covers of old songs.

“What kind of music do you like?” The Professor asked.

“I like a variety, from country to pop rock.  I listen to the Eagles, Rascal Flatts, and Evanescence, just to name a few,” I said.

“I like the Eagles.  Have you seen them in concert?  No?  I have.  I also have an Evanescence CD,” he said.

“I can kill Bring Me to Life in karaoke,” I said, referencing an Evanescence song.  I was a little surprised that we like the same music.  We discussed concerts and discovered that he’s been to a lot more than I have!  Which isn’t hard, since I avoid crowds in general.

His phone beeped.  “Look!” he said.  “I have a message from a woman on Match!  Doesn’t she know that she’s not supposed to contact a guy at 8 p.m. on Saturday night?!  She must not have read the rules!”

I laughed, both happy and shocked that he had read the Online Dating Advice on my blog.  On one hand, it’s cool that he knows what I expect.  On the other hand, it’s a little odd to have my rules quoted.

“I can follow the rules, if I know them,” he said.  “I have a few rules of my own, too.”  He told me a couple of his rules, which you can read on his blog here.  Oh yes, he started a blog.  Isn’t that FUN?!  I found that out the next day (today).  He even has a big pic of papayas, so that you know that you’re in the right place.

I said, “You know would be cool?  I write a blog on today’s date, and you write a blog on today’s date, then we compare notes.”

“I was thinking that that would fun,” he said.

That made me happy.  Ryan wasn’t going to freak out over my blog (well, not enough to do damage, anyway) and was actually going to support it!  And play along!  YAY!

Then he asked me to dance.  I was temporarily in shock.  I usually date nerdy white boys that refuse to step foot on a dance floor.  Here Ryan was asking me—HE was asking ME—to go dance?  “Yes!  Just, not to this song,” I said.  Poo Live Crew was playing something unfamiliar.  Once the band moved on to something that I recognized, we got up to shake our groove things.

The ground was muddy from the torrential downpour the previous night.  Our shoes were muddy from traversing the festival grounds, but dancing covered us in another level of mud.  At one point, I showed him my mud-spattered legs, and he bent down and wiped off the worst of it.

“I didn’t mean for you to do that,” I said.  “I was just showing the dirt to you.”

He smiled.  “Maybe I knew that, and I was just using it as an excuse to touch your legs.”

I smiled back.  The man knows how to flirt!  Bonus!

BTW, Poo Live Crew was hilarious.  They started out by saying, “We’re going to play some really hard rock!  Hope you’re ready for this!”  And then they played New Kids On the Block, “The Right Stuff.”  NKOTB were one of the 90’s boy bands.  Their music is as fluffy and light as pop rock gets.  Poo played some other songs, acting all tough between, then launching into a Top Gun medley of songs that were mostly sung by female singers originally.  It was awesome to see a band decked out like hard core rappers, singing, “Watching I keep waiting, still anticipating love…Take my breath away!”

That was a great way to end the festival.  Professor Papaya walked me to my car and said, “I like your in-person persona better than your blogger persona.  The blogger seems a bit cynical.”

“Oh no!  My cynical is showing!”  I said, using my hands to cover myself as if I were naked.  “It’s quite embarrassing when that shows through.  I try to hide it as much as possible.”

We laughed, kissed, and he said, “When can I see you again?  How about Friday?  Oh, you’re busy.  You’ll be back on this side of town for school on Monday and Wednesday, right?”

Once more I was pleasantly surprised.  I’m used to ending a date, then analyzing it on the drive home.  Does he like me?  Will he call?  Is he going to be disappointed that I won’t go sailing with him?  To have a guy ask me out before I leave is—awesome.  I don’t have to do all the guess work.  I don’t have to wonder.  I can just relax.

“Monday night I’m committed, but Wednesday works.  I think that I’m busy on Friday night, I’m just not sure what.  I’ll have to check my schedule,” I said.  Turns out that I have plans with a girlfriend on Friday.  As a matter of fact, that girlfriend’s husband is named Ryan, too.

“Wednesday is great, we’ll go to this restaurant I like and sit on the rooftop patio.  I’ll text you the details.  Good night!”  Ryan said.

When I got in the car and turned on the radio, Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” was playing.  I smiled.  It had been on when I pulled up, too.

Sure, I’m weirded out that he reads my blog.  That gives him an unfair advantage: he knows a lot about me, and what I expect.  However, if he can read about all the times that I fell on my face romantically, and all my rules, and still like who I am, then this relationship could go somewhere.

“Hopeless Romantics, here we go again…” The Eagles, New Kid in Town.

Scratch that.  That song is too damn depressing.

“People fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand…” Ed Sheeran.

Cheers!

PS.  The Professor posted his version on his page.  It’s so sweet!

JazzFest_stage_April2015

What Your Bachelor Pad Says About You

Mantel of Chateau Strawberry (minus pictures of nieces and nephews).  Sally painted all three pictures.

Mantel of Chateau Strawberry (minus pictures of nieces and nephews). Sally painted all three pictures.

“There’s a bed in your living room,” I said.

“It’s a broken futon,” 24-year-old Fred told me.  “My friends, Tanya and Jim, spent the night, and they broke it.”

I looked past the broken futon to the adjoining room.  “Is that a dance floor?”  The carpet gave way to hardwood in a vacant room.  I was hoping there was another explanation.

Brown-haired, brown-eyed, adorable Fred proudly led to me to that side of the open room.  “Yes, and this is the DJ booth.  See the LED lights in the ceiling fan?  They change colors.”

I tried to admire the setup.  A string of plastic LED lights were attached to the baseboards.  The DJ booth had complicated-looking equipment in it.  Black curtains covered the windows.  “You must have parties here often?” I asked.

“Ya.  Used to be every weekend, but I dunno, got kinda old,” he answered.

The next room was the kitchen.  Dirty dishes covered every available surface.  I didn’t know what to say.

“Roommates,” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

“You could have told them that I was coming over; that would have given them a reason to clean up,” I said.

“We did clean up!” Fred said, sounding upset.

“Ah, you must’ve cleaned up the beer bottles from the floor so that I could walk in here!” I said, joking.  Then I glanced toward the trash can, which was overflowing with cans and bottles.

“Yes, we did!” Fred said proudly.

I groaned internally.  I knew that dating a younger man would be interesting, but Fred had said that he owned his own house.  He had talked about all the renovations he was going to do.  He was a software engineer, so he had the money to make it happen.  He seemed to have his stuff together.

Prior to visiting his abode, I didn’t know that he had roommates and lived in a Frat House.  Later, when I went to bathroom, I wondered if the toilet had ever been cleaned.  Fred’s bedroom was disappointing, too: a mattress tossed on the floor, a full-length mirror that leaned against the wall, and cardboard drawers.  I’ve seen dorm rooms with better furniture.

One of Fred’s roommates came and sat on the couch to watch the movie with us.  I hope I was wrong, but he seemed to be flirting with me.

The year was 2012, and I had to break up with Fred shortly after that visit.  I had thought that I was dating a mature adult.  Turns out, no, I was dating a boy who happened to have a really good job (and two roommates).

I’m writing this in response to an email sent to me this week:

Dear Jules,

What do you (or other girls) look for when you visit a guy’s apartment/house for the first time?  Aside from general cleanliness (duh!), are there other things that are important?  Are there “signals” that warn you about a guy’s personality?  Is it acceptable for a single, straight guy to have scented candles?  At what age should I take down my Gene Simmons poster?

(I’ve been told that my previous apartment looked “like a giant dorm room”.  Which I’m okay with.  I guess that’s my decorating style.)

Rick

Well, Rick, a futon is red flag number 1.  Futons were cool when we were in college: part couch!  Part bed!  Very cheap!  But as an adult, get a couch.  If you want it to double as a bed, get a sleeper sofa.

Posters can be chic and cool if they’re framed properly.  Posters attached to the wall with push pins or sticky tack: no.  Just, no.  If you must keep it, I suggest putting it on the wall of your closet.  Behind your clothes.  That’s where Elizabeth lets Daniel keeps his Battlestar Gallactica posters.  Daniel gets to keep his posters and Elizabeth gets to decorate the rest of the house: everyone wins.

One of the Mikes had his old Star Wars toys in his living room, next to his X-Box and other game systems.  He also had an electrical engineering lab and a terrarium.  Because of the eclectic mix, the toys were forgivable.  If he had decorated with back-to-back toys, I would have worried about him.  But knowing that he was a bachelor who appreciated his classic toy collection and kept busy doing adult things, I felt that his house was just nerd heaven.  Cool in its own way, like the owner.

Scented candles are fine.  I know more than one guy that burned incense to get rid of the bachelor smell (which usually smells like gym socks).  Go with a masculine color like burgundy (dark red) or blue.  Pink or purple might send the wrong signal; but more men are wearing those colors these days, so pick what you like.

In general, I think your living space says as much about you as your car: the old, broken down ones say that you don’t have much money.  The sleek, brand new, expensive ones say that you have a lot of money.  Dirty ones say that you don’t take care of your stuff; either you’re lazy or busy or both.  Clean ones say that you take care of yourself and you spend time caring for your things.

Artwork says a lot about the person.  If there’s no art, the person is less creative.  If there’s a lot of art, he’s very creative.  The type of art is telling, too: is it of dead bodies or flowers?  My artwork, for example, is of strawberries, bluebonnets, constellations, and rustic scenes.  My couches are royal purple leather.  Can you tell what I like?  Eating strawberries, the color purple, hiking, and stargazing.  You don’t need to be a professor of psychology to make those observations ; – )

My place has lots of books, too; there are some in almost every room.  That should tell you that I’m a scholar.  If you look at the titles, you’ll find titles from chick lit, science fiction, fantasy, religion, physics, and more.  That says that I’m well-rounded.  If it was all voodoo or murder mysteries, you might have a different opinion of me.

Pictures of my children, nieces, and nephews sit on my mantle, which is the place of honor in a home.  Family is supremely important to me.  Men in general have less pictures of family framed, so I won’t judge you too much for having less than me.  However, the day that I saw that my boyfriend had framed pictures of his daughters in the living room, was the day that I fell a little more for him.  (That’s the Costa Rica guy; he did some things right.)

Another guy had a hornets nest on his front porch, which he had watched grow for weeks.  He knew it was there and he also knew that I was coming over for dinner that night.  The fact that he didn’t spray the nest or FREAKING WARN ME said a lot about the guy: he procrastinates and won’t protect me.  (I didn’t get stung, just a little freaked out.)  He also had a half-finished back deck.  Turns out, he spent more time playing video games or out on the lake than taking care of important matters.  We didn’t date very long.  Oh, and that was another Mike, BTW.

Yet another gentleman had piles of junk mail, dust on every surface, and clean laundry in the laundry basket in his living room.  Most people shove this stuff in the closet when they have guests coming over.  He managed to clean the kitchen and that was it.  His diagnosis was severe bipolar with persistent depression (more down than up).  As previously discussed, I have friends and relatives with depression: I get it.  I do.  He was a nice guy in general, but his place was filthy.  On New Year’s, he grilled steaks on the back deck.  It was a big wooden deck with rotten wood.  I say, “rotten,” because I fell through it.  The bruises and scrapes on my hips were nasty!  Kinda put a damper on our romantic evening.

Rick, I hope that gives you a feel for the kind of things that I look for, when I visit a person’s home.  Thanks for the question.

And if you want to get rid of your old futon, just leave it in an apartment complex parking lot or in front of the dorms with a note that says, “Free, Take Me.”  Some college student or Frat House will be very grateful.

I wonder what the Professor’s house looks like.  I imagine a large library, bright colors and/or shells (he lived in Hawaii for years), and a piano (his daughter takes lessons).  I can’t imagine a dance floor with a DJ booth; just doesn’t seem like his style!

But who knows—people surprise me sometimes!

Cheers!

I’m posting this early, because I’m meeting the Professor at the Jazz Fest this afternoon.  I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow!  

Timing is Everything! Online Dating Advice Part 4

I saw this cute little duckling at lunch the other day and snapped a pic.  Isn’t he darling?!

I saw this cute little duckling at lunch the other day and snapped a pic. Isn’t he darling?!

Tick tock, tick tock!  Timing is everything!

I thought that I was done with online dating advice.  I wrote Part 1, and I had more to say, and wrote Part 2.  And I still wasn’t done!  I wrote Part 3.  Well, turns out there’s still a little more left to say.

  1. The date and time of your wink/email are recorded and reported. I recommend avoiding these activities on Friday and Saturday after 6 p.m. After 6 p.m., if you email, then the recipient knows that you’re home alone.  And looking.  You might look a little desperate.

Although, it is fun to drink and read profiles with Lilly on a Friday night.

“Oh, he’s handsome!” she’s say.

I’d answer, “But all his pics are with women and he has a beer in his hand.  Every.  Single.  One.”

Together we’d name him, “Party Boy!”

“You want another drink?” she’d ask.

  1. The reverse is true, too: you can see who viewed your profile and when. So you can find out if Hottie McHoterson looked at your profile after you or one of your drunk besties winked at him. Even if the jerk doesn’t send an email or wink back.  You’re too good for him, anyway.
  2. Safety, safety, safety. Always put your safety first. I’m not paranoid, I’m careful.  And because of that (and a lot of luck), I’ve never had to call the police.  If you just don’t get it, Read This Blog 

The Professor asked me to meet him at his house on Saturday.  He seems like a great guy and I suspect that he had to pass some kind of background check in order to teach at the university.

Still, I texted him, “I’d rather meet in a public place.  I’m not ready to see your house or meet your daughter.  I move very slowly.”

To his credit, he was very understanding.  We’re meeting at the university instead.

He still might still be a serial killer.  But if so, he’s a patient serial killer.

  1. The Rule of Three . I’ve gone back and forth on this one, since I’d rather date one person and have that one person just date me. But I gotta admit that Nadia is right: if I’m not ready to commit, I might as well go out with Guy #1 on one night and Guy #2 the next.  Guy #3 can wait until next week; but it’s fun to anticipate the date.  He may be The One, you never know.

And if not, I’ll have another story to tell!

  1. Don’t respond to his email immediately. Makes you look desperate.

Reggie disagrees.  “Respond quickly to the first email, but wait a day to respond to the second one.  I don’t like sending six emails back and forth.”

“I know!  At some point, you need to just pick up the phone!” I agreed.  “But I still think that you can wait on the first email.”

We had to agree to disagree.  It’s a BFF thing.  Just so you know, I’m right and he’s wrong : – P

  1. Likewise, never say, “I’m open any day next week.” You may, in fact, have NOTHING planned. Don’t let him know that; you’ll look desperate.  Instead, pick two days, and tell him that you’re free those nights.

Just to be clear, you may have had back-to-back dates for the past year and this was your first week off, but he doesn’t know that.  Pick 1 or 2 days and let him choose which works for him.  This makes you more desirable.

Do any of you remember Social Studies from elementary school?  Remember the law of Supply and Demand.  You limit the supply of your time, and the demand goes up.  And who would mind being more in demand?  ; – )

  1. Don’t rifle through someone else’s phone. Or drawer. Or closet.  Or…anything!  If you’re lucky enough to be let into their inner sanctum or even have their phone, unguarded, in your reach for a short period of time, earn that trust.  The last girl may have cheated on you – that wasn’t me.  Don’t make me pay for her mistakes.  Remember, the difference between emotional baggage and experience is

Timing is everything.  Take time to respond to emails, pay attention to what time you text or email other people, and make him think your time is valuable – because it is.  You’re awesome!  And he should know that.

And he will.  In time.

Cheers!

This is part of a series on Online Dating Advice.

The Professor and Julianne

Professor_and_Marianne

“We got a solid A, I think,” I said, giving the Professor the grade for our date, at his request.

“Great!  Do you want to go to the Jazz Festival on Saturday?” he asked.

I was a little surprised.  I hadn’t expected to be asked for a grade, and I really hadn’t expected to be asked for a second date while still on the first.  But the date really had gone well, so I said yes.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“The festival runs all day.  There will be some big acts on the main stages, and local acts on the other stages.  Every baton twirler and tap dancer in town gets their turn on the side stages,” he said, smiling at me.  “You can come in the afternoon and may stay into the evening?”

I agreed.  We hugged, then he kissed my cheek.  Generally speaking, I don’t like kisses on first dates, but this time, I didn’t mind.

I called Reggie on my way home and said, “I’m still alive.  He didn’t kill me—this time.”

“Well, good,” Reggie said.

I told him that we have a 2nd date scheduled for Saturday.

“Julie, that’s excellent!  You’ll get out of the house and do something fun.  What did you talk about?” Reggie asked.

“A little bit of everything: his daughter, my children, work…he asked me about my thesis and actually listened to the answer!  He tried to understand!  He asked intelligent questions about the details!” I said, somewhat shocked.  I’m earning a degree in Materials Science and Engineering.  My thesis deals with measuring strain in metal; some people would find that boring.  Ok, maybe most people would.

“Well good!  I’m glad that you had something to talk about,” Reggie said.

“We talked about more than that!  We touched on religion (we’re both protestants), ex-wives and ex-husbands (he’s a widower and divorced his preacher!), and some other topics that you’re not supposed to talk about on a first date,” I said.

“I look it as, you should be able to talk about everything,” Reggie said.  “I really liked texting Misha, because we’d have these conversations about politics…”

I cut him off.  I had to!  If I didn’t, I’d hear 15 minutes of how he and Misha would text all the time and talk about controversial topics.  She thought that he was different from all the other guys that she had dated, because he had a brain.  She was an ex-model and had dated some real losers, from what I’ve heard.

I said, “Reggie, I know.  The Professor looked just like his pictures, too.”

“That’s how it should be,” Reggie said cheerfully.  “I’m glad you had fun. You were beginning to take dating too seriously.”

I laughed.  “I took you up on the Baseball Challenge, didn’t I?!  I really am trying to have fun with it.  I’ve just BORED more than anything else.  Oh oh, guess what?  Mr. Brown Eyes emailed me!”

“Which one is he?” Reggie asked.

The guy at work, the one that’s leaving.  I asked him to lunch with the group again, and he sent me an email saying that he has a work meeting.  He typed a smiley face emoticon and said that he owes me a lunch or two before he goes.  So, I went for it!  I told him that he owes me dinner and drinks,” I said, so excited that I was bouncing up and down while I talked.

Reggie laughed a little.  He’s used to my over-excitement over the small stuff.  “Feeling less bored?” he asked me.

“YES!” I answered.

Cheers!

Tune in tomorrow for more dating advice.  Oh, yes, there’s more!  Saturday night I’ll let you know how it went with the Prof. 

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

2008: Sally and Jules in her Round Rock Express hat (minor league baseball)

2008: Sally and Jules in her Round Rock Express hat (minor league baseball)

“Ask a guy to go to the game.  If they say yes, great.  Go, have a good time.  If you don’t like the guy, at least you’ll enjoy the game,” Reggie said.

I groaned and rolled my eyes.  I had an internal temper tantrum, one of those I-don’t-wanna sort of things.  Then I said, “You make it sound so easy!  You want me to just ask a random stranger on Match to go to the game with me.”

“Yes.  Look, you want to go to the game, right?  You don’t want to go alone, right?  So ask somebody that you’re interested in.  Might as well.  It’s better than an email asking about the weather,” Reggie said.

My company (that I love and adore) offers employees free tickets to the Frisco Roughriders.  While this is a local minor league team, it’s in a great venue.  Plus, I enjoy the games: the crack of the ball hitting the bat, the chicken dance, cotton candy…it’s fun!

So, I accepted Reggie’s suggestion, which I have dubbed The Baseball Challenge.  I signed up for tickets to the May 15th game, which was the first available weekend day.  I’ll get 6 tickets and free parking.  Allie Apple and her boyfriend are going with me, so if I can’t find a date, I won’t be alone.  I asked Rick Raspberries and his girlfriend, but they have family coming in that weekend.  Some other friends are busy, too, so the search continues for another couple.  If all else fails, I can borrow a niece and a nephew.  I’m a planner; I have a Plan A (get a date), Plan B (invite friends), and Plan C (borrow some kids).  If I’m going, I’m not going alone.

For the record, Jack and Ed turned me down.  Ed will watch boxing or MMA.  Jack will play Dance, Dance, Revolution (he’s a dancing fool!).  That’s the extent of the sports around my house.

Operation Get-a-Date

First, I spent 30 minutes reviewing guys on Match and emailing the ones that I liked.  I sent about 10 emails.  One wrote me back.  Turns out, he lives over an hour away.  Whoops, missed that detail.

Second, I responded to two guys that had written to me.  Normally, I would have told them, “No thanks,” but I decided to give them a chance.

Bachelor Number One is a university professor who teaches psychology.  He enjoys triathalons, kayaking, and good conversations.

“Sounds great!” Reggie said.

“He’s 52 years old!” I answered.  “A 12 year age difference is a bit much.  Plus, he has Dunlap Disease.  His belly done lap over his belt!”

“Just give him a chance.  Go for the slow fat ones, because you don’t have a chance of catching the thin fast ones,” Reggie advised.

Bachelor Number Two has a nice smile, is the proud father of two young children, and types complete sentences.  I’m a bit concerned that all of his pictures are from the chest up and in most, his kids are in front of him.  Meaning, he may be a butterball.  I’m sorry, not sorry, but I take good care of myself, and I want to be with someone who takes care of himself.  And someone who will go hiking with me.

“You don’t have to marry the guy, just go out with him.  Who knows?  You might hit it off as friends,” Reggie said.

Reggie is trying to get me out of the house.  Ok, two can play that game!  Batter up!  “Let’s go hiking,” I said, via text this time.  “We can meet halfway, in Waco, and go on a trail there.  That’s about an hour and half driving for both of us.”

“Sure,” Reggie texted back.

YAY!  I get to see my BFF AND I get to enjoy my favorite hobby!  “Which weekend is good for you?” I typed.

“Not this weekend, I’m going to see Sam,” he replied.  Strike One!

“Ok, so when?” I asked.  Have I mentioned that I’m a planner?

“TBD,” Reggie texted, meaning, “To be determined.”  Strike Two!  Damn it, I hate dealing with non-planners!

“I can’t even get a date with my BFF!” I texted.

He didn’t respond.  Strike Three!  And You’re OUT!

Ok, back to Operation Get-a-Date.  Cute Guy up at work (Mr. Brown Eyes, not Mr. Blue Eyes) is leaving my company for another job, so he’s fair game.  Yay!  Although, I invited him to lunch with the group twice, and he was busy both times.  He let me know that he really wish that he could have gone.  Then he winked at me in the hall.  Is there hope?  I sent him a bold email, “I know you’re busy wrapping things up, but you still owe me lunch : – )  I’m important, too!”

I didn’t get an answer.  I may have pushed my luck.  Or maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for the right day to invite me out.  Hey, I’m an optimist!  It could happen!

So The Baseball Challenge continues!  I have a date with the Professor tomorrow night; we’re going to meet for a glass of wine.  We’ll see if he lasts long enough to go to the May 15th game.  Until the game gets closer, I’m going to play the field.

Wish me luck!  Cheers!