I'm an ass

I had completely written off S, previously of e-mail fame, after not hearing from him for over a week. I considered contacting him, but decided I wasn't interested enough to make the effort for someone not that into me.

So I was surprised to get an e-mail from him today, after not hearing from him for over 2 weeks. He apologized for falling off the grid. He's been in Costa Rica caring for his sick grandmother.

I'm an ass. Maybe this is why people don't date me.

dating updates

Well the post-first-date-e-mail was the highlight of that dating escapade. We had fun e-mail banter all week and made plans for a second date of drinks at a wine bar the following Monday. Here's the problem with 7PM drinks - no dinner. So this guy either needs to buy me dinner or I need to start packing a granola bar. We both agreed we were more nervous on the 2nd date - there are more expectations. And nervous equals drinking too fast, so I had had about 3 glasses of wine by 9. It was lots of fun, and I was excited for our next date.

I had bought tickets to Ricky Gervais on Wednesday, so we planned a third date at the beginning of the evening. And it was nice; it was fine. And I haven't heard from him since.

Here's the problem with dating - I'm pretty sure it activates the same part of the brain as psychosis. I had like a 24hr crazy - like a 24hr flu, except that I consumed calories rather than expunged them. I don't even think it was about him - in fact I'm 99% sure it wasn't. It's just that the possibility of a boy liking me transforms me into an insecure, hysterical 17-year-old. When the crazy passes and I calm down, I can step back and think about whether or not I'm actually attracted to the guy or just reacting to whether or not I think they're attracted to me.

Moving on. I had made tentative date plans with D on Sunday night but didn't hear back from him. You may remember Spanky from a few weeks back - well he resurfaced with a text Saturday night saying "we should plan something for the weekend." Um, not sure what you're definition of "weekend" is, but it's 10:30 Saturday, so in my book that ship has sailed.

All hope is not lost. Over the weekend I made plans to go bowling on with A. On Monday we set a time for Tuesday, and I said that I just needed to set several reminders to bring or wear socks. Yesterday I woke up to an e-mail: "Amy, did you remember to bring or wear socks?" Very sweet.

Yesterday was a gross, rainy, windy, miserable day, and The Gutter is in a very industrial part of Brooklyn, so as my umbrella flipped inside out and my hair stuck to my lip gloss I was wondering if I was really going to a bowling alley or was going to end up dead in a gutter between two warehouses.

Not gonna lie, initially a little disappointed. We got our shoes and paid (separately) and walked over to the lanes (with no alcohol!). My inner monologue went something like this: "I'm in Williamsburg, on a Tuesday, wearing plaid, bowling, with an online date, and I'm sober. How the f*ck did I end up here?"

Despite my deep-seated cynicism, however, I had fun. He bought a pitcher of beer in between strings, so that helped. The date ended with a friendly peck on the cheek and a "maybe we'll do this again sometime?"

Will someone please buy me dinner?!?!

Awww

So maybe I should stop being such a cynical bitch. I went on the date Monday night and [gasp!] had fun.

And apparently so did he, because yesterday I got this e-mail:

here are the reasons why i think you should go out with me again (funny how closely the below list is a rundown of your dream date as per your online profile)
1. I am wildly racist, an elitist classist, and a misogynist
2. When I touched you I caused "searing pain"
3. I didn't call you out for being self-deprecating when I complimented you
4. I am "really really ridiculously good looking"
5. When you're out with me I respect your need for privacy by making you spend a lot of time by yourself because I have the bladder of a pregnant woman
6. I don't know how to "be cool" and despite having watched swingers many times, I'm writing you the next day.
7. I brought a book to the bar, even though i don't know how to read, to show how cultured i am and you clearly like me cause you didn't mention that Iwas holding it upside-down
8. I'm willing to go down to south brooklyn to make you avoid having to take six trains (including the mysterious H train)

and

9. I had a really good time with you last night.

slainte,
S

ugh

My date for tonight just texted to confirm time and location, and wrote this:

I'll be the guy with the overzealous haircut, wearing jeans and a grey tshirt possibly a black jacket (depending on the temperature) reading Trumane Capote at the bar.

I'm preemptively annoyed.

Ugh. I hate when guys are reading something self-consciously "intellectual". Don't get me wrong, I like 'em literate, but this doesn't bode well. When I went on my very first internet date, Guy #1 was carrying a worn paperback edition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It should have been a red flag, but I was a dating novice and didn't know the signs.

I texted back that I was intrigued by a haircut described as "overzealous," described what I was wearing, and asked if he's really reading Capote or if it's just an intellectual prop.

He hasn't responded.

When a problem comes along, you must stitch it

Stitch it good! That's my new approach to everything. Since being introduced to embroidery, I've become slightly obsessed. I've bought lots of different patterns and 3 of Jenny Hart's books. I'm constantly on the look out for new textiles to embroider. So far I've been sticking to kitchen linens - tea towels, napkins, etc. I recently completed this set with Om Sweet Om patterns for a friend.

And am looking forward to surprising someone with a long overdue birthday gift of summery cocktail napkins.

I went a little Lilly Pulitzer with the color palette - it makes me think of sipping a spiked lemonade on the Cape.

But I feared I was becoming a one trick pony and decided to branch out into clothing. I bought tee shirt stabilizer a few weeks bag, and Friday I picked up a plain top at Old Navy.

Beer + Tacos* + Criminal Minds + Embroidery (alone on the couch on a Friday night) = Sad -or- Awesome? I'll let you decide.

I started with a plain, teal blue tee, and I added some minor embellishments. The bird cage is on the back of the shirt in the middle at the top. The birds are on the bottom left.

Stitching on the tee shirt was harder than I had anticipated. It was cheap cotton - I think the shirt cost like $4 - so a better cotton might have been easier to work with, but I wanted to practice on cheap stuff. I wasn't thrilled, and think for now I'll stick with kitchen towels.

But I had one project left for the weekend. I'm back in occupational therapy for my right hand/wrist/arm/shoulder. I started having a lot of pain again. I now sleep with a splint that immobilizes my arm from just below my shoulder to my fingers. It kinda sucks, but I see lots of people when I'm at therapy who've had breaks and surgeries and wear all sorts of contraptions, so as far as that goes, I feel fortunate to just have the night time splint. For the day time, however, I have a sweet, sweet elbow pad. Yup, that's right, an elbow pad. Like it's 1996, and I'm roller blading. It's purpose is twofold: 1) it reminds me to be careful of my elbow, and 2) it provides a little extra protection for the nerve. When the therapist first gave it to me I mumbled, "Oh this is going to do wonders for my dating life." She looked at me with all seriousness and said,"Please, please, do not wear this on a date." I said if I could have two I'd stick them in my shirt and prop the girls up.

Anywhoodle, I decided to jazz up my elbow pad a little.

I'm still debating what to write across the heart. I was thinking "your mom" would be funny but am open to suggestions. I've got plans for a whole line called "Bad Ass Orthopedics" that will offer a full range of bedazzled knee braces and skull and cross bone wheel chair pads. I could open boutiques in rehab clinics and assisted living centers across the country!

*Yes, I took a picture of my tacos. I thought they looked pretty.