watching expired appliances align

I've reached the point in the summer where I'm ready to go back to the world of online dating. Did you know I'd taken a bit of a pause? Well, I had. A few months ago I woke up with the thought "I must delete all of my online dating profiles." That morning I did.

Now I want to go on dates again. I like to think I can construct a fairly good set of answers for the written parts of various profiles. It's the accompanying photographs that worry me. Is the photo I'm using too old? Does it show off my best side? Is this photo too tricky and good at hiding my bad sides? How can I present a single photo (or a 2nd and 3rd photo) that gives someone the sense of who I am and what they'll see when they meet me? As someone who is using his fourth digital camera you think I'd be adept at this. Now that I've survived a few years in my 30's I'm starting to doubt myself.

Take a look at the photos below and tell me which ones I should use and your thoughts on them. Should I photoshop any of them? Should I discard all of them and start anew? Do you have a photo or two of me that would be perfect and help fill my email inbox with plenty of "winks" and "nudges"?

The photo below was taken two years ago. It's a photo I've used previously in dating profiles. I worry about the age of the photo, but I like the smile (but not the tiny cut on my hand).

This shot was taken this past 4th of July. My hair is a little faux-hawky (I'd just woken up). I'm wearing my glasses and eating popcorn. I'm not sure if that's the image I want to present. I kind of like to think it says "wholesome."

From early July, this photo says "laid back good times person." I mean, when did I start unbuttoning my shirts that much? I don't like that the hair of my beard is so short. And I couldn't quite figure out the right gesture with my left hand. And I don't actually like catsup, so I could be misrepresenting myself with this one.

Hey, remember last spring and summer when I grew a giant beard? Wasn't that funny? Should I throw this photo into the mix, knowing it'll prompt the inevitable "do you still have that beard" query? If you like reading between the lines and you know NY, it kind of says "I know hamburgers."

Your comments are appreciated.

Posted by Marc at 07:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

i think it's time for the conclusion of this afternoon diversion. i will end things letting you know that i finally received an email this afternoon. the subject line?

"Great deals on kitchen cabinet refacing!"

Posted by Marc at 04:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

i thought there would be something positive to report by this hour. alas, my email inbox is still set to empty. my mind begins to drift to baseball.

and moisturizer. the backs of my hands are a little crackly.

Posted by Marc at 03:44 PM | Permalink

the best part about "dating offensive 2005" is that i'm not going to be in town this weekend, or even thursday night. i must've convinced myself it would be okay to try dating on the internet again because i wouldn't actually be able to set up any dates.

Posted by Marc at 12:58 PM | Permalink

my inbox remains empty. i was certain that after making my dating wishes public, the responses to my responses would come pouring in. it seems by making a semi-joke out of the whole thing, i have destroyed whatever positive dating karma i may have.

these thirty minutes of waiting for some sort of notification by a potential mate have left me a shrunken man, no longer filled with hope. it's times like these when i think back to a lesson learned sometime during high school. or maybe late middle school. i think it was 8th grade, but i'm not certain.

imagine it's 1988 (or 1989) and i gather with a bunch of other kids outside the middle school early on saturday morning. we're loaded onto the typical bright yellow school bus and shipped thirty minutes to an indoor recreation center one county over. students from across the region are there. we are there to learn things about peer pressure and leadership. i'm sure someone received a grant. a lot of it probably went to photocopying costs, as i recall receiving a folder or a binder while there.

i only have two distinct memories from this day (other than the general feeling of hating it and feeling like i was wasting my time).

everyone was divided into groups and sent to different seminars. one of the ones i went to was lead by a police officer who had a huge table of bongs and pipes set up in the front of the classroom. i don't remember my specific reaction but i think it went something along the lines of "huh."

my other memory, from later in the day, involves a presentation to the whole group by a speaker who talked to us with some sort of straight-talk, up with people vibe. but he also reminded us who we should not be. he equated his little slogan with the car company, BMW. "you don't want to be a bitcher, moaner or whiner." i couldn't disagree, buried within my psyche - the part i tried to hide from my wannabe' tough exterior of the time - was the notion that i believe in the power of positive thinking. and that acronym, memory reminder, what-have-you stuck with me.

so, today, no more complaining about not having any responses to my email dating solicitations.

ohh, what am i saying? there's more to come! whining when done in a public forum is so much fun!!!

Posted by Marc at 12:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

this was written ten minutes ago with the title WRITE BACK! WRITE BACK! I BEG YOU!:

part two of my "dating offensive 2005" involves waiting for the responses from the three people i contacted on nerve. i sent them messages last night - before midgnight, even! it's been almost twelve hours. i certainly expected to see some sort of "hey, thanks for writing" message by now. obviously, i'm compulsively checking the email account that's linked to nerve's online dating profiles. i won't be logging on to nerve during work; i just want to know there is a message waiting for me.

the thing that didn't occur to me until now is that i only sent out THREE messages. that's hardly anything worth describing as a "dating offensive." it's more like a friendly re-introduction to the online dating world. one that i meant to take much more seriously than i am. but right now i am dating gung-ho (or so i'm telling myself). you know how writers sometimes tell themselves they need to write at least two pages per day in order to finish their books? maybe i should convince myself to contact three potential mates per day. ahh, there's nothing quite as exciting as treating the quest for love like a job!

and, lets continue being honest, "dating offensive 2005" started unsuccessfully in march. i had one good weekend that looked promising. it turned into nothing, except for a phone call that i promptly blew off. "i wasn't ready!" i now exclaim to anyone who will listen. yet, i see this woman's email address written on a post-it note on my desk every morning when i grab my keys and wallet and head off to work. i should contact her. what's the time limit? is it okay that it's been over a month since we talked on the phone? she didn't seem too receptive on the phone, but maybe my charming email skills will work in my favor?

and that leads to why i really need to prepare myself for "dating offensive 2005." i need to go back to dating/wooing boot camp. is HITCH out on DVD yet? i can't write a good, flirty email to save my life anymore. it used to be a skill i thought i possessed. that was a lie. or, i have lost the skill.

this is a start. admitting everything. getting it out in the open.

now i just need to save this, return to it three hours from now and try to figure out how to make it funny instead of sad.

Posted by Marc at 11:41 AM | Permalink

the following was written last night around 12:06am. the subject line was EXHAUSTED:

i just created a new nerve.com profile. and then sent out messages to people who have been on my hotlist for a day or three. now i know why i don't actively keep up with the internet dating - doing so is tough and take a lot of work.

Posted by Marc at 11:40 AM | Permalink

As you may or may not know, I have once again decided to re-enter the world of online dating. This is a phase I go through every six months or so. I'm reporting on this after I�ve managed one date. With someone from Nerve.com. It was good. Pleasant, really. Some drinks. Some conversation. We tried sitting at the tabletop Ms. Pac-Man videogame at Moe's but that didn't work out. The slanted tabletop was bothering me and the flashing lights were distracting her. There won't be a second date, but it was good to know that I�m still capable of leaving the house for something other than the trip to the office.

In this attack on online dating, I�m approaching the situation from all available angles. My profile on Nerve has been updated. My Friendster profile is current. And I still log into Lavalife with the hope that I�ll find someone worth dating who still uses that service. Lavalife seems like it�s only a hopping area when the company blankets the subways with advertisements. For now I�m going to stay away from eHarmony, but if I turn 35 and I�m still writing these semi-regular updates about my dating life, please remind me that another option exists.

Last night I wasn�t feeling the �write a creative email to a stranger� vibe so I opted to stay away from all activities that involved more than just scanning profiles and adding them to my �hotlist� of potential dates to contact at some point. Most of my effort was concentrated on Friendster � it�s remarkable how many people still maintain profiles and log into the service, even though it was the hot thing for a few months back in 2003. One of the first sections of a profile I always inspect is the list of favorite TV shows. It�s no secret that watching TV is my life. And, believe it or not, I�m interested in sharing this part of my life with others. During the date last week I mentioned that if I could rent myself out as a TV-watching buddy, I would. I�m almost certain people would pay money to watch TV with me. I�m that good at watching TV.

The TV watching type one encounters most frequently on Friendster and Nerve? The person who doesn�t watch much television but loves THE SIMPSONS and THE DAILY SHOW. Or maybe just THE DAILY SHOW. I�m tempted to write in my profile that while I sometimes watch both of these programs, I wouldn�t ever think of putting them in my top ten. I just don�t get that much out of them. I like that they�re out there. I laugh when they�re funny (and there are usually a few good chuckles during every episode) but I can�t consider these two shows the be all and end all of television. There is more out there. I want trashier fun. I want a hint of drama. I want a person I go out on a date with to argue about why she loves some not-so-great reality show. It�s also possible that I�m intimidated by people who can quote from THE SIMPSONS. Remembering film and television dialogue is a skill I�ve never possessed or tried to master.

Last night while scanning profiles on Friendster I found the profile of a person who listed �Christmas Specials� as one of her favorite types of programming. Although I wasn�t in the mood for the mental challenge of composing a flirty, yet reserved and knowing email, I did feel it would be a good idea to email this woman and alert her to an upcoming special on Trio � a Christmas special about Christmas specials. I�d seen a commercial for it earlier in the day and figured that if she had cable, this would definitely be something she�d want to watch. I checked out the Trio website but didn�t see a press release for it. After scanning the upcoming schedule I realized that it�s not airing until two weeks from today (if memory serves correctly). I sent a general email noting this and wished her the best. To me, this is the kind of Friendster message I�d love to get from a stranger. Helpful, and not at all annoying. I not so secretly want her to write back, thanking me. I hope that her email contains a few other paragraphs and gets us started on the sort of correspondence that leads to a date. I may be hoping for too much, but I feel like I provided a service and that she�ll appreciate that. Doing so made me feel good. And that�s what online dating is all about, right?

Posted by Marc at 03:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

(The following anecdote is a bit more personal than the things I normally write. I�m not saying it�s a salacious tale, but I do use the phase "dry humping." Consider yourself warned.)

The one good story I have about weird make-out sessions is one I usually forget about until someone brings it up. We'll be out at a bar and somebody will say something about crazy making out. Or strange making out circumstances. Or going to the beach or whatever. And then someone will ask me to tell the new person at the table or the bar about "bathing suit girl."

When she comes up, I roll my eyes and smile. I got myself into an odd situation with bathing suit girl. A situation I didn't know how to handle (okay, okay, that's not too odd, but still!).

Sometime back in 1999, while my roommate and his then-girlfriend were on vacation, I called the girlfriend's roommate and asked her to join me at the bar. She agreed and after two or three drinks the flirting got a little heavier. Somehow Feng Shui came up. I wanted to make out, so I just went with the punches. I�ll admit to a curiosity about Feng Shui, but I wasn't "into it, into it." After another drink or two we walked back to my place. After having a glass of water, I should've kissed her. But I didn't. I was awkward and nervous.

And then I brought up the Feng Shui again. And I insisted we go to her apartment so that I could see how she was organizing her room based on the principles of Feng Shui. (see, I'm totally neurotic and need to be hit over the head with the info that the woman I'm talking to likes me)

So, we call a car service and go over to her place. I sit on her bed. She pulls out a Feng Shui (do I have to keep typing this phrase over and over? It's so 1997) book. I flip through a few pages and I finally kiss her. It's one of those dry, we've had too much to drink kisses. I don't stop. There's some more making out. Nothing too heavy. The book must�ve crashed to the ground, though.

The making out and the kissing and the dry humping go on for another thirty minutes or so. And the dry humping is really picking up. And she's really into it. Too into it. That was pretty weird. I'm all for the fun of dry humping, but it shouldn't get out of control like crazy sex gets out of control, you know? Anyway after a few more liplocks, I nervously get up the courage to stop pawing her breasts over her clothes. I'm anxious to feel the warmth of her skin. And my excitement is going to diminish if I have to keep grinding against her pants. Yikes, that whole experience still brings memories of pain.

Anyway, I manage to untuck her shirt and, as I'm on top of her, I let my right hand feel her back...and my hand isn't coming into contact with her skin. There was probably a pause in my kissing. I don�t think she noticed, as she didn�t stop to explain anything. My hand continued to explore her lower back (not her ass, I swear � her lower back, for real) and it�s this smooth texture that I don�t know how to describe. My slightly inebriated brain certainly didn�t know how to process what I was feeling. The kissing and the dry humping continued. I tried to play it cool. I tried to act like I expect this thing to happen all the time.

And then I felt the back of her bra. What the hell kind of undershirt did she have on here? Wait. Maybe I didn�t feel her bra. Fuck. I don�t remember. Anyway, my hand did reach toward her ass � and that same slidey-like texture was still there. I wondered if she was wearing some kind of corset? She wasn�t overweight! She didn�t need a corset. We just went out for drinks � what was she doing wearing a corset? Was this some sort of "slimming" undergarment she�d ordered from the television late one night? And now that I think about, she was wearing a bra � THAT was the weirdest thing. I just can�t remember it if was under this odd feeling garment or on top of it.

Finally my curiosity got the best of me. After ten minutes I had to stop the kissing and just ask what she was wearing! And she was wearing a bathing suit. I was stunned. Why the hell was she wearing a bathing suit? It made no sense at all. None. Then she explained that she didn�t have any clean underwear that morning. And that sometimes, growing up in Hawaii when she didn�t have any clean underwear, she�d just wear a bathing suit. My mind was officially blown, especially when she explained that she�d done laundry that afternoon. We made out some more. She didn�t offer to remove her one piece bathing suit. I did mention it was a one piece, didn�t I?

When you�re making out, there is no sexy way to get a woman out of a one piece bathing suit. Maybe there is. I wasn�t on the swim team in high school so I don�t really know. If anyone has any hints, keep them to yourself. There�s no need to share those hints. If I ever end up unexpectedly making out with a woman who is wearing a one piece beneath her street clothes I will totally lose it and be in no state to continue with the making out.

I spent the night at her place. I�m sure there was more dry humping. All of this took place on a low-to-the-ground futon. She got up the next morning, changed out the bathing suit (finally!) � and went jogging! I hung around sleeping and we went to see "Go" that afternoon. I don�t think I showered. Oh, and the frustration � because, of course, there was no sober making out the next morning. My god, I was sore. To this day I cannot explain why I was still hanging out with her that Sunday afternoon. I guess I really wanted to see the movie. She offered to make me soup for dinner. I guess she felt bad that popcorn was the only thing I'd eaten all day. But soup? That made no sense. Actually, the idea of having anyone make food for me makes me uncomfortable. Her suggestion of spending even more time hanging out was the last straw. That was too weird. I went home after the movie and never made out with her again.

A few months later she called me from San Francisco. A friend of hers was thinking of opening a movie theatre in Hawaii and wanted some advice. I tried to share my very limited knowledge, while writing a note to my roommate saying I was on the phone with "bathing suit girl." If that theater ever opened, I hope it was designed following principles of Feng Shui.

Posted by Marc at 04:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

the following is something i wrote on august 18th, 2003:

there's something delightful about returning home from the gym and taking a quick shower. i like the way it helps me put my thoughts from the day into perspective. the physical exhaustion of the gym empties my brain. the steam and hot water of the shower helps expand and rearrange those elements of the day into a more cohesive order.

well, maybe not. basically all the shower i just took did was remind me to comment on a few things, especially the nature of dating. and i'm not sure what it is that i want to say about dating. while scrubbing my elbows it occurred to me that dating is not like a business relationship, even though that's maybe how i sometimes treat it. ie, with the person i'm currently dating - we met on lavalife. our profiles were on full display. that's like some sort of business prospectus, right? and now that we're a few weeks into the relationship, it feels like time to flesh out that relationship a little more...like i've sent a deal memo, but we're still figuring out the language of the final contract. but i'm not sure what's expected of me in this relationship. and that's why i think i have the urge to put it down in bullet point format, even though that's so not the right thing to do.

sample bullet points include (but are not limited to):

-i will send you one long, rambling email each day (not to include weekends or days when the power goes out)
-i will see you in person twice per week (these meetings can include other people, or it can just be the two of us)
-i will try to be as funny as possible whenever we're just sitting around, and you will be expected to laugh at my old man humor
-if i see you online, i will IM you within five minutes, but due to nervousness of not knowing what to say, you can't get mad at me if i log off thirty minutes later
-i will send you my random thoughts during the day (the random thoughts that i don't consider deep enough or rich enough or funny enough to expand into full-blown blog entries, thus sharing them with all of my friends)

so, yeah, that's the start of this ridiculous deal memo i'm drawing up in my head. i know a conversation seems to be on the horizon again, but i feel like i just had one of those a few weeks ago. and i wasn't sure what to say. i get nervous. and i don't know what's next. and i don't even know how i feel.

Posted by Marc at 01:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

i went to virginia this past weekend. i spent my saturday morning visiting various yard sales in town (some urge to find cool stuff like on the show "second hand stories"). i bought a 3 inch square picture frame for fifty cents. i saw one yard sale where every item was halloween related (i think the proprietor purchased the excess inventory from a party store). because i woke at 7:30am to visit the yard sales, i had to take a nap saturday afternoon.

no online dating this past weekend. but i think i'm almost ready for another round of the drug. here's a tale published on the black table last week about online dating in boston.

Posted by Marc at 01:03 PM | Permalink

i still have little interest in dating. did i ever explain this here? i don't think i did. but. BUT. if i were to be interested in dating. and i didn't feel like using the internet (honestly, the only way i know how to date - especially since none of my friends have thrown a good party recently!), i would try taking a continuing ed class. according to neille "continuing ed classes are a goldmine of cute girls." an excellent scoop worth remembering.

Posted by Marc at 04:38 PM | Permalink

dan and i had some sort of conversation thirty minutes ago while at o'connor's about cigarettes and my leaving them in the hands of an attractive woman. i declined on the grounds that i have no interest in dating a smoker. i had four cigarettes this evening and hated each of them (but none more than the first). i'm re-quitting. i'm sure everyone is quite familiar with how that goes. but this time i'm committed to the whole concept. i really don't like smoking. the grossness hit me as i took that first drag. i went five days without a cigarette and it was painful. now i'm ready to quit and i expect it to be complex and difficult. but i'm ready to face those complex and difficult times.

but why, oh why, do i have to keep listening to elvis costello?

Posted by Marc at 01:50 AM | Permalink

I hate having a crush that just won�t go away. It�s freakin� silly. There�s no explanation for it. And I�m not even sure when it started or what it�s about. And this silly crush is on someone I don�t even know. That�s the worst part. There�s just something about her that I find captivating in a quiet, look at me kind of way. And I want to share in whatever�s going on with her. Of course, it�s always easy to get a crush on someone you don�t know. And lately these crushes have been frighteningly similar. I�m not suggesting that I have a new crush every week. That�s certainly not possible. It�s been a good eight or ten months since I�ve had one of these unhealthy sorts of crushes. Now I�m rambling and not really saying anything. Perhaps it�s time I return to blogging about human/computer interaction or about that time in high school when I started crying in Latin class.

Posted by Marc at 02:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

during my late teens i dreamed of owning a panasonic ag-1960 s-vhs vcr. to me, it seemed like the ultimate status symbol. i looked in vain on the internet for a photo of this item and couldn't find one. i'm older now and only think about this piece of video equipment once every 6 months or so.

by the way, last night's date for drinks actually went fine. conversation flowed and no overly embarassing things were said or done. in another five months i should be ready to give the nerve.com dating scene one more attempt. i'll try for my third meeting in a bar. i've pretty much decided it won't work out. after that, i will force myself to be more creative with these pre-planned activities.

Posted by Marc at 03:36 PM | Permalink

some notes cribbed from things wriitten while on the subway. written on the back and sides of some issue of the new york press picked up while on houston street. and after i got a few slices of pizza.

fuck those people and the rest of the damn critics. i can't even write. forgetting those damn apostrophes, and commas and damn shitty periods. saying 'fuck all' to the letters when i put pen to paper. who needs the damn spacebar when a piece of pizza crust flung at a paper plate is all i have to show for this night? sitting across from me also smoking camel lights, she and i talked transformers and high school. WHY DID SHE HAVE TWO PACKS? shouldn't the first pack have been disccared, crushed and tossed away with the rubbish? good night kiss? HA! Not going to happen as I'm too drunk to carry on a conversation. A conversation about WHAT? Videogames?

That subway car that carries all the trash is right in front of me.

I just want to get home. Yet I'm longing to look at her flowing red locks but to do so...she pulled them into a tight bun by the end of the night. things were going well until i went for that last drink. the music from the bar had gotten too loud. i made some silly 'move.' no longer sitting across from her. In order to hear her better, i swear! more than longing to touch her thighs. DATE OVER.

Why, oh why, did I mention the half beard? thoughts of throwing contacts into trash, ridding my eys of this embarassing niht and my hideous night. i just want one more amazing kis. that's all. too much to ask?

i talked too much. [deleted] so into the moment. less than drunk. more than high. fuck. it is the local traing.

no one here says "doors closing" like they do in d.c.

i can't keep my pants up. and i mean that in a the way that i can't keep them from falling lower than my waist.

nerve.com. fuck.

Posted by Marc at 11:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

the bar is good. very good. started out slow. picked up. didn't matter. people. quick walk home, brisk even. i like being able to type fast. i'm so happy i took a typing class in high school. i imagine i'd be able to type fast if i hadn't but i never would have had the experience of making pictures with typed symbols. geez, holidays.

Posted by Marc at 02:07 AM | Permalink

Whew. Cary Tennis of Salon.com sure is testy today. And I like that about him. Sometime during the past six months, I shifted favorite* advice columnists. I was (and still am) oddly fascinated by Carolyn Hax, but she's become a bit dull for my tastes. Cary Tennis has done a great job filling the job of weekly advice columnist. His advice seems generally on target and real. And he manages to be funny.

*not counting Dan Savage

Posted by Marc at 11:32 AM | Permalink

i guess a few years ago they were calling them "disconnects." when your brain and body and brain don't all synch up. i think that's what's going on with me right now. it's so totally frustrating.

i filled out a different nerve.com personal ad the other day. i made it totally lame. and then wrote to four people. no one responded. i tried to be funny but i guess it just came out lame.

and right now i'm not sure what i want to be doing. i'm not feeling creative. i so wish ... ergh. it's so frustrating.

sort of updating my website. there are lots of changes and minor things to fix. i'm trying to make it more comprehensive. maybe i'm just lame. and i want a new digital camera. maybe if i put up a wish list. there's going to be a fundraiser soon. it will have something to do with moustaches.

i love everyone.

Posted by Marc at 01:05 AM | Permalink

yes. i'm single. and well aware that i'm single. so i've made a move. a step. more like a baby step. okay, okay. hardly a "step" at all. more like just poking a few keys. i haven't had to get up from the computer. the television is still tuned to channel 105 - techTV. i want to be a geek, but i just don't have the goods. i'm so not good at being a geek. i should have spent time in high school learning to program instead of reading comic books.

anyway. i made a step.

i used the credit card. ...sounds like porn, doesn't it? it's not. it may turn out to be scarier and more nerve wracking.

two weeks ago i signed up for a nerve.com personals ad. i threw up a photo and wrote a few things about myself. looked at some other personal ads - there were lots of attractive women. but, the rub? it costs money to send notes to those beautiful women. and last night i made that leap (a leap now? more than a step? a full blown leap!). i bought a few credits. i've decided to open up some communications with local women who can type. i'm ready for a bit of dating. a night or two of going out.

will my plan succeed? will marc find a date? will he write more than one message to a woman who seems to be interested in friendship/dating/more? dare i become that 60's tv show and say "tune in next week?"

Posted by Marc at 12:40 AM | Permalink

I've had a cold. Or the flu. Word on the street is that I have an obsession with breasts. Those thoughts are not related. I have no twisted fetish that involves sneezing into a woman's heaving chest.

So I'm still single. And I'm willing to admit that I wouldn't mind being in the not single category. Or even the dating category. And those things don't mean that I'd necessarily get to touch breasts, but I think I'd be closer to being able to do so. I'm not obsessed with breasts. I don't walk around the streets of New York thinking "check out her rack." That's just not the way I think.

The one time I really let myself go and stared at a woman on a street corner was a few years ago. Did I already tell this story? It was a rainy afternoon and I saw an amazing looking woman waiting to hail a cab. Somehow I convinced myself that it was okay to stare as I approached her (and that corner). I was going to take a left when I got to that corner. I was about thirty feet from her and I let my draw drop, trying to do my best "I'm a guy and I think you're HOT" look. Again, I have no idea why I let myself do this. About ten feet from her, I still had that goofy look on my face. Of course, she turned around. My neurons fired. My expression changed instantly. I hid my eyes and took the turn as quickly as I could. I'd been staring at Heather Graham. Does she have nice breasts?

Posted by Marc at 12:40 AM | Permalink

it was the spring of '93. she pressured me into signing up for email from the university. i was a subscriber to wired, yet i was still slow in signing up for email. my life made no sense during those years.

we'd met during the summer of '91 and she was always smiling. getting in front of my video camera. we were at camp. things could have happened. they didn't. we lost touch. exchanged holiday greetings and before i knew it i was visiting a friend for the weekend. only, i wasn't hanging out with my guy friend from high school, i was spending my time in her dorm room. fumbling around on her bed. and i do mean fumbling. it started like all those make out sessions start: with us looking through her photo album. when i was in college that was my prime 'move'. looking through a photo album. i can't imagine anything more lame. but it lets you sit next to the person. like i said, "fumbling."

during the month of february there was talk of cameron crowe's movie, "singles." she and her friends claimed she looked like one of the actresses. i saw the movie twice the weekend it played on my campus.

a few phone calls and posted letters were exchanged.

i signed up for email. hadn't seen her in two months? one of my first ten real email messages was from her talking about being in history class and thinking that she shouldn't be leading me on. things were over between us. fine. i said. i could deal with that. but hadn't i signed up for email so i could communicate with her more frequently? i didn't even know what she and i had. and i certainly was glad it was over. it was too confusing. i guess i was too young.

Posted by Marc at 04:23 PM | Permalink

just a note about the last entry:

I did not enter into my Friday evening thinking that "hooking up" or "fooling around" would happen. I will agree that the thought crossed my mind (probably more than it should have) that a little kissing was a possibility. I'm not a sleaze, I promise. I'm not a skeez, either. I'm not sure what a skeez is, but after re-reading my last entry I think I'd want to apply it to myself. I'd been chatting with someone. We used to get along well. Meeting would have been fun. Talking with arm motions would have...yeah...yeah...yeah.

Whatever.

Posted by Marc at 12:30 AM | Permalink

Friday night ended the way I thought it would. It was just the middle part of the evening that was unexpected, and, ultimately, depressing. But not so depressing that I couldn't recover from it. Why am I relating this story? It's just sort of blandly humiliating. While discussing movie-going plans with my roommates I was online, AOL Instant Messenger window open. Received IM from a young woman I'd chatted with this summer. She goes to college in New York. We spoke huridly for three minutes and then spoke on the phone. We agreed to meet (we'd never met in person before). It all sounded like a fun plan. My roommate was bummed that I wouldn't be going to the movie, but he was aware of my lack of action getting for the past few months and understood.

I was an unexpected bundle of nerves on the subway. Running ahead of schedule, I stopped off at a bar for a quick bourbon on the rocks. And a cigarette. One cigarette led to two. I walked to the meeting place. Chewed a stick of gum. Waited. Cigarette. Wait. Cigarette. Gum. Wait. Cigarette. Approach young woman who could be my online buddy. Are you ____? No response. Cigarette. Wait. Gum. Wait. Cigarette. One block walk to a pay phone. Leave message. Cigarette. Return. Wait. Cigarette. Leave another message (how lame am i?). Cigarette. Meet roommate at movie. What the fuck? Was the woman I approached the woman I'd agreed to meet? Did she see me smoking a dozen cigarettes and say "what's the deal with this guy? He probably smokes two packs a day." I don't smoke two (or even one) pack a day. I was just nervous. And I felt awkward.

And that's my story about almost meeting someone from the internet. I think all of us have our silly stories.

Posted by Marc at 12:17 AM | Permalink

i must be in a weird 'place' right now. i've got, like, a mad crush on this person i don't even know. how does that happen? it's not like she's a complete stranger to me. she's more than just some random name i heard called out at a doctor's office. more than a random name i saw on a credit card receipt at macy's.

and what makes my crush even more hopeless (i mean, what is better than a hopeless crush?) is that i think a zillion other boys (and probably a few girls) have hopeless crushes on her too. and i don't know her well enough to know if she knows all these people are crushing...or if she's completely oblivious to all the hearts out there going pitter-patter.

the way she talks - the things she mentions - all so seductive. but all done so slyly. it's just amazing that a person can present herself as being so incredibly compatible...and, yet, i have no idea of what she's really like. having this crush is the best feeling. i want to spend each night of the entire week out at a different bar with a different friend telling him or her about my new crush. and then i want word to trickle back to my new crush. and then i want it to morph into this whole skipping under rainbows scenario. sort of like in those punky brewster saturday morning cartoons. but 3-d. with a bit more edge. and sex.

Posted by Marc at 12:13 AM | Permalink