Wonderful

Sometimes, the stars line up, and the world seems to ring in perfect harmony. The universe aligned yesterday, and I met a girl. She was an artist, painting in deep hues of red and yellow. My heart was her canvas.


"Come on out, Chrispy. It'll be a good time."

That was all the reason I needed. After the big first date with Erin I was excited. The day had gone swimmingly, and I was home with enough time to spare. I could stay home the rest of the evening, catching up on my cleaning, checking out what Anthony Bourdain was eating. Or, I could do what other young people do on a Saturday night and find a place with cheap booze and loud music.

I jumped in my car.

At 9 PM I arrived at Sam's apartment. Sam was a good friend of mine from a few years back. He was a talented photographer. Due to my recent research into fashion and clothing as well as our grand shopping trip, he was also a snazzy dresser. We headed out to his friend's party into the brisk chill night. Like me, Sam was prior military. Like me, he loved cartoons from Japan and video games. He was also single, but I didn't get the feeling that he was looking as hard as I was. Sam seemed like a consummate bachelor. Tall, thick and handsome, Sam looked every part the military man that I did not. However, I think it was our differences that made our friendship so enjoyable.

We walked up to our destination and I could instantly tell by looking what sort of night we had in store. A girl looked up on unsteady legs, perched at the edge of a clump of bushes in the lawn, "Hey Sam!" She was falling all over herself. We walked through the doors, into the dim blaring room. This, I thought, was a fucking party.

The one room I could see was devoid of furniture. In the place of what might have been a couch, or a television, or even a coffee table of some sort was a pile of dancing boys and girls. A little younger than me, I judged from their clothes and haircuts. Maybe they were just trendier and more hipster than I was prepared for. There was a keg in the corner as well as a suspicious plastic tub filled with a red liquid labeled only as "Juice." I knew I would be avoiding that.

Sam and I walked into the room, and instantly I was in party mode. Now, seriously, I am a shy person. It's rare for me to be able to handle an entire room of strangers, but I felt like I could take on a viking horde that night. I had Erin's kiss to thank for that. I jumped right into my "fake it til you make it."

My technique is simple. If I'm with friends, I have them introduce me to people they know. The night was a perfect oppurtunity for it since Sam knew almost everyone there. He'd say his hellos, and I'd introduce myself. I'd do my best to remember their names. It doesn't matter that I suck at names, or that I would probably completely forget their names in the course of the night, I still did my best. Often, I would repeat it over and over in conversation. "Is that right, Drew? Tell me more, Drew."

Once I had the name, I could work on building a conversation. This part worried me. Well, worried me more than talking to total strangers. I still found it hard to keep a conversation going, and I'm deathly frightened of lulls and silence. What I've learned to do is to let the other person talk. People love talking about themselves, so I tried my best to steer the conversation to a safe personal subject.

Now, after a couple of minutes, I could politely excuse myself from the conversation and find someone else to introduce myself to. I would learn their names, chat with them, and move on again. I try and get as many names and as much face time as I can. There's a reason for this jumping around, though. As people walk around, I can spot someone I had met previously and pull them into an already existing conversation. "Hey, Drew, come over here. Have you met Sasha?" Now instead of two, I would be talking to three, and I'd suddenly have plenty of opportunities to say something interesting. If I don't have anything, the conversation will go on regardless.

The beauty is that everyone sees me making friends and chatting it up.

At least, that's what I hope happens. Luckily for me, that night everything was working fine. I was chatting it up, memorizing names, getting to know people. I would go from one conversation to another without blinking. "You know Sam?" I'd ask complete strangers, "My name is Chris. I'm his image consultant." For a good while I went like this, meeting all sorts of new people. I completely forgot my awkwardness. I was dealing with my anxiety. I was having fun.

Then, a girl and I crossed paths. Even in the din and hustle of the party I could tell she was a beauty. I prepared my winningest smile and introduced myself. I shook her hand. Allison. I told her my silly icebreaker about Sam's image and my consulting. (He was even kind enough to stop by and confirm, then promptly leave.) She laughed at my jokes, and I smiled at her stories.

I realized that I wasn't running out of conversation. I naturally held it up, eager to hear what she had to say next. I was at such ease with her. It was perfectly natural for us to be standing amidst the raging party. We were an eye in the storm. I didn't need to suddenly leave. I never ran out of things to say. I felt like I was talking to a friend I hadn't seen in years.

I don't know how long I stood there talking to her before Sam interrupted. "We're ditching this party," he shook me out of my reverie, "we're going to a bar where there's some alcohol." Shit, I thought. Here I was having a fantastic time. As I was trying to quickly figure out how to get her number to call later she asked, "Can I come along?"

Fuck yes.

Sam, Allison, and I, as well as three of his other friends walked four blocks to a local bar. We sat at a table in the corner, and started ordering drinks. "Let me get your number in my cell," she asked me as our glasses arrive. I told her and glanced down as my phone chirped. Hey hey spy, she had texted me. "There," she smiled, "You are saved."

As much as I try to remember what else we talked about, I couldn't tell you. I remember her eyes. I remember her laughter. I remember my friends getting up to smoke, and leaving the two of us alone at the table, completely absorbed in our conversation. There was Allison, there was me, and there was nothing else in the world except for that dark wooden table and our two drinks.

What struck me the most about Allison was her own geekiness. Not in the same way as mine. She didn't seem to have fantasy books, sci-fi, comics, or video games. Instead, she was geeky about art. She was nerding about horseback riding. She knew of traveling and the world. She was enthusiastic about a myriad of interests, and her passion was inspiring. She was, in a word, interesting.

For an hour, maybe a hundred, we talked about everything. I missed missed offers for rounds. I missed shots. I missed final call. When "No really, this is final call," came around we were still talking. Our friends returned from their fourth or fifth cigarette and we finally noticed. We all left the bar and walked to a metro station. Instead of letting her take the underground, I offered to drive her home. On the walk to my car we continued to talk. In my car, as my GPS spat directions at me, we talked some more. Finally, completely too soon, I arrived at her apartment and dropped her off. She wouldn't let me walk her to the door. "It's too cold. Stay warm," she told me. I hugged her, and told her we should meet again.

Four blocks away my cell phone chirped. You were wonderful. Goodnight, Chris.



I felt wonderful.

Maybe internet dating isn't so bad.

I've begun to chat with a girl from an internet dating website. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on it?

When I think of the time and effort I put into my profile, though, it upsets me a little that she messaged me out of the blue, but then I realize that I'm talking to a new person who isn't a scam bot, is around my age, and wishes to go out on a date. Nice!

Her name is Erin, and she's from Pittsburgh. As a newcomer to the East Coast, I don't really know much about Pittsburgh, except that it's north and very cold. She's in Baltimore teaching and dislikes her job. Hopefully, she says, she'll return to school and get a masters in sociology.

While we chatted, I tried to stick to a few simple rules. 1) Do not ask anything personal. I get very interested in the people I meet, and sometimes I might broach a little too hard. I didn't want to come off as creepy right off the bat, so I pretended to be a little aloof. 2) Do not mention sex. Seriously, this is super important. It takes all my energy not to start joking about body parts and intercourse, but I realized that's not pleasant from a stranger. I had to stop myself more than once from replying with a quick "That's what she said." No! That's not what she said! She said goodbye, before I could even make that joke about the two nuns!

This brings me to my last and most important rule of online chatting. 3) Be normal. I was constantly tempted to give her way too much crazy information about myself. I wanted to tell her about my difficult break-up, just a month ago. I wanted to let her know how crappy I was feeling, how low my self esteem was. I wanted to tell her that I still thought of my ex, and that I couldn't imagine that any girl was going to be half as beautiful as Caitlin was. But I left those topics alone.

It's difficult, talking to new people. Especially people you might be interested in. I have to pretend to be some sanitary version of myself. I have to scrub down my personality and history to just the aspects that I want to impress. In this way, I think that dating is a dance of half people. We hide ourselves until the last possible moment, when it's too late for them to dance away and reject us.

We'll see, Erin. I'm going to continue to talk to her, and maybe we'll hit it off. I hope this goes in good directions. It's at least a first step.

Anime Convention Weekend (Part II)

The first part of this post can be found here.


Saturday night I was hanging out in the hotel bar with my friends. They kept bringing over their friends, and as the evening wore on I suddenly was surrounded by a huge group of people, half I knew, half I didn't. I did my best to chat with each of them, learn their names, get to know a bit. On the other side of the table, a waitress brought my good friend a huge platter of nachos. Funny, I thought, I happen to be craving a nacho or two right now. I stood up, out of my seat, and took the one next to him. After I shoveled a few bites directly into my stomach, I noticed a cute girl sitting on the other side of me. As I glanced over, she looked me in the eye and smiled. Shit. Now's the time! Swallowing, I offered her my hand and my name. "Hi, I'm Chris." She took it. Her name was Katrina.

Kat was wearing what was instantly recognizeable as rave gear. Though it wasn't a character, she was distinctly in costume. A dance-in-a-dark-room-with-strangers sort of costume. It was dark and Hot-Topic-edgy; a red-plaid skirt cut short to allow maximum bareness, a day-glo bikini-top, a tight fishnet shirt over. I didn't even know they made those. Still, it was all oddly complimented by her adorable features.

We spoke for an hour. The people around us were a blur. For the first time since the break-up only a month earlier, I was simply enjoying the pleasure of good conversation with a pretty girl. As the night wore on, I became more comfortable, more at ease with myself. An hour and a half of sitting and she finally mentioned what I was dreading. She had a boyfriend.

I don't know why I felt so used. This girl was very obviously interested. She pretty much waved off all her friends as they left us. She had touched my arm several times, laughed at my jokes, teased and batted her eyes. Maybe she was interested after all, and decided to leave our her significant other as long as she could handle. After that, though, the conversation started to fall flat. I felt a bit guilty but also bit peeved as we hugged and parted ways.

The rest of the night was enjoyable, but I kept thinking about that conversation. Did I do something wrong? I'm sure that I was polite and charming, and up until she mentioned her boy we seemed to be hitting it off. Ultimately, I decided that it wasn't my fault for what happened. I should still enjoy the company of interesting people without any ulterior motive. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed meeting new interesting women.

I realized then that the excitement is in the chase. I needed to forget about coming out on top, as it were, and instead enjoy the entire journey. I hope that through this blog you all can enjoy my journey as well.

What a shame....

Rachelle has a boyfriend. Of course she does. She's beautiful and clever, so it shouldn't be a surprise to me, right?

We've been talking during our Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes. Sometimes, we'll exchange a few words before the lecture begins. She's 19. Knows French, studying Arabic. I'm 23, honorably discharged. She bought a new Saab. A blue convertible. I flew to Atlanta to hang out with friends. Sometimes, she shows up late for class, and we can't get time to say anything. Some days we ignore each other until the very end, where I'll throw out a "See you later!" before rushing out the door. To where, exactly? I don't have class afterward.

Other times, she's there, waiting for me. My normal seat will be empty. As I sit, she will smile at me and offer a "hello." We might chat for 10 minutes while the class fills in. We'll talk about anything at all. I say her name, "Rachelle," during the conversation, looking her in the eyes while smiling. She'll smile back and look me in the eyes as well. Then, too soon, the professor will start his droning, and our sweet conversation will drift off as we scramble for pens and notebooks.

Still, she has a boyfriend.

The Lady-Killer

There's a girl.

In one of my classes, she sits next to me. Actually, when the semester started, I began to notice her across the room. She had long, dark hair. I noticed her cute top. Specifically, I noticed that she was wearing a cute top over her large breasts. One day, I decided to take the seat next to her. It took my two more classes before I could work up the nerve to introduce myself. I ran it through my head several times.
"This class is painfully bland," through the side of my mouth, "If you need someone to poke you awake, my name is Chris." She'd smile at me and introduce herself, falling in love with my wit.
"I need coffee to keep me awake," I could say, "Want to grab some with me?" She'd smile at me and we would fall in love over two steaming lattes in the library.
"Hi, I'm Chris," I finally spat at her. She sat down and smiled, "Rachelle," shaking my hand.

It's a start. Rachelle.