Charming, but single

I replied to an e-mail to my small girlfriends dinner group this morning.

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To: Married Girlfriend From College, The Banker
From: Charming

Subject: Re: Dinner

If we do it at your house, [The Banker], I’ll gladly bring a bottle of wine (I have Evolution No. 9!) and someone to snack on.

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I switched back to my work e-mail. A bit later, I checked for a response.

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To: Charming, The Banker
From: Married Girlfriend From College

Subject: Re: Re: Dinner

SomeONE to snack on??!! The Online Dating must be going well!

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Rimshot! The typing was due to an acute lack of Americanos in my life. (Evil doctors and their common sense advice.) Because The Online Dating is neither going well nor has it provided me anyone on which to snack.

Damn.

There’s been a lot of potential dates, but not a lot of actual action as of late. I’ve grown weary of winks and icebreakers and writing perky e-mails. It is tiring.

I haven’t spoken much with The Academic. He called, I was busy. I messaged that I was stressed at work. He concurred. It has fizzled.

I’ve been messaged several times by the Grad Student. He seems nice enough, but he goes to school about 45 minutes away. I know this isn’t like living on Mars. But if I’m going to date a guy, I was to know he could meet me after work for a drink or for a quick bite at lunch. And so I am less than enthused about a 45-minute commute for a hug. Also, my previous experience with The Academic has left me wary of these types. I like intellectual guys who know about current affairs, but this guy seems like he makes the obvious jokes, sticks with the obvious labels. Eh. Plus he doesn’t seem into going out so much, which is fine. But that’s not where I am.

Also getting messaged regularly by a guy who I can only think of as The Blackberry, because he is always signed on via his cell phone. (Also, in case it was not clear, this guy is The Blackberry.) He seems interested in a date – we’ve mentioned drinks at a bar we both like. But he hasn’t made the move to ask for my number.

And before everyone gets all feminist and all about me not asking for HIS number, I clearly put myself out there. He asked me to meet him out; I passed. But I did tell him I was interested in hanging out, suggested a meeting place and asked what nights he went to this bar. So I’m hardly being coy.

I was also hoping to hear from a guy who messaged me through a personals site and seemed very much like my type. He also happens to be friends with Party Girl’s boyfriend. Good friends. And so I recognized him and sent pictures and a recap to Party Girl, who immediately confirmed that he was the same guy. I mentioned this in one of our e-mail exchanges and I haven’t gotten another e-mail from him since.

I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have shown my hand. I mentioned in an initial e-mail that I recognized him and he asked how, so I explained that his friend was dating mine (Party Girl) and so I had checked with her and she’d confirmed it. I even added a cute, “I promise, I’m not really this neurotic. I just recognized you from a party.”

So now, of course, I’m worried that he thought that was crazy and not cute and he’s telling people that, you know, I’m a psycho cyber stalker. Sigh.

(Apparently I have already blogged about the initial e-mail here.)

This weekend would be the perfect time to meet him, because Party Girl will be in town and we have plans to go out on Friday night. And, with the three-day weekend I’m sure there is some sort of non-threatening barbecue situation where we could meet in a comfortable situation.

Overthinking. I’m always overthinking.

I was cleaning out my digital photo album and uploading pictures on Shutterfly because people are constantly asking me, “Why didn’t you post the pictures from that night at [sushi bar]?” and “Didn’t you take pictures of Party Girl’s birthday?” and “The baby was born in March. Gonna put up the pictures from the Baby Shower?”

While sorting through them, I stumbled across many many many pictures of my footwear. Below are some of the shoes that haven’t yet made an appearance chez blog. Enjoy!*

Newest pair, worn with a knee-length stretchy A-line black dress with some rouching on the side. My toes are my favorite shade of pale pink, by OPI, called “Aphrodite’s Pink Nightie.”

Another view:

Got LOTS of compliments on these shoes. Like, from strangers. One of my fellow female diners suggested that these could double as “bedroom shoes” (if you know what I mean). And all for $45 at a little accessories boutique I love. They also come in a lighter cream and gold and a brown and copper tone. But the white was a bit too precious for me and the brown didn’t go with my dress. The black is just right. And yes, that is little ruffles and a knot. Superfab!

The pair below proves that end-of-the-season buys aren’t all bad:

These are from Enzo Angiolini, bought during an emotional time to make me feel better. (We all cope in our own way and I just needed to take a break, dress nicely, feel pretty and see my friends.)

I think I paid $38 for them on super-end-of-season-sandal sale, including tax. I wore them once (on this night) and never again. Until I pulled them out a few weeks ago for The Bride’s wedding and thought, “My lovelies? Why did I abandon you?” Now I wear them all of the time and I always get positive feedback. Like a group of guys stopped talking and stared when I walked by in them one day. (Until one of the women in the group grumbled, “I guess we can all pop our eyes back in socket now.”) Yowza!

I love that these have an ankle strap. Ankle straps make me feel like a lady. And they aren’t really that hard to walk in. I can tell you from experience that you should avoid gravel parking lots while wearing these shoes. (Yeah, I live in the South, we still have gravel parking lots at some “quaint” rural establishments.)

My only beef with these shoes is that I am not a big fan of the “wood tone” heel and sole. If they weren’t so perfect I’d hate them because of it. It reminds me of those station wagons with wood tone panels on the side of them. And ain’t no one who wants to look at a station wagon on my feet. I’m slowly learning to live with this style, as it does look cute with some summery, Bohemian looks. But still.

*I worry sometimes that I may be encouraging poeple with foot fetishes to read my blog by constantly posting pictures of my feet in shoes. I don’t have a foot fetish nor do I think my feet are super cute. I just really like my shoes a lot.

Last night I finally got to chat with this guy, who actually has met me before and doesn’t remember it.

I was doing some work stuff, tucked away in the corner of my neighborhood coffee shop. And when he popped online as “mobile,” I thought I’d drop him a quick note to let him know I’d still like to get together.

He responded favorably and continued messaging me. He made a point to say he was at a bar … the bar that happens to be across the street from my apartment, so close to where I was sitting at my granite-top table, listening to Kelly Clarkson and writing while I sipped a cool coffee drink.

“You should come meet me. The band is really good.”

I messaged back that I was flattered, but explained that I was working and that I had a full day of early meetings ahead. I’m sure this sounded like a lame excuse, but it was nearing 11 p.m. and I was planning to be up by 5:15. Not the time to put on my dancing shoes.

I never revealed my location, mostly because I was looking not so chic in jeans, the black sweater I’d worn to work and tennis shoes, with my hair messily piled atop my head in a makeshift bun.

He continued to message me, pointing out that he was doing it via Blackberry – as if it was perfectly normal to chat online whilst jamming in a bar.

About three times, I thought about slamming my laptop shut, running home to change my shirt and shoes and heading over there. Being spontaneous and fun. Free spirited.

But I’m not spontaneous and fun anymore. I’m lame and boring and old and I need more than two hours of sleep to function and be perky and informative and friendly and not rude.

I left it open, agreed to meet him later this week for a drink.

As I was about to head home and for bed, he wished me sweet dreams and said, “Hey, you’ve got beautiful eyes.” 

“I bet you say that to all the girls. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Only when it is true.”

Don’t know about all of the science behind this. A scientist I am not.

But, according to a new study, women can tell if a guy likes kids and would be a good long-term partner by looking at his face.

I was blowing this whole study off when I saw the following comment:

"They were surprisingly accurate in judging men’s interest in infants, as well as their masculinity," said University of Chicago behavioral biologist Dario Maestripieri, a co-author of the study.

The masculine guys with high testosterone levels tended to have prominent face bones, like actor Mickey Rourke, while those who liked baby pictures tended to have rounder faces, like actor Tom Hanks, Maestripieri said.

Oh hell, is that why I like cuddly guys with round faces?

Note: I have special plans for some special shoes this weekend. I’ve posted them on the sister blog to this site: Charming Things. Watch out Saturday night!

Wearing red shoes makes me do things. Crazy things. Wonderful things.

One night in college I wore some sexy strappy red satin sandals out with a black mini and a tight top.

As I spun around dancing, drink in hand, heart pumping, I felt sexy and in control. No matter that I was at the same bar I always went to and that I’d be sore from twirling in heels for hours on end the next day.

I felt light and whimsical and free. I was bolder than bold.

And when the guy I was dancing will gave me the right smile, I looked him square in the eye and said, “I’m not looking for a boyfriend …”

And I winked as his hands wrapped ‘round my waist.