The Single Slice

Yes, I’ll admit it.  I was among the first throngs of women settled comfortably in her Cinemagic seat patiently awaiting the start of Sex and the City 2 this weekend.

Now I’m not the average chick-flick watcher.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll get sucked into a Lifetime Movie Channel movie with the best of them, but I’ll feel dirty afterwards.  I spent 2009 promising myself that I would not watch a movie that I knew would make me cry.  That’s part of the reason I still haven’t seen Pixar’s Up (I hear if you fast-forward through the first 10 minutes though it’s not nearly as bad!)

And I hope to go down swinging having never seen (nor ever plan to see) The Notebook.

So Friday night I got home from work and changed into flip flops to head out to dinner with the roomie.  While a majority of the girls at Seadog Brewing Companywere sipping martinis for the happy hour special while dolled up in heels and sparkling tank tops, I curled up with a nice Seadog IPA and BBQ Burger.

I’ve read many of the reviews, where the movie gets slammed all over the place.  One of my favorites states: “Just a string of excuses to get the girls
back together to chit-chat over coffee and cosmos, all the while making
crass and often tired sexual puns.”

Now I’ll give you, the sexual puns did get a little tired.  I mean 12 years later YES we are all aware of the fact that Samantha is free with the bedroom love if you know what I mean.  But seriously, for the rest of it…WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?!?!  This isn’t Citizen Kane we’re talking about here!

Sex and the City may have pushed the boundaries of what can and can’t be discussed when it comes to sex on TV.  And they were great at that.  But the cosmo craze didn’t catch on with women across the country because the conversations happening over it were manifestos worthy of Chaucer reprinting.

The appeal of Sex and the City has ALWAYS been the friendship between these 4 women, their individual strengths and weaknesses, and the way they fought through the same struggles and victories that we as single girls did. First dates, weird dates, first kisses, weird hookups, relationships and all the stuff that lies in between.

The “problem” with the newest movie is that it is actually REAL.  Well, as real as the series ever got (you think it’s just cause of the second movie that Carrie Bradshaw is riding a camel through the desert in vintage?!)  The girls sit around and talk about riveting topics as frustrations with parenting, and hot flashes from menopause and fears of complacency in marriage.

Again I ask…WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?!  I for one commend the franchise for these boring and drawn conversations.  It’s like this is what women in their 40’s (and one in her early 50’s) would talk about.  It’s like the crazy single girls in their 30’s traipsing around Manhatten have finally grown up and are dealing with the things that the rest of the world deal with.

Granted, they deal with it in Halston and jeweled-Louboutins, but to each their own.  Taking real life issues and infusing some fun opulence make for a fun girls night out of giggling about your own lives over cosmos (or Seadog IPA’s.)  Cause that’s what it’s all about.

Friendships with women who’ve become your soulmates.

Have you seen Sex and the City 2?  What did you think?

Everyone will tell you that when you are dating you have to give your dates the benefit of the doubt.  If you eliminate someone before you even get to know them based on just a few small details, then you may never learn what a great guy they are.  And in some schools of thought, you will end up as a spinster artifically inseminated and unable to find the true love you let slip through your fingers at the ancient age of 31.

Or something like that.

So we as daters go out of our way to overlook little idiosyncrasies, pushing past the bad parts to get to the good.  My friend (yes, this is actually my friend and NOT actually me) once went out on a date with a boy she had met from an online dating site.  Not that there is anything wrong with online dating sites.  I’ve definitely come around on their effectiveness.

But what about the guy she met on there.  The one that every cell in her brain progressively told her to end the date with.  The person she actually went to dinner with AND THEN went to a bar for a few drinks.

The one that she attempted to give so many benefits of doubt to that she began to doubt her own instinct and attraction because (again) as daters we’re all supposed to give all these benefits of doubt!

Photo Credit: Getty Images – JGI/Jamie Grill

The date started well enough, he drove over an hour to meet her in Portland so she offered to pay for dinner (hey, she’s a progressive girl…willing to bear even weight in a relationship.)  The dinner conversation was pretty awkward, but she figured that maybe it was just that he was nervous.

It included a delightful discussion of dinner choices during which she talked about her favorite but he had never had it.  Not out of availability or inconvenience or even a horrific food allergy.  Nope, he just never had eaten it because he had never lived away from home and his parents had never cooked it for him.

As they got in the car between this awkward dinner and drinks at Gritty’s he offered her a mint.  Thoughtful, maybe he wants her to have nice breath later…you know…for things that would involve close proximity of breaths.  “Yeah, when I realized there were no tolls I decided to buy some mints with my last dollar.”

“Oh, the last dollar in your wallet.  I hate that!” she replied.

“Nope, last dollar I had.”

Oh, did I forget to mention that he is unmployed and barely attempting to find gainful employment.

Needless to say drinks were on her as well.  Which was even more awkward conversation and an awkward moment at the door where she thought he was holding it open behind him for her, but instead it slammed in her face.

Fitting really.  Sometimes the Universe has a way of metaphoring what we need to understand in theory.

Have you ever gone TOO FAR in the benefit of the doubt?  When is too far really TOO FAR?

Dates fall into categories when we are looking back on them.

Even if it’s looking back while chatting up your girl friends on the phone while driving back from an adorable first date in the middle of the afternoon.

The lookback period isn’t really important.  It’s the feelings you associate with the experience when reflecting.  There’s the ooey-gooey head over heels we talked for six hours straight giddiness of an amazing date.  There’s the permasmile etched onto your face after a good date.  And, of course, there’s the overwhelming desire to steel wool the memories from your mind after a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad date.

I had one such date a few years ago.  We had been dating for a few weeks, and I thought he was pretty swell.  An artist who also worked for a medical company, he made me laugh and I looked forward to every date we had.

One spring night after we walked along the Eastern Promenade by his apartment we found a little park bench away from the open expanse of the parks and curled up to talk, snuggle and probably make out a little.

In my mind I was sitting there thinking that this is a pretty awesome
date.  Talking and laughing and looking out over the city, it was the kind
of thing you see in Hollywood movies.

But after about 20 minutes he got really weird, jumped up and stated he HAD to go home.  Bewildered, I stood up and walked back to my car in a fog.  I don’t even remember if he kissed me good night, I just got in and drove home.  Left to wonder what I did.  What I said.  What happened to make him run away from me so immediately.

The next day he called me, and I was hesitant to hear what had happened.

I should have gone with that instinct.

In an all too sane voice he informed me that that he was freaking out a little bit because there were a lot of mosquitos out the night before.  And they were apparently feeding on his delicate form.  But it wasn’t so much the bug bites that were bothering him.

He was convinced that he was putting himself at a high risk to contract WEST NILE VIRUS.

No, folks, I couldn’t make that up if I tried!

To make matters “better” he was much calmer now that he had talked to his MOTHER for an hour and she had convinced him that he would be ok.

I met him later that night to tell him I didn’t think we should see each other any longer.  He agreed.

I wasn’t sympathetic enough to his plight.

What is the worst date you’ve ever had? Ever had one go from good to bad in the blink of an eye?

You know that moment after you’ve been talking/bantering/flirting with someone for awhile?

When you are right at the edge of that cliff, figuring out whether you want to take the leap into more than just talking and maybe go out?  Cause they are absolutely captivating in their conversation.  And their eyes are super blue and very pretty.  And they make those butterflies swirl around in your tummy every time their name pops up in your day or their knee bumps into yours.

Then they utter that phrase that in one fell swoop plunges you off the cliff yet kicks you in the stomach:

“Sure, let’s hang out.”

Photo Credit: Getty Images – Tom Grill

Seriously, what *is* that?!

It happened a couple months ago.  I had run into this boy a couple times because of some mutual friends.  And we had some great Facebook wall conversation.  And I was all thinking that things would progress further.  So we were talking about our Friday night plans.

And I told him what I was doing.

And he was doing something similar.

And then we talked about a local bar.

And then he said he might check out the band I wanted to see.

And then I said that I’d be there . (Seriously, could I BE any more obvious?!)

And then he said that he’d be there too, most likely.

And then I waited.

And I waited.

And I tapped my fingers impatiently on the keyboard wondering “Should I do it?”

So I said “Well, I’m going to be there too, so if you’d like some company let me know.” (I know, I know…but come on…let me be at least a LITTLE wooed here!)

And then I got the “Yeah, let’s hang out.  I’ll call you for details.”

Two months later I STILL don’t know if we went on a date or if we just hung out!

I figured hanging out, cause he NEVER CALLED ME AGAIN.  Yet mutual friend tells me nope, he just thought I wasn’t that into him.

ON OUR DATE THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A DATE BUT PROBABLY WAS JUST CATCHING A LOCAL BAND BUT COULD HAVE BEEN A DATE BECAUSE AT ONE POINT OUR PHYSICAL PROXIMITY AND CHEMISTRY SET A NEARBY COAT ON FIRE.

Seriously, single folks.  If you like someone and you are going out with them LET THEM KNOW.  Or just ask them out.

NO NO, not to HANG out.

Just ask them out.  It will save much confusion and suffering down the line.

Have you been on the sort-of-date-but-not-really-a-date-but-maybe-a-date date before?  Did you get past it or are you still wondering too?!

Twitterpated

No, it isn’t a new social media term about the Twitter network.

It’s from Bambi.  When Bambi, Thumper & Flower are hanging out in the forest after hibernating for the winter (at least some of them hibernated…I think…it’s been awhile!) and they are all confused by the birds chasing each other around in some weird game of tag that seems to involve kissing.  Which is weird, cause everyone knows tag involves smacking the person you are tagging as hard as possible so that they lose their balance and fall down before they can “tag-backsie.”

Fortunately they have wise old “Friend Owl” there to lay down the sitch for them: “Yes. Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example:
You’re walking along, minding your own business. You’re looking neither
to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a
pretty face. Woo-woo! You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head’s
in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know
it, you’re walking on air. And then you know what? You’re knocked for a
loop, and you completely lose your head.”

All I need to do is look around the past couple weeks and I know that the whole single population is getting themselves all Twitterpated.  There’s something in the air here, Portland, and it isn’t the smell of smoke and burnt hot dogs!

Photo Credit: Getty Images – Stockbyte

Seriously, I can’t throw a rock in any of the circles I run in without hitting an adorable new couple being all…adorable…as the weather is turning.  Apparently this is a completely scientific and physiological thing, having to do with more sunshine and less melatonin/winter clothing.  That and the stories we’re fed and movies we watch telling us that springtime is the time for love to descend.

That’s it, we might as well all book chairs on the lido deck, this Love Boat is certainly taking another ride.  As it does every year.  And nothing is worse than being the single person on the Love Boat that is sitting alone in her cabin pining for someone to show up and sweep her off her feet, watching the couples stroll hand in hand down the hallways.

Sure, you’re happy for them in their happiness.  But there’s still that small piece of you that wants to kick them in the shins (hard) and run like hell in the opposite direction.  Just cause…you know…it makes sense at the time.

All I know is that when my friend who has always been “just a friend” was sitting with me and his knee kept bumping against mine, I felt the tightening and clamping sensation of butterflies in my heart.  And I giggled a lot.  And I might have even flipped or twisted my hair (nervous “like a boy” habit of mine!)

I was full out Twitterpated.

Looks like springtime has claimed yet another victim.

Do you get all Twitterpated once the sun has started shining past 5 PM again? Does the springtime flutter ever last?