Intellectual Conversation

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Here’s an email exchange with a guy who found my profile on Match:

From him (no subject, but signed with his name):

Liked the part about the intellectual conversation. Not many women with looks who are into that.

My first reply (question refers to his choice of headline):

Oh, I’m more into the conversation than my looks – which is probably even more rare, I imagine. :)

So, what exactly were you born 100 years too late for?

His reply (which included his phone number and hotmail address):

Wellll the 100 years thing is my way of expressing that the world is too much of a safe place. And what I mean by THAT is my idea of living on the edge is not some instructor holding on to me on my first skydiving lesson on the way down, or a guided tour of something that someone made to make money off me or standing around a turnout vista while 30 oriental tourists are snapping pics. There’s nothing left to explore, there’s no freedom, no REAL freedom, like just going off into an unchartered territory. World is too tame.

Thoughts?

My reply (which took a few days since I was irritated by his reference to the “oriental” tourists – who still uses that adjective in this politically correct era?):

Hmmm. Well if none of those things fit your idea of living on the edge, then what does? :)

His answer:

Great sex ;)

Huh? Is he serious? How is having great sex “living on the edge”?

Or is this just the typical case of a guy who’s only looking for a hookup, and so he’s bringing sex into the convo as quickly as possible?

Either way, I’m already turned off to him, and so I don’t know how/if to reply. I’m just that fickle, I guess.

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My Inner Feminist Can Relate to Yours

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Some things just make you laugh out loud; this picture from PostSecret did the trick for me today.

And yes, for exactly the reason that you’re thinking. ;-)

image from PostSecret

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Just One, Thanks

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No matter what we included in the analyses, the answer was always the same – there were no consistent differences in how a person was judged depending on whether that person was dining solo vs. with one or more other people. (Bella DePaulo, Psychology Today)

I’m an old pro at dining by myself, mainly because I tend to be a defiant sort of single woman. If I want a good meal, why on earth should I let my lack of a dinner companion stop me from having one? And if someone wants to stare and make a judgment about what must be ‘wrong’ with me that I’m sitting there alone – well who the fuck are they that I should worry over their opinion?

Of course, as I’ve gotten older and more mellow (ha! ha!), it’s less about defiance than it is about where I am in my introvert/extrovert cycle1. When I worked in an office, I would go out to lunch or dinner quite often, because I needed that solitude after being in an office full of people all day2. Now that I work from home and am alone almost all the time, when I go out for a meal, I tend to look for someone to accompany me.

Ultimately, though, regardless of what DePaulo’s study reveals, we would all do better to realize that our anxiety isn’t really caused by what strangers might think about us in situations like this; but rather, it’s a direct result of the thoughts and judgments we ourselves hold about our single state. If we’re not comfortable with that situation, we project those feelings outward, and onto others.

1 I can go happily through long periods alone; and then talk your ear off for five hours when we hang out.
2 In all fairness, it didn’t hurt that my favorite spot was an Italian restaurant with a primarily male waitstaff who fawned all over me.

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A Different Kind of Creepy

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After exchanging a couple of harmless emails with a man on Match, I got this one from him today:

I’m sure this message will come completely as a surprise, but I am not going to be able to talk anymore. Over the last few days, I have felt the Lord calling me to reconcile with my wife. Though our talks have only been at a level of friendship, I feel like I need to completely end my communication. Please understand that this has nothing to do with you, but is my response to a prompting I’m feeling in my heart and a desire to be obedient to the Lord.

I couldn’t help it, I busted out laughing. And all I could think to say in response was, Trust me, if you’ve got that kind of relationship with the Lord, a reconciliation with your wife was going to be the least of our problems.

One thing I’m definitely not is deeply religious, and in all honesty, I’m rather contemptuous of those who are. It’s one thing to rely on a faith in something (or “someone”) bigger than yourself to get you through your everyday life, or to help you rationalize things you may not otherwise be able to explain (such as the miracle of birth, or the tragedy of death). It’s quite another to go on and on about it until you start to sound like a candidate for a padded room.

Most of all, I’m just not impressed by a man who uses “the Lord” as a scapegoat for his own ambivalence.

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Running Out of Vices to Give Up

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I’ve been thinking it for a while now, but tonight I finally decided to see if Google confirmed my theory about what’s behind my despondent mood on many Sundays. Bingo:

After a big night of drinking – not necessarily a major binge, but say 4 drinks or more – I’ve definitely noticed that my general mood is a bit depressed for the next couple of days. There’s a general feeling of being a bit ‘down’ and even a bit uneasy, edgy, anxious and not as relaxed or happy as usual. (The Sydney Morning Herald Blogs)

I haven’t figured out yet whether I simply need to be more restrictive about my drinking, or whether I should just give it up entirely except for perhaps the occasional special celebration. But I also have a bad habit of forgetting that I’ll completely regret this tomorrow! until it’s tomorrow already and too late to do anything about it. Sigh.

I wonder if it would work to set a time every day to remove a beer from the fridge, set it on the counter, and take a good long look at it while listing out loud all the bad results it inevitably brings me: dehydration, headache, nausea, exhaustion, depression, crying, bags under my eyes, swollen ankles and legs, etc.

Basically, I would be training my brain to associate a bottle of Michelob Ultra with so much negativity that I’d not want one in my hand. Hmmmm.

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Aged Salami, Indeed!

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“At first I tried the seniors’ dances,” said McConnell, 63, who lives in Ontario. “They’re meat markets.” On the website Wired Seniors, she met several older men, including an 83-year-old who sent her $1,000 to cover the cost of a visit to California. A 70-year-old from Canada wooed her, too. She said both men used Viagra, although with limited success.

Eventually, she met a 69-year-old male friend for occasional romantic trysts. “We get it on in his truck. This is purely sex,” said McConnell, who added that she enjoyed staying single and having the freedom to date around. (Suddenly Senior)

All I can say is: I hope that when I’m 93, I’ll have an 86 year old boyfriend too!

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