B4 d t+ k++ s+ u- f i- o+ x+ e+ l c+

Best meme EVER.

1) Although frankly, I think it was just a ruse by Ron to find out how many bloggers his fellow bloggers have slept with.

2) Is anyone really surprised that that’s the only factor people are interested in?

3) Just goes to show: give people a chance to reveal sexual information about themselves in a creative way, and they’ll do it.

4) Gives new meaning to the phrase blogging community.

5) Ron, you rock.

Someone Who Seems Great, and

A Night at Date Bait

I think I might be in love.

Well, I’m exaggerating. But I met a guy today who’s totally stunning.

I was tooling around online this afternoon, hanging out in a chatroom, when this guy started chatting with me. I’d never seen the name before. Turns out he’s new to Jersey City. His stats were nice, and he was my age, and he’s a grad student, so he was smart, too.

We were chatting for a while, and eventually I asked if he had a photo. He didn’t have one. In fact, he asked me if I knew of any places around that could scan his photos for him. I didn’t know of any places for certain, but I mentioned that I had a scanner and that I’d be happy to do it. Hehe.

It turned out that he lived right around the corner from me. Up the street, around the corner. We’re probably talking a three-minute walk, tops. Even closer to me than Wes. So I invited him over. He warned me that he probably wouldn’t be interested in hooking up right at the moment. Okay, no biggie. So I showered and changed and he came over.

Wow.

Not only is he gorgeous, and also intelligent, but he’s also incredibly nice and polite. I mean, those characteristics aren’t all supposed to exist in the same package, are they? If they’re gorgeous they’re supposed to be cocky, or if they’re gorgeous and nice they’re supposed to be dumb as a post. But he was gorgeous and smart and friendly and gentlemanly.

He loved my apartment. He admired all the books on my bookshelves. He remarked that he, like me, has only the 1994 edition of the World Almanac and none of the later editions. He complimented me on my huge classical CD collection. Apparently he’s a fan, too.

So I scanned his photos (which were gorgeous, too), and we talked for a while, and then he had to go home and continue unpacking. He just moved in yesterday. I’m the first person he’s met here. He said he definitely wants to hang out again. We exchanged phone numbers. He left.

I was all aflutter. And I’m usually one of those “straight-acting” guys, so I don’t get all aflutter. But I was aflutter.

So! Who knows. I have a new friend. Part of my brain is travelling down the path, extrapolating based on my experience with Wes. I’ll totally fall for this guy, and it’ll turn out he won’t be interested in me in that way, and he’ll meet someone better, and yada yada yada. But the other part of my brain is saying, ah, relax, enjoy the ride. I’ve been saying that a lot lately.

Mostly because I know that if I don’t say it, my blog readers will say it for me! Hehehehe. And they’ll be right.

So, that was today. Now I’ll talk about last night.

Last night I went to Date Bait again.

Just in case you don’t feel like clicking on the above link, here’s how Date Bait works. You pay 15 bucks and enter a room with a bunch of other guys. You sit on chairs in a big circle (or in two concentric circles, depending on how many people there are). Each person is assigned a number and is given a computer card. Everyone has up to a minute to stand up and speak about themselves. You take notes on the guys who interest you. After everyone has spoken, there’s a half-hour mingling session in which you talk with whomever you want, get to know people better, that sort of thing.

After that’s done, you take your computer card and write down the ID numbers of the guys with whom you’d like to go on a date. All the cards are fed into a computer. If two people have written down each other’s numbers, you find out, and you set up a date with that person. And the up side is that if you write down someone’s number and they didn’t write down yours, they’ll never know you were interested, so there’s nothing to lose.

Last time I went, in June, I wrote down nine numbers and got no matches. It felt kinda sucky. But this time I figured, hey, it’s a new year, time to meet new people, time to try again. So I went again last night.

Last time there were 48 guys there. This time there were 94.

I walked in and sat down. Took note of a few cute guys.

Last time I wasn’t happy with my one-minute schpiel. Because I was nervous, I hadn’t smiled — I hadn’t even realized that I wasn’t smiling — and I hadn’t said anything funny. And I’d planned out beforehand what I wanted to say. I was lame-o boring sincere.

So this time my numero uno goal was to smile. Before the microphone got to me, I kept reminding myself, Smile. Smile. By God, if you do nothing else, smile! And I tried not to plan out my speech too much.

When the mike got to me, I stood up. I smiled and said my name and said “Wow, I’m nervous,” and launched into a slightly rambling but fast-paced speech about myself, trying to be relaxed and not nervous, and trying to keep the formation of a smile on my face, which is hard to do when you’re speaking. “I don’t really have high expectations here. Not that I’m pessimistic. I’m optimistic. It’s just that, uh, dates are weird, because when you go on a date with someone, you start evaluating each other too much and you start imagining what the other person’s gonna look like in thirty years.” Laughter. “So I guess I’m basically looking for friends, people to hang out with. I’m not looking for anyone to take over my life” — laughter — “and I’m not looking to take over someone else’s life. Um, I’m a lawyer, so I guess I do, like, legal stuff… I tend to get very passionate about things for a few weeks and then forget about them… I guess I’m intellectual, in sort of a geeky way. But not in a nerdy way.” Et cetera.

After everyone had finished speaking, I looked down at my scratch paper and I’d written down eight guys. And then the mingling period began.

I didn’t go up to anybody. I can’t start conversations with people in bars, and I couldn’t do it at Date Bait, either. I didn’t even make a New Year’s resolution to start more conversations with people at bars, because it just totally petrifies me. Once I’m in a conversation, I can be charismatic and friendly and all, it’s just starting the conversation that I can’t do.

Three guys came up to me. One of them had a notepad and kept glancing down at it as he talked to me, keeping his place with his pencil. It was almost like an interview. The other two seemed nice enough. But I wasn’t interested in any of them.

For the rest of the mingling period I just stood there with a relaxed, bemused look on my face, trying to look comfortable. And I didn’t really care what happened. I mean, I couldn’t do any worse than last time, when I got no matches. So it was all good.

On my computer card I wrote down the numbers of the eight guys in whom I was interested. (I hadn’t actually talked with any of them.) Then we all gave our cards to the volunteers and hung around waiting while they all got fed into the computer. I mentally prepared myself for getting no matches.

The emcee (who must make a killing, getting 15 bucks from each of us) announced that 72 percent of the attendees had received at least one match, higher than average. And he said that 39 percent had received more than one match. Oh, great. I’m gonna be in that unlucky 28 percent.

When I picked up my card, wouldn’t you know it? Of the eight guys I’d written down, I had two matches! And I hadn’t even talked to these guys.

I turned around and one them was standing right there. I’d noticed him when I’d first entered the room, because he was sitting almost directly across from me; he was tallish, with dreamy eyes and sideburns, wearing a pastel-colored shirt and tie (dressy for Date Bait), and kinda quiet. In his speech he’d mentioned that he was an historic preservationist.

Since we hadn’t spoken earlier, we talked for a little while, and we’re planning to meet up on Thursday.

As for my other match, I thought I saw him right after I received my card, but after talking with the first guy for a few minutes, he was nowhere to be found. So I got his phone number from the emcee. I can’t remember anything about him — but I should probably call him and arrange a date. It’s kind of weird that he disappeared on me, though.

Anyway. The lesson? Smile.

Date Bait, a stunning guy. What a weekend.

Toeing the Line

Sometimes it’s the little things that make life beautiful.

Yesterday morning, after getting out of the shower and wrapping a towel around myself, I walked back into my bedroom and smashed my left pinky toe against the side of a full-length mirror that’s leaning against one wall of my room. Ow, that wasn’t fun, I thought. But I didn’t feel much pain.

Then, as I started to get dressed for work, I looked down at the toe and saw that it was covered in bright red blood.

Ow.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but basically, the blood kept flowing and wouldn’t stop, despite my applying pressure to it with toilet paper. If I’d been thinking, instead of running around in my usual rush to get ready for work (created by my consistent practice of staying up too late at night and then hitting the snooze bar the next morning far too many times than is healthy), I would have sat down somewhere and elevated my leg. But no. So the blood didn’t stop. It did slow down a bit, though, so I Neosporined it (ooh, just created a new verb there) and wrapped a bandage around it and put on my sock. I sort of hobbled around for most of the morning, although not in a major way, because the pinky toe really isn’t as necessary for human balance as… well, as any of the other toes, I guess.

Later in the day I took off my shoe and sock. The part of my sock that had covered the toe was caked in blood and there was a little gash on the top of the toe.

Okay, so much for sparing you the gory details.

And I would have blogged about this last night — as well as been on Instant Messenger, which I told someone else I probably would be — except that when I got home from work last night, my phone line was dead.

So I went out and bought a new phone cord. Came home and plugged it in. Still dead, as Chevy Chase used to say about Francisco Franco on SNL.

Tried plugging the line into my computer modem. That didn’t work either. NOOOO!

So I called up Verizon and they tested the line and after all was said and done (though probably more was said than done) they told me they could send someone the following morning (a.k.a. this morning) between 8 a.m. and noon. Okay. Could be 8 a.m., could be 10:43, could be noon. How Delphic. And they told me that if any work was required inside my actual apartment, the fee would be 82 bucks for the first half-hour (or maybe it was for the first hour) and 30-something bucks for every additional half-hour, because I don’t have a maintenance plan.

Who makes 80 bucks an hour? Not even first-year law firm associates make 80 bucks an hour.

I’m a dialer-upper, so with no phone line I had no Internet access. A whole night with no way to chat online or surf the Web or blog.

I managed to ride through the low-level panic and withdrawal symptoms by watching TV and doing the crossword and actually talking to someone on the phone (my cellphone). Yep, turns out you can actually use the darn thing to talk to people with your larynx. I will note this for future reference.

In the end, everything went smoothly. I went to bed way earlier than I would have, I slept until the phone guy called at 9, I read the paper until they showed up at 10:45, and they didn’t have to repair anything inside my apartment. Turned out they needed to fix a wire outside.

So now I’m blogging at work, which I rarely do.

And I guess I’m better off today than I was yesterday. One healing toe, one repaired phone line, a few hours’ extra sleep, one fewer chance to get crabs.

Ain’t life grand?