Sunday, March 22, 2009

I don't want to be your weekend lover...

Generally, I try to avoid dating or any type of sexually charged mingling of the sexes. Lingering glances and touches make me feel claustrophobic; I can’t function in a conversation that lacks boner jokes; and, to me, “sexy” means putting on a clean bra and possibly deodorant. Despite my better efforts, I occasionally find myself in situations where people somehow manage to test my unreasonable and unmoving boundaries and see past my unwelcoming attitude (usually through vast consumption of alcohol). So was last night when I went to see a friend’s band play at a local club. Just so you don’t assume that I constantly wallow in a pool of self-pity and deprecation, I’ll admit that I was feeling pretty good. My hair was doing nice things for me, my skin was all aglow, and for once I managed to look not like a complete A-hole (A=ass) in skinny jeans. Not unrelated, I drank a gimlet after work AND am trying this new thing where I don’t send out unwelcoming vibes. Anyway, sitting at a table with my friend, a bunch of dudes suddenly saddled up like we invited them or something. Naturally, I started trying to play wingman for my girl, saying stuff like “She’s real smart at college” and “I hear she gives a sweet beege,” but more and more this one guy kept turning to me and asking me what I studied, where I’m from, etc. More than that, he kept touching my arm. WHO DOES THAT? Not I, that’s for sure. Ignoring my natural instinct to run home and watch old episodes of Perfect Strangers on the computer, I decided to be brave and try and do what comes naturally to others.

Things were going… okay. The guy had an ironic mustache, which never bodes well, but he also went to Berkley, which means that he’s probably pretty smart. So, for a while, I hung in there and I can’t stress enough how unusual that is for me. But then he said this:

“Yeah, I’m sort of a connoisseur of cities.”

What. The. Fuck. Before you think that I’m being too hard on the guy, let me tell you how unbelievably pretentious this sounded: SO UNBELIEVABLY PRETENTIOUS. That’s when I got up and left the table for a “closer look at the band.” Later in the night, a couple of friends approached me to plead his case.

“PQK,” one said. “You were just the other day saying that you don’t get touched enough.” (note: I was joking when I said that)

“He’s a really nice guy,” the other said.

“I’m not really the ‘in town for the weekend’ type of girl,” I said, diplomatically.

A little bit later, I felt someone’s hand on my messenger bag. Turning around, I saw The Guy. Naturally, I said the first thing that came to mind:

“Are you trying to mug me?”

Apparently, he wasn’t (though I’m still suspicious). Turns out, he was just checking out the buttons on my bag.

“Oh,” I said. “That one’s from Lula CafĂ© in Chicago. Have you ever been there?”

“No,” he replied. “Which is weird because I’m sort of a connoisseur of cafes.”

I am not kidding. He dropped the C-bomb TWICE. And yes, this post merits lots of caps locks. But the fun doesn’t stop there. No, he followed it up with something equally uncomfortable and self-conscious:

“PQK, how do you feel about candidness?”

Candidly, I think questions like that are reserved for bullshit, whimsical hipster rom-coms, but I think I actually answered with something along the lines of “if you don’t have anything nice to say…”

“Well, candidly,” he continued. “I think [insert comment about my looks that I'm to embarrassed to type here].” (at least the guy has good tastes. har har)

“Candidly,” I said, almost puking with nervousness. “That girl is dancing crazy.” And then I pointed to some crazy dancing girl. And side shuffled away, muttering “thanks.”


I’m asking you, Internets, is this sort of thing normal? Is this how men and women usually strive to interact with each other? Maybe I just grew up with too many male friends, which means that I openly scoff at lame comments like a sister rather than say “connoisseur of cities and cafes, eh? That is sexually appealing to me somehow” like a flirt. All I know is that, for once, it was so satisfying to go home to my own bed and sleep alone, clutching my laptop. Call it sad, but it cannot be anymore depressing than bragging to random girls in bars (as nice as their hair may look). Besides, how can I fit into that world? What can I say back? I guess I’m a connoisseur of Buffy episodes. I’m a connoisseur of bagels. I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit: Pop Culture Edition. Jaded as I may come off, I’m convinced that one day I’ll meet someone who will be impressed by these things, but I highly doubt that he is the type of person who continually takes pictures of himself (this guy did) and has facial hair that is intentionally stupid.

I know this post is about a mile long, but I'd like to give the gents out there some advice that I'm completely unqualified to give:

-Beards can be good if kept neat. Mustaches are just awful no matter how great your fixed-gear is.
-Be sincere. If you love to ride that fixed-gear, by all means, ride that fixed gear. Just don't do it if you don't actually give a shit about bikes. The same can be said for conversations. Rehearsed sentences like "how do you feel about candidness" come off as just that: rehearsed. It's not quirky. It's awkward. Just talk.
-If you want my attention, be funny, be smart, be humble. That's really all there is to it (is that so hard?). Oh, and be wicked good looking.

And now a note to my friends:

It's become clear that you have no idea what my type is. I know that I'm into fashion, but, in the end, it comes down to the fact that I would date a guy in cargo shorts over a guy wearing raw denim as long as Mr. Cargo Shorts would repeatedly watch Wet Hot American Summer with me and make me laugh. Also, I kind of like socially integrated nerds (meaning a nerd that can handle drinking a beer at a bar with a small group of people, not nerds who solely date through online gaming). I've crushed on many a T.A. even though there are more stylish people in class. It's way cooler to know about Shakespeare than it is to complain about how Animal Collective have sold out with their newest album. I guess what I'm saying is that I appreciate the effort. You're just trying to help cure the social awkwardness and loneliness that I wear way too obviously. But please, stop pushing me towards boring people who are later randomly described to me as an "arrogant asshole" and a "pretentious prick."



Oh, and P.S., the night wasn't a total waste. I definitely danced the "Tootsie Roll" along side one of Kanye West's stylists. Ah, brushes with fame...ish.

5 comments:

Rachel said...

Ooooo what a good post.

That dude was a d-bag. Majorly.

Also: the guys that you said are your type do exist. They just spend most of their time watching Buffy marathons or having game nights with friends, so it's harder to run into them. They're like a rare leopard.

Did you slap Kanye West's stylist for that disgusting mullet he was sporting earlier this year?

Brian said...

And you left me sitting with the knob when you got up to "watch the band." It didn't get much better, but he did break a glass and cut his hand. Then I went home and read my book.

May I be candid? You're the best, PQK!

Librarian Girl said...

Based on your post, it is clear that you and I should be dating.

Maddie said...

Rachel- There was no slapping. I played it cool as I went to the left and subsequently to the right.

Brian- Candidly, you are the only connoisseur of cities that my life has room for.

LG- Once again Nordic Boy is the only thing that stands between me and happiness. NORDIC BOY! *shakes fist at the sky*

Anonymous said...

I actually love this post. The minute you said 'moustache', i kinda thought it might all go horribly wrong!