Does THAT Really Work?

Ooh boy, I'd love to help give enough rope to hang yourself, and watch the silly things you do. ~ Liz Phair

Okay, so I was walking to work this morning, as I always do. Today, I wore a super-cute black dress with my black-and-white polka dot platforms. And I was having a good hair day. When cute outfits and cute shoes happen to coincide with a good hair day, any girl is going to have a little extra strut in her walk. Looking good means feeling good...right?

Anyway, I was looking good, feeling good on my walk to work this morning. I got to the street corner and was standing, waiting for the light to change, when this pick-up truck with three guys in it pulls up next to me. One of them leans out and says, "So how much would it cost me to spend an evening with you?" Um...what?! Really? How exactly am I supposed to respond to THAT? "Normally I ask for $1,000 an hour, but for YOU big boy, I'll cut that down to $750"?

I just rolled my eyes (which were veiled behind admittedly ridiculously large -- but super-trendy -- sunglasses) and ignored him. The boys in the truck drove off laughing and I crossed the street and continued on to work.

But it did get me wondering...what is the point? At least one morning a week, I get honked or hollered at when I'm walking my dog. I should note that when I'm walking my dog first thing in the morning, I look like ASS. I've got my old, crooked glasses on, my hair is unbrushed, I'm wearing baggy, old clothes, and I'm barely awake. So really, why hoot and holler? Is it just to be funny? The "thrill" of it? Or do these guys really expect something to happen? Has it EVER worked? Has that guy in the truck ever asked that question of a girl and gotten a POSITIVE response (from someone who didn't happen to be a hooker)? Has a guy honking his horn at some girl walking down the street ever had her run desperately after him, arms flailing in an attempt to catch him and give him her number before he drives out of her life forever? I'm guessing...NO.

And for the guys out there, I can tell you that it generally is NOT a morale booster. When some dude honks at me, I don't feel all warmy and fuzzy and full of myself. I feel ANNOYED. Now, a guy who smiles and says HI when I'm walking down the street...that makes me feel good.

The hooting, hollering, honking tri-fecta makes me feel objectified and crabby. Things I could go without first thing in the morning.

What's Your Objective Here?

Was it ever worth it? Was there all that much to gain? Well we knew we'd missed the boat but we'd already missed the train. ~ Modest Mouse

Last night, I gave up my coveted Friday night to spend an evening with a man that I met in a coffee shop. I was buying myself a little afternoon kick-in-the-pants (aka, espresso) and he was in line behind me. We got to chatting, exchanged numbers, and when he called to ask me out, I said SURE! All of this, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for me...I tend to be in "the zone" when I'm out and about -- I'm in my own world and not paying attention to anything around me.

Anyway, we'll call this dude John. John was tall -- well over six feet (again, tall guys get bonus points with me). He had dark brown hair and deep green eyes. Pretty damn hot, actually. And, standing in line at the coffee shop, he seemed like a nice guy.

We met at a restaurant in Bethesda. He got there first (of course) and was able to snag an outside table. We ordered our (24-ounce) beers. And then sat in silence...for a l-o-n-g time.

Getting this guy to have a conversation was like pulling teeth. "Where are you from?" I'd ask. "California." "Where in California?" "San Diego." "How long have you been in DC?" "Six months." "Where were you before?" "South Carolina." "Where in South Carolina?" "Charleston." You get the point.

Over the course of two hours, I managed to drag out of him that he was a lawyer (no shortage of those in DC) but had spent many years in the Navy and had lived all over the world. He came from a big family -- four brothers, one sister. He had grown up in California. And that was about it. (Did I mention that it took me TWO hours to get this info?) The potential for him to be interesting was there -- I'm sure that he had experienced some great things. Too bad that he had the personality of a stick of wood.

As the date was (finally, thankfully) nearing its end, I'd given up on trying to keep a conversation going and was just enjoying the painfully awkward silence and cursing the waitress for taking so damn long to bring our change back. Then John looks at me and says, "So I had an okay time tonight." (Gee, thanks.) He continued with, "But I was wondering, what is your objective here?" Huh? My response was, "Huh?" To which he responded, "Your objective. What was your purpose or goal in meeting me here?"

I was a little shocked. In my entire life, I've never had a guy ask me what my "objective" was in going out with him. I wonder what he thought I'd say...to meet the man of my dreams, run off and get married, get laid? I mean, really?

I evaded giving any real response, jumped up from the table when our change arrived, thanked him for a nice evening, and raced to my car so that I could just go home because, at that point, my objective was to get the hell out of there and hope that I never hear from snooze-inducing John again. Sheesh.

Who Cares if I Worship the Devil?

Nobody wants anything I’ve got, which if fine because you’re made of everything I’m not. If you’re 555 then I’m 666. ~ Slipknot

I had a blind date last night with a guy whom I will call "Steve." Steve was described to me as being 6'1" (good...I'm not very tall, but I like to wear HIGH heels, so a tall guy is a good thing) with sandy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a huge, infectious smile complete with dimples (I LOVE dimples!) Sounds nice enough. But that was just his appearance. When the description got in to Steve's substance, it lost its glow a bit for me. Even though he was only 27 (a tad bit younger than me), I was told that the things he enjoyed most were tennis, chess, classical music, black and white movies and foreign films, and theater. Now, I'm not knocking any of these things -- I like all of them, too. However, to list them as your FAVORITE things? Is he 27 or 87? And could he be any more PREPPY?

So I'll be honest that I was a little skeptical about Steve heading in to the date.

Anyway, we met at a little tapas place downtown. I was, of course, running a little bit late, so when I arrived, he was already seated and had ordered himself a glass of wine. I spotted him from afar and thought, "hmm...not bad." He looked pretty attractive -- he was wearing a suit and I'm a sucker for a man in a suit. I headed over to the table and he stood up upon my approach. He was tall! Woohoo! But, as I got closer, he started to smile...revealing what had to have been the pointiest teeth I've ever seen. Seriously.

Have you ever seen the movie version of Stephen King's "IT"? Know Pennywise -- the clown? Yikes! I actually audibly gasped when I saw those choppers...each one...EACH one coming to a crisp, sharp point. Holy crap.

As we sat down, I did so carefully...one wrong move and he could seriously bite my arm off.

After I ordered a sangria and had a few sips while carefully trying (but failing miserably) to not stare aghast at the fangs of death, we started to chat. I learned that Steve was from a small town in Ohio that wasn't far from where I grew up, which gave us something to talk about (always a bonus). Steve was actually a lawyer for the Department of Homeland Security, so had a potentially interesting job...that he couldn't really talk about...except to complain about his boss. So I listened to that for a bit before steering the conversation towards one of my favorite topics...music.

I asked Steve if he was a music fan and his eyes lit up and he said YES! and began talking about the classical music society that he belonged to and some of the recent concerts the group had attended. Now, I like classical music -- it's not my FAVORITE, but I appreciate it and actually own my fair share and listen to it often. Plus, I always appreciate someone who is passionate about music, so as I listened to him go on and on about Bach and Beethoven, my fixation on his teeth began to fade and I started to think that maybe Steve wasn't such a bad guy. Then he asked me what kinds of music I listened to...and I answered.

I started off subtle and vague with my response -- "I like pretty much everything but rap." Then I started to drill down and reveal that at my core, I like heavy, hard rock. My favorites include bands such as Tool, Alice in Chains, Metallica, My Bloody Valentine, Rage Against the Machine, Slipknot, yadda yadda. As I rattled off MY favorites, his face started to pale. Odd. Then he said, in a very calm voice, "You really listen to that stuff?" And I enthusiastically replied YES! and continued naming bands such as Walls of Jericho, As I Lay Dying, Nine Inch Nails. He got a little paler and said, "That music is the devil's music. I can't date someone who worships the devil."

Umm...

I chugged what was left of my sangria and got up to leave, explaining that while that it was great meeting him, I was sorry, I had to run if I wanted to catch this evening's séance...I didn't want to be late because it was my turn to draw the pentagram on the floor in the virgin's blood.

Now, isn't dating just a hoot?

Getting Started...

...even in madness, I know you still believe. Paint me your canvas so I become what you could never be... ~ Shinedown

My name is Anna. At the ripe old age of 33, I live in a cozy (read it: small) apartment just outside of Washington, DC, with my aging dog and crazy cat. I've got a small, but close, group of friends, a great family, and a seemingly interesting job.

To the outside viewer, my life probably seems pretty swell. And really, overall, this is probably true. Things are good. I like me, people like me, people want to be me -- I'm happy. Oh, except for the fact that I remain one-hundred-and-fifty percent single. (Did I mention the "ripe old age of 33" part?)

Don't get me wrong. I've had my share of relationships and been involved with some great (and not-so-great) guys. But I just haven't met "the one."

Being single isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it is great. I'm responsible to no one but ME (oh, and my pets). I can go out and have a good time and not worry about getting in trouble for it (and I do that...a lot). Sometimes, though, being single sucks. It is especially sucky as I get older and more and more of my friends get married off and disappear into the world of couple-dom. And it sucks as people (the coupled and married ones and family members) start looking at me (a "lovely" single girl) and wondering "what's wrong" with me. It's enough to give a girl a complex. Or...drive her to become a crazy serial dater (like me).

Really, I don't think there's anything wrong with me. I'm smart, funny, successful. I've been told I'm attractive. I certainly don't have a difficult time meeting guys, they seem to love me -- from my long hair and bright blue eyes, to my a** (which, btw, fits nicely into a size 4 pair of jeans). I'm a classic girlie-girl...I love everything pink and anything with bows. On the flip side, I'm a total tomboy...I'm obsessed with fishing and I actually like watching sports and know something about what it is that I'm watching. I also own a 40" HDTV and an XBox 360 (w/ Grand Theft Auto 4 -- which, btw, I got carded when I bought).

So with me, guys get a trophy girl and a buddy...what more could they ask for? So what's the problem? Tune in and you'll find out. I think you'll see that being single has its ups and downs and dating and isn't easy. (Most of) the guys I've gone out with are great...but not for me. Good news here is that I remain optimistic and entertained by all of my experiences. And yes, they ARE entertaining. So get ready...I'll be sure to have a few dates lined up and will let y'all know how they go!