i had something of a meltdown yesterday. i can question everything sometimes, second guess what i want, and what i'm doing. yesterday morning was one of those times; i worried that it was, well, a sucky way to go into speed dating. if i was actually going to go through with something so outside the realm of my usual, i was going to need my game face and some accompanying lightheartedness. once my sister, C, and i worked out what we were going to wear and at what time E would be picking us up, my equilibrium returned.
Two men approached us while we stood outside our building waiting for E to pull up. One of them had just moved into our apartments and wondered when he might secure a tour. C, in mock flirtatious banter, said "well, maybe we'll bake you a pie as a welcome gift or something..." We told them we were going speed dating, to which one of them replied "I saw that in 'Hitch'," to which I replied "Yes, you did."
As soon as we were in E's SUV and pulled onto St. Paul Street, she pulled out a present. A bottle of Jamaican rum from her trip there a couple of weeks ago. I was all smiles already. Though I wouldn't be opening up this particular spirit, the plan was to have a couple of drinks before the proceedings began. i loathe small talk and can't always engage without the aid of a little something. That little something would be a vodka martini. up w/3 olives.
We all had these sheets on which to jot relevant details and names of the people with whom we talked, and on which to indicate inerest or the lack thereof.
The Firefighter, early 40s was a salt of the Earth type. Second generation Irish. We covered quite a bit of ground--mostly because we started talking before the official first 6-minute block.
We were off to a good start. When the little buzzer sounded we'd just explored the psycho-social, social psycho strata of something or other...
The House Painter, already drunk, told me (at extreme close range) about how much women care about these subtle differences in colour that men just cannot see. He also said to me before it was time for him to move on "I'm going to mark you down as
very interesting..."
I should mention, for clarity's sake, that the women (who outnumbered the men) got the benefit of staying seated while the men bore the burden of rotating tables.
The Doctor in the Pink Shirt asked me what sports I like. "Football," I said. "The drama! The pathos!" He was all manner of intrigued after that. He said "So that's going into your next book" I, on my second martini by this point, replied "You know it..." The DPS kept alluding to some side business which I strongly suspect has something to with porn or some other illicit practice. He was being all vague about it.
(
NB: The Doc was very appreciative of the intentionally consistent design elements of my outfit. I wore silver hoops in my ears and a loopy necklace that was meant to resonate with the swirly cirlces of my dress pattern. I believe he told me I had an elegant bearing. I was all ears. I mean, there's nothing happening with this guy, but it's not every day that someone pays such specific attention to my attire. Made me want to dress up every day. I need more clothes!)
There were two lawyers, both of whom gave me their cards, both of whom have promise. I can honestly say that I wouldn't mind if either of them got in touch. One of them, in particular, was unabashed. Before it was time to rotate, he looked down at his little recorder sheet, looked at me, then said "Fuck it! Here's my card."
I should explain here that C and I were at the same table. We played a little game with all the guys. I don't know if they were trying to flatter me, but every guy consistently guessed that I am the elder by only two or three years. I loved watching their jaws drop when I revealed that an entire decade and one week separates us.
Anyway, when Mr. Here's My Card was forced to rotate to my sister, he said to her (she shared with me later) "So, you're not here to meet guys are you, because I just want to talk about your sister." According to C, he pumped her for information about what I like, what I don't like, what to say to me on a date, etc., for the full 6 minutes of their allotted time.
There were a couple of guys from Long Island, NY. Fun fact of the night: Neither of these two can distinguish the accents from the other burroughs. Except for Brooklyn. One of them told me that people from Brooklyn talk like they have marbles in their mouths. I shared that it is my personal goal to learn to differentiate these by ear.
By night's end, I was on my third drink, and C and E and I all agreed that food was in order (none of us had really eaten all day), so we headed over to Sammy's for the best Italian in all of our humble city. E called ahead and put in an order of Calamari for us... The man himself was there, so we regaled him with our anecdotes. My oh so subtle sibling told the man no fewer than five times that he should take me out... He and the staff were all intrigued by the way we'd spent our evening. S and our server (also named Sam) thought they might like to join us next time. The jokes were flying.
OH. oh. To go back briefly to the cast of characters from the speed dating venue. A real estate mogul whose info C and I took because we already feel cramped in our new digs. In a year, we might want to acquire something roomier. The Mogul had a very defined sense of style that we both found suspicious. He was too fashionable to be straight. This was beyond metro, even.
Back home by 1 and ready for bed, I kicked off the masochistic heels I had on and called Sarah for a debrief. Sure as hell beat watching back to back episodes of Alias season 4.
