Okay so I found this blog the other day (thanks to Naomi M for that!) and turns out, I met her on a date in AZ...when I picked up her roommate (thanks to Meg W for that!). We decided to do a "worst date" blog post trade. Check out her blog and check out this post. She is funny. Katie Elizabeth Hawkes blogs at Katilda.com where you can read my worst date ever.
I'll be the first to admit that my dating shenanigans don't hold a candle to some of the epic monstrosities I've heard within my own friend circle. But regardless, mine was still a ridiculous evening for a naive little grasshopper to experience at the tender age of 19.
Confession: I don't even remember this guy's name, so we're going to call him Samsonite. Sammy. And now on with the story...
Prologue: This date occurred after my roommate informed me that her buddy Samsonite was hankering for a set-up. Trying to be a good sport, I didn't ask many questions, said yes, and thus it all began.
Scene 1: Browsing Our Phones
Samsonite retrieved me from my little basement apartment and whisked me off to an evening of (not so much) magic and (mostly a lot of) mayhem. We'd driven about 1.3333 blocks when he pulled the car over and said, "My buddy wants to come on this date but he can't find a girl. Can you look through your phone and see if you can think of anyone?" I was hesitant to throw an unsuspecting friend into the mix, seeing as how "do you want to go on a date right this minute with a friend of a stranger because he couldn't find one girl in this entire city to go out with him" isn't exactly a great selling point. In any case, we didn't find a date for Samsonite's buddy....who, by the way, we will name Frank, because no, that's not the last we'll be hearing of him.
Scene 2: Defying Death & Stuff
Another block or so up the road, Samsonite said, "Hey i have a fun idea -- you drive my car!" Before I had a chance to protest or recite any lyrics from a Safety Kids song, my "fun-loving" date had closed his eyes and lifted his hands off the steering wheel. Grabbing the steering wheel seemed like the only sensible thing to do at this point, as did screaming at him to open his eyes. I'm pretty sure he just laughed and said it was a joke. Then I recited the entire etymology of the word "joke" to him. Kidding. But I should have.
Scene 3: Hands Off
Because neither of us was hungry (it was good to agree on something), we headed to the nearest movie theatre for some fine cinema. And by "fine cinema" I mean a movie titled "Flushed Away" that featured cartoon rats. As the opening credits rolled, I noticed Sammers was leaning awfully close to me. I employed every "don't touch me" body language maneuver I had in my arsenal and made sure to thwart his advances. That was, until halfway through the movie when I let my guard down and unwittingly put my arm on the armrest for about 0.005 seconds. And that is how I found my hand in his eager grasp for the rest of the illustrious film.
Scene 4: A Supporting Actor
Hunger had dawned at this point so we wandered across the street to a little diner. It was about this time when Frank met up with us. Had Frank found a date? No, Frank had not found a date. Frank was coming to 3rd-wheel it. Well, Frank, I actually didn't mind your interruption at this point, if we're being completely honest. And thus I spent the next hour picking at my french fries on my side of the booth while Frank and Sammy dearest sat across from me and talked (to each other) and fiddled with their new hand-held gaming devices. In good news, I'm a sucker for french fries.
Scene 5: A Scenic Drive
I was pretty much dying to go home at this point, and probably should have said so. But remember that part about being tender and 19? I don't think my healthy dose of gumption blossomed until at least 2-3 years later. So, Frank piled in Sam's car with us and the fellas spent the next 30 minutes hemming and hawing about what we should do next. Someone (probably not me) voted on a drive up the canyon, and so off we went. I'll cut the details on the drive up the canyon, but suffice it to say, when you're crammed in the back seat (we had picked up more friends at this point) and your date has already held your hand that night, he might think it's time to put his arm around you and hold you close for the entire adventure.
Prologue: In a nutshell, my adventurous night on the town wrapped up with a half-hearted hug at the door and a roommate who owed me big time. In any case, I did love those french fries.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Imagine with me, if you will, driving down the highway of love in your relationship car. (I wonder what your scenery looks like...mine is a desert.)
Like others journeying down the same highway, there are road bumps, pitstops and even abandoned cars on the strewing side of the road.
Things are going smoothly...until you start to notice some issues. It starts off as a putter, then a short power failure then an all out stall. You see there is a service station a few miles down and you think it might need gas (still extended metaphor here). So you make the long hot walk there, get a can of gas and walk back. Still not starting. 'Maybe it's the battery!' You assure yourself. So you again walk to the station, get a battery and back...but still nothing. You try a new starter engine. Then a new alternator. And even a new... (h'm...i've run out of car parts I know. But you get the point.)
On one of your trips back to the car, you see a sign that you wasn't there before: "Welcome to 'The End Of Your Dignity' Pop: 1."
It is there, with the car barely visible through the heat waves of your romanticization, that you realize, that although it is a tough decision because you put so much time and energy into the car and tried so hard to fix it...there is a car that will take you where you need to go--and it isn't that one.
So when do you give up on a relationship? There is a clear line when love meets self dignity; and it is there, my friends, you must make your stand. For at that point, it isn't true love.
A wise man Jeffrey R. Holland said, "In a dating and courtship relationship, I would not have you spend five minutes with someone who belittles you, who is constantly critical of you, who is cruel at your expense and may even call it humor. Life is tough enough without having the person who is supposed to love you leading the assault on your self-esteem, your sense of dignity, your confidence, and your joy. In this person's care you deserve to feel physically safe and emotionally secure." (read the whole speech here, called "'How Do I Love Thee'").
Love is inspiring, uplifting, encouraging and enlightening. Food tastes better, ambitions race higher and reality is enlarged. And while there will be road bumps and pit stops, at times, you need to fight for what you have left...but realize when nothing is.
For there is no shame in walking, when the 'alternator'tive is not working.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Every now and then, I get people who hate. And that's fine. But if you do hate, don't be surprised if you end up having a post written about you. Here is a comment I got on my blog last week:
The name of the author of this comment has been omitted by the author of the comment to save face.
"So can I just say something? And this isn't meant to be a mean comment...I've technically never met you, so I don't really know you...but your blog speaks for itself. I feel like I know enough about you. You are a very critical person. If I was a girl that you were potentially going to date, I would be freaked out! You have a very cynical opinion (and grading system I'm sure) for everything. My grammar, wardrobe, the things I like, food I eat, past relationships, even the way I sit in my chair etc. are all things that you would pick apart....you have to go easy on girls. We're just as human as you. I know this is just a dating blog, and I don't think you're trying to be cynical or harsh, but its just something to take into consideration. A girl might never be good enough for you if you grade her on the 'Zack Oates' scale of perfection."
Moderator: Representative of EasterCloset Oates, you have 1 post to respond.
Me: Thank you imaginary moderator.
Yeah, I guess I can be pretty critical--but let me just say something too.
First, a lot of things on this blog are entertainment. I mean you don't really think that Glen Beck believes everything he says, or Ann Coulter is really that abrasive or John Stewart actually finds his out-of-context news educational above entertaining? Now, I'm not saying the Easter Closet is worth throwing up on hulu the day after it airs, but...I AM just saying.
Also, I've been in love. I don't know you, but maybe can assume you have too. In which case you know, that no no matter how long that list is of qualifications for the other person, in the end, the criteria becomes a criterion (that is the singular form...not even kidding. odd, I know.): is it love?
For when you are in love, there isn't a list of things you are matching the person up to; rather, that person BECOMES your list. If you have a lonely Friday night (which I CAN'T POSSIBLY imagine happens with you), watch One Day with Anne Hathaway. Or you can read a post I'll probably eventually write about it. It shows talks about how love can melt away self-imposed barriers.
I remember one of the few times I fell in love. She was shorter than I wanted, not as skinny as I wanted, not from the type of family I wanted, didn't dress the way I wanted, had smaller hands than I wanted (they were, actually VERY small...), wasn't as "ho-T-T" as I wanted--and you know what...? It didn't matter because in reality, SHE WAS what I wanted. My "list" all of a sudden seemed like an insignificant series of personified insecurities and she took their place with remarkable beauty.
So if I come across as cynically acrostic, I challenge you to find out for yourself. Yes, I am calling you out by asking you out. See how terrible I really am. Many girls have...but then again, they were the kind that farted while sitting in their chair (I'm assuming you were referring to the blog post about farting the library when you mentioned the way you sit...?).
Happy to Respond,
The Worst Guy You've Never Met
Friday, February 10, 2012
Okay, you know what bothers me?
Girls that make their life complicated. They MAKE it complicated. It isn't. It doesn't have to be.
But for some girls, there is just this insatiable desire for complication. It's like they have a free plane ticket across the country but would rather...ride a giant sloth (sorry, still thinking about Kristen Bell).
Exhibit A (this is going to be the only exhibit needed to prove this case):
You go out with a girl and have an awesome first date. She says she wants to go out again and even sends a post-date text that is very sweet. (You later google it to find out that she got the exact verbiage from a post date website--but that is besides the point (wait, but besides the besides the point--who googles texts? okay, both in that account are weird, but we are just in the pre-amble--bare with me))
You wait the prescribed 2 days and then call her on day #3. After some small talk about how "C-RAZY things have been" (even though you saw her at the tanning salon, her daddy doesn't make her work and she is only taking 6 credits) you break into next steps.
boy: Hey, want to go out this weekend?
girl: yeah, what day?
girl: Busy then too.
boy: Busy this weekend?
boy: Then why did you--
girl: Let's go out next week.
boy: Okay, you pick a day.
girl: What about Thursday?
boy: Ummmmm...I think that can work. I don't usually plan that far in--
girl: Oh sorry! I can't do Thursday.
boy Wait but you were the one--
girl: Well, hey, I've actually got to go right now, my...[awkwardly searching for word] "friend" is coming over right now.
girl: Well, you know. It's complicated.
boy: So are you.
This happens more than you would think. Look, ladies...we are big boys. Just tell us you aren't interested if you aren't. If you are--make it easier on us. You may have (want) drama in you life, but this show is Days of YOUR Lives. Why would you even ask what day if you knew you were busy? Why would you take so long to say the word "friend" unless you were looking to stir the pot? Why do you have to go and make things so complicated? (...shoot, that just came out. I promised I would never use and Avril Lavigne song in my blog posts. Darn you Carson Daly and your dynamic hosting of TRL.)
Oh and if you do have some really "complicated" things going on, maybe you should figure that out first. Because last time I checked, this isn't some Southwest flight--baggage does not fly free.