I may have met a new candidate for the next blind date for my co-worker. If you need some background on this story, and my part as a yenta, click on the "Blind Date" category over on the left.
She was working at a local fruit and vegetable stand. I stopped to see what was fresh. By the way, I found some wonderful local blueberries and luscious ripe figs. Anyway, she is very cute, blonde, 32, and looking. Or so she told me. I honestly don't know what it is about me that inspires women to confide in me about their romantic histories and hopes, but it never fails. It may be because I am a safe flirt.
In fact, she did flirt with me. She said, as I fumbled with opening a plastic bag and she took it from me, that she was surprised I was married since I seemed to lack the "magic touch". I told her, I am chagrinned to admit, that she didn't know what she was talking about since I wasn't using my tongue to open the bag. She laughed.
I gave her my card and told her all about my co-worker. We'll see if she calls. She was cute and funny.
Buddy just reported in from his weekend. Success? I think so. Dinner and movie went well. They had a good time. And not only did they discuss getting together again, she actually called him last night to confirm their plans!
I am getting the warm, self-congratulatory glow that comes from the feeling that you did a good deed.
Buddy and the girl are building on the stunning success that was the Australian wine tasting and are getting together tomorrow night for the classic American date: dinner and a movie. As details become available, I will share. Keep rooting for 'em!
Just got the update from my wife. The girl "liked Buddy and would see him again". Success! This is what happens when you combine charm, unlimited amounts of wine, and social pressure to drink as much of that wine as possible. I have advised Buddy to contact her immediately because she is clearly still drunk and he needs to strike while her mind is still clouded!
We did the group date last night at the wine tasting, as I posted yesterday. I will post later about the wines. The date was successful. No one ran screaming from the room or tried to leave early to go home to "wash their hair" or "walk the cat". They seemed to like each other. I doubt it was love at first sight or that anyone swooned but I think that this was at least a qualified success.
The woman was easily as advertised. She was blond, athletic, tall, pretty, smart, and interesting to talk to. The total package. A lot like my wife, actually, except for the tall part.
We drank and compared wines and they all made fun of me for being a wine nerd and actually taking notes on the wines and trying to taste them in flights. I didn't mind since it immediately gave them something in common to share -- teasing me.
Once I was sure that conversation was flowing, I tried my best to flit off for long periods to give privacy and allow them the opportunity to get to know each other. Also, I had a bunch of friends at this thing who I wanted to catch up with.
My wife and her friend had arranged a signal in case the date was going poorly. So, when I felt that 9 glasses of wine constituted an elegant sufficiency, I asked whether people wanted to go have dinner. I know that I needed something to eat after 2 hours of drinking. The signal was not passed and we adjourned for dinner.
Dinner was fun. Buddy and the girl shared an appreciation for bad old television and movie trivia. The girl did her best Muppet imitation and Buddy replied with his best Muppet. It was just that kind of evening. Both of them have cats, did I mention that? It seemed significant to them that they each had a cat.
We broke up to catch a 10:00 train home with the girl joining us as she lived farther up the line from us.
I await a report from my wife as to whether her friend would welcome further contact from Buddy, at which point, I will bow out.
Sorry if this post lacked it's usual polish, but, I am feeling every syllable of the immortal advice of Dean Vernon Wormer, in Animal House: "Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son". I'd have been ok if my daughter had not favored me with a 2:10 wake up call this morning to go to the bathroom and then a 3:00 request to fix her blankets, which were all twisted.
As you faithful readers may recall, my wife and I are in the process of trying to fix up one of co-workers -- Buddy. I have posted about this before, first here, then here, with the conclusion of the first fix up over here. The introduction to the newest date can be found here.
Tonight is the night for date #2, an attractive, blond, athletic, co-worker of my wife. Buddy has gotten himself ready by getting a hair cut yesterday. Looks good. As I mentioned before, the date will be more of a group thing at a wine tasting of Australian Wines. Actually, having been to wine tastings at this place before, you should know that they do not serve you just a thimble of wine which you are supposed to suck through your teeth while looking thoughtful and maybe moved by the experience. Nope, this place serves you a whole damn glass of wine "to taste". These evenings usually end with at least one guy putting another guy in a headlock, rubbing his head with his knuckles, and saying: "I luv you, you little fucker, I really luv you". I've never done that, of course. Nope, not me. Anyway, get the idea? If this event cannot break the ice and knock down social barriers, I don't know what will.
One memory I have of one of these evenings, before I became a responsible father (read: too tired to stay out drinking], was wandering over to the pool tables after to watch some guys shoot pool. One guy made a really terrible break and his friend looks at me and says, "he breaks like a woman". [Which, if you watch ESPN2 at all, you know is just ignorant]. I replied, "yes, but he cries like a little girl."
Well, my wife has introduced B, via email, to her colleague, who we shall call C, for cute. I am told that she is cute, blond, early thirties, and is looking for an introduction to a nice guy because her past experience, when following her own judgment, has not been satisfactory. B has responded and his response has been looked upon favorably and the Gods of the Blind Date have arranged another adventure. However, your keen observer will also be there. Why? Because, in order to ease the awkwardness, this will be a small group thing. We four will be attending, next week, a tasting of Australian wines. I know little about Australian wines and look forward to slugging back, er, I mean, sipping with appropriate decorum, the offerings from the land down under. I will not, however, spit (unless it is nasty).
I will report back. Perhaps B's luck is about to change? I hope so.
Quick update: I was right, those crazy kids are not going to make it. I got an email this morning from L asking me to let B down gently, explaining (to the extent that what follows constitutes an explanation, not that she needed to provide one), that she didn't think it was going to go anywhere. The French say that when you meet someone, there has to be a "flash". No flash here, evidently.
And the dating goes on. . .
Well, those two crazy kids may not make it after all. [Wipe tear away, here] B has reported in. He tells me that they stayed for another half and hour and chatted. B says she was cute and he enjoyed the set up. However, when he asked her for another drink or if she'd like to go get a bite to eat, she told him that she had to be up early tomorrow and would have to pass. So, B, ever the gentleman, walked her back to the train where she said, "this was fun, let's do it again sometime, email me". Sounds like the kiss of death, right? Time will tell, but, to paraphrase from old silent films, it doesn't look good for our hero!
However, another prospect has come out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere. My wife has a candidate from her job who just broke up with her boyfriend. Stay tuned and we'll see what develops in my quest to help B achieve couplehood.
The Meeting.
Last night, I took B to meet with L at the Royalton Hotel bar. The Royalton is a very cool space. It was one of the first of the now ubiquitous boutique hotels in NYC. Designed by Phillipe Starck, the doors to the hotel entrance are unmarked and the space inside is low lit with low tables and chairs. Some of the chairs look like small animals with huge bases and small backs comprised of thick metal bars bent to provide some type of embrace. This is the lobby, by the way. You know, where you check in and say king size, no smoking, please. The check in desk is in the middle of the cocktail lounge and quite a bit smaller than the bar. There are these odd looking glass rhino-horn light fixtures jutting out from the wall every five feet or so. I did not like them. The bar is a great people watching place. Not to be too NYC bitchy, but you get the tourists who wandered in wearing matching sweat suits with bright new sneakers and very big hair (I think it was a mother/daughter team) and you get the Euro-trash types who have not been told that this bar is, to quote a friend, so two weeks ago. Interesting mix and they are all looking at each other trying to figure out what the other one is doing in their bar or hotel.
Then there was blind date table. B and I were in suits and ties. B looked quite dashing in a dark suit, pink shirt, and pink and purple tie. Not very lawyerly but certainly nice for a date. When we arrived, L was already there. She snagged a table for three and was drinking a light beer. She was as I remembered her and we quickly introduced each other and sat down.
Quick first impressions. What do you base these on? What a person orders from the waitress? Well, I did not expect her to be drinking a beer as she seemed more of a Cosmo type but a beer gives a good, honest, down to earth impression. B had a martini with a specified type of gin I had never heard of before. What does that make him? Fussy, perhaps? I just had a single malt scotch. I'm married so I don't care what it says about me particularly, except, I suppose, it says, hah, he's doing a low carb diet!
The conversation flowed easily and I'll be curious to hear B's reactions when he gets in to work today. I thought she was nice, but. . . . I have to admit, I was distracted some of the time by trying to figure out whether she was chewing gum while drinking her light beer. If so, turn off for me and I suspect for B who is really quite picky. Hmn, did I say fussy before based on the drink choice? Perhaps there is some truth to that.
In any event, I think that they got along. I stayed with them for a half an hour and then rushed to catch a train to see my children before they went off to bed.
B is usually in to work by this time. I will not read anything into the fact that he is late. I will wait for the report, which I will share with you, dear readers. Do the adventures continue? Tune in and find out!
Well, its official. If I write about this, I cannot tell my friend, my co-worker, about this blog because it will chronicle one of his adventures in blind dating. Still, it may prove to be too delicious to keep to myself.
My friend, who I need to give a name to for this blog, shall be known herein as Buddy. Ever play Lacrosse? A buddy pass is something you don't throw to a buddy. It has a big looping arc which gives the other team time to arrive at your buddy's location at the same time the ball does and hammer your buddy. Having hooked my friend up once before with the dating equivalent of the buddy pass, I shall call him Buddy (or just B) for this adventure.
B is a clean cut, nice, funny, smart, well-dressed, conservative guy who works with me. I think a lot of him. I wish my sister had dated him instead of the dirt bags she seems to prefer.
B is single. Not that he doesn't try. He's just kind of a freak magnet. No, that's too strong. But, he generally gets the girl who, by way of example, has her mother as her best friend and tells her mother everything, including details of her sex life. Too much for B. And probably for most men. I mean, it sort of puts three in the bed with none of the advantages. B is in his early thirties and would like to meet a nice girl and settle down.
I have tried to help him by introducing him to some nice girls (one of whom turned out to be buddy pass girl, more on her later, perhaps). Why? I am happy in my marriage and would like to see B happy, too. Also, I probably have a small streak of yenta in me.
So, on to the new possibility. What to call her? How about Lass or L? She appears to be a sweet Irish lass. She may just be covering up her inner psycho, and don't we all, but time will tell. L is the same age as B. She is blond and I don't know much more about her. She seems very nice. She had a tattoo on her ankle. Normally, I don't care for that but on her it looked cute.
I met L on the train going home from work one night. We had a lovely conversation -- unusual but not unprecedented on the train -- occasioned by train problems and our relationship with the train service. During our chat, it came out that she was single and looking. So I asked whether she'd like to meet a nice young man and I described B to her. She replied, in words or substance, sure, why not? As she said, she had just told a complete stranger that she was single and had a less than fulfilling social life, so why wouldn't she be open to the possibility of a complete stranger introducing her to another complete stranger. So I gave her my email address and, to my surprise, she emailed me the next day.
At that point I asked B to join me in my office and to shut the door. I described the situation, the woman, and the setup. He did not think I was out of my mind for trying to pick up a girl for him on the train and was interested in having a drink with her.
We are getting together tomorrow night for drinks.
The stage is set.
Are you all interested in me reporting back on this as it develops? Or should I not bother?
(Spell check claims I got every word right, a first! Must be a mistake in the spell checker.)