Closed Contact: Maddie

I'm not even going to go out with Maddie.

She is a paralegal waiting for her bar results. Pretty cute, but definitely a regular sort of person. She likes the beach, college football, travel, and retards.
Mocking the Disabled is grounds for damnation, but if that's the way it's gotta be, then I suppose I'm alright with that.

Despite her affinity for the "Vitamin D," I won't be going out with her. By asking One Single Question, I was able to divine that she is not the girl for me. I will share my wisdom with you.

Overnight, the world has ended in a quiet apocalypse as an unknown disease turns friends and neighbors into shambling corpses, hungering for the flesh of the living. You are mysteriously unaffected. What would you do?

"At first I have to admit that I thought this was a creepy question and didn't really know how to answer it but then it came to me - Disneyland! It was of my favorite places ever - so if everyone else is dead I would have to go there for several reasons: First, I would feel much better about losing everyone I care about. Second, there would be no lines for any of the rides. Third, you wouldn't have to make the bed becuase you could just move from one hotel room to the next."

::sigh:: Where do these people come from, and why do they keep coming to ME?!

I think what MUST have happened was failed reading comprehension. Perhaps she missed the part with the zombies? Because Disneyland post apocalypse, is a whole new reality of nightmare.

Completely walled in, the now monstrous staff wander the park from Toontown to Tomorrow land, waiting for the arrival of vacatoners who will never come. Stuck inside a giant Pluto suit, a starving zombie beats the fiberglass head against the Matterhorn's fence to break free. Perhaps a few survivors, the eatery cleaning crew, have swam out to Tom Sawyer's Island? Maybe they have huddled up within those secret caves, safe from the horde, but slowly starving. Who will be the first to go? Will the others have the strength left to kill her when she turns?
A clean bed will do you no good in a hotel populated by the dead. Most of the beds won't be clean to begin with. Soiled in the night as patrons undergoing a painful transformation vacated their bowels. Or painted with blood, as panicked guests brought about their own demise in the face of certain death (bullet wound to the head only). Sporadic gunshots break the night air, as mommies and daddies forcibly prevent themselves from devouring their own children.

I don't think Disneyland is such a good idea.

Date Review: Dylan

Dylan is a PR person for Ultiamte Fighting Championship, and a weekend EMT. She enjoys Sports, Travel, and Social Drinking.
The highlight of the evening was when she simultaneously stripped me of dignity and masculinity by stating: "It's like you're the girl, and I'm the boy!" Ha! See if I bring my dignity with me on any more dates.

Part of the problem was saturation. She planned a Marathon date, 2pm until midnight. She took me to an Angels v White Sox playoff game. She's a Chicago kid, so she really wanted to see her team. Why not? I thought. Plenty of opportunity to communicate. Who knows. It could be good.

It could also be very, very bad.

Where can I begin?
We both came from the exact same page: T-Shirts. Her SOX shirt was unclean for some reason, so she actually had to go out and have one made the night before. You know, with money. I had a vision in my dreams of an Angels shirt that I had to will into being, so I went out the morning of, and made it. You know, my self.
It was a red Tee, with the Angels logo on the left Sleeve. Using mad skillz and a "legitimate" (see also: Lies) version of Adope photoshop, I edited the White Sox logo (which says "SOX") to say "SUX."
I threw in a little geek humor, and it was perfect. "teh SUX" it said. I was so happy.
Apparently the cross section between nerds and Angels fans DNE, because no one got my shirt. In fact they all thought it was a red White SOX shirt. My subtlety had been lost. Completely.

In the beginning.
It started off well, with a train ride to union station and to Anaheim. We talked, and we talked with the stranger who sat with us. It was nice.

During the game, she revealed that she was infact, a republican catholic. A Diabolical combination. She didn't SAY it, but she implied that she was religiously opposed to women's rights (abortion, women in the military...), and gay rights. The only two political issues I actually care about. Call me an asshole for standing up for civil equality. Do it. I want you to. I support your right to do so. Asshole.

I wasn't terribly uncomfortable, but I wasn't comfortable either.
I had a pretty good time at the game. Her team was winning, so I was glad, because she cared.

We left early in the 9th inning to try to catch the train. When we noticed the time, and the end of the game, we had 10 minutes to exit the stadium and cross the lot. Unfortunately, I lead us in the wrong direction for a few minutes, and we missed the train by just that same increment. I'm willing to take the blame for that, but it didn't help that she refused to run. She was in Heels, decidedly impractical. I always wear shoes that I could hop a fence in. She also refused to hop the fence.

When waiting the 2 hours for the bus, she revealed that she'd never been to such a calm sports game. Usually she's yelling, and cursing, but I was so calm that she felt out of place if she put her energy into it. Great. I reduced her sporting fun quotient. While you're at it why don't you tell me how you wish you were hammered right now? Oh, that comes later.

Waiting for the train didn't do well. She blamed me for missing the first train, but she didn't say anything. That's alright, because I secretly blamed HER for wearing heels, adn not hopping fences.

We hung out in front of Hooters (where we couldn't get in, on account of the lines). She was bored. I'll save you the pain of reading about the next dull hour. Just imagine that I was unable to amuse her, and that she was unable to get the alcohol she apparently needed to enjoy her evening.

Things went so poorly, that I began to feel inadequate. I felt as if it was perhaps my fault that the date was going poorly, and as a result, my confidence was shot before the train ever got to us.

We agreed that we didn't have to talk on the train, and she took a nap, while crazy people made kissy faces, hocked up unnecessary organs, and threatened each other. It was just what I thought the subway would be like, but with less stabbings.

I drove her home, mostly in silence, but I said too much. A Wreck of a man, devoid of confidence, feeling as if I was at fault for the fate of our date. You can imagine what I may have said, and shake your head in pity.

It wasn't until days after the fact that I contacted her, and told her that I thought it was pretty clear that we didn't work out. I wished her the best, and said good bye.

Date Review: Aegyptus

Last night I went on a date with the coolest woman that I've met in a long time. We were matched through eHarmony, and she is a pretty big geek, which means we have plenty to talk about. Also she's beautiful.
The date went much better in the beginning than it did at the end.
She is teaching chemistry with Teach for America, and just graduated Yale. She is a Busy Bee.

The evening began with a fun car trip to the French Market Place, a cool unique restaurant in West Hollywood, with famous French Onion Soup. We talked about school and home, and friends. By fortunate happenstance, I pulled into the wrong parking lot, and we came face to face with a bounce house full of fat children. "That's not soup!" I declared. "We could Make them soup," she responed, approximately. Any woman who jokes about eating fat children is A-OK in my book.

As the evening went on however, I became more and more aware that she wasn't all there. She was in fact, at work, at home, and on a date all at the same time. Around 7:30 she started to get Antsy. She is a chem teacher in an inner city school. Her 4 sections have over 40 kids each, and she really cares about her job and her kids. It's a big commitment.
However, throughout the evening she didn't actually seem very interested in me. She didn't ask too many questions of me, and frequently interrupted me when I tried to tell her about myself.
Now, I was in Normal mode. I liked her, and I didn't want to scare her away. Looking back on myself, in a critical fashion (as I am want to do) I can see how I wouldn't stand out. However, it didn't help that she just didn't ask many questions. No questions about my home design, no questions about my writing, no questions about my art, no questions about hobbies. I felt like I was doing all the work.
Which is a shame, because I liked her.
On the other hand, she seems way too busy to have time for me.

I'm willing to take her out one more time. Next time it will be a friday or a saturday. A day of the week where she doesn't have to worry about school in the morning. If she's more relaxed, maybe she'll forget about all the work she has to do.

Though I am loathe to do it, I recall Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. A Book whose original title was "First Impressions." I take my impressions of a super busy, hyper organized, ambitious female, and assume that she has no flexibility, or room for another person in her life. Most likely this complicated, intelligent, attractive, nerdy and musical woman didn't put her best foot forward. A second date will confirm or deny these allegations.

Update, 10/24
Or it won't. Aegyptus Hasn't blocked me from AIM, but she hasn't said more than a sentence to me either. I went as far as to ask her out again, only to be faced by an idle message.
She either has no interest in me, or no time for me. So my quest continues.

Date Review: Clarine

The very first date I went on was with Clarine, who contacted me via eHarmony.

I was initially hesitant, because her profile said that she could not stand "cheap" people. Now, eHarmony defines "cheap" as "so tight fisted as to be impractical." I wouldn't call myself cheap, but my friends have been known to say I was "so tightfisted as to be impractical." So I guess it doesn't matter what I think.
She decided to contact me because I said that I like to Karaoke, and if a guy likes singing, how bad can he be?

Pretty bad, apparently.

I picked her up from her office to share lunch at a local Indian restaurant. Not bow and Arrow Indian, this is dot on the head Indian. The first thing I noticed was that she didn't really look like her profile picture. College had been "good" to her, let's say. About 30 extra pounds good. But she had pretty eyes, and I'm more about face and hair than body, so it didn't really bother me. This is obviously a lie, but Sixty-two thousand, four hundred repetitions make one truth. Fortuantely our time together didn't last that long.

When she got into my car, she took Ben, the Teddy Bear Trapper, and tossed him on the floor. She said she hadn't noticed him, and thought he was a rabbit. This was because he was wearing a rabbit hat, and a dragon vest that I had painstakingly made a week before. I decided that Ben and his cute little hat, and nice red vest, would go home with the first woman who took me on a date.

The date was, in retrospect a disaster.
We spent lunch trying to engage eachother in conversation, but failing. We had things in common, just not anything we were actually excited about. So our date consisted of us taking stabs at failed conversation, over plates of curry.

She said she didn't like science. She said she was happier knowing that a tree was a tree, rather than see it as a vast system of simple parts and complicated chemistry. Well, that was where I closed the book. If I can't share my earthly knowledge, I'd have nothing to say to her. I decided that I'd pick up the whole check (she'd asked me out, but was not interested in picking it up herself), since I wasn't going to ask her out again.

I was saved the trouble of telling her I didn't think we'd work out, because she immediately blocked me on AIM, and stopped communicating. I wasn't going to chase after her, since she had an enmity against trees.
A week later, eHarmony notified me that she had closed contacted because "the chemistry wasn't there."

Maybe it was because I left the rabbit's eyes on the bear's hat?

The First Post

Hello, my name is Spam, and I am a 23 year old College Grad, with a Degree in Earth Systems Sciences and a minor in Computer Sciences. I enjoy talking with friends, playing games of make-believe, and kicking ass.
I am very happy with who and where I am in life, and I am ready to share myself with another person. The posts that follow are reviews of dates or notable moments in my singlehood.