And she kissed me.

That wasn't quite what I had expected going into this evening.

Octave and I have a long history. She was my first kiss. She was the girl I almost dated two years ago. We have stayed in contact since, and are very good friends. I once wrote her a very slick song, but never sang it to her, because she told me she was seeing someone. It was complicated.

After I broke up with my ex, I made a promise to myself to remain unattached for at least 3 months. No matter what goodness came my way, I would have to be perfectly honest with her, and keep my heart open to others as well. Turns out I'm not very good at keeping my heart open. It likes to sink it's little hearty teeth in, and make a decision.
I have a crush on Octave, but it isn't actually going too well. She is very hard to get a hold of, and as of late, has been a slow and sporadic communicator. She has a lot going on.

What I am most concerned about is that if Octave and I go on a few dates, and I choose to boyfriend Sakura, Octave may feel like she was runner up. Or best candidate, when no others are available. The truth of the matter is that I am very strongly attracted to her, but I have a very difficult time reading her.

I cannot begin to understand if she is flirting or not.

Octave is a flirt. She flirts with everyone. This is, overall a good thing. It's nice to be flirted with. She does the world a favor. But I find it difficult to determine if her flirting with me has any special merit. She certainly does, but I don't know if it is her expressing affection or behaving normal.

I feel like I need her. I need Octave in my life. She is a great woman to talk to, and she always helps me out of a jam. I have bungled so much during this dating spree, that I'm afraid of damaging existing systems.

She is in a unique time in her life right now, and isn't in a hurry to tie herself down again. I can respect that mightily. She broke up with her ex (ex fiancee) just before I broke up with mine (never fianceed). I want to give her time to work through things.

I am the Worst Wingman Ever

The Sexy, Voice Actor, Dancer, Martial Artist, Film Student Mac Expert was pretty into me. And Geoff was pretty into her. I tried to turn her his way, but I really don't think I tried hard enough.

I was really rooting for him. He was spot on at that party. His wit was operating at +1, he was funny and charming, and she wasn't really having him at all. She was all about the Spaminator.
That was actually sort of awkward. I'm single right now, but I'm sort of taking this time for me right now, hence the Hiatus. I spent much of the time wishing she was massaging Geoff. Not while she was rubbing me though. Don't get me wrong. She was hot. She was interesting. She was trained by her grandmother in the ancient japanese arts of pressure point massage. But I think Geoff deserves her attention more. At this point, I was concerned taht IW as infringing on his "game," as it were.

Geoff and I are at Emily's party, which is populated exclusively by attractive single women. Princess is there, and things went well between us, demonstrating (I hope) that I am interested and capable of maintainging a platonic relationship. There were also two of Emily's friends from USC. The sexiest whom shall be named Sakura, after my favorite DDR song. I like the song because it offers many different, challenging step patterns, all of which are awesome, accompanied with music that is among the best in the entire game.

After the consultation of a "playa," it appears that technically Geoff was infringing on my "game." My staus as wingman (inherited by recognizing geoff's admiration fo Sakura), changed after I iced her foot. Her roommate had crushed her little toe (her dancing toe) beneath her chair. I came to the rescue with Red Cross cold compression and Spam Stylt distracting banter. I told her about the time my dog Moose gave my Horse a blowjob. That will keep your mind off of toes for a few seconds, I guarantee. However, there was excessive icing of the toe, and excessive exclusive banter. I couldn't really help it, she was attractive. And I think she has a thing for toes. A sexy thing for toes.

After the icing, she paid quite a bit of attention to me, and at this point Geoff's flirting was infringing on my game. Technically. Geoff is one of my best friends, and I could do nothing less than wish upon him the affections of every Sexy, Voice Actor, Dancer, Martial Artist, Film Student Mac Expert, Star Wars Fan ever. And I do. but it seems that THIS one likes me.

On Hiatus

Of course it makes you sad to be told that so and so doesn't think you're as great as you think you are, but so what? I created this blog to tell a true story. I am in a unique part of my life, and I wanted to offer a unique narrative tone to tell my friends the story of my exciting adventures in the land of people with breasts.

Part of this is my passion for language. I love to see my words in print. Cast in electrons, unalterable (for you!). I feel like a creator. Taking words, and combining them into tangible feelings. This is the pleasure I get from this blog.
Someone has a high opinion of himself. I won't tell you who, but I think you know him.

However, I'm looking to slow things down. For years I have praised the saturation technique of modern dating. Go out with anyone. Ask out everyone who looks even remotely interesting. You will get turned down. The vast majority of the time. But eventually, you will get a date. This works. This isn't quite what I'm looking for.

Despite her last printed sentence being "Well i hope to hear from you soon bye." Rock Dove hasn't responded to me. Perhaps she was murdered by the commas she'd failed to put in her writings? Commas are vindictive. If you neglect them, they'll kick your ass. If this is the case, she brought it upon herself, and she has my pity. I sent her an email declaring myself "On Hiatus," and we're leaving that at that.

I've decided to stop being lonely, and to stop appearing desperate. I am going to see my friends, and I am going to go out on weekends. I'm still open to meet new people, and I may even write about it.

But I'm not going to look for a date.

It totally wasn't a date.

Octave is an old friend of mine, and we went out on friday night.

It totally wasn't a date.
I had an absolutely great time. I can say with absolute certainty that it was the best time I'd had in 6 months, but I can't actually recall anything more than 6 months ago, so it's possible that it was the most fun I've had ever.
We drove into the heart of LA for Peach Cobbler and Grilled Cheese, all the while singing songs we knew from her iPod. The device was powered by a plastic arm, plugged into her car's cigarette lighter, and it used an FM modulator to broadcast to her stereo. It worked suprisingly well. Unless the car turned. under these specific circumstances, the arm tipped and unplugged. Power was replaced with not-power, and and then Simon and Garfunkle were replaced with horror.

Let me reiterate, it was not a date.
We played a few games of Carcassonne, which she learned very fast, all the while enjoying various culinary artifacts from Swingers, the hippest diner on the Central West Side.

We left at 10, but Octave still had some fight in her, so we decided to watch a sing-a-long movie. Oh Brother, Where art Thou. George Clooney's finest role. It was excellent. Better than excellent. A damn near perfect cap for a damn good evening.
At opposite ends of my full length couch, we sang wholeheartedly to the words we could remember, while making up words to the parts we forgot. The entire evening failed to be even the slightest bit awkward, as the geographical distance between us stood as a banner to remind all who might be near, "This is totally not a date." At some point in the movie, we popped each other's toes. Still, It totally wasn't a date.

Friday night reminded me that maybe I'm taking this whole dating thing too seriously. Not like it was a date. Dating is not a job interview. Maybe just because a girl doesn't understand how dangerous the living dead are... maybe she can be pleasant company besides.

God has a femme Cannon

The powers that be, are rapidly providing me with additional females to disappoint.
For a man with such unbridled failure in the realm of dating, I sure am seeing a lot of action.

It isn't that my heart is broken. I haven't been particularly taken with any of these women. It isn't that I'm lonely. I am surrounded by friends and family who all love me. I guess I always figured that I was so awesome, when the time came, I would be beating the women off with a stick no larger than my thumb. Well, the time has come, and there is a veritable hoard of available femme, but they keep hitting me first.
See, I'm not very good at the violence.

After the Incident with Princess, I had 3 pretty bad days. In between feeling sorry for myself, I felt like I'd lost a friend, and that I had no idea what I was doing with this dating thing. A lot of self doubt in there. Altogether not so good.
But I can always fall back on my friends. I sent out word that there was pie, and a few people came over to my house tonight, and incidentally cheered me up.

I feel like my confidence is wounded. Every time a woman says "I definitely I think I can do better than you," in that way or otherwise, it pokes me. Then I sleep on it, and I get a scab. A brain scab. When it happens again, the scab flakes off, and my confidence hole grows a little deeper. What I need is some time off from rejection. I need a little space to restore my self worth before I can continue my whole hearted quest, with a whole heart. Because right now, I'm just waiting for the next disappointment.

And her name is Rock Dove. That's not really her name. None of these girls have real names, and it's the least I can do, since I'm an asshole to publish their stories without consent.
Rock Dove is a 25 year old Geologist living in metropolitan Los Angeles. She of course, has a passion for nature, education, technology, and sex.
Sex is mentioned no less than three times in her profile.

I'll just leave out the details, because I think she may resent both talking about her, *and* sharing of personal information online. I like to pretend that sharing just one of those is alright though.

You are all perhaps wondering what it is that I am walking into. Those who know me will not be surprised to hear that I need to develop a considerable comfort bubble before I am comfortable with physical contact, let alone, physical contact plus. This was the subject of the third open question I asked. She appears to be looking to establish love before she claims a Penis. That is an important point for me.

What was her Answer to the Zombie Question?
That's the funny part. I have been in partial communication with her for over a month. I get a response about once a week, and since we're all paying buy the month for these accounts, I get the feeling that I'm getting second or third billing here. But hey, looks like it's my show now. One step at a time, I cross a quaking bog on the corpses of those that have fallen before me.

There are positive things we have going on here:
She's a geologist. The Sexiest of all sciences. The earth science closest to my own cold stone heart.
She's experienced. I don't mean sexually. I mean, I'm sure she is, but all in all, that's just intimidating. But she gives me the impression of a woman who knows how to handle her self in a relationship.
Her number two passion is conversation. Conversation is oral communication, a strong point of mine.
We share a lot of Cooking, Technology, and Theater. Cooking is Creativity, and Technology and Theater are Geeky. And being a Geologist makes her Geeky. Technology + Theater+ Geology combines to make her a potential double plus geek. A real prize.
She loves woodworking. More creativity. I think I feed off creativity like the Pootworm feeds off the brains of the slow moving Gafkabeast.

"I enjoyed reading your response to my questions. So sound like a very sweet and generous guy," she says. Her answers are full of typos. For a person who takes a week to generate a 3 sentence response, she's not a terribly good typist.

I will tread carefully. My heart isn't so much into it, but I'll give it the old college try.
After all, what do I have to lose except my sanity? And Sanity is really just a one trick Pony. All you get is one trick: Rational Thought. But if you're Crazy, then the Sky's the limit.

She wasn't my type first!

We spent the day looking at old crime scene photos. Men arrested for dressing like women 70 years ago. Men shot in the chest for selling alcohol. A beautiful woman, who took an axe to two friends, and packed them into trunks. Then tried to take them with her cross country.
Crimes of passion caught on film, and preserved for a generation so I can see plainly and literally, the timeless effects of a reckless heart.

"She totally digs you," they said.
Princess is a New England Native, transplanted to Los Angeles in order to become LAPD, with her sights set on becoming the first woman in SWAT.
I have been in electronic contact with her since I first joined eHarmony, but I thought she wasn't my type. Actually I thought I wasn't her type, but I shut up about that, because she's the only one who can make that sort of a decision. She's just moved to LA, and I invited her over to meet some people, and sing Karaoke. That's when I learned that, my type or not, she was a knockout. We had a good time, she adored my friends, but I spent the night singing poorly, rather than checking her out. This would certainly account for my not noticing that "she totally digs me."

Or so they said. But she was hot. And they said it again. And again.
So I asked her out.

Today wasn't a date. the date was for next week, just to be clear. I carefully engineered today's activity such that we'd hop from friend to friend, only seldom alone together. But we got along so well. She is a roman catholic, intent on several children, with a strong sense of civic duty. Perhaps a little conservative, but she went all day without pushing any of my buttons. She's read the Hitch Hiker's guide, has a powerful love of penguins, and she gets along with my friends adeptly. She wants to be a cop. Not quite a Vigilante, but as for as Police Districts go, LAPD is pretty close. And if she was totally into me, then there's no harm in trying, right?

70 years ago, a young Photographer made a name for himself by being in the right place at the right time. By knowing people. By reading people. By waiting, patiently, for that one moment when the woman realized that her husband had just died. And putting that look, forever, on film. That is what I am doing here.

Princess just moved to Los Angeles. She has no exposure to mankind outside of internet dating sites, and until today, I was differentiated from the masses as being the one person who wasn't after her to date her. She's a person who needs people. I have a unique opportunity to get her involved with my friends and my active social life. So I feel like it's my duty to do so. She is a cool person, and god knows we can use some new blood in our circle. But if she totally digs me, then maybe I can have the best of both worlds? A new friend to share a new point of view, and to make things a little different. A companion who can appreciate my unique take on masculinity and humor.

I brought home a book of the photographs. When a man is shot in the chest, he will fall on his face and break his nose. Two pools of blood pour from these men, one from the head, and the other from the heart. At first glance, you think the wounds are related. But it was only the pierced heart that killed him. These men were shot by desperate people. People who needed quick money. People who were enraged. People who, across the span of of two minutes, had lost their footing. People who lost control of their hearts.

Today, again, despite the cries of my fragile mind, I lost control of my heart.

Princess told me, quickly and honestly, that she doesn't think that the dating thing would work out.

What have I done?
I neglected my intuition, and got carried away with the confidence and joy that comes with being wanted. Have I sabotaged a unique opportunity to help a wonderful person grow some social roots in this frightening city? Have I burned down my chance at making a unique new friend?
I have no idea. All I can do is put my faith in communication. Present myself honestly, and believe that it will all work out for the best.

My heart is a murder/suicide. A Police detective smiles next to my remains. "Another night on the Job." By asking one question, I simultaneously took a bit out of my confidence, and may have lost a growing friendship. If I knew this was the way it would play out, why did I put our relationship at risk? We certainly haven't known each other long enough for me to think we have a stable or secure understanding of each other.

In between the bodies and the transvestites, throughout the book, and on the cover, are photos of lovers kissing. The photographer admits that sometimes he had to use a special mirrored lens to take these photos around corners. Because love doesn't like to be captured.
But love is out there. He stole it from shadows, from around corners, and sometimes just by turning backwards in a movie theater. As often as he shows us tragedy, he shows us that a passionate heart doesn't always lead to disaster.

He reminds me to keep going. Not to bitch so much. I can be melodramatic tonight, but in the morning, after sleep, I will be fine. I have a warm heart, and a unique personality. There is someone out there looking for someone like me.

Today, a very simple communication took place. It wasn't unexpected, and it didn't hurt. It's just the thought of being unwanted, again, that gets me. But, every week I consider myself 1/6,446,131,400 closer to finding someone.

Her Mind was a Death Maze.

It was hot, and I had to take off my shirt.

Apparently I botched my wits roll.
It wasn't charisma, because that counts for the intangible that mostly comes into play in person.
Via internet, it's all about wits. I will keep that piece of nerd knowledge in mind.

After spending the morning in idle, meaningless chatter with Aowynn, I was getting the strong impression that she had no interest in me. A position that hardly seemed fair since she didn't know me. She was slow to speak, and always answered questions with the precision of an algebraic physics equation.
Just FYI, that's not very much precision at all.

The one question I wanted to ask was "Do I have a chance here?"

I didn't ask that. I asked what I thought was a simple question, that would lead into what was possibly an awkward question.
I asked "What are your short term goals? What are you looking for in a partner." A Question I have personally been asked, via internet. This was my undoing. It actually launched her into a tirade. Perhaps it should have been obvious? If she was previously uncomfortable telling me what her job is, why would she tell me something personal about herself? She lectured me about how to talk to women, and then told me that she wasn't interested in me "because of the questions."

It all happened so fast, I didn't really have time to do anything but listen to her.
"Is that a question you would ask a girl you just met in a bar?" she asked.
I had no response at the time, but yes it is. I got her contact info from a dating page, and she sent me her Live Journal, so I know she's dating. Yes, It is something I would ask. I have many close friends, and more than enough acquaintances. I don't really want any more shallow friends. But I came across too strong. I think what she wanted was a considerable amount of idle chatter. But I had no clue what the subject had to be. There was some secret passcode of interest.

I was in a death maze. There was infinite possiblity, and a very finite set of simple questions that would get her talking to me. I asked about her job. "I'm a personal assistant." Dead end.
I proceeded playfully and cleaverly, pawing for additional information. My goal was to get to know her. What would this girl Choose to do with her life?
"Do you work for an assasin? Polishing weapons and stiletto heels?" I asked.
She chuckled, and said "something like that." I hadn't known at the time, but it was Strike 1.
There were many things I could ask about, but I had a funny feeling. I was frustrated by her vague answers, but even that contained it's own information. Don't pry too deep. I knew better than to ask about why she dropped out of college. Or why she began to lose faith in catholicism. These are interesting aspects of her personality and past that she has flashed onto the internet. And she doesn't want to talk about it. I'm in a death maze. The lights have gone. And there's a leopard.
By the way, asking what she thinks an appropriate start of a conversation is wasn't the right door.
Strike 2. So I asked her to ask me something about myself. She can ask me something, and we can go from there. Strike 3.
She's not interested in getting to know me. Beyond anything but friends. "It was the Questions," she said.

We learn from our mistakes, But I don't know what to learn from today. It was such a small instance. It seemed unprecedented and felt unreasonable. She was quick to "dole out the harshness," as they say. But I can come across a little strong. That's what I need to keep in mind. I can be intimidating.
I guess I'm trying to convince myself that I didn't make a mistake, and that my situation is better now that it was an hour ago. That I didn't lose an opportunity, so much as scratch off another person who isn't right for me.
That is what I do with every closed message, with every day that goes past.
Do what comes naturally, present myself honestly, and my interpersonal affairs will work out for the best.
But today I don't think that's the case. I'm think that if we met, and she didn't loathe me for one of the many reasons women do (see previous posts), then maybe she could have opened up to me. Maybe we could have talked, and maybe something could have come of it.
I'm so stranger to failure, but this feels premature.

"Other," is made of PEOPLE!

“Other” is the only reason stated when a female, or (on some lucky days) several females close contact through eHarmony. “Other,” means that the 2 dozen other check boxes just didn’t say “You’re too weird, and I’m too boring” in an appropriate way. But there are still planety of good choices.

“I think the difference between us is too great,” this classic turn down line is check box number 5. Simple but concise, it says “Leave me Alone, Freak” without evoking the amusing emotional response that Freaks are so prone to provide.

“I would rather not say,” is a great one. It leaves you with a whisp of mystery as well as a feeling of inadequacy.

“Based on (Zombie Related) statements in the Profile, I’m not interested in this Match.” This one really seems to fit the bill, but "The Ladies" all choose Option 15, “Other.”

Other is the bubblegum rock chunks in your icecream. It’s there, but if you were really thinking about it, you wouldn’t go for it. “Other,” is just so boring. Like the flavorless gristle tucked into delicious blue icecream. Unoffensive until it's in your mouth. Then you realize: The joke's on you! In a world of relatively substantial turn down checkboxes, choosing “Other,” says “I’m boring!”

Aki and I reached the point of open communication, and I popped "the Question." She is a Radio Sales Coordinator who is into Theater and Science Fiction. She loves her parents (a lot), is ambitious in her career, and cautiously accepting of traditional gender roles. After waiting several days for a response, it came in the form of "closed" message: "Other."
This Zombie screener is working like a charm, though I feel robbed of a potentially amusing response.

To my surprise, I had another closed message waiting for me. A sexy blonde, whose photo showed her hard hat in hand, getting into a massive piece of construction equipment. A woman who operates any machine with legs is a woman that I want to get to know. Or not, apparently. I messaged her a long time ago, and our communication only reached the stage of multiple choice questions. And she fianlly closed it. Is there some slot where other women are putting in feedback? Uh oh. “Other,” strikes again.

However, I do have adventure forth coming. An un-date with Aowynn (to whom I have given an awesome pseudomyn, due to her awesomeness). I met her through OK Cupid, and she is a 26 year old gamer girl. She invited me to meet her at a gamer gathering in La Canada next Saturday. She's very slow to respond to OKCupid mail, so I'm hoping to bump things to AIM (Do you know I actually prefer AIM rather than the phone? I'm such a dork).
Once I get a few more short, content-less emails from her, I'm hoping to accelerate things. Perhaps we could meet at a cozy Coffee place next week, and she can teach me a new game. Or we can play the classic Carcassonne.I have a few reservations about Aowynn however. She is shy, and self proclaimed physically communicative.These are hurdles I have dealt with before, but they don't make things easy. I am physically communicative, but not physically receptive. I need aural affirmation. Also, if she is shy it can make it difficult to get to know her. I doubt that the shy thing will be a big issue since we have a lot in common: a passion for gaming, creativity, and very simple needs. She has strong feelings about both women's rights and gay rights, which is something that appeals to me. I’ll ask some more meaty questions via email, and maybe she’ll continue to neglect to answer them. We'll see.