The Last True Gentleman?

Hello! So I have a conundrum folks. I never seem to realize when someone is making a pass at me, unless it is of the kind that is so obvious as to be ridiculous. I mean, I don't think it happens very often, at least not that I've noticed, but there have been a couple of times where it'll hit me a couple of days after the event that I might have inadvertently dodged a pickup attempt. And I am in no situation to let viable offers just slip away! I worry about this now, because I think it may be happening again.

When I first moved to New York, I met someone who went to my University, but left just before I got there. He's in the same profession as me and is a cool guy, so we had a lot to talk about and became friends. Not close friends, but more of the "hey it's been months since I've talked to Adam, I wonder if he wants to grab a drink?" type of friend. Over the summer he threw some work my way, and we went out to dinner (wine and dessert as well). He paid (though I offered to go dutch), because he said I saved him from a lot of work, and thus he wanted to thank me. Super sweet right? And then he offered to walk me home. I was a block from my apartment and it was maybe 9pm. And he lived a block in the other direction and uptown a bit. So it made me wonder, is he interested in me? He had had a girlfriend for a long time previously, but had broken up because it became long distance. I like to think I'm attractive and mostly fun to be around, so it's not totally out of the question, but did I read too much into it? Maybe his Momma just raised him right!

Okay, so time passes and both our schedules got crowded, so we didn't meet up again until earlier this week. Dinner and then coffee at a neighborhood place. But dinner could not have been in a tinier, more lowly lit setting. And then he walked me to the subway. And he lives in the other direction. And it was definitely not later than 8:15pm. Both times, just a hug goodbye, and no look for more than that that I could see. So, it makes me wonder if I am mistaking his gentlemanliness for romantic interest. Have I just never been out with a genuinely well-mannered man? That is a sad sad thought. There must be hundreds of Goofuses for every Gallant. I think it's probably a safe bet that in Manhattan the ratio might be even more skewed in favor of the former. I think it's a prerequisite to work at any top finance firm. I would love to hear tales of gentlemen, or even (gasp!) chivalry, to counter my jaded single New Yorker view; so if you have 'em, send 'em along!

Wow! It's certainly been awhile.

Not that anyone's been missing me here, not yet anyway. I went to Ohio to visit family and friends the weekend after my last post, ran a 10K with one of my best friends (though she continued for another 6.9 mi after I was done), and got really busy after that. I didn't go to the gym even once in these past two weeks, so no progress there. Also, my subway quarry was missing for a bit, but I saw him a couple days ago again and noticed the ring on his left hand. I don't think it was there before, so maybe he was gone because he was on his honeymoon?

On a different note, I had forgotten why I was not a fan of loud crowded bars, not having been to one for awhile. Well, I remember now. My wonderful roommate was going out last night with her friend, boyfriend, and some of her boyfriend's friends, and encouraged me to come along, I think mainly because I had been on the couch for most of the day reading and napping. Despite being older and wiser, it still doesn't make me more comfortable in large groups of unknown people. Something else I'll have to work on I guess.

The First Couple of Days

So I saw Jim yesterday morning, we were both using the free weights, he with a couple of his buddies. I said a cheery "good morning" and proceeded to a corner and bench a little ways from them. I assumed at some point he'd say hi again, but I was wrong. I guess I should've figured that with my semi-brushoff the other day he would be a little reluctant to approach me again; next time I'll have to be the one to stick my neck out. It's not something I do well, but I guess I'll need to learn.

Another project: there's a really cute guy who I see on the subway a lot in the morning, and I want to find a way to talk to him. My friend Alissa picked up a guy on the commuter train . . . when we were in high school. She is a great woman and I'd like to borrow a few of her personality traits some times. Another friend whose gifts I could make use of is my girl Vittoria. She can talk to anyone anywhere about seemingly anything, and once punched a guy on the subway. But that's a story for another time. Anyway, I think this guy is in the same profession as me, so maybe I'll start there. He's been MIA the past couple of days, but I'll keep you posted.

Hello!

Hi there. I plan on introducing myself soon, but I need to figure out exactly what it is I want to do with the blog before I do. I hope you'll come back and visit when it's no longer under construction.

A New Endeavor

Hello again! I’m Emilia, I’m 26, I live in Manhattan, and I have a problem. It’s nothing debilitating or really anything anyone else should be concerned about (save my mother), but it’s chronic and irritating. I consistently pick the wrong men, or at least can’t seem to hold on to the ones I think could be the right one. I’m at the age where all of my friends are pairing off or multiplying, and as happy as I am with my single life, I wouldn’t mind a guaranteed plus one to the next wedding I’ll dread going to. Now, while I am not thrilled about being closer to thirty than I am to twenty, not because I had such a great time at twenty but because I feel I haven’t accomplished enough to be nearing thirty, what is even more disturbing is that my dad is closing in on sixty. I have known for some time that my dad and I are thirty years six months apart in age; I was always good at math so I figured that out ages ago. But somehow my dad being sixty seems much more significant than me being thirty. Sixty is old. Sixty-year olds have grandchildren and arthritis. They are bald and have sagging faces. My dad has and is none of these things and I can’t imagine him getting or becoming them in the next two and a half years. I know sixty is the new fifty and my idea of hexagenarians is slightly behind the times, but still. A sixty-year old man deserves to have a happily partnered daughter. So that’s what I’m setting out to achieve.

Let me give you a rundown of my dating history, so that maybe you’ll start to understand the problem. I’ll leave out the one-nighters (dates and hookups) but if you’re worried that you’ll have to go to bed before you finish reading this, fear not. We’ll break it down into major life periods.

Elementary School: Bobby- professed he would “walk 500 miles to fall down at [my] door” and is still the most romantic guy I’ve been with. Our relationship never had any clearly defined start or end point, which is why he’s included here. In fact, we may still be going steady.

Junior High and High School: The transition to public school left me with six years of unrequited crushes. I was really tall, kind of chubby, sang in the concert choir and madrigal groups, was on the Academic Decathlon team, and was in all honors classes. Not sure what scared the boys away.

College: George- was a cute wrestler from somewhere out west, was my first kiss, and told me after two weeks he had slept with another girl. Classy. Julia Roberts (not his real name, but given because that’s who he would be if I were Dermot Mulroney)- The saga begins. JR was the dreamiest boat to sail into my girl-infested social harbor. I had never had many friends who were boys. My unkempt eyebrows arched in surprise every time he talked to me in the first few weeks of our acquaintance. I pined, and semi-stalked (his dorm was where I ate, so I always had questions from class I absolutely needed his input on), and we became friends. We flirted with coupledom, or he was charming enough to make me believe we did, but essentially stayed platonic. He’s listed here because you’ll see more of him later. No other major relationships.

Grad School: Witherwings (not his real name either)- was smart, fun, and drove a motorcycle. I didn’t move fast enough and we only lasted six weeks or so.

Post Grad School: JR (again)- started occasionally sleeping with me. I figured we were destined to be together so it didn’t really make a difference that he had a girlfriend. I’m not proud of it, but I can’t undo it. Mack- was gloriously tall and we were attracted right away. He was a bit younger though, not “ready” for me even though I was “right up his alley”, so we stopped seeing each other after a month and a few months after that he started dating someone I think he’s still with today. Keith- was the first guy I ever asked out (who accepted). I felt like that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry gets the girl's name off the AIDS walk list since I got his email from a volunteer event we did together. He was nice enough, but too provincial, and hadn't kissed me by date four so he didn't get a chance after that. Nick- and I met online. I know, I know. He too was smart, and tall, and seemed interested in me until he stopped returning my calls. Again this was no more than a month.

So, an admittedly pretty pathetic list, but it has allowed me to become independent and capable, and at this point I think I have a pretty solid sense of myself. You might be wondering why I’ve chosen now to start a blog, since I must’ve known for awhile that my dad’s nearing sixty. Well, I’ll tell you. Two days ago: JR (a.k.a my one blind spot)- a couple of weeks broken up from his girlfriend, accompanied me to this fancy cocktails, dinner and tiny desserts thing I had to go to. Being the romantic and apparently naïve person I am, I was thinking maybe this would be our shot. He’d finally realize that his good friend (me) could also be the girl he’s been looking for. I neglected to notice he had found her (not me) before leaving the old one. Yeah. So I was upset for myself for falling off the cliff of my unrealistic romantic expectations yet again, and decided that something needed to change.

This is the change I wish to see in my world. Nothing I’ve done (co-ed softball team, various websites, friends of friends, FWB) has worked so far, which leads me to believe I need to do things I haven’t done. For a very recent example, for the first time ever I was picked up at the gym. I had already started my workout, so this is a miracle; I am not on of those women who “glows”. Instead of being weirded out like I normally would be, the next time I see Jim at the gym (get it?) I’m going to ask him for coffee. I am confident I will see him, as he seems to be a regular. My grand plan is to try one of those thing everyone says you should do to meet people every week or two. I will initiate conversations in bars, bookstores, and Whole Foods. I will chat people up when I make my own pottery or take some sort of class. I will take your suggestions as to what else I should be doing (though I draw the line at attending any sort of church because I will not trivialize someone's religion by pretending to believe). Because I’m not completely comfortable doing these things, I’m going to keep the blog as a record of my experiment, and embolden myself in the name of science.

I know I’m apologizing to readers I don’t have yet, but I’m sorry for the length of this post. I can’t imagine they’ll all be like this, but I thought you might want the background so that you’ll know where I’m coming from. Only direction now is forward.