sometimes, the convent doesn't sound so bad.

i'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that dating in new york is really just a cruel joke masquerading as some sort of ultimately and potentially fulfilling quest. (yep, feel free to applaud there: that's twenty-two years of social indoctrination exposed and discarded right there. this quest is a lie! the goal is a sham! the journey is...a goldmine of anecdotes. but the quest is a lie, and possibly even an experimental soap opera for the powers that be.)

man, odysseus never had to put up with this kind of horror.

the redux:

in an endeavor to get back in the saddle after the bass player fiasco (after all, what would i write about if i weren't in chaos?), i've been in the midst of a little social frenzy. three dates. four days. madness.

anyway. the first two were mild but nice. i liked the first one, though he was unimpressed with me. the second one was also okay, in a perpetually fifteen-year-old sort of way. i wasn't terribly impressed with him.

enter boy number three. let's call him...joe college.

that should be your first indication that something was fated to go horribly amiss.

that's right, joe college is currently attending rutgers. not that there's anything wrong with that. great school. but, it's slowly becoming a serious red flag for me, discovering that someone is still in school. sorry.

anyway. so, yeah. the evening starts off with this: "so, you're in corporate america already. wow. how does it feel to be a drone at twenty two?"

excuse me?

and it just got better from there. "oh, so what, you think you're all indie rock or something?" and "it's like this physics thing i read...oh wait, you wouldn't understand it." and other such nonsense.

gentlemen: a tip--you're not going to get terribly far by insulting your date at every turn. even if she's got a sense of humor. i was relying very heavily on mine. i just couldn't believe that i was sitting across from a human being who was so incredibly, and sincerely, offensive. it had to be a ruse.

right?

no. flash forward to a bit later. we'd hit some sort of conversational equilibrium, and were having a nice time. or maybe i'd had just enough wine that it didn't really bother me.

then he goes in for a kiss. and lo and behold, the man has really and truly got all the social skills of an eighteen year old and the arms and hands of an octopus.

horrendous.

mortifying.

lordy mama.

his saving grace: he spun a mean story about his career as a semi-professional gambler. don't believe the story any further than i can throw it, but boy was i entertained.