"I guess I'm calling to break up with you."

Well, I have been so busy NOT dating lately that I haven't even had time to post an update. Between date night with Blondie McSmartyPants, a ridiculously busy social life and Super Bowl Sunday, my life has been INsane! Not insane enough for me to forget about match.com, though. Don't you worry about that. I am still an active little dating bee.

But, I know you're all dying to know what is up with VBall McBulgarian, so here's an update. The last time I saw him was Wednesday night last week. It was our third date. He came over for a homecooked meal (mama always told me that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Actually, mama never told me that, but I imagine that is something a mama might say) and for a game of scrabble. I am embarassed to report that he beat me at Scrabble. Yes, he is an English language learner (moved to the US in 1993) and he beat me, an English language learner teacher at Scrabble. It was terribly sad and embarassing, but it was completely not my fault! I swear to you, I picked the worst letters (all vowels) to have ever been picked in a Scrabble game. AND, despite the fact that he had all the high-scoring letters - Z, X, J, V, K - he still only beat me by 10 points, so I like to think that I redeemed myself.

But that is beside the point. At some point during the date, he breezily mentioned that he was interviewing for a new job... in Baltimore. "WHAT!?" I believe I did actually shout it just like that with both an exclamation point and a question mark. I thought it was odd that he would bring this up on our third date and then try to nonchalantly pass it off as something that "probably won't happen, but..." Ummm ok, buddy. Just cut to the chase. But still things continued on as normal. He asked when he would see me again, we snuggled on the couch and watched TV, he kissed me good night. All seemed great.

But then, on the day of our next scheduled date (two days later, AKA last Friday night), he texted me to cancel, claiming he would call me the next day (yeah, right). Bummer. Big time. I was really, really, really, really starting to like this guy. SO, of course, I immediately tell Blondie about my devastating news and she decides that the only way to make things better is to go out and get drunk. I agreed.

We went to our favorite neighborhood bar, Blue Max, in Sunnyvale. Doesn't the name just sound fun and intriguing? It is... If you like old people who are REALLY into karaoke. I was feeling so pumped about karaoking and boozing it up that I must have been oozing positive energy as I got two calls three minutes apart from two new match.com boyfriends. (And, as it turns out, I wasn't really that sad about McBulgarian because I tried to cry about it on my way home from work that afternoon, but only managed to squeeze out about three tears!) It is true, ladies, life does go on.

Meanwhile, at the Blue Max, Blondie and I enjoyed a plethora of Miller Lights (at $3 a pop) and I indulged in singing an exorbitant amount of karaoke songs (some good - a "Need You Now" duet with my good friend, Texy McAmericanIdol; some OK - my go-to crowd pleaser "Take it on the Run" by REO Speedwagon; and some bad - Blondie and I attempting to belt out Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again" as a symbolic gesture of our singledom). That, combined with a heavenly French dip sandwich from Adamson's made it a truly excellent night.

Next afternoon, I get a phone call from McBulgarian. Believe it or not, he is in that rare class of dudes who actually calls when he says he will. WOW! After a minute or two of "catching up," he breaks the news: "Looks like I'm moving to Baltimore." "WHAT!?" Only this time I don't shout that out. I am the breezy one now. "Oh wow, you got the job?" I am so breezy, it gives him chills. And the best part? He then says, "So I guess I'm calling to break up with you." HA! "You can't break up with me," I say. "We're not even boyfriend and girlfriend." He chuckles. We talk a little bit about how much it is going to suck to move from California to Baltimore (isn't that place the armpit of the U.S.?) and then we say our final goodbyes. It was sad. I hung up the phone and shed one final tear. Then, I went into my itunes, found my WhiteSnake album and pressed play. Story of my freaking' life.

Sing along, everybody: "Here I go again on my own. Going down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter I was born to walk alone. But I've made up my mind. I ain't wasting no more time. Here I go again..."

Final vote: bud.

Feeling sparkly

Oh man, I've got a LOT to write about. So let's start from the beginning.

Update #1:
I was having a really nice, chill date with Blondie McSmartyPants on Friday night. We went to Falalfel's Drive-In and enjoyed the most delectable dinner. Then, we watched "I Used to Be Fat" (while eating falafels, dolmas, and French fries. We had both finished our milkshakes on the drive home), and gushed over how handsome the previously fat teenager looked after his weight loss. OMG, seriously, he was SO HANDSOME!

So, things were going great until just a few minutes before Blondie left. I received a text message from... wait for it... Ballsy McIndian. Dude is relentless! He sent me a message letting me know that he was free to meet either Sunday or next week. I texted him back telling him I was free to meet NEVER. OK, I wasn't that mean, but I had to just nip things in the bud. I never was and never will be interested in Ballsy. That is the bottom line. So I texted him to tell him that I didn't think it was going to work out.

This started a long chain of textuments (text arguments) back and forth between ballsy and I. Now, some of you might say, "Dude, why did you even respond?" And the answer to that, my friends, is that I am incapable of losing an argument to idiots. So, I had no choice but to continuously respond to Ballsy until he finally got the point. He responded to my rejection by asking for some "constructive feedback." OK, because this is totally a business transaction, right? So, I told him (for constructive feedback purposes): 1) his obsession with my height was creepy, and (for reasons why I cannot go out on a date with him, which was really just me being nice and trying to throw some sort of excuse out there): 2) I am busy.

Oh man, Ballsy could not let it go (but then again, neither could I). He texted me back a multi-text response, which came broken up and out of order. Something about accepting the constructive feedback, trying to explain his creepy obsession with my height (it was an ice breaker. Umm, ok whatever), and then offering some unsolicited feedback for me, to which I responded: "I don't remember ever asking you for feedback." This got him fired up! His response left me laughing. I believe it said, "I am sorry if my feedback hurt you." HA! OK, buddy. By this time, btw, it was nearing midnight and all I wanted to do was go to bed. My last two text messages to him pretty much said it all: "Get over it" and "Please stop harassing me". It was a serious war of words. And I won. Duh. After I received a final text message from him, which did not warrant a response, I deleted all of the text messages as well as his contact information from my phone. Hands washed clean.

Well, guess what, people... it doesn't end there! Yesterday morning, I received a text from him: "Dont want to disturb you. Just wanted to say sorry for the exchange on friday." This poor soul was clearly torn up all weekend. I, on the other hand, did not think about it at all. In fact, I forgot it even happened. So, I am not sure what that says about me, except what we already know. It does not need to be said. And yes, it rhymes with witch. Ugh. Final vote: dud, with a side of freak!

Update #2:
Let me preface this by saying that I am nervous about writing this particular post because I don't want to jinx anything... but, here goes. Saturday night I had my second date with VolleyBall McBulgarian. We had discussed on our previous date that we didn't want to just do another dinner, but something more interactive, so we decided on bowling. He picked a bowling alley near his 'hood, which was nice (it was great, actually, as it minimized the chance of me running into someone I know, especially a student. Can you say, awkward?).

When we got to the bowling alley at 8pm, the League bowlers were still wrapping up, so we had to wait 45 minutes before we could get a lane. He asked if I had eaten yet (I had, duh - it was 8pm - but I told him I'd have a beer while he ate), so we headed to the Round Table across the parking lot. We talked about being nervous on dates, writing, and shopping at Target (he asked me where I got my boots. Where do you think? I asked him where he got his shirt. He shops at Target, too!) It was, really, a riveting conversation.

When he finished his pizza, we headed back to the bowling alley and bowled three games. I am really a terrible bowler. I mean TERRIBLE! And no matter how much I try to improve my technique, I will always suck. He beat me in all three games (I have to say, not by much, though) and I told him, of course, that I let him win. :)

When our games were over, we finished our beers and then headed outside. It was pretty obvious that neither one of us wanted the date to end. I hugged him and he went in for the kiss. SCORE! We then proceeded to talk, while wrapped in an embrace, outside of the bowling alley for another 45 minutes. This was awkward for me because I am not a publicly affectionate person. He, however, did not seem to mind. So I pushed my awkwardness aside, because despite the fact that I was so overly aware of each and every person who walked by, standing there in his arms felt really nice. We eventually decided we should go home and after a quick kiss, we ran in opposite directions out of the rain and to our cars. I felt so sparkly at the end of the date, I could not stop smiling, and I now I am sitting here thinking about how I can't wait to see him again. I don't know what you're thinking, but the experts tell me that this is a good sign.

We have Date #3 scheduled for Wednesday night. Is this the stud I've been waiting for? We shall see... Current vote: stud!

Update #3:
So I was hanging out with my friend LooksLikeMe McHalfAsian, who is also on match.com. We were browsing through her emails when I noticed that there was one guy who looked familiar. "Hey! That guy emailed me, too!" I said. We laughed and decided, "Duh," because LooksLikeMe is pretty much the half-Asian version of me. We are nearly the same height, dark hair, dark skin, and pretty much the same build. She is on my triathlon team and people confuse us all the time. It is no surprise that there are men out there who might find not one, but both of us attractive.

So the day goes on and LooksLikeMe and I head over to Blondie's house for dinner. In the middle of dinner, I receive a phone call from an unprogrammed number (honestly, this could be anyone. I have given my number out to so many dudes since I joined match.com, I can no longer keep track). I listen to the voicemail and I realize it is from Mr. McClearlyHasATypeAndItsUs. "OMG!" I say! "LooksLikeMe! You gotta email this guy back." So she pulls up her phone and sends him the following message: "Hi, I am having dinner with my friend Teachy, who is also on match, and who you just called. She says she'll call you back tomorrow."

Oh... snap! We all got a good laugh out of that one, but we are not quite sure if he got it (he does not appear to be the sharpest tool in the shed), as he wrote back: "Oh, sorry. Enjoy your dinner." And this is what happens when you and every single person you know joins match.com. Sorry Mr., but I ain't calling you back. Final vote: dud

No, he's not a Viking

OK, I had two dates this weekend. The first was on Friday night and it was with Speedy McSwedester. All in all, this was an OK date. It was neither spectacular nor terrible. As per pretty much all of my dates, Speedy was a nice guy. My free dinner count went up another notch (Thank you Mr. McGentleman), which I really appreciate, but other than the fact that he was nice to look at and his Swedish accent sometimes caused him to mis-pronounce words (which I giggled at in my head each time he said them), there wasn't much else super interesting going on with Speedy. Of course, my friends have had fun making fun of me for going out with "a Viking" as they like to refer to him. "How was your date with Sven?" (not his name), my roommate, Triathlete McHouseHusband asked me. "How's Olaf?"(also not his name), was one I got from my other roommate - Skinny McBride-to-Be's dad (who is in town visiting for a couple of weeks). So, to spare you the trouble of even asking, the answer, people, is NO - we did not go to Ikea and have Swedish meatballs for dinner. And, NO - he wasn't listening to Bjork in his car. And, NO - he's not a Norseman.

Instead of Ikea (which, btw, of course I asked him if he frequents, and he says he DOES go there sometimes for the pickled Herring. Eeew), we actually met at a wine bar in Downtown Mountain View. We each enjoyed a flight of wine and some hummus, which he paid for with a Yelp! coupon (!!!), and this - I have to say - is actually something I really liked about the guy. A frugal man is a man after my own heart. Afterwards, he asked if I wanted to get dinner. Who am I to turn down dinner? Of course I said yes! We went to a Chinese restaurant across the street, which he was super excited about because he had spent some time in China. In my opinion, he was just a little obsessed with Chinese food. He got these big bug eyes when he was looking at the menu and he was practically salivating all over the table. But, to each his own. We ordered TONS of food and I ate WAY TOO MUCH (I paid for it the next morning), but it was super delicious. And, dinner was on him. Score!

So, on our date, I learned that he just moved here from Sweden in September and this is his first time living anywhere other than Sweden. That sounds like a pretty big move, right? Well, when I asked him if it was hard for him to leave his friends and family, he said, "Would it be bad if I said, 'No.'" I laughed uncomfortably and said, "Of course not!" But that is a lie! Yes, it's bad, you cold-hearted abandoner! And that's when I knew it wouldn't work. Blondie McSmartyPants told me once that she read in one of her ever-growing collection of dating advice books that the reason a guy doesn't call you back is often not the reason you think (he's not attracted to you, he had a terrible time on the date), but it's actually more often based on something you said that didn't click or resonate with him or made him go, "Hmmmm..." In this case, with Speedy, I think it was this comment about not having a problem leaving his friends and family that made me go, "Hmmmm..." If I up and moved myself to Sweden one day, let me tell you this right now, I would be a DISASTER, crying for years probably, because I missed my friends and family so much. So, between his black heart and awkward, one-word responses to some of my questions ("Do you like red wine?" "Yes." "Are you close with your family?" "No." "Is pickled Herring tasty?" "Yes." Come on dude, throw me a bone here!), my final vote is simply going to have to be: Bud.

Now, last night's date, with VolleyBaller McBulgarian was a much more promising experience. We went to an Indian restaurant in Santa Clara that I recommended ("I know a really good Indian restaurant in Santa Clara" - say that with an Indian accent, please). He had mentioned in his profile that he loved Indian food, so in our email exchanges, we discussed our favorites in the area. He had never been to this one and - as I suspected - he was impressed. I told him that you can always tell it's a good Indian restaurant if there are actually lots of Indian people eating there. We were seriously SURROUNDED by McIndians. Except for one McAfrican who was sitting behind us. So the place was for sure legit.

One judgmental side note: so I could sort of tell from his profile pics that his hair was a little thin on top, but when I saw him in person, I noticed some serious balding action. Thankfully, bald is the new boyfriend and I don't actually care about a dude's hair (unless it is long and stringy. No Allman Brothers wannabes, thank you very much), so that didn't bother me in the slightest. Plus, he rocked it.

Overall, our date was pretty great. But when I attempted to rate my date over the phone last night with Blondie, I at first gave it a B+. I don't know why, except maybe for the fact that I am scared to rate any dates too high because then I run the risk of getting let down later on down the road. She slapped me upside the head through the phone, though, and told me the date should at least be given an A-. And she's right. Here's why: 1) He's cute. 2) He laughed at my jokes. 3) He made me laugh. 4) He's 6'5". Enough said. 5) He profiled me based on my astrological sign (WHAT? I know! That should totally be #1, right? AND, here's the best part. He was right! He was like, "You're a natural leader because you're an Aries." He's a Taurus, btw. In case you were wondering). 6) He paid for dinner (Oh, and here's a tip for you ladies - the best way to guarantee your date will pay for dinner is to get up and go to the bathroom just as or just before the bill comes. This way there is no akwardness and you don't have to take out your wallet and even pretend like you're going to pay! It's genius and works every time). 7) He asked if I wanted to go out again way before our date was even over. 8) He walked me to my car. Awwwww. I like him. We have a second date scheduled for Saturday afternoon. Right now, he's ranking pretty high on the stud-o-meter, but no votes just yet. We'll see how date #2 goes...