As much as I hate to admit it, I am a hopeless romantic. And Google’s latest commercial for Chrome, pulls at my heartstrings every single time.
Would you go to coffee?
Coffee.
May 17, 2012
Dating lately.
March 13, 2012
Until recently, it had been more than a year since I’d been on a proper date.
I know, right?
Truthfully, I don’t often meet men that are worth my time, and even more so, I don’t have much time to spare for others. Between maintaining FIVE (!) blogs, a full-time job, three freelance gigs, a volunteer job, and hitting the gym, all while keeping my sanity, I’m left with just enough time for eating and sleeping.
But, of course I don’t want to pass up a great opportunity when I meet someone worth my while.
A few weeks ago, I was out to a fancy dinner with friends, when a man from across the room approached me and asked me to dinner for the following night.
I was flattered, yet unsure because of my previous dating record. I told him I would think about it.
And I thought about it right down to the last minute, when I decided to go. And I’m glad I did because it’s probably the best date I’ve ever been on. We talked, we laughed, and we even danced, all around a great 5-course meal made just for us, and bottles of fine wine.
At the end of the night, he was certain a second date was in order.
In the weeks since, my date has dug himself a deep grave, made of texting.
Yeah, I know texting is the dating/social norm, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it as “effort” when it comes to dating. It’s not.
I still want the phone call. I want some real work. Put yourself out there.
At this point, I don’t see a second date happening, all because of jumbled communication (leads to shady relationships, no?) via text.
Technology might be so 2012, but dating will always be old fashioned, for me.
When to text.
January 30, 2012
As I venture out more and more in the dating scene, I’ve gotten more annoyed with the amount of text-messaging that happens there.
Yeah, I know I sound like a huge loser, that I’m not with it. Believe me, I do my fair share of texting and have even had entire relationships (or so it seems) via text. But the more I witness it, the more I think texting is ruining relationships.
Think about it. People really DO say things via text that they wouldn’t say if they picked up the phone. I’m not just talking about the 3 am scandy text-message, I’m talking about the weak chit-chat that happens.
I’ve had guys send me one-word message for the sheer sake of me responding, “huh?”
Guess what? I don’t respond to those messages, so the game doesn’t work with me. Call me old school, but if a guy wants to ask me out, it’s time to pick up the phone and call me. I deserve a little effort.
I am not completely against texting in dating, but I think it should be used for logistics—things like, “running late,” or “what street?”
Not full-blown conversations. Those are for the phone and/or dinner dates.
What do you think?
Fish in the Sea.
November 12, 2010
I was in the stockroom at work one Saturday, trying to reorganize clothes, when Austin came in complaining about a recent date he went on. The girl he went with worked at A&F with us, just like all of the girls Austin took on dates. His general complaint was a blanket fear of never finding someone.
Then he asked me to dinner.
I had been invited to a pity party. But I was nearly five months out from my breakup with Adam, and I knew it was time for me to get out there. It had been awhile since I’d been on a real first date—one where I didn’t know the person well. I hadn’t been jaded enough yet to hate dates {like I do now}, so I agreed. He seemed thrilled I didn’t reject him, and assured me we would have lots to talk about, but I didn’t know how true that was.
The next weekend, I was getting ready for the date in the sorority house, and my roommate warned me of two things. She said, “Holly, don’t get too drunk, and two, don’t go to The Caterie.”
The Caterie wasn’t the problem—it was the band playing at The Caterie. I had an innocent crush on the lead singer, but it turned gruesome once I mentioned it in a column, and gave his girlfriend a nickname. Since then, I wasn’t the most welcomed among fans.
But I was ready to head out, and Austin arrived at the house to pick me up. Once I got in the car, he said he knew where he wanted to take me—Bonefish Grill. On the drive there, we were messing around with his CD player. He had a few different CDs in the dash, and we randomly selected three songs to see how they might describe our approaching night out—an electronic 8-ball, if you will.
The first song was the remix of “What’s Love” by Fat Joe and Ashanti. The second was an Enya song. And I can’t remember the third—probably because the first song was the one most likely to describe the next few years I had with Austin.
We made it to Bonefish Grill, where there was a wait. We talked some while we sat outside. I remember being nervous we would have nothing to say to each other. He told me I looked nice, sort of.
“Thank you for dressing appropriately,” he said.
Once we got our table, I was completely impressed. He was officially wining and dining me—we ordered glasses of wine, so many that it should’ve been a bottle. And we each got decadent seafood meals, it was very delicious. To my delight, we did have a lot to talk about. Of course, we covered the bases: hobbies, school, family, etc. But Austin was daring and cut to the chase, asking me about politics and religion, too.
After we closed down the restaurant, Austin said he wanted to go someplace else. We drove by Duvic’s, a martini bar {that would be the next stop in a romance years later}, but ended up going to The Caterie.
There I was, a little too drunk for a first date, and in the very spot I was warned not to be. But I didn’t mention this to Austin, and we went to the bar. I lead him upstairs, hoping to avoid any run-ins with a very pissed off girlfriend. Once upstairs, we took shots of red snapper—premixed. It was disgusting. But we got beers and sat at a ledge near the stairs.
During our conversation, I carved our initials into the ledge: HP + AF. Shortly after, he drove me back to the sorority house, asked me for a second date, and kissed me goodnight. I stored the date away as one of the best yet, and went to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, Austin had sent me a text:
“Thanks for having dinner with me…and taking my breath away.”
I didn’t know it then, but I was hooked.
