IJL Chronicles: Chapter 5 - Random Notes

These three experiences are from my year’s membership with It’s Just Lunch. These dates are more memorable for their insipidness than anything else, and sadly, they are representative of the kinds of guys IJL felt I “matched”.  I reiterate that I believe the only thing we had in common was that we were upright and breathing. So… here we go.

Mr. October – It was indeed October when I got the second call from IJL. Mr. October was 52, single, had just moved back to the area and was looking to meet new people. He liked dining out, movies, baseball, and live theatre. Dare I get my hopes up? Our designated meeting place was Palomino’s in the Golden Triangle and that’s where I found myself at 7 pm on a weekday night. This meeting was a little easier than my first (you may remember the man who worked 50 hour weeks?) as Mr. O loved to talk… and talk… and talk… about … Mr. O! He ordered a drink and didn’t ask me if I wanted anything. He ordered a salad and didn’t ask me if I wanted anything. Luckily, the waiter asked me if I wanted a drink and I nursed a good pinot noir while Mr. O finally answered some of my questions. Never married? No, he never found the “right one”. Kids? No, he “dodged that bullet”. Why did you move back? Well, he moved back to care for his parents – who are healthy so he simply moved in with them. His hair was out of the 70’s while his glasses were an 80’s throwback. His suit wasn’t exactly a match but at least the jacket color did match the color of the trousers. I found my attention wandering and as I sipped my wine he asked, “So when you’re not doing the Mom thing, what do you with your time? mom THING? MOM thing? I took a deep breath and said that being a mother isn’t something you do – it is something YOU ARE. Within short order the check came, and I was out the door.

The Virgin – When I re-entered the dating world after more than 25 years, I promised myself that I would be open to a great guy regardless of his size, shape or hair situation. After all, a great guy can come in just about any package. Can’t he? IJL told me that Dave was reentering the dating world after a long absence – and like me, he liked good food, and good wine, and was active in his kids’ lives. He was particularly looking for a long term relationship as the holidays were around the corner. (This was a new twist: Holiday dating). The rendezvous location was the Palm Court at the William Penn. And there he was – all 350+ pounds of him. He was wider than the side of the table where he was seated. “Okay, okay, I told myself, looks and weight shouldn’t matter. Give him the guy a chance.” Dave was right about one thing – he loved food, good or otherwise. He was attentive, talkative and very, very open. As the hour wore on, he told me about his daughter’s coming out of the closet, about his ex’s faults, his other children’s psychological struggles…. And that he considered himself a virgin because it had been over five years since… well you know. At least, he walked me to the car and held the door.

6 in 50 – Tonic Bar & Grill was hoppin’ on a Thursday when I met …er… I can’t remember his name! Again, IJL assured me we would have lots in common – baseball (What!? Since when do I like baseball?), outdoors, and sports. We were seated by a window and he orders a beer as do I. Over the course of the next 50 minutes, he drinks 6 – yes SIX – beers. I am sipping one. As he chugs #6, he puts it down and says bluntly, “So ya lookin’ fer a bedmate or what?” My hand moves away from my glass, I stand up and reply, “I’m sure I have to pick up somebody, somewhere from something.”

Is it any wonder I did not renew my IJL membership?

You've Got Mail.. er Books!

“When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.” - Kathleen Kelly 

I believe that. I do.

While I cannot remember the first book I read, I remember my first library. When we moved from our farmhouse in Newfield to our “suburban” home in Oaklyn, I was introduced to not one, but two libraries: the Mary A. Finney Elementary School library and the Oaklyn Memorial Library.

At the school library, books were displayed on painted wooden shelves (mint green I might add). And those books had plastic covers and yellow cards in pockets for checkout purposes. The librarian would handpick which books would have the honor of being displayed. Naturally, those were the ones we read first.

By the time I was in sixth grade (Mr. Smith’s homeroom), I loved to read. I can’t attribute it to anything special – don’t remember ever seeing my parents read books, don’t remember bed time stories. I simply loved to read. It was an escape. On Tuesday nights (the only night the library was open late) my friend Debbie and I would walk to the library on warm summer evenings. We’d pour over the books and check out the limit which was something like six. By the middle of the week, we’d trade each other and the race was on to see who read the most books that summer. We read Nancy Drew which would explain my super sleuthing skills. We read the Bobbsey Twins and wished we had a twin brother. We read the Hardy Boys and decided we liked Nancy better. Heidi was a favorite as was the Brothers Grimm. Honestly, those fairy tales are frightening!

At home, I hid books and magazines around the house: One under the sofa cushions, one in the middle drawer of the hutch, one in the linen closet. You get the idea. I would read instead of doing chores and when I heard my mother coming, I’d hide the book and get back to dusting or sweeping. I think that’s when I fell in love with the Reader’s Digest. I could read those articles so fast – before she caught me.

In high school, I discovered Danielle Steel and Mary Higgins Clark. For a time, I devoured biographies like Amelia Earhart. When I got married, bride magazines and when I was pregnant, baby books. Then when I had children of my own, I discovered children’s books. A day didn’t go by when I didn’t read to them – I took Derek to story hour when he was three months old! I loved those books almost as much as my kids. Eric Carle, Tony DiPaolo, Junie B. Jones, and the Critter books to name a few.

Years have passed and college brought a different kind of reading – which is where I learned to read books I didn’t like. A book club has brought me more joy in reading for the past 13 years than I can imagine. A book club forces you to read books you might not have otherwise ever picked up. I have cried real tears over The Kite Runner and The Help. An unexpected bonus from all this reading is that I can read fairly quickly – ask my kids. Now, I work downtown and I've become one of those “T” readers. I find the selections of books in the early morning so fascinating: bodice ripping romance novels, scary sci-fi, popular best sellers, the newspaper, and of course the mandatory work related reading.

If it is true that a book becomes part of your identity as they say in “You’ve Got Mail”, who does that make me?

IJL Chronicles - Chapter 4: Spring Equinox

Today’s chapter comes from my match.com experience several years back.

In early March, I was perusing the photos of potential soul-mates when a few caught my eye. This particular profile was short, snappy, and ended with the invitation to “call me now”. So, throwing all caution to the wind, I did. Our conversation was just like his profile: short and snappy and ended with the promise of another phone call. Several calls later he invited to meet him. However, it wasn’t the usual place (i.e. Starbucks or a bar). Instead, he suggested that on a Sunday evening we meet in Sewickley to attend the Spring Equinox celebration beginning at sundown at a nature center. I have to admit he earned several points for originality and after a long, cold winter the idea of being outside was definitely appealing. I marked my calendar and it was a “date”. After a few more phone calls, I agreed to meet him early so we could get something to eat.

I parked my car on a side street in Sewickley and waited for him to arrive. I couldn’t have predicted that a 6’4” man would show up in what had to be the world’s smallest Toyota truck and that truck would be filled to overflowing with stuff – lawn chairs, bundles of twigs, coolers, weed wackers, and that’s just what I could see. In the spirit of being open to new experiences, I ignored any and all warning bells in my head. I got in the truck (WARNING TO YOUNG FEMALE READERS OF THIS BLOG: Do not attempt this!) and have to admit I had no worries as there were no less than eight laptops and a tool box on the front seat between us. What could happen, right?

He had a crazy idea that we should go to a potluck dinner at a church he used to attend. I pointed out that we had no “potluck” but off we go anyway. After several seconds at the ticket table, he changed his mind and we ended up at a pizza place. Next stop: Equinox Celebration.

As the truck began to wind its way up a hill, I was struck by two things:

1.) It was indeed a gorgeous early spring evening; and,

2.) This man was a little unorthodox.

At the nature center, he insisted on lugging one of those large bundles of twigs up to the site. Ten to fifteen folks had gathered and the leader had marked a line on the grass with stones. Being the ultra observant person that I am, I noticed several things at once. Every person there, man or woman, had gray hair
- mostly waist length. Several folks were wearing those Navajo blankets as coats.

However, no one had a cell phone – except for my date who had three (!) How did I know this, you are wondering? Because they all had different ringtones and he kept answering them – loudly.

The celebration began with us forming a line and independently crossing over the stones into the sacred circle. (Uh-oh, what AM I doing here.) The ceremony included storytelling, a fire, shared personal experiences, Kum by Yah – it was like being at Girl Scout Camp with grown up hippies. Except for one thing – my date.

He wandered around while answering cell calls. He insisted on adding his twigs to the fire as they represented his deceased father. He interrupted and corrected the storyteller so many times that she had to ask him to sit down. He took my hand and tried to pull me into the spirit world with him so we could communicate with his father. (I firmly pulled away and stayed put.) He kept looking out over the preserve as he repeated, loudly, that a friend to whom he was donating a kidney was supposed to join us. Finally, finally, the sun had almost completely disappeared from view and the ceremony was winding down. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when my date stood up, spread out his arms to the world, and began to howl like a coyote.

Stunned, I could only stare in silence at this spectacle. All I could think was: “Oh my god. I’m with the annoying guy. My date is the annoying guy.”

In every situation, there is an annoying guy. School, work, playground playdates, and the coffee shop¬ – we’ve all witnessed the annoying guy. And, we’ve all been thankful we could distance ourselves.

So, how did it come to pass that I found myself on a hillside in the dark with the annoying guy?

Elevator Etiquette

So much thought goes into an elevator ride. Bet you didn’t know that, did you?

Let’s take a glimpse into the elevators at the Cathedral of Learning or Alumni Hall at the University of Pittsburgh – unfortunately two examples of “no thought”. No one waits for riders to disembark; they simply stand in front of the elevator blocking the way. Students, carrying ridiculously large backpacks, take up three people spaces. No one moves when the elevator stops to let those in the back get off. Seldom does anyone offer to push buttons for those who can’t reach. This is BAD elevator etiquette.

Now let’s visit the elevators at the USX Tower or 2 PNC Plaza. Orderly, organized, with a freestanding hand sanitizer dispenser! Certain elevators go only to blocks of floors like 1-14 or 34-55 – Imagine a rocket ride to the 52nd floor at 8:10 a.m. Who needs Starbucks after that experience? People waiting for an elevator form a line so that those who need to get off of the newly arrived elevator have room to do so. While the elevator could certainly hold more, only six people get on giving each person space. (I squeezed in as number seven this morning and was given quite a glare.) AND men wait for women to get on first and get off first - imagine that!

Naturally, there is room for improvement in both elevator illustrations. In each model of elevator etiquette, I found one thing to be true: No one talks to each other. What is up with that?! At Pitt, whenever I found myself in the elevators with prospective students and their parents, I simply started asking questions of the group: Where are you from? What do you like about Pitt? Do you have your dorm assignment? Before the ride was over, everyone had participated and people were smiling. If the elevator was filled with current students, I’d simply start asking about mid terms or finals or I’d resort to the tried and true “What about this rain” statement. With little effort, people responded.

Downtown elevator riders are slightly more advanced socially. They will smile shyly, or nod to those they know. They will talk to the person immediately next to them. However, they could improve … and that’s my mission. I vow to talk to an elevator group at least once a day. It should be a very interesting experiment. Either I will make new friends… or people will avoid the “crazy lady who talks to people” in the elevator. Bets anyone?