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?

The lunchtime tourist

It was a gorgeous day today in downtown Pittsburgh. Even though my teammates invited me to eat with them in the amazing PNC 15th floor cafeteria, I turned them down. I just wanted to walk outside.

And so, I did.

I can’t remember the last time I just walked around downtown Pittsburgh. So much is going on at lunch time. So many people were out – it was wonderful.

After a brief stop at the bank (friendliest service EVER – way to go PNC), I started off. I looked at everything. I examined everyone. I gazed at the cerulean blue sky. It led to many questions:

 

1. Why do so, so, so many people smoke?
2. Why would a man wear a terrific grey pinstripe suit with coordinating shirt and tie then positively ruin it with tan alligator shoes?
3. How come I saw only one hot dog street vendor?
4. Why is a policeman needed outside the 7-11?
5. Just how many drug stores are needed downtown anyway?
6. There is a Prantl’s bakery in Market Square? Burnt almond torte here I come!
7. When do the outdoor tables come out in PPG Place and Steel Plaza?
8. What kind of daredevil becomes a bike messenger?
9. Do you think without cell phones attached to their ears people would be friendlier?
10. How do women walk in those heels while I am still clumsy in shoes that are barely above flats?

The weather forecast is for sunnier, warmer days the rest of the week. Can’t wait for lunchtime!

 

IJL Chronicles - Chapter 3: The Organ Donor

A few years ago, I decided to bypass actually paying to meet anyone (i.e. match.com or IJL) and went straight to that venerable internet institution for want ads: craigslist. If you know craigslist, you know anything goes: boats to business management, deviled egg platters to DVDs, and if you want company! Well, you can seek a man/woman/friend/platonic/other or you can rant and rave. I've never seen such a selection of stuff. So, curiosity got the better of me and I clicked the "accept" button to read ads from "men seeking women". Should I have worried when I read the next sentence: "Choosing safer sex for you and your partner greatly reduces the risk of contracting STDs including HIV..."? Nah, I was just plain curious.


I searched for men around my age and in my city. The results were astounding. The ads were dated and hadheadlines with a city and sometimes a picture. (Today for example: I LIKE TUBE TOPS - 50, North Pgh.) What an education! Men looking for things that I didn't even know existed or more importantly, don't really want to know exist. Married men, single men, men looking for one night hookups, men looking for ... I don't know what all. I am quite happy to have led a somewhat sheltered life I can tell you that.

By and large, the ads themselves are short such as "need a date tonight - email a pic and let's talk". Sometimes they are verbose, or anger filled or just plain lonely. Many are poorly written and filled with spelling errors. It's astonishing how many men describe themselves as good looking. It may surprise you to know how many men use the word "cuddle". This was posted today: "Suffice it to say I am pretty much the cuddliest piece of manflesh ever known to man." (It sure is entertaining, isn't it?)

So when I read an ad a few Octobers ago that was well written, made sense and seemed "normal", I answered. Within a few emails, we agreed to meet for lunch on the Pitt campus on a Friday afternoon. However... there were a few things that didn't quite add up so I asked him are you employed and are you widowed or are you divorced? His reply was that he was twice divorced with his first wife passing away a few years after the divorce, and his employment was "in transition". (Translation please: UNEMPLOYED - not retired, not in transition, just plain unemployed.) The next sentence was curious, he said he had a "resolvable medical issue" and he would explain at lunch.

Naturally, I told the ladies at work and we wondered what the heck it could be: high blood pressure, broken wrist, a sex change operation? What?!?!?

He said he would be wearing khaki pants. So at 12:15 on a sunny, warm October day in a small park on Forbes Avenue, I spot him. Not only is he wearing khaki pants but a khaki shirt. His shoes are beige; his socks are beige -- my word! His hair and his skin are beige. What is going on!?!?

We meet, shake hands and quickly decide to walk to lunch - as we are crossing Forbes Avenue, he says, "I guess you're wondering what my resolvable medical condition is, aren't you?" I gulp and tell him actually yes I am. He then says, "Well I need a new liver." Without thinking, I blurt out "At least it's not a sex change operation." I explain my theory from the day before -- he doesn't even laugh.

As we are walking, I realize that I am ahead of him and I slow down. This happens two more times before I realize he can’t keep pace with me. He's talking and talking and begins to tell me how he discovered he needed a new liver. Well, this is just way more information than I need or want and I literally put my hands up to stop the story of how much blood was found in his abdomen during the first surgery.

Lunch is marginally better and I can finally, actually take a good look at him. The first thing I notice (besides all the beige-ness) is that he is nowhere near the age of the man in the photo he emailed me. He admits that it was taken 15 years earlier, but hey, wasn't it a great photo?! Then I look closer and realize that all this beige-ness really has a yellow tint and that this is one very sick man.

He gave up his home, his belongings, and his job to move in with his daughter and her family until his medical issue is resolved. Now, I'm no doctor but I can only really see two ways to resolve this issue and neither is appealing to me... transplant or death.

After lunch, I report back to my friends in the office and I wonder aloud: A liver? The man needs a new liver? What are the chances that I would find the one man on craigslist (or even in Pittsburgh) that needed a new liver? Really? And then I wonder, if that were me, would I really be posting ads on craigslist looking for a long-term relationship? Really?

IJL – Chapter 2: match.com and The Doctor

Job hunting is grueling. Finding romance is no picnic either. However, they do have similarities – more than you can imagine.

When looking for a job, you must write your resume. In the e-dating world, it’s called your profile. You send your resume out over the internet, many times to response at all. Your profile is posted for hundreds to see, again most times to no response at all.

When job hunting you have the phone interview, the in person interview, hopefully the final interview and then the job offer. In internet dating, you have the phone interview, the in person interview, and hopefully the request for a date. Sigh. If only it were that simple. Today’s IJL is from my internet experiences.

His profile seemed okay. Not too wordy, not too needy, not too boastful. The photos focused on his big white car. (Why do men post pictures of their cars, Harleys, and dogs? I don’t want to date a dog, a Harley or a car. And why post photos from the 80’s?) The phone call flowed pretty well, no self-conscious pauses or lengthy silences. So we decided to do what I call the “meet ‘n’ greet” at Damon’s during the first half of the Steelers game. He walked in – and thank god – looked just like his photo. (Believe me that is NOT always the case.) We ordered a beer and began to talk. After the fourth reference to his deceased mother (God rest her soul) and how much I reminded him of her (Warning! Warning! Warning!), I needed a second beer. He then offered that he had full custody of his children, asked if I was impressed. More chat, more references to his mother.

Then it happened.

He asked… and yes this is a direct quote: “So, do you have any diseases?”

Again, direct quote, I replied: “Oh. Just the usual ones.”

This was followed by a blank stare and an uncomfortable silence.

So, I continued: “You know high cholesterol, high blood pressure, the usual.”

He said something similar, but then gosh! It was half time and I had to leave.

Five weeks later. I am cleaning on a Sunday afternoon and for some reason I am replaying this conversation in my head when it hits me. HE DIDN’T MEAN THOSE DISEASES – he meant THOSE diseases. I was furious! And then I laughed and laughed and laughed. Honestly, I don’t think I could have come up with a more perfect answer if I tried.

1st Day of Kindergarten

I was five years, two months old when I started kindergarten. My family plus my grandmother and great-grandfather lived on a farm in Newfield, New Jersey.  We only had one neighbor, but we did have lots and lots of pets. At one time, we had 8 cats, 2 ducks, 1 dog, assorted chickens, and a canary. (Can you understand why I’m not so crazy about pets?)

In 1962, there wasn’t preschool and I didn’t go to Sunday school so you can understand my anticipation to go to school with other children.  I was so excited to start school that when the yellow school bus pulled up at the end of my gravel driveway, I flew to the bus, climbed those steps and sat down right in the front row. Only to have the bus driver say, “Not you! Your sister! Your bus comes later!” I was that eager.

That type of excitement doesn’t come along very often, but I felt it Sunday night. By 8 p.m., my clothes for the next day were already ironed – usually a task left for 6:55 a.m.! My handbag was organized. My newly purchased monthly T pass looked perfect in a little navy blue and green Vera Bradley wallet. I had studied the schedule and drove a dry run to the T parking lot. I read and re-read the company website and links I had been sent prior to my start date.

And, still… I was nervous.

Just like kindergarten. Would I make friends? Would they like me? Would I do well?

Up early, ready early and 45 minutes early – not much has changed since 1962!

I am happy to report, that just like my first day of kindergarten, my first day at PricewaterhouseCoopers was fantastic. I can’t remember taking a job where I felt so strongly that it was a perfect fit. I’m so excited for what is to come – I feel like a 5 year old!



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