You are aware, aren't you, that there is in fact a gay bar called in the Mineshaft here in sunny Long Beach, California?
what time shall I see you two there?
Anyway, after dinner, I'm stumped.
Is one of you a teetotaler or something? Or perhaps you are trying to be original? I once had an original date at a late-night driving range which was kind of fun, but then, we were also too young to get into bars.
So, laser tag it is.
Not to mention Phoenix AZ, Brisbane AU, NYC NY, Winnemucca NV, Madrid NM, Indianapolis IN... [Tho', admittedly, these are not all gay bars. Or so they say.]
Is there a museum open late? The missuss and I just had a lurvly time hitting the newly reopened modern art museum in town for our Friday evening out.
Oh come on, ogged! Screw your courage to the sticking place and propose already!
If he's already doing that with his courage, what chance does a relationship with PG have?
Susan, another person who doesn't read every comment.
Hey baa, what are you doing in this thread? Didn't you tell me (years ago, yes) that you were up for a Heidegger reading group?
Consider a wine bar. Usually nonsmoking, often with a delightful cheese plate and other noshes, low conversation and jazz in the background, and soulful candlelight.
Take her swimming with the Swede.
You could, of course, ask her what she'd like to do...
What she'd like to do is probably put ogged on the spot.
In my experience DE, lots of guys like me (reasonably well educated, reasonably "sensitive") think that's a polite and considerate thing to do, and women fucking hate it. In fact, PG and I were considering collaborating on a book about just such failings in the relationships of people like us.
And young Ben is showing wisdom beyond his years.
You could have a belated Walpurgis Night celebration, dance around the maypole, that sort of thing.
Plus, since ogged is hosting PG in a (to her) relatively unfamiliar town, it's his job to find the things about Oggedville that will woo her to join him there and become his mate.
We need a lot more information. What are your expectations? Is this a "Date" date, or just a jokey get-ta-meetcha thing? Is the change in time zone working for or against you? What's up with 'da Boy?
Personally, I hate big "D" dates, but PG strikes me as a slight bit girlie, so you should actually be able to answer these questions and have a plan.
I know I'm on hiatus, and this too, but... "Let's go to a bar on our date!" "Let's definitely not"? Ogged, you are not coming across as Your Plastic Pal Who's Fun To Be With.
Weiner! You too, get in the Heidegger thread! C'mon...
Maybe you could take her to a Heidegger seminar.
You know Ben, if it weren't a Saturday night...
Re-enact Marty:
Angie: What do you feel like doing tonight?
Marty: I don't know, Ange. What do you feel like doing?
[...]
Angie complains about their normal Saturday night indecisiveness: "We ought to do somethin'. It's Saturday night. I don't want to go bowling like last Saturday." He suggests that they call up some past pick-up dates: "How about calling up that big girl we picked up in the movies about a month ago up in the RKO Chester?...You know that big girl that was sittin' in front of us, with the skinny friend...Remember her name was Mary Feeny - we took 'em home all the way out in Brooklyn. What daya say? Think we ought to give 'em a call? I'll take the skinny one." Marty seems weary of dating: "She maybe got a date already, Ange...I didn't like her. I don't feel like calling her up." And then they repeat their familiar exchange again, and Angie is fed up with Marty's tired responses:
Angie: What do you feel like doing tonight?
Marty: I don't know, Ange. What do you feel like doing?
Angie: We're back to that, huh? I say to you, 'What do you feel like doing tonight?' And you say back to me, 'I dunno. What do you feel like doing tonight?' Then we wind up sitting around your house with a couple of cans of beer watching the Hit Parade on television.
Angie suggests going to the Stardust Ballroom later that night: "How about goin' down to 72nd Street. See what we could find down there. Ralph says you got to beat them off with clubs." When Marty doesn't reply, Angie chides him: "Boy, you're getting to be a real drag, you know that?"Read The Rest Scale: 3 out of 5!
I suggest watching Hit Parade.
but PG strikes me as a slight bit girlie
What does that mean, exactly? And no, I'm not girlie. I'm grrrrly. I'm quite sure there's got to be a difference.
Uh, not only should you not take those sunglasses with you anywhere, you should immediately entrust them to the care of a trash can, kthxbye.
Shit, now you're making me actually *want* to wear them, b-wo.
Not an insult, PG. I just meant that, unlike unsightly and timid wretches like me, you've probably been on a fair number of dates and so come in with (a) a comfort with them that I lack, and (b) a series of expectations about what they should be like that I lack and, accordingly, would be unable to meet without serious planning.
Actually, I've not been on that many dates. Surprising, yes?
Ogged and I went to the same undergrad institution (but did not know each other). I mention this because he will vouch for me that people did not go on dates. We "hung out."
Post-graduation I moved in with ex. Eventually I married him. Once we broke up for a few months. I had a few bad first dates and then dated a guy who now works for the Governator.
And then a year ago or so I rejoined the dating pool. Mostly I can add a few more bad date stories. Since I doubt that ogged will:
(a) kiss me, then woof like a dog and nip my shoulder;
(b) tell me he suffers from depression, has been hospitalized for it several times and is so glad to have me in his life since he foresees a grand future for us and he knows I can help him beat depression;
(c) bring me home and find that some other fellow left flowers on my doorstep;
(d) insist on walking in the rain and then tell me he wants to take me to Turkey to meet his mother in January;
(e) tell me he wants to start hanging out at my place a lot because he doesn't like his roommate, the bitch he used to date;
(f) tell me everything he'd like to do with/to me, sexually;
(g) need I keep going?
I suspect it will be a just fine evening no matter what we end up doing.
Re: 14 / 17: I mean, ask what kinds of things she likes to do.
If a boytoy suggested 'let's go to a late-night driving range' [see 2], to me, I'd politely decline, file him mentally under "too boring to fu..er, date" and cut the evening short. OTOH, if he suggested a late-night shooting range, I'd think 'Oh, goody, a nascent sociopath, my kind of lad', and stoke up on caffeine.
Now me, I dislike sushi, kishke, bowling, golf, Andy Warhol film festivals, performance art, mimes, hip-hop, and evangelical church services. I like Szechuan and Middle Eastern food, sailing, archery, folk music, jazz, Impressionist art, punting on the Cam [or other waterways], and Solstice celebrations.
And, of course, the Mineshaft.
Walking in a mild rain could be nice.
Dude, make sure to post where you'll be taking her, so we can have an Unfogged meet-up & watch you be very, very uncomfortable.
Ogged should do a-g in PG's 28, then claim it was performance art. That way, he can also ruin a hypothetical date with DE.
And DE, you don't like sushi? How can I ever work up the courage to get over my delicous fear of you if I know our relationship will never work?
Actually, ogged did (f) to Kotsko the first time we met. God's own truth, I swear.
What if I do a-g to ogged and turn the tables a bit?
My suggestion, Marty apparently having no fans here, is that you try i-z, pg, since, like, he'll be slightly less prepared.
ogged did (f) to Kotsko the first time we met
Was it a long list?
I can lie.
That statement is always true.
PG, I'm all for it. If you're not going to eventually help the poor man reset his Tivo, at least do it metaphorically, in a way that we can all find out about it and laugh.
How could I possibly help ogged reset his Tivo? He's already indicated that I am (a) too short (and although the heels I wear bring me to the minimum height, he hates heels) and (b) too high maintenance (although I think that's a very speculative comment and people need to better define high maintenance because while I may not be 100% "earthy" I know several earthy women who are entirely more high-maintenance in attitude than I am AND I think ogged is, in some ways, more high maintenance than I am)
I think ogged is, in some ways, more high maintenance than I am
Just be sure to keep him fed.
Also, b) is scary. Intense/defensive = high maintenance. (Don't get me wrong, I like 'em a little high maintenance--ups the intensity a notch.)
You could go at dusk through narrow streets and watch the smoke that rises from the pipes of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows.
Seeing as you've never "met," I recommend reenacting Before Sunrise. But I think Ogged has to take on the Julie Delpy role, because she was more familiar with Vienna than he.
You could test each other's skill at identifying literary allusions.
Is there some rule around here about having memorized Prufrock or reading it once or twice a week? I had to google that one, because I haven't looked at in a while.
Oh, I'm not trying to be defensive. Folks can call me high maintenance all they like, but then I think we need a different term for the people who really put it in overdrive. I like to wear nice clothes and sometimes even wear makeup and often wear heels (more comfortable than a lot of flats, actually -- so I wear birks or shoes with a bit of a heel as dictated by outfit) -- but I'm not terribly picky when out with others, have short unpainted fingernails, take 10 min to get ready from beginning of shower to out the door w/makeup and drying hair if I have to.
And my mom has this friend who is total organic earthwoman and she drives me batty with always needing everything to be just-so. Argh.
Rocky had good luck with an ice-skating rink.
It may sound dumb but it can be snuggly and allows people to be acceptably awkward around each other.
A heads-up on appropriate clothing first would be in order, though.
And there has to be a joke about "breaking the ice" in there somewhere.
There's a Charlie Brown from the first two years involving an ice-skating rink. That's all ok sheesh fine man just shut up fuck you.
Folks can call me high maintenance all they like, but then I think we need a different term for the people who really put it in overdrive. I like to wear nice clothes and sometimes even wear makeup and often wear heels (more comfortable than a lot of flats, actually -- so I wear birks or shoes with a bit of a heel as dictated by outfit) -- but I'm not terribly picky when out with others, have short unpainted fingernails, take 10 min to get ready from beginning of shower to out the door w/makeup and drying hair if I have to.
Yeah, there's a real difference between 'high maintenance' and 'femme'. I'm basically an untidy person -- I wash, and keep my hair brushed, but that's about it as far as grooming goes generally -- but in pretty clothes, which aren't all that much more effort to buy and wear than drab clothes, I look reasonably femme. I wouldn't be surprised if the 'high-maintenance' perception is more driven by apparent girlieness than by actual grooming effort expended.
I don't actually think PG is high-maintenance, at least from what I know of her from her blog, etc. Real high-maintenanceness is a species of inconsiderateness, I think, and that's not how PG seems. (It can be more complicated, of course, with people making demands as a way to engage someone who is otherwise disengaged, or indifferent, which demands are then interpreted as "high-maintenance" by the indifferent one.)
I had a friend who was always late to meet me, and I wondered why exactly (I often wonder what is going on with the chronically terribly late) and then we traveled together and I got inside the lateness experience, and I discovered that my friend was obsessed with her hair--she was always afraid it was frizzing or poofy some such concern, and had to constantly stop and look in mirrors to make sure it was ok.
I think having straight hair has made my life about ten times simpler.
And I'm really, truly terrible with parents. I'm always thinking, "I want to ravish your son," or whatever, which tends to inhibit the conversation.
Doesn't Dan Savage have a line somewhere about being introduced to his boyfriend's parents and thinking, "Hi, I'm the man who sodomizes your son"?
I don't think anyone thinks PG is high-maintenance. In any case, "high-maintenance" is usually just a label we apply to mismatched expectations in relationships. Someone who is high-maintenance for me is probably not so high-maintenance for someone as naturally preux as Weiner, for example. I don't think clothes or makeup or femme-ness enters into it except as (per here) those things are proxies for a series of other characteristics (including expectations).
Which they clearly, and universally, are.
My point was that they aren't good proxies. Being endlessly fussy about your appearance is certainly related to other sorts of expectations. It's not all that strongly related to what you end up actually looking like, except to someone who has an educated eye for the details of a manicure or whatever. To the extent you're looking at someone and thinking that you can diagnose them as high maintenance because they wear heels/makeup/whatever, you don't have terribly good odds of being accurate.
I wouldn't be surprised if the 'high-maintenance' perception is more driven by apparent girlieness than by actual grooming effort expended.
This is so true. I used room with 3 grad school friends at conferences (up until this last year, really) and one night when we went to dinner with a bunch of male colleagues the guys jumped on me for being high maintenance because I wear jewelry (actually, everyone there did but mine was probably more sparkly) and fancy shoes (hey, it was a conference -- gotta dress up) and such. Yes, I'm sure if you put us in a lineup and asked people to peg "high maintenance" based on appearance it would be me every time. The irony, of course, was that in our hotel room I was always the last to rise because I just get up and out. Two of them would take forever to get ready -- and spent so much time on hair and makeup, I couldn't bear to get up until they were done. And they wouldn't step outside the door until they were "done." (I would. And do. Nothing like a good wake-and-dash) Musey was 3rd to rise and ready -- only going before me because she has much longer thicker hair.
LB, PG:
1. Let's agree that this discussion is completely divorced from PG. The whole "PG is high-maintenance" is a joke based (IIRC) on her joke demand that ogged take her somewhere other than the McDonald's drive-through window.
2. I think you're both fixating on "high-maintenance" as "fussy about appearance". I don't think that the latter category, in general, drives the "high-maintenance" designation a'tall. If I meet a woman who owns no leather products for moral reasons, I think "high maintenance"; she hews to a stronger (and probably better) moral code than I, and I will have a hard time meeting the expectations of that moral code. It should go without saying that one who owns no leather cares not at all about her appearance.
3. Heels/makeup/etc. aren't everyone's trigger, and they aren't particularly mine.
4. Heels/makeup/etc. signal something about that person, either in the intent to signal, or in the way they are/have been received generally, and thus socialized. Obviously, this depends on some amorphous sense of a norm about hair/makeup/etc. It's entirely possible that my preferences, for example, might run to women who undershoot, significantly, those preferences. (They might also run the other way. (But they don't.))
5. The last sentence in #60 was meant ironically, as you probably recognize; again, I'm a bit leery of being misunderstood by women on matters that are even tangentially connected to notions of attractiveness.
And I should add that I don't, in real life, ever refer to people as "high-maintenance." It's not a helpful category: too vague, and too freighted with sexist baggage.
Oh, my last comment was not really meant to get into it but just musing beyond what LB said because I get HM comments based on my appearance and girlieness from time to time -- but it isn't backed up with my actions. I see why it happens, though, because there is that whole done-up princess category of truly HM people.
Hmmm. Maybe I should aspire to be the princess?
But back the the truly important stuff. How is ogged going to entertain lil' ol' me Saturday evening?
Bowling, I should expect. Solves the whole 'heels' problem.
He'd better have some good plans, too, because dinner at McDonald's doesn't take very long.
I do like to bowl!
But nothing competitive; brings out the worst in me.
Oh, I like bowling too -- even though I'm really no good at it. :)
You could ask the psychic to predict how you're going to spend the rest of the date.
I've never been to a psychic. Would she predict what we'll do on the date?
1. And I should add that I don't, in real life, ever refer to people as "high-maintenance." It's not a helpful category: too vague, and too freighted with sexist baggage.
Right. I spend time and energy defending and de-freighting "high-maintenance," and ogged promptly cuts me off at the knees. For his next trick, ogged will castrate every male in a four cube radius around his own. (Obviously, I do use the term IRL; my use rarely has any connection to makeup, etc.)
2. Bowling - good. Bowling without competition - not as much fun, I think.
I've never been to a psychic. Would she predict what we'll do on the date?
I am seeing … yes! She would predict it.
When I think of high maintenance I think of needing constant reassurance, usually because of insecurity.
"How do I look, do I look okay? Are you sure these pants don't make me look fat? Did you like the gift? Are you sure you like it?"
Sheesh.
When I think of high maintenance, I think of the expectation that my life should be subject to her whims and needs, including but not limited to mind-reading (if you loved me, you'd know that I needed you to bring me chocolate). It has nothing whatsoever to with dress/physical appearance. There's a close correlation to just being a pain in the ass, but with extra work involved. Like I said way above, I like just a soupcon of this trait--I find it adds zest. Anything more, and a major flameout of the relationship is on the way.
And, back to the subject at hand, perhaps Ogged can sign you up for a fun activity/class that neither of you knows anything about and that lacks competition, but would be fun.
Maybe a poetry slam, with each of you going onstage?
Or ooh, ooh, I know! Erotic dance for couples! With commemorative videotape for you to share with your loved ones and the Internet!
And DE, you don't like sushi?
Chop, my pet:
I took too many bio classes in college to eat raw fish.
OTOH, I like my steak still mooing plaintively. Run a flamethrower past a cow and there's dinner...
to get over my delicous fear of you
Remember, 'scared is sexy, terrified is very sexy'.
Not all sushi is raw fish (although, mmm, yellowtail...). Unagi (eel) and shrimp is always cooked. Several of the oilier fishes are often pickled (mackerel, etc.).
Remember, 'scared is sexy, terrified is very sexy'.
Oh woe is me! I am but a poor fawn, my hoof trapped under a tree root, and I fear that I hear a wolf slinking near.
Chops -
Did I mention that I a) am allergic to shellfish and b) loathe eel with a passion? Come to think of it, I don't like mackerel, either. Or salmon. It comes of growing up with Norwegian relatives, all of whom insist that lutefisk is edible. Puts one off fish entirely. [Well, OK, not entirely, but it limits my preferences...]
I am but a poor fawn
Ooooh, Bambi! Best marinated in red wine for 24 hours, then grilled over a wood fire...
I fear that I hear a wolf
[grin] So you've seen my t-shirt: 'Because I'm the Alpha Bitch, that's why'.
Best marinated in red wine for 24 hours, then grilled over a wood fire...
[moan...]
I guess I must have a pretty fantastic taste memory, because I still fantasize about the antelope steaks my scoutmaster cooked on sticks for us over a campfire when I was 12.
In a weirdish, kinda awkward side note, I suppose I should mention that while playing submissive in a jokey conversation online is fun, I determined long ago that if there are dominance games to be played in a relationship, it's best for all involved that I be in charge--yet another reason why our love was never meant to be, DE. Alas, alas.
it's best for all involved that I be in charge
[grin] Is that with or without the whips and chains?
Alas, alas.
And alack...
Chips, dips, chains, whips. It's always better when I'm in charge.
That's a great tagline, El Chopperino.