Setups and Mayonnaise (Marnie)

Back in 2001, I wrote this "article" for a friend's magazine endeavor. After re-reading it, I actually remember writing it and the experiences that inspired this article. Wow. Nothing like going down memory lane...I wish I were farther along than I am, but I'm afraid that some things haven't changed: I still HATE set-ups!

So, I thought I would share it with you:

“Setups are like a sandwich with too much mayonnaise”

If you’ve ever been on a set up date, you know the feeling that you get in the pit of your stomach when the ominous knock on the door happens by the guy you will have to spend at least 4 hours of your life with. You don’t know what he looks like, just a name. You of course, do a prejudgment with this important information…Dilbert Schultz doesn’t do anything for you…nor does a Mario Buccumbuso…yet, Brad Cruise or Harrison McConkie seems to spark something in you that makes you think, yeah, it could be “him.”

You tentatively walk to the door swallowing your gum (because it’s uncool to be chomping on a first date…that’s reserved for the 2nd date) giving a quick prayer that he doesn’t remind you of the kid that creeped you out in 8th grade.

As the door opens you look at his face and think silently (you hope) that you can’t be in that time of life where you are going out with a guy that looks THAT old. Yep, check the mirror, baby! You ARE getting old.

The first moments of the date are spent in spastic chatter while trying to act as casual as you can. You think, “Yeah, I’m calm…I’m cool, I’m collect…I’m rambling about my obsession with Coo Coo Roos.” So much for a great first impression.

The night is spent in trying oh-so-hard to “be yourself.” Yet you can’t pass up the chance to stress your finer points. “So what do you do in your spare time?” “I visit the homeless shelter and give blood when I can.” Sure, it’s true, but you conveniently forget that most of your time is spent in front of the TV. And of course, everything you hear out of his mouth, you judge to be a half truth – “yeah, surrrre you passed the bar the first time.” Nothing like pulling a double standard!

As the night draws to a close, you’ve both done your best to be as interesting as you can (so the report back to the mutual friend is that you were the better conversationalist). But as he drives you home as slow as physically possible (that “old guy” thing must really be true), the dreaded silence clouds over the car. You’ve already made a mental check-list in your mind of previous topics discussed. You’ve covered: his family, his career, his schooling, his hobbies, his mission, his favorite food, his favorite Nintendo game, his preferred toothpaste. Nothing is left. You dart your eyes out the window, looking for anything to talk about…ANYTHING.

“Yeah, that’s the Smith’s I shop at. It has better produce then Albertsons, even though Albertsons is closer to my house.” “Oh, you shop three times a week? Wow. That’s really interesting. I try to go only once a week. Saves on the bills. Oh, yeah. You don’t have to worry about that. You passed the bar.” Nope, not hitting it off.

You get home and get through the dreaded door scene. “Um, thanks! I really had a good time.” “We should go again sometime?” “Sure.” Could it be more awkward?

The roommates wait up and want the scoop. Did you like him? Well, he wasn’t offensive. Was he cute? He didn’t scare me, but then I wasn’t ready for him to touch me either. Did he make you comfortable? Are you kidding me? I didn’t let “me” be comfortable, it was a set-up! Do you want to go out with him? I have no idea…

The date had all the potential in the world…two seemingly normal people with a commonality of religion and apparently the same bad case of aversion to marriage. It should have worked! Yet the set-up was ruined…the moment I opened the door.

* This is not a true story although this article was inspired by real events. The gentleman is now happily married with 2 children. And that’s the way it goes…

Trying to Repent (Marnie)

I wrote this whole big rant this weekend about how lame Speed is. But now it just seems silly and bitter to put all that info on the blog. So, I decided to just suck it up and give a smaller, more concise version and hope the bitterness comes out as just some frustration.

After a couple of email exchanges over the last few weeks, Speed called me at 11:30am on a weekday last week. A normal girl would be really flattered and happy. Not me! It really, really, really annoyed me. I was already having a “week” which didn’t help, but finding out what time he called me, made me totally have a cow.

What was the reason for my cow? Well, why call a girl in the middle of the day? He knows I work! Why would he think I would be home??? Or even be able to answer the cell phone if I was at work? If he really wanted to talk to me, wouldn’t he pick a better time that makes more sense? Either he was just following his gut after he got my email and he really wanted to talk to me, or, he was being lame by leaving a message in the middle of day knowing I wouldn’t be home to get it AND throwing the ball into my court making me do the work because he has no backbone.

Of course, I assumed the second.

I know, I know - I was looking for an excuse to not take a risk because of the fear that I had already pegged this guy – one more strange dude that has no social skills and will cause some uncomfortable and possibly annoying moments in my life.

I ended up not calling him until…well, I didn’t.

After some very animated spewing to some girlfriends, followed by some soul-searching, I’ve decided to buck up and contact him back and follow through until the end – even though he is acting a LOT like a guy I went out with once before. (For your information, that “guy” ended up providing THE LONGEST DATE OF MY LIFE. So you can see why I’m really hesitating.)

I guess what bugs me is that all of this takes effort and risk. And frankly, I’m tired of putting out effort and risk on things that don’t look good at all from the very beginning. I realize I’m projecting on poor Speed, but I still feel like this will end just like all the other bad blind dates. And I’m tired. Really tired. Of all of this.

But then, who isn’t tired?

So, after pouting for a weekend, I emailed him today. Yep, I swallowed my pride and did it. In the email, I apologized for not getting back to him. We'll see how he takes my flakiness. I probably should have called him, but this seemed the most normal response in this situation.

Wait!! Who am I kidding? None of this normal! Did you ever think all of this is just completely insane? Finding a mate? While being over 35 years old? AND Mormon? Yeah, completely insane!!

And yet, I push onward…

There. I feel better.