Things Not To Say to a Girl on a Date Part II

Sad that there is a Part II to this…read PART I here.

Note this is not the same person, but alas some men are just not that bright.  Ah...the joys of being single!  Here we go:

• Don’t call me “Sexy Mexy” on the first date. 
• This is only okay on the third date only if you’re funny enough to me to pull this off.  Very few are.
• Do not take photos of me on your phone while I’m putting oil in my car (because I started to smell something burning – a common occurrence when I drive my car) and then ask me to pose “like Megan Fox.”  Really?!?  Many thing are wrong with this:
• It draws awkward to attention to the fact that I have a really shitty car.
• I can pour my own oil, but shouldn’t you be offering to help or something?
• I bear no resemblance whatsoever to Megan Fox and I’m pretty sure she probably has a nicer car than I do.
• Why the hell am I driving you around?



My car looks pretty similar to this...

• Don’t ask me midway through our date if the other friend I was with the night you and I met is single. 
• Don’t take the last sushi roll and act like you’re going to feed it to me and then eat it yourself and laugh about it afterwards.
• I know I have big cheeks and some people think that’s cute but DO NOT pinch my cheeks.  I don’t need anyone making up for the years I’ve gone without seeing my grandmother.
• Don't lower the volume on my car radio.  I like my music loud and it also drowns out the sound of your voice thus creating a more pleasant environment for me.

Trust me, I wish I was making all of those up.  Had to drive the guy home and told him to get a book on ettiquette and not to call me.  Good times.

Jesus Saves; I Spend

Why did I pack so much stuff?  I always pack way too much, I think to myself trying to squeeze into my window seat with my overstuffed purse.

“Hi.” A tall guy says to me as he squeezes into the seat next to me, his knees extending into the aisle.  “They don’t build these planes for 6’5 men I guess.” He chuckles.

There are four hours between O’Hare International Airport and Los Angeles International Airport.  He seems friendly, and now examining his features, the light brown hair and freckles dotting his face with intense blue eyes, I think, maybe not such bad company…

“I’m Drew.” He extends his hand. 

Drew grew up not far from Chicago in a nearby suburb.  He completed his undergrad at Northern Illinois University and continues graduate studies in meteorology at Brigham Young University in Utah. 

“So you want to be a weather man?” I ask, smiling.  “No, I want to predict commodities for natural gas companies and stakeholders, that’s where the money is.” He replied.  I like him more already.

We get to talking.  He explains how the pilot is wrong in saying that it won’t be raining in Los Angeles when we land and he bets that it will.  We talk about the differences in cloud formations and he draws pictures in my journal depicting the mountain shade effect.  “Mountains are always greener with more vegetation on the western side because the moisture rises from the west.  That’s the direction weather travels, generally leaving the east side of the mountain a lot drier…” 

At this point, I don’t think I’ve ever been so fascinated by weather.

He tells me he used to play volleyball in school before deciding on a career in meteorology.  I glance at his strong long arms.  “When I was younger I was always so fascinated by the weather.  I would stare out the window during thunderstorms constantly, hoping to catch a few glimpses of lightening.”

Everything is going so well with this conversation.  It flows very naturally with no awkward pauses nor is there overexcited chatter about nothing to fill space.  Drew is very easy to talk to and also very easy to listen to.  I relax into my seat.

Then it happens.  He mentions something about a mission trip to Virginia.  “Oh, what were you on a mission trip for?” 

“My church was engaging various people about their relationship with Jesus.” Oh no.  He’s one of them! I grimace, what a waste. 

He asks me if I know Jesus or have a relationship with the guy.  I tell him I’ve seen him around, mainly tattooed on people’s arms or on gold chains around people’s necks.  It’s my last attempt to keep the conversation light. 

Before he starts to tell me about the late great savior of mankind I tell him I have my own personal spirituality.  We begin to define Christianity and Buddhism; examine Islam and finally he asks what I believe.  I explain very patiently that my beliefs don’t have a name; they simply are.  All influenced by my experiences.  I tell him about my boyfriends in college during my exploratory years.  I dated a Buddhist once, then a Shaman.  I learned to meditate and then I learned to see. 

I remained alone exploring for many years.  In the caves of Mexico and pyramids; in sweat lodges; living amongst wolves.  Yes, I too, dedicated my time and energy to a greater energy.  Its name was not Jesus but there was something, partially within myself and partially in everything else around me contributing to anything that was created: the beauty and horrors.  I don’t pretend to live in a perfect world and we are a complex race full of dualities.  Still, when I looked around I liked to think that God was in the sunset, we both agreed on that.  God was in the mountains.  To me, God is a smile too.  We all see glimpses of this God everyday if we pay attention.

I found him to be charmingly curious and interested in all the stones I had to throw at the holes in Christianity.  He was anxious to fill them with quotes from the Bible, historical facts and other tricks in his Jesus-mongering hat.  I was still slightly charmed watching his blue eyes and the golden ring he had that bordered his pupil.

“So would you agree that the world’s religions like Buddhism, Judaism, Islam and Christianity all have their finger on the elephant (elephant in this case being a metaphor for God) but maybe Islam has it’s finger on the trunk of the elephant and maybe Christianity has its finger on the husks of the elephant and perhaps Buddhism rides on the powerful legs of the elephant. “

“I would agree with that…” I said after pausing to think for a few minutes.  “Would you?” I said looking surprised.

“No in Christianity, we believe that Jesus is the only way to the elephant.” 

“I see….” I say.  He begins some chatter about how socially he doesn’t just hang out with Christians but he’s a rather very inclusive person. 

“So regardless of whether or not I’m a good person who cares about this earth and its inhabitants, I’m going to Hell?” I ask, getting to the point.

“As a Christian, without Jesus, you won’t be saved.” He replies.

He tries to change the subject and I glare out the window.  I’m not upset; it just seems as though the common ground we walked along during the conversation has converted to two very distinct paths that are clearly marked with each of our names on it. 

We land and he throws his head onto my shoulder flirtatiously.  I look into his gorgeous eyes.

“Guess it sucks I’m going to Hell, huh?”  

You're born alone and you die alone..

I’ve been reading this book called The Last Lecture.  It’s about a college professor that finds out he has a few months to live and decides to write life lessons he wishes he could share with his children.

The book is a great read even though the premise is quite depressing.  It got me thinking about my father and his lessons.  There are several but I will mention only one for now.

I was going through my first big break-up and really nervous and scared. I called my dad bawling my eyes out.  As I was sitting on my stoop, eyes red and the world ending in my 23-year-old head, he said to me the following: Jen, we are born into this world alone and we die alone.  The only one you need to hold yourself accountable to or take care of is yourself.

His white beard has been earned through wisdom!

I thought a lot about this and have always carried it with me no matter what the situation.  It’s helped me leave relationships that needed leaving, change jobs, not compromise on my ideals or who I am as a person and also, on occasion, driven me to advise people in the same manner.

One of the many instances where I was trying to help someone happened on my way to Mexico on a business trip last February.  I was sitting next to an older woman and she started some small talk with me and bought me a drink.  We were drinking those lovely miniature bottles of wine they give on planes and then she started bawling her eyes out about a daughter who I reminded her of.  Then came details of a messy divorce after 26 years of marriage and how her life was an absolute disaster and she was going to Mexico to decompress etc. 

I wanted to be sympathetic and all I could think of saying was: well, you’re born into this world alone and you die alone.

It did not come out sounding like my father’s tone of it’s okay, you’re a responsible adult, you can take on the world, you just need yourself.  Instead it came out sounding far more cynical and hopeless.

Then came the kicker.  This woman with such sorrow in her eyes said:  I wasn’t born alone, I’m a twin!

Then she started talking about how her twin sister wouldn’t talk to her either.

Here I am thinking in my head: Goddamn it, Jen!  The one time you try and make someone feel better or give some sort of advice and this happens.  Of course she’s a twin, of course the ONE time you use someone else’s line she happens to be the exception.

I bought the next round after that.

What NOT to say to a girl on a date...

I won't go into too many details but here's what not to say or do to a girl when you are out with her on a date:

• Why did you cut your bangs?  They looked so nice before i.e. like two years ago when you had just met me..and was it really necessary to continue to return to this subject for the duration of the night?!
• Mention one of my friend's ex-girlfriends and then allude to possibly having slept with her (note: this will ruin ANY chance you would ever even fathom to have to me having any physical contact with you at all - even a hug is definitely NOT happening.  Gross.
• Text your super awesome friends that are clearly having more fun than you are right now (although probably not since they are texting) ALL NIGHT!  Really, are things that important that you need to literally stare at your phone for five whole minutes in the conversation?
• I hate striped shirts.  I mean, you didn't know before so it's cool but yeah I can't stand striped shirts.  This while I have my brown and cream striped sweater on.  That was nice of you. Next time let me TEXT you about what I should wear!
• Please don't force any date to answer where she would rate your physical appearance on a scale of 1 - 10 during the conversation.  This is incredibly awkward and irrelevant and just goes to reinforce how much you are thinking about yourself and trying to stroke your ego the whole time.  Especially as my opinion based on your personality gets lower and lower throughout the night.

So Jen, this sounds pretty awful, why did you let it continue for so long?

I had fun after a few glasses of wine talking shit to this guy.  Sometimes I do that.  Anyway, I hope we can be friends although if he ever reads this not sure if that will be possible. Let's hope he thinks I'm funny and goes with it.