Can't believe anyone actually talks to me
I sent a fella a basic "hey, howdy-do let's talk more, what's up wit choo" email and got this in return:
Subject: HIHO HIHO
"With the few exceptions (in every profession) who mask their lives in mind alternating substances, this Color Designer researches, tests, develops and consults on many design methodologies that bring to life the very ideas that hold our imagination captive! I coat the world in color and bring a new demention to way we see colors and the good feelign we associate with them. I'm a residential and commercial paint contractor. Tell me more about your welding. I have never ever met any gal who welds and likes to talk about it. You'll tell me more, won't you?"
This was my reply:
Subject: Reasons why "Hiho" is a risky greeting
"Of course I will tell you more!
Welding, for me, is a game of imprecise exactness. I learned at the shop of a large regional theater, on giant commercial welders and while building a large platform meant to convey barrels and crates onto the stage for a rustic Irish barn scene (of course).
I quickly learned that it is impossible to see with the welding mask on, and that it is impossible to weld without damaging your brain/eyes/will-to-live with the welding mask off. They taught me to aim well, quickly flip down the mask, and pull the trigger, trusting memory to guide my hand along with the dim flashes of structure that filtered through the dark glass. I also learned to move fast, but not too fast.
Holes were burnt, skin was reddened (there is a reason for the long sleeved jackets, apparently), welds were broken, eyes were burned, and eventually the platform came into being. It rolled, jigs were danced, and I did random other projects with the welder until I finally left the shop (including adapting a metal gate so that chihuahuas could not fit through the bars).
They normally tell us gals not to discuss our welding prowess until at least the 3rd anniversary, but I'm feeling risky today.
Tell me a story! Any story."
Aaaand, then there was nothing.
I still chuckle about the ho thing though.
hee hee.
Pray for me
Good God, I've started dating again.
It's taken me months to work up the nerve, and (thanks to friends and the internet) seconds to find likely fellas. Now I'm communicating with approximately 30 different men and just finished the second of my initial dates. I had a couple of guys that were disturbingly eager to meet, so I figured I would use them as warm-ups since it's been quite a while.
Wait, that makes me sound bitchy.
Normally when I'm contacted by a fella who has most-but-not-all of my list of wants and needs (a.k.a. same religion but 10 years past my limit, good match of personality but he lives in Nevada) I brush them off rather quickly, but these two were persistent despite my lack of interest and communication, so I decided that I'd give them what they wanted - a date with a woman they are attracted to but who has told them she is uninterested - and I'd use the opportunity to remember what it is like to talk with someone who isn't a close friend and hasn't had the benefit of years of inside jokes and/or quirky humor. Hence, warm-up status.
The first guy is not outdoorsy unless you count walking a golf course as a hike. He also is unsure about his religious beliefs, though he claims a general stance. We went out for pizza and talked awkwardly for a bit (lots of pauses), and called it a night fairly early despite admitting that both of us were night owls earlier in conversation and would likely be awake for long after. I don't think I laughed once, and drank my glass of wine in record time. My favorite moment was when we were discussing roommates and he said that he hated giving up any of his alone time, and that he needed complete privacy when he came home from work. I looked up and raised an eyebrow while he gave his anti-people diatribe, wondering how on earth he was ever going to handle a wife and children, and felt a distinct cooling in the temperature of our previously-cozy booth. His rant continued and I felt like I was personally imposing on his private time, almost scooting towards the door in a subconscious attempt to give him what he so desperately seemed to need. When the date ended he gave me a friendly back-rub and asked for another. The sick part of me that simultaneously thinks "Maybe I'm misunderstanding him" and "He's probably more relaxed in a different environment" said yes before I could think it through properly, and the other section of my brain that constantly is saying "Well, at least I'll probably get a good story out of it" gave a silent cheer.
The second guy took me to lunch today and when I asked him about his (seemingly interesting) job, he sighed and said "yeah, everyone wants to know about that. It's a common line of questioning. I kind of get sick of talking about it sometimes." Then he proceeded to talk about nothing else for the better part of an hour! The few times we talked about things in my life, he asked me about other places I'd lived and what I hadn't liked about them. Not wanting to seem negative, I tried to highlight the good parts (Texas has good salsa! Chehalis is... quiet!) but he kept digging until I was forced to expound on my views. I did the talk-really-fast-about-unpleasant-things-then-change-the subject routine, but he was like a bulldog. I tried cracking jokes, diverting with talk of the weather, considered breaking into a little soft-shoe, but nothing worked. I just got the blow-off "let's be friends" e-mail from that one, and frankly I'm relieved.
I wish there was a way to send "let's just be friends" out to the world, but technology isn't quite there yet. I guess I have to continue with my 1-Man-at-a-time plan.
Sigh.
