Incompatibility

Date update: I did go out with the previously mentioned guy again and decided that it was time to move on. I sent him an email yesterday and was surprised by how hard it was and how sad I was to do it.

The reason? There's nothing wrong with him and I didn't want him to think that I thought there was. (Parse that sentence!) I mean apart from the slight resemblence to Ben Linus/Rorshach (I seriously wanted him to growl "All the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us" and I'll whisper "No"), he's not a bad-looking guy. He's employed, has his own apartment in a nice part of town and actually finished school. He seems like a genuinely nice guy who is interested in a serious relationship and would totally treat his partner with respect.

But, I just couldn't get past the fact that we don't really have anything in common. His idea of a good time is wearing his Democrat t-shirt to a gun show. I'm apolitical. (And before anyone takes this the wrong way, I care deeply about the issues, but I think politicians are a bunch of corrupt, egotistical jerks that are in it for the fame.) I love to be outdoors. He ... works a lot. I love to read. He ... works a lot. At work, we drink rum in Friday afternoon meetings. He doesn't drink period.

Would it have made a difference if he looked like Johnny Depp? Possibly for a few dates. But in the long run, he would have kept giving me odd looks when I ordered wine (seriously -- it was like OMG, she's drinking a chardonnay. She must be an Alcoholic!!) And I would be wanting to listen to Metallica in the car, while he's insisting on something country. And I would never, ever find out how Lost ends.

So I'm trying not to be so antisocial and actually try to date. Which is turning out to be quite humorous. Most of the people who indicate any interest whatsoever are completely logistically impossible -- they are either 24 or in Singapore or Brazil. Then there was one guy who seemed kind of like a good fit until he started emailing me every hour on the hour about some historical event that occurred on the day. Needless to say, I blocked him.

I finally started emailing with someone who didn't seem like a complete idiot and so I agreed to meet him for coffee last night. And I'm still not sure what I think about him.

First of all, his pictures don't look anything like him. In the photos, he appears to have dark hair. In person, he has red hair or at least reddish blond. He's sort of a cross between Ben Linus from Lost and Rorshach without the mask. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but not really my type.

Secondly, he announced about 30 minutes into the date that he doesn't drink. I'm not sure that bodes well for any long term relationship. First of all, I like my wine and mojitos and I have no intention of giving those up. Secondly, if he's actually AA or something, there's typically a lot of baggage associated with that the I don't want to deal with. I've dated an addict before and it's not fun.

Finally, well, I was just kind of bored. In fairness, I'm not 100% sure that was his fault. I have a pretty limited attention span and we were basically sitting at a Starbucks for two hours. I don't know that anyone is interesting enough for that NOT to get boring. But after about the first hour, all I could think of was an urgent desire to go home and re-watch True Blood. (I've been reading some hilarious recaps online.)

So I spent about two hours with this guy and I still don't really know much about him. He regaled me with tales of being an HR manager and recounted some stories from his childhood. But I don't feel like I know enough about who he is as a human to completely discount him, and I too inexperienced with dating to know if I'm expecting too much from a first date.

Should there be sparks? Should I be enraptured with his conversation? Or is this just how two people get to know each other? And why, oh why, do I get Ben Linus instead of Eddie Blake?

Bringing Back Reality

Lately I've been criticized for not thinking big enough and being the wet blanket that quashes everyone's brilliant plans. While this may be true, my perception is that I'm the only realistic one who actually thinks through the logistics. And some things just can't be done.

Part of the issue is that I'm in advertising for pharmaceuticals, so there are legal restrictions everywhere. My particular client is absolutely paranoid about anything involving personal information, so all of those clever applications and gadgets are right out the window. And one of my bosses is big on personalizing things -- how can we ever do that if we can't use personal information?

Of course, when I bring this up, I get accused of not being able to think beyond Web sites. I just need to know where the line is between realism and pessimism.

Lessons Learned

I haven't posted much lately, because I've been in a bit of a funk, and nobody wants to read about that. I don't mind being self-refelctive though. So, because I've been accused of being a Pollyanna, I'm going to try to find the positive through some lessons that I've learned:

1.) Tigers don't change their stripes and if they insist that they have, demand proof that it's not a dye job. I'm not saying people can't change, but they have to really want to, and then it's probably going to be a real effort to maintain it. And most people (including me) don't have that much energy.

The corollary to this is that no matter how badly you want to believe it, you can't make other people change. You can't force emotions where they don't exist.

2.) Whatever wrongs you think other people have done to you, you've probably done the same things or worse to them or someone else, a lot of times when you didn't even mean to. It's time to forgive -- yourself and them.

3.) The joy in life comes in small things. Dennis Leary made a comment about this years ago -- that expecting continual happiness just isn't realistic. Things aren't always going to turn out the way you want, so just enjoy what you can. Yesterday, I managed to squeeze both Skid Row and Robert Johnson into a conversation. No, it didn't make up for the two-hour flight delay, but it made a couple of people (including me) smile.

4.) No matter how bad you think your life sucks, there is someone probably right next to you who has it worse. So have some compassion for others, put on your big girl panties and get over it.

None of this is new, but sometimes I just need to remind myself and if it's helpful to anyone else, then that's a bonus.

Public Awkwardness

As part of my New Year's Resolutions or whatever I end up calling them, I'm trying to get out more. This has ended up being harder than it should be because part of the reason I'm a little neurotic about being home is because I'm never there. This, however, is due to work travel, which does not translate into a social life. Or at least not one that I want.

So I've picked up the pace of my outings with a group of people I enjoy. Usually we hike, which is great, because being outdoors and out of the city is the next best thing to being home for me. But this past weekend, we decided it might be fun to go see a hockey game.

Since I'm not a great driver under the best of circumstances, I decided to take the Dart Light Rail downtown. After all, it drops you off and picks you up right in front of the AAC. What I wasn't prepared for was the Dart Light Rail passengers.

To give you a point of reference, Chez Trixter is located in a multi-cultural, lower-middle class neighborhood where everyone pretty much knows all of our neighbors because we're always out front playing with the kids or walking dogs. It's a very tame, "we-are-the-world" sort of place that touches neither poverty nor wealth. So I'm not really experienced with people who are in a vastly different world than I am.

Boarding the train, I sat down behind a mother with a daughter who looked to be about six years old. Another mother with an infant sat a few rows in front of us. And a little toothless old man sat a couple of rows behind me. Fair enough, I thought. Just a nice group of people traveling downtown. Then the doors open and three young men (who could have been teenagers or in their early 20s) got in. From the moment they got on the train, they talked loudly in expletives (keep the six-year-old in mind) and how they had to "f*&k" certain people up. One then remarked to the other, "It's hard to be a crip, man. It's easy to love, but being a crip, that's hard." I can only assume that he meant the gang and was not further insulting handicapped people, but who knows? Needless to say, this conversation made me extremely nervous and I found myself looking around at the others in the car, who all seemed to take this in stride. The ride ended without any type of excitement, so really, I had nothing to worry about, but this is not an everyday occurence for me.

So, on the train ride back, I was a little curious as to what would ensue. And I wasn't disappointed. On the second stop, an extremely dissheveled man with a large Whataburger cup boarded the train and sat across the aisle from me. He was talking to himself as sat downand would occasionnally spit into a paper towel in the cup and then take the paper towel out and smell it. He was arguing vehemently with whoever was in his head and I got nervous again. I *know* from my work that most schizophrenic people aren't dangerous -- they aren't typically organized enough to plan a violent assault. But that doesn't mean that they don't get delusional and occasionally attack people whom they believe are a threat. So I sat there, again clutching my seat, until he got off about three stops later.

So now I found myself wishing there was some way to be more poised through all of this. I keep thinking WWJD (What Would Jack (Sparrow or Bauer) Do?) but I can't come up with any conclusions. This may be a part of me that will forever be socially awkward.

Resolutions

While I'm more than happy to say goodbye to 2009 (which was a "challenging" year to say the least), I'm still not quite feeling the Happy New Year sentiment just yet.

Maybe it's because I didn't quite get around to making my New Year's resolutions. They're usually more like goals for me -- stuff like "Lose 30 pounds by November." I was advised by someone whose counsel I trust that these are really tactics that roll up into bigger desires, like "feel good about myself." And that identifying those broader ideals would motivate me to actually keep the resolutions.

So I spent some time trying to figure out what those bigger desires are and got stuck, and eventually decided that it would be much more fun to take my dogs on a walk.

And I think that's what the problem is. I'm good with tactical stuff. I know what I want. I'm self-actualized enough to know why I want it, but not intellectual enough to care.

Bottom line -- I'm going back to my old "goals" or whatever you want to call them. At least I'll feel some sense of accomplishment.

Little Boxes

I've been traveling a lot lately, and one of the few positive things I can say about it, is that it's given me more time for reading. Of course, once the captain tells us that we can use all approved electronic devices, it's time again to go back to the coal mines, but those glorious moments between shutting the hatch and then, have been priceless.

Now I'm not one to read celebrity autobiographies. In fact, I don't think I've ever voluntarily picked up an issue of People. But one actor that I really like wrote a book that I decided to read. It's called "Life's That Way" by Jim Beaver. I know him as Bobby on Supernatural, but he also had a major role in Deadwood. The book is wonderful, but I wouldn't recommend it unless you've lost someone special. It's about his wife's battle with cancer and death, and then the months that followed. Which was compounded by the fact that he had a 2-year-old autistic daughter.

Anyway, the book isn't completely depressing. He's got sort of a raw, sarcastic sense of humor, which comes through, especially when it comes to some of the bizarre things that happen during times like these.

One in particular has to do with all of the necessary paperwork. I laughed, because I remembered how awkward some of this was, and believe me, the government does nothing to make it easier. For example, on most of the forms, you have to indicate your marital status. But there are only two boxes -- married or single. Beaver had the same reaction that I did. I didn't get unmarried, so that seems like the appropriate box to check is the married one. But in the eyes of the law, the other party is gone, so I'm not married anymore. But I certainly didn't feel single. Single denotes some type of carefree, dating person and that clearly wasn't me. It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter, but nowhere on any of the docs was there room to explain this.

And it's not just awkward for people who have lost their spouses. I have a friend who was legally married in California before Prop 8 kicked in. They had an official ceremony, have a marriage certificate, rings and even a video of their wedding. But here in Texas, the government doesn't recognize that. So does he have to answer "single" when he completes forms?

I sort of get that you have to have ways to categorize people. After all, part of my job is creating personas that take a mass of information and boil it into one particular segment, thus destroying all the individual bits of a person in the name of trying to understand what a group of these people have in common and how you would want to talk to them. And I suppose for a census, it's good to know how many men, women and children, there are in a specific country and what ages they are. But when you reduce the categories so that not everyone fits into one, that seems more than a little lame. People are way more complex than a series of little boxes.