Life sometimes teaches contradictory lessons. I question what is actually learned when two lessons seems to be equally valid. Have you ever pondered whether life is a game, with no ultimate meaning, but simply something fun to do to pass the time? I do not mean to say life is meaningless, but what I strongly believe is that we make our own meaning in life and the spoken and unspoken rules of conduct are also man-made. Life is a game we all conspire to create as we play, and I most definitely do not know all the rules.
Many people claim they do not want to meet someone who plays games in dating, but that phrase has just become something to say, with no substantive meaning behind it. I challenge you to tell me what you want me to be, instead of giving me a vague sense of what you do not want! Some form of playing games: artificial censoring of behavior, artificial puffing out of chests, putting our best foot forward...are these then acceptable games?
After meeting a man I found myself wanting to see again, my excitement became a hurry-up-and-do-something fury. I wanted to grab, to take, to claim! Waiting for him to call me seemed silly, fake, not me...but many women advised me to wait, and challenged me to try waiting. If dating were surfing, no one would have told me to wait when I found the perfect wave...surfing is all about the present rush, and it does not matter that the wave will level out and you will have to get off your board. I wanted to ride this wave, but I was trying to learn how to be chased. This seems a universally-accepted tip in the woman's guide to dating...but has it been properly vetted?
Leaving my fate in the hands of someone else, even in such a small matter of contacting someone I like, is not something I ever thought admirable. I was taught assertiveness is a strength to be cultivated. Overcoming the fear of putting yourself out there, risking rejection by speaking up is what I have struggled to learn for my whole life. I think I am getting pretty good at this, but now, everyone says to do the opposite. Maybe they are playing a different version of the game.
I have found a certain value in waiting, but I am still very confused by the contradictions. This time, I feel I can afford to wait, my excitement is on a low simmer and I am trusting that I can turn up the heat when the table is all set. I will see this man again, and do not have to worry about capturing him just yet. He will not be lost that easily. Some things I can still control, and recognizing this is showing me how to appreciate delayed gratification.
It feels weird. This feeling of letting go, relinquishing the urge to control the situation completely or rush an outcome, is simply abnormal for me. My mother rejoiced when I told her I was going to let things just happen...she claims this is growing moment for me...and I have to admit she is right, to some extent. I do not know what reason I have for actually waiting this time, but I may have learned this before now and am just putting it into practice, awkwardly, for the first time.
But I do know that my inner toddler, who always want things NOW, is sulkily agreeing that it is better to wait. I guess that is a moment to be celebrated! Prost (i.e. Cheers) to growing pains!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Musings on falling into the eddies of love
Many people see my rationality as one of my greatest strengths and maybe even admire it. For so long, I was enslaved by rationality and was unable to connect with my emotions and intuition. Learning to love has been the path of salvation. With each relationship, each crush, I take another step towards an integral state of emotions and reason. Here, my words fail me; trying to describe the beauty of love is impossible. I can only pledge to immerse myself fully in this wild whirlpool which is love, and also life itself. Perhaps, I will finally be washed clean of the trappings of thought, and my spirit will be able to shine forth.
Recently, I met a beautiful man...and something inside of me stirred. I have been on many first dates recently, but afterwards, I am exhausted from the effort of trying to pretend to enjoy myself. I did not even know I was doing that. But as soon as you meet someone that inspires that wonderful feeling of need...! Some part of me, whether my heart, my soul, my animal lust...began to rumble with the hunger of needing more of this man. Falling in love, falling in lust...the most important thing to do is to remember to fall. I once thought it cunning to say that I did not fall in love, but jumped, but now I realize that I just learned to freefall.
I am an extremely passionate person and I get excited easily. When a spark has been kindled inside of me, I want to fan it into the biggest fire anyone has ever seen! Following my heart allows me to give free reign to the emotional side of me. It is easy to feel the weight of reason in the presence of this inexplicable drive to express myself. It is quite apparent that I desperately need the cage of rationality until I have tamed my wild and powerful emotions. My passion is so strong it scares me.
My urge is to grasp, to obtain, to claim as mine. Why should I waste any time? All advice is to wait, to be patient, to maintain my position of power, to bide my time, to give him space...AARGHH! Does anyone know what it is like to live with a caged animal raging inside of you!? I am hungry!
Passion in work is always admirable, passion in the bedroom is coveted, but passion in dating has so many rules! Are men that petty that they need to be the one who chases the woman, but lose their interest if she is too easy to catch? Who is willing to break this stereotype? I am aware of predatory animals that choose the sick and the weak to pursue for their next meal, but I have never heard of predators chasing the strongest for sport! I refuse, absolutely, to be either an easy target or a difficult one; I aim to be a predator too! With two hunters hunting each other, the only result can be an extremely enjoyable wrestling match, the longer the better. Let the chase begin!
Am I easily classified as a romantic? Who know...all I can say is that when I am in love, I am still ensnared. The trap may look different, but whether it be cold rationality or hot passion, I am truly trussed and bound. Ironically, as I try desperately to follow the advice...waiting, inactive, ineffectual....I realize that the bindings are loosening, falling away. I have to smile. All the reasons for waiting that I have been told are fake, they are tricks that the rational brain believes in, in order to stall the emotional brain. But in this age-old battle, I become forgotten and find my freedom. My choices are mine again, without the need for a reason and without the volatility of passion behind them.
I may not be playing a waiting game any more, but I have found out that waiting allows the entire Me to go onward with both reason and passion on my side. We have made a truce in this no man's land, and no further battle is needed. I can love reasonably, and I can reason passionately, but I will always aim for what I want, and follow the beat of my heart while swaying to the melody of my mind.
I choose to embrace this struggle; life is hard work when you truly dive right in. Cheers!
Recently, I met a beautiful man...and something inside of me stirred. I have been on many first dates recently, but afterwards, I am exhausted from the effort of trying to pretend to enjoy myself. I did not even know I was doing that. But as soon as you meet someone that inspires that wonderful feeling of need...! Some part of me, whether my heart, my soul, my animal lust...began to rumble with the hunger of needing more of this man. Falling in love, falling in lust...the most important thing to do is to remember to fall. I once thought it cunning to say that I did not fall in love, but jumped, but now I realize that I just learned to freefall.
I am an extremely passionate person and I get excited easily. When a spark has been kindled inside of me, I want to fan it into the biggest fire anyone has ever seen! Following my heart allows me to give free reign to the emotional side of me. It is easy to feel the weight of reason in the presence of this inexplicable drive to express myself. It is quite apparent that I desperately need the cage of rationality until I have tamed my wild and powerful emotions. My passion is so strong it scares me.
My urge is to grasp, to obtain, to claim as mine. Why should I waste any time? All advice is to wait, to be patient, to maintain my position of power, to bide my time, to give him space...AARGHH! Does anyone know what it is like to live with a caged animal raging inside of you!? I am hungry!
Passion in work is always admirable, passion in the bedroom is coveted, but passion in dating has so many rules! Are men that petty that they need to be the one who chases the woman, but lose their interest if she is too easy to catch? Who is willing to break this stereotype? I am aware of predatory animals that choose the sick and the weak to pursue for their next meal, but I have never heard of predators chasing the strongest for sport! I refuse, absolutely, to be either an easy target or a difficult one; I aim to be a predator too! With two hunters hunting each other, the only result can be an extremely enjoyable wrestling match, the longer the better. Let the chase begin!
Am I easily classified as a romantic? Who know...all I can say is that when I am in love, I am still ensnared. The trap may look different, but whether it be cold rationality or hot passion, I am truly trussed and bound. Ironically, as I try desperately to follow the advice...waiting, inactive, ineffectual....I realize that the bindings are loosening, falling away. I have to smile. All the reasons for waiting that I have been told are fake, they are tricks that the rational brain believes in, in order to stall the emotional brain. But in this age-old battle, I become forgotten and find my freedom. My choices are mine again, without the need for a reason and without the volatility of passion behind them.
I may not be playing a waiting game any more, but I have found out that waiting allows the entire Me to go onward with both reason and passion on my side. We have made a truce in this no man's land, and no further battle is needed. I can love reasonably, and I can reason passionately, but I will always aim for what I want, and follow the beat of my heart while swaying to the melody of my mind.
I choose to embrace this struggle; life is hard work when you truly dive right in. Cheers!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Buying wine and snacks at Trader Joe's
My friend from Washington State was in town for the weekend and we stopped into to Trader Joe's for some supplies. I needed some wine first, before they closed on Saturday so I could make it through Sunday in Minnesota. I grabbed two attractively-labeled bottles I had never tried and then made my way to the checkout line manned by a cute guy I wanted to check out!
I asked him if they still carried the Pinotage from South Africa with a giraffe on the bottle, because I had tried to find it and it was not there. He very kindly went to look for it for me and brought me back a bottle. I cannot figure out if they rearrange the store every time constantly or if their many stores look too similar while being so different. With my stock of alcohol, I was in a good mood. I made some comment about being from Wisconsin and how I had to get used to no liquor sales on Sundays. The cute clerk responded that he was also from Wisconsin! I had to know more.
"Where in Wisconsin?" I queried. Madison was his answer. I told him I went to West High and he said, with a smile, that he went to Memorial. Why does anyone care about high schools anyway? If you went to the same school and knew each other, then you would recognize each other, right? We all find some crazy feelings of connection when the world is any bit small.
After he handed me my receipt, he said, "Well, nice to meet you, sort of." What a cute and silly thing to say. I offered my hand and said, "good to meet you too," and we officially met each other, making this checkout anything but a perfunctory interaction devoid of actual connection.
I asked him if they still carried the Pinotage from South Africa with a giraffe on the bottle, because I had tried to find it and it was not there. He very kindly went to look for it for me and brought me back a bottle. I cannot figure out if they rearrange the store every time constantly or if their many stores look too similar while being so different. With my stock of alcohol, I was in a good mood. I made some comment about being from Wisconsin and how I had to get used to no liquor sales on Sundays. The cute clerk responded that he was also from Wisconsin! I had to know more.
"Where in Wisconsin?" I queried. Madison was his answer. I told him I went to West High and he said, with a smile, that he went to Memorial. Why does anyone care about high schools anyway? If you went to the same school and knew each other, then you would recognize each other, right? We all find some crazy feelings of connection when the world is any bit small.
After he handed me my receipt, he said, "Well, nice to meet you, sort of." What a cute and silly thing to say. I offered my hand and said, "good to meet you too," and we officially met each other, making this checkout anything but a perfunctory interaction devoid of actual connection.
*****
My friend and I continued into the food section of Trader Joe's (yes, in Minnesota, they are separate, because alcohol is contagious!). We did our shopping and had our samples, then found ourselves in the checkout line again. The man here was less cute, but still seemed like a happy soul. He said something to us about leaving our items in the cart and taking them out himself...and that simple instruction was the opening to further conversation. I am amazed at how easily opportunity comes to connect with strangers.
We chatted about turkey jerky, plans for the day, and the lotion Trader Joe's leaves out for customers to use at the counter. It was another perfect moment...a perfect way two (or three) people could meet and a story could unfold. I am learning to recognize the moments when doors are opened for me with the slightest touch...I do not have to go through the doors that require me to force them open. Here's a toast to the path of least resistance!
Wednesday night Happy Hour at Houlihan's
After sharing some food and some wine with a good friend on a Wednesday night, I decide (with her prodding of course) to stay a bit longer by myself. Our motive? To see what I might happen if I sat at the bar next to this cute man we had seen sitting alone. He was reading the paper...and every pose he struck, struck us as adorable. We could not tell how he old he was, but we agreed that did not matter. I decided to get my book on the history of South Africa from out of my car...so I strike up some cute reading poses too!
The problem with staying out after you have shared some wine with a friend is that you have to keep drinking while you are out...and I had to work early in the morning. Before I could take my seat at the bar, I had to decide what drink to order. More wine? No, too expensive for just sitting her scoping out some guy. Beer, like he was drinking? No, I hate beer, especially after wine. Gin or whiskey? Too much alcohol in the drinks I like. Ahh, what about....a Tom Collins?! It is light and summery; it is perfect! The bartender came over to me as soon as I sat down, and I was able to say without a moment of hesitation that I would like a Tom Collins. She happily left to make me my drink, but when she returned with two Tom Collins, I was confused. Did she hear me wrong? Did someone order me another drink? I asked her why two, and then I realized why my targeted man also had two drinks in front of him...it was already 11 pm, Happy Hour! Oh no!
While I got comfortable, putting my feet up on the bar stool next to me and opening my book to the beginning...the man three stools down (shall we call him "Mr. Goldilocks?") glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, repeatedly. This was a great start! The beginning of my book was not nearly as interesting, however. I sipped my Tom Collins dutifully, and tried to channel approachability. A baseball game was on, but Mr. Goldilocks glanced at me whenever I moved, not unlike a politely starving man would do to a delicious meal in front of someone else. Minnesota men, why must you all be so damned polite!
I almost asked Mr. Goldilocks to see his City Pages, but some older man asked him where he got his paper before I could use that silly conversation starter. I started to lose interest in having a conversation with Mr. Goldilocks; he was not someone strong enough to say hello to a lone woman in a bar and so he was not someone I wanted to say hello too. Maybe for my next outing I will speak my mind more, but also maybe next time I will actually like to guy I want to speak to and not just see him as an easy target.
I did not finish my second Tom Collins, but I took a few cursory drinks and picked up my book and went home to my bed, again striking out at a bar...why am I not surprised, though? I think men who are at bars at 11 pm on a Wednesday night are not looking for a girlfriend, just a liquid friend.
The problem with staying out after you have shared some wine with a friend is that you have to keep drinking while you are out...and I had to work early in the morning. Before I could take my seat at the bar, I had to decide what drink to order. More wine? No, too expensive for just sitting her scoping out some guy. Beer, like he was drinking? No, I hate beer, especially after wine. Gin or whiskey? Too much alcohol in the drinks I like. Ahh, what about....a Tom Collins?! It is light and summery; it is perfect! The bartender came over to me as soon as I sat down, and I was able to say without a moment of hesitation that I would like a Tom Collins. She happily left to make me my drink, but when she returned with two Tom Collins, I was confused. Did she hear me wrong? Did someone order me another drink? I asked her why two, and then I realized why my targeted man also had two drinks in front of him...it was already 11 pm, Happy Hour! Oh no!
While I got comfortable, putting my feet up on the bar stool next to me and opening my book to the beginning...the man three stools down (shall we call him "Mr. Goldilocks?") glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, repeatedly. This was a great start! The beginning of my book was not nearly as interesting, however. I sipped my Tom Collins dutifully, and tried to channel approachability. A baseball game was on, but Mr. Goldilocks glanced at me whenever I moved, not unlike a politely starving man would do to a delicious meal in front of someone else. Minnesota men, why must you all be so damned polite!
I almost asked Mr. Goldilocks to see his City Pages, but some older man asked him where he got his paper before I could use that silly conversation starter. I started to lose interest in having a conversation with Mr. Goldilocks; he was not someone strong enough to say hello to a lone woman in a bar and so he was not someone I wanted to say hello too. Maybe for my next outing I will speak my mind more, but also maybe next time I will actually like to guy I want to speak to and not just see him as an easy target.
I did not finish my second Tom Collins, but I took a few cursory drinks and picked up my book and went home to my bed, again striking out at a bar...why am I not surprised, though? I think men who are at bars at 11 pm on a Wednesday night are not looking for a girlfriend, just a liquid friend.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Love Letter Experiment starts NOW!
Being single forces me to be creative. I do not know how to meet someone who I will really like, will he be an online dater, or the bold guy at the bar who actually talks to me, or will I have to trip over him curled up in a book store corner? Or perhaps, will I find him by writing a love letter to him and sending it out in the world like a message in a bottle from this island of solitude from where I long to love him?
Today, I put up nine letters to my future love in seven coffee shops and two co-ops where I happen to frequent myself. (I have a tenth one I will put up in a coffee shop tomorrow, but it was closed when I drove by today). Completing this task made me very happy. I think my letter will be discovered by some interesting people and it will be good to meet them, whoever they are.
I revealed nothing about myself in the letter such as age, race, height, weight...or other absolutely meaningless statistics! Whoever fell in love with such insignificant data points!? What is revealed is my heart and my capacity for love. I revealed that I am looking for a man, and that I love him already.
Why am I trying to describe it? Here it is for you to read for yourself:
Darling,
Again I am inspired to write to you for no better reason than to tell you I love you. No matter of love truly is just certain chemicals in my brain, it is such a wonderful phenomenon! Life is so much better with love.
The other day, I was thinking how much pleasure I find in being alive when you are near me. Somehow, seeing you move through your own life, helps me feel my own more. Daily activities take on a new importance, since we can share them. Do you understand what I mean? Being with you allows me to share my life in every simplicity and every complexity so that I have no doubt that my life has meaning.
I am so excited we are choosing to share our lives and encourage them to entwine into a beautiful tapestry of "us." Thank you, sweetest man! What a glorious experience we will have! Please know that I will give all I can to deepen our lives and enjoy every moment we are together. The present moments are all the presents I could ever wish for; no other gifts can compare.
Finding a man like you, so passionate and curious about life, so generous in giving people honesty, respect and common courtesy, so confident in his own skin...I cannot believe how rare you are! But we have met and see each other's inner strength...wow! Do you ever think we are better able to love ourselves because we love another? I do.
With love,
**********@yahoo.com
Today, I put up nine letters to my future love in seven coffee shops and two co-ops where I happen to frequent myself. (I have a tenth one I will put up in a coffee shop tomorrow, but it was closed when I drove by today). Completing this task made me very happy. I think my letter will be discovered by some interesting people and it will be good to meet them, whoever they are.
I revealed nothing about myself in the letter such as age, race, height, weight...or other absolutely meaningless statistics! Whoever fell in love with such insignificant data points!? What is revealed is my heart and my capacity for love. I revealed that I am looking for a man, and that I love him already.
Why am I trying to describe it? Here it is for you to read for yourself:
Darling,
Again I am inspired to write to you for no better reason than to tell you I love you. No matter of love truly is just certain chemicals in my brain, it is such a wonderful phenomenon! Life is so much better with love.
The other day, I was thinking how much pleasure I find in being alive when you are near me. Somehow, seeing you move through your own life, helps me feel my own more. Daily activities take on a new importance, since we can share them. Do you understand what I mean? Being with you allows me to share my life in every simplicity and every complexity so that I have no doubt that my life has meaning.
I am so excited we are choosing to share our lives and encourage them to entwine into a beautiful tapestry of "us." Thank you, sweetest man! What a glorious experience we will have! Please know that I will give all I can to deepen our lives and enjoy every moment we are together. The present moments are all the presents I could ever wish for; no other gifts can compare.
Finding a man like you, so passionate and curious about life, so generous in giving people honesty, respect and common courtesy, so confident in his own skin...I cannot believe how rare you are! But we have met and see each other's inner strength...wow! Do you ever think we are better able to love ourselves because we love another? I do.
With love,
**********@yahoo.com
Saturday, September 11, 2010
A Rainy Friday at Spill the Wine
Friday evenings are THE night to go out, THE night OkCupid asks you to describe for potential matches, THE night I went out this week. I am just not sure I picked THE spot for the occasion.
Spill the Wine is a place I have wanted to go for a long time, but never had someone who seemed appropriate to take there. So it was perfect for me to go there on my own just because I wanted to be there. Last night was rainy and in the spirit of adventure I decided to take the light rail and then walk with my umbrella if necessary to Spill the Wine. It probably cost me more than parking at a meter, but I wanted to be with people on the train.
I stood out on the light rail among teenagers in pajama bottoms and Somali women even though I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I had a scarf around my neck, mascara on my eyelashes, and a huge book in my hands as I stood on the train in my high heels. I felt no need to make any contact with my fellow riders, so I just read and balanced as the train moved downtown.
Walking to Spill the Wine was pleasant, but I knew my feet were not going to thank me when I got home. The shoes I was wearing were not meant to stride so purposefully in for any amount of distance...and they pinched! At least they were free, a gift from an organizing client.
My first thought when I walked into Spill the Wine, was "this bar is for women, and I should have expected that!" There were many more women then men in this bar (hint for any wine-loving men); women in twos and threes and fours, or couples obviously brought there by the woman. But, my second thought redeemed the first: "all the waiters and bartenders are extremely handsome men!" It is an ingenious hiring strategy to appeal to one's consumers. I think this is the best barometer of a place's style. I cannot help wonder if sports bars are both attempting to attract men AND repel women. I digress...
I ordered my Malbec and some Calamari, because I was missing the Tapas bars in Spain and wanted to pretend I was there again. I read for while and listened to the women and watched the waiters, quite happy. At some point one of the waiters talked to me about my book, still the Fountainhead, and asked me if I really liked being individualistic (said with fist upraised). I found it an amusing question.
The highlight of my night, besides the good wine, was the bartender. We chatted when things were not busy as I was sitting at the bar. I learned a lot about him, and was surprised to hear him ask me if he was boring me! He wasn't and I enjoyed his expressions when I looked at him. I was in one of my "powerful woman" moments and I think he could tell. One of my guy friends told me that I look at everyone in a sort of flirtatious manner, and I think what he is picking up on is that I am not afraid to undress you with my eyes unabashedly...but without it being about sex. I will look at you and truly see you and not what you may be pretending to be. We meet as equals, humans without pretenses and in its rarity, this is perceived as flirtatious. I no longer mind if it is perceived as such.
My new friend the bartender had the tables turned on him; I became the one he confessed his story to, the one allowing his individual expression to be presented to another being. He gave me a free drink (because I was curious about what a certain liquor was used for) and asked me sincerely to come back again. It was not said in a polite way as I would say to any of the customers in my store...he meant this. I rejoice in this small victory of my night: I was able to connect truly and honestly with another person and life seemed utterly full of joy because of this.
Spill the Wine is a place I have wanted to go for a long time, but never had someone who seemed appropriate to take there. So it was perfect for me to go there on my own just because I wanted to be there. Last night was rainy and in the spirit of adventure I decided to take the light rail and then walk with my umbrella if necessary to Spill the Wine. It probably cost me more than parking at a meter, but I wanted to be with people on the train.
I stood out on the light rail among teenagers in pajama bottoms and Somali women even though I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I had a scarf around my neck, mascara on my eyelashes, and a huge book in my hands as I stood on the train in my high heels. I felt no need to make any contact with my fellow riders, so I just read and balanced as the train moved downtown.
Walking to Spill the Wine was pleasant, but I knew my feet were not going to thank me when I got home. The shoes I was wearing were not meant to stride so purposefully in for any amount of distance...and they pinched! At least they were free, a gift from an organizing client.
My first thought when I walked into Spill the Wine, was "this bar is for women, and I should have expected that!" There were many more women then men in this bar (hint for any wine-loving men); women in twos and threes and fours, or couples obviously brought there by the woman. But, my second thought redeemed the first: "all the waiters and bartenders are extremely handsome men!" It is an ingenious hiring strategy to appeal to one's consumers. I think this is the best barometer of a place's style. I cannot help wonder if sports bars are both attempting to attract men AND repel women. I digress...
I ordered my Malbec and some Calamari, because I was missing the Tapas bars in Spain and wanted to pretend I was there again. I read for while and listened to the women and watched the waiters, quite happy. At some point one of the waiters talked to me about my book, still the Fountainhead, and asked me if I really liked being individualistic (said with fist upraised). I found it an amusing question.
The highlight of my night, besides the good wine, was the bartender. We chatted when things were not busy as I was sitting at the bar. I learned a lot about him, and was surprised to hear him ask me if he was boring me! He wasn't and I enjoyed his expressions when I looked at him. I was in one of my "powerful woman" moments and I think he could tell. One of my guy friends told me that I look at everyone in a sort of flirtatious manner, and I think what he is picking up on is that I am not afraid to undress you with my eyes unabashedly...but without it being about sex. I will look at you and truly see you and not what you may be pretending to be. We meet as equals, humans without pretenses and in its rarity, this is perceived as flirtatious. I no longer mind if it is perceived as such.
My new friend the bartender had the tables turned on him; I became the one he confessed his story to, the one allowing his individual expression to be presented to another being. He gave me a free drink (because I was curious about what a certain liquor was used for) and asked me sincerely to come back again. It was not said in a polite way as I would say to any of the customers in my store...he meant this. I rejoice in this small victory of my night: I was able to connect truly and honestly with another person and life seemed utterly full of joy because of this.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Vikings pre-season game at the Herkimer
Yesterday was the last of the pre-season games for both the Packers and the Vikings, and I was eager to see some football. Since I do not own a TV, this meant going somewhere else. I called a fellow Packer fan here in Minneapolis, but got his voicemail, so I went out alone to a bar.
After working all day, I decided I wanted to look good! I changed into something that made me feel sexy: jeans and a T-shirt. I added my new scarf from Germany and some high heels, because that meant I was serious about going out. I put on a bit of mascara and my contact lenses...and felt like someone I am not, which means I was ready.
Being a Packer fan, I went to the Herkimer, my favorite Packer bar in Minneapolis, hoping to see some green and gold. But alas, because we live in Minnesota and there are NFL pre-season cable packages that have to be purchased, we had to watch the Vikings play. Oh well, now I could focus better on the men around me. So I decided to stay anyway.
I was hungry and wanted a drink, so I ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich. I looked around and sighed. Most of the people around me were couples, or men who were not that attractive. So, I took out my book, The Fountainhead, and started to read. I may be crazy to dress up nicely, and go out with a book to a bar, but I feel quite justified. Not only were there too few targets to amuse me, but also, the men I want to attract would be impressed that I am reading A book, so it serves two purposes.
One man kept glancing at me, and that made me feel quite pleased, but he left after one beer and without saying hello. Other men came in and sat nearby but talked together furtively and barely registered my existence. Some older men sat down next to me and talked loudly about the menu. No one seemed to be worthy of my approaching them, so I just ate, drank and read until I was satiated of my dining experience and I left myself.
As I walked away, I strode with confidence, poise and strength, and people on the sidewalks moved out of my way as I walked to my car. It was not an unpleasant night.
After working all day, I decided I wanted to look good! I changed into something that made me feel sexy: jeans and a T-shirt. I added my new scarf from Germany and some high heels, because that meant I was serious about going out. I put on a bit of mascara and my contact lenses...and felt like someone I am not, which means I was ready.
Being a Packer fan, I went to the Herkimer, my favorite Packer bar in Minneapolis, hoping to see some green and gold. But alas, because we live in Minnesota and there are NFL pre-season cable packages that have to be purchased, we had to watch the Vikings play. Oh well, now I could focus better on the men around me. So I decided to stay anyway.
I was hungry and wanted a drink, so I ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich. I looked around and sighed. Most of the people around me were couples, or men who were not that attractive. So, I took out my book, The Fountainhead, and started to read. I may be crazy to dress up nicely, and go out with a book to a bar, but I feel quite justified. Not only were there too few targets to amuse me, but also, the men I want to attract would be impressed that I am reading A book, so it serves two purposes.
One man kept glancing at me, and that made me feel quite pleased, but he left after one beer and without saying hello. Other men came in and sat nearby but talked together furtively and barely registered my existence. Some older men sat down next to me and talked loudly about the menu. No one seemed to be worthy of my approaching them, so I just ate, drank and read until I was satiated of my dining experience and I left myself.
As I walked away, I strode with confidence, poise and strength, and people on the sidewalks moved out of my way as I walked to my car. It was not an unpleasant night.
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