Recent Dates and NY Resolutions

Recent Dating Highlights

There’s nothing too crazy here, but plenty of awkward to go around:

The Set ups:

One of my favorite stories about a set up came from a work friend. We were all at happy hour after hours and a coworker of mine grabbed my hand as if she had just had some sort of vision.

“Ohmigod, Tedd. Tedd.”

“Yeah?”

“I just realized I have the perfect guy for you.”

Eyebrow raises, “yeah, right” lip smirk creeps across features, “Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s really cute, and he’s sweet and fun and I think you guys would be perfect.”

She takes out her phone and shows me a picture. He’s cute, so I shrug and am like, “Sure. Set us up.”

“Okay, well, he just got out of a really long relationship, lives in Denver, and is kind of emotionally unavailable right now.”

….

Like, what? Why did this set up even seem like a good idea? It must have been the 3 glasses of wine. But I was honored… to be considered?

There was also another set up situation as well. I’m naïve and think that if you have a mutual friend, the baseline is coffee. Maybe this is 1950’s of me, but if you know someone in common, the vetting has been done, so it’s a matter of seeing if there’s chemistry and hanging out a little bit.

I’m not a 21^st century gal, evidently.

So, I tell the girl, I’d definitely meet up sometime with her friend and it was left at that. About a week later she chats me and says, “Okay, Tedd, so John looked at your Twitter and is okay with meeting up. Like, he thinks you could be interesting.”

Um, no.

1.     If your friend tells you someone is interesting and you don’t trust them – NEXT.

2.     If you’re not open to meeting new people just for the interaction – NEXT.

3.     If you use phrases to describe another human like “could be interesting”” – NEXT

4.     Twitter vetting? Like, of all things - NOPE

That date never happened.

He likes having options:

I had met a guy over the summer at a bar one night. We had a fun time, but we never exchanged numbers. It just so happened he was able to find me on Facebook, so we chatted a bit and went on a couple dates.

After about 3 or 4 dates he wanted a strong commitment and I just wasn’t there yet. Great guy, but wasn’t in a place to commit to the connection.

We had the talk, broke it off and that was that.

Well, a week later he was tagged as “in a relationship.” Not only that, but there was the montage of pictures. THE MONTAGE. Like Facebook hunts out all the pics of you and this person and then laces them together so that when you flip the relationship official switch YOU GUYS LOOK LIKE THE CUTEST AND EVERYTHING IS PERFECT! Montage goes up on the newsfeeds. I scanned the comments and there were ones like, “It’s about time!” “I thought this would never happen!”

And I politely closed my computer.

I don’t want to even know how I fit into to all that mess. They currently have date nights like every other day and are traveling the world together. Maybe, I chose poorly…

Hokey-Pokey

I’m used to rejection by now. I’m a writer, I date, I’m a liberal arts major – like people say no to me often and emphatically.

A couple months ago I went on a date with a guy. It was fun, we laughed, drank tea, and then he gave me a hug.

I texted him later that day all like, “Hey! That was fun. If you’re up for it, I’d love to hang out again.”

Didn’t hear back from him until middle of the afternoon the next day with: “Oh! Sure!”

Which, I just took as a blow off. I don’t know how many times I’ve sat down with my girlfriends and we share stories of “he’s just not that into you.” I felt like if a boy was interested he would text back, “Oh! Sure! My week is busy, but let me know a time.”

That, I feel is a normal human reaction to someone you like.

This was better than the other guy I went on a date with: I texted him right after, and then he responded 2.5 weeks later with, “Sorry for the late response. Hey.”

What? I mean, why even bother texting at that point. You got to Frozen “Let It Go” at after a week. His number was deleted off my phone and I had 3 other dates lined up. Also, obviously after 2 weeks you’re like in the B-tier of his possible dating pool and nobody wants that.

Anyway, first blow off guy and I never text again. Then one Friday I’m at a bar in Boystown and he walks up to me:

“How come we never went on another date?”

“You never really texted me…”

It was then discussed and I told him I thought I was blown off.  We laughed about that and set up another date.

Second date happens and he’s thoughtful, texts me after, and tells me we should hang out again. It was during the holiday time and I was gone for a week.

I text him after that week and his response: “Sorry, I met someone else.”

Wait, what? In a week? It took us a week to set up one date, how did this sorcery happen? And also, you obviously had to be talking to this guy when you asked me on the second date after 2 months of not dating?

I didn’t really care, as I was busy and just, like I said rejection is in my BLUHHDDD, but it still gave me a moment of, “Wait…what?”

I’m optimistic, though, as my best friend at work has told me that this is Capricorn’s year. After a 3-year curse, we are now free to live large and things are going to start moving our way.

I actually have gone on a few dates with a new guy and… like… I enjoy it!!!

I messaged my friend at work today:

Things are going well with the guy and I’m scared. Like, I’M SCARED OF GOOD THINGS!

That’s fine, you’re a Capricorn and the universe has been shitting on you, but now it’s not.

You’re right. the universe has on a diaper and it’s stopped shitting and now I keep wondering why everything doesn’t stink.

These are the deep convos I have at work.

NY Resolutioners

I feel like I blog about the gym a lot, but that’s only because it’s where I run into strangers and the most awkward things happen.

So obvs it was just New Year’s and the whole planet decided to get into shape the first week in January.

I’m kind of a gym bitch, like I work out 40 mins a day and that’s it, but it’s my 40 mins, so you better just step off of me.

The first Monday after New Year’s, I get off the elevator and it’s like Soldier Field after a Bears game. There are hordes of people filing into the gym. You can tell none of these people ever come because they are all carrying 400 bags apiece. They haven’t learned how to cut corners and instead carry all the things all at once.

So I get inside and there’s a line to get in. There are only 4 people in line, but no one can figure out how to take a towel, scan the card and then get into the gym. So there’s a lot of people scanning, towel, oops! Second towel – did I scan?, towel, scan, I FORGOT MY TOWEL! Things happening.

Every locker is taken, so I get shoved into the back corner of the locker room.

Once I get out to the floor, the weights are pretty clear. All the new dudes are benching things and all the girls are on ellipticals.

Then comes Star Fish.

Star Fish RUINED my day.

So he’s some sort of freelance personal trainer and has this girl with him who is wearing skin tight clothes with a pronounced beer gut (not pregnant, babies don’t look like this).

So these two basically practice manifest destiny on the gym. They go to a corner AND USE EVERY SINGLE MACHINE, WEIGHT, PULLEY, ETC. All while grunting, of course.

This is all in addition to them doing starfish push ups at the only entry point into the gym. I don’t know if these are even called starfish push ups, but it’s an exercise where you spread out every limb of your body as far as you can and then do pushups. If I were to pick one place in the gym where you shouldn’t do this exercise, it would be at the entrance, where you take up all the space so that NO ONE can get in.

So I try to get a drink of water and have to leap over Star Fish’s limbs. Then I have one exercise left to do in my workout. There are literally 4 machines that I can do this exercise on.

Star Fish is hogging two of them with his cohort Fat Fonda, another is being used by a man who I can’t even watch because he has put on a lot of weight and is crashing this weight down on the machine, while grunting and probably dislocating several of the disks in his back. The other machine is taken by a guy I have seen almost every morning since I started the gym. He gets a pass.

So I sit with my arms crossed in the middle of the room just waiting for one person to finish. I take note when a guy tries to use one of the 15 machines that Star Fish has appropriated and Star Fish ran over to let him know “we got like 2 more sets, bro.”

Finally, I get to use the machine and go to the shower. As I put my clothes away I awkwardly have to run into a man who has his trousers and undershirt on but nothing else. The guy gives me a dirty look, like this is his gym. (It could very well be, he was roughly 400 years old.)

I take a 5 minute shower and come back.

The old man is still there. Now joined by a second old man.

I’m trying to squeeze in the back corner and get my stuff while the two old men talk to each other. The newly arrived geriatric person feels the need to describe his vacation in terms of the movies he has seen over Christmas:

“Yes, we took a voyage to Middle Earth and fought a dragon, then traveled to London and cracked Hitler’s nefarious code…”

This is all while every other person who has a locker on this side of the room stands and waits to get their stuff as Ancient Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum try put on their dress shirts.

I literally showered, changed, did my hair, put on my clothes and left before the first old man had managed to get a dress shirt on.

The next day it was -20 in the morning and the gym was barren.

Thank goodness for weak resolve and human frailty.

A Swift for All Seasons

I like can't even with my T Swift obsession. I love her. I mean I have a number of divas that I connect with on spiritual levels: 

Kelly Clarkson is the diva that basically wrote one song that captures every feeling I've ever had - "Since U Been Gone."  

Kesha (RIP $) is who I think I am when I drink too much and stagger around and have the best time at parties. Of all the divas her songs about inclusion seem the most real to me, probably because she's drunk when she writes them and that's when everyone seems the most tolerable (see Oktoberfest post). 

Iggy Azalea is just Iggy. Gurl worked her way up and is now weird and awesome and all over the radio. 

Then Taylor. 

Tay Tay. 

She just, somehow, has captured the entire essence of being blandly interesting, single, and having feelings (?) You hear her songs and are like "that feeling I've had before." It's not like a profound Sam Smith-good-lord-I-just-want-someone-to-love-me feeling of "Stay With Me", but it's all the every day feelings of just stuff...and more importantly, things. 

Remember "You Belong with Me"? Somehow anyone who ever had even a little unrequited love in their life GOT THAT SONG. AND IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. AFTER A KICKASS KEYCHANGE! 

And let's not forget "Love Story." Anyone who's ever had a crush on someone GOT THAT SONG! AND IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. AFTER A KICKASS KEYCHANGE. 

Wait... I’m sensing a pattern. 

But it's not just happy feelings. There's sad ones too. Like red - loving him was red, losing him was blue. Anyone who had ever felt red and blue GOT THAT SONG. No happy ending, sorry. 

I have literally listened to her new album 100s of times. I know because "Shake It Off" alone has over 300 listens. 

I think most people who know me, know I'm a Shake It Off kind of guy. I like dancing and fun and staying out too late and going on too many dates. But the album obsession goes beyond just Shaking It Off. 

One night a few weeks ago I was meeting for drinks with my friends. My one friend had gently suggested that he thought he and his doctor friend would hit it off. This set off a "Love Story" mentality in my head. 

HERE COMES THE KEYCHANGE!! 

So we go out for drinks and meet and my two friends go to the bathroom at the same time. The guy and I talk and I'm like, "This is it. We're gonna hit it off." 

What followed was us talking about start up tech companies. He pulls out his phone and shows me that he works for this tech start up. One of his Instagram photos is he and this hunky spokesmodel posing by a sign for the company. 

"That's my boyfriend," he said. 

Then shit got "Red." 

Like, it wasn't just that we weren't going to get married/engaged outside a castle, it was that this guy was a hot doctor who made lots of money and worked for a volunteer start up and was dating a really hot model and lived in New York and uggghhhhh... 

I think I probably looked physically defeated when my friends came back. More of the hot doctor's friends showed up and I just couldn't even.  

I excused myself and headed home. 

To listen to T Swift. Her song "Clean" is about letting yourself be clean from the fears, frustrations, and hurts of the past; it seemed especially relevant at the time. 

Sweater Symbiosis  

When I was in Istanbul on vacation I went to Zara. I never shop at Zara because nothing really fits me and it's like I-should-have-studied-finance expensive. But, in Istanbul, because of the exchange rate shopping at Zara is half off. This means that I didn't feel bad about buying vanity clothes that basically are way too tight and are only suitable to wear to homosexual establishments on weekends.  

While I was there I spent just over 100 bucks and got a pair of jeans, a sweater, and a dress shirt. The pants are basically jeggings but the dress shirt is okay. The sweater... 

Oh, the sweater... 

So basically one day I forgot that I got the white sweater in Istanbul at Zara and it isn't in my standard Express dress shirt size pattern. I put it in the bag and put it on after the gym in the morning. This is important because had I put it on at home with any other clothing options, this sweater would have stayed in my closet, probably perpetually. So I put on the sweater, walk to the mirror to put in my hair product and think, 

"Oohhhhh... Nooooo..." 

This sweater is basically a snow-white second skin. In addition to this, it also had some sort of symbiotic power with me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I work out and am in good shape, but this sweater gave me cleavage, made my shoulders doubly wide and added at least 2 inches to my biceps. Part of me was like, "Tedd, you look good. Like ruhl good." But the other half was like, "Tedd, this sweater is going to make 

everyone think you're crying for attention. You're singleness is making you act out." 

So I just suck it up because I have nothing else to wear and inside my head I wonder if I'm just overreacting to how the sweater makes me look.  

My perception was proved correct, however, the minute I walked into work. 

"Tedd! You look like a Danish ski instructor!" 

That was comment #1.  

"Tedd, that sweater..." = #2 

Had there have been any other people at work, it would have solicited more responses, I know this because I am in the kitchen getting some food and a straight dude just stared at me. Like not a sexy look but a "wow, that sweater is something else look." And by "something else" I mean extremely homosexual. 

I sit down next to my work wife and am like, "I should not have worn this sweater. It's way too tight." 

Throughout the day the comments and compliments kept coming. Straight dudes, straight girls, everyone had something to say about the sweater. I had all sorts of plans after work, so I couldn't go home and change, either. It was post-work dinner with a college friend, then a poetry reading, then drinks with some friends. 

At this point I want to say that I don't think it's bad that people said things, it really as nice. BUT IT MAKES ME THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE. At breakfast after the straight dude stared at me I broke out into one of my good ol' cold sweats that signal one of my anxiety attacks. I hate being the center of attention and having people notice me, even if it's for positive reasons. To be honest, I think it goes back to growing up and being made fun of. I just want to melt into my surroundings and be ignored.  

My therapist probably thinks so, too. 

The only person who didn't say anything was my college friend I met for dinner. Our conversation was devoid of any reference to the sweater or its power. 

At the poetry reading, for some reason, I expected it to be darker. I was like, "Haha, sweater! You won't have any power in the dark!" But the room was, in fact, lit up completely by fluorescent lights.  

My best friend from the MFA program just walked up to me  and goes, "That sweater." 

"Yes," I said. "I think I'm going to go home and burn it." 

After the reading I went to my final stop of drinks with my friends. One friend just laughed and applauded when I came in. Our good friend who tends bar says, "That is the gayest sweater I have seen in my entire life." 

The only thing that saved me was that we were meeting one of our friends and his out of town gay friend, who had on a sweater of almost equal gayness as mine. I was worried that if their gay, symbiotic powers joined forces that it would be the end of western civilization as we know it. 

Luckily, it didn't. But don't worry, the sweater is tucked away. She's only coming out this winter when it's after dark and the only destination is Sidetrack.  

LA Fitness is the Devil 

So a few months ago, I had this gym problem. (The author said also complaining about food stamps and tax breaks for the poor.) 

But no, really, as a single gay man, a gym problem IS A REAL PROBLEM. In my further attempts to not die alone or with a bedraggled older cat lady at my side, I’ve tried to stay in pretty good shape. In the summer it’s not too bad, but as fall approaches Chicago, you gotta be ready for anything. 

So, my gym membership expired in August, and I had 1 month between getting a new membership at my work gym, where we were moving in a month, or vegetating on a couch for a month. I got a Groupon for this super trendy gym in River North (a part of Chicago full of straight douchebags). This gym was amazing – it had low lighting, judgmental trainers, and played really thumpy club music. Thumpy club music to the point where I would actually Spotify songs inbetween exercises.  

Well, the glory days of this gym faded into nothing.  My work postponed moving for another month, so I had 2 months of being gymless.  

This led me into the Mephistophelean hands of LA Fitness.  

LA Fitness is basically the Aldi’s of gyms. To be honest, it’s where I’d go if I didn’t have a gym right next door to my current office. I’m not a gym snob, and LA Fitness has everything, but it’s cheap and the people who work there have more muscles than brain cells and have a hard time articulating themselves in compound sentences. 

So I went in and signed up. 

“What want? Gym? Now good? Gym?” 

I’ve just seen the movie Congo, and basically the staff is like Amy.  Like, the idea gets across, but it’s mostly, “Why are you repeating everything?”  

So I went into the cubicle section of The Fit and met with a trainer.  

“Want 3 month, 6 month, 12?” 

“3 – I think.” 

“Then sign up 2 month, get 1 month free, cancel next week.” 

“Wait what?” 

“Sign, cancel! Sign cancel – two weeks!” 

Before I could even say anything, this trainer had taken my blood and writ my name on a contract, ala Ursula the Sea Witch. 

I didn’t want to cancel immediately, and to be honest The Fit isn’t super expensive, so I figured I’d ride it out until my membership there expired, then I’d move to the new work gym. PERFECT! 

Well 90 days later I knew my membership was expiring so I tossed my key tag and signed up at the new gym.  

It was just a chance a week later that I noted a charge on my credit card bill for LA Fitness. 

“Forsooth!” I cried. “I only signed a 3 month contract!” 

[Somewhere off stage a sea witch cackles.] 

Yes, you sign a 3-month contract but UNLESS you cancel then it goes on and on until you die.   

Well, I was over this, so I called the gym the next day. 

“Hello. Gym. Bye-bye gym?” 

“Yes, I’d like to cancel.” 

“Give me number.” 

“I threw away my key tag.” 

“Oh. No cancel online. Come in – it easy! Come in 9-5 Monday through Friday.” 

By this time I was pissed off about the whole things so I say: 

“I HAVE A JOB. I WORK. I CAN’T GO TO THE GYM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY!” 

“Cranky man! That all I do.” 

Click. 

Once I go off the phone I shook my head. My coworker is like, “What was that about?” 

“I’m trying to cancel my LA Fitness membership.” 

“Oh, yeah. They’re evil.”