He says:
No, this isn't a blog abot Public Enemy's rap song of the same name. This is about the beautiful Thai girl I met at a gallery opening. Was she an art lover, nah...she was a server at the sponsored bar. But she was a painting. And she shut me down. Hahhaa.
Her kind of beauty inspires a man. And a girl that does that must always be on her guard from generous, but fraudulent offers, from horny men. I tried my hardest not to impose, but I did stalk her a little in my own smooth way, of course.
Here's where it started - the gallery only had a single bathroom so there was always a line. So, once my target, aka the hot girl, was waiting it was easy get into position where my target was stationery and I could chat bollock.
But, luckily after some chit-chat, but before I was able to say "any chance of a coffee?", she said something that would stop most men in their tracks..."I'm moving to San Francisco...soon!" Game over! No point to inviting to meet for coffee when a girl is packing her bags. Obviously, my reply should've been, "I was in Monterey last weekend...it's only 5 hrs away" ;-) But I got the message.
I left out the little detail of my challenger outside the bathroom earlier in the evening..."oh, you're Thai", he said, coming from nowhere and stepping all over my toes, figuratively speaking of course, "I was in Bangkok setting up an ad agency..." he continued. As she entered the bathroom he asked me if I was in line. I shook my head and smiled my "Fuck off, you cunt!" smile and walked back into the gallery to admire the art and ready to fight another day.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The blurring of two online mating rituals
He says...this article was sent to me from a girl I met on eHarmony.com. What's amusing is she's a real estate agent:By Lucy Berrington | April 8, 2007
And now the rest of us are there too. My frenetic house-hunting this season developed an unnerving resemblance to my frenetic dating of three years ago. In both processes, it seemed at first glance that the market was glutted, but a careful look determined 95 percent was completely unsuitable. In both, the postings made claims -- "attractive," "well maintained," "personality and charm" -- that were unsupported by evidence.
Otherwise, though, the similarities were overwhelming. In the few years since house hunting and dating have moved largely online, both processes have become wildly competitive. Check out the interchangeable sales pitch ("attractive," "romantic," etc), the misleading photos, and the fact that no mention is made of "deferred maintenance," "needing TLC," or "unforeseen costs" until after a close inspection.
Elderly potential boyfriends post pictures of themselves at 25; ice-encrusted houses post pictures of themselves in summer. It is said that Henry VIII met a flattering portrait of his fourth wife, Anne of Cleves, before he met Anne of Cleves herself, and that in person she was so unattractive he had to leave the room to choke or vomit or something. Thanks to digital photography and e-mail, there are versions of this scene still going on all over the dating world, just as there are buyers driving away from open houses likewise gagging. I went to see a house that had boasted of its "unusual naturalistic setting" -- the agent's online map located it in parkland -- and discovered its front windows overlook Route 9, several feet away.
Still, as my searches went on, I grew increasingly willing to overlook obvious flaws. I'd initially hoped to date a funny, good-tempered guy with a degree or two from legitimate universities and a healthy relationship with his mother. Under the pressure of reality, my criteria narrowed: In the end, the guy had to be single (yes, really), more or less heterosexual, and not yet convicted of a crime against humanity. Same thing with houses. Most new buyers anticipate a quiet Colonial with a cherry tree and a school system that will get the kids into Dartmouth or Cornell. A few months in, the same buyers might have to consider a house whose driveway is a Mass. Pike off-ramp and schools in which the teachers at least don't have sex with their pupils.
I learned to be wary of FSBOs, the houses for sale by owners: Those property transactions are notoriously trickier. But in the dating world, every deal's an FSBO. With no agents involved, both parties bring to the table an inflated sense of worth and only the vaguest awareness of protocol.
I studied the listings -- addictively. When I spotted one that might work my heart pounded. There just weren't that many out there. Sometimes I developed an online crush on a person or property only to discover my offer wasn't good enough, or I wasn't that into it after all, or the goods were already taken. This was unfortunate, since I'd already imagined us together forever and had e-mailed the picture to dozens of friends ("Great find!" "Gorgeous."). Both the houses and the men were moving targets; their status could change suddenly. Two homes I liked that went on the market on a Thursday were under agreement before the open houses on Sunday.
The term "under agreement," shortened online to UAG, came to me to look more like URG!
Incidentally, that home had a new kitchen and bathrooms, but the inspection revealed the wiring and boiler were so ancient and hazardous they could have brought the whole scene -- kitchen, bathrooms, seller, me, realtors -- to an abrupt end at any moment. This house, to use my favorite British expression, was all fur coat and no knickers (knickers being panties -- but this takes us back to the dating anecdotes).
My romantic attachment to dilapidated dwellings, an urge to rescue and re-create them, did not always serve me well. But at least my old, comparable desire for fixer-upper men was mercifully cured. Improving a house is not easy -- finding contractors, breaking fingernails, and all that -- yet how much easier it is to improve a house than a person. The house at least appreciates your good intent.
Over time, I became wary and defensive. In both processes there was too much at stake. As the radon-testing guy explained to me, the wrong house can give you cancer -- and probably that's also true of the wrong relationship.
But in the happy twist this story requires -- two happy twists -- the processes worked. A man came along, and a so did a house, that exceeded their online blurbs: entertaining, reliable, good looking, authentic. I can say that now when I go online, it's for groceries, and the spring market that's on my mind has to do with fennel and asparagus.
For hunting hunks or houses, terms and tactics sound alike
By Lucy Berrington | April 8, 2007
The spring market is here -- in real estate and in relationships. Looking at houses for sale online, or potential dates on eHarmony and Match, it seems those two pitiless experiences have all but merged into one.
Real estate professionals have been fudging the boundaries for years. They talk of "going out" with their buyers: "I went out with him three weekends in a row and then he disappeared. . . . He didn't know what he wanted. . . . I think he's going out with someone else . . . "
And now the rest of us are there too. My frenetic house-hunting this season developed an unnerving resemblance to my frenetic dating of three years ago. In both processes, it seemed at first glance that the market was glutted, but a careful look determined 95 percent was completely unsuitable. In both, the postings made claims -- "attractive," "well maintained," "personality and charm" -- that were unsupported by evidence.
I admit, there were also differences. I didn't care about the interior of a house -- I could change it -- but the exterior mattered a lot, because that would be virtually impossible to improve. With men, the reverse is true: The exterior might be salvageable, but one has to assume the interior will remain off-limits.
Otherwise, though, the similarities were overwhelming. In the few years since house hunting and dating have moved largely online, both processes have become wildly competitive. Check out the interchangeable sales pitch ("attractive," "romantic," etc), the misleading photos, and the fact that no mention is made of "deferred maintenance," "needing TLC," or "unforeseen costs" until after a close inspection.
Elderly potential boyfriends post pictures of themselves at 25; ice-encrusted houses post pictures of themselves in summer. It is said that Henry VIII met a flattering portrait of his fourth wife, Anne of Cleves, before he met Anne of Cleves herself, and that in person she was so unattractive he had to leave the room to choke or vomit or something. Thanks to digital photography and e-mail, there are versions of this scene still going on all over the dating world, just as there are buyers driving away from open houses likewise gagging. I went to see a house that had boasted of its "unusual naturalistic setting" -- the agent's online map located it in parkland -- and discovered its front windows overlook Route 9, several feet away.
Still, as my searches went on, I grew increasingly willing to overlook obvious flaws. I'd initially hoped to date a funny, good-tempered guy with a degree or two from legitimate universities and a healthy relationship with his mother. Under the pressure of reality, my criteria narrowed: In the end, the guy had to be single (yes, really), more or less heterosexual, and not yet convicted of a crime against humanity. Same thing with houses. Most new buyers anticipate a quiet Colonial with a cherry tree and a school system that will get the kids into Dartmouth or Cornell. A few months in, the same buyers might have to consider a house whose driveway is a Mass. Pike off-ramp and schools in which the teachers at least don't have sex with their pupils.
I learned to be wary of FSBOs, the houses for sale by owners: Those property transactions are notoriously trickier. But in the dating world, every deal's an FSBO. With no agents involved, both parties bring to the table an inflated sense of worth and only the vaguest awareness of protocol.
I studied the listings -- addictively. When I spotted one that might work my heart pounded. There just weren't that many out there. Sometimes I developed an online crush on a person or property only to discover my offer wasn't good enough, or I wasn't that into it after all, or the goods were already taken. This was unfortunate, since I'd already imagined us together forever and had e-mailed the picture to dozens of friends ("Great find!" "Gorgeous."). Both the houses and the men were moving targets; their status could change suddenly. Two homes I liked that went on the market on a Thursday were under agreement before the open houses on Sunday.
The term "under agreement," shortened online to UAG, came to me to look more like URG!
After my first offer on a property that was formally accepted, I was crestfallen to find the house still listed online, and with an open house scheduled for the weekend, no less -- the same wrenching moment as when I discovered a guy I'd been seeing "exclusively" had left his profile up on Match. (Still, why was I looking?)
Incidentally, that home had a new kitchen and bathrooms, but the inspection revealed the wiring and boiler were so ancient and hazardous they could have brought the whole scene -- kitchen, bathrooms, seller, me, realtors -- to an abrupt end at any moment. This house, to use my favorite British expression, was all fur coat and no knickers (knickers being panties -- but this takes us back to the dating anecdotes).
My romantic attachment to dilapidated dwellings, an urge to rescue and re-create them, did not always serve me well. But at least my old, comparable desire for fixer-upper men was mercifully cured. Improving a house is not easy -- finding contractors, breaking fingernails, and all that -- yet how much easier it is to improve a house than a person. The house at least appreciates your good intent.
Over time, I became wary and defensive. In both processes there was too much at stake. As the radon-testing guy explained to me, the wrong house can give you cancer -- and probably that's also true of the wrong relationship.
But in the happy twist this story requires -- two happy twists -- the processes worked. A man came along, and a so did a house, that exceeded their online blurbs: entertaining, reliable, good looking, authentic. I can say that now when I go online, it's for groceries, and the spring market that's on my mind has to do with fennel and asparagus.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
