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August 8th, 2008

In Jamie’s Shoes: Dating Games

As many of you know, I have been single for some time now.  I mean, sure I have been dating with fleeting moments of “this could get serious,” and then I come to my senses about the boy trapped inside a man’s body.  Dating; we put such a nonchalant spin on it but when you really think about dating, it is such a hard thing to navigate.  The slightest awkward approach could be the difference between a phone number going into the pocket of the potential date, or into the nearest trash can. How many times have you given out your number after a thorough screening and not received a call?  How many times have you accepted a number when in reality you weren’t the slightest bit inclined to actually use it?

The other night while waiting in the bar line for a beer at a local hipster hang out with a good sound system, I was approached by a tall dark and handsome man.  He was actually really smooth with his speech and seemed very sincere in his interest.  He handed me his card, asking me to call him one day as he would like to take me out to lunch.  There weren’t any frills, there weren’t any expectations, he just handed me his card looked directly at me and said he hoped I would call.  It was the most easy-going, sincere approach I had experienced.  Add in the fact that he wanted to take me to lunch which is finite by default, thus avoiding that awkward lie about having to take the dogs out in an attempt to gracefully leave a date going bad.  With lunch; you have an hour, maybe an hour and a half, and then you honestly need to get back to work.  I like lunch as first dates.  So, of course I had to give it a try.

Holding his card in my sweaty palm I mustered the courage to give the guy a call…and a woman answered the phone…a woman who works at his store.  Yeah, I know he gave me his card, but it soon became obvious that it wasn’t his direct line on his card; it was the general store number and the man wasn’t there when I called.  The woman on the other end of the line politely asked if I wanted to leave a message, but what the hell was I going to say: “Um, yeah, this is the shorty he hit on at the club the other night…oh, by the way, my name is Jamie.”  I sincerely had an interest to find out more about this guy, but I became discouraged.  I didn’t want to call again and again and again and be this stalking stranger that always seemed to call when he was mysteriously away from the shop who never left any messages.  So I went on my usual lunchtime shopping spree instead and had a grand time with the cute badger on my credit card.  Ah, shopping is so readily available to be your lunch date!  And as for the games, they can wait for some other time.


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