the loophole of monogamy?

there was blood everywhere.
my liver, in attempt to escape the prison of my body, had fashioned itself a shiv made from cirrhosis scar tissue and the crystals formed when alcohol mixed with advil. the poor organ wanted out, bad.
luckily, the thought of leaving a comfortable ménage à trois with my kidneys, combined with my sincere begging and pleading, helped convince her to give me another shot.
off to buy some new sheets and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
what a mess.
at least that's what i imagine would have happened if my liver had opposable thumbs.
it all started innocently enough last saturday morning with bottomless mimosas at 11 a.m. it was "girl's weekend" with our visiting friend Nora* from Boston* (*you know who you are).
from pizza and champagne to pedicures and beer, the day was off to a roaring success.
as our male roommates have mentioned many times over the past few weeks, "you women sure know how to talk."
it's true.
Amy, Nora, and i drank, ate, and talked our way across NW DC for eight hours.
around 7 o'clock, over beer and oysters at Harry's in Dupont, the talk turned (back) to s-e-x. namely how yours truly isn't getting any.
"well, let's go to a strip club!" Nora says. "it's sexy, it's safe, it's interesting. it's the loophole of monogamy!"
the theory goes: since i am affection-starved and can only hug Amy so many times before she becomes uncomfortable, i should supplement my needs through purchasing.
need a hug? go get a massage.
need a cry? go rent a sad movie.
need an active listener? go see a counselor.
need some attention? get a pedicure or see a hairstylist full of flattery.
so, when it comes to the intimate, strippers are as close to acceptable as i am going to get. or so goes the argument.
(what about the part where i'm not gay? not to worry, these ladies are hot enough that it's not so much about the gender as it is about the gyration. how do they do that? wow.)
off we go on a daylight sojourn to DC's finest full-nude establishment. oh, the decisions we make when we've been out in the sun too long.
as promised, the ladies were gorgeous, but the beer was $7 a bottle, and there are no lap dances in the District. (the girls did enjoy chatting with us instead of the creepy fat guy eating a steak across the room, though).
it was quite an interesting experience. yep, there is some sex on sale at Camelot on M Street, and like Playboy and porn, it can fill a certain void in a person's life when called upon.
but i'm not sure it satisfied my core problem: i miss my husband.
although i understand the commodification of certain types of attention (foot rub? yes, please!), i think i'm going to have to add intimacy to the list of things that money just can't buy.

breaking all the rules

friday night we went to a fab happy hour with a group of 30-something women - doctors, lawyers, MBAs - this place is crawling with an accomplished set. but it doesn't matter how stellar your C.V. is, everyone seems to be on a level playing field in the dating world.

they've all been on "Match," they've been on blind dates, they've had the one-night-stand(s), they've had the bad breakup and the good breakup and some equivalent to the "post-it breakup."

the worst part for them: DC is 60% female, 40% male. and my new gay husband confirmed that at least half of the dudes in DC are seeking other dudes. odds aren't in your favor, ladies.

this makes it imperative that they follow the rules of dating - to help increase the chance of meeting mr. right (or mr. "eh, he's all right"). they first concentrate on increasing date quantity. just like in sales, it's a numbers game. second, if if there is a hint of possible spark, don't screw it up by dumping gasoline on the ember. you'll singe your eyebrows and probably smell funny for a week. in other words, take it sloooooow, and remember you can't fall in love with every first date or you're gonna get burned.

rule 1: log on. online dating isn't for pasty comp-sci majors named Lars anymore. at least not in DC. everyone is a newcomer, and high-value time away from the stressful job is spent with good friends (or trolling for quick lays). it follows that since we spend so much time in the virtual space anyway, meeting Mr. Possible there is an obvious next step. and unless he's a total douchebag, he's going to honestly say what he's looking for - friends, sex, dating, something serious - in his profile. it's so much more efficient than waiting for your friends to fumble around with matchmaking. time is money, folks, so let's weed out the losers with the power of google. (note: on most online sites you can instant message. listen up, boys: online dating is for DATING, not chatting a la 1998. just invite her out for coffee already).

but what if you aren't a writer? how will he know that you're the one? get professional help. yes, you can find professional online dating profile writers to accentuate your positives. seems creepy, right? (note: no matter what, don't put up the glamour shots with your ex-fiancee photoshopped out or the sensitive close-up done by the folks at the Sears Photo Studio. those are also creepy.)

rule 2: keep your ankles crossed. confirmed by Mr. Martin - if a datable prospect gives it up on the first couple of dates, then she's immediately shelved, or added to the text-only list (see below). sure, flings don't have the stigma they once did. (everyone's boning and everyone's loving it, owning it, lubing it up. yay, promiscuity!) but if you want a relationship, find someone else to screw until you make the transition to "been dating awhile."

rule 3: put the mobile away, already. no, we're not talking about taking calls at dinner. that's common courtesy these days, right? the real issue is, if you go out with Mr. Possible and think you might want to score a third date, then you better not send him a text on Friday night when you're out in Adams Morgan. it's simple: text is the new booty call. in fact, the Harpsen's (that's mine and Amy's celebrity name) got a booty text last thursday: "Come over and help me finish this bottle of wine." Translation: "Take off your pants." this dude wasn't too subtle (and, obviously Amy and i were laughing. no shot in hell, dude), but even something innocuous like: "My friends and I are at Solly's drinkin' PBRs on the patio" to someone you just went on a date with last week translates thus: "I'm getting drunk and want to take you home with me tonight." just give the thumbs a rest.

rule 4: FB is the enemy, google is the friend. i have been facebook-friended by people i've met for 10 seconds. just because my husband shares a cubicle with yours, doesn't mean we need to see each other's vacation photos. however, i do like the fb in the appropriate situation. dating is not that situation. you'd spend 30 minutes a week friending and un-friending these people. that would just not be a good use of your time. but you should definitely google-stalk. most of the time you can discover a few photos, find out that he's a "successful, goal-oriented Attorney skilled in legal research, writing and public policy analysis," and learn that he's not good with punctuation since "attorney" isn't a proper noun.

rule 5: no dating on weekends. what about the rom-com when he goes knocking on all the doors in your neighborhood before he finally finds yours, just to ask you out for a dinner on saturday night? he or she most likely will say no, because saturday night is not a night for dating. why? because you obviously already have plans with your social set and don't want to waste a precious weekend evening with a stranger. "if the past is any indicator of the present" it probably won't work out, so first dates are relegated to days that don't begin with S. you have to earn saturday.

rule 6: no meeting the friends. this is the rule that's been killing me out here. i get to read their profiles and hear the post-date debrief, but i don't get to meet them? i even got to sit at the controls at a brief instant-messaging session with Dr. Possible for a few minutes. (Amy soon realized that that was a very bad idea. apparently i lack both a verbal and a keyboard filter. oops.)

although i was begrudging the rule, i learned on thursday why it exists. there's nothing that's going to kill your chances like your chatty married friend plopping down after a romantic dinner and insulting a dude's iPhone. i guess "it's so slow" ranks up there with "it's so small."

anyhoo, "Tony" was awkward with the date crash (even though it was really a miscommunication. i was told the date was over and Amy and i were going to walk home. T didn't think the date was over and wanted to walk Amy home. read: one-way walk home). and Amy made it worse by suggesting THE THREE OF US stop by the Red Derby for an after-dinner drink. ugh. nightmare. i had to sit alone at the bar talking to Ralph and Tara (strangers who were nice enough to adopt me for an hour). i think T slooowly realized that i was the only one going home with amy, as she's not that kind of girl.

when it finally came time to say good night and T was wondering just how far north of Columbia Heights we lived, thinking he could still swing the "i'll escort you ladies home" bit, i said, "T, don't you even think about crossing Quincy Street with us. we live so far north that if you tried to follow us it would make your nose bleed."

BAM! i am a walking #*$(@block. aaaand goodnight, buddy.

Amy and i think some rules are made to be broken.

(note: i am aware of this blocking factor, and it is encouraged in my present situation by Amy, as she is looking for *love,* not sleazy late-night texters. i am Jiminy Cricket to Amy's Pinocchio. i am also an excellent Bad Idea Bear if need be. just doing my job here, folks.)

no more words

it always happens that i'm running through life so quickly that i barely have time to sit down and process what just happened. and when i'm doing a lot of writing for work, the last thing i want to do is write some more. i may be almost out of words.

so how am i going to explain my trip to the shore? let's just use the fewest words possible:
roach motel, one-armed man named roscoe, "tournament regulation" horseshoe pits, russian immigrants (possibly in the sex trade), the cleanest pool in Ocean City (certified by the health department), all-you-can-eat snow crab, two cars, eight people three bikes, and enough sleeping space for six.

quote of the trip: "well, the carpet's brand new. just sleep on the floor... no extra charge."

and my internship:
writing about shit that i know nothing about. guessing mostly. reading a lot. learned today what SEO was. overwhelmed. sort of excited. mostly overwhelmed.

essence of experience: there's nothing like learning than learning by doing.

and my roommate:
yin, effortless, teacher, supportive, exciting

latest development: she has a second date tonight!

other things:
effing hot, love the bike, happy hour capitol of the universe, block party this weekend, moving to north carolina in november, worried about life plan, need job, miss e. bott and BDL and dan (in that order? hm...), hungry.

coldest place in the city: the bus

ok. that's about it for now. i'm off to a reception at the czech embassy tonight. oooo. classy.

i could get lost here.

please don't leave me

there has been some confusion from my target audience (i.e. dad) about my antics thus far in the city. just to be clear, i am not in D.C. to date while my poor husband is away. in fact, the mere thought of being a single person makes me want to vomit. not because being single is bad, but because my particular personality characteristics make me being single a horrible experience (not to mention i am desperately in love with dan).

amy and i went to lunch on saturday with one of the most fun and interesting women i've ever met, ENTJ Lou. if you're not aware of the Myers-Briggs personality test, ENTJ is short for "insufferable." Lou doesn't mind me saying this a) because it's true and b) because i am also an ENTJ. we are extroverts (talk, talk, talk) who move so fast, steamroll over people, always organized, and have a tough time sitting still.

common word used to describe us: abrasive.

sound familiar? yep.

i learned all about my "letters" during my master's program and am very, very aware of how ridiculously overwhelming i am. not to mention that i am a "monogamous extrovert" (a phrase i think i just invented). it is defined as an extrovert who is most comfortable with one or two people, versus being in large groups of people. see also: suffocating.

and you know what that means...if i get you in my clutches, you're going to have a tough time escaping. ask erin. i save up all my words through the week and then talk her ear off until she shoves me out the door.

in light of that, when an ENTJ finds "the one" who can put up with her for more than 20 minutes, she knows to dig those claws in real deep and hang on. that being said, there is absolutely nothing i would to to jeopardize the relationships situation i am in. i often compare dan's personality to a nice steady line. whereas i am more like the sine wave. i don't know how it works, but it DOES, and i am unbelievably happy. frankly, i am also lucky that dan hasn't run away in terror long before this moment (i love you, huzzy. smoochie, smoochie, where are you going? why? what do you want to do now? how about now? what are you thinking about? do you miss me? i miss you. come home now! no? how about now? agh!).

and to all of my friends out there, thanks for sticking around with me as well. if i annoy you even half as much as i annoy myself, then i feel for you.

but back to facts, i am in DC to network and learn about marketing and sustainability. coincidentally, i am enrolled in Single-People Boot Camp-DC because of a clerical error. let's just say that i'm auditing the course.

i'm pretty sure the real reason that my pops is so concerned is best put in his own words:
"i have a vested interest in helping ensure that this marriage works," he said, pointing at dan and i, "because I don't want that [pointing at me] moving back in here [pointing at his house]."

i can't imagine why not? really? why not? but, but, D? so, wait! where are you going? come back! let's talk about it! agh!

ten-hut!

i somehow have signed up for a 12-week stay at the Single-People Boot Camp-DC, it's the Marine Corps meets Match.com. i've tried to explain that i probably was meant to register for the Lady of Leisure program at Camp Old Cannon Brewery in in England. but since this is a non-refundable program, i'm stuck.

Here's what i know so far:

"SPBC-DC, commonly referred to as Camp C'moniwannalay-ya, is a 12-week summer program where you will learn the ins and outs of the 2010 dating scene. At least five nights per week you will attend engaging excursions where you will be required to mingle with potential suitors. Each event is followed by one-on-one debriefing session with your program cohort partner.

In addition to excursions, you will be offered a variety of workshops, a personalized trainer who leads your mandatory exercise program, the excitement of rooming with other young singles and couples who can serve as mentors and wingmen, and the joy of a perpetual hangover."

sounds like 1999-2004 to me, but with more bicycle miles.

so far my drill sergeant/cohort partner is quite pleased with my progress, except for the actual 'me getting a date' part. i have emphasized that i'm married, so we've re-focused to the 'getting HER a date' part.

it's lucky i have the bike to quickly transport me to all of my events, carefully charted on our shared google calendar, or i would be in big trouble. for example, Monday - dinner at Red Derby; Tuesday - World Cup Kickoff networking; Wednesday - Workshop: Effectively Sending and Receiving E-mails to Secure a Second Date; Thursday - Happy Hour at Poste; Friday - Jazz in the Sculpture Garden...holy crap, I can barely keep up with my own self. we're pretty much booked up until after the Fourth of July...

the mandatory exercise part -- morning runs, biking everywhere, sweating my balls off in this heat -- has already lost me 2 lbs., supposedly increasing my overall match-ability (and i have heard that the guys dig chicks on bikes).

our Saturday workshop was Navigating Your Online Dating World. it turned out to be quite informative. i learned all about profile-writing, checking messages, ranking guys, and (very important) vetting out un-dateable guys who include:

• including anyone under 27
• anyone living in MD or VA
• anyone who looks like a douche (wife-beater or moustache are immediately out)
• anyone who "winks" or "waves" instead of getting the balls up to write a personal message
• anyone who has no job
• anyone who has joined in the last three weeks (read: i just broke up with someone recently)
• anyone who has glamour shots of himself on the site (waivers acceptable for some candidates)
• anyone who is too snarky or painfully funny in profile text
• anyone hideous
• and anyone who has already been e-mailed and never responded because our profile didn't meet their requirements

who did that leave: Thom and Iceman (code names).

Thom has potential, but a dumb name. first date went well. now i am helping craft banter-y e-mails to try and score a second date. i am getting personally vested in living vicariously here at 'camp.' (my writing skills, my honest wingman opinion, and an iPhone are the positive things i bring to this relationship.) hopefully the second date is on Google Calendar by tomorrow...

tonight we might craft a message to Iceman (fingers crossed!).

next post: Inside an SPBC-DC Workshop: The 2010 Rules of Dating (for all of those who stopped buying after the 2000 version came out)