I'm checking the box for "Does not meet expectations"

Last month, in lieu of any positive and hopeful resolutions for the new year, I chose to list my anti-resolutions, claiming I preferred to be happy and at peace with myself mostly as I am and to accept that the person I am now is essentially the person I'm going to be. I still stand by a lot of those sentiments, but I also have to recognize that certain portions of that post are utter bullshit. I'm not happy with myself exactly as I am, and there are certain things I need to change. I'm not going to go into detail; I'm a pretty open book among my close friends (and even strangers, sometimes), but I'm sure anyone who posts their private thoughts to the Internet on a regular basis understands that there are certain things it's just not a good idea to go into when you have no control over who might one day read them.

That said, however, I will talk about one item I need to rethink on my anti-resolutions list, and that's the one that concerns dating. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I had my heart broken last year when the one who was supposed to be The One proved otherwise. It's also no secret that I'm still not fully over it. And while I've made some isolated attempts at "getting back out there" since then, for the most part I haven't particularly felt like dating, and I haven't seen any reason to force it. I hate dating. It's a horrible way to spend an evening, in far too many cases. Plenty of otherwise lovely meals and enjoyable movies have been entirely ruined by the company with which I've experienced them. Someday I will write a whole post about all the guys I've had only one date with and the reasons certain friends of mine still tell those "one date" stories to other friends at parties. I still mean it when I say that I'd rather spend the night alone or with a friend than waste time with someone I'm not at all excited about. On the other hand, I do realize that dating is an unfortunate prerequisite to finding someone I am excited about, and I don't want to give up on that. My new New Year's resolution, therefore, is to stop being so damn averse to uncomfortable meals with strangers and get back out there again. Wish me luck, because this could get interesting.

How I decided to go about facilitating this new goal is a topic for a whole other post entirely. For now, I just thought it would be amusing to recount the details of the first subject in this experiment. Where I met him is not important, but I'll tell you it involves the Internet and a mutual condemnation for modern Republicans. Seems a reasonable enough start in 2006, no?

His name was Judd--a fact I had a hard enough time getting over before I even got to the point of investigating whether our personalities were at all compatible. Judd? Really? Seriously, how am I going to get used to that? A friend of mine was actually a little helpful when she said, "Oh, like Judd Nelson?" Judd Nelson's not a bad association to raise the name in my esteem, but by then it was really too late. Already all I could think of when I heard the name was my very sweet but unfortunately unattractive classmate, Bubba Krause, playing Judd in our high school production of Oklahoma!, his shiny prematurely balding head gleaming in the spotlight as he sang in a low bass, "Poor Judd is dead; poor poor Judd is dead..."

The name aside, it seemed we were a good match on paper. We described many similar interests (beyond "Oh, you wear shoes, too? Cool..."), and had comparable views on the state of the non-so-united Union (the aforementioned disdain for Republicans). He even quoted a 17th Century English poet, which I found remarkably unexpected from a man in the construction industry. I really do try to avoid putting people in a little box, from assuming that what they do or what they like entirely defines them in some predictable way. Still, Judd was a fascinating study in well-roundedness. I decided that it's not such a big deal if he drives a truck and owns a Labrador*, since he also reads regularly and can name more than four modern artists. It doesn't matter if he's "just a farm boy at heart" (his words, not mine), when he also has a masters in economics. It shouldn't concern me that he owns a gun and is a card-carrying member of the NRA, if he also... No, sorry; I take that back. That one does concern me. That one I can't be OK with.

Regardless, his NRA membership is not the reason our one date will be our only date. Really, it was as simple and unremarkable as "the chemistry just wasn't there." For whatever reason, we just didn't click, and it's really nothing more than that. Still, have you ever gone on a date and thought, "You're a nice enough person... you've clearly got some things going for you... would you mind if I gave you a couple pointers?"

No one asks for a performance review at the end of a bad (or good) date, but maybe it's about time we start. For example, to Judd, my advice would be this, above all else: "Dude, seriously: React!"

He warned me in advance that he's a bit stoic, I guess. "I have a real poker face," he said. "My sense of humor doesn't always come out right away." Sense of humor, unfortunately, wasn't even the issue. The fact was that, whether I was talking about the last book I read, or the declining health of my 94-year-old grandma, or the ridiculous thing I saw on TV last week, his expression never changed. I understand the benefit of "poker face" when you're trying not to reveal your hand in cards, but on a date, your "hand" is whether you're remotely interested in the person in front of you, and I have a hard time understanding how disguising that will get you anywhere.

Considering his seeming indifference, I really thought the inevitable "Well, thanks; see ya!" part at the end of the date would be remarkably smooth. Surely when there's as little a connection as I'd just experienced, the feeling has to be entirely mutual, right? Yeah, not so much. I remembered on this date (just in case I'd somehow forgotten) exactly why I hate dating so much. The first reason is the awkward "Who pays the check" part (which was averted this time by him grabbing it almost instantly and saying, "Mind if I get this?"). The second is that moment when he asks, "So, would you like to get together again?" and my answer is a pretty solid "Um, not really, thanks" while his is apparently "That's a great idea!"

Unlike Judd and his poker face, I have an incredibly hard time disguising my true feelings about any situation. I've mentioned my bluntness and my lack of a mental goalie before, so when Judd said, "I like you," I think I may have actually responded with a confused and incredulous "Really??" I mean, I know back in grade school, we were told that boys pulled our hair and stole our mittens because they liked us, not because they despised us, but really I thought by our 30s we could be more direct than that. If you like me, you laugh at my jokes (even when they're not all that funny). You nod and smile when I tell you a story, and you wait for an answer after asking me a question, instead of changing the subject mid-reply.

So. Performance reviews for dating. I think it's an idea that could work. Perhaps I'll start working on the multiple choice questions right now. Anyone want to help?



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* I realize I should have nothing against Labradors; they're fine dogs, really. I've just had some bad experiences with an overly enthusiastic and hyperactive Labrador puppy. Also, I had to mention this for my friend Dale, who I know will read this and be reminded of the time I insisted that my main gripe with Labs is the way they jab at me painfully with their angular elbows. It makes total sense to me, but he can't understand it without imagining a dog literally elbowing me like a human, and it's continually amusing to him. So that was for you, Dale, OK?