Quite possibly my most self-absorbed Friday Five to date, as it's all about things people should BUY FOR ME

My birthday is coming up soon, a fact that didn't really occur to me until I turned the calendar page late last week and realized it is March already. March, people. How did that happen? Wow.

I realize that birthdays get less and less eventful every year, but still... if forgetting your own birthday is approaching isn't a sign of old age, I'm really not sure what is. At least I'm not yet doing the math from my birth year to figure out how old I am. When that happens, you might as well get yourself a pair of comfort sandals and a Hoveround, because there is no turning back from there.

Most years, I am reminded it's my birth month the same way I'm reminded that the Christmas season is upon me. No, Target doesn't tailor their seasonal aisles to a "Celebrate Stefanie" theme. I mean that I start getting e-mails from my family members demanding gift suggestions from me.

This seems only fair, I think. If I have to get older, I should at least get some new stuff, right? Sadly, (A. my family didn't think to ask about birthday gift ideas until a few short days ago, and (B. when they did finally ask, I came up almost entirely blank.

I finally decided that a new printer (perhaps with a bonus scanner) would be a fine gift for my mom and sisters to contribute towards together, so I'm pretty sure that's what I'll find beneath the, um, birthday tree. Since then, however, I have come up with several fine ideas of excellent birthday gifts for me. I honestly don't expect gifts from anyone but family members and maybe a select few devoted friends, but still, it's fun to write a wish list, is it not? Frankly, once you start thinking about this sort of thing, it's actually hard to narrow it down to just five. I am, however, trying to slide this in as my Friday Five for the week, so a mere five will simply have to do.

Here we go, then. Five gifts I would enjoy for my birthday this year...

1. A Chia Elephant. Shockingly, no one got this for me when I dropped a hint about it right before Christmas. Can you even buy Chia Pets outside of the holiday season? I have no idea. Anyone want to find out?
   
   
2. A little Unazukin girl. Yes, yes, I know we're all using Google as our Magic 8 ball these days, but isn't this an entirely more adorable solution?
   
   
3. Fancy schmancy calling cards for my secret inner Victorian lady self. I mentioned once that I used to hand out my business cards to prospective suitors in bars (because cell phones weren't yet so prevalent and we didn't all carry pens and index cards in our pockets). I totally should have thought to print out something like these lovely cards instead.
   
   
4. One charming little garden gnome (conveniently available at Target, the place where all things happen and worlds frequently collide). I have a friend who is very fond of gnomes, but hesitates to share this fact with friends and family for fear that her home and yard will thereafter be filled with various and sundry gnomes received as gifts. Like her, I want just one gnome, which would live happily in the bed of perennials I planted last year (upon Poppy's advice)--a bed of flowers that I can only hope and assume will return brightly and happily again this summer. Time will tell on that, unfortunately.
   
   
5. A t-shirt with a tag-line that succinctly and effectively encapsulates me in some way. I am not actually serious about this one, as I'm not really the novelty t-shirt-wearing type. (I wasn't serious about the $189 calling cards, either, of course; I just thought they were lovely and charming is all.) Still, wouldn't a Good Grammar Costs Nothing shirt be perfect for my one-woman crusade? Then again, it's hard to commit to that one confidently when there are so many other fine choices as well. For that matter, why should I focus solely and exclusively on grammar? Is that really all that I am about? Perhaps my new tag-line is actually a better choice. I'm entirely amused imagining all the looks I would get wearing an "I am kayak; hear me roar" shirt about town. Much as I'd like to think the whole world gets every Gilmore Girls reference, I'm well aware that's simply not the case.
   

OK, that's already five, but you know what else I recently realized I need? More Tagalongs. What was I thinking buying only one box?? I was thinking surely other little Girl Scouts in my life would emerge and beg for cookie business, but clearly that was not the case. So now I've got to get by on a frighteningly small hit of the heroin that is the Tagalong, with no hope of more until next year. It is a travesty, I must say. And to think I wasted one of my box purchases on the new sugar-free brownie bit cookies. They sounded tasty in the description, but you know what? Cookies need sugar. It's a simple and likely indisputable fact. I should never have swayed from the Tagalong. A travesty, indeed, I say.

Know what else is a travesty? These particular gift items, courtesy of the Casual Living catalog I for some reason received the other day. Take this as a list of items I do not want as birthday gifts, OK? I do not want a pair of "Go Tropical" sunglasses, nor a "celebrate-the-flamingo" sort of Feather in your cap cap. I am all for a bit of whimsy, but not in my accessories, you hear? I also do not want a Beaded water bottle holder, as I simply can't imagine any scenario in which my water would need to be this, um, fancy. And, much as I realized the helpful multifunctionality of my comfy new yoga pants Swiffering my floors as I move about, I'm still not ready to don a pair of slippers designed with this express purpose in mind. Multi-tasking is one thing. Those absurd and nasty slippers are quite another.

Goodbye, Med

I don't generally document any one specific meMarmony match to this degree, but since so many of you were so invested in this one, I thought I should tell you that I clicked the infamous "Close" button on the man we call "Med" this morning.

Bu-Bye, Med. I hardly knew ye. Best of luck and all that.




Note #1: Before anyone gets all excited by the "Reason for closing" box I checked, no I do not have a new boyfriend I've not told you about. I am pursuing another relationship; I just don't know yet with whom it will be!

Note #2: Friday Five will be coming later today. Likely much later. I should get some work done first, unfortunately.

The votes are in

See, now, I knew you people would have much to say about this whole to-call or not-to-call dilemma. Who needs Google to answer life's most pressing questions; I can just ask all of you!

Incidentally, I have realized recently that I am not alone in turning to the Internet for advice on matters such as this. In the past few days, presumably equally torn and confused people have found their way to my blog via a variety of similar quandaries. Here is just a sampling:

• Calls five days after first date
• First date waited week to call
• First date call voicemail
• When he says let's play it by ear after the first date
  

To that last person, I would like to say, "Sorry, honey; it doesn't look good." To the first two, I would like to say, "Five days? A week? That's nothing. Try ten days over here!" Also, to the person who found my blog by Googling Deep fried Wikipedia, I have no idea what you're looking for, but I sort of love the whimsy obviously brewing within your brain.

But back to my pressing question and your many thoughts on it. I didn't respond to your comments as they came in partly because I wanted to see where things went without any further input from me but also because it was the kind of day where I was actually very busy doing work while at work. Crazy, I know. You'd think they pay me to be there or something. Sheesh.

In any case, I thought I would summarize the results as they stand right now (as of 10:15 p.m. Tuesday). Not-so-shockingly, the majority of you are not feeling the love with "Med." Though, frankly, given the way I admittedly editorialized the question, I'm actually surprised it was this close.

The question, if you recall, was this: if a man waits ten days after a date to call me, should I actually call him back? Here is what the non-lurkers had to say.



Many of you made some fine points. I respect 3Carnations' opinion that one offense doesn't justify writing someone off entirely and that people sometimes need to grow on you, that the chemistry and magic isn't always immediate. But I also agree with everyone who said that it's not wrong to want more enthusiasm, more respect, more consideration than this. Hence the dilemma, you see.

I could argue back and forth on what it's reasonable to expect when. Delayed follow-through after a very casual first pre-date maybe doesn't mean a guy won't step up later, once I matter to him in a more solid and real way. But I also agree with Stacy that being delinquent with personal contact translates into other relationships as well. I wouldn't tell a friend I'm going to call him in the next few days and then wait a week and a half. I certainly shouldn't think it's acceptable to do so with a dating prospect I'm presumably trying to impress either.

What's strange is I think I'm actually more demanding, more picky, more bothered by "rule-breaking" transgressions now, at 32, than I was at 23. I suspect some people's criteria loosen as they get older; they learn to settle for less to avoid being alone. It should be clear by now that I'm not the settling type (kayak hear me roar, remember?), but that's not even what I'm getting at here.

Maybe secretly and subconsciously I want to be alone; maybe I'm that cliched commitment-phobe in so many sitcoms and movies--the guy who breaks up with a girl because her earlobes are uneven or the girl who won't date a guy because his shoes just aren't right. Maybe that's all this hangup on the "when to call" question is. Maybe I'm just looking for reasons to avoid a second date.

I really don't think that's it, however. I think I am just tired beyond tired of letting bad behavior slide. These are 30-something-year-old men I'm dating. Shouldn't they know better by now? Shouldn't they have figured this stuff out? If they truly want a relationship, shouldn't they understand that a little effort would be nice? At 24, a guy could jerk me about, play hard-to-get, vanish inexplicably for days on end. It was part of the game, part of the learning process; I didn't know anything else. But somewhere along the line, most of those guys grew up. Presumably we women did, too. We realized that if you find a good thing, you don't let it trail along behind you by a thread; you hold it tight and treat it right and do what you can to make it last. I'm mixing my metaphors, I realize, and it's only going to get worse. I'm about to compare single men to the clothing racks at TJ Maxx.

I don't really believe that generalization that "all the good ones are gone." I'm also not immediately leery of divorced men because of some false assumption that they're "damaged goods." I honestly believe that every relationship teaches us something and that we're all likely better partner material the more life experience we have. That said, however, when I think about the men I've met lately, I can't help feeling like I'm looking at a clearance rack. I don't want to believe that all the good ones are gone, but the men I've met lately seem to come with some sort of sticker or warning. "Past Season," they say. "Irregular." "Missing Button." I know plenty of women who swear by the merits of these racks. TJ Maxx is a treasure trove if only you take the time to look. And it's true, I guess--I should possibly keep on hunting; try things on; realize I could find a great bargain in there somewhere. But I've never had much patience for the hit-or-miss adventure that is TJ Maxx, and dating often feels a lot like that.

Mind you, I am well aware that I've likely got my own label hanging from my wrist notifying prospective suitors of my own flaws as well. Surely I am "Irregular" in some way, so the analogy doesn't stop with the men. And that is why I did, in case you are wondering (and I'm sure many of you are) return Med's call earlier tonight. If his own call was just a late-made courtesy gesture and the voicemail tag ends with my message, I am completely fine with that. But at least now I can rest easy in the hopes that 3Carnations isn't tracking me down to beat some sense into me. And that's what really matters, is it not?

Show of hands

I know this is something we've talked about a bit in the comments recently, but let's take a formal poll, OK? Let's say, for example, that a woman (we'll call her Mefanie) goes on a date with a man (we'll call him... um, Med). Let's say it's actually just barely a date; it's one of those sort of "pre-dates" for a quick coffee, a date scheduled with the advance warning that "I can meet you at 11:00, but I need to be somewhere at 12:30." It's sort of a "go see," as I recently read someone call it--essentially an audition to see if you are, in fact, worthy of the role of a proper date.

Let's say that at the end of this pre-date, Med turns to Mefanie and says, "I've really enjoyed talking to you. Would you like to get together again? Can I give you a call this week?"

This is an entirely hypothetical situation, of course, and bears no solid similarity to any true and actual events, but let's assume for the sake of this example that Mefanie was not immediately smitten with Med, but found herself for once not entirely bored nor revolted, either. Trying to remain optimistic, she therefore replies, "Sure; that'd be great," and writes down her home number.

Given this scenario, how many days is too many days for Med to wait to call?

If I tell you the number of days he waited is nearly ten, does that appall you or not at all faze you? And given all of this information, should Mefanie actually return his call or click the handy "Close Match" button provided by meMarmony and make Med go away?

Discuss amongst yourselves.



A few additional notes, in case they affect your decisions...

1. Med called at 3:50 p.m. on a Monday, knowing full well that Mefanie has a day job at an office outside her home and that the number he was calling was not the number for that office.

2. The only excuse Med provided for his delayed follow-up communication was that he has been hit with some sort of bug and has been ill for several days. He did not specify whether said bug prevented him from reaching his keyboard to type a message or in some way impaired his memory or concept of time.

3. Mefanie is a worn-down and bitter girl who, once annoyed, has a hard time overlooking her annoyance and starting fresh with an open mind. Maintaining an open mind on a second date with someone whom she's already skeptical and less-than-genuinely-enthusiastic-about is hard enough. Maintaining an open mind on a second date with someone who's already annoyed her is even harder.

So...?

As always, thank you in advance for your undoubtedly wise words and sage advice. On this entirely hypothetical situation, I mean. Of course.

Snowpocalypse Wrap-up

Last Friday, when I posted a list of things I did during my unannounced hiatus from online life, I forgot one I very much meant to mention. That This American Life show I went to on Wednesday? The one where Sarah Vowell and I unfortunately did not become best friends? I forgot to report that the universe had a little fun with me that night by throwing a former meMarmony match in my path yet again. Remember the bad kisser who I ran into at Target a few months back? There he was again, at the Orpheum Theatre, walking right past me with a short blond woman who I can only assume has never emotionally wounded or insulted him by calling into question his make-out skills and prowess.

Apparently I was right when I said, last May, that this man and I must have been circling within 50 feet of each other for the past several years and that, post dating him, I was bound to run into him nearly every place I went. The fact that I have now spotted him twice (on two occasions where he presumably didn't spot me) makes me wonder how many times he's seen me while I've been unaware. It also makes me wonder where I can expect to see him next. This could actually be a fun game, I suppose. Like Where's Waldo (er, Where's Adam?) but without the stocking hat and thick-framed glasses. At least on Wednesday (unlike that day at Target), I was properly showered and lip-glossed. I can only hope the same holds true next time as well.

I was actually thinking about my first near run-in with that guy (and with the subsequent in-Target encounter with Crooked Soul Patch McLikeshimself a few weeks ago) before heading out to Target again today. As is my usual routine on a Sunday that involves no social plans, I spent a few minutes considering the To-Shower or Not To-Shower question. I wasn't planning to see anyone I knew or to be out for any length of time. A quick dab of powder and a ponytail seemed entirely sufficient for the day. I have learned my lesson now, however. I picked To-Shower this time.

This afternoon's Target outing marks only the third time I have left my house in the past four days. I stayed home from work on Thursday and Friday because I had no desire to spend three hours in traffic crawling my way through what I recently heard referred to as The Snowpocalypse, nor to spend the night in a motel somewhere off of Highway 36 due to an inability to make it the entire drive. Instead I gave myself an impromptu four-day weekend and took a work-from-home day followed by a self-proclaimed snow day.

You'd think I would get stir-crazy, cooped up alone for four consecutive days. (I did venture out for social outings a bit on Friday night and Saturday afternoon, but the majority of the past 96 hours were spent entirely on my own.) You'd think I'd be happy to go back to work tomorrow and rejoin humankind. Instead, I am dreading my 6:00 alarm the same way I do every Sunday around this time. I actually had a lovely four days of peaceful lounging about. I watched Ellen and Oprah two days in a row, which is two more days than I've seen either show in the past six months or more. I watched a mini-marathon of Gilmore Girls Season Three. I nearly finished the tiny baby sweater I am knitting for a friend's soon-to-be-born child. I got 140 or so pages closer to the end of the Hunt Sisters book I'm reading. And I realized, oddly and unsettlingly, that being homebound and anti-social is maybe a little too comfortable for me. It's a slippery slope, I think, between being content with a few days of mostly hermit-like solitude and suddenly seeing the appeal of unemployment and relishing the fantasy of life as a shut-in. I've said for years that I'm quite comfortable in my modern spinster role. Times like this, though, I realize I'm maybe just a few steps away from crazy old Cat Lady... minus the cats, of course.

I shouldn't say I spent the whole weekend lounging, however. I got plenty of exercise shoveling Thursday, Friday, and Saturday as well. I thought I was finally done for a while, so you can imagine how my heart sank when I went out to my car this afternoon and saw that a City plow had gone through my alley one more time and left another mini-wall of snow across my driveway. Unable to bring myself to haul out the shovel yet again, I decided to ignore the fact that I drive the vehicular equivalent of a 98-pound weakling and to try to charge on through the wall anyway. My wheels spun a bit and I thought I'd have to admit defeat, but eventually I made it past the obstacle. I should give my little Saturn a bit more credit, I suppose.

You know what else deserves more credit? That whole myth of "Minnesota Nice." Check it out: my next-door neighbor proving that Minnesotans actually are nice and that being on a speaking basis with your neighbors really isn't actually all bad. That is him with the snowblower; that is my driveway he's snowblowing. I really sort of love him right about now.

Hello? Is this thing on?

Hello, Internets! Remember me? Frankly I am not sure what is going on with me, but for some reason, I just decided to take a little impromptu hiatus from writing or reading blogs. Have you ever done that? If so, when you decided to re-emerge, did you actually read all the things you missed while you were gone? This is my dilemma, because after ignoring Bloglines for several days, it now says I have 220 unread posts waiting for me. 220! Poppy alone has published 40 of those. 40! Good lord, woman; take a break, I say. Anyway, so this is my dilemma: to read all or not to read all. I suppose if this is my biggest concern for the day, my life is going OK.

I surely don't fancy myself any sort of Internet celebrity, so perhaps many of you didn't even notice that I was neither posting to my own blog nor reading and commenting on yours. If you did, in fact, notice, however, and were even maybe considering sending out a search party, then I feel I owe you some explanation for my absence. Since it is Friday, my explanation will be in five-point form and serve as my Friday Five for the week.

Five possible answers for where I've been lately:

1. I was kidnapped by one of the two dates I had this week, and had to use all of the escape and survival skills I've gleaned from five summers of Girl Scout camp and 32 years of television viewing to rescue myself from the depths of this horrible man's basement, where I was chained to a radiator ala Samuel L. Jackson and Christina Ricci and guarded by a surprisingly ferocious toy poodle for a full five days and nights.
   
   
2. I won the lottery, quit my job, and took off for Costa Rica for a week, where I had a lovely and exciting fling with Manuel the windsurfing instructor, until his mother discovered us sipping drinks in a cabana and reminded him it was time for school. To this I say only that I swear he looked at least 22, but obviously I should have asked. (Perhaps I was just taking some tips from -R- and testing out the benefits of dating a younger man.)
   
   
3. I ran into Sarah Vowell on Hennepin Avenue after the This American Life show on Wednesday night and invited her to join me for a drink at nearby MacKenzie's pub. The two of us became instant best friends, and we thereafter took off on a fun and educational road trip together, touring all of the Puritan tourist attractions in New England.
   
   
4. I was out shoveling some of the 127 inches of snow that Minneapolis has received this week when a City snowplow made one of its passes through my neighborhood and buried me under the massive spray of snow left in its wake. After burrowing for days, I have only recently dug my way out. Incidentally, Charles Schultz was wrong: you can survive by sucking the juice from a wet mitten. It's not pleasant, but it'll get you through.
   
   
5. What, you didn't believe that last one either? Well how about that I suffered a heart attack while shoveling those 127 inches of snow and have been recovering in a hospital bed with no Internet access ever since?
   

No? You don't believe any of those? Well OK; you're right. I am, in fact, just lazy, and really have no good excuse for where I've been. Here are a few things I have done in the past week, however. No lies at all this time, OK?

• Went on two mostly fine dates with two seemingly perfectly nice men. It's remotely possible I may even actually go out with one of them again, but just because that is a rarity does not mean it's time to start checking the Target gift registry for me. All it means is that they were mostly normal dates, which means I've got no particularly amusing or aggravating stories to share from either of them.
  
  
• Re-wore an old bridesmaid dress, complete with the elbow-length gloves and Payless Dyeables shoes that were part of the original cornflower blue crepe-and-satin dream of an outfit six years ago. No, I didn't go to prom with my new teenaged boyfriend (though, again, -R- does make some fine points on that). I wore this ensemble to a fancy-dress Oscars party hosted by my friend Amy. A fine time was had by all. Or, a fine time was had by the six or seven people who actually made it. Damn Blizzard 1.0 did a bit of thwarting of those plans.
  
  
• Actually WON the "most guesses correct" prize at the aforementioned Oscars party (despite having not seen half the movies on the ballot). The prize for this title was a lovely miniature trophy... a trophy that came without a label but that I'm considering modifying slightly to benefit a blog-friend who I think needs this trophy more than I do. Liz, I do not know where you live, so I cannot send this award to you, but I suggest you print out this artist's rendering and post it somewhere prominent as a reminder that 2007 is your year!
  
  
  
  
• Spent several hours shoveling my way out of Blizzard 1.0 (which arrived last Saturday) and Blizzard 2.0 (which is still on its last legs now, as I type). I was actually just planning to head outside in a few minutes to shovel the latest six or seven inches that have fallen (I am playing hooky from work due to the snow and therefore have all day to get that done), but I just looked out my window and saw that it is snowing yet again. Again! My street already looks like this; haven't we had enough?
  
  
  

And that about wraps up the highlights and lowlights of my week. I hope all of you are well and none of you are buried under 127 inches of snow nor chained to a radiator nor being arrested for statutory rape. Now if you'll excuse me, I have 220 unread blog posts to get through and eight more inches of snow to shovel from my walk. Happy Friday!