Showing posts with label Survey Says. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Survey Says. Show all posts

Monday, July 23, 2007

The correct answer to #5 is "Teen Spirit"

Many years ago, when I still subscribed to misogynist drivel useful and culturally relevant literature such as Glamour, I remember reading an interview article featuring Gwyneth Paltrow. In the interview, she mentioned that her friends had begun teasing her about her sudden climb to fame. "I only do art films," she apparently insisted, to which they replied, "No way; you're totally a cheesy movie star."

Art films. The woman said she does only art films. Clearly this was before she signed on for View from the Top and Shallow Hal.

I'd have to say it's an unlikely and rare occasion for me to be drawing any comparisons between Gwyneth Paltrow and myself. I mean, sure, I suppose there's a possibility that I'll someday sustain a bothersome head injury and thereafter start speaking in a fake British accent and naming my children Blueberry and Potato, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's a long shot at best.

I am, however, a big ol' hypocrite just like Ms. Paltrow, apparently. When I started this blog, I was somewhat against the "list-about-me" memes. Then I decided to pick and choose which ones I was against and which ones seemed fun or worth doing. Now I'm not just posting a meme, but asking YOU GUYS to fill it out! My word; I know it is summer, but WHERE will the lazy blogging end??

Ahem. With that compelling introduction in place, allow me to tell you about the fun game Sognatrice is playing over at Bleeding Espresso right now. There's a list of twenty questions, or actually, twenty fill-in-the-blank type statements, but rather than Sognatrice completing each one with her answer, she's put it out to commenters instead. This really isn't the cop-out that it might seem to be; aren't you just as curious as I am how well people know you or don't?

So then. If you'd like to play along, copy and paste this list (or whatever portion of it strikes you) into the comments, completing each sentence with the "true" answers if you know them or amusing and absurd ones if you don't. And then go do the same thing on your own blog (if you want, of course) so we can all be lazy summertime bloggers together. Whee! Doesn't that sound like fun? I thought so. Here we go.

Stefanie is.....
Stefanie needs.....
Stefanie's best friend is.....
Stefanie's dog is named.....*
Stefanie smells like.....
Stefanie drives like.....
Stefanie craves......
Stefanie's favorite TV show is.....
Stefanie hates the actor whose name is.....
Stefanie's alcoholic drink of choice is.....
Stefanie's NON alcoholic drink of choice is.....
Stefanie's favorite musical artist is.....
Stefanie's favorite cupcake flavor is.....
Stefanie's hair is.....
Stefanie's celebrity crush is.....
Stefanie's occupation is.....
Stefanie's favorite book is.....
Stefanie's favorite color is.....
Stefanie hates.....
Stefanie wishes.....


Thanks in advance for humoring me (I hope... I could very well be met by crickets on this one, I know). Also, if it's not too much to ask, please make me smile rather than laugh. I promise that none of you are on my nemesis list, so don't be a hater, OK?

-----------------------------------------------------------
* This is a trick question, of course, but I decided to leave it anyway, rather than replace it with something more appropriate (you know, like "Stefanie's imaginary boyfriend is named..." or "Stefanie likes wine better than..."). So do with this one whatever you like.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Your Not-So-Burning Questions, Parte Dos

Friends, it is time for the second half of my much-belated response to the dating questions you kindly asked. It took me a full three weeks to post Part 1 and merely another week to follow up with Part 2. Let's call that progress, shall we?

I'm going to start with a question that wasn't actually in the original list, but that a commenter named Heidi asked in response to my Ridiculous Theories post last week. Theory #5 involved a bar that I refuse to visit with prospective dates because I am convinced that it is cursed. Apparently whether or not this theory is ridiculous depends upon the evidence. So here it is.


  1. The first time I visited said bar, it was with my then-boyfriend, and we went there basically to break up. Not a good start; wouldn't you agree?

  2. A few months later, I went to said bar with another date, a date who admittedly didn't do anything so awful except I suppose bore me a bit. (Oh, and plagiarize my "I'm just not into you" e-mail in order to brush off someone else.) A mildly bad date maybe doesn't lend a whole lot of credence to the curse theory, but I'm building evidence; stick with me, OK?

  3. A year after that, I went to said bar again with an early meMarmony match. It was a rare third date, and we had a fine time... many laughs, good conversation, plenty of compliments from him onto me... Before the night was through we were making out under a disco ball in his nearby office and talking quite convincingly about a fourth date. A few days later, he told me there would be no fourth date. He'd be dating someone else, apparently, instead. As if that weren't frustrating and ego-blowing enough, he boomeranged back into my Inbox several months later, having broken up with the girl who was at one point "better" than me. An innocent invitation for drinks turned into something that felt pretty date-like, at the end of which he asked me on that long-delayed fourth (or perhaps, fifth, depending on which ones you count) date after all... And then sent continually evasive and noncommittal e-mails until finally saying, "Sorry; I shouldn't have asked you that. I'm just not feelin' it, I guess." Score three (four?) for the jaded burlesque lady; she got me again with that guy.

  4. Around the time of the disco ball, no-fourth-date incident, a friend of mine went to this bar with a date, too. Just as with my date, things went rather well. There was good conversation and much enthusiastic pawing at each other in a car later on, as well as seemingly sincere talk of another date. She never heard from the guy again. Not only that, but another friend who it turned out worked with the guy later told us that he seemingly vanished entirely--quit his job unexpectedly and without explanation and was never seen by anyone there again. Mysterious? Yes. I am telling you, something's not right with this place.

  5. And finally, I have to point out perhaps the most innocent victim of all in this curse. Shortly after events #3 and 4, I was walking with some friends to breakfast at a nearby coffee shop when I saw a sweet-looking elderly couple hobble quietly past the bar in question. Directly in front of the door, for no discernible reason and with no advance warning at all, the old woman's legs gave out and she toppled quickly to the ground. Since then, I can't help but wonder if it's not enough just to avoid entering this bar with a man; I have to avoid even walking past it with one as well.

So. That's the bulk of the evidence. Tell me... bar curse: real or fake? You know my vote, of course.


OK, on to the rest of your questions. I didn't really mean for that first one to be a whole post in itself.

Liz wants to know... What's the age range you've dated? How many years older, and how many years younger than you?
I had one date several years ago with a guy nine years my senior, and twice I've gone out with guys four years younger than I. I'm sure it's all situational and depends on the individual, but in all three cases, I felt like the age range was too wide. The nine-years-older guy was 34 when I was 25. I was losing all my single friends to marriages at the time, and he was starting to gain his back due to divorce. It was just one of several examples proving we were at different places in life. Same goes for dating twenty-somethings now. I just don't see myself relating to most of them. It's fun to step back into that life for a little while, but long-term relationship potential would be tough. (For me, I mean. And with my limited experience dating younger men. Please don't send me hate mail if you're rocking an Ashton-and-Demi thing that works for you.)

Incidentally, the nine-years-older guy was listed as "Steve" in this post; the first four-years-younger guy was Aaron (and was the date on which I wore the shirt mentioned in BeingMcCrary's question for Part 1); and the second four-years-younger guy was the scary one who inspired the majority of this post last summer. (Man, it's fun having my whole dating life chronicled online for quick and easy reference.)

Married Jen wants to know... Do you believe in "dating karma"? Like if you don't like a guy who is obviously interested in you, that it will happen to you the next time?
I don't know that I believe in dating karma from that perspective, but I do wonder what I did to men in a past life to make me so unlucky in love this time around. I'm sure I was some sort of player or heart-breaker; I just hope I had fun while it lasted.

Married Jen also asked... What's the most creatively planned date you've ever been on?
You know, I should really have an answer to this by now, given how much time I've had to think about it. Unfortunately, the best I can come up with is the small dinner party that my first pseudo-boyfriend (in high school) and one of his best friends planned for me and the other friend's girlfriend. I wish I could remember the odd mix of foods they made. It surely wasn't a cohesive menu, but it was a very sweet 16-year-old gesture nonetheless. Slightly more recently, I also remember being about five months into my last "real" relationship and realizing I'd never really had a first date with my boyfriend. We'd started as friends and segued into more than that over time, so we never had an official first date. The day after our conversation about that, he sent me an e-mail asking, "May I take you on a date?" He made a reservation at a fancy restaurant we'd never been to; he picked me up bearing flowers and wearing a button-up shirt that was tucked in; and then he got really romantic and took me to see The Matrix Reloaded after dinner. (OK, so it may not have been totally romantic, but it was a good "first date," anyway.) And since I don't put out on a first date, he didn't even stay over that night. All right; in truth, I think the not-staying-over part was due actually to an early morning golf game; after all, if there's ever a time to be a slut, it's when you're on a first date with your boyfriend of five months.

LC wants to know... How do you feel about dating someone younger than you, nevertheless he shows he is a mature individual?
I know it all depends on the person, so I'm not saying there'd be no exception to my general feeling on this, but... see the response to Liz's question above. Also, I think Red said it best when she proclaimed, "If your age starts with 2, I won't date you." Seems a pretty good rule to me these days.

Metalia wants to know... Do you have an emergency plan to fall back upon (possibly involving friends, and code words) should the date turn out to be a bust from the get-go?
Perhaps I should (I do love a good code word), but luckily I've never really felt it all that necessarily. I rarely schedule a first date on a Friday or Saturday, and when you're meeting for drinks or coffee on a weeknight, it's not too hard to beg off with an early exit. Yes, I've had some painful dates, but generally I figure I can survive anything for two hours. I sat through Jersey Girl, after all. (And even most of From Justin to Kelly.) I do, however, wonder, any time I see a guy glance at his cell phone on a date, whether he might have some sort of emergency plan worked out.

And finally, Poppy, overriding her first comment that she didn't have an "appropriate" question for me, decided to ask this "inappropriate" one... Do you you respect the 3 date rule, wait a lot longer, or go for it on the first date if you feel like it?
I think Poppy's already gotten her answer to this, seeing as I wrote about it in comments on a few other blogs lately. (Apparently I'm hesitant to spill dirty details on my own blog, but have few qualms publishing them elsewhere on the Internet.) Let me start by saying there is a difference between a date and a bit of mostly meaningless action. If I said I have never had my Mildreds off* the first (and in most cases, only) night I've known a guy, I would, I'll admit, be lying. But if it's a real and proper date with a man I'm hoping to date again, I see no need to rush things along so quickly. Call me old fashioned, but can we not retain a bit of mystery, save some things for later, let anticipation build a little bit? Personally, I think the three-date rule is absurd, and not because I want to "go for it" earlier, but because I think less than ten hours into an acquaintance with a potential boyfriend is just too soon for certain things. Yes, I am a prude. Selectively, anyway. And that's all I probably need to say about that.

----------------------------------------
* I did say I enjoy a good
code word!
----------------------------------------

Thanks again for complying with my request for questions (and for humoring me as I thereafter neglected to answer them for weeks on end). Got anything else you want to know? Perhaps I'll answer it sometime next year. Perhaps.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

You ask and I answer (eventually, anyway)

So, um... remember that one day when I was too lazy or uninspired to think of my own topics, so I asked you guys to pick some for me? I suggested you ask me whatever questions you wanted about my dating life, and many of you kindly responded to provide me with blog fodder. And then? Yeah, then I promptly put off answering all your fine queries on the grounds of being busy lazy or something.

I don't know whether I really believe that old "better late than never" cliche', but I'm going to go ahead and finally answer these anyway, as though someone other than Poppy and Being McCrary are still waiting for them, OK? Maybe after that, I can do something equally timely, like perhaps recap the 2004 election or talk about the last episode of Seinfeld. Excellent plan, I say.

All right then. Your questions... (now with answers!)


FunkyB wants to know... Is there one particular (past or present) dating relationship that has become the standard by which you measure all others?
Sort of, but it's not one of my own relationships. I have two (married) friends who are so genuinely well matched and in love that they still look at each other today with the same glow and wonder they did years ago, when they first started dating. I'm not saying they have a perfect relationship (because who does, really, right?). I don't know that I even really want a large part of what they have. I'm a different person from either of them, and what seems to work for them would, I think, stifle me at times. But when I've been sad or felt something's missing from the relationships I've been in, it's usually that my boyfriend hasn't looked at me the way my friend looks at his wife, that he doesn't laugh at my dorky jokes or find my ridiculous quirks charming and endearing the way those two do for each other. So that's the standard, I guess. A lot of it comes down to that.

3Carnations wants to know... What was the length of your longest relationship? Tell us about him.
Almost every time I have mentioned an ex-boyfriend, it's been the same ex-boyfriend--the most recent one, though he's not at all recent anymore. (We broke up about two and a half years ago.) You know how Charlotte on Sex & The City says it takes half the total length of a relationship to get over the relationship? My apologies to everyone who'll shun me for taking any life advice from that show, but I do think she was right on that. Case in point: Jimmy the pothead. We dated four months, and I was pretty much over it in two. The next one took longer. The time line is fuzzy, because we were friends first, then friends-with-benefits, then essentially dating but not calling it dating, and finally, "officially" dating and in love... In all, I round it out to about a three-year relationship, and it was a good year and a half afterward until I felt genuinely over it in some way. Funny how even when you know something is missing and it's time to move on, it doesn't make it any easier to let go.

The Other Girl (formerly of Lately Bothered) wants to know... Now that you're north of 30, what do you call someone who, were you ten years younger, you would call your boyfriend? I can't figure this one out. Sometimes I think I'll get married, just so I can stop saying, "this is my ... uh, person who I'm seeing on a more or less exclusive but not committed basis."
Um, I'm pretty sure I'd still call him my boyfriend. Are you saying I'm too old for that?? No, seriously, I know exactly what you're talking about, and maybe I'm delusional to think it doesn't apply to me, but I honestly thought I had another ten years or so before I had to worry about the term "boyfriend" seeming absurd. I mean, a grandma with a "boyfriend"? Sure, that sounds a bit ridiculous. But at 33? Don't I have a few years? (Please??) That said, I have no good answer to this question. Man-friend? Companion-of-choice? Looover? Yeah, none of those really work. If you come up with anything, TOG, let us know. I'm sure we've all wondered about this at times.

Being McCrary wants to know... How do you decide what to wear on a date? Do you buy something new or go with something you already have?
I am trying to remember the last time I bought something new specifically for a date, and I think it was my first date post-last-breakup. I hadn't been on a "real" date in years, so I felt like I needed new "date clothes." Unfortunately, I didn't even really like the shirt I bought, and I was convinced the whole night that the guy was looking at me wondering why I was wearing some weird shirt with a print resembling dumb little bubbles. I am pretty sure that's the only time I ever wore that shirt, and I actually just gave it to Goodwill yesterday. After that night, I tried to buy a bunch of date-appropriate tops (Boy Scout motto: Be Prepared!), and just wore one of those on every date. I actually keep this weird mental database of what I wear on every date so that I don't immediately repeat the same outfit if I have a second and third date with the same guy. As if most of them would ever even notice. Ha.

Nabbalicious and Paisley want to know... What are your non-negotiables? I mean, aside from the guy needing to have good grammar and spelling skills (which [they] agree with).
You know, I never even said myself that proper grammar and spelling are a must. You guys all just assume I'm far less forgiving than I might actually be! The truth is, when I'm meeting men online, it's hard to see past bad writing and horrendous spelling. I do try to keep an open mind, but it's a struggle, obviously. If he can't express himself effectively through his writing, what else is there at that point? If I met someone in person who was smart and funny and charming, however, and only later discovered he couldn't spell to save his life, I might have to learn to overlook it somehow. But anyway, that wasn't the question, was it? You wanted to know what things beyond grammar and spelling are on the list. Well, there are some pretty obvious ones... No alcoholics, no chain smokers (I'd like to say no smokers period, but one cigarette or cigar here or there won't kill either of us, I suppose), and no one who can't hold his temper. Also, no one who kicks puppies or lacks basic hygiene or listens to Los Lonely Boys or Creed. OK, no, seriously, he must be smart and funny and must find me smart and funny as well. Beyond that, almost everything is negotiable and situational and I just won't know what I can and can't live with until I meet the guy.

NancyPearlWannabe said... I'd love to hear your best/worst dating story. I may have already missed that in a previous post, ... but you can just add the links in if you like. I'm easy like that.
For years, the worst date I could think of was the "NO! I'm DIPPING!" guy listed as "Mike" in my "One Date Boys" post.* No individual part of the evening was entirely unforgivable or tragic, but the man was dull as a spoon and lacked any discernible wit. I was more bored with him than I've been even on Sunday afternoons alone on the couch, nursing a hangover with no cable or computer to keep my mind occupied. That date no longer holds the "Worst" ranking now, though! Now I think I have to shift that title to the "Nonfiction means 'not true'?" guy, the "I think the next president is going to be a woman or a black man" guy, the guy I spent two of the longest hours of my life with, back in February. You can read about him here, if you'd like.

As for best date, I think that still goes to the aforementioned pothead. He was funny and sweet, even from his first phone call, and red flags be-damned, we had a good time together. I remember talking over Thai food on our first date, and getting along so well and laughing so much that he asked the waiter, "Can you tell this is a first date?" "Um, I wouldn't have guessed that; no," the waiter replied. "You guys look like you're having a good time." And we were. We continued to have a mostly good time for the next four months or so. I knew from the start that that relationship would have a shelf life, but it still makes me a little bit sad sometimes anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------
* Gah! Another Mike! Even more support for the "No Mikes" rule!
------------------------------------------------------------



OK. That's only about half of the questions I received, but I think you'll agree this is getting just way too damn long for one post. Consider this Part One, then. To be continued... (Maybe even this year! No, really!)

Monday, April 16, 2007

300

As I understand it, 300 is an adventure epic that one Rotten Tomatoes reviewer says "is full of violence and testosterone and fills in the story holes with gorgeous slaughter." This post contains no violence, testosterone, or slaughter (gorgeous or otherwise), but I do want it to be epic in some way. It is, after all, my 300th post on Stefanie Says, and surely that's worthy of some sort of fanfare, no? So in honor of my 300th post, I thought I'd list 300 things you might not already know about me.

Relax. I'm just kidding. The 100 in my sidebar are most definitely more than enough.

Instead, I'll tell you just five things you might not know about me. Perhaps you've seen this "Interview me" meme that's going around. After 299 posts, I am apparently running short on ideas, so when Poppy offered to hand out some questions, I said, "OK, hit me with a few." It's kind of like a Barbara Walters special, except it won't take an hour, and there won't be any crying (I hope). Oh, and Poppy has better hair (in my opinion, anyway).

The "rules" (because just like a mass-forwarded email, there are always rules, right?) stipulate that to keep this game going, I must offer to interview any of you in return. If I don't, I will have bad luck for five years and my hair will fall out and I most likely will not have a date for the rest of the decade. (Given my track record, that last one might actually not be so bad.) Anyway, if you want to play along, see the rules at the end and I'll be happy to oblige. Meanwhile... on to the questions!

Here's what Poppy wants to know:


1. You said I was a lightweight when I got totally plastered on a bottle of wine. How much wine do you drink on a regular basis?! And what's your favorite? And why?

OK, define "regular basis." I almost never have wine with breakfast! Or even lunch! Really! All right, seriously... this varies depending on the week, the mood, the events, etc. I have put away a whole bottle more than once three times, however, and been not too worse for wear the next day. The secret is to start early and to pace yourself. If you pour the first glass with dinner at 6:00 and finish the last of it off after midnight, you can rise with only the slightest of headaches the next morning. Or, rather, you can if you're not an amateur (which is what I actually called you, Poppy, though I suppose "lightweight" is close enough). Then again, being a lightweight just means you're a cheap date, and that actually comes with its own set of benefits, I suppose.

As for my favorites... I generally prefer red to white, but as I've said before, I'm not too picky. (I'll even drink a fine Mer-lott on ice, after all.) For my birthday, my friend Gregorlee* brought me a Trapiche Oak Cask Argentinian Malbec that was noticeably awesome enough that I'm holding on to the bottle so I can remember it and buy more, but generally just about any red will do. And when I'm feeling concerned that my teeth might start to look like tiny gray bits of gravel jutting out of my gums, I'll drink just about any white instead (Riesling, Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc, and the like). No Chardonnay, however. That and baseball are two of the few things I do not have in common with Red at all.

* Not his real name, but it amuses me no end anyway.


2. How much does it impact your daily life that your parents were comedians like mine and spelled your first name phonetically?

My daily life? Not much. I was much more annoyed by it when I was younger, when I had to spell it out for every teacher and doctor and dentist in my life and when personalized erasers, pins, and bike license plates were big and not a single rack anywhere had my name spelled right. What bothers me, actually, is the reason my mom gives for choosing that spelling. "We thought it would be easier for you," she says. Sure, Mom. Having to spell out my name for every person I ever meet is definitely easier than learning that "ph" sounds like "f." Also, thanks for the vote of confidence that your daughter might not grow up quite intelligent enough to handle anything but a phonetic spelling of her name.

I'm exaggerating, obviously. It doesn't really bother me at all. At this point, I kind of like having a unique spelling. And it could be worse, after all. A co-worker recently forwarded me an email from a woman named "Stefnee" with the comment, "This spelling's even weirder than yours." True enough, co-worker. Poor Stefnee indeed.


3. If you could have only movies, books, or music, which would you choose and why?

I respectfully refuse to answer this question on the grounds that it might make my head explode.

What? That's not allowed? All right, fine; I'll choose movies, but it's a really, really hesitant choice. And if I try to explain "why," I'll likely change my mind again, so I'm just going to move on now, OK?


4. If you had to lose one of your five senses, which would it be and why?

I'm going to go with smell, because I think my sense of smell is already weaker than most people's (inhalant abuse as a kid--just kidding) and because my mom actually has no sense of smell and seems to cope with it just fine. Giving up sight or hearing is not an option (going blind is actually one of my biggest mostly irrational fears), and we already know from those monkey studies that being without touch creates all sorts of problems for development and emotional stability. Taste would be the one I'd give up after smell... I'd obviously eat a lot less if I couldn't taste anything, but is life without pizza, brownies, and ice cream really worth living, skinny or not? It's a tough call.


5. Let's pretend you know the future and you learn that your soul mate is a man 20 years your senior who is bald, missing a few teeth, out of shape, and has tattoos. Would you accept this soul mate, fall madly in love with him, and live happily ever after OR would you reject him and live your life alone?

If I know the future, then presumably I'm not going to meet this bald, toothless fatty for a while yet, right? In that case, I guess I'd have fun with trim, younger men for a while, knowing my fate was already sealed somewhere down the line. If he's my soul mate, then that means I would fall for him despite any conventional charms he's lacking, so I suppose I would somehow be unbothered by all that. Then again, maybe "soul mate" doesn't mean "life partner" or "lover" necessarily. A friend can be a soul mate. It doesn't mean you're meant to be with that soul mate forever or in a romantic way. Liz Gilbert actually has an excellent passage about soul mates in Chapter 48 of Eat Pray Love (which is an amazing book, by the way, that I cannot stop recommending to everyone I know), but perhaps I will save that for the inevitable write-up when I'm finally finished with that one.


Bonus Question: Who's your favorite Poppy?


Why, YOU, of course. And certainly not just because you're the only one I know.



OK, now the rules. (I told you there were rules, right?) If you want to play, too, just read and abide by the following:

1. Leave me a comment (with your email address, if I don't already have it) saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Simple enough, right? I thought so.

Monday, March 05, 2007

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.