On losing moMANtum

“The world is wide, and I will not waste my life in friction when it could be turned into momentum.”
-Frances E. Willard

 

The month of August has been a busy one for me – family visiting, camping, family family family, my birthday. Not a lot of time for dates. Things promptly dissolved with K (better left alone I guess), I hooked up with sweet wonderful Miles a couple of times, but I don’t want a future with him. Can’t explain it, but he isn’t “it.” I haven’t found the elusive “it” yet…

I met up with PhD Andrew and had a couple of dates – this was awhile ago. Great first date, lots of chemistry and talking. Second date – he suggested splitting the bill. Which we did. Ladyboner killer. We didn’t talk much after that. Small talk here and there over text. He would roundabout ask me out but never blatantly suggest a time. He seemed really into me, I don’t doubt it – but he had no idea about chivalry rules (or if he did, he ignored them) and things cooled from there. The dating dwindle happens  more often than not. Things trickle to a stop. Gotta keep that momentum! If you want a second, third or fourth date, you have to keep in contact with the girl, keep her interested. It’s really all about momantum.

There was The Librarian – an offbeat, scholarly ginger (and yeah, an actual librarian) who I swapped emails with on and off. He pursued me lackadaisically at first, then harder – we made a series of date plans, all of which kept crumbling due to schedules and distance, and his inability to use his phone for either texts or calling. He made a harder push to meet me and I agreed, but he never set a date or time. We would G-chat, one day he sort of made me feel bad about my work hours (7 pm most nights, could be worse) and suggested, life coach style, that I do something “else” with my life. I got annoyed and told him politely that I didn’t need advice from a prospective date. Then I added, if you’d like to go out, ask me, “no more blowin’ smoke.” I couldn’t stand his waffling anymore.

Then we have L.L. Bean – who is apparently a photographer there (ah New England) but also does travel/food photography and bears an extraordinary resemblance to Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We’ve been emailing back and forth trying to schedule date number one for awhile. Then he had a sudden dental appointment he forgot about, and things got pushed back. Our schedules are oil and water and he lives in Portland, Maine, making things all the trickier. Meanwhile, momentum is being lost. He’s very aesthestically/intellectually appealing, but over the course of boring emails my interest is dwindling. Maybe his, too.

Next on deck is The Woodsman, an attractive bearded (praise Jesus!) gentleman who lives in the mountains and makes his living maintaining property for the AMC (Appalacian Mountain Club) hut system. Mmmm. He’s very outdoorsy which is a contrast to city-mouse me – I love the woods but prefer my woods time to be clean and controlled, in close proximity to Starbucks and flush toilets. Oppsites attract? Anyway, we’ve been emailing steadily but the “spark” that was there initially has diminished. And there has been no talk of a date.

I really think it’s best to meet up with your prospective suitors as soon as possible, see if there’s a spark, and go from there. This lollygagging and endless emailing (or worse texting) is driving me so insane. Get in the car and start pressing the gas pedal. You’ll never get anywhere, otherwise. Duh. Maybe it’s partially my fault? I just want some action, you know?

Last – certainly not least – is The Musician – for lack of better nickname. I swore off musicians (at least those with active bands) for a long time. But they pull me in, like moths to a flame. The Musician sings/plays guitar in an indie-rock-emo-atmospheric-rock band (think Mogwai/Jimmy Eat World/Explosions in the Sky) and lives across the state. He’s an aspiring high school English teacher who quoted Thoreau in his profile. Swoon. Over email he seems sincere and earnest, not overly sweet or complimentary, which is actually nice before you meet someone. You want someone to work up to those things, not be like Move in with me, Babe. He is my favorite and although it’s inadvisable to put “eggs” in any basket, I’d like to place mine in his. First date tonight. Wish me the best of luck.

Pedal to the metal,
V