So, I went on that blind date today. Let’s call her [Da Vinci].
Bottom line– meh. She just wasn’t all that interesting. It’s not exactly because of her age, but it’s because she hasn’t been out there and seen all that much of the world. Or at least, if she has, she didn’t really know how to make it interesting. It’s reflected in how she didn’t have much to say except the generic stuff like “I like music” and yadda yadda.
She’s not a bad person, just… there was nothing there that really caught my attention. I’m sure there’s someone out there for her, but she and I are at different places in our lives and I don’t feel like waiting around.
I’ve found that if there is any particular condition I would be looking for in a girl that I wanted to date, it’s that they’ve got a lot of experiences behind them beyond school. I mean, education is important, and it’s nice to know that someone takes their schoolwork seriously, but the world is very much different after graduation and it’s those kinds of post-graduate experiences that really make a person.
I think the reason why this is because school always gives your life structure– it demands a fair amount of your attention. And, while it takes a lot of discipline to do well in school, what a lot of people don’t understand is that it takes a different type of discipline to really make your own choices in life about the finer parts of living.
Some people enjoy the programs that they study in, some people don’t– either way, they have to trudge through it. But once you’re done school, you have choices with how you spend your time, and how you focus your brain. Who will you hang out with? What will you do for a job? How much stress is enough, and how much do you put up with? What are you going to do 10 years from now?
Questions, upon questions, upon questions! And when you’re in school, the focus is nearsighted because it occupies so much CPU power that there isn’t much left for anything else anyhow. But once you’re done? You’ve got more freedom than you know what to do with.
sometimes, you’re so trapped that you know exactly how to maintain the flow. That’s not always better, depends on the individual. But what I’m getting at is that whereras it’s less of an option to quit school, it may be more of an option to quit anything else in life. I think ‘school’ is the last of the common responsibilities a young adult has, and it’s the sort of responsibility that a fair amount of people get through despite hating it so much. After that, all choices are open– at least, in theory– and then the person begins to really define the adult that they will become.
I guess this is just all to say that when I had dinner with [Da Vinci], I didn’t necessarily feel that she had a grasp of all that yet. No hard feelings, I wish her luck, but right now and here, I’m not interested…
Let’s hope tomorrow’s blind date goes better !
At the very least, I’ve been exchanging emails with the person tomorrow. Let’s call her [Supergirl]. And, from correspondence, she seems more interesting, but, we’ll see. You never really know how different someone is in writing from who they are in person.
In case you didn’t notice, I oftentimes put names in Square Brackets.
The reason that I do this is to remind you that a name I’m writing is an alias. If I write [Tyrone], that means that that’s not the person’s real name. If I write Tyrone (without square brackets), that either means that we’ve already established that it’s an alias, or it’s a real name.
Some, like Terminator, should be obvious to you as being aliases.
I said it before, and I think I’ll say it again, but if you know me in person, and you live in Montreal, you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog.
It’s unfortunate that a lot of some of my favorite Xangas shut down over the years because of that situation– you’ve probably heard of it, it’s the one where people they knew started reading too much.
The thing about a blog, at least for me, is that I usually say everything that I’m thinking here because I don’t expect anyone to read it. To help me maintain that illusion, I turn comments off. That makes me feel like I have a nice, archived storage bin of my thoughts.
Nobody says everything they’re thinking in public though, no matter how frank you are. There needs to be a border between ‘internal thoughts’ and ‘external thoughts.’ And while Xanga isn’t exactly purely all the internal thoughts that I have, it does include a lot of stuff that can easily be taken out of context by people I know.
So, if you are one of these people who knows me and who continues to read her, and if you insist on doing so (I don’t know who you are, because I don’t check the footprints) you’re certainly welcome to do so– but, you need to accept responsibility that you’re not always going to like what you read, and that it might change our relationship for incomplete reasons. This blog isn’t a perfect data dump.
And if you follow long enough you probably know who the aliases refer to and all that, and you might even know some of the people that I talk about. Do so with a grain of salt. Don’t jump to any conclusions, and take into account that the tones of each blog I write are written in the mood of that moment. Facts are subjective.
Earlier in the evening, I got a text message from Quynh. It as asking me if I wanted to go out to dinner in Chinatown with him. Automatically, I had assumed that it was actually Ly. Mostly, because Quynh never text messages me, but secondly, because Ly sometimes uses Quynh’s phone. I messaged back that I had dinner plans already, but depending on how late I finished, I might join afterwards.
He replied “Maybe it’s with your [CCKimbap]!” (And then I knew it was Quynh, since CC is my ex, and that’s Quynh’s idea of a funny joke, or something.)
“Maybe it’s your mom,” I replied.
Anyway, the blind date was a bust. For an hour and a half I really tried to give the girl a chance to give me something to work with, but she just wasn’t all that interesting. Shyness isn’t necessarily a vice, but I did my best to beat that maxim “first impressions are made within five minutes” and really giver her plenty of opportunity to just talk abotu whatever she wanted. I threw her baits in all the corners of the conversation spectrum that she could use to talk about herself, and she just wasn’t that good at biting.
Not that that’s necessarily the type of person who isn’t good to date– it’s just that, over the past couple of years, I’ve realized how important it is for me to be able to communicate with someone, and, more importantly, laugh with them. Communication is something that you develop through a relationship, but laughter is one of those things that you need to see a spark of somewhere. Laughter manifests itself as a symptom of a lively soul. You can learn read a lot about someone by the way that they are happy, which is also why I find that a person’s smile is so important. I’m not takling about the physiology of it, like, lipstick color and a rack of good white teeth (although that doesn’t hurt). I’m talking about the type of laugh, the type of smile– because there are fake ones, there are polite ones, and there are the sorts that tell you that this person here knows who he/she is and isn’t afraid to identify themselves.
Mind you, maybe [Da Vinci] hated my guts, which is why she was closed off like a clam. It could very well be that I’m a total creep and that, for every reason I thought she was interesting, she thought “OMG I’m trapped at dinner with this dude! I want to call lemon law!”
What I’m saing though is that I didn’t see any spark in her. Maybe it’s well hidden, but part of what I’m looking for in a girl nowadays is someone who’s not afraid to show off some spark.
[Da Vinci] and I called the dinner quits after about an hour and a half. I decided to join up with Quynh and Ly and we had dinner instead where we had a few good laughs.
Actually, from this point on, I’m going to refer to them as [LazyBoy] and [SushiQueen] ([SQ] for short).
I’d write more right now, but it is 5:09 AM and I am getting REALLY tired, so I’ll call it a night and fill you all in on the rest of what I wanted to say tomorrow, maybe.