Ms. MDP Attends a Singles Party, Part 3

25 06 2012

As the night wore on and bourbon started to sooth my nerves, I found mingling with the other singles much easier.  I approached a tall man with a shaved head and, borrowing the tactics I had gleaned from The Chinaman, asked, “Are you a top or bottom?”

“I’m a bottom,” he said.  Apparently, this question had become standard among the partygoers at this point, and he knew immediately that I was referring to the location of his information tidbit on my pink piece of paper.

“Is it travel related,” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

I peppered him with questions related to the 50 statements on the paper I held in my hand, trying to determine which one was his.

“Does it involve a famous person,” I inquired.


“OK, Bill Clinton, Katie Holmes, or Alec Baldwin?” I asked.

“Bill Clinton,” he said.

“Oh, then you must “run 8 miles a day and have met every [P]resident going back to Bill Clinton (including Gore.)” I said, noting to myself, “Ok dumbass. Gore was never President.”

Amongst the information tidbits we had been asked to submit for the party, name-dropping ran a close second to travel-related information.  I really don’t get the name-dropping thing.  I mean, it’s fine if you ARE Bill Clinton.  Then that’s impressive.  But really?  The best piece of information you can come up with to describe yourself is that you, “told Tom Cruise’s wife, Katie Holmes, that [you] didn’t know who she was at a Hollywood Hills party?”  Really?  I’m not impressed.  I would rather meet a man who’s trying to make a name for himself than someone who has to drop the name of someone else.

My conversation with The Name-dropper did not last long, and I moved along.

I had several more conversations throughout the evening.  One was with a man I’ll call Mr. Innuendo.  He had apparently had too much to drink within too short a timeframe and felt the need to make every statement that came from his mouth into some sort of sexual insinuation.  Another was Mr. Know-it-all.  Like me, he had also been to Italy and knew his way around a kitchen.  This would ordinarily be a good thing for me, perhaps even a match made in heaven, except that anything I could do he said  he could do better.  Ok, fine.  Whatever dude.

As it got later, I made my way back to The Chinaman. I tend to be far more attracted by intelligence than good looks, and I had enjoyed my conversation with him the most.  I didn’t really find him sexually attractive, but he was smart, funny, and easy-going.  As we were standing there talking, my friend, Carmen, and Mr. Know-it-all approached.

“We’re going to go downstairs to play some foosball. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” I said, looking at The Chinaman, “Wanna team up?”

“Sure,” he said.

We headed downstairs into a tiny room with a foosball table standing in the middle.  Mr. Know-it-all was already bragging about what an awesome foosball player he was.  He and Carmen would face off against The Chinaman and me.  Ok, Mr. Know-it-all, let the games begin.  I have always been of the mind that if you want to see a person’s true personality come out, engage them in a contest, and I say this not only to expand on what soon ensued with Mr. Know-it-all but the rapid exposure of my unladylike, unsportsmanlike behavior as well.

The Chinaman took the offensive spools and I faced off against Mr. Know-it-all on defense.  The ball dropped and there was suddenly a flurry of slamming and spinning of little soccer players.  Carmen scored the first goal.

“Damn it!” I said, pissed that she’d made it past me.

The ball dropped again. I blocked a shot on goal and spun.

“Yeah!” I yelled, throwing my hands in the air as my shot flew through an opening and into our goal.  I high-fived The Chinaman, leaving his hand stinging with my enthusiasm.  Thus began a six goal streak on Mr. Know-it-all and Carmen, each announced by exuberant yelling and cheering between The Chinaman and me.  These were not some wussy cheers either.  They were the kind of sounds that start deep below the diaphragm and emerge like a roar, like the sounds one hears from men in a crowded sports bar during playoffs.

Soon, Mr. Know-it-all was trying to give Carmen pointers on how she might improve her game, and I knew that if there had been any chance of interest in Mr. Know-it-all on Carmen’s part, it was now gone.  I happen to know for a fact that Carmen is a perfectly worthy foosball adversary.  This was just a streak of bad luck.  Plus, she does not like being told what to do or how to do it.

Stupid, stupid man.

In the end, Mr. Know-it-all and Carmen beat us 3 games to 2, but despite their win, Mr. Know-it-all’s condescension had ruined any possibility of further interactions with Carmen.   Some men just can’t seem to help themselves when it comes to acting superior, and it must make dating and relationships very difficult for them, especially since they probably can’t see how they might be doing something that thwarts all of their other efforts.

The Chinaman and I emerged from the basement defeated, and I decided I would have one more Manhattan and try to meet a few more men before the night was over.  I met a man who was the “3-time Freestyle Mustache World Champion.”  As you might imagine, he was easy to spot.  Another man was “using juggling and ukulele to teach pre-algebra,” and I met a Latino who “says no bullfighting or soccer for me.”

As the night was winding down I sat down on the one sofa that had not been removed from the room to sip my drink.  Carmen came to sit with me.

“People are certainly fascinating,” she said, looking out across the room.

“Yes, they are,” I said, slowly taking another sip of my drink.

Mr. Innuendo was standing in the middle of the room talking with a tall, thin woman in jeans.  She was laughing at one of his jokes.  She was facing him, feet planting slightly far apart with her hips slightly pushed forward towards him.  As she laughed she reached out and touched his arm.

“It’s interesting to watch the body language of some people,” Carmen said.

“You mean like these two,” I asked, referring to Mr. Innuendo and his admirer.

“Yeah, look at the body language on her, the hips, the touching.”

“I’m not good at touching.  A lot of dating books tell you that you should touch a man when you’re flirting with him, but I’m not good at that.  I tend to keep my hands to myself.  I probably come off as indifferent.”

“You are indifferent,” Carmen said, looking at me and laughing, then turning back to the action.

“Maybe I’m just never drunk enough,” I muttered, “That woman’s drunk.  Do you think she would find this guy’s jokes as amusing if she weren’t?”

“Probably not,” Carmen conceded.

“As it is, they’ll probably have sex tonight,” I commented, just as Mr. Innuendo leaned into the woman and whispered something in her ear.  This caused her to lose her balance and grab his arm to steady herself.  Mr. Innuendo reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her regain her balance and drawing her in closer.

“Yep, they’re having sex tonight,”  I said, “How would you feel if you woke up with that guy?”

“Well, he’s good-looking but he seems to think he’s quite the lady’s man,” Carmen stated, “he’s a ‘just for sex’ guy.”

“Yeah, you don’t want that type in a relationship.”


At that point, The Chinaman came and sat down next to me on the sofa.

“Did you clean out the food table?” I asked.

“I gave it a good try,” he said, laughing at my reference to the information he had submitted as his “claim to fame.”

“What do you think? Are these two having sex tonight?” I asked him, motioning to the couple in the middle of the room.

“Oh, yes. Drunken sex.  I think so,” he said.

The three of us, Carmen, The Chinaman, and I, sat in silence for a moment, watching as the sexual train wreck continued to unfold before us.  There was a part of me that wished I could just get out there and get my pipes cleaned without a care in the world, but I guess I’m more conservative than that.  Time has now stretched to a year and a half since my husband left, and he remains the last person I’ve slept with.  Perhaps if I said the word fuck less I would get it more.

It was getting late, well past midnight, and Carmen suggested we get going.  The other two girlfriends who had come to the party with us had departed a few hours before.  I said goodbye to The Chinaman and told him it was nice to meet him.  Carmen and I thanked the host and hostess and were on our way.

The next day, I received an email from the hostess, stating that if there was anyone at the party who I found interesting but from whom I had failed to ask for contact information, I could contact her with the informational tidbit provided by said person.  The hostess would then inform him of my interest and, if he was interested, he would contact me.  For a moment, I considered asking about The Chinaman.

Instead, I decided to wait to see if I would get any inquiries from The Chinaman.  I did not.  His hand was probably still stinging from my high-fives.

I guess I’m just not very good at these things.




18 responses

25 06 2012
Separated Dad

50 people at a singles party seems like a LOT of people to have to interact with for the first time. No wonder it seemed somewhat overwhelming.

I ended up a little confused over the ‘tidbit’ thing. If you can keep asking questions until you’ve got the correct answer, it seemed like you could simply take a more direct approach: “Could you point yourself out on this list I’ve got tucked in here? Oh wait, just let me pull it out and unfold it. My, the paper’s still warm. Yes, you can touch the sheet if you want.” .. 🙂

The way in which someone handles competitive environments is indeed an interesting way to see another side of someone’s personality. I wonder how other people I know as friends might fare in a ‘foosball’ scenario and whether or not I’d still take them on as friends if this was my first interaction. I have a friend who has a name similar to Derek who I play racquetball with sometimes. He says openly that he’d knock over his own dear grandmother if it meant he could win a point. Yet in ordinary conversation he’s the nicest, kindest, smartest guy around. Fascinating!

I’m guessing that Mr. Innuendo prefers his relationships like his women: shorter. I don’t get this at all. So he perhaps went home and bonked Ms. Easy Lay (you forgot to give her a name, so I’m helping out). Then she left. Now he has no one. Or… he could have struck up a real relationship with someone and had wild monkey sex with her for months and into the future. I don’t get the sexual math in short-term relationships, setting aside the personal preferences, health issues, and so on.

Glad you had an interesting time overall. Whether you found Mr. Right there or not, it sounds like it was worth doing. Would you go to another one?

25 06 2012

Regarding the tidbits, I failed to mention that the “winner” of the contest was the person who met the most people. We were told that we weren’t supposed to just asked directly for each person’s tidbit, but rather, engage the person in conversation. As the night wore on, however, more and more people went directly for the tidbit.

We did, in fact, see Mr. Innuendo leave with his easy lay. I’m sure THAT went well. I’m sure he was the best sex she ever had, and they lived happily ever after.

I don’t get it either. Quite literally.

I hope to be invited again next year. I believe it’s one of those parties where once you get on the guest list, you get the invitation in subsequent years.

25 06 2012
Kathy D

So, just to pose a thought: perhaps when your doctor prescribed dating 100 men, it wasn’t just about the 100 men. It was about shaking things up a little, right? I know, I know, I KNOW you prefer a guy to make the first move, but how has that been workin’ for ya so far? You still have 75 to go, so IMHO, if you got along well with The Chinaman (I can’t believe I just typed that, BTW), maybe you should buck your own trend and contact HIM. One of my sister’s in-laws has a saying, “As long as you always do what you’ve always done, you’re always gonna get what you’ve always got.” Poor grammar, to be sure, but he has a point. Just sayin’. Worst-case scenario, he’ll become blog fodder.


25 06 2012

I have definitely been thinking about that. I don’t really have anything to lose, and it would get me one closer to my goal.

27 06 2012
Kat Richter

Oh man, I was voting for you to live happily ever after with the guy from the kitchen 😦 Also, I agree with Kathy D. I was the one to approach The Wedding Date initially and he always says that my confidence is one of the things he’s finds most attractive about me. It did feel a but un-Jane Austen at the time but he gave me a necklace for Christmas that had an illustration of Darcy and Elizabeth on it with the caption “Kat asking [TWD] to dance”– you don’t get much more Austen-like than that! Try something new! (If of course you actually like him…)

27 06 2012

Oh, there is so much more I could say about the guy from the kitchen. He was another one that kept cycling back around throughout the night, but it just ended up feeling creepy and weird. Plus, I don’t think he had all of his teeth, and you know how I feel about that.

27 06 2012

Regarding the Chinese guy, I briefly considered contacting him, but I knew I wasn’t attracted to him, so felt he would just become blog fodder. While it would knock another date off the goal, I didn’t feel it was right to contact him and potentially just lead him on to get a date.

27 06 2012
Kathy D

Contacting him through the hostess isn’t giving him an engagement ring. One could argue that you are potentially “leading on” 99 men to get dates. Or 100, if not a one turns out to be LTR-worthy. After your first encounter, you sought him out and he sought you out. If that’s not worth an evening out, I don’t know what is! Being sexually attracted to someone is important — don’t get me wrong. But of the guys I’ve dated, literally only TWO of them were my “type” physically (tall, dark & lanky). Most were not objectively attractive in a classic sense, but the more I got to know them, the more my attraction to their personalities made them attractive to me. Maybe you should re-read what you wrote about his other characteristics you admired. Sounds to me like it’s worth a try. You need to think outside the Wilma box.

Then again, I’ve been single for 17 years and have had my “pipes cleaned” only once (well, SEVERAL times, but by one person) since then so WTF do I know?

27 06 2012

Kathy, perhaps you’re right. We did win two foosball games together after all.

27 06 2012
Elder Baud

Technically, you’re correct. But except for SCOTUS, Gore *should* have been president…

27 06 2012

Yes, technically, I’m correct, but The Name-dropper’s sentence structure was not.

28 06 2012

I loved your latest adventure in dateland. I agree with Kathy D and that you better start making the first move. Believe it or not, us guys do like when a woman makes the first move. Just don’t be overly aggressive, then you come off as desperate.

28 06 2012

I actually made a first move a couple of weeks ago, and it worked out pretty well. It went so well, in fact, that because of his job, I don’t think I want to write about him. I promise that I will find another way to convey the information though. Rather than writing directly about him, I’ll probably shift it to talk about the questions that pop up when you finally meet someone who you like, etc.

28 06 2012

Can not wait for your next installment.

28 06 2012

Arriving in your reader soon. Very soon.

30 06 2012
Kathy D

Yay!!!! Oh, and just because I’m feeling trite today, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

I’ll stop now. *smooch*

30 06 2012

Yes, I certainly hope you’re satisfied.

25 07 2012
Man #28, The Chinaman « My Dating Prescription

[…] The Chinaman before I ever went on a date with him. I only went because some of you who shall remain…(Kathy, Kat, and Will) …said I needed to step out of my box and start asking men out. Then, there was all this crap about […]

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