Are You Trying to Make Me Like You?

17 08 2012

Over the past year and a half, I’ve recounted my dating adventures, but I haven’t written much about the hundreds of emails I have exchanged with men in order to set up these dates. It’s kind of ridiculous. I would have a panic attack if I actually started tracking the numbers on the emails and texts needed just to set up one date.

It’s like when you’re in sales. You need 200 prospects a week, 60 contacts, which might result in 10 appointments, and hopefully, if all goes well, 2 sales.

It’s fucking exhausting is what it is.

Then you get these guys who want to send a hundred one-sentence emails or texts, and it starts to feel less like dating and more like work.

Case in point:

The Characters:

Short, Italian Man (SIM) – a real Italian, from Italy, not one of those Jersey Italians who don’t even pronounce their Italian surnames with the correct Italian pronunciation. (Yes, I’m talking to you, Teresa Giudice.)

Tall, Buxom Woman (ME) – a Viking, blogger, and mom, short on time and patience and long on sarcasm and expletives.

The Scenario:

SIM originally started sending me messages in April, but because I was mostly unavailable due to my MBA coursework, I put him off until after graduation. Then, with summer activities, work, and time that I wanted to spend with my kids, I put him off some more. I have to give him credit for perseverance.

A couple of months ago, he emailed me and asked me for my phone number so we could text. I sent him a message and said,

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I don’t like giving my number out to men I haven’t met yet, and texting is the fastest way to piss me off.”

Yes, this is how straightforward I have become. Rather than let these men fuck it up on their own I like to give them a warning. I’m a busy woman, and I don’t have time to play with my phone all day long, and when men can spend all day texting, it makes me wonder if they have a job.

Fast forward to the other day and SIM asked me for my phone number again, so we could “flirt” through texting. This is apparently his idea of fun. I wasn’t too excited by this idea at all since the last Italian who flirted with me through texting made a surprise reference to his c&%k, but since SIM and I have finally scheduled our first date for Wednesday next week, I figured it was time to exchange phone numbers.

I like to get a guy’s phone number just ahead of a date in case one of us is running late or can’t find the other at our meeting place.

I felt the need to warn him a second time about my impatience with texting. I basically said I don’t like it so don’t abuse it.

The Result:

Last night I received a text while I was meeting with my wine club (I mean book club.)

SIM: and this is my number. ciao

This morning…

ME: Ok. Thanks. I didn’t see your text until really late last night. I didn’t think you would want me texting you at 11:30 p.m.

This afternoon…

SIM: yep. it s you…sorry your number was not iny phone, and didn’t memorize it 🙂 …

ME: That’s ok. My phone doesn’t know who you are yet either.

SIM: then i guess we are two strangers

ME: As far as our phones are concerned, yes.

SIM: is this Wilma?

(WTF? Who the fuck did he think he was texting? Apparently, I am one of many…and so is he. He has no idea. Mwah ha ha. )

ME: As tempted as I am to fuck with you and say no…yes, this is Wilma.

SIM: lol…(I hate when men use lol. Actually, I hate when anyone uses lol. What are you? Twelve?)

SIM: listen to you so innocent looking with hot legs 😉 and using the f word 🙂

(Oh god, just stab me in the eyeball with a sharp stick, please.)

ME: You just don’t know me yet.

SIM: sweet and naughty is a good mix 🙂 (Insert Beavis and Butthead laugh here.)

ME: Does dropping an f-bomb make me naughty? I thought it just made me foul-mouthed.

SIM: you got a point 🙂 …let me hope 🙂 lol

(Ok dude, enough with the fucking smiley faces already.)

ME: You can hope, but you should never assume.

SIM: well assuming is ok when you hope to bw proven wrong 🙂

ME: So you’re hoping I’m not naughty?

SIM: no! i am hoping you are 🙂

ME: Then wouldn’t you hope to be proven right?

SIM: i can see you have been paying attention!

ME: I”m very detail-oriented and it’s hard to not pay attention when my phone keeps beeping at me.

SIM: i should stop …you specifically asked me not to flood your phone

ME: Yeah, I can understand the excitement, given that is has taken over four months for us to get to the first date but it would be a shame to mess it up now.

SIM: yep. ok, i will be mindful don’t worry. enjoy the weekend 🙂

ME: You too.

I’m supposed to meet him next Wednesday. Is it wrong of me to feel intellectually superior at this point? I’m a little worried that he was beating off while telling me he hopes I’m a naughty girl.


Ok, I’ll Try OkCupid

29 06 2012

If you are a reader who has been following my adventures since the beginning, you may have wondered how I happened to get an email from my STBex on OkCupid if I wasn’t on OkCupid.  Well, the truth is; I’m now on OkCupid.

Last year, when I initially set up my online dating profiles, I was unfamiliar with the dating sites that had not existed before I met STBex.  I was aware of eHarmony and, but the free sites like PlentyofFish and OkCupid were new to me.  If you have been reading from the beginning, you may recall that, because I received a message that my computer was attacked by malware while I was browsing OkCupid, I had decided to forego creating a profile on that site at that time.

I had settled on a paid subscription on and a free profile on Plentyoffish.

Despite my failure to create a profile on OkCupid, they apparently had enough information about me to send a birthday message last year, which, although I was pissed to get a notice that I was a year older, served as a reminder that I should go broaden the age range of men I’m interested in on the other dating sites.  Even at that point, however, I refused to fill out an online dating profile on OkCupid.  Over the past year, however, I’ve talked to some of my friends and readers and discovered that quite a few of them were using OkCupid to meet people.  I try to keep an open mind about these things, so I finally decided to go check it out in more detail, malware or not.

Quite honestly, my newfound interest in OkCupid really came down to two things.  First, my six month free membership with, which I had managed to score by qualifying for their guarantee, ran out, and they automatically billed me $107 for another year.  I called’s customer service and had the charges reversed.  Quite frankly, I couldn’t justify the price.  I had only gone on 7 dates from in a year.  That’s $15.29 plus tax per date!  Now, some of you romantics out there might be thinking,…

…getting winked at,…$8.92 per month,…

…coffee date with a man from,…$15.29 + coffee

…meeting the man of your dreams…priceless,

…but I don’t think so.  Ok, maybe, yes, meeting the man of my dreams would be priceless, but I don’t think I’m going to find him on  I just don’t think so.

First of all, you have to remember that I am extremely cheap, by which I mean frugal. Plus, I have no evidence to prove that my $15 dates were of any better quality than my free dates from Plentyoffish and Craigslist.  In fact, when it comes to bang for my buck…

…wait…no,…sadly, I can’t say that.

There has been no banging.


Anyway, what I was going to say was that, despite the horror stories one hears about Craigslist, the two free ads I had placed on Craigslist had resulted in far more dates than any of the time and energy I had put into creating and editing my online dating profiles.  Furthermore, I have had a number of dates from Craigslist that have gone quite nicely, so, consequently, I just didn’t see the point in paying $107 dollars plus tax for another year of being winked at by men on who never seem to ask anyone out.  I politely insisted that Match reverse the charges on my credit card and hide my profile.

It’s official.  I am no longer on

The other factor affecting my decision to try OkCupid was that I have come to believe that there are no literate men on Plentyoffish.  You may recall the creepy, poorly worded email I received last year.  Sadly, this email is representative of most of the messages I have received from men on Plentyoffish.  Most men will forego saying anything about my feet, but, as far as grammar and spelling are concerned, this is pretty much what communication on Plentyoffish looks like.

Plus, Plentyoffish has this feature called “Meet Me,” where you can simply click through a series of pictures and click yes or no as to whether or not you would like to meet the person in the picture.  I swear; every time I receive an email telling me someone wants to meet me, I open it, and have the same reaction that occurs when I find a long forgotten container in the back of my refrigerator, pop it open, and discover something truly sickening inside.  We’re talking fear and gag reflex in one motion as I race to close it.  Because of this, I have gotten to the point where I don’t even open “Meet Me” emails from Plentyoffish anymore.  I also don’t open the weekly email I receive telling me that I have new matches.  If I receive an actual email from a man on Plentyoffish, I will go check it out.   Let’s face it, sometimes it’s just damned amusing and makes for good blog fodder.

I don’t want to say that all of my Plentyoffish dates have been bad.  That’s not true.  I have had a few good ones, but the ratio of good dates and emails to bad is just far too low.

All this is to say that I had become tired of the fish on Plentyoffish, and I was ready for a change, hence my decision to finally give OkCupid a try.  OkCupid has an interesting feature where they ask questions, and then match people up by the percentage of questions you have that are similar.  Therefore, when you look at a person’s profile, it will say something like,

95% Match, 89% Friend, 10% Enemy.

Now, this I find rather interesting.   There seems to be an unlimited supply of questions to answer.  One guy I found had answered upwards of 1400 questions.  I have not answered anywhere close to that amount, but it did make me wonder about something.  You have to remember that, with my new MBA, I have taken statistics.  As a person answers more and more questions on OkCupid does a linear regression occur allowing for increased accuracy in the site’s matching capability?

Now, I’m probably WAY over-thinking this.  After all, some of the questions on OkCupid are pretty stupid.  Perhaps with more questions answered you are more likely to be matched with a drunken college student, for that is who I think may have written a lot of these questions.  However, it does make you wonder, and it is rather comforting to be able to cruise through the answers and discover that the man you might be interested in…

…does not want to be peed on during sex,


…does not think it’s ok to tell racist jokes,


…does not want an open relationship.

Pick your poison.

So, anyway, there you have it.  I am officially on OkCupid, and I’ve already had three dates, which I will tell you about very soon.  Have a great weekend.

The Game Theory of Dating

16 02 2012

So, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted by Valentine’s Day? Oh yeah, I had promised to write about the game theory of dating.

Last week, in Rom Com and the Blog, I briefly hinted at what seems to be a tendency for friends to only want to set me up with their friends if they think it will result in an exclusive relationship, and I stated that I see no reason to limit myself to one man if I’m not dating a man who wants to be exclusive with me.

Seems fair, right?

So, this got me thinking about game theory and dating and inspired me to do a little internet research on the subject. (Because, of course, EVERYTHING on the internet is so accurate.)

First of all, for anyone not familiar with game theory, let me just say that game theory is certainly not limited to games like poker, chess, or Risk. Game theory uses mathematical models to consider the strategic decisions in situations of conflict or cooperation, and it’s used primarily in economics, political science, and psychology. It is the stuff of John Nash’s genius/insanity. (Remember “A Beautiful Mind” with Russell Crowe?) For example, if Company A decides to expand operations into Asia, the already existing Company B in Asia has to decide whether to fight or accommodate Company A’s expansion. Managers on both sides would consider the effects of the possible outcomes to both companies and strategize accordingly, and this can be done mathematically.

Whoa! That sounds heavy. And you thought this was just a simple dating blog.

Well, while I’d like to say I’m not someone who plays games in my relationships, it turns out that we are all playing games all the time.

So, in my internet searching, I found that various authors have covered the topic of game theory and dating from different angles.  For example, there’s the “What should you do if your date leaves you hanging at the last minute” question, which is covered in this HuffPost article aimed primarily at women. Now, you might think these HuffPost scenarios would play out equally regardless of sex, but then along comes this discussion of the “Eligible Bachelor Paradox” where it all appears to come down to “strong” and “weak” bidders and the element of female choosiness. As it turns out, as a woman, being more choosy might actually work against you when dealing with a limited pool of eligible men. Basically, less choosy women will come along and snag the best guys before you can get back to them, (which also explains why dating after 40 is so difficult.)

I’ll be honest. Given how picky I’ve been lately, that last one scared me a little.

Then I happened upon another article, which broke out the numbers for me. (This, I like.) According to the author, if I want to date only 100 total men, I should reject the first 37 and then accept the next man who comes along who is better than the previous men. This ups my chances of success to 50% instead of 33.333…%.

However, if I TRULY do as my therapist says and date 100 men without getting serious with ANYONE, thereby rejecting the first 100, I will need to date 270 men too keep my chances of success at 50%.

Excuse me while I go hyperventilate in a paper bag.

These numbers just make my therapist look batshit crazy!

I had my suspicions…

…but I’m deep in it now, so I might as well muddle through.

Why do I bring all of this up? Well, I feel I’m coming to a point where I’ve started to get a good sense of the attributes I want in a partner. Essentially, I’ve had a chance to “look at the first pitch” (or at least the first 24 pitches so far in this case) and get a good sense of my “must-haves” and my “deal-breakers.” It might be time to start assessing these guys a little more seriously.

I haven’t decided yet if I will “reject” the first 37. Mathematically, it offers me the best chance for success, but, ultimately, my decision will come down to factors that have less to do with calculus and more to do with my dating endurance.

Plus, I really enjoyed my date with Man #24, which I still need to recap…soon.

Man #22, The Suitor

11 10 2011

While pushing me out into the dating world has definitely been an effective cure for getting me out of my house, away from nights spent alone with high-carb snacks and red wine, I’m not sure it has been particularly effective in convincing me that there are many men out there with whom I would want to spend more than a few fleeting hours. After dating over 20 men, I’ve only met a few who I was interested in seeing again, and, ultimately, none of them were men who would make a good long-term partner for me.

My enthusiasm for dating has certainly dwindled as I’ve dealt with bad manners, sexual aggression, unresolved anger issues, and as of late, gum disease. The thought of a night spent alone, watching a movie while sharing a bowl of popcorn with my dog, Thor, ranks much higher than the thought of another night gambled on a date with a stranger. To be quite honest, if it weren’t for the fact that this blog has become a bit of a “project” I doubt that I would bother dating at all.

And yet, I try to keep an open mind and open heart.

So, in an effort to keep moving ahead with my dating prescription/project, last Friday, I finally responded to an email I had been neglecting in my inbox. Man #22 was a respondent to a Craigslist ad I had placed several weeks ago. We had sent a few emails back and forth, but I had lost my enthusiasm for the volley of emails that ensued.  As I’ve said before, I’m not good at texting or emailing excessively before being asked on a date.  Once you’ve exchanged pictures and an email or two I figure you pretty much know whether or not you would be interested in meeting someone. If a man doesn’t quickly move things to the next step and ask for a date, I’m already looking for other options.

Anyway, after letting his last email sit and marinate in my inbox for well over two weeks, I finally decided I might be ready for a date.  I emailed Man #22 and asked if he was still interested in going out.  Luckily, he responded right away, and said, “Yes! Thought I wasn’t going to hear from you. How about tonight? Dinner? Movie?”

I couldn’t believe my luck. Finally. Decisiveness.

I responded, “Yes, tonight would work.  Typically, I think movies make bad first dates because you can’t really talk, but I would really like to go see Moneyball. Maybe we could talk before or after.  Let me know what you think.”

This apparently scored points as Man #22 responded that he also wanted to see Moneyball, but had thought that he would have to go see it by himself.  I let him know that it was playing at Big Picture and he suggested that we see the show and then head to The Spaghetti Factory for dinner.

Again, decisive. I like that.

I agreed to meet him at Big Picture for the 6 p.m. showing. We exchanged cell phone numbers in case anything came up, and he sent me a text, “BTW, I’m 6′-3″ so feel free to wear heals if you want.”

A bit odd, but I responded, “I’ll take that under advisement. Thx.”

I wore flats. Since I knew I would be climbing the hill from The Spaghetti Factory up to Belltown, I decided I wanted to be comfortable.

I hate running late, and I was cutting it close as I drove to the movie theater.  Since I could not find parking on 1st Ave, I sped down Wall Street and turned north onto Western. As I rounded the corner, I spotted a space on the opposite side of the street, so I zipped acrossed three lanes of traffic to snag it before anyone else could sneak in and grab it. I pulled my trusty little Jetta into the space and manuevered into place. As I did, I looked up and saw my date standing on the sidewalk. He had been walking by when I zoomed in.

I rolled down the window and said, “You didn’t see that, did you?”

“I didn’t see a thing.”

“Good. I happen to be a great driver with a good insurance rate. I can’t have witnesses to the contrary.” (Apparently, at this point, I’ve become a bit nonchalant about first impressions.)

He smiled as I rolled the window back up and got out.  Suddenly, like a magician, he produced a huge pink carnation from inside his suit jacket.  It was lovely.

“I asked a woman I work with what kind of flower I should get for a first date, and she seemed to think it was a bad idea,” he said.

To which I responded, “You know, there are women who feel insulted if a man opens a door for them or offers them a seat on a crowded bus. I happen to NOT be one of those women. Thank you. This is beautiful.”

We started to walk toward the movie theater. At the stop light, The Suitor turned to me and said, “You really threw me off when you said you wanted to see this movie. It’s not exactly a chick flick. So, I have to ask. Do you want to see it because you like Brad Pitt, because you like baseball, or did you read the book?”

“None of the above. I’m getting my MBA and last spring my project team in statistics tried to determine what it would take for the Mariners to win the World Series.”

The Suitor looked a little confused, like when Thor perks up his ears and tilts his head to one side. Uh?

After a brief pause, he said, “Cool.”

“And if you really want to know the truth, I do like Brad Pitt. There’s no place I would rather be on a summer night than the ballpark with a hotdog and a beer, and, no, I didn’t read the book. But, for the most part, I’m interested because of the stats.”


We watched the movie, which I would rank a 3.5 out of 5. It was entertaining, but there wasn’t enough about the statistics in it for me. (I know. I’ve always been a bit of a geek.) Then, afterward, we walked to The Spaghetti Factory for dinner.

Now, the other night amid glasses of red wine, one of my friends was actually reading my blog to me. Don’t ask me why, but it’s an interesting experience to have your own work read back to you. She was reading the post about Man #21, and said I sounded like a snob.  (I find this interesting, considering that I don’t recall ever seeing her with a date who was missing his teeth.) At the risk of sounding like a snob again, however, I have to say I’m not a big fan of The Old Spaghetti Factory.

Despite the fact that I’m not a fan, I was not going to complain. I graciously accepted, and decided I would make do with whatever menu options faced me.  So, yes, maybe I’m a snob about this, but here’s the deal.  I lived in Italy for a short period of time, and while I was there, in addition to taking some language lessons, I took cooking classes. The result is that it has ruined me when it comes to most Italo-American dining.  The Olive Garden…The Spaghetti Factory…these sorry excuses for Italian cuisine usually just leave me feeling sort of disgusted. When I go out to eat, I tend to choose dishes that I typically cannot make for myself. This means I usually don’t order pasta, risotto, or salmon, just to name a few.

Of course, most of The Spaghetti Factory’s menu consists of pasta. I took my chances and ordered The Manager’s Favorite, which allowed me to order pasta with two different sauces. I ordered the meat sauce and the clam sauce. I knew I was taking a risk, but I didn’t let on to my date that I was having any anxiety about my choices. I also noticed that they had spaghetti squash with marinara on the menu.  I asked the waiter if I could substitute brown butter and mizithra cheese for the marinara, so we ordered the spaghetti squash to share.

There aren’t a lot of good things I can say about the meat sauce or the alfredo-like clam sauce that came on my pasta. It was food, and it was filling, but that was about it.  There is a very easy way to tell if a restaurant knows anything about Italian cuisine.  Italians do not put cheese on seafood. Therefore, an alfredo-like clam sauce is a kind of blasphemy you will typically not find in Italy.  The spaghetti squash with brown butter and mizithra was good though, and it’s pretty much impossible to fuck up the free spumoni ice cream that they serve at the end of every meal.

The Suitor was completely unaware of all of these thoughts that were swimming around in my head, as I concentrated on having a good conversation and being polite to both him and our waiter.  I do care enough about first impressions to resist the urge to sound like a picky bitch, and in the total scheme of life, there are a lot more important things to make a fuss about than fleeting alfredo-like clam sauce.

We had a great time and a good conversation. He wants to see me again, and I just might let him. He has all of his teeth. I might try to influence our next food experience though.

Photo here.

I Have Not Abandoned My Blog

21 05 2011

I apologize for the lack of posts in the last couple of weeks. I had a second date with the Scorekeeper (my Accounts Payable is now at a 0 balance) and a date with Man #16 over a week ago. I’ve just been too busy with lineal regression models, the central limit theorem and P-Values, Activity Based Costing, bond pricing and effective interest method, assessing my best alternative to a negotiated agreement, and evaluating macroeconomic indicators to assess foreign investment.

Did that make your head hurt?

Mine too.

Did I ever mention that I’m a VISUAL learner and mostly right-brained?  The quarter will be finished in mid-June. 

My goal is to post a real post this week.  Don’t let me forget to tell you about my photo shoot.  The photos are ready.  I still need to tell you about Man #16. And, I think my second date with the Scorekeeper requires a little explaining.  I will write again soon. I promise.

Man #13, Come As You Are

24 04 2011

Lucky number 13!

From what I can tell, Man #13 is a rabid sports fan.  He emailed me a couple of days before our date excited about the fact that he was going to be The Twelfth Man. He, therefore, would be wearing blue. 

Yeah, well, no. 

I had to email him back and break the news to him that since there was still 48 hours between his email and our date, I would be doing what serial daters do.  I’d be going on a date.  That would make him lucky #13!

I asked him how he felt about that.  I mean, nobody should HAVE to be #13, should they?  If hotels can eliminate the 13th floor or the 13th room, then there should be some leeway for allowing him to be #14.  I actually told him I’d be willing to provide a horror story of online dating lore, and would be willing to take my total number of dates to #101 if my readers insisted that I was cheating them out of a date by giving him an out.

But, Man #13 emailed back, and said, “I am not remotely superstitious so being number 13 I embrace, embrace I say!!! I will be the floor that does not exist in buildings.”

That’s the spirit!  Go get ’em tiger!

Man #13 is another one of the guys I had in my stash from my initial Craigslist ad back in March, and I had really been looking forward to meeting him.  We had been emailing back and forth sporadically for the past month.  A month passed, and finally, we were able to get our schedules in sync and have a date.   We went to EMP to see the Nirvana exhibit.  Awesome!

Museums and art galleries generally make good dates.  These settings give two people a place where they’re not just sitting there interviewing each other. (Another reason I detest the coffee date.)  You can discuss the exhibit while also finding out about one another.  Then, if you find you really click, you can go have a coffee, a drink, or maybe even dinner.   The drawback, however, is you may not get to see as much of the exhibit as you would like.  I realized halfway through my date with Man #13 that I have usually gone to art museums and other exhibits alone.  I’m one of these people who can spend HOURS in a museum.  Yes, hours.  Since Man #13 and I were talking the whole time we were there, I now feel like I need to go back again to see the exhibit.  Good stuff there though, from what I can tell.

But let’s get to the real deal, shall we?  There is one key point I want to make about Man #13, and the reason for the title of this post.  In addition to the Nirvana reference, Come as You Are refers to the fact that Man #13 would never show up on my dating radar if I was using “my list.”  Yeah, that’s right, my list.  To put it more bluntly, Man #13 is not my “type.” 

Since I’m trying to date 100 men, I’ve ditched my list.  And, you want to know what?  I am meeting some very interesting people. 

Ok, well wait a minute.  Maybe I haven’t completely ditched my list.  After my Battling the Blues post, ElderBaud suggested that I try to figure some things out about what exactly it was about The Blues Man that I was so attracted to, and I had to confess that I had started a data table of my dates.  I’m tracking things like height, weight, personality attributes, ethnicity, profession, and education level.  For example, when I ran a probability plot of the heights of the dates I have had so far, it turns out that the mean height of my dates is 6′-1″ tall with a standard deviation of 3.033 inches.  This outcome totally makes sense, of course, since I am 5′-10″, and I think I am getting closer to actually nailing down the exact measurement where a man is not “tall enough to ride the ride.”

But I digress.  Let’s get back to the discussion of my list.

Aside from my data collection, let’s just say that I have become more lenient with my dating requirements.  My type of guy is usually a clean-shaven professional with dark hair and dark eyes and a sense of humor.  Ethnicity does not matter as much to me, but as past history indicates, I tend to fall for Latin men.  Man #13 did not fit any of these descriptors.  His blonde, well mostly white, hair falls to his shoulders and is longer than mine.  He has a full beard.  He does not have piercing dark eyes.  He is not particularly funny, although he is a published author, so I did enjoy his intelligence and insights.

So you see, Man #13 would normally be one of the men I would easily dismiss if he came up as a “Meet me” on Plentyoffish or as one of my Daily 5 on (The Daily 5 are the profiles of five individuals that are sent to you each day on They are selected for you based on your search criteria, your list, which actually means Man #13 would not normally even show up there.)

All of this is to say that despite not being my “type,” I found myself somewhat attracted to Man #13.  Do you know what it was?  He was 6′-1″ tall and about 210 pounds.  He was my physical type. (According to my statistics.)

Turns out that since Man #13 likes to go dancing, his type needs to be “easy to spin.”  I’m too tall to be easy to spin.  I would probably make a good tango partner though.

Photo here.

Cupcakes, Calories, and Calculations

17 04 2011

One of the things I’m enjoying about my little social experiment is the expansion of my network of friends.  The New England Newcomer has been exploring the area and trying to figure out if he wants to move from Tacoma to Seattle. He was in Seattle yesterday, checking out Ballard.

It had been ages since I had been to Cupcake Royale, so I met him yesterday afternoon for a walk around the Ballard neighborhood and for cupcakes and orange cream sodas.  I realized yesterday that the New England Newcomer would be a dangerous person for me to hang out with.  He’s a foodie.

And I’m supposed to be on a diet.

I didn’t eat lunch yesterday, so I could opt for buttercream and cane sugar syrup instead.  Hello sugar rush!!

Anyway, in addition to Cupcake Royale, I had to make sure the New England Newcomer knew where to find D’Ambrosio Gelato, the Hi-Life, The Tractor Tavern, and Conor Byrne Pub.  I don’t know if you would call our afternoon a date.  If it was, it was more like a “When Harry Met Sally” kind of date, just two friends, hanging out, walking around and talking.  There’s not really a spark there, but he’s a really nice guy. 

Yes, he’s in the friend zone.

I think my statistics class is getting to me.  I was thinking yesterday that I should create a data table of wins, losses, and no decisions for each man I date.  Wins could receive one point, no decisions would get a .5, and losses, 0.  Maybe friend dates like the one I had yesterday would be ruled as no decision dates.  They should count for something though.  I’m not sure what my data table would tell me yet, but I think the mathematical picture might help me in some way.  I’m also very dissatisfied with the current state of my Dating Prescription Scoreboard and don’t trust its accuracy without more detailed analysis.

I also think my inner geek is emerging.

God help me.

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