Second-date~ma for Fay. Although I am amazed that she could be insecure.
Well, you know, I suspect that I look thinner online. But y'all are fabulous for reassuring a person. (And I'm all ablush at the recollection of how many Buffistas I ended up snogging at the F2F. Am tart. Although apparently not a bad snog, so yay for that.)
Hurrah for billytea, and Riddle Girl. (Whom I shall not dub Tom.) She's a
very
lucky lass. (Yep, got to say the billyteacrush? Still very much alive and kicking. You're adorability on a stick, mate.)
Hurrah for Susan, with the mad writing skillz! About time the universe did something good for you!
Re: second date. It was another nice evening - this time we just went out for coffee, and sat and talked and talked and talked for three or four hours. I enjoyed it, and he made me laugh, and he's well travelled and rather geeky and knows about stuff I don't know about, which is cool, but I'm finding myself off put by (a) the expattishness and (b) a sort of scaredness.
I mean, he didn't come across as being racist, but I think he's quite entrenched in the expat lifestyle, and maybe not really recognising that there are reasons why people here (especially working class people) do mad-seeming things, and that these reasons can be more complex than 'they're stupid, we're so much more sensible'. Type of thing. Which I haven't expressed very well, but you get the jist.
And then the scaredness - well, I'm even worse at expressing this. But there's a sort of defensive irony/wanting to fit in thing going on with him, I think. And I find, in my old age (ha!) that I'm very comfortable in my own skin, at least in that respect. I don't dress fashionably - I dress the way I want to dress, which involves big hats, a wide array of scarves, long skirts and interesting handbags, and I really don't mind being stared at for it. I don't use textspeak when texting, I use standard spellings and punctuation. I have quite decided opinions on things. I get excited about silly things, and take unironic delight in other things which most people my age wouldn't enjoy. (Genuinely enjoy cutting out snowflakes//making Tudor Houses out of cereal boxes/discussing World War II with 7 year olds/watching 'Samurai Jack', etc etc.) Which is all good. I like where I'm at with this. But I don't think that's where he's at. I could be mistaken.
I don't know - it may well be that I'm being too picky. I enjoyed his company, and we had no lack of things to talk about. And I think if he could just relax more - huh. But you shouldn't look at people like that, should you? 'If I could change this thing about you' type of thing. That's not nice.
This may be one of the reasons I don't go on more dates, huh? But - I don't feel like there's a gaping hole in my life that needs filling. (No smutty jokes from the cheap seats, thank you!) Not for the sake of being filled, at least. So - I think it's okay to be picky. Even if that's liable to have me end up an old maid whose corpse is gnawed away by her cats for weeks before anyone notices I'm dead.
...'Course, maybe part of the reason I think that is because I've got what is to all intents and purposes (bar sex) a relationship already, with my flatmate. But I think that I should get on with a potential lover at least as well as I get on with my flatmate, shouldn't I? (Granted, we get on well enough that my ex-boss thinks we're a couple, but still. You get the picture.)
I think Riddle Girl is a good nick, for now...Go billytea with the date-getting!
Y'know, I'd forgotten how much fun this sort of thing is. I've planned a date and sent a proper invitation ("I would be honoured etc etc"). Initially I'd been thinking that we could wander round a part of town with a number of commercial galleries before having dinner, but the forecast is for some showers, plus the galleries generally close at five, and that feels a little early for a dinner date. So I looked around for another possibility, and discovered that Deborah Conway (an Australian singer with a career going back to the early 80s) is performing on Saturday night two suburbs away. A quick call to ensure tickets were still available, and the invitation has gone out.
Now I just need to wait and see if she's free on Saturday night. I decided, on balance,
not
to assure her that the Buffistas support me in email. Which would still have been far easier to explain that telling her my wife supports me in email.
claps
Bravo! (Adorability on a
stick.)
Fay, it strikes me that the 'they're stupid, we're so much more sensible' thing and the 'sort of defensive irony/wanting to fit in thing' are probably related. I know the ex-pat behaviour you're describing, and it usually manifests because the person in question has finally found a way to align themselves with -they think- a superior group. Makes them feel good, less insecure.
Not that that means he's a bad person, but just making the observation that the two things you mentioned might be linked.
bt? What was the answer to the riddle?
Pancakes:
My husband is Buff Diving right now, and laughing until he cries.
bt? What was the answer to the riddle?
It was what you thought it was, an allegory for the whole online dating site experience.
Hurrah for billytea, and Riddle Girl. (Whom I shall not dub Tom.) She's a very lucky lass. (Yep, got to say the billyteacrush? Still very much alive and kicking. You're adorability on a stick, mate.)
Aww.
t still blushing
Here's hoping she sees it the same way. May I add, you're quite the catch yourself. I love your ever-so-British sense of humour.
Probably just as well if you don't dub her Jimmy either.
billytea, is this Dino Girl, or Riddle Girl, or who? We need something to call her.
This is Riddle Girl. She loves art, and will be studying psychology next year.
Excellent. Did the riddle involve Picasso, by any chance? And what was the answer to it, anyhow? Was it anything to do with the internet? Did you figure it out, yet? Ah, I should really read on, as you've probably explained it by now.
(edited to unsplit the next part)
Yup, Dave doesn't really like that we still call him Teacup Guy; I think his problem with it is that it is not a very manly nickname. But, I like it so I am going to still use it, unless I can actually get him to join the board. Besides, every time I think of that teacup gift, I smile. I think that was the moment I started to fall in love with him. It was such a thoughtful gift and proved he was truly paying attenion.
Dear Dave,
Nice name. No, really. I would have been quite happy to name a son David, as it has been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember, but not only did I have a terrible crush on a David, in my youth which (since he did not end up marrying me and therefore he had no role in fathering my children) made using the name for my sons with my non-Dave husband feel a bit unseemly. The name was already out of commission in his family anyhow though, because we have a nephew named David.
Anyhow, it has come to our attention that you are not particularly fond of your not-chosen-by-you Buffista name:
Teacup Guy.
Lemme 'splain. No. There is too much. Lemme sum up. We, the Buffista Bitches (well, some of us, you can't actually ever make any statement that holds true for all Buffistas and or any sub-group; even this disclaimer is likely to invoke protest)...
Let me start again. Many/some/at least a few of us/but I believe more so I'm sticking with...
Many of us were terrifically touched, and impressed by your thoughtful, original, and well, frankly darling gift to sj, which you gave to her, so early on in your courtship. I mean, look how it affects sj, even today. When we use your name, we remind ourselves of your lovely, generous, attentive gesture. Our women want you and our men want to be you (and then there's the cross-over population), but what it comes down to is this: Damn, baby. That was cute.
Also sj, I'm fairly certain, did not want to use your actual name here, so early on. And really, her reticence to use it was in deference to your feelings and privacy, as for all she (and we) knew, maybe you wouldn't be particularly fond of a 1,000 or so people you don't know, reading your very name, in connection to stories about you, particularly prior to you being informed of their existence and sj's connection to same. She's considerate like that.
And yet? We needed some way in which to refer to you. Now, you happened into our lives sj's life, around the time that another of our number was striking up a flirtation with a guy at a music shop. And we needed to be able to distinguish you, from him, as the stories were told to us, somewhat concurrently.
Finally, we have a thousand other Davids already. Okay, we already had at least more than one long before we knew about you, and then there's always DB floating around in the back of (and sometimes the front of) our minds. I know, I know. The name
David
is no
Michael,
but still, for years upon end, it was a particularly popular name. Just see our FAQ.
So, how about a compromise: We get to call you Teacup Guy, and you get to learn to appreciate it. What do you mean, that's no compromise? Huh. Okay, how about this, how about, when we are with you in person, we will try to keep our use of
Teacup Guy
to a minimum, and call you
Dave.
Meanwhile, here on the board, we still get to call you teacup guy from time to time, but you are free to assume a [read: Dave] every time we use it, and sj gets to call you it whenever she likes, because it makes her all schmoopy, which--let's be frank even though you're Dave--is only going to benefit you, if you know what I mean.
::wink wink nudge nudge::
Love, and Kisses,
[At least some of the] Bitches
Damn, I am being schmoopy. Feel free to smack me.
See what I mean, Dave?
::wink wink nudge nudge::
Excellent. Did the riddle involve Picasso, by any chance? And what was the answer to it, anyhow? Was it anything to do with the internet? Did you figure it out, yet? Ah, I should really read on, as you've probably explained it by now.
Yeah, a bit. :-) I gave her the guess, and told her if that was it, it was clever for the way it showed more of her personality and interests in an engaging way. And if it wasn't it, then it was even more clever because I hadn't worked it out yet.
