Hello dear friends.
Let me begin by saying thank you for reading and please follow me if you are interested in hearing the very bazaar and entertaining stories of my dating saga.
Alright, enough with that.  

I think today I will regale you with a particularly funny story. 
I am going to skip down to #4 on the list, just because I think it will amuse.

Now, Harvard's name is derived from, you guessed it, where he went to school-- well grad school anyway. He was going to Harvard for Archaeology, which is a pretty uncommon major these days. Uncommon was his major and uncommon he was... 

I am going to start off by saying that he seemed pretty hilarious in the beginning, which was why I started talking to him. He amused me by referencing the abnormally large squirrels walking around Harvard's campus and his very strange, but hilarious love for narwhals. If you don't know what that is-- (because I didn't) here is a link to one: http://tshirtvortex.net/wp-content/uploads/Narwhal-Unicorn-of-the-Sea.jpg

Okay, so now that we have that understanding, we can say that he was a little off the beaten track kind of guy-- right? He was funny-- his humor was weird, but funny none-the less. He was smart too, he could read and speak over 5 languages and had an understanding of ancient ruins--which being an architecture geek, was fascinating to me. So there was a little background on Mr. Harvard.

Well, we set up our first date and planned on having it at the Museum of Fine Arts, (which is an amazing museum, by the way). 
So we met up and chatted as we walked around the museum. At that point in time, Degas had his exhibit at the museum, which turned out to be pretty spectacular. It all started with his comments about the paintings. He told me he didn't know much about art and he wanted me to teach him... OKAY.... TEACH YOU? Like I am some kind of art critic or something. I pretty much walk up to every painting/drawing and say "PRETTY" and you want ME to teach you? Yeaahh... okay Harvard... you're the one in the Ivy League.
So FUNNY. After the museum laugh, we went to dinner, a sushi restaurant nearby.
As all of us sushi-lovers know, it isn't too expensive if you order the rolls. He had mentioned this so I figured, since it was the first date, HE would pay. 
Now, I am not a high-maintenance person-- I don't expect expensive dinners or shiny things (though they are nice). I understood that he was in graduate school and still a student, so he didn't have much money. I think that on the first date, if he asks you, he must pay. 
I think it's just my personal preference. Unfortunately Mr. Harvard did not pay, and expected that I pay for half. (This was -20 points in my book). 

The date ended and I called my mom afterwards. 
I explained to her that he didn't pay for dinner and she thought I was being ridiculous because he was a poor grad student and, how could he afford an expensive dinner like that? and I shouldn't say goodbye just yet. 
SO... I heeded my mother's advice, and arranged another date. This time, I suggested a movie and takeout at my place. Here we go, now he has no excuse to be cheap.
Before I tell you this next part of the story, let me just say that Harvard seemed to be a likeable, nice, respectable man. I never thought I would ever encounter someone who would act like this EVER in my life. Date #1 was okay-- which is why I gave him another chance to prove himself. 

Now that I have given you that warning, I will start date #2. It started by meeting up with him at the T-stop (train stop) by my apartment. As we were walking back, I mentioned to him that my car was parked nearby (Big mistake). After telling him this he asked why I had made him take the train from one of the surrounding sub cities of Boston and insisted that I drive him home later. This, rubbed me the wrong way. I was annoyed that he would insist. How dare you!?  UGH. 

It got worse. 

We chose a movie once we returned to my apartment and promptly sat down and watched. He brought a bottle of wine for dinner later, which I thought was very nice. (redemption points there-- I love wine). 

When the movie was over he asked "So, what are you making for dinner?" 

..........what? I'm sorry--- what? There was no hesitation in his voice. 
I could not comprehend. It wasn't something I had ever encountered. 

what? You want me to make you dinner? 
It's like inviting yourself over to someone's apartment, and then inviting them to make you dinner.

---So let me just stop and freeze this situation in your mind. Guy comes over, guy expects you to drive him home, guy expects you to make dinner, and guy EXPECTS you to clean up....
I simply was not brought up that way. 

OKAY HARVARD. I'll make you dinner. I'll make you pasta-from-a-box and jarred sauce dinner. That was a cooking F*** you in my mind, though, I still think now, looking back, that I was being too kind.

We opened the bottle of wine and each had a glass while we were eating the gourmet meal that I prepared. It was a quiet, and very awkward dinner. 
I mean, how the hell could you talk to someone who expects you to be his housewife on the second date. HELL no. 
While finishing up my pasta, I mentioned to Harvard-cheap face that I was tired and that I needed to get to bed (even though it was 8 pm) and that I had a lot of work to do the next day. 
He agreed to leave after suggesting a grownup sleepover and a very taken-aback turn-down from his NEVER-housewife. 

This is my favorite part of the story. Might I remind you that he brought a bottle of red wine and we drank some at dinner. 
While packing his things for the car ride home, Mr. Harvard re-corked the wine bottle and stood ready to go.... with wine in hand...

I had lost all my patience for him. So, I promptly asked " Are you really taking that with you?" At this point, I was dreaming of coming back to my apartment after bringing him home and drinking the rest of the wine by myself-- because, let's face it-- I deserved it... 

He laughed. HE LAUGHED! And made his way towards the door. 
So, I drove him home with his bottle of cheap wine and his expectant attitude never to speak to him again.

The moral of the story is (for me at least) don't go out on dates with guys who ask you to dinner and expect you to pay on the first date because most likely they'll want you rubbing their feet the next time they see you.

Cheers!

     Here is my first stab at "the date blog". So, lets start with an introduction, and a little bit about myself. I am a young woman living in Boston working in a male dominated field. I have one roommate and friends who are far and near, without whom, I wouldn't be able to make it through these experiences, and laugh hysterically about afterwards. 
     Okay, so enough about me. Lets get on with the good stuff.

The first story I would like to tell you about involves my experience on an online dating site. Now I won't say which one, but needless to say, a lot of my stories spur from this site (note: I say most, not all...). So, on this site, I 'met' several men, talked to more, and when on dates with select few (as I tend to be pretty picky). Here are all of the gentlemen that I was in correspondence with-- well, their nicknames at least... Just because I choose not to use their real ones. (Mainly because I don't think they deserve it)

1. Hair Clip/Bobby pin (or, it's what my parents called him after they found out his name)
2. The Greek
3. Mr. Officer, sir, yes sir.
4. Harvard
5. The Indecisive Alaskan
6. Princess William

Yep. That seems to be all of them.

     Okay, let's start out with Hair Clip. Tall, dark, artsy, and handsome. Where could it go wrong? Right...? Well my friends, it went very, very, wrong...    So it started off very pleasant. Dinner, positive conversation, etc. Not to mention his profile photo, which seemed to be very attractive and artistic. Now, artistic I appreciate-- I don't consider myself a stellar artist or anything, but I do appreciate it. Anyway, it was shortly after Christmastime, and it was pretty chilly out even though it had been a mild winter. I had gone on my first date with Bobby pin(...hair clip...whatever you want to call him) , and we continued to text and talk for about a week after, when we decided to see each other on New Year's day. We continued to talk until the day before when I told him that I was reading this book called "Why Men Love Bitches". I told him and he seemed a bit put off at the time. Now, I personally think the book's name gives it its prowess, and that's why I started reading it after a friend of mine recommended it. But I thought it was a bit odd that he was so put off by it. He called it "crap" women read when there isn't anything better than a Cosmo.
     Well-- there was sign number one. DING DING DING!!! I clearly didn't think anything of it, and that is why the story continues. I went to bed that night and made my way over to his apartment in the South End the next afternoon. When I got there we talked, had some wine, and ordered some food. The curious thing about his apartment was that 

a) he lived there alone, and was recently unemployed
b) he "owned" the apartment in the South End-- which, if anyone reading this is a Bostonian, understands that the South End has a pretty hefty price tag for things like that-- 
c) the art on the walls. 
     
     Now, earlier I mentioned that his profile photo on the dating site was artistic. I thought, before I met him, he was in some kind of marketing or relations position and that he was interested in photography and other graphic art forms. The paintings on the wall looked like a three year old was given a paintbrush and decided to draw a stick figure-- a very simple, five-lines-and-a-circle kind of stick figure. What kind of man hangs art like that? Peculiar......DING DING DING!!! Sign number two.
     As we continued to hang out, I found out that he "LOVED" Home Goods. Which, I , as a woman, have never set foot in one..so, there's something off there too. Maybe a little more wrong than I thought.
     After seeing him , he proceeded to tell me that he was not sure about what he wanted, and that he needed to try and figure things out. Now, this annoyed me because I was under the assumption that if he was on a dating site, he should know what he wanted-- regardless, we stopped talking. 
     After this, I went on a couple more dates with some different guys and no one seemed to be sparking my interest. About a month after I stopped talking to the hair clip, I got a phone call from an unknown number. Thinking that it may have been one of my friends, I answered, and low and behold-- it was Bobby Pin. He was shocked that I actually answered the phone and  he profusely apologized for his behavior and asked if he could see me again. I reluctantly agreed to meet up with him again and I told him that I would "let" him buy me a coffee and allow him to explain himself.
     I was talking about the dates with my mom, and she confided in me that she thought that hair clip was gay-- which, to be honest, I thought was highly probable based on his love for fashion and home goods. Nevertheless, we had set up a coffee date.
The night before this meeting he called me to firm things up and make sure it was all set. I agreed, and I told him I would call him the following day. When morning came, I called him. I caught him in his car, where he proceeded to tell me that he was, again, not sure about what he wanted. 

This made me laugh.This was ridiculous. I was tired of it. I was done. That was the last straw. So this is what I replied:

"Listen, I think you should know exactly what you want with someone like me. I think you are absolutely twisted, and maybe you should see someone: regardless Hair clip, I think you're gay. I wish you luck in the dating world and hope you find whatever you seem to be looking for. Have a nice day and a great life." 

Proceeding the previous statement, I hung up. 

Now that is where the story ends. Or does it? 

Funnily enough, when I started considering writing this blog of disastrous and entertaining dates, I received a text message from Mr. Bobby pin professing apologies yet again. 
This time, I insisted he never message me again. 

So, there we are. I think that starts out to be a pretty good beginning of the date blog. 
Ciao for now.