Date 29: Tinder Oliver

TO:

M'lady,

Dinner is at Lawry's on La Cienega at 9pm. It's at Lawry's (which might seem an odd choice) bc my out-of-town college friend wanted to go there.

I'm going to head toward Beverly Hills around 8pm. I hope this does not come off as either presumptuous or an imposition as regards where I will lay my head this evening, but I thought I'd park my car at or near to your place and we could take a taxi or Uber from there to the restaurant. I'm anticipating enough martinis and wine to make driving a dumb idea.

Here is some weird music: http://bit.ly/1f1oZhZy

Let me know if the above plan sounds ok and I will see you soon.

Me: The above plan does not sound ok. Please revise and advise.

...just kidding. But I'm seriously considering upping my maintenance level for my next experiment. Not that my sanity (or my liver) could survive another one of these suckers.

Dinner with TO's college friends! Excellent impression, here I come. He warns of potentially bland, law-centric conversation and invites me to bring along a friend for reasons of comfort. One of my most entertaining cohorts signs on for the gig, but comes down with the plague the morning of. At this point, I'm pretty sure TO thinks I have no friends. I've met so many of his and he's met...zero...of mine. I'm really active on Instagram? (I am. You should totally follow me here.)

We stroll over to Lawry's and join his friends in the entry. I am immediately overwhelmed. They have all known each other for years and their group seems to be pretty insular, with no one reaching out to include me in convo. Never stopped me before! Heeded or not, I toss my two cents in wherever I see a slot, determined to win 'em over. Conversation picks up over prime rib (them) and fish (me), when I discover the chick seated to my left is hilarious. Fantastic. We have some laughs, take a few photos, and head across the street to Bazaar at SLS to get properly trollied.

A few hours later, Tinder Oliver and I are back at my apartment. I decide to play one of my favorite drinking games: Self-sabotage.

TO is looking a little confused at my lack of, um...protective devices, so to speak. I steal a trick from improv and jump right from A to C.

Me: I just, I don't know, I haven't, like, slept with that many guys.
TO: I haven't slept with that many girls.

Excellent yes and. I press on, determined to make it weird.

Me: This is the point where I usually bail out.

What are you even talking about? Please stop. Please stop now. Thankfully, TO seems to be equally over-intoxicated and counters with a few sweet nothings that fade into sleep zone.

The next morning, we awake to multiple phone calls from one of my nearest and dearest. By the fourth call, I decide it's probably an emergency and he's probably dying, so I answer. It's not. He's not. He wants to have a boozy brunch.

Me: I hate you for waking me up. I thought you were dying.
N&D: You love me. Are you coming? Come now. We're hungry.
Me: Maybe. Hold on. (to TO) Do you want to go to brunch?
N&D: Are you with someone?
Me: Maybe.
N&D: (laughing) You slut. Tinder Oliver?

I'm really happy he throws out the correct name, as my BlackBerry is decently close to TO's ear.

Tinder Oliver agrees to come for a quick bite, but says he must run home to a full day of work after that.

Seven hours later, we've migrated from Pearl's to Rock and Reilly's to Cabo Cantina. Happy Saturday, Sunset. I had been slightly afraid he might think my friends were a little too crazy, due to a couple party-happy out-of-towners, and that my friends might think he was a little too boring, due to his seemingly serious nature. Thankfully, everyone seems to love each other. Er, everyone actually says they love each other.

When Tinder Oliver steps out for a moment, I turn to my friends:

Me: (totally tipsy) Do you like him?
N&D: (smiles up at TO, who, unbeknownst to me, had just returned from the washroom and was standing directly behind my right shoulder) We love him.

Not embarrassing at all.

We have a rollicking good time/plan future double dates/etc etc. TO and I part ways with the group around 7p to get me home and changed for a costume party. As he helps me into 137 hook-and-eye closures, I start to think that it might be sort of really nice (and useful!) to have him around on a more regular basis.

...

RULE #1: YOU MUST BE COMPLETELY OPEN TO THE PROCESS - INCLUDING THE IDEA THAT IT MIGHT ACTUALLY LEAD TO A RELATIONSHIP

...

So many deep breaths.

*not his real name

Date 26: Tinder Oliver

TO: I'm leaning against doing that party in Bel Air today, but would still love to see you tonight if you're game. I may get a few folks together for dinner and drinks down here.

Me: Ok cool. I'm game ☺

TO: Great. I will figure out plans. Aim roughly for like a 730 arrival if that works.

Totally works. Dates one, two, three, & four with TO were all spectacular successes full of fun slash conversation. At this point, normal me would have stopped dating anyone else because I like to tote all my eggs around in the same (questionably crafted) basket. But, thanks to the rules of this experiment, I have remained busy/slightly unavailable/dating other people, all of which I think has played well in terms of that whole 'keepin' 'em wanting more' thing I've heard so much about. Date five here we come!

Tinder Oliver and I have a glass of wine at his place before heading over to meet his friend Morgan* at Honda-Ya. Honda-Ya is a yummy sushi place inside what appears, at first glance, to be a deserted mall, straight out of a horror movie. What that first glance belies is the adult child's wonderland that awaits upstairs. Bowling, arcades, bars, sushi, and karaoke all under the same roof?! Be still my pre-pubescent heart.

Morgan's running a little late, so TO and I settle in at the bar next door to wait. I'm definitely going to need a solid cleanse after this experiment. Stick with me, liver!! It'll all be over soon.

TO delves a little deeper into family stuff, and it sounds like he and his sister have a super cute relationship, which I think is always a good sign. I choose to forego earnestness in favor of self-deprecation, tossing out a couple zingers that revolve around my awkwardly broad shoulders and incessant need for attention. He promptly dismisses both, stressing my femininity amongst other excessively redeemable traits. It sounds like he's got me on a standard-sized pedestal, which is always a great sign?

Eventually, Morgan arrives. He's a total sweetheart. Apparently a recent ex of his is not. Apparently everyone hates her because she totally f*cked him over slash was dating other guys while they were together. A Friday night flashback hits with the force of a mid-size vehicle. TO and I obviously aren't at the whole relationship point yet, but this conversation is still making me a little uncomfortable.

I feel even more uncomfortable a few hours later.

Back at his place... after telling me he's never made out with someone like this/or this much -- or at least not in, like, five to ten years (big range, much?) -- he finally goes in for the proverbial home run. Unfortunately (or fortunately, for my feelings of post-Friday whoreishness) things don't exactly... work out.

TO: I think I'm still a little nervous around you.

Having spent 29 years of my life trying to get guys to not have sex with me, I'm not entirely certain what I'm supposed to do/or say here.

I go with over-honesty.

Me: Ha. I'm usually the nervous one.

...

Really, Stacie? Just let him have this one.

When I wake the next morning, we're on opposite sides of the bed, and I immediately feel kind of weird slash sort of abandoned. I tiptoe out to grab some water, and find him in the middle of the bed upon my return. Cue: Several hour cuddle sesh. (All feelings of abandonment are immediately vanquished.)

TO: Ugh. I have to get up. It's 11 a.m.
Me: Noooo.

He goes out to the kitchen. I lag behind. He returns five minutes later.

TO: It's not quite 11 yet.

We return to super snuggly dreamland. The [late] morning [eventually] proceeds with breakfast -- this time around, he has black tea in his cupboards, presumably purchased with me in mind. Twinge. Ache. Swoon

TO: I'm requesting you on Facebook and Twitter, so I can see if you post anything new on your blog.

So many steps!!

TO: I gave your blog a read over the weekend. You're a great writer -- your personality really comes through, as does your funny.

Looks like someone's learned the way to my validation-hungry little heart.

...

We go ahead and put a date six on the books. I just, uh, have to make it through two other dates with two other men first. Is this experiment over yet?**

*Not his real name
**I asked, for the five millionth time.

Date 25: Tinder James

TJ: Would you be up for doing something in Manhattan Beach Friday night?

Translation: Would you be up for doing me in Manhattan Beach Friday night. Heyo. Reading right between those well-spaced lines, Tinder James.

AHERHEROIESJRSEJJKAWHEJKAH. I'm not really the one-night stand kind of girl. (Not that I think there's anything wrong with being the one-night stand kind of girl...it's juuust not really my MO.) Granted, this is our third date, but it still sort of feels like the same thing. With TJ's half-baked plans and could-be-(much)(much)-better conversation, I don't really see a date four in our future. Alas, this whole experiment was about opening myself up to new experiences**, sooooo South Bay here I come! (Sorry, Mom.)

I tell TJ to expect me around 8p.

TJ: Okay. I'm going to get cleaned up. You can park at my place and we can head out from here. Cool?

Absolutely. Not even pretending to meet somewhere else. Really digging the efficiency here.

...
...
...

8:03p: I arrive in Manhattan Beach.

8:07p: I circle the block for the third time, still searching for the address. My GPS continues its campaign for most useless navigation device of the year.

View fullsize

If I could use the map to navigate to this destination, I wouldn't be asking you, now would I. UGH.

8:10p: TJ is guiding me into the incredibly tiny driveway from his vantage point in the window above. No, really, don't come down.

8:14p: I am met in the entryway, already itching for a spirited beverage of some sort. Fun fact: Long distance drives do not make anything grow fonder.

TJ: Are you hungry?

I mean, I haven't eaten yet, if that's what you're asking.

...

Please see fun fact above regarding distance/general attitude on life.

...

We walk down to Pisces Sushi on Highland, where we have an almost average conversation over sushi, sake, and Sapporos.

Might need something a little stronger to make this happen.

We stroll down to a little dive bar. Well, I should specify, we stroll down the street and stand on the corner for a solid six minutes, debating where to go. This is your hood, TJ -- call an audible. Please make something audible. (His voice hasn't gotten any louder since our last date. I still don't understand how a voice can be so consistently soundless.)

He settles on OB's Pub & Grill. Sawdust on the floor, peanuts on the table, and remarkably stiff cocktails a mere order away. Divine. And somehow perfectly appropriate for the evening at hand.

Two loaded cocktails later, TJ finally starts to open up -- about his anger management issues and penchant for bar fights. Ho-kay. Maybe we should go back to that less conversation thing. He also hates his roommate, so I have that to look forward to when we get back to his place. Thank you, Jesus, for bolding and italicizing the expiration date on this one.

We stop at a liquor store on the way back to grab, well, more liquor. Because, you know, our souls are so compatible and stuff.

Everything goes pretty much as expected from here on out -- except for the part where he insists on carrying all 118*** lbs of me from the couch to the boudoir. Thirty feet away. Seriously, man, I can walk. This is so awkward. (Currently regretting every peanut.)

The next morning, he's fixing me a cup of tea, I'm fixing to leave, and my BlackBerry has found itself in a fix. It's dead. In all the excitement over my one-way trip to Ho-ville, I neglected to charge my precious phone/I'm supposed to be meeting up with friends and sort of need the address of where that meeting spot is. Cue: One of the more excruciating hours of my life. LINGER LINGER LINGER.

Later that evening, I'm at dinner with one of my guy friends:

Me: Dude. My ABS. So much pain. WTF did I do to them.
GF: Hahahaha. From all the SEX you had last night. You've got to get yourself in sex shape, girl.

He then theorizes logistics, landing on what he believes to be the exact play-by-play of my ab-ripping rumble in the heyyyy. Really happy he's finding so much pleasure in my pain. Really happy all of our mutual friends are finding so much pleasure in my pain. (GF thought this landmark event was 100 percent deserving of a group text announcement.) (I need new friends.)

Tinder James would text weather nonsensicals for a couple days and send a status check one week later.

TJ: Hey, how was your week and weekend?

...

And scene.

*Not his real name
**Is that what this experiment was all about? I can barely remember anymore. (Also, heyo.)
***Not my real weight

Date 21: OkCupid Taylor

My fourth date with OkCupid Taylor! Our first was a lovely sushi din, the second an adorable trip to the LA County Fair, and the third a sweet little dine-in movie.

OkCT: Let's meet at the Natural History Museum around 12. Depending on the weather, we could picnic outside the museum. If not, they have a cafe inside or we can walk to some places nearby.

Cute. Er, it should be cute. Conceptually, I understand this is cute. Unfortunately, the morning of our date brings to light a saltier side of Stacie. I had been out way too late the night before due to a surprise visit from my bestest friend in the entire world. I was tired. I was hungover. I was still a bit swoony over Friday night's adventures withTinder Oliver. OkCupid Taylor didn't stand a chance -- especially after he sent this text, mid-sandwich orders:

OkCT: I was thinking of getting onions myself and then I remembered how much I wanted to kiss you ;)

Oy vey.

Deep breaths. Be nice. Just be nice. Remember all that chemistry you guys had just one week ago?!

...
...
...

When I get to the museum's main entrance, OkC T is nowhere to be found. Apparently, he entered through the backside of the building.

OkCT: Wait, where are you? 
Me: At the front entrance.
OkCT: I don't know where that is.
Me: Well, if you entered through the back, it's probably on the other side of the building?

...

He declines my offer to meet him in the back, and instead has me stay on the phone with him while he breathes heavily en route/refuses all attempts at chatter. Cool. I'll just listen to your footsteps. This is awesome.

He finally appears, sweet smile and optimistic outlook intact. I will myself to be kind. We set up a picnic on the lawn in front of the museum. Some things are a bit better in theory than in practice. It only takes us about twenty minutes to consume our deli snacks...and then we spent the next fifteen hiking back to my car to drop off the blanket, etc before starting our tour of bones.

I adore the Natural History Museum, and OkCT does his very best to be the most adorable companion. We take ridiculously adorable photos, which we decline to purchase, but it's nice just to know they exist?

All in all, I maintain a decent degree of pep and appreciation. Upon our exit, I'm giving myself a mental pat on the back, when OkCT asks if I'm hungry. I should say no; but, as luck would have it, I'm starving, and keenly aware of my empty cupboards back home. I say yes.

He asks where we should go -- after all, I went to school here. Uh yeah, seven years ago. Chanos? Are we drunk? Is it 4am? My sorority house? Despite my severe lack of knowledge, I offer a few suggestions, directionally speaking. He challenges every single one of them. I seriously consider hailing a cab back to my car.

We end up at a newer venue called Lotus. A fine - not to be confused with fine dining - establishment, offering students and locals the chance to supplement their sushi with a hit of hookah. Fantastic. We'll stick with sushi and soju, thanks. Post-meal, we continue to sit there and chat. Still sitting. Still chatting. I have thrown out more conversation closers than I ever knew existed. My phone is vibrating with text messages from other online suitors.

IS THIS EXPERIMENT OVER YET? I just want to sleep. So much sleep.

I excuse myself to the restroom for a text check. This is when I see it is eight o'clock. PM. We have been hanging out for EIGHT. HOURS. Dear Jesus, please let me go home now.

I scroll through my messages. eHarmony James wants to know why I've gone radio silent. Radio silent? I just talked to you three days ago. We've been on one date. Keep scrolling. Nothing urgent. Gah who is eHarmony Nick?? We'll research that one later. Keep scrolling. MMS from Tinder Oliver featuring a photo of our stolen rose from Friday night. Cute. Sigh. Back to this date I go.

When I finally convince OkCT that it's time to head out, we start on a slow meander to my car. Emphasis on both the slow and the meander. He pauses awkwardly here and there, sort of inching toward my face as we talk. Is he trying to work up the nerve for our first kiss? I pause, hoping to help him get it over with so I can get home. He stammers and shuffles back a few inches. We continue our desolate march.

Back at my car, I offer him a ride to his, as it's a bit of a trek. He accepts. This was a bad idea. Down in the depths of a now-deserted parking garage, he refuses to exit my vehicle. Not vocally -- I mean, I at no point demand/or even request he open the door and GTFO. I just keep saying how tired I am and how I'm about to fall asleep and how I can't wait to get home, and sort of think he'll get the hint at some point. He doesn't. What he does do is start to massage my shoulders. Holy mother of Jesus, how do I kindly bring this to an end?

OkCT: How was that? Feel better now? 
Me: [visible grimace] Magical.

At this point, it dawns on me that I am all alone in a parking garage with someone I barely know. As it's our fourth date, I didn't even really tell anyone where I'd be/with whom. What if I trusted too soon? What if I die down here? I'm trying to recall if I have a pepper spray stashed anywhere in my Prius when OkCT goes in for the kiss.

...

It. Is. ...horrendous. Is this his first kiss?? There is darting tongue action, sloppy lip stuff, hands around my neck in a decidedly not hot way.... I am backed so far into my seat, I'm pretty sure there's going to be a permanent indentation. When the salacious assault on my face finally comes to an end...

OkCT: [silly smile] Magic?

...
...
...

I have a funny feeling there will be no date five.

*not his real name

Date 20: Tinder Oliver

3rd date with Tinder Oliver! Our first was a (few) lovely round(s) of drinks at Chateau and the second an Arctic Monkeys concert at the Wiltern. That was almost two weeks ago. We attempted to calendar a dinner in the middle, but our schedules refused to match up. Distance slash enchantment? Here's hoping.

This third date was to involve both dinner and a haunted house.

TO: Before the day gets away from me, am thinking we will do dinner downtown tmrw if that works. I have a hodgepodge of friends going to the spookhouse who may also join beforehand to eat.

Excellent thought.

I meet TO at his place downtown and we walk to meet his crew at the newly opened Peking Tavern. Dinner is delish, friends are welcoming, drinks are plentiful. Enchantment indeed.

We Uber over to Echo Park for the "spookhouse," but find we have about 20 minutes to kill. We also find that they don't serve liquor at their "bar." None of us are trying to remember our death by fright, so we hit up a Mexican restaurant down the street for tequila shots. And then we hit up the liquor store next door for portable flasks of vodka, because apparently none of us are trying to remember anything. I, personally, am attempting to self-medicate my severe case of nerves slash social anxiety. Third date. Meeting friends. Trying too hard to be cool. You know, the usual.

The haunted house is tons of fun. It's wonderful to have a hand to hold through the dark, winding hallways and someone to laugh at me when I get dragged up onstage to the guillotine. Look how good I am at couple-y things!!

Post scare-fest, TO and I separate from the group to get some late night grub. Lord knows my over-intoxicated liver could stand to see a few nutrients float by. We have another one of our slightly too deep and one hundred percent too personal chats over food I probably couldn't taste at Pacific Dining Car before stealing the rose from our table and heading back to TO's for a decently PG sleepover. (You're welcome, Mom.) Notably, the first sleepover of this experiment -- though, possibly only notable to my super classy guy friends who can't believe that I've, "like, gotten, like, twenty different dudes to take [me] out and, like, pay for sh*t without putting out. What a bunch of suckers." Like I said, supes classy. And it's only been 13 different guys thus far. Ahem.

One home-cooked breakfast, a mini Ryan Adams tutorial, and an awkwardly lengthy parking lot makeout sesh (sorry, parking attendants) later, I'm heading home -- secretly super happy I haven't heard back from Tinder Lucas about our possible second date tonight.

TO: You left a sweater here lovely. Just so you aren't worried you lost it. Will bring it next time I see you.

Love next times.

*not his real name