I am going to start this thought with an assumption. That assumption being that you have shoes in your closet right now, lots of them. Probably a pair or ten that have not smelled the fresh air of the outdoors in months, some years. A fetish some might call it, a passion others…some might not even go that far and would just say they like them. "I just like shoes". Others might not like the shoes so much as the shopping for the shoes. This, I don't understand, but neither do I understand what is going on in a woman's head when she is watching Entertainment Tonight. It's not really a problem I just don't 'get it'.
I suppose that is not entirely true, I have been instructed that women are information gatherers built very much like radar dishes but with boobs. The boobs I like. The rest to me seems like a waste of space and energy. Why it is important to know so many details about so many people is just not something a hetero man can really 'get'. I think those of us who try to understand at least understand, that there is a need there driving women to this, but what 'it' is just baffles us. It's just not for us to know. The universe can safely continue its' operation without our brains ever comprehending these thoughts by placing men on a "Need to know" basis. We don't need to know, because you women will do it one way or the other, regardless of what we understand or 'get'. You just don't really need us for this, in fact like dragging a midget along on a marathon, we would only slow you down.
What happens though when your closet is full of shoes? If you were to leave the closet alone, not add to it for some time, the ones you wear would get worn and the ones you don't would get what…. Dusty. Right. You would want, I assume, at some point to go get some new ones. Like I said some of you would even go further and get new ones when you have new ones, maybe even new ones you have not worn yet. This is close to criminal in my mind. But I know you are out there, in fact I might know one of these offenders. But after you have worn them all several times you can look in the closet and just see nothing of interest. Sigh. You will begin to feel the urge to update the population in this closet and add to the gene pool, right? Wearing the same ones gets old, no feeling of newness. No excitement. Just going round and round with the same bits of colorful leather.
What happens though when you are trying to date in a city and seem to have dated every eligible person of the opposite sex and found none favorable? Is it even possible to date an entire city of men, or women? If you were to do this, would you start the cycle again or just find a ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />new city? You can't very well, like your closet, just add to the gene pool. Populations in cities do vary, but without an incoming list you won't know where they are settling would you? Of course this seems impossible but I would like to tell you the story of The Cheese Girl.
During the last summer I was, as is normal for me, single and although I don't mind at all being single, I do like to stir the pot with new experiences from time to time. Last year the list included learning to Salsa dance (need more lessons), learning to golf (need many more lessons) and learning to rollerblade. This year learning to Scuba dive is on my list and taking a flying lesson too. Might not get to the goals but they are there anyway. It's just the way I think.
I got a call from Gordon a big friend of mine, "Five foot sixteen" he says, telling me there was a singles event going on at the downtown Nordstrom. Apparently Nordstrom was hosting this event to raise money for a great cause and were kind enough to close the entire store, all four floors, decorate the place, and place event stages on every floor with cocktail booths next to them. Free cocktails and hors d'oeuvres everywhere you looked and of course…single people. Lots of them and to my surprise, I suppose it shouldn't be living in Seattle, a large contingent of gays turned out too to really liven up the party. Boy did they ever. I experienced colors I did not know existed much less had names for.
The party began and really turned into a pretty nice affair. Nice assortment of people hitting on one another and me feeling just as out of place as llama in a swimming pool. That was okay, that was in fact the exact reason I went, to make myself uncomfortable and experience it. Get through the night so I can say I have done it, and who could say, maybe I would meet someone that night. Stranger things have happened.
Gordon had left my side earlier, as he had found a group of giants to talk to, and I was left by myself wandering around with a half finished glass of Merlot. I ended up by the main stage to watch the auction and near the end I noticed a tall girl standing next to me on my left. Hmm, I wondered, I wonder what she wants. Let it be known now that I am not nearly as smart as I look, okay?
It is right here I need to stop this story and take you back in time about four years or so to a date I had on Match.com. If you have not read about some of the others I think they are still posted on my blog somewhere, if not, I can re-post them. The worst ones turned into pretty good stories and who knows you or one of your friends might be on there somewhere. Anyway, I met this one particular woman at a fairly nice restaurant for dinner. This was before I figured out that meeting for a first date was something that not only was I expected to pay for, but if I did not want to be eating Top Ramen myself for the rest of the month, would have to keep it to just drinks and maybe an appetizer. Endless dating and dinners in Seattle could break any bank account regardless of its size. So there I was sitting with this nice, but very thin woman and I was both making small talk, which was not unpleasant, and also showing her the menu to order an appetizer to go with our wine.
She early on tells me that she has to admit to being very picky with her choice of foods. "Okay" I said, what wont you eat, as I look at this fairly gourmet menu. Several minutes went by as I stared at her while she rattled off all of the major food groups she wont eat leaving only, and I mean only a few types of fruits and vegetables, some pasta, and salads. She could honestly say nearly every food she would eat faster than trying to say the ones she won't. Of the salads only some would do and most of those that she considered edible were either plain Iceberg lettuce salads or those with generic dressings and no toppings. Uhm...Okay. I glanced back at the menu and realized we were both in trouble. Crab cakes included several things that she would not eat, mainly the crab, but even had that been another food that she would have partaken in, most of the fillers and spices were off the list so that was out. Artichoke dip…please, no. Not even close. Uhm no teriyaki tid-bits, because well they are made of meat and no meat of any kind was something that would pass her lips. I had not thought of this at the time but that clearly would have been a problem had we become a couple later on. So this left me with what I thought was my only option. Nachos. I hated to even offer them not wanting to sound both cheap and low-brow but hey I was out of options and the conversation was slowing quickly. I was getting nervous, we needed food to keep this going and so far there was nothing even ordered.
So I peek up over the menu that she has already put down in disgust and I suggest nachos. Hell everyone likes nachos right? Not everything on a normal order of Nachos is to everyone's liking but those can be either requested off or picked off right? So I say "how about Nachos?" And she sneers her most pleasant sneer and says no I don't eat Melted cheese. My face sort of got that scrunched up look you get when you are utterly baffled and are about to get run over by a 1914 Ford pickup truck, with 325,000 miles on it, driven by your dead grandfather in your own backyard. HUH!?? Shit, she does not like melted cheese, I said to myself. I think time began to slow down as I began to panic. My thoughts were racing, the last one only took a nanosecond and the next one, although I am sure would have moved quickly, was not even at the starting line. I did not know what to do or say to that. I was stumped. You don't eat melted cheese? Really? No melted cheese of any kind, and that is along with no meats, no virtually no vegetables, and no fruits. DAMN, how you stay vertical?
Okay I thought, I can save this. So I looked up with my best poker face and said what was going to be my Hail Mary pass to the end zone with two seconds left on the clock. Try to pull out a victory against all odds. I said "Well we could let the cheese get cold, then it will be hard again."
Silence.
Without so much as batting an eye, maybe out of weakness, she looks up and says "No, once it has been melted it is ruined." At that moment most of the corpses in Ethiopia were turning over in their graves simultaneously, causing who knows how much damage to that poor country.
Check Please!
Get me the hell out of here I thought, how can this be? What restaurant in Hell does she visit that would serve the food that she would consider edible, and who in their right mind would pay money for it? NONE! That's how many exist here in Seattle, NONE! This was over.
I should say this in her defense, she was nice and the conversation was not at all terrible. It just was not working out.
Now, let me bring you back to the woman standing next to me at the Nordstrom singles event. I say hi, asked a question (I have no idea what it was or whether it was funny or not), and we got to talking. Turned out she worked in my field, and knew some of the same people and even thought she might have met me or seen me at a convention sometime. "Very possible" I said because I often stand out in front of the booth at our yearly conventions and say hi to people walking around, and of course notice the prettier ones.
I hand her my card and she writes her number on it and after some more pleasantries, I am ready to find Gordon to say goodbye. We drove separately so I would be leaving alone, and he was still with the giant people, so I found him shook his hand and left.
A couple of weeks later I decide to give this woman a call and ask her out and I did just that. We met downtown at a nice place in Bel-Town and ordered some wine and began chatting it up. Shop talk mostly. Work, who do you know, who do I know etc. Not bad all in all.
I ordered some chips and hummus to snack on and asked if she was hungry and she said no not really but would snack on the chips. Okay no problem. After the hummus was gone I ordered some very nicely prepared fish which she wanted nothing to do with and was about to order something else for us, a dish with melted cheese on top when she stopped me and turned my blood to ice. She said "I don't eat melted cheese"
Oh dear God, no! It can't be. I looked up, slapped my hand on the table and nearly exploded. "We have been out before!!"
She did not get it. The words seemed to freeze her face and body, maybe her grandfather was about to run her over in her back yard at that moment I don't know, but she just sat there on my left and stared. "Remember way back, that restaurant, I ordered Nachos?" I said some more things to jog her nutrition starved mind and it hit her. "You are the 'name of the restaurant' Guy!" I won't name the restaurant because I hope to visit it again. "Yes I am, and we have been out before". I was not sure that having a 'name' was a good thing, but so did she, so it was even. "Yes, and you are The Cheese girl".
I was out with the Cheese girl and had no idea that it was her until she said that now famous phrase "I don't eat melted cheese". I had apparently dated the entire city of Seattle, and had begun all over again, with one of my earliest rejections. What are the odds of that I wondered, after paying the bill, giving a polite hug and heading out. I wondered again, what are the odds of that?
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