Embarrassing Details about My Life: Romance Edition

Recently I turned 24. Now I am a young, carefree single, but I know that in six years or so, I will become a bitter, marriage minded 30 something. Women in this city are like milk; we only have so much shelf life until we’ll go on sale to shorter men.

With this in mind, I’m not above going on blind dates. In August, my dad’s co-worker set me up with a friend of hers named Marc. Our first date was at a coffee shop in Williamsburg.

Marc does not live in Williamsburg. He does not live in Brooklyn. In fact he lives in Murray Hill, and in retrospect, this outing was something of hipster field trip for him. Yet, we had a good time and created a good rapport for two strangers. Even though he was on the shortish and soon-to-balding side, I had fun and hoped to see him again.

The following week, he asked me to meet up with him and friends at the Queens Museum. I was in Boston, and for the next few months we tried with limited success or enthusiasm to arrange a second date.

Eventually, as in November eventually, we met up for round II at Coffee Shop. I judged. The date was not good. I don’t remember what was bad exactly, but it was clear that neither of us wanted the Brownie Sundae or whatever such crap passes for dessert at Coffee Shop. During the date, he mentioned that he had Netflix account. Even though I never wanted to see him again, I did want to see his queue and I added him as my Netflix friend. He never accepted my offer.

This should be the end of my courtship with Marc, but in February, he e-vited me to his 31st birthday party at a bar. I don’t know why he would want me, a person’s who Netflix’s queue he had no interest in, at a party with all of his friends to celebrate his birthday. I ignored the e-vite.

The story isn’t over. As a precaution, I erase all the numbers of men I’ve dated. (Sometimes I get bored and drunk, and it’s best for all parties involved not if I don’t have that option.) So a week before the party, I get a phone call from a number I don’t have in my phone.

It’s Marc. He wants to know if I’m going to his party.

Even if his party had been an apartment with free drinks, I wouldn’t have gone. On the phone, he continues to encourage me to go his party, and finally I ask him if he rejected my Netflix friendship. He said he didn’t reject it, so much as ignore it, which is the same thing in terms of Netflix friendship. To make up for it, he offers to be my real life friend, to which I reply that I’m only interested in his online friendship.

At this point, the story was over. In fact, I have told this as a story. But apparently Marc took my advice on online friendship, and today, five months after our second and final in person encounter, sent me a link to his vacation pictures from Spain.

Stay tuned for the next episode in July when Marc invites me to MySpace.