I told you a few days ago I'd show you the emails Ned and I exchanged when I first picked him up online early this year.
I was on a site called OK Cupid, which if you're in the market for an online dating site, I highly recommend it.
The point is, it was January 5, 2012, and I was perusing the mens on OK Cupid and I saw Ned's profile. He had recently moved back to Greensboro after many decades and didn't know anyone, so he put himself on there and his profile was funny. Under the question, "What's the first thing people notice about you?" he said, "One thing people notice is my Panera card. But probably the person who notices this the most is the waitress at Panera."
That made me snicker, so I wrote him.
To Tufguy 45: I am messaging you because I cannot resist a man with a Panera card. I am a Panera-card-digger.
To June: Thanks for the Panera card love. I am messaging you back because of said card love, and because you are a very funny woman. I am a good-writer-digger. [Note to y'all--Ned had looked at my profile, which if I do say so myself was effing hilarious.]
To Tufguy 45: You understand I would totally be using you for your chicken salad connections. Are you actually tough? Or would it have been like me naming myself mathgirl?
To June: You wouldn't be the first. And define tough.
Anyway, tufguy is a name my friends and I used to use derogatorily for each other when playing pool. It's not a particularly exciting story. The 45 part, however, is an absolute lie. I'm 46. It wasn't a lie when I created this profile, back before I realized that time did still move forward despite ill-considered dating site nicknames. I've checked, and I have another birthday coming this year as well.
To Tufguy 45: Nice. And this is what I like about men. Women wouldn't be able to do that--taunt each other during a game. "What's THAT supposed to mean? I can be tough! What about that time in fifth grade? ...You know what? I'm just gonna go."
And that is why women are a pain in the ass.
Oh my GOD. We're gonna be 47 this year. I hadn't even thought about that. You know what? I'm just gonna go. Here is the part where you have to chase me out to the car.
To June: Yelling, Wait, wait, I didn't mean it? And I suppose men are okay. They're really only good for one thing though.
To Tufguy 45: JUST LEAVE. ME. ALONE! I'M FINE {sob!}.
What are men good for, in your opinion? I enjoy you all for setting up my DVD player, and I am also using men of your gender this weekend for helping me lug my giant fake Christmas tree up the attic. I am allergic to NC trees. So I have the most fake, glittery, white, Liberace tree on planet Earth.
By the way, I am an annoying iPhone person, hence my odd prompt replies. Am not sitting here like Miss Havisham in my Panera Forever T shirt waiting for you to email me.
However, now I am going to a party and will not be an annoying look-at-my-phone person in public. I just want to smack people over the head with their phones when they do that. ...Do I seem hostile?
To June: I was thinking pickle jars, but your examples of men of my gender endeavors seem valid as well. I find your hostility towards the public use of smart phones to be quite charming, actually. So if you ever need a hand smacking rude people over the head, that might be yet another example of something that men of my gender are good for.
My last name, by the way, is Miss Havisham, so I'll be spending my Friday evening reading on the couch. Until I find a good reason to turn on the TV. In any event, I hope the party's a blast.
To Tufguy 45: Oooo, what did you read? I mean, unless you were reading the handbook of how to molest children and/or lizards, in which case I'd rather not know.
To June: The Human Stain. I'm a big fan of Philip Roth, though I have to admit I was a tad tired to make significant progress. And lizards, I'll have you know, are another one of my faves. Molest lizards, really, ick.
How was the party?
To Tufguy 45: See. The phone. It is right here next to me while I edit a statistics textbook. Like I'm not going to stampede to it, because hello. Statistics textbook.
I have never read that book, but loved Portnoy's Complaint. Which is super extra original of me. I also liked ET. And Tom Hanks. I know!
Thanks for asking--the party was fun, although dinner was not served till 10:00. Where were we, Europe? I met a woman who had been a doctor but got MS and had to give it up due to her health. Among other things she's blind now. This week I discovered they've discontinued my favorite lipstick but didn't tell her that. I didn't want her to see how petty her woes are compared to mine.
What else have you got planned this wknd? A very short angry dog trainer is on her way here to supposedly remove the assyness from my dogs. Assyness is a fine word.
To June: I am so sorry to hear about your lipstick, sometimes words just can’t…wow. It was strong of you to keep your suffering to yourself without unloading on that whiny doctor.
Planned this weekend? I've had a productive day, for me, so far. Electronic recycling (Patterson Ave., who knew?) and a bicycle ride. As soon as my legs stop wobbling I'm going to attempt some lunch.
Has your dog trainer come and gone? I've found that most dog trainers tend to be angry, though I have no evidence as to why this is so. What's on your agenda?
To Tufguy 45: I probably shouldn't have shared something so personal and important so soon after meeting you, Mr. Miss Havisham. But it's heavy on my mind. I will always miss that lipstick and I'll remember the good times.
That woman was incredible. INCREDIBLE. Have I mentioned that? My dogs are cowering in the living room right now. She said they're actually really submissive dogs and eager to please (really? because...really? when?), and they were just lacking manners. By the time she left, we had a plate of food in the middle of the room and the dogs put their ears down and slunk away. Slinked? Slunkded?
Anyway they ignored the food.
I see you made me a favorite and I made you a favorite. This is very meaningful and you should probably call your parents.
What the Sam Hill is your name, other than Mr. Miss Havisham?
What did you electronically recycle? A bunch of email? BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
You can unfavorite me now.
To June: What the...? You must have ESPN or something, because my name is Sam Hill Miss Havisham. Uncanny, really. Odd name, I realize, but then, you should meet my parents.
My productivity continued today, oddly enough, and went on to include running a vacuum (and, AND, changing the bag) and doing laundry. As a reward I think I'll take myself out to dinner tonight.
And Ned. My name is Ned.
To Tufguy 45: Ned. Ned Miss Havisham. It's nice.
My friends Chris and Lilly just left here. Lilly had a bad cold and sounded like Harvey Fierstein, and I am looking forward to coming down with said cold in the next day or so. But I really like them so it was worth it. I say that now. Wait until my throat starts hurting and I get the aches and so on. Then I will be cursing that blonde heifer's name.
Since you and I know each other so well, and are favorites and I have shared with you the secret pain of my lipstick, I will tell you the terrible awful thing that happened tonight. You know how I just spent the $220 on dog training and the trainer was so good and so forth? She really was, and the dogs were stellar, mostly, except I put the lasagna together before C&L got here, so that I could just pop it in the oven when they arrived.
I walked into the kitchen to find stupid Edsel with his front feet on the counter, eating the meat sauce off the top of the lasagna. I had to hurriedly spread the remaining sauce around before anyone saw.
Never, ever accept an invitation to eat at my house. Good gravy.
To June: I have always heard, though I've never seen any laboratory results to prove such a claim, that a dog's mouth is much cleaner than a human's. But I must admit that if I'd walked in to find a person, let's say Miss Havisham, with her front feet on the counter licking the meat sauce off the top of the lasagna, I might be a bit put off as well. At least Lilly was already sick.
But Edsel's a great dog name, and I'm sure he's not stupid. Hey, the short, angry dog trainer preventing him from eating food earlier. I'm sure he was hungry, and perhaps she split her fee with him as a bribe.
To June: Hope you've been able to avoid the oncoming cold so far. I've just come from seeing Tinker Tailor et al this afternoon. A bit confusing, but a pretty good movie overall, I think.
And now I'm off to Raleigh to see my alma mater play basketball with my brother. I mean, they're not going to actually play basketball with him, I'm just going to--oh, I think you know what I meant. In any case I hope you're feeling well and having a good Sunday.
To Tufguy 45: Caught a dreadful stomach virus and have been ill all night/day. I haven't been sick like this since I was a kid. What I'm doing right now is bringing sexy back. Holy cats.
Hope your day is less, you know, violent.
To June: Oh man, that blows (maybe not the best word choice there, sorry). Being up all night, nothing worse. I hope you're feeling better. This doesn't sound like the same thing your friend Lilly had. How is Edsel feeling?
To Tufguy 45: I'm up. It's 1:00. In the morning. This is stupid--what am I supposed to do now? I guess I could read something.
Edsel has been deeply concerned about my well-being, except when someone walks by, then he BOUNDS out of bed to bark, which is restful.
How was your sporting event? Was your brother the victor? My uncle used to play baseball and we'd go watch, and his team always won, and my mother would say, "Wasn't that great? Jimmy won again!" and I'd think, man. He beat all those people AGAIN. I had no concept that he was on a team. That pretty much sums up my sports knowledge to this day. And my team-playing abilities.
To June: My brother did not win, no. In many ways it could even be said that he didn't even try, did not compete, gave less than a half-assed effort. All quite literally true.
I'm sorry to hear you were still not feeling well last night. That's a stubborn virus you managed to attract. I'm hoping it's bid adieu (French!) by now. Up at 1am though, it's rare that I am not. I'm a lousy sleeper.
Well Monday's in the books, and that's a good thing. Do you do your editing from home often, bring work home with you, or is that your usual protocol? I suppose that would mean no sick days, which would sort of suck. I am going to go ahead and assume you've rid yourself of that awful malady and are now happily munching bag after bag of beef jerky. Good stuff.
To Tufguy 45: I went to Harris Teeter and got fried rice. This may have been a mistake.
I have a regular full-time job. Then, to supplement my now suddenly single income, I do freelance work as well. I always did this, even when I had a dual income, but then it was for fun. Now it is for necessity. Anyway, am grateful to have it even though it sometimes means working all day and coming home and working all night. It's just editing, not laying bricks.
Are you from here? You don't seem from here. But if you have a brother here then you might be local. Did you get hot dogs? If I had to go to some sports thing I'd be all up in what I could get at the concession stand.
I can't remember if I told you this, but Peg, the woman who had the party I attended Friday, called to tell me almost everyone who went to her shindig got terribly ill. She herself had been ill all day and had written it off to food poisoning. Thanks! It's like that Monty Python where Death comes to the dinner party.
To June: So do you think it's a poisoning of some kind instead of a virus? Either way, I hope you shake it before much longer.
Thank you for thinking that I'm not from around here. Makes me feel better about being from around here. I grew up in Greensboro and moved to Raleigh long ago with the intent of staying there. But then (cue the violins) the economy went to hell, I had an opportunity here, and here I remain. I had (string crescendo) a job I loved with people I liked. Now I do...something else. But like you, it's not brick laying, there are a lot of people out there in a lot worse shape, and (diminuendo) I'm pretty fortunate. I've been here about a year and a half, but none of the people I used to know live here anymore. So there's my story.
To Tufguy 45: I enjoyed the whole concert I got to listen to while I heard your life story.
I get my hair done in Raleigh. Nice town. Good hairdressers. Was worried sick I'd move here and end up having to get perms and tall bangs or something. Was sort of a snob about LA stuff. Have gotten over it. Think I may have been insufferable at first. Now my LA friends seem kind of insufferable. "Oh, you went to the ballet? There are ballets there?" Like the entire state is filled only with the cast of Hee Haw and lynchings.
To June: Oy vey, LA to Greensboro, I would have been insufferable too. We lynched the cast of Hee Haw long ago, but it remains Greensboro. I assume you made the move with your soon-to-be ex, but it’s still… Greensboro. How long have you been here?
Here’s hoping you’ll be eating egg salad sandwiches comfortably before the end of the day.
To Tufguy 45: God, egg salad sounds delicious. See? I WISH to be eating, and yet? Tragedy when I do.
I got here in late 2007 and yes, it was the ex's fault. Before I lived in LA I lived in Seattle. So for my whole adult life I'd lived in pretty progressive places and then I got here and all the gay men are married and play organ for their church. It was an adjustment. Now I totally expect it. "Girlfriend, is that a Prada? Oh, snap! You should totally come to church with my wife and me this week--I'm playing something from Phantom!"
But, you know. LA was trafficky. And expensive. And the person I miss the most is my cleaning lady. Seriously. What does that tell you? Okay, (a), my cleaning lady is hilarious, and also that there are very few real friendships to be had in Los Angeles, although I had a few. And I like how I had an (a) but not a (b).
To June: I didn’t know gay men were big church-goers here, much less that they played organ there, a statement from which I’ll quickly back away. Most of the organ players I’ve seen in churches are blue haired old women, but then, I’m not much of a church-goer. Or maybe I watched too much Andy Griffith when I was a kid. Did people in other parts of the country actually watch that show?
I know that’s true about the traffic and expense in LA, but Seattle had to be nice. As far as I know, there’s not one independent bookstore in this town at all, nor record store. One independent movie theater, I think. But it does sound as if you’ve managed to carve something of a social life out of this place, and as you seem to imply, that’s worth a lot.
Is it only Tuesday? Criminy.
Hope things have improved on the gastrological front.To Tufguy 45: I loved Seattle. Everyone loves Seattle. Once in awhile you get some yahoo, "Oh, the weather!" Shut up. It rains. Who cares? It's the coolest place on earth. What do you need weather for?
When I graduated college, I picked Seattle to move to because they read more books per capita. "It's the weather! Who wants to go out in all that rain!" Again, shut up. Anyway, I knew no one when I got there, and it was such a good decision. I was back last year because my friend had cancer and thought, "Why the hell did I leave? Oh, right, that spouse." (It was nice of me to concentrate on myself like that and not old One-Boob.) (Anyway she's fine now and no one's discontinued HER lipstick.)
I have made friends here, although the majority of them come from my blog. So basically I guess I could have moved anywhere and made friends because of my dumb blog.
Do you ever go to Aperture in Winston? That is a very cool and also pretentious movie theater and it's independently owned. And you can drink wine with your movie and get all tanked. I like it there. Pretentiousness, dark art movies, drunk people. What more could you wish for?
Technically it's nearly Wednesday.To June: Blog? You have a blog? Let me understand this correctly. You have three domesticated animals, two jobs, and you have a blog you keep up with as well? Man, it's all I can do to get by having one job and one animal. Sounds like it's served you well though, if it's allowed you to make connections. What's the blog called?
Where did you go to school, by the way, what did you study there? Where are you originally from?
I have been to the aperture in Winston, and I like it there as well. Reminds me of the old Studio theater in Raleigh. Odd screen placement, but you forget about it once the movie's underway. Good popcorn too. Lousy ice though.
To Tufguy 45: Four. Two dogs, one normal cat and a blind kitten. I know not what to tell you about the chaos I invite.
And I will show you my blog one day, but I've been writing it every day for five years, and if you read it it would be like a June explosion, and I think I am best in small fits and starts. It would be like you were Soupy Sales and I was hitting you with the pie of my life.
You know what's annoying about the Relatively Acceptable Cupid app? Is it doesn't let me see your email so I can't address what you said. Michigan State. English degree. Of course. As opposed to that degree in nuclear physics I was considering.
And I grew up there, Michigan. Where everything is flat, including everyone's affect.
I walked the dogs and the nausea returned and even I am bored with this now. At first it was fascinating. So maybe later I will poach an egg.
To Tufguy 45: Wait. Lousy ice?
To June: Big, clunky, dense. You could crack a tooth if you're not careful. Plus, in positioning such pieces of ice between molars for crunching, you'll often inadvertently allow fluid unchecked into the esophageal tube, causing a gagging reflex. Nobody wants to hear someone choke during a film. It's distracting. Hey, could ya take it outside pal? Lousy ice.
Crushed ice is better, but shaved ice is the Cadillac of frozen water. It takes on the flavor of the fluid it is meant to cool, while reducing the volume of said fluid due to the fact that shaved ice occupies a greater volume of movie issue beverage container, thereby reducing calories, and, AND, extending cup time vs. popcorn bag by virtue of the fact that it involves chewing and shaking last bits of flavor laden ice bits into salt dehydrated mouths rather than a gravity driven fluid.
You could avoid all that by having a glass of wine, sure. I'm just saying.To Tufguy 45: God, I agree. This whole discussion has DRIVEN me to drink, for goodness sake. Which ought to please my boss as much as me being on Ehhh, Cupid at work.
Where did you go to school? In Raleigh? Were you one of those drunk dorm people who was always good for being the guy who'd get a Minor in Possession?To June: So I'm assuming from the work message that you're feeling better? That first day back after being sick can still suck though. Hope it went well.
School in Raleigh, yes. NC State. Mechanical engineering. Why did I choose that major? I haven't a clue. Fortunately I was a terrible student, and so didn't bother with it too often. I was much too busy being in college to actually study.
So was I that guy? No. But I did hang out with him. A lot.
To Tufguy 45: Oh, perhaps we met, then. I tutored people in mechanical engineering across America.
Bah.
I finally had to go to the doctor for anti-nausea meds, then I called my boss after with a very phony, "You need me to come in?" and he said yes. Fortunately that medication really works.
I guess you have one of those science-y brains.
To June: See, 1am, and up I am. I wish I were one of those people who could sleep.Maybe I had a science-y brain at one time, but like everybody else, the 18 yo me that made the decision to study engineering is a lot different from the me now. Not too science-y now, let me tell ya.
I sure hope you're starting to feel better soon. For my part, I'm going to see if I can somehow lose consciousness sometime soon.
To Tufguy 45: The doctor said the part where my neighbor was ill all day, prepared gazpacho which then sat in the fridge for hours, and served it to everyone was the perfect storm of a virulent bug and a way to expose it to just everyone at the party.
Have I MENTIONED this is the first time in 30 years I was sick this way? Thirty years.
So do you ever take Ambien or anything?
I can't remember who I know who majored in what he majored in because it came first in the alphabetical list of majors. Who was that? I also know someone who changed majors because he threw up in the mouth of the daughter of his current major's dean.
To Tufguy 45: P.S. Here is my real email address. I know it is forward of me, suggesting we move from email to...email.
...So that was it. A week later Ned asked me out, which is another clever story but this is the longest post in the history of time, so I'll end. Also, how sexy was I, continuously mentioning my vomiting and nausea? Ask me out! I'm a volcano! Pretty.
Aw. Still. That was so exciting. I knew I really liked him by the time I called him Mr. Miss Havisham. I loved myself way before that, of course.
June. Out. Out of lipstick, and out.
P.S. Dear Chris and Lilly: Sorry about the Edsel incident. Love you! Come back and eat here soon!
