"I'll Find You on Facebook"

WORLD - I've got something stuck in my craw and it's not what you're thinking.


At James Hoban last night, I met a 6'4'' Australian armed with an PH.D. He and I were flirting and talking about, of all the exciting things, excellent PBS programming. He bought me a glass of wine, chatted up my friends, and made it quite clear (you may infer) that he liked me. When the group hit the dance floor, we were dancing. Ten minutes later, he said he had to "duck out" and then asked for my last name. I told him and then he briefly nodded. 


"I'll find you on Facebook." 


ARE YOU F****** KIDDING ME? Are we seriously in the day and age where you no longer even need to ask a woman for her g****** number?!!? If he had stayed one minute longer I would've served up a "Real classy - go to ****". (Hoping my anger is being adequately conveyed from this screen to your eyeballs.) This isn't just about some guy and a random Friday night. I invested all my prime time that night talking to you, figuring out that you were worth my time; if you could be a potential date;  and lastly, I ignored every other fellow in the room, giving you an advantage. Even a guy who just wants to bang you takes the trouble to put your number in his phone so he can booty text you. This experience deeply troubles me, fellow datees. 2012 is becoming a lazier and more treacherous place for the single girl when men don't even bother to call- wait - text- wait - email - wait - gchat- wait no - FACEBOOK me. 


And you wonder why I prefer online dating. 

Kisser on the Roof

Matchmaker, Matchmaker,
Make me a match,
Find me a find,
catch me a catch
Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Look through your book,
And make me a perfect match!

Regardless of the fact that these days the "matchmaker" is an algorithm invented by Chris Coyne, visionary creator of OKC, one holds out hope. This past week, Ian and I barely consumed any dinner before we started our blabfest. Can we discuss how his suit was perfectly tailored- our how our mutual love for spotify resulted in a perfect "oh you - me too" moment? Or how we nearly ended up karaoke'ing next door at Solly's - but finally decided to bogard the jukebox instead? Or that I was laughing so hard at one point that the unimaginable occurred - I stopped drinking? At this point in the blog I would insert my usual disclaimers about reining in the excitement/eggs in different baskets/etc. etc. - but right now, I am happy to just enjoy this first glow. And not to disappoint, there was an unexpected but welcome first kiss on the roof of Tabaq. While overlooking the city in a breathtaking panorama, slightly buzzed, and under the gaze of a startling warm February moon, I did not need a happily ever after. The city is your fairytale, and the night is ever after.