It's only textual...

"It's only textual..." is the second part in Fail Date DC's technology series entitled "Technology is the Future, Except When it's Not".

On Friday after work, I started my weekend off in my favorite nail salon, still recovering from a pretty late Thursday night, and enjoying the fact that I didn't have to go into the office for two whole days. As I was flipping through the obligatory nail salon copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, an article about "reading men's communication signals" caught my eye. On any given newstand, on any given month, you can probably find the same article about how to read your man's communication signals or ... how to figure out what he's saying when he's not saying anything... etc., etc. This article, however, specifically discussed how to interpret your crush's "electronic communication" signals. We all know that if a man doesn't return your calls, or doesn't call when he says he will, then thats probably a pretty good sign that he's not very nice, or just doesn't like you. But NOW, when single people meet someone new they potential have to deal with not just calling someone and leaving a phone message, but figuring out "signals" via text, Facebook, myspace, twitter, Skype, Google chat, AIM and the list goes on! Well, maybe the list doesn't go on, but that's still a lot of social networking opportunities!

Anyway, the people at Cosmo warned me to not strike up a relationship with a man who uses Facebook as his main communication tool. They say that if he's Facebooking you, then he's probably Facebooking who knows how many other women! *Gasp!* On the other hand, Cosmo applauds men who text you between the hours of 12:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. Their logic is that these men haven't texted you in the early morning because hopefully they have jobs to go to, but they aren't texting at 11:30 p.m. either, when chances are they are very drunk (Cosmos words, not mine). These men are texting in the daylight hours in the hopes of catching you early enough in the day to make plans for dinner or drinks. Wow, all my dating problems are solved. Thanks Cosmo June 2009 issue, where have you been all my life?! But of course, I jest.

I have recently fallen victim to a "relationship" built solely on Facebook, Google chat, and texting. And, yes, I was still surprised when the texts and Facebook messages stopped as suddenly as they had started. I had just gotten out of a pretty serious relationship, and was drowning my sorrows in college football watching and cheap beer, and was very pleased when a particularly fun guy at the sports bar, who happened to be a friend of a friend, asked for my phone number.

The next day this guy initiated the text messaging dance that would last for about two months. That day we must have texted each other about 15 times! In my post breakup haze I was so eager to get attention from any man, regardless if it was communication in the form of 87 texts. By the end of that first day I was his Facebook friend AND he had tagged me in multiple pictures from the night before. As you can imagine, I was so excited to embark on my new relationship! But because I hadn't read Cosmos' warnings about Facebook and texting at this point in my life, I was in for a rude awakening.

I thought that the amount of time this guy spent texting, facebooking, and google chatting meant something. All these years of dating in DC has made me a little jaded, but I still thought the attention was nice and special. During the two months of electronic communication we hung out in person a total of two times. I was asked out on both of those outings over text or facebook. Now, you might say the reason we didn't hang out anymore than that, is that we just didn't click or he just didn't like me. I would totally accept that theory if not for the excessive amount of texting that followed our second outing. And then one day the texting and facebooking and gchatting ceased abruptly. And I was only left to wonder what had just happened.

So thats how I was essentially courted via text message, asked out multiple times on Facebook and gchat, and then electronically snubbed, all in a matter of 2 or 3 months. The times we spent face to face were terrific and fun and I held on to those memories through the flurry of text messages I would receive from him. I look back on it now, and can't believe how dumb I was to not follow common sense. Which to me is, if a guy isn't calling me, or wants to hang out with me in person, then I shouldn't waste my time. But during my post breakup anxiety, and the plethora of communication tools at my disposal, I took the "easy" way out and basically ended up dating the keypad on my cell phone.

In closing, thanks Cosmo, for your words of utter wisdom, but to avoid any future confusion, I'll probably stick to the good old fashioned phone call.

A non date is what it sounds like...a non date.

A couple of weeks ago, I swore off dating for two reasons. I just couldn't stand the thought of getting rejected anymore by men who aren't that cool to begin with, and two, I don't want to spend my spring and summer obsessing about whether a particular man of interest likes me or not. Which, unfortunately, is something I do. Wouldn't you know it, the following week a seemingly nice, young, funny man asked for my number, and I was right back in the game again.

I met Philip on a low key night in DC while hanging out with a couple of girlfriends. My friend had invited her coworker and his friend Philip out to meet us for a couple of drinks. Philip had boyish good looks, a good job, and was extremely funny, and after a couple hours of great conversation and budding chemistry, I was delighted when he asked me for my number. Although he was several years younger than me, I thought, "why not?". This situation was proving perfect on my newly discovered "non-dating plan", I'd just go out for a couple drinks with Philip and hopefully have a good make out session at the end of the night.

Eventually Philip called me to hang out one Friday night. To be clear, he asked me to join him and his friend at probably the dirtiest, seediest bar in DC for a couple of drinks. This venue was perfect for my non-dating plan. Its clearly not a date if a guy invites you out with his friend to go to a windowless bar that reeks of awfulness and every surface is sticky or wet. I asked my friend to be my wingman, and we set off to see what the night would bring.

My friend and I arrived at the smelly bar to find Philip and his friend, waiting (and drinking quite a lot) just as planned. Philip and I picked up right where we had left off, flirting and laughing, and I thought for sure I had a late night make out session in the bag. I felt like I had reverted back to college again, and I frankly didn't care what anyone thought about that.

Our little group quickly decided to finish our collective drinks and beers and head to an equally loud, yet slightly cleaner bar up the street. Outside the door to the bar was a highly intoxicated guy puking repeatedly all over the sidewalk. I'm telling you, the ambiance couldn't get any better. We made our way in and cozied up to the bar. This is when Philip went to the dark side.

Philip: Would you like a shot of tequila?

Me: Umm, I don't really want tequila, but I'll take shot. (The ordering of shots also fit nicely with my "non date plan"). A SoCo and Lime shot would be okay.

Philip: Okay, SoCo and Lime it is. (Smile, and then...) Hey bartender, 4 shots of tequila. And I need salt!"

Me: Why did you just do that?

Philip: It just came out. Sorry. (Then he smiled and chuckled. Be still my heart, blegh.)

Our little group, including my poor friend, begrudgingly choked down our shot of rail tequila. I looked at Philip with stinging tears in my eyes from the taste of the alcohol as the tequila burned inside my chest. "That was awful", I said.

After 30 minutes or so of more flirting and talking (I wasn't going to let the tequila beat me), Philip suggested we go somewhere else, and settled on going to a nearby bar that featured lots of alcohol, a DJ, and plenty of dancing. When we arrived, Philip handed his credit card instead of his Driver's License, to the bouncer. "You can't come in, you're too drunk", the bouncer said, laughing. Philip, in his embarrassment, turned around and explained the situation to me. I should have taken that as a sign to turn and walk away slowly, but no, I stuck by my man, and urged his friend to sweet talk the bouncer into letting Philip inside.

The details of the next 10 minutes or so are blurry, I'm not sure if it was the tequila or my brain's way of blocking out what was actually happening. In the span of those 10 minutes, Philip fell on the floor pretty hard inside the bar and then got up and ordered what looked like a whiskey and orange juice and chugged the whole thing. Looking at him with disgust, I was at a loss. All I wanted to do was have a good time. I should have left him, stranded, at the bar. But instead I took a different path, in fact, its probably a path well traveled by drunk girls everywhere. I grabbed Philip by the hand and drug him to the dance floor.

I won't go into the details of my dance floor antics, but they involve me dancing wildly and making out with Philip. Not my best collection of moments. At this point I had no idea how the evening would end with Philip, but I was determined to find out. He told me he had to go to the restroom and that he would be right back, grinning from ear to ear. I promptly ran back to my friends and told them how drunk he was. As if that would make up for my behavior as well.

Then nothing happened. Nothing. So anti climatic, I know. Philip disappeared from the bar, never to return from the bathroom and continue to crazily dance with me on that crowded dance floor. A friend of mine who was at the bar, promptly asked me what on earth I was doing with that guy. I answered that I was just trying to have a good time, and I had failed. I walked home swearing off all real AND non- dates. When I returned home, I angrily texted him "What happened to you!?!". The text made me feel better, I wasn't going to dare call him!

The next day, although confused by the previous nights events, I slowly got over it and decided not to think too much about what happened. Philip obviously got way too drunk to act like a normal person in public and his only option left was to split the bar before he puked on me or completely passed out. That's the story I was going with. What a great non-date! That afternoon I got a text message from Philip in response to my previous one sent the night before asking what had happened to him. He explained that he was hit by the "tequila bus", said that he was usually more of a gentleman, apologized, and then told me he had a nice time with me though. I'll probably never see him or hear from him again.

So that's how I found out that a "non date" is just that, a non date, nothing more. At my attempt at reverting into college party mode, I found out that it doesn't work as easily as it did when I was in college. But after all this is DC.


The End.