:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Job Search: Yet Again ::

First the bad news: Some of you might remember I wrote that I might get laid off (one of these days, I'd like to type that without using the word "off") from my job. It seems that i was on the bubble with management considering laying off one of the less productive waiters. Word of my altercation with the lazy busboy got back to the people at human resources and as a result, I was cut. (The busboy was also terminated, but that doesn't really make me feel any better.) This happened right after I wrote that first post.

Now the good news: I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.

I couldn't resist, it was right there. The real good news - with a caveat - is that I found a new job not too long after. The new job is at another steakhouse, which is great because I like the steakhouse atmosphere and when it comes to the menu, I know the basics quite well. The caveat: this is a brand new restaurant that hasn't even opened yet. I don't even begin training until late next week, maybe. Normally, a new steakhouse be great, and this place is well known with several locations on the East Coast. However, with the crappy economy, I don't think anyone knows whether or not the new spot will take off.

I can only hope. It sucks to be dealing with this - yet again - but I only have myself to blame for the situation I'm in.

Labels: I'm an idiot, job search, server stories

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 8:30 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: Cosmos ::

Now, I don't know what it's like at other restaurants but at my current and last place of employment, the guys (who are hetero) usually all get along pretty well. If it's slow and we're standing around talking, conversations can get pretty crass. If it's all guys working that night, it becomes a frat house, with all the shit talking, pranks, and other crap we pull to get through the night. I wrote about it here and here.

I'm sure the majority of my female readers (do I have any male readers any more? Raise your hand(s)) know what movie is coming out this weekend. It was a source of humor for most of the male waiters at work this week and Ramon started it a couple of nights ago while we were setting up the restaurant. "Hey ladies, you remember to keep Friday open so we can go see 'Sex and the City, okay?" (That in itself was funny because we're so shortstaffed that nobody gets Friday or Saturday night off.)

Theo chimes in with "I'm so there girlfriend!"

"And we're gonna go to a lounge and drink some Cosmos and try to find some sugardaddy."

Of course, I can't stay quiet. "And we just have to stop by the Steve Madden store because I saw the cutest pair purple pumps in the window the other day."

(Sometimes, straight guys bond by acting really gay e.g. professional athletes rewarding a great play - touchdowns or home runs - by slapping each other on the ass, but that's a whole other post.)

It's funnier if you actually listened in on it while it happened, since a couple of the girls who work with us were laughing. (Or maybe not.)

The jokes keep going until last night, where I suddenly have this bright idea: "Hey you know what we should do: we should stop by Finnegan's, do shots 'till we're all hammered, then go to a screening and heckle the movie until they throw us out."

I was (only sorta) joking except a few of the guys looked at each other and nodded, and then they gave me that "it's not a bad idea" look. Of course, talk then deteriorated into the stuff we could shout at the screen during SATC, most of which is puerile and sophomoric. I'll spare you the details but a lot of it resembles what a drunk frat guy might yell at a drunk sorority chick during Mardi Gras weekend, and for a few minutes before we opened, we were in stitches.

(By the way, I graduated high school in 1992, in case you were wondering.)

I walked by the bartenders tonight before we opened and quipped, "you guys got enough Triple Sec?" They got the reference and laughed (Triple Sec is a key ingredient in Cosmopolitans) but the scary part was that even though I was joking, I don't think I walked pass the service bar the whole night without seeing at least one Cosmo waiting to be served. Theo had the first table of the night, a group of six middle-aged women, and their first round consisted of four Cosmos and two Sourapple martinis. We had a few bachelorette parties, and some all-female parties tonight each of those tables had at least two Cosmos every time I walked by.

Not only that, our restaurant is a few blocks from the local megaplex so after 8:00, there would be a huge crowd of women walking by every hour or so. Oddly, about half these women seemed either angry or sullen, was the movie as bad as I heard? Who knows, and really, who cares. We never followed up on my bright idea, which was probably a good thing, but I'd be lying if there weren’t a small part of me that wished I could have had that "I once got thrown out of a movie theater" story.

Labels: drinking, humor, I'm an idiot, movie, unintentional comedy

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:15 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: Easy Money ::

We were sitting around eating lunch before work started. A few of the guys had sushi delivered. I ate a late lunch so I just had a seaweed salad. One of the busboys walked by and one Lou ask him, "hey, wanna make $20?"

"Yeah man, how?"

"Eat this ball of wasabi."

"Oh hell no man. Tú loco en la cabeza, cabrón."

I looked over. Lou doesn't like anything spicy, and he left his little ball of wasabi intact. I, on the other hand, love spicy food (although wasabi isn't your traditional type of "spicy").

"Hey Lou. I'll do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, got the twenty dollars?"

"Naw man, you like spicy shit. You gotta eat two."

He reached into his other empty tray and grabbed the other mound of wasabi and made a ball almost the size of a quarter. He thought I'd back down. He clearly doesn't know me that well.

"That's nothing. Got the money?"

"It's right here."

"Okay then."

I grab the ball of wasabi and pop it in my mouth and start chewing. It was okay for a moment and all of a sudden... *COUGH* *COUGH* *sniff* Oh man this royally sucks.

My eyes started to water and my sinuses opened up to the point where I could actually see the inside of my nostrils. Lucky for me, I ate it quickly so the worst of it lasted only about 2-3 seconds. I swallow it, open my mouth and stick my tongue out like I'm on "Fear Factor."

"Damn dude, you're a crazy motherfucker." He hands me two tens and high fives me. "You are fucking crazy. I love that about you."

I smile and shake it off. "I've eaten weirder stuff than this."

Then again, he's fairly new so there's no way he could have known that.

Labels: food, I'm an idiot, server stories, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:55 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Job Search: Day 8 ::

I did some pavement pounding yesterday and dropped off at least eight or nine more resumes and filled out almost as many applications. Nothing really solid, since almost everyone told me something along the lines of "we're not hiring at the moment" or "our staff is full right now" followed by "but if you want to fill out an application, we'll keep in it on file and call if anything comes up."

One hotel I went to told me they don't take paper resumes (wtf?) but I can fill out an application on their website. I figured what the hell and I started that around noon. As it turns out, that place is owned by a multinational hotel company and this was their corporate application site. It wasn't just a simple case of filling in the boxes and checking the box that says I've never been convicted of a felony (Explain: Umm, great lawyer), as there were a series of questions and a survey that took half an hour. Which was fine since I didn't have anything else to do. (I could have just picked my nose but I'm a great multitasker.)

I need to print more cover letters and resumes so instead of going to Kinko's, I head over to my old school to use their printers. I hadn't been there in over a year and there were so many changes that I spent some time both trying to find the computer room and downloading the proper drivers. Around 3:30, I get a phone call from a number I don't recognize. Hoping it's one of the restaurants finally calling me (to tell me that they desperately need my services because I'm awesome) I answer eagerly.

It's that hotel.

That was fast. They must really need someone. We talked about ten minutes discussing several points about my experience and what would be required of me at the restaurant. Being corporate, it was one of their H.R. guys that went through my resume and called me to schedule an interview. So as it stands now I have an interview next Monday at 10:00am. Wish me luck.

Oh, there's more: While I was printing out my stuff, I ran into a girl that I met at Dewey's a couple of weeks ago. That meeting alone is worth a blog post (I'm surprised I didn't blog about that night). I'm sitting on the couch, she turns the corner, we make eye contact and each say a surprised "hey!" She's on her way to class so we chat only briefly. I get her number, and make plans to shoot some pool tonight at ten... because I'm awesome (I'm gonna keep typing that until I actually start to believe it. That could take a while.)

Considering my recent fortunes, I'm betting 50-50 that she's going to flake and not show up but then again, she might show up and have a lot of fun right?

I should mention this: I'm posting this at Taste Bakery and manager who's been working there as long as I've been going there just gave me a bag of cinnamon rolls to take with me because she didn't want to throw them out. If you know anything about me the only thing I love more than food is free food. This is a good sign.


EDIT: 7:35 - I just saw her at Starbucks. I came here after Taste closed and just walked in to get some coffee. (I think she's stalking me). We talked very briefly and I noticed she had two cups and made a (lame) joke about caffeine addiction. She said the other one's "for Joe." My first thought was, "who the fuck is Joe? Boyfriend? Study partner? Maybe a bisexual female friend whose full name is JoAnne?" (I have an active imagination.) Anyway, says I'll see you tonight and leaves. I see her with Joe, who's a tall, lanky, dorky looking guy with glasses. I think I can take him.

Oh yeah, I can't believe I forgot to mention this the first time: this girl and I have the same first name. Whoa, déjà vu .

What do you mean I'm thinking too much??

Labels: girls, I'm an idiot, job search, whoa

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 5:55 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Is she Interested or is She just Nice? ::

If there's one aspect of dating (one of many, really) that I've been bad at, it's reading women's signals. My restaurant recently hired an attractive new hostess that all the straight guys that work there are drooling over. If I didn't have all this neurosis to deal with I'd probably be drooling along. We talk like friendly co-workers do: hi how are you, how was your week; did you see "No Country for Old Men" yet; good night dork. The other guys are more obvious about flirting with her.

She's in her early 20s, energetic, and quite gregarious. So I don't read into anything when she tells me about her family, friends, and other stuff since she shares that stuff with pretty much everyone. Now, here's where my confusion starts and the reason for writing this post:

Management decided to let her train as a server to replace a guy that quit. I wish her luck and help her when I can without actually doing anything for her. At the end of her first night of training, she asks me if we can walk home together (we live a few blocks from each other) and say "sure." I want make a small detour to Pita Plus on Washington to get some take out. She agrees immediately. We end up eating there and talking some more (she talks, I listen). When our food is up I get ready to pay (for my own stuff, since at no point this whole time did I think this was a date of any sort), except she starts reaching into her purse and says "I'll get this." "Huh? What? Why?" The clerk interjects tells us we don't have to pay until after we're done eating (I'm there all the time). "You don't have to buy me dinner." She just shakes her head.

During dinner, she asks me if I can help her study for her waiter test. I get this brief moment of nostalgia where I'm back in college but once that passes I say "sure, if I'm free that day." No big deal, as long as it doesn't interfere with the Football Playoffs. We keep talking, we get to movies and I ask her about "Cloverfield." I mention I'm thinking about seeing it this weekend and unprompted, she says "I'll go see it with you." I raise my eyebrows. "Sure, if you want..." "...if that's what you were getting at. I always do that; some of my friends might say we're going to do this and that and I'll say 'sure I can make it' and he's like 'we weren't gonna invite you. this is guy's night." I just reply, "sure you can come."

The whole time, I was just enjoying her company, but that's when I realized something: Is she nervous? Why would she be nervous? She was always energetic and chatty but she seemed even chattier than normal. Or maybe I was tired and my perception was off. Anyway, we've so far established that I'm helping her study and we're going to see "Cloverfield" and I did almost nothing to prompt it. With me so far? (I'm still trying to figure this out myself.)

She notices the clerk cleaning up his counter and she stats digging in her giant bag for her purse. Again she offers to pay, again I protest. I don’t recall doing anything to deserve a free dinner, and I’m not used to stuff like this happening. She finally says, "you can get it next time we go out." Wait, next time? (I'm not kidding when I tell people that I'm not good at planning ahead. After I post this, I might watch Australian Open Tennis, I might go to sleep, or I might take dump. I just don't know. Or maybe she assumes a lot.)

She pays, I finish my shawarma pita and we walk home. She said some odd questions and comments that night; "Is this your normal walking pace? I walk fast, too. Are you religious? I like to walk around my apartment naked.” And this: “You know, when your hair is down, it really changes the structure of your face." (That's what she said, verbatim. Naturally my response was a confused "um, really?")

When we get to my street, I tell her good night and thanks for dinner. We kiss on the cheek and walk to our apartments. The last two blocks I'm wondering what exactly happened that night. I worked a 13-hour double and while I enjoyed her company, she has a lot of energy and I was drained.

The next night, it's business as usual. The TV is set on Fashion TV and "Midnight Hot" comes on. There are always thongs, usually there's sideboob, sometimes there's full boobage. There was a feature with a curvy brunette wearing a black thong and a see-through halter. Good thing it was late and the crowd thinned out because the four straight guys on the floor were ensorcelled by the model and none of us were getting any work done. We were standing around each other - possibly drooling - and if you saw us you'd probably laugh at how ridiculous it was.

I snap out of it when I the hostess smacks my arm from behind and says "alright boys, that's enough." She said "boys" yet I'm the only one that gets hit; what's up with that? I just turn my head, give my innocent smile. I turn back to the screen and she says sarcastically (I think) "if you're wondering, yes I'm jealous." None of us reply because now the model is bent over a coffee table and we’re catatonic. It stays like this for a minute till the manager sees and yells "get back to work!"

Anyway, I'm supposed to meet her Saturday to help her study and see "Cloverfield" (as long as she doesn't flake. She told me she's flakey and I made other plans anyway). As I went to bed that night, I'm wondering: Is she just looking for new friends? She just moved here. Is she just nice? Does she have a crush on me? What does that even mean? Is Saturday a date or are we just hanging out? (Yes, I'm THAT lost. Sad, isn't it?) Either way, I fall asleep with a goofy smile on my face.

Labels: big ass, boobs, dating, girls, hair, I'm an idiot, please just shoot me, the hostess

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:17 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: The Reason Behind my Resolution ::

I don't go out drinking often but when I know it's gonna happen, I usually load up on food so I get a nice buzz, while everyone around me is wondering why the ceiling fan is still while the room is spinning. (And I don't have to worry about a DUI since I don't own a car.) I might start with a couple of glasses of whiskey (or whisky) on the rocks, followed by a couple of beers (and maybe a couple more). If you remember this post, I can put away a decent amount of alcohol, though that tolerance only comes after eating a large amount of food.

After working New Year's Eve, a few of us went out for drinks at this bar next to our restaurant, where we're friends with their staff and they hook us up with discounted booze. I ate some chicken piccata beforehand but I wasn't sure if it would be enough to ward off the drunkenness. I was enjoying my night with some pool and bar chatter, until one of my co-workers decided to order us a round of Jäger shots and Heineken chasers. I normally hate Heineken but who am I to refuse a drink, right?

Unfortunately, I stuck with whiskey that night and they served it in larger-than-normal tumblers and went easy on the ice so by the time the Jäger shots came around, I was feeling pretty good. What happened after that was a blur.

I vaguely remember some large woman hitting on me and my buddy telling me, "you even try to go home with her and I'll punch you in the face." "Why?" "It'll keep you from going home with that beast." "I was just talking to her." "Yeah, whatever. Shut up and drink your beer."

I somewhat remember some greasy looking Latin guy constantly staring at me. Probably because of my long hair and apparently, Latin guys think long hair belong on women only. He did this for a few minutes before I got sick of his stare and I walked up to his face (with a pool stick in one hand) and asked very gently, "why the fuck are you staring at me?" He recoiled slightly. (I was literally six inches from his face, partly because the music was really loud and I wanted to make sure he heard me. Which was stupid because I didn't even know if this guy spoke English.) He simply put his hands up and said "sorry mang."

There were a couple of other things that I really don't care to talk about. However, this is what happened the morning after:

I woke up to my phone alarm blaring a few inches from my head. At first I wondered where I was. I figured out I was in my apartment but only after realizing that it looked different because I was lying in my bed backwards.

My clothes were in a small pile on the floor next to my shoes, yet I still had my socks on. I smell cigarettes, which is weird since I don't smoke. I turns out to be my hair, which is lying across my neck. Even though I had my hair down all night, I woke up wearing a ponytail and I don't remember when I put it up. Luckily, I still had my boxer briefs on.

I laid in bed for a moment to recall the pervious night (and because I left my legs next to the door) when my alarm goes off again. I hit the snooze button and I look to see what time it is. I'm not sure why but I set my alarm to go off at 3:19pm. When exactly did I set my alarm and why 3:19pm? I lay my head back to figure this out when ten minutes later, it goes off again, and I suddenly realize I have to at work in 90 minutes.

I drag my ass out of bed to the bathroom, where I think I smell Jack Daniels somewhere; only it's just me peeing. I limp to my fridge, chug a can of Monster energy drink, take a shower, and pound another Monster while my hair dries.

Once I get to work, I’m treated to sorry sight of waiters and bartenders in various states of hangovers. (Except for the one bartender who was fine since all he did was smoke pot all night. Yeah, that one.) I find the guy who ordered the Jäger shots and tell him to never order that shit again. His reply?

"I bought Jäger shots? When did I do that? I don't remember that! Are you sure it was me?"

Yeah, you were the one told me to get my ass over to the bar to do shots. Just before you told me to stay away from that one chick who was hitting on me. Remember?

"No."

You don't?

"I remember you walking up to some guy with a stick like you were about beat him to death with it."

Oh that. "Yeah." I wasn't going to kill him. I just didn't like the way he was looking at me.

"Whatever. I was sure you were gonna kill him because you had that look on your face again."

I did? [Pause.] Whatever. No more Jäger.

"I'm okay with that."

Labels: alkie, drinking, drunk, I'm an idiot, regrets, whiskey

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:51 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: One of my New Year's Resolutions... ::

... No more Jägermeister. Ever. My friends and I went out drinking after work during New Year's Eve. I was fine till one of them ordered Jäger shots.

Everything after that was a blur. Seriously, what's in that shit?

Labels: alkie, drinking, I'm an idiot, please just shoot me

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:56 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Tennis and Other things ::

I wrote the first section of this post months ago but I've been afraid to post it due its personal nature and redundancy to some of the related topics I've blogged about in the past. However, it's probably better to get some of these thoughts out there. The second part of this post deals with a follow-up. Like before, if you read this, please feel free to comment since I might come to my senses and delete this.

I've been playing tennis only once a week lately because of my work schedule. Like many things that require practice and repetition, my tennis game has suffered because of my lack of playtime. After this morning's session, one of pros who coached me before, asked me how I did. I responded with a scowl and disgusted groan. (Not unlike thw last few weeks.) "That's alright," he responded. "You know what I like about you, though? You keep showing up and trying."

His actual tennis skills aren't great but his understanding of fundamentals and strategy are off the charts. He is always upbeat, regardless of how well I did - or didn't - play. He could always watch me play and point out stuff I need to improve, yet made sure to praise the positive. Even if I got beat by some hack and left with a foul mood, he was unrelentingly positive.

I think my tennis game in many ways similar my dating life. I have the qualities that you might think women would find desirable, yet I'm not as good as I should be. Follow along for a minute if you will:

In my tennis game, many of the pros have told me that I have excellent ground strokes and fundamentals. For my dating life, I have that requisite "good personality" that women supposedly like. The sense of humor, the loyalty, the ability to hold a conversation, and the self-sustaining (non-clingy) personality that most would consider and asset.

On the court, I have a decent ability to analyze my opponent's strengths and weaknesses and develop a strategy on how to beat them. Likewise, I seem to have knowledge on how to carry myself as a somewhat confident male that can converse with a woman, get past her shield, and maybe get a phone number or two.

If there's a glaring weakness in my tennis game, it's my serve and game time execution. My serve is inconsistent at best. My mechanics are awful. Even when I'm able to get a first serve in it's not a great serve and a competent opponent can pounce on it and immediately put me on defense. If you ever saw Roger Federer, Pete Sampras, or Stephan Edberg play, you'd probably know just powerful an effective first serve is. With my strategy, I can set up my opponent but I fail in execution because my passing shot ends up going wide. The frustrating part of this is that I've lost games against opponents where I should have easily won. I play at an "advanced" level and I've lost 6-2 against several "intermediate" players. I'm not being self-aggrandizing, since after some of these losses the coaches would read my face and ask me "how'd you lose against him?"

Why? I've been playing tennis for so many years, I've seen so many matches on TV, that I should be able to rely on knowledge and instinct. But it's one thing to carry head knowledge and another thing to confidently execute that strategy into an actual match. I do fine at practice but once they let us play live points, I find that I either hold back, or I go for too much. Opponents whose skills are far inferior to mine have beaten me.

Like in real life, my approach is weak. In tennis, the serve is considered an offensive weapon. And at my peak, years and years ago, it was average at best. And now? I have nothing. I can't remember the last time I tried to start a conversation with a woman. Even the few times a woman was brave enough initiate a conversation with me, I couldn't follow up with anything of substance. Even if I got a phone number (which means nothing, absolutely nothing), I couldn't follow up. I couldn't execute my strategy because... well... I had little faith in my fundamentals.

And in translates as such into my love life. The fundamentals and game plan are sound. The approach and execution totally SUCK because I, in a word, choke.

I've seen men holding hands with beautiful women, despite the fact that they might have bigger guts that I do, less hair than I do, or less personality than I do. I used to rationalize it by thinking "they must be rich (or they're a tripod)." But regardless of the reason, the one thing these other guys have in common is that their confidence belies whatever shortcoming some third-party observer might have.

The similarities are eerie: when I'm playing well, I seem to attract some female attention (not that I'm able to do anything with it). When I'm not, I couldn't get a woman to look at me if I set myself on fire.

But the key difference between tennis and dating: with my tennis game, I "keep showing up and trying." The tennis clinics have regulars and many of those regular have either beaten me or heard me get beaten (I may or may not unleash a yell of frustration at times) so it's not like I'm sparing myself from embarrassment. The last six sessions have been highly frustrating to the point where I half-heartedly entertain the thought of giving up tennis. Yet I "keep showing up and trying."

Dating is the same way. I'm going to get rejected more often than not. That's the simple reality. But there might be just as good a chance someone will find me attractive and desirable. But how will I know if I don't "show up and try?" If my approach sucks, don't I owe it to myself to at least keep, for lack of a better word, practicing this? It's one thing to know what my shortcomings are, but what kind of person am I if I do nothing to remedy those flaws? Even if the best thing I can say about myself right now is that "I've never killed anybody," I deserve better than what I've had so far, right? I owe it to myself to not just seek better, but to be a better person for those I seek, right?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Miami has hosted "Art Basel" this past week, which is essentially a city-wide collective of art galleries displaying modern art. Art Basel bills itself as "the most important art show in the United States, a cultural and social highlight for the Americas." Last month, I waited on a curator who installed an exhibit at a posh hotel for a world-renowned photographer. Her past work is with some famous artists, enough that that even if you never heard of her name, you might have heard of the artist.

The first time I waited on her, I simply remember her being friendly, engaging, and having a nice smile. I normally have trouble remembering customers unless they've been by at least three times, but the second time she came in, I remembered who she was, why she was here (she lives in New York City), and even what she ordered. It was slow enough that I was able to talk to her and flirt a little. She gave me her business card. When she left that night, she left me a nice tip and a kiss on the cheek.

Fast forward to this past week: She's back in town, working her ass off trying to accumulate clients and sell artwork. When she dropped by, she gave me a big hug. We weren't able to hang out since she was working the whole week but she always stopped by on nights I worked and tried to sit in my section. Nothing developed but I enjoyed our conversations nonetheless.

I wasn't expecting much out of this and I'm still not sure if there was any attraction from her but at least I made a new friend. But this experience made me realize one of the things that was holding me back:

There are several posts about how I believe being a waiter is a great way to make living, despite what anyone else may think. But perhaps due to insecurities and other factors I've deviated from that and let it affect other facets of my life.

When sitting at Starbucks or Taste Bakery with my laptop, I'd often see other women there, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone with their own laptops. I’m usually engrossed in whatever I'm working on, but occasionally I would make eye contact with these women. Some would throw smiles my way, and yet I'd never act on them. Why? They would be dressed very professionally, with pantsuits and ponytails. Or they might be University of Miami students studying either law or medicine (that particular Starbucks seems to draw that crowd). Either way, I'd let that intimidate me and I'd be afraid to say anything.

"She's a businesswoman/law student/med student/smart. She's not going to hook with some loser waiter" is what would go through my mind. I disqualified myself without ever giving myself a chance.

But it shouldn't matter what I do, right? I'm able to sustain a very good living with my job and I have other qualities and interests that should override any occupational concerns. Right? But that held me back.

Despite that I flirted and conversed with the curator enough that she kept in contact with me, gave me a kiss, and stopped in to see me when I worked. I was able to talk to her and flirt with her enough to keep her interest because she knows what I do and she talked to me anyway.

Isn't there something wrong with that line of thinking?

If I possessed true confidence, I should be able to say "she talked to me because I'm charming, fun to talk to, and I have a good sense of humor, and smart women respond favorably to that." Not "I'm a waiter and she liked me anyway."

What's holding me back? What am I afraid of? If I was working my "real job" in advertising, all that would change is my job title, since my pay would probably be about what I make now, so money isn't as issue. (Or it shouldn't be.) Is it the stigma of being a waiter? It shouldn't be. The friend I wrote about that offered me a management job; he recently got married to his beautiful, blonde, sweet wife, despite the fact that she's an office manager (or something, I'm not sure exactly) and they met while he was a bartender at some smelly little dive bar. It shouldn’t matter.

Yet, in my mind it does and my solutions are clear: either find my "real job" so I have one less psychological barrier, or work at simply believing in myself. If I can believe in my fundamentals and my knowledge of strategy, my serve would improve and my execution would certainly get better.

Except, like tennis (and so many other things), improvement takes time. It takes practice and it requires enduring setbacks and frustration. Even in tennis I endure considerable frustration, yet I "keep showing up." There was a point in the past where I was actually a pretty good tennis player and I "keep showing up" because I believe I can return to that level.

I've dated a few women, but I was never "good with women." Looking back, I sold myself short. And I probably thought I couldn't do any better. I never really put it all together enough to date a genuinely good woman. Some of the women I dated were garbage. Every woman I dated, I remember a subconscious thought telling me "you could do better. You deserve better." I would dsimiss it, believing it to be a case of the jitters, ignoring the obvious red flags.

With my dating life in the here and now, I need to just "show up" more, results be damned. I somehow lucked into some past relationships. I can't rely on luck. Luck might win a few points here and there but it won't win you a match. I need to "show up" and let the woman decide whether or not she wants me. I shouldn't make that decision for her. And I need to find a way to overcome my demons and find the fortitude to do that. How exactly? I'm still working on that.

As for the curator? This was a business trip for her: she was attending galleries, seeing clients, selling art, and installing artwork so there wasn't any time for us to hang out. I wasn't expecting much anyway but she tried to visit me at work when she had some down time so I take that as a good sign. She'll be flying back to New York tomorrow but there were a few positives I could take way from this. The really sad thing is that I'm 33. I should have learned this shit in my 20s.

But that's a whole other blog.

Labels: dating, I'm an idiot, in a rut, introspective, the curator

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:36 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: Oops ::

I'm a little out of it most mornings but Sunday kinda sucked when I woke up with one of those stuffy noses where you can't breath in the morning but it's gone by the afternoon. I'm working the bar that day so set up the mats, glasses and bar gear, and then I cut fruit and make whipped cream for the desserts. I go to the prep room, toss in all the ingredients (heavy cream, sugar, and vanilla extract), turn on the food processor and go put my work shirt on. When I return, it's just about done. I scoop out the whip into the jug and I get a little on my fingers in the process so I lick it off.

Oh, yuck. What the fuck?

It's nasty. My first thought was that the heavy cream went bad. I sniff (or try to) the empty carton and it's fine. What the fuck? The chef walks in, sees my face, and asks what's wrong. I show him the whip. He smells it, looks at me and starts laughing. "What's so funny?" I ask. He points to the shelf where we keep the vanilla extract. It's a little disorganized and the labels are faded. I grab the bottle and turn it around.

It's fish sauce.

The vanilla is right next to bottle of fish sauce, and since both of the labels were turned around, they look pretty much identical. I guess if my nose were ok I would have noticed it sooner. There's been a few times where someone might turn the cream into butter, but this has to be a first. Lucky for me, the owner was upstairs doing paperwork so she was none the wiser.

Labels: bartending, I'm an idiot, NaBloPoMo, server stories, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:54 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Hey, it's something ::

I had the night off yesterday and feeling the need to leave my apartment, I decided to watch the Dodgers-Gnats game at Dewey's. I got there around ten. It was pretty empty so I grab a seat at the bar in front of a TV showing the start of the game. The usual bartender isn't there. Instead this cute little brunette greets me and takes my order. She must have been new since I don't think I've seen her before and as it turns out, she moved here two months ago.

Anyway, the game starts and since it's my favorite sports team playing my most reviled sports team, featuring one of the most polarizing players in recent history chasing down what's regarded as the most hallowed of all sports records, I'm somewhat into this. She notices my interest and asks if I'm a baseball fan (well, duh). We start talking and I find out she's from Philly and love the Eagles, among other things. As it gets later, the bar starts to fill up and she has to make drinks; which is fine with me since the game is close and time pretty much stops every time Barry Bonds is up to bat. In the middle of all that, AC/DC's "For the About to Rock" starts playing and I unconsciously start to bob my head to it. She notices and says, "I'm glad somebody appreciates my music." I simply smile and ask, "how can anyone not like AC/DC?" I think it was then when I finally noticed that, hey, she really is kinda cute. (We've already established that I'm slow with women. And my Dodgers were on TV and I rarely get to see them out here. What do you want from me?) It goes on like this the entire night, we chat here and there when she isn't serving drinks or if there's a commercial break.

It gets to the ninth inning, I've finished my wings and my third beer, and we're still down by three. Deciding I need something a little stronger I order a Gentleman Jack on the rocks (it's not Maker's Mark but still a very good whiskey). We lose the game. Somewhat dejected, I finish the rest of my Jack and ask for the bill. I look it over and see that she forgot to charge me for the whiskey. Maybe it's because I'm a waiter but I point out the error in case she might get into trouble (not likely but the owner has a reputation for parsimony). She briefly has that "oops" look on her face, but then looks up at me says, "that one's on me."

Oh. Cool?

The only time a bartender's ever bought me a drink is if it's a buddy at one of my hangouts and the bartenders are guys. The only time a female bartender tried to buy me a drink was three years ago and I decline because I was about to leave (a friend gave me shit for not letting a girl buy me a drink, and told me "Dan-E, sometimes, you just need to take one for the team.” I blogged about this, now that I think about it. Sorry, I'm rambling.)

So my mind is racing. Did she really forget? Was she flirting with me this whole time? Was she flirting with me because she might like me or was she just working me for a bigger tip? Should I ask her out? If I do, how do I do it without coming off like one of those creepy assholes who probably hit on her nightly? What would I even say? (I'm guessing the only guys who actually get numbers from female bartenders are either extraordinarily good looking - which I'm not - or are filthy rich and leave huge tips - which I don't. I mean, I tip well but not quite like that.)

I just suck it up. I'm tired of second guessing myself, I'm tired of wondering "what if?" I ask for her number, not exactly smoothly (rather clumsily in retrospect, not because I was drunk or tipsy - it takes more than four drinks for me to feel anything - but because as we've established in some of the previous posts, I have no game). Surprisingly, she quickly writes it down on the back of the receipt. Yep, it's a Philly number.

This wasn't like some breakthrough or anything. I was happy, but I wasn't jumping for joy or pumping my fist or anything. I'm not getting my hopes up or anything. It's one thing to get a number but I still have to see if anything come from this. I haven't been on a date since the breakup so if all I get is a nice conversation and friendly company out of this, I'll be stoked. It feels like ages since I've done this but it's a start, I guess.

Labels: dating, Dewey's, I'm an idiot

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 8:05 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: A Little Lost ::

It was almost two years ago that I was out getting a few numbers here and there. There was Eve, Tennis Girl, and Bridgette. TG was a smoker which is one of my deal-breakers, and I didn't sense anything with Bridgette. Eve was kinda by accident and I wasn't the smoothest in getting her number but at least I got it. (Which, nowadays, would actually count for something.) So Eve turned out to be a flake and it didn't work out and we never even went out once. But at least I made some sort of attempt.

I don't know what's so fucked up in my brain that I can't even seem to get the number these days. Carly might have been showing signs of interest but I wussed out because her dad was there. Of course, I probably would have wussed out even if her dad wasn't there.

I haven't seen Carly since that last time so maybe that's an opportunity lost. Fine. There's this other girl whose name I don't know yet because, well, I haven't asked. (Believe it or not, I don't go to these clinics to meet women. I actually take my tennis workouts seriously and being rather competitive, I usually don't get distracted just because some girl has nice legs. Usually.) We're at different skill levels so we usually get split up and there's not much interaction between to two of us. We played once but that was it, at the time I had too much crap on my mind (read: wallowing in my self-loathing) to really notice anything about her.

Usually, I show up, pay, play tennis, and leave. Few, if any hellos and byes. I'm friendly with everyone but I don't mingle too much since for me, it's exercise, not a social outlet. But she started up with the "hi" and "good night" the following weeks. Last night, I tried making some lame small talk with her, which for whatever reason (read: my innate lameness) went nowhere.

I don't know. There might have been something there. Or maybe I'm so hard up that I'm imagining it. There's only one way I could have found out. And naturally, I missed my moment, since she left before I did since my match went a little longer than her clinic. (And I didn't even win the Goddamn set so you can imagine my mood while walking home that night.)

Think that's lame, I have another one. I was at Publix shopping for groceries on a Friday night. I grab my cart, and while walking past the cheese section, I notice a cute blonde in a brown tank top chatting away on her cell phone. I don’t really pay attention to whatever inane conversation she might have been having since I find most public cell conversations annoying anyway.

Still, we crisscrossed a couple of times as we made out way down the grocery store and I to her credit, she wasn't yapping on her cell any more. I was almost done, and while browsing one of the aisles, I notice the blonde has pulled up in the same aisle. I'm a little confused about what to look for so I figure "what the hell" and ask for her advice. (It wasn't a lame attempt at a pickup. I really did need some help on what to get. As for what it was, it's rather embarrassing so I'd rather not mention it.) She's helpful, quite friendly, and has a very nice smile. We banter very briefly before she moves to the next aisle.

Naturally, the way things have been going, it didn't occur to me until right then that maybe, just maybe, she might have been sending me some signs. I should have asked. She could have said "no" but big deal, at least I tried right? I choked. Just before I head to check out, she walks by, looks at me, smiles and says "bye!" Strike three. Hanging curveball outside and belt high and I don't even take the bat off my shoulders.

I need to get my head on straight. Maybe I'm thinking too much. Or maybe I'm not thinking enough. I don't know. I just don't know.

Labels: dating, I'm an idiot, in a rut, introspective

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:54 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: So umm, never mind ::

Last Wednesday night I'm playing my usual tennis clinic. During the warm-ups, i notice a cute brunette in a visor that hasn't been there before. When the pros split us up, she's next to my court so during water breaks I casually check out her uhhh, skills and eventually notice she actually does have good groundstrokes. She ends up playing doubles in my court. After the match, we shake hands and I say "good game." She introduces herself, "my name's Carly." (Not her real name.)

"I'm Dan-E." "Nice to meet you Dan-E." She flashes a nice smile.

My mind start going, and I'm thinking to myself "I didn't ask for her name and she gave it to me anyway. Maybe she's trying to show she's interested? Or maybe she's just really friendly and I'm just reaching because it's been so long and I'm rusty. What the hell, let's just see what happens." (No, this isn't pathetic at all.)

As we walk off the court I tell her "you have a really good backhand (read: you have a nice ass)." She giggles, "Oh thanks."

"You been playing for a while?" (Your legs are nice, too.) "I've been playing since I was little." "That's cool." "Yeah, he started teaching me how to play really early." She points to an older guy that was her doubles partner. (Please don't tell me you're dating him.) "That your tennis coach?" (Please don't be having sex with him.) "No, that's my dad."

Your remember that scene in "Star Trek VI" where the Enterprise gets shot by a cloaked Klingon Bird of Prey and Captain Kirk is yelling "Back away! Back up! Back up!" That's kinda what went through my head the moment she said "...my dad." (Is this why I can't get a date? Being able to remember scenes and lines from old "Star Trek" movies? Women can sense my inherent geekiness? Don't answer that.) Anyway, I resume some lame small talk and we eventually say our byes.

Walking home, I was a little annoyed at myself for letting the presence of her dad to throw me off. Of course even if her dad wasn't there, I wonder if I would have had the fortitude to man up and get her number? Or even ask for it? Could I have done it without seeming nervous and stuttering my lines? Would she even have said yes? Why am I even asking myself these questions? Have I regressed this much? Have I gotten this bad? What the hell happened to me?

Why am I even sharing any of this?

Labels: carly, dating, I'm an idiot

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:15 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....