Embarking upon a Romantic Science

So, you'd like to know more about Cindy Lu's Four-Man Plan, eh? (Oh, you didn't? Well... you're kind of in the wrong spot at the moment... But, really, stay... have a listen. It's interesting at least.)

So, this is the thing about The Four-Man Plan: A Romantic Science... It's a plan. With rules. And a graph. And I don't think I'm at liberty to give all of it away (Ms. Lu might actually, yanno, like to sell some books or something), but I want to share what's needed for you, dear readers, to understand what it is I'm doing, exactly.

First, like I said, there are rules. And a graph. For starters, you're supposed to fill up the damned graph with damned menfolk. You pretty much do this by accepting all social invitations and date invitations. (I am, of course, vetting dudes online, for the most part and for the sake of speeding this graph-filling along.)

Witness, Belle's current Mantis Graph:


(Not very impressive, you say? Give a girl some time, geez!)

Essentially, the Four Man Plan allows room for, well (duh) four men. But the tricky part comes in when deciding what classifies some dude as a bona fide man. Already proving herself much more discerning than yours truly, Ms. Lu doesn't give just any human of a certain age and possessing testicles that distinction on face value. (Luckily, she has some pretty straightforward guidelines to help ne'er-do-well daters, such as myself, figure that part out.)

First and second dates are considered Quarter Men. (See Boy Blue, above, all by his lonesome.) If I only wanted to see first and second dates in my chart, there would need to be 16 of them to fill all those other squares and satisfy Ms. Lu's demands. (Quite a lot to ask, no?)

Upon a third date and the revelation that you're dating other people, said Quarter Man moves up to the Half Man territory. (Thereby taking up one half of one quadrant, see?) And there are more steps to the moving up (Whole Men and Two and a Half Men, oh my!), which I'll get into when they become relevant.

For now, I've got to get to work on those other 15 quadrants...

I have two more first dates slated this week (and a couple more to come next week). I'm going to be a naughty girl and meet Boy Blue for lunch today (moving right along on his way to a Half Man, seeing as date #3 is already scheduled...), then I have coffee plans with another schmo* tonight, and ice cream plans with another tomorrow.


* I can't even believe I'm doing this, but I'm going to go ahead and justify before my lovely commenters get in on the action... He seems to be a perfectly nice guy, and I really don't consider him a schmo at all... it's a word of the moment, at best. Geez... give a girl a break...

Looking for the Last Person I'll Ever Start Dating

Boy Blue was balls-out from message one. After the obligatory commentary on my profile and a compliment or two for good measure, he went straight for the kill: Interested in meeting up?

I liked his nerve in asking right up front, and I liked that he claimed to have interests other than sitting on his expanding bum. So I agreed to a Friday night dinner-and-a-movie* outing with the 32-year-old self-described eccentric.

He was sitting on a bench, staring intently at his cell when I arrived at 7:30 on the dot. We exchanged a somewhat awkward handshake-turned-hug and headed toward the sushi place I'd passed on my way to meet him. Conversation got off to a decent, if less-than-thrilling, start, but it quickly picked up. Boy Blue has some story-telling skills, and we didn't have any problems talking to one another.

After we'd sated ourselves with sushi, he shared some of his past times with me. Skydiving? Cool. Pottery? Neat. D&D? Erm, really?** Surprisingly, this revelation didn't completely turn me off to the guy. He did, however, go into a little more detail on the subject than I would have preferred (really? Not sure I care what that fictional dragon-type thing looks like...), and I found myself hoping for a break in the conversation so I could excuse myself to the ladies'.

He, however, beat me to the bathroom punch. I used the opportunity to check my phone and respond quickly to a text from Mamacita Bano. ( Serial killer? Likely not... he is into D&D, though...)

The server dropped the check on the table in Boy Blue's absence, and I made a mental note to work on settling that score before I left the table. Alas and alack, by the time he returned all mental documentation of those intentions was long forgotten, and I retreated to the loo.

Only once inside a stall did I remember the check on the table. Damn. He's going to think I'm that girl who expects to be paid for all the time. By the time I returned, he'd settled up, so I pointed out my poor timing. He made light of the situation, which was a pretty decent response. (I like a guy who can rag me for things like that.)

All that finished, we meandered out of the restaurant and headed toward Cleveland Park, since we had something like two hours before Dark Knight*** started.

And, whoa... what a two hours it was. During this time, Boy Blue came out with the following, in no particular order:

- An invitation to his sister's birthday dinner the following day. In Philly.
With his family.
- The story of his divorce.
- An invitation to Niagara Falls the following weekend. With his family.
- The story of the disillusion of his last relationship.
- An invitation to the Poconos in a couple of weeks. Again, with his family!
- His five-date rule. (I'll know within five dates if I want to be with someone.)
- Some stories about his sexual exploits.
- The claim that he is currently looking for the last person he'll ever start dating in this life.
- Many stories about his family.
- His belief in communication being the key to successful relationships. (Spot on, Blue.)

So, wow... all summed up like that, it seems a bit overwhelming for a first date, no?

Maybe the humidity muddled my brain, but I really wasn't put out by most of this. I openly called him out about several of the things on that list (meeting family the day after date one? Saying he's searching for the last person he'll ever start dating?), and he took that well, sparing me no gentle ribbing when it came time for him to call me out on something.

I was honest that I'm not really in the market for something serious. (Not that I'm opposed, should something work out that way, but I'm not setting out to settle down at the moment.)

Anyhow, by the time we were in the theater and waiting for the movie to begin, I was overcome with the urge to kiss him. I figured I had two options... ignore the urge and risk being distracted throughout the movie, or go in, balls-out, for a kiss and get it over with.

Being that I'm Belle and all, I chose the latter. (It was just a peck, okay? Nothing that could be considered obnoxious PDA by anyone but the most prudish of prudes.)

He, too, apparently felt compelled to get something out of the way before the movie began... I, he informed me, had passed his five-date test, socially-unaccepted smoking habit notwithstanding.

What, I asked him, you don't need five dates to decide you could be with me?

Nope, he told me. I've made up my mind.

Good for you. Now, if you're lucky, you might pass my newly-adopted five-date test.

The highly-hailed movie did not disappoint, and, aside from a couple pecks distributed during down moments in the flick, Boy Blue waited until the credits were rolling to give me a proper (but not too lengthy) kiss. Must say, that didn't disappoint either.

We walked back to where I'd parked, and I gave him a ride to his place before heading home. He asked to see me again, to which I agreed. (I did, however, reveal that he got off easy with the dinner/movie deal and that I was considering his plan for Date #2 a test. Boy Blue better step it up.)

And, maybe I'm crazy to accept a second date from a guy who, despite having just met me, seems like he could be down on one knee with a ring out in the not-so-distant future. But it's all part of the rules of engagement, right? Date #2 should reveal more...


* Dinner and a movie happens to be my least favorite standard first date plan. In addition to being a sad cliche, it's way more suitable for a third date, in my opinion.
** Got any questions? Belle's recently gotten a little schooling in the world of D&D.
*** If you haven't seen it, get thee immediately to the theater and watch in amazement and awe. Go on, now, git!

Now, Boys, Don't Get Your Undies in a Wad

Oooh, oooh! Seems the menfolk are all up-in-arms about me playing this game by some rules. (Yay for controversy!)

So... here's my response to your comments/questions/rants about yesterday's Rules of Engagement post.

My reasoning for using the rules in question is as follows...


Why I wait to respond to messages:

Thing is, I want to be out dating and having fun. Trying new things. Making adventures and having experiences. That really is the whole freaking point of this endeavor.

And... if I'm filling up all my free time responding to messages from strangers on the internets, I'm probably not going to be doing much of the aforementioned adventuring and funning and whatnot.

When I was meeting guys online before, the overwhelming email traffic and marathon chat sessions eventually became a time-consuming burden.

Sure, I had some "great" correspondence with a number of dudes during that time, but the truth is, it took a lot of time to have that "great" communication, which, in turn, rarely translated into anything noteworthy in the real world. In fact, it most often translated into exactly nada in the real world.

While meeting people online has its appeal (speedy for all us busy folks, you all know you're looking, you get some initial insight, etc.), it's not a good way to get to know people. I now know that I can't gauge if I'm going to hit it off with or even tolerate the sight or smell of someone else if we're only corresponding online.

So, basically, I want to go out. I have no interest in hearing someone's whole life story via email over the course of 6 months (ever again! And I mean it). The profile via which these guys are contacting me makes that pretty clear.

It's shit or get off the pot time, fellas.

And, really, what's the point of responding immediately to all their messages? Much like my correspondence with friends and family, I find that going into my inbox and responding to everything at once is overwhelming. I'd much rather take a day or so to think about a response and subsequently pound it out for delivery.

I hope these guys are also enjoying full and active lives (otherwise, I'm not really interested). If not, should it really be my concern that they might be sitting in front of their respective monitors wondering when I'll get back to them? (Been on that side of the screen, too. It's not fun, but I can't freakin' blame it on anyone but myself, now can I? Likewise...)

You can call my delayed responses coy if you wish, but I'll reiterate that I'm making no apologies. All's fair, friend.

Also (and I'll say this full well knowing I'll likely take some heat for it), in the short period I've been waiting a day or more to respond, it seems like I've garnered a lot more dates than I did the last go-'round, when I was responding at lightening speed to Frank, Stan, and Every Man.

It seems some guys might actually be motivated by the absence of constant availability. (Who would've thunk it?)


Why I do not revive communication:

Again, I'm a busy girl. And I'm not wasting time considering these dudes real until I meet them. (Been there, done that. Anyone know where I can get the Tshirt?)

So, while they may have sounded good up to a point, if they drop off the face of the earth, I'm not going to chase after them. Frankly, I have plenty of others stepping up to keep me busy at the moment, thankyouverymuch. And, oh, an actual life going on outside this whole dating venture (fancy that).

That said, if some dude drops out of contact for a while and suddenly reappears, nothing in my rules prevents me from getting back into the flow with him. Dig?


How I define 'creepy':

Honestly, it varies. My friends seem to believe I have a (dangerously?) high tolerance for creepiness, but if I'm creeped out, he's out. No matter the impetus.

(And, really? You're going to question that one? I mean, c'mon... it's MY safety potentially at stake in this whole thing. It sucks that you think you were let go for a case of miscommunication, but I'm not going to compromise my safety to right the wrongs you believe you've endured. Thems just the breaks, man.)

...

Just as an FYI, I didn't create this profile and start out with a set of rules (which are, again, really more like guidelines anyway... Belle doesn't know how to play by rules, yo). Sure, they weren't too long in coming, but, really, I adopted them because they seem to be working well for me so far.

I could sit here all day long and try to explain things in a way that made you all like me or agree with me, but I'd fail in the endeavor, and what purpose would it serve?

Oh, and another thing... I could use some structure and guidelines in this whole dating endeavor. I mean, have you read about some of the stupid things I've done?

Some Rules of Engagement

So, we're about a week into this dating site membership, and I'm going back and forth via email (and, on rare occasion, chat) with several guys. I've been out with one of them, and my calendar reflects a few more meetings lined up for the next week.

I'm playing by some (loose) rules on the correspondence front for the moment, which include (but are not necessarily limited to):

- I respond to messages that include: appealing substance, an adequate exhibition of wit and/or intelligence, and/or a reasonable amount of intrigue.

- Most of my former dealbreakers (excluding those involving safety, creepiness, or wearing a chain) are currently considered inadmissable for the purpose of opting out of pre-date communication [and initial (1-2) date(s)].

- I do not respond to any message on the same day, but I respond to all messages (that warrant responses) within a day or two.

- If a guy stops contacting me, I do not attempt to revive communication.

- If a guy creeps me out, I cease communication immediately.

- If a guy doesn't creep me out and finds the nerve to ask me out, I accept.

- I'm not pussyfooting around anything this time 'round. No finessing any facts or fine-tuning self-portrayal for the sake of glittering myself up. And no apologies. I am who I am, and they get what they get... take it or leave it.

I'm also a bad blogger who received a book for review many months ago and (gasp!) has yet to review it. As of now, though, I'm officially following The Four Man Plan, by Cindy Lu. We'll consider it a social experiment of sorts, and the review will be chronicled in the results of this endeavor.

More to come on Ms. Lu's Plan and Belle's new venture onto the dating scene...

Back to It...

As a result of some recent and questionable decisions and behavior on my part, I feel now is the appropriate time to thrust myself back into the realm of dating.

I made a resolution this year to make healthy choices. So far, the most obvious result of this has to be (if I may toot my own horn) a rather remarkable physical transformation. While this more tangible change was (and is) definitely a big part of what I wanted (and want) for myself, I have deeper goals for my mental and emotional health.

My recent actions are difficult for me to swallow, but I'm working on using the experiences as those of the learning variety and moving forward and toward an overall healthier Belle.

In that vein, I hastily created a profile on a dating site this weekend and have begun the vetting. Stay tuned for more details...

I Stole Your Girlfriend

If you hadn't realized before, it must have become pretty clear to you just last night, when she dropped the bomb.

I stole your girlfriend.

You didn't even make it difficult for me. I didn't have to try. All I had to do was have fun with her to open her eyes to exactly how inadequate your services rendered were.

I didn't set out to steal her away. In fact, it never even crossed my mind. Your relationship was your own affair. Flawed, certainly, but whose isn't?

I could have been the devil in her ear, telling her how wrong you were together. Pointing out your faults and failures. Joining in, filter off, when she did come to me with complaints or criticisms.

But I didn't.

There were even times when I took your side. Told her why I could see your point of view in this tiff, that squabble.

You told her you felt her drifting away. Yet you did nothing.

And so she drifted, out and on. And now she's ended it with you.

You tell her, "I know it's not Belle's fault, but..."

You had it right there. No but necessary.

Breaking Even

Still bleary-eyed and barely functional, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, my body struggling against gravity and inertia as I made my way to the 7-11 for requisite a.m. caffeine and nicotine.

Mere steps from my destination, I placed one foot on the sidewalk, haphazardly taking a path across the cross-hatched metal I would normally go to great lengths to avoid.

The steel grates underfoot.
The unseen train moving beneath pavement and earth.
The knee-length, pleated skirt I'd donned an hour earlier through half-closed eyes.

I made a half-hearted effort to push my skirt down, but, really, I was too tired to care.

Inside, I avoided the wait for coffee and bee-lined for the energy drinks. The man in front of me at the checkout wore a button down and tie with a bandanna tied Rambo-style around his forehead and stared lasciviously at me with a wicked grin.

Outside, Red Bull and Parliament in hand, I made a mental calculation.

Pedestrian and motor traffic was relatively light, and the site of my apparel plight was partially shielded by buildings and a trailer. By my unscientific estimation, approximately 10 people were likely to have witnessed my starting the day Marilyn style.

I figure I brightened the day for about 5 of them (Rambo Wannabe included), and probably ruined the day for the other 5.

I'm okay with that. I mean, at least I was wearing panties... Right?

New Rule: One Strike

In a somewhat noteworthy turn of events this weekend, I was approached (separately) by two (seemingly available) guys.

Each sent me a drink from his bartender friend and came over to chat a bit later. Both received my number before we parted ways.

I met G1 Thursday. (G1 = Fun and easy to talk to, somewhat older, somewhat full of himself, and almost certainly a pathological liar.*) He said he'd call Sunday.
I met G2 Saturday. (G2 = Lacking stellar conversation skills, cute baby face with unacceptable hair, and almost guaranteed to come with baby' momma drama.) He said he'd "get in touch sometime."

The screen on my phone crapped out over the weekend, so I couldn't tell who was calling or read any of my texts. Talk about a crap shoot... (Eat shit, LG.)

As a result of the dead screen and my thinking Gotta Go Girl was calling me back, I answered G2's call on the first fucking ring when he called me later the same night. 1:30 and nothing in particular to say, hrm, G2?? This wouldn't happen to be a booty call, would it? Sorry... it'll take more than a Dirty Goose Martini to get into my pants tonight...

And, when I got my new phone today, working screen and all, I was blessed with this beautiful literary endeavor from, I have to assume, G1.

Thanx for the great chat on Thurs. Lets do it again sometime

Oh, swoon. You found the key to my heart, G1! Poor spelling and grammar get me every time. Oh, and I really get all riled up when a guy can't be bothered to actually call me. Makes me a little wild. How ever did you know?

Thanks for the drinks, fellas. And buh-bye.


Love,

Belle

* G1 made the following statements during our "great chat":
1. I graduated high school in 1996.
(Ed's note: No fucking way. College, maybe, but I doubt even that.)
2. I have four Purple Hearts.
3. I'm going out on Billy Joel's yacht tomorrow. He's my godfather.

One of These Things is Not Like the Other

Coworker #1: Why can't your party be a pool party?
Belle: Because I don't have a pool.
Coworker #1: Damn. I missed my chance to see Belle in a bikini.
Belle: Um, you and everyone else... I don't wear a bikini...


Coworker #2: So... what's the age of consent in Mississippi?
Belle: Gross, CW2! Why do you want to know?!?!?!


Coworker #3: Belle, I appreciate you.
Belle: Thank you, CW3.