Go 6 & Go 7
Go 6
Name: Pete (I maintain it is Paul).
Programmed in phone as: Pete NYC (apparently there is already a Pete I do not know stored in my phone. Gotta love those drunk nights out).
Age: 31
Height: 6′1
Deserving of special mention: Dude laughed at everything I said. Never before has “I like ketchup” brought forth such raucous laughter.
Education: Upstate NY. Our discussion of my college: “Is that a Catholic school?” “Dunno.” Blank stare. “It has really green grass!” Laughter.
Bar locale: Irving & 18th. This is the second occasion a date has attempted to take me to Bar Jamon but failed due to spacial constraints. I have decided if a date ever actually does succeed on seating at Bar Jamon, I am testing my new birth control on him. Paul and I trotted over to somewhere named “Pete’s” (helpful as I kept wanting to call him Paul). Unfortunately this scenario involved him saying let’s have a burger! Refer to aforementioned side note on Nugget re: dates involving food.
Alcohol units consumed: 0. In response to what would you like to drink, Paul goes (with a wide grin) “I sure could go for an iced tea, yeah!” My vodka loving id died a little. Paul continued, “I’m not much of a drinker.” What’s a girl to do, order a Shirley Temple? Done & done.
Mechanical mention: Upon arrival of our food, Paul fumbled with his fork and it somersaulted across his plate. If a man lacks basic function with cutlery he hasn’t the slightest chance of getting anywhere near my anatomy.
Match commentary: Paul was all, “with Match it’s like guys can stay single forever because it’s a non-stop stream of dates. I’m not that kind of guy.” I wished hardcore it could have been approp to tell him I had my next date in 2.5 hours and that I am precisely that kind of girl.
Time expended: 45 minutes (I am a super fast eater).
Overall assessment: What a waste of good height.
Go 7
Name: Xavier
Age: 30
Height: 6′
Ethnicity: French. Despite the Australian fiasco of 07/08 and my adamant protests of ever dating outside of the red, white & blue again, there is just something really hot about the accent that I cannot fight.
Digs: Until recently he lived in the building across the street from mine and says he “knows” my neighbors without shades. Which leads me to believe his former neighbors “know” me and my taste in undergarments, and that on occasion, when really drunk, I dance.
Bar Locale: East Village
Alcohol units consumed: 3. Noteworthy - dude was buzzed after just three drinks. Light weight. Lame.
Match commentary: He recently had a Match date, who became a stalker. She undressed (except for her shoes) and went out to smoke on his terrace where she attempted to seduce him (to no avail). They probs just weren’t heels.
Additional commentary: He has had sex in a church (in a confessional). That gets props. Also on plains & trains. Digging his diversity. The closest I have ever come to this was junior year of college I wrote an essay on the mile high club, which my professor then made me read aloud to the class. Nothing gains the respect of your male peers like elaborating 69 on a 747.
Time expended: 2 hours.
Overall assessment: I had higher hopes for him, as he is not a re: guy. Each message had an original subject line, one of which involved the aid of Babelfish. That’s money. Alas, no. Re: foreigners - I am back to that sabbatical.
Side note: I am considering taking a brief break from assessmentating. I need to wear a bathing suit in a couple of weeks, so I believe my efforts would best be expended losing 10-12 pounds rather than sussing out viable men of sufficient height. And efforts they will be given that ephedra is no longer on the market and cocaine is too commercial for my taste.
