Thirty Day LA

Enough of this ambiguously friendly stuff! It's apparent to any outsider that Assassin and I share a special type of affinity towards each other. Why keep hiding behind the guise of a friendship? If something was going to happen out of this, I'd have to make something of it...and so I did...over IM. Pathetic? Yes. But did it work? Well, I'll leave that judgement call to you...

The (abridged) IM conversation went something like this:

Mixtape: So, do you have any plans this coming weekend? I have two tickets to this concert saturday night. I'd love it if you joined me.
[Some time passes by. It was actually a minute or so, but it felt like a long time to me.]
Mixtape: In case you were wondering, I'm asking you out on a date
Assassin: A date? Hmmm...Why suddenly the "date" status?
Mixtape: Because I wanted it to be a "said so" date. As in this is explicitly a date because I said so.
Assassin: A "said so" date?
Mixtape: Yup. So there's no ambiguity. None of this, "Was this a date or were we just 'hanging out' as friends" stuff.
Assassin: How is this going to be different from all the other times we hung out?
Mixtape: Hmmm. I don't think I know the answer to that. Do you?
Assassin: Hmmm. No, I guess not...
Mixtape: I guess that's something we'll have to find out...
[Some more time passes by. Once again, it was only a minute or so, but it felt like a long time, again. Time flies when you're having fun, but apparently it flies when you're anxious as well.]
Mixtape: So...?
Assassin: Yes. I'll come. And yes, it could be what you want it to be.

And with that, everything was set in motion. I looked up directions to the concert. I made reservations to an italian restaurant nearby. I cleaned out my car and made sure I had some good music to listen to. But all of this prep work couldn't prepare me for the night.

I was on time when I arrived at her place, but she apparently had just gotten in moments before and needed time to get ready. I paitenly waited outside, trying to calm myself down so that I wouldn't act all nervous. After all, nothing has really changed except for the fact that this was explicitly a date, right? Some time later she came out, though she seemed a bit flustered. I walked up to her to give her a hug hello, but she just kept walking to the passenger side of my car. I think she stopped for a split second because she realized that she just passed me by, but it was a nano-second too long to remedy the faux pas. Not the most ideal way to start things, but I figured she felt pressured since we were running a bit late.

We hit traffic on the way there, which didn't help our tardiness any. This gave us time to chat in the car, but apparently she had a long day and hadn't really had any time to breathe and relax. She then asked me how I was doing, but after hearing how she's had a long day, it's hard for me to say something like, "Today was awesome!" Instead, I struggled to find words and had an even harder time putting them together. To make matters worse, trying to quickly navigate through traffic while maintaining a good conversation made me fumble my thoughts -- a testament to my poor multi-tasking skills. What was wrong with me?! Why did I have trouble talking? Was it because I was driving under a time pressure? Was it because of the "said so" date status? I was disconcerted, and it wasn't helping this date along.

I finally started to warm up a bit, and the conversation was slowly on it's way to a rolling start. But then she got a phone call, and I assured her that it was fine for her to answer it. Unfortunately, the conversation went on for quite awhile. Her friend on the other line wasn't doing so well, and Assassin was offering some advice and words of encouragement. This whole incident was a bit of a catch 22: it was a good thing because it reveals how she treasures her friendships and just how caring of a person she could be, but it was a bad thing too because, since the conversation was a long one, I began to feel ignored, dejected, and unimportant. Thirty minutes into the date and I was sinking, which is especially bad because I don't know how to swim.

By the time we made it to dinner, I felt like I had already reached the black abyss. I don't even remember how dinner went. Nothing in particular stuck out in my mind, which most likely means that it was just so-so. I'm sure dinner wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. "Maybe things will be better at the concert," I thought.

The problem with going to the concert as a date is that you don't interact with each other for the duration of the show. Maybe if you had front row seats, it'd be exciting. You'd be sitting with the biggest fans (the ones who would sell their soul to have a drip of their favorite musician's sweat fall on their face), you'd see every intricate detail of the performance, and the energy would be through the roof. Unfortunately, due to my limited budget, I had tickets for the worst seats in the entire venue. The surrounding crowd seemed pretty dead, people would talk/yell to each other as if they were at some bar, and people would get in and out of their seats, forcing you to get out of your seat to make room for them to pass. The music was loud enough so that you couldn't really hear each other unless you yelled, but it was quiet enough to assure you that you've got the worst seats ever. So we just sat there and watched until the whole thing was over.

Assassin had to be up for an early start tomorrow, so after the concert was over, I drove her back to her place. She invited me in and offered me a glass of water, which I promptly drank. The night ended with me giving her a hug goodbye and a quick kiss on the cheek. I bolted out the door, knowing full well that the night wasn't as good as I expected it.

Now, don't get me wrong. The night was entertaining. I had fun, and she said she did too. By anyone else's standards, it was a good way to spend a saturday night. However, I built it up too much in my head. I set high expectations, making it easier to achieve disappointment. There was so much I could've done. So many times throughout the night I wanted to hold her hand, put my arm around her, or just go ahead and kiss her -- but I didn't. And by the end of the night, all those absent attempts got to me. On the drive home, I wondered why I didn't do those things. Was I just too scared? Was I discouraged? What was it exactly? Although part of the answer to that question dealt with my preconceived notions of how the night would turn out, the more important part dealt with this simple fact: I know Assassin too much.

The thing is, is that I knew enough about Assassin to make me doubt myself. A few months prior, Assassin was in a long-term relationship. Had enough time passed by since the breakup? Was she completely over him? Was he completely over her? Was she ready to jump back in to the dating scene? Did she need more time to "heal"? Was I just a rebound? All these questions were a maelstrom in my mind. Each of these questions weren't mine to answer, but my mind and my senses formulated its own answers anyway, and it ultimately built itself up to an illusionary wall created by me. Such is the trouble that uncertain knowledge brings.

So did the date go as I had wanted it to go? Nope. Am I forever doomed when I date someone I know "too much"? No, not exactly. That isn't quite the issue. What I learned from all this is that there exists some sort of self-defeating mechanism within me. Uncertainty is my weakness. It creates questions, and it makes me struggle to come up with answers. But when it comes to the uncertainty in dating...I must accept that I will never come up with the answers on my own. Instead of trying to come up with answers to the questions, I have to let the questions find the answers on their own.

That's the end of track 3. Please wait patiently as track 4 will begin soon enough.

-- Mixtape

Posted by Mixtape at 8:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For the second date of my 30DateLA journey, I tried to do something that many say is impossible: jumping from the "friends" ladder to the "more than friends" ladder. But as my experience with Assassin goes, it isn't really a quick jump. Rather, it's more like a parachute glide across gusty winds: you have to instinctively react to each sudden change in conditions and just hope that it was the right one.

If you're not familiar with the analogy, it goes something like this (or at least, this is how I understand it). When a guy meets a girl, the guy places the girl on the relationship ladder. The bottom level of that ladder is the "stranger" level. As they get to know each other more, the girl climbs that relationship ladder, and their relationship grows. Sometimes the girl may just stay at the "stranger" level. Some could possibly reach the "friends" level. But regardless of where she decides to stop climbing, every girl has the potential to reach the upper rungs of the ladder -- the "more than friends" level and beyond. On the other hand, girls do something quite different. When a girl meets a guy, the girl places the guy on one of two ladders. At the top of one ladder is the "friends" level, and at the top of the other ladder is the "more than friends" level. If the guy gets placed on the "friends" ladder, then he may climb all he wants -- he'll never reach the "more than friends" level. His only chance is to jump from the "friends" ladder to the "more than friends" ladder. Unfortunately, a dark black abyss separates the two ladders, in which case he may very well end up in hell.

Although I’ve only known Assassin officially for nearly 3 years, I’ve known of her for about 6 years. Assassin was “one of those girls”: you’re out and about, minding your own business, and for some odd reason your radar goes off, forcing you to quickly glance at someone in your peripheral vision. Assassin seemed to make my radar go crazy every time. After awhile, she became a familiar face. However, with different interests and different groups of friends, our worlds never overlapped…

…Until we ended up going to graduate school together. I think my relentless gazes every time I passed her made me a familiar face to her, and so she introduced herself to me and we talked for a bit. Over time, we got to know each other more, but with her non-single status and the stresses of graduate school, I wasn’t about to hope to be anything more than a friend. We would talk to each other every now and then: frequent enough to maintain a familiarity, but infrequent enough to not feel bad about forgetting each other. And that was that.

I don’t quite know how it happened, but we started hanging out together more often. I can’t say who started calling whom, or what sequence of events brought us closer together, but before I knew it, we were hanging out every week.

Now, some people may misconstrue all those “hangout sessions” as dates, but as was defined in a previous entry, a date must be coupled with intent. I entered those “hangout sessions” with no intent at all. I enjoyed her company, and that was that. During those times, I never had the mindset of taking our friendship anywhere beyond that. But the inevitable is unavoidable, and my fondness for her was bound to become something more whether I wanted it to or not.

I started hanging out with her more often. I started taking her out to lunch, dinner, happy hour, etc. I would talk to her about random things at even more random times during the day. I would compliment her and I would find myself playfully and instinctively flirting with her. I would change around my schedule if it meant spending time with her. I was attentive to every detail she told me about her. The signs were all clear: I was definitely falling for her. The great thing about this whole scenario is that it all happened so naturally and honestly on my part. There were no games or anything like that. I wasn’t trying to be someone, nor was I trying to impress her or anything. It all just…happened.

Ok, enough of the back-story -- on with the date. Assassin was going to go on vacation for a week, and despite the fact that we’ve been seeing each other nearly every day, I had to see her before she left on vacation. There was a movie she wanted to see, so I offered to cook her dinner and watch the movie over at my place. I ended up not cooking and just ordered in instead, but that’s beside the point. The main point is that it was a perfect set up for a date: an intimate private place, a comfy couch, a big screen TV, a romantic comedy, and good food to go with it.

The food was good, which easily brought a smile to both our faces. The movie was funny, and we laughed together. And despite the three-person couch I had, we sat right next to each other the whole time. Put my arm around her shoulders, and we’d be cuddling…so why didn’t I put my arm around her??? Why didn’t I try to hold her hand or move in for a kiss??? Why didn’t I do anything???

I don’t know.

The night ended, and I gave her a hug goodbye. No doubt, we both had fun. True, something more could have happened, but even though it didn’t, I was reassured with the possibility that something more could happen some other time too. This obviously wasn’t going to be the last time I was going to see her, which means that I would also have other chances.

The thing about dating someone you kind of already know is that there will be mixed feelings about everything. And in this case, those mixed feelings got the better of me. Sure, I wanted to put my arm around her, or hold her hand, or just kiss her softly on the lips. But when it came down to it, something stopped me. The frustrating thing is that I don’t know what stopped me. Was it because the friendship we had was good and I didn’t want to risk it? Was it because I was scared? Was it because things were changing and I just didn’t know how to deal with it? Sadly, I can’t say for sure.

Going on a date with a friend is a tricky thing. You may like her and she may like you. But as externally apparent as that may be, there is an internal conflict brewing within the both of you. Unless the winds die down or the stars align just right, the journey you think you’re ready for will be unpredictable at every moment. Can your instincts see you through? Can her instincts see her through? Making it work requires that you both jump off the ladder simultaneously into the black abyss, hoping somehow that the winds will naturally guide you two together.

There you have it ladies and gentlemen, the end of track 2. Tracks 3 and 4 have already been produced and are currently being edited, and there’s a possibility of track 5 being mixed this upcoming week. Stay tuned!

-- Mixtape

Posted by Mixtape at 8:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

As I start off on my journey of dating, the one girl I am closest to and respect the most has just ended hers. This past weekend, my little sister, all of twenty four years old, got married to her boyfriend of five years. Months earlier, my sister had asked me if I could MC the wedding reception and also create a slideshow with pictures from her childhood. I agreed to help out, but I also had more selfish plans: I saw this as an opportunity to participate in 30 Date LA, only it would be in Northern California, but that’s just semantics. I asked a friend from college who was now living in Northern California if she’d like to be my date, and she said yes.

The first time I saw her was in my first year of college. I was an introverted kid with a foul mouth, still awkward from high school and figuring out how to traverse this new college universe. She was a year older than me, and it showed. I would see her in the dining halls, sitting there with her flowing hair and bright eyes, chatting and laughing with everyone who was not me. The way she seemed comfortable with everyone was exciting to me, and I wanted to be part of her world. Eventually, I would be. We became friends, but it seemed clear to me that she wasn’t interested in me, and I was scared to cross any line that might exist. I grew close with her friends, and it always frustrated me that I could be myself around them but not her. It never occurred to me that my attraction to her would be quite obvious. We hung out frequently, and I took solace in the fact that I never thought I’d be spending so much time with a girl I liked so much. But underneath my vain attempts to be myself around her, I knew that I would always wish for something more. After a year or so, I gave up any romantic hope between us. I went on to date some other girls, but she remained my biggest college crush.

It took eight years, but I finally discovered the balls to ask her on a date. I took a day off work so I could drive up for the wedding. One of my other duties for the wedding was to be a groomsman. I had always imagined myself growing old as a bachelor, so I thought it would be, at the most, fun to participate this closely in a marriage ceremony, though not very relevant to my life. The ceremony was held in a huge modern church with sweeping vaulted ceilings, automatic retractable window shades, and space for all 400 of my sister's wedding guests, including a small orchestra as well as a band.

Standing up there with all the other groomsmen, we waited for my sister to make her grand entrance. Then, as the orchestra started played the wedding song and the vibrato of the violas echoed through the large chamber, it hit me. My kid sister was getting married. I saw my dad leading my sister down the aisle, and I smiled, something I don’t do that often. I felt excited and proud. She looked beautiful in her wedding gown. I looked over at my mom - she was smiling quite foolishly as well. Then the ceremony began. The pastor gave his speech about how marriage is like a marathon, how it starts off exciting, then becomes torture, but the important part is the finish. He said that while marriage takes a lot of work, the committment to building a family together is one of the most important and fulfilling journeys we can take. The groom gave his vows, then it was my sister’s turn. The band leader gave her a guitar. The audience, as well as the groomsmen including myself, made hushed noises of surprise. Words appeared on the big screens above us. My sister had written her vows as a song. She began strumming the guitar and singing, her voice quavering because she was crying. One of the verses in her song that described the groom as her most precious gift in all the world really got to me. At one of the most moving moments of the ceremony, I got all bitter and fatalistic. I thought to myself, no one will ever say anything like that to me. Then she sang about how she’d do anything for him, even give up her family name to take his. I stopped. I looked back and forth between the screen and my dad. He was caught up in the moment and I’m sure he didn’t mind, but I did. It was at that point that I realized that it was my responsibility to carry on the family name. Not a great feeling, especially considering my sentiments immediately preceding that part of the song. When my sister finished her song, the entire chamber erupted with applause. As the bride and groom walked back down the aisle as man and wife, the orchestra finished with the closing song from Star Wars: A New Hope. A dorky, cheesy, and incredibly beautiful wedding ceremony, all wrapped up into one.

I haven’t talked much about my sister, but that’s because I don’t really like talking about her. She’s damn near perfect. Most of my guy friends agree that if they ever have a daughter, they want her to be exactly like my sister. She is smart, driven, and talented in all the ways that I am not. I remember those occasions when we were growing up, as I was divining the secrets of life, I’d run home and share those secrets with my sister, and she would simply reply, “Yeah, I know that already.” She once told my mom that I am smarter than her, but I give up way too easily, which is why I’m at where I’m at and she’s got everything together. I know I wouldn’t be able to lead the kind of perfect life my sister does - I’d be rather disgusted at myself; but at the same time, I’m very proud of her in every way possible.

As the guests flooded outside for some snacks and drinks, I said hi to family friends I haven't seen for years for a short while. Then I had to go pick up my date.

Now I'm going to reveal how lame I truly am. One time when my date had come to LA to visit, I had shown her the new used car I had just bought and she said how it was really nice. Then a few weeks before the wedding, I was talking to her online and I told her she could drive us in the new car she had just bought, but then she commented about how my car was really nice and we should go in that. So the day before the rehearsal, after several phone calls from the friend I was supposed to carpool with and my parents who were concerned that I wouldn’t be able to drive long distance so soon after having jaw surgery, I decided to drive myself, for the express purpose of picking up my date and impressing her with my nice car. Truly, truly lame.

I pulled up to her house, my car freshly washed and waxed (which only happens about once a decade), and called her to come down. She came out wearing a long black and white print dress that I remembered seeing her wear to another wedding in some of her online pictures. She looked nice, regardless. Her mom and her brother’s fiancée came out too, and I said hi to them. I had met her mom before and we got along really well. Then my date told her brother’s fiancée that I was like a little brother to her.

A little brother. Fucking perfect.

After exchanging a few pleasantries with her family, we drove off to the wedding reception. I told her about how she missed a nice ceremony and described to her my sister’s plans for the future. We talked about our own futures as well, a topic I seem to always discuss while driving to go on a date. She said she usually does things in her life so that other people are happy. I thought about how I do things mostly for myself but usually end up unhappy. Either way, we both felt unfulfilled. However, after almost nine years of friendship, I finally felt like I was being myself with her while driving over to the reception. Every time I looked over at her during our conversation, our eyes met. I felt really comfortable with her, and I wondered why I had never felt that way before.

We walked inside the massive banquet hall and took a seat near the front. Another friend handed me a microphone, and that’s when I started to get nervous. I scanned the crowd and realized that I was in a dire predicament. I had originally planned to tell some really raunchy jokes, but in a crowd of mostly hardcore Christians and old people, I realized it probably wouldn’t fly. Luckily my sister had planned out every minute of the reception, so all I had to do was improvise and fill in the blanks. My sister had opted against having an open bar at the reception, so I was in desperate need of alcohol. Thankfully, the backup MC grabbed one of the waiters and told him to bring us a couple Heinekens. What a life saver.

The reception started off inauspiciously. My first duty as MC was to introduce my side of the family. Now I had no idea that you’re just supposed to announce people and have them stand up. The first thing I did was yell, “Dad! Where are you Dad, get up here! Dad!” Not realizing that he was standing right behind me. I made him stand up in front of the stage, and then I announced the rest of my family and made them get up on stage too. I told my first joke of the night, directed at the bride: “We’re all proud of you for renouncing the family name.” That got a laugh from the crowd and my mom yelled my name quite reproachfully, so I knew it was a good sign.

The rest of the night I split time between hanging out with my date, figuring out the timing of the rest of the events, making jokes on the mic, and trying to introduce my childhood friend to single girls (there were all of 3 there out of at least 50 girls our age). Whenever I ran off, my date would talk with people at the table and she didn’t seem awkward or bored at all. At one point I went off on a long-winded speech about how my sister stole all the good genes in the family before announcing that my dad would sing a special song for my sister. He had practiced it for 3 months, and he might have cracked a little bit at the end, but it was really solid. Then my sister sang a duet with my dad to reinforce my point. I’ve never seen my mom so excited before in my life, she was laughing and cheering and clapping her heart out. Throughout the night, friends of the newlyweds would come up to me and say how much they were enjoying my emceeing, which got me feeling pretty good. Then we played the slideshow, which I was rather proud of, and then there was some half-hearted karaoke and some dancing.

Now one of the things I discovered much later after becoming friends with my date is that she is an awesome dancer. I am passable when I’m drunk. That night I wasn’t anywhere close to being drunk, and so I probably danced like shit. There was some guy there acting like a loud drunken asshole and he danced with my date, seeming to take a keen interest in her, but I ignored it. Turns out she knew him through her high school friend. So when my emceeing duties were finally over, I spent some time trying to get into a picture with my sister, but she was busy with all her friends who were leaving. While I was waiting, I sat with my date at the table, just relaxing and talking. I was facing one way and she was facing the other and our legs were touching the whole time. It felt really intimate, despite the thought that she clearly had no interest in me, the little brother. I figured that any other date to my sister’s wedding where I was the MC and socializing with everyone and getting props for my jokes left and right would have fallen in love with me on the spot. Not my date. I don’t know if she’d ever recognize me for anything other than the brash, bitter, insecure kid I was in college. But for some reason, it didn’t matter to me. I wouldn’t have wanted to go to my sister’s wedding with anyone else.

When I was finally able to squeeze in some time with my sister, she told me that she was really happy with my emceeing. Meanwhile, the drunk dude who was dancing with my date tells her that he’s driving up to Berkeley and he can take her home. So when I go back to hanging out with my date, she tells me this and I don’t know what to say. First of all, I don’t want to act possessive, especially since she’s not even my girlfriend, and if she wanted to go with him then it was her choice. She said it was up to me, so I don’t have to drive too far. This got me flustered for a while. Then I ran around to say goodbye to a few more people. I said goodbye to the Best Man, a really genuine and nice guy who also had a great sense of humor and happened to be a genius. He was engaged to his very attractive fiancée and they were getting married in June. He told me how it was really great to meet me and piled on the compliments. He didn’t get to meet a chance to meet my date that evening, so I said I’d introduce her. Then he said something that almost messed me up for the rest of the night. He said, “She’s really lucky to have you.” I didn’t know how to respond. It was one of the nicest things someone’s ever said to me, and I didn’t really have it in me to tell him that we weren't together. When I introduced my date to him, I hoped he wouldn’t say anything like that to her, and luckily he didn’t.

After we said our goodbyes and promised to stay in touch, I noticed that my date was holding the drunk guy’s dress shirt in her hands. She said he went to the bathroom and gave it to her and told her not to leave and he’d take her home. That’s when I decided that I wasn’t going to be a fucking little bitch anymore. I told her that I’d drive her home and we’d wait and give the guy his shirt back. He comes back out in his wife beater and I tell him that I would be taking my date home. He looks at me for a moment, then shrugs like he’s saying whatever, and gives my date a hug. I tell him he can take a bottle of wine home, then I shake his hand and tell him it was nice to meet him. I was a perfect gentleman all night and I wasn’t going to ruin it over this guy. When I told my friends about him, they said I should have beat his ass or said something like “Why don’t you take your date home instead, oh wait you don’t have one.” I was caught off-guard, and it was something I don’t plan on allowing to happen again.

Anyway, I thought I had handled the situation as best I could, and I didn't think about it once the whole drive back. Instead, we talked the entire time. Mostly, I was listening, and I don’t remember ever us talking that much before. I might have still been on a high from the success of the reception, but I was really happy to be lost in conversation with her. When we eventually made it back to her house, she asked me if I wanted to go up. I thought about it for a split second and said, “Let me park my car.” So I followed her into her house and I heard her talking to her mom, who was still awake. I kind of expected it, so I wasn’t terribly disappointed, and it wasn't like I was expecting any other scenario. We talked about the wedding a little bit, and then she showed me around the house. We came back downstairs and I showed her mom the wedding itinerary, which she found fascinating. I said she could have it, maybe it would be useful in planning my date’s brother’s wedding. So my date walked me out, told me to give her a hug, and we chatted for a while as I put on my shoes. Then I said goodbye and told her to give me a call the next time she comes down to LA.

When I think about it, I don’t really know what to make of the date. The next day, one of my high school friends who was at the wedding asked me if there was anything going on between us. I said no, we’re just friends. She probably knew that I liked her, and maybe even had an inkling that I still actually like her to this day. I did my best to get out of the friend slash little brother zone, but I guess my approach wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

So while the date itself might not have exactly been a complete success, I had an amazing evening. The bittersweet feelings arising from the date were overshadowed by the happiness I felt in being a big part of my sister's beautiful wedding. I got the best reward I could ask for: seeing my sister smiling and laughing and enjoying her special night.

Posted by CaptainMelo at 10:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)