Looking for Mr. Darcy

Since I have been married for the past twenty-three years, I have just chosen to live vicariously through your exploits on this thread.

This is a grave resposibility for you. Buck up, dear.

Now, what I need to know is:
Have you ever been on a blind date? This could be the regularly accepted 'blind date' or, due to my efforts to be easy on you, a date with a blind person?

If so, any shockers?

Do begin.





[size=7](When you do find Darcy, he will like you just as you are...) [/size]

*Names are all fake to protect the innocent and not so innocent.

In March I turn 33, former Celtic Larry Bird's number, so having hopes it will be a good year. And the mere fact that I'm even using a sports analogy should probably worry me. Birthday itself was great. Took vacation day off from work. Opened packages and cards from out of state friends. Mum and dad gave me some lovely things, and have dinner with my aunt (the Salem witch) and her husband at funky restaurant in Cambridge. Entire restaurant sang happy birthday to me at urging of the staff. At 23 would have died of embarassment, at 33 am thinking, "Like I'm ever going to see any of these people again? Lovely, lovely time.

A few Thursdays ago, large party for retiring boss, at quaint old tavern in Boston. We get over 100 people, and rejoice in wise selection as member of party planning committee. See both my ex-crushes from work. Former Crush #1 Dan was busy in crowd talking only to attorneys, but walks by table later on and I say hi and give him big smile. Don't even think of attempting any conversation, last time I saw him in elevator was awkward enough. I wonder if my friend Gianna's sister Maria told him I had/have a crush. (Two years ago when I revealed this crush to the ladies at the holiday bash she waved him over to our table). Ahh what's done is done. I chat with Former Crush #2 Sean from personnel bravely, and even do that, my hand on the arm thing. He must still have a girlfriend, for made "polite excuse" and ran to get his briefcase. Generously I depart so he can safely return. My friend Nicola and I chat a bit with Carl the office fashion plate/player. I ask him when he will be moving into his new window office and he explains he will be staying in his current office (next door to the paralegal office where I work). Apparently he misses having a window, but the space is just not enough for him. However, this one isn't the worst of the lot, so I don't get it but whatever.

Tuesday, April Fool's Day. Go to cocktail party for young members at library. Nicola not feeling well so meet her and other friends Nina and Penelope there. Elliot from work also comes along. Had a major pizza bagel issues with Elliot last winter down in my old division but I am over it. His loss, could have fixed him up with lots of nice, conservative Jewish girls not from intermarriages like myself if he was willing to relocate to New Jersey or Pittsburgh but alas he blew it. Nicola tries to push him sometimes, despite knowing how the whole incident with him upset me, but it's a no go. No problem bringing along a guy though. These things make me realize how I really should have taken flirting 101 at some point in my life.

My friend Nina to the rescue, she takes me under her wing. We walk around the room, she says to look for eye contact? This is very weird for me. She introduces herself, and me to two guys who are alone. One is very tall and barely looks like he's legal (to drink alcohol), and the other short with beard and glasses. The tall one is a marketing guy for big city newspaper, seems sweet. Gives me advice about doing research, I already know about the resource he mentions, but thank him politely and enthusiastically. Nina moves over to him, and I chat with the bearded friend. He says he is a paralegal and I tell him I am as well. I ask him if he belongs to the paralegal association and he says, "Why would I do that for?" Strike one -- I'm doing so well. He goes onto say, being a paralegal is his day job and he's a writer/scholar. I say I am a writer too, he asks what I write so I tell him fiction/poetry--I'm a dime a dozen, turn and you'll probably run into one of us. Dead silence follows my saying this. Strike two. He tells me he is reading Proust and I don't quite get the author/title, the band is a bit loud for the ringing in my ears (not something I'm gonna mention). He repeats the title condescendingly. Yes strike out is complete--even the practicing is going so well. Go on for a while threading water and it's pathetic. His drink is empty, so I let him depart. Have overheard during this, that the cute, babyfaced marketing guy has a girlfriend, know Nina will want to move on as well, which she does.

We go back into the more quieter room and Elliot is chatting with me about work stuff. I decide not to be rude to him, even though one guy lounging against wall is looking at me (I think) peripherally. Oh well. I get much braver as night goes on. Walking through the crowd I say hello to everyone, both men and women to make it easier. Then it's time to go. At least I have truce with Elliot.

Last Friday night, my Aunt Margarita threw surprise party for her husband's birthday at the ITAM (my crazy Italian side of the family). Look up directions on the internet for my mom, but when I tell her, she says she got directions from my aunts. My dad is in bad mood, it's cold out, and he doesn't want to go. We promptly get lost. I presumed the directions my mom got had street names and landmarks, which is not the case. Note to self, next time, do not believe mum and bring MapQuest directions despite what she says. Luckily see local police car, special unit SUV in fact. Nice policeman starts to give my dad directions, realizes my dad is hearing impaired. Says to follow him instead. Yes we get special SUV police unit escort to the ITAM. We are early and our table next to DJ and his speakers. Mom insists our table be moved because of my ears, this is done. My dad is cranky, does not want to go get drinks for mum and I, not like him at all. Hall is cold, but finally put the heat on. Everyone arrives, my nonnie (Italian grandmother) is not thrilled to sit at table alone, so she sits with us until Margarita and family arrives. I buy mum a glass of wine and myself a soda. Bartender looks like extra from "Goodfellas" gives me the soda for free. Hoping that it's ITAM policy. Yeek.

Guest of honor and entourage arrive. Anthony who the birthday boy, is visibly not thrilled. The music starts and the evening goes on. Margarita accuses control freak Aunt Lina of moving our table, I rush to explain it was because of my ears for a change. I get up to dance the Marcarena the only line I can tolerate (I think it's the latin flavor). DJ is obnoxious. Keeps calling me babe. Then I think, I think (it's been awhile) I feel his hand on my butt. Think perhaps this an accident? Evening goes on, and more dancing. It happens again, and is apparently no accident. Mum is gushing about DJ, so I say I'm not thrilled with him and fill her in. "Well at least someone still likes your butt," she says. Then later, "But I think he's gay." Neither of which are helpful or comforting.

Rest of the weekend is uneventful, mum says former friend from teaching has nephew she wants to fix me up with. (Yes I have been on blind dates before). He's just graduated from law school, yikes. At 28 I would say that he is too young, except he may get special dispensation, apparently he is a pizza bagel as well. That could be interesting.

Poor thing.

All that intrigue and no one got nekkid.... The state of singlehood is bleak.

Oy, edithdoll! I just had flashbacks to before I met Mr. Jespah.

My sympathies, dolling.

<keeping a close eye on this thread since he will be 33 next year>

I'm reading this and thinking "that reminds me of the time that...". Good lord.

You know, I'm engaged and it still doesn't stop. A little story:

Last weekend I went into Copley Place with the boy, two of his guy friends, and one of their girlfriends. The evening goes on, I'm just sitting at the bar chatting to everyone. But this guy is getting closer and closer to my end of the bar. Maybe just looking for a seat?

We get up to go across the street, it's getting late, but one of the boys bought a final round and leaving no beer untouched I must consume it. But then I find that no one bought a round. It's from that handsome guy that's been working his way down the bar towards me. He said he didn't realize that I was 'with' anyone.

Yeah, buddy, the guy that I've been occasionally smashing lips with.

He's hot, he's cute, he's from New Jersey - he also plays the bugle like a nutjob at all hours of the day and night. At least that's what it said on his business card. I'm not kidding. It just made me thankful, once again, that I have the boy.

So that's what happened to the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B!

Edithdoll, It happens all of a sudden, when you least expect it.
You meet Mr/Miss/Mrs Right and you are swept away and you become one of the Besotted Ones. All warm and tingly. It didn't happen for me till I was in my late 30s. I wasn't looking and I quickly ended up getting married.

...especially if your Mr. Darcy looks like Colin Firth!

Thanks all, and just to be clear, I've done the purposely not looking thing since 1995 and I guess I'm still not, but by now I don't have much faith in the fates--so keeping my options open--if you know what I mean. Never considered myself a husband hunter or anything and still don't.

Footenote to last week. At surprise party last week, saw my aunt's maid of honor since I was the jr. bridesmaid in the wedding with her when I was twelve. She asked me if I was married, of course, no harm in that, et al. I cheerfully replied I was the family spinster : ) So at least I have a sense of humor about it, although I don't think she got the gist of the joke. Perhaps she doesn't know what spinster means, but whatever.

Quite a quiet week. Went to the library twice, just to be comfortable entering the place, and to not feel conspicious. There are a lot of young people, and the guys there always hold the door for you which is nice. At work on Friday saw Sean at elevators on the way to my old division to meet the ladies there for lunch. Me without glasses, I never see anyone, and I guess he knows this (after five years anyway) and calls out hello to me. And so I turn, give big smile and say, "Oh hi how are you doing?" All while still smoothly walking on my way--you know places to go, people to meet for lunch, which was true. Very good, old young self would have stopped and stammered. Much better, I like being 33.

Yesterday at my small town library, with its dear, musty book smell and collection jar begging for money because funds have been cut--the gray haired librarian who works there told me the book "Shoeless Joe" always makes him cry. Ahh yes. Today another special birthday surprise party. Extended Italian family this time--my cousin in law's father turning 80. Hoping that sleazy DJ will not be there. My mum still insists he was wonderful and she thinks he is gay.

With everything going on in my family and life this week, I haven't given boys much thought--except I'm no longer sure I'm looking for a Mr. Darcy--think I'm looking for someone more like the watcher of the hobbits in the Lord of the Rings (both the book and film). The one who gave back the ring to Frodo, and wasn't afraid of goblins, because my Aunt Lina (the control freak can be pretty scary.

So he has to be brave because there's the Italian side of the family, the Jewish side (including Chinese Jews and a couple Jews for Jesus--yeek) and the extended family (many artists and also a Salem witch). Yes I definitely need to meet someone who does not scare easily, and again not being afraid of goblins--definitely a good thing.