jazz hands
so my first match.com meet-up gives me my first funny story. i meet jazz hands at a cool dive bar with several pool tables. good choice, jazz hands. it’s a hot day, but that does not excuse his ratty shorts and holey tee-shirt. i’m not a snob, but shouldn’t we be trying to make a good impression on a first date? his horrible 80s glasses are nice, too. but i press on. he turns out to be mildly funny and very intelligent. i like these qualities, so i’m trying not to pay as much attention to his attire.
then we start talking about our experiences growing up. and he says it… “i was in show choir.” go ahead, let the stereotypes fly. show choir? oh no…i have visions of choreography, shiny vests and orthopedic shoes. he proceeds to tell me stories of show choir camp. yes, they have a camp.
said in an excited voice: “they used to haze the newbies. they would make us sleep on mattresses in the middle of the room, then they would make buzzing noises, fly towards us and dog pile us. [gasp! oh no!] they also interrogated us in the bathroom. they would turn off all the lights, shine a flashlight in our eyes and question us about the school charter. it was torture!” yeah, I thought he was joking, too. no way could someone seriously consider this hazing. but he means it. and i struggle to keep a straight face.
again, very intelligent and nice guy. but i’m not really feeling the chemistry at this point. so our turn to play pool comes up. we have to play teams against another two guys. one of the guys was more my type and definitely more interesting than my date. he and i chat a bit, until jazz hands comes over to let his body language remind everyone that i was his date. damn.
jazz hands has to take an important call, so i take this time to scribble a note on a piece of paper. it’s intended for the other pool player and says “hey, you’re more interesting than my blind date. melissa XXX-XXX-XXXX.” unfortunately, jazz hands never leaves me alone long enough to give the note away.
oh well, at least he was a nice guy. i let him down nicely, and he’s still pushing for more dates. um…sorry jazz hands, i don’t think it’s going to happen.
then we start talking about our experiences growing up. and he says it… “i was in show choir.” go ahead, let the stereotypes fly. show choir? oh no…i have visions of choreography, shiny vests and orthopedic shoes. he proceeds to tell me stories of show choir camp. yes, they have a camp.
said in an excited voice: “they used to haze the newbies. they would make us sleep on mattresses in the middle of the room, then they would make buzzing noises, fly towards us and dog pile us. [gasp! oh no!] they also interrogated us in the bathroom. they would turn off all the lights, shine a flashlight in our eyes and question us about the school charter. it was torture!” yeah, I thought he was joking, too. no way could someone seriously consider this hazing. but he means it. and i struggle to keep a straight face.
again, very intelligent and nice guy. but i’m not really feeling the chemistry at this point. so our turn to play pool comes up. we have to play teams against another two guys. one of the guys was more my type and definitely more interesting than my date. he and i chat a bit, until jazz hands comes over to let his body language remind everyone that i was his date. damn.
jazz hands has to take an important call, so i take this time to scribble a note on a piece of paper. it’s intended for the other pool player and says “hey, you’re more interesting than my blind date. melissa XXX-XXX-XXXX.” unfortunately, jazz hands never leaves me alone long enough to give the note away.
oh well, at least he was a nice guy. i let him down nicely, and he’s still pushing for more dates. um…sorry jazz hands, i don’t think it’s going to happen.
posted by pdxgirl at 10:38 PM
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