Steer Clear of Starving Artists and....Yoga Mats

I realize that the majority of my posts thus far have been stories seemingly stuck in the time period of college debauchery. The two go hand in hand; good stories and college debauchery that is and honestly I don't think its possible to have one without the other. While there surely will be more stories from that time period (correction: countless stories) I thought I'd dish about one not so long ago, to prove that the my dating life being synonymous with a sitcom or life time movie is not necessarily directly related to keg beer. Keg beer never hurts though.

Living in New Haven, Connecticut aka the home of Yale University - I can't help but mingle and rub elbows with some of the most brilliant minds and off...beat personalities in the country. I have to be honest- of my good friends that I've come to know and love here, ALL of them are Yalies. But even they will admit that book smarts runs this city, not so much street smarts or sparkling personalities. Let me set this scene... my first week here I was invited to a kegger that my house mates were throwing in our backyard. Normal enough right? I spent most of the night discussing the ethical issues of meat production and consumption around a keg of natty light. Just kidding, the keg was definitely NOT natty light. I felt like legally blonde does yale that night, quite the difference from passionate football debates that acted as intermissions between keg stand competitions at Auburn.
I learned quickly how to hang here. Nod and look generally interested, chime in with general theory and NOT facts. To say that I've learned a lot would be the understatement of the century.

While I've dated a surprising amount since moving here, each was very short lived and I've accepted the fact that I will most likely not meet my price charming in New Haven. The two types of guys to choose from here tend to be 1) Jersey Shore does Connecticut or 2) Mad Scientist - both of which run at an average height of 5'4, are generally unpleasant to look at and contribute conversation/game that I - run far far away from. It was just as soon as I decided not to date in this town that the Yale Grad bar crowds parted to reveal the biggest dream boat I've ever seen since I headed north of the Mason Dixon line. The stars aligned, our eyes met and he proceeded to hit on me with a simple "hi". It worked but let it be noted that my standards are instantly lowered if a guy in this town is over 5'9...and he was, dear god he was (6'4ish (!!!)) - it still shocks me. We talked  a lot. From the moments he said hi, we were in this- only the two of us world that night and the next, which I openly agree is really annoying but like I said he was such a dream boat. He was a struggling artist who graduated from Yale Graduate School of Art as a sculptor. He worked from a studio in New Haven and traveled to New York and back for shows. He gave out this strong, mysterious, troubled artist vibe and I was intrigued. We'll call him "The Sculptor".

Our first date consisted of wine, cheese and a Audrey Hepburn-Cary Grant movie. Swoon. I remember leaving the date though with less swooning and more red flags. There was a ton a chemistry but a big miss on basic views and opinions of life and the world. For example...cheese. I know a persons view on a dairy product normally doesn't indicate a certain world view but our conversation on the subject taught me a lot about him instantly. We were swapping various receipts because one of my new years resolutions was to cook more...I mean to cook, in general. I mentioned the ingredient of sharp cheddar and he instantly got this snobby smirk on his lips and literally scoffed out loud. That then turned into a 20 minute lecture on how he has a major problem with any of the "ordinary" American type cheese such as cheddar, munster, american, colby jack etc and refuses to buy anything unless its in a fine cheese section, in a wheel formation and wrapped in partridge paper.

......wwwwwwwhhhat?! ri-damn-diculous. I tried to defend the merit behind a good ole simple piece of musnter or cheddar cheese but then realized if you have to debate or defend the greatness of ANY simple pleasure in life to someone, that could the first of many speed bumps in a relationship with them. I called him a cheese snob. He openly admitted that he hates all presumably normal or generally accepted social norms. And I left thinking...hating something solely because its popular is just as bad as likely something solely because its popular. Like and dislike things because you actually  like or dislike them. Would he role his eyes when I want to watch Gossip Girl or The Office? Would he scoff when he saw the occasional Miley Cyrus or Chumbawumba song on my ipod?? Where and when does the madness it stop?!

We had a couple more "dates" after that because I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. And fine I admit it, because he was hot. I thought that if he accepted me for who I was and I did the same for him, it wouldn't be a problem. Silly girl. Our next date he invited me over to his place to show me his "studio" and sculptures. His studio was filled with partially finished body formations, make shift shelves and mass amounts of molding wax. Some of his work was pretty cool but some of I couldn't really connect with...stuff like the sculpture of a left arm....painted turquoise....with a jagged apple in the palm of the hand. I'm sure it had this deep meaning and analogy that could be explained in a couple of days - but it didn't translate to me and I found myself staring intently at his work, nodding and saying "awesome" more than any person should. Fail.
I then noticed this mess of blankets, a single pillow and a rolled up yoga mat in the corner, which prompted the question "where's you bedroom" - no sexual invitation intended. He said "this is it"....meaning his studio was also his bedroom. He said that he slept on his yoga mat, on the floor nightly. In my head: ".......alright. interesting. weird.....alright then". For the rest of the night we had quasi-decent conversation, staying away from the cheese topic until - unavoidably, the beginning of the end, began. 

You know that part in the Little Mermaid where Ariel sits there with the sea's version of a daisy and plays the "He loves me, He loves me not" game? Well...out of no where he thought through that game aloud about his conflicting feelings for me, in front of me. It went something like..."So I wasn't going to call you. I didn't want to see you. until I did want to see you...so I called you. I don't think I'm ready to date anyone, but lets make out....I probably won't call you but hopefully I'll see you around.....ok lets make out, but you shouldn't stay over."

...............on your yoga mat? Yeah I'm gonna pass, thanks. I went home and made a grilled cheese with sharp cheddar. So there.

As always, stay turned.
xoxo
M