The Yoga Master
I am excited about a man again.
I've been momentarily excited about this one before, but he disappeared about the time my dad got here to help me move. He found me on Match dot com - or maybe I found him back when I was still enthusiastic about Match dot com and could search through the profiles without blowing my stack.
Since then, as you may recall, I got totally bent and wrote the feminist manifesto profile (Stonerdate 07.22.11). I'm pretty sure that my disappointment over Abilene Steve had a lot to do with my hostility toward Match Men in general. I really did like Abilene Steve, but it turns out that Debra, She Who Seeks, was right when she commented that it looked like I dodged a bullet. Although he may have calmed down by now, in my imagination Abilene Steve will continue to run through the Hudson Valley with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a dead cat in the other.
Namaste.
I don't know if the Yoga Master was monitoring my progress on Match dot com or if it was simply a matter of synchronicity, but as soon as I updated my profile and sounded friendly, he reappeared. Could be that once there was finally a nip of fall in the air, New York admitted that we were not on Summer Hours anymore. Could be that he got his personal projects finished up enough to turn his attention back to recreation. Maybe it had to do with my mentioning in the profile that I had a brief episode on Ashley Madison after I had filed for divorce but wasn't strictly single. I don't know, and frankly I'm not so sure I want to know. In any case, I'm excited again.
In the past, I have made disparaging remarks about men who post photographs of their property on dating sites. I could go on about the offensive nature of materialism in general - but I have a feeling that my real objection was that the property itself was entirely pedestrian. The Yoga Master's property is not only a manifestation of his authentic self - it's a hotel, of sorts, that he created and is currently promoting. I thought it was brilliant to combine on line dating with marketing since a lot of broads in NYC may not ever consider actually living at a yoga retreat in the countryside outside Ithaca, but they'd spend a bundle to hang out there a few weekends a year.
I was intrigued when I saw a couple of photos on his profile back in June, and I am even more intrigued now. He's coming into the city next weekend and has asked me out to lunch.
For the moment, I'm cooling my jets because we may never go beyond lunch no matter how easily I can see myself traipsing around his countryside. But stranger things have happened, and besides, I like the anticipation as much as the date itself. Sometimes more.
There's also another little fellow trying to come in from the periphery even though I've told him I am fundamentally opposed to his profession. He's a military contractor who trains pilots for electronic warfare. He says that Brits with a certain pedigree all spend time in the military. I figure his pedigree isn't particularly remarkable or he wouldn't be living in New Jersey.
I've been momentarily excited about this one before, but he disappeared about the time my dad got here to help me move. He found me on Match dot com - or maybe I found him back when I was still enthusiastic about Match dot com and could search through the profiles without blowing my stack.
Since then, as you may recall, I got totally bent and wrote the feminist manifesto profile (Stonerdate 07.22.11). I'm pretty sure that my disappointment over Abilene Steve had a lot to do with my hostility toward Match Men in general. I really did like Abilene Steve, but it turns out that Debra, She Who Seeks, was right when she commented that it looked like I dodged a bullet. Although he may have calmed down by now, in my imagination Abilene Steve will continue to run through the Hudson Valley with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a dead cat in the other.
Namaste.
I don't know if the Yoga Master was monitoring my progress on Match dot com or if it was simply a matter of synchronicity, but as soon as I updated my profile and sounded friendly, he reappeared. Could be that once there was finally a nip of fall in the air, New York admitted that we were not on Summer Hours anymore. Could be that he got his personal projects finished up enough to turn his attention back to recreation. Maybe it had to do with my mentioning in the profile that I had a brief episode on Ashley Madison after I had filed for divorce but wasn't strictly single. I don't know, and frankly I'm not so sure I want to know. In any case, I'm excited again.
In the past, I have made disparaging remarks about men who post photographs of their property on dating sites. I could go on about the offensive nature of materialism in general - but I have a feeling that my real objection was that the property itself was entirely pedestrian. The Yoga Master's property is not only a manifestation of his authentic self - it's a hotel, of sorts, that he created and is currently promoting. I thought it was brilliant to combine on line dating with marketing since a lot of broads in NYC may not ever consider actually living at a yoga retreat in the countryside outside Ithaca, but they'd spend a bundle to hang out there a few weekends a year.
I was intrigued when I saw a couple of photos on his profile back in June, and I am even more intrigued now. He's coming into the city next weekend and has asked me out to lunch.
For the moment, I'm cooling my jets because we may never go beyond lunch no matter how easily I can see myself traipsing around his countryside. But stranger things have happened, and besides, I like the anticipation as much as the date itself. Sometimes more.
There's also another little fellow trying to come in from the periphery even though I've told him I am fundamentally opposed to his profession. He's a military contractor who trains pilots for electronic warfare. He says that Brits with a certain pedigree all spend time in the military. I figure his pedigree isn't particularly remarkable or he wouldn't be living in New Jersey.
posted by PENolan at
8:11 AM
12 Comments:
I'm Canadian so humour(I mean humor) me - what's wrong with New Jersey?
I like the sound of the Yoga Master, especially as opposed to the sound of the military trainer. And the thoughts of traipsing around his property.
I'm still wading these waters too. Things are looking up in Canada too.
Agree that anticipation is sometimes (or, if we're realistic, usually) the best part of these Match.com connections. The thing I remind myself is that even a month of e-mail and phone calls does not a relationship make.
The "private hotel" looks absolutely gorgeous, though...and Moosewood is in Ithaca...
Girlfriend, my mind has shot ahead to a land of infinite possibility. Which is, of course, the trouble with us fantasy driven types. We can only hope that experience has taught me to stop trying to make Reality fit the Fantasy like the proverbial square peg and round hole.
Jennifer, there are some very nice suburbs in New Jersey, and there are many massive homes belonging Wall Streeters which to me are as Mafioso as The Sopranos. For the most part, New Jersey is one endless four lane urban highway, crammed with cars heading to hulking strip malls anchored with Home Depots and Cheesecake Factories. Peppered with industrial sites belching noxious fumes into the atmosphere.
It's a lot like Houston.
I looked at the hotel, marvelous! We already have a place booked for when we go up there next week, but I'll definitely keep this place on my radar for next time. My law school buddies never did finalize plans for NYC in Sept. Guess I'll just have to meet up with you early next year when I'm up that way again. Love the snarky comment about the guy's pedigree and NJ. Too funny.
My wife made a statement to me recently that the reason she "fell" for my boyish, and witty charm...not to mention, incredible physical, well...physical proclivities was, I exuded low maintenance. She needed a low maintenance kind of guy.
I have no idea what the fuck that means...but then...do.
Ask yourself...is this guy low maintenance, or...
There is my quarterly two cents worth.
Jaded, we'll just have to see about him in real life. Fantasies can be very low-maintenance, but remember what happened with that preacher from the mountains. Sheesh
V.V. - whatever happens with this astrophysics professor, the property is lovely.
well, gees... I would take you out to lunch, too. But it's a long walk,see, and every time I get as far as Chicago I get confused...and turned around. Last excursion found me stranded in Des Moines. Traveling is not my forte
Have fun at your lunch, whatever happens beyond it ;-)
There's really a big-box store called the Cheesecake Factory?!
I'm so utterly dateless it's a joke. It's me and my cats right now, and we'd all be happy to romp around such land as you've shown in the Ithaca photo ... with nothing more complicated than sunshine :-) Lord, the thought of dating makes me want to take a very long nap.
I've never been to Ithaca, but I've heard it's a progressive town ...
That yoga master might be of help to your shoulder ... just sayin' ...
;-)
xoxo
Jaliya - My thoughts exactly. And in this demographic, it seems that the way to a man's heart might very well be through his business plan.
Or maybe the business plan is the way to my heart. That's what happens when your granny was a 'ho.
okijimm, maybe we can meet up in Cleveland . . .
Hmm, I read "match.com" and immediately thought of what one does with matches, i.e., light things up, burn things down, start fires, you get the idea. Vodka and a dead cat swinging is quite an image; combined with matches it could get loud.
Namaste
Good luck with the yoga master guy. You just never know.
OKaTB
Ka-boom!
Rubye Jack, he has to call me first. I'm beginning to think he's disappeared. Sheesh.
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