Nashville Part 1: These Boots Were Made For Dancing

It's taken me almost a month but I'm finally recovered enough from my trip to Nashville to write about it.  I went down to Nashville for an American Bar Association conference.  After a particularly heinous day at my former job, I received an email about the conference and jumped at the chance.  Between the country music, cowboys and warm weather this trip promised (and of course, hot topics in the law lectures) I booked a flight and hotel within minutes.

Before my flight to Nashville departed from LaGuardia airport, I had already made fast friends with two lawyers from Montreal.  After they told me that they were attending because of the social events and explained how last year's conference in Vegas went down, I knew it was going to be a good weekend! 

My first order of business upon arrival, aside from getting my official conference name tag and CLE calendar, was to find me some cowboy boots.  I asked the bellhop where I could buy some boots and he explained, in a slow southern drawl, that a store called Nashville Cowboy was having a "Buy 1, Get 2 Free" boot sale.  If his accent hadn't caused me to melt on the spot, his mention of a sale certainly would have.  I gathered my composure and scooted my booty over to the store.

I found myself in a leather scented mecca of all that is good and holy about cowboy boots.  They were red, brown, black, white; studded and stitched; stacked 3 deep, 10 feet high and 50 feet long.  At that point my life changed and all events would be divided into BCB (before cowboy boots) and ACB (after cowboy boots).  Ok, I'm kidding (sort of) but it was an overwhelming experience.  

Boots, boots and more boots!

I walked in knowing that I would leave with 3 pairs of cowboy boots.  Although I'm a lawyer (and infamously bad at math), I'm also a woman so I know that a Buy 1, Get 2 Free sale equals 3, yes 3, pairs of boots.  You're probably thinking, "Who needs 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey," in which case we must not have been properly introduced, (Hi, I'm Emily) and the answer is ME!  I need 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey!   My parents had already pledged to buy me a pair as an early birthday gift (July 6, thanks Mom and Dad!) so the fact that I could get 3 pairs for the price of one was too good to be true! 

Between my indecisiveness and "retartoes" (I have notoriously bad feet that have been operated on multiple times in the past 15 years) I knew this was going to be a daunting task.  The store was almost empty so I enlisted the help of a nice salesgirl to guide me through my boot selection.  She informed me that I needed at least one pair of brown and one pair of black boots, obviously.  I immediately fell in love with a dark brown pair with turquoise stitching that would match my straw and turquoise cowboy hat.  Pair one settled.

In an effort not to bore you with my thought process I will fast forward 2 hours, 1 packet of almonds, 6 mirror self-portraits and countless text messages to my fashionista friends and mother.  It turns out that the most difficult decision to make is deciding which pair of buttery soft goat-leather boots (yes, they're made from goat skin) should be the 3rd, as I had found 4 pairs of cute cowboy boots that didn't mess with my sensitive feet.

As I hemmed and hawed over whether to put back the caramel colored or the shorter boots, I heard a voice whisper, "The 4th pair is 40% off."  I turned to see an angel in tight jeans and cowboy boots.  Saving me from the despair of abandoning a pair of boots, I jumped up to hug him from my crumpled place on the worn wood floor (where I was likely having a conversation with the boots to decide who was coming home with me) but he was gone.  As I questioned whether this intese spiritual moment had been real, my angel reemerged, from the stock room no less.  He explained that he was the manager and would be pleased to give me 40% off the 4th pair seeing as I was having such difficulty deciding.

Caramel, Dark Brown with Turquoise, Black cut outs, short tan suede and dark brown leather (From L to R)

I choose to believe that he gave me a discount because of my overwhelming beauty and not my everlasting presence in the store or their existing sales policies.  Regardless, I left with 4 pairs of boots-- 3 as an early birthday present from my parents and one that I bought on my own.   After just 3 hours in Nashville, I was ready to take on the town and headed back to the hotel for a Welcome Reception that requested "snappy country" attire.  

  

The Man Who Wore Sweatpants

I've been slacking on the blogging lately.  There was a point where I was going out every night of the week but let's face it, dating can be exhausting...plus, when you find someone you sort of like, it's frowned upon to keep seeing other people (more on that in another post).  So, I curbed the whole going-out-on-countless-random-dates-from-Plenty-of-Freaks thing as of late.  I did manage to squeeze a couple dates in a few weeks ago that I never mentioned because they were so underwhelming that I didn't think to write about them until now.    

Remember Date #2, the Billy Baldwin look-alike from the night that I went out with two men?  You can refresh your recollection here.  Well, he asked me out on a second date and we agreed to meet for drinks on a Thursday night last month.  I wore my go-to outfit of jeans, a cute top, open front cardigan and heels.  It's the perfect outfit.  Cute but casual and doesn't look like I'm trying too hard.  Plus, cleavage can be added for effect and covered up with the cardigan if you feel too exposed.  I figured Date #2 would be wearing the male version of this outfit, i.e. jeans, a button down shirt or polo and casual dress shoes.  Ehh, wrong.  

I texted Date #2 from the car to ask if he was already at the restaurant, as there's nothing more uncomfortable to me than walking into an unfamiliar restaurant trying to determine if your date is in the building.  He texted back that he was seated by the bar and already had a drink.  I strode up to find him halfway through a Jack and Ginger wearing a track suit and sneakers.  I'm sorry, what?  Yes, you read that right.  He was wearing sweats.  

Call me conformist, but I believe there's a certain "uniform" that is proscribed through dating.  Unless you're doing some activity that necessitates different clothing, including but not limited to hiking; biking; fishing; shooting; going to the beach or having crazy sex, I expect you to dress like a civilized human being.  If not because you want to impress your potential partner, than because you have more self respect than to be unpresentable in public.  My date was wearing track pants, a t-shirt, a non-matching zip up jacket and sneakers.  I'm thankful that at least he wasn't wearing a matching tracksuit, as that attire is only acceptable for guidos and old Jewish men in Boca, but he was wearing a tracksuit nevertheless.  

He looked a bit like this guy, but with cooler shoes
[via]

Date #2 hugged me and told me I looked cute (obviously, dude, I'm not wearing sweatpants).  I told him he looked, "Umm, comfy," and he sheepishly explained that he had come straight from the gym.  Awesome.  So not only did you not shower after your workout, but you didn't have the decency to change your clothes either.  Nice one.  I would understand if he worked far from home or his office, but no, the dude works in the same building where his gym is which is in walking distance to his house!  Seriously?!  Not to mention that he wasn't the least bit sweaty of smelly which makes me question his gym-ethic in addition to his sense of decency.

Not to be a bitch, but I came to the date straight from volunteering where I helped snot-dripping children decorate with markers and glitter and I still managed to wash up and change into a pair of heels in my car.  The fact that this guy went from his office to the gym, drove past his house to get to the restaurant and couldn't throw on a pair of jeans floored me.  It's not like he arrived late either.  He was early.  If you recall, he had already consumed half of a Jack and Ginger before I arrived.  At least I know where his priorities are.  

The date went as well as a date involving sweatpants could go if there's no prospect of an elastic waistband coming in handy for some easy access.  He was nice enough but there was just no chemistry...and he was wearing freaking sweatpants!  

Dating Games (Part II)

As I mentioned in this post, my friend Greta and I are playing a dating game.  At this point we have each nominated 3 men for the other to contact in hopes of securing a date.  


I spent some time last week writing emails to my potential suitors from Plenty of Fish who Greta picked out for me.  I have nicknamed the men NJman, BeachDude and SarcasticDude.  Here are the results thus far.

NJman
I emailed NJman but never heard back, despite the fact that he has logged onto the website.  He was a little too old for me (yes, that's possible) so I wasn't offended that his 45 year old self didn't want to take a chance on a cute 27 year old blonde.  Ha, who am I kidding.  Seriously NJman?!  Did you think I was some spammer looking for a Sugar Daddy?  I'm not after your money old man, I had legitimate selfish blogging interests at heart when I emailed you.  Looks like this one is out.

BeachDude
BeachDude and I sent some emails back and forth but his hectic work schedule (he's in law enforcement) makes it difficult to keep in touch.  So far, his emails are boring.  Perhaps if he posted a picture in uniform I would be more interested.

SarcasticDude
SarcasticDude and I sent some good emails back and forth before he asked to take it offline.  Since my time is precious, I agreed, hoping we could meet up next week so that I can meet one of the 3 super cute guys who emailed me after I started this Dating Game for the next installment of this blog.

Even though I have a GoogleVoice number to give out at bars now (thanks Greta for this awesome tip), I still haven't figured out how it works and gave SarcasticDude my real telephone number.  Thankfully, Verizon has an awesome free blocking feature in case things get out of hand. The texts started off normal but didnt take long for him to progress to asking for pictures.  Since I only have two pictures on my profile and one is of me in a furry hat, I'm not terribly put off by someone asking for more and I sent him a couple recent shots--selfies of mostly my face and torso.

I guess that wasn't good enough because SarcasticDude kept asking for full body pictures.  Apparently it's an internet phenomenon to post pics of faces only and then show up with an additional 300 pounds from your neck down.  While I understand that attraction is part of dating, I find it ridiculous that men are so insistent on asking for full body shots, especially since they rarely offer them themselves (with the exception of creepy shirtless mirror pics).

At this point I made the decision that someone who was pushing so hard for additional pics was a person I wouldn't get along with.  After marrying someone who told me his biggest fear was that I would, "let myself go" and then yelled at me when I packed on the newlywed nine (true story) I don't give second chances to people who are jerks about weight.  If you can't love me for who I am (cellulite and all) then I don't want your love.

Naturally I took this opportunity to be a jerk and teach him a lesson about asking for full body shots.  I sent him the pic of me at the Rascal Flatts concert here.  Ask and you shall receive, although you won't be going out with me.

False Alarm

I had a first date with a man from Plenty of Fish last night.  He had first sent me a message in December but because of the Bar Exam (and other men I was more interested in meeting first) we didn't get around to meeting until, well, last night.  I had a strange feeling about the date after realizing that I had no idea what his name was until the day before our date.  Oops.  Thankfully he was smart enough that when I emailed him with my name and number, he provided his name in kind.  Since I don't disclose names, I will just call him Chief.

Getting ready for my date, I tried to remember a bit about Chief.  Most of our emails were older than 20 days and had been deleted by Plenty of Fish.  His profession was listed as "Entrepreneur" which means anything from stinking rich sugar daddy to drug dealer, so that was no help.  I did seem to remember that he made wine, or his family owned a winery, or something else that had to do with wine--selective filtering at it's best.  Other than that, I was at a loss.

Aside from the fact that I had just learned his name and had no idea what he did for a living, planning to meet for drinks with Chief proved more difficult than necessary.  We communicated via text message and, even though he had asked me out, I got nothing but a series of one word answers when trying to set a time and place.  I had hope that he was just busy and would be more talkative in person.  I was wrong.

Talking to Chief was like pulling teeth.  I'm a pretty easy person to talk to.  I've lived in 6 states, 3 countries and survived sorority rush, yet I could barely get the man to speak.  I managed to find out that he's a Fire Chief (hence the nickname) of his town, makes his own wine with his family (I knew there was wine there somewhere!) and I *think* he might own some sort of construction business (hence the "entrepreneur").  After telling me that his job made it necessary for him to respond to every fire call, I spent the next 2 hours praying for a forest fire, gas leak or other disastrous explosion to get out of possibility the most boring date of my life.  Note: If after everything you say, I respond, "That's funny," I'm referring to the fact that you're now in the running for my worst date ever contest.  

It was obvious that this date was going nowhere so we finished our drinks and left.  We exchanged an awkward, "I hope I never run into you in public" hug and parted ways.

Analyze This

Last night I spent 40 minutes on the phone with BR breaking things off with him.  Apparently the email I sent in which I explained how he insulted me and made me realize that we weren't compatible wasn't good enough.  He called to try to figure out if the issues I had weren't a result of not knowing each other well enough and could be something we could work on.   They're not and they can't.

After about 20 minutes of explaining why I was upset at the weekend's conversations, I realized that he still wasn't getting it.  He was arguing semantics, explaining that I had misunderstood him.  In reality, I understood his stupid comments quite clearly--he is relationship stupid, I get that.  But the semantics weren't the big picture...the fact that we're simply not compatible is.  I told him that there were just too many things that were missing for me but he didn't seem to understand.  I think if I hadn't gotten off the phone after 40 minutes that I could have been explaining myself until I was blue in the face...more like red in the face because I was getting really impatient with his requests for clarity.  The conversation was a a combination of me saying the following in between his feeble attempts to explain that these are all things we could work on.


Dude, I'm not that into you...I don't know how else to say it...It's just not enough for me...We're not compatible...No really, trust me, we're not... I promise these are big issues for me that can't be worked out...Yes, really...No, I'm not willing to compromise on these issues...Honestly, this isn't working for me...We're really not compatible...Do you really want to be in a relationship where I'm forcing myself to make things work...Really, it's not going to happen...and how can you not like country music??? 

I'm giving myself a big ol' pat on the back for this conversation for two reasons.  First, I managed to stay calm and not curse or scream throughout the 40 minute conversation in which I essentially repeated the same things over and over and over again.  I even told BR the self control it was taking me not to strangle the phone out of frustration that I had to justify myself to him.  True story. You'd think at that point that he would have gotten the hint--but we've gone over how he's relationship stupid.

The second reason I'm patting myself on the back is because I stood up for myself.  I recognized that there were greater issues than "just not feeling it" and articulated those well...regardless of the fact that they fell on deaf ears.  There are some things that are not negotiable for me.  That includes being thoughtful and considerate.  Like when you know you're having a woman over for a drink before dinner, you should text her to ask what she wants to drink or pickup a couple options and not just say "screw it."   Instead BR hoped that I would just drink Jack on the rocks because that's all he had in the house and didn't feel like going to the liquor store after spending an hour buying softball cleats at Sports Authority.  Yes, BR, to me that is indicative of the kind of person you are.

BR tried to argue with me that his actions were not a reflection of the man he is.  I countered that if his actions weren't who he was, then perhaps he should change them.  After my divorce I realized that someone who refuses to pick up his own dog's crap (I was the designated poop picker upper for years) is someone who will always run from a problem.  Actions are an insight into the person themselves and if you don't think enough about me to consider what I'd like to drink, or to ask if I'd prefer crushed or cubed ice (cubed, the crushed ruined my drink doofus), or even realize that this is an issue, then you're not the right person for me.

Giddy Up

I swore off dating lawyers after both my ex-husband and creepster, JD, who tried to undress me on our first date.  But, since I tend not to listen to myself very well, I started talking to another attorney, who I will just call Lawyer NYC, a couple of months ago from Plenty of Fish.  He is a cute intellectual property attorney in NYC with a sexy geeky look who, aside from having a penchant for calling me "counselor," did not appear to be a complete weirdo.  Between the Bar Exam and his jaunts down to visit family in Florida, we haven't had the chance to get together but have graduated from emails to text messages. 

We've corresponded at length about going to school in the Midwest, having dual citizenship and international travel--all things we have in common.  When the subject of music came up, I made sure to tell him I like country, as that seems to be a dealbreaker for some close-minded individuals.  Their loss--I go wild wearing a cowboy hat--yeehaw!  Lawyer NYC seemed open to my music taste (brownie points) so we continued talking.  I even sent him a picture of me from the Rascal Flatts concert when he asked how it went. 

I've been busy over the past month and texts between Lawyer NYC and I have died down.  This must have struck a nerve with him because I started getting strange text messages from him filled with legalease and 2am invitations for hot chocolate.   A little strange, but nothing that I couldn't get over. 

However, over the past week, I must have really been on his mind...and I'm starting to wonder what he's doing with my pictures.   While I'm glad that he's open to my love to country music, I think he might be putting the cart in front of the horse.  Sexy text messages can be appreciated in certain instances--like after a number of great dates and a satisfying romp in the hay--but not before an in person meeting.  That's just weird.  From the sounds of it, Lawyer NYC might be a really fun rodeo cowboy, but I think I'm going to pass.