Cool As a Cucumber

I'd like to think I'm a fairly good "token single friend" based on the fact that I can talk to almost anyone, and if the occasion calls for it, act remotely charming. (Booze helps.) And if we are friends in real life and you live in New York, chances are you've set me up with a guy you know.

The FoFs (friends of friends) mutual connection provides an "I'm not a total random psycho" buffer, which is always appreciated. Plus saying "Hey do you know any cute, single guys you can introduce me to?" is a lot easier than signing up for online dating sites (which seem like so much work but maybe I'm just really lazy?).

Anyway, after three years, I would guestimate I've been on 20+ FoF dates, none of whom were The One (clearly) and most of whom I don't see on a regular basis (fine by me).

But since the city is haunted, I know that anyone of them could pop up at any minute. And how you handle it matters: You can either be a Cucumber or a Pickle.

There are a LOT of weird things that come up when you
search for images of pickles and cucumbers. This is
German which for some reason makes it seem less awkward?

Cucumber: You're cool, you're breezy. Oh, heeey. How you doin'? Ain't no big thing it didn't work out. "Say hi to your mother for me." (The BFF and I insisted on saying that every time Mark Wahlberg was shown at the Oscars. It's still funny.)

Pickle: At one time you were cool, but now you've been fermenting in vinegar, making you sour and crunchy. Also, you smell. You reek of awkwardness. Please go away, you're making this unpleasant.

While I am utterly uncool in so many situations, the post-dating run-in is something I've mastered. (Unless of course I am able to duck into a nearby grocery store and escape it all together.) Mostly it's just because I'm indifferent about most dates I go on.

Anyway, this weekend conveniently provided me with examples of the two different former FoF encounters.

The Pickle: On Friday night The BFF and I went out and ended up at a sports bar. Although she had assured me it was "totally a girls' night," her new boyfriend and his friends ended up meeting us out, including his friend who I went on one date with a few weeks ago - the not-quite-real person. Anyway, apparently I managed to make quite an impression on him (what can I say, guys who don't really have a sweet clue about city dating seem to flock to me. Because of my wisdom, I'm sure.). Since I had previously been told this, I was mildly uncomfortable, but I was perfectly nice. But he couldn't handle it. He left after 10 minutes. Which, whatever, until I found out that he was still upset about it the next day. IT WAS ONE DATE, let it gooooo. Now I have a bad taste in my mouth.

See above. Also, don't take this to mean that
I hate pickles.

The Cucumber: Saturday night I went out for my Texas friend Alexandra's bday (happy bday!) where I was warned a guy I semi-dated last fall might show up, The Native New Yorker. "The guy with the cat?" The BFF asked. Yes, the one with the cat. He's cute, nice, whatever, but also a consultant who travels four days a week (he turned into the Pen-Pal), with a Jewish feminist mother. It was never going to work. Although I wasn't psyched about the idea of the run-in, it was totally fine. He was friendly, I was charming. We talked about his upcoming trip to Austin (everyone and their dog is headed to SXSW but me, frowny face). Easy breezy. Refreshing. Just the way it should be.

The lesson from all of this? Keep it cool. Don't make it a big Dill.

In related news, I am on a huge cucumber cocktail kick while The BFF's current drink of choice is a homemade "martini" aka pickle juice + vodka. I think that says something about us. She will probably disagree.