State of Play

No dates

Not much to report here…no dates, no funny guy stories, just work, work, work. I have 3 weeks in Europe coming up so there may be some fun adventures to be had over there.



Best First Date Ever?

I messaged a guy on Bumble on Labor Day evening and he responded Tuesday morning and we messaged back and forth all day and decided to meet up at Mintwood Place on Wednesday night. (His suggestion-excellent taste!) We had a great time of cocktails and shishito peppers and then had dinner at Tail Up Goat a few blocks away. Really good conversation, very natural, very fun. Just wonderful. After that we went to his place so I could meet his dog and he had to let the dog out anyway so it made sense. In true Anna fashion, I wasn’t thinking hookup or anything like that-I really did just want to meet the dog. ūüôā Well he lived in the neighborhood, and we walk up to this row house on Mintwood, and I’m expecting to go in and go up an elevator or staircase to a condo. But no, we walk in the front door and we are in a house. Um. This man will never see my apartment. How does a person own a house like that. Seriously.

Anyhoo, his dog is awesome. She’s a German Shepherd named Elsa and she’s my new bestie. He named the dog before the Frozen movie, although it is notable that the main characters in Frozen are Anna and Elsa, just like me and his dog. Ermmmm. So, we spent a while just hanging out talking, playing with the dog, we had a drink out on his deck, talked some more, kissed a little but but just a bit, and lo and behold it was 2:30 am on a Wednesday night! WTF! Where does time go? He asked me out for Friday while we were still on the date, and insisted on driving me home even though I was like, dude that’s what uber is for. There’s no way I was spending the night bc I had a meeting with my CEO the next morning. Oops. So he’s driving me back to my place and it’s 2:30 am and we had talked about opera earlier in the evening (I’m really into it. He, like most people, isn’t) and he has one of these things that connects the music on the phone to the car speakers (I don’t know what that is because… technology?) and he’s like “put some opera on, let’s see what you’ve got” so I put on the Te Deum from Tosca and we blasted it and zoomed down the highway in the middle of the night and it just kicked so much ass. The big final booming notes played right as he pulled up to my place.

The cool thing is that unlike many other “successful” first dates that I have that are successful really only because I drank too much so that the date became funny and interesting… this one was different because I only had 3 drinks the entire night. So I wasn’t looking at him through boozy eyes. Although sometimes when I think about him I feel boozy because I’m super into him. When we were kissing on Wednesday night, it was like “whooooaaaaa” what was that? (in a good way, not in a “what the hell was THAT” kind of way)

I checked the Bingo box for “texted within 3 hours of date,” because he asked for my number towards the end of the date and I forgot to give it to him, so right after he dropped me off I bumble-messaged him my number and he texted me after that.

This is a very long post. Fin.





Edward Norton

This was my first date during Bingo season, but third date with the graphic designer who sounds like and resembles Edward Norton. Maybe it’s because the date was scheduled for 2pm on a Sunday, which is usually reserved for naps…or maybe because I’m preoccupied with work (sad)…or maybe because there was no alcohol (even sadder), but the date was meh.

We went to the Spy Museum. I used an amazing Italian accent throughout the date to fit my cover as Anjelena Falcone, an Italian business woman. And together we jointly failed 5 of our 6 missions and caused the end of civilization at least three of those times.

So¬†I’m disappointed in him and in myself that it was meh because, for a date found online, he’s a good one. He’s a gentleman, he’s cute, he makes me laugh, and on dates 1 and 2 he proved to be a good kisser. But he’s lacking that dash of assertiveness that gives you something to hold on to and get excited about. He follows the leader in actions and conversation, which makes it feel like work to keep the date and convo fun and interesting. And instead, at moments, we were just accompanying each other rather than enjoying each other. Which will probably be exactly what I want when I’m 60 and still dating, but right now I’d rather have the enjoyment. So I’m left¬†feeling indifferent about seeing him again.

To top it off…no Bingo boxes!

On the bright side, I bought the following two books for my brother at the Spy Store: “A History of Farts” and “The Future of Farts.”



My dear friends,

Let me begin my¬†cautionary tale with this: ¬†when I saw my date standing outside the bar that was really a random Chinese restaurant I said aloud, “Wow he’s weird.”.

I don’t know how old his pictures were. ¬†He looked like his photos, yet he didn’t. ¬†He had one of those bodies of men who have never exercised in their lives. ¬†Skinny arms. ¬†Big belly. ¬† Kermit the Frog. ¬†His clothes did not fit. ¬†Some of his buttons were buttoned, others were not. ¬†He had not brushed his hair that day. ¬†There was a fedora. ¬†He was not trying. ¬†Because men who try usually button their shirts.

The conversation went thusly:  he asked questions so that after I began my answer he could interrupt to talk about himself.  For example, he asked about when I was an actress.  I began to tell the story at which point he interrupted to tell me about his high school production of Our Town.  I used to love that play.

He asked if I knew anyone when I moved here. ¬†I explained that my brother lives here. ¬†He went on to speak of how he moved here alone, without the help of a “benefactor”. ¬†And how that was much harder than what I had done.

After 30 minutes too many I used my ESP to summon the kind waitress and ask for the check.  At this moment, realizing that I did not want to hear any more about his high school history or Facebook friends, he stopped talking.  We split the bill and left.

We parted ways at the corner.  When I put out my hand for a handshake he looked at it and then glared at me.  As if I was going to let his torso touch mine!  How dare he think he had earned the right to be so close to my breasts!  Entitled asshole.  Fin.

Bingo = dutch, bad photos






I had a date last night…

My first impression began with his bone crushing handshake (I suppose that’s better than a limp hand, but isn’t there a happy medium…?). So, I responded as any reasonable person would and squeezed back, hard. He redoubled his effort and I let go concluding this man must have a micropenis if he has to prove his dominance like this. I never saw it so I don’t have confirmation.

The date…It was a pleasant night listening to jazz bands at an outdoor festival. I knew ahead of time he was a “man of uniform” because he works for a partner agency, so I guess I get two boxes for those things! But I should get three for the highly probable micropenis! Haha.

Funny how I’m more excited about checking boxes than the guy!