The most positive thing about Saturday night’s experience was that I kept thinking, this is going to make one interesting blog post.
My friend Stacey and I went to an event sponsored by a local radio station that night: WNCI’s Man Market. I realize how ridiculous that sounds, and I assure you it was, but it is still blog worthy.
I was telling Stacey about it last week and she suggested we go, and even if it was a total bust, it might be a fun people-watching opportunity. I had already kind of wanted to go, but didn’t want to admit it. I had an idea in my head of some perfect guy in Columbus thinking the event was a stupid, humiliating idea and that no self-respecting guy would subject himself to such treatment, but whose friends insisted on dragging him along. He’d be this good-looking-but-geeky guy who loves CD101 and only listens to WNCI on the way to work because it’s funnier than CD101’s morning show. Oh, and he’d have a lot of interesting things to say about “Inception” or something. Not that I got too specific. But yeah, this guy would almost back out of the Man Market at the last minute but ultimately go through with it, thinking what the heck? Maybe there will be a dorky girl there who’s obsessed with movies and indie music and can string together a coherent sentence. Naturally, this guy would have lower expectations of me than I would have of him in this scenario.
I met Stacey at Flannagan’s in Dublin for the event. We were handed a booklet containing brief surveys filled out by each guy who registered for Man Market, over 300 of them. The survey included inspired questions like “What’s your favorite type of lingerie?” and “Who is your dream celebrity date?” Any guy who answered the latter with Megan Fox or Angelina Jolie was a douche bag on principle in my book, so that made weeding people out easier. Eventually Stacey and I just started going by age and I eliminated anyone outside of the 23-27 range. Stacey had the sense to bring a pen, so we took the time to sit and mark down the number of any guy we thought sounded interesting, so we could just try to track down those guys, who were wearing their numbers on their shirts.
After going through the booklet, Stacey had about two dozen prospects; I had seven. Finding any of these numbers was hard, because it was insanely packed and not all the guys were wearing their numbers prominently. Out of the guys I’d picked, there was one I was especially hoping to find: Mr. 297. He said his favorite kind of lingerie was a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie and his dream date was Tina Fey. Be still my heart. Every time Stacey and I walked around the place, I kept looking for that number, but to no avail. After a while I decided he, much like my imaginary ideal guy, must have decided against the whole Man Market thing after all. It only made me like this elusive person even more. Too good for the Man Market!
Stacey talked to a few of the guys on her list of numbers but didn’t really feel a connection with any of them. We knew ahead of time that the kind of guy who frequents Flannagan’s and did this kind of thing would probably not be our types, so we weren’t too disappointed.
We went back toward the dance floor at one point and suddenly, there he was: Number 297, standing there drinking a beer. I saw the number before anything else and turned excitedly to Stacey. “There he is, 297!” I said over the music. Then I turned back to get a better look. Number 297 was a giant. This is probably why he indicated in his survey that he found tall women intriguing. Despite my being 5’6”, Stacey convinced me to go up to him. We followed him out of the indoors part of the bar and up the stairs. He and his friends stopped at the top of the stairs, and Stacey ended up making my move for me. We sat down and talked with him, the only guy we’d actually done so with all night.
Unfortunately, it turns out I’ve basically already dated Mr. 297 and his name was Brandon. This guy looked nothing like Brandon, but at some point when he was talking I realized they sure seemed to have a lot of the same interests. And after I made that comparison I couldn’t stop making it. This guy liked the same movies, voted for McCain and said some of the same conversational phrases Brandon did. And when he said he wasn’t all that into music, I knew for sure it was a lost cause. We made a polite exit because both Stacey and I were pretty much over it by then, and as we got up to leave, 297 invited us to look him up on Facebook.
Not to get too Carrie Bradshaw on you, but is telling someone to look you up on Facebook the new phone number exchange? Is it? I am so out of the loop.
Anyway, he was a nice guy, but I am not going to add him after all. Hopefully he wasn’t counting on it and waiting for me (or Stacey) to contact him. I am not even sure we told him our names, but his was listed in the booklet we had.
Stacey left around 11, but when I walked back to my car from hers, I realized I was completely stuck. Two ass hats parked in the entrance to the lot, blocking everyone in. I took pictures of their plate numbers on my phone and had the event coordinators read them over the mic, but they said the wrong makes of the cars. Besides, no one was listening at that point. Fortunately, after making some friends in the long line for the bathroom, when I went back out to my car, someone else had left, leaving an opening.
Overall, it was a weird experience. I felt pretty judgmental and I am aware that carries over into this post; but I guess those guys were putting themselves up for that to begin with. Here’s the list of questions the Man Market guys were asked last week:
- Favorite feature on a woman:
- Favorite kind of lingerie:
- Dream celebrity date:
- Best sexual move:
Alternatively, here’s a list I could have actually gotten behind:
- Are you employed? Please explain.
- Are you nice to your mother?
- What movie are you most embarrassed to admit to seeing in theaters?
- What was the best concert you’ve ever been to?
- How many dogs do you own?
- What is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?
- Describe your last girlfriend. (If the first word that comes to your mind is “crazy,” and this word also describes all of your other exes, you need not apply.)
- How many cups of coffee do you consider normal for a single day’s consumption?
Maybe I will host my own event, open to geeks, dorks and hipsters alike. Or maybe I’ll just try to meet someone the normal way.
Speaking of which, what is the normal way? How’d you meet your person?
Also, if you see these cars driving around Columbus, I very seriously considered keying them. Please give them the finger if they pass you going 90 on the interstate or something.