A good host never misses the opportunity to thank her guests, and to that end I must send my heartfelt thanks to anyone who has joined me at my dining table. Like floss for the brain you helped to pick out the ugly bits of sinew stuck between my mental folds and toss them in the garbage.
Since I’ve been living in my own space I’ve tried to invite friends (and sometimes strangers) to join me for a meal at least once a week. As a proven control freak I rarely ask a guest to bring anything (aside from wine). What each of you brings to the table, the thoughts wrapped up in the butcher paper of your bodies, is the perfect accompaniment to the meals I prepare, a more significant offering than you could cart to my place in weary tupperware or pyrex.
For those of you following my OkCupid experiment, the idea was grand but the execution limp. I finally changed the password and login, ending my foray into socially curated dating. On a positive note, the trial made me look again at online dating and get back in the game. Though I have little hope of meeting someone in a significant way digitally, the attempt and practice is of value (much in the same way that waiting in a room full of unhinged actors at an open call for a new musical is rather futile, but I rarely miss one. Auditioning is my job, showing up and doing the work is worthy to itself. Let’s hope dating follows suit).
Some OkStupid highlights from this past week:
-A sparkling email correspondence with an alternative young man (his ears were gauged just enough to fit a roll of Smarties through without touching skin). On the date set to grab a drink he emailed me with a simple “You oughta know, I’ve been partnered for 9 years, but we’re totally open, if that changes things I understand.” High-horse rage on my part ensued.
-A chat box from another young man, enticing me with this gem: “Oh wow, a guy as gorgeous as you must break the balls of so many guys with rejection. And I mean that as a compliment ha.” I didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend,” he wrote. From me: “Not offended, just sounded like a Borat pickup line.” And his volley? “Hahahahaha! AND you have a sense of humor, NOW I’m swooning haha. I apologize, ha, I just have a slight ballbusting fetish, so the idea of a guy as genuinely beautiful as you punting the figurative nuts of a dude with rejection, kinda perfect ha. I’m sure you punted your fair share ha.” END SCENE.
-Hot cider and a stroll with an ex-mormon and coffee with Turkish engineer. The first was sparkless, the second so unpunctual I dismissed him outright (30 minutes late!). Perhaps I should only proposition men from countries that make clocks, a Swiss transplant or a German gentleman might be less tardy.
I leave you this week with a recipe for a Carrot-Ginger salad dressing. I served this to the darling Dr. Charles who spent the afternoon with me eating and laughing this past weekend. It’s easy to make a large batch at once, keeping it in jars in the fridge. You’ll pour more over your salad than you expect, this is a good thing, eat more veggies! The color alone is enough to shock you into health as we wrap our throats in pashminas and scarves (my favorite season).
Carrot Ginger Dressing
- 4 Carrots, shredded (~3 cups once shredded)
- ~3 inches Ginger
- Juice of one Orange
- ¼ cup Sesame Oil
- 1 tablespoon Tamari
- ½ teaspoon Black Pepper
- ¼ teaspoon Salt
- Put all ingredients in food processor. Buzz until smooth. Or chunky. Your choice. Just do it. Makes about 1 ½ cups.