Princess MoMo

I recently went on the most outlandish of first dates in the extensive history of MoMo dating.   Dude showed up in a single engine aircraft and swooped me up to Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend.   Fun times? Yes. Relaxing? Yes. Blog worthy? Abso-fucking-lutely.  Copacetic? No.  “Why not,” you may ask.  Or you may not ask that, but I’ll tell you anyway. There are a multitude of reasons why.  Below are a few of them.

1.  Wool over the head

In my post documenting the first date with Mr. Plane, I wrote that he “effortlessly dismantled my defense mechanisms and converted me into a soft, sweet, affectionate individual.”  How did that happen to a rough and tough like leather MoMo? Simple.  He overwhelmed my mental processes with extraordinary stimuli.  As a member of the general public, he must be aware that it is not the norm for male specimens to transport female specimens to first date destinations by aircraft.  Nor is it every day that first dates span entire weekends across state lines (excluding border dwellers, e.g. the DC/VA/MD geographic setup).  Add to that the elements of surprise (I was not informed in advance of the mode of transportation or destination) and uncertainty (this was my first encounter with the character).

My little MoMo brain was inundated and unable to focus on defense mechanism-ing and properly analyzing the situation and specimen at hand.  For example, for at least the first two hours with this guy, I was mostly thinking about my safety.  Was this specimen capable of flying a plane? Where was he taking me?  If he were to kill me, would he be kind enough to do it in such a way that I could still look hot in an open casket?  Because I was preoccupied with these pressing questions, I didn’t have the capacity to scrutinize him as a person.  In essence, he pulled the wool over my head, or blinded me in a sense.  Chemistry is more authentic if it is the result of simple interactions, as opposed to catalyzed by materialistic elements.  For instance, one of my 2006 specimens once said to me, “We could have fun together in a cardboard box.”  To be clear, I’m not suggesting first dates should take place in cardboard boxes.  The point is, first date people should learn to enjoy each other’s company in a modest setting before graduating to more unconventional settings.

2.  Setting the bar too high

Going balls to the wall on a first date only sets the standard too high there on out.  It’s the equivalent of a dude throwing his member on the table to demonstrate how big it is.  Even if it’s impressive initially, the effect is not lasting.  And, in fact, it is potentially a turn off because I would rather be subtly impressed, as opposed to explicitly and outrageously impressed.  When I brought the issue of possibly not being able to top the date to Mr. Plane’s attention, he laughed as if to suggest that he has more cards, or the whole deck, up his sleeve.  While that may have piqued my interest in the moment, he shouldn’t have to out perform himself to keep a woman’s interest, unless substantively he sucks.

Additionally, not that it should  be a concern to him, but he could be doing his fellow man a disservice.  If I were  a materialistic MoMoFo, he would have ruined me for future specimens.  How am I supposed to be impressed with a run-of-the-mill date after the Martha’s Vineyard escapade? Simple. It’s not about the place or the transportation.  It’s about the company.  I must admit, that even I’m surprised by the immediately preceding two sentences.  But they’re true.  Sure, it’s impressive to be goose-d and dined in semi-faraway lands by a piloting specimen.   But, material things can come and go; character is forever.  On my first date with Mr. Bobble, the settings and vehicles were not in any way exceptional, but the time had was memorable and outstanding.  Honestly, I thought I was far more superficial than I’m proving to be.   Additionally, I don’t want to be bought because I do not want to be viewed or treated as chattel.

3. Out of sight, out of mind

One might think that an unorthodox experience such as the one with Mr. Plane would occupy the MoMo memory for quite some time.  Not so much.  Just like other specimens, Mr. Plane’s failure to capitalize on momentum ( i.e., his failure to maintain relations immediately following introduction to MoMo)  exponentially depreciates his value.  The rate of amortization is no more favorable for him as compared to others.  To the contrary, the rate is less favorable in his case because his value is more volatile and unpredictable due to its out of the ordinary nature.  [Translation for those of you not fluent in MoMo-speak:  I was annoyed that he went 55 hours without contacting me.  Regardless of the date duration/destination, my level of annoyance wasn’t any lower than it would have been with any other guy.]

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Incidentally, as I was about to type heading “4.,” my device lit up (at 11:20 p.m. on 9/13/11).   As you may have guessed, Mr. Plane was the caller.  Perhaps he sensed that his value was depreciating.  We ended up talking for about an hour.  I expressed to him the concerns I stated above.  His first response was that the weekend adventure was not that crazy.  I suppose craziness is a matter of perspective.  While he may think it was no biggie, to the common man and MoMo, it deviated from standard operating procedure.  I asked him, “Wouldn’t you prefer me to like you for who you are and not for the plane or other possessions?”  He replied that irrespective of the plane or the date setting, I could have disliked him.  True.  But, extravagant acts do earn the actor some leeway in likability.   It was difficult to continue my argument because he was making too much sense and my BGC (Blood Goose Content) was elevated.

We slightly switched topics.  I requested that our next meeting be more ordinary.  He said, “I know what we’ll do.”  And with that, I knew exactly what he was thinking: camping.  The reason I knew this is because preceding the Martha’s Vineyard trip, he was inquiring as to what kind of adventures I prefer.  I told him that I’m open to most things, except for camping.  Camping is out of the question.  My staunch stance against camping stems from my view that it is uncivilized and my lack of desire to lay to rest in a bed of dirt.   Think about it: Most of us devote the largest portion of our income to housing.  If we pay so much for our shelter, why sleep outside?  Also, let’s explore various phrases that include the term ‘camp.’  Boot camp.  Is boot camp pleasant? No.  Fat camp.  Is fat camp pleasant? No.  Concentration camp.  Is concentration camp pleasant? No.   Point –> Camping is not pleasant.  I’m a fan of flushing toilets.  Running water is wonderful.  Electricity lights up my life.  Camping typically doesn’t offer these “amenities.”  And let’s not even get into the insect issues.  In short, just because I wore a zebra onesie on the first date, doesn’t mean I want to sleep in zebras’ natural outdoor habitat.

We did not finalize second encounter plans on that call.  The following morning, he called again.  Somehow, he was under the impression that camping was still on the agenda for the future meeting.  I told him that while I didn’t want a lap-of-luxury type date, I equally did not want to be tortured by being subjected to sleep in soil.  (Side note: I might start a[n] [anti]campaign: Just Say No To Camping.  Maybe I’ll recruit Smokey the Bear as a partner. )

TO BE CONTINUED….