Wherein texting guy does not poof completely, AGAIN

Texting guy canceled our tentatively planned date last week -- via text -- even after this conversation took place. Ironically, I also canceled it via e-mail 15 minutes later before having seen the text. We did not speak for five days, and I thought this was poof for sure.

This evening I get, guess what? Another text, asking me if I'm going to this seder that he knew I was going to go to, and had previously said he was thinking of going to. I did not respond.

Of course, he was there. Problem: my brain has basically already nexted the guy, my instinct is to want to flirt and have fun, and I did so waaay too much tonight. Like, engaging in innuendo-y banter with him and tolerating him feeling my leg under the table. This is all bizarre to me because I think it would be a stretch to even say I've even reached first base with this guy. My eighth grade boyfriend and I had made out more by time we'd "dated" this long.

Texting guy was not the only one I flirted with at seder - I flirted with a couple of my friends pretty shamelessly too. A Practicing Rules Girl has warned me about this issue - she enjoys flirting, as do I. So when we've written a guy off (for whatever reason), we seem to mentally exclude him from the Rules and therefore allow ourselves this guilty pleasure. But if I read Rule #1 correctly, Rules girls really don't flirt at all. If you're interested in the man or may be interested, you may not flirt; if you're not interested in the man, there is not a whole lot of point to flirtation, and you could be jerking him around. I told PRG that she needs to rein in her flirting instinct to be within the spirit of the Rules, and clearly I do too.

Other than the whole under leg-under-the-table/what-do-I-get-if-I-find-the-afikomen thing, I did a good job of not clinging to texting guy. He initiated conversations, he insisted I sit next to him. At the end I sort of made a bit of an effort to leave with him (bad), but took off without lingering when I got to my car (good). On the way to the car, he joked that he counted this as our 5th date.

Texting guy is a player, I'm fairly certain. I've somehow avoided players up to this point in my life, and consider myself lucky that the Rules crossed my path before this one did.

Meanwhile, I went out on a ridiculously awkward date with eharmony guy and a wonderful date with facebook guy. I am leaving town for an extended business trip, not a moment too soon.

Partial topple off the Rules wagon

I think the Rules are starting to piss off this guy, who has neither poofed nor asked me on a proper Saturday night date. I sort of believe he came into my life as blog fodder.

I am by and large rising to his repeated Rules challenges. Most recently, he texted twice after our second date (I did not respond), then called (I was busy and did not pick up). When I called back the next evening, I kicked ASS. He made a couple of jabs at my non-responsiveness ("Oh, I thought we were breaking up"; "Wasn't gonna contact/text you again, thought I might be pestering ya"). I resisted the urge to justify myself beyond "oh, I was out late last night." In fact, after a particularly out-there comment I was just silent! This is big for me. Anyway, he tried to ask me out with his usual hey, book some time for me in your next opening and we can figure out what to do later, and I pushed back, made him try to pick the day, and was less forthcoming about why I couldn't make it on certain days. He suggested a bunch of different times within 4 days of the call including "[weeknight] after 9:30" ("um, that's kind of late for [weeknight]"); and"Saturday during the day if I don't go to [big drunken St. Patrick's day event at local pub]" ("I can't this week" - resisted urge to say "No, I will have to decline your conditional invitation to hang out with me tomorrow and ditch me by nightfall"). He did not suggest this or next Saturday night. Eventually we settled on Tuesday lunch. I ended the call at just over the 10 minute limit.

I was extremely proud of that conversation, although I have to admit it's getting easier to Rules this one because he's exposing himself as a "turd," to use Sherrie and Ellen's word.

So how did I celebrate? I threw the Rules out the window for the rest of the night. Kind of like an ice cream binge after a good weigh-in, I guess.

I hit on the cantor at services; well, by Rules definition I hit on him. I looked at him frequently. I beamed at him whenever he looked at me. During oneg I tried to walk around, but ended up planting myself in a conversation circle Right Next to him. I acted like a little schoolgirl when he talked to me. Hey, I managed not to be the one starting the conversation at least. I expressed interest in attending a class he's teaching. To be fair, it's a class he's teaching at an event I'm already going to. But still. Not my finest Rules hour.

Next, I went to a male friend's house after services with another male friend and a male acquaintance. I was exceedingly flirtatious and affectionate with all of them. I made myself the center of attention, was a sarcastic funny girl, and fished successfully for compliments from them. I even slept on one's shoulder as he drove me home.

In some way, I think my behavior this particular evening demonstrates the internal tug of war I have with the Rules. To my own amazement, I am embracing their spirit more and more each day. But on some level I simply must reject them at the extreme, and as applied to every guy in my life. Hence I rebel. Sometimes silly and boisterous me simply must break through when I am around XY chromosomes.

As if

You trust in the abundance and goodness of the universe...You're an optimist. You brush away a tear so it doesn't smudge your makeup and you move on! Of course, that is not how you really feel. This is how you pretend you feel until it feels real. You act as if! --Rule #1: Be a Creature Unlike Any Other

On Purim you're supposed to get so drunk that you can't tell Mordechai from Haman. The obvious symbolism here is that Mordechai = good and Haman = evil. To a lawyer, this immediately conjures up first year criminal law. Unable to tell the difference between right and wrong means you can't be held responsible for the crime you committed. Of course, most states specifically don't allow you to use voluntary intoxication as the reason you were unable to tell the difference between good and evil. But you get the point.

At Friday night Shabbat dinner the rabbi explained that the concept behind this requirement is introspection, reflection, dialing down your brain until you get to a higher level of perspective. You drink to go beyond the rational part of your brain so that you begin to confuse the good with the evil forces in your life, in the hope that you will come closer to sorting it out. I am perhaps adding my own spin onto what the rabbi said because I really identified with this and I hadn't really heard it quite this way before.

The rabbi also explained that in terms of amount, you are meant to drink as much as it takes you to "fall asleep from drunkenness." I would assume this means something short of "black out in the parking lot," but you can never be sure.

Let us rewind for a moment. Almost exactly two months ago my 2.5 year relationship ended abruptly. I have not seen or communicated with him since. I know from the unfortunate technological advance of facebook RSVP lists that I've listed myself as a "maybe" on Jewish events that he's been to, and vice versa. But never did our paths actually cross before yesterday.

I received a facebook invitation for a Jewish organization's Purim party, one I have attended in past years. He was listed as going. I had pretty much decided not to go; there were multiple other parties/Megillah readings going on that night, so why pick this one where awkwardness was a certainty? Then at Shabbat dinner a few of my new friends asked me to go. They also told me the theme of the party -- one that would allow me to buy and wear this neon-colored wig I have wanted an excuse to own for a really long time.

The desire to put off this unpleasantness was gradually outweighed by the thought of wearing a blue wig when I saw him for the first time. Per the rabbi, we wear masks on Purim not to hide ourselves, but to reveal our inner selves, at least to ourselves. A bright funky wig is not quite a mask, but looking drastically different from myself on this night seemed fitting. I'd be effectively in disguise, my most noticeable feature hidden, unrecognizable from a distance.

So I went. In a minidress and an electric blue bob.

Party #1: +2 alcoholic beverages

My M.O. at this party: approach people I already knew and talk to them, acting like I was a social butterfly having a great time. For the most part, this was genuine, I was having fun even though I had a constant pit in my stomach as soon as I happened to see him walk in (no eye contact, and I looked immediately away). My blue wig made me feel on stage through my queasiness, and made it much easier to "act as if."

I realize that being so overtly outgoing is somewhat in conflict with The Rules, but I concentrated my efforts on women and did not approach or begin conversations with men I did not know (or knew only minimally). I did unabashedly initiate conversations with the guy friends I knew well, but to the extent this was bending the Rules I excused it because of the unique difficulties this night presented. I tried very hard to minimize the looking around, and During the Megillah reading I pretty much managed not to look around at all.

Immediately after the Megillah reading I had to leave the party to go to another party. He had not approached me, and I was pretty sure the Rules would disapprove of me approaching him. The Rules are not entirely clear on this point, because if I'm not interested in reconciliation technically I wouldn't have to Rules him anyway; if I am interested in reconciliation the Rules allow for one light and breezy phone call when you know he's not going to answer his phone.

Calling when he's not in is crucial; you don't want to make him uncomfortable if he doesn't want to hear from you or is involved with someone else or even married. Leaving a message also allows him to call you if and when he wants to, which is the best start for any conversation between you. Your message gives him time to think and the option of not calling, which you must give him.

How this is possible in the age of cell phones I'm not sure. Leave a message at his work number on a Sunday? That seems bizarre.

In any case, this is mostly dicta because I am not in a position where I want him back. I admit I have my moments of wistfulness, but if he suddenly wanted to start over I can't say right now that I would be up for that. I have never seriously considered attempting the "one call for closure."

However, in leaving the party I recalled this rule and had my reasons for wanting to apply it by analogy in order to permit myself to initiate a conversation with him. Mainly, it was the feeling that if I left a party where we were both unequivocally aware of each other's presence without having interacted with him, it would cement a status quo of awkwardness and avoidance. As horrible as it feels to be at single events with him or even to imagine that scenario, I do not want that result.

After getting my coat, I strode back into the party room and looked demurely around the room for him. I spotted him quickly, with his friend (whom I run into much more often). I walked over, smiled, and looked at each of them in turn. I said "hi," directed at them both. In my brain, the next sentence was "okay, let's cut this bullshit. We need to be able to interact with each other." But the Rules restrained me from breaking character.

"How are you?" he said, with some undecipherable but meaningful expression in his eyes. Seeing him look at me that way and speaking to him like an acquaintance pained me, but my smile remained steadfast. "Good!" I said breezily. Looking again at the friend and addressing them both, I said "Well, I have to go to another party, but I didn't know if you guys would still be here when I got back, so I wanted to say hi."

The friend asked me where the party was, I told him, he said that was far, I said yes. Then I said to both of them, "it was good to see you guys," and left acting "as if" I was perfectly content with myself and the world and his presence in it.

Party #2: +1 alcoholic beverage

Driving to my next stop that evening, I felt a major adrenaline rush. I was high on courage. I was drunk on my own strength contrasted with what I perceived as affirmation of his weakness. I went to party #2 and reveled in my friends' positive reaction to my outfit.

As the night wore on, the initial euphoria wore off and I began to miss him. I wished that seeing me would trigger in him a desire to contact me, to talk to me, to be with me. I ached thinking of the sudden and total loss that had befallen us two months before, feeling like it was yesterday.

Party #3: +2 alcoholic beverages

Even then I forged on acting "as if." Instead of going home and crumbling, I tried to go back to the first party. It had already ended, so I bugged a few friends to go to my favorite dance club with me. My heart wasn't exactly in it, but I kept on going. In my thoughts, painful memories and inclinations towards regret intertwined with a profound appreciation for the friends who came out with me, the friend I voicemail-spammed in between the two parties, my family.

At 107 pounds, I'm not quite sure how I put away 5 drinks on Purim and didn't get what I would call drunk. "Boy, you can hold your liquor," my friend said at 3:10 AM when I drove him home. Yet I did feel a heaviness in my head as I entered my apartment. I quickly drifted off upon laying down, perhaps achieving the "drink until you sleep" mitzvah.

I dreamed about the party: he and I were standing back to back, each talking to other people. We occasionally touched by accident, and he turned around and spoke my home address as if he wanted to go there. I asked him why. He responded in a way that confirmed that he did not want to get back together.

The day after: +0 alcoholic beverages

I woke up too early, mildly traumatized by the dream. I mentally rejected the great life I have been building for these past two months, and instead submerged myself in wrenching disbelief that the upshot of all my blue-wigged fearlessness the night before amounted to a mere two-minute cameo. I missed him. I missed our relationship with all its problems. I sent my inconveniently abroad best friend a novella of an e-mail. Then, I put on a sweater dress, makeup, and a smile, and went to brunch with my best girlfriends, once again laughing, recounting stories, and acting "as if."

In the afternoon I went to visit a friend and her baby. At the end of a very pleasant conversation, she asked me how I was doing with the breakup, a question I would have answered "great" to a few days before. I was surprised at the tears that spilled out, but let them come. In that safe space, I purged myself of the weight bearing down on the shaky foundation propping up my bold, confident armor. Then, I stood up, hugged my friend, and went to meet some others to speak the foreign language I studied in college. I acted flawlessly "as if."

Weary at the end of my Purim day, my stirred-up emotions turned into questions. Did I unmask my true inner strength when I advanced, determined, towards being the bigger person? Or did my rekindled backward glances reveal an inability to overcome?

Am I furious and bitter at a Haman who hurt me or longing for a Mordechai who does not exist?

Draining as it was, acting "as if" each time faded into feeling "as if." Resolution of these inner conflicts does not occur overnight, but I daresay I am a rung higher on the ladder of self, where "as if" is unnecessary at the top.

Me, Rules-mingling

I had two quasi-legit occasions to put myself out there this weekend, another synagogue Shabbat dinner and a superbowl party. These events caused me to learn a little more about my Rules fallibility when mingling as a single chick:

• I automatically scope and find the guy or guys I could be interested in as soon as I get to the party or event. I look for wedding rings, then female appendages. If I do not find either, the person in question gets added to the mental list and it is extremely difficult for me not to pay attention to where that guy is and what he's doing for the rest of the evening. That gets into Rule-breaking territory, because I'll be looking at him or subtly putting myself in his general vicinity.
• This generally applies even if the pickings are slim. In such cases I will find myself focusing on the pasty guy wearing the absurd sweater with buck teeth just because he's not quite as old and fat as the rest of the people in the room. Not because I want to go out with him, but because I am bored. (This particular large-toothed individual did not ask for my number, by the way, although he did approach a conversation I was already having with someone else and then left after three minutes.)

At the superbowl party I quickly zeroed in on a dark-haired guy in glasses. I stared at him whenever I thought he wasn't looking, and thought I caught him looking at me a couple of times. But aside from wayward glances, I followed the Rules - I moved around the party from room to room at natural intervals, and did not sit next to him or introduce myself to him.

At the end of the party, I was helping my friend clean up and dark-haired guy and his friend came up to us to say goodbye. I hadn't officially met either of them so the friend introduced himself. Then dark-haired guy did, with was one of those handshakes that was a little on the long side, and a smile and a gaze to match.

When he walked away, my friend whispered "is he Jewish?" and I girlishly replied "I don't know!" She bounces off and ASKS the guy if he's Jewish. He says no, and then asks why. My friend says "oh, I thought you were cute, and my friend over there is single but she only dates Jewish guys." Apparently his response was "Damn, should have said I was Jewish!"

Is it breaking the Rules for my friend to do that unsolicited? I think it would have been if I had told her to do it, but she did it of her own accord. In any case, this is sadly the closest thing I've had to success so far. I sort of protested to my friend that I would have dated him anyway and that she shouldn't have told him I only dated Jewish guys. She chided me for this response, and was probably right. What I probably wanted was not so much to date him, but to blog about dating him. But at this juncture, can I ethically do the Rules on non-Jews that I know there's only a .01% chance I'd actually marry? Especially if the probability of my marrying crazy sweater guy is less than that despite his membership in the tribe?

Rules in Shul

I had an uneventful weekend, though thought-provoking. Lots of stuff going down at work. Rules opportunities may be minimal for the time being, but as there seems to be some demand for "Rules application" stories in between book reviews, I will recount my Friday night, wherein I did attempt to be Rules-y, however irrelevant.

There are several types of Jewish young adult events - the secular, the practically secular except for capitalizing on some Jewish calendar event, and the religious. I'd say the vast majority of events are in the first two categories, where an application of the Rules is pretty straightforward. This past Friday evening I went to the third - a young adult Shabbat/holiday dinner and service. Here is a brief account of the absurdity.

I walk in the room before the service starts. The lighting is reminiscent of a Walgreen's. I realize my knee-length dress ("Wear a short skirt (but not too short) if you have the legs for it") is the shortest one in the room. Oops. For some reason I didn't get from the invite that this was one of those modern Orthodox groups that tries to include people from more liberal branches, possibly in hopes of getting them to be more observant. I immediately cease feeling like a "movie star" who "just flew in from Paris on the Concorde."

They start the service, for which everyone stands and they have a divider between men and women. I am wearing heels. There is separated male-female dancing and singing and clapping. During the first dance, I stand on the female sidelines. During the second, someone grabs my hand and pulls me in. I am taller than everyone. I guess many movie stars are too, but that did not occur to me as I was attempting the Horah with scandalously exposed knees and stilettos.

After the service is over, I go up to a girl I know (albeit barely) who walked in mid-service. Somehow she and I end up listening to her friend and a male friend of theirs talk about their respective spouses and marriage generally for 20 minutes. Nervous laughter.

That group doesn't have room at their table for me, so I end up sitting at a table that, well, let's just say there were no prospects for dating at this table, and few prospects for good conversation either. I accidentally break the Rules by cracking a joke when someone else suggests we introduce ourselves around the table. No one laughs. Uncomfortable silence. I realize that a big chunk of my hair has gotten caught in the button hole on the back of my dress and attempt to quietly yank it out.

Dinner does not disappoint in terms of awkwardness. At some point I break character for a moment and scan the room. There are a handful of guys I'd probably give my number to, but many are attached and none has indicated any interest in talking to me. Meanwhile, the rabbi's trying to get us to drink a bunch of wine and various types of liquor. I'm fading fast.

I make it through dinner and a sermon. After dinner someone finally approaches me - a middle aged slightly overweight dude! Not to ask for my number though, but to ask for legal advice. From the sounds of it, that guy did not have a case. After two more somewhat stilted conversations I make my way home to bed, exhausted.

Conclusion? Not much of one. Be patient, don't get discouraged is part of the Rules. I met a few girls, which will definitely be good if I continue to go to events. This event was relatively inconsequential and was unlikely to get me a date in the first place. That said, it was unclear to me whether I was not being approached because a) no one found me attractive; b) my knees were showing; c) people thought I was with the pale guy in thick glasses and a sweatshirt sitting to my right; d) I was exuding the discomfort I felt; or e) the fluorescent lighting. Also, the dressing sexy principle has to be modified for Orthodox Jewish situations.