Dave Smith would like to be your friend on Facebook®

When it comes to Facebook®, I’ve found that there are two types of male friend requests:

The First – the innocuous Facebook® Friendship:

Him:    “Hey Phoren, haven’t seen you in ages.  How are you doin’ these days.”

Me:      “Dave, great to hear from you.  I’m fantastic – went to culinary school recently, still living in XX and working at XX.  How about you?  What’s up in your world?”

Him:    No reply or a pat one-line response about living, working, marriage and children.

This is the end of our conversation. We are now “Facebook® Friends.”

The Second – the “I want to get in your panties again” Facebook® Friendship:

The conversation begins the same, but instead of fizzling out after one or two exchanges, he keeps the momentum going.    In fact, if I don’t respond, he’ll email again.  He doesn’t post on my wall;  he sends private messages.  He’ll remind me of the fun we had in the past, finding out the details of my life, discovering if I’m single or in a relationship until the point when he can “casually” ask me out.

I’ve had a few of these.  I’m experiencing one of these right now.

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At the end of my (red) string

Chinese Proverb:

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle but will never break.

 

This morning, while I was in the shower, which is where I do my best thinking, my mind wandered over to contemplations of the red thread theory – the Asian legend that the gods tie an invisible red string around the pinky (or ankles) of those that are destined to meet each.

Such a beautiful concept and imagery – two bodies, gently bound by a red thread, knotted and tangled as they weave their way through the world.

Last week, within a matter of days, I received three confessions from men who admitted to some form of attraction towards me.  The first, who is unavailable, has discovered some unresolved sentimentalities from a long-crumbled relationship. The second man, a customer of mine, admitted that he’s been attracted to me since 2008 and just now got the courage to tell me so.  Attracted to me physically, mind you; he knows nothing of me as a person.  The third, a co-worker going through a divorce (and substantially lubricated), admitted that he’s desired me since the very beginning – nine years ago.  I like and respect this man, though we have nothing in common, and am not entirely opposed to what he was suggesting.  However, by morning and with a clearer head, he could only sheepishly look me in the eye as he remembered what he professed the hazy night before.

Last week, they were coming out of the woodwork.  It’s not a dearth of men that fetters my romance, it’s my challenge of finding the man at the end of my string.

Romance and Pastry

I’m in a good mood this morning. I had a date on Saturday and I think it went well. The drought between datable men lasted just about a year this time. Not that I’ve seen “rain” yet, but at least there’s a few clouds on the horizon. He wants to see me again. I’m trying (unsuccessfully) to be indifferent about the whole thing, but I’d blow off yoga to see him tonight, if he asked. (He hasn’t asked).

Enough of this daydreaming about men…it’s time to talk about scones!

My search has begun for the perfect scone recipe. Standard scone “base” recipes appear to fall into two categories – egg or no egg. The egg recipes differ on amount – from two eggs to just one unctuous yolk. The no-egg recipes call for milk, buttermilk, cream or yogurt, instead of the egg, to bind the butter/flour mixture. I believe traditionalists don’t use an egg, but I’m willing to do my own experimentations to decide what produces perfection.

 

Cranberry Orange Almond Scones

 
My first attempt was an eggless, yogurt scone – Fresh cranberries, orange zest and toasted almonds. The results had sufficient rise, felt lightweight, with a good outer crust. The interior was a little doughy and the scone was lacking in sweetness. In its defense, I actually ran out of white sugar for the recipe and substituted an admixture of white sugar, brown sugar and honey, which may have lead to the result. The chopped, fresh cranberries added the right amount of zing, more pleasing to my palate than if I used dried cranberries.

The grande dame of baking, Nancy Silverton, recommends freezing the butter before cutting into the flour, which I’m hoping may give the interior the texture I’m seeking. For my next attempt, I’m trying an egg version.

The Experiment

Last weekend, on two separate occasions, friends were chiding me about my “exacting” taste in potentially datable men.  The conversations went something like this:

Early in the Day:

Them:              I don’t think “geographically desirable” needs to be a requirement

Me:                  I’ve dated long distance.  Have you ever dated long distance?  It never works.

Them:              Yeah, it didn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean you can’t drive an hour to date  someone.

Me:                  I’m not saying “an hour”.  I’m talking about someone who lives in Iowa.   Someone you need to get on a plane to see.  Unless they live somewhere like Paris.  I’d date someone who lived in Paris.

Them:              I think you’re being ridiculous.

And later that evening:

Her:     What about him? He’s cute (pointing to the band’s drummer)

Me:      He’s kinda a big guy – like a teddy bear

Her:     He’s not FAT. He just has muscles.

Me:      Maybe, but you know I like the skinny guys.

Her:     Whatever (READ: “just die an old, bitter and sexually unsatisfied spinster – see if I care”)

Dear readers, in my defense, I’m really not THAT picky, but after a few years of dating, I know what I like and I’m fairly set in my ways. Sooo…

I’ve decided once again to try the online dating scene – with a twist. I’m going to let my best friend choose who I contact.  Every week, she can choose between 4 and 6 potential matches who I am REQUIRED to email – even if they’re big teddy bears living in Iowa.  If we begin an email exchange and they want to meet, I am REQUIRED to go out at least once with them – in some well lit, public place (Creepiness Clause:  If their emails are “creepy” – I’m allowed to bow out).

Our first draft picks will be this Sunday, so I think I need to find some recent photos.