A dispatch from my 'slow' week

Slow = (1) cancelled date; (2) happy hours; and (1) show. I'll start with the show and move backwards.

At the show, I found myself sitting next to the most annoying couple ever. The dude kept rattling his M&Ms bag throughout the show. Why? Why?? What has our society come to when you can't get through a 90-minute performance without a snack? WTF? Also, his watch went off on the hour. Really? You need a noise-making watch that lets you know when the hour has passed? Really? There was also, of course, commentary (this did stop after I shot them enough dirty looks). Because it's not like people are there to listen to the music and watch the show, rather than listen to other members of the audience chat.

Thursday happy hour: went out with a bunch of coworkers with whom I was in training. I guess I don't really have anything to say about that happy hour, except that finding myself in a place called The Carving Room was surprisingly inoffensive (it did not smell like meat through and through). They have a very nice house red for a very appealing $4. I can say more about training: I emerged thinking I must be more competent than I think I am. All of us emerged doubtful that we were ready to take on the positions we were being trained for, but I have to just trust that we'll figure it out as we go along. What surprised me was that even (some of) the guys had doubts, and the usual divide is that women think, "I don't know, I haven't done this before," and guys think, "whatever, I'll figure it out." This is why Sheryl Sandberg's experience is worth learning from, even if it's clumsily delivered. But I digress. The more valuable takeaway is that many of us--perhaps especially women--restrict ourselves by our own perceived limitations, and it would behoove us to realize that we come off as more together than the hot messes we are in our own heads.

Wednesday happy hour: went out with a friend who perpetually pisses me off, but she's still a friend. She is convinced that she has taken whichever pill it is in the Matrix that gives you the real world, while most of humanity has taken the delusion pill. She's one of those "women have been sold a bill of goods" people (I recently learned that this is a thing, among (bitter) women). Anyway, the other night, overweight women were the target of her vitriol.

Friend: I don't understand it! Why? Don't they realize that it plunges their SRV? Their sexual retail value? Their chances of getting married.
A.: Does it? There's a variety of men out there who are attracted to a variety of body types. Haven't you seen wedding dresses in very large sizes? Someone must be marrying overweight women.
Friend: Overweight men!

It was apparently lost on this friend that she's married to a man she considers overweight. I wouldn't have known that about him but for her consistent harping about it.

Here's the thing about not just weight but all this friend's harping about the way women look: the other extreme is just as ridiculous. Guys, contrary to that Jezebel post, which is generally confused and hard to follow, you do need a dating coach (which is different from a pick-up coach), but, more to the point, there's nothing wrong with approaching someone if you're not creepy about it. That doesn't mean approach them with rude comments or immediate requests for dates; that means, approach and start a conversation, and maybe ask for a number. Oh, and this is key: be sure to f* off if the women signals that you should (this goes with not being creepy--that's really the key). Also, I understand that you're hard-wired to check women out, but please learn to be somewhat subtle about it.