2 Surprising Things Blind Dates Taught Me

Is there even such a thing as a blind date anymore?
Last time I had one on the books, my wing man mentioned that of course I was going to Google the poor guy first. I have to admit, I wasn't going to. But then I did. And I regretted it......though not so much as I regretted that during the date, date told me he posted it was happening on Facebook and how much attention it got. To each his own, I suppose.

A blind date always sounds like a lot of fun, right up until the week goes raw and the day of is such an unrelated nightmare that the idea of hobnobbing and chitchatting with someone you only have stalker-information about looms like a massive chore. In my most notable case, and one that taught me a most surprising thing, I really wanted to hibernate in a dark cave and speak to nobody. The hermitage had nothing to do with the date itself. It had everything to do with a rotten week and a climactic, ironic mom move the same afternoon in which I unmistakably burnt my daughter's brand new dress which she intended to wear to a semi-formal dance that night. Yes, I did. There was no fixing it. She thought perhaps she would wear it with her lovely long hair covering the despicable crisp, but she couldn't. At any rate, I certainly didn't shove off from that predicament feeling chipper and engaging. But I did go.

I went, and I was early, and upon arrival I was seated at the "date" table - the one surreptitiously set with 4 chairs and 2 place settings positioned to easily look out the window. My date was late. And he texted me to tell me what he was wearing - despite the fact that one of us surely would be the first seated at the table that he reserved. (It's only fair to say I have learned more than two surprising things from blind dates, but some of them are merely amusing and not the important points).

Despite the stacked deck, I felt seasoned and confident going into this dinner. I even enjoyed myself. But what I enjoyed  most was the revelation that I truly liked myself. There I was, looking at pictures of someone else's kids, expressing reasonable interest in things I knew nothing about, chatting smartly and knowledgeably and all-around feeling genuinely interesting. I was proud of myself for sticking with the plan despite the rotten day, but I was even more proud that I was fun and charming and articulate. I swear the server wanted to join us. And, interestingly, it was pleasant enough but there was no remorse about ending the date and going home to be alone with my awesome self.

And then there is the other thing. It's the other thing that sobers me.
I'm atypically challenged and don't spend a lot of leisure time with adults. It's a hazard of my working mom single-hood. So it could be that this other thing is more a condition of my circumstance than a byproduct of blind dates, in fact I am kind of hoping so. This other thing I have learned is that the people who bring out the best in me, who draw out my true social self, the me I like - these people don't rivet me. They are pleasant, and they make good company, but I don't yearn to get back to them. That is not to say I don't know people who I miss and never seem to get enough time spent with them - no, that is not so at all. But I like to be enchanted and mindfully mixed up in heady conversation and excited by people - it is very hard to keep these people's attention. But I like it, I really like it! It excites a very fun, creative part of me that I need fired up to offset my deficit of leisure time. I fear I have a habit of choosing these people over the ones that really seem to exert to know me.

In truth, I didn't need blind dates to show off these things I know about myself. But blind dates have a way of magnifying and drawing attention to themselves. It's impossible not to notice what is felt and seen and heard at such a lovely ritual of folks practicing at knowing new people, any given day, any given way. If it hadn't been a date, I probably would have cancelled on a friend when I earned my place in mom hell burning that dress. And I resultingly would have missed the chance to like myself that very day, and to consternate over why the people who make me shine leave me always wanting something a little more.

Dollars and cents

I predicted my 2013 income within $46.90.
This surprises me to a degree because my income is an amalgam of two part-time jobs, one that carries a lot of flexibility and is based on hourly wage at different pay scales depending if I am working in the office (more valuable by the hour) or out in the field (less financially valuable). Interesting, eh? Real-time interfacing with people is less financially valuable than organizing details and schedules and problem-solving and interoffice politics.
It also surprises me because I experienced a significant shift in income this year. My basic and not-so-luxurious expenses shifted right along with my paychecks, so it could be said everything is moving in the right direction.

So I was $46.90 shy of my projected annual income. In some ways this is negligible because it's not large enough to affect any eligibility gaps or brackets. But the reason I was in a position to project my income in the first place was related to potential support and subsidy for the new health care. As could be expected, it also influenced other subsidized benefits. You are entitled to as much thought and opinion on what you think personal choices have contributed to the individual financial circumstances of any individual, but I am here to tell you I now fully understand why people purposefully linger in low income brackets.

There is a certain amount of stability that comes with social assistance. I have never done anything but put in my time working hard and consistently yet I have also consistently qualified for social services. And I was grateful to accept them. Now that I have managed to climb out of the most deplorable income bracket within my fields of employment, which seemed upwardly mobile and desirable, I work more and harder than ever. It never occurred to me the toll would be less to work with month to month.

I recently caught a glimpse of a definition of poverty that stunned me. The federal poverty index, while being adjusted for inflation and cost of living, has never been reviewed for the definition of what qualifies as essential expenses. So while the valued tools of social acceptance have changed drastically over the last 50 years, they are not factored into the index of expenses. Social acceptance is measured by what the average person has access to to integrate socially and meaningfully with others. The most obvious strike is the momentum of technology over those decades. Telephones, cell phones, internet access, data plans are all considered normal aspects of social integration these days. They are not factored into life expenses on the poverty index. This definition of poverty is directly linked to being able to keep up with the Joneses.

Keeping up with the Joneses doesn't aspire to qualify for social services. I won't be asking for an income reduction (this has been suggested to me). I will be eating more rice and beans. I will also continue to worry that when I look at job posts for which I am qualified but ask for current earnings on which to base potential salary, the upward climb feels long and arduous.

Whereas I once would have said nobody really aspires to qualifying for social services, now I am not so sure.