I’ve been known to take a risk or two in the interpersonal department – i.e. one time I emailed a guy to check out an apartment I had no business subletting at a time I wasn’t even looking to move because his Craiglist ad was so incredibly well-written and charming. Then there was the time I engaged in a year-and-a-half flirting game with the son of the owner of the falafel shop on my street. I’ve also made an art form of giving out my personal business cards in manners befitting a scene out of Oceans 11 through 13.
If there’s one friend in every friend group that makes all the other friends go, “you won’t believe what _________ did…” – it’s me.
And still none of my previous hi-jinx top what I’ll be doing tomorrow night from 6-10pm at a bar in the east 20s. For at that time on the day after this current day, I’ve agreed to participate in a date auction – like, an auction in which people bid on people for dates. Like I’ll stand alone on a stage and men will bid on the opportunity to take me on a date. Oooor, I’ll stand alone on a stage…
You know that scene in The Princess Bride where Buttercup makes her debut as the new queen? She comes down from the little queen balcony thing looking all amazing and pure in that beaded white empire waist gown and then walks out into a crowd of villagers meant to welcome her into her new position on the thrown, but then instead of any of them cheering or clapping or bidding to take her on a date that one, old haggard, massive-mole-on-the-face grandma lady heckles the shit out of her destroying the entire moment slash arguably her life?
Yeah – I know that scene too.
What were you thinking?! is what everyone I mention this to says. Well first I was thinking, this is for a really good cause. My friend Julie runs the Boston Marathon in support of the Dana Farber Cancer Institute, and the “Date My Friends” event (actual title) is a major part of her fundraising effort. So I was thinking, I essentially do the opposite of things-for-a-good-cause every other day of my life, why not spend a few hours penance and raise money for something important?
Okay, fiiiine…
The actual first thing I was thinking is that it would be a silent auction. Like the best goddam picture of ever taken would sit in a beautiful frame a top a table with corresponding piece of paper boasting the title
JESSIE – 26 – West Village
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LIKES: long walks on beach, chocolate lab puppies, sushi.
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DISLIKES: bananas, men who wear jewelry, the GOP
That I can handle. Men I don’t have to stare directly in the eyes of examining a re-touched photo and brief description then silently making an offer. No offers would be a huge bummer, but it would be a huge, silent bummer…
Word to the wise – if someone asks you to participate in a dating auction, they probably don’t mean a silent one.
So naturally I’ve begged every guy I know to stand in the audience and help the bidding process. Naturally 97% of them are gay.
And so – I’m left with no other choice but to do this thing – all the way. Like my friend Jenny said: “Maybe you’ll meet someone amazing. I HATE when people say shit like that. But maybe you will…”
I hate when people say shit like that too, but maybe I will.
Regardless, you can expect a full report on Friday morning.
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In grade school, when the dreaded process of picking teams rolled around, I’d always sulk in the background intentionally, avoid eye contact, and sometimes even feign injury.
This is like that. Like that but waaaayy fucking more scary.
If all else fails, just limp.