<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105</id><updated>2012-02-03T11:38:48.841-05:00</updated><title type='text'>(Not on the) First Date</title><subtitle type='html'>Chronicling my first dates, working from the beginning of time to the present day. Every word you read is (possibly) true.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114198702067786497</id><published>2006-03-10T05:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T05:40:37.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sutherner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/hanks8.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/hanks8.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date:&lt;/b&gt; January 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; J-date once again (I need to stop using this on-line dating)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations:&lt;/b&gt; Emails and IM's, tried speaking on the phone but it never worked out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did: &lt;/b&gt;He had told me that he retired at a young age and spent most of his days exercising (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he loves to run&lt;/span&gt;), mowing lawns or with his son (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who from the picture looks a lot like Haley Joel Osmond&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spoke with a slow southern drawl, (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I love the suthern man&lt;/span&gt;) and after an hour he said that we were like peas and carrots (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dont know what that meant&lt;/span&gt;).  He also strangely kept calling me Jenny (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I think that was his dead wife's name&lt;/span&gt;) and told me how he had met three Presidents, how he fought in Vietnam and how he became a millionaire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he wanted to come over for nightcap and he said he already owned one and it was next to his bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked me back to my apartment 20 blocks away and we agreed to a second date sunday morning to go running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname: &lt;/b&gt;The Sutherner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS:&lt;/b&gt; 5 out of 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How long it lasted: &lt;/b&gt;Well, it turns out that going for a run with him was across the continental US, so that second date lasted only until the state line. I was too exhausted from spending six months with "&lt;a href="http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/man-or-he-man.html"&gt;The Man or He...Man&lt;/a&gt;". I think he's somewhere in Arkansas by now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114198702067786497?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114198702067786497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114198702067786497&amp;isPopup=true' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114198702067786497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114198702067786497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/sutherner.html' title='The Sutherner'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114198522976560226</id><published>2006-03-10T04:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T05:07:59.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Man or He Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/hm0031.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/hm0031.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Date:&lt;/span&gt; July 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How we met: &lt;/span&gt;His father the king wanted him to settle down, so he arranged for us to go out after I had been rescued by some of his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Previous flirtations:&lt;/span&gt; None&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What we did:&lt;/span&gt; Prince Adam picked me up at my place in his convertible and we agreed on going to a small Italian place nearby (I know it sounds like I always go to Italian places, but it just happens).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had drinks and he actually seemed mellower than I had seen on TV. He told me of his asperations of eventually being the king and how he wanted to be able to choose his wife on his own and not through his father. He told me not to take offense at this remark, because he saw me as being very beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, he asked me if I'd like to go on a small adventure with him, I was enjoying myself, so I said "why not."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove for about 10 minutes out of town and arrived at a deserted old and rundown castle. He assured me that there was nothing to worry about as he gently took my hand. Once inside, he asked me to wiat a minute while he "freshened up". &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Didn't know that guys can do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;After a minute I heard a loud strong shout and hear "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;By the powers of greyskull&lt;/span&gt;!!". Adam came back but was dressed differently and was now much more muscular.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was wearing a pair of fur shorts (my favorite) and I couldn't wait to see what was hiding underneath; perhaps a very long sword? I lost all powers of speech, butw as able to grumble He...Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nickname: &lt;/span&gt;The Man, or He Man (loss of words)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FDS:&lt;/span&gt; 10 out of 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How long it lasted: &lt;/span&gt;ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!!, oops you mean dating him, ah we went out for five more months, but I think he was too friendly with Teela. Turns out he was cheating on me with her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114198522976560226?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114198522976560226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114198522976560226&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114198522976560226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114198522976560226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/man-or-he-man.html' title='The Man or He Man'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114191291011765415</id><published>2006-03-09T08:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T09:01:50.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Natural</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/natural12.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/natural12.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date: &lt;/b&gt;July 1934&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; He's a coach in my softball league&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations:  &lt;/b&gt;We have flirted for the last few summers, but nothing ever came of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did: &lt;/b&gt;He asked me out for dinner. his schedule was full due to his travels, but we found the perfect evening right after a home game. He even giving me two tickets to see the game from behind the home dugout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought my friend Iris along with me and she also thought he was very cute. The Knights actually won this game after The Natural hit one out of the park smashing one of the flood lights in the stadium. As he ran around the bases with sparks flying all around him, I knew that he could be the one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the game, and the champagne spilled by his compatriots, we went to a small Italian Resturant that I know on the south side. The conversation was good and I still couldn't believe that he had been shot by a deranged woman. He discussed his career in the big leagues and told me that he will be retiring after the season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This made him very sad. So I thought of a way to cheer him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back to my place and I put on some soothing music. We lied down on the couch (which is practically my only piece of furniture) and made out for two hours. I must say that Roy Hobbs is a great kisser (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ladies, he's worth it&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and by the way, I saw my own set of sparks that night too).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname: &lt;/b&gt;The natural, (he just Naturally knew what to do ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS: &lt;/b&gt;9 of 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How long it lasted: &lt;/b&gt;We dated on and off for 10 years, until he got shot again (3 times a charm)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114191291011765415?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114191291011765415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114191291011765415&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114191291011765415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114191291011765415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/natural_114191291011765415.html' title='The Natural'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114190571455633170</id><published>2006-03-09T06:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T07:04:57.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hairy Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/towers2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/200/towers2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date: &lt;/b&gt;March 2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; Our mutual friends Sam and Rosie fixed us up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations:&lt;/b&gt; None&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did:&lt;/b&gt; We had agreed to meet at the Prancing Pony. Rosie had told me that he was a bit hairy and somewhat short...I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The fact that he was a bit over 4 feet, didn't bother me, but the hairy part and the smell didn't go over so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hairy guy seemed quite shy, but his manners were not really ones I would expect from someone expecting to get married. When he drank his beer, he let much of it roll of of his mouth and wet his beard. I must give him credit tho, he knows how to belch really well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suffice it to say, I didn't invite him to my place or even let him take me home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname:&lt;/b&gt; The Hairy Guy (duh, look at the pic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS: &lt;/b&gt;0 of 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How long it lasted: &lt;/b&gt;Just this one date (thank god)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114190571455633170?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114190571455633170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114190571455633170&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114190571455633170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114190571455633170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/hairy-guy.html' title='The Hairy Guy'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114181333214235659</id><published>2006-03-08T04:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T05:22:12.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Widowed Surgeon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/fugitive.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/fugitive.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date: &lt;/b&gt;Summer 1993&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; J-Date&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations:&lt;/b&gt; We IM'ed each other a few times, spoke on the phone twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did:&lt;/b&gt; The strange thing was that in his J-date picture, he had a beard, but when we met for our date, he was cleanshaven. He actually looked like the identical twin of a previous date of mine &lt;a href="http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/archaeology-professor.html"&gt; The Archaeology Professor.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Him being a well respected surgeon, we went to the Surgeon's ball.  While there, he was very attentive to me eventhough he constantly had to stop and talk with fellow surgeons, pharmaceudical lobbyists and execs and strangely some police detectives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that his wife had been killed a few months earlier by what he claimed was a "one-armed" man.  He explained that the police were still investigating, but that he suspected that he was their chief suspect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the ball, we went back to my place and made out on the couch for a few hours.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Glad he shaved that scruffy beard off.  &lt;/span&gt;He left my house at 2am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our next date was a real doozy, but since this blog is only about first dates, I guess you'll have to wait until I do a second dates blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname: &lt;/b&gt;The Widowed Surgeon - Wife was murdered possibly by him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS: &lt;/b&gt;9 of 10, great kisser, don't care what those famous women said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How long it lasted: &lt;/b&gt;10 months.  we actually continued going out for two more moths until he was arrested for his wife's murder.  we stayed in touch via JDate chat while he was in jail.  We ended the relationship once he was convicted.  Last I've heard he escaped and is a fugitive from the law&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114181333214235659?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114181333214235659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114181333214235659&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114181333214235659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114181333214235659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/widowed-surgeon.html' title='The Widowed Surgeon'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114181140235444582</id><published>2006-03-08T04:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T04:50:02.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Psycho-a-trist</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/50683.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/50683.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date:&lt;/b&gt; April 2003&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; I was invited by a socialite friend of mine to attend a dinner in nearby Boston. It was for the Pschiatry Society and this somewhat older man approached me and told me how "tasty" I looked in my red dress.  He then asked me out for some dinner right then and there stating he was "famished"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations: &lt;/b&gt;none&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did:  &lt;/b&gt;We ended up going to this little "Italian" resturant nearby.  He complained that they didn't have his favorite dish on the menu which I learnt was liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.  He ordered sweetbreads instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was quite intelligent and I could tell by the kinds of questions he asked that he was interested in picking at my brain besides getting into my pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept asking me about my childhood, but I have repressed parts of it, so I try to not talk about these matters.  He was eventually able to get out of me that I grew up in a rural town nearby Boston.  We had a dog (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he was suprised that we didnt have a lamb, go figure) &lt;/span&gt;who was taken to the puppy farm at age 10 to help take care of the smaller puppies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, he asked me if i want to come over to his house so he wont feel bad about eating a late snack in his lonesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agreed and we drove back to his house for a nightcap.  Whenw e entered his house, he went to get the drinks and I started looking around his office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was completely startled to find a floating head in a jar.  The head was of a male, but he had makeup on.  I screamed and quickly left his place, never to return again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname:&lt;/b&gt; The Pschyo-a-trist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS:&lt;/b&gt;1 out of 10, very creeppy and scared the crap outta me by the fake head (or was it???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How&lt;/b&gt; long it lasted: that one date.  He was a freak, albeit a well dressed, well groomed, intellegent freak. A freaks a freak tho.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114181140235444582?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114181140235444582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114181140235444582&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114181140235444582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114181140235444582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/psycho-trist.html' title='The Psycho-a-trist'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114180849345293506</id><published>2006-03-08T03:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T04:05:49.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Farm Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/luke3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/luke3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date:&lt;/b&gt; May 14, 1977&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; Met him while on a hunt for womprats during hunting season 3 years ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations:&lt;/b&gt; We always hung out together on the hunting trips (because travelling in numbers scares the Tuskan Raiders). After this season's hunt, he asked me out and we agreed to meet at my favorite pub, Toche Station.  Me, being someone who can hardly resist a man who hunts Womprats the way he does, said yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did: &lt;/b&gt;Met him at Toche Station for drinks. Had a very nice time. I could tell though that he was very sheltered and didn't go away from his Aunt and Uncle very often. He told me that his parents had been killed during or immediately following the Clone Wars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spoke about wanting to leave this desolate place and trying to find a place fighting with the Rebellion. His best friend Biggs (who was like an older brother to him) left last season for the Academy and farm Boy hoped he could go soon too, but he knew how much of a hard case his uncle was and knew it would be very difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After drinks, I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place for some pizza and some kinda dessert, but he told me that he had to rush back home to be up early in the morning to help his uncle choose some new droids to buy from the local Jawas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname:&lt;/b&gt; Farm Boy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS:&lt;/b&gt; 4 out of 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How long it lasted: &lt;/b&gt;1 date. I actually agreed to a second date for the following night because I saw some kinda spark in him, like a balance in the universe. Unfortunately, he never showed up the next night like he promised. I subsequently got a message from him 5 months later apologising for standing me up. Apparently, he claimed, that his aunt and uncle were killed and he had to leave the planet quickly in order to not get caught by the authorities. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A likely story, my ass.  It's amazing what kinda stories guys can make up instaed of just saying they aren't interested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114180849345293506?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114180849345293506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114180849345293506&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114180849345293506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114180849345293506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/farm-boy.html' title='The Farm Boy'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23647105.post-114180665692091760</id><published>2006-03-08T02:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T03:30:56.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Archaeology Professor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/indy101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/320/indy101.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/1600/mptv1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7180/2433/200/mptv1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date:&lt;/b&gt; January 1939&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How we met:&lt;/b&gt; While in my first semester at an Ivy League college, I took his class on archaeology and knew that he had potential&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Previous flirtations:&lt;/b&gt; I would write the words "I Love You" on my eyelids and make sure he would see them while he was teaching us. I also left an apple or two on his desk after class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What we did: &lt;/b&gt;After he was no longer my Professor, I saw him at the local pub and asked him if he would like to have a beer together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation was very nice, he discussed all the exotic places he had been to; South America, Nepal, Egypt, a little Meditterranean Island, China, India, Venice, Berlin, North Africa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me about his strict upbringing by his father who was very religious, but he himself was less so. He wasn't Jewish, but that's not a deal breaker unless he wants a strictly non-Jewish atmosphere in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that he has trouble keeping relationships due to his need to travel for his work and due to the fact that a over or two have turned out to be Nazis and have made it more difficult for him to get sleep at night since he needs to stay awake to make sure she wont try and kill him during the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nickname:&lt;/b&gt; His name is Henry, but prefers to be called Indiana (sounds like a pet's name). So I'll just call him The Archaeology Professor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FDS:&lt;/b&gt; 7 out of 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How long it lasted:&lt;/b&gt; Went out two more times, but after a few attacks on his life, I got the impression that it was too dangerous to be seen with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Date: 
How we met: 
What we did:

Nickname: 
FDS: 
How long it lasted:&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23647105-114180665692091760?l=firstdatespurim.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/feeds/114180665692091760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23647105&amp;postID=114180665692091760&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114180665692091760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23647105/posts/default/114180665692091760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://firstdatespurim.blogspot.com/2006/03/archaeology-professor.html' title='The Archaeology Professor'/><author><name>not on the first date</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13988122066195390478</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
