The Case for Talking to Strangers

Kids, talk to strangers. I know, you've been told not to talk to strangers. We all were told that. When we were 5. But now we are all grown up. And as grown ups, I say we should be talking to strangers.

To me, talking to strangers has been like following the white rabbit to whatever adventures awaited me. Here are some recent examples.

While traveling back from the UK last year, I had a 5 1/2 hour layover in Amsterdam. I had never been to the Netherlands before and I wasn't about to sit in the airport when a famous city was just a 20 minute train ride away.

Making sure that I waited for the train on the correct platform, I asked a couple if they spoke English so that I could have them confirm the train schedule. The man's response was, "Speak E'glish? Focking-A! We are bloody E'glish!"  I spent my whole layover with this couple and had a blast.  Thanks to them I missed Anne Franks house in favor for joining them at the cloudy "coffeehouse." Definitely, I wouldn't have done that alone!

When picking up some out of town guests from a DC bar last summer, I started talking to a man who calls himself "The Hussy Cowboy." Yes, he's gay. Hussy Cowboy is his stage name as he sings and performs on the side. After talking to him that night, he invited me to his video release party at JR's in Dupont Circle. I went to the bar and didn't know if it was OK to laugh at this video which premiered that night. Is it a parody or serious?  You watch and decide for yourself:

Last December, I was standing around downstairs at the Wonderland Ballroom when a guy asked me where to find the stairs to the dance floor. Noticing his accent, I asked him where he was from. That lead to me dancing with him and his friend and going to another bar with them after dancing. His friend lives here in DC. She and I get along so well that we regularly see each other.  Seeing her regularly landed me on a weekly Friday-outing email list. This group does everything from happy hours, to dancing, to watching art house films. How fun to have a group of people to do this with!

This spring, I've gone out with a few people that I met on twitter. It's been fun to meet these strangers in person after a few fun exchanges online. Since their personality comes through on twitter, I already knew we would hit if off. Each time, I've had a fabulous time and enjoyed good conversation. Meeting someone new like this feels like online dating. You approach the stranger/acquaintance and awkwardly ask, "Are you ....?" Hahaha, how many times have I looked like a lesbian on a blind date?

So you see, boys and girls, talking to strangers broadens your circle of friends, exposes you to new experiences, and just gets you out of your bubble. The moral of this story is to "Do as I say and do as I do."

Fuck Idealism

I had dinner with some hippies.

Typically, you think of DC as a city of politicians, lobbyists, and all the human infrastructure needed to support the political machine. Activists might work here, but we tend to think of them as polished, TV-ready, suit-wearing office workers. I mean, wasn't the Occupy DC crowd bussed in from other cities?

My dinner companions all live together in a group house in DC. If you have ever stayed at a hostel, then you already know what it's like to constantly have people around. It's kind of like a college dorm...with even the bathroom being shared by 7 people. These people are intelligent. They have high wage potential. But they choose to continue to live communally as a lifestyle choice.

They are granola, crunchy hippies. They dress like they are ready to go hiking at a moment's notice. The girls don't wear makeup. Boys take as many supplements as the girls and have mastered vegetarian cooking. A pot of biodegradable trash sits in a pot waiting to be added to the compost pile outside. Each week they host meditation classes. They are uber friendly and open to any strange practice...like homeschooling.

Each has an unusual story to tell. There was the young perky couple who met while working as Peace Corps volunteers in western Africa. A high school film teacher also juggles professionally on the side. Each weekend, he juggles at the farmer's market where his sister sells vegetables from her farm. My friend works at a Smithsonian art gallery in the restoration department. Some volunteer at the community garden, and plans are set for a vegetable garden in the backyard.

Since I used to raise chickens in the suburbs, they wanted to know the specifics. How could they raise chickens in the city? With all of my land, they hoped that I grew my own vegetables. As a homeschooler, they wanted to know exactly what perspective I taught my kids.

As our discussion ranged from the plot points of Star Wars to dumpster diving for free food, I felt exhausted by their ideals. They praised a group home in the Maryland suburbs where 15 people live under one roof. In this highly organized house, everyone has a job. Most food is provided by dumpster diving. Housemates co-parented the children living there. House dinners are mandatory.

Listening to their idealistic hopes, I felt like I was in college again. It has been a long time since I discussed how to save the world. On the onset, saving the world seems like a good idea. But have you ever tried to live out any of those ideals? It's exhausting. You have to be consistent. You can't start it, let it go for a week, and then come back to it.

Now in my 30's, I have no desire to save the world. I'm too busy keeping my own tribe alive and well. Whether following the rules of a traditional religion or following a regimented life of meditation and composting, I'm tired of being told what to do. Instead of worshiping at the altar of anything else, I'd much rather worship at the altar of me.

My First and Last Date With Pierce Brosnan

Sunday night I had a first date at a Caribou Coffee shop in Fairfax.  I met this man on Ok Cupid, and was intrigued by his writing. On his profile, he expressed himself so well. He made some statement about emotions and intimacy being so closely tied together that I figured every girl on that site must find such a comment so refreshing.

Typically, men are afraid of emotions, right? Plus this is a site full of 20-somethings that are obviously looking for sex rather than a relationship. So, yeah, when a guy isn't afraid of emotions, I take notice.

We messaged a few times before meeting in person. Again, I liked how much he wrote since I tend to write novels compared to the haikus that are frequently exchanged on dating sites.

When I saw him in person, my first impression was disappointment. He looked like a grown up frat boy. I could just imagine him wearing loafers without socks paired with shorts and a polo. Isn't that so snobby of me? I thought so too. So, I pushed that first impression out of my head and tried hard to listen what he had to say. Maybe his personality would overcome his bland dressing.

On paper we would seem to have a lot in common. We both have kids. The ages are similar. He and I are both soccer players. He recognized my Barca scarf in my profile pictures. We both work in education. We have similar schedules. But...?

Well, there was no spark. He wasn't funny. Damn. Those emotions made him so intense and serious. And he looked at me with such attention that I felt under a microscope. Because he kind of looks like Pierce Brosnan, his one eye squinted while he listened to me talk which further reinforced who his doppleganger is.

Patiently, I suffered through his stories of travel soccer schedules and gymnastic classes until he finally said something interesting. He tried to convince me that men need to be as careful as women when it comes to online dating. One woman he dated four times became obsessed with him. Not only did she talk nonstop about his kids, but she stalked him. As he ate dinner at home with his kids one night, he saw her sitting in her car. Watching them.

But his interesting story wasn't enough. Besides, I walked away feeling like he was a perv. Too easily he talked about divorced people needing sex if they haven't gotten any in a while. That Pierce Brosnan stare silently asked if I would offer him the relief he was seeking. I tried hard to signal with my body language that no, I was not the girl for his needs. Any guy who uses the word "horny" on a first date makes me feel uncomfortable.

Glad that the hour was up and that we both had commitments to dash off to, I lied about seeing him again. I didn't know what else to say. Thankfully, the disinterest was mutual because neither of us have contacted each other since that night.

"Gong!" at the Blue Banana's Comedy Night

Tuesday night I ventured into the city to experience standup comedy. My friend did her best to rally her friends downtown to the Blue Banana to support her boyfriend's debut on stage. Watching my friend during his performance was almost more entertaining than his bit. The whole time her eyes were glued on him, and her hands covered her mouth. She was nervous for him.

Awww. That was cute.

Know what wasn't cute? Most of the comedy. Now take this with a bucket of salt. I mean, I realize I can be a bit naive and act kinda innocent at times, so my ignorance of stereotypes really puts me at a disadvantage. Meaning, I didn't get a lot of the jokes. Then there were the jokes that I got, but I still wasn't laughing. That's because they just weren't funny.  Offensive. Not funny. No good.

Ok, so I didn't walk away thinking about the jokes people told. However, I am still thinking about this little oddity that I learned that night. Most comedians seem to dress like Jerry Seinfeld. You know what I'm talking about. They wear the standard issued white sneakers to coordinate with their jeans. To me, this is like one of those chicken/egg questions. Did Jerry just dress in the standup comedian uniform, or have all standups decided to forever give a nod to the Great Jerry?

However, these Jerry Seinfeld impersonators take themselves way too seriously. Do they forget that they are comics?  Figuring that I went to a bar to watch the show, I didn't really see what the big deal was if I talked during the set. I mean, hey, if the comic isn't funny, then I'm gonna make fun with my fellow patrons. This is not recommended. Any audience member caught talking will be berated with the MC yelling, "Shut! The Fuck! Up!" (Just like that. Put the pauses with the exclamation points.)

As you can see, I'm the comic's worst nightmare. Unlike my cute, little friend that laughed at every joke or my other buxom friend that was flattered by the MC from on stage, I'm a cynic. I will not give the comic the benefit of the doubt. I will not presume the comic funny until proven disastrous. Instead I will listen with a mental mallet poised to strike that gong in my head.

The Grocery Stores are Full of Masochists

I mean really, why don't more moms have groceries delivered? Like many people, here are my choices:

1) Take all 34 kids with me to the store.  Appease them while I forget to look at my list thus forgetting critical items. Agonize over the embarrassment of my baby standing in the cart while people try to teach me a lesson with their stern looks. And, don't forget, kids want EVERYTHING they see! 

2) Shop on the weekends when the lines are so long that by the time I'm done shopping and paying for my mountain of food, I could've driven to the beach. And back.

3) Go online while the kids play video games or watch TV or finish their homework. I transfer my whole list onto a webpage -- which means I'll never come home again regretting that I forgot to buy milk. Or as we finish something in the house, I just add it to my online list.  Then I have the leisure of choosing between a delivery that includes the driver carrying the groceries into my kitchen or leaving the groceries packed in dry ice and boxes outside my garage. I don't even need to rearrange my schedule to be home to accept the food!

When it comes to relationships, I might be the masochist. But no one can accuse me of self loathing when I have my groceries delivered to my house.

Why? Because.

If I had a nickel for every time that I was asked why, then I'd be financially independent.

Since I have 50 kids, I get asked this question a lot. A lot. From challenging my decisions to wanting to know why numbers go on forever, I'm continually asked to explain things.


"Why was I born on that day?"


"Why do I have to play outside?"


"Why is blue blue?"


"Why don't you know what the first movie ever made was?"


"Why can't I stay up all night?"

Why is a question I ask too much as well. I usually vary it with What if? Why and What if can rob me of hours of sleep. I should probably just tell myself the same distracted answer that I give my kids, "Uh, I don't know. Because that's the way it is."

Caught Between Worlds

Yesterday's post prompted a disccusion with a friend about my situation. He said my situation reminded him of Superman's loneliness.

This really isn't far off target. (I'm examining my nails and polishing them on the shoulder of my shirt.) He's not the first to call me a super hero. When people find out I homeschool, they wonder how I can manage to be with my 64 kids all day everyday.

All acalades aside, he wasn't referring to my super human ability to maintain a household while educating my kids. He was referring to how I don't fit in any one social group. Just like the super hero who can't reveal his identity to any mortal and must always be alone, I too feel like I'm forced to hide a bit of myself with each group.

While I might have the energy of someone much younger than me who doesn't have kids, I have such a different lifestyle than they do. I don't have a career outside the home.  We don't have that in common.  I have kids to care for, so we don't normally have that in common either.  I have a limited schedule, yet another thing we don't have in common.

In fact, I get mixed reactions from people I meet when I'm out. Some are impressed that I still get out despite my responsibilities. Others squish up there face and wonder why a mother of 32 kiddos is out living it up. Or they ask why I would chose to homeschool instead of work. Their disapproval can make me feel like an under achiever who couldn't even earn a high school diploma. Staying at home with my kids doesn't always mix with the cooperate world.

But I'm single so I do enjoy the things that single people do. I like to date, go dancing, bar hop, see a concert. Unfortunately, many of the other people I might typically have things in common with aren't interested in what I like to do for fun. Or if they are interested, they may not have the energy to venture out.

As a homeschooler, I'm usually mingling with large families who talk about things I can't relate to since I don't have a husband.  Or if they invite me, the single, to something like a family game night, I feel as bored as if I were at some other kid's recital. I mean, family game nights are something I take for the team. But if I am the team, then it's pointless. Besides, if most of those families knew what I was doing with my free time, then they'd feel the need to proselytize me.

So I have a foot in my weekend world and a foot in my family world, but I'm not completely at home in either. If I'm gonna hide some of my identidy and be lonely like a super hero, I really hope I'm at least as hot as Wonder Woman.