Tonight's tale of the single life takes us to Lincoln Park, where Nikki and I met for a night of 'trolling for dudes.' We do that occasionally, usually only half-seriously. We went to Ja' Grill, a Jamaican restaurant that I'd heard had a killer rum punch. It was delicious and I want to go back soon for the spicy-smelling food (and more drinks, because the whole menu looked pretty damn tasty). We then walked along Halsted and wound up at Glascott's. Within minutes of the first sips of our drinks, we were approached by a John Cusack lookalike. I kid you not, they are practically identical. Nikki asked if anyone had ever told him about the uncanny resemblance, and apparently he's been called on it as far away as Turkey. Our gent is a first-year student at Kellogg, and at first glance, he seemed kind of interesting. He told us about meeting with a high-powered finance man in Turkey and how "Ankara is the most boring city in all of Europe and Asia". And then he wouldn't shut up. After a very long-winded and one-sided discussion about Dubai (apparently India is a "police state" and "they need smart people" to "get things done") he finally took his leave. Nikki and I immediately burst out laughing and declared it our new favorite bar. However, we had not yet escaped Mr. Cusack. When we left the bar shortly thereafter, he was standing on the corner.
"I realized," he said to us, "That I forgot to invite you back to my place."
We demur. He persists. I tell him, "You talk too much."
"I'd talk a lot less at my place."
We give him a final no and, arm in arm, set off down Halsted, laughing all the way.

1) The first time I've been to the Aragon Ballroom. It's really pretty and I kind of want to reproduce their nighttime sky ceiling mural in my apartment, complete with a disco ball.

2) The first time seeing M.I.A. live. Amanda had an extra ticket and offered it to me. Sweet! But to start from the beginning, I actually enjoyed the opener, the catchily-named Holy Fuck. They consist of a very enthusiastic drummer, a very enthusiastic bassist, and two very enthusiastic guys bent over tables carrying some combination of keyboards and tech equipment. The funny thing is, I'm not sure I would like them as much on a record. They do very scientific-looking songs of loops and, I guess I'd call it modulations. It was really catchy and dance-able. When they were done, M.I.A.'s DJ came out and did a short  house/dance set. Another break, and then the party returned. I had no idea that she had this level of cult following, or that they were so young. Over half the crowd looked like college and even high school students. I'll save my thoughts on the fashion statements displayed for another time; suffice to say they were very colorful and largely unflattering. But hey, I was just there to dance. M.I.A. herself looked a little like a Christmas disco ball, and even without all the glitter, she is quite lovely. She mostly did new songs, and had a couple dancers onstage with her. They also had horns (just plastic cones, I think) that they threw into the audience periodically and honked on between numbers. With the horns, the heavy bass and shrill screams, the sound level in that pretty old castle was through the roof. It was a lot of fun, if short. She played a two-song encore that put her portion at an hour fifteen minutes. We would have danced and screamed for at least two hours. But yes, a good time, capped off by:

3) The first time getting picked up on public transit. I still can't quite believe it happened. I was waiting for the bus (#72 if you're interested), arms crossed over my chest because I wasn't wearing a coat. I was looking down the street for the bus lights when suddenly there's a guy at my elbow asking if I'm cold. (Why do they always pop up when I'm looking the other way?) I explain that I was at a show and we have a sort of stilted conversation about music. It's stilted because I'm tired and he doesn't seem to hear me well. The bus finally shows and I make a point to not sit by him. I like talking to strangers, but this one just isn't jiving. But just as the bus comes up to my stop, he stands up, comes over to me, and says he's getting off at the street after mine. I decide to get off at the one after he leaves and just walk the extra two blocks back. Then he asks me if I'm in the neighborhood if he can meet up with me for coffee sometime. I tell him I have a boyfriend. Yes, I appreciate the irony of this happening right after writing about my botched online dating foray. No, it probably wouldn't have hurt to say yes just for the hell of it. But answer me this: would you go out with a stranger you met at the bus stop?

I have a very embarrassing confession to make.

I made a match.com account on Monday.

My rationale was that I wouldn't be looking for 'the love of my life' or 'my soul mate.' I figured I'd try to score a date, remember what it's like to go on a date, and then move on once I had to break out the credit card. Turns out there isn't much free on the site. So this evening, dying with curiosity to see who had emailed me and who was looking at my profile, I did a subscription, planning to cancel it before I had to actually pay anything (three days). I promptly panicked. What really did it, oddly enough, was not the 31-year-old calling me "freaking adorable" or the 36-year-old with the username ChicagoPrince. It was some guy in Skokie was trying to IM me. And honestly, he seemed like he'd probably be a very nice kid, interested in music and the arts, and even kind of scruffily cute. But I just couldn't do it. Ten minutes after becoming an 'paying' member, I deactivated from the site and I don't think I'll go back.

I know people who have done online dating and have had things work out magnificently well. And I do see how it can be a very good way for to take the pressure off, particularly for people like myself who are not at ease with the opposite gender and/or can't seem to find them in person. But I once told myself that I'd never resort to online dating, and I can't explain why it was such a visceral reaction, but at least I know now that I really don't want to take that road.

If I'd met Mr. Skokie at a concert or a coffeeshop, who knows. I'm holding out for that.