This was a new one. Intelliconnect. Instead of winking, you peered over your spectacles at someone of interest. This was Internet matching for the intellectually elite.
\nOf course, there was no IQ test, but never mind.<\/p>\n
I arranged to meet C at Teaism, Dupont Circle.<\/p>\n
(Teaism had been a parting gift from S. I got Teaism and his black umbrella, the one with the bended spoke that caved inward in the wind. Teaism, he always said, was a good date place, because if things worked out you could stay and have dinner or go elsewhere and if not, \u201cwelp, finish up your tea and off you go.\u201d He would know; he was probably still going there while we were dating.)<\/p>\n
C seemed to like the suggestion well enough. He came pulled along by a bouncy, panting springer spaniel, Boxie. We settled Boxie down, fastening him to a nearby tree and sign one occurred. He sighed, heavy-hearted; a sigh of heaving, monumental despondence. Unhappiness frightens me. It makes me smile hard, teeth blaring, which, in not too much time at all makes my jaw hurt. Badly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d he said, blandly. \u201cWell, I just came from the farmer\u2019s market, haven\u2019t been there in years\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n
And, we were off.<\/p>\n
He talked in long rolling sighs as we approached the counter.<\/p>\n
I always wonder about the little things \u2013 the logistics of a date. I care if people notice their surroundings, leave room in the conversation for speaking, for giving and taking.<\/p>\n
I wonder, for example, when someone starts with a story as they approach the counter in a tea house: how will we order? When do I interrupt? When do I say \u201cHello, nice to meet you. My name is\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
But never mind, C was still talking as we ordered tea and carried it back to a little table. He kept talking, rolling over hills of his disappointment in the farmer\u2019s market \u2013 something about cheese, and how it was made \u2013 to having not been to Dupont in a while and how commercial and bland my neighborhood had gotten, to hoping the person taking our tea order had understood him when he asked about the milk they served with the tea.<\/p>\n
As we sat, he was saying, \u201cYeah, I actually try to stick to raw milk. I like pure foods, you know the raw foods movement. Are you involved in that at all?\u201d His eyes sparked black just for a second and quickly back to flat again.<\/p>\n
I tilted my head, poured my own tea, \u201cMmmmm?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRaw foods. The raw foods movement?\u201d he carried on. \u201cYou know the idea that you only use pure, organic ingredients. And don\u2019t treat them chemically, in any way. That\u2019s why I was really surprised at the market that they didn\u2019t offer raw cheese, made with un-pasteurized milk. Most places, most markets do.\u201d<\/p>\n
I swirled my spoon in the teacup, mulling \u201cunpasteurized\u201d like cider sloshing through my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know milk is better for you when it\u2019s not pasteurized. Much better. There are lots of studies. It doesn\u2019t have all the chemicals\u2026 but, most stores can\u2019t sell it — \u201d Here he paused to roll his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cMmmm,\u201d I looked, deep into my tea, unable to meet his eyes, \u201cbecause of the health codes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, which is so ridiculous. JAMA\u2019s done studies. Everyone has!\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
He softened, subdued.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s really\u2026 it\u2019s just become so difficult to find. I mean even the farmer\u2019s markets don\u2019t seem to offer it anymore.\u201d His lower lip poked out, the mere thought of being unable to buy milk straight from the cow\u2019s teat to his lips, clearly wounding him to his core.<\/p>\n
For a moment, I was disheartened, too, on his behalf. We both sat in stillness, mesmerized by spoons and teacups, silently mourning the loss of cow-to-lips milk in our world.<\/p>\n
And though I knew I could never become a raw-milk-drinking kind of gal, for a moment I looked at him, into his saddened, hurting heart and I thought \u201cCould I?\u201d<\/p>\n
After all, here was someone who cared for something, cared passionately about purity and naturalness and health. Who could be against that? And there were studies! Perhaps my impression of the advantages of modern science on food preparation and delivery was the one that was skewed. Maybe I\u2019d feel better, lose weight, lighten my load if I lessened my exposure to chemicals myself. Could it really hurt to consider? Didn\u2019t I say I wanted open-minded? Here was a man who wanted purity and goodness, in ways tempting in their concreteness.<\/p>\n
Then he spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s why,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019m considering renting a cow.\u201d<\/p>\n
I giggled. See, and he was funny, too. \u201cOh yeah? A cow? Like a timeshare?\u201d<\/p>\n
A wave of light spread speedily across his now glowing cheeks. \u201cYes!\u201d he said joyously. \u201cExactly like time-sharing!\u201d<\/p>\n
He went on. Apparently, in many modern cities, cow sharing has become in vogue. Along with the cow, you get the farmer, and the labor of milking the cow, and the bottling, and preparing of your milk order. You simply go to pick it up.<\/p>\n
There were raw foods groups, he went on to explain, where one could meet people to form such a cow-share experience. While there, recipes were traded for vegan organic delights, farming tips offered – though, truth be told, none of the members he knew really did any farming per se. There were lists circulated of stores and \u2013 e-gads \u2013 restaurants friendly to the non-pasteurized set.<\/p>\n
He was chattering away, animatedly now. But I could only stir Moroccan Mint and pick at the salty oat cookie that I\u2019m sure would never meet his seal of approval.<\/p>\n
And I had to be honest.
\nNo, I could not be with this man. Not ever.<\/p>\n
We finished our tea. He asked if I wanted to walk with him and Boxie and I said sure. It was a beautiful day, yellow and orange-brown leaves touching the tips of sky.
\nAnd then I kept walking, feeling sad for C, and for Boxie, who seemed like a perfectly nice dog.<\/p>\n
And , mostly, admittedly, feeling sad for me.<\/p>\n
To read more of washwords’ tales from the dating crypt, look for her pending book release.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" This was a new one. Intelliconnect. Instead of winking, you peered over your spectacles at someone of interest. This was Internet matching for the intellectually elite. Of course, there was no IQ test, but never mind. I arranged to meet C at Teaism, Dupont Circle. (Teaism had been a parting gift from S. I got […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[622],"tags":[50,35,36],"class_list":["post-24","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-words","tag-love","tag-single","tag-single-women"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=24"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=24"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/washwords.com\/words\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=24"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}