Check the Date

We all fear rejection. Which is why asking someone on a date is a hard thing to do. But being wishy-washy about asking someone on a date -- that's can be even worse.

I helped out one of the new employees at work -- showed him how to save a ton of time on a particular project by automating the data entry. Friday he came by my cube.

"I want to thank you again for helping me out. You saved me a lot of work. Will you let me thank you by taking you out to dinner on Saturday."

Keep in my mind that he's talking to me in the middle of the workday, at my cube, and there are plenty of our coworkers around who hear him. The situation makes it seem much less like he's asking me out, and more like it really is a thank you dinner. Plus, as Chuck Klosterman points out in Downtown Owl, the people around here are friendly but not particularly interested in becoming friends. He's been here a month and is probably as starved for a non-work conversation as I am.

Even recognizing he might be asking as a date, I said yes, because he didn't say it was a date. He said it was a thank you. I try to take people at their word.

Also, generally if someone couches a date in other terms, they don't make it extremely date-like. They take the dinner (or whatever) as a time to gauge whether or not a real date is a possibility.

So we go to dinner. There's a yellow rose in a vase on the table. Jazz is playing softly in the background. It's nice. This is Dickinson. There are few vegetarian options on the menu. I order an entrée salad. He orders steak. We have a nice dinner, good conversation. After dinner, as we're leaving, he tells me to take the rose. I figure he's joking; who takes the flower from a restaurant table. I laugh and say no. He insists. After a couple of moments of this I realize there are no roses on any other tables. I take the vase and flower, but my comfort level has dropped.

At least it's a yellow rose, I think. That's the rose for friendship. *Maybe* that's how he means it. (It's amazing what we tell ourselves, isn't it?)

I've already agreed to stop at his apartment. He's ordering some new furniture, and has told me he wants a second opinion on how it will look. On our way to his apartment, I let him know that I can't stay late; I still have work to catch up on tonight.

He gives me a brief tour of his apartment. It's very nice. Mine feels squalid in comparison. He said he wanted honest opinions, so I give him mine. He wants to show off his stereo system -- something he had talked passionately about at dinner. So he puts on a CD. We discuss a range of topics from flamenco to the multiverse. He seems surprised that I can follow the conversation, that I have heard of the multiverse or the golden ratio. I'm surprised that he's used to people who can't follow that discussion, who don't know of these things. I remind him I have to work. We talk a bit more.

And he gives me a box of truffles. Okay, now I can't pretend to myself that he doesn't mean this as a date. Once again, my comfort level drops.

And as we're leaving for him to take me home, he steals a kiss. Now, regardless of what happens later, he can't pretend that it's not meant as a date.

Comfort level: sub-basement.

On the drive home he asks if I'm involved with anyone.

"Sort of."

"'Sort of,' like it's ending?"

"'Sort of,' in that we're trying to figure out where we're going."

"Then I apologize for stealing that kiss."

Though I half want to rail at him for turning what could have been a friendly, getting-to-know-you dinner into an uncomfortable evening, I tell him it's okay.

"Then can I steal another?"

Why couldn't he have been that up front in the first place? Yes, at this point the audacity or courage or whatever you want to call it was inappropriate, but it would have been absolutely appropriate for him to squirrel his courage when he invited me to dinner instead of hiding behind "Thank you." It wouldn't have taken five minutes to tell me what he actually had in mind. And it would have saved us both discomfort and embarrassment.

How can you make your wishes clear in just five minutes?

In Defense of . . .

"I'm okay with most people, but that (shudder), that's just . . . It's not right."

Twice in the past week I heard people say this, or something a lot like it. And that was just last week. It's a judgment statement that people make all the time. If the statement referred to something harmful:

I'm okay with most people, but rape/ pedophilia/ beastiality/ murder (shudder), that's just . . . It's not right.

Then I might not have a problem with it. I still wouldn't like the word choice -- condeming the person instead of the action -- but I'd be a lot more okay with it.

Last week, as usual, neither statement was about actions that cause harm to anyone. In fact, they weren't even about actions or lifestyles that would be easily noticable.

Last week, the things that brought about the squeamish comments were gender correction surgeries and furries.

And, as usual, the comments made by the squeamish illustrated how uninformed they were. To be fair, though, one of them asked me questions. The other just made assumptions. Sadly, making assumptions seems to be the more common of the two.

Although the conversations we ended up having in both instances lasted longer than five minutes, it took just five minutes for me to address and refute many of the common misconceptions, stereotypes, and prejudices regarding both gender dysphoria and furries.

Most prejudices stem from ignorance. And much of that ignorance can addressed, on a surface level, in just five minutes. People who hold prejudices will often start to rethink their points of view if someone they know challenges their assumptions. Five minutes may not overcome the prejudice, but it's a start.

What prejudices can you address in just five minutes?

What's Up, Doc?

Sometimes you just need to let people know what's up.

I almost didn't post today. It's Tuesday, and I always post to Just Five Minutes on Tuesdays, but today I felt I didn't have time.

That's funny, isn't it? The blog is called Just Five Minutes, and I didn't feel I had time to post. (I'm rolling my eyes at myself as I type this.) Fortunately I realized how ridiculous that is. So here I am.

I know why I felt so pressed for time, and the reason's legitimate. My team at work was recently notified that the budget for our project won't be extended. We all need to look for jobs. So that's what I was doing tonight. I put together and sent off four resume/application packages. Frankly, that ate my evening. So the post I had planned to write isn't going to happen today.

And that's okay. Not posting--that wouldn't have been okay. It would have left those of you who read this blog wondering where I was and what had happened. Not cool. Not when I can spend just five minutes writing a quick post that lets you know I'm here and still working on this blog.

Just five minutes can let others know what's going on.

Say what?

Stating your case quickly and clearly sometimes gets you what you want.

Several years ago my sister, my nephew, and I were running errands. It was late, and everyone was ready for dinner--my nine-year-old nephew particularly. He didn't react well to hunger, so I knew there wasn't time to head home and make dinner. Fortunately, the town offered plenty of restaurant choices, though a sit-down restaurant probably would take too long, too. Fast food it was.

I was driving, so I made the announcement:

"We're gonna run through a drive-through. Burger King or Taco Johns?"

My nephew immediately balked. "I wanna go to McDonalds."

I tried explaining that McDonalds was the absolutely worst fast food restaurant for a vegetarian (can't even eat their fries, and their salads all had chicken on them). But he was hungry, tired, and cranky as only a nine-year-old can be.

"Let's try this again. Instead of whining and getting mad, how about you tell me why it's so important that we go to McDonalds instead of Burger King."

"It won't matter."

"Try me. But calmly."

So he did. This was the last day to get a particular Happy Meal toy. He had all the rest from the series, but my parents hadn't had time to take him to McDonalds over the past week (a weekly ritual of theirs), so he didnt have this one.

I remember how important things like that can be. And my dinner could wait till I dropped my sister and nephew off. We went to McDonalds. But if he hadn't been able to explain in less than five minutes why going to McDonalds was so important to him, we wouldn't have.

What position of yours can you explain to an adversary in just five minutes to make a difference in your life?