The Epic Saga of a Giant Donut

So I know what you're thinking (and by you, I mean A). You saw the title and you thought to yourself, "Oh no Stinger's life has sunk to such lows that she has utterly nothing to write about, so she's going to tell the story about a giant donut."

Well, worry not, Fair Reader, because my life may be boring but the story about the giant donut is nothing short of legen - wait for it, I hope you're not lactose intolerant because the last part is - DARY. That's right.

Months ago in Puerto Rico, my sister and I were sharing a room and watching Man Vs. Food, an awesome show on the Travel Channel where this guy Adam Richman goes around trying to beat food challenges (this was the direct catalyst for my New Year's Resolution to succeed in at least one food challenge this year). Two amazing things came out of this mini-marathon of watching Adam take on 10-pound pizzas and wings so spicy they cause heart attacks.

First of all, little sister E found her future spouse, Greg Moomsie aka the Great Moomsie, The Great Moomsie is a skinny little shit of a guy who manages to consume massive amounts of food for a living. And there is something about this that my sister finds to be totally sexy. So Moomsie, if you're reading this, feel free to give little E a call because she is just waiting to binge at the Chicken Shack with you.

The second most awesome thing was we started our hunt for a giant donut. In the Austin episode, Adam visits this bakery famous for its donuts and they make a giant donut that's two feet wide and requires a bucket to make the imprint in the dough. And it looked delicious. So E and I just turned to each there and simultaneously said, "We. Need. Giant. Donut."

We searched all over NY for a giant donut but couldn't find anywhere that made them and even found a Yelp posting from someone in Ohio titled, "HELP! NEED GIANT DONUT!" It seems there is a network of people out there looking for oversized delicious pastries, and now, E and I are proud members.

So fast forward a few months and E and I were researching places we could go in California while I was visiting out there. E found a posting on Yelp for a bakery that makes giant donuts and we started scheduling our days around it. Bob's Donut & Pastry Shop does in fact make giant donuts, either glazed or maple-glazed. And they're open 24-hours a day to satiate your giant donut cravings, even at 4AM!

We got the maple-glazed, because it seemed more special, and it was absolutely delicious. You'd think a giant donut would be too doughy in the middle or too hard on the outside, or the bread to glaze ratio wuld be too low, but I am telling you it is perfect. It's so soft it melts in your mouth and might possibly be my new favorite dessert. From now on when I have people over, I'm going to order one and say, "Would you care for some dessert? I can offer you a slice off this giant donut."

When we were leaving Bob's, we saw a guy order a regular donut to which E scoffed, "Oh look at you buying your regular-sized donut when you could've gotten a giant donut. What a sucker!" We thought it would be great to stand outside the shop and heckle the people that bought regular-sized pastries like, "Oh pshaw! A cruller?! What's wrong with you - there are GIANT DONUTS in there!"

We chronicled the giant donut with a photo.



Anyways, you would think that would be the end of the giant donut adventure, but no, there is more.

When I got back to New York, the parents and I went to dinner at Per Se for my mother's birthday and I recounted the story for them.

My father, in typical my father fashion, looked confused and said, "But why would you want a giant donut?"

To which I obviously replied, "Um, why WOULDN'T you?"

Unfortunately, during this exchange the very hot waiter was nearby and he wandered over and said, "Did I just hear someone say giant donut?"

I explained, "Yes, you heard correctly. I went to California last week and my sister and I bought a giant donut the size of my face. It was awesome."

He laughed and asked if we finished it and I told him unfortunately, we did not.

Half an hour later, he came by to pour our wine and told me, "So I told the chef about your giant donut and he laughed and said it's great. He's very impressed."

Thinking the chef was some unknown but hardworking sous chef who I didn't care about, I was amused but didn't think much of it.

Two hours and eleven courses later (yes, it was the longest dinner ever), our desserts came out and the waiter brought us special extra desserts: coffee and donuts. "The chef specially made these for you because of your love of giant donuts!" he said. "I'm sorry, these are regular-sized donuts, but I hope they're acceptable. I know you usually like the giant ones."

First of all, that's what she said. Secondly, the donut was delicious.

Thirdly, the waiter asked if we'd like to meet the chef and take a tour of the kitchen, which we did. And we walked into the kitchen to see this guy:


Thomas. Keller.

Now unless you're a giant food nerd like me, or you just spend a lot of time watching the Food Network, you probably have no idea who he is. But per his Wikipedia page, Thomas Keller has "won multiple awards from the James Beard Foundation, notably the Best California Chef in 1996, and the Best Chef in America in 1997. The restaurant is a perennial winner in the annual Restaurant Magazine list of the Top 50 Restaurants of the World....He is the only American chef to have been awarded simultaneous Michelin stars for two different restaurants."

In other words, if the world of French epicurial arts were a terrorist organization threatening American soil, Thomas Keller would be Jack Bauer. He kicks French culinary ass. He is a legend among chefs. Plus he was in the Pixar movie Ratatouille:



So totally giddy, like a teenage girl in the 80s meeting Scott Baio, I shook his hand, told him what a huge fan I am, and thanked him for his donut. Walking out of the kitchen, I realized what an enormous fool I had made out of myself and for the rest of my days, I will now be known to him as "the giant donut girl."

I may never live down the shame, but at least I can tell people that one of the greatest chefs in the world, Thomas Keller, made me a regular-sized donut.

I Heart NY

So I recently had a close call. I came thisclose to leaving New York. For good. I got accepted into my dream school in California and last week I flew out there to visit and contemplate the big move west. And although the weather was lovely and I had a great time with my sister and my friend J and a delicious giant donut, it hit me at some point that I couldn't possibly live there, at least not long-term.

The main problem is that I'm spoiled. Living in New York means that I have everything I could ever want right outside my apartment. I probably should've moved to California right after college, and then worked my way up to Manhattan, but now that I'm used to this, there really is nowhere else to go. So I guess, for better or worse, I am going to be here for a long time.

I am not putting down my friends that live in other cities at all. For each person, home means an entirely different thing. And for me, I need a city that is always exciting, where there are thousands of possibilities and you can never be bored. Even though there are times where that can be draining, just thinking about the possibility of leaving got me really contemplative about the time I have spent here, and what the past five yeas of my life have looked like.

I remember moving into my first apartment, a studio on the Upper East Side, full of equal parts terror and elation. And even though none of it was what I expected and it wasn’t at all how I thought my life would turn out, I loved (almost) every minute of it. I grew up here, learned how to fend for myself, learned that being a grownup doesn’t just entail paying rent, eating whatever you want, and having the freedom to stay out all night.

I found out that Manhattan life isn’t the glamorous, shiny depiction Sex and the City makes it out to be, but that it IS an endless party and there is no other city that can compare. I’ve roamed the streets all hours of the night and early morning and taken solace in the fact that there are always other people doing the same, that this city is an alive, pulsating organism that is constantly changing and always exciting.

For the past five years, and what now feels like forever, this city has been my home. That is no small feat considering I spent the majority of my childhood and teenage years moving around, so in many ways, this is the first place I have ever felt that way about. Every time my train has pulled into Grand Central Station, or my plane has touched down on the JFK tarmac, I have felt the flooding of relief flow through my body with the knowledge that I am home again.

If I could boil down my five years down to a mental scrapbook of memories, it would consist of:

1) The night R and S and I crashed a bachelor party and then stayed out all night taking tequila shots and playing beer pong at these random guys’ apartment

2) The first date M and I went on at Momofuku and Bar Jamon and when he finally kissed me and everything changed

3) The hilarious conversations I had over family dinners where my father would dish out non sequitors like his desire to be a gangsta and the fact that he goes to strip clubs

4) The way the city smells when the seasons change and I could just walk outside and know that it was officially spring

5) The night I met A when we started out with beergaritas and ended up having a dance party at Bull’s Head until 5AM

6) That perfect autumn day we spent the entire day at Central Park walking around and watching the monkeys at the zoo

7) The nights I went out with my little sister when she finally turned 21, even the one where she tried to serve me champagne that smelled like feet

8) Speaking of champagne, the Champain Tuesday at Superdive where we had a turf war at the bar and S tried to break a guy's hand and I actually broke my foot

9) Multiple trips out of town, all adventures in their own right, and some of them validation that I live in the best city in the world. Highlights include the weekend in Miami where R and I did nothing but sit out by the pool and party (oh, and I almost died while snorkeling). And of course the road trip up to Martha’s Vineyard where S and I drove T crazy by playing Miley Cyrus nonstop, we crashed a wedding reception at the Holiday Inn in Falmouth, and spent the weekend eating clam chowder and doing jigsaw puzzles

10) Walking home to my apartment in the middle of the night, full of excitement and anticipation because I had just had the world’s perfect first kiss

And that’s not even counting the best nights, the nights when my friends and I would just sit around in someone’s apartment, drinking wine and making each other laugh so hard that it physically hurt.

So thank goodness I am not leaving, because I couldn't even imagine the adventures that I would miss out on with my besties in the years to come!

A hundred times have I thought New York is a catastrophe, and fifty times: It is a beautiful catastrophe.

- Le Corbusier

The eHarmony Experiment

I'm participating in what I like to call a social experiment, but the rest of the population refers to as eHarmony.

I haven't been going out as much as I usually do, mostly due to the fact that it's winter and cold out and given the option of bundling up in multiple layers and standing outside in freezing temperatures to hail a cab, I'd much rather just stay in my heated apartment and watch reruns of House.

Therefore, as a way to make up for the time I'm not spending in bars, and in an attempt to find some writing material, I signed up for eHarmony.

The questionnaire, which I had attempted before and given up on, took literally two days for me to get to. And unfortunately, that was the high point of the experience thus far.

My matches were beyond awful. I mean terrible. Bald. Old. Fat. Jersey. You name it, I was NOT getting the cream of the crop. And what's even worse is that they were rejecting me. On eHarmony, when you are matched up with someone you and him both have the option to close the match, as in, "Sorry I am not interested in you."

And before I was even getting the opportunity to, these guys were closing the match on me! If I had gone into this with any actual optimism or less confidence in myself, well I would've killed myself. It's actually painful to find out that John, 35, bald and overweight, in Jersey City, has deemed me not worthy of dating.

So the first guy I had any communication with turned out to be Sal, 27, Lawyer, Brooklyn. He wrote me an e-mail and even though he was much shorter than my minimum (5'8", usually my minimum is 5'10"), I wrote him back because he seemed really nice.

After the usual exchange of standard information (what we do, where we live, where we're from), I asked him where he went to college.

And it turns out that he not only went to my alma mater, he also graduated in my year. I did not go to a very large school; there were only about 1,000 in my graduating class, so that narrowed it down quite a bit.

I freaked out and then looked him up on Facebook, checked out our mutual friends, and vaguely remembered him being in the vicinity throughout my college years. There was nothing specifically wrong with him. He was just, well short, and kind of blah, and only so-so looking. And since I thought I was hot shit in college, I never gave him a second glance.

So basically, I am being matched up with people I deemed unworthy of dating five years ago. My friend T, when I told him this, just laughed at me and said I should get used to it because male stock rises as they age, and female stock plummets. "Face it," he said, "You're going down with every year. Better snatch this guy up while you still can before he climbs out of your league!"

Wise words from T...

The next guy that wrote me on eHarmony was Brian, 32, Lawyer, Queens. (Why are there so many lawyers on eHarmony btw?) His e-mail was actually very interesting, full of experiences from his travels and his interests. He plays the guitar, cooks, travels, has a job, all the general good-on-paper qualities that one looks for in a companion.

So after a few e-mails back and forth, I agreed to meet him for drinks. We went to a bar and I was really nervous given that it was my first eHarmony blind date. It turned out that he was a perfectly nice guy and we actually talked for a few hours, but I could tell within the first ten minutes that I just wasn't attracted to him. And as much as I tried (more beer, squinting, tuning him out when he talked), I couldn't really change that.

He insisted on walking me home, which made for a super awkward door moment when he tried to kiss me, and I ducked. Struggling for something to diffuse the situation, I said, "Sorry, I have a policy of not kissing on the first date."

Later, when I recounted this to my friends, my friend R said, "Oh wow, that's cold. I guess he doesn't know that you usually put out on the first date." Even my little sister burst out laughing. I am pretty sure my friends are telling me indirectly that I am a giant ho-bag, but I will gloss over this for now.

So, after accepting my excuse that I don't kiss on the first date (What am I, Mormon?), he e-mailed me first thing the next day saying he had a great time and wanted to go out again. I told him I was going out of town to buy myself a week to figure out how to proceed. And then after a week, I sent him an e-mail that he's a really nice guy, but I just wanted to be friends.

He wrote back saying that he definitely wants to be friends, so we made plans to go out for drinks the following week. Having an inkling that things might be weird, I invited my friend S to come along as backup, and she brought her boy toy, so my plan ended up backfiring because it resembled a double date.

Thus, I resorted to my back-up plan, and to make it utterly clear that I just want to be friends and have no interest in dating him, S and I started discussing the various bartenders that I find to be really hot and the guy that I'm currently seeing.

I made my point so much that when eHarmony got up to go to the bathroom, S's boy toy looked at me and said, "So you're not interested in dating this guy, right? Because you've been talking about other guys non-stop. At first I thought you guys were on a date, and I felt so sorry for him. But I gather that's not the case. Poor guy."

A few beers later, we all left together and I said goodbye to S and boy toy and hailed myself a cab. I turned around to say good night to eHarmony when he jumped into the cab without my permission.

Me: Um, where are you going?

eHarmony: To the subway, but I'll drop you off at home first.

Me: But I live all the way across town and the subway is right here.

eHarmony: It's ok.

Me: But...I'm actually not going home...

eHarmony: Oh, where are you going?

Me: I'm going to go meet someone...

Pause.

eHarmony: Oh I see. Well I'll just get out there.

Yep, that's right. He basically rode a cab with me to let me go hook up with another guy. Totally humiliating for him and awkward (and slightly whorish) for me.

Needless to say, I haven't heard from eHarmony recently.

In my defense, I did make it clear in every way that I know how that I am not interested in dating him. I sent him an e-mail saying I wanted to be friends. He acknowledged and responded to the e-mail, agreeing to be friends. Then I talked about other guys I AM attracted to in front of him.

And after all this, he thought that if he just climbed into a cab with me and took me to my apartment after two beers, I might change my mind? Just because he was there? Or maybe he thought I'd be easier than before and put out anyway? Either way, it didn't really work out in his favor.

The eHarmony experiment ends at the end of this month, after which I am cancelling my subscription. To anyone truly looking for a relationship, I wouldn't recommend eHarmony just because of the sheer volume of crappy dudes and the lack of anyone that remotely resembles someone worth dating.

But if you are looking to be amused and to meet guys that are nice, good on paper, and generally blah, well then, you are in the right place!

Birthday Party in the USA!

I think the mark of a good birthday party is that I am still drunk the next day. So if this post is slightly incoherant, you can blame it on the 15 birthday shots I took last night.

Now, I have had some awesome birthday parties in the past. Last year was at a bar downtown with stripper poles. The year before was an open bar with food in Union Square. With food because my father was afraid that if I didn't serve food, nobody would come. He doesn't really understand that my friends are alcoholics. There was my 21st birthday where I started throwing up in the bathroom of the bar before it was even my birthday.

Oh and there was the awesome 13th birthday party I had at a dance hall where the boys and girls stayed on opposite ends of the room pretty much the entire time until we had a hula hooping contest that my little sister lost in the finals (she's still pretty upset about that, so I wouldn't bring it up around her). And I had my first slow dance with a boy to Boyz II Men's On Bended Knee.

But all of that pales in comparison to the awesomeness that was last night.

Sick of disastrous birthday parties and not so pleased about getting older, I didn't want to make a big deal of this birthday. I drove my friends crazy for weeks because I refused to make any concrete plans. However, when I figured out that this may be my last birthday in New York City for a while, I wanted to get my friends together.

So we all gathered at our favorite local dive bar to celebrate the day of my birth. With some Miley Cyrus on the jukebox, a constant flow of alcohol in my direction, and pretty much everyone I love in the same room having a good time, I felt like the luckiest (and drunkest) girl alive.

I don't think there's anything as wonderful as taking a step back in a room where your worlds are collding and seeing all your groups of friends collide and mesh well together. It's nice to see your friends from work laughing with your college friends. And it's even better to feel loved by amazing people that I am proud to call my friends.

But enough of that, on to the comedic highlights of the night:

1) A and I were the first ones to arrive at the bars, both of us in slightly skimpy outfits. So immediately we were spied by two creepsters at the bar, who proceeded to physically turn their bar stools around so they could blatantly stare at us. I, being scared of weird men, avoided eye contact like the plague and stared awkardly at the wall. A, on the other hand, decided to smile at them.

Well after that, they didn't even try to hide the fact that they were contemplating a plan to make an approach. They would look at each other, discuss, look at us, look at each other, discuss, look at us, etc, etc. Luckily other people started to arrive shortly thereafter, which at least took my attention off of them. Then my guy friend T showed up and A started waving like a maniac to get his attention.

Unfortunate timing: Creepster Numero Uno happened to be in between T and A (ha, T&A, awesome) and thought A was trying to get his attention. So she literally shook her head and pointed at T, as in, "No Weird Guy, I am not wildly gesticulating at you, I was excited to see my actual friend, the guy behind you."

The look of disappointment on Creepster Numero Uno's face was epic.

This, however, didn't detract him from trying again. At some point both the creepsters managed to sneak their way into our crowd and start talking to my friends, pretending they knew them. Creepster Numero Uno literally said to a girfriend of mine: "I've heard things about you, like you can tie a cherry knot with your tongue in under 20 seconds."

Weird. And no, it did not work (in case you were under the impression that's a good way to pick up girls.)

2) I had a ridiculously awkward conversation with Awkward (redundant, much?). Now, this is not a new development since pretty much all of my interactions with him in the past have been intensely uncomfortable.

Since I was drunk and I thought it was the pink elephant in the room, I decided to tell my friends, strangers to him, the whole story of how he had tried to give me my phone number back and then had never called me. He, naturally, got defensive and was totally put on the spot. Bad move on my part.

But then when he was leaving, he came to say good-bye to me and wish me a happy birthday and I apologized for my poor behavior but said, in all fairness, he had just told one of my friends that he only spends time with people "he wants to get to know," so he probably shouldn't have said that in front of me.

He said that he does want to get to know me, and that was why he had made the effort to put in an appearance at my birthday. I told him there were no hard feelings and things were cool. Then we proceeded to have this conversation:

Me: So I'm going to California on Thursday and I'll be there for a little less than a week so maybe when I get back, we can chat.

Awkward: Why are you going to California?

Me: I got accepted to a school out there so I'm going to go to the open house and see if I want to go.

Awkward: Where will you be?

Me: I'm spending a few days with my sister in Silicon Valley but we're meeting up with friends in San Francisco on Saturday.

Awkward: Um, I'll be there.

Me: Where?

Awkward: In San Francisco. That's where I'm from.

Me: I know you're from San Fran, but why will you be there?

Awkward: I have Spring Break so I'm going to go see my family and friends.

Me: Wow that's a coincidence.

Awkward: So you'll be in San Fran on Saturday night?

Me: Yeah I'm getting dinner and going out with my sister and some friends.

Awkward: Well maybe we can hang out.

Pause.

Me: (confused) What?

Awkward: We should all go out.

Me: You want to hang out with me and my sister and my friends in California?

Awkward: Yeah, why not?

Me: I dunno...

Awkward: I'll call you, we'll talk about meeting up in San Fran.

Now, does anyone else find it intensely strange that this is the same guy who didn't want to go out to dinner with me in the city where we live about 40 blocks from each other, but wants to hang out with me on the other coast when I'm spending time with my sister and friends out there?

Like yes, I know the kid is awkward, but this is now just bizarre. I have no idea what to make of this behavior. I am going to assume that he was just drunk and had no idea what he was saying and I'll never hear from him.

3) I had a slew of inappropriate things to said to me, yet again. I guess this time I can blame it on the short skirt I was wearing, but my friend's roommate (who has a serious girlfriend) grabbed my ass and pretended he didn't have a girlfriend.

My friend J brought a guy friend of his and after I was introduced to him briefly, the friend told J, in front of me, "So have you two ever slept together?"

J and I laughed since we have been friends for a long time.

Then his friend said, "I don't understand why you've never slept with her. I would do the dirtiest things to her if I could."

Right in my face. I laughed really awkwardly and extricated myself from the situation and avoided him for the remainder of the evening.

Awkward and uncomfortable situations aside, I had a great birthday weekend. Normally, I make a list of presents I want months in advance to hand out to my friends and family so they will get me something I really want. And when they asked for my list this year, I told everyone that I'm actually good this year. Little sister E was so confused she asked me what I had done with her sister.

But the truth is, I have everything that a girl could want and asking for any more would just be too much.

So happy birthday to me!

New Levels of Awkward

Just when I think I've conquered every awkward situation possible, I find myself in the face of entirely new levels of awkwardness that I previously did not know existed.

A few weeks ago at my girlfriend S's work event, I met a guy who actually seemed really fun and interesting. When I expressed to S that he seemed cool, she thought about it and told me, "Actually I think you two would be really good together. Make that happen!"

"But," she warned me, "You need to know, he is EXTREMELY awkward"

I laughed her off, since I have a Ph.D.'s worth of knowledge on awkward men. Some people specialize in physics, some finance, I have mastered the art of loving men who can't look you straight in the eye because they're scared of girls. Fact.

So, all full of hubris that I could totally handle this, I asked Awkward if he'd want to go out for dinner sometime. That's right, I asked HIM. And then when he stuttered an affirmative, I wrote my number down on a scrap piece of paper and gave it to him.

This is where it starts to go off the rails. A few minutes later, he said to me, "Hey did you give me your number?"

To which I replied, "Um, yes, I wrote it down on a piece of paper."

He looked at me all confused: "You did?"

"Um, yes it is in your pocket."

At this point he fished it out of said pocket and I jokingly said, "Well, now forget it. I want it back!"

And the poor boy actually handed it back to me and apologized. (Yes, he was drunk, but still.)

So now I was flustered and I explained to him that he could keep it, but clearly this situation was not off to a great start.

A few days later, he told S that he'd had a great time with us and we should all hang out again soon, and then apologized because he had acted like a douchebag to her friend by trying to give her phone number back to her.

Yes, already cringeworthy, but it's about to get worse. Brace yourself.

I decided, in my infinite wisdom, that he was going to be too much of a coward to call him so I got his number from S and called himself. Which is the set up to what will go down in record as the Most. Awkward. Telephone Conversation. Ever.

After explaining that I wasn't upset about the phone number debacle, I tried to open up a conversation. I think one of my talents is my ability to have a conversation with pretty much anyone. But my conversational tactics proved to be no match against his intense awkwardness.

Not only did we have zero phone chemistry, but the constant long pauses made me so uncomfortable that I started babbling about whatever came to my mind, which really was not that impressive given that I was banging my head on the coffee table just so that I could hear something other than the dull buzz of dead silence on the cell phone.

The following is an actual excerpt from our conversation:

Me: So you grew up in San Francisco, right?

Him: Correct.

Me: Did you like it there?

Him: Not really.

Pause

Me: I actually just applied to school out there.

Him: Oh.

Long Pause.

Me: You know what's funny?

Him: What?

Me: My little sister just moved out there and you never think of a three-hour time difference as being significant, but it's actually made a difference.

Him: Really.

Me: Yeah, well we talk a lot, and now whenever I want to talk to her at 11AM my time, she's still asleep. And when she wants to chat at midnight, it's 3AM for me...

Him: Yes. That is how time zones work.

Me: Yeah, I know...

Longer Pause.

Me: Sooo...would you like to hang out sometime?

Really Long Pause.

Him: Um, I'm going out of town next weekend, but I guess I would be open to that.

Me: (confused) Ooooook.

Him: I'll, um, friend you on Facebook and we can open the channels of communication that way.

Which put an end to the most awkward hour of my entire life. That's right, this painful banter lasted a WHOLE HOUR.

I obviously called S right after and told her the whole story about how I had just gotten blown off.

She laughed hysterically and said, "To be fair, I WARNED you about him! He gives a whole new definition to awkward. He is really awful with girls. I tried for four years in college to hook him up, and he just couldn't do it. He is terrified of girls! I feel so bad for him!"

"What?!" I exclaimed, "Feel bad for me! I just had the worst phone conversation in all of history."

"Yeah, but you'll be ok. He, on the other hand, will be alone and awkward for the rest of his life. You are the only person I know who actually LIKES awkward guys and even he is too much for you, which means he will never find anyone!"

To his credit, he did friend me on Facebook immediately after I hung up on the phone. As in, he must've been sitting on his computer staring at my profile just waiting to press the "Add as a Friend" button. Which makes the whole thing even more uncomfortable.

So after all of my friends made fun of me for an adequate amount of time, they tried to console me by telling me the obvious, that I would never want to date someone THAT awkward. Which is entirely legitimate, but I'm thinking with copious amounts of alcohol, it might be actually bearable to spend time with him. But that's probably not the foundation for a healthy relationship, right?

Either way, I have found my new benchmark for awkwardness. A significant accomplishment any way you look at it.