Let's Meet Daisy

So here’s the deal. My name is Nick. A couple months ago I broke up with The Beaver (think Sartre, not Mathers), my live-in girlfriend of 5 years, give or take a previous breakup. So I am single. I am also slightly physically unattractive (though not in any way you’d expect), extremely pessimistic, overly egotistical while simultaneously self-deprecating, and heartbreakingly bored. These traits lead, respectively, to the following manifestations: I’m terrible at picking up women in bars; I don’t expect to be embarking upon any new romantic entanglements anytime soon; as a friend, I am an acquired taste, like sushi; and I’ve got nothing better to do than write this blog.

But all this is massively unimportant, because – did I mention? – this blog isn’t even about me. Instead, your hero is a heroine, and she’s a lot more charming than me. In fact, she is frustratingly, annoyingly charming, which is why I am going to provide you the service of filtering her life into a more digestible substance. I am doing for you the service of a mother bird, processing the nutrients of the gossip of her life, so you can ingest the fascinating story and grow into smart, strong, chirpy little birds. Who will likely later be eaten by a larger bird, or a snake, when I flee the nest out of boredom.

But I haven’t even told you her name. Her name is Daisy. Like the flower, yes. ‘Did she have hippie parents or something?’ you are probably thinking. Maybe. You’ll find out in due time, I’m sure, as will I. See, my exposure to Daisy is somewhat limited. We work together, and frankly I only have substantial conversations with her at lunch, which we tend to getting around to “enjoying” together only a few times a week. Usually, we just bitch about work and work related things – the sort of venting you need to do to stay sane in any office. But lately the topic has increasingly been Daisy herself. More specifically, it has been Daisy’s exciting forays back into the world of dating, or fleeting hookups, or meaningful/less late night rendezvous.

(Actually, she’s very lady like about the details, so that’s all speculation. But you’re gonna see a lot of speculation on this blog. Cause that’s what filters do best: speculate. Right?)

Anyway, back to Daisy. About a month before Nick, your humble narrator/filter, broke up with The Beaver, Daisy broke up with her boyfriend, who we will call Meat (like Bull Durham, not ATHF). She and Meat had been going together for quite some time, and were, it seemed, on the verge of moving in together; followed promptly by the on-bended-knee question that all women in their right mind dream about their entire lives, only to be disappointed by its execution and result; further followed by white dress and stirrups -- for popping out those half-dozen yappy, peach-eating, freedom-constraining, relationship-destroying, diaper-clad little STDs.
I digress.

So Daisy broke is off with Meat, cause she decided he wasn’t “the one” (her words, stolen directly from a bridal magazine, no doubt). Perhaps she took an online relationship quiz at Cosmo.com, or perhaps she is a bright, astute, individual woman, or perhaps she has unreasonably high expectations. Her guess is as good as mine, and I’m banking on some combination of all three.

So then she found herself suddenly single, after some 3 years of blissful exclusivity to one thick-necked man. Well, as you may have guessed, it created some sort of unconscious, subliminal, fringe science domino effect: I broke up with The Beaver; and then our other coworker, Eleanor, broke up with her boyfriend, SPPG (as in Slovenly Pseudo-Poet Guy, not Smooth Prada Purchasing Guido).

It is clear to me and my analytical brain that she is entirely to blame for all of this. It is also clear to me that her new single life is far more exciting than mine. It makes me somewhat jealous that she is a happy optimistic person excited to embark upon new opportunities, while I am – well, you can probably figure that out. So, purely out of jealousy and immense and increasing boredom, and amidst the ennui of modern single life, I am here to relay to you the ever evolving story of Daisy, via her Lunch Reports.

I hope to explore the following themes and questions:
1. Can dinner made in a toaster oven be used to seduce a woman?
2. What’s cooler: owning a bar, or sitting on your hairy ass and living off a trust fund?
3. The allure of dates in the park.
4. If I were in the Navy, whose deck would I swab?
5. The ratio of beer to love, and the effect of the price of the beer on said love.
6. Can a single girl really find true love, which obviously doesn’t exist?
7. More poignantly, can a single girl convince herself that true love does exist?
8. I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise.

Next time: more on Daisy, and perhaps a recap of her first foray into the manhunt.