Entrance: Although this Colorado climate enjoys 300 some-odd days of sunshine a year, it never fails that just minutes before a first date, the sky turns from clear blue, to gray, to dark gray, to ominous gray, erupting into a torrent of rain, the likes of which have yet to be seen, at least until my next date. This is a problem, because, when the weather is good, I can appear as natural and carefree as one of the Rainbow People. But, when it rains, I become shallow and vain and paranoid about my hair. I’m not proud of this, nor am I likely to change. So, when I enter a restaurant covering my head with my purse, headed straight for the restroom, my date’s first impression alarm sounds a warning, “Difficult to maintain. Replacement parts hard to find. Cost/benefit ratio not good!”

Clothing: I inevitably wear the wrong thing. I don’t dress badly, (see above,e) just inappropriately. If we are meeting for a casual dinner, I wear a cocktail dress. If we’re meeting at a salsa club, I wear cowboy boots. If he’s dressed republican, I’m dressed libertarian. (I think that would mean he’s wearing khakis, I’m wearing what ever the hell I feel like wearing because it doesn’t matter anyway.)

Body Language: When I’m nervous, I fidget a lot. Actually, I fidget whether I’m nervous or not. This might involve fixing my hair repeatedly, making origami with my napkin, or in severe situations, creating sculptures with condiments. Usually fidgeting is accompanied by useless chatter. I feel compelled to fill any and all moments of silence with every random thought that pops in my head. As you can imagine, many of these outbursts reveal aspects of myself that would be better left inside my head, at least until date number four.

The Sell Out: Since I work in sales, I find it odd that I am able to succeed at my job, yet when I feel pressured into “selling” myself on a date, I tend to violate the most basic laws of sales. Either I try too hard, sounding scripted and vague like I’m selling the female equivalent of an overpriced, vacuum. Only $99 a month for the rest of your life! Or, I go overboard trying to appear casual and carefree, which translates into caustic and could care less.

Close: If I were to analyze this from a marketing perspective, I would attribute my poor results to one of two factors. Either 1) I haven’t clearly identified my motivation, or 2) I don’t believe in my product. Or, could there be a third possibility? Maybe, the product, me, is not quite up to spec. It has great potential, but needs a few adjustments before distribution. If this is the case, it might be worth taking the time to work out the kinks before finding a buyer. I’m slow to catch on, but at least I realize that I can’t afford any more recalls.

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