A while back I told you about the new statue being built in honor of local entertainment legend/Mayor of Seattle Dump J.P. Patches. Perhaps you’ve been eagerly awaiting the unveiling of this statue ever since then. If you have, I have good news for you: you won’t have to wait much longer.

This coming Sunday, August 17, is J.P. Patches day in Fremont. Head down to the Solstice Plaza at N 34th, just east of the Fremont Bridge, between 1 and 3 pm for the unveiling of Late for the Interurban, depicting J.P. and his galpal Gertrude. Pat Cashman serves as MC and several local luminaries will be on hand to pay tribute to the beloved clown, including Governor Chris Gregoire (who might want to make sure she’s got some ID on hand before checking out any of Fremont’s liquor serving establishments).

The statue was built with funds raised by many generous contributors; if you didn’t get a chance to donate, it’s not too late–the statue will include a donation box with all funds benefiting Children’s Hospital, a place special in the heart of Patches.

Suspects Kyle Burress (see photo) and Allen Pierce Broke into Fred Meyer in Monroe, WA, stole a variety of goods, and then left a trail of dropped/discarded objects that led police to their hiding place. The boys had fallen asleep on said stolen goods when police found them. Photos were taken, the boys were awaken, and now face charges of second-degree theft. Alcohol is a possible contributor.

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o Experience with AJAX is a real plus.

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Maybe you already know. Maybe you used to know. Maybe you’ll know again soon. Whatever your perspective, this column looks to answer one question: what’s it like being single in Seattle?

So I have to confess: I was on Jdate for a while. I had just broken up with my fiance and things were desperate. I was set on dating a Jewish guy (my ex wasn’t). So there I was.

Triathlete Boy messaged me one day after we “clicked”–that is, both said “yes” to each other’s profiles. He was an engineering type from the East Coast, big into triathlons and other outdoorsy activities. Not much in common, but he did keep kosher, and he seemed like a nice enough guy. I said yes to the date.

Identical Twin Boy was just the opposite: we seemed to have everything in common. His profile quoted the same Peter Bjorn & John lyrics as I did on Facebook. His cat and my dog were both white and fluffy (his named Snowball, mine named Matzah Ball). We read the same books, watched the same movies, listened to the same music, and I had a history of falling hard for guys who met that description.

But the same thing happened on both dates: they could barely look at me, let alone talk to me! They sat opposite me mumbling into their tea cups, staring into them as if seeing the answer to the universe.

It’s not just me: a number of friends have noted the same experience with alarming frequency. And at a much greater frequency than other cities I’ve lived in.

What’s up with that, Seattle? Is it just the higher frequency of engineering types here that correlates to and/or causes this? Is it just the higher frequency of shy people on dating websites? Or is it a Seattle phenomenon? Does something in the clouds make men turn inwards?

Recently I had a date with a perfectly cute boy I met through Okcupid. He’s a UW student, CSE major, bound for law school. Sounds like a great match. But why did I have to meet him online?

There is a certain sense of embarrassment associated with using a dating website. I definitely feel it–I already mentioned my shame at using Jdate. It makes you feel like something is wrong with you. I mean, I’m your typical 21-year-old in most ways. So why is it so hard for me to meet people?

But I’m not alone. Searching Okcupid for members within 10 miles of 98112 I get 9378 results. Maybe this is evidence that it’s a problem not just with dating but with all aspects of life. Two years into life in Seattle and I still have only met a handful of people, compared to the tons of people I met attending my first college in St. Louis. So how did I meet those people? Through my dorm, parties, classes, random places around the city.

Now as a UW student, I feel isolated and lost. Where are all those random meetings? Nowhere to be found. Only twice have random people approached me in all the times I’ve sat alone at Remedy and Liberty. One was gay and one was drunk–neither exactly dating prospects.

Is this the famous Seattle freeze? Does it really exist? It feels like it to me. Have you encountered it? How do you deal with it? How did you meet your friends, online or otherwise?

Maybe you already know. Maybe you used to know. Maybe you’ll know again soon. Whatever your perspective, this column looks to answer one question: what’s it like being single in Seattle?
Post #3 in a series starting here and continued here.

So what happened after I broke up with my boyfriend? Not much, to be honest. Blogger Boy No. 2 started avoiding me. We would plan get togethers, then he would be “too busy” and cancel. I wrote on my LiveJournal, “So you know that guy I drunkenly mentioned a few days ago? Ugh. Ugh. This is turning into such a mess. I just talked to him a few minutes ago and ended up with tears in my eyes. Either this guy has the best work ethic in the history of mankind or he’s seriously blowing me off.”

And it turned out he was seriously blowing me off. Finally I just gave up and decided to just be friends. I called him and told him as much. He says, “Well, good, because I’ve been meaning to tell you, I was dating this girl and things have turned sort of serious…”

I’ll leave you to sort out the many-layered irony of this ending for yourself. But it does bring up a number of lessons about being single in Seattle.

First, don’t put the burden of a major decision, possibly a major life decision, on to one person. I had been mulling a breakup for months but finally found a catalyst in BB2. That’s the wrong way to go about it. It puts tremendous pressure on the catalyst, and isn’t healthy for you.

Second, guilt is a multi-faceted thing. If the other person starts getting all guilty, there’s probably more to the situation than what he or she is saying.

Finally, don’t drink wine in Volunteer Park. You may end up falling for someone who wears yellow flip-flops and doesn’t know who Dana Vachon is.

Maybe you already know. Maybe you used to know. Maybe you’ll know again soon. Whatever your perspective, this column looks to answer one question: what’s it like being single in Seattle?
Post #2 in a series starting here.

So, not cute at all. That’s the risk in online dating, I suppose. But what do I do? I hope it’s not him and bury my nose in my book, praying the not-cute guy doesn’t notice me. Five minutes go by, then ten, then fifteen. Nope, it’s definitely him.

Finally he approaches. “Uh, Chaya?”

I looked up as if totally surprised. “Oh hi, are you Blogger Boy No. 2?”

“Yeah, I am. Sorry, I’ve been sitting inside, I thought that was you but I thought it couldn’t be because you’re reading a book called Mergers & Acquisitions.” -10 points for not knowing Dana Vachon.

We awkwardly got food and headed over to the park. Then something happened. As we sat eating and drinking wine, we started laughing together, and it’s like I remembered why I was attracted to him in the first place. Not cute turned into cute.

He dropped me off at my house and we said a chaste goodbye.

And then the chatting continued. And continued. We talked non-stop, including well into the night. And one night the conversation turned a little, shall we say, racy. To put it mildly.

Caught up in the moment I furiously type, “I can’t wait until I’m in your arms!” Suddenly he became racked with guilt, or so it seemed. Suddenly he’s talking about my boyfriend, and suddenly he won’t touch me until the boyfriend’s gone (despite spending the last two hours talking about much more than just touching), and suddenly…suddenly.

So I broke up with my boyfriend. Of a year and a half.

(to be continued tomorrow…)

Photo by SlightlyNorth

Apparently there is a pile of bricks free for the taking down in Georgetown. These bricks used to make up the Rainier Cold Storage building. The bricks are located just off the parking lot across from Smartypants on Airport Way. What would you use them for? Maybe bookends…

Via Apartment Therapy and Shelterrific.

Maybe you already know. Maybe you used to know. Maybe you’ll know again soon. Whatever your perspective, this column looks to answer one question: what’s it like being single in Seattle?

It started, as any good Web 2.0 romance should, with a comment on the rival Seattle blog he wrote for. I had thought he was cute for some time; he posted about peeing on a tree. I commented that his post encouraged me to get over my silly little crush on him. No response.

…Until a few weeks later when I checked my spam filter. “Congrats–most women have to meet me at least twice before a crush wears off,” he’d replied. Cute. I replied, and we ended up having a bizarre but hilarious (to us) discussion about HTTP error codes. (Reproduced after the jump for the curious.) Fellow Metblogger Josh once told me upon reading that conversation, “I can’t imagine how things between the two of you didn’t work out.” And sometimes I wonder the same thing.

He friended me on Google Chat and I immediately began ignoring lectures and chatting with him instead. Often I had to stifle laughs in the middle of Intro to Comparative Literature, some times more successfully than others.

Inevitably he asked me for a drink. I demurred, not wanting to let on I was merely 20 to his 30. I suggested tea instead. In a day or two he upped the ante: a picnic in Volunteer Park.

I suddenly became wracked with guilt. I had a confession to make. I had a boyfriend, a boyfriend on the way out but a boyfriend none the less. We decided to go on the picnic anyway. I told my boyfriend, who loved his blog and was excited I was going to meet him. (There was a reason he was on the way out.)

I sat outside Volunteer Park Cafe for a good half hour before our planned meeting time, wanting time to look fresh in the shade rather than like I just dragged myself up the hill from 23rd (which I had, in fact, done). I keep looking up nervously from my book (Dana Vachon’s Mergers and Acquisitions) but nothing but moms and Bugaboos.

Then a guy in yellow rubber flipflops walks up.

Not cute at all.

(come back tomorrow for part 2…)

(more…)

Edith Macefield, the woman who caused quite a stir by refusing to sell her Ballard home to developers, forcing them to build around her, has died, apparently of natural causes. [myballard].

Regardless of where you come down on the whole development issue–and I still maintain that the character of development in Seattle is constantly leaning away from the sort of density that we claim to want–the bottom line is that Macefield was a lady with a rich an interesting life, and stories that have probably still never been told. Richard Andrews of Ballard Bullshit has been working on a documentary about her for the last three years, hopefully scheduled for completion in the fall.

She has no known family, so what happens next to her land and house should be interesting.