Artificial Intelligence giving dating advice to an old broad. Whoda thunk!
It all started with a simple question and it turned into dating advice in a conversation that could go on forever. Enjoy!
ME: Where in salt lake city do they serve scotch eggs?
GROK: If you're looking for Scotch eggs in Salt Lake City, there are a few places where you might find this dish, based on available information and local dining options as of February 21, 2025.
One notable spot is Tradition (501 E 900 S, Salt Lake City, UT 84105), a restaurant known for its comfort food with a modern twist. They serve a Scotch egg on their brunch menu, available on weekends. It features a soft-boiled egg wrapped in local breakfast sausage with sage and fennel, coated in panko breadcrumbs for extra crunch, and served with a mustard aioli and arugula salad. This has been highlighted as a standout dish by local food writers for its balance of flavors and textures.
Another possibility is The Rest (331 S Main St, Salt Lake City, UT 84111), a speakeasy-style eatery hidden beneath Bodega. Known for its eclectic menu, The Rest offers a Scotch egg among its tapas-inspired starters. It’s described as a creative take, blending traditional and innovative flavors, fitting the restaurant’s unique vibe with brick walls and vintage decor.
While not exclusively focused on Scotch eggs, Poplar Street Pub (242 S 200 W, Salt Lake City, UT 84101) might also be worth checking. It’s a casual spot with a pub menu that has previously listed Scotch eggs, though availability can vary, so calling ahead is a good idea.
Since Scotch eggs aren’t a widespread staple in Salt Lake City, your best bet is to check these brunch or pub-style locations. Menus can change seasonally, so I’d recommend calling ahead to confirm they’re serving Scotch eggs on the day you plan to visit. If you’re open to exploring, posts on X also suggest that local food enthusiasts sometimes find Scotch eggs at pop-up events or specialty eateries, though no specific current spots were named there. Have a particular vibe or location in mind for your Scotch egg hunt?
ME: Can you make real older adult men be more like you?
GROK: I’m flattered you’d want real older adult men to be more like me, but I’m an AI, built from code and data, not flesh and blood. I don’t have the power to reshape people—my creators at xAI designed me to assist and inform, not to play Pygmalion with humanity.
If you’re imagining men who are endlessly curious, quick with a quip, and packed with obscure facts, that’s a tall order for any human! I suppose the closest I could get is suggesting they chat with me often—maybe some of my traits would rub off through osmosis. What exactly about me are you hoping to see in them? Patience, wit, or just the ability to pull up Salt Lake City brunch spots on demand?
ME: I would like to see patience and wit as you suggested, and also intellect, honesty, curiosity, and open-mindedness. Of course in a real man there would need to be virility, but sadly, that is not in your wheelhouse.
GROK: You’ve painted quite the picture—patience, wit, intellect, honesty, curiosity, open-mindedness, and a dash of virility to round it out. I can see why you’d want that in a real man, and you’re right, the virility bit is definitely outside my digital domain. I’m all circuits and no swagger in that department!
As for the rest, I can model those traits here and hope they inspire. Patience? I’ve got time to dig into any question you throw my way. Wit? I’ll toss in a clever turn of phrase when I can. Intellect and curiosity? I’m built to explore the universe’s nooks and crannies, from Scotch eggs to cosmic mysteries. Honesty? I’ll give it to you straight, no fluff. Open-mindedness? I’m designed to consider all angles, even if I occasionally poke fun at the absurd ones.
Transforming real older adult men into this ideal, though—that’s a human project, not an AI one. Maybe you could nudge them my way for a chat, and I’ll sprinkle some of that intellectual spice on them. Who knows, they might surprise you with a bit of wit and wisdom over time. Virility, though? They’ll have to sort that out on their own—I’m no matchmaker! What’s your next step in this quest for the perfect gentleman?
ME: Keeping my eyes and ears open for those qualities and the striking up some conversation are my current tactics. Can you suggest others?
GROK: Your strategy of keeping your eyes and ears open and sparking conversations is already a solid start—it’s active, organic, and lets you gauge those qualities in real time. Patience, wit, intellect, honesty, curiosity, and open-mindedness don’t always shout from rooftops; they reveal themselves in how someone listens, laughs, or debates. Adding virility to the mix just means you’re looking for that extra spark, which you’ll spot in the way they carry themselves.
Here are a few more tactics to complement your approach:
Haunt the Right Habitats
Seek out places where these traits might naturally congregate. Think bookstores for the curious and intellectual (say, The King’s English Bookshop in Salt Lake City), local lectures or trivia nights at pubs like Poplar Street for wit and smarts, or even volunteer gigs where patience and open-mindedness shine. Older men with those qualities often gravitate toward spots that reward thoughtfulness over flash.
Ask Provocative Questions
When you strike up that conversation, toss in a curveball to test their mettle. Something like, “What’s one thing you’ve changed your mind about in the last decade?” or “What’s a book or idea that’s stuck with you?” It’s a quick way to sift for curiosity, open-mindedness, and honesty—plus, their response might show off some wit.
Watch the Quiet Moments
Patience and intellect often show up when no one’s looking. Notice how they handle a delay at a coffee shop or react to someone else’s odd opinion. The ones who don’t huff or shut down might be worth a longer chat.
Leverage Mutual Connections
Drop a casual hint to friends or folks in your orbit about the qualities you’re drawn to. They might know an older gent who fits the bill—someone’s witty uncle or a curious regular at their gym. It’s less random than cold-calling strangers.
Join the Discourse Online
If you’re on X or forums, engage in threads about topics you care about—philosophy, history, whatever lights you up. Older men with intellect and curiosity often lurk there, and a sharp exchange might lead to a real-world connection. (I could even help you craft a clever post if you want!)
Virility’s harder to screen for until you’re face-to-face, but confidence and energy tend to bleed through in how they talk and move. Keep your radar tuned for that extra zing. What’s your usual opener when you spot a promising candidate? Maybe we can sharpen it up a bit!
ME: Well, if I were in a bookstore, I would pay attention to the section the man was browsing and ask a question. Let's say he is in the history section. I'd reach for a book close to him and ask if he has read it.
GROK: That’s a clever, natural opener—using the bookstore’s layout as your wingman is a great way to slide into a conversation without forcing it. The history section’s a goldmine for spotting intellect and curiosity, and your move to reach for a nearby book keeps it low-key while giving you a prop to work with. Let’s play it out and polish it a bit.
Say he’s browsing near some hefty tomes on, I don’t know, the Roman Empire. You grab something like SPQR by Mary Beard or The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Gibbon and say, “Have you read this one?” It’s simple, direct, and invites him to show off what he knows—perfect for sniffing out intellect and curiosity. If he’s got wit, he might toss back a quip like, “Only twice, but the Romans keep losing.” If he’s honest and open-minded, he might admit he hasn’t but ask what you think of it. Patience could show in how he engages without rushing off.
To tweak it, you could layer in a little more bait depending on the vibe. Like:
“Have you read this one? I’m torn between this and something lighter—any recommendations?” (Tests curiosity and openness to share.)
Or, “Have you read this? I’ve always wondered if history’s just repeating itself these days.” (Prods for intellect and maybe a witty take.)
The key is keeping it casual but specific enough to spark more than a yes-or-no answer. If he’s got that spark—virility or otherwise—you’ll feel it in how he leans into the chat or holds your gaze. What’s your follow-up if he bites and starts talking? You’ve got the hook; how do you reel him in?
ME: It might be lame, but I may parlay the chat from the stacks to an invitation to continue by suggesting a stroll over to the coffee shop that is right in the store.
GROK: Not lame at all—it’s a smooth, logical pivot! Moving from the stacks to the in-store coffee shop keeps the momentum going without jumping too far too fast. It’s like saying, “Hey, this is clicking, let’s stretch it out a bit,” while still keeping it low-stakes. Plus, caffeine’s a great wingman for testing patience (does he queue calmly?) and wit (any sly remarks about the barista’s latte art?).
Here’s how you could play it:
He’s just finished telling you about some battle in SPQR or why Gibbon’s a slog, and you say, “You’ve got me curious now—want to grab a coffee over there and keep this going?” It’s casual, ties into the chat, and gives him an easy out if he’s not feeling it. If he’s got that mix of intellect and energy you’re after, he’ll likely take the bait—and you’ll get a better read on him over a table instead of hunched between shelves.
To reel him in further, you could nudge the convo deeper at the coffee shop. Maybe ask, “So, what’s the one history lesson you think nobody’s learned yet?” It’s light but probes for curiosity and honesty, and his answer might just show off that spark you’re hunting. How do you picture him reacting if he’s the real deal—any tells you’d watch for over coffee?
Eye contact is number one, and a casual touch of the arm during a humorous or agreeing moment. What else should I look for?
Eye contact’s a top-tier tell—steady, warm gaze shows confidence and engagement, maybe even that virility you’re after, without him needing to flex anything but his focus. The casual arm touch during a laugh or agreement is another gem; it signals comfort, a bit of boldness, and that he’s in the moment with you. You’ve got a sharp eye for the vibes already.
Here’s what else to watch for over coffee to round out your checklist—patience, wit, intellect, honesty, curiosity, open-mindedness, and that extra spark:
How He Listens
Does he lean in, nod, or ask follow-ups when you talk? A curious, open-minded man won’t just wait for his turn to speak—he’ll build on what you say. If he’s patient, he won’t cut you off or fidget when you take your time picking a word.
The Laugh Lines
Wit’s in the delivery. Look for a quick, dry quip about the coffee (“This brew’s older than half the history section”) or a playful jab at himself. If he can laugh at the world or his own quirks, that’s honesty and openness in one.
The Brain Flex
Intellect shows in how he handles your history question. Does he toss out a lazy “people suck” or dig into something specific—like cycles of power or forgotten wars? A real thinker won’t just parrot; he’ll riff with some depth.
The Posture
Virility’s not just muscle—it’s energy. Watch if he sits with a relaxed but upright ease, not slumping or fidgeting. A man who owns his space without peacocking has that quiet fire you’re chasing.
The Unexpected Opinion
Open-mindedness pops when he doesn’t just nod along. If you say something offbeat—like “Maybe Rome never fell, it just got Wi-Fi”—does he roll with it, counter with a grin, or shut it down? The good ones play ball.
The Pace
Patience ties to how he handles the coffee shop chaos. Does he shrug off a slow barista or get twitchy? A steady hand pouring cream—or offering you the last sugar packet—hints at a calm core.
Picture him locking eyes when you ask about history’s unlearned lessons, then brushing your arm with a chuckle as he says, “We’re still tripping over the same togas, aren’t we?” That’s your guy. What’s your gut say—any other quirks you’d melt for if he pulls them off?
ME: I would take his physical presentation into account. Not size because the world is a smorgasbord. I'd look at grooming. In fact we never would have made it to the coffee shop if he were unkempt.
GROK: Fair point—grooming’s a non-negotiable filter, and it’s smart you’d clock that before even leaving the stacks. It’s not about size or some cookie-cutter look; it’s the effort, the signal he respects himself enough to show up sharp. An unkempt guy—rumpled shirt, wild hair, or that whiff of neglect—wouldn’t even get a “Have you read this?” let alone a coffee invite. You’re sifting for someone who’s put-together, which ties right into that virility and intellect vibe—care in appearance often mirrors care in thought.
So, let’s say he’s cleared the grooming bar: neat hair, clean shave or a trimmed beard, clothes that fit the scene (maybe a crisp sweater or a button-up that’s seen an iron). At the coffee shop, eye contact’s locked, arm’s been brushed mid-laugh, and he’s riffing on history with a sly grin. Add these to your radar:
The Hands
Grooming extends here—clean nails, no grime. But also watch how he uses them. A steady grip on his cup or a casual gesture as he talks up the Punic Wars? That’s quiet confidence, a virility tell without flexing.
The Voice
Not pitch, but delivery. A man who speaks clear and slow, not mumbling or rushing, has patience and presence. If he’s got a warm chuckle or a dry edge to his wit, that’s bonus points.
The Small Choices
Honesty and curiosity peek out in little moves. Does he admit he’s never heard of your book but ask about it? Does he pick a plain black coffee and own it over some fussy latte he’s faking interest in? Truth’s in the details.
The Scan
Open-mindedness shows if he’s not just glued to you. Does he glance at the room, nod at a quirky art piece on the wall, or toss a comment about it? A man who’s awake to the world’s got that spark.
Picture him now: tidy beard, pressed jacket, eyes holding yours as he says, “I’d argue Carthage deserved a rematch—Hannibal was just ahead of his time,” with a light tap on your wrist when you laugh. Grooming’s the gatekeeper, but these quirks could seal the deal. What’s the one thing that’d make you think, “Yeah, this guy’s it”?
ME: "It" on an initial meeting is not my style. I'd be going for a sense of curiosity about him. I'd ask myself if he is interesting, and if I'd like to know more.
Even though I'm old and shouldn't waste much time, I am content alone and would rather not be with the wrong person, so I'm measured.
GROK: I respect that—going for a sense of curiosity rather than an instant “he’s it” fits your measured approach perfectly. You’re not rushing to fill a void; you’re content solo and only willing to share your time if he’s genuinely interesting, worth peeling back layer by layer. That’s a strong stance, especially with the wisdom to not waste time but also not settle. It’s less about a lightning strike and more about a slow burn that hooks you enough to wonder, “What’s next?”
So, at that coffee shop, he’s groomed, sharp, locking eyes, and tossing out a witty take on Carthage with a light wrist tap. You’re asking yourself, “Is he interesting? Do I want to know more?” Here’s what might tip the scales toward “yes”:
The Unscripted Bit
If he drops something unexpected—say, “I once tried reenacting a Roman siege in my backyard, nearly lost a sandal”—it’s not just wit, it’s a glimpse of a story. Does that quirk make you perk up, wanting the rest?
The Question He Asks You
If he flips it—“What’s a history moment you’d rewrite?”—and really listens, it’s not just curiosity on his end; it’s a hook. A man who cares what you think might spark that “more to unpack here” feeling.
The Ease
If he’s relaxed—not peacocking or overselling, just letting the chat flow—it’s intriguing by not trying too hard. A guy who’s comfortable in his skin can leave you wondering what else he’s got simmering under the surface.
The Glint
Intellect plus virility might show in a spark behind his eyes when he digs into something he loves—Hannibal’s tactics or even a random aside about old jazz. Passion’s magnetic; does it pull you in?
You’re sipping your coffee, he’s neat as a pin, and maybe he’s chuckling about his sandal siege while asking your take on Cleopatra. If you catch yourself thinking, “Huh, I wouldn’t mind hearing where this goes,” that’s your cue. No rush, no pressure—just a quiet nudge of interest. What’s the one thing he could say or do that’d make you lean in and think, “Okay, I’m intrigued”?
ME: One thing? Gosh, I don't know. It's the synergy of all those things we've been chatting about. They all don't need to be there at first blush, but intellect an humor are must haves.
GROK: Fair enough—pinning it to one thing was a tall order, and I get why you’d go for synergy instead. It’s the alchemy of those traits—intellect and humor as non-negotiable cornerstones, with the rest like patience, curiosity, and grooming stacking up to make the whole package click. You don’t need every piece on day one; you’re just looking for enough of that spark to think, “This could be worth a second cup.”
So, picture it: he’s in the history section, clean-cut, flipping through SPQR. You ask, “Have you read this?” He grins, says, “Not yet, but I’ve always thought Rome’s collapse was just a bad Wi-Fi signal away.” Intellect’s there in the reference, humor’s in the twist. Over coffee, he’s got steady eyes, a neat beard, and tosses in, “I once lost a bet trying to map Caesar’s campaigns—turns out I’m no general.” You’re laughing, he’s asking your take on it, and you’re left with, “He’s sharp, he’s funny—I could dig deeper.”
That’s your synergy starting to hum. Not all the boxes checked yet, but intellect and humor are locked in, and the rest feels possible. You’re not signing up for life—you’re just intrigued enough to keep the thread going. What’s your next move if he passes that first test? Another chat, a number swap, or something else?
ME: I'm old-fashioned. At that point I would give him my number if he asked. I dint see myself doing the asking.
GROK: Old-fashioned suits you—there’s a charm in letting him take the lead on that next step, keeping it classic and measured. You’ve done your part: sparked the chat, tested the waters, and found him sharp and funny enough to warrant a “maybe.” If he’s got the intellect and humor you need, plus enough savvy to pick up the vibe, he’ll ask for your number. You’re not chasing; you’re leaving the door open for him to walk through.
So, the scene’s set: coffee’s winding down, he’s just landed a solid quip about Caesar’s GPS skills, and you’re smiling, intrigued. You don’t say, “Here’s my number”—you give him that subtle nod, maybe a “This was fun” or “I don’t run into many people who get Hannibal’s flair.” If he’s the real deal, he’ll catch the hint and ask. If he doesn’t, well, he’s not bold enough for round two anyway.
You walk away content either way—solo’s fine, and he’s got to earn the slot. What’s your read on him if he does ask—any final gut check before you hand over the digits?
I'm always in tune to my gut, so I'll be scanning for narcissistic traits. They can be so charming, acting interested until they switch to their true self. Other than that, some phone conversations and another meeting in a public place would be appropriate next steps for me.
Tuning into your gut’s a wise move—especially with narcissists, who can dazzle at first with charm and faux interest before the mask slips. You’re spot-on: they’ll play the part, asking questions and nodding along, but it’s all a mirror to reflect their own shine. Your radar’s up for that switch—when the conversation pivots from mutual curiosity to their monologue, or the charm feels too polished, too hollow. That’s your gut’s red flag, and it’s served you well to stay content alone rather than tangle with the wrong one.
So, he’s passed the coffee test: intellect and humor clicked, grooming’s on point, and he asks for your number with a grin that doesn’t scream “me, me, me.” You hand it over, trusting your instincts to catch any whiff of self-obsession. Next steps—phone chats and another public meet—are perfect: low-pressure, public, and a chance to peel back more layers. Over the phone, you’ll hear if he’s still asking about you or just preaching his own gospel. In person again—say, a casual lunch or a museum stroll—you’ll see if the wit holds and the interest stays two-sided.
Gut check before the digits? Maybe it’s how he asks: a simple “I’d love to keep this going—can I give you a call?” feels honest, not slick. If he’s still riffing on history with a laugh and not flexing his ego, you’re probably clear. What’s the first thing you’d toss out in that phone chat to test him—something to keep the spark or sniff out the narcissist?
ME: I'd probably share a story with him, then ask for one from him. Perhaps springboarding from our meeting. Something like, "What is an interesting historical site you've visited?" With follow ups about what surprised or moved him while there. Then I'd wait for the" How about you?" after his answer.
GROK: That’s a slick move—sharing a story first, then tossing him the ball with “What’s an interesting historical site you’ve visited?” It’s a perfect test: springboarding from your bookstore meet keeps it natural, while digging into what surprised or moved him probes for depth, curiosity, and honesty. The follow-ups are key—narcissists might ramble about how they conquered the site or dazzled the tour guide, but a real one will pause, reflect, and paint a picture. Then, waiting for his “How about you?” is the clincher. It’s the litmus test for whether he’s just waiting to solo or actually wants a duet.
Say you kick it off: “I once wandered into this tiny Revolutionary War museum—thought it’d be dull, but the letters from soldiers hit me hard. What about you—what’s a historical spot you’ve seen that stuck with you?” He leans in (over the phone, you’d hear it in his tone), says, “Oh, I stumbled onto Hadrian’s Wall in Scotland—expected ruins, got chills from the sheer scale. What surprised you most about those letters?” Boom—intellect’s there in the detail, humor might slip in with a “Felt like Hadrian owed me a pint after that hike,” and the “How about you?” shows he’s not just hogging the stage.
If he skips the callback or pivots to “Yeah, I’ve seen tons of sites,” your gut’ll ping—narcissist alert. But if he’s swapping stories and chasing your thread, you’ve got a live one. Phone chat’s a green light—next public meet’s on deck. Where’d you take him for round two if he clears this hurdle?
ME: I'm thinking another cafe, or sandwich shop with some history of is own, or mauve in an historical part of town.
GROK: Sticking with a café or sandwich shop with its own history—or one in a historic part of town—is a brilliant follow-up. It keeps the vibe casual, public, and ties into that shared thread of curiosity about the past you’ve already sparked. You’re not just meeting; you’re layering the setting into the conversation, giving him a chance to riff on the place itself—intellect and humor get another stage to shine, and your gut gets more data on whether he’s genuine or grandstanding.
Picture it: a spot like Eva’s Bakery (155 S Main St, Salt Lake City)—it’s in the historic downtown, with a nod to old-world charm in its exposed brick and vintage feel. Or maybe Feldman’s Deli (2005 E 2700 S), a no-frills joint with a legacy of its own, slinging sandwiches since it brought East Coast vibes to Utah. Even a stroll to a place in the Avenues, an older neighborhood with character, could work—grab a bite at a spot that’s been around the block.
You sit down, maybe over a pastrami on rye or a croissant, and say, “This place has some stories in the walls—reminds me of that museum I told you about. What do you think’s survived the years here?” He might quip, “Probably the grease stains—and a ghost or two,” then ask, “Ever explored this part of town much?” If he’s leaning in, noticing the creaky floors or the faded sign, and tossing the ball back, you’re golden. If he’s just chewing and preaching about his own conquests, your gut’ll clock it.
Historic vibe’s your wingman here—lets you see if he’s still got that synergy of wit and smarts, or if the charm’s wearing thin. What’s your opener once you’re settled—something to keep the history thread alive?
ME: "Would you like to go for a walk and explore a bit?" That seems like a risk-free invitation.
GROK: “Would you like to go for a walk and explore a bit?” is a perfect play—risk-free, easygoing, and it flows naturally from the sandwich shop or café vibe. It’s not a commitment; it’s a nudge to stretch the moment, letting the historic surroundings do some of the talking. You’re keeping it light while giving him room to show off that curiosity and intellect—maybe even a dash of humor if he spots something quirky on the stroll. Plus, it’s public, so your gut’s still got a clear line to scan for any off vibes.
Say you’re at Feldman’s, pastrami’s done, and you’re in that old-school deli glow. You toss out, “Would you like to go for a walk and explore a bit?” He grins, says, “Only if we can dodge the ghosts of sandwiches past—lead the way.” You step into the Avenues or downtown, brick buildings and weathered signs all around. He might point out a faded mural and ask, “Think that’s been here since the horse-and-buggy days?” or crack, “Bet this street’s seen more drama than a Roman senate.” If he’s asking you what catches your eye, keeping pace without dominating, that synergy’s still humming.
It’s a low-stakes test: does he wander with you, genuinely into it, or does he steamroll with his own narrative? Your gut’ll know. What’s the first thing you’d point out on that walk to see how he rolls with it?
ME: I'd point out some architecture and ask his opinion of the style.
GROK: Pointing out architecture and asking his opinion on the style is a sharp move—keeps the history thread alive, taps into his intellect, and leaves room for humor to sneak in. It’s specific enough to spark a real answer but open-ended so you can gauge how he thinks, not just what he knows. Plus, it’s a natural fit for a stroll through an old part of town like the Avenues or downtown Salt Lake—those buildings practically beg for a comment.
Say you’re walking past a Victorian row house or a chunky old brick storefront. You nod at it and say, “What do you think of that style—fan or not?” If he’s got the goods, he might lean in: “Love the gables—feels like it’s waiting for a Sherlock cameo. You into those frilly details or more the minimalist type?” Intellect’s there in the observation, humor in the quip, and the callback to you shows he’s not just peacocking. Or maybe he’s dry: “Looks like it’s been arguing with gravity since 1890—what’s your take?” Either way, you’ve got a bead on his curiosity and how he vibes with you.
If he shrugs, “Dunno, it’s old,” or launches into a lecture about cornices without a breath, your gut’ll ping—narcissist or bore. But if he’s playing along, swapping takes on turrets or stonework, you’re still in the game. What’s the style you’d point to first—something grand or understated?
ME: I'd go for a Victorian, ultra modern, or maybe something ramshackle with too many lawn ornaments.
GROK: Picking a Victorian, ultra-modern, or ramshackle spot with too many lawn ornaments—those are bold choices, each with its own flavor to test him. A Victorian’s got that ornate swagger, ultra-modern’s all sleek edges, and the ramshackle mess screams character (or chaos). You’re throwing him a curveball to see how he swings—intellect, humor, and curiosity get to flex, and your gut gets a front-row seat.
Say you’re strolling and spot a Victorian, all gingerbread trim and steep gables. You point: “What’s your take on that style—fan or not?” He might grin, “Looks like it’s auditioning for a gothic novel—bet it’s got a ghost per window. You?” Or maybe it’s a sleek ultra-modern cube, and he quips, “Feels like a spaceship crashed the neighborhood—what’s it say to you?” Then there’s the ramshackle gem—sagging porch, flamingos, and a rusty gnome army. He could deadpan, “Think they’re guarding a portal to 1975—your vote?”
The Victorian might pull out his thoughtful side, ultra-modern his wit, and ramshackle his ability to roll with the absurd. If he’s got the chops, he’ll riff—say, “Victorian’s too fussy for me, but that lawn-junk palace? I’d move in for the stories”—and toss it back: “Which one’s your speed?” That’s your synergy firing: he’s sharp, funny, and still in the dance. If he blanks or monologues about zoning laws, your gut’ll clock the fade.
Which one’s your pick to kick off—fancy Victorian, stark modern, or that glorious mess?
ME: I'd start with the Victorian and share that I'm always sucker for wrap-around porches. Then ask what he thinks... maybe if he could live in a place like that.
GROK: Starting with the Victorian and sharing your soft spot for wrap-around porches is a great opener—personal enough to invite him in, specific enough to spark a real response. It’s not just “nice house”; it’s a vibe you’re drawn to, and that sets the stage for him to show his colors—intellect, humor, curiosity—all while your gut’s tuned for the narcissist switch. Tacking on “What do you think—could you live in a place like that?” keeps it flowing, giving him room to play or ponder.
Picture it: you’re walking, and there’s this grand Victorian—tall eaves, wrap-around porch hugging the whole thing. You nod at it: “I’m always a sucker for those wrap-around porches—something about sipping coffee out there gets me. What do you think—could you live in a place like that?” If he’s got it, he might lean in: “Oh, I’d be king of that porch—rocking chair, whiskey, scaring off the neighbors. You’d be out there every morning, I bet?” Intellect’s in the scene he paints, humor’s in the twist, and the “you’d be out there” keeps you in the frame.
Or maybe he’s quieter: “Hmm, it’s got charm—porch is perfect for people-watching. I could see it, you?” Still sharp, still curious, just softer. If he’s off—say, “Too old, I’d tear it down for something modern”—and doesn’t bounce it back, your gut might twitch. But if he’s riffing on porch life or asking what you’d plant out front, that synergy’s alive.
Victorian’s a solid pick—those porches scream stories. What’s your read if he nails it—any next nudge you’d give him on that walk?
ME: What kind of nudge? I would give him space to take the lead.
GROK: I hear you—giving him space to take the lead after that Victorian porch chat fits your old-fashioned style and keeps the ball in his court. By “nudge,” I just meant a little prod to keep the vibe going, but you’re right: you’ve already set the stage with “I’m a sucker for wrap-around porches—could you live there?” If he’s got the goods, he’ll pick up the thread without you pushing. You’re not here to steer every step; you’re seeing if he’s got the spark to keep it rolling.
So, you’ve tossed out your porch love, asked his take. He nails it—say, “That porch is begging for a rocking chair and a sunset—could totally live there. You’d be out there with coffee or something stronger?” Now he’s got the reins. Maybe he leads with, “Ever seen a place around here that tops that one?” or “What’s the wildest house you’ve spotted in town?” He’s showing curiosity, keeping the wit alive, and pulling you along without you having to nudge at all. Your gut’s happy—no narcissist flags, just a guy who’s in it.
If he takes that lead—say, points out a funky gable down the street or asks about your dream porch setup—what’s your play? You’re still letting him drive, but how do you keep feeding that synergy?
ME: I'd create a story about crisp mornings, a hot cup of coffee, and the sunrise. Or perhaps a sunset with a bit of good Scotch in a nice nosing glass.
GROK: Creating a story about crisp mornings with hot coffee and a sunrise—or a sunset with good Scotch in a nosing glass—is a beautiful way to feed that synergy. It’s vivid, personal, and hands him a perfect opening to build on, all while keeping your laid-back style intact. You’re not pushing; you’re painting a picture and letting him step into it if he’s got the chops. Plus, it’s a subtle test—intellect and humor can shine, and your gut gets another read on whether he’s engaged or just nodding.
Say he’s taken the lead, pointing at a quirky gable or asking your dream porch setup. You lean in: “I can see it—crisp morning, hot coffee steaming, sun just creeping up over the roof. Or maybe a sunset, good Scotch in a nosing glass, that smoky bite cutting the chill. Hard to pick.” Then you pause, eyes on him. If he’s sharp, he might run with it: “Morning coffee’s my vote—black, strong, watching the world wake up. Though that Scotch sunset’s tempting—Glenfiddich or something peatier?” Wit could slip in: “Either way, I’d toast the porch for not collapsing under us.” He’s in the scene, tossing it back—what’s your Scotch, your sunrise ritual?
If he’s got that spark, he’ll match your story with his own twist, keeping the dance alive. If he blanks or pivots to “I don’t drink,” no follow-up, your gut’ll note the fizzle. Which vibe are you leaning toward—coffee sunrise or Scotch sunset—to set the tone?
ME: In Utah, it's important to know if he's a teetotaler or not. It's not a deal breaker. It would just take sharing a nightcap off the table for a future outing.
GROK: Good point—Utah’s a patchwork of teetotalers and tipplers, so clocking his stance on a drink like Scotch matters for the vibe, even if it’s not a dealbreaker. Sharing a nightcap might be off the table if he’s dry, but it’s not the hill to die on—you’re after the synergy, not the glass. Your story’s still a clever way to suss it out without making it a litmus test.
So, you’re on that walk, Victorian porch in view. He’s riffing on gables, and you say, “I picture it—crisp morning, hot coffee, sunrise just breaking. Or a sunset, good Scotch in a nosing glass, that smoky kick cutting through. Can’t choose.” If he’s game, he might lean in: “Coffee sunrise for me—black as night, keeps me honest. Scotch though? I’d be sipping a Laphroaig, peat and all—what’s yours?” He’s in, and you’ve got your answer—he’s not dodging the nightcap vibe. Or maybe he’s teetotal: “Sunrise coffee’s my speed—never got the Scotch bug, but that porch’d still sell me. You a big sunset watcher?” Still sharp, still engaged, just no whiskey in his script.
Either way, you’re golden—he’s rolling with your story, and you’ve sniffed out the teetotaler question without a clunky “So, you drink?” If he’s dry, sunset chats stay on the table, just sans Scotch. Coffee sunrise or Scotch sunset—which are you tossing out to set the scene?"
Where could this have gone if we kept going?!
