Monthly Archives: August 2010

The *real* problem with SATC

Last night I had to deal with some pretty tough Mom-stuff.  I have the greatest daughters ever, so this isn’t a common theme in my life…thankfully!

My oldest daughter is breathtakingly beautiful, sweet, kind, and intelligent…and she’s also shy and struggling to make friends.  I know at her tender age, having friends means everything.  One would rather have friends at this point in her life than eat or sleep.  It’s absolutely vital to life itself. I get that.  Dealing with this brought me to reflect deeply on the issue of friends and friendship.

In short, the issue is I don’t have any. And if I want to get real down and dirty honest with myself the ugly truth is I never have.

Sure, at any given point in my life (prior to this point, of course), I’ve been surrounded by friends and acquaintances.  My phone book is chock full of names and numbers ranging anywhere from the “chick I met in the bathroom at a bar” and got into a meaningful conversation with all the way to a few (a very few) people I’ve known for fifteen years or more.  I’ve had BFF’s whom I spent every waking moment with.  I’ve even had a few “fatal attraction friendships” where things got ugly when it was time to walk away from that person.  I’ve had co-workers who I went to Happy Hour’s with and discussed everything from what’s for dinner to their extra-marital affair.  I’ve had “activity buddies” who loved the beach or yoga or some other mutually adored pastime.  Other than a few times in my life (now being one of them), I’ve never had a shortage of people to call to hang out with or, more frequently, people who called me daily with their troubles (I’ve always,  ALWAYS been the “counselor” type).  I never minded that, I embraced it actually and felt I was maybe special because so many people trusted me with their important, heart-felt issues and turned to me in their time of need.   Awwwwww…  I even think it encouraged me to believe I  had some close ties with certain people in my life.  After all, they would share their dirtiest, most horrible inner secrets with me…that certainly must  mean we were friends, right?

No.  It meant I’m a friend.  It meant they recognized me as a caring, trustworthy person and felt comfortable turning to me in times of need.  It did not mean- and has never meant- that we were friends.

I get back to this realization anytime I happen upon that fantastical program Sex and the City.  As much as I heart that well-written and entertaining show, I avoid it!  Can you believe it?  And I mean avoid…like I avoid the-adopt-an-Ethiopian-child commercials…you know, the one’s that hurt to watch? I can hardly tolerate watching it (and have certain moments where I literally can NOT tolerate watching it) because it’s an absolute fantasy from my perspective; a fantasy along the lines of Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella.  And here’s the thing, I’m not jealous of their cute clothes, their fun dating adventures, their gorgeous shoes, or their great careers…  I know those things are realistic and totally plausible in this world.  I enjoy that aspect immensely…to ponder the likes of living in a world where I might spend my mortgage payment on the. Most. Fabulous. Pair. Of. Shoes. EVER.    That’s not a pipe-dream; I know that actually happens.

It’s the friendship.  It’s the friendship these women share…  It’s truly akin to believing in Santa Claus for me.  I don’t typically avoid fairy tale type things.  I find them fun actually.  I love watching The Little Mermaid and letting myself get caught up for an hour or so in the far-fetched possibility of that being a reality.  The difference is that fairy tales are out of this world fantastical…they aren’t based on anything that could ever be authentically possible in this world.  And those are beautifully imaginative and refreshing thoughts to entertain for a period of time.  But the friendship:  the lasting, loyal, fun, loving, and practical friendship these women share is something that is theoretically possible.  Hell, it should exist and I imagine it does exist for some, but I have never seen it in real life, much less ever known it myself.  This is what makes this show too painful for me to watch.

As if the writer of that show (as well as the God of Universal timing) knew this excruciating fact,  I then was once cursed to see (of the very few episodes I actually watched through) the episode where Carrie contemplates relationships and soul mates.  Like a train wreck or a fantasy, I could not bring myself to look away or turn it off.  There it was in all its glory, …dumping pounds of salt in my open wounds:

And this made sense to me….but then it has always made sense to me.  Actually, if I had ever written it down as such, I could probably have claimed it was even my idea originally. I just never had that jealousy issue like other girls did.  Boys were boys, the would come and go or stay…whatever…  And I look how I look..take it or leave it…like it or hate it…  After the age of about 12, I never imagined the fairy tale prince sweeping me off my feet and rescuing me from the wicked step-mother or from some other evil force of nature.  Yeah sure, that sounded fun and romantic and all those great things, BUT…. I only dreamed of having close and authentic friends.  Real friends whom I could share life and troubles, happiness and tragedy, good fortune as well as bad…both mine and theirs.  That was what (and who) I hoped to have in my life someday when I got old and decrepit and reflected back on my life:  that would be my lifelong soul mate, not some Prince Charming or any other “prince” of whatever!  Although it was difficult to watch this show about a group of fun, fabulous and lasting friends even before I saw this specific episode, seeing this one just made it that much worse.  I love the show..I hated that show now!

 I’ve had this type of friendship on the one-way street thing, like an unrequited teenage crush…where I naively convinced myself it was real or at least was developing into a real and lasting friendship.  I merely had to “be the friend I wished to have” and surely some like-minded person would see the extraordinary friendship value in me and scoop me up to be friends forever

But wait….I am that friend.  Due to my early life-wisdom and perspectives on male-female relationships, I have always been that friend….and still,  I don’t have an Amanda or Samantha…a Carrie or a Miranda…much less, three or four!  Geesh, I can’t even fathom having one. To me, the concept of having even one genuine female friend is in the realm of the truly fantastical and imaginary

Oh I’ve had a few posers…  in fact, I’ve had at least three, and possibly up to as many as six over my lifetime.    Three females whom I actually felt that strong connection and imagined that it went beyond “friends”, but more like family.  Friends I would not have hesitated to donate a kidney, step in front of a speeding train, give up my job, my home, any money I might have, a man who loved me, men who liked me, whatever it took to preserve and nurture that friendship.  After all, at the end of the day and other than my children, that was the thing that would mean the most to me when all else was lost or gone. Right?  I’d have this beautiful friendship with this other person that stood the test of time and life, jobs and men, fashion changes and geographical moves…everything.  This was my “soul mate”… the only lasting thing in life one might ever have which is truly priceless, precious, and irreplaceable.

No.  Every single one of these friendships turned out to be merely a one-sided friendship of convenience; a relationship that would stay solid for as long as I could give..and give..and give…and one even turned out to be something far more sinister, but  I don’t  talk about that one at all..to anyone…ever…   I don’t even like to think about that one, as the pain from it, even though many years have passed, is still very raw and smacks me in the most tender and persistently innocent part of my soul.

..and here I am, in my late thirties, dealing with my daughter’s struggles with both finding friends in a new city and leaving a slew of BFF’s behind.  I worry about her as a mother will, but I mostly keep my jaded mouth shut and simply listen and try to offer hopeful insights that I had regarding friendship when I was her age.  

…when I realize last night that from elementary years through college the issue always was “jealousy”.  Females really are challenged with the sad and destructive jealousy gene.  So, in those early years, they’re jealous –  of your hair, your clothes, maybe your intelligence or how much money your parents have.  In your later 20’s and 30’s, it turns into more of a man-jealousy thing, like friendships have a competitive edge for all the women in the world who grew up waiting for their Price Charming…and this earlier jealousy thing gets an additional razor’s edge…the fear that any other female might intentionally or otherwise, steal her chance with her Prince  …so then that obstacle is added to the rest of the jealousy box from the earlier years.  And authentic female relationships become even more difficult or impossible. 

Suddenly you’re in your late 30’s and  you think, Hey, cool…maybe it kinda sucks getting older, BUT  now we’re all  wiser; past all the competitive man-stuff, the awkward insecurities, the jealousy issues, and the life fears which  have plagued and prevented friendship up until now… 

 

Except, we are not. The divorce rate and the common theme of infidelity in relationships make some of these things still huge issues for many women even at the time in life when it “shouldn’t” be a thought anymore.  These elements keep the jealousy-thing in place even at this “wise” time when we’re otherwise mostly secure (or at least comfortable) with ourselves and our lives.  Then, you realize that friendships take years to nurture and grow into an authentic depth of affection.  So now, we have ALL the issues from elementary years on through, further complicated by the fact that if you haven’t already been fortunate enough to have at least one friendship which survived all those earlier obstacles and stood strong, you’re now hit with the challenge that women (and people in general) tend to be more jaded and cynical about life and people and far less trusting overall.  Thus, at this age, they’re often now far less likely to even extend that arm of friendship out to another female at all.  I mean we’re not really clubbing anymore and looking for girls to dance with us or going to football games on Friday night and wanting someone fun to sit with at the game.  We’re okay to go shopping by ourselves, go to the gym on our own, maybe even go to the movies or out for a drink by ourselves (GASP!…something we never would have done in our 20’s).

I remember my mother once telling me, “Kay, if you find even one real and solid friendship in your lifetime, you should consider yourself lucky”.   So, as I go through this hardship and heartache with my oldest daughter, I find myself faced with all of these thoughts and realizations as I’m desperately seeking words of consolation and hope to give her.  I certainly can’t borrow these words of wisdom from my mother to hand down to her, in spite of the fact that I fully realize how right-on she was; because I’m still facing the hard fact that I wasn’t one of the “lucky ones”.

Me watching SATC!

…and I’m sure you can find the irony in the situation when after I tucked my tearful and heartbroken daughter in bed last night,  after hours of heart-to heart discussion, I came in my room to see those damned SATC ladies on my television!  Those damned wenches…they really do have everything!

Ugh!

…but I don’t wanna play Where’s Waldo!

S and I have emailed for several days… some really fun, flirty, nerdy emails.  Those are my favorite kind! I’ve been enjoying them and look forward to reading them each day.  Bonus: S’s photos looked nerdy in my kind of sexy-nerdy way!

I was super stoked when he invited me out to the lake yesterday!  I’ve wanted to go see it and explore since I first moved here…and here was a great opportunity to do so AND with a fun person too!  I felt a little worried after we talked though and he had a very nasally, overly-nerdy sound.  Well, it wasn’t so much the actual sound of his voice as much as it was his acutely lackluster conversation skills outside of email.  I shook that off as maybe just a phone thing (?)though.  And anyway,  I’m gifted at bringing people out of their shells and perfectly capable of stimulating conversation all on my own…

He arrived to pick me up.  He did look kinda like his pictures, except that his pictures seemed to display a different persona than he actually carried in person.  Not a big deal; he wasn’t totally appalling to look at.  So far the only real “issue” was that Mother Nature chose to hit me hard with cramps which could probably rate on a seismic scale if my body was a representation of the earth and its rumbling tectonic plates.  Ughh….  No worries though, on the way out the door, I quickly grabbed a few Motrin and knew I’d just have to wait for them to kick in…

Shortly after we’re driving along in his truck, he asked how I came to be in Vegas.  I start explaining:  My ex husband moved here a few years back for his work.  My daughters and he had such a rough time with this, it got more and more difficult each night to hear the nightly crying and…

INTERRUPT: What I want to know is if your ex wants to get back with you?

(Geesh…I thought you wanted to hear the short story version of why we came here…umm…I wasn’t rambling on or anything…) Oh.  Okay…umm..noooooo…that’s not why we’re here.

Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.

Ohhh..okay…

Conversation dwindles…so I start asking lots of specific questions.  How did you get to be here?  …What kind of job is it that brought you here?  So where did you grow up? Where is your family?  Are you close to them?  Are you a coffee drinker?  Ever been married…kids? What kind of music do you like most?

S proves to be the master at one-word and vague “dunno” question-answers, which certainly don’t further conversation at all.

Ummm???  Bakersfield?  ….Ummmm yes?  Hmmm….no? No..no…umm…I dunno?

Is it gospel? ...umm... So you like gospel music, right?

He gives this last answer as he switches the radio station to some sort of gospel.

…and I start to have little hesitations as to the length of time I’ve committed to with this first meeting.  I think of M’s brief meet-n greet-first rule and begin to think of it in a loving, regretful way.  Ohhh GAWD, why-oh-why didn’t I stick to that wonderful idea?  Am I going to have to pull teeth like this all.  DayLong?? ..AND that just to get yes/no AND indecisive answers?  OMG!

..that you? Forrest?

As I’m contemplating whether he is socially just inept or more along the lines of Forrest…Forrrrrressst Gummmmppp, to compound my hesitations and regrets here, as we are almost approaching the lake itself (maybe 15 – 20 minutes driving in the car at most), I am hit HARD  upside the head with the sleepy stick.    I mean, I’m not kidding here.  I suddenly feel like I’m on the way into surgery, just after the anesthesiologist has visited to intentionally knock you out, hard and heavy for the upcoming procedure.  Blurred voices that sound like, Okay Kay, start counting backward from 5 for me

That's me..only I was sitting in S's truck @ the time

Mmmmhmmmmm…ohhhhhkayyyy…Five…(my legs are getting heavy)…fffffffour (arms feel rubbery)…thhhhreeeeeee…(eyelids involuntarily drooping)…WTF? 

What is the matter with me?  Yeah, this guy’s a little boring so far and might be conversationally (socially?) handicapped, but its 11 o’clock in the morning for Pete’s sake!  I can sit through a two hour Catholic Mass after only an hour’s sleep and with a hangover and STILL stay awake better than

What I SO wanted to do....zzzzz

 this!  Hell, I can find watching paint dry interesting for more than 20 minutes if I set my mind to it…and this isn’t quite to that desperate point yet…  I mean, there IS conversation happening…

I’ve heard about his sister’s dairy intolerance and the substitutions his mother makes for holiday meals.  Hey, this is valuable information in case I ever become lactose or dairy intolerant!  I’ve heard about his parents’ six marriages between them and his religious upbringing… okay,  so he might answer my questions with vague dunno’s..but he gets to better explanations shortly thereafter all on his owneventually

No joke though…I can NOT keep my eyes open and I feel like someone slipped me some drugs.  I’m getting heavy and beyond lethargic.  WTF?

Hoover Dam

Ahhh..we’re at the Hoover Dam…finally.  I probably just need to walk around in the fresh air a bit to shake this uncanny sleepiness off…WHEW…just in time…

We walk around a bit.  Other than trying to hold my hand, this guy knows nothing about anything that I find interesting…but I’m working hard to keep thinking of more and different questions to ask.  I keep trying…

Hell, today I am in Webster’s as the very definition of inquisitive….what’s that thing do?  Am I standing in Arizona now?  You don’t know?  Okay.  Why do they block those sections off?  You don’t know?  Okay.  What are these elevators for?  Where do they go?  You “ummm..dunno…?”  Okay.

And the pictures…ahhhhhh geeesh the pictures!  I’ve never been here before and conversation is far from interesting, so in between coming up with 200 questions to try to stay awake, I’m snapping pictures with my cell of everything!

Okay…here’s a heads up for anyone who doesn’t know or suspect this yet.  I’m not shy.  I’m talkative, I’m effervescent.  Hell, I’m borderline giggly…  and if I want your picture, I will not hesitate to ask or just start taking them even…

So, when I’m taking pictures of historical monuments or constellations etched in marble on the platform, or the sculpture of the bridge worker guy, whatever…

Why is Waldo even IN this picture?

Do not…and I mean DO NOTjump in my picture! Don’t hang by the statue…don’t step into the marble constellation plaque…don’t lean over onto the bridge railing into the edges of my picture taking effort…

Seriously, I don’t know you and I don’t want a bunch of monumentally interesting pictures where I will later play Where’s Waldo? (aka:that one-uneventful-n-painful-date-I-dredged-myself-through-that-one-day).  Seriously guy, I’m making the best of this incredibly dull situation…  and it’s gonna be tough to crop you out of these pictures later in case I want to share them, frame them, or just look at them someday… C’MON…I don’t wanna have to ever explain you to people…k?  Please?

And here is when I realize in spite of my botched attempts at conversation and question-asking, beyond the fact that I seriously can.hardly.hold.my eyes.open…  S is digging me!  That’s hysterically funny to me in my borderline comatose state! 

He actually nudges my hand to hold it in spite of the fact that I kept my cell in my hand on the side closest to himat all times.  So we held hands over my cell phone….because I don’t know how to jerk my hand away from his knowing I’ve still got several hours with him to endure.  So, every time he’d grab my hand, I’d suddenly want another picture and yup, you guessed it…I needed that hand…  And yup, you guessed it…he’d lean into my picture!!

Waldo!?!  Get OUTTA there!  Can’t you see I need a picture of anthing at all errr… that part of the sidewalk?  Sure, it looks plain and ordinary to you and there’s hundreds more but that’s not the point!  It’s saving me from having to reject your hand OR hold it against my will.  This random picture taking thing?  This thing I’m doing here?  Incessantly?  Yeah… This, I do for you pal..so knock it off…k?

No.  S starts asking strangers to snap our picture with his camera!! Like we’re some adorable couple on vacation here.  People are all, “Awww..that’s a good one!  and “You two are so cute!”    S says, you’re good at posing…  I say yup…you have no clue…  Posers-r-me!

S was really a pretty nice guy but he seriously blew it off the bat by interrupting me telling a critical, and even somewhat interesting, story in my life and how my daughters and I came to be here.  That was just rude and socially inept and I was struggling to get past it…still.  If you can’t bring yourself to listen to a 45 second story that’s fairly critical to my life and the only reason we are even able to BE on a date on this day, then you’re already pretty much out.

Unless maybe you can do some tricks for me?  Huh?  What?  You “ummmm…dunno?”  Hmm..ok.  You’re out then.

I made the best of the day I could.  Thank GAWD the sights were interesting and I was able to take TONS of random photos to keep my hands busy…errr…of all that interesting stuff!

I just could not get over the initial interruption OR the fact that as academically smart as S seemed, he was just an idiot.  I’d swear if I’d asked him his favorite color, he wouldn’t have known the answer to that question either! Ummmm….I dunno?

Finally, we’re on our way home…yayyy!  And I just can’t fight this overwhelming fatigue anymore (really WTF is this?!)  I felt bad because I actually dozed off on the way home and it was only 5 PM…I just could not hold my eyes open!  Sure hope I didn’t snore or drool.  Woke back up as we were in my neighborhood and he’s asking when I’m next free.  I borrowed his repetitive line from the day and said, “Ummmm…dunno?”   I apologized for my lethargy and jumped out of his truck as fast as possible, given my dead-weight arms and legs…and groggy mental state.

The Tylenol hadn’t helped my Mother Nature issue much at all..so I ran straight to the medicine cabinet to grab a few more of those Motrins. And then I see what I had done.  NO FREAKIN’ WAY!!!!!

OMG!!

It was Motrin PM!!!  I had inadvertently taken two SLEEPING PILLS before I went on a date with one of the most boring persons I have ever met.  I swear my track record with OTC medication and dating is just un-freakin-believable!!

On my mind, but not my heart

Having gotten some excellent comments on the M-phenomenon from my fave bloggers here, I’ve come back again and again to something.

Four years ago I split from the absolute and only love of my life.  It was horrible, soul breaking, heart wrenching, mind and life altering, painful, confusing..  Every day that I woke up (well, the nights that I even slept, that is) from that point forward, it all felt so wrong and unnatural, like a split from literal reality had occurred.  Had the chronic unshakeable sense that I was in the midst of a nightmare which couldn’t possibly be actually happening, but that I could not wake from.  Horrifying on a level which I never even could have imagined was possible prior in my life..even after two divorces…it was dreadful to say the least…

B was for Barely there...

Anyway, I met a guy, “B” maybe a year or so after this “split”.  B was handsome, funny, super nice…and he asked me out.  Well as “over” as things were with the ex, we were still very much “carrying on” in many different ways, neither really letting go, but not together per se either….  So I declined this great guy’s date request.   Strangely enough, I suddenly kept seeing this guy everywhere.  Every time I was out with friends..there he was.  The grocery store..OMG he’s here too!  On lunch with co-workers…B, too, was having lunch there!  It became stranger and stranger… and was extraordinarily coincidental.  Finally, I just decided that all signs pointed to the fact that I should at least try to go out with him a few times.

For three months, it went well.  We had a great time.  He was truly fabulous.  I even lessened my time spent with the ex (and ceased sexual activity with the ex mostly) because I felt I owed a real effort to this guy and of course, owed him an attempt at fidelity as well.  I didn’t really embrace this time away from the ex though – in my heart and in all other ways, that was really where I wanted to be.  I was more making an effort to force that lingering non-relationship-relationship to cease rather than actually trying in this new relationship with B. 

So after about three months of doing “this” (whatever “this” was), he and I were at dinner one evening at my most favorite restaurant.  He seemed a little distant, but nothing too blatant, so I just avoided it.  I’m not nosey by nature and I really believe in respecting people’s privacy.  Plus, I really didn’t want to have one of those “what are you thinking/feeling” conversations because the ugly truth was, I had no desire to share with B what my real feelings were…being that they were not even really there..but constantly with the ex…no matter how hard I was trying to force that to stop and make my feelings for him subside.  For these two reasons, I never mentioned his being more quiet than usual and the evening went okay, all in all.

How I felt with B

The following day, he called me at work asking to talk.  I felt really nervous about this because although I wasn’t being outright deceitful to him, I really could not(and had NO desire to) share my sincere feelings with this guy..you know….they were definitely 110% with the ex and it tore my heart in two to have to keep blowing the ex off, just to be “honest” …err…straight with this guy I was seeing.  And more ugly truth here was that my plan wasn’t even working.  The ex wasn’t listening anyway and regularly “rejecting” my ex was merely getting more and more painfully impossible, not easier as I had hoped.  So, needless to say, I was not looking forward to this “talk”.  In fact, the thought alone made me downright nauseated.

So we talk on the phone during my lunch…  And he says, Kay, I really like you and I suppose there’s really no reason to stop seeing you, but I can’t shake the feeling that you’re just going through the motions of this…Sure, you’re with me and that’s nice and all, but it just seems like you’re just not really with me.  And I just want to know from you if I should bother keeping on with this.

I was stunned.  I could not say anything.  I mean literally, I could not even respond.  After a few moments of silence, he even said, Hello?  Are you still there?

I finally choked out,  I really have to go.  Promise I’ll call you later though. And I hung up the phone without letting him agree.

How could I argue this? He was so dead-on, it was scary.  So, I knew I either had to admit this (the very thing I’d been “hiding” from him from the start) or pretty much just lie straight out and deny it.  I respected him; I even really liked him.  I didn’t want to do either.  Really, all I wanted was to just be back with my ex and thus, solve the whole damned issue across the board.

…of course, I called him back later and admitted that he was right, apologized profusely, and told him I understood totally if he felt it best to stop seeing me.  He did.  It ended right then.  I liked him – I really did, but other than some guilt over letting it go on for three months, I really never skipped a beat.  In fact, my “ex” and I went to the movies and had crazy wild OH MY GAWD it’s BEEN TOO EFFIN’ LONG sex that very night…

And all felt right and balanced in the world again (as effed up as THAT truth is!), so even my guilt didn’t last as long as it probably should have…

After much reflection, this past event keeps popping up again and again in my mind.  I wonder if this is not maybe something similar to what’s going on with M now?  …only maybe this time, it’s both of us feeling this “half in” way a little…or maybe even more him this time and only a bit is coming from me?

I know my heart’s not fully in any of  this (M, dating, sex, whatever…), but my mind is in it some…  And maybe M just has a similar struggle…  What even happens when you put two mostly absent people into one relationship together?  A disconnected connection.

M is for Mystifying

Just can’t figure the whole M thing out!  As everyone who reads here knows, I like him.  I really like him. 

Umm…I think…?

I DO…  It’s just strange though.  After leaving Sunday to go to Arizona to see his daughter, M is now in Toronto on business until Friday and he texts me yesterday to ask if I want to do something Friday.  He really wants to see me.  I happen to have this Friday (and this whole weekend too) free…so Yay!  Right?  …….Right?

 Okay, it’s not like I’ve anything better to do.  And I like M.  So..what’s the sitch?  I ponder…and reflect…

My first thought after his request was to say no merely because he almost blew off our last date planned in advance.  Almost is key though, I mean he didn’t really blow it off. Can I not just let one infraction go?  The guy has never been at all disrespectful or “flaky” prior to that and he did disclose that he was having some struggles at the time.  I’m a compassionate soul damn it; I can accept and move on from that one little thing.  Who the hell am I to expect perfection?  In consideration of the amount of dates I’ve cancelled:  made up excuses to cancel, cancelled at the 11th hour or later, or didn’t bother cancelling at all… WTF?  I can’t be that girlthat unforgiving, hanging on one silly tiny infraction, holding it “against” him forever while continuing to see him!?  And yet, my hesitation has admittedly gone from zero to an inordinate 70-80% from that one inconsiderate error.  I wasn’t excited with this request for friday; I was downright reluctant.  Not cool… and not a good sign either…

So puzzling...

Thoughts:

  1. When M and I are not actually together (which of course is plenty and I’m perfectly fine with that), I just have a feeling of ambivalence toward him, bordering on apathetic even.  WTF?  I like him…so WHY does this happen??  And to further confuse things, this goes away completely when I AM in his presence.  When I’m actually with him, I happen to like him a lot.  I feel comfortable, relaxed, interested, attracted…  We laugh (always critical for me); we discuss anything and everything.  It feels so open and honest…and even somewhat natural.  It’s perfect for where I am right now.  Totally perfect.  Yet, almost the moment I’m not with him anymore, I just feel very little…a distinct take-it-or-leave-it feeling.  Like, if we hang out again, great…if we don’t that’s just great too.  Then, as one day turns into two and two turns into three, etc…this either way feeling starts leaning toward the just don’t care at all, so why should I even  bother(?) feeling.  What IS that?  I don’t feel that way at all when I’m with him.  Not at ALL!
  2. In fact, when I’m with him, my affection for him grows proportionately on all levels, exactly as it should in the beginning stages of dating someone.  So why the disproportionate and accelerated dive down when we are apart?  Gosh, in fact, that just made me realize that my feelings about him must not be growing in an average rate when we’re together because they have to jump the huge divide that was created while we were apart and then grow even more from there in order to grow or increase at all.  Therefore, they must be expanding rather quickly (more quickly than is typical for me) or they couldn’t possibly be growing at all. 

Does this even make any sense?  I mean literally?  Somehow I don’t think it does…not literally OR figuratively.

 I have to say, this has never happened to me before.  I either like someone or I don’t.  Sure, some people I might have merely a mild interest in and that’s usually pretty easy because nothing in regard to my feelings has ever grown much from “mild”.  It typically just withers down to very little or none at all.  Never – and I mean never – have my feelings for and about someone transferered so sporadically and disproportionately from barely there..to really there…back further down to hardly there, then on to really,  REALLY there…back down to not so much there at all, back up to…etc, etc…  This is peculiar and bizarre …and confusing… and just puzzling. 

 So, I start thinking maybe I just don’t want to see M at all anymore and let any feelings that are there or could ever be there simply fade to black and disappear altogether, as that’s clearly what would happen if I stopped seeing him altogether.  There’s no absence makes the heart grow fonder going on here.  And I have never liked anyone when that didn’t happen at least to some degree (obviously some cases more than others…but it has always at least existed on some level for any and every person I’ve liked in my entire life).

 I’m chronically hovering here between just letting it go altogether…thinking, gosh, this could never amount to much unless I was looking for a real relationship where our time together increases regularly.  No, I like the amount of time M and I spend.  I don’t think I want that to increase; I’m content with the current amount of time spent!  So, with resect to this strange “thing”, then it’s not going anywhere at all, right?  And that’s perfectly okay, right?

Yet….the temptation that I know actually seeing him always increases my affection and interest in him is…it’s…well, it’s just soooooo tempting because I enjoy that feeling…  so obviously I think of that little intiguing twist in the midst of my “apathetic periods” too.

"Temptation" image via Dario Infini @ fineartamerica.com

Because……… that’s it!  That’s exactly it!!  I feel tempted to see him again and God knows I fully enjoy temptation.  But I don’t ever feel actually excited to see him again once I’ve been away from him for more than a day or so.  It’s as though the temptation to experience this odd phenomenon itself is overwhelming and keeps me agreeing to it…almost unable to deny it (thus, the title “temptation”)…but the excitement to actually see him, be with him, etc, is strangely just not there…until the very moment I am actually with him… 

This would make perfect sense to me if this were a mad passionate sex thing; if the sex itself was just so freakin’ fantastic that I couldn’t resist one more time… And the sex is fun…  I mean, it’s alright.  It doesn’t knock my socks off or really make me crave more, but it IS fun and interesting and certainly  satisfying enough to enjoy…

 …But I’m starting to think the actual oddity of the whole M-phenomenon itself is more what keeps me even in it at all.

 WTF?  What IS this??

Second “update”:   After WordMan’s email about being excited to see me again and that he had deleted his dating profile, I responded.  I wrote  I’m looking forward to another Scrabble game too and I questioned his choice to delete his profile.  I wanted to ask M why he deleted his too, but since he didn’t out-right tell me he did, I don’t feel comfortable asking him.  Word man made a point to tell me and my curiosity took over.  Why did you do that WM? 

Umm…I don’t think I scored any points with WM from this, as now he’s not even bothered to write me back and respond!  Oops?? Now, what’d I do?   Geesh…men!?

Dammit Steve…

It occurred to me last night that in my blog mission of sharing my online dating experiences, I’ve neglected to share much of any of my real-life, more traditional, experiences of meeting people since I’ve moved to the city of U-turns and Vanity Plates.  I’m focused if nothing, but I realize my amazing focus leaves out a great deal of interesting experience.  I did share of the near violation of my no-no square, and  hot-as-HELL bartender, and drunken groping surfer dude, but other than that, nothing of this variety.  And ironically, I’ve had almost as many real-life occasions meeting men as online; not anything overly intriguing or exciting as to dating potential, noooo….but certainly interesting experiences in their own right. 

Neighborhood bar

I was blessed (or cursed?) location-wise, to live within walking distance of a fun little restaurant/bar.  It’s not a tacky little dive (although I confess I ADORE tacky little dive bars!!).  It has a nice restaurant I’ve not yet eaten in and above the restaurant is a lovely massive deck with a bar/lounge/club-like atmosphere. It has twinkle lights  scattered all over (ahhh the ambiance), huge fans and misters everywhere for the hottest nights (so cozy n comfortable  ), and a divine view of the Sin City skyline

Ambiance
Romantic

 (geesh so romantic!).  The crowd is a little on the young side, but overall there is a decent mix of crazy college kids through some middle age patrons… all the way to a coupe of old geezer “regulars” (one of whom believes every lady over the age of 30 who comes in the place, is a “cougar-for-Jared”).   Yeah, Jared is an undoubtedly (OMG!) hot bartender, but I’m still undecided on the cougar thing unless of course it’s for my precious Hottie McHotstuff over in Denver.  I do, however, like to be around people, socialize, and have a few drinks close to home occasionally…so I have been to this little “neighborhood place” three or four times since moving here. 

My last visit to the place got very interesting.  Old geezer (cougars-for-Jared guy) was there and Jared was bartending (bonus!).  I sat one of the little high-top tables alone(obviously).  I don’t like this much and can’t wait to make friends in the area, but there I was on this night.  Enter Steve (I’m sure no relation to my big-single-mother-blog-fan “Steve“). 

Steve is a fairly handsome guy around my age who on this evening asks to sit next to me.  I’m sitting alone in the midst of yet another frustrating text-servation with The Lingerer, so I’m more than happy for company, both to get my head away from the desperately annoying texts from Lingerer and to just have some company while sitting there.  He sits.  We commence to have a great discussion about various topics like careers, moving to Vegas, relationships, kids, education, politics, etc, etc…   It’s nice. I’m almost digging this guy.  Seriously. I. Am. Right. There. Hovering on the maybe this guy’s pretty cool ledge.  He’s attractive and can hold an interesting and intelligent conversation…  I’m definitely in for further investigation here.  I even moved tables with Steve at his suggestion that we move somewhere on the deck with 

is this better?

an unobstructed and more “romantic” view of the city. He bought me three (which is one too many for me!) drinks while we chatted.  Nice guy Steve.  As I’m slowly drinking my third glass of wine, Steve asks me if I’d like to go to the Rush concert with him Saturday night.  I’m a huge fan of 70’s music and this is a fabulous offer!  In fact, I’d heard of the concert on the radio just that very day and had wished I could go see them…  Wondering, how did this gift fall right in my lap?  I agreed and we exchanged numbers.  Then Steve offers to walk me to my car.  I had a bad experience with that just the last time I was at this place, so I’m hesitant.  It’s a catch-22 though because I do like having someone walk me to my car and especially here, as the deck (and thus, the majority of the people) is up so high, the parking lot is rather isolated from anyone’s view. 

Okay, this isn’t like the last time though.  I’ve actually been talking with this guy for several hours and we’ve even exchanged numbers.  Totally different scenario from Mr. Attempted Violation.  So, I gratefully accept his respectful, chivalrous offer. 

Once we get to my car, Steve goes in for a kiss.  

Okay…nice…

 I’m an admitted kissing tramp, so this doesn’t really upset of offend me whatsoever under these circumstances.  I’m in for a smooch or two…OH! Yeah!  And BONUS…he’s not at all a bad kisser!  He’s actually pretty good… 

I go to get in my car and he goes for another kiss…  Umm…okay…two is still acceptable.  I’m still in for that…  Yeah! I turn to get in my car a second time and he pulls me by my waist back toward him, turning me to snatch another kiss.  Yeah so, at this point I’m losing some of my kissing-a-stranger-gusto and am a tad more reluctant, but alright, I suppose one more is okay… but then I’m done with this for tonight pal, okay?  No, I didn’t SAY that out loud or anything, but I felt confident that my kiss itself demonstrated much less enthusiasm, as well as a definite …sigh… okay, but hurry up and get this over with feel to it. 

GOSH!  I’m definitely a very touch-feely kinda person.  Very!  But if I even think or sense for a split second that I even remotely detect any reluctance for me to touch, fondle, kiss, or otherwise demonstrate physical affection another person, I am OUT immediately.  I cease instantly.  I shudder at the mere notion of anyone ever “suffering through” my touch or kiss. 

Do ALL men need a copy?!

 Umm…  Do men NOT have ANY sensory perception AT ALL?  Does their entire sense of awareness come merely from within themselves, with ZERO comprehension of the body language of others?  Because while I was thinking, Okay, I don’t want to be rude and out and out reject you…so get this one over with and I’ll just see you later…  Steve, on the other hand, must have thought kiss number three was a big, blaring, flashing,  GREEN light; screaming “GO STEVE! GOOOO STEVE! IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!” 

On kiss number three, in spite of my reluctance to even 

a fair likeness of what I was hiding my “smokin hot bod” under…

 participate, Steve goes in for the grope/feel!  He slides his hands around my waist, under my top (!), and says, “Wow (Kay)! You’re hiding a hot little body under that big maternity shirt…  You’re smoking under there!” 

yup...that's me Steve...

Uhhh yeah..I’m smokin’…smokin’ PISSED OFF is what I am pal….so get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Skin.  Now!   A few kisses does NOT mean it’s okay or you’re otherwise invited to GROPE a woman… Seriously…Why Steve...?  WHY?? 

I drove home rather irritated at Steve because I had really wanted to go to that concert. Subsequently, I did not take Steve’s call on Saturday morning and haven’t even yet bothered to listen to the message he left either.  

 Dammit Steve!

Smokin’ (OMG!) HOT hedonists of the selfless variety

This definitely goes into the questions and advice category. I mean seriously, WTF?

After sitting next to cute TALL freckle guy at my TAM class last evening, I happened to be feeling a little less tall than usual, so I braved the rapids and checked my emails again last night.  I have now had my fourth (FOURTH!) request to receive “pleasure” from some 20-ish guy looking just a bit too hot in his pictures.  It’s  unfortunate that I haven’t saved these other humanitarian offers to share verbatim, but I was simply too confused and befuddled by them at the time…

Hi, I’m (insert name).  Please don’t be offended, but I get great enjoyment from giving pleasure to beautiful women.  Would you be interested in that?

Another email (quoted here from memory only):  I like giving oral.  I don’t expect or want anything in return.  I hope it doesn’t offend you if I ask if I can give you oral pleasure?  It would require nothing on your behalf…except to enjoy yourself.  Hope to hear back from you!

After four of these strange and random emails now total, I must reflect and ponder this.  Umm…I look back at my photos…do I look uptight and stressed out in these pictures?  Do I have an overly emphasized worry crease in my forehead?  No.  I don’t think so.  I am smiling or laughing out loud (literally) in all of them!  Hell, I’m the very epitome of a relaxed, sexually satisfied chick!  Ummm….I think?

HELP! There's a Gandhi inside here merely here for your pleasure, Ma'am...

The strangest thing is these are the hottest guys who have written me at all!  ALL four of them!  In fact, I must say that the guys look so very “hot” in their photos that I’ve a really hard time believing the photos are authentic….and I just delete and move along.  I’m fairly attractive, so it might not be a fair judgment, BUT when a guy looks a little LOT like Brad Pitt in Meet Joe Black or Thelma and Louise, I’m flattered to say the least, but I’m not buying it.  I figure two possibilities.  1. That’s not their real picture at all or 2.  They are some sort of sexual (or otherwise) deviant prowling the Internet for more victims with the mistaken opinion that any Internet dater must be desperate and/or stupid.

..and I think back to my brief BFF, April, whom I met on my first Internet date, who graphically told me about on your face guy.  And I get scared.  Yeah, I get super scared…and I delete immediately without much thought:   DELETE.  Am I too paranoid?  Are these guys merely smoking hot hedonists of the selfless variety?  Are they looking at my pictures thinking, Now there’s a nice girl, but she looks so stressed out…I won’t be able to sleep, eat or even go to the gym again until I help that woman!  Maybe my paranoia is too hasty?  I mean they could merely just be like me, and feel compelled to give back to society with their own individual “greatest gift”…  My gift is compassion for the needy and advocation for victims of crime, perhaps these guys were merely blessed with other beautiful gifts to offer this world?   Are they just beautiful souls overwhelmed with a desire to make this place a better world for us all?  Are they Gandhi’s trapped in Brad Pitt-like faces and bodies? Who am I to judge these guys anyway…to derive them of their societal offerings of sheer, selfless pleasure-giving to this world just one random stressed out snatch at a time…? 

(Disclaimer:  I get an inordinate amount of pleasure by merely saying, writing, or thinking the word “snatch” at any given time…I don’t know why…  It just makes me laugh!)

Men like that DO exist in a fair amount  mass abundance on this planet, don’t they?

The first email like this I received; I responded naively(and truthfully) with something like:  I’m not sure what you mean exactly?  To be totally honest with you, I really don’t know if I should find offense to this or not… but thanks for writing and good luck to you!  And said guy did write back with an explanation that basically reiterated his original email.  “I like to give pleasure to women…yada..yada..yada..”  Although it wasn’t rude or even crude at all per se, I deleted it immediately.   Hmmm…I think I get it now….umm….GASP!

Umm...duhh...hello??!? I'm a MD chick!

…because anyone who knows or understands me at ALL, knows that I am without a doubt and unarguably, way more of a Matt Damon kinda chick!! Psh!

Dear Matt, please know in advance, that should you ever feel any desire whatsoever to attempt to stimulate or satisfy me emotionally, mentally, sexually,  or intellectually, in ANY way, shape, form (whatever) you might prefer…the answer is a resounding YES! YES! Ohhhhhhh YESSSSS! Love, Me

The Alice syndrome and other idiosyncracies

Yeah, I'm this awesome!Feel a teensy bit guilty that although I still receive five or more emails a day, I just don’t have any interest in any one of them!  Do I think I’m the cat’s a@@?  The bee’s knees?  The most precious,   fabulous, and unique flower in the garden?  The nutritional and so luscious carrot on a stick?  No….Well yeah, I kinda am the platypus’ shiny and fun bill…but that’s not even really it…

I’m fully aware that I’m far, far, far from perfection.  In fact, I’m so flawed; I’m a walking, living, breathing example of Wabi Sabi in action.  I know that in order for anyone to truly cherish me, he has to embrace the epitome of my quirkiness, adore my ability to continue working on my “issues”;

This qualifies as wabi sabi RIGHT?

put up with hard, random  hits of Mother Nature; value that I’m always a mother first; appreciate my poetic, lost-soul social butterfly and simultaneously philosophical-loner nature;  enjoy my occasional sexually deviant curiosity; lovingly kiss the scars I bear from being a horrendously horrifying driver;  strongly desire to make-out passionately with my sporadic anxieties; crave having mad passionate sex with my exasperating phobia of commitment and abhorrence of categorization; and hold sweaty hands with the needy child in me. Gosh, isn’t that all just charming?  And to think, I’m sure we all have wondered just why such an utterly delightful creature of perfection as I am is divorced and single?

just hold it and hush!

ummm..am i tall or is it just me?

Add to the mix here, that it’s just that I feel tall.  I know I’m not really that tall…no, actually I’m probably about only slightly above average height by today’s standards, but I feel tall.  I always have had this affliction.  Maybe it stems way back from the awkward pre-teen era when I was already 5’7” and every other child in my entire school, male OR female, was maybe 5’2”… or less.  I hated it!  I towered over everyone, including my own family:  my mother, my older sister, almost eye-to-eye with my dad even (I’ve never been exactly sure whom or what family I really belong to)!  I felt tall….I truly was tall…

…and I still feel so tall.  I can’t know if the majority of single male online daters out there are under 5’8”, but what I’m realizing it either that’s the case or I’m a magnet to the shorter daters.  Out of the 15 incoming emails I read yesterday, only two were over 5’9.  Okay, so we have two…  Of those two, neither do I find at all physically appealing.  So now I not only feel tall, but I feel distinctly discriminating, judgmental, and superficial as well.  And those are not characteristics I would ever pride myself in.  In fact, I’d typically deny they exist anywhere in me…and even feel confident in that denial…until I browse my incoming dating-interest emails and I’m like ….too short…too short..wayy too short…ummm just no….and too short..too short..ummm…another no just because.

I’m flattered that any of these people even bother to respond to me, please don’t misunderstand, but this is becoming the repetitive theme going on here every time I check my dating emails…and quite frankly, it makes me feel bad, tall, guilty, tall, a plethora of other traits  I don’t respect or admire, and tall

Wanna be friends?

One would think that since I’m not really in the market for a husband or even steady boyfriend, that these things wouldn’t matter much.  Obviously in potential friends, they don’t.  However, ultimately, I can’t pretend that on a dating site many (any?) of these potential suitors are just so taken by my fabulous friend qualities that they feel totally compelled to befriend me. OMG…she is awesome!  I gotta be her new BFF!!!

…umm….I WISH, but even I’M not so optimistic as to entertain such silly Polly-Anna notions or I might get away with claiming I still believe in Santa and the Easter bunny as well.  Thus, I’d feel every bit  as guilty going out for dinner and drinks or coffee with them as I do ignoring their emails or sending a thanks, but no thanks response (which I confess, I’m doing less and less of these days), knowing I have a friends-only intention.   Ahhh the dilemmas!

I could exercise my inner bitch that lives under a pile of guilt, do a more interesting play-by-play of my most recent responses and   get a good giggle or two from that, but I actually feel too guilty.  I suppose that as long as there are a few (or any?!) responses interesting enough to at least communicate with, it somehow makes me feel like less of a raging superficial bitch to poke fun at the others.  However, that’s just not the case….but if I quiet down my overactive guilty conscience any time soon, I plan on still writing and laughing about these comical emails…geesh… What??  Everyone needs a giggle-chortle-snortle every now and then!  Right?

Onto the other not so prospective prospects updates and otherwise:

Word Man has informed me via FB email that he deleted his dating profile and is very much looking forward to our Scrabble re-match.  Oooooohh I do LOVE Scrabble….  WAIT! WHAT?!  What’s UP with these guys anyway?  I’m starting to get a complex here…   That’s two meet-n-deletes that I know of.

M…ahhhh Mr. M….  I have a confession to make with that too.  Yes, I do like M.  And without a doubt, even like him the best by far of all my dates and prospects even…  but that is a truly relative and honest disclosure in this particular situation.  I think I raise his likeability “status” because it’s merely an “in comparison” attraction (mayyyybe slightly higher-but that’s admittedly minimal) there.  Yes, I am interested in seeing him, do think he’s a fun date and good guy, but there’s really just not all that much there for me.  Not as much as I’d like to convince myself there is…  Crushing is so fun!! I like him well enough to date him and even enough to have sex with him sometimes – now and then, but I must tell you, it’s a just barely-above-mediocre-feeling at best.  It’s far too little to be a blow-out relationship, way too mediocre to even qualify into a mad, passionate sheerly sexual affair…and sadly,  probably just enough to be too much for the friends-thing.  Ugh!

Argh..the dating dilemmas and doldrums…

Off to my world...

No more email reading for me for a bit…  I think I’ll just go swim naked, re-do my toenail, polish, take two Excedrin, and overdose on some rainbows, butterflies and unicorns!

Mission Fail…Solo City

…Changing my name to Sunshine Freedom Flower.  No…not really….maybe Kay’s Solo Playground….nahhh….but I do have the sex and candy…just no, well no…I don’t have my….ummm..my um…(sniffle..sniffle)…partner in crime….(big gasping sob…boohoohoo…wahhhhh…)

Was doing some thinking about my blog mission last night and what ran through my mind again and again is “mission fail”.  No, not in the big, broad sense it hasn’t.  My dating endeavors are going just fine (at least as far as being somewhat interesting and staying busy in that department).  Ironically, it’s the partnership-blogging endeavor itself that just doesn’t seem to be taking off.  I feel like the lost and forgotten fanny-pack in the back of the closet or that pair of purple parachute pants hanging all alone at the Salvation Army…  I’m feeling like Cher, naked on the piano, without Sonny playing…Hutch cruising around sans Starsky…Barbie at the pool party with a coupla “Kens” hanging around maybe but nooooo Skipper …Laverne skipping down the street with her arm linked to..umm..to nothing…to no one because Shirley’s not there

I’m no stranger to the failed mission, so it isn’t as though I’m devastated or heartbroken.  Disappointed, yes…but I’m certainly no stranger to that either! I own Jerry Maguire’s jacket…he borrowed that from me, by the way… but that’s another “non-date” post altogether though 😉 

I look ridiculous in these!

My original intent was to kick-start my friend and I on our dating endeavors; push through the fears, hesitations, anxieties, etc… and also to stay in close touch with my dear friend from back home…  So I discussed my idea with Pau! who seemed very interested and we were so excited that we instantly created this blog.  Combining our names to create it and jumping right in with all the gusto I could muster.

..yet from the beginning…I’ve been running around in the parachute pants all alone in this…. and other than a few fabulous other bloggers out there I’ve been fortunate enough to cross paths with here in blogworld…I have been attacking this “mission” alone..at least the blog-posting part..thank God not the dating part.. solo dates would kinda suck, no matter how freakin fabulous and fun I am 😉 )

Yup..it's me...

And every time I’m referred to as Ka!Pau!, I feel a little guilty because half of Ka!Pau! isn’t even here…and Pau! is her own beautiful, opinionated, intelligent lady, who just might not want to be taking blame/credit/curses for my random postings, off-the-hip comments, ridiculous thoughts, and embarrassing dating ordeals…  So, today I’ve faced these facts and have changed my “name” here to a singular expression of the Ka! half of our original Ka!Pau!   

However, I’m still hopeful and optimistic that the lovely Ms. Pau! might choose to visit and/or post on occasion…I miss her reflective thoughts and her hysterically funny witticisms! 

…but that’s okay too…I’m no stranger to missing things either….both “missing” them and “oops now that’s gone missing“…

Umm…about the manscaping…

Here I am!

While usually my favorite part of blogging is that I can throw the F-bomb out when ever I want to… while simultaneously maintaining my lady-like good breeding.  I must declare that today my favorite part of blogging is my (nearly) absolute anonymity.  I’m quite grateful today that I’ve not shared the existence of this blog with anyone in my daily life…

Yesterday, M and I had a variable version of “the talk”. I’m all a-tizzy; succinctly ambivalent and confused in my head about this. My thoughts, feelings, and position on our talk remain decidedly unclear, as I jump back-n-forth over the fence like a wild-eyed billy-goat on hallucinogens.

Throughout the day, we texted about random mundane topics.  I was enjoying this little bit of extra attention from M when he mentioned something that not only caught me off guard totally, but hit me in the taboo-ish area as well.  I’ve lived a fairly sheltered life in many ways.  Because of that, I am slightly challenged with certain topics which really just aren’t (or at least shouldn’t be) a big deal.  So, when M shoots this text about manscaping, I’m embarrassed to the point that I’m certain my face turned various shades of hot reddish-pink immediately upon reading it.

M: since ur the only person seeing that part right now  do u prefer shaved?

Ummm……. The fact that I’m a grown woman, who’s been married, has two children, and has been sexually active for awhile now makes my embarrassment itself embarrassing.  I’m beyond embarrassed….I feel awwwwwkwarrrrrdddd. 

13 again...

WTF?  Am I a 13 year old girl all over  again?  This is ridiculous!  There’s nothing wrong with this conversation.  It’s merely considerate and open…  I’m an adult, right?  I like considerate and open.  I should not be blushing like an teenager in reproductive health class, sitting next to the boy she has a crush on!  C’MON….this is just silly!  However, to compound my embarrassment, I am a grown woman who really does not know her answer to this.  Truly, my manscaping preferences fluctuate depending on the person, the activity, the moment, the day of the week, the moon cycle, etc, etc, etc.  I really just do not know the answer to this question. And that’s absurd, so I try to take the safe-but-honest route in my slow response:

This one is nice...

Me: I’m ok w/whatev actually…I’m free spirited n pretty laid back overall so whatev makes u feel sexiest is gr8 by me! Thx 4 askin tho…super nice 2know I’m the only one seeing that right now :):)

I mean gosh, it is nice to be considered in these matters and certainly I’m appreciating that I’m the only one at this time who’s seeing the private manscaping!  I’m also delighted that this was broached  via text too so my pre-pubescent awkwardness, embarrassment, and indecision were not at all apparent.  I mean I CAN text and stutter still…. Don’t even doubt that…but I didn’t…  I answered this one appropriately and as honestly as I’m able given my random and fluctuating stance on the issue!  Yayyy me!!  However, I’m still in the process of recovering from this awkward-to-me topic when M hurls this little wrench at me:

M: just to let u know I have a rule I don’t sleep with 2 at the same time.  And if u do or I do we can just be honest n tell each other

Me again...

Okay…of course….I mean…

What?  WHAT??  WHY does this feel uncomfortable for me as well?  Hell, I’m not good or experienced at even dating two guys within the same time frame, much less being sexually active with two!  And I certainly would have been honest with M if that had happened anyway or even if I had just wanted such a thing to happen.  This doesn’t change anything really, right?  This is my unspoken creed for myself anyway.  Openly saying it hasn’t switched what it is up at all!  Well okay, maybe I wouldn’t have actually told M…I really don’t know….but if I had chosen to have sex with someone else, I’d either have told him or simply ceased having sex with him at all…  The odds of me being comfortable having or even wanting to have sex with another while I’m engaging in this kind of thing with him are astronomical at best.  It’s never happened before and I simply can’t imagine it would start now.  I respond:

Me: ok. Thx 4tellin me…I don’t either so that’s good…n I would tell u if I did…

An honest depiction of the scene of my last "agreement", just with extra clothing here

It’s good to put this “out there” openly and honestly, right?  It’s distinctly different than my last “talk” of this nature, where my ex boyfriend and I confessed our undying love for one another and that even the mere thought of either of us having sex with another person or dating anyone else was just unthinkably horrifying and repulsive.  We didn’t discuss manscaping or anything, but then I think that would have been totally unnecessary in that particular situation, as the two of us could hardly cease our sexual activity long enough to have even that brief undying love and commitment talk.  In fact, we were still sweaty and naked on his living room floor when we did… we were clearly all good, settled, and most content with the landscaping issues already. 

Do I *really* have to sign this?

So, this is definitely different, but in a good way…  It safely covers the same respectful concept and is merely a responsible and mature agreement that I would have adhered to in my own method even without it ever being openly discussed.   So why did I feel like a deer-in-headlights, with my immediate trigger-response being to drop my phone and flee the scene the moment I read the text?  Again, it’s not like this wasn’t going to be my natural stance on this anyway!  Why did it twist my insides around like a dog playing ferociously with a rag doll?

…Maybe for once in my life, I just wanted to refrain from making any promises of any kind, regardless of whether I was going to hold to such things anyway?    Like, so yeah, I admit the odds of me breaking this agreement (even were it NOT spoken) are slim-to-none…but maybe…just mayyybeeee I might have wanted to at some point this time, without having had to break an actual commitment by doing so.  The more I think about it, the more I think if I had chosen to break this “unspoken” before it was spoken, I probably would have simply ceased all sexual activity with M as a result…and felt rather free and clear in doing so too.  But, this changes nothing in theory.  I have all the same freedoms as I had before, right?  I am still totally free to have sex with anyone I choose.  This does not inhibit my actual choices.  It just commits me to sharing my choice openly and honestly with M.  So……WHY does it now feel different?

And why…  As I was driving over to M’s last night, why did thoughts race through my head of having another “talk” with M?  A talk in which I explain to him that I’ve reflected and re-thought this whole thing; that I’m just not interested in commitments or promises or agreements right now even if  I would have kept to them anyway; and that I really think it best we just don’t see each other anymore. Big hug.  Kiss on the cheek.  And ta-ta,  my friend…  Yeah, I really did have this conversation out loud, alone in my car, on the way over there last night.  Had the whole thing planned out…

...Clearly Not having *that* talk

And then I got there… and we just talked and laughed about general stuff.  I said nothing about my car-conversation-thoughts.  I had one delicious glass of my favorite yummy wine, snuggled with him on the sofa,  and left two hours later – sans any sexual activity… he didn’t push that either and thankfully,  he knew before I arrived that I wouldn’t be able to stay for long, so there were no issues or challenges.  We just had fun as usual.  I was glad and relieved because somehow to have had sex with him last night or even just to have spent the night there with him, after the manscaping talk, would have somehow felt like it really sealed the deal.

I am Jill's confused brain

…and that might not be so good right now because I just do not know how I feel about the deal…  It’s as deeply confusing to me as my manscaping preferences!

“F” is for (f#*& that)…fageddaboutit already

I recently read on another dater’s blog (http://simplysolo.wordpress.com/2010/08/16/five-dates-with-chef-recap/ ) about the annoying tendency of people (men) to jump to conclusions.  No one is exempt from this on occasion.  In fact, I may have been playing hop-scotch with conclusions just yesterday myself. However, over the past few years I’ve been privy to become acutely aware that it’s a basic thought process for some… and more interesting even is that said “some” are perfectly okay with any conclusions they’ve formulated, no matter how “off” they might be from the actual picture.

In my experience with this, I’ve found the shorter the jump, the closer to possible accuracy.  If we use a map of the U.S as our conclusion jumping mat, then let’s say if you jump from Nevada to California, you might not be completely off, but if your conclusions are more like jumping from New York straight to Arizona, you’ve most likely lost your way with your acrobatic and overzealous jumping.

I would love to list several rather amusing and/or frustrating examples I’ve faced with this over the past few years, but I fear that kind of detail might be just boring, so I’ll go with my most recent example.

Enter F…  F and I had emailed a few (maybe 2?  3 at most?) times and it was going along the line of any average starter-emails.  Nothing spectacular…nothing bedazzling, but still mildly worthy of a bit of my attention and polite responses.  Until I jump on to read my email and see I have one from him which has gone CLEAR from casual brief email chatting (we hadn’t even exchanged numbers or discussed it yet!) CLEAR into F sending me a short email simply saying, “meet me at such-n-such tonight at 6.”  WHAT???  Meet you??????  TONIGHT???  Wow..now that IS presumptuous!  Please put down the crack pipe Eager Eddie…you’ve clearly had enough…

Ummm…if I’ve not freely shared my number with you yet, it is so very NOT safe to assume, presume, and FLY all the way to “meet me at…”  Rome wasn’t built in a day pal, haven’t you heard? And unless you’ve access to being beamed up by Scotty, you’ve got a tad of travelling there to do just yet to get from point “E” for E-mail to point “M” for Meet-up….

I’m not exactly sure why I chose to even respond to this.  Typically, I’d have thought it best at that point to just ignore this one completely….ceasing all communication instantaneously.   However, I instead chose to write him a polite email saying I would not be able to meet him that evening and I offered up my phone number so we could discuss this and other get-to-know-you-E-to-M things prior to him making such further pompous and presumptuous invitations/demands with regard to me.

I received a call from Mr F. the next evening.  Ahhhh Mr. F, Mr. F., Mr. F…tsk…tsk…tsk…

Mr. F is the kind who makes a mere conversation challenging, frustrating, and borderline dangerous by his half-listening skills which lead him to make a jump like, say, jumping from Indiana over to Russia in one fell swoop!  These massive conclusions mean two things in a conversation:  1. You must watch everything you say very carefully in the conversation or you’ll spend over half the damned conversation explaining to dip-shit why and how he’s so off base that you don’t even really know how he came to that in the first place; which in itself is not only a ridiculously lengthy explanation, but just feels preposterous altogether because the dots do not even connect.  And 2.  Because of this, as well as the exhausting task of having to carefully analyze everything you even casually say within that lengthy and frustrating explanation itself, with this very explanation you’ve most likely only succeeded in providing  Mr. Country-to-country conclusion-jumper onto yet another miscalculated and totally off-base conclusion, as you were focusing on explaining his miscalculation in the one area, he has gone off in an entirely different one…  and is still totally lost in la-la land!

This, then carries the conversation back to step  1.  ….And thus, this futile exercise in explaining what shouldn’t have to be explained anyway has become the very sole substance of the conversation itself.  Not a very pleasant or coherent one, but it’s what you’ve got.  After only a few moments of this, if you’re anything like me, it begins to feel like a ludicrous elementary school game.  That piece of paper passed around in kindergarten which said, “How to keep a dummy busy” with an arrow instructing you to flip the paper over…and the same message on the other side…and on and on and so forth.

Far worse than the painfully grueling act of conversation itself here is when you add into the mix the person who stops listening as you’re explaining…because they’re so confident and practiced enough in their mass conclusion jumps that they really believe they’ve already got a good understanding of what you said, or meant to say, or were trying to say… Ugh…these people are exasperatingly impossible!

 Mr. F.  asks me what I do for work.  Innocent enough so far that without much thought, I just tell him.  I also throw in there that I’m hoping to get away from that field because it really felt unhealthy for me over time.  (I happen to have worked in an area of social work which leads the industry in burn-out rate.  I’ve been in it for 6 years, which is 2 years beyond the average rate for the typical “I hate my job” burn-out…)  And I confess I’ve been fighting against said burn out and feel it’s time for a career switch. 

F’s response to this is, “So you’re the pessimistic type”. 

WHAT?  This man clearly doesn’t even know the definition of job burn-out, as I’m not even sure how he got from A to W right there?  I say, No, I don’t think that’s an accurate assessment, but I do think when the case load and your effectiveness feel like you’d be far more effective just to macramé plant hangers all day to give to your clients,  then it’s probably time to do something else.

Well F has already made his assessment. And several times throughout our conversation, he alludes back to my “pessimistic” nature.  Seriously, I wasn’t even having a bad day!  My glass was two-thirds full during this conversation… a little spilled in the process perhaps, but I had my SHAM WOW! in close proximity and quietly and quickly wiped that right up as though it never happened.   Hell, I had rainbows and unicorns jumping around me even as we spoke. WTF?  I was done “explaining” after the first exercise in futility, but I did offer F one bonus attempt and after that, I had no interest in explaining any further.  This guy clearly is either just not that bright, is hearing or attention deficit impaired, or over time has just become ignorant by proxy of his chronic conclusion jumping. 

I don’t know why in spite of all of this mentally futile discourse, I still agreed to meet him for a drink on Wednesday night…maybe that’s merely yet another working example of my overly-optimistic nature?  Maybe this guy just isn’t good at phone conversations?  Had distractions running amok at the time?  Maybe my thick Russian accent threw his ability to hear and comprehend the words coming out of my mouth off into another direction? 

Wait.  I don’t have a Russian accent.  Okay, well maybe it was one of the other two possibilities then…  At any rate, I optimistically agreed to meet up.

…So, I’d be out-n-out lying if I tried to convince myself or anyone that I wasn’t beyond delighted to get a message the following day from a dear friend back home telling me he was in town on the very night of my planned date with F.  No.  I was truly ecstatic.  I not only was going to get to see my friend.  Yay!  But I had a legitimate and understandable excuse to cancel with F.  Of course, I didn’t feel like telling this to F via an actual conversation.  No, I opted to text it, with a brief explanation even!  Damn, I AM a considerate soul!

You know what? Mr. “Optimistic” F. didn’t even bother responding!  Not even an acknowledgement of my text itself. Well, well, well…this leads me to jump to two conclusions of my very own and I just don’t need any circumstantial conversation around to get to them either.  Mr F. obviously is horribly pessimistic and was making all kinds of further assumptions, conclusions, and massive country-jumps by my cancellation text or there would be no reason not to at least respond with an “ok”.  I get the distinct feeling he wasn’t “buying” my excuse, however coincidentally truthful and truly serendipitous it was…and it was both truthful AND serendipitous!

Perhaps the other possibility here is that F did not receive my text?  We had not texted at all prior…I merely assumed he texts…everyone texts…right?   Yeah, I admit I jumped from Rhode Island to Connecticut with that one.  Ahem…

So bye-bye Mr. F… toodley-do pal…hasta la vista, bayybeee… Happy conclusion jumping and conversation-torturing with the rest of the online daters out there!

Please assume that's me...

P.S.  Meet me at the bull fight in Mexico tomorrow night at 6…would ya? I’ll be the one waving the SHAM WOW! at the bull… ‘k…thanks…xoxo 😉

Wait a minute….is it pessimistic that I even own a SHAM WOW! ?!