Category Archives: fantasies

Prison matters and obligatory BJ’s

Yeah, I threw it...

 I have a rule never to say, well at least it can’t get any worse.  We’ve all experienced the Universal sense of humor which rolls like an electric current of torturous laughter at our expense through our worlds; the tempting of the fates’ massive ego and uncanny ability to demonstrate, Really?  It can’t huh?  Ohhhh but it  can…..and now that you’ve thrown that gauntlet-of-life-yuk right out there in our path, let us show you… 

For the love of Pete, I know better…or at least I certainly should know better! 

Zeppelin, the “cool dude, single dad, with a great love of (my kinda) music “: 

I am early to the little bar he suggests we meet at.  No, no kudos to me for this lovely effort at punctuality.  I was bored out of my mind and didn’t know where I was going, so I got ready way too early for this date and left with enough time to  get lost for an hour and still be safely on time.  See?  There’s no sense of punctuality in me.  I only have two arrival times: 1. annoyingly early and 2. offensively late.  Thus,  I was annoying early for this one.  He was a forgivable-few minutes late.  Not a bad start. 

I wasn’t overly impressed when he entered the darkened empty sports bar, but I was far from repulsed either.  Zep is a decent average looking guy; a tad shorter than I expected, but not quite to “deal breaker”.  All is good. 

It’s the middle of a Sunday afternoon in an off the strip bar in Vegas, only the staff and Zep and I are there.  That’s kinda cool!   Conversation begins easily and flows at a regular pace.  Within minutes I realize Zep’s a better talker than listener, but this isn’t obnoxious or anything.  I am good at both, so I slip into full listening mode and take it all in.  he orders a shot of Jagermeister and a beer.  

Zeps ex-wife calls it home

Zep is a full-time single dad.  Awwwwwww…He has full custody of his 10-year-old son.  I’m impressed with this.  He explains to me how his ex-wife is in prison for embezzlement to the tune of somewhere around 100k.  I’m delighted that this little boy had a father who not only could stay out of prison, but could actually step up to the plate while his mom does her time.  Zep is appropriately upset about this, but his relief seems even more apparent.  He repeatedly expresses his gratitude that she did this crime after they divorced and while she was re-married to another “loser”.  Otherwise, he realizes how difficult it would have been to prove his lack of involvement.  This is unsettling, but I merely nod, gasp, and mmmmhmmm appropriately and sympathetically, up my listening volume, and turn my talking knob further to the left…  I don’t want to miss any of this good stuff!  He orders another shot of Jagermeister to complement his beer and ease this difficult topic of discussion. 

No worries pal...knock yourself out!

After he discusses the absent mother, the help his parents offer him with daycare, and the ex’s idiot new husband, he asks if I will be offended if he goes out to his car to take a hit.  What?  Is the mob after you and your son?  Aren’t you afraid to go out into an empty parking lot?  Oh you mean hit that illegal drug, marijuana?  Ahhh well, that’s different…  By all means!  I might have been a tad upset with this except, Zep, as he’s walking to the door, throws me this reassurance, “Hey!  Don’t worry…I’m not going to ditch and leave you with my bill!” 

Ahhh….the wave of relief alone could have knocked me over!  After all that was my concern right then.  Although the possibility has never occurred to me prior,  I now  realize how fortunate I am that my date is just going out to his car to smoke pot, not making an attempt to go down in a mob-hit, or ditch me with his food and drink bill!  I must remember this for future dates. 

Zep returns a few moments later.  Orders another shot of Jagermeister and begins telling me how he’s just ended a relationship.  No worries, it’s for the best.  She was an unemployed drunk.  She had nothing to do all day except drink.  It was helpful with things like getting the boy to and from school (ummm..WHAT???!??? ) while he was working and such, but she would just too often start drinking during their lunch meetings.  Too drunk to date, but helpful as a taxi-driver for your child?  Ahhh..okay..well at least your priorities are straight Zep!

On top of that fatal flaw, she didn’t dress appropriately in front of the boy.  They would all go swimming, she would throw on a white t-shirt over her suit after their swims, and then dare to enter the air-conditioned house with his horny 10-year-old boy in the midst!  Geesh..that was just wrong and she should have known better.  Any 10-year-old boy is going to make comments about her breasts under those circumstances and attempt to constantly “wrestle”  with her.  He’s ten, you know?!  Really?   I guess I never would have realized this….   Sorta feeling “icky” about all the 10-year-old-boys I’ve unknowingly turned on, when I really shoulda known better….

He orders another shot of Jagermeister.  Would I like one?   Ummm yeah I actually would to dull the pain of this date   …No thank you.  I have to drive home  NOW ….ummm… in a bit. 

Starting with his possibly over-sexualized 10-year-old son and how the girlfriend was just too sexy for the boy to handle, Zep then starts talking sex; his sex.  How much he likes it; how the wife and the ex girlfriend stopped giving it to him with the frequency which he required; and how after being dumped by his wife, he got out in Vegas a bit and realized how attractive and sexually wanted he really was.  Chicks dig him…he could get it anywhere and here he’d actually been faithful to his relationship, letting her dictate the unsatisfactory sexual pace.  He had been an idiot! 

Umm….do you mind if I run out to my car for another sec, Kay?  No problem Zep…as long as you’re not stiffing me with your bill (wink)(wink) 

Wink-wink

Ahhhh return and  Anther short of Jager please”….you sure you don’t want one?  Yes, please give me 4 to catch up    No, thanks, I really have to get going very soon. 

Now Zep starts to tell me how much he enjoys random blowjobs.  He doesn’t want to have to skip a day of those.  He doesn’t have to, you know?  Plenty of chicks want some of that action…blah, blah, blah… 

Maybe it was the plethora of uncomfortable conversational topics  up till this point, maybe it was the  three-2-in-the-afternoon-Coronas on an empty stomach (I declined any lunch), maybe it wass my well hidden mean streak or my current frustration with games and men in general….?  I really can not know what came over me, but gosh, I suddenly felt torturously audacious and tantalizingly brazen, having already classified this guy into the not gonna date again category, I decide to have a little fun before I leave.  I know…it’s not very nice, but I gotta turn this around and make it interesting somehow, so let the fun begin! 

What? Sometimes bananas aren't in season...

I’m very, VERY sympathetic about the blow job speech. Of course he should not have to live without having those whenever and wherever he wants!  And although I had said very little up till this point, I decide it’s time to tell him a little “about me” before our time is over. 

Zep, it seems you need to find the right girl; the kind of girl who enjoys giving blow jobs…  I don’t understand these other orally selfish women!  Heck, I used to argue with my ex husband because he wouldn’t let me do that

Is this wrong?

enough! Always scared of getting caught at his work or in the restaurant and whatnot.  Geesh! What a freak!  I mean,  sometimes you’re in the car driving to dinner and the mood is just right for that bj-on-the-road, there’s the bye-bye-have-a nice-day-at-work-bj, there’s the QUICK!-the-kids are-in-the-next-room-bj, there’s the dinner’s-on-the-table-but-pretty-please-let-me-blow-you-first-bj, the dessert-bj (duhhh), the foreplay-bj, the post-coital-bj, the can-i-blow-you-while-you-shower-before-work-bj, the I-want-to-tell-you-how-much-I-love-you-but-I-cant-say-the-words-bj, and of course, my favorite of them all, the I-must-worship-your-manhood-daily-bjWhat? Why are these so wrong? 

Maybe it's just an oral fixation I suffer from?

And I become indignant, I mean, gosh, what’s the matter with this Zep?  Sometimes a bj solves everything and it’s just all that is appropriate at that moment.  Is there something wrong with me that I am so compelled to give constant bj’s?  I embellish further in an attempt to gain his sympathy for my previous plight:  Sometimes my ex kinda made me feel weird about this and I might be a little damaged from that. (Sniffle..sniffle) I’m just a girl who likes to give bj’s…so call me Betty and blister my butt, right?  Shoot me and hang me out to dry!  I should be totally free to express myself in this manner whenever I please.  Don’t you agree?  This does not make me trampy or slutty!!  Any normal girl wants to worship her man’s manhood…or at least should want to…GEESH! 

Believe it or not, this confession of mine, leads Zep into discussing my nipples.  In Zep’s defense, no, I’m not wearing a bra and the air conditioning was on high, not that that ever makes a difference.  …And yes, my nipples are much worshipped and could spark the greenest of envy in any Playmate of the month.  Sorry…it just is what it is.  I’m just grateful the horny-10-year-old-boy isn’t around though…how inappropriate!  In fact between my deep reluctance to wear bras except when it’s absolutely unavoidable, my chronically inappropriately sexy and overly eager nipples, and Vegas air conditioning, it’s pretty clear we are not a match. Awwww… the travesty of our sad fate…! 

Ummm…  No I didn’t say that part about the travesty of our fate! Psh…  C’mon?!!? 

Instead, I say, Ummmm, I’m so sorry Zep, but I’m really uncomfortable talking about my nipples with you.  I hardly know you and I think this is an inappropriate topic for first-date conversation. 

Sing it for me, Rob!

Clearly bewildered at my suddenly prudish stance, poor Zep apologizes.  And I said, “No worries. I’m not mad or anything, just setting some healthy boundaries. Anyway, I have to go.  Nice to meet you! Thanks for not ditching me with the bill! 

 …And she’s buyyyyyyinggggg the sta-air-way…..to heaaaaaaven.

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!

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

Accidentally, inadvertently, mistakenly…LOVE your toaster

It's not like a sexual thing...or anything...

Although it pained me for two reasons (1.  The outrageeeeeez accent and 2. M was back from Paris), I kept to my prior commitment and my overall “mission” and hung out with Word Man last evening.  You all were right, his accent sorta faded into the background after awhile…  Thank GAWWWD…I could not have handled an entire date with that mind-abrasion of an accent if it had not at least softened throughout the evening.

He offered me a choice prior to the date of dinner out or him cooking.  I chose dinner at his house.  I love to have someone cook for me! I am filled with gratitude and respect for any person who offers to cook for me.  I subscribe to the “ice water phenomenon” even.  What is it about someone else cooking or making a sandwich or even a  glass of ice water, that just tastes better (even if it really doesn’t) merely because someone else made it?   Post hot-n-heavy sex, my ex boyfriend always grabbed a glass of ice water for me and it never ceased to be the most deliciously refreshing glass of ice water I’d ever had.  I used to have the sneaking suspicion that everyone in the entire world must have better tasting water than I.  Until one day when he went into my kitchen after a rowdy romp and still delivered a most scrumptious glass of water, far more luscious that any I’d ever made for myself in that same kitchen, using that very same water supply.  It was then I realized that it wasn’t that I was permanently cursed with less tasty water than the rest of the world, but everything just tastes better when someone else makes it for you.  It could be Kraft mac n’ cheese, a PB&J, or Top Ramen noodles…it just tastes better!  So although I’m a far more terrific cook than he, Word-Man did rack big bonus points for offering to cook for me!  Thanks again,  WM!

…And we played games.  I love board games!  They are one of the greatest date activities ever! It covers any awkward silences, tosses around ample communication, sprinkled with tiny tidbits of get-to-know-you-better information, all mixed in with some vigorous competitive energy!  It doesn’t get any better than that for a healthy, productive, and informative first date…

Contradiction here is that I enjoyed the games, liked him enough as a person, got over the obnoxious accent for the most part, but felt zero – not a dash, not an iota, not inkling, not a speck – of chemistry.  Confound it… that damned chemistry anyway!  I’d venture that freakin’ thing is responsible for more problems in the whole dating thing than anything else.  Why can’t we have an inner switch inside so that when we’re having a terrific time…or even maybe not such a terrific time…but just hanging with a terrific person,  we could just choose to flip the switch?   How many dating problems across the world would be solved if chemistry wasn’t so damned elusive and  we could just turn it on for ourselves whenever we felt it should be there?  Or wished it were there?

Oh...your mother picked out these sheets? FLIP THE SWITCH!

Ummm you’re such a nice guy. Nothing.   My grandma would so approve.  Nothing. Ummm, my uncle might approve too?  Nope..nothing.  You have a million terrific qualities I adore and admire?  Nothing.  Hmm….okay…what did you say?  You’re a zillionaire and horribly generous?  Nothing.  You’ve won the Pulitzer?  Nothing.  Wait! ….the Nobel Peace Prize too???? Nothing….ahhh c’mon….there’s gotta be something there?  Nope, nothing…..flip the switch…ahhh……yes… okay……. AND you’re sexy too…I just gotta have you right here on the stairs, in the library…no, I’m not hungry because I must have you here on this very table right this freakin’ second! The museum? Yeah…  The movies?  Yup!  Your car?  Umm yeah, you’re so fabulously sexy, I want you there too!  I want you every where!

Oops…forgive me please, I got lost for a second there, fantasizing out loud because it wasn’t there for me with Mr. Wordmeister.  WTF?  He’s my kind of attractive, enjoys so many of the same things I do, cooked for me, made me laugh a few times, and…nothing.  Just nothing….

Who needs a date anyway?

Could it be that he talked incessantly of his mother?  It’s adorable that she decorated his entire house for him and changes the décor every now and then, right?  Actually, I could just be jealous; I’d like to have a mother who does that for me…  Could it be his overwhelming allergies to his cat and thus, his chronic nasal drip and nose- blowing?  Could it be that when he wasn’t talking about his mother decorating and redecorating his house, he was talking about how much he loves his cat?  How he explained in vivid detail that he gets mega-annoyed when dates don’t put the toilet lid down because he’s petrified his beloved cat will get curious and drown in the toilet? 

Ms. Snuggle-fluffy doesn't know how to swim!

 Awww but that shows his capacity for responsibility and devotion! Right?   It’s beautiful…ding, ding, ding, we have a match…I love cats too!  He told me how he loves sex…  Ding! Ding! Ding!I love sex too! Don’t worry, he safely explained how he draws the line at bestiality; that if he ever felt sexually attracted to Miss Snuggle-Fluffy, he’d do the right thing and proceed to cut “it” off with a kitchen knife….  That’s charmingly reassuring, rightIsn’t itNothing. I felt nothing…except of course, a strong and compelling desire that he not,  in any way, attempt any physical connection.

another theory on Ms. Snuggle-fluffy in the toilet-perhaps she wants WM to get a life?!

I’m not so sure you can even fully imagine my utter horror when as we sat at the dining table playing a game of Scrabble (Ding! Ding! Ding!  I love Scrabble too! ), my foot accidentally    inadvertently   mistakenly slid over his.  OMG….I didn’t want to YANK it back, as though I was just disgusted at touching him.  So I casually just moved it away, trying to be slow enough that my aversion to this kind of contact wouldn’t be too obvious…intentionally avoiding the knee-jerk reaction to snatch my  foot away from his as though I’d just brushed it up against an open flame. 

Big mistake. He totally misconstrued my attempt to be considerate of his feelings as a desire to play footsie!! GAWWD!  After my big-oopsie-footsie mistake, he kept rubbing my foot with his under the table… ever so slowly and gently…in a sexually charged invitation-like fashion. Umm… AWKWARD…  I didn’t want to encourage this, but hate to be rude.  After all, it wasn’t like he was rubbing MY Miss Snuggle-Fluffy or anything.  And were I attracted to him, I would have enjoyed a little bit o’ the footsie action.  But I wasn’t.  And I didn’t.  And he continued…and continued…and continued.  My only recourse was to not look him in the eye whenever he did this, in spite of the fact that I could feel his stare blazing on me,  begging me to look up and return his gaze.    So I just ignored every one of them.  I suddenly became very interested in organizing and reorganizing my rack of letters, talking to Miss Snuggle-Fluffy, randomly watching the television- commenting stupidly at whatever was there, and admiring his toaster with sheer fascination…anything I could think to do to avoid his gaze and politely ignore the footsie action he was desperately trying to get going.

My, my, my, that is a TRULY lovely toaster you have!

Flub number 2:  As he was walking me to my car, I was really hoping to avoid any kind of good night kiss.  Thinking I would make that clear easily by just giving him a quick smooch on the cheek as I jumped in my car.   No.   I timed it all wrong and accidentally inadvertently   (ahem) mistakenly got his NECK!  Yeah, it was brief enough (I hope) that he didn’t get the wrong idea of my intentions and feelings, but seriously?  How in the hell did I accidentally inadvertently mistakenly get his NECK?!  How does that even HAPPEN?  What unfair glitch in the universe did I stumble on to make two totally misleading, mistaken, and inadvertently sexually-oriented gestures such as these??  In one night?  With one date????!!??

I don’t know.  I probably never will.  …but I did…  And I was horrified!  Ohhhh stars…why didn’t I just go with M?