Cupid, please protect me from the bodily fluids?

Followed my blogger friend’s advice  (Vendetta ) and finally ventured out of the pond and into Cupid’s area of target.

I create my profile throw a few pictures on there.  I didn’t really put much effort into this…perhaps my gusto is dwindling?  …but I did it…yayy! 

At first, I was worried that it would merely be exactly the same as the pond I was already in since it is free as well  and I was pleasantly surprised to find it is a bit different.  It seems to do more specific compatibility matching.  I browsed around a bit.  Found one guy who’s face drew my interest, so I read his profle..and I was pleasantly surprised.  Had a little intelligence, far exceeds my height requirement, demonstrated some possible insightfulness, and a bit of a sense of humor too! Hmm….  Nice.  I wrote him.  I rarely write anyone first, but just had to at least tell this guy I admired his profile.  We’ve been writing/texting/chatting ever since and since he works third shift as a nurse, we have planned to meet Thursday afternoon at a popular bookstore for coffee and book browsing.  Can’t believe I’m almost excited about this.  No seriously, I just about am…until flashes of Zep, M, Lingerer, and Mr. PhD come flooding at me and prohibit my ability to actually get *there*..to actually be enthusiastic.  Yeah, it’s clear my optimism has diminished significantly, but HEY, at least I’m still going and trying!

From only a few days, I’ve seen a few differences between the sites.  I haven’t documented these of course, but what I’ve noticed as a general trend in my short time

Starting to feel a little like this gal...just around the edges though!

Seems the Cupid pairs me with younger men far more often than the aquarium.  Or is there merely a larger crowd of the younger ones over at the cupid?  Don’t know, but I’d guesstimate that my “matches are generally in their late 20’s and early 30’s.  not sure how I feel about this as in “matches”, but if I find the match attractive, I at least go peek for some reading material.  I’ve seen a few quality photos with quality profiles…read all the way to the end and then get my feelings hurt!  I’m too “old” for their requirements…OMG…  No, not every single one, but geesh…enough that it’s starting to make me feel olllllllllddddd.  Like being single with two children, having no friends, and speeding toward 40 isn’t enough to make me feel like I’m ancient already, Mr.Cupid has to have a sick sense of humor to continually “match” me with guys whose age qualifications I exceed.  Thank you Mr. Cupid you sick, twisted son-of-a…

I swear, this isn't me at ALL...yet...

This should be against the online dating law, I tell ya.  It’s cruelty to we getting-old people and particularly for we getting-too-old-and-irritated-at-dating-in-general-people!!  The first few didn’t really bother me so much, I’m like, ahh well…no big deal.  Then after a few more, I’m like umm…what the hell is this, then after a few more still,  I’m like okay, this is starting to hurt my feelings.  Geesh, I’m not THAT old for crying out loud.  I firmly believe this should and could be tactfully avoided by the I’m-sure-above-average-intelligence-Cupid-engineers/creators…those sick mean bastards! I mean with all this ‘”matching” they’re doing, how easy is to be eliminated from my matches if I don’t meet the criteria?  Should I even be their “match”?  I don’t think so.  Gosh, I’m just at that age where I’m still young enough to be in denial of my growing older status, but old enough to mostly only want to date appropriately aged men.  What am I going to do?  Write a bunch of me saying, hey I’m a little older than you are seeking, but dammit I’m still hot?!  My age-pride is still enough in tact that I refuse to approach in writing or otherwise any man who prefers a woman even one year younger than I.  But I’m old enough to be thinking, dammit, I must be really getting OLD…ughh!

Another interesting point I’ve noticed on both sites is that in general, my “matches” tend to be less attractive.  What are those odds and how are they arrived at?  Is this perhaps because I focus less on talking about the importance of looks in my profile?  Sure, looks are far from most important to me,  but gosh they don’t have to throw me all the one’s who look like they’ve been ridden hard and put away wet either!  Intelligence and personality are mandatory traits, but personality has got to be difficult to determine via these, doesn’t it?  I like that cupid throws in some IQ-like questions in their ongoing “questionnaire” to find “better match”.

My list of criteria:  1, Intelligence/personality (these are closely tied for #1), 2. Sense of Humor, 3.  Strong moral character 4. Height (neither site allows this as a mandatory prerequisite for matches though).

It’s promising already that I’ve had a higher number of “tall” responses and interests at Cupid by far.  Is cupid the site of taller, but younger (and often seeking even younger) singles?  That might be a contradiction for me…

Another question….should I change my “interests” to “everyone” since more than anything I hope to meet friends?  I browsed like this for a few minutes yesterday and came across some really strange profiles in the “everyone” category.  Can a guy with the screen name “pisscumlover” really become a dear friend to me?  Could we cultivate a lovely go-to-lunch-and-have-wine-n-movies-nights friendship together Mr Pisscumlover and I? Gosh, Maybe Mr. Pisscumlover really wants to make friends too?  I don’t care what the personal dating interests of my potential friends are.  Really, I don’t, but am concerned as to what message I’m sending out f I bravely list that I’m “seeking friends, short-term dates, and/or long-term dates” from the broad category of “everyone”? 

Does that scream desperation to you? Or am I just being paranoid again? I mean I am slightly desperate to make friends,but not at all desperate in the dating category.  If I clarify that with my written words, will any “freakish” types even read my words? Or is it more likely that they’ll sum me up without reading as dating/sexually desperate/WIDE OPEN to all?  And what if Mr. Pisscumlover might potentially be my next BFF?  Am I too quick to judge? 

Another thought, should I have two sites on there maybe?  One for looking just for “friends” from “everyone” and another for “looking for short/long-term dating from just “guys who like girls”?  Might that solve this dilemma of categorizing my separate “needs”?  …Or to the person who maybe finds me in both pages, do I (again) just appear wide open and desperate to all potential scenarios and possibilities?

Hmmm…..I dunno….

I whine, I rant…yes, but the truth is I’ve already crossed paths with more than a few interesting new potentials…  So, I’m having a blast with this right now!  I just have to tone down or resolve that aspect of cupid encouraging my feeling and fears of getting/being OLD…that’s just ughhh….ughhh…ughhhhh

hey, a girl can dream, right?!

….and now off to meet Mr. Nurse for coffee….

Zeppelin, HD1-2, and head-spinning madness

I’ve been enjoying a couple of kinda fun  email exchanges and text-servations this past week, in spite of all that other M-whatnot and whatnot…   

Zep: cool snowboarder/surfer dude, exactly my age who shares a love of Led Zeppelin and classic rock in general with me…  fun, cool conversations…appears attractive in his photos, has a child and seems to understand and share my priorities as well… Good stuff!  We are meeting tomorrow for some drinks and Zeppelin.  I’m actually a bit excited to see what he’s like in person!   

Not so sure about these two dudes...hmm...

HD dudes:  hmm…..?  I am emailing/texting with two HD motorcycle guys. (HD1 and HD2?)  Both seem pretty cool.  I get borderline vibes from one and semi-borderline vibes from the other, but quite honestly, I have to re-check their profiles out to remember which is which, as they are fairly similar and I’ve no plans to meet either yet.  Although the one that seems “better” (for whatever reason?!) has invited me several times on a ride.  I very much want to go soon, but haven’t been able to squeeze that in just yet.   

...back to just mystified...

  Two (or three?) OMGWTF moments:   

  M started texting me Friday night as I was leaving with kids for a festival.  Yada, yada, yada….another lengthy and frequently misunderstood communiqué with M via text (sighhhhhhh…) These are truly getting so redundant and lengthy that I don’t even want to bore anyone by posting them anymore.    

Summary:  M says he’s back home and having drinks at the pub and hopes I have a nice weekend.  I say good for you; wish I could join you.  He says I don’t wish I could because he is too “busy and defensive”…    

WTF?!

(GAWD that makes me mad!  Don’t isolate something and act like it stands in a vacuum void of everything else I took the time and patience to text and/or email!  It makes me feel like I’m wasting every moment even bothering to try to “discuss” something with him…ughh!)   

I reassure him I do wish that because I like him and that I feel confident he knows I do as well, so I’m not going to explain it all again in a freakin’ text.  OMG…   

He explains how all this travelling isn’t his “usual” schedule and how his daughter needs him a lot right now and he does need someone who understands that.   

Umm…okay…I understand that.  To a point….  And then, I merely understand that while I might be able and willing to deal well with those things, when we add the defense mechanisms and “proving” his whereabouts, and not having much time with him (for whatever the reason is), it’s just too much for me and doesn’t balance out in the big picture.   

But dammit… I like him.  Geesh…  Wtf?!     

So…since my car was left in his neck of the woods, I suggested we not have another text (OMG….I can’t/won’t do it anymore…ughh) session and instead I stop over to actually discuss all that can’t be conveyed via a freakin text-servation….  So, I did… and I stayed.  And we laughed and talked and just hung out innocently.  I told him about my Hoover Dam date and the sleeping pills. He was whiney that I’m dating other people while he gives me his every spare moment and hasn’t once seen anyone else since he started seeing me.  Yeah, shut the front door, I said…I do not want to hear it! Blah, blah, blah…   

Yeah..so it's not this...unfortunately!

  And dammit, I like him.  It’s not some hot and heavy passionate thing either, I just like being around him.  I’m almost wishing it was some crazy wild sexual attraction thing…I could understand and deal with that.   In fact, no sex at all has happened in a while….that part is just not really all that intriguing to me(and has created a whole separate phenomenon which I’ll share in another post someday).  Overall, although I like being around him a lot, I’m just not all that interested in the sexual aspect and M’s flirty and suggestive about sex, but doesn’t push it at all either; which I like about being with him too.   This, this whatever-the-hell-this-is, I just freakin do not know wtf is going on?!   

And then I left in the morning with him saying let’s go to a movie this afternoon.  (I said maybe but then later remembered I couldn’t…)  I smile for a while and feel pretty good about the M thing…whatever it is, it does make me smile sometimes!   

And after being home and away from him for a few hours of being away, I have only two chronic and troublesome thoughts:  1. DAYUMM, my ex boyfriends’ new “girlfriend” is one lucky chick…  And I kinda want to hate her for that…  but I just can’t…  sighhhhh…   

And 2.  WTF is M ‘s freakin deal anyway?  More importantly, does it even matter what I decide to do?  It just sort of seems to have a whole life of its own anyway.  Perhaps instead of making any choices, judgments, or decisions at all, I’m just better off to flow with the current, whatever that current is, whenever it flows…?  Hmmm…..   

Ohhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy  GAWWWDDD, as I was just finishing up typing this post (yesterday afternoon), M texted me some garbage about how he doesn’t know what he wants, but he doesn’t want a relationship right now or to waste my time and he hopes we can be friends!    

...what M looks like in my mind now...truly MAD!

 OMFGOMFGOMFGOMFG    ….is this shit for REAL??? Well, the friends thing has clearly been decided because now this has become a game of epic proportion!  I was shocked and befuddled..WTF??!!  So I text back, ummmm…wow..this is the craziest, most childish game I’ve ever dealt with, I wonder if he has some bi-polar issues and I don’t  bother  with having “friends” who just flip my head around seemingly for the fun of it alone; there’s really no room for game playing in my friend-arena, I do not know WTF he is talking about, and I wish him the best, as this now is just too fucked up across the board.  

 Here is where it gets truly EPIC:  M texts back that he’s offended by this.  (Reiterates yet AGAIN that) he hasn’t been seeing anyone else since he met me, and that he just didn’t want to waste my time, but is sincerely offering me his friendship………  

 Umm….I really, REALLY hesitate to ever call anyone “crazy”.  Anyone who reads my blog knows my feelings about that overly used and mistaken label.  BUT, I really am starting to think it applies here!! M is one crazy fucker! 

  Seriously pal, REALLY?  YOU’RE fucking offended?  You pull all this random weird nonsensical crap and YOU’RE fucking offended??????  Umm, I learned that tactic in Psych 101 my freshman year of college pal.  Yeah, you’re offended…  So, I say, I’m not the one playing stupid games, you’ve no right to be offended in the slightest (you freak..no I didn’t actually call him that but I certainly implied it).  I say I don’t know why he keeps telling me he’s not seeing anyone else when I keep telling him that I AM dating other people.  In fact, I have a date for Sunday even…..but what does that have to do with anything?  WTF are you even talking about here pal?  You’re making zero sense and I’m to the point of not making any more excuses for his sporadic and strange behavioral whims anymore.  It’s. Just. Fucked. Up. And sadly, way too fucked up to carry on as friends now (which for GAWD’S sake is pretty much what we were doing anyway in my opinion…mostly).   

I mean NO KIDDING – WTF IS THIS SHIT ANYWAY?   (No I didn’t text that either, but you know, pretty much in so many words).  M actually texts me back “not to text him ever again”.   

ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDIN’ ME??!  HE IS TOTALLY FUCKED UP… And I’m so irritated at him by this crazy-ass point, that I text back ANYWAY (merely because he told me not to..and anyway at this point, I truly could just care less wtf this man wants, needs, or thinks about me or anything at all..hehe). I text, “No problem.  Your game.Your rules. You win.”

Bye-byeeeeee! 

But (forcing myself back to the important stuff here), I get to have drinks and Zeppelin with a new guy today!  Let’s just hope he’s even half as cool as he seems! Hell, after this ridiculous effed-up M-crap, as long as he doesn’t suffer from bi-polar schizophrenic disorder, there’s no way he can’t at least be a refreshing change from this amazingly disturbing, fucked-up garbage with M!   

…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.  Day.  Long?? ..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 own…eventually…

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 NOT…jump 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 him…at 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!!

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!

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, right?  Isn’t it?  Nothing. 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?

Dating etiquette, morals or TMI?

I was raised in very, strict “proper-like” southern values fashion.  We don’t cut more than one bite of our meat at a time, always offer refreshments to visitors (sweet tea y’all?), never swear in public or mixed company (if one simply must swear at all), and always follow up every even mildly unkind remark with, well bless his/her heart.  I’m typically a die-hard for values and manners; these were literally ingrained in the very fiber of my being.  My first “grown-up” book was even Amy Vanderbilt’s (oh so antiquated even then) Complete Book of Manners. No, I’m not kidding either.  In my home growing up, we behaved every day like it was a genteel dinner party of sorts.  There simply was no appropriate time to relax on manners….and no excuse for poor manners.  In hind sight, it was all rather ridiculous.  However, Momma did an effective job of pounding them in.  I’ll tell you, the first time a boyfriend in college passed gas in front of me and actually laughed, I was appalled and broke up with him very shortly thereafter. 

Our family Bible

While I don’t enforce these strict and archaic rules in my home today with my children..at least not the horribly ridiculous ones… I definitely still abide for the most part by the “rules” and have taught my daughters accordingly.  As a parent, I realized one very challenging concept to effectively demonstrate is the importance of maintaining good manners while also maintaining our moral obligation to be honest.  As in, “yes, it’s okay that you don’t like Sally’s new haircut, but you don’t so much need to be totally honest about that even if she asks you”.  Or, “At dinner tonight, I don’t care how much you dislike carrots in your spaghetti or whatever, don’t you dare say that, even if Mrs. Smith asks you!”  As toddlers, manners and honesty were a challenging balance to teach my children.  It’s a slippery slope teaching the delicate balance among etiquette, morals and TMI! 

And I now, with my recent re-entrance into the dating world,  find myself in a similar conundrum.  Stars alive, I don’t know appropriate dating etiquette…or how to balance my commitment to honesty along with Amy V.’s 1950 or 60’s-something complete etiquette guide (which is otherwise Cliff-Noted in bold type directly in the deep recesses of my brain).  I’ve already told one little white lie to my father-figure date and he was so gracious and flattering to me in return for my “honesty” that I felt like a real POS. 

As I realize yesterday that I’ve double-committed myself with Word-Man and M, I’m wishing I had Ms.  Vanderbilt’s great-great-granddaughter’s number in my phone, so I could have a reference for this type of situation.  Yes, Word-Man’s accent annoyed the living bejeezus  outta me, but I’ve committed to meeting him in person and I feel compelled to keep that commitment, even if I get a splitting headache a half hour into it and have to exit early.  And M…I like him…and I agreed on Monday to give him my one free night this week upon his return from Paris.  My mind starts racing with excuses the moment I realize my inconsiderate error.  Technically, I made the date with Word first, so he gets first consideration.  

I text M that I’ve made a mistake, forgotten something, and I won’t be able to meet him Thursday or Friday..to be straight, I don’t know why I included both days in there.  Actually, it gets a tad confusing…  At any rate, my stumbling about to balance this error politely and with consideration (I opted for mere vagueness) got a little more challenging when after some text-servation, he politely asks me why I’m not available Thursday or Friday as I previously agreed. 

I know I don’t owe him an explanation.  However, I would probably want to know too if the situation were reversed, so NUNYA isn’t appropriate.  I want to balance the fact that I like him (by far the best at this point) without inflating his ego, want to be honest (that’s my policy) and yet don’t want to come across as some kind of serial dater, as in implying “Hey Mr. M,  no matter how much I like you, I’m going to continue to go on 4-5 dates per week and work getting to know you better around those”. 

I’ve never been comfortable dating several people at once..  I’m not dishonest enough and I’m not practiced even in the art of vagueness enough to pull those kind of amazing circus feats off.  I’ve always been a steady one-guy-dater-girl.  Yes, to my chagrin, always.  And I suppose this kind of balancing act (we all know from the experience with Mr. Favorite just how great my balance randomly isn’t) is precisely why I’ve always just dated one person at a time. 

I opted to tell him the truth, keeping it as vague as possible and mixed in with just a smidgen of, “I kinda wish I hadn’t already committed to this”.  He handled it well….maybe too well? 

Did I do the right thing?  Well, okay, I know I did the right thing, but did I do the right thing?  After a few great dates together, do guys want to hear, “I have another date lined up”?  Would I have been better to have claimed I couldn’t get the night free after all, instead?  Or should I have gone full force with the vagueness and just said “…ummm…that’s really NUNYA”…?

Apparently I’m a (GASP!)…bigot!

The Big Yummy Apple

I wrote to Word-man first,  very shortly after I opened my profile.  He has a nerdy-attractive “look” in his pictures which is appealing to me. He mentioned word games on his page; I wrote him about my love for those kind of games, moving to his area, and thus, needing an adequate opponent.  We’ve been playing them online together ever since!  It’s terrific!  I’ve beat him 3 out of 4 games so far, but he does pose a terrific  challenge and it’s fun. 

After a few brief discussions via Internet games chat, he finally proposes we talk to explore if we’ve any other things in common.  I’m delighted!  I was just grateful to have a worthy and willing game opponent and after 4 games, I’d resigned to myself that he wasn’t interested in me in any kind of personal way.  This was a bummer being that I found him attractive and intellectually interesting as well, but again, I was enjoying our games.  Now, I was very much looking forward to talking with him!

This might be one of those shameful confessions here.  Not shameful like some of the incredibly fun and exciting sinful shenanigans I read from a few fabulous fellow bloggers here…no, nothing so juicy as that unfortunately. 

However, it seems I was being less than honest with myself when I wrote of my fairly limitless acceptance and minimal “dealbreakers”.  I apparently have another overly stringent one as well…  New York accents!

I don’t like this!!  New York fascinates me in concept!  I love its oh-so-ample theatre and plethora of cultures; its historical value is fascinating; positively adored hiking the Catskills and upstate in general; and I still think Seinfeld was one of the funniest shows ever! In fact, I’m certain I could go on and on ad nauseum about the many and wondrous redeeming qualities of New York in general and feel heartfelt appreciation for it all.  Hell, I could probably jump up this moment and give a painfully sincere, rendition of the Broadway song, New York, New York :

These vagabond shoooooooooooooooes…Are longing to strayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy… Right through the verrrrry heart of it… New York, New York….!

…If I can MAAAAAAAKE it there, I’ll make it AAAANNNNY where… It’s up to YOU… Newww York, Neeewwwwwww Yorrrrrrrrrrk!!

I won’t deny how excruciatingly painful that would be, were I to actually do it, but the point is, I’ve had a mad love affair with the theatre since I was a very young child and have been singing that very song since I was approximately the age of 3. So, I can do it…and I assure you with more heart and feeling than you can imagine.

Additionally to all of this ridiculous nonsense, I immensely enjoy language and all that encompasses, including various accents.  So, why do I find the NY accent so aesthetically unappealing and obnoxious?  And not only that, but all the way to the point of being instantly turned off at hearing it?  This is so ridiculous to even address with myself, but after my talk with Word-Man, I can’t remain in denial of my excessive and innate (?) discrimination!  The guy has been in Vegas for 14 years, so it’s not even a very acute accent…but it’s there…

And I just can’t take it… neither my own bizarrely disproportionate  intolerance of it(its literally akin to nails down a chalkboard for me – and no that’s not an exaggeration)… nor the accent itself!  Perhaps what adds mass weight to my overbearing annoyance stems more from having to face some ridiculously limiting quirk of mine which I simply can’t explain?  I truly find it intolerable…  And my very intolerance of it is even more intolerable than that!

I don’t judge people on their race, their education, their family tree, their hair color, their interests or hobbies, their culture, their past – none of it!  I EVEN grew up speaking with an obnoxious southern-like accent mahh-self, which I wasn’t even aware of until I moved during high school and was teased and criticized mercilessly for it.  I consequently, and much  to my  Mam-maw’s “You sound like a Damn Yankee!” dismay, worked hard to overcome that manner of speaking and I still get mildly self-conscious when on very rare occasions, a word or two of mine slips out with a noticeable hill-billy twang.  How could anything as ridiculous as an accent bother me to this extreme degree?  This is unacceptable discrimination!

Yet there it was, undeniably blazing in all its glory during my phone conversation with Word-Man.  After only a few minutes when I had noticed it enough to ask about it, I wanted to just end the conversation!  I’m not kidding – I wanted to.  Ugh!  I struggled to turn down this mild accent enough to even hear much of what he was saying!  To make things worse, he talked a lot…and the more he talked, the louder his accent seemed and the harder I had to work just to hear his words. 

This is not only unacceptable and deeply embarrassing, it’s just plain wrong.

 Overall the conversation (what I could hear of it anyway) went fairly well and we’re planning on meeting Thursday or Friday in person.  Can I do it?

Immediate update:  I think I’ve figured this anomaly out!  My aversion to this accent was created by Twizzler Man years ago…ahhh Twizzler man….tsk..tsk..tsk…you traumatized me to this horrifying extent.  Shame on you! 

WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT??!!?

My FAVE yummy wine!

Okay…for all my healthy serenity-in-the-nude-solitude of the past day or so, I gotta say, it has run its course.   The excitement of flashing Jasper my shameless nudity no longer holds much entertainment value for me at the moment… This is a source of deep embarrassment for me; I’m a firm believer that only intellectually and/or creatively challenged people “get bored”. 

Thus, although I’m still home alone, I’ve donned a few articles of clothing (…ummm…yes…I can hear the collective GASP shivering through the universe at that shocking little tidbit of unorthodox deviance), poured a lovely, scrumptious and delightfully hefty glass of Seven Deadly Zins and I ponder the thoughts which have been running rampant through my mind today…

A fair representation of Octo-man

1.  The gentleman in his 60’s (or early 70’s maybe???) whom I safely sat next to upon my first little visit to the neighborhood watering hole. ( I didn’t want to sit all alone and I really didn’t want to get hit on either…so ) Immediately after our polite introduction to one another, begins discussing with me how there are, in fact, people “our age” who come to this bar,  explains in graphic and unwanted detail the vast popularity of Jared the hot, young bartender, his “cougar following”, and all the many, many women who come here merely to see and flirt with said ”hot bartender”, Jared.

Ummm….W.T.F??  Firstly, I didn’t even know of Jared’s existence prior to this little jaunt.  And FYI pal, I resent being classified by you, a man clearly over 60,  as in “our age group”…I mean, yeah,  I realize my 20’s are getting fuzzy in the rear-view here, but  the man’s most likely somewhere in the vicinity of TWICE my freakin age!  Thus, you do not get to say to me such things as,  “people “our age”!  No. 

a true life-like depiction of Jared

I let this pass… but then when he jumped clear into the cougar talk…   I gotta tell you, I could hardly hear the man talking anymore.  Seriously… WHISKEY.  TANGO.  FOXTROT pal?!???  Have we come so far in this cougar-bit that a woman over the age of 30 can’t go into a bar by her house that happens to have a hot 20-something bartender, without being instantly and unjustly classified into the COUGAR category?!  And not only that, but implied by a pre-octogenarian at that??!!  Are you kiddin’ me?

WHISKEY. TANGO. FOXTROT!     I found this not only insulting at a high level, but terribly unjust and unwarranted as well.  Who the fuck do you think you ARE old man?  You’d better pump those squeaky old brakes of yours pal and simmer down.  Yeah, with your smooth verbal skills with the ladies, it’s not exactly clear to me why on earth you’re single?!? Ahhh..the mystery…

Meanwhile, I’ve got late 20-ish, early 30-ish drunken surfer dude who has camped out in the empty chair next to me, sliding his hand UP MY THIGH and leaning over to whisper, spitting  with his hot breath in my ear, “It’s so obvious how much you want me…  I’m like a tiger ya know; I can sense these attraction things from a mile away.”  OH MY GAWD….is this a bad movie?  Hidden camera prank?  WHAT is going on here?!

So while I was already busy pulling my insulted chin up off the floor from shock at Old Man’s Audacity-n-Confusion on my right, I had to take my soggy bar napkin and wipe the drunken-surfer-dude spittle off my left cheek.

you get the general idea here of drunk surfer dude

WHISKEY.  TANGO. FOXTROT.  Now I’m insulted AND disgusted.

To add insult to injury, it seemed Jared (yeah, HOT bartender is a very accurate description) was watching things and maybe feeling a little sorry for my plight…  So he asks me if I will do a shot with him.  Umm….with the utmost gratitude and pleasure, YES!, I will partake in an inappropriate amount of alcohol in a too short a period of time for my body to process, just to nurse my punctured ego-wounds and hopefully simultaneously cleanse myself of my OMG-so-unsanitary-spittle-on-my-face-disgust!  …Ummm…noooo Mr. Old Man,   I’m not quite ready to chuck myself across the bar at Jared in true Cougar-like fashion, but hell YEAH, I want a shot!  Red headed slut?  Lindsey Lohan?  Tequila?? I don’t care, I’ve money for a cab…just bring it!!!  And hurry!

…As Jared (the life and ego saving bartender/hero), the other 20-something bartender, and I are all raising our glasses to toast, I happened to glance briefly to my right…just in time to see Old Man Octogenarian giving me a knowing little wink, with a smug cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin…  OMFG…

WHISKEY.  TANGO.  FOXTROT??!!