Category Archives: Get a clue!

FB aka SNWMD (social networking weapon of mass destruction)

Saturday night I hit my local little neighborhood tavern for some live music, dancing, and social interaction. Walk in with my friend, S, and her husband. Not too busy here yet, but I’m happy to be among friends. S immediately sees another chick she knows. I don’t know said chick, but after they’re finished with their hello hugs, I smile and say “Hi”, reaching out my hand and introducing myself properly in that oh-look-we-have-a-mutual-friend friendly way. I can’t help but notice mutual friend chick happens to be a beautiful woman with vivid red hair…just gorgeous! Yay Chickie!

Ms. Chickie-poo instantly gives me a look. Eeeek… And I mean a look: a hateful, I wish I could shove you down a 500 foot razor blade slide and land you into a pool of rubbing alcohol kinda look. Whoaaaaa! I’m absolutely thrown…wtf? I don’t even know you lady…what is your problem here? Let me tell ya, it was NOT subtle in any way either. It was bold, blatant, and totally unapologetic. It was so horrendous, the nasty smell of sheer hate instantantly permeated around us; she had a look on her face which even resembled the twisted, painful look one might have were one trapped in an elevator full of horribly offensive gas. It happened so instantaneously and noticeably that even S stepped back a bit in surprise. Yeah…awwwwkwarrd!
I didn’t ask any questions. I’m not 9 anymore; I refuse to deal with these type of senseless things. Weird as hell? Ummm yeah. Do I really give a damn? Nahh. I just accept my fate-of-hate and go have a seat alone several feet away, giving the two their space to catch up, chat, hug, and whatnot. I’m certain I don’t know her at all and therefore, whatever the problem is, it is without a doubt, her problem and has nothing at all to actually do with me.

Few moments later, S comes to sit next to me and says, “wow..that was uncomfortable” Yeah, ya think? What’s her deal?

Apparently, I “know chickie-poo’s boyfriend”. Hmm…I do? Okay….I know lots of people…that could certainly be…but…umm….still, what the hell?

Yeah, it gets better… Not only do I apparently know Ms. Chickie-poo’s loverface, but I (brace yourself here people because all lines of morals, boundaries, and common decency are just about to get crossed, eliminated, skipped over, and possibly destroyed)…

I not only know loverface, but I (deep breath)…..……POSTED ON HIS FACEBOOK WALL!

And you know what? I really did! Yeah, I did this. I posted on her loverface’s wall. Yup, right there for all to see I typed four or five words essentially saying, hello, how are things with ya… RIGHT ON HIS FACEBOOK. I admit to this debauchery. Yes, I am a Facebook Whore. I confess I’m just wicked to the core like that. Mmmhhmm. Call the firing squad, grab the noose, gather the town folk, hold onto your husbands, brothers, computers, hooker stilettos…snatch your loved one’s password and quickly get to the business of friend editing. Go ahead and start embroidering those three scarlet red letters “FBW” too!

Because. I. Am. Guilty. As. Hell. Here.

Yeahhh….and you wanna know something else? I’m not even sorry. I don’t feel guilty. And yeah dammit, I’d do it again. I mean, I WILL do it again. Go ahead, pin those damned letters right on me. There’s no shame in my Facebook game. I post on people’s walls. I do it pretty much every day…sometimes several scandalous times a day even….yeah. And I’ve no intention of stopping. Beware: you (or worse yet your lova’face!) could be next!

So after this little “faux pas” of mine was explained to me via S, Chickie-poo proceeds back over to “chat” with S and me. And wow she was on a mission!  I lost count after like the 17th time she said “my boyfriend”. Umm, you know my boyfriend. Yeah, you posted on my bofriend’s facebook the other day. My boyfriend is over at the —– right now. I’m goin to call my boyfriend and tell him I met you……blah, blah, blah… I mean, she was making it cleeeee-year that she did indeed have a “boyfriend” and that he was, without a doubt, her possession. Okie dokie Chickie-poo! I’m not so big on the labeling thing, so it was pretty clear to me that not only was Ms. Chickie quite insecure, but she and I had some fundamental differences which might get directly in the way of she and I becoming BFF’s anytime soon. Awww…pity…

This lovely little incident came immediately following another FB incident only a day or so earlier in which another innocent FB post got me in “trouble”. I was recently accused of dating a friends’ ex-boyfriend…for the following three reasons: 1. Ran into boyfriend twice in one week (oops! But geesh it IS a small town!); 2. We re-united as FB friends (he didn’t make the cut of my last edit but it was nothing personal); and 3. I posted “great to run into you this weekend!” RIGHT ON HIS FACEBOOK PAGE!

Uh huh.

So my friend then “intelligently” deduced from this cryptic happenstance that we are “dating”. Yeah, this one’s a real Einstein/Sherlock to say the least. Maybe I shouldn’t mention a few key points, but I’m gonna anyway. 1. I’ve known her ex for many years before I knew her at all and didn’t want him then just like I don’t want him now; 2. She is pregnant and engaged to another man; and 3. My reasons for being (gasp!) TWICE in the same place as her ex had zilch to do with her ex man, but just so happened to be because “J” hangs out in the same little local spot…and yes, I WAS there hanging out with J…flirting shamelessly and for the most part totally unaware of any other males around me. Apparently she didn’t get that key part of the local gossip.

And again the irony is overwhelming. There I am, hanging out with Jane’s ex fiancé, really digging him and feeling (almost) guilty about that…at least too guilty to actually tell anyone ( and not even J!) that I’m secretly only there to hang out with J. Her ex coulda been right in my face and I’d not have given him the time of day. I was way preoccupied on both curiously coincidental run-ins with her ex… Too busy flirting with another friends’ ex…GOSH, I have some standards dammit…only one friend’s ex at a time, thank you. Facebook, on the other hand, I have no limits to the comments I might post and no boundaries as to said person’s relationship status. It’s freakin’ Facebook people, a social utility! As long as I’m not posting something like, Baby last night was the greatest!  Come do me again tonight, or some similar sleazy, telling post on your boyfriend’s wall(and trust me, I never would post such a thing – no matter the underlying circumstances!),  then do us all a favor and get over it before you make an ass out of yourself!

But this crazy ass girl with obviously way too much time on her hands is absolutely certain I’m dating her ex! She texts me: Guess you like my leftovers. I’m not stupid. Ohhh well, time to get rid of more backstabbing bitches… that’s secifically her very words!  Yeah, If it wasn’t so pathetic, it would be hysterically funny. No wait, I guess it IS still pretty damned funny!

I feel like a drama magnet! Sometimes I reflect on this kind of seemingly chronic irony and drama which is a sad, but apparently unavoidable, aspect of my life in small town Midwest. Does anyone else get so much bullshit on such a regular basis merely by their existence and/or their presence? I can’t imagine so… Does anyone else instigate this much freakin’ drama without any effort whatsoever? And I mean NO effort. These two men hold zero interest or intrigue for me. In fact, each of them has at several points in our respective long-term platonic friendships made attempts at initiating something beyond friendship, but I was never interested. Not to sound arrogant or anything, but these two particular men, I could have had at any given time in the past ten years or so. Therefore, I’m not these silly little girls’ rival. Girls, girls…I don’t want your men or your ex-men. Sweet, sweet, ignorant, insecure, little darlings, trust me, if I wanted either of them, I would have them already. I am no threat to you, okay?  Bless your little hearts!!

PSA: Everyone can turn loose of their husbands, ex-husbands boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, crushes, and might someday be crushes, your mailmen, your trainers, your brothers, and your kindergarten playground pals from days gone by; you can cease creeping all over my FB page doing amateur investigative work; I’m totally and unequivocally digging only one friend’s ex…and geesh am I digging him…Ohhh my stars!! Updates on that (yeah, my actual moral debauchery) soon to come…:)

And please allow me to offer you two and the other plethora of females out there like you a glorious priceless gift of wisdom which has been handed down for generations in my family.  And please, take notes because it’s highly likely that you’re not of the upper echelon of intellectual beings.

Jealousy is so vastly unattractive that you’d be better off to pack on an extra 100 pounds. And insecurity is like growing a quarter-sized hairy old wart smack dab on the end of your nose. They are senseless, ugly crosses to bear…put them down. I promise you, you’re not avoiding or defeating anything with these two ridiculous relationship- killing, character-telling notions. Let them go!

Yeah, I stirred the moral gravy pot…and got a little creepy on my shirt…

Very interesting weekend…full of atrocious stupidities, learning experiences, and interesting possibilities of learning experiences to come!

I’ve yet to discuss in depth here contestant #2 in the Who wants to Date a Married Man Show.  The reason for this is primarily that my interest in him is hardly enough to mention.  He is Drunken-Dance(from two years ago)-Guy; I’ve just never had a huge interest in him on any level because …uhhh well, because he just does not hold my interest.  He’s in the basic, semi-attractive category looks-wise and his conversation skills, while they’re not horrible by any means, they are way less than intriguing.  In fact, if I had to compare him to a food, he’d go safely into the simple and bland category of plain white rice or say, whole-wheat bread maybe…but subtract any healthy aspects as he’s married and therefore lacks any health-nutrients whatsoever. If I had to liken him to an activity, it would be something like watching paint dry.  Yeah, he’s that irresistable!

However, he does get five stars for persistence.  I have blown this guy off to the point of rudeness.  I rarely answer his calls at all and I’m only mildly chatty when we do have conversations.  I make no attempt whatsoever to be charming, cute, exciting, or flirty to this man.  I mean ZERO attempts…and he continues to call and proceeds to imply this “thing” between us.  What thing? …as there’s been no “thing” and I’ve demonstrated no interest in creating a “thing” !  Apparently a “thing” in his mind is enough ‘thing” to a “thing” make.  This point leads me to perceive DDG as a self-consumed ass.  No, he’s never been rude or inappropriate directly  but his sheer persistence combined with my obvious lack of interest in him and in having any “thing” with him can only mean one thing: absolute self-consumption.  Self-consumed because he’s oblivious to my lack of interest and “ass” because he’s so persistently and actively looking to cheat on his wife…ummm…yuk!

The last few times he’s asked to see me, if I had plans with friends, then I’d say, Hey I’m going out with some friends later, if you want to meet up, you’re welcome.  He always responds like, I can’t really meet you in groups (really?  Umm…why?  Are you implying we have some secret thing going on or something?).  I simply say, Okay…suit yourself…gotta run…buh-bye.  This annoys me for two reasons.  One:  the thought of sitting somewhere alone with him has loud overtones of an experience akin to counting every grain of sand on the beach.  And two: and once again: there is nothing going on here to “hide”!  Nothing!  Nada!  The only thing to hide here would be his lewd thoughts and depraved intentions!  To imply directly to me that we’re on some secret clandestine journey together which must remain well-hidden from random people whom he doesn’t know and don’t know (or give a damn) about him, is ludicrous to the degree of laughable.  There is nothing going on here pal, aside from your pathetic and futile efforts to get something going on.  Have a hint buddy:  there has to be something to hide before there’s a need to sneak around and stay out of the spotlight…or in this particular case, keep out of random crowds of people in public places.  You’re not Justin Bieber for gawd’s sake – avoiding the paparazzi and possibly horrifying Enquirer headlines.  For the love of white rice…get over yourself already!  Hmph….annoying….!!

On top of which and I reiterate – nothing is going on!  And if he’d use even a smidgeon of thought, intelligence, body language (speech), or intuition, he’d clearly see that NOTHING is in danger of going on either!  Pshh….ridiculous.  Hey schmuck-man, I’ve shown as much interest in you, meeting up with you, or even talking to you as I would a paint-by-number with only one freakin’ number!  Hello??  Is anybody home???

So…one (especially I)  will never know why when he called Friday early evening and asked if I was free to go have a drink, I agreed.  Almost backed out before the conversation even ended though, as he struggled to think of a suitable (i.e. “safe”) place to go.  What’s up pal?  Are you thinking this “meet for a drink” is code for a public make-out-fest?  If you’re as nervous as a whore in church just to sit in a public bar and have a drink with me with 100 other people sitting around sharing the same space as we, then I have to go with, Not a good idea for you to do it fella!

And the fact that you ARE this nervous over NOTHING firmly tells me that you’re not at all interested in any kind of friendship or camaraderie with me…in fact, you’ve not even contemplated that possibility…and ewww..that makes me feel dirty all by itself.

Yeah, I don’t know why I went anyway.  Chalk it up to my informal research of immoral asses like this or listening to Sympathy for the Devil too many times, I dunno.   No.  Hey, you know what?  Actually, we can just chalk this up to my growing fatigue at his persistence in the face of my obvious lack of interest; as in, yeah, okay, let’s get this over with my friend; let’s set the record on this straight once and for all pig-cheater-guy; let’s invite the fat lady to sing already so we can get to the more pertinent (and final) act two of you LOSING MY NUMBER, you LOSER-ASS.  Hell, if you’re going to try to have a cheat-on-your-wife-fest with me, then at least be interesting or for the love of gawd, look up the word finesse in the dictionary.  GAWD..something…anything…to make yourself seem appealing in some way, shape, or form to even have a conversation with, much less a freakin’ extramarital affair!!

Thankfully, he selected a local place where many of my friends frequent.  I know Billy the bartender quite well and yay! he was working.  Cheating pig comes in a few minutes after I, acting  all weird-n-creepy-like, pays for my drink and then says, looking straight ahead and not at me, “We can’t be here.  Someone is here that I didn’t expect.”  Ohhh..really?  Okay… you’d probably better go then.  No, he says, my truck is outside parked on the hill.  Meet me out at my truck, but wait a few minutes after I leave to walk out.

What the FUCK?!  Now, I’m starting to think that this guy is doing this just for the “excitement”, as he’s making up drama where there isn’t any and making things look suspicious where there’s NOTHING. Does he fancy himself as the starring actor in some dramatic movie-of-the-week?  Has he listened to a few too many renditions of “Secret Lovers”?  Hell, I’m questioning even his basic intellectual capacity at this point..  OMG…is he just a literal idiot too?  I’m further annoyed. Because of my extreme level of annoyance, I took a reeeeeaaaaally long time to finish my drink: tiny sip…chit-chat with random lady sitting next to me…tinier sip…chat up Billy-the-cutie for a few minutes…sippy-sip…text a few friends….sippiest sip – which was more like a kitten’s little lap…watch some hockey on the bar television….siiipppp….  Finally, about forty minutes or so later, I get up to head outside and Billy asks, Awww, where ya goin’?  I say to meet up with a friend.  He winks adorably at me and says well you should come back…I’m working all night long.  Awwwww…Billy is irresistibly adorable!

Outside, I look back and forth from my car to the hill, debating if I even wanted to bother with whatever was next in this absurdity.  I went to his truck and jumped in.  I realize given my feelings about this kind of thing mixed up with my lack of interest, this seems truly an odd decision, but it was a great choice after all and I’ll tell you why.

Sitting in his truck, he starts talking of the random anonymous person in the bar who made it uncomfortably unsafe for him.  Awww……so I suggested another totally secluded out of the way bar and he said, “I don’t even know where that is”.  Ummm yeah…exactly you idiot.  Geesh!  Then, he says his wife is out of town and we could just go to his house.  Oh my freakin’ gawd…now that is it.  He was clearly not interested at all in maybe sitting and having a drink and an attempt (however futile for him that might’ve been) at some witty conversation. Now, I had all the answers and info I could possibly ever need about this guy and this situation.  Right along with all those answers came my rare ability to just speak plainly sans my politeness and my don’t-wanna-hurt-anyone’s-feelings-rose colored loquacious crayon.  And my irritation became loud and proud.  If you’re that nervous to just have a drink with me when nothing else has happened between us at ALL, then you shouldn’t be doing  this.  Why are you trying so hard to cheat on your wife anyway?  What’s the matter with you?

He bluntly says, I’ve wanted you since the minute I first saw you.  When I see you somewhere, I can’t pull my eyes away from you.  I think about you too much…all the time really…

WHAT.  THE.  FUCK?!  Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?!  You’re an utter weirdo?! Psh…no I didn’t say that  utter weirdo part.

So I say, I was willing to have a drink with you and chit-chat, but if your sole endeavor here is to cheat on your wife, I gotta break  it to you, you picked the wrong girl.  I can’t be certain I’d be interested in whatever you’re suggesting even were you single, but I do know for certain that being any part of you cheating on a sacred thing like marriage holds zero interest for me. I’ve been cheated on by a husband before and I will never be that person who takes part in that kind of ugliness or creates that much pain in another human being’s heart.

He nods his head and says he understands.  I start to get out of his truck and he says, I just want you to know you’re beautiful. And whenever I see you anywhere, I’ll be thinking of how much I want you…just know that…

Yeah, you go with that pal…seal that coffin.  Because that little last gift you offered up, just makes me feel wrong and so freakin’ dirty that I now feel like I need to go home and immediately take a shower just to cleanse myself of the pile of disgust you’ve just immersed me in.

No, I didn’t say that part..although I kinda wish I had..  I just hopped out of the truck and walked the few feet to my car, debating whether to go back in and chat with Billy the adorably sweet bartender and drown my disgust in yager bombs and bloody mary’s or go home and scrub myself down head-to-toes with a harsh disinfectant and holy water.

Again, the debate was tough.  I just felt so horrible that I’d even met up with this guy…so disgusted with myself, with him, with the debauchery and casual nature of this kind of thing in general.  Hmm…drown the mind/thoughts in a haze of alcohol… or scrub myself fresh and clean…??

I opted to just go home and take a two hour shower, washing away the entire nasty ass residue that creeper-man had  radiated onto me.  Umm…yuk!

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.

Part II: Or how my state of bliss was interrupted in spite of my BEST efforts…OMG!

 …So having now offered a background into my nature it’s much easier for me to explain why I chose to end my relationship with M – a man I like, I respect, and I enjoy immensely.  Yeah, I’m bummed a little and my curiosity and inquisitive side is definitely nagging at me to investigate further…

And that’s exactly why I know I’ve made the right choice to end it.

It’s complicated to describe and yet so simple at the same time.

I’ve had a few conversations with M, delicately and respectfully attempting to just get enough information to make a reasonable decision about this confusion with him.  It started after the first date he cancelled (and nearly didn’t tell me).  Yeah, I understand things happen.  I also understand the premise behind “he’s just not that into you”.  Truly, I’m naïve, I’m trusting, but I promise I’m really not ignorant.  I see the possibilities.  I probably see far too many actually and I’m willing to entertain any of them  at this point in my M-relationship.  I mean, I’m still getting to know him..anything is possible.  In addition, I’m not emotionally invested, so denial (or preservation of my heart or pride) is just not necessary at this point.  Sure, I’d like to think he likes me and I see many indications that he does, but if not..whatever.

However, the trouble started after this near blow-off when I questioned whether M was liking me or wasn’t so much into me….  Honest and straight forward; totally willing to face and handle whatever his answer was.  Really, I only asked even because I wouldn’t want anyone to feel obligated to me in any way…ughhh..  that’s not a pleasant feeling.  Suffice to say, I was okay with whatever the sitch was here. 

..but M….OMG…M turned into Mr. DEFENSE after this ONE innocent question.  He started sending me pictures “proving” his whereabouts and activities.  Like, a picture of his car dashboard with a text saying, just so you know I really AM driving right now.

WHAT. THE F*$k????  Really?  Are you freakin’ kidding me?  Let me recall where I’ve once doubted your veracity ……..Ummm…..hmmmmmm??

OH WAIT…I haven’t..not once…nope..not a single time.  Well, okay, one time I thought I saw him when he was out of town, but I concluded all on my own that it wasn’t him.  I never asked him about it or thought much about it even after the initial “sighting”.  There just was no reason whatsoever that he would have needed to lie about something so silly…so I admit, I pondered for a bit, determined it wasn’t him, and went on as usual. (By the way, I still believe it wasn’t him too, but merely an uncanny resemblance.)

Therefore, this ridiculous “proving” of his whereabouts and activities has become just plain annoying and inappropriately defensive.  The first few times he did this, I laughed it off, reassured him repeatedly, and just let it go as perhaps a lingering trust issue from his previous marriage filtering down onto his current perspective.  We all carry some issues like this, so I was willing to offer reassurance to let him know I wasn’t questioning him at all, except maybe whether or not he was really “into me”. Which I asked one time only, believed his response,  and let that go too.   Again, I mean, why would he lie about liking me if he doesn’t?  I wasn’t pressuring him or making demands, I was offering him an easy out if this was the case.  Why would I doubt that?

But this other crap, this I really AM here or doing this or that or whatever, just so you know CRAP was really starting to get on my nerves.  Listen pal, I’m not some psycho suspicious, insecure chick interrogating you or even questioning you.  So let it GO already.  No.  M would not let it go and he continued to pull this crap. 

The catch-22 about this, is that the more I received this unrequested and unnecessary “proof”, the more I’ve started to question the things I wasn’t even questioning in the first place!  Reminder:  my only questions about this relationship AT ALL were 1.  Was he struggling to get past his divorce and still having strong feelings for his ex-wife, which might explain his seeming and occasional lack of interest in me from my perspective?  (BTW, I never once actually asked him about that.)  or 2.  Was he just not that  into me?  No crime in that…  He either is or isn’t.  I’m not devastated either way.

So this defensive garbage was just out of the blue and he was pounding me with it regularly all of a sudden. For no reason at all!

Maddening?  Yeah..you bet!  I don’t enjoy feeling like I have to reassure him that I believe him when I’ve not even entertained such questions in the first place!

I went along with this for a few weeks, assuming it was a past issue and after a few reassurance sessions, he’d get past that and stop treating me like some psycho chick. To be totally honest, this whole process alone was making me start to feel mistrust and question his random defensive tactics.  The very thing he was already trying to quell…he was, instead, creating.  And I did not like it one bit.

So yesterday, after thinking it over a little, I just decided this is what I don’t want to get snared into.  This isn’t me.  I don’t know why he’s doing this and I clearly can’t simply ask because then that might actually give him a reason to be defensive and thus, continue this maddening behavior.  I’m not that girl.  I refuse to be.  This situation gave me no other option but to end it.

So I text him that I really feel there’s an imbalance of some sort going on, that it was making me increasingly uncomfortable.  I was sorry he misunderstood me so much to think I mistrusted his every move and word.  That I liked him, but this seemed to just not be working and with his overly defensive actions, I didn’t even feel comfortable trying to get to the bottom of it all or communicate about it openly.  Wish you the best…sorry it didn’t work out…blah, blah blah…

And guess what?  I receive a response message with a picture of him at the Canadian airport and a message saying, It’s 7 AM in Toronto.  I’ve been here since Tuesday.  Drove back from Phx Monday. The finger is pointing at my blue shirt.  Ok, (Kay) I guess it’s getting weird for me now too.

WTF??!!  Are you kidding ME???!??  Now, that’s it.  Truly..that’s just it.  I respond, Listen M, I’m not having yet another lengthy conversation via text.  It’s just silly under the circumstances.  So I’ll email you.

And I email him that I just don’t understand his defensiveness given my lack of questioning OR suspicions, but that it has boxed me in to a place where I feel I can’t ask anything at all and that goes against my nature and makes things seem strange which I otherwise wasn’t even wondering about. SO what I know for a fact is that he’s gone over 95% of the time and our actual communication gets less and less.  Being that my whole point of meeting anyone was to have a person to spend time with in a strange city with all kinds of extra time I’m not accustomed to having, that whatever the reasons were or weren’t behind all this strangeness, the relationship wasn’t meeting my needs on any level…and was quickly getting to the point of frustrating and just flat-out ridiculous given the totally casual nature of the whole thing in the first place.  Period. The end.  Again, I like you and wish you the best in finding whatever it is you’re looking for…So given the facts alone (because I’m not presumptuous by nature), I’m going to chalk this one up to bad timing. Good luck, take care, etc, etc, etc…

And a few minutes later, I receive this text (minus any “proof” photos thank GAWD)” Re: Email:  I’m not going to try to explain as that apparently is defensive…that’s how it looks.  You’re a great woman and I wish you the best. M

OMFG….  Now, I seriously never want to communicate with M EVER again.  The freak is even defensive about BEING DEFENSIVE.  He’s clueless and is clearly having an entire relationship in his own mind that bears zero resemblance to what’s actually even happening, being said OR being THOUGHT.  Yeah, this is the type of shit that makes a calm, peaceful trusting person get PSYCHO.  NONE of it adds up and EVERYTHING I say or explain merely is another accusation I’m NOT EVEN THINKING.    OMG!!!

That’s an effed up situation and my inner peace has been disrupted too often and way too much at this point for what the relationship was actually providing.

Bye-Bye Now.  And good riddance!

Proof that most men can NOT handle a healthy, balanced woman, healthy open communication, or a relationship with casual expectations. 

WTF?!  I am too irritated to even DATE now.  I let this freakin insanity go on way too long beyond my personal comfort zone.  And I am PISSED that I allowed myself to get sucked in to the whole stupid and unnecessary thing.

ARGHHHH UGHHHH ARGHHH.  Stupid men better just steer clear until I process through this utter STUPIDITY and get to the place of blissful relief that I finally just refused to deal with any of it and ended the whole stupid thing.

Slim pickins’ around here

What I used to be...

So I had my token woe-is-me rant/whine yesterday.  I realize this becomes harder to me because I’m just hitting that place as a mother where I can’t fix everything that hurts my daughters.  It’s horrible!  So, as well as wishing (like she is/was too) that  I had friends in this life, I found myself listening and longing for those days when there wasn’t a tear she could shed which with a little silly chicken-noodle-dance around the kitchen in our pj’s  or some hugs and kisses couldn’t fix..and the tears would be gone and forgotten like they never even happened.  I was the MommaI could fix anything and everything.  Now, I’m becoming the “Mom”- the powerless to help much at all.  It’s a difficult transition for me and seriously, given my own lifelong issues with friendship, I did not need to go through that just to get in bed with my television tuned into whatever damned station those 4 fabulous soul-mate-chicks were on.  Not right then..geesh!  Anyway, other than the Momma to Mom thing, I’m over it already.   It is what it’s always been.  I can deal.  Hell, I’ve gone through far worse than that issue and come out just fine 😉

So, on to my recent dating emails. Umm…suffice to say WOW!  The pickins’ are a bit slim, yeah..but let me tell you, they are of the highest quality.  Allow me to share and elaborate:

So...I guess you want me to write you, huh?

I received this priceless, informative, and endearing email from a guy with a screen name that begs to be “dominated” (yeah…literally).  Hey, whatever…to each his own; it takes all kinds, right?   At least it demonstrates the flair for creativity that men who enjoy submission must innately have and I did not know that about them. So it’s great to learn new things!  It’s rather long, complicated, and rich in detail, so I’m just going to post it by straight-up copy and paste. 

“  write me back if you want to hang
out sometime write me back if you
want to hang out sometime write me
back if you want to hang out
sometime write me back if you want
to hang out sometime “

 What?  You ask if I’m not concerned about email copyrights or the privacy violation of posting verbatim such a personal email here might be? No, I’m not.  I think under the circumstances, I could just write him back and say, Listen b**ch, I’m posting this email on my blog and you’re just going to say thank you.  I’m certain he’d get immense pleasure from that and it’s clearly the sure-fire way to keep this one’s interest. 

Yeah, I’ll do that right after I share the next fabulous and unique email I received:

Dear (Kay),

I really enjoyed your Profile. 🙂 
It looks like we’re both completely
finished with all the nonsense and are
ready for something special and genuine.
Please reply and we can explore the
possibilities together:

*******************
Steve
(Here he includes every contact info the man might have .  Personal email address, messenger ID, and cell number)

Thank you and all the best.

 Well Wow-ZA!  It seems this guy really “gets me” and is obviously seeking something real and meaningful in the midst of a plethora of online dating b.s.  I’m sure it’s mere coincidence that he bears the name of “Steve”.  With such an insightful and beautiful reach-out to me as this, he could in no way share any commonalities with the Grope-y Groperton-Steve!  This one is a real gem…

However, I think it’s important to mention here that in no place or shape of imagination do I include anything of anything on my page pertaining to “nonsense” of any kind…dating or otherwise.  I mean, I don’t have a shred of anything like that on my page!  My page simply says something along the lines of, 

Hi, I’m Kay!  I’m new to online dating and new to this area, mostly hoping to meet new people and make friends.  If something more comes from that, then fantastic, but I’m perfectly okay if it doesn’t too. Simply meeting new people is a fantastic learning experience and loads of fun!! Life is short and wondrous…I don’t waste time dwelling on negatives.  I enjoy many activities…blah, blah, blah…and so on…

What I imagine Steve *really* represents

Okay…so here’s my Sherlock deduction from “Steve’s” email.  It’s a copy and paste that he sends to anyone and everyone he writes on the site!  This is an easy figure for a few reasons: 1. His email does not pertain to a single thing from my page.  In fact, it borders on the “opposite” of anything I actually say about myself, dating, or life in general! However (2.) I’ve noticed that a great deal of people on that site take up the majority of their page saying things like “sick of the b.s., tired of the games, do NOT respond to me IF  blah, blah, blah…”; i.e. pretty much listing every hurt or disappointment they’ve experienced in life since the age of two and how they DON’T want any more of that.

I happen to know this is a very common theme on there because I weed out possible interests by that alone…   because (and I reiterate a summation of my page here) I “don’t dwell in negativity or focus on what I don’t want in dating or people, but rather what I do like and what I enjoy about life and people…

Here's what I think Steve meant to say

I’d venture though, that this “stock” response sent in masses to attractive photos really grabs the interest of a great deal of women with minimum effort on Steve’s part.  Hell, I feel confident that he didn’t even read my page…  But, I give kudos to Steve for upping his positive responses/ ratio odds by merely limiting his time and effort and focusing on the really important part:  writing to mass volumes of attractive photos, while simultaneously throwing something “sensitive and personal” in them that a majority of jaded-dating women will probably think that he not only actually read their page, but mistakenly also probably think to themselves, “Awwwwww..,Steve really ‘gets it’”!  

More responses + less effort = better odds for insensitive-non-committed-lazy ass Steve!  That’s genius!!   GO STEVE-RACER…GO!

Awwww...did your wife interfere w/your online dating again?

I also made notice of another interesting facet of the online dating thing:  Three or four (yeah, THAT many!) guys who have written me in the past few days, have since deleted their profiles before I even had the chance to read the emails to me.  Wtf?!  I don’t know about you, but that screams, “Most likely MARRIED and got BUSTED” to me…or something along those lines.  How does that time frame even work?  He’s “single and looking..browsing profiles..emailing…lets chat, date, or email” whatever… and then within 48 hours of that, he’s either totally lost interest in dating at all or found someone he really likes…???  What?!  Nahhh…ummmmm…I don’t think so…

OMG…SCARY!!!!!

…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!!

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!