Category Archives: mysteries

It’s an upset!

What's the fascination?

I don’t spend much time checking my stats on here.  It’s not that I don’t care, it’s more that I don’t want to get a complex about whether my post was any good or if anyone likes the way I write.  I have to write, so I can’t have all those doubts running amok in my head before, during, or after I post here.

However, I do find the search terms people used to stumble across my blog absolutely fascinating!  I often get a giggle or two looking those random and odd terms over. After all, in a sense, those are the terms which practically define my blog.  And clearly, they are what often bring people to some place in my world to love, hate, or ignore my words.

And there have been some bizarre search terms used to get here!!

For example, “head up ass I suck” has been used five times to find my blog.  A few other interesting terms are:

“friends having fun at sluttyred”

“first kiss for dummies”

“shiny gold wrapping art”

“naked bicycle asses”

“kay has a stripper’s pole”

“cats and toasters”

“paul rudd belly”

“platypus open mouth”

As well as the not surprising one’s like, “hot guy”, “naked girl”, “toaster”, and “cat drowning in toilet”.  I expect people to search those things!

I just can’t understand though, about the number one (hands down!) search term for my blog.  I’m hoping someone can explain this enigma to me.   On any given day…out there in Internet land… at least 50 people per day search the letter “m”.  Seriously, I want to know why on earth “m”  is so search-worthy?  Why not “L” or “T”?

The first few times I noticed this, I passed it off as happenstance, but as time goes on, I realize that this is truly chronic!  So today I took a looksie at the cumulative stats for search terms here.  Since my blog began, 10, 067 people have searched the letter “m”!!  Seriously, 10, 067!!!   Hell, it’s probaby at 10, 100 already as I type; such is the popularity of the letter “M”.

This is second to “toaster” with 2,542 searches, which is followed by number three with “hot guy” gaining only a surprisingly meager score of 1,884!

Even if I ignore the outrageous indication that “toasters” are far often more searched than hot guy or naked girl (yeah, exactly…..WHAT?!), with the huge lead “m” has, I am beyond baffled!  WTF?!

So, forget about all the advice to get traffic to your blog and try this, write a post about an “M” word, add “M” to your tags and I can guarantee between 500-700 hits on your site per week….just for the letter “M”.

Crazy, huh?!

Beyond cookies, odd coincidence or Fleetwood Mac

Fleetwood Mac “Rhiannon”

Mr. P is now to be referred to as Mr. C.  for Cookies.  I don’t know for sure what it is that felt off, but something did.

It started shortly after our first meeting when we became FB friends.  A day or so later, I receive an early morning text saying, ” I was looking through your FB pictures and I see you know Mary.  Mary is my oldest and dearest friend!”  I was not excitedone bit to learn we shared this mutual friend and I’ll tell you why.

It’s a pretty far out(as in crazy) story so I’ll try to cut it down to the most basic details in the interest of brevity.  I met Mary via another friend I was fairly close with; let’s call her Sybil.  Sybil and I were close friends/acquaintances for years.  Sybil was that crisis friend many of us know.  I’d go months and never hear from her and suddenly she’d pop up when her life was a mess…and her life was pretty much always a mess  or in between major “catastrophes”.  Always.  Sybil, however, took the “typical “crisis friend” to a whole new level all her own!

I may never understand why I was born with a savior complex: always feeling obligated to prove my loyalty, my love, my friendship, etc, etc.  I have learned the hard way though that this very trait seems to attract people like Sybil, people who border on the sociopathically self-centered side of character, pathological narcissists who merely collect people whom are naïve and/or stupid enough to fall for their chronic bullshit, repeated self-created dramas, and victim syndromes.

Sybil was one of my classic and most extreme cases of this.  She is, without a doubt, a pathological liar and a fairly high functioning drug addict.  Every one is merely a resource of some type to this woman. And she’s good!  She’s charming and cute, quite convincing, and very effective  at her game.  I also strongly suspect that she has Münchausen syndrome and/or  Munchausen by proxy syndrome, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%BCnchausen_syndrome ) as she or one of her three children is always at death’s door.  Although it’s hard for me to discern whether the symptoms she has of this rare disorder are actually from a mental illness itself or simply due to her extreme case of prescription drug addiction.  When you or one of your children is always suffering some extreme malady of sorts, typically you have access to painkillers either in your name or your children’s.  I’ve a sneaking hunch this aspect, as well as the attention received, is her biggest motivating force.

I fell for this game for years and often donated my own prescriptions to her various causes.  I’m not often willing or interested to take prescription strength pail relievers, so I’m an ideal “friend” for Sybil to have around at various dry spots in her addiction as well as a caring friend who goes above and beyond in most areas of friendship.

Toward the end of my 10 year friendship with Sybil, I met her friend Mary who had just returned from living in Alaska.  This was around the same time that Sybil had married a nurse she’d just met weeks earlier, allegedly this convenience marriage was only in order for Sybil to get health insurance (after all, she and her children are always seriously ill!).  A few months into this marriage, Sybil shows up at my house telling me how her husband was up on felony charges for prescription drug fraud.  Not only this, but he was cheating on her with his ex-wife!  And not only those two horrifying things, but she strongly suspected he was trying to kill her.  No, not figuratively, I mean literally, as in murder her!  There were stories of him hooking her up to IV’s in her sleep and preparing food for her that knocked her out for days while he sexually assaulted her.  Oh the stories got more horrifying and dangerous by the  day!

As crazy as this sounds in the telling and crazier yet that I’d fall for this, I did.  I invited Sybil and her three children to live with my family.  After all, this man was trying to kill her and he allegedly treated her children rather poorly as well.  And quite honestly, this wasn’t totally selfless, as I had recently been downsized by my non-profit employer and really needed a roommate anyway.  Sybil not only made very good money, but also collected a great deal of child support and would be a great person to split my household bills with.

Except, after paying for her move, buying her gas to get to work every day, supplying food for all four of them, as well as my own family and not receiving a penny of help for any of these expenses or others, Sybil still did not have any money.  Sadly(for Sybil), I could not afford to support us all for long on my meager unemployment  checks . In addition, after a few months of living together,  major cracks in her stories began to appear; to the extent that my daughters (who adored her and her children!) even began questioning Sybil’s stories and her character in general.  So when the “murderous” ex husband began coming around and after her 5 cats were destroying my beloved home, and I was totally running out of money for food and the mortgage, there was civil unrest in this household to say the least.  Shortly after I suggested she go back to her husband to work things out (they’d been “dating” since she moved in) , I discovered that Sybil had told him that I had charged her $3,000 per month plus expenses to live with me for two months!  In spite of the fact that I had asked her to contribute $500 a month and help with groceries…and never received a dime of that request.

Suffice to say, after the damage done to my home, the amount of money supporting her family cost me while she was banking mega bucks as I struggled to pay for our basic needs, and the damage done to the friendship by her chronic and hurtful lies to my children and me, this ordeal did not end well.  At all.  In addition, I came to the painful realization, that I had been duped on many levels for years by this woman!

Not a pretty story by which to know Mary, a mutual acquaintance of Mr. C’s, who I’ve not seen or spoken to since the crashing end to my friendship with Sybil.  I can only imagine the stories Mary’s been told by this sociopath!  I only know the horrifying stories I was told over the years of the various abuse Sybil always claimed she had suffered at any one of her friends’ or boyfriends’ hands through the years I’d known her.  Thus, I’m certain I’m now one of those sympathy “stories” for Sybil to tell future resources as well and I can’t imagine Mary has not heard this.

So, it was disheartening to say the least to find out my mutual friend with Mr. C was from this terrible ordeal.  And although it worried and bothered me, what do you say?  I mean really, what do you even begin to tell a relative stranger you’ve met about this kind of insane ordeal?

So of course, I didn’t tell him.  I said nothing except that Mary was a super great girl (and she is!).  I did notice Mr. C seemed far less interested in me after that little text.  He didn’t text as often as he had been previously and when he did, it wasn’t charming or funny, but more brief and to the point.  I tried to tell myself this was all in my head..that it was mere paranoia from that awful ordeal. Maybe Mary already knew what Sybil was really like and wouldn’t buy into any stories she’d heard anyway or maybe the few times she actually met me, she’d gotten a good enough sense of me as a person to at least have some doubts as to the veracity of any outlandish Sybil stories?  Or maybe even, Sybil had developed a conscience after she abused my friendship, my finances, and my home so much and she hadn’t told Mary any crazy lies about me trying to “kill her” or something so absurd like she tended to tell about the other people in her life? Haha… fat chance!

Anyway, back to Mr. C.  So, this seemed an unfavorable coincidence, but we still kept our cookie making date.  We made cookies and watched a movie.  Mr. C didn’t seem as chatty or fun as he had on our first date.  He got more talkative after my oldest and her friend came home while we were baking.  He seemed to enjoy talking to them far more than he did me.

Which brings me to another super odd coincidence:  On our first date, Mr. C had told me of a close female friend of his who was a single mom with four children.  Her (unforgettable) name was Rhiannon and they were the best of friends.  In fact, he often babysat for her children and had a close relationship with them.  Adorably endearing, right?  So, I didn’t forget this story he had shared.  Funny thing though, when my daughter came home around 9 PM with her schoolmate, Annie, Mr. C says to Annie, “you look so familiar, what’s your mom’s name?”   Annie answers, “Rhiannon” which was followed by an awkward silence.

Yeah.  Weird.  Still haven’t figured that one out.

I just wasn’t getting the sense that Mr. C was at all really into me, but I was still trying to keep it as fun as I could.  After the movie, the kids went to their room and he and I started a second movie.  I was surprised he wanted to stay for this, but okay, cool. Maybe I was reading him wrong…

We both fell asleep during the second movie.  We woke up thirsty around 3 AM.  I got us each some water and then he kissed me.  I was not expecting this after the “off” sense I was getting from him!  It was a nice kiss though…and we continued kissing for a while, progressing to more passionate kisses. This went on innocently enough til about 5 AM. I really kept expecting him to volunteer to leave…any minute….I mean this was fun, but gosh… two hours of making out at 3 AM is enough already.  I’m thinking to myself, this is just weird.  I really didn’t get the feeling all week or all night that he’s much into me, so what is this about?  And why doesn’t he leave??  I’m wondering this right around this time Mr. C goes for under the jeans, under the thong.  Hmmmm… was just NOT so sure how I was feeling about that.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not necessarily against sex on the second date or whenever really.  I’m more of a go with the moment if it feels right type of gal, whenever the moment feels right.  I see no need to put a specific time frame on when it’s right to do whatever.  It just is when it is…whenever that is.  Thus, as attracted as I felt to Mr. C and as much as I enjoyed making out with him.  All in all, after the past week of sudden quiet-ness and the odd disconnected sense throughout the evening, in all my confusion, I was sure of one thing, this time was not the right time to progress to anything under my jeans, much less under my thong!  Nope.  Not the right  moment. AT ALL!

And shortly after that maneuver, I told Mr. C it probably was time for him to leave.  There was a great deal of good-bye kissing too.  It was fun!  After he was gone, I just didn’t know what to think of everything.  Usually I get a clear sense of this kind of thing, but I really had no clue what the heck was going on, had gone on, or would go on from here.  One thing for certain though, his perfection in my mind was marred.  Not in a bad way really, just in that the odd sense I got from him really just created more questions than mystery and combined with his under the thong maneuver in the midst of it which really spoke volumes in my mind as to Mr C’s overall purpose.

I have not heard a word from Mr C since he left around 6 AM Sunday morning.  So, I’m guessing my initial sense of his “less than interested” stance must have been fairly accurate after all.

Ahhhhh…is everyone’s life so very strange?

Challenging the very idea of perfection

Finally….an avenue from which to blog again! Yayyyy!  Sanity will hopefully be mine again soon:)

If I just skip through the past year of non-documented adventures (or mis-adventures) to present moment.  I’m proud to say, I’ve just recently started the online chronicles again – just a few  weeks ago actually.  Prior to then, I hadn’t even visited my dating sites and hadn’t bothered with reading any emails or browsing any guys professing interest in mine.

I’m only chatting with a few intriguing prospects at this time, but have had several offers to meet.  One, I did have lunch with just last Friday.  It was interesting…as these things often are.  I wasn’t wholly in to this “meeting”, but I thought, “Geesh…I gotta start back somewhere!”

He surprised me with his selection of the restaurant: definitely a guy who eats after my own eccentric flair for food.  It was a highly acclaimed local place called  Mia & Grace  …truly a lovely choice!!

He looked just like his photo, so I could pick him out of the lunch crowd immediately.  This is a bonus!  After some introductory conversation, he starts talking about the last woman he dated, that his divorce wasn’t final just yet, and how his soon-to-be-ex still felt it perfectly acceptable to enter his home any time she had the inclination, but that he knew it was really to snoop through his things.  Toward the end of the lunch, I realized the majority of the conversation had been about the ex.  Yeah, I already wasn’t so hip from the get-go about the not being divorced yet part, but this screamed of a guy who was clearly in no position to be trying to date – and certainly not so much, so hard.  I mean, of the 4 different men I had started communicating with, this guy had jumped to exchanging numbers and to meeting in person long before anyone else had even mentioned it yet!

Relax, pal.  What’s your rush?  Shouldn’t you finish your divorce first or at least be a little more emotionally divorced before such date haste?  I felt a little sorry for him though, instead of my usual sarcastic, cynical criticism.  I really wanted to grab his hand and say, “Heyyyy, you’re a handsome man.  You’ll most definitely meet someone.  Just go through the roller coaster divorce and let yourself heal for a bit before jumping the dating/relationship gun…. Ok?”  I didn’t say this though.  After all, who am I to judge his hasty desperation?  Either what it means or what it’s about?

Good luck, buddy!  Thanks for an amazing lunch!  Really wish you the best!!

All in all, not a really bad experience.  I just couldn’t help thinking though, was this really why I had a couldn’t-care-less feeling about the whole thing from the first conversation? OR, was it more because one of the four whom I’ve been talking/writing with just really stands out above the rest?  And that possibility really makes me ponder.  Before I’ve met any of these men, how can one just stand out so FAR above the rest in piquing my interest?  Sure, said profile page was just precisely after my own heart.  Said guy seems that extraordinary balance between manly sexiness, intellectual nerdiness , and artsy sensitivity…all wrapped up in a sexy dark haired, green-eyed, taller than me wordsmith with an amazing knowledge of grammar, spelling, physics and literature, not to mention the beautiful ability to make me laugh out loud from reading his emails!

Okay, okay…so he’s perfect on paper so far…. BUTTTTTT…WHY do I just feel a sense of near loyalty to one specific dating profile before I’ve even met him – or met any others I’m talking with?  Has the seeming charming perfection just swept me off my feet virtually already? How?  Why?  Isn’t this a major conflict and contradiction to online dating?  To the whole concept of “dating” in general?

Dating:  a method of physically spending time with as many promising prospects as possible in order to determine (over time) one candidate who actually fits with the other in the most categories:  in order to defy the odds of the schmucks running amok in the dating world, literally and virtually?

And yet, I confess, I just didn’t care about this date.  Sure, he was attractive and held a great deal of the qualities I would like to find in a romantic partner.  And I’ve not even MET  this other  “Mr. Perfect” yet.  Hell, “Mr. Perfect” might be nothing like his profile and worse yet, there could just be no chemical attraction!  Why would I almost literally shut myself off to even a slight possibility with another decent candidate who has already asked me on a real-live date?

Well, Mr. Talks About His Ex Incessantly sure made this an easy cross off my list experience, practically within the first ten minutes. But I really wasn’t open to giving him a chance anyway, long before he made it so easy not to give him a chance.  And that truly perplexes me.

Regardless, easy it was! So,  I realize over and over, that I really just suck at the very concept of “dating”.  It almost goes against my grain and nature.  If I like someone (obviously even just in virtuality), then I just like him.  At that point, I have to force myself to even communicate with anyone else and a physical date is an almost painful push into the let’s be logical here arena.

I mean, GOSH, there’s even another very handsome local guy who keeps writing and texting and asking me to meet.     In fact, this other guy might be technically more traditionally handsome even than my current Mr. Perfect prospect.  Yet, I keep blowing off his invites with some pretty pathetic excuses and half the time I don’t even respond for several days to his communication initiates.  Just can’t muster up an interest or see any purpose when held up in the light against Mr. Perfect’s ideal qualities and bonus points.

What IS that?  Shouldn’t I be excited to meet as many qualifying candidates as possible in this sport of dating?  Shouldn’t I at least attend the previews of a few interesting movies before deciding one I haven’t seen is my absolute favorite?

I don’t know.  This whole “Mr. Perfect” guy…ummm…GEESH OH PETE….  I keep waiting for him to say something, ANY thing that doesn’t just delight or intrigue me beyond sensibility.  No, really, every time I open a new email or read a text from him, I think…..Okay, here it comes.  It has to.  Because he can’t possibly be actually perfect.  Not a possibility. I’m not perfect…no one else can be either!  So with each and every communique at this point, I know he has to demonstrate something less than my ideal. He must!   Even if it’s not a deal breaker per se, but SOMETHING.  I almost WANT him to do this – mar the image of perfection he presents so far – for several reasons.  One, I’m nervous as hell for a guy this “perfect” to meet me and be total witness to my inevitable and perhaps  overwhelming imperfections and  I’d have some ammunition going in if he’s already short at least a quality or aspect or two.  Secondly, everytime he fails to show me an imperfection of some kind, I am forced to face my literal terror of actually meeting a great-for-me guy.  What would I do?  There is then such a blatant possibility of my following my traditional time-proven M.O. of  sabotaging these things.  And I’m slapped in the face with how deep my issues and fears really go.  Something, I really prefer to (deceitfully?) convince myself I’ve worked out and conquered. And I can live in that pink bubble as long as there’s something wrong with THEM.   This guy terrifies me…and we’v e not even met!  Yeah, terrified is an accurate description.  He makes me feel giggly and excited, intellectually challenged, admiring and self-confident,  hopeful and enthusiastic…and utterly TERRIFIED.

Although, he did FINALLY tell me one less than perfect (for me, at least) quality just yesterday:  He’s NOT a huge football fan like I.  Wait….WHAT?!!  What the hell is going on here?!  How can that be, Mr. “Perfect”?  And as an avid college football enthusiast, just how far can I go with THAT little tidbit of imperfection.  I can see the desperate measures already:  No, Mr. Perfect, I cannot go to the museum with you Saturday!  Are you kiddin’ me?  OMG….there’s a game on!!!  Don’t be ridiculous.  I’ll be watching the game like every other self-respecting human being in America, watching it with fellow football LOVERS….uhh…GEESH!!!  And surely this massive imperfection might lead to other, oh-so-practical and legit excuses for other possible “issues” this little conflict will inevitably create.  Right?  Of course!  After all, I love football; I know how to take that ball and run with it!  Psh!

That said, I’m delighted to say that I’m meeting “Mr. Perfect” today!!!  Yup,  fully armed with my you-can’t-possibly-be-my-idea-of-absolute-perfection ammunition.  Phew…just in time!  And the question becomes, upon meeting him in person, will Mr. Perfect give me more ammunition with which to battle  or will he charmingly stomp all over the meek supply I’ve managed to dig up?

Never mind that his random suggestion of meeting spots just happened to be my FAVORITE place in a 100 mile radius of my town.  And no, I hadn’t told him how much I loved that place or ANY place!!  GOSH, this guy’s tough to smother in my issues so far OR clobber with my baggage….yet.

I’m sooooo excited…and so very nervous!

Uhh Cupid, we have a problem!

So, I have issues.. yeah, issues… Luggage, baggage, psychological and emotional idiosyncracies… Ummm…whatever you wanna call ‘em. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have my fair share, your fair share, and a bit more for extra measure!
And I could go into detail about these, psychoanalyze why, who, what, and how they came about but really, does any of that matter? Well, other than making for a truly unbelievable (yeah unbelievable as in lierally, “I do not believe that’s true!”) story/post/biography, no, it just doesn’t matter. It is what it is. And at least, I’m aware I have major issues, so I hope I’m at least a tad ahead of the typical idiot idiosyncratic schmuck who is riddled with them and genuinely isn’t in touch with their own reality that something just isn’t quite “right”… That’s a bonus for me, right?
I’ve wanted to write for a while now of this great “thing” I have going with “J”… because it really is just great! Truly… However, while dealing with K’s suicide, I just haven’t been able to sit down and write. It’s as though I couldn’t bring myself to discuss trivial life matters with this blaring tragedy sitting on my heart…
But, I realize I can’t post for the next ten years on that… well, I could, yet no matter how fitting that seems to be in some ways…it’s just not and I must move on with writing of my original mission of this blog.
Dating.
I’ve been dating “J” and it’s terrific! In so many ways, he’s exactly what I wanted to find: a cool, fun, attractive, and interesting guy to hang out with/date, minus any pressure, stress or major drama… BINGO! I’ve found it! It just might be that I have, in fact, nailed some jello to the wall!
We’ve been having a fabulous time. He’s a valuable and amazing gem of a guy and he adores me… Awwwwwwwww…. No really, it’s quite precious and I consider myself a pretty luck chick to have snatched (and kept) his attention and adoration thus far.
We have long random discussions about world issues, life matters, and trivial ridiculous-like stuff. We have sex, we snuggle, and we play. We go to movies, rent movies, play games with friends. We are active and sometimes lazy. We have fun and then we are serious at times… It’s just a  super cool thing we have going on here and I really enjoy it, him, the relationship, etc, etc, etc… Yeah, it’s pretty much exactly what I had hoped to find when I began this journey/mission! Even the whole he-was-engaged-to-my-friend thing just hasn’t been a huge negative issue. We’ve told her and she seems okay with it. So, aside from some all too expected gossip from other obviously bored locals, there just hasn’t been any problems…at all. It’s been utterly terrific!

J is adorably nerdy like the character in "Juno"...what's not to love??

So….why in the hell would I want to complicate it? Ruin it? Drama-fy it? WHY??
Okay, the answer is I don’t. I don’t want to…I really, truly don’t…. but…..but…. omg… I swear I could complicate a game of freakin’ tic-tac-toe to the point of annoyance! WTF is my deal?? I can write a million posts picking on the guys in the dating pool out there, but the truth…the ugly down-n-dirty truth… is I’m not THAT much different than they when my idiosyncratic issues and frustrating-as-fuck-flaws come into the mix! Truth is, I’m a great chick with a lot of really kick ass stuff to offer a relationship, but I’m fucked… Yeah, at the nitty gritty of it all, I’m probably a bigger pain in the ass freak of nature than any of the weirdo’s I’ve written about here.
I’m so contradictory and I just can’t ever decipher if it’s the situation itself or if it’s really just me…
You know, I’m casually strutting toward the goal… I’m almost there..I can see it.. Hell, it’s so freakin’ close I can feel it; success, satisfaction, happiness….it’s there… just three more steps and it’s mine…. I can just skip along these last few feet….and skipping is so fun…
Do I throw the obstacles down on purpose? Or do I just forget the baggage that sits all around me in my excitement and then when I trip over them, I look around like “Did you just see that row of extra-large suitcases come at me outta nowhere?!” BAM! WTF?!
Because all I know is that I’m skipping along…grateful, happy, satisfied…and suddenly I trip…I trip from outta the blue, for seemingly no reason at all! I just hit this weird place, this ridiculous wall, this treacherous bump, this whacked out spot where the crazy-good amazingly beautiful planetary alignment from heaven that feels like beautiful fate falling into place just suddenly – without sense or warning… twists, turns, and flips…my thoughts, emotions, sanity get all jumbled up and I forget. I forget what I wanted, why I wanted it, and start to question if I ever even really wanted it at all…
Yeah….issues….yup…I got an abundance of ‘em…. Ohhhhh FUCK!!!
The problem here is that in the process of getting to know “J” better, I’ve also had the opportunity to get to know his friend “Jack” better… I won’t try to deny that I found Jack enormously attractive from the moment I met him. It just didn’t really matter that much because I already knew “J” and really liked what I knew. I wasn’t going to be deterred or lured away from my path to “J”. I wasn’t even interested in being deterred or lured. And then, it seems that most of my non-alone time with “J” also happens to typically include Jack. This is fabulous! Jack is F-U-N… So, I get to hang with the terrific J AND I get to hang with the fun, funny, HOT Jack…. Yeah, I’ve been lovin’ it!
And somewhere in the past few months of this, a week or so ago, I suddenly realized that I look forward to this shared time with Jack more than I care to admit. To the extent that when we are all in a group, J almost gets on my nerves….
It’s not quite that simple though because I still like J a lot, even in the midst of this mild near-annoyance thing. J is just so blasted likeable!!!! Yeah, he’s cute and sweetly adorable, kind and helpful, caring and smart. He’s definitely a total nerd…and I LOVE that!
Love it, love it, LOVE it…right up until the moment he’s held up in the light directly against Jack. Jack isn’t cute or handsome… Jack is freakin’ SEXY. Jack is the sensual “dark soul” with the sensitive side he thinks he hides so well, but actually it just gives me the urge to tempt him into bringing it out. He’s that bad ass, sarcastic, funny, tough as nails guy…mysteriously quiet, but an expert conversationalist when he chooses. And I don’t know exactly why, but we talk so easily to one another and I. Love. It!

...and Jack exhibits more of this kind of appeal....umm...OMFG!!

So, ummm…yeah, I secretly really look forward to these little spontaneous communiqués and I admit, it kinda nagged at me a bit how much I truly have begun enjoying this. That guilty feeling hits me every time “J” asks, do you mind if Jack joins us? Uhhh…nooooo…I don’t mind at all. In fact, please? Could he? Pretty please??
Okay, so I’ve been dealing with this (I think) effectively. I’ve started trying to pay ALL my attention to J in these situations and limit my attention to Jack. I’ve been focusing my thoughts during those times at all the incredibly wonderful and endearing traits of J and how much I adore him. This has worked…sorta…mostly…. Well, I was at least convincing myself it was.
…Until this past Monday. Monday, in a strange and unusual turn of events, Jack was called to my place of work for a civic duty…not something at all avoidable or by choice…totally and simply and absolutely just by chance. In fact, J had told me this was coming up and I casually blew it off. But I didn’t really…I took serious note of this information and deliberately took an off-the-typical-mark lunch hour, conscientiously and deliberately attempting to avoid any possibility of running into Jack sans J. Okay, I have this so under control here.
So, on Monday I take a very late lunch and while attempting to leave my office area, a very chatty co-worker engages me in idle chat. And she’s chatting…and chatting..and chatting… seems her husband had been called in for this civic duty as well and she’s just going on an on…and on…and on… Bless her heart! Finally, my stomach growls so loudly, I snatch the opportunity to say, Gosh, I really gotta go…I’m starving! And she lets me walk away..finally!
I’m coming down the hall, feeling so proud of how I’ve avoided getting myself into any wonderfully uncomfortable situations and as I round the bend by the elevators, my peripheral vision catches a familiar face stepping out of the elevator to my left.  A familiar sexy face with that adorable mischievous grin and that mysterious “dark” look all about him…
Yeah, it’s Jack. And what are the odds???? Seriously..wtf?!
So, I can’t politely (or with any explainable reason!) avoid this now. What am I supposed to say? Sorry Jack, I know we hang out together at least four nights a week and I date your friend, and we have become the best of friends in the process, buttttttt, I’m secretly so attracted to you that I would feel guilty having lunch with you or being in your presence without J…. Seriously, how could I say that? And how could I explain avoiding him? I so suck at coming up with on-the-spot excuses/fibs too…umm..what the hell do I DO now??
And so… yeah, Jack and Kay go have lunch together. A lovely lunch during which I desperately attempted to disguise my nervous secret with babbling silly chatter and laughed so hard at one point that I spewed lettuce toward his face. I can only say I’m really, REALLY fortunate Jack doesn’t know me much better or I’m pretty sure he’d have totally been on to the fact that something was up with me. I can only pray he didn’t though.
Anyway, it was a blast having lunch with Jack! I was flustered and attracted, and trying terribly hard to force myself out of any sense of attraction to this guy…and finally it was over. I thank him for a fun lunch and we say good bye. Me, hoping and praying that my attraction to him wasn’t blaring between the lines of my desperation to not feel or acknowledge, even inadvertently, this fucked up attraction.
I breathed a bit easier as I walked away from him. Phew…spending an hour “alone” with him and not blurting out my big secret was amazingly more difficult than I even had anticipated. Breathe….but it was over. I did it!! Yayy!! Breathe… Commence to my office and on with ignoring this unwanted, unplanned, unexpected, and unfortunate attraction to Jack..Get it back in freakin’ perspective…breathe…breathe…
No. It did not help! I could not get this man off my mind for the next six hours!!! As if it hadn’t already been a chronic challenge to keep my thoughts of him in appropriate perspective before our innocent little lunch, I was so light headed and distracted with thoughts of him now that I made more stupid mistakes in the next few hours at work than I have in all the weeks I have been there total……… because I had Jack on the brain… and sadly, I have ever since…just can’t seem to shake it…UGHH!
Eeeeeeeeeeek…OMG…what now?

A post totally unrelated to dating, debauchery or humor…a tragic lesson in listening.

I’m a mom…a single mom to be exact. I’ve been a single mom for the most part of 13 years. I’ve met more children over the years than I could ever accurately recall. I’ve driven them around, cooked them dinners and breakfasts, I’ve chatted with them, listened to their problems with parents or other friends. I’ve connected with many children through this time. Of course, some I enjoyed more than others. Some had flat personalities or lacked manners. Some, I felt kinda sorry for and tried maybe a little harder to be extra kind. Some, I worried might not be good influences on my children. In my years as a mom, clearly my experiences with children have run the gamut.

However, a few months ago, I met a (then) 13 year old child who stood out from the others; a young boy who somehow compelled my attention. He literally compelled my affection, in that instantaneous sorta way that is rare in the world of a parent. I can say with absoluteness that from the very moment I was introduced to this boy, I just wanted to be/stay in his presence. It wasn’t just that the boy had the extremely good looks which screamed “future magazine model”, with his caramel skin and dark, wildly curly locks of amazing hair that would make even a grown woman envious. Truly a visual delight, this child seemed to need no more to be adored by all, but to simply wake up in the morning. After all, I know first-hand how superficial the popularity standards of teenagers are. This boy could have easily captured the heart of every teen girl he came in contact with. And the boy’s captivating persona wasn’t just from his oh-my-God-in-Heaven delightfully warm smile. Although this smile…..this smile…ahhhh…it almost defies description in that all the usual words one might use to describe a beautiful smile just seem to fall short of accuracy for this smile. Bright, encompassing, infectious…this boy’s smile was the innocent frolic of toddlers on a playground. A smile which radiated the warmth and joy of a long, refreshing day on the beach. When it was directed at you, it emitted the warmth of the brightest sunny day and quite possibly could have thoroughly warmed your skin on the coldest, dreariest day. And even if it might not have had that kind of literal physically warming ability, it absolutely exuded enough energy to warm even the most hatefully cold heart. This boy’s entire being simply defies all narrative. I have wanted to write of him for days, but the struggle to catch a truly accurate depiction of his beauty, his persona, his energy, or his personality, has kept me from so doing… The challenge to depict him accurately with words makes me beg for better writing skills, a bigger vernacular and vocabulary, and cries of my sudden and total lack of skill in this area. No exaggeration! Knowing this child, makes me want to be a better writer merely so I might truly capture his essence with my words and help others who don’t know him think they’ve seen, felt and known him. And in that sense, as well as so many others, that is why this post and my abilities will fall short and this will become a post of loss on every level. So let me accept my limitations here and jump forward to my experience of this boy.

The last time I held a conversation with him, he and his best friend were in my home, visiting my daughter. We had only been living in this house a short time and things were not yet in place. There was a beautiful heavy black bench in the basement which I had wanted in my living room for weeks. I grabbed this opportunity to have these two healthy strong boys carry this heavy as hell bench up the long basement stairway, through my kitchen and dining room, into my living room. When I asked the boys if they would help me with this, one boy just shrugged his shoulders in submission and the other smiled big, eagerly nodding, actually wanting to help with this tedious and trying task. How amazing is that? The boys stayed till well after midnight. The kids had all been watching scary movies and scattering popcorn all over my living room…leaving tons of blankets and pillows in their wake as well as countless junk food wrappers. So, as if my impressed opinion of this boy was not already at an unusually high level, as the one boy got his coat and shoes on, preparing to leave, the other simply started cleaning up the mess that all five kids had made! He didn’t ask or wait to be asked, he just started doing the utterly unbelievable for a young teenage boy.

I’ll never be certain as to exactly what it was about this particular child that not only made me want to gush all over him with praise, but also made me want to reach out to him. This urge defied the huge smile he wore on his beautiful face and even the happy spirit he exuded naturally…it was just a strange, strange thing… So not wanting to overstep my boundaries or his…or heaven forbid, make him uncomfortable, I chose to ignore this compelling urge to reach out and hug him. Instead, I simply gave him my most genuinely heart-felt smile, and said with conviction as I looked him directly in his eyes, “K…you are welcome in our home ANY time at all.” Yeah…I sorta blew off my intuition as the possible paranoid parenting of a former child abuse worker and feebly attempted to address it passively in a half-joking but sincere manner. And that was that.…

Only I didn’t stop thinking about this boy. I couldn’t stop thinking about this boy. My maternal instincts, my intuition,my  I don’t know, but over the following weeks, this boy was on my mind at least a few times a day. I actually asked my daughter about him a few times – as in, why don’t you invite that boy,  K,  over again? When my daughter and I discussed him, she always talked of what an amazing friend this boy was and how he sat next to her in several classes. She was particularly fond of the way he could make her smile and laugh on even the roughest or grumpiest day. He’s just that kind of guy, Momma..always kind to everyone at the school…always smiling that gargantuous, gorgeous smile and making people laugh. Every body loves K!  I was realizing this kid was clearly adored by many…and had more friends than could be counted and was “popular” in every clique at their middle school and beyond; a rare feat for middle school if you had a typical middle school experience like I did… And my strange concern diminished as the weeks passed. Yet, I can’t say I stopped thinking of him, more that I just randomly would think about him and instantly reassure myself of how silly my over protective nature can be.

On Friday February 4th, I was home alone a bit bored, browsing Facebook to pass the time and through my daughter’s posts, I happened upon this boy’s Facebook. Of course I go to his page to check it out. I smiled just looking at his page. I pondered being the “weird mom” and sending him a hello email, just telling him what a great friend he’d been to my daughter and how grateful I was, as well as reiterating his welcome in our home and chiding him for not having visited in a few weeks. Decided against sending the email and then clicked the “add as a friend” button. I sat for a few moments looking at the confirmation “Do you really want to add K as a friend” or whatever it says…. Indecision took over and I clicked cancel…thinking I’d just tell my daughter to tell him hello and to get his butt over to visit soon, and firmly deciding that was probably more appropriate. Thinking to myself, I’ll just tell him to add me as a friend the next time he’s over and do a re-check of that odd intuitive feeling I got from him.

My daughter came home from a friend’s Saturday afternoon and she and her friend hung out here for a while…mostly ignoring me as usual! Around 7 PM, they came out of her room and she walked her friend to the front door. When she turned around she came running over to me, threw herself in my lap and sobbed, K killed himself tonight Momma! What? Umm…you’re crying so hard honey, I can’t understand you. What did you say? She repeats herself, K killed himself Momma. My stomach literally flipped as my heart took a nose dive straight down into my gut… I can’t possibly have heard her right. I had to remind myself to breathe as pictures of K’s huge smile flashed in my head….and I couldn’t help but to look over to my right at the heavy black bench he had carried up and sat on, putting his shoes on, right before he last left our house. I was sure I was going to vomit. This was impossible. This was a horrible rumor. This was beyond tragic. Beyond sickening. Beyond devastating… No! It was a mistake. It had to be. K’s beautifully handsome face, K’s gorgeous smile, his amazing hair, his warm kind energy, the entire essence of this phenomenal child was just too fresh….too physically still available even just  in our house. This was the cruelest rumor/joke/mistake ever. It had to be. I know…not K…Momma, not K!!!!! No. My daughter had not believed it either and thus, had already verified it beyond a doubt. K had committed suicide about 6 PM that Saturday night, by shooting himself in the back of his head.

It is the strangest phenomena I’ve ever experienced in my life. The unbelievable impact this beautiful child had had on me in only a brief amount of shared time. And he was gone just that fast. As we attended his visitation and funeral a few days later, I kept wondering why I hadn’t just done and said what I wanted to this child. Why I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him….WHY I hadn’t sent him that thank you email. Why I hadn’t listened to that funny feeling I’d gotten in the pit of my stomach, telling me to look past this kid’s incredibly infectious smile and see beneath his light hearted exterior… A million why’s fill my head as I comfort my children and attempt to reach a state of acceptance for this totally unacceptable horror. I know there will never be answers or sense of such a truly senseless tragedy for any of the hundreds of friends and family members this nightmare has affected. And although it will never seem enough: not good enough or soon enough…just never ever, EVER enough, I vow to never again ignore, deny, or shoo away that God given gift of intuition, even if it does mean I’m the “weird Mom”, the nosy Mom, the interrogative Mom, whatever… I try to tell myself this child had a huge family and hundreds of adoring friends. So I couldn’t have made a difference. I wouldn’t have…right? Just like the perpetually unanswered “why’s”, I’ll never know for certain because I didn’t bother to even try.

Screams of an highly imaginative guilty conscience

So in the Who Wants To Date a Married Man game show of life…and yes, I use the word “date” very loosely here! Perhaps it might more aptly be called “how to gracefully dodge married men”, with the primary emphasis there being on gracefully…and secondarily on dodge.
Contestant number one, we’ll call him Z and here,  Z is for Zirconia…yeah, as in cubic zirconia. That lovely gem which makes a fairly decent attempt at being a successful imposter.
I see Z as this: He looks good, almost wholesome even; he’s certainly no “God of men” in the looks department like say Chris Pine… or the whole beef, bean, chicken, rice, and veggie enchilada that Matt Damon effortlessly encompasses (psh…umm as if anyone….), but I’d gander that Z would be rated at least above average attractiveness by the majority of females over 25.   Z is educated, and has a charismatic flair which just might be able to cause the likes of Angelina Jolie to take momentary notice. Yeah, the level of charisma involved here borders on lethal. In fact, if stripped down to the basic naked truth here, it’s entirely possible that it’s Z’s level of charisma which allows me to even write of the man in the same paragraph as the every-level-of-extraordinary Matt D.

Shamelessly childish Matt Damon disclaimer:

image via gettyimages.com

 Have I yet mentioned my encompassing, overwhelming, extraordinary adoration, devotion, respect, desire, and attraction to the phenomenal Matt Damon anywhere here? No? Well, I am that girl: a Matt Damon girl. Mr. Damon represents my absolute ideal; he’s boyishly handsome, yet still sexy beyond sexy; well above highly intelligent, dedicated to his ethics and causes, extraordinarily talented, wickedly witty, and yet his ego appears to be intact. If you stripped the Matt-ster of his physical appeal, I feel absolutely certain I’d still find him absolutely irresistible and wondrous. My one true love thus far in life only got a first date because he has a smile like Matt Damon. I married a man with the initials M.D.   Matt is the only “star crush” I’ve ever had. I’d not hesitate to shamelessly cover my walls, even at my age, with posters and magazine pictures of this man. Possibly the only reason I haven’t is merely because his photos, as devastatingly appealing as they are, are not a true representation of his million other qualities which captivate and enthrall me. I cried when he married. Matt Damon simply IS the epitome of my every ideal and fantasy on every level of attraction.

Back to the Z though… Although Z seems to have an element of the Matt’s naturally charismatic nature, there’s something going on there with Z which, in spite of all demonstration and evidence to the very opposite (boyish charm, undeniable natural charisma)…something that flirts around in the “dangerous” zone with a truly deeply layered possibility of sinister. I almost hate to use the word “sinister”; it seems a tad extreme for what I’m actually describing, but I can’t grasp a word which perfectly describes this particular element. And perhaps Z is merely your typical boy-next-door type with that not so unusual bad boy undercurrent? I don’t know… There are tiny implications in his aura/presence/energy which suggest it might go a tad beyond that stereotype, but these only come as hunches and flashes of intuition to me.  There’s nothing in anything the man has actually said or done in my presence which should indicate this darker depth. I just sense it and I *almost* fear it, while also, of course, I find it intriguing and mystifying.

I know without “knowing” that Z is a player of the game. This seems undeniably evident because he’s married and is an outrageous flirt…and a successful one at that, in that he has the ability to actually make one think maybe, just mayyyybe, this guy doesn’t flirt like that with every cute chick he crosses paths with. But, my BS detector has that little inadvertent deception in check. In spite of his talent to make me think there might be limits to his flirtatious activities, my gut screams that this is not so. My intuition hollers at me that his flirtations are, in fact, without any limits whatsoever and perhaps all that’s required is a basic attraction to any quality. What I hear and feel between the lines of his words and actions are closer to something like: she has a nice butt- wonder what I gotta do to get me a piece of that; that one’s lips are nice- how can I get them wrapped around my joystick; oooohhhh look at that cute chin- cool! Somethin’ I can grab ahold of to pull her in for a sensuous kiss. In fact, my gut says this might go so far that the only stipulation he might have at all is simply that the target is female. Um…yukk!!
Not that I’d date him anyway. Yeah, if he was single I admit I might fall briefly for his charm and wit. However, he is most definitely not, thus… Big fat NO to the Z!
…but I have been having a little fun doing some informal research of sorts into how this married-man thing works. I have several friends who have engaged in this kind of thing and I’ve always been curious, but never wanted to ask for much specific info on the subject for obvious reasons…
So, I’ve had wings and beers alone with the Z, but mostly and to his chagrin I might add, we text. Our texting sessions tend to go along the lines of him trying to catch me available to hang out for an afternoon rendezvous. It’s so strange how he just never accomplishes that..hehe… When I AM available and/or alone, I don’t respond to his calls or texts until a few days later when I’m not available and feel certain he won’t be either.  And when I’m NOT available, I respond immediately just to find out what kinds of things he’ll say or do, knowing I have a legitimate excuse promptly on hand for not hanging out.
In spite of my huge attraction to the study of human nature, informal investigations into practices I can’t comprehend, and (yeah I confess) the appeal of his charisma, this whole questionable association/attraction has a distinct downside.  

but..but..I love to watch hockey!

Although I’ve not allowed this to cross any major ethical lines, I no longer feel comfortable going to watch my non-FWB buddy play hockey, which I enjoyed immensely before the onset of this tempting flirtation. And this irritates me, particularly since I’ve done nothing wrong!

My conscience is apparently bigger than Texas. The thought alone of getting in my car to purposely drive to anywhere this man is going to be without his wife, fills me with heavy guilt. I ask myself, will I be able to come up with another excuse to leave early once again…avoiding any one on one, face-to-face moments? Would I be able to even enjoy myself, sitting there with all the weight of the guilt? More importantly, would the bleachers even be able to hold me, plus the weight of my guilt or would they tellingly heave and sag directly under me? What if they come crashing down and Mr. Charisma gracefully skates over to my side, falsely claiming I require mouth-to-mouth and in my unconscious state, I mindlessly uttered,  No, no no…you’re MARRIED! Or Stop, I have an important appointment I must get to immediately, or worse yet, what if in my temporary shock at falling I were to go full fledge into damsel in distress mode and merely gasp breathlessly, Oh Z…you’re my hero!
Or… what if his wife were to show up? I wouldn’t know how to act under such circumstances, but I do know the stress and guilt might then combine and I could truly hyperventilate and actually faint…how freakin’ embarrassing that would be! I imagine a scene straight out of Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart, more aptly entitled Kay’s Consuming Guilty Conscience of Just Thinking of Such a Scandalous Tryst! …my furiously beating conscience oozing my slutty red thoughts all about me, all over the damned rink forcing me into a temporary state of Slut’s Tourette’s…randomly bellowing out confessions like, I DID IT….it’s ME…I texted him!! Yeah, I had wings and beers ALONE with him too!  PLEASE forgive me?  Umm…I lived in Vegas for three months! 

This might seem out of the realm of all actual likelihood, I know. But I’m not so sure. I did once go tubing down the river in a rather low and unhealthy temperature for an activity such as submerging my bottom half in bitterly cold rapid waters and with the added bonus of an unexpected and more-than-chilly rainfall, during which I imbibed three stiff cuba libres. 

Famiily-ish River tubing party

 Holy drunken river-tuber-girl, Batman!  …Halfway down the river, bordering on hypothermia, I did develop a rare case of Tourette’s and I began randomly bellowing out swear words and phrases I’ve never vocalized prior in my life!  Oh and this was a group outing too and I should add that this behavior was beyond inappropriate given the variety of people tubing.  We were 15 tubes all tied to each other.  Apparently ( I don’t have any recollection of this), at one point even, I weakly (yeah, thankfully my vocal cords were not at their usual capacity in my diminished physical and mental state of near-hypothermia) attempted through intense and debilitating shivering to scream at a passing motor boat something along the lines of, I will blow every mate on your ship if you’ll f–#@– take me with you!  And as they passed our group in spite of my whispered screams Ialso allegedly said, Fine! Don’t save me then you rat bastard momma screwing, little kitty cats.  So you see, the sudden onset of Tourette’s-Under-Stress phenomenon is not at all out of the question for me during excessively uncomfortable situations. 

Nahhhh, since I lack the will-to-silence of Hester Prynne,   I’m avoiding any possibility of ANY of those OMG-what do I do now situations! …and then of course I have to wonder what in the hell would I be like if I actually ever followed through with anything like having a fling like this?  Gasp! The guilt alone might consume me alive. Geesh, how do people DO things like this and just walk around like nothing?!

Excuse me, is that a temptation band on your other hand?

I’ve been home now since mid October…back in the stompin’ ground of my youth…and beyond! A little battered, a smidge beaten even, but I made it. Dating hasn’t been a priority and I’ve not bothered to even check my aquarium account or check in at all with that little diapered-man. Instead, I’ve been nursing broken hearts, repairing wounded self esteems, and communicating regularly with my attorney in my fight for retribution. I’m typically not big on the retribution thing, as there actually isn’t anything in the world valuable enough to compensate for what has been broken and lost in this; mostly I just want my house back. That place of comfort and security which we left in July….sighhhhh….
However, being back in the Stompin’ Ground does have a few advantages of which I’ve become newly aware. 1. I actually know people here! 2. I know my way around, which minimizes my irrationally chronic fear of getting lost. 3. My father is not only near, but without a doubt, a blessing from God.
Although my focus hasn’t been on online dating, I have had a few opportunities to get out and about and meet up with people, both new and old acquaintances. I’ve come to a huge discovery in this process of reacquainting myself here: What’s up with the married men around here? Lived here on and off for the majority of my life and have had very limited (as in merely ONE) exposure to the married man hitting on me in all that time.
I move away, move back and WHAM! (No, don’t wake me up before you go-go….in fact, don’t even come over-over at all-all…just go-go before you come-come, okay?)
I am suddenly a married man MAGNET! What is this? Did living in the city of sin stamp me with a “no moral fiber” tramp stamp of which I’m totally unaware? Where are these men coming from? What’s wrong with their marriages? Okay, strike that one please, as that little question could take months for me to properly analyze alone! But… what IS up with this? What is up with me that I seem to be suddenly drawing them in like unemployed lumberjacks to the forest?
Hmmm… I might have an easy answer to that, if I were frequenting single’s bars, presenting myself as one “looking for action”, but I swear to you, I am not! The two primary contestants in this quiz-show I stumbled across in the most innocent of fashions. One, at a men’s hockey league game which I attended to watch a friend (no, not a FWB, just a friend) play and the other, during a brief trip to the mall while last-minute Christmas shopping. There I was,  in grey sweatpants and a hoodie which in all likelihood had long-forgotten, permanent stains on it from some zestfully eaten lunch-on-the-run from days gone by when passing by the Verizon store, I lock eye contact with guy-I-once-shared-one-drunken- slow-dance with almost two years ago.
I’m not without any vanity, so yeah, I was embarrassed to see him (even just in passing) while in such an inappropriate state of dress. I blushed and then remembered the guy is now married and I’m sure couldn’t care less what I wear on any given day. Hell, I hadn’t spoken with this guy in so long, he probably can’t even recall where he knows me from.
Uhh…. Wrong-wrong. Approximately three hours later I get a call from a number I don’t recognize and guess who…?? Yup, disastrously-drunken-dance-from-two-years-ago guy! Seriously, how does he still have my number even? I have always been under the mistaken assumption that to keep a number that long which you don’t use then, you must have dated, had sex, or been the best of friends…something, anything, even mildly momentous in some way in which you might at some point want to re-visit or experience again. It’s the “just in case I re-think that one” or “in the event I have a moment of weakness when I doubt my past choice” number preservation system. None of which apply here as he and I shared one thing and one thing only: one disastrous drunken dance.
Suffice to say, I was quite taken aback when guy identifies himself. I’m sorry, who is this again?? Unfortunately, my breeding doesn’t allow me to follow that up with a snide “and why are you calling me?” No. So, after the identification process, I just listened. He asks if I’m in Vegas still and just visiting or if I’m back…WHAT?!! How did…? Who told…? Ahhh don’t get me started on the glories of small town livin’ where even the lady three blocks over has a second uncle removed who knows you moved to Vegas…there will be plenty about that to come!
Anyway, not wanting to jump to conclusions, I talked little and briefly and listened long and well… exercising my rarely used ability to put silence in places for the distinct purpose of creating those telling moments of discomfort. I mean, after all, perhaps he just wants to be friends…
OMG, did I really just type that without laughing?
Nahhhh…he wants to meet up….hang out….what-not…. hob-nob….all behind his wife’s back! This, coming in a time-frame where I’m still smack-dab in the midst of figuring married hockey man’s lingering attraction.
…which I still am in the midst of and have so far only learned one thing in regard to this sudden married man phenomenon: the blessing of a married man affectionately calling is that he’s MARRIED and doesn’t have nearly as much time or freedom to call. Which in turn, eliminates a great deal of my personal problem of maintaining my social grace in awkward situations while still oh-so-subtly blowing off said advances…or perhaps dodging them is a more accurate verb. I confess, I’m struggling with blowing these guys off completely. Well, at least one of them I am…
Life’s irony never fails to shoot many blows to my over-analytical mind. As I struggle to maintain basically old-fashioned ethics in the shadowy face of temptation, I’m suddenly smacked with constant media and entertainment concepts that romanticize this issue and remove a bit of the GASP! factor from my temptations: movies, stories, articles, personal friends…all about either cheating on their significant or cheating with someone else’s significant. It seems to be everywhere I turn! Now, what in hell is this message? I can’t tell if I’m being signaled the go-ahead to try this adventure out or if I’m being tested to a new limit of my personal ethics.
Either way, I’m still hanging strong…in limbo, yes, but hangin’ strong just the same.