Watereach: the newest, most succulently indecisive fruit-on-the-fence

It just makes sense, right?!

It’s Christmas 2011. I’ve finagled to be alone; somewhat out of consideration for my ex-husband to have family time alone with the kids and somewhat because (I confess) I really am not a fan of the holiday season. I get dark and nostalgic, moody and overwhelmed, sensitive and regretful. Yes…regretful. I crave alone time because I don’t like to risk rubbing off my pitiful aura onto anyone else’s holiday enjoyment. Plus, overall, it’s just embarrassing to me that a person with a sunny disposition as myself would fall prey to the ridiculously blue sensitivity of the holidays! Embarrassing! …and I don’t confess this to anyone. I pretend and I smile and I suck it in as long as I’m able to do so without imploding and when I’m ultimately exhausted, I just have to duck out. Take a break. Go within all by myself. Cry, pray, laugh, whatever…

I started writing about a few of the dates/”relationships” I’ve had in my time away from my blog. However, I feel uninspired. There are certainly some comical, interesting people and situations to write of; I just can’t get into it for some odd and unusual reason! I wanna spill the beans on these freaks, all their quirks, and silliness….and naturally, I feel simultaneously compelled to spill MY quirks and silliness that have reared their preposterous heads during these experiences as well…but WTF is wrong with me?! I have NO direction right now. NONE.

We’ve recently moved. So, while at happy hour on a recent Friday, I investigated my new neighborhood pubs. Directly across from the local airport and a hop, skip, and jump from home, is a little hole in the wall pub. I ring up my buddy Lar and we meet up there. I’m so very glad we did! I met the nicest lady, Janet. Janet is timelessly pretty and has a terrific upbeat, honest and open personality. She also lives and works quite close so she knows a great deal of the local folk who frequent this place. Such a great way to meet people!! I’m talking to Lar and Janet…mostly Janet… when a dark haired guy sits on the other side of Janet. I vaguely recognize him from way back in my youth as an older acquaintance of my high school boyfriend. I’m kinda nosey…leaning over now and then…listening to and poking into their conversation just a bit; wondering if this guy will recognize me at all and more importantly, wondering if he’s at all interested in talking to me. He does not recognize me and I love that! I feel really free and flirty because he doesn’t recall me whatsoever. I suffer from the “quadruple threat”; having a face, name, voice, and personality which rarely allow me any anonymity even after just one single meeting with most people. This guy not only doesn’t seem to recall me at all, but, he’s not really paying much attention to me either, which of course really raises my interest a few levels beyond mildly interested… as anything that feels remotely challenging typically does for me. Hey!! This blog is my place for bold, blatant and blaring honesty. Yeah, I’m that girl sometimes. I hate that I am…but yes, I am. I can’t resist a challenge…or anything that seems like it even might offer a challenge.

So, when Janet and Lar begin discussing something over/across me which I’m just not so much interested in, I grab the opportunity to say, Gosh, maybe Janet and I should switch places?! Janet laughs and agrees, so BAM! There I am next to the guy…Mr. (paying little to no attention to me) Challenge. Hmmmmmm….. Now I’m interested. We start chatting. I’m enjoying guy. He’s interesting and attractive, not my kind of attractive, but attractive nonetheless! He’s clearly not an idiot, has a good job, and can hold his own in a conversation with a mildly drunken, easily distracted blonde chick playing a mind game of sorts. Kudos to guy. As I’m the first to admit, this is not an easy task. I’ve got naughty trying-to-be-a-comedian-Santa begging for my attention and some young 20-something fella I met outside, buying me “holiday shots”, as if I’d ever, EVER need those!! Yup, it’s going well, really. And it’s not just the anonymity and challenging intrigue! Okay, well it might be. But, I’m not sure just yet. I’m just having a blast!! We laugh and talk and we learn that we have a major experience in common…getting totally screwed by Jeff Vanderstelt, Attorney at Law. Oh the topics of discussion….! We do exchange numbers and I don’t mention that we kinda sorta know each other from many, many lifetimes ago. I’m not entirely sure though how I feel about this guy though. I mean, once we get past the game itself, the challenge, the Oh is he interested in me or not? Excitement, how do I feel? What do I think of him actually? Yeah, I’m just not sure. He has my number. We’ll see how it goes… Guy calls me the next day. I don’t answer. I’m not sure what I think so I have to figure that out first, right? He texts the next day, Can’t wait to see you again. When are you free? Ughhh…it’s the (blech) holidays, birthdays, all of the stress, and work too…..ughhh. I keep blowing it off. ..He keeps trying and trying. Wow…how do I feel about that? I’m just not sure.

A week later, I made plans with my new friend Janet to meet at the bar for happy hour. So I text him that I’m doing so if he’s interested in meeting up. Yup, he is. Yay! I’ll get to investigate my feelings and thoughts about guy further with a lovely safety cushion of my new friend, just in case I need to blow him off and/or make a quick but polite getaway… Guy shows up. We are having a terrific time! Feelin’ kinda bad I’m hardly talkin to Janet, but she has another friend there too, so it’s all good really. This is weird. I like being with him. I’m not faking it at all. He’s not really my “type” to any extreme. He is in many ways, but he isn’t in just as many…or more. I can’t figure this out. I’m having fun though so it’s all good. He says the sweetest things and he makes me smile. His twin brother’s girlfriend shows up and she creates another interesting diversion. She’s married; twin brother has a serious alcohol issue and is very jealous of girlfriend’s husband. OH the drama! Guy just seems more and more normal and amazing as this whole scenario continues.

Adds to the confusion of how do I feel? I do not know. I can’t sort it all out AT ALL. It feels all discombobulated inside. I like him though. I do. We go to his place for a little bit so he can check on his 17 year old son, who’s actually out with friends. We make out a little. I’m kinda into this, but I’m not ready for the whole enchilada. He pushes a little too far. I got scared for a moment, actually, but I’ve had some scary experiences, so this is probably not even his fault. He does take no for an answer though ultimately. And I’m relieved, but conflicted as well. It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just not ready for that yet.

Guy follows me home. Such a gentleman! He keeps saying he just wants to take me somewhere to have time alone, to go somewhere nice, etc, etc…. He’s very sweet and romantic. I like it. It’s perfectly wonderful. No, I hate it. It’s too much. I don’t freakin’ know what I feel. What’s wrong with me?? I always know what I feel….always! But nope, I just really don’t know. I’m kind of all over the place with this. It’s a definite yes! NO, wait…it’s certainly no… Uh oh hold on, it’s a great big absolutely positive maybe!

Hold up: Nahhh….it’s an absolutely not…..errr…umm…absolutely not gonna pass this one up?! Hell, I can’t pinpoint this to save my life! If I were a color about this guy, I’d be split down the middle: half black and half white with a section of Definitely Grey striping down my center. If I were a vegetable about this guy, I’d be half a snow pea and half corn on the cob. If I were a fruit about this, I’d certainly be half a peach and half a watermelon. Make sense now? Exactly…!

Guy and I have gone out more than a few times now. He’s asked me to reserve New Year’s Eve for him. He’s said all the right things and a few wrong ones too. He’s a bit assertive for my time and attention, but still continues to say, I don’t want you to feel pressured Kay. He’ll call every day, but often say, I hope you don’t feel like I have to talk to you every day Kay; I don’t wanna scare you off…

Sometimes I get the feeling he’s trying a little too hard but then he catches himself when he senses that deer in the headlights feeling I’m sure I randomly give off when he’s saying sappy, sweet nothings in my ear that I love hearing, but I hate hearing them. And buffering them with saying, I don’t want to come off too sappy, buttttttttt…blah blah SAPPY, SAPPY blah blah blah……

And mostly I like him. And sometimes – just now and then though – he gets on my nerves a bit. And then suddenly he doesn’t get on my nerves at all, but I really like him again. And then just as quickly, I’ll feel smothered and want some freakin’ space (seriously pal, BACK OFF!); then, I’ll feel like being close and open with him. My oldest daughter met him finally. He was so nervous for her approval, it was adorable: no, adorably annoying… And she said she “really liked him”. Awesome!

Now I just have to decide if I really do… or not!

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?

Hot Stranger Boys, Cliché’s, and those confounding timeless questions of life

Am I in a downward spiral and don’t know it?  Has the incessant spiraling now become too standard for me to realize what I’m doing and perhaps I’m too dizzy to be aware of what’s happening?  Wait…is this the frog boiling on the stove analogy happening as I type? 

A few details:

ABD is a  super nice guy, way laid back, didn’t meet him online, but through a friend.  I don’t know his actual age, but I’m confidently guessing him at somewhere in the vicinity of ten years older than I or more.  I don’t want that to matter.  I want to focus on nice guy…not at all bad looking, unmarried, and seems so very kind (in fact it is his computer on which I type this).  We had drinks together in a small group one evening shortly after I returned.  He felt as though he knew me before…ummmm, I’m pretty sure not.  I’m horribly forgetful, but I don’t usually forget faces and I didn’t recognize him by any means. 

Wasn’t at all interested in dating him, but enjoyed hanging out with him.  Then I was coaxed pushed into going on a double date to a Halloween party with him. I had a nice time.  It was fun to flirt and just relax for a while…still not interested in him at all though!  Afterward, he offers to let me use his extra laptop for a while.  This is terrific, as I love to write and my daughters need a computer for a lot of their homework assignments.  So of course, I gratefully accepted…and now he emails and calls regularly.  I feel guilty that I don’t want to see him or hang out.  The naked truth is I’m not all that interested in seeing most anyone or hanging out much at all really.  Too much going on personally, so much I’m dealing with, with the children, and my stress level automatically prioritizes.  Dating someone or even just hanging out with a guy who is interested that way while I’m not, just feels like a lot more added stress and guilt on an already over-loaded situation.

He has gotten insistent a few times and I just keep throwing my excuses at him…  What??  They’re valid!  They are!  Okay yeah, so maybe they also happen to be convenient excuses to not go out with a guy I’m really not interested in anyway but who is just so nice, I wish I could be interested.  He’s also a quite the pot smoker, which I’m not at all.  I don’t judge his choice for the marijuana bit (to each his own), but add that he rides a Harley and wears his greying hair in a ponytail…these things somehow add to his age in my mind.  Maybe he should seem younger than his age, but in reality (well, my reality), these things make him appear the “Aging Biker Guy”.  I was never one for pot, but I do recall a few bad-boy stoner/biker guys from high school and college who I secretly crushed on. I kinda liked thewhole  James Dean-ish  image thing, but I never would have dated one…even then! Somehow now, and at his age, it all just screams of the ridiculous.  I struggle to take the image he presents seriously….it almost makes me giggle at the cliché.  Yet, I don’t believe he’s trying for this cliché thing; it seems to be who he’s always been, not some mid-life crisis ordeal, and how does one change who they are?  Why should they?  Just because they’ve become a walking, talking, pot smoking, Harley riding, pony tail wearing cliché?  Is it really even a cliché if it’s what you’ve always been?    Seriously…you gotta be who you are, right?  Yup, I agree, but that doesn’t mean I can bring myself to be interested in dating one even if it really is just who he is.  So I make excuses…valid ones, yeah, but I admit they are excuses…  I’m really sorry AB…truly…  Ummm… it’s just never  gonna happen..

Topic two: A few weeks ago, I went bowling with a group of friends.  We had a great time.  It was terrific to catch up and just be goofy with friends for a while.  Unfortunately, here is where I have a few confessions to make.

I’m not much of a drinker.  Sure, I love a few glasses of wine with dinner, a few beers with friends, or occasionally a few drinks when I go dancing, but I’m just not a very good drinker beyond that. My catch-22 with the drinking thing is that I rarely want to drink anything beyond that unless I’m stressed…and let me tell you, I don’t know exactly what it is, but I can not handle alcohol when I’m too stressed.  It must be something in my brain chemicals or hormonal… hell, I don’t know! Does this indicate alcoholism?  I’ve pondered that even…  It’s a sad thing that when I’m most interested in escaping and forcing some relaxation on my brain and body with a few too many is precisely the exact time which my brain and body can’t tolerate much alcohol at all, much less beyond what I typically know I can handle gracefully.

…so a few weeks ago…bowling…drinks…fun with friends… Everyone decides to go to a bar to listen to a live band, dance, and drink a bit more.  I know I should just go home, but the kids are gone for the weekend, I’ve been way stressed, and I’m happy to be out among friends..and truthfully, I just don’t feel like going home anyway, so I join them to the next place.

I’m dancing like a foolish idiot…yeah..that’s okay.  I do that.  It’s not my first time.  I’m not so ashamed…  I probably think I’m dancing like Beyonce, when in fact it resembles Elaine from Seinfeld.  I know….  Hey,   I’m not trying to impress anyone, I’m just having fun.  If you don’t like it, you really don’t have to watch.  I know it might be like a train wreck where you don’t wanna look, but can’t help yourself…  Whatever. That’s your problem.

Anyway, I’m dancing like the sexy beast I am and a few more old friends show up.  Yay!  This is awesome….and they start buying shots…  This seems like a good idea since I’m stressed and yet I do know that it isn’t a good idea since I’m stressed…  But I drink them and I think I’m grateful…

When somehow, in the midst of this whole shenanigan, Hot Stranger Boy starts talking to me.  Yeah, I gotta go with “boy” here, as I’m thinking he’s early 20’s if he’s even a day.  I really don’t know how or why hot boy and I are talking.  It’s all rather jumbled at that point.  I’m no cougar though.  In fact, I don’t typically find myself even attracted to guys who are more than one or two years younger than I.  It’s just not my thing.  Don’t misunderstand, I might find them attractive yeah, but I just don’t find myself attracted TO them.  But apparently, this guy, this situation, these drinks, this I-don’t-freakin’-know-what, brings me to find hot stranger boy attractive and we decide it’s a great idea that he comes over.

What?  Who decided this?  And what in the hell was that person thinking?  This is not a good idea on several levels.  One:  I’ve had way too much to drink; two:  I’m stressed out of my mind and suffering from a temporary case of blonde n’ flighty ADD (which I tend to do when stressed)and three:  hot boy is a BOY.  What in the hell is happening here?  Who’s in charge?  I need to speak to them immediately because someone needs to get a grip on this sitch…and soon…

Not me, though, for the precise reasons this was not a good idea are the same reasons me getting a grip on this sitch and putting it into perspective under the circumstances was just not going to happen.  Hot Stranger Boy and I get dropped at my house, which happens to be empty of anyone except the Hot Boy and myself.  Coincidence?  Uhh, I think not…

As soon as we are in my house, alone, I must have had a brief moment of perspective because I remember suddenly feeling kinda nervous and thinking (to myself of course), this just might not be a good idea.  I should drive him home.  Ohh hell no…I can’t drive in my intoxicated state.  But yeah, I’m responsible so I do the next best thing; I suggest we have a glass of wine and a cigarette.  What?!  I never said I made good choices under these circumstances, even while in “perspective” mode.  Yeah, another glass of wine was the last thing on earth I/we needed.  But I open a bottle of Seven Deadly Zins and we proceed to have a glass.  I start looking for my iPod..can’t find it…  No worries…Hot Stranger Boy’s got this.  He plays his; he selects John Mayer.   And now we have it… too many drinks plus, Hot Stranger Boy, and sexy music. Seriously, I’m feeling like I just got thrust into some teen-age movie or worse yet, a Lifetime cougar movie of the week!  Fast forward through the small talk and whatnot…

Next thing I know, hot boy and I are getting wild and crazy in my bedroom right next to his iPhone playing random John Mayer tunes.  Umm, I really couldn’t tell you how/when we moved from the somewhat safety of the living room sofa to my just-waiting-to-be-frollicked-upon big empty bed of unspeakable potentials, but somehow we managed. I probably should feel a little embarrassed at this whole scenario, but really, I don’t.  I’m okay with this as a random spontaneous act of stress and alcohol related I-don’t-give-a-damn madness.  Not to mention, the sex with Hot Stranger Boy was pretty good although the details are fuzzy (Damned alcohol anyway!).  …but true to my nature, I could never leave it at this small, somewhat understandable level of age-inappropriate behavioral embarrassment.  Nooooo, of course not.

After a few rounds of juicy sexual shenanigans with HSB, the alcohol is really settling in and I start dozing off.  When suddenly, my bladder screams, Get your ass up!  You have to go potty!  I’m half asleep and almost feel like I can put this off until morning..almost like I must put this off until morning.  I can’t get up dammit, much less fully wake up!  But my bladder insisted so I sleepily stumbled to the bathroom down the hall…

And right here…here is where I don’t understand what in the HELL happened…  ALL I know is that the next thing I recall clearly (yeah, clearly is a drunken, half-asleep relative term at this point) is I’m sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with my ass hanging over the edge of the bathtub.  Why?  Fuck if I know…I just am, okay?  I’m sitting there, approximately five feet or so away from the toilet, naked as the day I was born, when HSB comes sailing into the bathroom!  And before I could even begin to process all of the components of this unbelievable situation, he asks casually, whatchya doin’?  Are you peeing in the bathtub?

What am I doing?  Huh?  Did you just ask me what I’m doing? Because that seems a really stupid question, I’m clearly sitting on the edge of the bathtub with my ass hanging over the tub…  I don’t freakin’ have a clue what I’m doing!  Why else would I be sitting on the edge of the bathtub, naked, at 4 AM…if I knew what in the hell I was doing?  What could possibly be confusing about this?  I’m obviously half asleep, intoxicated, and had to stop a few feet from the toilet to gather my thoughts and reflect on my actions here…duhhhh…  I mean, what else would I be doing?! …Psh…peeing in the bathtub…are you kiddin’ me?!

Ummmmm…omg…. did I pee in the bathtub?  I really can’t be certain.  I can’t imagine I did.  And beyond any stretch of my wild imagination, I can’t imagine why I would.  I mean, geesh WTF?!  I know where to pee…  Don’t I? 

I’m not so sure anymore as I truly have not a clue what I was doing sitting there.  This might turn out to be one of those timeless questions of life…  Like, what does it all mean?  Why are we here?  Why are round pizzas put in squares? What is the purpose of it all?  Why was I sitting with my naked ass hanging over the bathtub?

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!

“Just-because” sex?

Irresistable attraction...does happen...

Thinking of canceling the “swimming” date with “M”…just can’t shake that funky feeling…  yesterday, I thought, well the worst that can happen is maybe he’ll  “like how I look in a swimsuit” and want sex.  And that’s not typically my thing, but I really just don’t know at this point.  Then I realized that it really all depends on how much (if) I really like him “that way”.  If I genuinely like him, then even if I want to have sex with him, I’ll probably wait.  The quandary for me in that has several concepts.  1.  He can only hurt my feelings with the sex thing if I like like him. 2.  If I don’t and yet am attracted to him like that, I’m okay with just a sex thing.  3. Hell, in that case I’m perfectly okay with just using my body to obnoxiously flirt with him.  4. I’m not having sex with anyone else right now, so what difference would it make?

To be honest with myself, I’m not really sure exactly what I’m looking for anyway with this whole experiment, other than meeting new people.  I’m not in an emotional position to meet someone and fall in love.  That’s not really part of the mission or attraction with this, so that does add a degree of protection around my heart.  If I don’t have feelings for the guy, will it hurt to get used for my body?  Does that kind of thing hurt even if a person’s not interested in any kind of emotional thing anyway?  I really don’t know…

I know this woman is thinking about Matt Damon!

…and maybe (and I’m speaking theoretically here only)I just want to have sex.  There’s nothing wrong with that dammit.  If I like “M”, am having a good time with him tonight, and he just wants my body, and I want to share that with him, then no problem…  He’s not really my type to lust after really…  Not that I didn’t find him physically appealing…I did…  He’s just not “my” kinda lust object.  Sadly for me, my “lust object would have to either look like my ex-boyfriend (yummy) or perhaps look strikingly like Matt Damon, with the wit and intellectual appeal Matt holds  as well.  Because I really can’t decide if I’d find Matt Damon quite as appealing if he wasn’t so wickedly witty and freakin’ intelligent.  Ummm of course he’s adorable to look at, but I was cursed with the whole neuro-gasmic appeal for men.  While I can certainly look at a guy as some delicious eye-candy by appearance alone, I can’t possibly feel undeniably and irresistibly physically drawn to a man who doesn’t have those last two traits.  We’re talking the difference here between, Ummm, yeah, he’s hot and “OMFG, I MUST (throw-my-naked-body-at-his- mercy-pull-his-hair-and-BEG) have him.  Although my physical attraction “look” in a guy varies widely…these other two things are the Holy Grail for me… combine the three…and OMG…that’s where I become putty in a man’s hands.  Yeah, it’s to the point of embarrassingly appealing to me…

M is fairly attractive (read:  he’s “okay”), but I haven’t had enough time with him yet to determine the other two.  It’s clear he’s not stupid by any means, but beyond that, I’ve no real gauge of his intellectual capacity.  And as far as funny, I really don’t know.  I did find it truly odd that he talked to me of reading on women’s pages on the site the frequency which he saw the statement, “If a guy can make me laugh he can have whatever he wants” or something to that effect….  He expressed how strange he felt this was to me.  Honestly, I didn’t know if he thought it odd that women would say “have anything they want(about anything)” or thought the huge attraction to funny guys in general was odd.  Even as he was saying this, I had to stop and think if my page said anything like this because although it’s not safe to say this kind of guy can “have anything he wants” with me…umm…it IS safe to say, that kind of guy has legs (and feet and arms and torsos) up on the rest of the pool of potentials.  A moderately attractive man who can make me laugh becomes promoted to extremely attractive.  Even a relatively unattractive (to me) man often gets all the way to “attractive” in my eyes if he regularly makes me laugh.   It’s just one of those things that can’t be explained, but I have experienced it on several occasions and know it to be a simple fact. Perhaps laughter releases sexual-attraction hormones or something?

So what about this did M find so “odd”?  And is it odd to him because he lacks it and hasn’t experienced the woman who was mildly interested suddenly throwing herself at him after a few good belly-laughs?

Wow!!  I’m babbling out of direction this morning with this… (GAWD…see what just thinking about that kind of thing does to me…Geesh…??!!?) 

My burning inner question actually is the sex with M thing.  If I go swimming with him and feel a physical attraction, I might not be opposed to a let’s just fuck attitude.  And although he has expressed some interest in me, in my opinion, it’s been relatively mild and therefore, this would not be wrong or manipulative to do with him. 

However, if I feel truly attracted to him on several levels(which usually has to be the case in order for me to even want to “just fuck” with wild abandon), then having crazy-spontaneous-WTF-sex with him might leave me open to a vulnerability of getting hurt.   I firmly believe in taking chances in life like this and sometimes getting hurt is part of the experience, but right now, in my current situation being so far from friends, family, and all I’ve ever known, the last thing I need right now is even a mild heart break on top of the rest.   It’s a catch-22 of epic proportions and actually leaves me frightened to go on this “date” tonight.  I even woke at 3 AM this morning with the firm resolve to cancel the whole damned stupid thing rather than risk it.

Usually, that in itself, would be enough to make me just decide to stay home with a bottle of wine and a few good movies tonight.  And yet, I’m still definitely overwhelmingly curious as to how this whole thing might play out – on both his part and my own.  It feels like one of those children’s mystery books with several different possible endings:  If Sally picks A, then continue on to chapter 7.  If Sally picks B, then go to chapter 12…

In my current bored and lonely friendless state, with my freakin’ confounding overly-curious brain, can I resist this kind of mystery?  Should I?  Isn’t this what makes life, life?

What goes up…

image via Clker.com

And here is the downside of it all…  I’m certainly not perfect (as any who read this blog I’m sure have already figured out).  Although, I do know and am very confident that in any dating situation, I bring a lot of positive, great stuff to the table… 

I’m considered attractive by most, I’m a pretty good sport in life in general, my intelligence is higher than the average bear, I have a broad and terrific sense of humor, am genuine and honest, and have an innately vibrant energy…all good stuff!

I’m pondering today though…..

I received an email this morning which says, “Thank God…another smoker!”  Umm….what??  Because I’m very honest, I have admitted that I occasionally smoke.  Eeeeek…..I’m so over the whole smoking thing…however, I have not fully conquered the nasty disgusting habit…ughhh…and YUK:-(

I was tempted to be less than honest about this nasty downside because I hope to kick it to the curb fully and hopefully sooner than later… 

Then I get this email today and I realize my honesty will most likely draw smokers to me and push non-smokers away.  In addition, I can sincerely say that my odds of quitting totally, while dating a smoker, are less than optimistic.  So naturally it’s not all that appealing to me to date a smoker…and especially not one who has responded to my “occasional smoker” admission with “YAYYYY…you smoke!!”

On the flip side, were I to deny this habit, then I’d feel like a liar if I got an overwhelming and undeniable urge on a date with an avid non-smoker to sneak off and have a quick little yukky puff (which just recently happened to me with Mr. Favorite)…  Thus, until I’m confident I’ve conquered this fully, I must be honest that there might indeed be moments here and there when I’m not effectively fighting this battle of niocotine addiction. 

This leaves me in a quandary of sorts.  I really would prefer not to date a smoker…and yet, I currently would need someone at least mildly sympathetic to my struggle with nicotine and willing to accept the possibility of an occasional relapse…and that’s most likely only going to come from a smoker.  I certainly wouldn’t expect a non-smoker to kiss me after smoking though…eww..yukk!  And I like kissing, so that does take a bit of the fun out…and yet it also would provide a fabulous motivation for me to NOT indulge in these occasional relapses as well…  Hmmmm….

UPDATE:  M texted me on his way home from work last night asking me to come for a swim, but this week is not looking conducive to a spotaneous evening swim, so I had to decline.

…And I must confess, I giggle a little inside knowing that he must wait for his swimsuit “pic” when I’ve already shared one in virtual public here on my blog.  Ummm…is it proof that my inner bitch is growing bigger and stronger that I get a degree of  delight from knowing that little contradiction and blatant display of favoritism?

DAD….Stop that!

 

If I date older and younger men, does that make me a cougar kitten?

Went (spontaneously too, I might add…haha Mr. SOB!) on my first date with the only older  (20 years older…WOW!) man I’ve seen on the site so far that interested me…

His emails were great!  Well spoken, probably far more active athletically than I even, intelligent, and seemingly very stable.  He was looking pretty  handsome in his pictures too.  So I went to meet him at a great little place in town called the Blue Martini.

Loved the Blue Martini….terrific little 2^nd story bar/restaurant, where we sat on the balcony during sunset (nice!! ), sipped the most delicious martinis, ate lobster tacos and seared Ahi tuna, and chatted up a storm!  What a great guy!!  He’s as Irish as the day is long and Lord loves an Irishman…enjoys many of the same passions as I (theatre, sociology, reading), has impeccable manners, and still respects a  woman’s strength!  Ahhhhh…perfection!

Hmmm…..or not?  I have to admit, he looked just a little older in person than in his pictures….  Not much…not older as in, Umm…Were those pictures taken during the Great Depression?, but definitely a bit older for sure.  This didn’t bother me so much really, as he was so delightfully interesting and well-mannered,  and still attractive in that older-man kinda way…  Didn’t bother me at all…

Until the kissing.  I did not mind (much) that he took my hand almost instantly upon our meeting and seemed bound and intent upon keeping it.  That wasn’t too bad.  I’m an affectionately expressive kind of girl… I even  still like holding hands with my dad too.   My dad doesn’t usually try to hold my hand through dinner though, but that’s okay…

Towards the end of our time together, he said he couldn’t wait to take his online profile “off the market”, asked could I, would I be his girl, and then he tossed in a few smooches.  Hmm…..

I can’t pretend that a handsome guy who chooses to kiss me in public is undesirable.  I don’t mean a tongue down my throat, I’m going to throw you down right here and now on the table kiss, no….(although, YES, there is a time and occasion when that’s appropriate publicly  freakin’ HOT too but this wasn’t one of those)  but a nice smooch which demonstrates some affection, respect, and physical interest is terrific.  Call me a PDA girl if you want, but I like those!

Only I didn’t really like it this time.   I didn’t hate it…I just didn’t like it in the way I want to like it when a man kisses me in the beginning.  I love that kiss a man gives you which is brief, but sweet, and clearly shows attraction….the kiss that leaves you imagining and anticipating the next level of kissing – the one that makes your heart flutter, you knees weak, and prompts fantastic visions of him needing (not wanting) desperately to throw you down right there and have his way with you that very instant…

I didn’t feel this though or even sense the possibility of feeling that anticipation in any next kisses from him either.   No… Instead, I felt a little like I do when I kiss my dad:   Awww…you’re the sweetest, most lovely man on earth…and there’s a leeee-tle smoochy-smooch for ya to show you just how much I mean that!

Also, and I really hate confessing this…  I did not appreciate the way people glanced at us…especially the side-glances after the few little smooches he tossed on me.  It was as though people near us were subtly watching and wondering.  … And then he kissed me and the kiss lingered just a few moments beyond what would be appropriate for kisses from my dad.  I would swear suddenly those wondering glances turned into “AHA….it IS one of those creepy May/December romances going on over there…”

Second shameful confession:  When a hot early-30’s-late-20’s-something guy casually glanced our way, I was tempted to  jump quickly back from his kiss and say loudly, “DAD!!….YUK!….What are you doing?!”

Yeah… I really did think that….(looking down at the floor here in shame) so, maybe a May/December romance really isn’t quite my thing after all! 

It’s a real shame though…I do wish he was about 10 years younger…