Category Archives: too fast!

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!

Make out or Macrame’…hmmmm…

Vegas!

Whoa… Vegas is crazy!  It sucked the writer out of me there for a minute…but I’ve collected my thoughts as much as is possible given the randomized, sporadic pattern of said thoughts and I’m getting back on track!  By the way, “collecting my thoughts” is one of my favorite phrases…like snatch and serendipity, I just like to say/think/write those words as much as I can possibly squeeze them into my vernacular!

After last Thursday’s date with Mr. Nurse, as well as some interesting thoughts from a few other blogger/daters, I’ve re-worded both my “looking for” and “write me if”.  I’ve opted to remove all of the potential “romantic” element and merely post that I’m looking to meet “friends” and friends in the literal, not trendy (FWB), sense.  I did this after my date with Mr. Nurse because although Nurse-guy was a handsome, intelligent and fairly fun guy, it became pretty clear to me around midnight of our date that his intentions posted on the dating site are possibly not entirely truthful.

After a great afternoon hanging out on the strip for coffee and chit-chat, he invited me out later that night to an open-mic night at a little dive bar in his neck of the woods.  Nurse-guy likes to sing and play the guitar.  Awww... I loved this!We were having a delightful time at this shin-dig!  I met a few really nice people and heard some great music.  Around midnight, Nurse says to me, “Are you ready to go?”  I’m definitely ready to leave, eat, or go somewhere else at this point and I assume this is what he means; “ready?” as in “ready to leave?”

Yes, I am.  So he walks me to my car, where he kisses me and then basically invites himself over to my house.  I’m not against this entirely, but I’m a little suspicious at the way he maneuvers this…something just felt “off”…  I want to assume the best though; he seems super nice.  I tell him that it’s no problem to come over to my house to watch movies (my idea) or maybe go into the hot tub (his idea), whatever… He responds to this with, I’m not looking for a relationship, you know?

Hmm…..the timing of this really just struck me as strange.  I mean, what does that have to do with anything, unless maybe you’re making some assumptions about what I really mean by saying you’re welcome to come over?  I really don’t see the correlation between let’s hang out at your house….yeah, okay…straight to “but you should know I don’t want a relationship right now.”

I’m not sure I’m following this train of thought…?

Anyway, he’s following me to my house, when I start getting a little worried about how this all connects…and I start doubting my choice to have him over at this time of night, after a few drinks…

Once we get to my house, he’s cool.  He starts kissing me and clearly wants to make out.  Umm…call me a tramp, call me Suzy Floozy, yeah whatever, I’m perfectly okay with the making out business.  Hell, I like making out…  I kinda wish there was a making out version of speed dating. 

Speed Making-Out? Who's in?!??

I’ve never been speed dating, but I’ve heard about it and I like to make out so much that I think there should be a speed-make-out thing.  You would get 5 minutes with each “match” to make out and if you both enjoyed it, you could exchange information and decide if you want to get to know each other more and/or maybe just make out a second time…  The safety of this is it’s in a public place with a definitive time limit. 

…because making out with a relative stranger, in my house, for an extended period of time started to freak me out a little.  Not that this is Nurse-guy’s fault.  He wasn’t way out of line or anything…I just started to get a little nervous…  Maybe I didn’t trust him? Maybe I didn’t trust me? And maybe the just-prior-to-coming-over “no relationship” proclamation just made me feel too weird and suspicious?  I don’t know for sure, but I really felt the making out needed to stop and that he should go home. 

…and he did without a problem. So, all was well.  I just had a nagging discomfort that I couldn’t quite define or get past.  So, I re-worded my profile to specify friends only, which isn’t entirely true, as ideally I’d like to meet someone date-able and I’m still undecided as to the relationship thing.  I’m certainly not totally against it, but I’m not necessarily looking for a heavy-duty one either.  Hmm…it really makes me question if I’m even ready to be dating?  I felt uncomfortable with someone I had great dates with who pushed the relationship aspect and I felt equally uncomfortable with someone who was so willing to take it physically as far as I might allow who plainly stated he wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship.   What does that even mean?  What am I even looking for here again?  My thoughts were scrambled as I hopped in bed after Nurse left.

 I’m probably not ready because I’m not sure of the intimacy threshold or physical boundaries within the smack-dab-middle of the options here.  How can I not be sure of even my own boundaries?  And what does that even mean?  Check-list time:

Option one:  Friends who date.  If we hang out as friends who date and there’s an attraction which understandably gets physical, where is that boundary?  There’s no established prior friendship to dictate that.  So if it doesn’t get physical, would we really continue “dating”?  And if it does get physical, then is it beyond friends?

Option two: Just friends.  I’m questioning whether this is a valid option on a dating site at all.  With the popularity of the trendy FWB thing, I somehow am having a difficult time buying into the possibility that many of the guys who write me are truly interested in hanging out with me indefinitely as friends.  If there’s an attraction, then it’s probably going to be acted upon and push the limits of “friendship”.  If there’s no attraction, how often will said guy really want to hang out?

Option three:  Friends who casually date and engage in sexual relations.  Okay, this is pretty much FWB, right?  And I might be okay with that (maybe) with someone whom I’ve known for years and have an established  meaningful friendship.  However, in a new city where I don’t know anyone, that’s not an option….  And aside from that, then it’s basically just two people hanging out and having a casual sex thing, right?  And while I don’t necessarily see anything wrong with that under certain circumstances, I’m not sure I’m okay with that right now either.  It might make me feel rather cheap and/or used. 

Ew.  Which is kind of the feeling I was getting from Nurse-guy…and I didn’t like it.  I really  shouldn’t think that, as I can’t say for sure what his deal is/was.  He was respectful and seemed honest.   I only know that something felt odd for me and that suspicion could very well be it. Something was just off for me in the whole timing of his inviting himself over and immediately saying, I’m not ready for any kind of relationship. That’s okay with me and yet… hmmm?   

This is my brain on online dating" pink, fuzzy and I can't know what might roll!

It makes me realize how fuzzy the whole concept is even to me!  Like, wow..ummm okay, me either, but I wasn’t going to rule it out immediately.  Thinking I’m in more of a let’s just see how it goes place.  Once he firmly established that wasn’t what he wanted, I can respect that, but then to come over and immediately jump into mad-make-out?  I guess if I already knew I didn’t want any kind of relationship, my thoughts about “hanging out” at midnight at someone’s house probably are in the literal sense of cool, let’s hang out as in yay…let’s watch stupid movies, let’s discuss global poverty, let’s color in my Alice and Wonderland coloring book, let’s do yoga, make Rice Krispie treats, knit matching scarves, sing karaoke to cheesy 70’s ballads…you know, hang outIf we’ve established the entire relationship-stance on date one at midnight, then: 1. The mystery is already gone. And 2. I feel a little cheapened to make out with you, at least the heavy-duty can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you making out.  We can keep it light pal or we can go passionately macramé a few exotic plant hangers…your choice!

Macrame' might be fun!

Am I totally contradicted?  Yes, perhaps… and you would not be the first to accuse me of this in my life.  I’m sure that’s surprising, but it’s true.  I’m nothing if not a total and chronic contradiction.  Yeah, and just so you know, when I’m not having crazy passionate one-night stands (after all, that’s as long as they’ll usually “stay”) with that aspect of my personality, it frustrates me too.  It is what it is though. (Insert Popeye here) So, I do feel for how this must play out to others, but it’s also the one aspect of my personality on which we can always depend.

So, I wrote nurse man the next day that I enjoyed our day, but that I felt confident we weren’t a match as friends or otherwise.  This threw Nurse off a little, as I received a “WTF?” response, but except for trying to pin-point where I stand in relation to all of this,   I’m so over the Nurse thing already.  He sucked all the mystery out and then tried to suck my face…and (ahem)other personal areas as well.  No.  It’s been decided. Moving on…

I’m emailing with several people now.  A few are in the pushy let’s-get-together-yesterday category (I’m intentionally taking those excruciatingly slow) a few are in the entirely questionable (I’m mostly being polite) category, one is in the borderline stalker-already (he’s just about to get the “block” ewww!), and two are…ummmm…wait for it……wait for it…

Intriguing and delightful

Seriously.  One fave, I’m way excited to meet and the other, I’m not sure I’ll meet anytime soon if ever…?  Only time will tell!  However, either way, meet them or not, I do know I truly adore them both already!

Prison matters and obligatory BJ’s

Yeah, I threw it...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zeps ex-wife calls it home

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

No worries pal...knock yourself out!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wink-wink

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sing it for me, Rob!

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

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

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!

“F” is for (f#*& that)…fageddaboutit already

I recently read on another dater’s blog (http://simplysolo.wordpress.com/2010/08/16/five-dates-with-chef-recap/ ) about the annoying tendency of people (men) to jump to conclusions.  No one is exempt from this on occasion.  In fact, I may have been playing hop-scotch with conclusions just yesterday myself. However, over the past few years I’ve been privy to become acutely aware that it’s a basic thought process for some… and more interesting even is that said “some” are perfectly okay with any conclusions they’ve formulated, no matter how “off” they might be from the actual picture.

In my experience with this, I’ve found the shorter the jump, the closer to possible accuracy.  If we use a map of the U.S as our conclusion jumping mat, then let’s say if you jump from Nevada to California, you might not be completely off, but if your conclusions are more like jumping from New York straight to Arizona, you’ve most likely lost your way with your acrobatic and overzealous jumping.

I would love to list several rather amusing and/or frustrating examples I’ve faced with this over the past few years, but I fear that kind of detail might be just boring, so I’ll go with my most recent example.

Enter F…  F and I had emailed a few (maybe 2?  3 at most?) times and it was going along the line of any average starter-emails.  Nothing spectacular…nothing bedazzling, but still mildly worthy of a bit of my attention and polite responses.  Until I jump on to read my email and see I have one from him which has gone CLEAR from casual brief email chatting (we hadn’t even exchanged numbers or discussed it yet!) CLEAR into F sending me a short email simply saying, “meet me at such-n-such tonight at 6.”  WHAT???  Meet you??????  TONIGHT???  Wow..now that IS presumptuous!  Please put down the crack pipe Eager Eddie…you’ve clearly had enough…

Ummm…if I’ve not freely shared my number with you yet, it is so very NOT safe to assume, presume, and FLY all the way to “meet me at…”  Rome wasn’t built in a day pal, haven’t you heard? And unless you’ve access to being beamed up by Scotty, you’ve got a tad of travelling there to do just yet to get from point “E” for E-mail to point “M” for Meet-up….

I’m not exactly sure why I chose to even respond to this.  Typically, I’d have thought it best at that point to just ignore this one completely….ceasing all communication instantaneously.   However, I instead chose to write him a polite email saying I would not be able to meet him that evening and I offered up my phone number so we could discuss this and other get-to-know-you-E-to-M things prior to him making such further pompous and presumptuous invitations/demands with regard to me.

I received a call from Mr F. the next evening.  Ahhhh Mr. F, Mr. F., Mr. F…tsk…tsk…tsk…

Mr. F is the kind who makes a mere conversation challenging, frustrating, and borderline dangerous by his half-listening skills which lead him to make a jump like, say, jumping from Indiana over to Russia in one fell swoop!  These massive conclusions mean two things in a conversation:  1. You must watch everything you say very carefully in the conversation or you’ll spend over half the damned conversation explaining to dip-shit why and how he’s so off base that you don’t even really know how he came to that in the first place; which in itself is not only a ridiculously lengthy explanation, but just feels preposterous altogether because the dots do not even connect.  And 2.  Because of this, as well as the exhausting task of having to carefully analyze everything you even casually say within that lengthy and frustrating explanation itself, with this very explanation you’ve most likely only succeeded in providing  Mr. Country-to-country conclusion-jumper onto yet another miscalculated and totally off-base conclusion, as you were focusing on explaining his miscalculation in the one area, he has gone off in an entirely different one…  and is still totally lost in la-la land!

This, then carries the conversation back to step  1.  ….And thus, this futile exercise in explaining what shouldn’t have to be explained anyway has become the very sole substance of the conversation itself.  Not a very pleasant or coherent one, but it’s what you’ve got.  After only a few moments of this, if you’re anything like me, it begins to feel like a ludicrous elementary school game.  That piece of paper passed around in kindergarten which said, “How to keep a dummy busy” with an arrow instructing you to flip the paper over…and the same message on the other side…and on and on and so forth.

Far worse than the painfully grueling act of conversation itself here is when you add into the mix the person who stops listening as you’re explaining…because they’re so confident and practiced enough in their mass conclusion jumps that they really believe they’ve already got a good understanding of what you said, or meant to say, or were trying to say… Ugh…these people are exasperatingly impossible!

 Mr. F.  asks me what I do for work.  Innocent enough so far that without much thought, I just tell him.  I also throw in there that I’m hoping to get away from that field because it really felt unhealthy for me over time.  (I happen to have worked in an area of social work which leads the industry in burn-out rate.  I’ve been in it for 6 years, which is 2 years beyond the average rate for the typical “I hate my job” burn-out…)  And I confess I’ve been fighting against said burn out and feel it’s time for a career switch. 

F’s response to this is, “So you’re the pessimistic type”. 

WHAT?  This man clearly doesn’t even know the definition of job burn-out, as I’m not even sure how he got from A to W right there?  I say, No, I don’t think that’s an accurate assessment, but I do think when the case load and your effectiveness feel like you’d be far more effective just to macramé plant hangers all day to give to your clients,  then it’s probably time to do something else.

Well F has already made his assessment. And several times throughout our conversation, he alludes back to my “pessimistic” nature.  Seriously, I wasn’t even having a bad day!  My glass was two-thirds full during this conversation… a little spilled in the process perhaps, but I had my SHAM WOW! in close proximity and quietly and quickly wiped that right up as though it never happened.   Hell, I had rainbows and unicorns jumping around me even as we spoke. WTF?  I was done “explaining” after the first exercise in futility, but I did offer F one bonus attempt and after that, I had no interest in explaining any further.  This guy clearly is either just not that bright, is hearing or attention deficit impaired, or over time has just become ignorant by proxy of his chronic conclusion jumping. 

I don’t know why in spite of all of this mentally futile discourse, I still agreed to meet him for a drink on Wednesday night…maybe that’s merely yet another working example of my overly-optimistic nature?  Maybe this guy just isn’t good at phone conversations?  Had distractions running amok at the time?  Maybe my thick Russian accent threw his ability to hear and comprehend the words coming out of my mouth off into another direction? 

Wait.  I don’t have a Russian accent.  Okay, well maybe it was one of the other two possibilities then…  At any rate, I optimistically agreed to meet up.

…So, I’d be out-n-out lying if I tried to convince myself or anyone that I wasn’t beyond delighted to get a message the following day from a dear friend back home telling me he was in town on the very night of my planned date with F.  No.  I was truly ecstatic.  I not only was going to get to see my friend.  Yay!  But I had a legitimate and understandable excuse to cancel with F.  Of course, I didn’t feel like telling this to F via an actual conversation.  No, I opted to text it, with a brief explanation even!  Damn, I AM a considerate soul!

You know what? Mr. “Optimistic” F. didn’t even bother responding!  Not even an acknowledgement of my text itself. Well, well, well…this leads me to jump to two conclusions of my very own and I just don’t need any circumstantial conversation around to get to them either.  Mr F. obviously is horribly pessimistic and was making all kinds of further assumptions, conclusions, and massive country-jumps by my cancellation text or there would be no reason not to at least respond with an “ok”.  I get the distinct feeling he wasn’t “buying” my excuse, however coincidentally truthful and truly serendipitous it was…and it was both truthful AND serendipitous!

Perhaps the other possibility here is that F did not receive my text?  We had not texted at all prior…I merely assumed he texts…everyone texts…right?   Yeah, I admit I jumped from Rhode Island to Connecticut with that one.  Ahem…

So bye-bye Mr. F… toodley-do pal…hasta la vista, bayybeee… Happy conclusion jumping and conversation-torturing with the rest of the online daters out there!

Please assume that's me...

P.S.  Meet me at the bull fight in Mexico tomorrow night at 6…would ya? I’ll be the one waving the SHAM WOW! at the bull… ‘k…thanks…xoxo 😉

Wait a minute….is it pessimistic that I even own a SHAM WOW! ?!

Desperation, Will Rogers…

 

C'MON dude....I hardly know you...

Feeling guilty about the lingerer.  After our first date, which lasted far longer than it should have, he wanted to cook me dinner.    He has roommates, so he asked to cook it at my house.  I’ll be honest, my feelings and thoughts about Mr. L are ambivalent at best, so yes, it was in a moment of loneliness,  missing my friends back home, and I’ve nothing better to do anyway, that I agreed to this dinner.

I made excuses from the start not to kiss him.  I didn’t want to lead him on in my indecision and felt far too ambivalent to pretend to be into the romantic side of this.  He’s a pretty good cook and it was a nice dinner.  I just wasn’t “in” to it at all though.  After dinner he watched a movie, I slept through it, and woke as the movie credits were rolling.  Kept hinting at how tired I was, but “thank for the great dinner”…  Yeah, it’s only about 11 pm at this point, but in spite of my subtle hints, of course, he lingers.

Finally, he just comes out with it.  “Could I stay?  Just to be close to you… Hold you?”  Really dude, no!

I insisted he leave and he was actually understanding or, more complacent I think is a better description.  He’s been texting and calling daily.  Sometimes I reply, sometimes I don’t…sometimes I feel guilty and reply hours after the contact attempt, with a very minimal interaction…the least I can respond with and not feel I’m blatantly being rude or mean.

Last night was a rough night in my household.  This is a huge transition for us all and I’ll just come right out and confess my ex-husband is being a total jackass idiot on several levels.  Smack DAB in the middle of dealing with my oldest daughter sobbing (which she typically does NOT do – ever) about her dad’s idiot action from 5 minutes earlier, Mr. Lingerer calls.  I’ve not taken his calls all week…so I feel this is the prime opportunity to take the call (see??  I’m not totally rude and inconsiderate!) and just say(and honestly too), Hey, I’m in  the middle of a family crisis right now…I’ll try to call you later.

Okay says Mr. Lingerer…  no problem.

He waits awhile…then he texts.  The texts start out as concerned-checking-to-see-if-all-is-well  and then they quickly escalate to trying to figure out what’s going on with “us” texts!!!  WTF??!!  NOW????  ARE YOU KIDDIN ME?!  All week I’ve been pretty much blowing you off and now,  after I tell you I’m right in the middle of dealing with family issues, you want all the answers about “us”?

L:  is everything ok?

K(just trying to be considerate and respond with something): Umm…I dunno…I guess yeah…sorry

(as in, “sorry”, I just have other things to do right now than text you about this or ANY thing else pal)

L: Sorry?

K:  I dunno…whatever    (as in politely saying, OMFG, I can’t text you right now…GET IT?!)

L: ??????

L (9 minutes after his last text): are you ambivalent about me or is there something going on with your family that’s causing u some anxiety? Either way, I can back off a bit.  Whatever u want.

(I don’t respond..I actually AM in the middle of a crap-load of family crisis…..I can’t have this conversation NOW…OMG..and anyway I didn’t even read this..wasn’t by my phone throughout this thing)

L (24 minutes later…Dude!!!  SERIOUSLY WTF?):  I guess that’s an answer in and of itself.

K(after I’ve just read both messages… an hour later):  My phone was charging n I’m kinda dealing w/some stuff 2nite.   L……can u pls cut me some slack on the heavy subject 2nite?  PLEASE?

L:  I wasn’t being dramatic n I know u have more pressing matters . Sometimes u just need space. I can relate. But u do take awhile to respond sometimes.    (really?  You weren’t?  you  relate?  So WTF then?)

Few more back n forth texts about how he “understands” I have things going on and family always comes first, etc, etc, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH….

The mere fact thatc you KEEP TEXTING and expect a timely response demonstrates CLEARLY that you in fact, do NOT understand, you desperate-acting simpleton!  I am not dating to reassure men, to be a slave to my incoming text messages, or to have smoke blown up my ass.  You’re clearly and desperately too, saying the “right things” here merely to say them…you aren’t acting on them even as you’re saying them

In my 20’s, I was still innocent and full of patience and compassion enough to hear this cry of attention for what it was, and take the time, energy,  and “Mother Theresa” consideration to put everything on hold in the middle of my own “stuff” , just to be considerate of your feelings and needs.  I hate to admit it, but I just don’t have this anymore.  Not the desire to do it, nor the amount of selfless consideration it requires.  If this makes me a bitch (and I do fear that it sorta does), then it was all the men over the years who have sucked me dry of this who have created this I-wanna-be-more selfish-and-bitchy side of me.   …Maybe if we were in a relationship for awhile and you were actually going through something tough of your own, then I might consider dropping what I need to handle at that moment and reassure, coddle, and be considerate of you first…  Under those circumstances, I just might dig deep to find this for a man still.   However, we’ve had two dates…TWO!

And although I was leaning in this direction anyway prior to this episode of inconsiderate desperation, I can now say with confidence and good reason, there will not be a third date.  NO way pal!