It’s an upset!

What's the fascination?

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

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

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

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

“friends having fun at sluttyred”

“first kiss for dummies”

“shiny gold wrapping art”

“naked bicycle asses”

“kay has a stripper’s pole”

“cats and toasters”

“paul rudd belly”

“platypus open mouth”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crazy, huh?!

Beyond cookies, odd coincidence or Fleetwood Mac

Fleetwood Mac “Rhiannon”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahhhhh…is everyone’s life so very strange?

Screaming uncle or simple abuse of the “said red”?

Uncle, I say! UNCLE!!

After meeting face to face, smile to smile, and eye to eye, I sadly have to write that Mr. Perfect did not at all maintain his title of Mr. Perfect.  Nope.

I arrived late.  Of course I did…we’ve been through that obnoxious quirk of mine already, remember?!  I received a text as I was parking, but was feeling guilty about my typical tardiness and chose to ignore the text.  This particular restaurant/bar/café has three separate entrances to each “section” of the establishment.

Here I was...

I entered the middle one, the Theater Bar, the quaint, narrow little section which boasts local artist’s work on the walls, a beautiful long wooden bar that nearly goes the actual length and almost width of this section, and charming light fixtures, all creating a casually eclectic, yet ,romantic cozy little area.

Other than the bartender, there are only four other people in the place – all males.  I coasted past them, glancing casually to see if any look like Mr. Perfect.  Nope.  None did.  And I’m thinking, What the hell?  Here I was worried about being late as usual and Mr. Perfect isn’t even here yet!  That, OR he he’s one of those guys sitting at the bar and not only looks nothing like his pictures, but brought three friends with him!

I sat down at a small table and ordered a red wine I’d never tried before.  While waiting those few moments for it to arrive, I decide to look at my text.  Oh lookie there!! …. a text from Mr. P himself.  It says, “ I’m on the aquarium side; it seemed quieter over here.”

Mr. P's "aquarium side"

Ohhhhhh……hmmm…ok…..  yeah… ok…. The aquarium side of this terrific place is the oh-so-lovely,  timelessly classy, exceedingly romantic, and  scrumptiously delicious restaurant area.  Okay, okay, okay….I get it.  You are on time,  in contrast to my lateness,  after all; you’re just over there..through that doorway only a few feet from where I was sitting.

So, now is when I walk over there then, right?  Yeahhhh…no.  I can’t.  I just can’t.  I’m nervous and I’m not walking over there with my glass of unknown red and risk demonstrating immediately upon his first vision of me being that nasty tumble/trip/clutzy maneuver which is going to dump said red all over me, the floor, or worst of all, HIM!  Nope…not gonna happen right at this moment. Can’t go.  Can’t do it.  We’ll just have to sit on either sides of the old brick wall from each other then, at least til I’ve finished my dangerously red glass of wine in its dangerously breakable glass.

So, I text back that I’m in the bar area and I’ve already ordered a drink.   A minute later, around the corner comes this guy… In hindsight, I have to guess my instant and unavoidable facial expression had to have been much like those online daters who go to meet someone in person and  they discover at first sight that the profile photo of their date was from at least  10 years and 30 pounds ago.  I mean, yeah, I knew instantly it was in fact Mr. P, which was clear.  However, with brutal honesty, Mr. P’s profile pics, as attractive as they were (and they certainly were quite appealing), had nothing on Mr. P himself! …and I mean nothing!

OMG…are you kiddin’ me??  BETTER looking in person? WTF?  Is this for real?!

Oh it was.  he was undoubtedly far more handsome in person.  Once I cleared the shock from my system at this incredulous surprise, words cannot convey how very fortunate I felt that I did let Mr. P come around the corner to me rather than Queen Clumsiness herself with her boisterously dangerous glass of said red in hand, sailing around the corner of this quaint little bar and into the elegant, romantic ambience of the attached restaurant…only to come face to face with an unexpected and nerve wracking surprise such as this.  It really could have been one horrific scene for the comical archives of online dating first- meets!

All of this is a bonus though, right?  A surprise of the pleasant variety without a doubt.  Much preferable to its counter-part of possibility at first-meets.  Yes, yes, yes…and so it was a bonus.  Except for adding to my nervous state of fear of his seeming perfection.  What the hell?  Good Lord in heaven, he was charmingly handsome, terrific physique, perfect height…..and those eyes!  Those eyes…those eyes…they…those eyes…yeah…they….his eyes…ummm…..yeahhhhh…so the eyes…they… ummm….are entitled to….I mean they require…ummmm…a….yeah…they require and demand…

A  paragraph all of their own!  Ahem….  How to describe these eyes?  Start with the basics, Kay.  Mr. P’s eyes were a rich green, bordering on hazel green-gold-brown, but with so much green opulence, you almost couldn’t call them hazel with a clear conscience.  And I’m fairly certain these were not colored contacts …the color was so rare and unique.  These eyes weren’t super small or buggy big, they weren’t too close together or spaced too far..they weren’t too high or too low on his face.  They were framed with lush, long, darkish-golden brown lashes.   But quite frankly, although yup,  I AM a sucker for green eyes anyway (guilty as charged) and no, NO photo could have ever accurately or adequately captured the stunning appearance of these eyes(well, mayyybeeee perhaps with some high tech photo-shopping), none of this was precisely WHY these eyes were so irresistibly captivating, warm, lovely, and compelling all on their own.  What was it?

I couldn’t stop looking into them until I solved this beautiful enigma.  I mean GOSH, I’ve a creative mind, rather deep comprehension of things real and spiritutal, as well as a fairly extensive vocabulary.  Surely I can look at these and pin-point what was doing that!?  C’MON!!?? What it was about them.  Hell, I’m looking RIGHT at ‘em for crying out loud!  What?  What IS it about them?  I HAD to put my finger on it damnit!  There they were – right there– looking intently at me, smiling at me, laughing with me…  For Pete’s sake!  What’s the matter with me?  Could not figure it.  Nope.  Also could not stop looking at them.  And couldn’t stop trying to figure it.

So, the date is beyond lovely.  It was a healthy balance of sharing, laughing, listening, and connecting.  Ahhh yes, just more perfection it’s to be then, huh Mr. P? You wanna play hardball, do ya?  Yea?  Huh?  Do ya? Well…Uncle, I say, Uncle already!!

This all was so perfect and so ideal in fact that after a while, even his “perfection” itself faded into the background and seemed normal….and with that subtle happening, my extreme nervousness faded back as well.  Okay, so I’m sure the second glass of said red helped that latter part some, but regardless…   It was easy and charming and comfortable and stimulating and intriguing and delightful and…… OMG!  Is this for real?

We talked of so much:  kids (he has a son), relationships, college, high school, dreams, goals, some life challenges, some happy and blessed life events.  It was just fun!

Around 10 PM (it was a Sunday night after all!), I had to go (let’s hear the collective, “awwwwwww…”).  I didn’t want to, but…..gotta do what ya gotta do…  I knew he had enjoyed himself.  I just couldn’t be certain if he’d enjoyed himself or felt attracted enough to want to see me again.  I sure hoped so, but what do ya do?

Well I’ll tell you exactly what my giggly, adoring, captivated inner adolescent wanted to do:  I wanted to  slip him a napkin note which asked, “You’re so cute! I like you. Do you like me?  Mark the box Yes or No”.

 

The scared woman in me wanted to smoothly thank him for a lovely time, give him a warm, genuine hug which lasted just a few moments too long: not long enough to be provocative or sexy, but not short enough to imply, “Thanks pal….was fun!”. You know, just a wee bit longer than necessary just to be briefly closer to him (yup, I confess, I was a bit googly) and subtly convey my interest, but not so long as to “put myself out there” like, HEY!?  GUESS WHAT?  YOU’RE HOT MR. PERFECT (please do note the absence of the quotations here) AND I WANT YOU!  The dreamer in me wanted to escape quickly in order to not face the possibility that he did NOT find me interesting or attractive enough to want to see again and leave the result of the evening entirely in question, in order to sustain the possibility as long as possible.

Here’s when he says with a big happy smile on his face (and I love this part!), “Yeah, I should go too.  Have we really been here four hours?  We have!  It doesn’t seem like it.  Time went by too fast! Not too bad for a first date I’d say!”  And guess what?  While I’m looking at him saying those words and allowing myself to slowly drink in the positive connotations of that little statement, I finally figure it out!!

His eyes….. yeah, back to that eye-thing… His eyes…  (Okay, this definitely requires a cheesy cliché disclaimer and I’m truly sorry, but GOSH, what am I to do?  I simply have to call it like it was or my blog is just a load of bullshit.)

His eyes danced.  Yes, that was it!  The light in his eyes or the restaurant lighting or the I don’t freaking know WHAT…but his. eyes.  danced. with. light. Or joy…or geesh, I just dunno……

They danced.  It was as if his eyes had their own inner strand of twinkle-lights parading off a body of soft green water!  Sparkling and dancing about… And I’m not kidding!  It hit me upside the head so hard when I finally realized this, that my don’t-you-dare- be-a-cheesy-idiot-girl filter wasn’t at prepared. Nope, it wasn’t at all prepared and I quite literally exclaimed (yes, exclaimed), “Oh my GOSH…your eyes DANCE!”    …felt stupid the minute it rushed outta my mouth.  But he was graceful and grinned and said, “Thank you”. Somehow making me not feel like it was nearly as ridiculously foolish as it sounds…and most likely was!   Yup, Cheesy Kay burst forth with the girlish exuberance of figuring out this 8th wonder of the world.

They danced…danced as if they had a little giggle/smile all of their own…danced like a teenage crush at their first prom…danced as if he adored me….danced as if his zest for life might become tangible and burst from the depths of his soul…danced as if he was a ravenous sexy beast waiting to deliciously and slowly devour me…all of the above…all at ONCE!  They just DANCED!!!!!!!!!!!

add eyelashes and imagine in motion!

Mr. P walked me to my car and I hurried in to it…purposely avoiding that good night kiss moment.

Why?  I’m not exactly sure. I did get that sense of his hesitating as in he was hoping for a kiss good night. And I really wanted to kiss him too.  But, I think mostly I just wanted to leave perfection at perfection and wait for what might (or might not) be to come…and not push my luck.

Driving home, I regretted my obviously hasty departure, realizing that if he has any intuitive sense, that my haste definitely sent the wrong message.  After all, this is my famous move when I want to AVOID the good night kiss  because I don’t want someone I’m not interested in to put me in a situation to reject him or falsely lead him on: so very much NOT the case here!!  So, I ran through my mind how to counter act my misleading behavior.

I texted him when I got home.  “I had a really great time tonight.  Thank you so much for dinner.  I really like you:)”

Yeah, I said it.  Outright and with zero subtlety.  And thus, I sat on pins and needles awaiting his response. Nervous, scared…feeling utterly ridiculous…waiting for about three minutes til I get a text from him which says, “I had such a great time with you.  I really like you too:)  Could we bake cookies together sometime?”

Can we bake cookies together sometime?  Can we bake cookies together sometime???  CAN WE BAKE COOKIES TOGETHER SOMETIME?????!!

Ummm, yeah, sooooo Mr. P is coming over this evening (tonight!) for our second date.  We are baking cookies!

Beautiful.

Challenging the very idea of perfection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m sooooo excited…and so very nervous!

Uhh Cupid, we have a problem!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FB aka SNWMD (social networking weapon of mass destruction)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh huh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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