Tag Archives: maybe I’m a jerk

Cupid, please protect me from the bodily fluids?

Followed my blogger friend’s advice  (Vendetta ) and finally ventured out of the pond and into Cupid’s area of target.

I create my profile throw a few pictures on there.  I didn’t really put much effort into this…perhaps my gusto is dwindling?  …but I did it…yayy! 

At first, I was worried that it would merely be exactly the same as the pond I was already in since it is free as well  and I was pleasantly surprised to find it is a bit different.  It seems to do more specific compatibility matching.  I browsed around a bit.  Found one guy who’s face drew my interest, so I read his profle..and I was pleasantly surprised.  Had a little intelligence, far exceeds my height requirement, demonstrated some possible insightfulness, and a bit of a sense of humor too! Hmm….  Nice.  I wrote him.  I rarely write anyone first, but just had to at least tell this guy I admired his profile.  We’ve been writing/texting/chatting ever since and since he works third shift as a nurse, we have planned to meet Thursday afternoon at a popular bookstore for coffee and book browsing.  Can’t believe I’m almost excited about this.  No seriously, I just about am…until flashes of Zep, M, Lingerer, and Mr. PhD come flooding at me and prohibit my ability to actually get *there*..to actually be enthusiastic.  Yeah, it’s clear my optimism has diminished significantly, but HEY, at least I’m still going and trying!

From only a few days, I’ve seen a few differences between the sites.  I haven’t documented these of course, but what I’ve noticed as a general trend in my short time

Starting to feel a little like this gal...just around the edges though!

Seems the Cupid pairs me with younger men far more often than the aquarium.  Or is there merely a larger crowd of the younger ones over at the cupid?  Don’t know, but I’d guesstimate that my “matches are generally in their late 20’s and early 30’s.  not sure how I feel about this as in “matches”, but if I find the match attractive, I at least go peek for some reading material.  I’ve seen a few quality photos with quality profiles…read all the way to the end and then get my feelings hurt!  I’m too “old” for their requirements…OMG…  No, not every single one, but geesh…enough that it’s starting to make me feel olllllllllddddd.  Like being single with two children, having no friends, and speeding toward 40 isn’t enough to make me feel like I’m ancient already, Mr.Cupid has to have a sick sense of humor to continually “match” me with guys whose age qualifications I exceed.  Thank you Mr. Cupid you sick, twisted son-of-a…

I swear, this isn't me at ALL...yet...

This should be against the online dating law, I tell ya.  It’s cruelty to we getting-old people and particularly for we getting-too-old-and-irritated-at-dating-in-general-people!!  The first few didn’t really bother me so much, I’m like, ahh well…no big deal.  Then after a few more, I’m like umm…what the hell is this, then after a few more still,  I’m like okay, this is starting to hurt my feelings.  Geesh, I’m not THAT old for crying out loud.  I firmly believe this should and could be tactfully avoided by the I’m-sure-above-average-intelligence-Cupid-engineers/creators…those sick mean bastards! I mean with all this ‘”matching” they’re doing, how easy is to be eliminated from my matches if I don’t meet the criteria?  Should I even be their “match”?  I don’t think so.  Gosh, I’m just at that age where I’m still young enough to be in denial of my growing older status, but old enough to mostly only want to date appropriately aged men.  What am I going to do?  Write a bunch of me saying, hey I’m a little older than you are seeking, but dammit I’m still hot?!  My age-pride is still enough in tact that I refuse to approach in writing or otherwise any man who prefers a woman even one year younger than I.  But I’m old enough to be thinking, dammit, I must be really getting OLD…ughh!

Another interesting point I’ve noticed on both sites is that in general, my “matches” tend to be less attractive.  What are those odds and how are they arrived at?  Is this perhaps because I focus less on talking about the importance of looks in my profile?  Sure, looks are far from most important to me,  but gosh they don’t have to throw me all the one’s who look like they’ve been ridden hard and put away wet either!  Intelligence and personality are mandatory traits, but personality has got to be difficult to determine via these, doesn’t it?  I like that cupid throws in some IQ-like questions in their ongoing “questionnaire” to find “better match”.

My list of criteria:  1, Intelligence/personality (these are closely tied for #1), 2. Sense of Humor, 3.  Strong moral character 4. Height (neither site allows this as a mandatory prerequisite for matches though).

It’s promising already that I’ve had a higher number of “tall” responses and interests at Cupid by far.  Is cupid the site of taller, but younger (and often seeking even younger) singles?  That might be a contradiction for me…

Another question….should I change my “interests” to “everyone” since more than anything I hope to meet friends?  I browsed like this for a few minutes yesterday and came across some really strange profiles in the “everyone” category.  Can a guy with the screen name “pisscumlover” really become a dear friend to me?  Could we cultivate a lovely go-to-lunch-and-have-wine-n-movies-nights friendship together Mr Pisscumlover and I? Gosh, Maybe Mr. Pisscumlover really wants to make friends too?  I don’t care what the personal dating interests of my potential friends are.  Really, I don’t, but am concerned as to what message I’m sending out f I bravely list that I’m “seeking friends, short-term dates, and/or long-term dates” from the broad category of “everyone”? 

Does that scream desperation to you? Or am I just being paranoid again? I mean I am slightly desperate to make friends,but not at all desperate in the dating category.  If I clarify that with my written words, will any “freakish” types even read my words? Or is it more likely that they’ll sum me up without reading as dating/sexually desperate/WIDE OPEN to all?  And what if Mr. Pisscumlover might potentially be my next BFF?  Am I too quick to judge? 

Another thought, should I have two sites on there maybe?  One for looking just for “friends” from “everyone” and another for “looking for short/long-term dating from just “guys who like girls”?  Might that solve this dilemma of categorizing my separate “needs”?  …Or to the person who maybe finds me in both pages, do I (again) just appear wide open and desperate to all potential scenarios and possibilities?

Hmmm…..I dunno….

I whine, I rant…yes, but the truth is I’ve already crossed paths with more than a few interesting new potentials…  So, I’m having a blast with this right now!  I just have to tone down or resolve that aspect of cupid encouraging my feeling and fears of getting/being OLD…that’s just ughhh….ughhh…ughhhhh

hey, a girl can dream, right?!

….and now off to meet Mr. Nurse for coffee….

Prison matters and obligatory BJ’s

Yeah, I threw it...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zeps ex-wife calls it home

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

No worries pal...knock yourself out!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wink-wink

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sing it for me, Rob!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bye-Bye Now.  And good riddance!

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

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

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

…but I don’t wanna play Where’s Waldo!

S and I have emailed for several days… some really fun, flirty, nerdy emails.  Those are my favorite kind! I’ve been enjoying them and look forward to reading them each day.  Bonus: S’s photos looked nerdy in my kind of sexy-nerdy way!

I was super stoked when he invited me out to the lake yesterday!  I’ve wanted to go see it and explore since I first moved here…and here was a great opportunity to do so AND with a fun person too!  I felt a little worried after we talked though and he had a very nasally, overly-nerdy sound.  Well, it wasn’t so much the actual sound of his voice as much as it was his acutely lackluster conversation skills outside of email.  I shook that off as maybe just a phone thing (?)though.  And anyway,  I’m gifted at bringing people out of their shells and perfectly capable of stimulating conversation all on my own…

He arrived to pick me up.  He did look kinda like his pictures, except that his pictures seemed to display a different persona than he actually carried in person.  Not a big deal; he wasn’t totally appalling to look at.  So far the only real “issue” was that Mother Nature chose to hit me hard with cramps which could probably rate on a seismic scale if my body was a representation of the earth and its rumbling tectonic plates.  Ughh….  No worries though, on the way out the door, I quickly grabbed a few Motrin and knew I’d just have to wait for them to kick in…

Shortly after we’re driving along in his truck, he asked how I came to be in Vegas.  I start explaining:  My ex husband moved here a few years back for his work.  My daughters and he had such a rough time with this, it got more and more difficult each night to hear the nightly crying and…

INTERRUPT: What I want to know is if your ex wants to get back with you?

(Geesh…I thought you wanted to hear the short story version of why we came here…umm…I wasn’t rambling on or anything…) Oh.  Okay…umm..noooooo…that’s not why we’re here.

Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.

Ohhh..okay…

Conversation dwindles…so I start asking lots of specific questions.  How did you get to be here?  …What kind of job is it that brought you here?  So where did you grow up? Where is your family?  Are you close to them?  Are you a coffee drinker?  Ever been married…kids? What kind of music do you like most?

S proves to be the master at one-word and vague “dunno” question-answers, which certainly don’t further conversation at all.

Ummm???  Bakersfield?  ….Ummmm yes?  Hmmm….no? No..no…umm…I dunno?

Is it gospel? ...umm... So you like gospel music, right?

He gives this last answer as he switches the radio station to some sort of gospel.

…and I start to have little hesitations as to the length of time I’ve committed to with this first meeting.  I think of M’s brief meet-n greet-first rule and begin to think of it in a loving, regretful way.  Ohhh GAWD, why-oh-why didn’t I stick to that wonderful idea?  Am I going to have to pull teeth like this all.  DayLong?? ..AND that just to get yes/no AND indecisive answers?  OMG!

..that you? Forrest?

As I’m contemplating whether he is socially just inept or more along the lines of Forrest…Forrrrrressst Gummmmppp, to compound my hesitations and regrets here, as we are almost approaching the lake itself (maybe 15 – 20 minutes driving in the car at most), I am hit HARD  upside the head with the sleepy stick.    I mean, I’m not kidding here.  I suddenly feel like I’m on the way into surgery, just after the anesthesiologist has visited to intentionally knock you out, hard and heavy for the upcoming procedure.  Blurred voices that sound like, Okay Kay, start counting backward from 5 for me

That's me..only I was sitting in S's truck @ the time

Mmmmhmmmmm…ohhhhhkayyyy…Five…(my legs are getting heavy)…fffffffour (arms feel rubbery)…thhhhreeeeeee…(eyelids involuntarily drooping)…WTF? 

What is the matter with me?  Yeah, this guy’s a little boring so far and might be conversationally (socially?) handicapped, but its 11 o’clock in the morning for Pete’s sake!  I can sit through a two hour Catholic Mass after only an hour’s sleep and with a hangover and STILL stay awake better than

What I SO wanted to do....zzzzz

 this!  Hell, I can find watching paint dry interesting for more than 20 minutes if I set my mind to it…and this isn’t quite to that desperate point yet…  I mean, there IS conversation happening…

I’ve heard about his sister’s dairy intolerance and the substitutions his mother makes for holiday meals.  Hey, this is valuable information in case I ever become lactose or dairy intolerant!  I’ve heard about his parents’ six marriages between them and his religious upbringing… okay,  so he might answer my questions with vague dunno’s..but he gets to better explanations shortly thereafter all on his owneventually

No joke though…I can NOT keep my eyes open and I feel like someone slipped me some drugs.  I’m getting heavy and beyond lethargic.  WTF?

Hoover Dam

Ahhh..we’re at the Hoover Dam…finally.  I probably just need to walk around in the fresh air a bit to shake this uncanny sleepiness off…WHEW…just in time…

We walk around a bit.  Other than trying to hold my hand, this guy knows nothing about anything that I find interesting…but I’m working hard to keep thinking of more and different questions to ask.  I keep trying…

Hell, today I am in Webster’s as the very definition of inquisitive….what’s that thing do?  Am I standing in Arizona now?  You don’t know?  Okay.  Why do they block those sections off?  You don’t know?  Okay.  What are these elevators for?  Where do they go?  You “ummm..dunno…?”  Okay.

And the pictures…ahhhhhh geeesh the pictures!  I’ve never been here before and conversation is far from interesting, so in between coming up with 200 questions to try to stay awake, I’m snapping pictures with my cell of everything!

Okay…here’s a heads up for anyone who doesn’t know or suspect this yet.  I’m not shy.  I’m talkative, I’m effervescent.  Hell, I’m borderline giggly…  and if I want your picture, I will not hesitate to ask or just start taking them even…

So, when I’m taking pictures of historical monuments or constellations etched in marble on the platform, or the sculpture of the bridge worker guy, whatever…

Why is Waldo even IN this picture?

Do not…and I mean DO NOTjump in my picture! Don’t hang by the statue…don’t step into the marble constellation plaque…don’t lean over onto the bridge railing into the edges of my picture taking effort…

Seriously, I don’t know you and I don’t want a bunch of monumentally interesting pictures where I will later play Where’s Waldo? (aka:that one-uneventful-n-painful-date-I-dredged-myself-through-that-one-day).  Seriously guy, I’m making the best of this incredibly dull situation…  and it’s gonna be tough to crop you out of these pictures later in case I want to share them, frame them, or just look at them someday… C’MON…I don’t wanna have to ever explain you to people…k?  Please?

And here is when I realize in spite of my botched attempts at conversation and question-asking, beyond the fact that I seriously can.hardly.hold.my eyes.open…  S is digging me!  That’s hysterically funny to me in my borderline comatose state! 

He actually nudges my hand to hold it in spite of the fact that I kept my cell in my hand on the side closest to himat all times.  So we held hands over my cell phone….because I don’t know how to jerk my hand away from his knowing I’ve still got several hours with him to endure.  So, every time he’d grab my hand, I’d suddenly want another picture and yup, you guessed it…I needed that hand…  And yup, you guessed it…he’d lean into my picture!!

Waldo!?!  Get OUTTA there!  Can’t you see I need a picture of anthing at all errr… that part of the sidewalk?  Sure, it looks plain and ordinary to you and there’s hundreds more but that’s not the point!  It’s saving me from having to reject your hand OR hold it against my will.  This random picture taking thing?  This thing I’m doing here?  Incessantly?  Yeah… This, I do for you pal..so knock it off…k?

No.  S starts asking strangers to snap our picture with his camera!! Like we’re some adorable couple on vacation here.  People are all, “Awww..that’s a good one!  and “You two are so cute!”    S says, you’re good at posing…  I say yup…you have no clue…  Posers-r-me!

S was really a pretty nice guy but he seriously blew it off the bat by interrupting me telling a critical, and even somewhat interesting, story in my life and how my daughters and I came to be here.  That was just rude and socially inept and I was struggling to get past it…still.  If you can’t bring yourself to listen to a 45 second story that’s fairly critical to my life and the only reason we are even able to BE on a date on this day, then you’re already pretty much out.

Unless maybe you can do some tricks for me?  Huh?  What?  You “ummmm…dunno?”  Hmm..ok.  You’re out then.

I made the best of the day I could.  Thank GAWD the sights were interesting and I was able to take TONS of random photos to keep my hands busy…errr…of all that interesting stuff!

I just could not get over the initial interruption OR the fact that as academically smart as S seemed, he was just an idiot.  I’d swear if I’d asked him his favorite color, he wouldn’t have known the answer to that question either! Ummmm….I dunno?

Finally, we’re on our way home…yayyy!  And I just can’t fight this overwhelming fatigue anymore (really WTF is this?!)  I felt bad because I actually dozed off on the way home and it was only 5 PM…I just could not hold my eyes open!  Sure hope I didn’t snore or drool.  Woke back up as we were in my neighborhood and he’s asking when I’m next free.  I borrowed his repetitive line from the day and said, “Ummmm…dunno?”   I apologized for my lethargy and jumped out of his truck as fast as possible, given my dead-weight arms and legs…and groggy mental state.

The Tylenol hadn’t helped my Mother Nature issue much at all..so I ran straight to the medicine cabinet to grab a few more of those Motrins. And then I see what I had done.  NO FREAKIN’ WAY!!!!!

OMG!!

It was Motrin PM!!!  I had inadvertently taken two SLEEPING PILLS before I went on a date with one of the most boring persons I have ever met.  I swear my track record with OTC medication and dating is just un-freakin-believable!!

On my mind, but not my heart

Having gotten some excellent comments on the M-phenomenon from my fave bloggers here, I’ve come back again and again to something.

Four years ago I split from the absolute and only love of my life.  It was horrible, soul breaking, heart wrenching, mind and life altering, painful, confusing..  Every day that I woke up (well, the nights that I even slept, that is) from that point forward, it all felt so wrong and unnatural, like a split from literal reality had occurred.  Had the chronic unshakeable sense that I was in the midst of a nightmare which couldn’t possibly be actually happening, but that I could not wake from.  Horrifying on a level which I never even could have imagined was possible prior in my life..even after two divorces…it was dreadful to say the least…

B was for Barely there...

Anyway, I met a guy, “B” maybe a year or so after this “split”.  B was handsome, funny, super nice…and he asked me out.  Well as “over” as things were with the ex, we were still very much “carrying on” in many different ways, neither really letting go, but not together per se either….  So I declined this great guy’s date request.   Strangely enough, I suddenly kept seeing this guy everywhere.  Every time I was out with friends..there he was.  The grocery store..OMG he’s here too!  On lunch with co-workers…B, too, was having lunch there!  It became stranger and stranger… and was extraordinarily coincidental.  Finally, I just decided that all signs pointed to the fact that I should at least try to go out with him a few times.

For three months, it went well.  We had a great time.  He was truly fabulous.  I even lessened my time spent with the ex (and ceased sexual activity with the ex mostly) because I felt I owed a real effort to this guy and of course, owed him an attempt at fidelity as well.  I didn’t really embrace this time away from the ex though – in my heart and in all other ways, that was really where I wanted to be.  I was more making an effort to force that lingering non-relationship-relationship to cease rather than actually trying in this new relationship with B. 

So after about three months of doing “this” (whatever “this” was), he and I were at dinner one evening at my most favorite restaurant.  He seemed a little distant, but nothing too blatant, so I just avoided it.  I’m not nosey by nature and I really believe in respecting people’s privacy.  Plus, I really didn’t want to have one of those “what are you thinking/feeling” conversations because the ugly truth was, I had no desire to share with B what my real feelings were…being that they were not even really there..but constantly with the ex…no matter how hard I was trying to force that to stop and make my feelings for him subside.  For these two reasons, I never mentioned his being more quiet than usual and the evening went okay, all in all.

How I felt with B

The following day, he called me at work asking to talk.  I felt really nervous about this because although I wasn’t being outright deceitful to him, I really could not(and had NO desire to) share my sincere feelings with this guy..you know….they were definitely 110% with the ex and it tore my heart in two to have to keep blowing the ex off, just to be “honest” …err…straight with this guy I was seeing.  And more ugly truth here was that my plan wasn’t even working.  The ex wasn’t listening anyway and regularly “rejecting” my ex was merely getting more and more painfully impossible, not easier as I had hoped.  So, needless to say, I was not looking forward to this “talk”.  In fact, the thought alone made me downright nauseated.

So we talk on the phone during my lunch…  And he says, Kay, I really like you and I suppose there’s really no reason to stop seeing you, but I can’t shake the feeling that you’re just going through the motions of this…Sure, you’re with me and that’s nice and all, but it just seems like you’re just not really with me.  And I just want to know from you if I should bother keeping on with this.

I was stunned.  I could not say anything.  I mean literally, I could not even respond.  After a few moments of silence, he even said, Hello?  Are you still there?

I finally choked out,  I really have to go.  Promise I’ll call you later though. And I hung up the phone without letting him agree.

How could I argue this? He was so dead-on, it was scary.  So, I knew I either had to admit this (the very thing I’d been “hiding” from him from the start) or pretty much just lie straight out and deny it.  I respected him; I even really liked him.  I didn’t want to do either.  Really, all I wanted was to just be back with my ex and thus, solve the whole damned issue across the board.

…of course, I called him back later and admitted that he was right, apologized profusely, and told him I understood totally if he felt it best to stop seeing me.  He did.  It ended right then.  I liked him – I really did, but other than some guilt over letting it go on for three months, I really never skipped a beat.  In fact, my “ex” and I went to the movies and had crazy wild OH MY GAWD it’s BEEN TOO EFFIN’ LONG sex that very night…

And all felt right and balanced in the world again (as effed up as THAT truth is!), so even my guilt didn’t last as long as it probably should have…

After much reflection, this past event keeps popping up again and again in my mind.  I wonder if this is not maybe something similar to what’s going on with M now?  …only maybe this time, it’s both of us feeling this “half in” way a little…or maybe even more him this time and only a bit is coming from me?

I know my heart’s not fully in any of  this (M, dating, sex, whatever…), but my mind is in it some…  And maybe M just has a similar struggle…  What even happens when you put two mostly absent people into one relationship together?  A disconnected connection.

“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! ?!

Yes, I enjoy Whacking-the-Mole…

Wow..umm…M really surprised me last night..caught me off guard…rattled my cage….

I don't know this boy...but I envy him

I am smack-dab in the middle of a ton of suppressed dating worries…successfully keeping them just outta reach…  Those traditionally ridiculous thoughts and concerns that as a female, seem to be far too prominent and actually don’t mean anything at all, aside from excessive, ridiculous worries.  It starts with that strange feeling I get about M…those wonderings which have no real purpose or validity…those things which just annoy me that I’m even thinking about them, much less allowing any kind of worry to settle in…  It’s an absurd thought process and I’m annoyed with myself about them, so I refuse to allow them to get above the surface.  I play that Whack-A-Mole (Clobber- A-Hedgehog? Pound-the-Groundhog? ) carnival game with these.  The very moment they creep up even just a bit, I BASH them mercilessly over the head, knocking them back down into the “Ridiculous Thoughts I’m Not Even Going To Acknowledge” hole of oblivion…and I skip along my merry way onto the My Frog’s Gonna Kick Your Frog’s Ass (na-na-na-na-boo-boo)Water Races!

A few of these moles I’ve bashed since my lovely evening with M just this Friday past are: 

Why doesn’t he ask me on another date before the last one is over?  Why have I never gone out with him on a Saturday night (Saturday night has always been considered “date night” in my little part of the world)?  What in THE hell was he doing last Saturday night anyway?  Why am I thinking of these questions?   Why would they even matter?  Do I really care about the answers?  Or (and gawwwdd forbid!) do I just have to worry about something…all the time?

(I beg of you to bear with me through this, my ex husband has made my life a living hell recently and quite honestly, I’d rather think/worry about ANY thing except the nagging-like-a- dog-at-my-ankles sneaking suspicion that moving my family across the effin’ country was perhaps, NOT the right choice!?  UGH…boohoo…fear!…panic!…etc, etc. etc…)

So Saturday, I go on the dating site to look at M’s profile and see where I must have missed the “married and seeking” status, the former “serial killer” checkbox, or the “three-four-five-some’s are my favorite activity ever!” proclamation.  …or maybe it was just to peek through his photos again and get in tune with my inner psychic knowing?  …hell, I don’t know..whatever…I was on there to (double and triple) check him out, right?  And LO and BEHOLD:  

 
 

WTF?

His profile has been deleted! 

Yeah, that’s right.  DEEEEEEEEEE—LEEEEETEDDDDDDDD!

WTF?  Seriously?  Umm…what does that even mean?  Why did I come here to check this?  I don’t want this information right now.  I don’t want to think of these possibilities…umm…I can’t even imagine the possibilities…

Did his wife over in Paris/Russia/Indonesia discover his dating profile?  Did he meet his 5-girl harem quota? Am I considered #5?  Did he have a date tonight (it IS Saturday after all!) who qualified in every category he could hope for?  Did he find the perfect S&M dominatrix to kick his ass?  

What. The. Fuck.?? (yeah, I just typed the f-word out loud there…that’s what I LOVE about blogging best so far…didn’t you know…I can say the f-word without ever even having that word come out of my mouth!!  Yayyyy blogging!)

Hmm….no word from M Saturday or Sunday.  I’m okay with that.  I like my personal space…yeah, even on Saturday night. Yesterday around 5 PM I get this text from M:

M: Hi <Kay> if ur free Thursday maybe we can see a movie

Me(a few hours later): That sounds great!  What do u want 2c?

M:I’m open.  Whatever you want.

Me: Ur awesome.  I really wanna see Inception or The Other Guys… u can choose from those 2 if u want…

M: Inception

I don’t respond to this.  It’s already been decided at this point, right?  It’s perfect!  Embarrassing disclaimer insert: Not to mention, I’m dealing with ex-husband CRAP I haven’t had to deal with in 10 freakin’ years!  Know something I’ve prided my self on for years now? NO ex-husband drama…NONE.  So between you and me, I’m bawling here actually…and that’s  mixed up with just a bit of swearing under my breath in the shower to calm my sobbing- pissed- off-, frustrated-to-tears self down.  FYI: I’ll deny this to my death though, should you ever try to accuse me to my face.  Understood?  Good

Psh...NO..these aren't MINE!

M(a few hours later: thankfully after my “moment” and my soothing trying-to-get-back-to-my-happy-place-shower):  ok?

Me: Perfect

M: What ru up to?

Me: Just dealing w/stupid drama n kinda wishin I could just get drunk or run far away instead…oops is that tmi? What ru doing? Wanna sneak off n drink something stupid w/me later?(ohhh gawwwdd…did I really text that?  REALLY?)

M: I’m in bed.  What drama?

Me(back peddling/recovering/etc/etc): I’m kiddin.   The x is just actin stupid.  No big really. Just haven’t seen or dealt w/this n 10 years n I’m just outta practice.  Its all good.  How was ur day?

M:  tired.  Wish u were n bed w/me.   Night.

Me: me too. That would be so nice…but hoorayyyy 4 Thursday……night 🙂

M: Yes.  Miss you.

WHAT?  Re-check, re-read, rub eyes…….cough…cough…ponder my response in a mild state of panic…a nice panic w/ a bit of “awwww the little butterflies”….but also with some “WTF do I say to THAT?”  panic too.

Me: 🙂 🙂 🙂  (Ummm…was this response too obvious that I’m at a total loss here?)

Then, after a few minutes of thinking, gasping for air, and mind racing all over the damned place at the  speed of light and frantic disorientation…

Me (2nd recovery in one text-servation):  miss u2.  Sweet dreams.  

Looking forward to Thursday….  All discombobulated….  And  I just might make a voodoo doll out of whole wheat penne pasta of my ex-husband. 

Can you see the resemblance?

And then OVER boil it…I’m talking to mush here.  Yeah…..it’s floppy McFlopster all. the. way. for you pal…..yeah… I may not be crazy enough to boil your rabbit, but I’ll sure as HELL boil your noodle!

Accidentally, inadvertently, mistakenly…LOVE your toaster

It's not like a sexual thing...or anything...

Although it pained me for two reasons (1.  The outrageeeeeez accent and 2. M was back from Paris), I kept to my prior commitment and my overall “mission” and hung out with Word Man last evening.  You all were right, his accent sorta faded into the background after awhile…  Thank GAWWWD…I could not have handled an entire date with that mind-abrasion of an accent if it had not at least softened throughout the evening.

He offered me a choice prior to the date of dinner out or him cooking.  I chose dinner at his house.  I love to have someone cook for me! I am filled with gratitude and respect for any person who offers to cook for me.  I subscribe to the “ice water phenomenon” even.  What is it about someone else cooking or making a sandwich or even a  glass of ice water, that just tastes better (even if it really doesn’t) merely because someone else made it?   Post hot-n-heavy sex, my ex boyfriend always grabbed a glass of ice water for me and it never ceased to be the most deliciously refreshing glass of ice water I’d ever had.  I used to have the sneaking suspicion that everyone in the entire world must have better tasting water than I.  Until one day when he went into my kitchen after a rowdy romp and still delivered a most scrumptious glass of water, far more luscious that any I’d ever made for myself in that same kitchen, using that very same water supply.  It was then I realized that it wasn’t that I was permanently cursed with less tasty water than the rest of the world, but everything just tastes better when someone else makes it for you.  It could be Kraft mac n’ cheese, a PB&J, or Top Ramen noodles…it just tastes better!  So although I’m a far more terrific cook than he, Word-Man did rack big bonus points for offering to cook for me!  Thanks again,  WM!

…And we played games.  I love board games!  They are one of the greatest date activities ever! It covers any awkward silences, tosses around ample communication, sprinkled with tiny tidbits of get-to-know-you-better information, all mixed in with some vigorous competitive energy!  It doesn’t get any better than that for a healthy, productive, and informative first date…

Contradiction here is that I enjoyed the games, liked him enough as a person, got over the obnoxious accent for the most part, but felt zero – not a dash, not an iota, not inkling, not a speck – of chemistry.  Confound it… that damned chemistry anyway!  I’d venture that freakin’ thing is responsible for more problems in the whole dating thing than anything else.  Why can’t we have an inner switch inside so that when we’re having a terrific time…or even maybe not such a terrific time…but just hanging with a terrific person,  we could just choose to flip the switch?   How many dating problems across the world would be solved if chemistry wasn’t so damned elusive and  we could just turn it on for ourselves whenever we felt it should be there?  Or wished it were there?

Oh...your mother picked out these sheets? FLIP THE SWITCH!

Ummm you’re such a nice guy. Nothing.   My grandma would so approve.  Nothing. Ummm, my uncle might approve too?  Nope..nothing.  You have a million terrific qualities I adore and admire?  Nothing.  Hmm….okay…what did you say?  You’re a zillionaire and horribly generous?  Nothing.  You’ve won the Pulitzer?  Nothing.  Wait! ….the Nobel Peace Prize too???? Nothing….ahhh c’mon….there’s gotta be something there?  Nope, nothing…..flip the switch…ahhh……yes… okay……. AND you’re sexy too…I just gotta have you right here on the stairs, in the library…no, I’m not hungry because I must have you here on this very table right this freakin’ second! The museum? Yeah…  The movies?  Yup!  Your car?  Umm yeah, you’re so fabulously sexy, I want you there too!  I want you every where!

Oops…forgive me please, I got lost for a second there, fantasizing out loud because it wasn’t there for me with Mr. Wordmeister.  WTF?  He’s my kind of attractive, enjoys so many of the same things I do, cooked for me, made me laugh a few times, and…nothing.  Just nothing….

Who needs a date anyway?

Could it be that he talked incessantly of his mother?  It’s adorable that she decorated his entire house for him and changes the décor every now and then, right?  Actually, I could just be jealous; I’d like to have a mother who does that for me…  Could it be his overwhelming allergies to his cat and thus, his chronic nasal drip and nose- blowing?  Could it be that when he wasn’t talking about his mother decorating and redecorating his house, he was talking about how much he loves his cat?  How he explained in vivid detail that he gets mega-annoyed when dates don’t put the toilet lid down because he’s petrified his beloved cat will get curious and drown in the toilet? 

Ms. Snuggle-fluffy doesn't know how to swim!

 Awww but that shows his capacity for responsibility and devotion! Right?   It’s beautiful…ding, ding, ding, we have a match…I love cats too!  He told me how he loves sex…  Ding! Ding! Ding!I love sex too! Don’t worry, he safely explained how he draws the line at bestiality; that if he ever felt sexually attracted to Miss Snuggle-Fluffy, he’d do the right thing and proceed to cut “it” off with a kitchen knife….  That’s charmingly reassuring, rightIsn’t itNothing. I felt nothing…except of course, a strong and compelling desire that he not,  in any way, attempt any physical connection.

another theory on Ms. Snuggle-fluffy in the toilet-perhaps she wants WM to get a life?!

I’m not so sure you can even fully imagine my utter horror when as we sat at the dining table playing a game of Scrabble (Ding! Ding! Ding!  I love Scrabble too! ), my foot accidentally    inadvertently   mistakenly slid over his.  OMG….I didn’t want to YANK it back, as though I was just disgusted at touching him.  So I casually just moved it away, trying to be slow enough that my aversion to this kind of contact wouldn’t be too obvious…intentionally avoiding the knee-jerk reaction to snatch my  foot away from his as though I’d just brushed it up against an open flame. 

Big mistake. He totally misconstrued my attempt to be considerate of his feelings as a desire to play footsie!! GAWWD!  After my big-oopsie-footsie mistake, he kept rubbing my foot with his under the table… ever so slowly and gently…in a sexually charged invitation-like fashion. Umm… AWKWARD…  I didn’t want to encourage this, but hate to be rude.  After all, it wasn’t like he was rubbing MY Miss Snuggle-Fluffy or anything.  And were I attracted to him, I would have enjoyed a little bit o’ the footsie action.  But I wasn’t.  And I didn’t.  And he continued…and continued…and continued.  My only recourse was to not look him in the eye whenever he did this, in spite of the fact that I could feel his stare blazing on me,  begging me to look up and return his gaze.    So I just ignored every one of them.  I suddenly became very interested in organizing and reorganizing my rack of letters, talking to Miss Snuggle-Fluffy, randomly watching the television- commenting stupidly at whatever was there, and admiring his toaster with sheer fascination…anything I could think to do to avoid his gaze and politely ignore the footsie action he was desperately trying to get going.

My, my, my, that is a TRULY lovely toaster you have!

Flub number 2:  As he was walking me to my car, I was really hoping to avoid any kind of good night kiss.  Thinking I would make that clear easily by just giving him a quick smooch on the cheek as I jumped in my car.   No.   I timed it all wrong and accidentally inadvertently   (ahem) mistakenly got his NECK!  Yeah, it was brief enough (I hope) that he didn’t get the wrong idea of my intentions and feelings, but seriously?  How in the hell did I accidentally inadvertently mistakenly get his NECK?!  How does that even HAPPEN?  What unfair glitch in the universe did I stumble on to make two totally misleading, mistaken, and inadvertently sexually-oriented gestures such as these??  In one night?  With one date????!!??

I don’t know.  I probably never will.  …but I did…  And I was horrified!  Ohhhh stars…why didn’t I just go with M?

Apparently I’m a (GASP!)…bigot!

The Big Yummy Apple

I wrote to Word-man first,  very shortly after I opened my profile.  He has a nerdy-attractive “look” in his pictures which is appealing to me. He mentioned word games on his page; I wrote him about my love for those kind of games, moving to his area, and thus, needing an adequate opponent.  We’ve been playing them online together ever since!  It’s terrific!  I’ve beat him 3 out of 4 games so far, but he does pose a terrific  challenge and it’s fun. 

After a few brief discussions via Internet games chat, he finally proposes we talk to explore if we’ve any other things in common.  I’m delighted!  I was just grateful to have a worthy and willing game opponent and after 4 games, I’d resigned to myself that he wasn’t interested in me in any kind of personal way.  This was a bummer being that I found him attractive and intellectually interesting as well, but again, I was enjoying our games.  Now, I was very much looking forward to talking with him!

This might be one of those shameful confessions here.  Not shameful like some of the incredibly fun and exciting sinful shenanigans I read from a few fabulous fellow bloggers here…no, nothing so juicy as that unfortunately. 

However, it seems I was being less than honest with myself when I wrote of my fairly limitless acceptance and minimal “dealbreakers”.  I apparently have another overly stringent one as well…  New York accents!

I don’t like this!!  New York fascinates me in concept!  I love its oh-so-ample theatre and plethora of cultures; its historical value is fascinating; positively adored hiking the Catskills and upstate in general; and I still think Seinfeld was one of the funniest shows ever! In fact, I’m certain I could go on and on ad nauseum about the many and wondrous redeeming qualities of New York in general and feel heartfelt appreciation for it all.  Hell, I could probably jump up this moment and give a painfully sincere, rendition of the Broadway song, New York, New York :

These vagabond shoooooooooooooooes…Are longing to strayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy… Right through the verrrrry heart of it… New York, New York….!

…If I can MAAAAAAAKE it there, I’ll make it AAAANNNNY where… It’s up to YOU… Newww York, Neeewwwwwww Yorrrrrrrrrrk!!

I won’t deny how excruciatingly painful that would be, were I to actually do it, but the point is, I’ve had a mad love affair with the theatre since I was a very young child and have been singing that very song since I was approximately the age of 3. So, I can do it…and I assure you with more heart and feeling than you can imagine.

Additionally to all of this ridiculous nonsense, I immensely enjoy language and all that encompasses, including various accents.  So, why do I find the NY accent so aesthetically unappealing and obnoxious?  And not only that, but all the way to the point of being instantly turned off at hearing it?  This is so ridiculous to even address with myself, but after my talk with Word-Man, I can’t remain in denial of my excessive and innate (?) discrimination!  The guy has been in Vegas for 14 years, so it’s not even a very acute accent…but it’s there…

And I just can’t take it… neither my own bizarrely disproportionate  intolerance of it(its literally akin to nails down a chalkboard for me – and no that’s not an exaggeration)… nor the accent itself!  Perhaps what adds mass weight to my overbearing annoyance stems more from having to face some ridiculously limiting quirk of mine which I simply can’t explain?  I truly find it intolerable…  And my very intolerance of it is even more intolerable than that!

I don’t judge people on their race, their education, their family tree, their hair color, their interests or hobbies, their culture, their past – none of it!  I EVEN grew up speaking with an obnoxious southern-like accent mahh-self, which I wasn’t even aware of until I moved during high school and was teased and criticized mercilessly for it.  I consequently, and much  to my  Mam-maw’s “You sound like a Damn Yankee!” dismay, worked hard to overcome that manner of speaking and I still get mildly self-conscious when on very rare occasions, a word or two of mine slips out with a noticeable hill-billy twang.  How could anything as ridiculous as an accent bother me to this extreme degree?  This is unacceptable discrimination!

Yet there it was, undeniably blazing in all its glory during my phone conversation with Word-Man.  After only a few minutes when I had noticed it enough to ask about it, I wanted to just end the conversation!  I’m not kidding – I wanted to.  Ugh!  I struggled to turn down this mild accent enough to even hear much of what he was saying!  To make things worse, he talked a lot…and the more he talked, the louder his accent seemed and the harder I had to work just to hear his words. 

This is not only unacceptable and deeply embarrassing, it’s just plain wrong.

 Overall the conversation (what I could hear of it anyway) went fairly well and we’re planning on meeting Thursday or Friday in person.  Can I do it?

Immediate update:  I think I’ve figured this anomaly out!  My aversion to this accent was created by Twizzler Man years ago…ahhh Twizzler man….tsk..tsk..tsk…you traumatized me to this horrifying extent.  Shame on you! 

Lingering questions and clinically swimming

The Lingerer had left me alone for the past few days.  I was feeling badly about not answering his last text, so I finally responded:

Me: Things have been crazy w/my ex..ughh…and ur last texts didn’t really make much sense 2me..so I haven’t called or txtd lately…

L: What lasts texts(it has been over 5 days….)? Give me a thumbnail of that.  I worked 18 hours on Sat and my head hasn’t been n it since

L: Are u ok? Would a well placed bullet help resolve ur prob? :-)I’m kidding.  I thought you were avoiding me n I was giving u space. (Yes, I was and thank you)

L: Is this thing on? (C’MON???!!??  For the love of God!)

Me (an hour later…and very annoyed): (His name),  I am often doing 20 diff things at once..i rarely sit by my phone waiting around 2 txt..wish ud try 2 understand that..it’s frustrating 2feel so much pressure 2jump on my txt b4 I do other things Im doing

L; That’s why I was giving u space (he’s still just not getting it).  I know u have other things that take precedent over dating.  Im not throwing a tantrum over this believe me (what does that even mean?)

Me:…but if I don’t respond n UR time u txt like its been answered when sometimes ive not even read the txt yet….n u keep saying u understand..but u don’t act like u really do

L:  Guess I’m takin a diff perspective. When I respond 2 txts that have been sent immediately.  Im under the impression that ur still by the phone waiting 4 a response.  Stupid of me 2 assume I guess. (yes it is…gosh…is he finally sorta getting it???)

Me: I just should’t feel that much pressure or stress just by txting w/u..its a bit hard 2deal w/teens dealing w/major changes, deal w/my ex, and my kids activities too while staying a slave 2my phone so I can bsure 2 txt u back n time 4 u not 2feel uncomfortable or neglected.

Me:  I try 2 txt back timely but sometimes I txt n then have 2go do something away frm my phn..n figure np..ill just txt back when I get back 2it.

L: well I hate texting anyway and I thought I mentioned that. But the little things I send after a txt like “is this thing on” are really for my own entertainment (hmmm..well at least someone’s getting entertained by these…)

Me: ok…but u jump 2 conclusions if I don’t answer immed..n last time I had 25 things going at once n I had told u that too

L: I’m not passive aggressive and generally if theres a problem I’m very direct n my approach. If someone says they have things 2take care of I give them the space they need or I offer 2 help. And I don’t think I’ve been nagging u.  well maybe a little but I’ve been waiting 4 ur cue

Me:  well I’m going 2bed now…g’night

L:  sleep well. Kisses…

–I just don’t understand this crap!  I almost want to just ignore him completely, but he’s such a nice person, and I was more attracted to him in person than I thought I would be. And because he’s so genuinely nice, I just feel terrible to blow him off completely.

He’s a small town Midwestern guy (like me).  We seem to have some similarities which are refreshing to me while I’m living here so far from home…  I just can’t quite put my finger on why he annoys me so much the other 50% of the time!! …and it does seem about 50/50 at this point:  50% annoying, 50% redeeming qualities.  He only got a return text because when I finally just ignored his last rambling (at 6:30 AM!!) text, he left me alone for a few days until he heard from me again.  That’s a good sign… He’s at least making some effort not to annoy the living bejeezus outta me!

Update on“M”:  Looks like Friday is swimming night.   He just texted asking if we want to meet out somewhere or at my pool or his.  I just said whatever is fine.   I’m actually just a bit nervous.  The pressure is on to look good in a swimsuit.  I’m not ashamed of my body really, but I’m also not typically a flaunter-type either…  I’m sure to many, my body is effin’ phenomenal and to others, it’s okay but maybe not their “ideal type”.  I lean toward the thin side and that’s certainly not everyone’s idea of perfection… and I’m okay with that.  Beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder and particularly when it comes to a woman’s figure.  It just feels oddly strange knowing that this entire “date” came from him asking for a swimsuit pic…and not just him asking to hang out with me…  And why does that even matter??!?  Should it?

I just can’t decide…  but it almost now has a clinical feel to it because it feels as if there is a distinct purpose..not just a general, mutual desire to hang out.

I also can’t shake the questions.  He met me once and then asked for a swimsuit pic….  Does this guy have a big thing for the whole pic thing?  Does he have a long list of girls from the site (and anywhere else too)with whom he shares (and saves) their various pics?  Is he more into having a “thing” with a bunch of girls’ pics or into actually dating someone?  Is he too caught up in virtual-land that that’s become better to him than any reality he could create and share with a real live girl?  What does all of that mean in the dating world? 

For some reason.  a post I recently read about an online date comes to mind with these questions:  An online date leads to sex and immediately after sex, the guy is online checking the dating site.

… And why in the hell do I have to analyze everything?