Tag Archives: the Lingerer

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?

Yeah, I stirred the moral gravy pot…and got a little creepy on my shirt…

Very interesting weekend…full of atrocious stupidities, learning experiences, and interesting possibilities of learning experiences to come!

I’ve yet to discuss in depth here contestant #2 in the Who wants to Date a Married Man Show.  The reason for this is primarily that my interest in him is hardly enough to mention.  He is Drunken-Dance(from two years ago)-Guy; I’ve just never had a huge interest in him on any level because …uhhh well, because he just does not hold my interest.  He’s in the basic, semi-attractive category looks-wise and his conversation skills, while they’re not horrible by any means, they are way less than intriguing.  In fact, if I had to compare him to a food, he’d go safely into the simple and bland category of plain white rice or say, whole-wheat bread maybe…but subtract any healthy aspects as he’s married and therefore lacks any health-nutrients whatsoever. If I had to liken him to an activity, it would be something like watching paint dry.  Yeah, he’s that irresistable!

However, he does get five stars for persistence.  I have blown this guy off to the point of rudeness.  I rarely answer his calls at all and I’m only mildly chatty when we do have conversations.  I make no attempt whatsoever to be charming, cute, exciting, or flirty to this man.  I mean ZERO attempts…and he continues to call and proceeds to imply this “thing” between us.  What thing? …as there’s been no “thing” and I’ve demonstrated no interest in creating a “thing” !  Apparently a “thing” in his mind is enough ‘thing” to a “thing” make.  This point leads me to perceive DDG as a self-consumed ass.  No, he’s never been rude or inappropriate directly  but his sheer persistence combined with my obvious lack of interest in him and in having any “thing” with him can only mean one thing: absolute self-consumption.  Self-consumed because he’s oblivious to my lack of interest and “ass” because he’s so persistently and actively looking to cheat on his wife…ummm…yuk!

The last few times he’s asked to see me, if I had plans with friends, then I’d say, Hey I’m going out with some friends later, if you want to meet up, you’re welcome.  He always responds like, I can’t really meet you in groups (really?  Umm…why?  Are you implying we have some secret thing going on or something?).  I simply say, Okay…suit yourself…gotta run…buh-bye.  This annoys me for two reasons.  One:  the thought of sitting somewhere alone with him has loud overtones of an experience akin to counting every grain of sand on the beach.  And two: and once again: there is nothing going on here to “hide”!  Nothing!  Nada!  The only thing to hide here would be his lewd thoughts and depraved intentions!  To imply directly to me that we’re on some secret clandestine journey together which must remain well-hidden from random people whom he doesn’t know and don’t know (or give a damn) about him, is ludicrous to the degree of laughable.  There is nothing going on here pal, aside from your pathetic and futile efforts to get something going on.  Have a hint buddy:  there has to be something to hide before there’s a need to sneak around and stay out of the spotlight…or in this particular case, keep out of random crowds of people in public places.  You’re not Justin Bieber for gawd’s sake – avoiding the paparazzi and possibly horrifying Enquirer headlines.  For the love of white rice…get over yourself already!  Hmph….annoying….!!

On top of which and I reiterate – nothing is going on!  And if he’d use even a smidgeon of thought, intelligence, body language (speech), or intuition, he’d clearly see that NOTHING is in danger of going on either!  Pshh….ridiculous.  Hey schmuck-man, I’ve shown as much interest in you, meeting up with you, or even talking to you as I would a paint-by-number with only one freakin’ number!  Hello??  Is anybody home???

So…one (especially I)  will never know why when he called Friday early evening and asked if I was free to go have a drink, I agreed.  Almost backed out before the conversation even ended though, as he struggled to think of a suitable (i.e. “safe”) place to go.  What’s up pal?  Are you thinking this “meet for a drink” is code for a public make-out-fest?  If you’re as nervous as a whore in church just to sit in a public bar and have a drink with me with 100 other people sitting around sharing the same space as we, then I have to go with, Not a good idea for you to do it fella!

And the fact that you ARE this nervous over NOTHING firmly tells me that you’re not at all interested in any kind of friendship or camaraderie with me…in fact, you’ve not even contemplated that possibility…and ewww..that makes me feel dirty all by itself.

Yeah, I don’t know why I went anyway.  Chalk it up to my informal research of immoral asses like this or listening to Sympathy for the Devil too many times, I dunno.   No.  Hey, you know what?  Actually, we can just chalk this up to my growing fatigue at his persistence in the face of my obvious lack of interest; as in, yeah, okay, let’s get this over with my friend; let’s set the record on this straight once and for all pig-cheater-guy; let’s invite the fat lady to sing already so we can get to the more pertinent (and final) act two of you LOSING MY NUMBER, you LOSER-ASS.  Hell, if you’re going to try to have a cheat-on-your-wife-fest with me, then at least be interesting or for the love of gawd, look up the word finesse in the dictionary.  GAWD..something…anything…to make yourself seem appealing in some way, shape, or form to even have a conversation with, much less a freakin’ extramarital affair!!

Thankfully, he selected a local place where many of my friends frequent.  I know Billy the bartender quite well and yay! he was working.  Cheating pig comes in a few minutes after I, acting  all weird-n-creepy-like, pays for my drink and then says, looking straight ahead and not at me, “We can’t be here.  Someone is here that I didn’t expect.”  Ohhh..really?  Okay… you’d probably better go then.  No, he says, my truck is outside parked on the hill.  Meet me out at my truck, but wait a few minutes after I leave to walk out.

What the FUCK?!  Now, I’m starting to think that this guy is doing this just for the “excitement”, as he’s making up drama where there isn’t any and making things look suspicious where there’s NOTHING. Does he fancy himself as the starring actor in some dramatic movie-of-the-week?  Has he listened to a few too many renditions of “Secret Lovers”?  Hell, I’m questioning even his basic intellectual capacity at this point..  OMG…is he just a literal idiot too?  I’m further annoyed. Because of my extreme level of annoyance, I took a reeeeeaaaaally long time to finish my drink: tiny sip…chit-chat with random lady sitting next to me…tinier sip…chat up Billy-the-cutie for a few minutes…sippy-sip…text a few friends….sippiest sip – which was more like a kitten’s little lap…watch some hockey on the bar television….siiipppp….  Finally, about forty minutes or so later, I get up to head outside and Billy asks, Awww, where ya goin’?  I say to meet up with a friend.  He winks adorably at me and says well you should come back…I’m working all night long.  Awwwww…Billy is irresistibly adorable!

Outside, I look back and forth from my car to the hill, debating if I even wanted to bother with whatever was next in this absurdity.  I went to his truck and jumped in.  I realize given my feelings about this kind of thing mixed up with my lack of interest, this seems truly an odd decision, but it was a great choice after all and I’ll tell you why.

Sitting in his truck, he starts talking of the random anonymous person in the bar who made it uncomfortably unsafe for him.  Awww……so I suggested another totally secluded out of the way bar and he said, “I don’t even know where that is”.  Ummm yeah…exactly you idiot.  Geesh!  Then, he says his wife is out of town and we could just go to his house.  Oh my freakin’ gawd…now that is it.  He was clearly not interested at all in maybe sitting and having a drink and an attempt (however futile for him that might’ve been) at some witty conversation. Now, I had all the answers and info I could possibly ever need about this guy and this situation.  Right along with all those answers came my rare ability to just speak plainly sans my politeness and my don’t-wanna-hurt-anyone’s-feelings-rose colored loquacious crayon.  And my irritation became loud and proud.  If you’re that nervous to just have a drink with me when nothing else has happened between us at ALL, then you shouldn’t be doing  this.  Why are you trying so hard to cheat on your wife anyway?  What’s the matter with you?

He bluntly says, I’ve wanted you since the minute I first saw you.  When I see you somewhere, I can’t pull my eyes away from you.  I think about you too much…all the time really…

WHAT.  THE.  FUCK?!  Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?!  You’re an utter weirdo?! Psh…no I didn’t say that  utter weirdo part.

So I say, I was willing to have a drink with you and chit-chat, but if your sole endeavor here is to cheat on your wife, I gotta break  it to you, you picked the wrong girl.  I can’t be certain I’d be interested in whatever you’re suggesting even were you single, but I do know for certain that being any part of you cheating on a sacred thing like marriage holds zero interest for me. I’ve been cheated on by a husband before and I will never be that person who takes part in that kind of ugliness or creates that much pain in another human being’s heart.

He nods his head and says he understands.  I start to get out of his truck and he says, I just want you to know you’re beautiful. And whenever I see you anywhere, I’ll be thinking of how much I want you…just know that…

Yeah, you go with that pal…seal that coffin.  Because that little last gift you offered up, just makes me feel wrong and so freakin’ dirty that I now feel like I need to go home and immediately take a shower just to cleanse myself of the pile of disgust you’ve just immersed me in.

No, I didn’t say that part..although I kinda wish I had..  I just hopped out of the truck and walked the few feet to my car, debating whether to go back in and chat with Billy the adorably sweet bartender and drown my disgust in yager bombs and bloody mary’s or go home and scrub myself down head-to-toes with a harsh disinfectant and holy water.

Again, the debate was tough.  I just felt so horrible that I’d even met up with this guy…so disgusted with myself, with him, with the debauchery and casual nature of this kind of thing in general.  Hmm…drown the mind/thoughts in a haze of alcohol… or scrub myself fresh and clean…??

I opted to just go home and take a two hour shower, washing away the entire nasty ass residue that creeper-man had  radiated onto me.  Umm…yuk!

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?

Desperation, Will Rogers…

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay says Mr. Lingerer…  no problem.

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

L:  is everything ok?

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

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

L: Sorry?

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

L: ??????

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swimming without trunks

He sends me a clever little ice breaker message about a fun local band. We send a few emails back and forth, then a few texts, then a couple of phone calls. A few little warning flags went up during our first phone conversation, as in tiny little fluttering parade-sized flags, barely flapping in the wind. Not entirely sure if they appear tiny because the parade is so far away from me at this point or if they actually are those little “not to worry” club sandwich sized flags? At the least, he seems harmless and at the most, he seems interesting enough to get to know better…
First date set. I’m mildly intrigued about the guy and very interested in getting out and about for my first time since moving to Vegas!
I meet him at a nearby casino on Saturday night. He was right: the band/show really is a blast! He seems pretty cool too…having a nice time overall. I’m a little reserved and quiet though. Nervous? Maybe a tad, but not really..more like I just need a few Red Bulls and vodka to muster up the energy to actually get “into” this date. I’ve always been of the 3-drinks-and-everyone -is –my-new-best-friend variety, so I make friends with this couple standing (room-only) near our table, dancing around like my could-be newest and most fun Vegas friends. I invite them to sit with us…the more the merrier!
My new BFF, April, asks how we met…. We tell her “online” and this is our first date. Although I expect some gasping and shocked looks, thankfully, no one expresses any kind of surprise at all. On ladies room joint visit #3 or 4, April even decides to open up to me and tells me a little of her own online-dating experiences. No, she didn’t meet her husband like that, but she did meet a couple of interesting characters online.
She tells me about one guy from online she dated a few times with whom she had become physically intimate. Apparently dude has a sexual fetish of only wanting to “finish” on her face. Nope, wasn’t a one-time thing it seems. Not an “oh my God I’m so turned on by you, I wanna get KINKY!” thing…nope! Seems the guy was not at all interested in any sort of sexual intercourse or fun shenanigans…not even prior to his finish. He just wanted to run the race all on his own, get to the finish line… and finish on her face. Hmmmm…. I’m not sure what to think of this so I just show what I think amounts to the appropriate looks and sounds of shock and disgust (not that I had to really fake this), coupled of course with some pertinent questions about the experience. I gotta know more… I mean, I’ve never even thought of this possibility! What are the warning signs of this? How can I see this guy coming from a mile away please?
On a scale of 1-10, my enjoyment level of my date up to this point was hovering somewhere between a 4 and 6. However, I return to my date from bathroom trip #3 or 4 with a deep appreciation(unbeknownst to him) of his newly elevated status of at least he’s not the finish on your face guy.

We wrap up the date nicely, dancing with my new BFF and her husband. I’ve had a few drinks and I’m grateful when he offers to drive me home. We arrive to my house and decide to go swimming. No, he doesn’t have his trunks, but no worries… I’m okay with him swimming in his boxers. We swim awhile, make out a little in the pool. Now this to me starts to feel a little like one of those highly overrated soft-porn scenes from a rated-R movie that brings adolescent boys back to see the same movie again and again, but I’m going with it… Hell, at least he’s not you-know-who

After some amateur movie acting, a few more drinks, and some questionably better-than-the-book-I’m-reading conversation, I allow him to stay the night. Not for sexual reasons obviously…
All goes safely and he’s a gentleman for the most part. He even mentions needing to brush his teeth first thing in the morning. Hooray for good dental hygiene!! Bonus points because he quickly tells me he does not intend on asking to use my toothbrush, but has those handy little quick-brush-on-your-fingertip thingies. Okay. Good… Thank God! Although we did swap spit the previous evening, I’m certainly not at all prepared to share my toothbrush with him.
However in the morning, in spite of his admirable respect of oral hygiene and his Boy Scout preparedness, I kinda just want to be alone and quietly enjoy my morning and the down-side is these very things have rendered him able to enact in his next starring role as…The Lingerer….
Or have they? Seriously, pal? Thanks for the evening. I rate it an overall 5. So you’re not doing too terribly bad to this point. Now, when are you gonna go home? Your rating is dropping by the minute here…