I’m taking this chance to sneak a few minutes to write as I watch the children of a dear friend who is stuck at the airport in Japan waiting for his rebooked flight to depart, while his wife is hospitalized with pneumonia. Slightly disruptive to my work schedule, some things needed rearranging, but worth it to help a friend. Besides, I love these kids and the sunshine in their backyard and the fact that their playground is on a beach. Warm temps, cool sand in the toes, and the laughter of children makes up for any hassle or disruption to my schedule.
Now, on to the topic at hand, OkCupid and the ridiculousness of it all. I barely go on now, mostly to read the trends or see what the most recent insanity that was sent to my inbox says. Which brings me to this. Why does a published photographer/photojournalist who is a swiss trained chef and currently renovating a property in Istanbul feel compelled to OkCupid message me not once…but twice in one evening? He told me I was his far more attractive doppelgänger, that we would have an interesting time chatting and that, oh yes, he forgot to mention that he is an ordained zen buddhist monk. Really? At some point a woman must say WTF. If you are a reasonably attractive 52-year-old man who is financially well off enough to travel the world and take up residence in other countries while working on international photo exhibitions and accompanying books, as you renovate your Turkish apartment to Dwell worthy standards… I find it HIGHLY unlikely that you are perusing OkCupid and deciding to chat with a 36-year-old hot financial mess of a woman in New England. Surely you can find a firm bodied 26-year-old lady friend to lavish with your tales of travel while feeding her vapid dollar hungry eyes your homemade Turkish Delight. Part of me is just having a wee issue buying the authenticity of such a profile.
Meanwhile, I’m enjoying seeing Type Geek roughly once a week or so. Sometimes sex, sometimes just curling up and sleeping together. His scent and the warmth of his body next to me has always felt like home. Not the home of my childhood, but the home of my future.
Also, I have been hanging out a bit with one of you readers, and I adore her. She has quickly become one of my favorite people and I am so glad I chose to cross that line from reader/writer to friends. The irony though, and reason I am bringing it up is hat she is now dating Doggie Daddy. He was only mentioned once, and I never actually met him, we just spoke several times via text and OkCupid chat regarding possibly meeting. This was during the time Type Geek and I were not together and I was trying to get him back, but believing he wouldn’t budge. I was looking for distraction, not actual connection. I had two “dates” during that time and they were both awful. Weak men who showed all their cards early and confessed feeling of insecurity about their ability to date me. That I was out of their league somehow. I find that incredibly unattractive. I’m attractive and I have done interesting things and I have tried and will try again to do interesting things, but this just makes me different, not better. Just different.
Anyway, Doggie Daddy… so, this woman, who will be nicknamed Poppy because of her love of Orange and her personality which is as hugely vibrant as an orange poppy flower and just as intoxicating as the seeds they contain, is dating him. We gathered for coffee recently and she invited DD to join us there as he was in the area. Meanwhile, both Poppy and I KNOW of the connection, and have laughed heartily over it, but neither of us had confessed to DD that I am the same girl he was chatting with on OkCupid or that we know. Us gals knew he would figure it out once he met me in person and he did, but only said something after Poppy had shown our hand while I was away from the table. It’s quite amusing I think. Upon meeting him I knew what I had already known, he was not my type and it would not have lasted more than one drink. They are so perfectly matched and adorable together. My type is a Type apparently. I am not sure that I will ever truly know what or why or how. I’m just glad that this Type is here and not in Istanbul or Constantinople.