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Archive for January, 2012

Type Geek sends me a text tonight using something I lent him 10 months ago as an excuse for trying to meet up. Really? Are you a total moron Type Geek. The timing is interesting. I’m wondering if he perhaps saw Hot Virginia (need a good name for him, don’t know)and I on Friday night. We WERE in his hood, it’s possible. You snoozy and ignory for year and a halfy and you lose-y.

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I had two dates this past week that I was looking forward to, both men traveling through Boston. The science geek from San Diego and the designer from Virginia. I will make part of the details brief, because one of them barely deserves the mention.

San Diego is the most contrary and obstinate of men. He walked in strong, being tall and handsome with okay style… really, all he needed to do was not say anything dumb. Alas, everything he said was dumb and, unlike most scientists who are fixated on fact, he liked to argue inarguable points, such as Barcelona being located in the North Eastern region of Spain. Apparently, his once being in a region to the North West of it suddenly relocated Barcelona to the South Eastern part of the country. I had to pull up a map on my iPhone to get him to stop arguing, and then, he responds, well, it is South East of where I was. That is like calling Westchester UPSTATE New York cause you live in Manhattan.

At 7:08 pm on Friday night, Virginia appeared at my door. I stepped out, we looked at each other and each of us knowingly smiled. A hug and kiss on the cheek began our 7 hour date. At no time was there awkward silence, uncomfortable conversation, frustration or misunderstandings. There was no needing to find a way to relate, we just did. He genuinely complimented me throughout the evening in a way that was gentlemanly but also cheeky and flirty. We drank, laughed, talked seriously about our exes, our lives, and life. After our great dinner, we went next door to a great bar and grabbed a back booth and continued. It felt like I have always known him and it was extremely comfortable. I kicked my heels off towards the end of the evening and put my feet beside him on the booth, to which he grabbed my feet and started massaging them. Really?! Thank you! At some point, after he had been running his hand along my feet and ankles for an hour, I needed him closer, so partly to have an excuse, and partly because it was so loud in there, I told him to sit next to me because I couldn’t hear him. A little while later, we were looking at a YouTube video on my phone and, when our heads were really close, I turned to him and said, “you can kiss me if you’d like.” Of course he would like. So, some smooches in the booth, then in the car as we waited for it to heat up, then outside my house as he was dropping me off. As I was getting out of the car, he called me back over to him and gave me one more smooch. Sigh. When I got out of that car and walked to my door, the night seemed a little less dark.

By the way, we have another date for Wednesday and YES, I am MAJORLY crushing on him.

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I’ve had an interesting few days. A date with a reserved Slavic by way of Canada, some continued light Internet flirting and chatting with a science minded geek in San Diego who will be coming through Boston for business and a mid week dinner date of Ethiopian with moi, as well as some unexpected heavy Internet flirting with an uber hot design geek from Va who travels through my area a couple times a month, the next trip being a few days from now, which ends my week sitting across from him at a sushi spot. I could think of worse ways to end my week.

Well, now you are wondering why I have dates with two men that live far away. Impossible situtions you say. Except that when you factor in how much I saw Type Geek when he was juggling clients and travel, what’s the difference? If I see one of them once a month, that beats some of Type Geek’s scheduling. And with the hot, did I say HOT, VA design man coming through my area a couple times a month anyway, well, that isn’t bad to start. After researching them both , aka “googling”, both are decent guys but the heavy crush falls on VA. I feel slightly weird about that because he’s in the same field as Type Geek and is maybe even more well known and/or successful and… also bald. Luckily he doesn’t harbor any of the Slave Leia fetish fantasies, so I won’t have nights of roleplaying any geek boy “obi wan, save me” storylines. Not that roleplaying isn’t fun, it is, but sci-fi & fantasy scenarios just don’t get ME off. Nonetheless, Apparently I have a thing for hot bald designer geeks. I think it is the way this particular subsect of designers, such as the Type Geeks and Hot VA’s of the design world, how they look at and think about the world. Regardless the reason, Hot VA is an evening I am quite looking forward too. Now I need to squeeze in a wax, manicure and a bang trim… cause you never know.
  

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I talked to him a couple times on line. Thought he seemed endearing, sorta like a puppy crossed with Anthony Edwards from the early ER era. So, I agreed to a last minute date with the Financier. Little did I know…

Well, let us see, he walks in wearing one of those “duster” over coats with the flaps, black, over a dress shirt and jeans with brown shoes and … a little black bowler hat that has a satin flower on it (should I tell him it’s a womans hat?). Then, he tells me that his ex girlfriend was ridiculous because she did homeopathy on her dog (!! yes, I ran a holistically minded sustainable pet business asshole). Then he says how dare poor people have access to subsidized housing because if HE can’t afford to live in a place that good, neither should they.

Then … oh, lets see, I think I stopped him from his constant talk of self long enough to say, so, are you fiscally conservative… and he said, of course… as if it is normal and EVERYONE is, to which I said, ” yeah, so I’m a socialist.”

THEN he says that he can tell on the profiles on line that women into sports are uneducated because they just “did some college and not advanced degrees” and that “women who haven’t done advanced degrees are more likely to be about plastic cups of beer and blue collar life than….”

Meanwhile my inner dialogue:

and oh yeah, BTW … I did not go to college asshole. So, I’m a socialist, former business owner, high class, design snob, well dressed and cared for homeopathic follower who waxes her pussy and you will NEVER get to see it because you are a short sighted judgemental fuck.

Bam, date over.

Ahem, so there is that.

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I haven’t posted this yet, even though it’s days old news, partly cause I feel like an asshole. And, rightfully so. 

Prior to realizing that Jack/Cusack dj friend had the hots for me, I made dinner plans with him for Saturday Night. I wasn’t considering it a date. I wasn’t making a date night with him, except apparently I was, which was fully realized after he began to kiss on me the other night. So, I feigned illness. To be fair, I did have one hell of a headache earlier in the day and it did linger through the evening. He was dissapointed and felt stood up but told me to feel better. 

With no plans for the evening now, I considered my options. Walking by the theatre, the movie choices were less than thrilling. Buy a book and read at Starbucks for hours? I was not only bored, but I was also feeling the need for some companionship. I was kinda lonely. I texted this gentleman, a divorced art major turned tech geek, whom I had hung out with a couple times prior. I can’t figure him out. Is he interested? Is he not? Is he attractive? Is he not? Is he interesting and funny … Or ? 

He was setting up his new xBox when I messaged him. Looking for a better Saturday night, he agreed to meet me in an hour for coffee. So, we met up and decided that 6 was too late for coffee and cocktails sounded far better. Three cocktails later and some dinner sounded even better. Our conversation flows smoothly enough but it always strikes as far more friendly than anything else. He doesn’t touch me and I don’t ever feel like he’s flirting. He likes hanging out enough to invite me to another lounge for 1 more drink and then , when leaving, I state that i’m going to walk to the taxi stand at Harvard, rather than Central, he asks if he can walk back with me, even though it’s the opposite direction. At the taxi stand he goes in for a real smooch, not a cheek. So, if you want to kiss me, don’t wait til the end and just do it already. 

A friend of mine in so-cal says ” he just wanted sex that night” and ” he’s just not that into me” as explanations for the behavior. Ok, so he’s a dick and I’m undesireable? That’s what he has for advice. That’s for shite. Newly divorced men are confused, insecure and out of practice. I should really stop asking my single male friends advice on men, because these friends are most probably single cause they are retarded.

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Last night a friend of mine, a DJ, asked me over to have a drink. I guess I was naive. I wasn’t completely sure that he was interested in me in anything other than as a cool chick, however, let’s be real… Men don’t make friends with girls because they think that they are cool. Men make friends with women they find attractive and hope to have a chance at dating or fucking.
He’s a sweet guy but a guy I’d be friends with, not wrap myself around. He reminds me of the men I’ve known through the years. The boys I hung out with in high school. Music nerds, you know, the Jon Cusack character in High Fidelity… but in Jack Black’s body.
So, in my exhausted cluelessness, he started to kiss me. A couple minutes in, not feeling anything, I said that I needed to go. I felt badly and I didn’t want to continue on in a manner that was leading towards someplace I knew wasn’t what I wanted and wasn’t genuine.
Would I have felt differently if he were Jack Black in John Cusack’s body? Maybe. I don’t know for sure. I do know that what I was sure of … was that my staying would have been unfairly leading him on … and that wasn’t something I wanted to do.

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I woke today with the giggles of two young girls crawling into my bed. 3 and 7, my “nieces” are the most incredible children I have known. It was 70 degrees at 9 am when they slowly opened the door and ran under the covers. My best friends were asleep and it was sweet perfection for the half hour  that the girls and I laid in bed chatting. While my friends snuck in an extra couple of hours of sleep, taking advantage of my presence keeping the kids at a slightly quieter tone than normal, I made a traditional Southern New Year’s Day brunch complete with braised ham hocks, Hoppin’ John, collards, pan roasted potatoes, and poached eggs. Once they awoke, we sat together outside, the sun on our faces, and ate too much and laughed just enough. I miss them terribly and wish my reality was a bit closer to theirs, rather than on the other coast. Perhaps that is a change I need to consider.

This year begins a lot differently than last. Last year I was in love with a complicated man, still technically owned my home, still technically owned a small business, although both were in the end process of being given back and dismantled, respectively. I had the very best dog, who was also one of my most dearest friends. Just when I thought my own personal identity couldn’t be anymore shook up, it was. Tested is barely scratching the surface with regards to how I felt many times over. Tortured is definitely how I felt most often.

I don’t believe in Resolutions. I don’t think I did anything necessarily wrong or bad to encourage the harsh events that had unfolded around me in 2011. Will I love less? No. Will I love differently? Quite probably. Each time we love someone, a new person or a past person, the love is a little bit different. It’s nearly impossible to ever love quite the same as you have previously. So, what will the year bring. I have hopes for it. I have wishes and dreams and preferences, but none of these things I can predict as the truth. I have come to learn, through my many painful experiences, that I have far less control over the outcome of things that I once believed.

 

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