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I guess it is my fault for even considering him to begin with. There was something boyish and scruffy about him , something funny and snarky, something different, I guess. So, I made the date.

My first warning sign should have been the… You plan it and tell me when and where. Umm, no. You want to take me out… YOU plan it.

Then, in rapid succession came every reason and flaming red flag ever needed:

He works a job he isn’t passionate about yet he isn’t strategizing a next move. He’s content with mediocrity.

When I responded past a text of his with two other flirty texts later in the day, his response was to ask if I had Verizon, because he doesn’t have unlimited texts. Way to respond to a hot girl text flirting with you buddy.

The night before our date it became clear that he hadn’t considered planning it when he said, so I’m thinking Chinese cause of your allergy. Um, I can’t do Chinese… Other than pizza and beer it’s one of the worst choices for me. Then he says, well, how about Mexican? To which I respond that it can sometimes be okay but that he should just pick a place and call them and ask whether they can accommodate my allergy. Then, as if he isn’t listening, I realized his third choice  showed the bigger issue motivating his picks, he’s cheap. He chose a vegan/veg place that is really only known for their pizzas. I mentioned that vegan places use gluten as their meat substitutes and rely on bread and pasta as mainstays in the meal. “So, eat vegetables then.” That’s what he said. Hey, way to show a girl a good time.

At 33, he lives with his parents and couldn’t answer the question regarding his exit timeline and strategy.

So, dread dread dread. I cancelled a few hours before, with an excuse regarding work, because I felt it was kinder than the truth. In the end, his response was brilliant, for a man-child.  “That’s too bad, because I was looking forward to our date.  You ruined my day and I’m mad at you for it.” IF I had actually been caught up at work, he just secured himself supportive asshole of the year award and no chance in hell of a redo.

He reminded me of that Chris Elliot show Get A Life when he was a 30 yr old paper boy living above his parent’s garage. Perhaps our date would have ended with my finding out that he stole his dad’s car and was actually unlicensed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQolt4lI4wM

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Another great floodapalooza has hit New England and well, I haven’t posted in a while. I have issues with posting at the moment, it’s not that I haven’t gone out on some dates worthy of the type of attention they would have received pre Type Geek. It’s the snark, I can’t find it. I can’t seem to muster it like I did in the past. I just feel worn out and desnarked I guess. If only deskunking my dog was as easy. But let’s be frank, the last year plus of Type Geek wasn’t exactly easy. I don’t begrudge him that, really. I mean, in some sad little way, perhaps I pity him, because in the end, the cross he needs to bear is much heavier and much lonelier than mine. I offered to help carry it, as others in the past surely have as well, but he can’t see through his windows and past his own distorted mirror to see how much better life would be without that weight and self-inflicted injustice.

With that said, let’s sum up the last two dates I went on.

Date 1: Passive Aggressive Resent Man.

Prior to meeting Type Geek, I had conversed with PARM briefly. We talked about getting together and even set a date, Feb 13. Now, we didn’t actually go on said date because I believe something came up with me and I left him a message and said that I needed to cancel. ALTHOUGH, maybe back then there was a hint and I bailed because I thought that it wouldn’t work, I just don’t remember. So, over a year and a half later, post Type Geek, he says hi online, I say hi back. We agree to meet for dinner. He lives in New Hampshire, but works near me, so … we meet up. In the course of 2 hours… each time one of us uses the rest room or goes to do something, he says “oh, you are still here” or “oh, you came back”. First time, cute. 4th time, makes me think you are not so awesome.  Sure, his mom was GREAT at the deep Jewish guilt and apparently he learned a bit in return. Add to that the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and oh yes…5th time he brought up that I stood him up on February 13th, 2010…but added in, each time, that he wasn’t upset about it, really. Hmm. Really. Guess what, I don’t feel guilty.

Date finally comes to a close and he offers a ride home. He’s really meek and harmless, so I agree. You know how I am odd and don’t love brown shoes with black pants? Sneakers with jeans? Oyster slurpers? Ok, please add on men (or really anyone) that drive white cars. I think it’s silly. White cars are almost worse than red for attention, and they get filthy, so they are super high maintenance. Telling me that your white car cost $60k. Sigh. Lastly, vanity plates?! He had a vanity plate. I can’t say what it was, cause that gives away too much, but I will say this… it was the equivalent of a little boy playing with his Matchbox cars. I’m not sure whether it would have been better, the same, or worse, if he had a vanity plate that said… “vrrr-oooom”. Get what I am saying? Good. So, we haven’t talked since and that was weeks ago. I think we can finally close that page and probably assume that I knew better on Feb 13, 2010, but somehow forgot over time.

Date 2: Last Minute Meh

He was a nice Asian guy… nice. Nothing that really amazed me or moved me, but agreeable and nice. Black car, non athletic shoes that matched his clothing, didn’t smell like sour fermented baby, and has a decent career doing something he decently enjoys. The date was last minute, we were both online, both hungry and bored. We ran an errand together on our way to go grab sushi. Felt like friends, haven’t gotten together since, even though we did the blanketed response of yeah sures. I’m not interested enough to bother. Nothing against him, but he’s just a different cup of tea than what I prefer.

That’s the up to date on all recent dates.

I did however re-sign up for Match and out of bitter annoyance at the service because the first match it came back with…was Type Geek….grrrrrrumble, I agreed to let my friend MidCenturyMuppit set me up with a friend. That, in and of itself was funny enough. Then I find out she has typecast me and I’m now going out with another 5’8 bald former pro bass player who is divorced. Awesome. She laughed at the typecasting. I found it mildly annoying, but I adore her, and so far, he is pretty funny. We are going on tomorrow. I have no clever name for him yet. He has a young daughter and lives an hour a way. If these are the worst of his complications, after a year and a half of Type Geek’s, I think I will be fine.

 

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It’s funny, meeting someone in person whom you have been virtual friends with for over a year. Nearly 13 months of sexual tension and in person, we are comfortable pals, yet beyond that, perhaps not much else. Internet Skype boy was having a weekend of bad reactions to some new migraine meds which ironically were causing low drive issues. The irony does not sneak past me here. I wanted a weekend of unbridled carefree fucking after 11 months of loving someone who had low sex drive issues and low interest issues. Nonetheless, we did have sex on Friday night, but the first time you fuck anyone is odd, grooves not found, rhythms not synced, and so I extended my trip one more night, to see whether things could line up more.

In between my first and last night… Parisian Macarons from BisousCiao. in flavors like Sour Cherry, Champagne Cocktails from Bubble Lounge and strolls through the Bowery. Apple Cider from The Union Square Greenmarket, naps on $7,000 couches at The Conran Shop, viewings of Time Bandits, and jokes about how I have lost my NYC street cred after ten years away.

So, how was the sex, second go around? It’s different. It’s not Type Geek. I was detached, yet forced to be present because of the sensation of fucking someone much larger than your previous partner. We fucked, it was fine. It was the punctuation, the ending to my one-sided relationship with a man I loved who couldn’t give anything except the occasional dinner, concert or overnight snuggle. Until there was sex with someone else, there was always just going to be Type Geek in my rearview mirror. After Skype boy and I fucked, after he washed up and went to bed, I laid there. The only night I was unable to relax and sleep. I missed Type Geek, even the small amount that I had him, the small amount that snuck through without him seeing it cozy up to me. I couldn’t help but wonder, has he thought of me at all since he saw me last. Did he ever miss me or was I unable to imprint myself even that much on him. I know it isn’t a reflection on me, it is merely a reflection on him and his bigger deeper issues, but nonetheless, I feel the loss and miss the him that I knew in those dark quiet hours between dusk and dawn.

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An update on the day… Sunday July 10, 2010.

Spain wins first World Cup EVER!

Cooper Fiennes sobs from joy, then sadness. Being in the United States, so far from friends, family and countrymen was amplified post win. Then, once the floodgates opened, it was apparent that he was also crying over the loss of his marriage and all of the change in his life. I believe he is lonely, in a way that friends aren’t able to reach into and fill at the moment. It was immensely endearing to se him so vulnerable. All I wanted to do was hold him, but we were at his colleague’s house. The woman whom the strange dynamic exists.

A question in my mind, since I had heard that Spanish men weren’t particularly blessed in physical endowment, however he is, was answered. It was a sideline conversation and when Cooper Fiennes mentioned that his great-grandmother was Sephardic Jew… it clicked. Once again, Hung Like a Jew is true. Of course, the hottie with the beautiful cock turns out to have some Jewish running through the most important veins of his body. I should have known that there was a reasonable explanation for it, besides meer blessed fluke.

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Ok, so weekday morning sex is difficult. I get it. I understand. The alarm goes off, we hit snooze, next thing you know, Type Geek was supposed to have left his house already to manage the long ass drive to work..in another state. Seriously, what is with the working in another state thing?! Luckily he works from home a LOT, so he doesn’t do this every day. Okay, let me back up a little.

Type Geek and I have been having problems getting together ever since he got back. There was work crisis, then brother crisis, then both. Finally, he nailed it down and said… Wednesday night? To which I said… Wednesday night! I made an INSANELY amazing gazpacho on Tuesday night and was planning on bringing that for dinner the next day. Always make gazpacho ahead of time. Making it ahead of time allows all of the flavors to merge. Mmmm, nom nom.

On Wednesday I had a few errands to run. I had a client and an interview at a restaurant. The recession has been hard on my business and it is failing swiftly. The housing market has also killed me, so I have begun to drown in the financial murky depths of near poverty. I have been looking for a job for some time, but there have been few, if any, bites. I finally decided that I need to bite the bullet and get back into the hospitality business. Therefore, I have been trying for server positions at some higher end foodie type restaurants. Wish me luck, I need it. Anyway, as I was saying, I had my errands and then I needed to get home and figure out the dog situation. IF I go to Type Geek’s house early, I have to bring the dog, if I go later… I miss out on awake time. Hmm, decisions, decisions. So, I won a second interview for next week at the restaurant, I picked up razors so I could do a shave before heading out, and OH, I ran into the cafe owner I went out on a date with months ago. I was in grabbing coffee at one of his shops and he was standing next to me, not noticing me. I nudged him and we started chatting and headed outside for a chat. He started asking my advice about this gal he has been dating. Cute, sexy, Jewish, BUT… he’s not ready for love. She doesn’t stop him in his tracks. However, he is afraid, by the way she has behaved, the things she has said, that she sees HIM as her future Mister. He wanted to know if I thought he should preemptively dump her. I suggested he talk to her about their status and his need to remain casual due to his history of being a serial monogamist for all the wrong reasons. Will he take my advice? Only time will tell. So, that was my day.

I got home later than I hoped, which automatically made the decision of dog or no dog, a no dog vote. By the time I left my house, the pup would only be alone for her average 10 hour night-time sleep cycle. She likes her sleep. Sometimes I need to drag her out of bed for her first pee in the morning or afternoon, as is SOMETIMES the case. Too funny. So, I finished getting ready, grabbed all my gear, the kickass gazpacho, clothes for the following morning and the head tingler I recently bought (seriously, just google it. AMAZING), before heading out the door. He picked me up on the corner close to the train station and we ran to the closest Whole Foods for a couple of things to finish my soup… namely, tiger shrimp, avocado, creme fraiche and lemon. He picked up salad fixings. Oh, and we grabbed a box of those Mary’s Gone Crackers… the herb flavor. Try them!

A half hour later we were both in the kitchen doing our things and 20 minutes later we were eating fresh fig stuffed burrata, a smoky mango gazpacho with lemon garlic tiger shrimp and topped with an avocado lemon zest creme fraiche. Mmm, I rock. I must also acknowledge that Type Geek makes a pretty good vinaigrette and his salad was damn yummy. Meal and conversation done, a glass of wine and further chatting post dinner, and then like an old married couple, we retired to the bedroom in a comfortable, yet YAWN, kind of boring manner. I’m like, wait, are you SERIOUSLY tucked under the covers already? Hello with the ravaging, where is the ravaging?! Sigh. Alas, the mid thirties and realities of life and midweek responsibilities have smacked us hard across our naughtiness. Oh well. We had nice comfortable couple like sex. YAWN. Then we went to bed.

Alarm, snooze. Alarm, snooze. Snoooooze. OH SHIT. When someone wakes up and says ,”Fuck Me” after looking at the clock, it generally ISN’T the way you would like to think. Sleep? Sex? Sleep? Sex? Ok, we are apparently old, sleep won out. Again. So, he jumped in the shower while I made coffee and threw together some local fruit, local honey and greek style yogurt for us. I added some Dorset Muesli to his (I’m sadly allergic. Sigh, it’s good stuff) and set the bowls down as he came in and poured our coffee. Yes, I like how comfortable we are, BUT, should we be THIS comfortable? Hmm.

I’ll see him this weekend, he is DJ’ing an event as a favor for me and then we are headed out to a birthday party for a friend of his. Hmm, do guys normally invite casual sexual gal pals to friend’s 40th b-day surprise shindigs? Should I be thinking uh-oh and complications? Hmm. This post had a lot of HMMS. Sigh.

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I was perusing around http://www.engrish.com today and found this hysterical shirt, which basically sums up my feelings towards men and my newly adventurous sexuality in just one sentence. Thank you Engrish for making me laugh my ass off.

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I am NOT this high maintenance, however, these are some of the people which he is used to dealing with everyday. He fell into café ownership after college. First, a small food establishment and then a successful chain of franchised coffee shops, which he managed to break away from the corporate headquarters and create strong independent identities for. He’s impressive. A late bloomer who seems to be coming into his own personal comfort zone in his mid thirties.

We met at a small bistro. He rose from the table for a brief but friendly hug. Setting the tone. I always prefer hugs upon meeting someone. Hand shakes are so formal, they immediately create distance, a physical and emotional barrier that is impossible to break through in only 1 hour. My belief is, you have one hour to show me who you are, without pretense, without apologies. It’s like the leading paragraph of a juicy novel. Hook me. Otherwise, I won’t be interested in those other chapters. Hell, like Cormac McCarthy’s All The Pretty Horses, if you try to hard, I might just get lost in your language and writing style, finding myself circling your first sentences over and over for some sense of honest simplicity, depth and meaning. Just be YOURSELF. Don’t try to impress me and don’t assume I am going to rip out your heart and serve it up like an exotic carpaccio to my girl friends. We all have pasts, we all have baggage, or at least we should. We need to live life in order to know who we are.

Late Bloomer and I started talking about all those “off-limits” topics. The ones I like. Exes, work, sex, religion. It was easy conversation. He thought he was the wrong thing by talking about his recent break up and how heart-broken he is over it. I wanted him to talk about it. I wanted him to vocalize where he is at and how he feels, internalizing isn’t good for anyone, especially post break up. Having someone to open up too and relate too is important. He meets a disproportionate number of undergrads due to the nature of his business and those people just can’t relate.

We had 4 cocktails. A light nosh of mussels for me and chicken for him. He wanted to smell my mussels, because he had never had one. He proclaimed, “I.AM.JEW”, therefore, no swine, no shellfish. He made me laugh when he proclaimed that once life is found on Mars, he is forsaking his faith and heading right to the nearest seafood restaurant for a lobster. Cockroach of the sea. Upon the end of the date, I asked if I could walk him to his car. He laughed at that, “YOU are going to walk ME to my car? I will walk YOU to the train.”  It’s habit, taking control in romantic scenarios. It’s what a I did for all of my years with women.

As we turned the corner to the train, while making more small talk and pleasantries, I commented, off the cuff, that, “Under normal circumstances, I would kiss you, BUT, considering where you are, I am not sure it’s what you would want or need at the moment.” He mumbled that I could kiss him. So, I stopped him and for a few minutes was reminded of how short I am while I tip-toed to put my lips against his, nearly 9 inches higher than where I stood. As I walked away, I reflected on how he was my age and had far less romantic experience, but far more success. Perhaps this lack of romantic diversion in his twenties allowed him the freedom to focus and create the professional success he has now. I think it’s possible that many of us have it all wrong, the order of things. I am glad for my experience, but I often feel light years away from any professional success due to the time I spent nurturing failed relationships. What’s the answer? Maybe there is no special equation or perfect set of guidelines. Late Bloomer, he’s doing better than he thinks he is. He’ll get past this broken heart and be all the stronger for it. In the end, this doesn’t define him, because he is already clearly defined as a man, as a business person, as a brother, as a son and as a friend to many. The partner and lover, that will come and only enhance what he already has. I get on the train aware that I am a little bit envious of him and of the girl who he eventually finds.

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