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Archive for the ‘WTF!!!’ Category

Friday night I called in a lifeline. I was having a drink with a date that I had already known walking in was a bad idea. Widowed less than 6 months ago by a depressive suicidal wife who took her own life, he was vulnerable,  awkward, and also the epitome of software nerd. This guy, I knew he wasn’t a match, but yet, how do you cancel on someone who’s wife od’d on vicodin just months earlier, leaving behind a confused man and two young boys? You don’t. You go.

So: In the hour I was with him, he didn’t notice, nor offer to go to the bar and get me a drink, as he absent mindeldy just drank his as I stood there without anything in MY hand. He didn’t ask me if/what I wanted. He just struggled for words to fill the spaces. He likes video games and PBS reality shows about pioneering. He awkwardly interjected and introduced himself into conversations with friends I’d run into before I had the opportunity to get to that point in the greeting.  We aren’t talking 5 minutes here. Maybe 45 seconds. He complimented me on my blouse and then asked WHERE I got it. Umm, where I got it? Are you really interested in WHERE I got it? And he can’t follow social cues on where a conversation is heading, instead he forces it into a place that he’s wanting it to live. Sigh. I couldn’t do it, it was painful, both to watch and be involved in, so I politely bailed out.

I then ran into a newish friend and we shared some Indian food and a few cocktails while chatting about men and their foibles.

The night before… I had a great date. Sandwiched between the Man-Child cancellation and the Awkward Widower was a brilliant handsome Aussie who surfs. We are heading out again tonight, a walk with the pup, then a bit of spaghetti western and cocktails. Perfect.

 

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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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The last time I posted, I was heading off to a few days in NYC, to be HOME during the anniversary of the attacks. I lived there then, 10 years ago. I was going to my office in Midtown Manhattan from Williamsburg, Brooklyn when that first plane hit. I didn’t see it happen on my walk from Grand Central to 46th and Madison. It was only when I got off the elevator that my coworker told me. The next several hours were spent huddled with upper management in a conference room that thankfully faced west, rather than south, while we watched the madness on TV. NYC is no longer home, in the primal core of my heart, it is, a place that I feel closer to my center than almost anywhere, but other than that, other than a gut feeling, it isn’t home.

It was an odd trip and feeding off the energy of NYC, my anxiety levels were sky high at moments, especially after having my camera break and a couple hours later, my cell phone stolen while trying to buy a new camera. I got home to a laptop that wouldn’t work, a dog that broke out in such dangerously outrageous hives that she had to be given iv shots of Steroids and Antihistamines. For several days the drugs continued. She’s allergic to atmospheric mold. The rain and the humidity, the continuing dampness that has fallen over the city, it hit her hard. A stoned dog is a funny dog though, as they look up at you with eyes that question why everyone, including you, look like a polka dotted cat in their eyes. Then my job, the restaurant, the owner has lost his mind. He took me aside and berated me and insulted me in a way I have never quite experienced. His reasons were flimsy at best, his excuses were centered around tables that weren’t even mine. He didn’t care. It was his need for power that prevailed in those moments. For the first time in years I cried at work, because of work. At 36, I am too old to work at a job , for an owner, who gets off on that type of behavior.

And this is why I have been quiet. I now have a phone, after much runaround from T Mobile and the NYC Police Department. I have a hive free dog after many hundreds of dollars. I have a lap top that with the costly addition of plug in keyboards and optical mice, works again, sort of. I have an unpaid internship in something I love and an evening job that I haven’t been able to replace due to the unfriendly job market. My boss’s new trick is sending me home super early, so I only make $20 or $30 dollars. I won’t be able to pay my bills this month and he will get off on having so much power to effect harm upon someone else’s life.

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Okay, I went out with this guy on Friday night. We shared the same musical tastes and had some commonality with other interests. He was tall, handsome, metro.. what wasn’t to like?

The first thing he did, when I arrived at the café, was offer me 5 different types of candy. Candy?! Maybe some people would consider that endearing, but it turned me off. I don’t want to date teenagers, at 36, I want to date men. So, beyond the candy, what I found out next was that he was a workaholic for the wrong reasons, money and status. He mentioned twice that his jeans cost over $500. Let’s call him $500 Jean Guy.  At 32, he had two divorces behind him, one wedding that cost him $80,000, which he felt relevant to tell me. The other, the most recent, resulted in his 4-year-old daughter and a contemptuous relationship with her mother, a woman, whom he informed me, before our first cocktail, within 20 minutes of meeting, that she was bipolar and abusive and that she is costing him enough money to afford her nice tropical vacations. All this before a cocktail!

Shortly after that admission we wandered out of the for some drinks and oysters. I needed a cocktail the way this was headed. We finally made out way into a little place in Harvard Square, and given a corner booth, he proceeded to sit a little too closely, keep offering me candy, telling me to look at him and slurping his oysters with sound effects. Eww. I like oysters, love them in fact, but you are supposed to let them slide down, not slurp slurp suck. Eww, as I write this I suddenly imagine that he probably has sound gross effects during oral sex. Eww.

We finished up at that restaurant and I found myself unnerved and in need of another cocktail to deal with him, so we wander to my local go to and sit at the bar. My date saving waitress comes by and helps distract several times. The bartender offers great drinks, and a shot. The $500 Jean Guy? Well, he starts sniffing me, telling me that I smell sweet, like candy, and then asks me if I think he smells nice. I never ask a date this, I just assume I do. If they don’t like my parfum, they won’t go out with me again. I give big eyes to my waitress friend, who “happens to need to talk to the bartender” and $500 Jean Guy then proceeds to tell her how nice I smell, and how I smell like candy. Suddenly a co-worker of mine appears after spotting me from across the bar and he tells her too… how I smell like candy, as he starts to eat from his bag of candy he bought earlier this evening.

He walks with me for a bit until our paths, luckily, part, and then proceeds to text me and let me know that when I am over my ex and ready for something less than casual, that I can call him. He also informs me that I should have kissed him. No, no, really. Ok, umm, he was weird. Creepy weird. Something also reminded me of Brooklyn , maybe it was a similar body build, facial thing, propensity to just stare at me weirdly. When I met Brooklyn, I thought it was flattering, in retrospect, once I really got to know Brooklyn, from beginning to end, his intensity towards me was just uncomfortable and weird.  How many times did I just say weird? I can’t help it because weird, creepy, and unnerving are the only words that match.

So, what does any frustrated girl do after such a date? She walks past the 24 hour grocery store and buys two different types of ice cream, because she can’t decide, cheesecake bites, raisin toast, yogurt raisins and cereal. I rarely buy any of those items. My heart wanted sugar and carbs to usher in the Hurricane that was coming.

So, I spent Saturday in torrential rain pours, feet soaked, dog soaked, body swollen from carb overload and heart heavy from missing TypeGeek. I had texted him throughout the day to remind him of things to do, just in case, like garage his car, secure any plants in pots outside, watch for odd behavior from his cat, etc. At one point, after he mentioned that he was at a party, I mentioned that I was drinking cab and eating pâté, and potentially by the 3rd glass, I would probably be thinking inappropriately naughty things about him.

He responded with a … “pâté, ewww, gross”.

I made fun of him, told him he was 4 and mentioned that I find it funny how he can eat the muscles but not the organs. He came back with a ,”still gross”.

To which I playfully remarked… ” lucky for you , I never had an issue putting organs in my mouth “.

Silence for a bit, and then “yeah, that’s very nice”.

“I would take TypeGeek over Country Pork any day”, I retorted.

“I’d take a blowjob any day over pâté” TypeGeek said

and so… I responded that ” all you ever need to do is ask”

With that comment said, I went silent for the rest of the evening. We then texted a bit on Sunday as he sneered at the lack of impact the storm had on his neighborhood, while I tried to get the 8 feet of fence that fell in my yard to stand back up and told him to shut it. Then for about 5 minutes on Monday. It’s no mystery or great secret that I want Type Geek and I don’t want to walk away. It’s also no great secret that he doesn’t really want me to go away, or he would not engage in conversations with me about oral sex. I want him back in my bed by his birthday. Sigh.

Meanwhile, I conversed with a couple of men on OkCupid, I didn’t sit and dwell and mope. I also touched base with my friend on Google+ who is going through a divorce after far too many years, and my old Kiwi friend who needs girl advice because he has met someone who sends him ass over tea kettle. It’s been a full week. I’m looking forward to a Thursday Night free without any dates or plans. I think I need a little time with just my dog, my bed and a book. Hope you all made it through the storm safely. Speak to you soon!

 

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So, I know that I have talked to people on OkCupid when I wasn’t planning on meeting them, because I wasn’t ready to actually break up with Type Geek. Since he took the ax to our most current try, I have actively been making dates. With that said, if you, as a man or woman, ask someone to set aside one of their only evenings that they have free, nearly a week in advance, and you continue to chat them up leading up to the date, do NOT then cancel 7 hours before the date because in the last 24 hours you decided to start exclusively dating someone else. Either a) fulfill the dating commitment and make the choice after the date, or b) as soon as you realize that you REALLY like this other person, not 7 hours prior to a date with another, after you have already gone through the motions with the other person and discussed dating exclusively. If you think it’s going to go that way, don’t make the person you set a date with act as a place holder, just in case. Respect their time. You break dates because you break a bone, you have an emergency come up, work throws something at you last minute, etc. You do not set dates as place holders and break them with under 24 hours notice when you know someone put aside plans with others to make time for you.

Perhaps I should institute a reservation holding policy like restaurants. A credit card goes on file and you get charged if you cancel in under 24 hours or don’t show. Grrr.

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I have two first dates this week, on my only nights off. I don’t really know much about either, perhaps that is what I have resorted to now. I know that I found them “interesting” enough to contact them, but it’s a mental block I can’t get past. I’m not retaining details about them. My heart doesn’t want to.

Last week, I went on one first date. This gentleman, the Legal Design Guy, doesn’t know my ex like I thought he might (thankfully), he was getting into the music school as Type Geek was leaving. Also, it turns out he knows a circle of people who I know, which also don’t know Type Geek, so that explains it. So, we had oysters, we had drinks, we had pâté and confit and more drinks. Conversation was fine, but it felt more friend than anything. There is something slightly smarmy that I can’t get past, that I don’t find sexy. I can’t pin point it exactly, but it’s there.

Remember my Jewish Sex God from the very beginning? The one who ushered me into the folds? Well, we were having a conversation the other night, our friendship never really being the same since my trip to visit him that weekend. In the course of the dialogue he mentions that we had no sexual connection and proceeded to tell me why. Now, it’s fine that he didn’t feel a connection to me, but it isn’t fine that he decided to tell me that my being nervous at the reality of having sex with a well endowed man after 12 years of non penetrative lesbian sex translated into being a horrible lay who he felt ashamed to touch. WHAT? Yeah, so, he said that I was largely unresponsive, behaving as a victim of sexual abuse does, because I didn’t make much noise, because I didn’t show him how much I was enjoying sex with him. That I was too inside myself and didn’t give much to my partner, that he felt awful continuing to touch me because he felt that I must have been abused because I seemed to be in another place. Ok, once again, WHAT? Again, 12 years…non penetrative lesbian… flies to Seattle to have weekend sex romp with well endowed male friend… maybe, just MAYBE, I was nervous and shy and insecure about the entire thing?! What a dick, and I am NOT talking about his dick. I felt shitty afterwards, so I ended up emailing Type Geek for his take on my sexual style and he confirmed that Seattle is a DICK, and that I should NEVER give another thought to it, because I was obviously nervous and that he had zero concerns with my style. Thank you Type Geek. Grrr, Seattle. Seattle had no idea why I was angry, which at first I wasn’t. After I thought about it though, that is when I started to get angry, and offended.

So, yeah, Type Geek, we have texted. I apologized to him for not being able to pretend I don’t care and just cut ties. I’m not done with him. I can’t shake that a huge part of me believes that our story hasn’t ended yet. It’s just not our time. But, I want it to be. I know I can’t rush it, but I want to. I want the life with him that I know we can have, but he doesn’t have enough balls yet to have faith, to let go, to grasp something unknown, rather than his own fear. He needs time, he needs some self work, and I just need to live my life, which includes dating other people, while he does his work. Someday I will try again.

If you all think I am foolish, honestly, fuck you. I’m not on this journey for any of you, for how you would do it. It isn’t a choose your own adventure, and you don’t have the right to be angry at the roads I choose to take, because they are different from the paths and methods you would. This is MY story, and when I am laying in my final hours, I owe explanations to only my heart and the hearts of those I have chosen to embrace into my own.  I thank you all for reading, for getting involved and attached and relating, but in the end, this story is uniquely my own and I have no regrets about how I am living it and loving through it, even if that means I am just filling the spaces between Type Geek. Even if that means I am frustrating the hell out of my readers.

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I ran into a friend today, one I had a brief crush on a couple of years back and whom I thank the universe for not ever allowing us to hook up because I would have KILLED him. He was headed out for his 4th date with this 30-year-old woman whom he said needed to spice it up a bit. She was too sane, too calm. He likes crazy 25 year olds because they are unpredictable, but he complains because they don’t want a relationship. Hmm. Ok, he complains he can’t find someone our age who is wacky and fun, that as women age we become lame. Umm, I am NOT lame, but this is NOT about me. So, he yammers on a bit and then says that he has 15 minutes to get to his date, on bike, and he is in Somerville, in Davis Square, needing to get down Mass Ave to Newbury Street in Back Bay, which is a good 15 or 20 BY CAR. Hmm. He plans to BIKE in 84 degree weather, across town, so quickly that he will be gross and sweaty, and meet this girl for a date in which he wants her to step it up?! Maybe if he wasn’t wearing a Toucan Sam shirt, covered in sweat on a DATE. If he can’t take her seriously enough to arrive at a date dressed nicely and showered, why should she step it up for him?

Seriously though, I looked around the bar I work at and tonight I noticed so many men wearing man-dles (man sandles, flip flops, etc), sneakers, white tube socks, free promotional schwag t-shirts, and being generally unkempt. These men took 5 minutes to get ready for their date, and that including getting their keys and grabbing the ever wishful condom. Meanwhile, their lady friends showered, shaved, touched up their nails, put on make up, primped the hair, brushed their teeth, and spritzed a little parfum on the way out the door.

MEN… here is a HINT. If you want a woman to fuck you, you have to give us reason to. Clean it up. If you can’t show a little style a few hours every week, for us, why should we wear non cotton underwear, invest in Brazilians, shave the legs, and put on sexy heels for you? If your date showed up in baggy jeans, with unshaven legs, a promo alcohol t-shirt, dirty sneakers, unbrushed hair, no make up, and smelling like she just biked 10 miles in 10 minutes, would you want to fuck her?

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