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Posts Tagged ‘OkCupid’

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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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.

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Two of my colleagues turned a polite conversation into an intervention today. They asked loaded questions and then mirrored them back at me. I know what they are saying. I know it to be true. I am NOT being treated fairly. He is NOT meeting me even a 1/3 of the way. He is NOT considering me at all in anything. I do know this. When I laid awake last night after masturbating and found myself suddenly crying because I have someone 3 miles away whom I have a supposed romantic relationship with but I realized that I masturbate far more than I have sex with this person whom I care very much for, that was when I felt truly kicked in the gut. I deleted his contact from my phone. Yes, he can still text, and I can still respond, but it makes it harder. He has texted me twice today. I refuse to respond. He needs to make some decisions now. We had an email exchange last evening that ended with my explaining that it is, in part, his imperfection, his human flaws, that make me care as much as I do. That his scars, his grey hair, the chronic lateness, all of these things add to who he is, and that is ok. We are not perfect, we are human, and not only do I care regardless, but I care because of it all. I know he has read it. His texts came after, which means he wasn’t scared away by my message, but was he moved at all?

In thinking of all of this,  I have decided on some requirements for myself. Things I need at this point, nearly 7 months from when we met. These are:

  • The texting/phone call ration needs to change. I want to hear his voice, not read his thoughts, for at least 10 minutes each day. Even a check in, how are you doing, how was your day, type of call.  
  • He needs to commit to a weekend somewhere with me. We have planned several, only to have them fall apart. I have made plans, taken days off work, arranged dog care.
  • Our hangouts need to be more date, less sex focused. I love the sex, but I want some romance. I want to be wooed.
  • We need to have more sex. We are both tired. We both have responsibilities and lives that wear us out, but I want that intimacy. We both deserve and need it. Give me a 10 minute quickie topped off with sleep. I’m not asking for marathon encounters here. I’m just putting value on taking anytime to connect sexually with each other.
  • Laying off the okcupid site. I can’t handle it. I need sexual exclusivity and to know that when he looks at me, he sees me and isn’t looking over our shoulders for what else might be out there. Until he can give me the attention and try to put himself out there, I’ll always be half a person to him. I deserve more.

So, those are my personal requirements, which may very well change as I consider what all of this is. I know that I am being played the fool. I can feel that. I am also very aware that this is a self-created issue because I didn’t have the conversation months earlier, before I realized I was in love with him. At what point does patience and belief/love in another become a pathetic nose dive into martyrdom?

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It has to happen this weekend, the talk I mean. I can’t float in this indecision, this muckety muck of wondering what he is thinking and whether he is JUST an idiot or maybe a bit of an actual asshole. Ok, so the asshole part, where does that come from. Why am I suddenly a wee angry at the fellow? Well, we had to cancel another date, which I talked about in my last post. I felt like he was meh about the effect on me. Ok, I know that I have said repeatedly that I understand his work and how sometimes it is gonna come in the way of plans. That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love some acknowledgement that it sucks for me that I’m suddenly sitting here dateless when I was looking forward to seeing him. That I have to make arrangements now with my schedule in order to see him and that sometimes it is inconvenient, but I don’t complain, because seeing him, even if just for a snuggle, is a huge pay off. I am complaining at this moment though because ARRRGH … ok, let me breathe here a moment and then I’ll explain. Inhale Exhale Inhale…hold…EXXXXHAAAAALE. Sigh.

I met with a friend for coffee today who had recently been through a messy break up. After chatting for an hour, she decides that she really wants to try online dating after hearing all about my stories. (Shouldn’t I be a cautionary tale, not a success story?) Anyway, SO, I help her set up an OkCupid profile. I make it cute, but not too cute, fun and approachable. We find two pics on her Facebook we can use and voila, Fini. Except, she wants a tour of how the site works and stuff. So, because I [insert BIG NEWS fireworks here] disabled my own account a few days ago because I was trying to trust in forward momentum and letting nature be nature and my own truth, being that I really care about this idiot of a man, blah blah, well, because of that, I couldn’t show her how to navigate the site on mine. We logged back into hers and I made her anonymous and took her on a tour. I showed her how to search for and im, wink, etc. How to navigate through their profiles. Basically, how to successfully use the site. At the end, as I was about to sign out, she asked to see Type Geek’s profile. She had only seen two pics of him that I have on my phone, so she was curious. Understandable. Also, his pics are cute and make me smile, so why not. No harm, I have seen the stupid profile. We go to his page and I notice he updated his pic to one taken the other day. Ok, whatever. Then she, of course, wants to look over his entire profile. This is what hurt my feelings and made me angry… a new photo in his photo section. A photo I took on a day trip up the coast. Under it, the nickname I gave it. Damn it, that is MY memory. NOT something for you to use to get yourself pussy. I’m kinda pissed. Am I allowed to feel upset by this? I’m feeling a lot of grrrrrr and aaargh and ugh at the moment. 

What do I say to him? DO I say anything to him?

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That is what HE said.  Italian Ice. How does that even relate to dating, sex and relationships? Then he explained, with the assistance of a picture text, that “Italian Ice” was his nickname for the Snookie-esque woman who messaged him on OkCupid. I have been searching all weekend for a topic. Nothing too serious, nothing too dramatic, emotional, or emotive. I wanted laugh out loud funny. Instead, I got Italian Ice. Then Type Geek  told me about a karaoke stunt he has yearned to do for years that involves him, some Billy Idol and a stutter. Oh yeah, I definitely want muh-muh-muh more. Actually, I do.

The last several months have been rather difficult for me regarding my business, work, finances and housing. I hadn’t let anyone in on the seriousness of it all, rather, I was grinning and bearing it. However, occasionally it would all just be too much and I’d react to something, or as Type Geek said, I would internalize for only so long and then… POP. Truer statements have never been said. Thursday night was the pinnacle of chaotic ugliness. I was hit with a levy from the IRS and my accounts were frozen. No access to anything for the forseeable future until I could pay off the levy. I went home and laid in the bathtub, unsure of what I was going to do. Facing  a short sale, trying to save money for an apartment and a new bed, eeking by on minimal payments to some agencies while having to ignore others all together; the pressure was suffocating.  Type Geek called while I was in the bath and knew, from the sound of my voice, that things weren’t good. I finally agreed to let him into my head.

An hour and a half later he was picking me up outside my condo and we headed to Whole Foods to grab some food for his house. After some pasta, wine, olives and figs, I finally looked down at the table and started telling him what was going on. I opened up about the last 12 months and everything that had happened to get me to where I was at that moment. I cried, he listened and he gave advice. Solid advice, not douche bag advice. It made me realize how lucky I am to have found him, regardless of what we are.

“Regardless of what we are”. Ok, that is a half truth. Things are getting tricky there. We haven’t been using condoms, I am not on the pill and we are not “exclusive”. I’m not dating anyone else. He is talking to other people. Am I feeling a bit insecure? A little. I know he finds me beautiful, sexy, intelligent, awesome, etc. Yet, there is something keeping him from deciding to just let go. I’m not sure what his situation is exactly. Until I am in a new place and have my head screwed on a bit better, I am not going to press for reasons. I am however, going to have a discussion about our lack of condom usage. As much as I prefer him without, as much as I enjoyed our last sexual encounter immensely, we can’t be taking risks like this. Not with all of these great big questions. Not when I may actually want more and he may not.

I spoke with him a short time ago, he had just woken from a nap, groggy, stressed from his inability to motivate around the multiple client deadlines he has facing him on Monday. He sounded distracted and troubled. I suggested he take a long walk in the newly minted autumn air, clear out the fog, the dust. He agreed so we said our usual ciao and promised to touch base later.

I’m hoping,and actually admitting it, that this might develop into something else. Not yet, but eventually. He may not be what I was originally looking for, but sometimes the thing you didn’t think was great on the hanger, looks better than the rest when it’s wrapped around your body at night.

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Seriously though, I get chatted up by someone who asks how I am doing, someone whom I have never met because he lives in another state and refuses to put pictures of himself on his profile. Let me first say this, if you are doing internet dating, get over yourself and include some fucking photos. If I won’t buy produce I can’t fondle first, I won’t date you if I can’t see you first. If you have an issue with that, join a dating site for the blind!

Now, as I was saying… he asked how I have been, I explained that I had just been dropped by someone who I was casually seeing who, a couple weeks prior, I was realizing that perhaps I was beginning to fall in love with, however, I didn’t say the “L” word to this person, I merely stated that I was realizing that I cared a bit more than casual. This man then wanted to bad mouth my Spaniard. Ok, step back. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was respectful, he was honest, he was apologetic and he cares about me very much, which is why he wasn’t a dick, plus he is just a genuinely AWESOME person. Cynics back off, these people exist, perhaps only in Spain, but they do exist.

I informed this guy on OkCupid that I intended to be friends with Cooper Fiennes and he felt that was impossible. I inquired as to why and he felt that you can’t be intimate with someone and then be friends. He continued by saying that C.F. would gush about his new love to me, I replied that he isn’t like that and that he was accepting and understanding as I set out my requests, which were that I have no contact with C.F. and the girl in question when they are together, or her in general, at least for the mean time, that it would be too difficult for me as I needed time to put my emotions at rest and heal the wound. That because she had something I cherished, him, I just needed a buffer time. OkC DBag then says, quite matter of factly, that I like CF way too much to be friends. If I need time to rest any emotions, it’s too much. Who is this guy? Any REAL connection creates intense feelings, which, like boiling water, will need time to cool once removed from the heat source. I’m still in that weird barely simmering point, after all, we were in a rolling boil weeks ago fucking in a rental car on the waterfront. My knee wound hasn’t healed yet, why should my heart in two days?! Jesus Christ Dbag. Anyway, my response was, I’m not an obsessed stalker, I care about him and think he’s an amazing person, I would like to remain friends with him after he moves back to Spain. I continued on that he wasn’t a dick the way he ended things and that regardless, things were going to end in January, except they would have ended on a much more fun, far more sexually charged woo hoo way, rather than my tears because he started to fall in love with his co-worker. OkC then said the thing that made me sign out immediately… “See, you are just too into him, that’s why you are trying to rationalize it all to me.” Umm, hey DBag, no, I was answering your questions. I then told him I was ending the conversation because he had his own definite opinions and I wasn’t going to have a  pointless debate with him over an intense and wonderful emotional connection I have and had with an intense and wonderful man. He tried to have a response, however my account was signing out as his screen popped up. Sayonara DBag. It’s been two fucking days since I had someone I cared about telling me that they needed to stop seeing me because they are falling in love with their friend. Umm, I’m not hanging out at coffee shops near his work for fucks sake. Armchair relationship guru’s who are cynics AND single… should take a look in the mirror before making recommendations or analysis of the health or normality of another individual’s interpersonal relationships .

Tips for life….

  1. Don’t get your hair cut/ colored by someone who has bad hair.
  2. If your nutritionist/dietician is overweight… get a new one.
  3. If all of your architect friends tell you to buy in an up and coming neighborhood…don’t , UNLESS they are actually buying too.
  4. If you can’t pronounce the science experiment, a.k.a ingredients , in what you want to drink or eat…  don’t put it in your mouth.
  5. If your shrink sees a shrink, who sees a shrink… get the number for the shrink’s shrink’s shrink, Don’t go to the one that is completely FUCKED.
  6. Don’t date a shrink…for so many reasons
  7. Don’t take dating and love advice from cynical, misanthropic, perpetually single, afraid to expose themselves and be vulnerable (no photo?!!), armchair DBags.
  8. Don’t take dating advice from me… I’m a lesbian who started dating men…I know that women are crazy (we are) and men are daft (you are). I know not much else. Oh wait…. umm… the meaning of life consists of stockings, jewish cock, good music and great food!

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