Caterwauling

As part of my ongoing mission to attract what I want into my life by immersing myself in it, I like to hang out in an affluent neighborhood on the weekends. It’s the only place to be when nothing else is going on. I would love to live there — earlier this year, I looked at some of the condos there, but thanks to the subprime-mortgage debacle, my broke ass ain’t never going to get a mortgage now, and certainly not there.

Anyway, I took the laptop to this area and watched some live music this evening there. I worked on one of my novels and had dinner (yummy spinach crepe) with a tasty cup of ginger-ginseng hot tea. I went out last night, so I preserved today as just a “me” day. I need these reality escapes — I don’t have to talk to a soul, if I don’t choose to. And if someone does strike up a conversation, it’s cool because I’m actually happy to hang with random strangers after a day of near-silence.

So, I was moving around a lot — first from the coffee shop to the crepe shop to the ice cream shop. Funny enough, I’d had a random guy start talking to me at the coffee place, but he didn’t continue the chat. In fact, he left. I was thinking of nominating him for that new VH1 show where some dude who calls himself “Mystery” is showing guys how to get some game.

Later on in the night, I was happily consuming my ice cream cone and grooving to the cover band (it was a chick singer doing lots of late-1990s stuff. Awesome) when I saw a guy with a dog. I wasn’t really aware of him, but I remember thinking it was the cutest bulldog I’d ever seen. And the dog was running up to beautiful women and befriending them, so he had my attention when he suddenly ran up to me to get petted.

His owner followed him and sat with me for awhile. He said that the dog loves ice cream and pretty women, so naturally I would be a target. *blush* We talked for a little while, but everyone kept pulling him away because it seemed like he lived there and all of his neighbors were out for a stroll to hear the band. I wasn’t too concerned — I was too busy picking sprinkles out of my bra from my cone. (Yep, I’m a class act like that.) So, the band took a break and I started playing with my iPhone when the guy tried to make his way back. Not to worry — the dog led him there.

I was playing with Bubbles (the dog, not the man!) when a couple approached the guy. They asked him whether he knew me and his answer was a very cute, “Not yet.” LOL.

I’d already been there several hours and I was over my cone and, frankly, it was getting chilly so I was sort of over that, too. So I tossed my cone and the man and Bubbles followed me. “You’re leaving?” he asked.

I said yeah. Because, well, why not?

He looked disappointed and asked my name (we hadn’t gotten around to that). So we exchanged that and talked about our work and where we live and what not. And it was weird because I usually lie about all of it. I oftentimes say that I live in the city where I work and say that I live way farther away than I actually do. But I was truthful, for some bizarre reason, and it was OK.

So he asked if we could meet up tomorrow night, say around 7 p.m.

And I said yes.

It was that easy.

And I think I’m looking forward to it.

My only reservations are age, because I overheard him talking about his kids being with his ex-wife, and the fact that he’s a little thing. I don’t get where I attract all these stick-figure-skinny guys. I really don’t. But hey, going on the theory that I’ve been wanting to meet someone in person as opposed to this online adventure I’ve been resorting to lately, mission accomplished.

So, I wanted to spend more time in that neighborhood, and I’ve wanted to meet a decent guy in person. Apparently the universe really DOES give you what you want!

I like this lack of pressure about it. The thing I ABHOR about the online dating is that they give me their phone numbers right away. Which means, in their passive-aggressive way, they’re making ME make the first move. And I hate giving out my phone number. I don’t feel like changing it again anytime soon; it’s at the point where it’s mostly only cool people who call it, and I’d like to keep it that way.

This was a simple, “Let’s run into each other at this same spot tomorrow,” and I loved it. I still have the option to not show up, as does he. And that’s how to get — and keep — me. Give me a long enough leash that I can run around on but give me somewhere I can go when I’m tired of humping the neighborhood fire hydrants, and I’m a happy girl.

And I am a happy girl tonight.

Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. And, as Lisa Lampanelli added, “Fags are from Uranus.”

Whatever parallel universe you came from, howdy. Want to get a latte at the spaceship down the street?

OK, so I’m frustrated. Overwhelmed, maybe, is the word. People aren’t kidding that you attract everything you think about, good or bad. But trying to find meaning in it all, or trying NOT to associate too much thought to what’s supposed to be fun, is my next challenge to overcome.

Back in the days when I started dating online (I took a long hiatus between these adventures), perhaps in the late 1990s/early 2000s, I was fairly horrified that the first exchange was always a phone number and a hookup spot. But, me being me, figured I wasn’t going to meet Prince Charming this way and hell, I was lonely, so what was the harm? And while I had fun (hehe, oh boy did I!), I realized something that made me stop.

And it was that I got lucky.

And not just in the sense you’re thinking.

I meant, I got LUCKY that none of these people turned out to be serial killers. Serial conversation killers, sure, but I wasn’t in it for that anyway. 🙂 I also got damned lucky that I didn’t walk away with a disease or am not still tied up somewhere that no one could find me. (I wasn’t a faithful user of the buddy system — why expose what you were REALLY doing?)

I sort of gave up on the online adventures shortly after I moved to D.C. a few years ago. Too many weirdos. I had better luck in Pittsburgh — sure, I saw one too many mullets during the course of my adventures, but I guess I had a bigger fan base up there.

So getting back in the pool again has been nothing short of purple-heart-caliber bravery on my part. I’ve advanced my career, I’ve become a better person — I’ve used my time off wisely. I’m learning how to care for myself more and VALUE my own time. More importantly, I expect others to value it as well.

And here I am again, getting myriad responses that range from empty to “hey let’s fuck.” And granted, it’s not like membership to these sites is screened — so I’m looking for people in particular cities and with jobs (amazing, that) and really placing a lot of emphasis on the “conversation” of it all.

I found myself getting frustrated with a few e-mails that basically say, “Hi, here’s how you can get in touch with me.” I guess I’ve done that enough times to know where THAT ends up. 😉 But in talking to someone who’s out there SENDING his number out into the void, it finally makes sense to me that this whole typing bullshit is for the birds … at least, according to the boys. Who has time?

And it’s true. I never log into my account. Because I promised someone a “proper” response when I had more time, and guess who’s never had time to craft one? Yep, yours truly.

Because a bunch of us are trolling the same trail (it’s a wonder we don’t end up running into each other online), some of the best advice I got from a real-life friend was to delete anyone’s message who talks about sex before you’ve met them.

My argument to that is, well, who DOESN’T? Not me, of course. (Grabs a halo for this photo op.) But I’m no idiot. Men aren’t on these sites to meet the loves of their lives. I mean, maybe some are. Or at least their next love, which is really why I’m there. But while I am no prude, I get squicked out when the first thing said to me has to do with meeting up in a public place … but NOT for coffee.

Now, don’t get me wrong. That can come later. 😉 I just would like to start knowing people’s full names before THAT becomes an option again!

My friend M. sends me awesome advice, and what I like about her is we are probably more open with each other online even though we live on opposite coasts. And she gave me one of those reality checks yesterday that I really needed. And it’s probably because she knew I was getting ready yet again to throw my caution to the wind and go get a confidence boost from the next naughty boy to send me a message that makes me blush.

But yeah, M reminds me about being confident and expectant. To stand by the car door and wait for them to open it. To wait by a door and let them have you go through first. She mentioned how many of her friends complain that their men don’t take them anywhere or buy them dinner or that they get lied to all the time. So, don’t accept it. Period.

I’ve gotten most of that down over the years. One lie, you’re out. The end, buh-bye. My sexual health is very important to me, and I don’t want to even entertain the notion that you’re inking up in someone else’s well when I’m stuck at work.

Expectation is a tricky thing, because I’ve waited for many people to let me walk ahead of them or take the first seat or even have my chair held for me. And that speaks to the fact that I might have been raised to be a lady, most of them seem to have been reared by beasts. Their mothers would be appalled at how they’re costing themselves the best women and are only attracting/keeping those who are willing to settle for their unimpressive shit.

On the other hand, because I’m not one to cast stones without hitting myself over the head with one when needed, because I’ve stopped expecting, I’ve stopped GETTING whatever it is that I’ve abandoned. I rush for my own door. I grab my own chair. I have money ready before the waiter even comes around with the bill.

The latter part comes from being so broke my whole life that I don’t like to go out without enough money to cover myself. I never wanted to be seen as a charity case, and it doesn’t matter that I date guys who make double and even triple my salary.

Of course, I was very hurt that they didn’t offer, not in the charity-case sense but in the “hey, I’ve had a really good time with you and would like to do this again” sense. Because I guarantee you, I almost never returned their calls.

If I’m going to spend my own money, damn it, I’m going to go do something I want to do instead.

Anyway, in my ongoing color commentary from the trenches from hell, we come out with these lessons: Don’t proposition someone before you’ve met them, but don’t assume that because they don’t want to participate in verbal foreplay through multiple messages before meeting that they won’t be worth meeting. Don’t give up your ideals, but maybe don’t expect to find people who embody them on a site where it feels like everyone’s looking to get laid, either.

I don’t know. I’m just trying to either get up the courage to respond to some of these types of messages, or maybe to get up the courage to delete them and start the search anew. But first, maybe I’ll call that one to whom I said I owe a proper hello — again, let’s reward the one that seems like he’s either trying to get it right … or he actually IS getting it right because that’s the kind of guy I might have actually dreamed up and does exist.