I can’t believe how uninspired I am to blog right now. It’s amazing what a little peace and happiness does to a girl’s mindset. I really don’t have anything to complain about.
And that, my friends, is a sign that Armageddon is probably approaching. 😉
So.
I did go on my date tonight.
I got there about five minutes early and grabbed a hot tea that I never even got to drink. He showed up, minus the dog. Quite honestly, I was expecting he would bring him just in case I didn’t show. And he was worried that I wouldn’t show. In fact, I had been hiding because, even up to 7 p.m., I still wasn’t sure I’d reveal myself.
But I did.
And I’m really glad I did.
Apparently I do have to date men twice my age (or thereabouts) to get all those lovely little courtesies I’d forgotten about. We had dinner. He held the door, got my chair, ordered for us, picked up the check and walked me to my car.
And it was easy to expect it all, too. Because I wasn’t worried whether he liked me. I know he did.
I think I like him. I think he’s a good guy overall. Of course I have my reservations — I have them with everyone — but for good conversation, it’s worth it.
I mean, he thinks I’m interesting. He’s surprised how much I’ve accomplished at this age. I realize in a huge way now that it takes people a lot longer to get where I’ve gotten. And even though I think I’m interesting, it’s nice to have someone acknowledge it and want to see me again so he can learn more.
I agreed to see him again Saturday.
He’s looking forward to it. I can tell.
And I think I am, too.
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.
I’d had an entry written, posted and published earlier this morning, but I see Dreamhost was down AGAIN and the post evaporated. Glorious.
Oh well. The whole point was that you get what you ask for, and now that I’m back in a very familiar place, I’m doing something I never did. Sure, I’m wondering whether I’m worthy of what’s coming my way, but I’m taking the next step to wonder whether they’re worthy of me. I guess there’s a part of me that always used to assume that I deserved what I got. But the older, wiser me isn’t in the mood to settle for what I used to accept.
I’ve waited for too long to not be absolutely thrilled with what it is that I’ve been waiting for. Bottom line, I can wait longer if I have to. And damn it, I’m going to ask for what I want instead of accepting the bare minimum as the best it gets. There’s a part of me that always wanted to prove that I could give everyone a run for their money, and now? I don’t feel like it anymore.
And seriously people, it’s a dating service, not goddamned Adult Friend Finder. (I retired that tiara a LONG time ago, kids.) Not to mention, but you’re lucky I’m as sane as I am. Giving me work and home contact information in the first message or two? Makes me wonder whether you even COULD handle a class act like moi. I think everyone, for as much as they say they aren’t, really is looking for a headcase.
Here I sit, wondering whether I’m good enough for these people who seem OK on the surface, but the deeper I delve, the more I realize that they’re the ones who need to be impressing me. And so far? Three out of 10 are worth another look, and the third one is even giving me pause.
I don’t know. I’ve tried so hard to get back into the game I very much voluntarily left behind, because while some of my needs were being met, the more-important ones were shelved for “someday.” And here I find myself finally back where I left off, and it feels just as cruddy as I wouldn’t acknowledge back then. But I’m older/smarter now. If you want to attract a lady, you’ll get one in me. So treat me like it or I’ll gladly find someone else who will.
I’ve waited this long. And while there are no doubt more dicks to suck frogs to kiss, I don’t want to get warts in the interim, thanks. I care more about me than most of them combined ever will. And I need to stay focused on that and not let my natural weaknesses let me lapse back into what the “old” me would have done when faced with the tempting, oh-so-juicy, yummy low-hanging fruit. …
Man, life is weird. Weird in a good way, sure. But still fucking weird.
It’s like the weather. First there’s a hopeless drought, now a veritable hailstorm and you don’t know where is best to run for cover. So maybe I’ll just try out all my umbrellas (and rubbers. heh) for the many moods and occasions.
But nothing feels better than to think about someone and know that you just don’t need them anymore.
I had one of those self-revelations last night as to why I hold people at arm’s length. Well, people of the dating variety. All it takes is one (or more) men to tell you they can date you but not marry you, and no wonder a girl learns that you can’t have much faith in someone just because you don’t share the same faith as them.
Anyway. It’s NFL season, and the ball isn’t the only thing getting kicked in the head. Then again, these a-ha moments, while they suck, at least serve to prove that I didn’t get this fucked-up of my own accord. 😉
Speaking of losing faith, I haven’t been overly compelled to check in on my dating-service e-mails in quite some time. I mean, I get notified when someone’s trying to get in touch with me, but I guess when you meet semi-normal people in person (it happens on occasion — nothing to count on, unfortunately!), you can be more selective.
But my faith sort of got a kick in the ass this morning because I did log in to read my 27 new e-mails (you people did see my photo, right? You did read the insane ramblings, no? And you still wrote to me?). And lo and behold, I think we’ve got a live one!
I’ll keep the deets to myself for now, but I will share something in the broader sense as I finally found someone with a clue who actually made me WANT to respond.
In keeping with my occasional list of do’s and don’ts to online dating, I’ve got to wonder about these services that allow you to send winks or woos or whatevers to people you’re trolling. If I’m interested — and I’m typically not — I can see who’s viewed my ad.
I guess what bugs me is how many winks I get. Not that it’s a BAD thing — hey, anyone who worships the Goddess is A-OK in my book! But fine, you wink at me. I know to go check out your ad.
But … it’s frustrating if you don’t fill out your profile. I mean, yay if you went far enough to upload a photo. At least that’s something to work with. But for those of you who have the big ol’ question mark placeholder where a photo should be, no winkies back at you.
Furthermore, if you don’t fill out your profile, WTF am I supposed to do with the wink you sent? I receive a message that Genius101 sends me a wink and I can’t think of one goddamned thing to say to strike up a conversation with him, so what do I do? Nothing. So I delete the message.
The bottom line here? If you can’t think of something to say in your profile OR in your correspondence to people whom you want to view your profile, pull your ad off the site. You’re not ready to use it yet.
But is it better than seeing these people looking at your profile and them not bothering to contact you at all? I just assume I’m not their type. I’ll go check them out — and some of them might even be up my alley (or that’s where they’ll get if they’re lucky. LOL) but I tend to assume they would have said hello had they actually been interested.
I have one other maybe not so much a rule, but more of a WTF moment to process. One dude sent me a wink. I checked out his profile and his username includes a city (and, oh, AGE) that I think is way too far out of my dating range. I wasn’t overly wowed by the person in the photo (not that I have a real mental picture of what I want anymore), and the profile was — surprise — empty. So I actually tried to be nice and said thank you for winking. No encouragement to continue this “discussion” as it were.
Hell if I didn’t open a can o’ worms with that. I’ve gotten instant messages from him (I don’t know how that function got enabled — I killed it quickly). He sent another message asking why I didn’t answer my IM. (Because I don’t answer anybody’s, even my colleagues if I can’t find time to talk to them. LIVE WITH IT.) I know another message came at some point a few weeks back.
And then, I haven’t logged in to the site in forever (haven’t needed to), and yet I see more messages popping up from him when my account is clearly inactive.
Am I missing a good thing, am I just such an unforgettably blinding beauty, and/or am I wrong to need to spell it out that he would have heard back from me if I’d felt compelled to respond? (Respond to what is the bigger question, but I digress.)
I did open the messages today. Nothing exotic. He’s up to a full sentence now, telling me how pretty he thinks I am. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t know whether that’s flirting or stalking, truth be told. I mean, it’s nice to be worshipped but judging from the other guy who totally wowed me today, it was abundantly clear that he took the time to read my profile. And he commented on it. And told me how he relates to various things I said. It was, for all intents and purposes, a conversation.
So when you get really good responses, it tends to make you delete the other ones faster. And my response to this guy was very simply to thank him for giving me hope for this online odyssey after all. Astrologically, I don’t see compatibility, but it might just be everywhere else. And I tell you, I haven’t had much luck with my favored Gemini/Aries/Aquarius/Libra/Leo set of late, so I’m willing to put down the charts and see if the Big Dipper exists in someone else’s constellation. 😉
When it comes to previous hits and misses in my dating cycle, I realized that I have spent a lot of time wondering what I said or did to offend or otherwise drive away various people who have crossed my path in my day. But then I had to ask myself whether some of these chuckleheads ever stopped to think about what they could have done to keep me around or what they said or did to make me steel my spine and never feel like I could relax around them?
For example, I can name two guys with whom I insisted on paying for myself at all times. In both instances, I would have been happy for them to do so, but I know with one in particular (see the very first graf of this epic tome), I figured if he could maintain that I wasn’t marriage material, I would look at our dates as just two friends who had no one better to spend the evening with. It’s not that I WANTED to look at things that way; I did it for myself, to delineate the “I don’t know what the fuck it is we are, whether it’s a couple or friends or what the hell ever” into a “We’re friends. Damn it. I can live with ‘friends.'”
I’m not going into these new things for friendship. I don’t need any more friends. I’ve got great ones. If I’m doing this, I’m going for the gold here. Not necessarily the wedding band gold (please, make it platinum. *cough*) but companionship gold. I’ve had too many arm’s-length relationships, whether it was of my own doing or because of theirs. I need the closeness. I need that hug that’s going to make everything all better.
I need to know that, if everyone’s in it to possibly win it, they’re not going to say they can’t marry me because of something I’m not. Instead, I want the ones who know they’d be fools to let someone as dynamic as me spend the rest of my life loving someone else — and who will do something about it.
All I have to say about today is that my underwear matched my tank top (red with lace). Nothin’ else to see here.
OK, I’m going to regret taking this break but fuck it; I’m eating a delivered lunch from my beloved Bennigan’s and since I can’t go back there in person yet (don’t ask. You really don’t want to know), Waiter On the Way is the only way I can enjoy their delicious, delicious food.
So.
You know that movie that reduced me to tears? So I had to yell at the friend who recommended it to me. Because, seriously. I was supposed to go out afterward and I couldn’t because I was one hot, heaving puffy mess. And goddamn it, it made me think. Hard.
Spoiler alert: I mentioned that to my friend, how the guy goes back to his skank-whore girlfriend and the girl is stuck in a loveless life without him. Sure, there’s the possibility that they will find each other again — they’re too interconnected for this to be the end. But Jesus Christ, what do you do when the boy is too far out of your reach for you to let that dream keep living?
And my friend made a very good point, that the girl never really acted like she was all that interested. Because, well, how’s a man supposed to know how to proceed when she’s holding back so much?
And that sort of stopped me cold. Because I AM THAT GIRL. I am the one who will lavish you with my affections IF AND ONLY IF I feel like they’re going to be reciprocated. If I’m sitting around wondering if the slightest thing is going to send somebody running, or if I even feel it at all, I won’t test the waters a whole lot.
I guess I just expect men will be more over-the-top in their pursuit. I spent too much time chasing rainbows in my day to really have the courage to keep at it. And I hate it that I feel that way, but I do.
I also feel like I’ve rejected so many people in my day, for so many STUPID reasons, that the universe is probably going to kick my ass the next time I stick my neck out. So I just don’t.
Men are obvious. I think. If they’ve got a hard-on, they’re interested. Am I wrong, ladies? I mean, I’m starting to really wonder if they don’t, then they actually do “like me” like me.
“Go to her, foolish man
What’s the use of having pride if you don’t have her?
She’ll endure all she can
But you could make this easier on her.”
All this dating bullshit is making my fucking head hurt. I tend to presume that if I can’t figure a guy out whether he’s into me or not, then he’s clearly not and it’s time to move on. And yes, it tends to be head-spinningly fast in my world — the revolving door of “maybe, but don’t think so”s.
But. …
I’m not giving off any vibes, either.
At least, I always thought I was.
But maybe I wasn’t.
Maybe I was holding back even more than they were.
I’m a modern girl, but I tend to fall into habits that I daresay are provincial in nature. I let them take the lead. Whether it’s in picking a place for dinner or whether it’ll be a low-key or a dress-up night, I’m cool with just dressing for the occasion as opposed to picking the occasion. Some think it’s wishy-washy, especially those who need to have a plan in mind and aren’t always in the mood to pick that plan. On the other hand, when I’ve gone ahead and planned the days, I always felt like it wasn’t good enough for them. I don’t apologize for much of anything unless it’s to shut someone up, but I find myself apologizing if they don’t have fun at the events I select. Because I get THAT vibe loud and clear. I am perceptive like that. And again, MEN ARE OBVIOUS.
So, God knows enough of you have been out with me. 😉 Do I hold back? Do you tell your friends, “What a cold broad that one is!” Do you feel like I’m holding you at arm’s length? Because I do. I know I do. Because I am terrified I am going to fall for you and I’m going to be the only one feeling that way.
I date like a guy. I do pretty much everything like a guy that I can without having to strap anything on. But I’m such a girl inside. I cry and I pine and I long and I want and I dream … when I let myself.
I want to be a girl. I want to be courted and loved and placed on a pedestal. I don’t want to have the potential love of my life leave to spend HIS life with some slut-skank whorebag when I was here all along, hoping he’d do something dramatic to show me that I wasn’t the only one dreaming of something working out between us. I don’t want to look back and learn that he would have hung around if only I had done something dramatic to keep him around.
I was watching an old “Sex and the City” episode this weekend, when Mr. Big moved to Napa. And the question Carrie had posited was, “What if you make a mistake and miss your fate?”
And the answer, of course, was that the mistakes lead us TO our fates.
In some cases and maybe even in mine, I wonder if it can lead me BACK to where I was supposed to be all along.
Or maybe I’m already there and don’t even realize it because I’m too busy hiding in my little citadel.
Rapunzel’s going to throw down her hair one of these days. Well, theoretically, anyway. More like I’m going to stick out my foot if I see fate coming back around. Damn it, I’m going to live the love story I so desperately want to be able to write about.
I have always, always expected that I’d end up with whomever I’m supposed to be with — no matter how many mistakes were made along the way. And I trust the universe wholeheartedly in that. But where I’m losing my cookies is in holding up my end of the bargain. What am I doing — or NOT doing — that would either expedite the process or ensure that I’m not fucking everything up in the interim?
Seriously, guys. I hate to go all “Scott Baio is 45 and Single” here, but Goddess is 33 and fucked-up in the head right now. How can I either make things right with what’s going on right now, or ensure that I start off the next one (if that’s the way the cookie will crumble) so perfectly that if something goes wrong, it’s not going to be because I was frigid everywhere but horizontally?
If you have to advertise it, I may beg to differ. 😉 I read it as “Penis” — didn’t realize it was “pen” till I uploaded it. Now THAT’S a way to get a girl’s attention!
