So, I survived being the 7th wheel. It could have been worse. I only lost my cool once when my friend and her boyfriend were making googly eyes at each other across the table. Gross! Beer came and went and the evening ended with me tucked away in my bed happy to have such wonderful friends.
The end of the weekend was supposed to end calmly with dinner and catching a play. Let me start with a little background first as to why we were going to said play. My friends and I spend a lot of time at the local bar where we hang out with the bar tender who happens to be an actor. I often spend most of my nights flirting with him, making aforementioned googly eyes, and whispering sweet nothings drunkenly over my beer. So, when he invited us to his play we felt a bit obliged to attend, or maybe just wanted to see where I could get with him.
I put on my Sunday best, strappy summer heels, jeans, and an adorably form flattering top. I felt like a million bucks. We ate dinner at this lovely organic pizzeria, yes I ate onions, but I had some gum in my purse. We girl chatted, we talked about all the inappropriate things that we girls talk about when no one else is around, boys, makeup, clothes and sex, of course. None of us were really looking forward to this play. We realized that this play could potentially the worst two hours of our (I won’t be so dramatic to say life) weekend.
We walked into the theatre simultaneously cringed. The theatre was quite small. I was feeling like an idiot. We were just the bar flies that see him once a week, now we were in a small theatre crowded with people that actually knew the cast. What was this guy going to think of me? As the lights went down in the small intimate theatre my worries did not subside. My worries then combined with boredom because this play was awful. In addition to an awful play our friend the bartender didn’t show up until the second act. We sat through the whole first act painfully trying to laugh at the appropriate times, gasp at the surprises and clap at intermission.
The second act did not improve. The bartender did show up for several scenes but certainly not worth a $20 ticket. When the painful play finally ended my one friend wanted to wait for our bartender, I wanted to get the hell outta there. So, we waited for him. I plastered a smile on my face and as he walked over I knew the lie I would have to tell. The lie was easy followed by an invite to join he and other for drinks at a bar half a block away. My gals and I rarely turn down a drink, so off to the bar we went. We bought him a beverage not really expecting him to stick around but there he sat. I turned on my charm, ehh what the hell, it was a bad show, but why not make the night a little more interesting!
After several drinks, he was still sitting and still flirting. Things were getting more interesting. He then invited me and my other gal to another bar. We were definitely on board. At the next bar the flirting continued. The music was loud, so he would lean in ever so closely just to talk. Our arms brushed, and all the signals were a go!! Things for me were getting more interesting.
At three am we headed back to our place. This had to be a sure thing. Without invitation he parked the car and walked up with us to my place. We cracked open a couple of beers and sat on the balcony. We continued to flirt. I put my legs on his lap, he rubbed my feet, green light. I stepped inside for a minute and when I came back they were packing up their things to come inside. My gal immediately fell onto the couch and passed out. My bartender was in the kitchen cleaning up. What an amazing guy! I walked right up to him, rubbed his back, made all of my right moves and I felt like I was suddenly getting stone walled. We were coming to the point of decision here, it was either a go or a no go here. In the living room I offered him the chaise to sleep on or “another option”… As I let my voice trail off, I heard him say, “here was fine,” indicating the chaise.
WHAT? Wait, what the hell just happened. This was very confusing. I had given every indication that all signals were go. I had practically given a liftoff count down. So, in a way that only I could, I looked at him and asked “are you even interested in me?” To which he responded, “Yea… but… it’s complicated.” He continued, "It's just bad timing." Wait, so he was or wasn’t interested in me. Did he just deliver me a line? This was very confusing to a girl talk about a total mind screw. (and of all things that I thought were going to get screwed that night, my mind wasn't one of them.) So I figure, give it one last go, I leaned in for a good night kiss and was greeted by the pursed lips of someone very different than the one flirting with me all night. Good Lord, was I delusional, did I imagine all of this flirting? I suppose that kind of analyzing would have to wait for another day, at another time.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Ode to the 7th Wheel
So tonight I am going out with my girl friends and their significant others. I made the joke “are we bringing our men,?” Typically, this question is not interpreted as a joke, but because I am single, it is. Tonight I am going to be the 7th wheel.
My three friends have chosen their men well. I like each of them, perhaps not collectively and in couples, and certainly not today, but most of the time I like them. I am also a strong woman, who very much enjoys the life of a single woman. I like having my own schedule, and not answering to anyone. Occasionally, I even partake in a casual fling. I am not so cynical that I cannot admit that there are definitely times in which I had someone.
Begin the Pity Party
Tonight when I sit at the table, not made for six or eight but for seven, I will cringe a little bit on the inside. I am not looking for pity, but tonight when the husbands order another drink for their wives when they are running low, or make sure that they get the last piece of pizza I will have a small pang of jealousy run through my veins. The worst will be when the couple thinks no one is looking and the brush their hands against each other or one lays their hand on the other’s thigh, I will let out a small cry to myself.
Sitting with three other couples when you are single is like getting hit in the head by a ton of bricks, each one a HARD sometimes painful reminder that I am single.
My three friends have chosen their men well. I like each of them, perhaps not collectively and in couples, and certainly not today, but most of the time I like them. I am also a strong woman, who very much enjoys the life of a single woman. I like having my own schedule, and not answering to anyone. Occasionally, I even partake in a casual fling. I am not so cynical that I cannot admit that there are definitely times in which I had someone.
Begin the Pity Party
Tonight when I sit at the table, not made for six or eight but for seven, I will cringe a little bit on the inside. I am not looking for pity, but tonight when the husbands order another drink for their wives when they are running low, or make sure that they get the last piece of pizza I will have a small pang of jealousy run through my veins. The worst will be when the couple thinks no one is looking and the brush their hands against each other or one lays their hand on the other’s thigh, I will let out a small cry to myself.
Sitting with three other couples when you are single is like getting hit in the head by a ton of bricks, each one a HARD sometimes painful reminder that I am single.
Friday, July 3, 2009
What a Morning...
I’ll fully admit that I am not a morning person. If there is a need for me to bright and shiny in the a.m., I can certainly rise to the occasion, but typically, I am not with it. This morning in particular, I was a special case of space cadet. I woke up thinking that it was Saturday. It was wonderful, I rolled over, and started dreaming again. Twenty minutes later, reality some how crept into my dream and I woke with a start. It definitely was not Saturday, I had to jump out of bed and into the shower. Unfortunately, the night before the toilet had decided to continuously run, so periodically during my shower SCALDING hot water came shooting out.
After receiving some third degree burns during my shower, I struggled with every morning chore that I had to do, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, packing a lunch, etc. A hangover would have adequately explained my behavior, but I did not have one drink the night before. Finally, I got in my car and I was on my way, only to notice that my gas light was on. Really, gas, well at least I could stop and get a crappy cup of coffee in the seven eleven while I was filling up.
So, that’s what I did. I started pumping gas and headed in for a cup of joe. Ahh there’s no better smell on a rough morning than French Vanilla coffee, even from a gas station. For a moment, when the smell hits you, it’s as if you are transplanted into a real coffee shop and not a badly lit 7-11 where they are selling hot dogs right next to the counter. I decided to treat myself to a half coffee half cappuccino combo. I filled up my cup with the delightful coffee and started the cappuccino, which decided it didn’t want to work and was spraying hot water every where. Scalding shower number two.
I just wanted a cup of coffee. Take two was more successful that my first try, I didn’t burn any appendages on the second attempt. The bored man behind the counter had rang up my coffee before I had even gotten there. As I paid him, I was distracted by the shiny scratch off lotto tickets behind the glass… ooohhh pretty. I rationalized the purchase of lotto tickets with the knowledge that some of that money goes towards Illinois education… right?? The pretty shiny pink ticket looked too good to pass up. There’s just something about scratching off the possibility to win big.
With my lotto ticket in one hand and coffee in another, I hit the road. Traffic wasn’t so bad for a while. Expectedly, it came to a halt. Ahhh a perfect time to scratch and win! I pulled out my ticket. The bad thing about these tickets is that often there are fairly specific directions. Don’t they realize that people just want to scratch the shiny silver stuff off the whole ticket and see the words WIN with the amount of money? I don’t want to have think when I am doing a scratch off lotto ticket. The pink lotto ticket was one of the difficult ones, it had stars and number matching and some sort of code. It was made even more difficult by the periodic glace up at traffic to move and brake when needed. I finally understood it, star = good, matching numbers = good. So I started to scratch. Of course, when I did so, traffic also started to move.
After scratching all the numbers I realized I was about 10 cars length away from the car in front of me. I hit the gas and started brushing off the silver scratch off dust…. and SLAMMED into the car in front of me. CRAP!!
I was probably going no more than five miles per hour, but enough to probably do some sort of damage. We made eye contact in our rear view mirrors. I was really hoping he wasn’t going to call the police. Mentally, I was running through all the things that my dad taught me, never apologize, give insurance info, give registrations… oh man, this sucked.
The man got out of his black Acura and looked like a regular guy. He looked at his car, and said that there didn’t look like there was a whole lot of damage. I of course, didn’t say much, because my instinct was to say, “I’m sorry,” so every mental ability went to not blurting that out. So, I stood there with basically nothing to say, no makeup on, my hair undid, thank goodness I dressed well that morning. After just standing there and looking at him I decided he was a very handsome middle aged man. He reminded me of the dad in a great American commercial for something like a Weber grill.
I wrote down my information and gave it to him. It pained me to try and even crunch the numbers of what the damage may end up costing, so I tried just as hard not to think about that as I did not to think about apologizing. After uttering no more than 20 words to the poor man, we exchanged good byes. His final message to me was “things happen, have a good morning!” I thought to myself, now had I won the lotto, that would have been good morning!
After receiving some third degree burns during my shower, I struggled with every morning chore that I had to do, getting dressed, brushing my teeth, packing a lunch, etc. A hangover would have adequately explained my behavior, but I did not have one drink the night before. Finally, I got in my car and I was on my way, only to notice that my gas light was on. Really, gas, well at least I could stop and get a crappy cup of coffee in the seven eleven while I was filling up.
So, that’s what I did. I started pumping gas and headed in for a cup of joe. Ahh there’s no better smell on a rough morning than French Vanilla coffee, even from a gas station. For a moment, when the smell hits you, it’s as if you are transplanted into a real coffee shop and not a badly lit 7-11 where they are selling hot dogs right next to the counter. I decided to treat myself to a half coffee half cappuccino combo. I filled up my cup with the delightful coffee and started the cappuccino, which decided it didn’t want to work and was spraying hot water every where. Scalding shower number two.
I just wanted a cup of coffee. Take two was more successful that my first try, I didn’t burn any appendages on the second attempt. The bored man behind the counter had rang up my coffee before I had even gotten there. As I paid him, I was distracted by the shiny scratch off lotto tickets behind the glass… ooohhh pretty. I rationalized the purchase of lotto tickets with the knowledge that some of that money goes towards Illinois education… right?? The pretty shiny pink ticket looked too good to pass up. There’s just something about scratching off the possibility to win big.
With my lotto ticket in one hand and coffee in another, I hit the road. Traffic wasn’t so bad for a while. Expectedly, it came to a halt. Ahhh a perfect time to scratch and win! I pulled out my ticket. The bad thing about these tickets is that often there are fairly specific directions. Don’t they realize that people just want to scratch the shiny silver stuff off the whole ticket and see the words WIN with the amount of money? I don’t want to have think when I am doing a scratch off lotto ticket. The pink lotto ticket was one of the difficult ones, it had stars and number matching and some sort of code. It was made even more difficult by the periodic glace up at traffic to move and brake when needed. I finally understood it, star = good, matching numbers = good. So I started to scratch. Of course, when I did so, traffic also started to move.
After scratching all the numbers I realized I was about 10 cars length away from the car in front of me. I hit the gas and started brushing off the silver scratch off dust…. and SLAMMED into the car in front of me. CRAP!!
I was probably going no more than five miles per hour, but enough to probably do some sort of damage. We made eye contact in our rear view mirrors. I was really hoping he wasn’t going to call the police. Mentally, I was running through all the things that my dad taught me, never apologize, give insurance info, give registrations… oh man, this sucked.
The man got out of his black Acura and looked like a regular guy. He looked at his car, and said that there didn’t look like there was a whole lot of damage. I of course, didn’t say much, because my instinct was to say, “I’m sorry,” so every mental ability went to not blurting that out. So, I stood there with basically nothing to say, no makeup on, my hair undid, thank goodness I dressed well that morning. After just standing there and looking at him I decided he was a very handsome middle aged man. He reminded me of the dad in a great American commercial for something like a Weber grill.
I wrote down my information and gave it to him. It pained me to try and even crunch the numbers of what the damage may end up costing, so I tried just as hard not to think about that as I did not to think about apologizing. After uttering no more than 20 words to the poor man, we exchanged good byes. His final message to me was “things happen, have a good morning!” I thought to myself, now had I won the lotto, that would have been good morning!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Nebraska Bobby
Written in December 2008
I met Nebraska Bobby on the internet on a dating website that I hadn’t had much luck with. Most of the guys that I met through this particular website were particularly sketchy, but I was online giving it another chance and ran across Nebraska Bobby’s profile. He fit my height requirement, my desired education level and had a full time job, so at least worth an email.
After I pressed the send button a message popped up that I had a message. How wonderful! To my surprise it was from Nebraska Bobby. We started email back and forth a couple of times and it was normal and fun. We talked about traveling, he liked road trips and seeing new places. I liked those kinds of things. Definitely a good sign. Bobby had listed his yahoo messenger in his profile, so I just thought I would add it to mine. Unbeknownst to me, when I added him to my profile yahoo sent him a message to confirm. I was horrified. I signed off yahoo immediately, he was going to think I was some sort of stalker. I would fall into the category of crazy online loony girl. This was the first regular that I had come across in a while, and yahoo had blown it… stupid yahoo messenger.
I knew I had to own it. There was no way that I could avoid this one. I signed back onto to yahoo. There was an IM waiting for me asking, who I was. I admitted my nuttiness and an acceptable im chat ensued. He told me about his stable job, and his annoyance with the suburbs, both things that I could relate to, both things screamed regular guy. Woo Hoo a regular guy, let the online dating games begin!
Online email dating games I have played, but instant message games were totally new. Every time I signed on to my yahoo email I would see if Nebraska Bobby was signed on or if he was busy or if he was available. Then if he was available, should I start the instant message conversation, should I wait for him to message me? How does it work ? A couple of weeks ago I went and saw the movie He’s Just Not that into you, it gave me some perspective that I have kept with me. If he was interested he would start a convo, here I add my own rule, unless I have something exceptionally intriguing to say.
Well we had a couple of conversations, most he started, and most were pretty good conversations. I typically ended them because I was getting tired, or at least that was the excuse I was telling myself. Honestly the conversations were lagging, and I was getting tired of carrying them, I could only be so witty so late into the night.
Anyway, I was signed on to yahoo one morning at work and Nebraska Bobby was online. I took the stance that I would basically ignore him, I was at work. About five minutes later, to my delight, he imed me!! We began chatting back and forth for a couple of minutes when he asked me if I had heard of a band called the Shiny Toy Guns. I had not, but I did google them. Bobby told me about how he had won tickets to their concert for that night, but didn’t have anyone to go with him. Was he asking me out? I wasn’t letting him off easily, he would have to ask out rightly. Finally, after skirting around the issue for a couple of messages he asked me if I wanted to with him. We settled on the plans for the night which included dinner before the late night concert. I had just agreed to go on a date that night!
Oh Crap… I was going to have to bust my ass home to get ready just to head back into the city. Nothing was going to ruin my high though. I suppose that my favorite thing about dating is the excitement. The thrill. I love the anticipation. I love the high of dating. I look forward to meeting someone new, the possibilities that carries with it. That day was not different. I busted my ass home to change into something appropriate for a concert and dinner at a bar. I felt I chose just the perfect outfit and into traffic I went.
I got to the bar absurdly early. I had to account for traffic and rain right, well I accounted too much for both and was there a half hour early. I knew I wasn’t going in that early. No way, I decided to way in my car. I checked my makeup, reapplied deodorant, (nervous sweat never good), checked my jewelry, and finally checked my breath.
Mother nature wanted to balance out my excitement for the evening, so she gave me a pouring rain showers. Rain plus a straightened hair equals disaster, but thankfully, in my mess of a car I had an umbrella buried deep under some random CRAP. I found it and felt like a super hero already. In my head I was hoping that that would not have been the climax of my evening, sadly it may have been.
While I was checking my bodily scents, Nebraska Bobby had texted me that he was sitting in the bar. I walked into the restaurant, did a turn around the bar looking for Bobby, and I couldn’t find anyone that looked like him. This was not a good sign. I decided to call him and watch for people picking up their cell phone. The first guy that I had seen in the bar picked up his cell and I walked over. I considered hugging, but instead we awkwardly shook hands. Thank goodness I had taken the time to wipe the hand sweat off!
Let the games begin. I wish I could say that conversation flowed, it didn’t. He had no problem talking about himself, but the really neat thing about conversation, is it takes two people’s involvement and only one person was talking. I kept trying to interject with stories of my own, but I had nothing to relate. He was asking very little about me, I think he was just shy. I couldn’t handle shy, it was so much work!
The second part of the date, yes there were two parts already planned, was a concert. I had never heard of the band, but I was always up for a good time. The concert was in a secret location, put on by a local indie radio station. I was actually pretty excited about it. At least at the concert we didn’t have to talk. Unfortunately, Nebraska Bobby could also be known as get there awkwardly early Bobby. We got to the concert two hours early. I was already struggling for conversation and the thought of two hours was unbearable. The icing on the cake was that the event was being hosted by my favorite vodka company and I had driven, no drinks for me.
The two hours dragged, it was painful. We were horribly awkward, I wanted to leave, get out, jump ship, but I had made a commitment. Happy people were running around with their delicious beverages and engaging conversation and I was stuck with Nebraska Bobby.
FINALLY the concert started and it was not my taste. It was a weird mix between hard rock and angry music. What do you do at a concert like this? You can’t dance, I had never heard them, so I couldn’t even fake that I knew the words, I was outta my element. I took a step back though, and realized that I could just enjoy the moment, I wasn’t expected to talk!!
The minute the concert ended I bolted for the door. I dropped Bobby at his car and was very careful not to say that I would talk again, I had no intention of carrying his conversation baggage again.
I met Nebraska Bobby on the internet on a dating website that I hadn’t had much luck with. Most of the guys that I met through this particular website were particularly sketchy, but I was online giving it another chance and ran across Nebraska Bobby’s profile. He fit my height requirement, my desired education level and had a full time job, so at least worth an email.
After I pressed the send button a message popped up that I had a message. How wonderful! To my surprise it was from Nebraska Bobby. We started email back and forth a couple of times and it was normal and fun. We talked about traveling, he liked road trips and seeing new places. I liked those kinds of things. Definitely a good sign. Bobby had listed his yahoo messenger in his profile, so I just thought I would add it to mine. Unbeknownst to me, when I added him to my profile yahoo sent him a message to confirm. I was horrified. I signed off yahoo immediately, he was going to think I was some sort of stalker. I would fall into the category of crazy online loony girl. This was the first regular that I had come across in a while, and yahoo had blown it… stupid yahoo messenger.
I knew I had to own it. There was no way that I could avoid this one. I signed back onto to yahoo. There was an IM waiting for me asking, who I was. I admitted my nuttiness and an acceptable im chat ensued. He told me about his stable job, and his annoyance with the suburbs, both things that I could relate to, both things screamed regular guy. Woo Hoo a regular guy, let the online dating games begin!
Online email dating games I have played, but instant message games were totally new. Every time I signed on to my yahoo email I would see if Nebraska Bobby was signed on or if he was busy or if he was available. Then if he was available, should I start the instant message conversation, should I wait for him to message me? How does it work ? A couple of weeks ago I went and saw the movie He’s Just Not that into you, it gave me some perspective that I have kept with me. If he was interested he would start a convo, here I add my own rule, unless I have something exceptionally intriguing to say.
Well we had a couple of conversations, most he started, and most were pretty good conversations. I typically ended them because I was getting tired, or at least that was the excuse I was telling myself. Honestly the conversations were lagging, and I was getting tired of carrying them, I could only be so witty so late into the night.
Anyway, I was signed on to yahoo one morning at work and Nebraska Bobby was online. I took the stance that I would basically ignore him, I was at work. About five minutes later, to my delight, he imed me!! We began chatting back and forth for a couple of minutes when he asked me if I had heard of a band called the Shiny Toy Guns. I had not, but I did google them. Bobby told me about how he had won tickets to their concert for that night, but didn’t have anyone to go with him. Was he asking me out? I wasn’t letting him off easily, he would have to ask out rightly. Finally, after skirting around the issue for a couple of messages he asked me if I wanted to with him. We settled on the plans for the night which included dinner before the late night concert. I had just agreed to go on a date that night!
Oh Crap… I was going to have to bust my ass home to get ready just to head back into the city. Nothing was going to ruin my high though. I suppose that my favorite thing about dating is the excitement. The thrill. I love the anticipation. I love the high of dating. I look forward to meeting someone new, the possibilities that carries with it. That day was not different. I busted my ass home to change into something appropriate for a concert and dinner at a bar. I felt I chose just the perfect outfit and into traffic I went.
I got to the bar absurdly early. I had to account for traffic and rain right, well I accounted too much for both and was there a half hour early. I knew I wasn’t going in that early. No way, I decided to way in my car. I checked my makeup, reapplied deodorant, (nervous sweat never good), checked my jewelry, and finally checked my breath.
Mother nature wanted to balance out my excitement for the evening, so she gave me a pouring rain showers. Rain plus a straightened hair equals disaster, but thankfully, in my mess of a car I had an umbrella buried deep under some random CRAP. I found it and felt like a super hero already. In my head I was hoping that that would not have been the climax of my evening, sadly it may have been.
While I was checking my bodily scents, Nebraska Bobby had texted me that he was sitting in the bar. I walked into the restaurant, did a turn around the bar looking for Bobby, and I couldn’t find anyone that looked like him. This was not a good sign. I decided to call him and watch for people picking up their cell phone. The first guy that I had seen in the bar picked up his cell and I walked over. I considered hugging, but instead we awkwardly shook hands. Thank goodness I had taken the time to wipe the hand sweat off!
Let the games begin. I wish I could say that conversation flowed, it didn’t. He had no problem talking about himself, but the really neat thing about conversation, is it takes two people’s involvement and only one person was talking. I kept trying to interject with stories of my own, but I had nothing to relate. He was asking very little about me, I think he was just shy. I couldn’t handle shy, it was so much work!
The second part of the date, yes there were two parts already planned, was a concert. I had never heard of the band, but I was always up for a good time. The concert was in a secret location, put on by a local indie radio station. I was actually pretty excited about it. At least at the concert we didn’t have to talk. Unfortunately, Nebraska Bobby could also be known as get there awkwardly early Bobby. We got to the concert two hours early. I was already struggling for conversation and the thought of two hours was unbearable. The icing on the cake was that the event was being hosted by my favorite vodka company and I had driven, no drinks for me.
The two hours dragged, it was painful. We were horribly awkward, I wanted to leave, get out, jump ship, but I had made a commitment. Happy people were running around with their delicious beverages and engaging conversation and I was stuck with Nebraska Bobby.
FINALLY the concert started and it was not my taste. It was a weird mix between hard rock and angry music. What do you do at a concert like this? You can’t dance, I had never heard them, so I couldn’t even fake that I knew the words, I was outta my element. I took a step back though, and realized that I could just enjoy the moment, I wasn’t expected to talk!!
The minute the concert ended I bolted for the door. I dropped Bobby at his car and was very careful not to say that I would talk again, I had no intention of carrying his conversation baggage again.
Cold Fusion
Written in November 2008
Heart break is painful. People have been going through heart break since the beginning of time, sure I have no proof of it, but as I know women, and I think I do, we have either been suffering from heart break or making others suffer from the beginning of time. This time though, I was the one suffering.
I had strange ways of dealing with my suffering. Instead of sitting around wallowing in my pain, and eating my depression, I decided to join an online dating web site. The first site that I joined was free. It had a totally cheesy name, and didn’t ask too many personality questions, but pictures were imperative. Now, I realize that I am more Drew Barrymore, than Heidi Klume, but Drew isn’t horrible looking, right? Luckily, I practically had a glamour shot from yearbook picture from my previous job that I had at the high school.
I got some hits, but most of the chat requests were from skeevy men who were far from gentlemanly! This method was certainly not easing heartbreak, in fact, it was making me wish for the ‘dude’ back that broke my heart. I needed a to try something else. While browsing the web one morning, I literally stumbled upon a website that looked hip, cool and it seemed to have credibility, so I jumped right in. It asked way more personality questions than the other website, already I felt better about this one. I took a great deal of time and care on my profile.
My use of sporting analogies would have impressed John Madden. (Look another one!) Again, I used my glamour shot yearbook pic and off I was, another online dating adventure.
This website was different though, it did not let you browse through the gentlemen, it matched you. Sounds cool right, NOT, it stunk, it only gave you ten men to look at per day. For a girl getting over a break up, those were not good numbers, I wanted men by the hundreds to assure me that there still were actually men out there. To be honest, more than half of the heart ache was caused by the debilitating fear of growing old alone.
Anyway, back to online dating, (something much more uplifting that growing old alone!). When presented with the ten men that this website provides, essentially, I was able to give each a thumbs up or a thumbs down. Once this was done, they would have to do the same for me. After that stage, meaningless priority scales are exchanged. An example of this priority scale was that I had to rate on a scale of one to ten how important humor, money, and religion were to me. Typically, when at this stage with a guy, I ignored all of that crap, just so that I could get to the email stage of the process. Communication either live or via email is what gets you to know people right?
So, I finally got to the email stage with one of my guys. I was so excited, I would be able to finally find out about this guy… heartbreak what? His name was Shawn, he was tall and slender in his pictures, so cute. One of his pictures was taken in Ireland, already I was impressed. Unfortunately, Shawn was not much of an emailer. He had a tendency to shoot rapid fire questions rather than exchanging a friendly email dialogue, I felt like I was on CNN Cross Fire. Ever the optimist, I kept the faith that perhaps he just wasn’t much of a typist. Over one of our emails Shawn asked if we could talk on the phone, I was estactic. I was desired, I was wanted, and now with phone time, I would be able to shine! He called me one night, I screened the call of course, then called him back. I was terrified. I hadn’t flirted with a guy in quite some time. What if I had forgotten, is it really like riding a bike? What does that even mean, I can only imagine what getting on a bike must feel like after not having done it in forever… TERRIFYING!
Surprisingly, I had something to say. We exchanged pleasantries about our work life, his being an electrician, mine in business. We talked about all the stupid stuff that you cover on a first conversation. At one point I started to notice myself getting a bit out of breathe, huh, that was weird, I mean, I do exercise. Had I really been talking so much that I couldn’t catch my breathe… the answer to that was yes. I had a major case of oral diarrhea. I paused for a minute to catch my breath and all that I heard was my breath. My oral sickness was due to the fact that Shawn wasn’t just afraid of the keyboard, but apparently his voice too!
Again, ignoring reason, I gave Shawn the benefit of the doubt. He was shy, he was nervous. Perhaps he would relax after a couple of conversations. Well a couple of conversations we had, he did warm up, a bit. He finally asked me out, after several conversations. Now, I was even more nervous, I hadn’t lost that relationship weight yet. I was going to meet up with a tall, slender, shy gentlemen at a tavern with no time to drop twenty pounds. Oh well, it was time for me to realize that I was the one dating, now, not twenty pounds from now.
Upon arrival at the tavern I found myself face to face with Shawn, four years older than his picture and forty pounds heavier. I no longer worried about my twenty pounds. So, I sat down, feeling somewhat betrayed, but figured a girl’s gotta eat right? Our conversation was slow, topics such as work and family were vaguely touched upon. I felt myself leading the conversation again, but not because I wanted to, but because without doing so, there would have been no conversation.
After ordering dinner, something that I did not want to, I prefer the first date drink only option, Shawn seemed to warm up and began talking. It was when dinner was served that he really began talking. Somewhere along the conversation journey the topic of alternative energy sources was brought up, not by me. I thought that I could keep up, I mentioned wind energy, and e-85, I thought that I was good.
Suddenly Shawn brought up cold fusion. What… cold fusion? The only thing that I could think of to add to the cold fusion conversation was about the movie The Saint. So, I basically, shouted, oh yea, they talk about that in the movie the Saint with Val Kilmer and Elizabeth Shue right? He looked as lost as I was. So, I tried to explain the plot, I even included character names, (shocking that I knew them yes, I went through a Val Kilmer stage). Shawn looked at me as though I had three heads, it was with that look that I recognized on my face when he was seriously talking about alternative energy sources. It was basically at that moment that I knew, there would be no date two.
Heart break is painful. People have been going through heart break since the beginning of time, sure I have no proof of it, but as I know women, and I think I do, we have either been suffering from heart break or making others suffer from the beginning of time. This time though, I was the one suffering.
I had strange ways of dealing with my suffering. Instead of sitting around wallowing in my pain, and eating my depression, I decided to join an online dating web site. The first site that I joined was free. It had a totally cheesy name, and didn’t ask too many personality questions, but pictures were imperative. Now, I realize that I am more Drew Barrymore, than Heidi Klume, but Drew isn’t horrible looking, right? Luckily, I practically had a glamour shot from yearbook picture from my previous job that I had at the high school.
I got some hits, but most of the chat requests were from skeevy men who were far from gentlemanly! This method was certainly not easing heartbreak, in fact, it was making me wish for the ‘dude’ back that broke my heart. I needed a to try something else. While browsing the web one morning, I literally stumbled upon a website that looked hip, cool and it seemed to have credibility, so I jumped right in. It asked way more personality questions than the other website, already I felt better about this one. I took a great deal of time and care on my profile.
My use of sporting analogies would have impressed John Madden. (Look another one!) Again, I used my glamour shot yearbook pic and off I was, another online dating adventure.
This website was different though, it did not let you browse through the gentlemen, it matched you. Sounds cool right, NOT, it stunk, it only gave you ten men to look at per day. For a girl getting over a break up, those were not good numbers, I wanted men by the hundreds to assure me that there still were actually men out there. To be honest, more than half of the heart ache was caused by the debilitating fear of growing old alone.
Anyway, back to online dating, (something much more uplifting that growing old alone!). When presented with the ten men that this website provides, essentially, I was able to give each a thumbs up or a thumbs down. Once this was done, they would have to do the same for me. After that stage, meaningless priority scales are exchanged. An example of this priority scale was that I had to rate on a scale of one to ten how important humor, money, and religion were to me. Typically, when at this stage with a guy, I ignored all of that crap, just so that I could get to the email stage of the process. Communication either live or via email is what gets you to know people right?
So, I finally got to the email stage with one of my guys. I was so excited, I would be able to finally find out about this guy… heartbreak what? His name was Shawn, he was tall and slender in his pictures, so cute. One of his pictures was taken in Ireland, already I was impressed. Unfortunately, Shawn was not much of an emailer. He had a tendency to shoot rapid fire questions rather than exchanging a friendly email dialogue, I felt like I was on CNN Cross Fire. Ever the optimist, I kept the faith that perhaps he just wasn’t much of a typist. Over one of our emails Shawn asked if we could talk on the phone, I was estactic. I was desired, I was wanted, and now with phone time, I would be able to shine! He called me one night, I screened the call of course, then called him back. I was terrified. I hadn’t flirted with a guy in quite some time. What if I had forgotten, is it really like riding a bike? What does that even mean, I can only imagine what getting on a bike must feel like after not having done it in forever… TERRIFYING!
Surprisingly, I had something to say. We exchanged pleasantries about our work life, his being an electrician, mine in business. We talked about all the stupid stuff that you cover on a first conversation. At one point I started to notice myself getting a bit out of breathe, huh, that was weird, I mean, I do exercise. Had I really been talking so much that I couldn’t catch my breathe… the answer to that was yes. I had a major case of oral diarrhea. I paused for a minute to catch my breath and all that I heard was my breath. My oral sickness was due to the fact that Shawn wasn’t just afraid of the keyboard, but apparently his voice too!
Again, ignoring reason, I gave Shawn the benefit of the doubt. He was shy, he was nervous. Perhaps he would relax after a couple of conversations. Well a couple of conversations we had, he did warm up, a bit. He finally asked me out, after several conversations. Now, I was even more nervous, I hadn’t lost that relationship weight yet. I was going to meet up with a tall, slender, shy gentlemen at a tavern with no time to drop twenty pounds. Oh well, it was time for me to realize that I was the one dating, now, not twenty pounds from now.
Upon arrival at the tavern I found myself face to face with Shawn, four years older than his picture and forty pounds heavier. I no longer worried about my twenty pounds. So, I sat down, feeling somewhat betrayed, but figured a girl’s gotta eat right? Our conversation was slow, topics such as work and family were vaguely touched upon. I felt myself leading the conversation again, but not because I wanted to, but because without doing so, there would have been no conversation.
After ordering dinner, something that I did not want to, I prefer the first date drink only option, Shawn seemed to warm up and began talking. It was when dinner was served that he really began talking. Somewhere along the conversation journey the topic of alternative energy sources was brought up, not by me. I thought that I could keep up, I mentioned wind energy, and e-85, I thought that I was good.
Suddenly Shawn brought up cold fusion. What… cold fusion? The only thing that I could think of to add to the cold fusion conversation was about the movie The Saint. So, I basically, shouted, oh yea, they talk about that in the movie the Saint with Val Kilmer and Elizabeth Shue right? He looked as lost as I was. So, I tried to explain the plot, I even included character names, (shocking that I knew them yes, I went through a Val Kilmer stage). Shawn looked at me as though I had three heads, it was with that look that I recognized on my face when he was seriously talking about alternative energy sources. It was basically at that moment that I knew, there would be no date two.
Fido the Fink
Written in April 2005
After months of dating with my boyfriend and I, both of us still living at home we thought we had the art of avoiding the parents perfected. But, the minute we started to get comfortable, we got careless.
When it came to making out we had learned that if we left the television on, we could make out safely on the couch with no worries about noise. As thing started to get more intense as we dated longer, I could not get the image of his mother or father walking down the stairs catching us mid-grope. I started to get wierded out by the knowledge that the parents were just a flight of stairs away.
We began to argue about it, he called me a dead fish one night. Because instead of being in the heat of passion, like he was, I was dead still thinking that every noise I heard was the garage door opening with his younger brother walking in.
Finally, we were smart enough to make our way to the basement. Two flights of stairs separating us from the parents. (Thinking back, I actually cannot believe that it took us that long to think of it?)
One night he and I got into a fight. Typical affair for a young fiesty couple. Well, it was late into the night before the whole affair was finally settled, and I was exhausted. He offered to let me sleep over with the similar clause on the offer as always, I had to sleep in a separate bed from himself, (parents rules). Those crazy catholic parents, they think that sleeping together means sex. Well, in our case it did, so I guess that they were not wrong to put that stipulation on it.
Anyway, after making up, (best part of fighting), we laid on the couch even more exausted than before the fight, both of us were falling asleep. I nudged him to wake up, I was totally paranoid about those crazy catholic parents finding us sleeping together in the morning. He woke up and grunted that we were both fully clothed again and that there was nothing to worry about, just two innocent adults sleeping on a couch together snuggling. So, I fell asleep.
Early the next morning I heard his dog come down the stairs. I petted him and when he started to lick my face I shooed him away, I needed more sleep. Finally, he left, I was wide awake. I decided to get dressed and sneak home before anyone knew that we were even sleeping on the couch in the basement. I sucessfully made it out, no one knew any better, or so I thought!
Later that afternoon, I received a call from him. He and his mother had been talking, she had let the dog out earlier that morning. She continued to tell him that while she was making coffee the dog had found its way to the basement. She hurried down to make sure that he did not wake either of us, surprised as she was to see us both on the couch. Anyway, she managed to get the dog back up stairs but, as she began to finish making the coffee, the dog kept nudging her leg for her to play with him. She looked down and realized that the dog had something in his mouth, figuring it was a toy she started to tug at it. Finally, she got the "toy" out of his mouth and was about to toss it back for the dog to fetch and realized what it was... a condom.
Hearing this story on the phone was probably no less horrifying than hearing it come from your own mother. I do not think that I spoke for about two minutes and when I finally did open my mouth the words that managed to make their way out was "Oh my God." (Great time to invite God into this… right!)
He said that his mom was ok was being cool about it, but I could not help but think that the next time I went over to his house I would have a big A pinned on my shirt.
After months of dating with my boyfriend and I, both of us still living at home we thought we had the art of avoiding the parents perfected. But, the minute we started to get comfortable, we got careless.
When it came to making out we had learned that if we left the television on, we could make out safely on the couch with no worries about noise. As thing started to get more intense as we dated longer, I could not get the image of his mother or father walking down the stairs catching us mid-grope. I started to get wierded out by the knowledge that the parents were just a flight of stairs away.
We began to argue about it, he called me a dead fish one night. Because instead of being in the heat of passion, like he was, I was dead still thinking that every noise I heard was the garage door opening with his younger brother walking in.
Finally, we were smart enough to make our way to the basement. Two flights of stairs separating us from the parents. (Thinking back, I actually cannot believe that it took us that long to think of it?)
One night he and I got into a fight. Typical affair for a young fiesty couple. Well, it was late into the night before the whole affair was finally settled, and I was exhausted. He offered to let me sleep over with the similar clause on the offer as always, I had to sleep in a separate bed from himself, (parents rules). Those crazy catholic parents, they think that sleeping together means sex. Well, in our case it did, so I guess that they were not wrong to put that stipulation on it.
Anyway, after making up, (best part of fighting), we laid on the couch even more exausted than before the fight, both of us were falling asleep. I nudged him to wake up, I was totally paranoid about those crazy catholic parents finding us sleeping together in the morning. He woke up and grunted that we were both fully clothed again and that there was nothing to worry about, just two innocent adults sleeping on a couch together snuggling. So, I fell asleep.
Early the next morning I heard his dog come down the stairs. I petted him and when he started to lick my face I shooed him away, I needed more sleep. Finally, he left, I was wide awake. I decided to get dressed and sneak home before anyone knew that we were even sleeping on the couch in the basement. I sucessfully made it out, no one knew any better, or so I thought!
Later that afternoon, I received a call from him. He and his mother had been talking, she had let the dog out earlier that morning. She continued to tell him that while she was making coffee the dog had found its way to the basement. She hurried down to make sure that he did not wake either of us, surprised as she was to see us both on the couch. Anyway, she managed to get the dog back up stairs but, as she began to finish making the coffee, the dog kept nudging her leg for her to play with him. She looked down and realized that the dog had something in his mouth, figuring it was a toy she started to tug at it. Finally, she got the "toy" out of his mouth and was about to toss it back for the dog to fetch and realized what it was... a condom.
Hearing this story on the phone was probably no less horrifying than hearing it come from your own mother. I do not think that I spoke for about two minutes and when I finally did open my mouth the words that managed to make their way out was "Oh my God." (Great time to invite God into this… right!)
He said that his mom was ok was being cool about it, but I could not help but think that the next time I went over to his house I would have a big A pinned on my shirt.
Role Reversal
Written in February 2008
It was about mid morning and I was chugging through the late week work, trying to meet my deadlines, when I my cell phone rang. My cell phone rarely rang at work, and I hear it even less. For some reason, I was able to hear it, and it was my mother. She was injured at her school and needed to get to the emergency room for some test. She was nervous, but being the stubborn woman that she is, insisted upon driving herself.
It was wierd, we were mother and daughter walking into the emergency room, but our roles were completely reveresed. As the sliding doors opened the smell of hospital disinfected assalted my nose. We were usered into a cubicle type room that was used for registering patients, and waiting began. A nervous paramedic in training named Maria popped into the room to take my mothers vitals. While Maria was in the small cubicle, a surly nurse squeezed in to make the room feel smaller. Poor Maria tried to finish her tests, but the surly nurse pulled rank and finished them for her.
Our next stop on the Emergency Room Journey was to our very own cozy room, with the warm and inviting lighting of the neon lights and the sterile furniture and uncomfortable bed. My mom was wheeled in and instructed to strip down and wear the gown. Now on a normal basis this would not sound inviting, but my poor mother was already cold with her two winter coats on. She was a true sport and did as she was told, without complaining as I would have.
After what seemed like an eternity, a woman came into our curtained room and introduced herself as the doctor. At first she was gentle and relating to my mother. She was attentive and answered my questions, but suddenly, the gentle doctor turned into a moodswing monster. The doctor snapped at my question, and shoot a look that would have killed a grizzly from miles away. It sure shut me up quickly. After the cold front left the room, we waited again.
A nurse, different from surly nurse, came in to take my mother for tests. I watched the clockand waited as the minutes clicked by. I used the phone, I got a drink, I read both pamphlets in the room (the first about germs and the second about tetnaus shots, and learned more than I really wanted to know about either), was completely out of my mind bored and worried about my mom. She may be stubborn, and tough, but she is still my mom.I started to think, how wierd it was to be worried about her. I had a flash of role reversal when we were on the way in, but it was really setting in this time. My stomach started to churn in a way I had never felt. My imagination had come up with a what seemed like a million scenarios as what the future held for my mother.
By the time my mom came back from some of the tests, I had concluded that she was going to have a myriad of diseases and health problems, most of which I could not spell, nor pronounce.Dr. Moodswing flew back into the room just long enough to curtly tell my mother she was FINE and should feel that way after taking multiple pain pills she was prescribing. We were discharged, FINALLY. We left the hospital the world was back the way it should be, my mother was ok.
It was about mid morning and I was chugging through the late week work, trying to meet my deadlines, when I my cell phone rang. My cell phone rarely rang at work, and I hear it even less. For some reason, I was able to hear it, and it was my mother. She was injured at her school and needed to get to the emergency room for some test. She was nervous, but being the stubborn woman that she is, insisted upon driving herself.
It was wierd, we were mother and daughter walking into the emergency room, but our roles were completely reveresed. As the sliding doors opened the smell of hospital disinfected assalted my nose. We were usered into a cubicle type room that was used for registering patients, and waiting began. A nervous paramedic in training named Maria popped into the room to take my mothers vitals. While Maria was in the small cubicle, a surly nurse squeezed in to make the room feel smaller. Poor Maria tried to finish her tests, but the surly nurse pulled rank and finished them for her.
Our next stop on the Emergency Room Journey was to our very own cozy room, with the warm and inviting lighting of the neon lights and the sterile furniture and uncomfortable bed. My mom was wheeled in and instructed to strip down and wear the gown. Now on a normal basis this would not sound inviting, but my poor mother was already cold with her two winter coats on. She was a true sport and did as she was told, without complaining as I would have.
After what seemed like an eternity, a woman came into our curtained room and introduced herself as the doctor. At first she was gentle and relating to my mother. She was attentive and answered my questions, but suddenly, the gentle doctor turned into a moodswing monster. The doctor snapped at my question, and shoot a look that would have killed a grizzly from miles away. It sure shut me up quickly. After the cold front left the room, we waited again.
A nurse, different from surly nurse, came in to take my mother for tests. I watched the clockand waited as the minutes clicked by. I used the phone, I got a drink, I read both pamphlets in the room (the first about germs and the second about tetnaus shots, and learned more than I really wanted to know about either), was completely out of my mind bored and worried about my mom. She may be stubborn, and tough, but she is still my mom.I started to think, how wierd it was to be worried about her. I had a flash of role reversal when we were on the way in, but it was really setting in this time. My stomach started to churn in a way I had never felt. My imagination had come up with a what seemed like a million scenarios as what the future held for my mother.
By the time my mom came back from some of the tests, I had concluded that she was going to have a myriad of diseases and health problems, most of which I could not spell, nor pronounce.Dr. Moodswing flew back into the room just long enough to curtly tell my mother she was FINE and should feel that way after taking multiple pain pills she was prescribing. We were discharged, FINALLY. We left the hospital the world was back the way it should be, my mother was ok.
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