Since my last entry, I took a slight break from dating, until I felt comfortable enough to deal with meeting strangers again. Obviously, it didn't take too long. Hope springs eternal, as does idiocy. At the time I took the break, I had been in conversations with a couple of men, and over a few weeks time, I felt comfortable getting to know each of them better.
The first, Melvin, an engineer, is a sweet man with a gentle heart. He is my same age, never been married, and would like to have a family. It sounds like everything I should want. Upon getting to know him, I found that he is incredibly sweet, but there were a few things that bothered me profoundly. It turns out that at this point in my life, I would prefer to be with someone a bit older than me, a realization I hadn't come to before now. He also unknowingly says things that come off as condescending, like asking me if I made it to work on my first day with my new job. With over 27 years of successful work experience, including 13 years in management, this simple question completely discredited my entire history. He also started making statements toward the inevitability of us having to move for him to continue working, and we were not even in an actual relationship yet, let alone considering moving in together. Within two weeks of dating, he invited me out to Florida, where he was going to spend time with his mom. He also started making plans for us for a year from now, as well as started texting me several times a day. It was just too much.
The saddest thing is, the one thing that probably got to me the most is that he has a childlike voice. When he cracks jokes, he spins that voice to be even more baby-like, thinking that it somehow makes it funnier. While the last thing I want to hear is a childlike voice from a man while we are intimate, the jokes, especially, disturbed me to the core.
The other man I started to date, Tony, is the complete opposite, of course. He is also a professional, but in a burgeoning market. He and his friend run one of the biggest cannabis distributors in Washington. Now that recreational use is legal in the state, it is a wise business venture. It also makes him somewhat of a glorified drug dealer, I guess, but with better clothes, and legitimate business plans. He has been married before, has four kids, and has been fixed. While he is not against getting married again, he never intends to have any more kids, though he is fine if I have kids on my own. And even that is doable, especially with gay male friends wanting a child as well. My own personal version of Modern Family.
Tony is a few years older than me, sincere, funny, and has a good heart and sense of responsibility. He is also generally unavailable, which I love. I wouldn't get off work to find seven messages questioning how my day was, and whether things were okay. I would receive a phone call and/or text message every few days as his schedule between work and his kids permit, and I felt blessed for each and every one. They definitely weren't in a baby voice. When we were intimate, he growled. It was the sexiest thing I had ever heard. His kisses made me melt. And he held me. Not after, but during. With strong arms, and a protective gentleness that was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Ever.
I fell like a rock from the acropolis. There was no saving me.
And like a rock from the acropolis, I have now been left just sitting, a shadow of what I could be, waiting for some tourist, some dude, to pick me up and carry me away to keep as a souvenir.
When I fell so hard for Tony, I stopped responding to Melvin. He finally wrote me, asking if he did something wrong. I felt horrible about that, as he really hadn't done anything wrong outside of put too much stock in something that I couldn't see through. I wrote him back and let him know that I was dealing with a lot (which I am), and that it wasn't fair to him, and that I was sorry. He was very sweet about the whole thing, asking if he could help.
Yesterday I received a message from Tony stating that he had been bad with communicating with me lately, and that he is dealing with a lot, and that he is sorry. Broken hearted, I told him to take the time he needed and contact me when/if he wanted to.
And then I didn't sleep. Not for hours. I really liked him, and receiving almost exactly the same blow off that I had given to Melvin just killed me. Now, granted, I could be completely mistaken, and dudes are dudes, and when they say shit, you can't read into it because they aren't as complicated as women. If they say they are dealing with something, it could mean just that. But that is not what my gut is telling me in this situation. My instincts tell me that he just isn't that into me. Even when I liked him so much that I tried to figure out the whole baby thing, that I still won't end up with the first man I have really felt a connection with in a long time. I'm the Melvin here, and it has shocked me to the core, and broken my heart. But not without humiliation. Because I stupidly sent him another text this morning outright asking, out of fairness, if he was at all interested still, as I'd rather know if I should move on from now. Because I am a dumb girl. And a stupid rock. A dumb stupid girl rock.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Back To The Drawing Board.
I started this blog with the intention of being honest and forthright. I wanted to take a personal look at the life of a thirtysomething single girl, and use humor and wit to make a frustrating situation more palpable. I was hoping to make other single women know that they are not alone in what they face and deal with, and for me to learn something along the way.
I have been torn about whether or not to write about a recent incident in my life, because it was a horrible experience that is difficult to downplay with laughs. I have decided to write about it as best I can, as I know that I am not alone, and neither are those that read this. I apologize that this entry is a bit darker than what I usually write, but it is true.
I had met a man from a singles site, and he and I got along really well. He works with youth like I do, and is right around the same age. He is currently in school so that he can eventually become a teacher, while he is leading an after school program towards leadership. Our love of youth was one of the things that caught our interest in each other. After chatting online for awhile, we eventually started talking on the phone for hours. He had a dry wit that made me laugh, and he found my laughter contagious. The chemistry was noticeable. Finally we decided to meet in person. Earlier this week he invited me to a steakhouse located halfway between our two cities. We had a blast during dinner, which he paid for. He said some outlandish things about sex so straight faced that he got me laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. After dinner he walked me to my car, and hugged me. He wasn't feeling well while I'm hoping to get hired at a new job next week, and I didn't want to catch anything so no kissing.
Over the next few days, I didn't hear much from him. Almost all communication had dropped off, whereas we had been talking for hours before we met. It has been awhile since I had dated anyone even semi-seriously, and I really liked him. I was really bummed. Then yesterday I relented, and texted him in between his class and work schedule. He mentioned that he had been extremely busy, but that he wants me. He said it outright in a text, no hiding behind anything. He was planning on going away for the weekend, and yesterday was (hopefully) going to be my last weekday without work for awhile, so I threw caution to the wind and drove the hour to see him after he invited me to. I had been needing physical contact for awhile, especially cuddling, and we had such great chemistry that I knew it was going to be great.
When I finally got there, I knocked on the door, and heard an ominous "it's open, come in". That sent my nerves on their guard immediately. It seemed rude that I drove an hour and he couldn't even come to the door. I didn't feel any better when I opened the door and he was sitting on his couch in his underwear. Even if we both had the intention to play a little bit - he had already told me he was celibate, so fiddling was going to be the extent of it, it still seemed like he would have at least gone through the motion of putting on pants for me. We cuddled up for a bit and talked, and then he started pushing my head downward. He mentioned how much he enjoyed getting kissed down there. Mind you, we had never kissed on the mouth as of yet. I told him that I prefer to get kissed prior to anything, so he at least condescended to kissing me.
It just got worse from there. Though we didn't actually have intercourse, what he did left me bruised, battered, and humiliated. I was actually in tears, pushing him off me at one point. When I told him what I had issues with, he explained that he is aggressive. There is a huge difference between aggression and manhandling a woman and degrading her. I rinsed off in his shower before leaving, because I couldn't imagine driving for an hour with the feel of that man's touch on me. On my way home, I drove through a fast food joint and ordered a large meal and a shake, in order to have something to focus on rather than what had just happened. When I got home, I took another shower - sitting on the edge of the tub, my head in my hands, with the water pouring all over me. I just felt violated, used, and debased. On top of it all, I was crushed. I had really liked him, and hoped something would happen there. I'm still having a hard time putting together the facts that the guy that was so great is in actuality so horrible.
The good thing about all of this is Persephone, my best friend that I have been estranged from for several months. I absolutely love Perse, but I have had an extremely tough summer. I couldn't handle more problems than what was completely necessary. It meant that I had to distance myself from a few friends over the last few months, including Perse. After what happened yesterday, though, I desperately needed someone that I could talk about it with frankly, including the lurid details. The only friend that I have that would not only listen to the whole thing and give good advice, but also wouldn't be uncomfortable doing so, and would even commiserate is Perse. We talked last night for awhile, and it felt really good. And today, while I have still been in an awful funk (I actually turned down a date with a gorgeous man tonight solely because I couldn't fathom talking to any man today) Perse has been making me laugh and making me feel human. God bless her. No matter how bad the situation is, it helps to have a friend help lead you through when you can't do it yourself.
I have been torn about whether or not to write about a recent incident in my life, because it was a horrible experience that is difficult to downplay with laughs. I have decided to write about it as best I can, as I know that I am not alone, and neither are those that read this. I apologize that this entry is a bit darker than what I usually write, but it is true.
I had met a man from a singles site, and he and I got along really well. He works with youth like I do, and is right around the same age. He is currently in school so that he can eventually become a teacher, while he is leading an after school program towards leadership. Our love of youth was one of the things that caught our interest in each other. After chatting online for awhile, we eventually started talking on the phone for hours. He had a dry wit that made me laugh, and he found my laughter contagious. The chemistry was noticeable. Finally we decided to meet in person. Earlier this week he invited me to a steakhouse located halfway between our two cities. We had a blast during dinner, which he paid for. He said some outlandish things about sex so straight faced that he got me laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. After dinner he walked me to my car, and hugged me. He wasn't feeling well while I'm hoping to get hired at a new job next week, and I didn't want to catch anything so no kissing.
Over the next few days, I didn't hear much from him. Almost all communication had dropped off, whereas we had been talking for hours before we met. It has been awhile since I had dated anyone even semi-seriously, and I really liked him. I was really bummed. Then yesterday I relented, and texted him in between his class and work schedule. He mentioned that he had been extremely busy, but that he wants me. He said it outright in a text, no hiding behind anything. He was planning on going away for the weekend, and yesterday was (hopefully) going to be my last weekday without work for awhile, so I threw caution to the wind and drove the hour to see him after he invited me to. I had been needing physical contact for awhile, especially cuddling, and we had such great chemistry that I knew it was going to be great.
When I finally got there, I knocked on the door, and heard an ominous "it's open, come in". That sent my nerves on their guard immediately. It seemed rude that I drove an hour and he couldn't even come to the door. I didn't feel any better when I opened the door and he was sitting on his couch in his underwear. Even if we both had the intention to play a little bit - he had already told me he was celibate, so fiddling was going to be the extent of it, it still seemed like he would have at least gone through the motion of putting on pants for me. We cuddled up for a bit and talked, and then he started pushing my head downward. He mentioned how much he enjoyed getting kissed down there. Mind you, we had never kissed on the mouth as of yet. I told him that I prefer to get kissed prior to anything, so he at least condescended to kissing me.
It just got worse from there. Though we didn't actually have intercourse, what he did left me bruised, battered, and humiliated. I was actually in tears, pushing him off me at one point. When I told him what I had issues with, he explained that he is aggressive. There is a huge difference between aggression and manhandling a woman and degrading her. I rinsed off in his shower before leaving, because I couldn't imagine driving for an hour with the feel of that man's touch on me. On my way home, I drove through a fast food joint and ordered a large meal and a shake, in order to have something to focus on rather than what had just happened. When I got home, I took another shower - sitting on the edge of the tub, my head in my hands, with the water pouring all over me. I just felt violated, used, and debased. On top of it all, I was crushed. I had really liked him, and hoped something would happen there. I'm still having a hard time putting together the facts that the guy that was so great is in actuality so horrible.
The good thing about all of this is Persephone, my best friend that I have been estranged from for several months. I absolutely love Perse, but I have had an extremely tough summer. I couldn't handle more problems than what was completely necessary. It meant that I had to distance myself from a few friends over the last few months, including Perse. After what happened yesterday, though, I desperately needed someone that I could talk about it with frankly, including the lurid details. The only friend that I have that would not only listen to the whole thing and give good advice, but also wouldn't be uncomfortable doing so, and would even commiserate is Perse. We talked last night for awhile, and it felt really good. And today, while I have still been in an awful funk (I actually turned down a date with a gorgeous man tonight solely because I couldn't fathom talking to any man today) Perse has been making me laugh and making me feel human. God bless her. No matter how bad the situation is, it helps to have a friend help lead you through when you can't do it yourself.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Writing My Own Rules
In the last few months that I've been unemployed, I've had a lot more time to get to know some new men. In doing so, I've met some really good guys, and some not so good guys. As a person that seeks comfort with what I know from experience, I have also had the urge to get in touch with a few old flames, primarily for distraction, but also because it has been an incredibly tough few months. A new acquaintance cannot offer the same intimacy and understanding that a person from my past can offer. But I have fought the urge to contact my old flames, and have generally succeeded in staying away from devices like my phone, computer, and smoke signal that would allow me to do so. The reason for this is my first, and most important, dating rule that I have imposed on myself.
1. I cannot find my future if I keep living in my past.
This rule is important for two reasons:
a.) I need to let them live their lives. One of the men that I keep wanting to run to is my ex with all the kids and baby mommas. Last I heard from him, he definitely wasn't happy with the child, I mean girlfriend, he was with, but they have a baby together, and so he needed to stay with her, healthy or not. He and I spent a bit of time together off and on several months ago, seeking comfort and someone that gets our sense of humor, eventhough he had his girlfriend at home. This made a mockery of both our lives. It was nothing like the love we had, not even a dim reflection of it. That's gone, and frankly, it's never coming back. It was primarily physical, and even that wasn't that good. It was like getting a teeth cleaning. I have a more sensual time at the spa with my massage therapist. Obviously, this was really doing nothing for either of us. And the more I contacted him, the more I was destroying his life and that of his child.
b.) I need to let go. If these distractions were at all good for me, I would still be with them. One of the men I keep wanting to contact is the fighter. The fighter who was always gone, who brought out the worst in me, who condescended to me often, who most likely cheated on me, and who talked about slapping me around like it was nothing. Don't get me wrong, we had fun, and we really cared for each other, but obviously it was not a healthy relationship, and definitely not someone that I should be around. There is a reason he is not in my life. I need to recognize and respect that. Otherwise I'm more of a dumbshit than he ever told me I was.
Which brings me to the second rule:
2. Not every man worth meeting is worth keeping.
This rule sounds like common sense, but most women, at least those that I know, will keep someone around that they're not that into if there isn't someone that they are into. It's nice to have a companion when you would like to get out of the house, I get that. I'm not talking about decent guys that don't have that zing that makes your heart jump up your throat and choke you just because they looked at you. The guys that are smart, fun, reliable dudes who treat you with respect should be kept around. Spend time with them and get to know them. Things may develop with them, and if not, at least you do have someone fun to do things with. That's what dating is. The ones I am talking about are the ones that don't respect you, and are stupid for it.
I went on a date not long ago with a man that has a very reliable, somewhat glamorous and high earning position with a major company in the area. He has a swanky flat downtown, and owns several pieces of property. He is somewhat funny, and not unattractive. The date wasn't horrible, but he made mention a few times that I am a bit bigger than the girls that he usually dates. He also made sure that I knew that he had a "hair" fetish. During the date and over the course of a few phone calls and text conversations, he questioned me on my diet, my workouts, and requested that I lose weight "for him". He also requested that I get none of my body hair waxed or removed. I'm a Greek woman. If I don't take care of my body hair, it will grow out and suffocate me. He had no qualms demanding that I alter myself and my comfort for his desires, and I was barely interested in him in the first place. I eventually told him to shove it. He either needed to get over his issues, or refrain from contacting me. During the course of the last month, I once or twice thought about contacting him to see how he is doing, but I stopped myself. I was done with guys like him ages ago. I'm not looking back. I found out that he tried to contact me a couple of weeks ago, and upon seeing that, I still had the same gut response: he can shove it.
And the last rule for today's lesson:
3. Be completely, absolutely, unforgivingly myself, and love it.
I will never apologize for being me. My weight fluctuates - I have learned to love it. I like the work it takes to lose weight, and the way I can visibly see myself heal from what ever emotional incident caused the weight gain in the first place. I love that I work hard, that I speak my mind, that I fight for equality, and that I can still cuddle with those I care about. I love to cook, even when I mess up. I love to paint, and I love what the fruits of that labor brings, even if they are emotional paintings that aren't always pretty. I love that I am career minded and unwilling to be less so that I can make some man feel like he is more. I love to work with kids and animals, and to care for those that I come in contact with. I'm an amazing, kick ass, righteous babe, and anyone that is intimidated or uninterested in me can blow it out their ass. I'm also cute, too.
Having these three very basic rules in hand hasn't made dating easier, not at all, but they have made me look forward rather than back, and they have also helped me to recognize that when someone points out faults they believe I have, it's usually because they are unwilling to acknowledge and love the ones they see in themselves. If they can't love their own imperfections, they will never love mine, and my imperfections deserve to be loved.
1. I cannot find my future if I keep living in my past.
This rule is important for two reasons:
a.) I need to let them live their lives. One of the men that I keep wanting to run to is my ex with all the kids and baby mommas. Last I heard from him, he definitely wasn't happy with the child, I mean girlfriend, he was with, but they have a baby together, and so he needed to stay with her, healthy or not. He and I spent a bit of time together off and on several months ago, seeking comfort and someone that gets our sense of humor, eventhough he had his girlfriend at home. This made a mockery of both our lives. It was nothing like the love we had, not even a dim reflection of it. That's gone, and frankly, it's never coming back. It was primarily physical, and even that wasn't that good. It was like getting a teeth cleaning. I have a more sensual time at the spa with my massage therapist. Obviously, this was really doing nothing for either of us. And the more I contacted him, the more I was destroying his life and that of his child.
b.) I need to let go. If these distractions were at all good for me, I would still be with them. One of the men I keep wanting to contact is the fighter. The fighter who was always gone, who brought out the worst in me, who condescended to me often, who most likely cheated on me, and who talked about slapping me around like it was nothing. Don't get me wrong, we had fun, and we really cared for each other, but obviously it was not a healthy relationship, and definitely not someone that I should be around. There is a reason he is not in my life. I need to recognize and respect that. Otherwise I'm more of a dumbshit than he ever told me I was.
Which brings me to the second rule:
2. Not every man worth meeting is worth keeping.
This rule sounds like common sense, but most women, at least those that I know, will keep someone around that they're not that into if there isn't someone that they are into. It's nice to have a companion when you would like to get out of the house, I get that. I'm not talking about decent guys that don't have that zing that makes your heart jump up your throat and choke you just because they looked at you. The guys that are smart, fun, reliable dudes who treat you with respect should be kept around. Spend time with them and get to know them. Things may develop with them, and if not, at least you do have someone fun to do things with. That's what dating is. The ones I am talking about are the ones that don't respect you, and are stupid for it.
I went on a date not long ago with a man that has a very reliable, somewhat glamorous and high earning position with a major company in the area. He has a swanky flat downtown, and owns several pieces of property. He is somewhat funny, and not unattractive. The date wasn't horrible, but he made mention a few times that I am a bit bigger than the girls that he usually dates. He also made sure that I knew that he had a "hair" fetish. During the date and over the course of a few phone calls and text conversations, he questioned me on my diet, my workouts, and requested that I lose weight "for him". He also requested that I get none of my body hair waxed or removed. I'm a Greek woman. If I don't take care of my body hair, it will grow out and suffocate me. He had no qualms demanding that I alter myself and my comfort for his desires, and I was barely interested in him in the first place. I eventually told him to shove it. He either needed to get over his issues, or refrain from contacting me. During the course of the last month, I once or twice thought about contacting him to see how he is doing, but I stopped myself. I was done with guys like him ages ago. I'm not looking back. I found out that he tried to contact me a couple of weeks ago, and upon seeing that, I still had the same gut response: he can shove it.
And the last rule for today's lesson:
3. Be completely, absolutely, unforgivingly myself, and love it.
I will never apologize for being me. My weight fluctuates - I have learned to love it. I like the work it takes to lose weight, and the way I can visibly see myself heal from what ever emotional incident caused the weight gain in the first place. I love that I work hard, that I speak my mind, that I fight for equality, and that I can still cuddle with those I care about. I love to cook, even when I mess up. I love to paint, and I love what the fruits of that labor brings, even if they are emotional paintings that aren't always pretty. I love that I am career minded and unwilling to be less so that I can make some man feel like he is more. I love to work with kids and animals, and to care for those that I come in contact with. I'm an amazing, kick ass, righteous babe, and anyone that is intimidated or uninterested in me can blow it out their ass. I'm also cute, too.
Having these three very basic rules in hand hasn't made dating easier, not at all, but they have made me look forward rather than back, and they have also helped me to recognize that when someone points out faults they believe I have, it's usually because they are unwilling to acknowledge and love the ones they see in themselves. If they can't love their own imperfections, they will never love mine, and my imperfections deserve to be loved.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Man Whores And The Friends That Date Them
Several years ago I somehow allowed myself to become completely entranced by Jaba The Hut, well by his human counterpart to be exact. I had been cajoled into going to a country karaoke bar on a weekly basis by Stacey, as her boyfriend and his group of friends were frequenting it. I never cared overly much for the group of friends, but still wanted to be able to hang out with my best friend, so every week I found myself singing Sweet Home Alabama on the little stage at the western dive bar. Eventually, I started to make my own friends there with the regular bargoers, as I wasn't happy with the bulk of the company that I was there with.
It started with Henny, the door girl that checked IDs and kept the capacity count. She and I became fast friends. I chatted her up to keep her from her boredom, and she kept an eye out for me. She would let me know of any good looking men that came in without dates. I had become adept at befriending bouncers and door girls early on, for security and "hunting" purposes. Henny introduced me to a lot of her friends that were always there, and eventually I found myself going to the bar weekly on my own long after Stacey's group stopped going. I could be myself there, even if I was different than everyone else. As long as I accepted them, they accepted me warmly. I had found my friends in low places, and though I was happily along for the ride, I had no way of fathoming what that ride would be.
A few weeks in, while Stacey was still with me, we met a beautiful girl that was at the bar by herself. She was outgoing, friendly, smart, and a bit on the motherly side. You could tell that she sincerely cared for every person she met. The three of us struck up a conversation, and spent most of the evening dancing together. A week later, we saw her slow dancing with one of the regular guys there. He was a bigger guy that worked as a part time bouncer at a couple of bars in the outlaying area. I hadn't met him yet, but I was really impressed that he was dancing with our friend. Though she is beautiful, most guys in the bar would pass her by for the younger girls with no personality and taut bodies. To me, this guy dancing with my friend showed that he was above that. The next week I was in, I saw him dancing, and though he was a big guy, he was quite graceful. Looking back now, he looked like a giant dancing bear, but that's beside the point. Not thinking much of it, I complimented him on his dancing. Gawd, I wish I could take that back.
He introduced himself to me as Big Daddy Roy. Later that night he asked me out. It turned out that he wasn't in a relationship with our friend, they had just gone out once or twice. I was a little flabbergasted, but accepted the date. BDR came over to play board games and watch a movie. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either. This being during my mid twenties, the first date pretty quickly ended up in the bedroom, where he had performance issues. The pressure he put on himself to impress me caused utter failure instead. I felt pity for the guy. So much pity that I accepted another date with him.
On the second date we went to see a movie. He spent the evening trying to impress me with his horrible scary driving, and telling crappy jokes about lottery tickets to the sales girl at the concession stand. The date wasn't well at all. That night, once again, I took a bit of pity, and we ended up in the bedroom. It was a bit more successful this time, though I found out that while BDR was a big guy, he wasn't a "big" guy.
And that is where my memory becomes unclear. Somehow we had two horrible dates and nothing that wonderful happened in the bedroom, and yet over the next few months I ended up developing a craving for him. We continued dating, primarily in secret, though all of our friends new about it. I started to hear stories about him, not about random women, but stories directly from my bar friends there. About how they had dated him in some capacity in the past, and what their experiences were. Since I was an adult, and it was in the past, I listened without judging anyone for it.
The stories went from unsavory to downright nausea inducing. Stories about drunken hookups in the car, where he would find girls at the bar with esteem issues, and take advantage of their lack of confidence. I heard stories from a good friend of mine about how they had worked together and they would have sex all the time at work. She even told me that he was really good at anal because he wasn't well endowed. These stories churned my stomach. Almost every girl I met there had slept with him at some point or another. My friends would bring new friends in, that didn't know me or the bar, and in conversation with them I would find out that they had slept with him. The man was an enigma of gross sex.
Yet, I ran to him whenever he beckoned. BDR was not physically attractive at all. He had breasts bigger than my own, and pasty, sallow skin. He wouldn't acknowledge we were dating like I was something to be ashamed of. He drank like a fish, smoked like a forest fire, and for some reason had started smelling like ass. He began to ask to borrow money, and had come up with elaborate excuses as to why he needed it. We dated off and on for years. It was like the relationship in Say Anything where she writes these beautiful songs for an absolute douchebag, who keeps coming after her, destroying her ability to move on. I had fallen for Jaba The Hut, and there was no saving me, though I tried to stop dating him several times.
Eventually, during one of our "off" times, he came clean as to what he had needed all of the money for. He had finally gotten into a program because he had become addicted to heroin, and had been shooting it up on a regular basis. It's also why he had smelled like ass. The mix between beer, cigs, weed, and heroin being sweat out of his pores left an aroma literally like shit covered his body. When he fessed this up to me, he did it with an apology - one of the twelve steps. He then asked if I wanted to hang out soon. We were at it again. This time it was completely quiet, as he wasn't supposed to date during his first year. I came to find out that he was dating another girl from the bar. We'll call her Dodo, as she had a very distinct and sad resemblance to the bird of the same name. Dodo was also an addict, and engaged to another man. She was blonde, extremely pale, with a big hook nose, and about half my size (addict...). He started showing up at events, publically, with Dodo, not worried about appearances with her, though she was about to be married to another man. I randomly saw him out with her one night, and I immediately made a scene and dumped him.
Months later, we were back together, and yet again I ended up finding out he was talking to another girl from the bar. We'll call this girl Chickenhead, because, well, she had a chicken head - really huge cheeks, long pointy nose, and no chin. For awhile BDR had a real Audubon thing going. It made me wonder if I looked like some kind of bird, too.
Over the next year, he continued to see both of us, eventually getting into a relationship with her. I found out that he proposed to her on Valentine's Day. It disgusted me, but by that point I was trying to just let go, which is incredibly hard to do in your twenties. It becomes much easier in your thirties because you have already dealt with this crap in the lessons of your twenties. Some time after his engagement, BDR started to sniff around me again. Anytime he would see me happy, dancing with friends, out with a guy, or even just sitting talking with our group, he would try and talk to me, text me, call me, walk with me. He was relentless. Eventually I gave in and let him kiss me. We started back up again, while he was engaged to Chickenhead. It was horrible. One morning she came home, unexpectedly, 15 minutes after I had left, my forgotten panties hiding in the trash can. Another time he had dropped her off at the airport and immediately came to my house. The next morning, lying naked in bed next to me, he took a call from her, as she had just landed, and told her that he loved her.
Don't get me wrong - she had cheated on him before, with his best friend. Chickenhead was no angel. Somehow with all of this, I had lost myself, and was a shadow of who I really was. Three weeks before the wedding, I looked at him, and asked him what the fuck we were doing. What the fuck was I doing?!? I called it all off right then and there. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. The next day, I booked a ticket to the UK to visit my family there. The dates? I would be there the week of the wedding. I ran away. It was a good week, though I spent most of it hibernating. I had told my family what was going on, and they took especially good care of me.
I haven't spoken to BDR since the day that I dumped him. He's been married to Chickenhead for several years now, and she is welcome to keep him. They have a child, and, from what I hear, are happy. Looking at our situation with more sanity now, I would never want a husband that had been intimate with all of my friends (or 75% of the women in Seattle). I still love my friends that had dated him, but feel it is better to keep a little bit of a distance from a situation that was so unhealthy that way. I still can't comprehend why I got so wrapped up with a man I don't find attractive, nor did I ever find him mentally stimulating, or humorous, let alone that I found every single aspect of his behavior reprehensible. What I do know is that there are many reasons that I would never go back to my twenties, though I enjoyed them at the time, and he is definitely one of them.
It started with Henny, the door girl that checked IDs and kept the capacity count. She and I became fast friends. I chatted her up to keep her from her boredom, and she kept an eye out for me. She would let me know of any good looking men that came in without dates. I had become adept at befriending bouncers and door girls early on, for security and "hunting" purposes. Henny introduced me to a lot of her friends that were always there, and eventually I found myself going to the bar weekly on my own long after Stacey's group stopped going. I could be myself there, even if I was different than everyone else. As long as I accepted them, they accepted me warmly. I had found my friends in low places, and though I was happily along for the ride, I had no way of fathoming what that ride would be.
A few weeks in, while Stacey was still with me, we met a beautiful girl that was at the bar by herself. She was outgoing, friendly, smart, and a bit on the motherly side. You could tell that she sincerely cared for every person she met. The three of us struck up a conversation, and spent most of the evening dancing together. A week later, we saw her slow dancing with one of the regular guys there. He was a bigger guy that worked as a part time bouncer at a couple of bars in the outlaying area. I hadn't met him yet, but I was really impressed that he was dancing with our friend. Though she is beautiful, most guys in the bar would pass her by for the younger girls with no personality and taut bodies. To me, this guy dancing with my friend showed that he was above that. The next week I was in, I saw him dancing, and though he was a big guy, he was quite graceful. Looking back now, he looked like a giant dancing bear, but that's beside the point. Not thinking much of it, I complimented him on his dancing. Gawd, I wish I could take that back.
He introduced himself to me as Big Daddy Roy. Later that night he asked me out. It turned out that he wasn't in a relationship with our friend, they had just gone out once or twice. I was a little flabbergasted, but accepted the date. BDR came over to play board games and watch a movie. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either. This being during my mid twenties, the first date pretty quickly ended up in the bedroom, where he had performance issues. The pressure he put on himself to impress me caused utter failure instead. I felt pity for the guy. So much pity that I accepted another date with him.
On the second date we went to see a movie. He spent the evening trying to impress me with his horrible scary driving, and telling crappy jokes about lottery tickets to the sales girl at the concession stand. The date wasn't well at all. That night, once again, I took a bit of pity, and we ended up in the bedroom. It was a bit more successful this time, though I found out that while BDR was a big guy, he wasn't a "big" guy.
And that is where my memory becomes unclear. Somehow we had two horrible dates and nothing that wonderful happened in the bedroom, and yet over the next few months I ended up developing a craving for him. We continued dating, primarily in secret, though all of our friends new about it. I started to hear stories about him, not about random women, but stories directly from my bar friends there. About how they had dated him in some capacity in the past, and what their experiences were. Since I was an adult, and it was in the past, I listened without judging anyone for it.
The stories went from unsavory to downright nausea inducing. Stories about drunken hookups in the car, where he would find girls at the bar with esteem issues, and take advantage of their lack of confidence. I heard stories from a good friend of mine about how they had worked together and they would have sex all the time at work. She even told me that he was really good at anal because he wasn't well endowed. These stories churned my stomach. Almost every girl I met there had slept with him at some point or another. My friends would bring new friends in, that didn't know me or the bar, and in conversation with them I would find out that they had slept with him. The man was an enigma of gross sex.
Yet, I ran to him whenever he beckoned. BDR was not physically attractive at all. He had breasts bigger than my own, and pasty, sallow skin. He wouldn't acknowledge we were dating like I was something to be ashamed of. He drank like a fish, smoked like a forest fire, and for some reason had started smelling like ass. He began to ask to borrow money, and had come up with elaborate excuses as to why he needed it. We dated off and on for years. It was like the relationship in Say Anything where she writes these beautiful songs for an absolute douchebag, who keeps coming after her, destroying her ability to move on. I had fallen for Jaba The Hut, and there was no saving me, though I tried to stop dating him several times.
Eventually, during one of our "off" times, he came clean as to what he had needed all of the money for. He had finally gotten into a program because he had become addicted to heroin, and had been shooting it up on a regular basis. It's also why he had smelled like ass. The mix between beer, cigs, weed, and heroin being sweat out of his pores left an aroma literally like shit covered his body. When he fessed this up to me, he did it with an apology - one of the twelve steps. He then asked if I wanted to hang out soon. We were at it again. This time it was completely quiet, as he wasn't supposed to date during his first year. I came to find out that he was dating another girl from the bar. We'll call her Dodo, as she had a very distinct and sad resemblance to the bird of the same name. Dodo was also an addict, and engaged to another man. She was blonde, extremely pale, with a big hook nose, and about half my size (addict...). He started showing up at events, publically, with Dodo, not worried about appearances with her, though she was about to be married to another man. I randomly saw him out with her one night, and I immediately made a scene and dumped him.
Months later, we were back together, and yet again I ended up finding out he was talking to another girl from the bar. We'll call this girl Chickenhead, because, well, she had a chicken head - really huge cheeks, long pointy nose, and no chin. For awhile BDR had a real Audubon thing going. It made me wonder if I looked like some kind of bird, too.
Over the next year, he continued to see both of us, eventually getting into a relationship with her. I found out that he proposed to her on Valentine's Day. It disgusted me, but by that point I was trying to just let go, which is incredibly hard to do in your twenties. It becomes much easier in your thirties because you have already dealt with this crap in the lessons of your twenties. Some time after his engagement, BDR started to sniff around me again. Anytime he would see me happy, dancing with friends, out with a guy, or even just sitting talking with our group, he would try and talk to me, text me, call me, walk with me. He was relentless. Eventually I gave in and let him kiss me. We started back up again, while he was engaged to Chickenhead. It was horrible. One morning she came home, unexpectedly, 15 minutes after I had left, my forgotten panties hiding in the trash can. Another time he had dropped her off at the airport and immediately came to my house. The next morning, lying naked in bed next to me, he took a call from her, as she had just landed, and told her that he loved her.
Don't get me wrong - she had cheated on him before, with his best friend. Chickenhead was no angel. Somehow with all of this, I had lost myself, and was a shadow of who I really was. Three weeks before the wedding, I looked at him, and asked him what the fuck we were doing. What the fuck was I doing?!? I called it all off right then and there. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. The next day, I booked a ticket to the UK to visit my family there. The dates? I would be there the week of the wedding. I ran away. It was a good week, though I spent most of it hibernating. I had told my family what was going on, and they took especially good care of me.
I haven't spoken to BDR since the day that I dumped him. He's been married to Chickenhead for several years now, and she is welcome to keep him. They have a child, and, from what I hear, are happy. Looking at our situation with more sanity now, I would never want a husband that had been intimate with all of my friends (or 75% of the women in Seattle). I still love my friends that had dated him, but feel it is better to keep a little bit of a distance from a situation that was so unhealthy that way. I still can't comprehend why I got so wrapped up with a man I don't find attractive, nor did I ever find him mentally stimulating, or humorous, let alone that I found every single aspect of his behavior reprehensible. What I do know is that there are many reasons that I would never go back to my twenties, though I enjoyed them at the time, and he is definitely one of them.
It's Always The Best Policy
During a conversation with Mr. X recently, he mentioned that he had a less than satisfactory date. It was someone that he had met from a singles site, and what she mentioned as her interests on her profile didn't match up to her interests in person. This happens somewhat frequently in his experience, primarily with art. These women will state that they like art, meet him at a museum or gallery, and then power walk through it like they are running a marathon, missing all of the art that is around them. It turns out that they aren't interested in art, they just say they are because it seems like they should be. Like women are also supposed to like long walks on the beach. Everything says they are supposed to enjoy them. I hate long walks on the beach. Seriously. Sand is not the most comfortable feeling in sandals or flip flops, and going barefoot only leaves your feet vulnerable to sharp little rocks and broken glass, let alone sea kelp, bird doo-doo, and crabs. Obviously I would never put that on my profile.
At the end of this recent date, Mr. X decided to be honest, and tell her it was nice to meet her, without leaving the opening for another bad date. I love that he did that. He was polite but honest. I just wish that she had been as honest in her profile. It would've saved them both a horrible evening.
I am a very strong believer in honesty when dating. Not brutal honesty. There is never a need for brutality. Well, once, once there was a need for brutal honesty during one of my dates.
On a lark, I went to a singles mingle with my best friend, Stacey. Among the men I met, there was one that stood out because he was overly charismatic. He and his roommate had come out to meet people and have some fun. When he came over to me, he told me that he had three questions to ask me: #1. Was I under 40? #2. Do I have any crazy stalker ex-boyfriends? Aaaaaaaaaaaand #3. Does my hoo-ha stink? Obviously, I was horrified by the third question, but it was the only real turn off with him. I decided that I would remember the offensive question, but not completely dismiss him for it. I accepted the invitation to a date with him later that week.
I ended up having to meet him down south, closer to his area, though he had said he would come up my way. On the way there, I ended up calling and planning a date with the cop I had been seeing on and off for awhile. I should've known then that the date I was on the way to shouldn't be happening.
I met him at the upscale restaurant that he had selected. We sat side by side at the empty bar. This is one of my pet peeves. I want to be able to see the face of the person I am trying to get to know. The only reason to sit side by side on a first date is if there is no other option. Anyway, the restaurant he had selected is one of those that hire "models that serve," so that they can get away with hiring based on appearance. One of my former employees was working for this company at the time, and I knew their hiring process. My date started off by informing me that the restaurant hires strippers, and that's why he selected it. Completely offended by his statement, as now he was referring to my former employee, I corrected him.
During the date, he said a few ridiculous things. He told me that next time we met up, that I should bring all my "bitches" with me. He also told me that I had to work to get into his pants - a comment that came out of nowhere, as there was no way in hell I wanted to have anything to do with his pants. The date was going so bad that I was wholeheartedly considering excusing myself to go to the bathroom, and leaving through the window. It got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore. All niceties were thrown to the wind, and I decided to do a good turn for whatever woman decided to date this ridiculous excuse for a man in the future. I had to be brutally honest with him.
I told him that unfortunately the date was not going as well as he thought it was, and that he had managed to do several things irreparably wrong. He was completely clueless as to what he had done. I informed him that it is not appropriate to: a) take a woman to a place because you think that strippers work there, b) refer to a woman's close friends as her "bitches", c) to assume that every woman wants to get into your pants, and tell them so, and most importantly, d) it is NOT appropriate to ask a woman if her hoo-ha stinks!
He looked at me dumbfounded. He assured me that the hoo-ha thing was funny, and that all the guys he told in the locker room that he asked women that found it hilarious. I decided to put it in a way he would understand: how would he react if a man asked his 16 year old daughter that. He looked at me blankly. Then I asked him what his mother would do if she heard him ask a woman that. I finally knew he understood when he said she would slap him upside the head.
Soon after this difficult lesson, he walked me out to my car. It was one of the weirdest good-byes I have ever had. I had put on my jacket, and he kept trying to "fix" it. He kept tugging at it in different directions. I finally realized that I had emasculated him to an extent that he was impotently trying to save face, and had no way to do it, so he was making an excuse to fix my jacket, which was just fine, in order to feel like there was something he could offer.
My one hope, looking back at all of this, is that my date, and Mr. X's date took away the lesson that Pinocchio learned oh so many years ago. Telling the truth and being a good respectful person that is true to themselves will always get you further than pretending to be something that you are not.
At the end of this recent date, Mr. X decided to be honest, and tell her it was nice to meet her, without leaving the opening for another bad date. I love that he did that. He was polite but honest. I just wish that she had been as honest in her profile. It would've saved them both a horrible evening.
I am a very strong believer in honesty when dating. Not brutal honesty. There is never a need for brutality. Well, once, once there was a need for brutal honesty during one of my dates.
On a lark, I went to a singles mingle with my best friend, Stacey. Among the men I met, there was one that stood out because he was overly charismatic. He and his roommate had come out to meet people and have some fun. When he came over to me, he told me that he had three questions to ask me: #1. Was I under 40? #2. Do I have any crazy stalker ex-boyfriends? Aaaaaaaaaaaand #3. Does my hoo-ha stink? Obviously, I was horrified by the third question, but it was the only real turn off with him. I decided that I would remember the offensive question, but not completely dismiss him for it. I accepted the invitation to a date with him later that week.
I ended up having to meet him down south, closer to his area, though he had said he would come up my way. On the way there, I ended up calling and planning a date with the cop I had been seeing on and off for awhile. I should've known then that the date I was on the way to shouldn't be happening.
I met him at the upscale restaurant that he had selected. We sat side by side at the empty bar. This is one of my pet peeves. I want to be able to see the face of the person I am trying to get to know. The only reason to sit side by side on a first date is if there is no other option. Anyway, the restaurant he had selected is one of those that hire "models that serve," so that they can get away with hiring based on appearance. One of my former employees was working for this company at the time, and I knew their hiring process. My date started off by informing me that the restaurant hires strippers, and that's why he selected it. Completely offended by his statement, as now he was referring to my former employee, I corrected him.
During the date, he said a few ridiculous things. He told me that next time we met up, that I should bring all my "bitches" with me. He also told me that I had to work to get into his pants - a comment that came out of nowhere, as there was no way in hell I wanted to have anything to do with his pants. The date was going so bad that I was wholeheartedly considering excusing myself to go to the bathroom, and leaving through the window. It got to a point where I couldn't handle it anymore. All niceties were thrown to the wind, and I decided to do a good turn for whatever woman decided to date this ridiculous excuse for a man in the future. I had to be brutally honest with him.
I told him that unfortunately the date was not going as well as he thought it was, and that he had managed to do several things irreparably wrong. He was completely clueless as to what he had done. I informed him that it is not appropriate to: a) take a woman to a place because you think that strippers work there, b) refer to a woman's close friends as her "bitches", c) to assume that every woman wants to get into your pants, and tell them so, and most importantly, d) it is NOT appropriate to ask a woman if her hoo-ha stinks!
He looked at me dumbfounded. He assured me that the hoo-ha thing was funny, and that all the guys he told in the locker room that he asked women that found it hilarious. I decided to put it in a way he would understand: how would he react if a man asked his 16 year old daughter that. He looked at me blankly. Then I asked him what his mother would do if she heard him ask a woman that. I finally knew he understood when he said she would slap him upside the head.
Soon after this difficult lesson, he walked me out to my car. It was one of the weirdest good-byes I have ever had. I had put on my jacket, and he kept trying to "fix" it. He kept tugging at it in different directions. I finally realized that I had emasculated him to an extent that he was impotently trying to save face, and had no way to do it, so he was making an excuse to fix my jacket, which was just fine, in order to feel like there was something he could offer.
My one hope, looking back at all of this, is that my date, and Mr. X's date took away the lesson that Pinocchio learned oh so many years ago. Telling the truth and being a good respectful person that is true to themselves will always get you further than pretending to be something that you are not.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Weathering the storm.
This post is going to be absolute shit. I promise.
As I am drunk. I'm broken, and I'm drunk.
It's been a tough summer so far. I went into this summer knowing that I would not be doing the camp that I have dedicated the last 22 summers of my life to, due to politics with the new priests in that community. My decision to not be affiliated with the camp this year was an incredibly difficult one to make. I do not care for, nor agree with, the direction the new priests are taking with the camp, and will not put my name on it. But in taking a stand against what I believe to be wrong, it also means that I have had to give up my kids. I love these kids, more than they will ever know. And I have to trust that they will have the strength and knowledge to know what is right and what may need a second opinion on the new lessons that are coming their way. I was offered the director position for a camp nearby, and while it did manage to fill a huge area of my empty heart, there is still the absence of the camp that has been my home over the years.
Right before the summer started, already mourning the loss of my camp, I also lost my job of the last five years. Though I had been burned out the last year, I had truly loved my job, and the company I worked for. I used to be the favorite, even though it seemed that the gild had been off this lily for several months, though I don't believe my performance had faltered. I was terminated because I made a stupid mistake on a technicality two months before that I had no knowledge of, and isn't listed anywhere. While I understand the termination in some ways, in many ways it has left me baffled. I had never had so much as a single write up, and the stupid mistake really does not seem to have been enough to where they could never deal with me again. Did it make me that horrible of a person? The month after I was gone, the store I had been managing did horrible numbers in comparison to what I had brought in. It still seems weird to me that an honest ridiculous mistake should make everyone suffer. What good did it do? I still have a hard time waking up knowing that the company I loved so much doesn't want me. That they don't view me as being the best person to work with my crew or the clientele that I brought in. And the fact that I have been having an incredibly difficult time finding a new job just rubs salt into the wound. Two months later, and I've only had a handful of interviews, only one of which is promising, and I can't even afford to take it. Too little money, too far away, too close to the open wound.
When I got home from the camp I directed, my mom informed me that they are putting my childhood home up for sale. Two weeks from now. While I understand the reasoning, and respect their needs, I'm not going to say that it is an easy pill to swallow. I've had a way of life that I have been very used to, and in three months time, much of it has been ripped out from under me. And even with all of it, while devastated, I've been putting on a calm, good face, and coping as best I can.
Until today.
Today I lost it.
Today I went to my parents to help with things, and my mom ridiculed me in front of her neighbor and the girl that she has clean her house. My mom had asked me to come help yesterday, and I spoke with her telling her I would come today. I had horrible cramps yesterday (at times I get them to where they annihilate anything I would consider doing with my body, like sitting up or standing), and I was on muscle relaxers because of them. Apparently my mom didn't hear what I said, because when I got there today, she humiliated me, and basically told me to leave. This is extremely upsetting because my mother rarely listens to what I have to say. Whenever I try and tell her a story, she'll cut me off and start into something else completely. My sisters notice it often. When I got back from camp, I was so excited to tell her that I had been given a youth director position at the church. Hoping she would be proud of me, and that she would want to hear about what I had the kids do at camp. Instead, she spent our time telling me about her bills, and informed me that they would be selling the house in two weeks. I did not leave my parents house knowing I had made my mother proud, instead I left my parents house that day with a broken heart. My mom couldn't care less about what I had done with the kids at camp. So today, when my mom had treated me so horribly, simply because she, once again, didn't listen to me, it broke the dam. All the sadness, loss, upset, and devastation that I had been holding at bay surfaced. I sat in my car, on the way home, in tears, screaming at whatever cars decided to pass me or get in my way. For the first time since I had been coping with all of this, I did something completely irresponsible. I went to the store and bought a crap ton of alcohol and a loaf of French bread with money I didn't have. Then I went home and drank a bottle of wine and ate the loaf of bread. And sat down to write in my dating blog about everything that doesn't have anything to do with dating (believe me, that's not going well, either).
But hey. At least I went to the gym today, before it all went to hell. At least there's that.
As I am drunk. I'm broken, and I'm drunk.
It's been a tough summer so far. I went into this summer knowing that I would not be doing the camp that I have dedicated the last 22 summers of my life to, due to politics with the new priests in that community. My decision to not be affiliated with the camp this year was an incredibly difficult one to make. I do not care for, nor agree with, the direction the new priests are taking with the camp, and will not put my name on it. But in taking a stand against what I believe to be wrong, it also means that I have had to give up my kids. I love these kids, more than they will ever know. And I have to trust that they will have the strength and knowledge to know what is right and what may need a second opinion on the new lessons that are coming their way. I was offered the director position for a camp nearby, and while it did manage to fill a huge area of my empty heart, there is still the absence of the camp that has been my home over the years.
Right before the summer started, already mourning the loss of my camp, I also lost my job of the last five years. Though I had been burned out the last year, I had truly loved my job, and the company I worked for. I used to be the favorite, even though it seemed that the gild had been off this lily for several months, though I don't believe my performance had faltered. I was terminated because I made a stupid mistake on a technicality two months before that I had no knowledge of, and isn't listed anywhere. While I understand the termination in some ways, in many ways it has left me baffled. I had never had so much as a single write up, and the stupid mistake really does not seem to have been enough to where they could never deal with me again. Did it make me that horrible of a person? The month after I was gone, the store I had been managing did horrible numbers in comparison to what I had brought in. It still seems weird to me that an honest ridiculous mistake should make everyone suffer. What good did it do? I still have a hard time waking up knowing that the company I loved so much doesn't want me. That they don't view me as being the best person to work with my crew or the clientele that I brought in. And the fact that I have been having an incredibly difficult time finding a new job just rubs salt into the wound. Two months later, and I've only had a handful of interviews, only one of which is promising, and I can't even afford to take it. Too little money, too far away, too close to the open wound.
When I got home from the camp I directed, my mom informed me that they are putting my childhood home up for sale. Two weeks from now. While I understand the reasoning, and respect their needs, I'm not going to say that it is an easy pill to swallow. I've had a way of life that I have been very used to, and in three months time, much of it has been ripped out from under me. And even with all of it, while devastated, I've been putting on a calm, good face, and coping as best I can.
Until today.
Today I lost it.
Today I went to my parents to help with things, and my mom ridiculed me in front of her neighbor and the girl that she has clean her house. My mom had asked me to come help yesterday, and I spoke with her telling her I would come today. I had horrible cramps yesterday (at times I get them to where they annihilate anything I would consider doing with my body, like sitting up or standing), and I was on muscle relaxers because of them. Apparently my mom didn't hear what I said, because when I got there today, she humiliated me, and basically told me to leave. This is extremely upsetting because my mother rarely listens to what I have to say. Whenever I try and tell her a story, she'll cut me off and start into something else completely. My sisters notice it often. When I got back from camp, I was so excited to tell her that I had been given a youth director position at the church. Hoping she would be proud of me, and that she would want to hear about what I had the kids do at camp. Instead, she spent our time telling me about her bills, and informed me that they would be selling the house in two weeks. I did not leave my parents house knowing I had made my mother proud, instead I left my parents house that day with a broken heart. My mom couldn't care less about what I had done with the kids at camp. So today, when my mom had treated me so horribly, simply because she, once again, didn't listen to me, it broke the dam. All the sadness, loss, upset, and devastation that I had been holding at bay surfaced. I sat in my car, on the way home, in tears, screaming at whatever cars decided to pass me or get in my way. For the first time since I had been coping with all of this, I did something completely irresponsible. I went to the store and bought a crap ton of alcohol and a loaf of French bread with money I didn't have. Then I went home and drank a bottle of wine and ate the loaf of bread. And sat down to write in my dating blog about everything that doesn't have anything to do with dating (believe me, that's not going well, either).
But hey. At least I went to the gym today, before it all went to hell. At least there's that.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Boredom Strikes
It's been about a month, and I've been remiss in writing. In my spare time I've been talking with men from different singles sites. It's like some weird addiction and leech all at the same time. I still hold my stance that singles sites aren't the best way to meet someone, but it has been a nice distraction. But a distraction is primarily all it is.
Most of the guys that I have been talking to live in other states, and I'm not willing to relocate. Though it has been nice getting to know them, it's difficult to take it seriously. What really gets me is learning more about some of these men, and being surprised that there truly are good men out there. There are two that live in other states that have really stuck out.
The first of which is a gentleman in Baton Rouge who I really hit it off with on our initial conversation, so much so that we stayed up chatting until seven in the morning. He's a few years older than me, has an easy laugh, and sincere personality. He was extremely respectful and flattering during our hours long conversation, and it was amazing. Then I found out more. It turns out that he is a single father, in an interesting situation. His daughter lives in another state, but not with her birth mother. Her birth mother abandoned them three days after she was born and has never been heard from again. He raised his daughter by himself, and with the help of a good friend that he eventually got into a relationship with, who became the only mother his daughter has ever known. Even though they broke up years ago, he recently decided that the best thing for his daughter's future was to move her out of the dangerous area of Baton Rouge, and put her in a good school in another state with the mother that loves her. Though he misses her and visits her often, it's a sacrifice that he has lovingly done for his daughter until he has the ability to move with her. To hear him speak of his child with so much love and as a sacred child as opposed to a burden and object as many single dads do, well, it touched my heart.
The other gentleman currently lives in Texas, though he has lived in many states due to having been in the army. We struck up a conversation, and I asked him about a few things on his profile, primarily how he is 41 years old and already retired from the military. He gave me some sort of bland answer, and I just let it pass by. On our first actual phone call, within the first few minutes, he had something to tell me. He had an urgency about it that I didn't completely understand, though I could tell he was really nervous about it. He asked me if I was sitting down, and so I sat. He then told me a story that somewhat startled me because it was so unexpected. It turns out that six years ago he had been in a bad motorcycle accident, and while he survived it, he lost both his legs, one just above the kneecap, the other just below. I listened to his story, and felt for him. He was so nervous having to expose himself this way. Only someone that has to open up her deepest secrets every time she dates someone would understand. It's a hard scary thing to do - put yourself out there to be judged for something you are not in control of, but is yet a part of you that will never go away, every time you have an interest in someone. After hearing his story, I asked him how he was. He seemed a little surprised that my response was so simple. I asked him how he gets along now, and about the logistics that work for him. And then I explained something: I had a friend in high school that had also gotten into an accident, and had also lost both her legs. She is so spunky and sassy, that she purposely wears shorts with her titanium prosthetic stilts, just to show off that she is unique. I always thought that she was so cool. She took something that would destroy many, and put it right out there. I asked him what types of responses he's had from women after telling them his story, and he then made me cry. Most of the women he has told have either told him they were no longer interested, or immediately backed out of talking to him, or have even hung up on him. People are so cruel.
I probably will never meet either of these gentlemen in person, and many would think that it is ridiculous to continue talking to them, but it doesn't feel that way to me. I'm still talking with men in town, and have no expectations of these situations. If anything, I feel a little guilt that I'm not serious due primarily to the distance, but it has really helped to meet and get to know them both. There are good men out there. There are also other human beings that need to be treated as the worthwhile people that they are.
Most of the guys that I have been talking to live in other states, and I'm not willing to relocate. Though it has been nice getting to know them, it's difficult to take it seriously. What really gets me is learning more about some of these men, and being surprised that there truly are good men out there. There are two that live in other states that have really stuck out.
The first of which is a gentleman in Baton Rouge who I really hit it off with on our initial conversation, so much so that we stayed up chatting until seven in the morning. He's a few years older than me, has an easy laugh, and sincere personality. He was extremely respectful and flattering during our hours long conversation, and it was amazing. Then I found out more. It turns out that he is a single father, in an interesting situation. His daughter lives in another state, but not with her birth mother. Her birth mother abandoned them three days after she was born and has never been heard from again. He raised his daughter by himself, and with the help of a good friend that he eventually got into a relationship with, who became the only mother his daughter has ever known. Even though they broke up years ago, he recently decided that the best thing for his daughter's future was to move her out of the dangerous area of Baton Rouge, and put her in a good school in another state with the mother that loves her. Though he misses her and visits her often, it's a sacrifice that he has lovingly done for his daughter until he has the ability to move with her. To hear him speak of his child with so much love and as a sacred child as opposed to a burden and object as many single dads do, well, it touched my heart.
The other gentleman currently lives in Texas, though he has lived in many states due to having been in the army. We struck up a conversation, and I asked him about a few things on his profile, primarily how he is 41 years old and already retired from the military. He gave me some sort of bland answer, and I just let it pass by. On our first actual phone call, within the first few minutes, he had something to tell me. He had an urgency about it that I didn't completely understand, though I could tell he was really nervous about it. He asked me if I was sitting down, and so I sat. He then told me a story that somewhat startled me because it was so unexpected. It turns out that six years ago he had been in a bad motorcycle accident, and while he survived it, he lost both his legs, one just above the kneecap, the other just below. I listened to his story, and felt for him. He was so nervous having to expose himself this way. Only someone that has to open up her deepest secrets every time she dates someone would understand. It's a hard scary thing to do - put yourself out there to be judged for something you are not in control of, but is yet a part of you that will never go away, every time you have an interest in someone. After hearing his story, I asked him how he was. He seemed a little surprised that my response was so simple. I asked him how he gets along now, and about the logistics that work for him. And then I explained something: I had a friend in high school that had also gotten into an accident, and had also lost both her legs. She is so spunky and sassy, that she purposely wears shorts with her titanium prosthetic stilts, just to show off that she is unique. I always thought that she was so cool. She took something that would destroy many, and put it right out there. I asked him what types of responses he's had from women after telling them his story, and he then made me cry. Most of the women he has told have either told him they were no longer interested, or immediately backed out of talking to him, or have even hung up on him. People are so cruel.
I probably will never meet either of these gentlemen in person, and many would think that it is ridiculous to continue talking to them, but it doesn't feel that way to me. I'm still talking with men in town, and have no expectations of these situations. If anything, I feel a little guilt that I'm not serious due primarily to the distance, but it has really helped to meet and get to know them both. There are good men out there. There are also other human beings that need to be treated as the worthwhile people that they are.
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