Been off of here for a while and wasn’t going to post about what’s happened as of late, and still may not, at least not specifically, but I think I can post about something related (no mystery, I’m just being a wee bit closed mouth right now cuz I don’t want to jinx anything).
After being out for an entire evening (overnight) this past weekend and en route home, I decided to stop in one of the more popular Big Box stores and see if I could pick up a couple of items still on my Christmas gift list. Figuring it was early enough to beat the crowds on a Sunday and knowing that once I hit my front door I was going to be either 1., down for the count via a long nap; or 2., baking cookies for the cookie exchange at work on Monday, I decided that stopping off on my way home might be smart.
Making good on my trip in to the store - having found a couple of things I was looking for - I headed for the check-out. Who knew I’d get perceptive-gay-check-out-boy.
In a matter of about 3 seconds this kid sized me up and I could see by the look in his eyes and on his face that I should’ve gone home and changed and washed my face and then gone back out if I was going to go anywhere public. After all, it’s 11:00 a.m. on a cold, wet December Sunday morning and I’m in this store wearing black high heels, black slacks, a grey/silver sequined blouse, a faux mink coat, lightly smeared (but smeared non-the-less) eye make-up, and "night before" hair (brushed out, mind you.....but still). I definitely didn’t look like I just came from church, either.
Um…duh? Anyone care to guess what this kid guessed?
This guy had a look on his face that said “I know what you did last night girlfriend, you go Mrs. Robinson! Snap!” And in the 3 seconds it took for my light to go on at the dawning of his, I thought: “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
Note to self: Unless you can refresh yourself properly (which means at least washing your friggin’ face – seriously- what were you thinking???) after an overnight visit, stay clear of public places until you can!
Ai, yi, yi!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
My Dog ate my Phone
He turned out to actually be a completely pretentious flake as well. We had our date, such as it was. He apparently comes from some money; his Father was a bit of a local Muckity-muck. But he spent at least an hour bitching about his Mother (issues!). Not.real.appealing. I was left thinking that whatever came across over the phone sure isn’t there in person. But when there’s nothing else going on, you might as well give it another go or three. You never know, he could grow on you (where have I heard that before, hmmmm?)
But then he couldn’t ever seem to date on the weekends (no, not married, I’ve been to his house). We’d meet during the week, but he finally flaked and stood me up last week, then tried to tell me 3 days later, via a text message (hahahahahahahahahahaha! maniacal laugh here vs, ha, ha funny laugh) that he lost his phone. If I had $1,000 for every time I’ve heard some variation on this theme, I’d have around $4,000-5,000 dollars right now. After ignoring him another 3 days in the hope that he’d get the message; he apparently is also a bit thick skulled. I finally returned the same courtesy, and text him back calling him out on his lost phone story, calling him a flake, and telling him to stop calling me. He actually admitted as much, but did stop w/ the infernal text messaging.
Flaking out after the age of 25 is, well, it’s obviously done. I had guys flake-out on me in their 30’s, but 40’s??? Why? Just break it off. Or flake-out and don’t come back, period. But don’t flake and call, or rather, text me days later with some 10 year-olds excuse.
“I lost my phone,” “My phone fell in the toilet/sink/bath/beer,” “My phone dropped all of my stored numbers,” or any derivative thereof is the millennium's equivalent to “My dog ate my homework.” The likelihood of this being a true statement in the land of dating is highly unlikely. The likelihood that this could be a true statement if your sister tells you this complete with how it wasn’t just any toilet, but the toilet on the train to NYC, is more likely (and I actually know someone who did drop her phone in a pint). It does and can happen, but I don’t buy it when there’s a date involved in the equation.
Men and the dreaded text messaging. Ah, what better way to hide, then to pseudo-hide behind a 3 ½ inch piece of plastic and electronic chips! It’s magical really. He’s 6’2” and it’s just 3 1/2”, and although he can neither be seen nor heard; he cannot be accused of not communicating because he sent you a text message!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nevermind that he’s typed so fast w/ those big huge thumbs of his, you can’t make out half of what he’s tried to type and if that weren’t frustrating enough, it’s all internet abbreviated. BUT Your man communicates!! Yes he does! He’s a keeper, oh yeah.
But then he couldn’t ever seem to date on the weekends (no, not married, I’ve been to his house). We’d meet during the week, but he finally flaked and stood me up last week, then tried to tell me 3 days later, via a text message (hahahahahahahahahahaha! maniacal laugh here vs, ha, ha funny laugh) that he lost his phone. If I had $1,000 for every time I’ve heard some variation on this theme, I’d have around $4,000-5,000 dollars right now. After ignoring him another 3 days in the hope that he’d get the message; he apparently is also a bit thick skulled. I finally returned the same courtesy, and text him back calling him out on his lost phone story, calling him a flake, and telling him to stop calling me. He actually admitted as much, but did stop w/ the infernal text messaging.
Flaking out after the age of 25 is, well, it’s obviously done. I had guys flake-out on me in their 30’s, but 40’s??? Why? Just break it off. Or flake-out and don’t come back, period. But don’t flake and call, or rather, text me days later with some 10 year-olds excuse.
“I lost my phone,” “My phone fell in the toilet/sink/bath/beer,” “My phone dropped all of my stored numbers,” or any derivative thereof is the millennium's equivalent to “My dog ate my homework.” The likelihood of this being a true statement in the land of dating is highly unlikely. The likelihood that this could be a true statement if your sister tells you this complete with how it wasn’t just any toilet, but the toilet on the train to NYC, is more likely (and I actually know someone who did drop her phone in a pint). It does and can happen, but I don’t buy it when there’s a date involved in the equation.
Men and the dreaded text messaging. Ah, what better way to hide, then to pseudo-hide behind a 3 ½ inch piece of plastic and electronic chips! It’s magical really. He’s 6’2” and it’s just 3 1/2”, and although he can neither be seen nor heard; he cannot be accused of not communicating because he sent you a text message!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nevermind that he’s typed so fast w/ those big huge thumbs of his, you can’t make out half of what he’s tried to type and if that weren’t frustrating enough, it’s all internet abbreviated. BUT Your man communicates!! Yes he does! He’s a keeper, oh yeah.
The Island of Misfit BOYS
Went to a really bad singles mixer on Friday night. All I could think was “WTF? Am I at a gay event??” For once the men far out numbered the woman and yet 75% of them hung out with, and talked to their own kind. ‘Scuse me, did you not come here to meet women?? There were groups of 2, 3, 4 men all talking to each other. I stood at the bar for almost an hour before being approached. One might make an argument that I could’ve approached these men. Perhaps. Yet, I had a sense that would have scattered them like flies, only to land amongst another group of single mix-phobic men. And it’s not as though I was clustered w/ other women applying lipstick and staring into a mirror. I used open body language and made eye contact and smiled at several of them. Ugh, it was excruciating. The two men that did approach were alright. No, I take that back - one was alright, nice, a gentleman, all 4’11” of him. The other one was an attorney, nuff said (and seriously waaaaaay too much ego for patent law). For a smart guy, he made a huge leap from the A&E dot to the Realtor dot and had decided that I knew enough about architecture and the housing market to advise him on his house that he’s going to build somewhere in Virginia (although I'm in the A&E industry, I’m not an architect; nor am I a realtor).
Then there was the guy sitting in the corner of the bar that, if I were to interpret his body language alone, I’d swear was a junkie! He kept rolling his head and scratching himself (everywhere but there!), and looking around the room suspiciously. At one point I looked over and he had his pant leg up around his knee and he was tearing up his calf. I had to stifle a laugh. Heroin or psoriasis? I mean, come on, what woman can resist that?
This was sponsored by the same group that did the speed dating sessions I went to. I had much higher expectations for this event based on those. I keep thinking about the woman that works w/ MOD who gave this group such high marks. MOD says she’s an attractive woman, smart, self-assured. How she found a catch in this group is beyond me.
Then there was the guy sitting in the corner of the bar that, if I were to interpret his body language alone, I’d swear was a junkie! He kept rolling his head and scratching himself (everywhere but there!), and looking around the room suspiciously. At one point I looked over and he had his pant leg up around his knee and he was tearing up his calf. I had to stifle a laugh. Heroin or psoriasis? I mean, come on, what woman can resist that?
This was sponsored by the same group that did the speed dating sessions I went to. I had much higher expectations for this event based on those. I keep thinking about the woman that works w/ MOD who gave this group such high marks. MOD says she’s an attractive woman, smart, self-assured. How she found a catch in this group is beyond me.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Speed Dating = Cautionary Rioting = Slow Racing (or, just what we need, oxymoronic dating terms)
Had a second round at this sport on Saturday night. It’s like chemo for those of us with SO cancer. Slow, steady treatment intended on breaking down whatever resistance we women have to turtlenecked-sport jacketed-no-socks-with-deck-shoes-wearing 50 year olds with a comb over or news anchor hair.
So far for me, the cancer’s winning. I can’t relinquish my hold on finding an equal. A ying for my yang (and do I ever need a yang about now), a Fred to my inner Ethel, a Brad to my Angelina.
I saw an article in the last week on the internet that was actually titled:
How to date during the World Series
I was dumbfounded! Men will actually give up chasing tail for baseball? Give it up and make us chase them? AYFKM?
That is a sad, sad, sad state of affairs.
One of the men the other night begged off right after the actual ‘speedy’ part was over with, with a “I’m gonna head home and catch the rest of the play-off game.” I Guess when Tawny Kitaen didn't show up for coffee, he decided to bag it. I found myself actually giving him kudos for showing up to the event in the first place. Pathetic.
This time the venue was a coffee shop downtown. I expected free coffee for $30.00, any coffee of my choosing for that matter, but we didn’t get it. We got a dollar off our first coffee order. That, and what looked like Costco mini-pastries. I think I’ll stick to booze events from here out.
I have a date tomorrow or Wednesday night, but I’m expecting that to probably implode before it can actually get here. This is someone I met on Snatch last week. He seems normal, so how can we possibly get to a first date? Actually, he seems better than normal - a totally unpretentious, guys' guy. I know I can completely be myself around this guy. We talked for almost 2 hours but unfortunately, if this bad luck continues to hang in there, I don't even have to think about it, nothing will come of this either. (come on ladybug luck!) It will die on the vine before it can even have a chance.
So far for me, the cancer’s winning. I can’t relinquish my hold on finding an equal. A ying for my yang (and do I ever need a yang about now), a Fred to my inner Ethel, a Brad to my Angelina.
I saw an article in the last week on the internet that was actually titled:
How to date during the World Series
I was dumbfounded! Men will actually give up chasing tail for baseball? Give it up and make us chase them? AYFKM?
That is a sad, sad, sad state of affairs.
One of the men the other night begged off right after the actual ‘speedy’ part was over with, with a “I’m gonna head home and catch the rest of the play-off game.” I Guess when Tawny Kitaen didn't show up for coffee, he decided to bag it. I found myself actually giving him kudos for showing up to the event in the first place. Pathetic.
This time the venue was a coffee shop downtown. I expected free coffee for $30.00, any coffee of my choosing for that matter, but we didn’t get it. We got a dollar off our first coffee order. That, and what looked like Costco mini-pastries. I think I’ll stick to booze events from here out.
I have a date tomorrow or Wednesday night, but I’m expecting that to probably implode before it can actually get here. This is someone I met on Snatch last week. He seems normal, so how can we possibly get to a first date? Actually, he seems better than normal - a totally unpretentious, guys' guy. I know I can completely be myself around this guy. We talked for almost 2 hours but unfortunately, if this bad luck continues to hang in there, I don't even have to think about it, nothing will come of this either. (come on ladybug luck!) It will die on the vine before it can even have a chance.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Speed Dating, Vino & Cheese, and the Japanese journalist
I went to a 4-minute speed date accompanied by a wine and cheese tasting Saturday evening. It was my first time ever experiencing this sort of social event for the pure purpose of seeking out a potential date or mate. I can say that it wasn’t as difficult or intimidating as I expected it to be; and although the organizers couldn’t control all aspects of an event like this, they did do a good job at essentially getting everybody to the table, so to speak.
There were about 35-40 women and what appeared to be an equal amount of men. Essentially, the women line tables with their backs to the wall, 2 to a table, the men then come in and sit opposite the ladies on the inside of the room. You talk for 4 minutes, which can be either excruciatingly long, or too terribly short. Each table has a cheese tray upon it and there are several wine glasses. We had 6 whites and 4 reds with tastes being poured every other rotation.
Unless you were at the table occupied by the evenings’ lushes!! Then you got up and got your own…
(Lush:) “God Damn bottle of wine!” (Steward:) “Mam’, the pours occur every other rotation. That is how this wine tasting is being done; there’s not enough wine for you to have your own bottle; and you and some of the other guests cut down on what supply we had by drinking some of the wine before the event even started.” (Lush:) “But he’s not pouring!!!”) This woman wouldn’t give up, she kept getting up and getting her glass filled, or just taking a bottle from the table in the center of the room. I think, with the exception of a few, the men felt like this table was a gauntlet they had to endure rather than a 4 minute conversation. The more wine these women consumed, the more obnoxious and bold they became. One guy made a comment to the effect of ‘Glad that’s over.’ Kinda sad. And yet, since they were the table before mine, they only served to make me look better and I already looked good!! ;-)
Only the men rotated, the women stayed stationary, which is typical. You were given a sheet of paper with a matrix on it where you would put their first name and a number from their name tag, then you had two columns to the right where you could check ‘interested/not,’ and finally to the right of that there was a line to make note of what they were wearing….on their chin, so that later you could remember them by that description/note. I didn’t immediately make use of the form, I thought you were only supposed to put down those that you actually had an interest in, so there were several rotations before I made use of it!
As the evening wore on, I found the interface interesting but the venue boring (it was held in a hotel conference room). I kept thinking how surreal it was to meet people this way. Some men seemed expectant, as if I were to do some trick or say something magical or clever that would set me a part from the rest of the herd thus earning me their coveted attention and interest; some came with their life story already memorized and proceeded to sell themselves, much like an pre-owned certified Honda (“One previous owner, no major wrecks, and I was never in New Orleans, I swear!”). There were a few that were genuinely warm, sweet and mildly charming – perhaps possible dating material. And then there were the handful of misfits, either physically challenged in some manner, or painfully shy, or just ill-equipped socially. My favorite (in a very non-favorite way) was the Japanese entry. He came with his own cheese stash that he started at the first table and would augment at each table with about ½ of whatever was on the main cheese platter. He didn’t speak very good English and what he did speak was heavily accented. So that ‘journalist’ came out (after 3 attempts) as ‘urnalish.’ I was able to ascertain after the first 2 minutes that he was a journalist from Japan, here in the nation’s capitol covering politics. For who or what back in Japan I never could understand; and so, painfully I waited for the next 2 minutes to pass while he sat across from me and proceeded to eat more and more cheese and drink a rather large pour of red while the rest of us were still on whites (hmmmm? That’s odd, I thought at the time, not realizing that half our wine supply had already been consumed.) and continued to speak, in shattered English, occasionally breaking into a great big grin that showed a grey piranha toothed smile. Apparently, he was with the group that short-changed the rest of us on wine pours, so he was well on his way to full-on drunk by the time he got to me, and I don’t think he made it another 2 tables before he passed out and they had to put him at a table in the center of the room surrounded on either side by event staff (wouldn’t you like that job: “Damn, I gotta take care of the drunks again! I pulled drunk duty last week!”) where he sat for the remainder of the evening chin firmly holding his chest down in the chair. He was so drunk, the event staff had to bring up a wheelchair at 10 pm to haul his inebriated ass downstairs!!! Needless to say, I was soooo glad to hear the words “rotate please!”
All-in-all, it was a pleasant learning experience. I didn’t meet anyone that made my heart (or any other anatomy part) particularly take notice, and I didn’t much mind whether or not anyone contacted me from this event.
Monday
So, imagine my surprise when I got an email from one of the guys on Sunday evening. All of a sudden, I realized the importance and reasoning behind the cheat-sheet form that they handed out!! You can’t remember all the CPAs, Lawyers, Software Engineers, or Analysts – many of which have common names, ie, Mike, Tim, Dave, Michael, Timothy, David –that you meet in a 4-minute slot!! So, I checked my sheet and luckily I had put a description of what this guy was wearing, so in this instance I was able to put a face to the name and number. Only thing is, as I recall, he was far more into the other woman at the table then he was me. So, I’m wondering, did he mismatch names to descriptions on his cheat-sheet?
Tuesday
Apparently not, I received another email from him and it would seem that I am the choice of his attention. Hmmmm, I guess I could chalk it up to his being too shy to appear initially interested, but interested enough none-the-less? That’s my Son-in-laws’ theory, maybe he knows this behavior himself…? So, we’ve proposed a date later in the week. I’m thinking coffee or drinks, I’m a bit uneasy committing to dinner. Although, I have met, seen, and talked to the guy. Would an hour be that hard? We’ll see when he contacts me again.
Wednesday
Looks like dinner Thursday night. I’m either a complete and utter optimist/fool or a glutton for punishment! I think it will be okay though, he actually seems fairly normal and maybe even equal to me in being both open and guarded. I'm going to go out on limb and make the assumption that I don't have to worry about him crying at the table (I know, I know don't ass/u/me anything!). What ever shall I wear? (All the lessons in the world and I still will worry about how I look! I'm such a girl!
There were about 35-40 women and what appeared to be an equal amount of men. Essentially, the women line tables with their backs to the wall, 2 to a table, the men then come in and sit opposite the ladies on the inside of the room. You talk for 4 minutes, which can be either excruciatingly long, or too terribly short. Each table has a cheese tray upon it and there are several wine glasses. We had 6 whites and 4 reds with tastes being poured every other rotation.
Unless you were at the table occupied by the evenings’ lushes!! Then you got up and got your own…
(Lush:) “God Damn bottle of wine!” (Steward:) “Mam’, the pours occur every other rotation. That is how this wine tasting is being done; there’s not enough wine for you to have your own bottle; and you and some of the other guests cut down on what supply we had by drinking some of the wine before the event even started.” (Lush:) “But he’s not pouring!!!”) This woman wouldn’t give up, she kept getting up and getting her glass filled, or just taking a bottle from the table in the center of the room. I think, with the exception of a few, the men felt like this table was a gauntlet they had to endure rather than a 4 minute conversation. The more wine these women consumed, the more obnoxious and bold they became. One guy made a comment to the effect of ‘Glad that’s over.’ Kinda sad. And yet, since they were the table before mine, they only served to make me look better and I already looked good!! ;-)
Only the men rotated, the women stayed stationary, which is typical. You were given a sheet of paper with a matrix on it where you would put their first name and a number from their name tag, then you had two columns to the right where you could check ‘interested/not,’ and finally to the right of that there was a line to make note of what they were wearing….on their chin, so that later you could remember them by that description/note. I didn’t immediately make use of the form, I thought you were only supposed to put down those that you actually had an interest in, so there were several rotations before I made use of it!
As the evening wore on, I found the interface interesting but the venue boring (it was held in a hotel conference room). I kept thinking how surreal it was to meet people this way. Some men seemed expectant, as if I were to do some trick or say something magical or clever that would set me a part from the rest of the herd thus earning me their coveted attention and interest; some came with their life story already memorized and proceeded to sell themselves, much like an pre-owned certified Honda (“One previous owner, no major wrecks, and I was never in New Orleans, I swear!”). There were a few that were genuinely warm, sweet and mildly charming – perhaps possible dating material. And then there were the handful of misfits, either physically challenged in some manner, or painfully shy, or just ill-equipped socially. My favorite (in a very non-favorite way) was the Japanese entry. He came with his own cheese stash that he started at the first table and would augment at each table with about ½ of whatever was on the main cheese platter. He didn’t speak very good English and what he did speak was heavily accented. So that ‘journalist’ came out (after 3 attempts) as ‘urnalish.’ I was able to ascertain after the first 2 minutes that he was a journalist from Japan, here in the nation’s capitol covering politics. For who or what back in Japan I never could understand; and so, painfully I waited for the next 2 minutes to pass while he sat across from me and proceeded to eat more and more cheese and drink a rather large pour of red while the rest of us were still on whites (hmmmm? That’s odd, I thought at the time, not realizing that half our wine supply had already been consumed.) and continued to speak, in shattered English, occasionally breaking into a great big grin that showed a grey piranha toothed smile. Apparently, he was with the group that short-changed the rest of us on wine pours, so he was well on his way to full-on drunk by the time he got to me, and I don’t think he made it another 2 tables before he passed out and they had to put him at a table in the center of the room surrounded on either side by event staff (wouldn’t you like that job: “Damn, I gotta take care of the drunks again! I pulled drunk duty last week!”) where he sat for the remainder of the evening chin firmly holding his chest down in the chair. He was so drunk, the event staff had to bring up a wheelchair at 10 pm to haul his inebriated ass downstairs!!! Needless to say, I was soooo glad to hear the words “rotate please!”
All-in-all, it was a pleasant learning experience. I didn’t meet anyone that made my heart (or any other anatomy part) particularly take notice, and I didn’t much mind whether or not anyone contacted me from this event.
Monday
So, imagine my surprise when I got an email from one of the guys on Sunday evening. All of a sudden, I realized the importance and reasoning behind the cheat-sheet form that they handed out!! You can’t remember all the CPAs, Lawyers, Software Engineers, or Analysts – many of which have common names, ie, Mike, Tim, Dave, Michael, Timothy, David –that you meet in a 4-minute slot!! So, I checked my sheet and luckily I had put a description of what this guy was wearing, so in this instance I was able to put a face to the name and number. Only thing is, as I recall, he was far more into the other woman at the table then he was me. So, I’m wondering, did he mismatch names to descriptions on his cheat-sheet?
Tuesday
Apparently not, I received another email from him and it would seem that I am the choice of his attention. Hmmmm, I guess I could chalk it up to his being too shy to appear initially interested, but interested enough none-the-less? That’s my Son-in-laws’ theory, maybe he knows this behavior himself…? So, we’ve proposed a date later in the week. I’m thinking coffee or drinks, I’m a bit uneasy committing to dinner. Although, I have met, seen, and talked to the guy. Would an hour be that hard? We’ll see when he contacts me again.
Wednesday
Looks like dinner Thursday night. I’m either a complete and utter optimist/fool or a glutton for punishment! I think it will be okay though, he actually seems fairly normal and maybe even equal to me in being both open and guarded. I'm going to go out on limb and make the assumption that I don't have to worry about him crying at the table (I know, I know don't ass/u/me anything!). What ever shall I wear? (All the lessons in the world and I still will worry about how I look! I'm such a girl!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Quality Control
I believe my days on the internet dating scene are definitely numbered, if not done. This journey started out positive, upbeat and with promise. It ends negative, worn out and, I'm afraid, with little hope.
I can't seem to weed out the wieners, duds, gonzos, flakes, and misfits. They start out promising, but, usually pretty quickly, wind up reveling character traits or behavior that is decidedly not what I'm looking for, not to mention less than attractive.
Take the latest. Kind, nice, smart, very good sense of humor ('excellent' shall be reserved for when I find 'the one,' for he will possess it), (seemingly) normal, somewhat attractive. He 'winked' at me, I responded in kind which kick started communication between us, which in turn sparked chemistry and we seemed to click nicely. He had no problem expressing his attraction for me and although I was attracted more to his intelligence and wit, than to his physical self (is there a pattern here??), I had realized from previous encounters, that you can't escalate that initial attraction too much. Because if it doesn't match the physical attraction when you meet, you're screwed. So, I was a little less enthusiastic with my romantic overtures and made sure I nipped anything too 'high-brow' in the bud (usual guy stuff) as soon as he uttered it (never in a disarming way and usually with humor). He continued to call and text me repeatedly throughout the next 3-4 days. Then, with nary a 'Boo' he shut down and bugged off like I had an STD. Within a 2 hour window he went from "I can't wait to hold you in my arms." (to which I didn't respond in kind, but did respond) to cutting our next phone conversation short and by the following day did not even reply to an email, much less a phone call.
*POOF*
I don't purport to know what went through his head and it took me very little time to not care either. Another Flake. I could speculate but don't believe he's worth the effort.
There is a woman in my oldest daughters' (MOD) place of work that is approximately the same age as me and MOD told her of my fiasco over the Labor Day weekend with Mr. I'll Grow on You. She, apparently, had been down this same battle-scarred path of internet dating with very similar results. Her one comment that is now ringing resonant with me is when she told MOD that there is far more Quantity over Quality on the internet dating scene; and she is soooooo right. My latest encounter, above, is dictionary definition of just that. No. 347,186,000 out of a billion.
I realize that as my time on the internet dating scene evolved, I became far more willing to accept behavior flaws or other defects that if encountered in a face-to-face match-up would immediately send up guard rails and deploy riot police in my head. I accept this fact and would now like to amend that flaw in character judgment in myself. Please note: If you aren’t up to par within a 24-hour period of initial contact and communication, I’m done. Can’t carry a conversation? Done. Your laugh doesn’t make me smile or laugh, but makes me cringe? Done. Can’t manage to keep your head (followed by your mouth) out of the gutter long enough to not turn every word out of my mouth into innuendo? Done. Don’t have some kind of connection with your family (providing you have one, and they aren’t convicted felons)? Done. My dog doesn’t like you? Really done!!
When your part of a lottery system you find that you will compromise a lot to win a prize or be the prize won. I mean when your odds are 10,000 to 1 (or even higher, depending on your market) that you'll walk away with the Power Ball -much less - not have to split your winnings with 3 other ticket holders, you begin to compromise and lower your standards, whether you mean to or not. Or at you least start to overlook other less appealing traits, habits, ticks, and such.
In as much as I have a foot in both worlds of thought, first that we make our future and can create our own destiny; and second, that things happen for a reason (I know they are completely contradictory to each other, but I better my odds :-) I know that I’m either meant to find/discover someone far better suited to me than anyone Snatch.com or any of the other dating sites has to offer or that he is going to happen to me.
Having said all that, instead of giving up, I’m just going to try a new venue. The same woman I mentioned above that works w/ MOD told her about a national organization that caters to singles on a local level (w/ chapters in every major city). They sponsor all different kinds of social events, from speed dating-to hikes or bike rides-to 10-day all inclusive vacations. Membership’s free, but you do have to pay for the events you wish to participate in and the cost ranges from $5 to the thousands for the vacation getaways. Her opinion of this organization was so positive and glowing (she had great results), I’ve decided to try it myself. So, I’ve signed up for one of the events this weekend. No doubt I’ll be writing here next week.
And for any male readers, you can easily change the gender references and behavior flaws I've mentioned above and more or less have the same opinion of trying to find Ms. Right on the internet; this is not meant as an anti-men bash, just my personal experience. So, please refrain from bitch bashing me.
I can't seem to weed out the wieners, duds, gonzos, flakes, and misfits. They start out promising, but, usually pretty quickly, wind up reveling character traits or behavior that is decidedly not what I'm looking for, not to mention less than attractive.
Take the latest. Kind, nice, smart, very good sense of humor ('excellent' shall be reserved for when I find 'the one,' for he will possess it), (seemingly) normal, somewhat attractive. He 'winked' at me, I responded in kind which kick started communication between us, which in turn sparked chemistry and we seemed to click nicely. He had no problem expressing his attraction for me and although I was attracted more to his intelligence and wit, than to his physical self (is there a pattern here??), I had realized from previous encounters, that you can't escalate that initial attraction too much. Because if it doesn't match the physical attraction when you meet, you're screwed. So, I was a little less enthusiastic with my romantic overtures and made sure I nipped anything too 'high-brow' in the bud (usual guy stuff) as soon as he uttered it (never in a disarming way and usually with humor). He continued to call and text me repeatedly throughout the next 3-4 days. Then, with nary a 'Boo' he shut down and bugged off like I had an STD. Within a 2 hour window he went from "I can't wait to hold you in my arms." (to which I didn't respond in kind, but did respond) to cutting our next phone conversation short and by the following day did not even reply to an email, much less a phone call.
*POOF*
I don't purport to know what went through his head and it took me very little time to not care either. Another Flake. I could speculate but don't believe he's worth the effort.
There is a woman in my oldest daughters' (MOD) place of work that is approximately the same age as me and MOD told her of my fiasco over the Labor Day weekend with Mr. I'll Grow on You. She, apparently, had been down this same battle-scarred path of internet dating with very similar results. Her one comment that is now ringing resonant with me is when she told MOD that there is far more Quantity over Quality on the internet dating scene; and she is soooooo right. My latest encounter, above, is dictionary definition of just that. No. 347,186,000 out of a billion.
I realize that as my time on the internet dating scene evolved, I became far more willing to accept behavior flaws or other defects that if encountered in a face-to-face match-up would immediately send up guard rails and deploy riot police in my head. I accept this fact and would now like to amend that flaw in character judgment in myself. Please note: If you aren’t up to par within a 24-hour period of initial contact and communication, I’m done. Can’t carry a conversation? Done. Your laugh doesn’t make me smile or laugh, but makes me cringe? Done. Can’t manage to keep your head (followed by your mouth) out of the gutter long enough to not turn every word out of my mouth into innuendo? Done. Don’t have some kind of connection with your family (providing you have one, and they aren’t convicted felons)? Done. My dog doesn’t like you? Really done!!
When your part of a lottery system you find that you will compromise a lot to win a prize or be the prize won. I mean when your odds are 10,000 to 1 (or even higher, depending on your market) that you'll walk away with the Power Ball -much less - not have to split your winnings with 3 other ticket holders, you begin to compromise and lower your standards, whether you mean to or not. Or at you least start to overlook other less appealing traits, habits, ticks, and such.
In as much as I have a foot in both worlds of thought, first that we make our future and can create our own destiny; and second, that things happen for a reason (I know they are completely contradictory to each other, but I better my odds :-) I know that I’m either meant to find/discover someone far better suited to me than anyone Snatch.com or any of the other dating sites has to offer or that he is going to happen to me.
Having said all that, instead of giving up, I’m just going to try a new venue. The same woman I mentioned above that works w/ MOD told her about a national organization that caters to singles on a local level (w/ chapters in every major city). They sponsor all different kinds of social events, from speed dating-to hikes or bike rides-to 10-day all inclusive vacations. Membership’s free, but you do have to pay for the events you wish to participate in and the cost ranges from $5 to the thousands for the vacation getaways. Her opinion of this organization was so positive and glowing (she had great results), I’ve decided to try it myself. So, I’ve signed up for one of the events this weekend. No doubt I’ll be writing here next week.
And for any male readers, you can easily change the gender references and behavior flaws I've mentioned above and more or less have the same opinion of trying to find Ms. Right on the internet; this is not meant as an anti-men bash, just my personal experience. So, please refrain from bitch bashing me.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
*Sigh....*
Dear God, what did I do to piss you off soooooo much? It's the cussing isn't it?
Damn it!! Me and my potty mouth!
But, seriously, God, midget 20-somethings that live w/ their parents??????
23 YO Male, 5'5", Seeking Women 18-35
Hey what's up? I saw your picture and profile and something about it really striked my eye. You seem like a really interesting woman, well not too interesting but enough to spark my interest.j/k. Anyway brat face write back when you get a chance. Later tater.
Fuckity, fuck-fuck.
Am I the only one that gets the 12 year olds?
Can you imagine......?
"You had me at 'brat face' baby."
I won't even dignify the "..not to interesting..." comment.
Brat Face? Who calls a woman 'Brat Face' if she's not your baby sister???
Later Tater? Honey, your fellow Bro's would have your ass for this transgression. What Brother says 'Later Tater?'
It's enough to make me question humanity. I know, I know. That which doesn't kill you, just makes you stronger.
I'll 'strike your eye' alright, with a red, hot poker, that is!!
I'm terrified the next one will make "I'll Grow on You." start to seem appealing.
Damn it!! Me and my potty mouth!
But, seriously, God, midget 20-somethings that live w/ their parents??????
23 YO Male, 5'5", Seeking Women 18-35
Hey what's up? I saw your picture and profile and something about it really striked my eye. You seem like a really interesting woman, well not too interesting but enough to spark my interest.j/k. Anyway brat face write back when you get a chance. Later tater.
Fuckity, fuck-fuck.
Am I the only one that gets the 12 year olds?
Can you imagine......?
"You had me at 'brat face' baby."
I won't even dignify the "..not to interesting..." comment.
Brat Face? Who calls a woman 'Brat Face' if she's not your baby sister???
Later Tater? Honey, your fellow Bro's would have your ass for this transgression. What Brother says 'Later Tater?'
It's enough to make me question humanity. I know, I know. That which doesn't kill you, just makes you stronger.
I'll 'strike your eye' alright, with a red, hot poker, that is!!
I'm terrified the next one will make "I'll Grow on You." start to seem appealing.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Support
To my family & friends who already read my blog, I want to say thank you for your support. I also want to ask that you please keep me anonymous for obvious reasons. I find it to be a real catharsis to be able to vent about my dating disasters or just convey the feelings that this experience creates. I appreciate each and every one of your responses and the feedback. I also would love for you to share my blog w/ others -- just don't indicate that we either work together or know each other (i.e., "I found this great blog about this woman who tells all her horror stories about on-line dating." vs. "Hey did you see Datergirl's blog? She's a piece of work, that one is.")
That's how these things work best.
Thanks. You're the best!
That's how these things work best.
Thanks. You're the best!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
"I'll grow on you." (Yeah, like genital warts.)
Too good to be true? You better believe it!
The above (pink) statement is gospel when it comes to dating, internet or otherwise. I had a recent encounter that was so bad, so stupidly bad, I’m having a hard time getting back on the horse. The taste it left in my mouth is beyond sour - !
Two weeks ago I canceled renewal to one of the sites I use, mostly because it was an overall failure at producing any viable “matches” for me. So, imagine my surprise, when the day after I canceled, I got a viable hit (I canceled but still had a week left on the original subscription). This person seemed like a good match, on paper. Retired military, works in a similar industry to mine - a little high on the age range - but things like his value system and interests seemed to out weigh that. The only thing not included was his picture. Now, I’ve never made that an issue in initial contact, because I refuse to ever meet anyone face-to-face w/o eventually obtaining a picture. So, we started corresponding, first through the on-line site and then through our respective personal email accounts. I asked him over-and-over for a picture. After the second photo request, he directed me to the internet, gave me his full name, and told me to ‘google’ him and I would find a couple of pictures taken in the course of his volunteer work. So, I did, and eventually found one photograph. It was indeed him, doing volunteer work….six years ago. The picture was a full body shot of him in a sitting position, in profile - not the most reveling image.
Here I will stop and ask the obvious: Was it a good enough picture for identification purposes? Maybe.
Was it a good enough and also recent enough picture for me to tell if there was an attraction? I wasn’t sure at the time, maybe 6 years ago (which is why I kept asking for pictures!!)!
He kept telling me he would go have a professional portrait taken (which wasn’t necessary for me, but he didn’t want to send anything he currently had). All the while we kept up the correspondence; sending 3, 4 emails a day, followed up by 2 hour phone conversations at night.
Wow! This was really looking promising! It had to be fate! We had so much in common. He was so kind and generous, a truly giving soul. About 4 or 5 days in we started talking about meeting. There was considerable distance between us, neither of us was local to the other, but it wasn’t an impossible obstacle either. (I still asked for pictures, even while making plans to meet.) Surely, if I have this much in common, this much “chemistry” with someone this soon - without having actually met them - I can get beyond the fact that they’re not handsome. I’ve been attracted to plenty of men w/ beautiful minds and so-so outer beauty. Why, when all else seems so right, wouldn’t this turn out any differently?
Hooo-boy! The things we’ll tell ourselves when we want something bad enough.
So, we decide upon a dinner date in a town that is definitely more in my backyard than his, but being a gentleman, he offers to make the longer commute. He makes reservations and we both exchange as how we are looking forward to meeting. Can’t wait! He tells me that he inquired about the professional portraits, but that by this time, they couldn’t be taken and received in time before we meet…. (Warning Will Robinson!! Warning!! Of course, not the first of many, many other alarms!!)
But by this time, we've exchanged too much information and I feel far too invested to even care about the photo any longer. (stupid, stupid-er, stupid-est!) Or so I think.
The day before 'date day,' we are talking on the phone – it has been approximately 1 week since this whole fiasco started – and he confides that he is already falling in love with me....... (A-WHOOOOGA, A-WHOOOOGA, A-WHOOOOGA, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, WHOOOOOP, WHOOOOOP, WHOOOOP! RING-A-FUCKING-DING-A-LING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO....!!!!!
Repeat above Hooo-boy!
I tell him he needs to back it up, that I don’t believe that’s appropriate at this juncture, period. He apologizes, agrees, and doesn’t mention it again…..until the next morning in an email (that I never read until this whole mess was behind me by 5 days.)..
About this time, dear reader, I’m sure you’re saying to yourself: “Honey, you are the BIGGEST fool I have ever heard of!” And you would be right, unfortunately.
Date day arrives and the game plan is that we will meet about 3 pm and take a stroll through town, perhaps stop at a bar and have a drink, and then proceed to dinner. I get a late start, so he is already waiting for me at the appointed place for meeting when I get there.
OMG.It.was.awful. Quite possibly the worst dating experience of my life.
I get out of the car and he’s right there at my door. I barely have the time to straighten up from the driver’s seat before he is hugging me and then kissing me on the mouth (no tongue, thank God!). I am immediately turned off! Even if he were not as unattractive as he is, I would be turned off! But, given that he is (to me) very unattractive…..
There is only ‘anti-chemistry’ present for me; and I am mortified that I may have to charade through a date I want to run from (a term/action he would repeatedly tell me I might want to do – in that self-depreciating way – upon our meeting. Another possible warning ya’ think??? I obviously ride the short bus when it comes to matters of the heart, *sigh*.). He hands me a small bouquet of flowers for which I’m grateful for, for the sheer distraction they provide me, so I don’t have to look at him. I think he says something about how happy he is but my memory for what is said between us is a blur in the immediate seconds following the ‘greeting.’ I suggest that we begin to walk. He clasps my hand in his. - Help! - It isn’t until we have crossed the street and are walking down the sidewalk that I begin to try and figure out how I can possibly get out of this. We walk along hand-in-hand, my heart is racing with anxiety and unabashed dread. I have the distraction of the shops to window shop in. At some point he asks me what I’m thinking and I can only reply that I’m ‘taking it all in’ (the sites). After even more awkward silence and uncomfortable non-conversation, we stop in a local watering hole to get a glass of wine. We sit down at the bar and he immediately says:
“You don’t feel anything, do you?” “I can tell, you know.”
Gee, what gave me away first? My lack of attention towards you, or the fact that I couldn’t even look at you???
Now, I’m not a mean person, and I’m no fan of confrontation either, but he’s hit the nail on the head and I don’t want to deny it – hurtful or not. So, I say “No, I don’t.” I’m sorry.” It should’ve ended right there, right? I should’ve gotten up, said how profusely sorry I was that I felt zero spark/connection and walked to my car and left. But I didn’t. Not because I’m a glutton for punishment (although Freud might say that’s exactly what I am due to my feelings of guilt), but because I knew I was hurting the guy by my obvious, heart-on-my-sleeve, utter rejection of him. So I suffered through the next 4-hours in the name of “being nice.”
Four hours of him vacillating between trying to convince me “to give us a chance, that he'd grow on me" (blech!), to “Let’s just end this now, I’ll go. But, I still think we could have a fun time together” to him talking too loud at dinner about “what a catch he is and how wrong I am for not seeing that; but that I can't help what I don't feel and I shouldn't feel bad, because I didn’t do anything wrong” and then finally, crying at the table in the restaurant when it was evident (I had never waivered) that he was not going to 'grow on me' in any capacity. He couldn’t even let it go as we walked back to our cars, at one point turning dramatically to face me in the middle of the sidewalk (with people around us) grabbing me by my arms and demanding: “Please, Datergirl, give us a chance, I can make you happy.” (Not if I can’t bear the thought of you kissing me even if I were blind drunk and my beer goggles were dirty; no, I don’t think you can, actually.).
The date finally ended w/ him dissolving in to tears hugging me good-bye in the parking lot and saying: “I hope you find someone that will make you happy. I just wish that someone was meeeee.” I hurriedly got in my car and left. I was so overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted that I called my daughter as I was leaving town and immediately dissolved, myself, into tears! I ended up pulling to the curb until I could pull myself together enough to continue driving. Fucking Bastard!!!
I have never experienced such a roller coaster of ‘passive-aggressive’ emotional behavior as I did this night. I was so stupid to stay and endure it, I should’ve apologized – hell, he should’ve apologized and then some – and then left.
Hindsight = 20/20.
I have yet to shake the residue feelings of revulsion that I feel for the entire experience, including my culpability in it. I know I didn’t do anything wrong in any of my dealings w/ this guy, whereas, he was rather deceitful to me. Not providing a photograph of himself that wasn’t 6 years old; and assuring me he was emotionally stable and ready for involvement when clearly, he was not. I do regret that things got as far as they did and I didn’t absolutely demand a picture, that was my fault, but it’s not like I didn’t ask, over and over and over again. There is little doubt that it would’ve gotten as far as it did had I dug in my heels in and demanded a full-face photo, and I believe he knew that, clearly. It’s why he stalled and made excuses about his security at his job, not wanting to put his picture on the internet, yet he was already out there – blah, blah, blah.
With these few days distance from the experience, it is so clear to me that I was manipulated into a spot he didn't think I could retreat from. So many warnings I should've paid attention to, but clearly ignored. Although the 'falling in love' statement was the door cracking open (should've been the ice cracking below my feet as I tumbled into the icy abyss!) to the horrible reality of what I was walking into, I still walked through it. It’s not like anybody active in on-line dating is going to say: “Not very attractive OTH male with heavy emotional baggage, weight issues and english teeth ISO an exceptional (if somewhat blind) woman completely out of my league.”
This guy thought that I was insecure enough that if he told me certain things that I would be intimidated or cowed into a relationship with him. Ick. Not.
This was a heavy lesson for me. One I won't soon forget. I could put a list of absolutes on my profile to help filter out this type; but that would probably just lead to encouraging more of the same into responding to me. Perhaps I should take a break from online dating for a while; but yet I still have a kernal of optimism. I believe there is that connection to be made. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'll be overly cautious right now and look like a freak myself.
Ugh. The perils.
The above (pink) statement is gospel when it comes to dating, internet or otherwise. I had a recent encounter that was so bad, so stupidly bad, I’m having a hard time getting back on the horse. The taste it left in my mouth is beyond sour - !
Two weeks ago I canceled renewal to one of the sites I use, mostly because it was an overall failure at producing any viable “matches” for me. So, imagine my surprise, when the day after I canceled, I got a viable hit (I canceled but still had a week left on the original subscription). This person seemed like a good match, on paper. Retired military, works in a similar industry to mine - a little high on the age range - but things like his value system and interests seemed to out weigh that. The only thing not included was his picture. Now, I’ve never made that an issue in initial contact, because I refuse to ever meet anyone face-to-face w/o eventually obtaining a picture. So, we started corresponding, first through the on-line site and then through our respective personal email accounts. I asked him over-and-over for a picture. After the second photo request, he directed me to the internet, gave me his full name, and told me to ‘google’ him and I would find a couple of pictures taken in the course of his volunteer work. So, I did, and eventually found one photograph. It was indeed him, doing volunteer work….six years ago. The picture was a full body shot of him in a sitting position, in profile - not the most reveling image.
Here I will stop and ask the obvious: Was it a good enough picture for identification purposes? Maybe.
Was it a good enough and also recent enough picture for me to tell if there was an attraction? I wasn’t sure at the time, maybe 6 years ago (which is why I kept asking for pictures!!)!
He kept telling me he would go have a professional portrait taken (which wasn’t necessary for me, but he didn’t want to send anything he currently had). All the while we kept up the correspondence; sending 3, 4 emails a day, followed up by 2 hour phone conversations at night.
Wow! This was really looking promising! It had to be fate! We had so much in common. He was so kind and generous, a truly giving soul. About 4 or 5 days in we started talking about meeting. There was considerable distance between us, neither of us was local to the other, but it wasn’t an impossible obstacle either. (I still asked for pictures, even while making plans to meet.) Surely, if I have this much in common, this much “chemistry” with someone this soon - without having actually met them - I can get beyond the fact that they’re not handsome. I’ve been attracted to plenty of men w/ beautiful minds and so-so outer beauty. Why, when all else seems so right, wouldn’t this turn out any differently?
Hooo-boy! The things we’ll tell ourselves when we want something bad enough.
So, we decide upon a dinner date in a town that is definitely more in my backyard than his, but being a gentleman, he offers to make the longer commute. He makes reservations and we both exchange as how we are looking forward to meeting. Can’t wait! He tells me that he inquired about the professional portraits, but that by this time, they couldn’t be taken and received in time before we meet…. (Warning Will Robinson!! Warning!! Of course, not the first of many, many other alarms!!)
But by this time, we've exchanged too much information and I feel far too invested to even care about the photo any longer. (stupid, stupid-er, stupid-est!) Or so I think.
The day before 'date day,' we are talking on the phone – it has been approximately 1 week since this whole fiasco started – and he confides that he is already falling in love with me....... (A-WHOOOOGA, A-WHOOOOGA, A-WHOOOOGA, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, WHOOOOOP, WHOOOOOP, WHOOOOP! RING-A-FUCKING-DING-A-LING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO....!!!!!
Repeat above Hooo-boy!
I tell him he needs to back it up, that I don’t believe that’s appropriate at this juncture, period. He apologizes, agrees, and doesn’t mention it again…..until the next morning in an email (that I never read until this whole mess was behind me by 5 days.)..
About this time, dear reader, I’m sure you’re saying to yourself: “Honey, you are the BIGGEST fool I have ever heard of!” And you would be right, unfortunately.
Date day arrives and the game plan is that we will meet about 3 pm and take a stroll through town, perhaps stop at a bar and have a drink, and then proceed to dinner. I get a late start, so he is already waiting for me at the appointed place for meeting when I get there.
OMG.It.was.awful. Quite possibly the worst dating experience of my life.
I get out of the car and he’s right there at my door. I barely have the time to straighten up from the driver’s seat before he is hugging me and then kissing me on the mouth (no tongue, thank God!). I am immediately turned off! Even if he were not as unattractive as he is, I would be turned off! But, given that he is (to me) very unattractive…..
There is only ‘anti-chemistry’ present for me; and I am mortified that I may have to charade through a date I want to run from (a term/action he would repeatedly tell me I might want to do – in that self-depreciating way – upon our meeting. Another possible warning ya’ think??? I obviously ride the short bus when it comes to matters of the heart, *sigh*.). He hands me a small bouquet of flowers for which I’m grateful for, for the sheer distraction they provide me, so I don’t have to look at him. I think he says something about how happy he is but my memory for what is said between us is a blur in the immediate seconds following the ‘greeting.’ I suggest that we begin to walk. He clasps my hand in his. - Help! - It isn’t until we have crossed the street and are walking down the sidewalk that I begin to try and figure out how I can possibly get out of this. We walk along hand-in-hand, my heart is racing with anxiety and unabashed dread. I have the distraction of the shops to window shop in. At some point he asks me what I’m thinking and I can only reply that I’m ‘taking it all in’ (the sites). After even more awkward silence and uncomfortable non-conversation, we stop in a local watering hole to get a glass of wine. We sit down at the bar and he immediately says:
“You don’t feel anything, do you?” “I can tell, you know.”
Gee, what gave me away first? My lack of attention towards you, or the fact that I couldn’t even look at you???
Now, I’m not a mean person, and I’m no fan of confrontation either, but he’s hit the nail on the head and I don’t want to deny it – hurtful or not. So, I say “No, I don’t.” I’m sorry.” It should’ve ended right there, right? I should’ve gotten up, said how profusely sorry I was that I felt zero spark/connection and walked to my car and left. But I didn’t. Not because I’m a glutton for punishment (although Freud might say that’s exactly what I am due to my feelings of guilt), but because I knew I was hurting the guy by my obvious, heart-on-my-sleeve, utter rejection of him. So I suffered through the next 4-hours in the name of “being nice.”
Four hours of him vacillating between trying to convince me “to give us a chance, that he'd grow on me" (blech!), to “Let’s just end this now, I’ll go. But, I still think we could have a fun time together” to him talking too loud at dinner about “what a catch he is and how wrong I am for not seeing that; but that I can't help what I don't feel and I shouldn't feel bad, because I didn’t do anything wrong” and then finally, crying at the table in the restaurant when it was evident (I had never waivered) that he was not going to 'grow on me' in any capacity. He couldn’t even let it go as we walked back to our cars, at one point turning dramatically to face me in the middle of the sidewalk (with people around us) grabbing me by my arms and demanding: “Please, Datergirl, give us a chance, I can make you happy.” (Not if I can’t bear the thought of you kissing me even if I were blind drunk and my beer goggles were dirty; no, I don’t think you can, actually.).
The date finally ended w/ him dissolving in to tears hugging me good-bye in the parking lot and saying: “I hope you find someone that will make you happy. I just wish that someone was meeeee.” I hurriedly got in my car and left. I was so overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted that I called my daughter as I was leaving town and immediately dissolved, myself, into tears! I ended up pulling to the curb until I could pull myself together enough to continue driving. Fucking Bastard!!!
I have never experienced such a roller coaster of ‘passive-aggressive’ emotional behavior as I did this night. I was so stupid to stay and endure it, I should’ve apologized – hell, he should’ve apologized and then some – and then left.
Hindsight = 20/20.
I have yet to shake the residue feelings of revulsion that I feel for the entire experience, including my culpability in it. I know I didn’t do anything wrong in any of my dealings w/ this guy, whereas, he was rather deceitful to me. Not providing a photograph of himself that wasn’t 6 years old; and assuring me he was emotionally stable and ready for involvement when clearly, he was not. I do regret that things got as far as they did and I didn’t absolutely demand a picture, that was my fault, but it’s not like I didn’t ask, over and over and over again. There is little doubt that it would’ve gotten as far as it did had I dug in my heels in and demanded a full-face photo, and I believe he knew that, clearly. It’s why he stalled and made excuses about his security at his job, not wanting to put his picture on the internet, yet he was already out there – blah, blah, blah.
With these few days distance from the experience, it is so clear to me that I was manipulated into a spot he didn't think I could retreat from. So many warnings I should've paid attention to, but clearly ignored. Although the 'falling in love' statement was the door cracking open (should've been the ice cracking below my feet as I tumbled into the icy abyss!) to the horrible reality of what I was walking into, I still walked through it. It’s not like anybody active in on-line dating is going to say: “Not very attractive OTH male with heavy emotional baggage, weight issues and english teeth ISO an exceptional (if somewhat blind) woman completely out of my league.”
This guy thought that I was insecure enough that if he told me certain things that I would be intimidated or cowed into a relationship with him. Ick. Not.
This was a heavy lesson for me. One I won't soon forget. I could put a list of absolutes on my profile to help filter out this type; but that would probably just lead to encouraging more of the same into responding to me. Perhaps I should take a break from online dating for a while; but yet I still have a kernal of optimism. I believe there is that connection to be made. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'll be overly cautious right now and look like a freak myself.
Ugh. The perils.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Kid Tested, Hater Approved
I’ve read some interesting profiles on-line and the one thing that strikes me is that there are a lot of good people out here in the same boat, and I simply can not believe how hard it is to date in this town. I’ve been honest and forthright hoping to attract the same and have made no ridiculous demands. My desire to not be around very young children is neither extreme nor rare given my life experiences. I don’t hate kids, I have kids and will probably be a Grandmother (can I say Noooooo!?) sooner rather than later. My goal is to find a one-on-one relationship, not at the exclusion of all others (family-all members, friends, pets, hobbies, etc.) but am interested in finding somebody that seeks the same and can give 100% (or as close as possible, given nobody can give 100% to any one thing these days). I’m busy, you’re busy, but at the end of the day our mutual intent is focused on each other (most of the time). I think it’s unfair to think somebody with 2 children under the age of 5 -three days a week is going to be in that mindset. I also think it’s unfair to expect someone that’s spent her 30’s exclusively focused on raising her kids to want to do it all over again just to be with you.
Oh, and enough of the “I have a 2 beautiful daughters/sons that are the light of my life and are my first priority.” Well, no shit Sherlock. They certainly better be or you’re not worthy of their love -or MINE. The fact that you’re involved in their life shouldn’t require a warning/caution label to potential girlfriends. WE.GET.IT.
Oh, and enough of the “I have a 2 beautiful daughters/sons that are the light of my life and are my first priority.” Well, no shit Sherlock. They certainly better be or you’re not worthy of their love -or MINE. The fact that you’re involved in their life shouldn’t require a warning/caution label to potential girlfriends. WE.GET.IT.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
It’s not me, it’s actually you.
Well, I had a lunch date this past Sunday and I thought it went rather well. It was, I believe, the longest lunch I’ve had in many a moon, date or not – 4 hours long. We sat at the table in that restaurant for 4 hours, pretty much until the dinner shift came on. We talked about all kinds of things, interesting things, silly thing, personal things, mundane things. I really enjoyed this date and I thought he did too. I really thought we connected. He would reach out and touch my arm when saying something – elevating the contact between us, but not in an inappropriate or threatening way – just making it clear he was interested. He could’ve ended it so much sooner, so could’ve I, but neither of us did. We even continued talking out on the sidewalk, he then offered to walk me to my car. At my car he simply said he’d had a nice time and that we’d have to “do it again sometime” (clearly a ‘kiss of death’ statement if I’ve ever heard one, and I’ve heard one or two!), gave me a chaste kiss (on the mouth–not that I wanted a tonsillectomy), and left. I felt a little sucker punched when I got in the car – actually I feel that way today (Tuesday) even more. Not in the sense that I was taken for a fool, I just feel like one for thinking that there would (obviously) be further communication/contact because the date went so well. I did call him yesterday to thank him again for lunch and say that I was interested in seeing him again, and that I looked forward to hearing from him. So far, nada. I know, I know - he could still call and middle-east peace is within reach. Whatever. There's something in the gut that tells you these things. Whether you're 15 or 45 the gut never lies.
This wasn’t my first date, just my first one where I want a second one to follow it up with. This is really the horrific part about dating – on-line or otherwise. R.e.j.e.c.t.i.o.n. I can mentally tell myself that ‘it’s not meant to be, his loss; onward & upward' and all that other ‘adult’ I’m-not-gonna-cry-cuz-he-didn’t-call-me horsehit; but that’s always easier said then done. I thought we had a lot in common, related well to each other, and yet there were enough differences to keep it both interesting and rewarding. Looks department, he’s not my type; but I am old enough to see beyond that (to a degree, I’ll admit – because I’m human and I’d be lying otherwise) and what I’m attracted to makes his physical appearance less important. He’s got a "pretty brain" -beautiful even. I’d rather have a man I can talk to for 4 hours and not be bored then a ‘George Clooney’ with a frontal lobotomy.
This wasn’t my first date, just my first one where I want a second one to follow it up with. This is really the horrific part about dating – on-line or otherwise. R.e.j.e.c.t.i.o.n. I can mentally tell myself that ‘it’s not meant to be, his loss; onward & upward' and all that other ‘adult’ I’m-not-gonna-cry-cuz-he-didn’t-call-me horsehit; but that’s always easier said then done. I thought we had a lot in common, related well to each other, and yet there were enough differences to keep it both interesting and rewarding. Looks department, he’s not my type; but I am old enough to see beyond that (to a degree, I’ll admit – because I’m human and I’d be lying otherwise) and what I’m attracted to makes his physical appearance less important. He’s got a "pretty brain" -beautiful even. I’d rather have a man I can talk to for 4 hours and not be bored then a ‘George Clooney’ with a frontal lobotomy.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
So, You’re a Model in Los Angeles…….?
I’m a resident of Virginia, we’re talkin’ 3,000 miles to Graceland, here, dude. Are you going to fly out here and sweep me off my feet with your ‘los angeles model’ good looks?
You type in broken english, you have no picture posted and claim to not know why Yeehaa Personals hasn’t posted your picture, but if I IM you, you’ll be sure and send me one. What part of ‘I’m a Model in Los Angeles’ am I not getting? A model without a picture posted? Hmmmm……
Ohhhhhhh, I get it now, you mean you’re in the p0rn business! Oh, my bad…it took me a minute……..
Oh, yeah, almost forgot. You called me ’Sweetie’ right out of the chute. Who, outside of a 5 yo child would respond to “Sweetie???”
*gag*
I guess now I understand you reaching out across the country.
You type in broken english, you have no picture posted and claim to not know why Yeehaa Personals hasn’t posted your picture, but if I IM you, you’ll be sure and send me one. What part of ‘I’m a Model in Los Angeles’ am I not getting? A model without a picture posted? Hmmmm……
Ohhhhhhh, I get it now, you mean you’re in the p0rn business! Oh, my bad…it took me a minute……..
Oh, yeah, almost forgot. You called me ’Sweetie’ right out of the chute. Who, outside of a 5 yo child would respond to “Sweetie???”
*gag*
I guess now I understand you reaching out across the country.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Optimism breeds dates!!
Update.
Just heard from Mr. Gorgeous. I had asked him out (didn't want to post earlier, my stars being busted and all...didn't want to jinx a jinx.) and he said....
YES!!
Woohoo! We're having dinner Friday and I got his number, I got his number.
Yea me!
Just heard from Mr. Gorgeous. I had asked him out (didn't want to post earlier, my stars being busted and all...didn't want to jinx a jinx.) and he said....
YES!!
Woohoo! We're having dinner Friday and I got his number, I got his number.
Yea me!
dating hell
Internet Dating Hell - part deux (or Dude, Fish or Cut Bait....much?)
Wow. I just reread my first post. I have so matured since then; what a novice I sound like. Shocking, really. I do still cuss like a sailor, though.
I have to start by saying I already typed this once, then did a preview on blogger, read it, realized I needed to further edit, so I hit the “back” toggle and promptly lost my entire entry. I almost cried, probably should have just gone ahead and bawled for the lost entry and the experience of having lived it.
*sigh*
Since we last got together….
From Snatch.com, I’ve kicked one eligible bastardor to the curb after 8 weeks of emails, text messages, and 2 brief (as in seconds, not minutes) phone calls. Seems he had issues with SHITTING OR GETTING OFF THE POT!! Then I spent a week emailing a sweet and charming fellow that was on vacation in the Midwest all last week. This one seemed very promising; but upon his return he played clueless as to what the next ‘step/level’ included (a date asshole, that’s what the next step/level includes) and then proceeded to tell me (like he’d already told me) that he had ‘that pesky wedding’ to attend this coming weekend; thus, he wouldn’t be about to plan a date for. How about another week of email and phone chatter?? When I suggested a midweek date after work, he apparently entered into the witness protection program, because I haven’t heard from him since (and he had even given me his phone number). Another one that CAN’T CLOSE A DEAL!!
Oh, but I’ve barely begun!
Meanwhile, over on eharmonywannabe.com, after crashing through 78 layers of compatibility firewalls, I finally get to an email forum on the site in which to communicate spontaneously with my ‘match.’ It is at this point that I am informed by PBF #3 (the ‘P’ is for potential) that he is off on vacation for the next week, followed by a brief visit to see a friend who is recovering from surgery. Oh, and internet access will be intermittent. But it was great hearing from you, really.
Not to be outdone, Yeehaa Personals.com has sent me a delightful candidate for consideration. He is a 23 yo mechanic we shall call ScaryMech. ScaryMech, apparently wants to dip his stick….in me. Usually, I’d be flattered, young stud and all; but there’s something distinctly, how shall I say, CREEPY about his message:
Datergirl, You're gorgeous, very sexy.
My name is ScaryMech, I'd love to chat,
i think you are very attractive and your desires are my bidding.
I wish you the best and hope to talk soon.
yahoo messenger: ScaryMechlove
your smile!~ SEXY
can i interest you in a date?
MILF
Bidding? I’ll bet he has a ‘safe’ word all picked out and everything.
Just about the time I think I’m going all-in with the towel, Mr. Gorgeous emails me. This guy is all that and a bag of chips (slightly height challenged, but I gotta start compromising my standards somewhere, right?). But, guess what? Yep, he’s on travel all friggin’ week!!! Can you believe this shit??? Is somebody in town for the start of this relationship? Oh, yeah, that would be ME! I’m here, I’m ready, I’m game. WTF..... seriously, simply put, what the fuck??? I am not a zodiacologist, but even I checked out my horoscope after this latest, cuz my stars are seriously busted!! It’s raining men in every town but Datergirl-town (unless you count the creepy mechanic, which I’m not)!!
To say I’m optimistic about Mr. Gorgeous would be overstating it a bit. Let’s just say that – believe it or not – I’m optimistic about being optimistic about Mr. Gorgeous.
See why I should’ve just cried?
Wow. I just reread my first post. I have so matured since then; what a novice I sound like. Shocking, really. I do still cuss like a sailor, though.
I have to start by saying I already typed this once, then did a preview on blogger, read it, realized I needed to further edit, so I hit the “back” toggle and promptly lost my entire entry. I almost cried, probably should have just gone ahead and bawled for the lost entry and the experience of having lived it.
*sigh*
Since we last got together….
From Snatch.com, I’ve kicked one eligible bastardor to the curb after 8 weeks of emails, text messages, and 2 brief (as in seconds, not minutes) phone calls. Seems he had issues with SHITTING OR GETTING OFF THE POT!! Then I spent a week emailing a sweet and charming fellow that was on vacation in the Midwest all last week. This one seemed very promising; but upon his return he played clueless as to what the next ‘step/level’ included (a date asshole, that’s what the next step/level includes) and then proceeded to tell me (like he’d already told me) that he had ‘that pesky wedding’ to attend this coming weekend; thus, he wouldn’t be about to plan a date for. How about another week of email and phone chatter?? When I suggested a midweek date after work, he apparently entered into the witness protection program, because I haven’t heard from him since (and he had even given me his phone number). Another one that CAN’T CLOSE A DEAL!!
Oh, but I’ve barely begun!
Meanwhile, over on eharmonywannabe.com, after crashing through 78 layers of compatibility firewalls, I finally get to an email forum on the site in which to communicate spontaneously with my ‘match.’ It is at this point that I am informed by PBF #3 (the ‘P’ is for potential) that he is off on vacation for the next week, followed by a brief visit to see a friend who is recovering from surgery. Oh, and internet access will be intermittent. But it was great hearing from you, really.
Not to be outdone, Yeehaa Personals.com has sent me a delightful candidate for consideration. He is a 23 yo mechanic we shall call ScaryMech. ScaryMech, apparently wants to dip his stick….in me. Usually, I’d be flattered, young stud and all; but there’s something distinctly, how shall I say, CREEPY about his message:
Datergirl, You're gorgeous, very sexy.
My name is ScaryMech, I'd love to chat,
i think you are very attractive and your desires are my bidding.
I wish you the best and hope to talk soon.
yahoo messenger: ScaryMechlove
your smile!~ SEXY
can i interest you in a date?
MILF
Bidding? I’ll bet he has a ‘safe’ word all picked out and everything.
Just about the time I think I’m going all-in with the towel, Mr. Gorgeous emails me. This guy is all that and a bag of chips (slightly height challenged, but I gotta start compromising my standards somewhere, right?). But, guess what? Yep, he’s on travel all friggin’ week!!! Can you believe this shit??? Is somebody in town for the start of this relationship? Oh, yeah, that would be ME! I’m here, I’m ready, I’m game. WTF..... seriously, simply put, what the fuck??? I am not a zodiacologist, but even I checked out my horoscope after this latest, cuz my stars are seriously busted!! It’s raining men in every town but Datergirl-town (unless you count the creepy mechanic, which I’m not)!!
To say I’m optimistic about Mr. Gorgeous would be overstating it a bit. Let’s just say that – believe it or not – I’m optimistic about being optimistic about Mr. Gorgeous.
See why I should’ve just cried?
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Neanderthal
June 7 2007
“I want to see some beach pics. I want to see you in a bathing suit. I bet you look really good. Show me your whole body. Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssssssssssseeeeeeeee?”
???? Not just Hell No, but Fuck No. While we’re at it: What? Are you 12 years old with the hyper-extended ‘please?’ We’ve been exchanging emails for 2 days, you’ve seen 6 different, recent pictures of me in clothes, one of which does, indeed, even show cleavage. I look like what my picture looks like. Why in hell would I send you a ‘Maxim’ shot?? If I’ve interpreted your reaction to me correctly, you’re very attracted to what I look like already, why can’t you just trust what your eyes are telling you?? I don’t even have pictures of myself in a bathing suit, but if I did I wouldn’t put them out on the internet for public consumption or email them to someone who is still a virtual stranger!! Are you seriously trolling at 45 years of age???
You are a complete and total ass-hat.
I understand that this is also about the ‘whole body shot.’ But I’ve got a ‘whole body shot’ already posted. I’m just sitting instead of standing but that should be even more telling because you can’t really hide any horrendous body flaws by folding your body into thirds and setting it on a staircase, now can you?
But I respond to you anyway and tell you that this is never going to happen (the bathing suit shot) followed by stating that I think things are going so well, and I ask you to not push it too far and you respond, by not responding. Class act. It seemed that we have quite a bit in common on paper. It would appear we’re in search of the same thing. We like each other’s humor, seem to be able to correspond and communicate well, and up till now appear to like the way the other looks, and then this. Wow.
Make sure you add ‘shallow’ and check ‘Neanderthal' in the ethnic colum of your personality profile. Good luck with that.
I know that this happened so I wouldn't get all the way to an actual date with this guy. I know in my own logical way that I deserve better than this ass-hat; but a rejection is still a rejection and is tough to swallow, so I thought it would help to write about it.
This blog is a catharsis that enables me to keep things in perspective and survive 'insecurity hell' as I put myself through the paces of trying to find that connection. I have recently returned to the singles scene and I'm not a 20-something, hard-bodied Betty; I'm a 40-something, semi-soft-hard-bodied Betty. It's a topsy-turvy world to try to navigate, as well as a mighty frustrating one as I try to interpret ambiguous emails and hot/cold behavior. But I'm a believer in relationships, so I will fight the good fight and march on; and leave the cold dead bodies of sacrafice here.
“I want to see some beach pics. I want to see you in a bathing suit. I bet you look really good. Show me your whole body. Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssssssssssseeeeeeeee?”
???? Not just Hell No, but Fuck No. While we’re at it: What? Are you 12 years old with the hyper-extended ‘please?’ We’ve been exchanging emails for 2 days, you’ve seen 6 different, recent pictures of me in clothes, one of which does, indeed, even show cleavage. I look like what my picture looks like. Why in hell would I send you a ‘Maxim’ shot?? If I’ve interpreted your reaction to me correctly, you’re very attracted to what I look like already, why can’t you just trust what your eyes are telling you?? I don’t even have pictures of myself in a bathing suit, but if I did I wouldn’t put them out on the internet for public consumption or email them to someone who is still a virtual stranger!! Are you seriously trolling at 45 years of age???
You are a complete and total ass-hat.
I understand that this is also about the ‘whole body shot.’ But I’ve got a ‘whole body shot’ already posted. I’m just sitting instead of standing but that should be even more telling because you can’t really hide any horrendous body flaws by folding your body into thirds and setting it on a staircase, now can you?
But I respond to you anyway and tell you that this is never going to happen (the bathing suit shot) followed by stating that I think things are going so well, and I ask you to not push it too far and you respond, by not responding. Class act. It seemed that we have quite a bit in common on paper. It would appear we’re in search of the same thing. We like each other’s humor, seem to be able to correspond and communicate well, and up till now appear to like the way the other looks, and then this. Wow.
Make sure you add ‘shallow’ and check ‘Neanderthal' in the ethnic colum of your personality profile. Good luck with that.
I know that this happened so I wouldn't get all the way to an actual date with this guy. I know in my own logical way that I deserve better than this ass-hat; but a rejection is still a rejection and is tough to swallow, so I thought it would help to write about it.
This blog is a catharsis that enables me to keep things in perspective and survive 'insecurity hell' as I put myself through the paces of trying to find that connection. I have recently returned to the singles scene and I'm not a 20-something, hard-bodied Betty; I'm a 40-something, semi-soft-hard-bodied Betty. It's a topsy-turvy world to try to navigate, as well as a mighty frustrating one as I try to interpret ambiguous emails and hot/cold behavior. But I'm a believer in relationships, so I will fight the good fight and march on; and leave the cold dead bodies of sacrafice here.
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