The boomerang rang rang rang et al

I haven’t posted in awhile. Not for lack of subject matter, mind you. Just that when you work 12-15 hours a day  6 to 7 days a week it’s a tad difficult to muster the energy. I’m lucky if I can read two paragraphs of a book at night before crashing. Ugh.

But this evening I find myself with a bit of time and thought why not bestow upon my eagerly wanting public some of my beatific words of wisdom. Hey. It’s the least I can do.

But what to write? What to write?

I suppose I could write about The Boomerang. She’s the woman I met on eHarmony who, after adamantly insisting that we were not a good match kept getting back in touch with me. I believe I dubbed her Lydia. In any case, I’d thought she was gone for good. And then on day while slacking on the couch and randomly texting every poor schmuck who was naive enough to make me privy to their phone number, I get a text:

“Hi. How have you been?” It read.

“I’m fine,” I responded. “Who this?”

It was Lydia and apparently she’d had a dream about me so of course had to get in touch. At this point the wise thing to do would have been to simply tell her to buzz off, but as is probably apparently, I’m not always the wisest of men. Reference: my marriage to a narcissistic, self-serving sociopath — even great sex (which it so was not, I’ve since come to realize) is an excuse for a knucklehead move like that. But I digress or regress or something like that.

We began chatting again, for a time. But after making the mistake — YET AGAIN — of expressing what a pain in the ass my ex -wife can be, The Boomerang, pointed out to me that my ex-wife was kind of a difficult person. “You think?” I said. The problem, The Boomerang pointed out, was that my pain in the ass ex-wife would become, in part, her problem. And in the end, she just didn’t want that hassle. To which I replied, “Cool beans. Bye. And do not contact me again.”

“I will,” she texted. “You do the same.”

I refrained from sending the “Fuck off!” text, which I think I will always regret. But what are you gonna do, right? Live and learn.

And what precisely have I lived to learn? Well, that in some ways, having an ex-wife is worse than having a wife. Strangely enough, when I was married, I had had way more opportunities with other woman than I seem to be having now. Apparently, there is a breed of woman who are more than willing to have an affair with a married man (my ex-wife for example), but if you have an ex-wife it somehow changes things. You can’t talk too badly about the ex or that bothers them. In their mind, it means you’re not over them. And you can’t speak too warmly about your ex either, because again this means you’re not over her. And then there are the woman who just can’t seem to tolerate an ex-wife existence at all.

It’s like a curse really. And I can’t help wondering if this is instinctually what keeps (some) men from wanting to get married in the first place. Because despite a wife being an ex-wife, she’s still a wife of some sort and that is like an dating albatross around a guy’s neck that can never be lifted.

Well…that was far more bellyaching that I’d planned on, but what the hey. It’s a blog, right. A place to let the proverbial shit fly. And I am a rhetorical monkey eager to fling his prose poo! Bazinga!

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The woman in the discount section of the B&B

I had an interesting experience this weekend at the Barnes and Noble bookstore, and it wasn’t the date I had via eHarmony. That was a dud. The woman wasn’t. She was nice and smart and funny and accomplished but we didn’t click, not even a little. I hate when that happens but more often than not it does.

No. That was Saturday. I’m talking about today, Sunday, in a different Barnes and Noble bookstore (sigh — I miss Borders…anyhoo….), the one closer to my house. I went there because, while waiting for my date at the other B&, I started reading this book entitled Ready Player One, by Ernest Cline, which is very cool but that is not what this post is about. It is only the catalyst. Because I don’t  usually buy books anymore: I get them from the library, but I didn’t want to wait. That’s why I was at the bookstore today.

And while I was there I saw this woman and for some reason I was instantly intrigued by her, drawn to her. She had long, straight, blonde hair, but not like bimbo bleach blonde, like natural blonde, you know. And she was waring a flowery sundress, at least I think it was flowery. She wore sandals. And had glasses, that were very interesting, kind of retro 50s but still contemporary, you know. She had a tattoo on her right shoulder I’m pretty sure; it looked like something with wings. I didn’t want to stare too intently for fear that she would be creeped out by me. Also, she had this sort of old/vintage -looking white purse, like something my mom would have carried in the 70s. I dunno. It was cool. She was cool. And she had on this fragrance — it was intoxicating. Trust me, I know how cornball that sounds but it is true.

She stuck strictly to the discount books. I found myself watching her but at first didn’t think much of it. She was pretty, so I noticed her. I was there to get my book, which I did. I even scoped some other books. But I kept checking for her. She was still over there in the discount section so I returned. I purposely passed her again, and put myself in a position to walk by her, hoping to catch her attention, but she was so focused on perusing the books. Maybe the fact that she didn’t seem to notice me is what hooked me. I don’t know.

All I know is that I wanted very badly to talk to her. And I did, once. I said, “Excuse me” as I passed by her. She returned the comment. I looked for a sign that I could maybe talk to her but saw nothing. I did not want to creep her out. Or get maced or kicked in the balls or anything. I mean, honestly, do strangers just walk up to each other in public places anymore and introduce themselves? It does not seem possible.

Eventually, I got the feeling that she sensed I was watching her, even following her, and that was why she did not explore anymore of the store other than the discount section. She paid for her books and I walked over by the Nook display because I knew she’d have to pass me on her way out. I thought maybe….

But instead she asked for the restroom and went to the back of the store. So of course I took up a position where she would see me when she came out of the bathroom but not so close as to seem as if I was stalking her. I stood by the Lego’s of the the White House and Space Needle etc. She did not seem to notice me.

I watched her go. I though to follow her out, but couldn’t do it. Too late did I go to the window of the store to check the parking lot to see her drive off. And just like that she was gone. I thought, oh well, like anything was going to happen, right.

But here’s the thing. I can’t stop thinking about her. And I don’t know why. I can’t remember the last time something like that happened to me. Maybe it’s a sign of how desperate I’ve become. I don’t know. But I can’t help thinking, Could I find her? Would it be possible? Could I utilize facebook somehow, and perhaps other social media, to find her, to find someone I don’t know and have never met, someone I only know a few scant details about? Is it even worth. Is it advised? Would she think I’m crazy or even dangerous? Yikes!

What do you think? Please advise, opine, and debate. Thanks.

Up with People on her way to Toledo

Though  it’s been awhile since I last posted it’s not for lack of material. I’ve simply been too busy. With work. And a Memorial Day weekend vacation. And if you think being married and raising a kid takes up time try being divorced and doing it — seems to be even more time-consuming, not to mention stressful. Anyhoo…

The night before I headed down to West Virginia for Memorial Day weekend to visit relatives, I spoke with a woman that I met on eHarmony…or was it OkCupid. I can’t recall now. I do remember that she contacted me and things progressed rather quickly, communication-wise. Long story short — next thing I knew I was talking on the phone with this chick, Vivian we’ll call her (although why I’m bothering with an alias I have not a fucking clue; zero chance we’ll talk again much less anything developing, and I don’t know her last name, but still….), while she was packing up to head to Toledo for the weekend, a bit of coincidence since I was heading in that direction, though ultimately father south.

It wasn’t my idea. She texted me, saying something akin to “Wanna call and keep me company on my drive to Toledo?” How could I resist, right? Why I didn’t it still a mystery to me. I’d been working long days and had planned to wake up early for my 7-8 hour drive to Wild Wonderful West Virginia. But I did….

And almost immediately I knew it was a mistake. I knew this woman I and did not click, were not going to click, were simply not click-able. Why? Well, I’m sure the reasons are varied and complex, but to simplify things — she was just freakin’ annoying.

Now, don’t get wrong. I can appreciate someone with a positive attitude about life, especially in face of adversity. It’s impressive….to a point. And then it just becomes and obvious facade, an act, and you got to wonder who it’s for exactly. Them or the rest of the world. Who knows? Who cares?

But hey, people should be allowed to adopt whatever phony persona they like, right.

What was more annoying than that was the patronizing pity because. To wit: “I’m sorry you’re unhappy.”

To which I retorted: “I’m not unhappy.”

Confused silence. Followed by: “Um…okay…if you say so.”

“I did.”

“Did what?”

“Say so.”

More silence.Then Vivian transitioned into the positive lessons she’d learned from her failed marriage and ugly divorce. She didn’t say what she learned exactly. And being curious/skeptical by nature, I asked. “What did you learn?”

Her response was an awkward mash-up of cliches and platitudes and half-vague sentiments that amounted to little in my opinion. But who knows what passes for wisdom for some people. She then asked me what I’d learned.

After considering for a moment, I said, “Well, I learned that people are essentially selfish and self-serving. And they will do most anything to get what they want/need. Others be damned.”

Again I got the patronizing pity. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Well, because….that sucks.”

How astute, I thought, but did not say so.

From there she proved my assertion that people are selfish even after disagreeing with it by dominating the conversation, barely allowing me to get a word in edgewise. She yammered on about:

  • The books she was going to write, entitled something like The Horror and the Humor, about her marriage and divorce and ex blah blah blah. I wanted to tell her that it sounded terrifyingly bad, but I was in a charitable mood, as much as I am capable of such a thing.
  • How her step-sons loved her and loathed their mother. Apparently, they pleaded with her to move back to Michigan to be near them blah blah blah. I didn’t have the heart to refute this delusion, even if I had she wouldn’t shut up long enough to allow it. Despite what any step-kids says to their step-parent they will never stop pining for their shitty parents’ love and acceptance. Trust me. I’ve seen this twisted pathology play itself out first hand.
  • Her job — I forget what she did.
  • Her family — drawing a blank on the details here a well.

Truth is after awhile it just became noise, and I tuned it out. I was tired and just wanted to get to bed so I could get up and get in my car and drive to West Virginia in the morning.

Driving long distances is therapeutic. For me anyway.

Should I be annoyed….

…by this response on eHarmony from a woman I contacted?

Hi Chris, wanted to send you a note as I find your profile very humorous and appealing. But I am pursuing a relationship and have shut down matches.
If my situation changes I will seek you out. Chances are you will be snapped up.
Best of luck to you,

I mean, yeah, sure, it’s complimentary, but really why respond at all? That’s what most people do. That’s what I do.

Would you rather get no response or response such as this?

Perhaps I’ve become too sensitive, or even grown paranoid? I don’t know. All I know is that this irked me. Makes me wonder why she felt the need to respond as such. I guess it felt a bit patronizing, as if I needed her assurances or something. As if….pffft.

Anyhoo….

Let’s just be friends

Yeah. I actually got that speech yesterday. I wasn’t even aware that people still tried to parlay that garbage but apparently they do.

It wasn’t even a speech. It was a text. But then….

Well, let me back up a bit and give some context.

I met this woman online. Let’s call her Gigi. I met her on eHarmony. During the three-day window that she was actually on the site. She’d signed up but decided within three days to cancel her account thus allowing her to get a refund in full, unlike myself who signed up for a full year some months back and am on the hook for that entire amount….but that’s not my gripe today, so let’s just take that little tirade and put it in a pocket for later, shall we.

Suffice to say Gigi and I met and we seemed to hit it off, via email and chat and text anyway. Of course as we all know the real test is the face-to-face meet, which we did and which went quite well I think. It’s a good sign when you end up making out for an  hour in the backseat of her car in the parking lot later, right? Well, I took it as a good sign. Gigi is a great kisser, and perhaps that, along with what seemed like an incredibly strong connection, was the problem.

We moved too fast. I won’t go into the gory details, as much as I’d like to, since Gigi has stated that she is an incredibly private person; I’d probably catch hell for divulging this much online, but meh. It’s my life. In any case, it caused complications and things got downshifted pretty quickly. As a result we moved into this place where we were texting and sometimes talking on the phone but the situation was tortured. Suddenly both of us were unsure, had doubts. It seemed like it could be really good but there were thing…things…things….suddenly there, popping up like Tribbles in that Start Trek episode. Boink! Bonk! Plop!

Finally, we decided we needed to take a break to reflect, a week we decided. Well, Gigi did not even need a week. And Oingo Boingo yesterday I got the text message. And of course, she hoped their would be no ill feelings. Well,  hope in one hand shit in the other, see which one fills up first. Of course, there are going to be ill feelings. I feel bad. I feel sad and disappointed. But I’ll get over it. Trust me.

Mostly though, now, I feel annoyed. At the the whole “I think we are better off as friends.” Not “I’d like to be friends if you’d like that” Or “I hope we can still be friends.” No, I think it is significant that Gigi stated it as an assumption and not a request because to be honest I think this is what she’d been angling for for some time. Even though I told Gigi that I had not desire to be relegated to the Friend Zone. I don’t know how other people feel about this but I find residency in the Friend Zone to be humiliating and degrading. I’ve been there before and I have no desire to go back. Ever. Perhaps you’ll say this is just my wounded pride talking, my ego. Maybe so, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Frankly, I am of the opinion that people say let’s just be friends as a way to assuage their guilt or to cushion the blow of the bad feelings they feel when they break up with someone, because it is rarely the person being dumped who says this sort of thing. Or if they do it’s really just an attempt to hang out in some way, which is whole other kind of pathetic. And the problem is that it can create an unhealthy dynamic in which one person is always pining for the other. Trust me, I’ve seen this sort of thing first hand, watching my Ex do this to a male friend for years only to be supposedly totally surprised when the poor sot professed his undying love to her upon my exit from the marriage. Of course, she was the only one surprised — I saw it, her family saw it, friends saw it. Apparently everyone saw it. It must be nice to live in this kind of oblivion, thus allowing one to take advantage of all the perks that come with having someone smitten with you while all the while feeling no obligation to their feelings or well-being.

Anyhoo… my point is that I think that their is a segment of the population out their that seem to require such attention. Not only do they desire and like it, their egos seem to need it, even demand it. And frankly I have to say that I think this is a particular syndrome of very attractive women who are used to a lot of attention from men. They’ve had it their whole lives and they get to the point where they have to have it. And thus they manipulate circumstances, whether consciously or unconsciously, and use people to get what they want. They don’t see it or just won’t admit it, but it is what they are doing.

Bottom line: people are selfish and go about getting what they want by almost any means required. I’m not saying I’m better, I’m not saying I’m different. I’m not better, I’m not different. I’m not even saying it makes people bad for being this way. People are people — they do good things and bad things. What I am saying is that one need not put themselves in a position to be used for someone else’s purposes, which is all a long-winded way of saying, Bye Bye Gigi. Best of luck to you. I’m outie.

Did I mention I had a date last night. Didn’t go so well, but I have another possible date tonight. Bazinga!

In which I cast into the past and snag a barracuda

So last weekend and early this week was a whirlwind of online dating drama, but things have since mellowed, which is cool only it doesn’t provide much in the way of fodder for this here blog.

To remedy that allow me to turn back the clock, to when I first started online dating, signing up pretty much on a whim and plopping down a whole year’s subscription on eHarmony — why not just a six months, or only three even, just to test the waters? Why? Ah, well. Matters not now. Nothing to be done about it.

This particular cast into the past lands us firmly at the end of October, just before Halloween, the most Generation X of all the holidays in my humble but masterfully astute opinion — do not question my author-a-tie! In fact, it was exactly the 30th of the month, when I was first matched with the first woman I would ever date via any online service — I was on yahoo singles (or whatever it is) briefly during my separation but had no luck with it, unlike my ex but that’s a whole other gripe. Anyhoo… back to my online first, the woman who popped my online dating cherry. Let’s call her, oh, say ….Lydia.

Lydia was anything but a tatooed lady — trust me I had ample access and time to investigate — but she was very cool all the same. Or so I thought. What snagged me was how much we had in common in terms of movies and a penchant for reading and TV. Also, she was quite witty, at least at first. Plenty of witty banter  via eHarmony email, which Lydia suggested we abandoned for regular email since being eHarmony wasn’t very, in her words, “work friendly,” by which I now understand her to mean that she was at least slightly embarrassed to be utilizing. I wonder, is she still? Meh. Hardly matters now, does it.

What followed was a barrage of emails, at first, and then chatting via gmail chat. The more we communicated the more we seemed to click. Finally, Lydia suggested we meet. I was all for that. I suggested either Royal Oak or Ferndale as there is much to do  in both places. She put the kibosh on both. “No Royal Oak. No Ferndale,” she insisted. Fine by me although I was more than a bit curious as to why. What was wrong with these places? I supposed I would find out in time. Instead, we met at a bar in Troy, little neighborhood place. We had  drink and talked, and were comfortable enough to order some food. We talked some more. And it seemed to me that the more we talked the more we seemed to click. I was excited to hit it off with someone so quickly. I had been more than tad skeptical of the whole process, and not willing to get my hopes up. But I was wrong. This chick was cool.

And then… Well, apparently for our second date I was not nearly Johnny-on-the-spot enough for her likingI was chastized via chat for not asking her out in the right way, in the right time. Would we have ever gone out had she not suggested it? Fuck if I knew. I was instructed that I needed to ask her out early in the week so that she could properly plan her week and weekends. And fuck me if I didn’t agree. Anyone I told this too insisted it was a red flag. And I did not deny it but for some reason I ignored the warnings.

So we went out on a few more dates through November, leading up to her birthday, for which I decided to get her something. Nothing serious, something fun. I got her days of the week underpants because we both liked the movie “When Harry Met Sally”. I did not expect her to ever even wear them. Also, I got her Reese’s Peanutbutter Cups because chocolate and peanutbutter are her favorite. And a little convertible Hot Wheels car because we’d had a joke — she’d asked me what I was getting her for her bday, and I said, nothing big, just a car. She requested a convertible. There was also a card and a collection of short stories that I hoped she might like, “Bad Behavior”, by Mary Gaitskill. She seemed to like the gifts all around.

Things progressed into December and we actually spent part of Christmas Day together. I introduced her to my brother and his partner. They seemed to like her. My birthday came up and she got me two seasons of SCRUBS on DVD. And we made plans to spend New Year’s Eve together, which we did. I made her dinner, homemade pasta and meatballs, a salad, some wine, a dessert. By New Year’s Day she was done with me. It was clear. She just wouldn’t or couldn’t say it. And for some reason I hung around. Still not sure why.

There were plenty of other red flags and drama and gipes I’d love to expound upon. But I’ll get into those next time. I’m tired.

What we (guys) are really thinking ladies

But first let me explain and apologize for not posting last night after work. I know how disappointing that must be for you all. Sorry for being a tease. But it really couldn’t be helped. For, as you see, I had a date, one that I acquired via a dating site that I was only recently turned onto and which blows eHarmony away. It is called OkCupid, and it is free; of course you can upgrade but it seems unnecessary, at least at this point. As it gains popularity I’m sure that shall change. But I’m not going to get into the many fine qualities of OkCupid right now. (That I’ll save for a later date. If you’re interested, and I highly recommend it, check it out here. It’s very cool and very hip and, for me anyway, very successful, much more so than eHarmony has been. ) Nor am I going to get into the details of  my date last night, since it has the potential to be a continuing relationship and I think it would be rude. As a rule, I plan to only blog about past relationship, ones that have ended….more or less (like how I gave myself some wiggle room there — more or less…what does that even mean?)

Anyhoo… onto the true subject of this post.

As any guy will attest one of the few certainties that there are with women (and I’m talking pretty much universally) is that sooner or later they will ask you this question: What are you thinking?

Men, also pretty much universally, react to this question, for some reason, with dread. A friend from high school likes to spout the wisdom of a certain comedian whose name escapes me right now (a little help please) and Al Bundy and no doubt a plethora of other men, men of both renown and obscurity, in response to this question, and that is this: “If I wanted you to know what I was thinking, I’d be talking.” A reply that no woman on the planet would take will, I’d venture, but that makes it no less accurate.

Still, women want to know and will continue to ask that question so I thought in the spirit of educating others, not to mention at the risk of not only being shunned and booed a the next worldwide all-man meeting but getting my ass kicked, I’ve decided to share some tidbits of male thought, real male thought. Of course, this is just a taste, as the list is far more extensive than those of the female ilk might possibly imagine. It may surprise some of those of the female persuasion that we men think almost as much as we masturbate or watch sports or check out other women’s boobs. Almost…..

So let’s set the scene. We’re out, meeting perhaps for only the first or second or maybe third time, and we’re sitting across from each other at a table in a coffee shop or in a booth at mid-priced restaurant or at a bar. Wherever. Here, in no particular order of importance is what I (I’m using myself as a stand-in for most men) thinking:

  • What do you look like naked? (this one is in order of importance, it’s pretty much the first thing guys think when they see you)
  • What are you like in bed, i.e. sex not sleeping (this one also is in order of importance, it comes quickly [pun totally intended] right after the above thought)
  • Will I get to see you naked tonight? And if not tonight then when?
  • Are  your boobs as big as they appear or is it a bit of bra technology trickery?
  • Why do you still have your coat on? Are you hiding the fact that you have really small boobs?
  • Do you have big pink nipples or small darker ones?
  • Are you aware that I am checking out your boobs? Is this working against me or in my favor?
  • If I were to reach over and grab your boob right now what would happen?
  • Will you notice if I adjust myself because staring at your boobs is giving me a hard on?
  • What will it be like to kiss you? Should I try to kiss you tonight? Or should I wait? Will you be offended if I try to kiss you or offended if I don’t try to kiss you?
  • Are you going to order the most expensive thing on the menu? And if so, are you going to offer to split the check?
  • Do you expect me to walk you to your car afterward? If I do, will you allow me to kiss you? If you do allow me to kiss you, should it be a quick sweet peck or a longer, deeper kiss?
  • Are you wondering what I’m like bed, if I’m good lover, do I have a big enough penis?
  • Does that fact that my hair is thinning a little bother you?
  • Do you think I’m tall enough? Big enough? Strong enough?
  • Are you impressed by my job? Or my car? Or my education?
  • Do you like to perform oral sex? Or do you just do it because you think you have to? (I really don’t care either way as long as you do.) Do you swallow?
  • What kind of underwear are you wearing? (I don’t really care that much if they match your bra or if they are cute and frilly as long as I get to tug them off you later tonight.)
  • Why do we refer to panties in the plural, i.e. “they” , when they are a single entity. One pair of panties. I mean, who wears two at a time. Unless you’re particularly cold or just really trying to mess with a guy’s head.
  • Will you try to  mess with my head?
  • Why do women mess with your head?
  • Do you have a hot friend that I’m going to be unbearably attracted to and sort of wished that I’d met before you?
  • How long will we have to date before I can stop holding in my farts? Can I let out the fart I’m holding in right now and get away with it? Are you holding in a fart right now?
  • Do you like to watch sports? Do you care if I like to watch sports? Would you be willing to watch sports with me while naked?
  • Do you like watch porn? Do you care if I like to watch porn? Would you be willing to watch porn with me while naked?
  • Do you trim your pubic hair, shave it completely, or leave it like a jungle down there. (I’m cool in any case, I’m just hoping I get to check it out for myself.)
  • Do the drapes match the carpet? (Again, not a big deal to me, I’m just hoping I get to compare for myself)
  • If we get more serious are you going to want to take me out shopping and pick out close for me, dressing me like life-size doll, because I’m not really that cool with that, but if it’s something I have to endure to get laid I probably will.
  • Is my penis bigger than your ex’s? All of your exs’s?
  • How many positions are you willing to do during sex? Will you do reverse cowgirl?
  • Are you going to make a big deal out of it if I leave the toilet seat up? Or if I don’t replace the toilet paper, or don’t put the roll on the “right way” (PS technically there is no right way)
  • Do you think I’m smart?
  • Do you think I’m funny or are you  just laughing to be polite?
  • Who are you texting?
  • Do you really have to leave to feed your dog or do you just want to get away from me?
  • Will you think about me on the way home? When you get home? While lying in your bed with the lights out, touching yourself?
  • Do you realize that I’ll be thinking about you later when I’m home alone, and jerking off? Do you care?
  • Will I ever see you again? And if so will I get to see you naked then?