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.

Called it — crazy is as crazy does!

A word to the wise fellas (and ladies too no doubt): at the first whiff of crazy run! Run fast, run hard, and run long. And don’t — I repeat do NOT look back, lest you be sucked back in by the crazy tractor beam. This is my problem, what I do too often. I  look back and think, maybe…. DON’T DO THAT! [swat with a rolled newspaper on the nose]

This of course raises the question, what does crazy smell like anyway?There in lies the rub — crazy comes in a plethora of fragrances. It can have a simple, basic smell, like ivory soap and water. Or it can be more pungent, like Virginia Slims and sour lemon candy. Perhaps even flowery. Or like pot and sandalwood. A musty garage. You just never know. That’s what makes it so tough to identify sometimes. But trust me you’ll know it when you really get a good snoot full, and at that point it may be difficult as hell to pull the eject button. But you gottta. You just gotta.

So what’s all this blathering about anyway? Glad you asked, young squire.

As I blogged previously, Gigi had returned. I anticipated that my post about might possibly prove ill-advised, as it could back fire on me, bite me on the ass, squirt in my eye —  ouch, it burns! But that was in fact NOT the case. What was the case was that it was prophetic. Okay, perhaps that is a bit much. In any case, it is not going  be an issue. For Gigi is gone. For good this time.

Or is she? Only the shadow of my willingness to tolerate crazy knows…….

As was the case in the past, she was set off by something I said/- we were chatting online — and did her eStompoff, saying, well, I can see that this is going to be a point of contention between us. I can’t do this. Have a good day and a good weekend. And then logged off.

Now, did you notice that her response seemed to suggest that after the weekend there may be a chance that she’d be back? Well, that is how I read it, and I just decided, Nawp, not going to happen. Not this time.

So I texted her. And without spreading out the gory details I essentially said we were done. I no longer wished to continue doing whatever it was that we were doing. She of course did not cotton to that. She stomped her little feet and told me NOT to talk to her like a child. To which I replied, I would be glad to if she would stop acting like a child. There was more back and forth. And then she called me to whine that she was at work and for me to stop. I admittedly childishly said, why don’t you stop responding? But clearly she was a last-word girl. Before she could, I said, Never contact me again and disconnected. Ha! Take that missy. Clearly you have no idea who you are dealing with. I can out-immature the best of them. So nanny nanny boo boo!

My point is: the bitch be tripping. And I ain’t having it.

Actually my real point is that this behavior was not new, and was in fact predictable. Why I stuck around to suffer it is, while not beyond me, clearly not a wise choice. Ah, sweet hindsight. 

And this is where the beauty of internet dating comes in. Within an hour I was already chatting with another woman, who contacted me via OkCupid. How long do you suppose before I’m blogging about this one?

So begins the countdown, to see if Gigi actually tries to contact me again with “I’m sorry how we left things….” blah blah blah.

Day 1

The revolving door of dating

Out with the old and in with the new as it were, eh.

In this case Gigi — remember her; she gave me the “let’s be friends” spiel — would be the old, and NOT TO BE NAMED EVEN WITH AN ALIAS  is the new.

I had a date with new girl yesterday evening, whom I met on OkCupid…..

Random ADHA aside: I noticed today that the color combo that OkCupid uses for it’s logo:

Is pretty much identical to the colors of the pink urinal cake and the blue rubber urinal mat  in the bathroom at the coney where my daughter and I had dinner tonight.

Anyhoo….I was saying…oh, yes.

I had a date yesterday after work, but earlier in the day who should text me? That’s right, Gigi. The woman who said she would respect my wish to not be confined to her Friend Zone and not contact me, allowing me to do that should I wish to.

She texted that she missed talking to me, for what that is worth. And, that she felt that she and I got each other. My only response to her was to say that I could not talk just then because I was busy at work. I was not ignoring her and would not leave her hanging. She accepted that, I guess. She got what she wanted — a response from me.

I was busy, but also I did not want to talk to her because I was too excited about my date with the new woman who shall not be named not even with an alias. I didn’t want that cool vibe tainted by Gigi’s bring down moods.

So I went on my date and it was pretty cool. That’s all I’ll say.

Later, at home, I texted Gigi, told  her I was sorry I could not chat earlier. She texted, “No worries.” But the thing was, I had worries. And I wanted some answers. So I decided to ask for them.

“So you want to talk about what you texted me earlier today or did you just want to tell me how you felt?”

She just thought I should know how she felt. But I wanted to know what she wanted, what she expected from me, from us. She said she could not answer that right now. I replied that I wasn’t buying that, that she must want something otherwise she would not have texted what she did. It felt manipulative to me, and I told her so. She did not like that. She accused me of bombarding her with questions, demanding answers. I said, you’re damn right I am demanding answers. She didn’t like that either.

I didn’t care if she didn’t like it. I’d grown tired of  her BS. Because it seemed to me that what she wanted was an emotional vibrator, some guy to be her supportive crutch to help her through whatever she was going through from her last failed relationship until she was ready to finally have a new one, which would no doubt be with some other guy, at which point I would be cast aside.

She tried to cop out with: It’s been a long, busy day, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow. I pushed back even more so, saying she was stalling.

Finally, she said she was ending the conversation. I said, fine. In fact, let’s do it one better and end everything, permanently.

She said, okay. She would delete my contact information.

I said, you might as well. I already deleted yours, which I did not only on my phone but from my gmail account. etc.

Even at the end she was saying, Goodbye and I wish you well. I was tempted to tell her to fuck off and even more vile things, but I didn’t. I just deleted it all.

I thought she might still try to contact me again today, but she didn’t. So we’re done, and I am fucking relieved.

NEXT!

You tell me….

Previously I had stated that I would not blog about any relationship that was currently open, on-going, had potential to go somewhere, I would only blog about those that were closed, dead, finito. I was working up to some that hit the skids some time back, but I’ve got a more recent occurrence I’d like to blather about, if you don’t mind.

So shall we….

In a recent post I explained that a big turn on for me is a sense of humor. I love it. This means not only being able to engage in witty banter but also being able to get/take a joke, most of the time. I know that jokes don’t always go over well, if at all. It’s the nature of the beast. And sometimes they can even hurt and offend. But when that happens one should be at least willing to hear an explanation and/or an apology.

Where am I going with this?

I’m glad you asked.

Last night I had a date with this woman I’d met via OkCupid. Let’s call her ….Rita, okay. Rita and I had already met briefly a week prior and decided that we liked each other enough to try for an actual date. During the past week we had exchanged text messages from time to time, many of which were flirty and jokey in manner, although eventually she told me that she hated texting. Fine. No biggie. Although part of me thought — here come the rules. Still, she said it was fine to text her anytime she just wasn’ that into it, so naturally I not only backed off I told her I’d be glad to call and talk sometime if she preferred, just let me know when would be the best time. She never got back to me on that. In any case, I was looking forward to meeting her again. She was (probably still is too) smart and clever, funny, accomplished, and quite attractive — I’ve never seen eyes that blue before ,I’m telling you.

So Saturday comes and I’ve got some things to attend to during the day. Well, while I’m out I get a text saying that she can’t make it, she’s run into some difficulties with her kids. I was disappointed for sure, but totally understood. I know how it can be with kids, and she has two, plus recently divorced and essentially a single mom. So I texted her back and told her not to worry about it all. And that maybe we could meet another time, if she wanted — not assuming that she wanted, as she may simply have changed her mind about me for whatever reason.

Well, then a funny thing occurred to me and I texted it to her. I texted that I had to make a confession. That I was actually kind of relieved that she’d cancelled as I’d accidentally pulled a Peter Brady and booked two dates for the same night and at my age did not have the energy to run back and forth between two women. I added to the text a wink 😉 and the explicit explanation that it was a joke. Just to be sure.

Rita did NOT get the joke. Her response seemed to indicate that she was serious, although initially I thought she was joking back. She was not. I explained again that it was a joke, that I had not booked two dates, that I would not do that, not for the same night anyway. I apologized if it was ill-advised. I tried to call her, thinking that maybe this required a verbal explanation and even apology. She would not answer. She would not take my call, despite my pleas. She was convinced that I was a playa and trying to purposely hurt her, that this was typical of the men on OkCupid. I told her  (via text) that I did not mean to hurt her. She texted back: I said tried. You did not hurt me. I am stronger than that. Well, clearly I had at least truck a nerve and I felt badly and wanted to understand it, but she was not allowing it.

Finally, I asked her how my joke was any different than when she said, at our initial meeting, that she needed me to go because she had other candidates to interview, which I thought was quite funny. She responded with: Please, no more texts. So I obliged.

For a moment, I considered getting online and emailing her via the site to try and explain but in the end I opted not to. I texted a female friend and asked her opinion, which was that it was total drama and to take it as a red flag and to run. So I decided to do just that. I eradicated her electronic footprint from my life, blocking her on OkCupid, deleting our correspondences and removing her from my cell phone. I do not need that kind of crap in my life. And I will not be manipulated by that kind of emotional terrorism.

Since this incident I have received confirmation from at least two other women that Rita’s reaction was troubling at best, and disturbing at worst, and definitely more than reason enough to have nothing to do with her anymore. It was suggested to me that I tell her to leave me alone but I think a non-response is the best one. It was also suggested to me that it would not be surprising if she actually contacted me at some point. I doubt that, but we’ll see.

What do people think? Was my joke funny? Out of line? Ill-advised? Hurtful? Cruel? Harmless? And if it was a bad joke should I have been at least afforded opportunity to explain and apologize or whatever? Do chime in. Enquiring minds want to know. So do I.

I beginning to believe that online dating sites are receptacles for bat-shit crazy women. Maybe men too, I don’t know. You tell me.

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?