Posts
After less than a week trying to date I threw in the towel again after the Cop. What does this say about my endurance? Pah!
But really, what is wrong with men these days? They boast on their profiles about how much they love to camp, watch sports and are looking for a "drama-free" woman to share their lives with. Didn't they stop to think that any woman would be much more drama-free if she wasn't bitching at him about how much money he spent on yet another camp stove thingy or if he paid attention to her during dinner instead of watching the game, texting about the game, Facebooking about the game, and checking his fantasy football/golf/baseball/hockey/soccer/basketball league? It doesn't take a rocket scientist...
At work I haven't been working all that much as I have been organizing an all girls outing to the Dirty Girl Mud Run in support of the Breast Cancer Research Institute. I hate my job, so this makes going to work more fun. Well, tolerable anyway. I have raised over $350 to help girl's get money to go, and it will be entertaining to see all of us computer lazy gals get dirty. I'm already planning the next 5k! Me, who hates exercise and prefers beer.. (well they have a beer garden for after, I do my research.)
This got me thinking while talking to Anastasia. What more could I do while working at this lame company? It came to me via Beyonce. Before long, I was making silent plans to start a Single Ladies Club. Not so we could all get together, go out and meet males, but so we could get together, go out and maybe discover what the hell we're all doing wrong. And it would be fun. And it would help me get out of the house more often. AND if I can get back into the swing of marketing and small talk I can get the hell out of my current job! Now put your hands up! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!
The power of feeling good about being me is what I need. If there is no Mr. Right out there, I at least want to have a good time for the next 30 some odd years of my life. I want to make friends, find a job I love (at minimum don't dream will burst in to flame so I don't have to go in), and make some dough to travel with. Maybe I'll move to Georgia with Ange if she gets the regional position there. Maybe I'll move to Oregon. Maybe I will never move, but finally find happiness. I'm told here are all different kinds so it is probably time to start experimenting!
"I got gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
Got me tighter in my Dereon jeans
Acting up, drink in my cup
I can care less what you think
I need no permission, did I mention
Don't pay him any attention
'Cause you had your turn, and now you gonna learn
What it really feels like to miss me
'Cause if you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don't be mad once you see that he want it
'Cause if you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh"
Yes, I sang and typed. The dogs were very amused.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Meeting the Cop
So, after my brief reprisal of Match.com I emailed back and forth with the Cop. We agreed to meet on Sunday when I was down home cleaning offices and would look like a bum. I re-read some of the Work Guy stuff which made me realize how fucking crazy I had been at that time and felt relief that I no longer had that "find someone now who will love you, marry you and give you babies" deal looming over my head.
After some debate I agreed to meet him at his house. A big Internet no-no. He suggested it and I refused. He claimed he wasn't a psycho and I reminded him that I read nerdily and the cop who always says he isn't a psycho killer usually ends up the psycho killer. I texted my mom his pic so she would know where to send the ambulance should I go missing.
In person, he is taller than me which is a plus. He decorates for Halloween like my Aunt Charlotte on crack, a plus I think. Has fish, knows all about them. Likes Harry Potter, huge plus. Builds Lego cities, nerdy but I can relate. Has a clean house, plus considering I don't. Was NYPD. Got a Purple Heart for a tour in the Middle East (which I assume is close to Mordor). He seems like a good guy....
Bad parts: I admit I don't like guns. Promptly shows me all his guns because for some odd reason men think that if you just hold one you'll not envision all the death and destruction they have the potential to create. Oh, you don't like guns, let's go shoot some to make you feel better! He's a Republican. There really shouldn't need to be any follow up to that one...
We both admit we are nervous but the two hour meet up goes nicely. We waive good bye, I fear I might shake his hand but make it to my car without that error. On my way to cleaning he texts me "Honest First Impressions?" What am I to say. He was cute and nice. I say that and he follows up with pretty much the same. I am on fire!
Then he wants me to come back so he can kiss me. Ummm... No. I have known him for 24 hours and had a lovely meet up at his home. I am not ready for first kissing after my sweaty cleaning job. He is persistent. I am jokey. My back hurts from trying to keep it light.
Cop texts that he really likes me. While that is sweet, he barely knows me so I don't think he has had time to develop any type of feelings. I mean, I liked meeting him, but don't know if I like him, like him. I sound like a fucking grade schooler. I decide to let it roll and see where this goes. Then he continues texting about how he wants to know if he can let down his walls. Umm... What? Not seeing any walls. He says he has been hurt a lot in the past. Dude may need some walls. Really wants to get married and have kids. Known you incredibly short amount of time.... Please stop sharing. Must wait until after the 5th date to have sex. We haven't even hugged yet!
The next day he texts me that he wants me to know he isn't a serial dater, he likes me, will just be seeing me and wants to see where this goes. It is phrased like he wants to go steady and I begin my freak out. 1 day of communication and he wants me to know he's exclusive. Chloe urges me not to blow him off. Maybe he is sensitive, which would be a good thing. Maybe he is making himself clear about his expectations and loyalty. Maybe he is trying to be as honest and straight forward as possible.
I come back with "Maybe he is bat shit crazy." Chloe shakes her head and demands I relax until after we have had another date and can clear the air. More texts from Cop on how he really likes me. Do I want to dress up in matching costumes for a party on Saturday? Eh, no. We could do something else? Tell him about hot yoga. He tells me I probably look beautiful after yoga, tell him he compliments me so much I may get a big head, responds that thinking of me sweaty after yoga is giving him a big head... I can't help but feel uncomfortable.
Ange comes over on Tuesday, Cop keeps texting me even though he knows I am hanging out with her. His night is busy. I suggest he throw everyone in jail. He would rather handcuff me. Umm? Yes, too soon for that type of banter. I tell her all the same stuff I shared at work with Chloe and she tries to get me to look on the bright side too. Doesn't every girl want to hear how much a guy likes her after the first date? Sure... but there is something off. I try to bury it, but it gnaws on my back like a rabid monkey.
Thursday we had agreed to meet for dinner. We discussed the types of food I like but he claimed he didn't know any places around Chandler to eat and we could go where I wanted. I hate that. Please provide some input, some suggestion. Did men forget that they should attempt to plan dates in the beginning? Do they want to put in no effort other than paying?
So we meet at a pizza place for dinner and drinks. I awkwardly hug him and try to smile. I feel at ease even though he is staring at me like he knows some secret. Where he plans on stashing my body? I don't know.
Let me make this short and sweet. Unlike our date.
He takes forever to order. I am starving and pounce on the waitress for a beer and salad. I tell him I don't like meat on pizza. Instead of asking why, he tells me why pizza is meant to have meat on it. We talk about him. I ask questions about his life, work, family, past relationships. Conversation starters which are designed to be volleyed back and forth. He doesn't ask about me. I try to tell him stories, but he interrupts with his own. Example, he has fish. When I start telling him about my disastrous attempts with fish (they die, I cry with heartbreak) he inserts all the things I did wrong, why the fish were destined to die, details about how the fish would have grown, their life spans, wanting to know the exact breed or whatever, before I ever got the entire story out. I started to get irritated.
Out by the car, we have a couple cigarettes and talk more. We discuss education. He corrects the way I say elementary, while placing the wrong emphasis on the word. I admit I use the slang in saying the word elemtry, kind of like a lot of people say probly instead of probably. But really I was trying to make a point in the CG educational system, which he disagreed with and tried to prove me wrong at every sentence coming out of my mouth. I got a little heated. Again I attempt a subject that my workmates abhor, genetically engineered foods directly related to consumerism. What should be a discussion turns into the Cop telling me how wrong I am about everything. It's like I am out with Scotty again! I am pissed. I call the Cop out on it and he smiles indulgently. He likes to debate. It is not a debate when you just tell the other they are wrong. This is not a fun date.
The conversation lags and he just stares at me grinning. I know he is thinking about kissing me. I'm not so sure I want him to kiss me the way he is just standing there staring. Then he says "What?" and laughs. Are we in high school? Eventually he moves in and places both hands on the side of my face. Faces come closer. Oh God, he opens his mouth. Tongues poke at each other and I think I might giggle. I lean in, hoping it gets better. It does, barely.
I grab beer on the way home. This feels absurd. He texts me what a great kisser I am. I can only respond "Really?"
I keep responding to his pushy overtures with the fact that we just met and I am a slow mover. I want to take time getting to know him. He understands but is really excited about me. He doesn't know anything about me!
Friday he wants me to come over to make out. Too fast, I say. He thinks that is funny. He texts me more, I don't respond. He texts me wanting to know what is wrong. I reply I am on the phone. He texts back that that is OK. I know it is. I can do whatever I want, I irrationally think. We are now Facebook friends. He texts me how I know certain people off my friends list.... Weird. One old dance student of mine he dated briefly.... More weird.
Saturday morning I am really wigged out by him. I stand exclaiming to my co-worker about his crazy. Peggy shakes her head "I haven't heard you say one good thing about this guy. You need to release him back into the sea." My phone is buzzing all over. He sends me 5 texts in a row. One is inviting me to hand out candy on Halloween next Wednesday. I am enraged that he keeps securing a date before having the next scheduled. What if we don't get a long? Isn't this the point of dating? Go out, see how it is, then decide whether or not to proceed. I share with Peggy and she agrees.
I text him, again, he is moving too fast. He explains he isn't. I reiterate how I feel. He justifies himself again. There is no "Sorry" or "I didn't mean to make you feel that way". Just two polar opposites. I say this isn't working for me. He again justifies his attempt to ask me out four days in advance, but thinks I am just not that into him and wishes me luck. Back at ya.
I felt kind of bad. I mean, he is a nice guy and I sincerely believe he just wants to find that special someone to settle down with. I'm just not that person. His intentions were good, but the way he went about things was so strange. If I hadn't ended things now I may have been breaking his heart a day or week from now when he sprinted into "Let's have sex" or "I love you" stage.
Peggy and I celebrate my freedom with the happy dance then proceed to scroll through Match.com making fun of 99.9% of the people. We even get her signed up on another site and we both cackle and moan at the devastation of possibilities out there.
But my Saturday night is blessedly free. Now I can go home and read a romance novel!
After some debate I agreed to meet him at his house. A big Internet no-no. He suggested it and I refused. He claimed he wasn't a psycho and I reminded him that I read nerdily and the cop who always says he isn't a psycho killer usually ends up the psycho killer. I texted my mom his pic so she would know where to send the ambulance should I go missing.
In person, he is taller than me which is a plus. He decorates for Halloween like my Aunt Charlotte on crack, a plus I think. Has fish, knows all about them. Likes Harry Potter, huge plus. Builds Lego cities, nerdy but I can relate. Has a clean house, plus considering I don't. Was NYPD. Got a Purple Heart for a tour in the Middle East (which I assume is close to Mordor). He seems like a good guy....
Bad parts: I admit I don't like guns. Promptly shows me all his guns because for some odd reason men think that if you just hold one you'll not envision all the death and destruction they have the potential to create. Oh, you don't like guns, let's go shoot some to make you feel better! He's a Republican. There really shouldn't need to be any follow up to that one...
We both admit we are nervous but the two hour meet up goes nicely. We waive good bye, I fear I might shake his hand but make it to my car without that error. On my way to cleaning he texts me "Honest First Impressions?" What am I to say. He was cute and nice. I say that and he follows up with pretty much the same. I am on fire!
Then he wants me to come back so he can kiss me. Ummm... No. I have known him for 24 hours and had a lovely meet up at his home. I am not ready for first kissing after my sweaty cleaning job. He is persistent. I am jokey. My back hurts from trying to keep it light.
Cop texts that he really likes me. While that is sweet, he barely knows me so I don't think he has had time to develop any type of feelings. I mean, I liked meeting him, but don't know if I like him, like him. I sound like a fucking grade schooler. I decide to let it roll and see where this goes. Then he continues texting about how he wants to know if he can let down his walls. Umm... What? Not seeing any walls. He says he has been hurt a lot in the past. Dude may need some walls. Really wants to get married and have kids. Known you incredibly short amount of time.... Please stop sharing. Must wait until after the 5th date to have sex. We haven't even hugged yet!
The next day he texts me that he wants me to know he isn't a serial dater, he likes me, will just be seeing me and wants to see where this goes. It is phrased like he wants to go steady and I begin my freak out. 1 day of communication and he wants me to know he's exclusive. Chloe urges me not to blow him off. Maybe he is sensitive, which would be a good thing. Maybe he is making himself clear about his expectations and loyalty. Maybe he is trying to be as honest and straight forward as possible.
I come back with "Maybe he is bat shit crazy." Chloe shakes her head and demands I relax until after we have had another date and can clear the air. More texts from Cop on how he really likes me. Do I want to dress up in matching costumes for a party on Saturday? Eh, no. We could do something else? Tell him about hot yoga. He tells me I probably look beautiful after yoga, tell him he compliments me so much I may get a big head, responds that thinking of me sweaty after yoga is giving him a big head... I can't help but feel uncomfortable.
Ange comes over on Tuesday, Cop keeps texting me even though he knows I am hanging out with her. His night is busy. I suggest he throw everyone in jail. He would rather handcuff me. Umm? Yes, too soon for that type of banter. I tell her all the same stuff I shared at work with Chloe and she tries to get me to look on the bright side too. Doesn't every girl want to hear how much a guy likes her after the first date? Sure... but there is something off. I try to bury it, but it gnaws on my back like a rabid monkey.
Thursday we had agreed to meet for dinner. We discussed the types of food I like but he claimed he didn't know any places around Chandler to eat and we could go where I wanted. I hate that. Please provide some input, some suggestion. Did men forget that they should attempt to plan dates in the beginning? Do they want to put in no effort other than paying?
So we meet at a pizza place for dinner and drinks. I awkwardly hug him and try to smile. I feel at ease even though he is staring at me like he knows some secret. Where he plans on stashing my body? I don't know.
Let me make this short and sweet. Unlike our date.
He takes forever to order. I am starving and pounce on the waitress for a beer and salad. I tell him I don't like meat on pizza. Instead of asking why, he tells me why pizza is meant to have meat on it. We talk about him. I ask questions about his life, work, family, past relationships. Conversation starters which are designed to be volleyed back and forth. He doesn't ask about me. I try to tell him stories, but he interrupts with his own. Example, he has fish. When I start telling him about my disastrous attempts with fish (they die, I cry with heartbreak) he inserts all the things I did wrong, why the fish were destined to die, details about how the fish would have grown, their life spans, wanting to know the exact breed or whatever, before I ever got the entire story out. I started to get irritated.
Out by the car, we have a couple cigarettes and talk more. We discuss education. He corrects the way I say elementary, while placing the wrong emphasis on the word. I admit I use the slang in saying the word elemtry, kind of like a lot of people say probly instead of probably. But really I was trying to make a point in the CG educational system, which he disagreed with and tried to prove me wrong at every sentence coming out of my mouth. I got a little heated. Again I attempt a subject that my workmates abhor, genetically engineered foods directly related to consumerism. What should be a discussion turns into the Cop telling me how wrong I am about everything. It's like I am out with Scotty again! I am pissed. I call the Cop out on it and he smiles indulgently. He likes to debate. It is not a debate when you just tell the other they are wrong. This is not a fun date.
The conversation lags and he just stares at me grinning. I know he is thinking about kissing me. I'm not so sure I want him to kiss me the way he is just standing there staring. Then he says "What?" and laughs. Are we in high school? Eventually he moves in and places both hands on the side of my face. Faces come closer. Oh God, he opens his mouth. Tongues poke at each other and I think I might giggle. I lean in, hoping it gets better. It does, barely.
I grab beer on the way home. This feels absurd. He texts me what a great kisser I am. I can only respond "Really?"
I keep responding to his pushy overtures with the fact that we just met and I am a slow mover. I want to take time getting to know him. He understands but is really excited about me. He doesn't know anything about me!
Friday he wants me to come over to make out. Too fast, I say. He thinks that is funny. He texts me more, I don't respond. He texts me wanting to know what is wrong. I reply I am on the phone. He texts back that that is OK. I know it is. I can do whatever I want, I irrationally think. We are now Facebook friends. He texts me how I know certain people off my friends list.... Weird. One old dance student of mine he dated briefly.... More weird.
Saturday morning I am really wigged out by him. I stand exclaiming to my co-worker about his crazy. Peggy shakes her head "I haven't heard you say one good thing about this guy. You need to release him back into the sea." My phone is buzzing all over. He sends me 5 texts in a row. One is inviting me to hand out candy on Halloween next Wednesday. I am enraged that he keeps securing a date before having the next scheduled. What if we don't get a long? Isn't this the point of dating? Go out, see how it is, then decide whether or not to proceed. I share with Peggy and she agrees.
I text him, again, he is moving too fast. He explains he isn't. I reiterate how I feel. He justifies himself again. There is no "Sorry" or "I didn't mean to make you feel that way". Just two polar opposites. I say this isn't working for me. He again justifies his attempt to ask me out four days in advance, but thinks I am just not that into him and wishes me luck. Back at ya.
I felt kind of bad. I mean, he is a nice guy and I sincerely believe he just wants to find that special someone to settle down with. I'm just not that person. His intentions were good, but the way he went about things was so strange. If I hadn't ended things now I may have been breaking his heart a day or week from now when he sprinted into "Let's have sex" or "I love you" stage.
Peggy and I celebrate my freedom with the happy dance then proceed to scroll through Match.com making fun of 99.9% of the people. We even get her signed up on another site and we both cackle and moan at the devastation of possibilities out there.
But my Saturday night is blessedly free. Now I can go home and read a romance novel!
Sunday, October 21, 2012
What About Me?
You ever get the feeling that you are talking to thin air? Welcome to my life.
Sometimes I think my writing is a way for me to get it all out there without having to feel like I'm interrupting someone else's air time...
Sigh. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am just one of those people who will not meet the love of their life, get married and happily spurt offspring. I like my life coming home to a house full of animals that occasionally love me, reading, and not having to wonder what someone else is thinking all the time.
That being said, I was feeling content rather than depressed for a change. I laughed at work and joked with people. One of my work guys started openly hitting on me and if he wasn't such a Lech I would think he was joking. He was telling me how he had been trying to avoid hooking up and really dating. It had been 3 months since he'd done the dirty with some barely legal brainless bimbo. The blank look in his eyes made him ask "How long for you?" and immediately I muttered "Almost a year." He laughed at my quick response but it got me thinking.............
Am I never going to have sex again? The idea of not dating was welcome but never having sex again... EVER? My mind started betraying me almost at once. I started having little fantasies about a guy I noticed at Whole Foods, then a mystery man I would meet if I ever moved to Oregon and opened a book store that I could ride an ATV to through the glorious woods, then a hot baby I met in Iowa who was the friend of my baby second cousin, then even the Serial Killer at work (thank God that only lasted two days or I would never be able to look at him again), then Trey Parker from South Park, then Opie who got killed off Sons of Anarchy. I am officially going mad.
The safety of these little fantasies is that they will never happen. But what the hell am I supposed to do with my life if I never get to have sex again? Inevitably, sex complicates things. You can't just walk up to someone and say "Hi, would you like to have some sex tonight?" Well, I suppose you can. But then you are stuck with finding out what their name is and the whole should we kiss, should we cuddle. It just leads to feelings which leads in two directions: Dating or Rejection. I have had enough of both therefore I guess I was destined not to ever get my freak on again.
Perhaps I screwed myself out of the option by the copious amounts of sex I had in my 20's. Pun intended.
Fate declared upon my 30th birthday that should I buy a cat, which I did, that the male species would no longer wish to get me naked. Fate decided I had had enough orgasms and should now look forward to solitude and taking care of my mother in her old age, which she promises me is looming very near.
Ugh. So after reading some romance novels, shut up Chloe, I went back online and looked at the prospects. There had been an email from a cop in CG over ten days ago that I hadn't seen because frankly I never go on there anymore. I emailed back. He isn't chatty, this one, but responds pretty quickly. I winked and emailed some others, not really caring about the entire ordeal.
Cop states very clearly in his profile and again in email that he is ready to settle down, get married and have kids. He'snot originally from CG so I don't know him. After several emails he gave me his number, blah blah we text and he wants to see me tonight after I clean. WTF. Ok, calm down. This isn't going to be like last time. Meet him, in your baggy jeans and t shirt, see what his deal is, and go home. The end.
However, he has a name like Herbert, that is not Herbert, but I can't imagine screaming it out impassioned in bed. I would start laughing hysterically and as I have already discovered, men do not like that when they are trying to get it on. But what would I say? If he has manly last name, would I use that? A nickname perhaps? Future mothers, as sick as it may seem, please consider the dilema you would create should you name your future son something like Eggbert or Norville.
Normally I am so nervous I can't see straight. I think after the non-feeling relationship with Scotty, discovering that the EX is happily married, and being dumped by Work Guy after discovering that the Principal who wanted to marry me would never have worked out..... I'm devoid of feeling. Because if you can't feel, you can't get crushed into a million tiny pieces. You CAN, however, have sex :-)
I'm ok with giving up on the idea of true romance with happily ever after, but I don't think I should give up on some nookie until I reach 40. (I reserve the right to reconsider that at 40.)
Sometimes I think my writing is a way for me to get it all out there without having to feel like I'm interrupting someone else's air time...
Sigh. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am just one of those people who will not meet the love of their life, get married and happily spurt offspring. I like my life coming home to a house full of animals that occasionally love me, reading, and not having to wonder what someone else is thinking all the time.
That being said, I was feeling content rather than depressed for a change. I laughed at work and joked with people. One of my work guys started openly hitting on me and if he wasn't such a Lech I would think he was joking. He was telling me how he had been trying to avoid hooking up and really dating. It had been 3 months since he'd done the dirty with some barely legal brainless bimbo. The blank look in his eyes made him ask "How long for you?" and immediately I muttered "Almost a year." He laughed at my quick response but it got me thinking.............
Am I never going to have sex again? The idea of not dating was welcome but never having sex again... EVER? My mind started betraying me almost at once. I started having little fantasies about a guy I noticed at Whole Foods, then a mystery man I would meet if I ever moved to Oregon and opened a book store that I could ride an ATV to through the glorious woods, then a hot baby I met in Iowa who was the friend of my baby second cousin, then even the Serial Killer at work (thank God that only lasted two days or I would never be able to look at him again), then Trey Parker from South Park, then Opie who got killed off Sons of Anarchy. I am officially going mad.
The safety of these little fantasies is that they will never happen. But what the hell am I supposed to do with my life if I never get to have sex again? Inevitably, sex complicates things. You can't just walk up to someone and say "Hi, would you like to have some sex tonight?" Well, I suppose you can. But then you are stuck with finding out what their name is and the whole should we kiss, should we cuddle. It just leads to feelings which leads in two directions: Dating or Rejection. I have had enough of both therefore I guess I was destined not to ever get my freak on again.
Perhaps I screwed myself out of the option by the copious amounts of sex I had in my 20's. Pun intended.
Fate declared upon my 30th birthday that should I buy a cat, which I did, that the male species would no longer wish to get me naked. Fate decided I had had enough orgasms and should now look forward to solitude and taking care of my mother in her old age, which she promises me is looming very near.
Ugh. So after reading some romance novels, shut up Chloe, I went back online and looked at the prospects. There had been an email from a cop in CG over ten days ago that I hadn't seen because frankly I never go on there anymore. I emailed back. He isn't chatty, this one, but responds pretty quickly. I winked and emailed some others, not really caring about the entire ordeal.
Cop states very clearly in his profile and again in email that he is ready to settle down, get married and have kids. He'snot originally from CG so I don't know him. After several emails he gave me his number, blah blah we text and he wants to see me tonight after I clean. WTF. Ok, calm down. This isn't going to be like last time. Meet him, in your baggy jeans and t shirt, see what his deal is, and go home. The end.
However, he has a name like Herbert, that is not Herbert, but I can't imagine screaming it out impassioned in bed. I would start laughing hysterically and as I have already discovered, men do not like that when they are trying to get it on. But what would I say? If he has manly last name, would I use that? A nickname perhaps? Future mothers, as sick as it may seem, please consider the dilema you would create should you name your future son something like Eggbert or Norville.
Normally I am so nervous I can't see straight. I think after the non-feeling relationship with Scotty, discovering that the EX is happily married, and being dumped by Work Guy after discovering that the Principal who wanted to marry me would never have worked out..... I'm devoid of feeling. Because if you can't feel, you can't get crushed into a million tiny pieces. You CAN, however, have sex :-)
I'm ok with giving up on the idea of true romance with happily ever after, but I don't think I should give up on some nookie until I reach 40. (I reserve the right to reconsider that at 40.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)