The Saddle Beckons Once Again and I Succumb To Her Siren Call

Hiatus. Slump. Call it what you will but my love life has been at a standstill for a good long time. The time has not necessarily been wasted as hearts need to heal and mine is pretty much on the mend and beyond. Still, getting out there is a mind boggling thing. I remain an online presence but my social calendar has been a bit pre-empted by the polar vortex. So whatever else is a girl to do?

Well, call me a guinea pig and bring on the abuse!

Which brings me to my work buddy VD (the name will change if subsequent events turn out for the better aka unlikely). VD has been a great confidant of mine for my life woes (romantic and otherwise) and my only friend in real life who is actually a fairly devoted reader of this blog. He finds me amusing and my take on the single life as mostly entertaining. As such, every now and again, he likes to update me to various singles goings on around town. In fact, he actually likes to read about events in publications called “The Village Voice” and “The New York Times.” He’s old school. 😉

So the other day we were chatting and he excitedly tells me he saw an ad in “The Voice.” Commence eye roll. He then presents me with a page torn out from said publication which advertised flirting and fun at a local computer store downtown. Yep. A computer store, albeit a well-known techie joint in the city.

The first noticeable thing about the ad – there is a very happy girl holding up a sign. A single girl. More specifically, a single Asian girl. Duh. Asian girls and computer nerds go together like tofu and soy sauce. Naturally, these techie fiends would go for the cute Asian next door look. Yay for me! (I guess?!?!) 😛

Next step, VD and I look up the website and as I suspected, you must pay to attend the event. Meh. Actually, let me be more specific. You would pay $20 for the event but you end up with $20 credit for the store. Feeling cheap and unmotivated, I complain loudly that I am not paying but even if I did, what the hell would I do with $20 credit to a computer store I NEVER GO TO.

At this moment, I’m fairly sure a light bulb went off in VD’s head. If someone else were in the room, I’m positive it happened. Full of schadenfreude-fueled adrenaline, he volunteers to pay for my dating adventure. Basically, not only will he get store credit, he’ll also get a highly entertaining story of me attempting to non-flirt my way through the event. Yippee!

I still did not agree and remained on the fence but word quickly spread through our little office and sure enough other peeps were volunteering to chip in a few bucks. Fairly soon, I buckled to the peer pressure of dating (mis)adventures and so it begins. Again.

Only after I agree to this do I actually start to think about the demographic that would be at this event. My friends, being the assholes they are, have now inputted into my brain that I’ll be stuck in a room with D&D playing sociopaths or basically the cast of “The Big Bang Theory.” At this moment, I am throwing my hands up and then covering my face while groaning – “why dear God why?!?!?”

Also did I mention the tag line? Make love happen. Excuse me while I gag on my bourbon. Agh!

Fuck it. I’m a grown up and this ain’t my first rodeo. Proof I’m a grown up – I’m renovating my home (whole other type of hell). Proof it ain’t my first rodeo – rewind this blog. Trust me – it ain’t.

So what are my pre-game feelings? I’m amused. The event is Thursday and I’m glad it’s soon. Rip the damn bandaid. Why wait? Truth is, I have been so out of the loop that this might actually be the kick in the ass to get me out there again. Or, at the very least, remind myself that dating can and should just be fun and what will be will be. Being back in the game isn’t always a physical thing. It’s about being mentally ready to go fight that fight. To enjoy what the fight can bring and not to be disheartened by what it will not. It’s a mind prep…which is frankly better than the mind fuck I’ve been enduring for far too long.

My inactivity hasn’t necessarily been a guilty making thing as it has been in the past. I’ve been happily hibernating during the polar vortex. But as it’s been warming and the holiday residuals have finally passed, the guilt of being an inactive single girl has been peeking out now and again. Maybe this unexpected “treat” has come at a good time. It wasn’t something I asked for and it isn’t something I’m dying to do. My expectations are low and at the very worst, I’ll have a fun story to tell. The bottom line – why not?

Plus, the funny little support system I had going at work in addition to my non-work pals…well, it’s always nice to know people are rooting for you, whether you win or not.

So predictions for the Thursday Night Event? If things go as they have in the past, there will be imbibing of alcohol. I will be chatting awkwardly with a few males but end up chatting happily and befriending a female. I’ll laugh at how socially awkward all the men folk were and be happy I gave it shot regardless of outcome. Based on past history, that’s my gut forecast.

Still…

Perhaps it’s my renewed energy from this fairly new year but hope does spring eternal. History has taught me to keep expectations low but optimism always seems to manifest itself somewhere. I’m still the same girl but maybe time has made me a little more savvy, a little more wise and a lot less intimidated by such silly social situations. How is it I always seem to find myself in these funny predicaments? The answer is simple – because I said yes.

Wish me luck. 😛

The Bronx Representing…

Decided to be more passively active online. By this, I mean I now log into my online dating app every other day or more. As such, my inbox has been getting a few more hits. While none are particularly…appealing, they are, as always, WILDLY ENTERTAINING.

The two current faves are boys that reside in the Bronx.

On Friday, I was asked if I have ever taken a man’s virginity before. Not sure if this was an offer or just a conversation starter. I do wish he made it more clear. Alas, I was unable to type at the time as I was doubled over in laughter.

And just a few minutes ago, I was told my pictures were nice…and this fellow (from the Bronx like J. Lo) has a submissive “friend” who he will “make pay” (his words) for my pedicure. It wasn’t the most clearly written or well thought out email so I had to re-read twice. I mean, there wasn’t even a lead up to the submissive bit. It was just hi, nice pix and my submissive will…

Sigh. What happened to a little seduction first, people?

Sadly, also was unable to reply as his picture was most UNAPPEALING. That said, I think I could use a new color for my toes.

Happy fucking new year indeed!

Lady Vengeance Finds Some Faith

What comes around goes around. I love that saying. So many notable quotables are either overwhelmingly optimistic or way too cynical. This one just asks for balance in the world. And this is the one, as more time goes by, proves to always be true.

Naturally, there is a not-so-hidden wickedness in this idea. An eye for an eye and so on. I realize putting out such bad energy is not good for the soul, blah, blah, blah. That passes. But it never passes completely. It just lessens over time. It lessens cuz you no longer think or wish it but if the subject comes up, the pang is still there.

In this world of immediate gratification and scorned folks, paybacks are always on the menu but we never quite know when it will be served. Life is sneaky that way. And while it is a universally held belief that what goes up must come down, I had my doubts. Justice isn’t always served while on your watch. Sometimes, it happens when your off duty. So off duty you don’t even give a fuck anymore. But trust me, it happens, even if it’s not the way you pictured it.

What spurred this revelation you ask? Oddly enough, it came from some sideline viewing of a breakup. I have no real tie to the story and know one of the parties through work. The gist is this – his long time on-again, off-again who he never deemed good enough to marry found someone who does and now he’s re-thinking his whole philosophy. More context, yes? Well not two weeks ago, the same fellow was dating like a fiend in order to get away from on-again, off-again in order to find someone (in a more methodical fashion) who he deemed more worthy of his lifelong affection. I mostly tuned this out cuz said gent has always spoken of this particular lady in an offhand manner, which due to my current male hate state of mind, was I needed to avoid. No thanks. But suffice to say, his story, at the time, did not extinguish my fire. Blah blah blah. Fast forward and oh, the mighty have fallen.

Do I sound glib or heartless? I don’t mean to be. It’s sad to see someone be so devastated but it’s also something that is of his own doing. My sympathy might be higher if the circumstances did not hold a certain repugnancy for me but in truth, they do. They most passionately do.

It’s always upset me when relationships are so very lopsided. Not that it’s not common but as per usual in my world, the ladies are the ones overcompensating for these meandering fucks aka men. Oh, did I mention, it’s usually the guys I’m friends with? Yah…not great.

Maybe cuz I’m a lady or maybe I just root for the underdog but I’ve always found it so upsetting when one refers to their partner in such disrespectful ways behind her back. It’s not the usual couple bitching either. It’s the kind of offhand manner in which they speak of their partners. As if they don’t matter (cuz they don’t). But they’re all hugs and kisses when they are with them. It’s not that they don’t have affection for their “loved” ones, it’s that they love themselves more. It makes me wonder if he’s actually invested in her or just lonely enough to “settle” for the current edition. Watching that dynamic always makes me a little sick and a lot angry. There is no kindness. I’ve found that whenever this happens, especially if they speak ill of their partner from the start, they’ve already marked the end. At the most cynical, these people are simply placeholders until the person they really want arrives. At its most truthful, it’s that these are people are afraid to be alone and need companionship to fill their void. Fuck ’em.

As I said, man hate was at a particular high.

So, color me surprised, that such a “sad” event has actually had a weirdly profound effect on me. While my man hate was actually waning on its own, this has helped squelch it a little bit more. Perhaps it was watching a man in agony over a lady he’s pushed aside so many times. Or maybe it was just seeing the universe in action. I honestly do not wish this man pain but seeing the world mete out its own brand of justice filled me with…hope. Odd right? Life is so funny that way. I cry and then I laugh.

My friend sent me a story about a male newlywed who realized marriage wasn’t for him. This was super misleading as it was more about the affirmation of love and marriage than what the title would suggest. Basically, on the brink of his wedding, the guy was concerned if he was ready for marriage/if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this girl, etc. In seeking some sort of answer, he went to his dad, who schooled him as such – marriage isn’t for you but for your partner. It’s about lack of selfishness. It’s about giving. It’s about wanting to love someone more than yourself. About making them happy for the rest of their lives (not you, well, not ALL about you) and they, hopefully, in turn for you.

At first I was puzzled cuz it seemed to go against all logic. Make the person happy with no thought to yourself? Huh? What? And then it started to make more sense. It’s not that our selfishness will not find us. But it’s the desire to redirect that. To think of someone other than me, me me. The best example of pure and unconditional love is between a parent and child. The kid comes first. Period. And when my mind followed that road, the rest of the article’s logic kicked in.

When I think of the couples that do work, I realize they do share the quality the newlywed’s dad spoke of – they think of the other person first. Not always. But a lot. I’ve seen my friends do acts of kindness big and small (that can easily be taken for granted) for their significant others and it’s purely for their sake. To be their support system. To put whatever their needs are at the moment above their own. To always think of themselves as a unit. Time will tell whether they last the lifetime but their relationships do seem healthy. They just make sense. Bottom line, they don’t make me roll my eyes.

These other ones…the ones filled with poor decisions made in easy moments by weak fucks. Those just make me mad. The focus of love is no longer on the whole but on the part so why should it ever be a surprise when it falls apart?

My friend once told me I love hard, real fucking hard. I understand that better everyday. I’m fiercely loyal and true. And when you break my heart, I still find justifications for the actions. Understanding actions where no consideration has been dealt to me. How I would put them above me. Thinking about all of this within the context of that article put my head on a bit straighter too. All this time, I felt so foolish for caring above my load. But now, I see it isn’t so much that I was pathetic. It’s just the focus of my affections was off, not the actual affection itself.

Isn’t it funny…when something ends, the hardest part is always re-learning to put yourself first again. To let everyone else be second place. To make sure what he wants and who he is no longer has any weight in my life. I never fully realized how beautiful that actually can be. To have been able to put aside my notions for that moment in time. To love and want to love even if you aren’t loved equally in return. Unrequited can suck but knowing I have the capacity for that type of affection is also a reward. It just doesn’t feel that way at the time.

Also revelatory is being thankful for the guys that didn’t work out after all. In the moment, you want nothing more than to win their affections forever and ever! But when that moment passes, you realize – oh wait, you were never worthy to begin with. You could never give me what I needed. Seeing that darkness turn to light…that all those horrible turns these men did unto me were actually gifts. Ha! It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it in this context but it’s been long enough where it warrants epiphany status. Thanks assholes for breaking my heart. Not so much for the breaking but for teaching me lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way.

So now I acknowledge. I know how to love and I know how I want to be loved and how I deserved to be love. There is some wiggle room in there but not a ton. What distresses me, in all these terrible man circumstances, is how being with someone who has no idea what they want can be so incredibly detrimental. Perhaps it’s not just lopsidedness of affection of a lack of focus and direction. One side has it. The other doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing. Fun times!

My friend recently told me it’s great that I know what I want cuz so few do. I can’t say I have my life mapped out in any particular way but I have fairly strong (not set, note the difference) ideas of what I want and deserve in my life. I don’t have some weird rom com checklist of man characteristics I need fulfilled. I know that even if I had a list, I’d throw it away the minute I met someone I liked. It’s how it goes.

I’m aware of compromise and I’m aware of my shortcomings too. But hearing my dear friend say that gave me such reassurance. So many times, I’ve been chided for my definitive nature. For my passionate beliefs one way or the other. For my morals that might border on self-righteousness. That perhaps I should lower my standards or give people more chances, even though I already know the answer. I’ve doubted myself so much cuz I let myself be susceptible to everyone else’s doubts. As such, I am constantly reevaluating my morals, my belief system, my way of being.

Well, I’m a bit more tired and more weary from this well-worn road. I will always wonder if my road is the best one I could have traveled. What I will carry with me NOW is that the road I chose WAS the best road because it was the road I needed to go down AT THE TIME. I will own this.

Choices always seem easier in hindsight, don’t they? Being plagued by misgivings is a part of life but it doesn’t mean I have to always fall under its pressures.

My friend was right. I do know what I want. What I lacked was the confidence to stand by my convictions. I’m not an easily swayed person but I am a curious one. If odd paths look enticing, I will try them out but if they’re not for me, they’re not for me. I can say that now. But maybe not always back then.

Life can be paved with regret and I think every life should have a few. If only to say, I made some mistakes and yet here I stand. When things don’t go my way, my mind always hits all the details. As if wearing my hair down versus up one day would suddenly turn the tide. Why is it so human of us to always think ONE thing affects the entirety? The butterfly effect is not always true to life.

I still struggle with my “way” as I ramble down my current path. I will always second guess certain actions and not fully trust in the adage that things will work out for the best. Too neurotic and human to trust in faith so easily. But on days like today, maybe I can.

So my resurgence of faith has come out of something sad for my acquaintance. To find faith in someone’s tragedy is oddly sweet. Granted it’s not my sadness for once but even if it were, I think it would be alright if another saw a silver lining on my dark cloud. It’s befitting of the balance. It would be more acceptable to say I met a wonderful couple and they made me believe in love again. But alas, in my twisted manner, it is the undoing of an incongruent pair that has made me believe life can and will always find its equilibrium.

That, and karma is a motherfucking bitch (and one I hope will be devastatingly kind to me…and maybe not so kind to others). I’m a good person (really!) but I’m still a human! Always human.

The Rantings of a Mad Woman

Today was not a particularly great day. Started off like a Monday and an innocent conversation set my insides off. Only after some therapeutic knitting and hopeful-making TV am I feeling less like an angry snot monger and more like a human being.

Sometimes I wonder if I come off as an angry person. I know I am not full of hate but I’m not someone people describe as happy. (Shudder. Actually, the idea of that makes me puke.) Generally, that’s all ok by me. After awhile you start to let all the things you aren’t fall away and you are just left with who you are. Hopefully, you like that version. I do. Always in flux but I do. More and more, even when there are days when the light seems a bit dimmer.

Still, there is a fine line between self confidence and arrogance. Every now and then I seep on through the other side. My ego gets a bit large. But life likes to balance things out and as high as I might get, I tend to fall flat on my face just as quick.

Mondays aren’t my favorite in general. My weekends for this year are winding down and the fucking holidays are growing ever closer. This weekend is the last of friend festivities aka weddings.

This has been the third one I’m attending and the fourth I was invited to this year. The best part of this one – I don’t have to fly. One subway ride and I’m there. 10 min flat. 15, if the trains are funky.

Alas, with every positive, something must balance it out.

First, there are the mixed feelings I have towards the matrimonial ceremony. Now, let me reiterate that my emotions towards weddings have nothing to do with the couple. Of course I’m happy for them and to share in their day. It’s just I’m not all that swept up in the “magic” of it. It’s all too planned. It’s all too big. It’s all too…TOO. There’s a weird part of it where I just find all the “ceremony” really embarrassing.

This could be due to the fact I am single with no love prospects on the horizon. This could also be that I’m currently down on the male sex and a bit on love itself (the various definitions people use at their convenience). It could also simply be I don’t really like weddings.

When I was younger, it was more of a novelty and exciting. Seeing your friend go through it or even be a part of it. And secretly, you think of what will happen on your day. But time passes and divorces happen and shit happens and the ceremony is still the ceremony but the marriage might not necessarily be the marriage anymore.

I want the marriage. Not the wedding. Even though (I cannot lie), I’d love to wear a pretty dress.

I might just be in a cynical state of mind. Truthfully, I’m considering missing the actual “I do’s” and sliding in for the food. It’s a weird thing. I can watch it and feel emotional and hope for the best for those two kids but…the only word I can think of is…meh.

To me, seeing the couple outside of this formal context is more compelling. More telling. And more romantic. This construct just makes me uncomfortable. That and I have a distinct distaste for dancing in formal dress. It makes me feel odd. I love to dance but not in a cocktail dress. It never feels right to me. It feels less free.

I am struggling with this idea of what my shitty thoughts of this are. Seems so very bah humbug but after attending these weddings, I just find they’re like the commercialization of Valentine’s Day. It just tends to make people who are single feel like shit and that just stinks. The concept of celebrating the couple’s entry to marriage is a lovely one but it gets marred by so many other things. And yes, I’m making this all about me and not the couple at hand. Duh. Truth – the couple should party on and why not?! Declare it in front of friends and family. Go on and enjoy your day. I just wish I enjoyed it too.

I wonder if I were coupled off or married, would I feel as uninterested in weddings? Can’t say. Maybe I’ll become bridezilla should my day arrive. But that’s neither here nor there. I didn’t always go meh on weddings. But enjoy them? Rarely. I count my brother’s amongst the few I recall…mostly because my sister-in-law made it extra memorable. But that’s another story. (And WHAT a story!)

As for the fuel to my Monday fire and wedding diatribe…found out I’ll be sitting at a table with someone I care not much for. The gist is this. We had a mild flirtation once upon a time but nothing came of it (no really, not even a kiss) yet unbeknownst to him, he became my mental poster boy for indecisive smug shitheads who aren’t as sincere as they appear. I’m being harsh cuz by all means. Most would find him agreeable (maybe). But I’ll say it. I’m embittered.

Funny thing is, I rarely, if ever, think of him. But the mention now and again makes my guts clench and I just want to punch something (preferably his doughy face). It’s a bit sad, maybe pathetic and possibly hateful but I have a REALLY fucking adverse reaction to him and I cannot quite explain why. My conclusion – it doesn’t matter why. He just sucks.

And naturally, he has a girlfriend. Why? They always get girlfriends. Meh.

Thing is, I’m not jealous. I’m not even attracted anymore. I’m just angry. Sometimes, we just fixate on someone cuz they symbolize something to us, even in its nebulous nature. Not that they actually are that thing. They just…are to us.

When I look at him, I look at a man who couldn’t make up his mind. Who made snap judgments about me (I know this is pot kettle black but my blog, my rules!) and was seemingly kind but really just dismissive. He is a symptom of the issue at hand. Toddle along until you FEEL like dealing. IT. JUST. PISSES. ME. OFF.

Maybe it was my arrogance. Or my naiveté at the time. Thinking that perhaps I did one wrong move and that ended the possibility. The sad part with him was it did feel like it was ONE wrong move and suddenly nope. The sun shines then it goes cloudy. And the bizarre vacillation and the backhanded complements. The feeling I could never shake that he was always surveying my moves and seeing if it would fit. It all felt so calculated and so disgustingly transparent.

This story isn’t uncommon. This wasn’t even one that hurt that badly. It’s just the one that haunts me enough now and again that I have to sit at a fucking table with him. And yes, I know this is all massive over thinking but THIS IS HOW I DO PEOPLE!

We weren’t a good match. It came at a time when I was a lot more uncertain and grabbing at straws cuz I didn’t know who was worth pursuing and who wasn’t. The beautiful part about history and hindsight is you realize the men that did make the cut were the ones you really needed to be with. The rest were just telemarketers.

A man my friend was seeing once asked him why he was still single (eyeroll), especially since he was such a swell fella. Sigh. What can a person possibly say to that? My friend never answered and the man took it to believe my friend preferred being alone to the alternative. Double sigh. How very convenient for your story, Mr. Super Smitten but Way Too Presumptuous.

Thing is…that’s just how my friend felt about this man. My friend didn’t so much not want to have a relationship as to not have a relationship with HIM. Boom. That hurts.

I feel for both sides. It’s fucking rough. I recall the awkwardness of being wanted at a level you couldn’t reciprocate (I would always just walk away to spare as many feelings as I could – who wants to hurt someone on purpose?). But I recall the rejection just as strongly if not more so. Anyone who’s delved into the relationship arena knows one side as well as the other. If you only know one side, I hope it’s the one that hurts less. But let’s face it, ONLY one of those sides hurts. The other one just has passing notions.

That’s what is so hard to reconcile sometimes. It isn’t that these people aren’t nice or good in their own rite. It’s the feeling of rejection that they’re not right for you. It sucks when it’s lopsided. It sucks when you’ve turned down enough men and when you actually want to try, it’s with someone who doesn’t feel the same. Or that they don’t feel the same way for the same amount of time.

Rejection sucks. It can cause bitterness, irrationality and a desire to justify every non-action in your search for some real answer/reason for this pain. Sometimes it humiliates us cuz we attempted something and got it slammed in our faces. We want to save ourselves the hurt. But we can’t. It’s part of the game. It’s part of the rewards. And perhaps in hindsight, those rejections will turn out to be wins rather than losses. The lost battles but not the lost war.

(Sigh. The optimist rears her ugly head.)

Perhaps that’s what the wedding table guest is to me. A personification of someone who rejected me. Not even in a horrible way. Not even in an outwardly humiliating way. It was simply the fact that I could see the inner workings of his male mind while he was sizing me up for date-ability. And THAT just felt belittling.

Maybe it’s karma. Surely I’ve done the same in some respects. To a suitor? Doubtful. Hard to read is my MO. But warm, kind and a delightful date I usually am.

It’s the loss of control. Of not being the one who got to reject him. Of even having that temporary feeling of being less than. Of him being decisive but not in a way that was in my favor. Rejection. Blows.

The dumb thing is surely, he didn’t think much of this stuff at all. First off, he’s a guy and guy brains only want to work so hard. Plus nothing ever panned out. But I guess that’s why I rarely think of him either.

Is it horrible to hold him as the poster boy for my pain and so-called suffering? Nah. He doesn’t know it. And at the end of the day, neither one of us really cares.

I’m just a bitter Betty (at the moment) and he’s the focus of my evil eye. Do I see the idiocy of bitching about someone who give less than two fucks about me when I’ve written a goddamn blog post about it? Yes. But venting is necessary and it’s not so much the man as the idea of what the man represents. I’m working things out here…I’m working things out. And as much as I’m bitching, I know this wedding guest really isn’t an/the issue. It ain’t THAT serious y’all.

Still, I’ll admit, I do wish him bad mojo when his name comes up. Just because I’m human and NOT a walking bottle of sunshine. I don’t wish him death. Or destruction. But maybe all his clothes shrink in the wash or he gets a big zit on his nose. I’m not all that magnanimous all the time. Besides, he never won my heart and I tend to be kinder to those who broke it than to those who perused and found me wanting. Contradictory? Yep. But it’s easier to “hate” someone you didn’t really care about than someone you really did.

Fuck it.

I’ll be at the wedding this weekend. In my pretty purple party dress. And he can go fuck himself. Cuz bitches, wedding fan or not, I’m gonna look and be FABULOUS.

Unsolicited

You close a door and you think it’s closed but I’ve noticed as of late that men seem to take this as a temporary ‘out of order’ sign and not as an actual goodbye.

Yesterday, while dawdling at work, I got a LinkedIn request…from Cappy.

A quick recap of me and Cappy. We went out the beginning of last year during my biggest online dating binge to date. We had a killer first date (ripe for the beginnings of something good) but then, he unexpectedly dumped me the next day albeit for a decent reason (although I should have seen this as slightly unstable but I left the door open as I was still high off the date). Then out of the blue, he wrote me a REALLY nice note on Valentine’s Day (of all fucking days) and wooed me back for date 2. Date 2 was good as well but he got impatient, things got awkward and let’s just say he handled things immaturely at best. In short, he was an idiot.

So when I saw this request, several simultaneous thoughts spun through my mind. And in no particular order:

1. WTF!??!?
2. Thank god I’m not on Facebook.
3. Why in the world does he want to network with me?
4. Did he forget what a rude fucking idiot he was to me?
5. Does he still actually have my email?
6. WTF?!??! Like really…WTF?!!?

I deleted the email and went on with my day but not until I sent a few texts/emails to friends proclaiming the WTF of the situation. My friend’s reactions were fairly universal – HA!

Yep. I got great pals.

So last night I logged into LinkedIn…which, to be honest, I never do except to accept some requests here and there. I barely know how the damn site works. And there his little request sat in my inbox…taunting me. I admit it. I stared at the profile pic and wanted to click on it – see what he’s been up to. But pride reared its head and I didn’t want to have appeared on his visitor list. What would the point be? Oh, the drama of the internet age!

It makes me laugh to think he had to look me up or something like that. Maybe it just went through his entire address book and a blanket email was sent. Who knows?! Who cares?!

I’ll be even more honest. It’s an ego boost (to a degree). We all want to feel like we resonate or aren’t so easily forgotten. Getting some odd blast from the past tends to have that effect. Oh yah, I guess you still remember me or even think of me. Enough time has passed that I can consider that a nice thing but not enough time has passed where I forgot how disrespectful he was to me.

Cappy was an odd one who came about at an odd time. He was the only guy who actually won me over after the multiple breaks with Mr. N. I had hope for Cappy but within a month, that all dissolved. I consider it a bullet dodged. Once again, idiot…and I’ll follow that up with a side of moron.

While it did provoke a walk down memory lane, I can’t say I feel anything more than surprise or indifference. To see his name pop up after all this time is just…funny. Really!??! Oh and, for the record, I declined his request.

Now and again, some guys I spoke to online still pop up on my IM even though I dropped those idiots long ago. Hell, we never even met. No means no. And thank gawd for BLOCKING.

The constantly returning beau…a new phenomenon in my life.

I’d like to know what it is they are thinking in their heads. Mostly because I don’t feel that any of these men who make guest appearances ever ended things on a decent or respectful manner with me. Instead, they were rude, hurtful and/or mean. I can take it like a grown up but I do wonder why.

Is it simply a whim cuz they saw my name and thought of me? Is it that they miss me? Is it some sort of validation for their ego? Do they just want to see if that door is potentially open? Do they even give a shit about me? Do you think that after you treat me like a second rate citizen that you deserve an answer?

I’ll never know. To them it’s just a stroke of a key. To me, it becomes this odd puzzle. The good news is its minimal effect on my life – more of a fun quirk to report to my friends. The bad news is (depending on who sends me the missive), it just reminds me of a lot of things I’d prefer to move on from. The flip side of that is it also reminds me of how far I’ve come.

You get back what you put in is my philosophy. I am a girl who is racked with the need to answer, ever ready with a comeback. But I’m learning no response is sometimes the best one. What’s the point of opening up that can of worms again? I know what follows. Nothing good. The crux of the issue is this. I am considerate, overly so…hence my need to answer. But I am considerate to those who have offered me no consideration in return. Hence, new philosophy of only giving what I get back in return.

Sometimes it can be a struggle – minor or not. These people did touch my life in some fashion and oddly enough, I want to honor that. But that doesn’t always do well for self-preservation. So my tribute will remain silent and in my memory and in that tiny sliver of my heart they once resided (but then stomped on like assholes without conscience…nope, not bitter!). Sometimes it’s not worth the trouble when all you get is bullshit from the other end. I might be sincere but more often than not, they are not. Or I’d get more than a passive missive for attention.

Attraction is such a weird thing. I fully accept that I will probably always be attracted to or find the men I spent time with attractive. But I do this knowing that the time for us has also passed. Some folks can revisit. For me, a REALLY good case would have to be made to ever go down that road again. And a mindless request isn’t the way to go about it.

But I have resigned myself to this much…people will pop up now and again (I have no power to stop them) but I’ll continue to do what I do and put them exactly where they belong…in the trash.

I Knew You Looked Familiar…

I’ve been dreadfully behind on my dating updates…as I said, had to deal with mood indigo first. But that’s passing. Today was a nice day that ended on an odd note.

Maybe all I needed was actual sleep. The trials and tribulations of a chronic insomniac…

Anyways, I owe a further report of my date last week but that deserves a post of its own. Tonight…well…had one of those impromptu date things…yippee! Or is it yippee???

Let’s set the scene. Had a nice day at work. Boss man wasn’t in and THAT’S ALWAYS A GOOD THING. Did my business and found myself in a very serene and happy mood. It’s rare but when it comes, I appreciate.

Left work and figured I’d have a cozy night in. I was craving a burger and fries. Ordered it and was on my way to pick it up when I got sidetracked by my local wine store and their wine tasting…

After buying two bottles of wine and nursing a nice buzz, I finally picked up my food. Got it home and proceeded to chow. With my mouth stuffed with meat and my hands dripping from its grease, my phone buzzed. Say what?! I know that buzz. My special buzz – my online dating app buzz. Woot!

Slide. Click. Click. Send. Voila! It was Hurricane Man. During the lower Manhattan blackout, I was BORED OUT OF MY MIND. As I was in no way getting hurricane laid, I was simply staring at inanimate objects in my house hoping they would start to talk. I do not do well when I’m forced to stay alone for over 24 hours. New fact I learned about myself.

Anyways, Hurricane guy buzzed me and asked to meet the day after Sandy. Due to the lack of transportation, it didn’t seem like a likely scenario…even if he had a bike. The dude was 40 blocks away and not really great with the app. Took him FOREVER to reply. Turns out the day after the storm was his birthday…uh, awkward and not good fodder for a first date. I mean if it’s a bad date, I don’t want to be a birthday ruiner! So we left it up in the air…

In my head, I had decided to not be proactive with this one. He can find me. Screw it. I was curious to meet but the storm had made me stir crazy. He was a fella I was on the fence about. Due to my boredom, I was more open to meeting but not brokenhearted if we didn’t. Not to say he was not attractive – he was…but I wasn’t THAT intrigued. I know. Way to start something right? Whatever. It’s pictures and words on a computer. You try to get excited EVERY TIME a date pops up.

I digress. Anyways, the man disappeared. Figured as such. I double checked his profile a few weeks later and poof…no more profile. Yesterday, while signing into the app, I noticed he was back. Eh. I’m not making any moves.

Guess I didn’t have to. Cuz guess who came knocking at my door tonight? That’s right. Sigh…and just when I was ready to sit down with my full tummy watching “The Voice,” alternating my snarky remarks about Xtina’s clothing choices while getting swept up in the drama of people singing on my TV to entertain me. Yes. And only for me.

Fuck it. I’ll meet the Hurricane Man. I would prefer to do it tomorrow but had a feeling it was better to rip the bandaid off tonight. Besides, I could walk to the bar and home within 10 minutes. If he buys me a drink…win win I say.

So we begin the chat…this is the fun part. Fucker doesn’t remember me. Writes to me like a brand new gal but this time, with better grammar. Maybe he took some etiquette lessons during these past few weeks? We’ll never know…dun dun dun…

I could ignore the fact that he “forgot” me but please…like that’s my style. I did it low key but come on now, we chatted before (dipshit). To his credit, he answered it with a measure of tact – “Ah…I thought you looked familiar.” Some could read it as dickish but me…I read it as…”oh man, I’m a dickwad but I’m being playful about it…I’ll buy you a drink and then you’ll forgive me?”

Oh, the siren call of sweet alcohol. Sweet lady of intoxication. Come to me.

Despite my burning need to be a happy homebody tonight, I agreed to meet. And we’re off.

As I said, I was caught up in “The Voice” and ran a bit late. The chick was REALLY good. I HAD to hear what the judges had to say. Geez. Luckily, he was running late too. He texted and told me so. He got points for that. Good manners.

Still got there earlier than him and chatted with the bartender…as I do. OH! But before I sit down, I see a guy at the bar. He eyes me too. Why? Who? And then it hits me. OMG. He’s a guy on the site. A guy who asked me out at least twice and I totally rejected him (and by reject I mean I ignored his emails). As I was sitting and deciding on what drink to imbibe, I went through the mini rolodex of online profile images and DING DING DING…he was a guy I deemed a douche. A wannabe looking frat boy. I was wrong. He is a complete nerdling with a thing for Asian girls. How do I know? Cuz his date was Asian and in one of his profile pictures, he’s standing next to his Asian male friend. Clearly, he feels at home with his yellow pals. Ew. My instincts were a little off but mostly right.

Dodged that bullet. Yay me…but sadly, I did not dodge the one coming at me in one, two, three…ah and here he is.

He walked through the door and my immediate impression – hmmm…shorter. Much. Shorter. Whatever. They’re all shorter but I think this guy might be short enough to have lied. Eh. He seemed like a hugger so I gave him one when we met. Shortness is easier to deal with when we are sitting down. Know what isn’t easier to deal with? A soft talker. And a perpetually creepy smiler. Oh yes. The magic combo.

Let me start by saying, he seems like a very nice person. But I knew before he ordered his drink, this was a date that had no hope for another. For one thing, I literally had to ask him to repeat almost everything he said when he sat down. After awhile, I must have gotten used to his speech volume cuz I stopped bugging him to REPEAT GODDAMIT REPEAT. Oh, and I’ve never felt like such a loud obnoxious bitch in all my life. Not that he noticed but more on that later.

So me and Hurricane Guy didn’t have a particular flow of any sort with our conversation. Between his inability to speak at a normal volume, he also would let every fucking subject grind to a halt. Not only that, he didn’t find me funny. I know enough that when I start a story, I have to know my audience. How they’ll respond. How my punchlines will fall. OMG. The second I started, I knew I should stop. Instead of laughing, he thought my story was SAD! What I should have done at this moment was get the bill and walk out. But as I am a polite girl, I just sat there. To my credit, I think I was just dumbfounded that this idiot didn’t find me funny. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?! Moron.

So. Many. Silences.

This time around, instead of asking a shit ton of questions, I just let them sit. Sigh. I can’t win. Instead I was rewarded with awkward smiles. After the umpteenth smile, I wanted to roll my eyes and shake him. I wanted to scream…hey, this sucks right? Let’s just say good-bye. But we sat. And smiled. And I grew more attached to the wall behind me.

Body language. I’m starting to read men better when it comes to me. The comfort. The attraction. I think I get it but clearly, I’m still missing a few ingredients. To me, I don’t understand how a man can be into me if we can’t even talk like humans. Ah but men are visual creatures. I suppose I should be flattered he found me attractive. I am not. Not really. Well, maybe a little but no.

So my drink is winding down and he comments at how we are at the same pace – drink wise. Seriously? THIS…is what we have resorted to. Yah. Uh huh. I nod politely. A horribly stiff, insincere smile plastered across my face. I think my face started to hurt after awhile as I tried to return every awkward smile during every awkward silence. So. Many. Muscles. In my face.

Suddenly, I start to notice how he’s inching closer. Not just his body but the bar stool. And I’m moving back closer to the wall. Does he notice this? Nope. Cuz he’s an idiot. So now I have to woman up and tell him the deal – “I’m not feeling much of a connection here. Do you feel the same?” This is LITERALLY what I had to say.

His expression slightly falls but I am soooooo past the point of caring. He says (softly), “Oh, I was kinda feeling one.” Buddy, I don’t think THAT’S what you were feeling. And ew.

I wrap it up and thank him for coming down to meet me. The bill shows up and he asks if we go dutch. I do find it mildly tacky but at the same time, I just bruised his ego. Fair enough. In the back of my mind, though, I wanted to say – you forgot me, I had to remind you and now cuz you’re idiotic and can’t read signals, I have to pay for my own drink?! Lameass.

Instead, I SMILED, gave him a hug and ran away…or walked away quickly. However you want to put it.

Good times I say. Oh and the Asian loving guy I rejected. The irony! He was having a great time with the girl he met. Good on him but ehhh…I know I still made the right choice on that one. Blergh.

So what have I learned tonight? Go with the initial instinct. If it’s eh and I’m bored, it’s still eh and eh for a reason. Also, musicians and me still do not go together. For some reason, I keep attracting the world’s most boring, soft-spoken (literally) musicians EVER. Ugh. Onwards!

Upcoming dates…well, I have two on the agenda and hoping they actually work out. One is Saturday. New guy and he remains nicknameless at the moment. He might be foreign – not sure. His profile was erased shortly after he contacted me. My powers of deduction say this – he’s over the site and I’m one of the last chicks, if not the last gal he contacted. Success dear sir. Success. Suffice to say, I have mild excitement over this one. But with recent debacles like this one, it keeps a gal’s expectations low. Let’s just say I hope he’s fun, funny and finds me to be the same.

The other date…it’s to be determined but that one deserves another posting for another night. Oh but sneak preview…this would be a second date. Dun dun dun…tune in for the next installment…

Happy hunting y’all! 😉

The Little Dipper

I’m a girl who prefers to cannonball back into the game rather than just sliding in but time is tempering this impatient chick’s heart. And the benefits of dipping my toe back into the pool…perhaps it suits me best at this moment in time.

Sigh. Enough with the metaphors – I went on my first date for this go-around…and well…WELL.

The set up – I was out to dinner with vegan buddy. In between courses, I updated him on all the “fun” correspondences I’ve been (not) having with the gents online. Then I showed him how the “locals app” function worked and the messages I can get from that venue. Color him intrigued.

We soon came upon a fellow I thought relatively attractive. My friend, ever the quick learner, was keen on utilizing the locals app, insisting I approach the guy NOW. Somehow, I found myself (reluctantly) agreeing to do this. With his matchmaking gleeful cheer, he hit the “Let’s Meet” button and, with bated breath and dessert in our mouths, we waited for random guy’s response.

Ten minutes or so passed and I assumed I was rejected. Patience is not one of my virtues. The vegan meal we just had wasn’t doing me any favors (damn vegan fried food!) so I was happy to let that one go – gassy girls aren’t really cute even if you looked like Angelina Jolie. So, in keeping with my stupid luck, random fellow NATURALLY was ready and more than willing to meet me in any part of town within the hour. Oh. My. Gawd. The “joy” of the internet/smartphone age.

My beaming vegan friend proudly stated – he wants to meet “us!” Yes, I was no longer a single unit but a community of two. I guess it’s only fair since my friend did all the button pushing and message dictating. Oh to be in service of a gay man’s whimsy!

Oh and since “we” were meeting him, maybe “we” should actually READ his profile. Turned out his profile wasn’t bad (he knew how to punctuate!) and my only misgiving was his height – only one inch taller than me. Gah. But as my friend said…”an inch is still an inch even if it’s an angry inch.” Bastard. He knew me too well – referencing gay musicals is the way to my dirty little heart.

Fine. “We” will meet him. After some waiting and edited texting, our date was set – Irish pub across the street. Done and done.

Left my pal, took a deep breath and walked into the bar. (Sounds like the beginning of a joke…read on!)

Walked in on time (more or less) and went straight up to the bar. Was about to order my drink when he tapped me on the shoulder. My impression – my initial wariness of his height turned out to be a non-issue when he was staring at me face to face. Yay me. Perhaps I’m not THAT shallow after all. He looked just like his picture – attractive but there was one thing the picture didn’t quite capture…more on that later…

Whatever the case, got my drink and he paid for it. Felt a bit lame as I was short of cash (who the fuck knew I was going on a date?!) so he stepped in and got it for me. Nice gesture and I appreciated. Plus he liked my pick of venue – he was doing well enough a minute into the game but oh, the games have merely just begun…

Drinks in hand, we quickly sat down and then the interview process began. Interview being the operative word and I was the one asking the questions. The ONLY one asking the questions. The nice start was now unraveling before my eyes. One thing was clear – this needed to be cut short. Maybe it was the residual stuffed sinuses but I just couldn’t think of a way out. I just clutched my drink like it was a sad little lifeline. I don’t think I’ve ever been so conscious of a drink in my hand and the frequency in which I was sipping. I was sipping so much, I had to take smaller sips as my drink was depleting faster than I intended. Get another drink you say? Well, hi…cash flow issue and I did not want to prolong my stay.

But enough about me…the guy? Well beyond the height, I noticed fairly early on that he had crazy eyes. Or should I call it the death stare? It was as if his life depended on eye contact. And not just normal, courteous eye contact but I’M GONNA STARE YOU DOWN LIKE A SLIGHTLY INTENSE CREEPY FELLOW all night long. I won’t say it freaked me out. It just made me uneasy. Uneasy enough to keep on sipping.

I’m not great at feeling out attraction vibes from men but if I had to offer up an educated guess, I think the guy was pleased to see me. Perhaps that would account for the crazy eyes. The image still haunts me. (Shudder) I try to keep pretty decent eye contact but I found my eyes wandering all over the place cuz the stare was too intense. I just wanted to scream at him – STOP LOOKING AT ME…STOP TRYING TO STEAL MY SOUL! No really, stop.

But I didn’t. I was polite. And I continued my line of questioning.

It still confounds me how conversations die. I sat there, more than holding up my end of the chat. I would offer up avenues to go down. He would answer with fairly interesting thoughts and then it would. Just. Die. Nothing. I don’t generally mind silences but when the silence was accompanied by THE STARE…do you see my dilemma?

When he finally did bother to ask me questions, he asked me one of my most hated ones – where are you from? California. No, really…your family? This is what I like to call the ethnicity question. I get it a lot and from the most well meaning of caucasian men but this always counts as a point against them. I won’t go into all the reasons why but if you are a person of color and you get this question…well, it blows. But tonight, fuck it! Cuz at least it meant the conversation could have some sense of flow. If I kept talking, maybe the eyes would get tired and look less…intense…or at the very least…AWAY FROM ME!

Beyond the crazy eyes, I think he had a bit of a little man complex. Napoleon complex – whatever you want to call it. If my tick was constantly bringing the glass to my lips, his was this strange move in which he would simultaneously fix his shirt and flex his biceps at me. It was perplexing to say the least. Just. Odd.

In total, it took about an hour. By the time both drinks were finished (I was sucking on the ice cubes), he gave me three options:

1. stay for another
2. change venues
3. go home

Guess which one I went for?

He seemed to have taken it in stride. For all his crazy staring, he was nice enough. Just not for me. I walked him to his car and we had an awkward 5 second moment. I was praying he wouldn’t go in for a kiss…he didn’t. Instead he shook my hand. Uh…ok.

No matter…it was done and I was freed from the death stare. I practically ran all the way home, I felt so…FREE! Die death stare…DIE! (Poor guy – he was nice…REALLY!)

My assessment – overall, I’ve clearly been on better dates but this wasn’t horrible. Just awkward. No matter though, within minutes of our parting, I realized how glad I was about this bizarro last minute date. Why? Mostly because it made me reminded me of how capable I am of making the right choices in my romantic life.

For months, I’ve been filled with regret and doubt about the paths I’ve chosen. In my lowest moments, I thought maybe was naive enough to be had. Not so. Connection is rare and it’s nights like tonight in which that becomes resoundingly clear. Connections aren’t easy. They’re not supposed to be a dime a dozen. When something works, it just does. And the choices I made were purposeful. They were good. They were right. For me.

The spark…it’s how relationships begin. How we began. And while I didn’t necessarily love where it ended up, I know WHY we began. I just needed to remember I knew it was the right leap to take. That when a spark is ignited, you let it burn. Tonight I remembered all of that. All the whys and the why nots fell by the wayside.

I can’t explain away decisions I’ve made. I’m not always the most logical of women. I go with my gut and I am guided by intuition and plagued by over thinking. After being hurt for so long, I wasn’t always sure my instincts could be trusted. How odd that a random fellow gave me back that belief in myself within the hour. Ha. Life is indeed mysterious.

Ahhhh…well next up is Schmoe. Meeting on Tuesday. As for the other fellas – never heard back from Ginger or Cute Guy. At this point, I’m going to assume they’re dead in the water. Alas. But things work out the way they need to…one way or another.

Sometimes A Girl Just Misses Being in the Game…

Lovely.
And I wonder why I dropped all my online dating sites…

Winners! of Online Dating

Then again, this makes me miss it a little too.
Swoon!

Trigger Happy

Dating in real life seems a lot like how one goes about sorting through your online dating inbox. It’s mostly a bunch of incoherent douchebags or socially awkward “outsiders” but once in awhile you come across a fairly well read, charming and mostly articulate email. When you do, it’s like you’re experiencing (what I imagine to be) the second coming. Holy shit, miracles DO happen.

Alas such miracles are few and far between.

I often wonder if there are actually people who date a lot and they’re the ones getting all the media coverage. Honestly, I’m more of a one date wonder. Mostly cuz I do not click with these men folk. Nice guys on the whole but no chemistry. Gotta stick to some guns…

Regardless, I look around and there are plenty of nice single people around and yet nobody seems to be able to pair up with someone they want to start something with. It seems like such an impossible climb.

Last night I was out with my lady pals, hanging at a joint that is most definitely not my scene. What scene you ask? Basically a yuppie financial douche magnet type bar. Pricey drinks, crowded to the point you can’t move and LOTS of suits. Lots of married suits. Honestly, what’s the point? But I hang anyways cuz I enjoy seeing the ladies and hanging out with them.

Been there three times at this point and I feel a little out of joint each time. Not horribly so but enough to where I know this isn’t for me. I stay open minded to meeting a nice fellow but chances of that happening are fairly low. These guys are sales men and the kind I hate to encounter – arrogant, entitled and not fun. They’re generally on the older, more distinguished looking side and me…I like my style but I look like I should be their adopted Asian daughter. Not happening on any front.

Anyways, one of the quieter ladies and I were chatting. She was debating whether or not to give her number to a guy she’s been eye contacting. Always one to encourage, why not? Then she told me she found him a bit ugly but she was just simply tired of being single. It made me incredibly sad.

And it makes me think of settling. Sometimes being single is really rad. Other times, it’s like this. My friend was telling me about her dry spell. Her other pals tell her to just jump some random to get over that hump but she isn’t built that way. Her friends do that themselves and they end up with men who don’t know their names in the morning. What’s the point of making yourself feel lower? Temporary happiness like that never cures the disease. So it’s the choice we make and we are filled with self doubt.

Maybe I should lower my standards. He doesn’t have to be mega cute…just a little cute. He doesn’t have to have a great job, just a paying one. He doesn’t have to have a personality, he just has to be able to talk. WTF?

I see couples that should be together and are and others in which I question motives on both sides. Is it so much easier to be with someone than without? I crave that companionship but I cannot commit willy nilly. Some people are able to go with it and see what happens. I can too…to a degree…but I can’t fake an attraction when I don’t feel the inclination.

I’m sad and feel a little hopeless right now. I know it’s a phase but since I’m baring my soul…

Lately, I’m going out and having a decent time but my self-esteem is at a low, not all time low but it’s low. Before I jet out, I look in the mirror and think I look alright or better than. I go out and I see all the lovely ladies around – taller, thinner, hotter…and I feel myself getting smaller and smaller. It’s ridiculous but it happens. In our own heads. Over and over. And the men don’t see me (too short) nor do they want to talk to me (not interested) and it kills my ego. The dumb thing – I don’t really want to talk to them either but it’s the head game. I want to be noticed and in control but I don’t have the conviction for any of it.

So begins the cycle…am I not friendly enough? Or pretty enough? Or enough….enough…

Deep down, I know I am. More than enough of all of that but moments like this…they happen.

Last night I ended up talking to a few gents. One was more entertaining than the other. But midway through a banter-filled chat, I feel him turn cold as if I said something horrible. If my confidence was at its usual level, fuck all but instead I was dumbstruck. Truth is, I was just trying to make a decent night of it but I had no REAL interest in the guy. And so he’s the trigger that made me go through the rigamarole I listed above. Idiotic. And I realized…cuz I like to rationalize…this isn’t my crowd. My charms are lost here. I felt shrill, short and way too…young.

And it occurs to me that these men might be more the speed of the ladies but they’re all married and just not very…vital. Maybe I’m speaking out of bitterness but sometimes where you are looking dictates what you get. Egh.

Truth – I’ll still chill with the ladies and hopefully they find a new location to hang cuz seriously…NO. Overpriced and overwrought. My venues of choice might not be conducive to their goals but fuck all, sometimes, it’s just nice to be. It’s interesting to be around that energy (of looking…always looking…openly) but it also gets tiresome and tiring. I don’t see them enough where this is an issue but the little mini reveals the ladies tell me make me wonder – maybe it’s time to just let it go for a bit. But they keep trying and I have to admire that too.

Life is eternally a struggle in any facet. We always wonder if we are making the right choice or going down the wrong path. It always seems people can see so much clearer than you even if they don’t have any real answers. So we listen to them and wonder if maybe they know something we don’t. Often times, they don’t. They just wish good things and that’s nice in and of itself. It’s just sometimes, a girl wants something a bit more substantial. I want a relationship that’s not just good enough but good and solid and real. I want dedication but seeing the men around lately, I feel like I’m shooting for the moon.

But who says I don’t deserve the moon?

Wonders Never Cease

Wow. Moron. Let me count the ways…

Idiot Online Dater

I can’t decide what is dumber – the fact he created an actual spread sheet complete with key OR he sent it to one of his dates. You decide.