The Big Ugly Blog is an honest and uncensored collection of anecdotes recounting the madcap shenanigans of a perpetually 39 year old divorcee, as she wades through the mire of the murky online dating pool - ravenously searching (evidently in vain) for the man of her dreams...Keep On Dreaming, Baby!


Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Another one Bites the Dust

Ok, so Tuesday, Alan and I texted each other intermittently throughout the day, nothing terribly interesting, just fairly boring, chit chat, mostly. At one point, late in the day, he asked if I had been glad, the other night, that he/Alan/my date, hadn't turned out to be any of those three guys who were at the bar with me before he/Alan/my date had gotten there. I thought this was an odd question, he came across as being unnecessarily insecure and needing his ego stroked or something, and I couldn't figure out why was he even thinking about those guys? He hadn't interacted with them at all. Naturally, next - I let my classic, wild imagination off the leash, and concocted a (most-likely completely) harebrained theory. You ready? What if the three guys at the bar had been Alan's friends or workmates or something, and what if he'd asked them to be at the bar so that they could scope me out for him? And what if the whole business about him having mistakenly ending up at the wrong bar was nothing more than a facet of the whole shifty ruse. It's possible that he asked the three guys to size me up, and to then text him with a full report, that way he could decide, before getting locked into something potentially miserable, if our date should transpire or not. K, so I guess we'd have to suppose then that the three guys at the bar must've given him adequate enough positive feedback to motivate Alan to go through with the date and only at that point did he have the cajones to finally meet me at the bar. I know it's probably totally off the mark, but coming up with these far-fetched stories is sort of my trademark. Now my wheels were really turning! I was thinking, "Ok, he's friends with those guys...and the next day they were probably ribbing him at work about his date (his very first online date, mind you!) and busting his chops, maybe teasing him that I'd seemed more interested in them or know how guys sometimes do". I told myself that anything I said to him would get back to the three and that's when I decided to crank this snooze-fest up a notch. Instead of coddling his psyche by half-heartedly blabbering on and on about only having eyes for him, I went the complete opposite direction and replied to his insecure text with, "I was definitely glad it wasn't the short one, but there was nothing wrong with the other two, the bald guy had really pretty eyes" Was that a horribly cruel thing for me to say? I seriously have no couth, have I…cuz quite honestly, the bald one was absolutely gorgeous - trim, strong body and the most vivid blue eyes...ever, with long dark lashes, and it wouldn't have hurt my feelings at all, if he somehow found out that I thought so. I did not hear from Alan again until later in the evening when he sent a perplexing text, "Ey Isabella"........Huh? I swear to god for the life I me I had no idea what the heck this meant. Believe me, this was not the first time that reading his texts was like deciphering hieroglyphics, he was adept at struggling to make his messages clear. Perhaps it had something to do with the bald guy's eyes, or "Ey" as the case may be, who knows. I didn't waste too much time mulling it over and since I had no earthly idea how to respond, I opted not to. Besides, at this point I was online getting cozy with an Adonis-like 19 year old from Chicago, who was preparing to return to George Washington University in D.C., in September. I made it very clear to him, that he was way too young for me to even entertain meeting him...after all - there were more years between us than he was even old! But he insisted that he was only interested in dating older women, his last "girlfriend" had been 47. Jesus! He swore it wasn't just the milf thing, he wanted a relationship with an older women, uh huh…sure ya do, baby boy. Anyhoo, his was definitely not the first testimonial I'd heard from young guys who'd become addicted to the experience and savvy that a "mature" lover brings to a relationship, and consequently how challenging it can be to then have to settle for the clulessness of younger gals, afterwards. We ended it that when he got back to school in the Fall, MAYBE he could come out here to the country and model for me and a few of my artist friends. We really are always trying to find people willing to pose for us, I SWEAR! And since he WAS a flawless male specimen and all, I simply couldn't resist throwing it out there...In all likelihood though, we will never speak to each other again, because that is the very nature of all of this online communication garbage. People are attracted to a photo and, motivated by boredom, they strike up a conversation with someone who they never intend to meet in person, nor even speak to again, most times. This epidemic behavior is the by-product of a curious syndrome I've noticed recently, which directly correlates to online dating. In my best estimation, there are not going to be a whole lot of successful, lasting relationships forged through internet dating. I think lots of people, like myself, go into this ludicrous charade, sincerely hoping, believing that they will meet their ideal soul mate, bypassing the bleak bar scene, in order to meet droves of hopefuls who are milling about on the internet - and all from the safety of their own homes, (in their jammies if they want for Lord's sake!), at a modicum of expense, sometimes engaging in the safest sex possible, with the ultimate goal of ending their dismal search forever. They ardently embark on the mission, chasing as many leads as physically possible, striking up abundant conversations - some of which culminate into the holy grail of online dating; a real live, actual date, very few of which wind up amounting to much, at least that's been my personal experience. This is where my being selective (What? Don't laugh...again!) further diminishes my own probability for success. I have had the good fortune of going on a few really nice dates with decent people who I met online, some of whom, by all accounts, were real boyfriend material, and still...nothing has stuck. I don't know if it's cuz I'm hypercritical of most of the men that I meet, or if it's cuz I really enjoy the time that I spend with my kids and my friends, and I know that introducing someone new into that scenario can be nothing short of a monkey wrench, at times. Maybe it's cuz I am finally able to embrace the mandatory alone-time that coincides with the time my kids spend with their dad. This craving for isolation often renders me incapable of allowing potential suitors to stick around for very long. Or perhaps I am simply stricken with a deplorable "grass is always greener" mentality, making it extremely difficult to abate my addiction to mingling online, afraid that I might miss an opportunity to discover that next best thing. Hell, I could still be dating Thierry, or maybe Ben, or even the new guy Alan - if I had been working in earnest towards manifesting a serious relationship. I could definitely have scored that ever-elusive "boyfriend" by now if I had played my cards differently, but would I have been settling for someone who may not be exactly right for me? (Is anyone ever EXACTLY right for anybody else, though?) Why bother settling though, when there are throngs of available men to meet online! I guess if I was resolute about wanting to find my forever lover, I would start by only talking with people who were reasonable, potential mates: no one under the age of 35, no one living outside of my slated 50 mile radius, and no one already involved in a relationship. Trying to find guys who meet these criteria is startlingly difficult, and since I am completely boy crazy, I find it nearly impossible to put blinders on to the plethora of choices out there who don't meet my sensible requirements. It's exhausting and rarely effectual to try to meet people out at bars. The time, the effort, the predictable disappointment, the money, and the risk of getting a DUI make it so prohibitive. The few times that I have actually met guys at bars who wound up becoming my boyfriends, I think I was so relieved to have simply met someone at all, that I foolishly glommed onto them because I was downright tired of looking. So what am I really trying to get out of dating online? Am I using it as entertainment to fill idle time? Am I seriously looking for the man of my dreams? Have I fallen so in love with writing this blog that I must remain a serial online dater in order to keep the inspiration for my entries flowing? Which brings me back to my syndrome theory - to me it just seems like because of internet dating, folks like myself are becoming lazy about forming traditional man/woman relationships. This is a no-pressure way to: a.) meet tons of people, while not necessarily even needing to leave the safety of one's home in order to do so, b.) spend virtually no money in the process, c.) never really have to worry about what you look like (unless of course the webcam is involved, tee, hee) and d.) not have to alter one's home life one iota, to make room for an in-the-flesh, warm body. I frequently find it sufficiently satisfying to go to bed at night after enjoying (well, most times...) having talked to any number of fellas, doing the honors of pleasuring myself, (if I am aroused enough to feel like messin' with that) and finally hunkering down under the covers next to no one, well...besides my two devoted pups.

Wednesday morning, I sat bolt upright in my bed and laughed out loud! I think I figured it out! Alan, in his last text to me had written "Fy Isabella" which I deduced could be a sneaky abbreviation or even a typo for "fuck you Isabella"? And I reckon (if my hunch was even remotely spot on) that he must've been irked by my comment about the bald guy. After making my alleged discovery, I couldn't resist texting back, "think you meant to say "F U Isabella" and btw, my name is not Isabella" So, another decent, real life date ultimately ends in disaster...again - shocking!

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