Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't

For the record, I have put myself on an indefinite self-mandated probation prohibiting me from meeting any man in person anytime in the near future, as punishment for my colossal screw-up, last week. Well, that and the fact that I can't afford to keep putting gas in my car in order to go on all these typically, long-distance-ish excursions, much less pay my way when I get there. I'm in a funky kinda way, right now. I'm not all that motivated to stir shit up because I can't afford to go out even if I wanted to, really. But, strangely - at home, sitting in front of my beloved Mac, rather than engaging in my usual paradigmatic, objectionable behavior in an attempt to stave off inescapable online dating ennui, I find myself ignoring most of my current stand-by's, these days (and nights). Cuckold Zach? I am actively blowing him and his prominent idiosyncrasy - off! Dean from Cincinnati, continues to urgently IM me to no avail, making desperate declarations that he actually has real "feelings" for me or something absurd like that. Even my new webcam hottie from NY is growing impatient and annoyed because I never acknowledge his solicitations, I'm sorry if I've lost interest in mutually masturbating with someone when there are 300 miles and two cell phones between us. Curiously, I soured on tall, Texas accent William almost immediately after meeting him, for no justifiable reason. One of the perks of meeting fellas online as opposed to meeting them at a bar or somewhere else in your own "neighborhood" is if you do decide to be done with the situation, be it after one date or five, it's way too easy to just disappear. Hooking up with a local guy is different in a couple of ways, if there's even a shred of interest mutual or one-sided, well, good! They live nearby and it's convenient to test-drive each other for awhile until you figure out it if it's gonna be a "Go" or not, unlike meeting these guys who live forever away where you might've enjoyed a perfectly good date, but would date #2 be worth all the hassle of hoofing it all the way out of town again? Conversely, though, if you pique the curiosity of a local boy and you decide he's not for you, it's a little more tricky to slither away, and hide from him forever. Especially if he knows where you live, they just don't seem to give up as easily, it's too convenient, not to. As cold-hearted as it sounds, when I lose interest in a guy I've met online who, chances are, lives out of the immediate area, I tend to fade into obscurity, not the least bit worried that we'll bump into each other out in public or that he'll come hunt me down. And the phone, well, it's not that hard to simply ignore it, if need be, god bless caller i.d.. I think I've reached a plateau in this online dating landscape. Just kinda bored with most of what can happen on my computer, too poor and irresponsible to go out on a real date, I want more...and REAL. Enter Greg...I have been having the most fun in a long time, simply chatting, (absolutely NO FUNNY BUSINESS, whatsoever - SWEAR!) with him since I met him online last Friday night. It's invigorating that such a sweetly innocent interaction with a man has me so spellbound. I reckon sometimes one has to completely bottom out (i.e. last week's blatant fuck up) in order to regroup and get back on the good foot, by starting at ground zero and engaging in the grassroots fundamentals of he-in' and she-in'. Every time Greg and I have talked it's never for less than at least a couple of hours, sometimes more than 4. He's got so many of the qualities that I dig; he's my age (roughly) he loves music and not only do our tastes overlap, I look forward to expanding my musical library, thanks to him. He's physically attractive (bonus!), tall and thin with a cute, messy mop of chestnut hair, and heavy eyelids hovering over dark eyes. I like the clothes he's wearing in his pics., slightly wrinkled, button-down shirts always loosely tucked into low-slung jeans with a belt, and the way he consistently has his hands in his pockets all kind of shy and "aw shucks-ish" is completely fetching. He speaks (types) French to me, and by now I'm sure you all know what a sucker I am for that shit - it's soooo romantic! One of my favorite things about him which particularly aligns us on a creative level is the fact that he loves to write, and best I can tell, he's pretty damned good at it. Here's where things get a little sticky. I told him how much I enjoy writing as well, but I can't really elaborate. If I turn him onto the fact that I've spent ostensibly hundreds (?) of hours of writing, wouldn't he naturally want to see the product which is this Big Ugly Blog of mine? I can't possibly expect him to ever want to speak to me again, lord knows I've made that mistake in multiplicity. It kills me that there's something I do, the artistic value of which I am relatively proud, yet the literal content of which makes me, its very creator, shudder from time to time with debilitating mortification. So, I continue to bite my tongue and distract myself from the dangerous urge to share, by trailing off in half-assed directions, like talking about cars or food, which do genuinely interest me, but I'm itching to connect with him on a writing nexus.

Incidentally, do you guys have any idea how much I love writing my big ugly blog? (Could I love any one man nearly as much?) It's entirely possible that only 12 people read it, but that's fine, cuz 12 or 12,000 - knowing that I have an audience at all, makes me write. Those 12 are the invisible fire under my ass motivating me to strive to entertain them, the devoted few who take the time to muddle through this mish mash, regularly. In a perfect world my blog would become enormously popular everywhere except for in my teeny tiny little town (and the surrounding areas) in order to to spare my children the potential to have to endure ridicule projected on them by folks who disapprove of my libertine ways. Not that I care what people think of ME, but I would absolutely freak if any of my questionable behavior negatively impacted my children, you know? My kids know I write a blog and they know that it is about online dating and they even grasp a pretty clear definition of what online dating actually is, since I am painfully honest with them about a lot of stuff. That is not to say that they wouldn't be scarred for life if they were made aware of just a fraction of the 90% of my online dating antics about which they are still, thankfully, clueless. They do know I go out with guys who I've met online and they know how excited I can get about certain fellas at the time, as well as how disappointed I end up most times. I am conflicted because there is that part of me that wants to say fuck everybody, and let's just get the word out about the blog and see if I can generate a respectable following (sounds creepily cultish, sorry). But besides wanting to minimize discomfort that possible fallout may bring to my kids as well as prematurely educating them about sexual topics which are absolutely out of their realm of comprehension at their tender ages, there is the uncomfortable predicament that goes hand in hand with informing good dating candidates about my blog. Basically, I've learned that if I want someone to continue to be interested in the prospect of dating me, I better not make a peep about the blog. Why in the world would any self-respecting man knowingly position himself to potentially wind up under the microscope in this desperately single girl's melodramatic saga? Sometimes I cannot resist, though, maybe their line of work is parallel to what I'm trying to achieve with the blog so I spastically offer it up before I have a chance to come to my senses. Spontaneously I throw it out there and boy, watch em scatter! Just the other night I contacted someone whose good looks initially snagged my attention but when I saw he was a filmmaker, I couldn't resist talking to him. I even made up my mind that I would have to sacrifice thinking of him as a good dating candidate, because I really wanted his advice about the blog from a professional standpoint. I promised him I wouldn't mention him here but since I am only vaguely referring to our interaction to illustrate my point, I hope he won't mind. As I clicked the "return" button, sending him the blog site, I immediately regretted it. I could just tell, almost immediately following his first glance, even though he was polite, that he wanted to run away, FAST! I was kicking myself repeatedly for being so "seat of the pants". What am I doing? Have I no common sense? Needless to say, this sweet, attractive most likely very good catch politely gave me the boot. "Nother lesson learned, I 'spect. So from now on, it is my sincere and determined intention to keep my flippin' pie hole shut about the blog, unless there is literally no way in hell I stand or even want a shred of a chance with the fella to whom I am sending the info.. Think I'll actually be able to pull it off?