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, September 3, 2008

A New Star on My Walk of Shame

I considered sweeping this one under the rug, but if I did, I'd be: a.) robbing the blog of the most pressing, new development in this swirling online dating vortex...b.) essentially withholding the truth, which I've always maintained was the lifeblood of this derned blog even when the repercussions could prove to be cataclysmic and...c.) Frances would so bust my chops! I think she believes that publicly humiliating myself by admitting such a blatant fuck up in my blog is an appropriate penance.

I drove out to meet Christopher, the other night. The drive seemed to take forever, the mapquest directions were thoroughly confusing and not the least bit direct, plus I am near-sighted as hell and I must've missed every other turn, but eventually - I DID get there. Where is "there" you might be wondering? Well, I made the moronic mistake of agreeing to meet him at his apartment, RED FLAG! He lives in a big city and I guess I just figured we'd go directly from his place, out somewhere for a drink or maybe even dinner. He met me out on the sidewalk in front of his home and he gave me a "Hello" kiss, uh oh...there was palpable electricity, shit! I knew it had the potential to be bad! I was sweating like crazy and not just because my little car is hot as blazes (no a.c.) but also from a touch of instant anxiety, already a little afraid that I might be powerless to NOT misbehave. In his profile, the height he listed was one inch taller than I am but by my estimation, he had to have been at least an inch shorter than I. It felt slightly amiss, but there was that instant attraction, which can so magically negate physical imperfections. It reminds me of this one time when I had a massive make-out scene while patio dining at a favorite restaurant with a guy who was far more heavy-set than I typically tolerate and who wore white socks with sandals, yuck! His overall "look" was appalling! Additionally, his initials were E.G.O., which - trust me, was a very fitting acronym. This dolt didn't even have it going on in the personality department! But during our one and only date, at some point he got up to go visit johnny, and he leaned over me from behind while I was sitting in my chair and he upside-down kissed me, it was pretty flippin' incredible! I was shocked, because he was such a complete dud otherwise, and yet he had these mad kissing skills! So, you see? It is possible for chemistry to at least temporarily override a complete lack of anything else, unfortunately - it rarely has any staying-power. Anyway, so back to Christopher...

I think you may know that we had been communicating for all of one, whole week, by the time we met, and we flirted heavily for the endurance of our "courtship". There seemed to be a genuinely nifty connection when we were getting to know each other online, so I was willing to overlook the height deficit, even though I'd already determined that if we advanced past this initial date, I would probably never get to wear heels when we went out. (Sadly, without heels, I am incapable of looking even remotely glamorous) There were a couple of other physical features which weren't really workin' for me that I hadn't noticed on the webcam, one of which was his blobbish nose. I think you guys know how important it is for me to dig the nose and hands belonging to the man I'm seeing, or there is literally no chance for a lasting union. Peculiar, I know, but that's just the way I is. Once inside, Christopher offered me a beer, (as I'm sure you know, I am a virtually exclusive vodka drinker) which I gladly accepted. I figured any alcohol would have been helpful in minimizing my swiftly accruing trepidation. We stood just inside the doorway of his eensy, weensy apartment and I kept asking him, "So, what are we gonna do?" and every time I did, he came up to me and kissed me again, a lot. I kept making general references of concern about "booty calls" and "one-night-stands" and he did his best to verbally eschew my concern, but physically he was flippin' Satan - positively unrelenting and I was powerless to overcome his advances, despite his diminutive stature (cuz I kinda liked 'em!) And I can't blame my lamentable lapse in willpower on alcohol either, since I never even had a chance to swill my brew. Let me cut right to the chase here - YES - we had sex, ok?! Believe me, I hate having to actually admit it! I called Frances right after I left his house to tell her I was driving home and everything was fine (she worries, so) and I thought about lying to her but I couldn't, she'd know. And as I could've predicted, she completely ripped me a new one because of my glaring error in judgement, duh! I got it, already! Honestly, I can't even really explain why I let it happen, you know? The whole time I kept repeating to him that it was a bad idea and that I knew if we did it I would never hear from him again, blah, blah, blah... and on top of that there was the fact that his dick wasn't quite as small as one inch, but not much bigger, either. So, anyhoo - I've been marveling over the unusual juxtaposition between my undeniable physical attraction to him and my repulsion by several of his physical attributes. On the one hand, even despite his teeny wiennie, the sex felt great (now that could be directly related to my recent lack of real human contact) but on the other hand, I couldn't stand to look at his squat, primate-esque body as he chimp-walked out of the room. And get this, his feet were smaller than mine, I had a real problem with that. So why did I go through with it? I don't have the foggiest notion! Maybe to make all that driving somehow worthwhile? Could've been I was way overdue for real sex or possibly I felt obligated to him to put out, for some reason, I truly cannot explain it. We left it that he'd call me over the weekend while he was away and the more I thought about it the more disgusted I became by the whole thing. I sent him this note:

"You know what? On second thought, don't bother getting in touch with me. I think the way we behaved on our "first date" was completely stupid and I'm not even sure why I ever worried that you might not call me if you convinced me to have sex with you. Sure it felt good and all, but it's definitely NOT what I wanted on our maiden outing (overstatement!) together, or any other first date, for that matter. Why would I want to have even one more conversation with a guy who should've taken me out for a drink or dinner, after I drove across the frickin' planet to meet him, instead of taking me immediately to bed? The least you could've done was be somewhat sweet to me after we got it on, but sadly, you opted to be a greedy, critical, cold fish. I like your dog way better than you, she's genuinely kind!"

I felt instantly better, ahhh...The one smart thing I did during our little interlude was insist that he use a condom, so ultimately all I was really worrying about was feeling like a hosebag. What Frances was worrying about and always worries about is the fact that after all the time I've spent actively online dating and writing about online dating and analyzing online dating, I obviously haven't learned very much, especially where my personal safety is concerned. What sensible 39 yr. old meets a complete stranger at his house for a first date and neglects to leave even so much as his cell# with her best friend in case she disappears...forever? Frances really lit into me about all of this, it was verging on parental, but I willingly took my medicine. It never ceases to amaze both of us, how trusting I can's just plain idiotic. So far the best example of how potentially dangerous my naivety can be is definitely my terrifying date with the Boxer. Mind you, this was way back when I was an online dating newbie, still trying to figure out the learning excuse, I know but whatever. So after this professional boxer (that alone was enough to get my panties in a twist, because at the time I was training to box, myself) made the initial contact with me, I investigated his profile info. and was disappointed to see that his face in his photo was so blurry. I was, however - encouraged that his body, which was proudly on full display, was such a good one! We quickly exchanged a few e-mails and then he IM'd me (I think he was the one who introduced me to the whole IM-ing thing) and within minutes of first talking we made a plan to meet, that very same morning. He seemed in an awful hurry, but my schedule allowed for an impromptu meeting and as is my nature, I was game. We met at a breakfast restaurant and as soon as I laid eyes on him I knew I was not interested. Yep, he had a great body and a gorgeous car but his face was all wrong, way too intense, nary a smile to be had. I am a fairly light-hearted person and I cannot thrive with someone who is brooding or sullen. In the restaurant we both had only coffee and I felt like the convo. was somewhat forced and rigid. It was time to leave and I was totally fine with simply going our own ways, but he asked if I needed anything from Target (which was directly across the street) and I said that I could actually use a few items so he offered to drive us over there, no big whoop. We did our shopping and afterwards sat in the Target cafe for a bit. The next logical thing would have been for him to take me back to my car, unload my purchases and bid each other adieu. But that's not what happened. He made the executive decision to forego taking me to my car and instead decided we'd take a scenic drive together. He said he wanted me to go with him to his house (fuck!) so I could see his show dogs and all their awards and stuff. I didn't like one thing about this, I mean here is a guy whose job description includes punching the shit out of people. He could literally kill me right there in the passenger's seat, with one direct blow to the temple. My stomach was beginning to hurt, but I was working really hard to maintain some composure while silently convincing myself that this was all going to be ok. The drive to his house was virtually endless because he literally lived in the middle of B.F.E.! I was feeling more certain that I could officially be in deep doo doo. Oh yeah, AND I had no cell service that far back into the mountain or wherever the hell we were, so that was very comforting. I politely endured his lengthy tour of the dog kennels, keeping my cool when his enormous dogs smeared their shit-covered paws all over my jacket, "Awww, aren't they're cute? Nice doggies!" Pat, pat, pat...He explained at length their royal lineage and I feigned interest in hearing about all their accomplishments within the dog show circuit. If I hadn't been so terror-stricken I would've been bored to tears! Mostly I just wanted to go back to my CAR, but he still had to show me his home gym and of course give me a thorough tour of his whole house which terminated in, you guessed it...HIS BEDROOM. He wasted no time putting the moves on me and I delicately asserted that I was simply not interested. The real trick, having no accurate sense of his temperament, was how firm to be. Evidently I gauged it perfectly because, long story short, after a fair amount of his relentless lobbying to get me in the sack, I hammered home the fact that it wasn't gonna happen and he finally conceded, without incident. Enough time had passed now, that I had the legitimate excuse of needing to get back to my car because my kids would be dismissing from school relatively soon. We got back into his car and he pouted and gave me a bit of attitude, but I did not care in the least. I believed I was heading to safety, phew! The weirdest thing he did during the whole date was - on the drive back to my car, he began clicking around on his iphone and repeatedly pulling up and showing me videos of himself performing anal sex on a variety of beautiful women. Huh. Nifty. I guessed it was his last ditch effort to try and woo me...Woo hoo!

I have rarely been as relieved to be away from another human as I was once, I buckled myself into the sanctuary of my rattletrap grocery-getter, rife with the aroma of moist dogs and stale snack scraps ground into the carpet and crumbs in the seats and trash and dirty socks...Normally these reminders of my children's blatant unwillingness to pick up after themselves, AT ALL - would send me into a frustrated frenzy. But appreciating the fact that I was still all in one piece and totally unscathed by this frightening eye-opener, I couldn't imagine being even a tad bit upset by something so comparatively insignificant as a little grunge in my car...

1 comment:

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