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!


Sunday, October 26, 2008

Careful What You Wish For...

Pinning mutual blame on myself and Steve for our near miss and subsequently - not looking back, I began to nurture a gradually growing crush on a James Spader look-alike who wrote to me on Fri. asking "How do you feel about 3 day first
dates?" I am here to tell you...this was, bar none, my favorite "Hi, how do you do" that I have ever received! This guy didn't pussy foot around! His message showed confidence in himself and I liked the creative way he subtly declared his attraction to me. At first I wasn't sure if I was into his looks though, there was something funny about his smile, it was huge, maybe too enthusiastic, but every time I peeked back at him, he got cuter and cuter, and eventually I was obsessed with not only wanting to hear from him again but also with checking him out in person so I could find out if my intuition was on target (or not, as was most likely the case) In his profile pic. he was dressed in business attire and he was polished and crisp and cheerful. The more I thought about him the more I entertained the three day first date excursion, he was serious about that...right? I was definitely game, but unfortunately, my first opportunity to meet him was on a boring, single, old Monday night. When I confessed the scheduling glitch he seemed ok with it. So, best I could figure, we were to try each other on for size at dinner on Monday and if things went ok, well THEN we could start planning the 3 day second date. So, riddle me this, Batman, why is it that he suddenly disappeared, just like that...poof!? It appeared that he had all but vanished, over the weekend. I consoled myself by becoming convinced that his photo depicted an overzealous, shifty evangelical preacher type rather than the clean cut professional with a hidden wild streak with whom I had become so unrealistically enamored from repeatedly gazing at his photo. There...that effectively softened the blow of rejection a touch. But I was still curious as to what I had done to frighten him off. He does live in my ex's hometown...wonder if he asked around about me and one of my adversaries, i.e. someone with unwavering allegiance to my ex. - probably some misinformed naysayer, badmouthed me into oblivion. Wouldn't be the first time. It occurred to me that I could've scared him off by checking out his profile too many times in one night. I'm not really sure if the site on which we met operates that way or not, tattling on a voyeur every single time they sneak a peek. Friday night Frances and I kept going back to his profile to see if he got cuter to her each time she looked, like he had to me, since she did not find him particularly attractive at first glance, either. After about 8 or 9 clicks, though we were in total agreement about his looks, he was indisputably damned good-looking! We eventually deviated away from his page and focused our attention on searching for guys who were suitable for her, instead. We came across Dan who, age-wise, was directly in the middle of Frances and me, so theoretically, either one of us could have staked claim. We both liked his dark features and intense mug, but we were looking around for her, so I relinquished him. Here's he thing...Frances and I were searching around under my acct. 'cuz we were on my trusty, ole Mac, so I, me, my account - was getting all the credit for doing all the snooping. None of the guys we viewed knew that we were scoping things out for someone with a different account, they naturally assumed it was..ME. So, yesterday, when I went to that very site to check for action, I had a note from Dan. I was like, "Oh my god! That's the guy we were looking at for Frances, but he's contacting me!" I made the executive decision to determine that Frances was too old for him and that he and I would be better suited for each other (hope you don't mind, old friend!) plus he's a Libra which is a way better sign for me - Sagittarius than it is for her - Virgo. I anxiously answered his note. He seemed to have the cool quotient in spades; he had been an international DJ sensation in his heyday, but had shelved the rock star lifestyle to instead, raise his young son. He was quite different on many levels, than most of the guys with whom I flirt and we shared many life parallels (he loves his Mac, also, to name just one) We swapped well thought-out e-mails, you know the kind that take an hour at a time to write because you a.) have a lot to say, b.) you want to sound eloquent and c.) you want no grammatical or spelling errors.

My Mac greeted me the next morning with a big red "1" beside the little postage stamp at the bottom of the screen. Usually there is a number bigger than "1", so I was apprehensive to even open my mailbox, 'cuz I was sure that it would either be useless junk mail or a disheartening message from some dud. It was, to my delight, a message from Dan that he had sent to me in the middle of the night! I was quick to produce a response e-mail, slyly equipped with a phone #, and just a few minutes after admitting in another letter that for whatever reason, I was talking myself out of calling him - my phone rang and it was him. We had a great conversation and since James Spader was A.W.O.L., I went ahead and filled that night's date slot by agreeing to meet Dan for dinner. How 'bout them apples?! Here's the catch...Instantly after hanging up the phone with Dan, I checked e-mail (big red "2" by the postage stamp) and found that both messages had been sent by James Spader...holy shit! What the hell had I done? I was too terrified to open either one or both, afraid to discover that he may be accepting my invitation to meet out for dinner and drinks - that night, the Monday that we had tentatively designated for our pre-3 day date - date. If this was the case, then that would mean that I had erroneously, perish the thought, double-booked!

I finally gathered the courage to learn how deep a hole I had inadvertently dug...and - Hallelluiah! It all turned out to be A-OK! James Spader was unable meet me that night, because he had a conflict. He apologized which was sweet and normally I would have been bummed, but under these circumstances, I was thrilled to not have to bullshit my way out of a screw-up. He was available the next night and I pencilled him into my calendar, pronto. He was my little insurance policy just in case things don't go so well with Dan.

I swear! This is the most interactive blog entry I think I've ever written! It feels like I am writing a minute to minute blow by blow of every single detail of my day, hope you don't mind. But here, I need to ask you something? Can not liking someone's voice be a deal-breaker? Seriously! I picked up a v.m. from James Spader and his voice was ungodly! It was tinged with a strange accent, not so much country as it was crooked and gravelly, almost like he suffered some neurological malady...cerebral palsy comes to mind, no offense to anyone. It was disappointingly the antithesis of smooth and sexy, which was what I was sooo hoping for. It gave me a tummy ache, I'm not kidding. I kept looking at his photo and replaying the message and the two simply did not match up. Maybe he used a body double...Anyway, I was starting to get late for my date with Dan, when I picked up another e-mail from James Spader, in which he suggested we meet for drinks at a downtown bar at 6:30 Tuesday evening. I didn't have time to write much, so I simply said that 6:30, at the designated bar, would be fine.

Ok, here we go again...My date with Dan was pleasant. We met at his house (I know, I know) and he gave me the tour. His place was very nice, smartly and sparcely decorated. He had good taste in furnishings and art, it was very clean but there was a peculiar odor messing with my nose, like the septic was backing up, or something, ick. He was not nearly as attractive in person as he was in his pics. He was much heavier with a barrel middle. I'm sorry, I just cannot picture what it would be like to have sex with someone when there's a big honkin' belly in the way. He was balding and his hands gave me the creeps, they reminded me of my grandfather's hands, the nails were too long, or something, I dunno. I wasn't completely grossed out by him or anything like that, he was fun to talk to and he took me to a really nice, yummy dinner (he spent WAY TOO MUCH MONEY! GUILT!) He was a complete space invader though, and insisted on touching and kissing me a lot, kinda creepy. He made me smell his cologne which was like the worst old lady's perfume, ever..flowery and powdery. He was insecure and constantly repeated things like, "Oh, you're never gonna go out with me again..." he must've said it 15 times during the night. I finally told him if he didn't stop it, it would become a self-fulfilled prophecy (which I had to explain) he followed up with "You are so sexy" which he also must have repeated 15 times during our time together. He didn't hold his cards very close to the vest, he confessed numerous times, that it had been a long time since he'd hung out with a woman, uh oh..He insisted on inundating me with unwanted, generic compliments telling me repeatedly that I was beautiful and cool. He would stroke my hair and say how much he loved it, that he loves brunette, especially brunettes with curly hair. I wanted to scream right in his face which he kept about 2 inches from mine, most of the night, "Stop it! Just Stop! It's too much!" This guy would be a lot of work, as a boyfriend to anyone, I think. He needs too much reassurance, stroking (no, not THAT kind of stroking, well - probably that kind too, but fortunately, I did not have to go there) He really wanted me to stay at his house and I was like, "NO! It is not even remotely an option!" HIM: "But, we don't have to have sex" ME: "I KNOW we don't and we WON"T, don't worry!" I seriously needed to get back on the toll road before the cash lane attendants clocked out at midnight, because I knew my credit card would be declined, even for just a $3.50 charge, sad but true. My exit strategy was based on truth, at least partially.

Tuesday afternoon, I checked to see if I had new mail from James Spader and I was perplexed when I saw that he had deleted his profile. (Uuuhhh...had he somehow gotten wind that his voice made me shudder?) Was this his way of suddenly avoiding me, of trying to back out of the date? It wasn't even that I cared so much to maybe not be going on the date with him as it was curiosity as to why? Then I became even more disturbed when I thought that maybe, perhaps, possibly - he could've deleted himself from the site on which we met and flirted, because he was THAT sure that the date was gonna go so splendiferously well that he could essentially stop looking....Naaahhh! It could not possibly be anything as absurd as all that, right? Please say "NO" I texted to ask him if we were still "on" and he texted back "Oh I am soo gonna be on you, I mean, yeah, we're still on, lol" ha, ha, ha, very fuckin' funny asshole! And then when I hadn't responded in like 2 minutes, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Cuz my tongue is sooo ready for you, tonight" GAG!...That did it! I literally lost every shred of a crush or any good feelings I had previously had about him, immediately, and was wishing I HAD actually done something to run him off, before. But I had to go through with it regardless, you know? A short bit later he called, all fidgety and weird, wondering if I'd gotten his texts, I told him that I had and that he called before I had a chance to send one back, relax. He asked (in that horrific voice) if he should go ahead and reserve a suite...(I think I just threw up in my mouth a little, no shit) You know...what do you even say to something like that? Is he serious, cuz he's definitely not funny! I just don't understand what's wrong with these people. What happened to the thrill of the chase? Both Dan and James Spader have acted so desperate and clingy, urgently smothering me with contrived certainty that we are fated, or something. Needless to say, I am not the least bit excited about this date, tonight. I don't even care what I look like, I think I somewhat intentionally chose to sport a branded "bad date outfit", in fact. These jeans make me look fat and dumpy and I could give a rip, my sweater is conservative and plain. The good news is that I have to drive my kids into town anyway, so at least it's not a gas issue, tonight. I just hope I can get the goddamn thing over with quickly so I can get back here to my jammies and a cocktail and my trusty, ole Mac and start the frickin' process all over again...

In a weird way, I kinda got my wish...I got stood up, tonight by James Spader - the fucker! What the hell?! I plunked myself down at the bar, not really putting forth the effort to look around and see if any man there looked like they could be him, I'm near-sighted, it would be in vain, anyway! So I ordered a drink and read some mail that I had stuffed into my pocket book. I texted him to say that I was there, where was he?...Nothing. I texted to say,"Hello?"...Nothing. The bartender asked me if I wanted another drink and I informed him that I thought I was in the process of being stood up, that I would finish the drink I had and after that I would see. The hopeless romantic in me thought, "What if I'm here, get stood up, some random guy is wise to the whole thing, takes pity on poor, poor, pitiful me, we start talking and the rest is history... Ehh, fuck that! I'm going home." Under any other circumstances I would have been devastated. Not this time, I was so excited to not have to fend off what I suspected would have been repeated, blatant, unwanted advances, since his last e-mail said something about "if the chemistry in person is anything like that which we have experienced online, we will be going to whatever island we choose, over the next weekend, for our 3 day date" What chemistry online? Jesus, we had flirted a little, yeah! But I had never gotten wet because of it! Quite honestly, the more he demonstrated how heavily he was into me, the further away I squirmed. There WAS no chemistry online between us, we had barely spoken to each other. I considered it one of the less significant interactions between me and an online guy. Ok, so this is the last thing I'm gonna say about the jerk and after that, I'm done with him forever...Why on Earth did he put forth such enormous effort to blow so much smoke up my ass, when he obviously never even intended to meet me, anyway? Hmmm?

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