Saturday, I took the day off from actively online dating, except to sew up a few loose ends with spurned lover wannabe's including Dan, to whom I had boorishly neglected to send any kind of follow-up note after our date. He had written to me asking when he could see me, again and you know, it wasn't like he had done anything horribly wrong to me during our evening together, well - other than groping my breasts, completely without warning, but besides that...He had taken me out for a really yummy, super expensive dinner (he was clearly taken aback when the waiter brought the check...oops! Them was some 'spensive cocktails!) and you know, I'd like to think that a note to Dan, politely explaining that we would not, in fact, be getting together again, would prove that I am making an effort to enact a more decent and mature approach to slithering away from un-datables. Hence my decision to be a big girl and write to thank him for spoiling me at dinner but more importantly to let him know that he had kinda crowded me and that I worried about an even higher intensity of physical invasion if we were to go out again, and that I was sorry and good luck to him. The funny thing is that relatively speaking, the date with Dan was a freakin' cake walk compared to my date with Simon, but this was my story and I was stickin' to it. He got back to me before I'd finished composing my second "Dear John" letter and said,
I'm so chill
I may have been enamored a bit over the top
I assume it's just out of boredom
I think that it was fun and I'm sorry you feel that way"
Ok, so - thank you very much...NEXT!
Understandably, I had no reservations about firmly kicking Simon to the curb. I felt it best to cut the cord with him, unapologetically - he deserved nothing more. I told him that I did not appreciate the liberties he had taken with me, physically - that he had been way too forward for my comfort level and that frankly, the fact that he had said "I love you" was more than bewildering. I said that I would never dare even consider putting myself in a situation like that with him, another time and that it was too bad that he had been such a horny dumbass because we did have some neat things in common...you get the point. He tried to defend himself as well as defer the blame, saying that I had essentially encouraged his deplorable aggressions (not in those words, obviously). It was kinda creepy to witness such a drastic shift in his demeanor, adoration being swapped out for acute acrimony. Yep! I should consider myself lucky to have escaped all in one piece, huh?
Finally, I broke down and typed a "touch base" type of note to Steve, yes - Steve! See, Frances has been vehemently urging me to not let him slip through the cracks. She is constantly reminding me, "Don't forget, you had a connection with him, and you know how rare that is, nag, nag, nag" In my note to Steve I offered up some paper-thin excuse as to why I'd been so scarce and basically just said, "Hullo". I reckon it was somewhat sleazy of me to so callously attempt to pluck him out of the archives, immediately after Dan and Simon, who had temporarily snagged first and second place over Steve as the most captivating "aces-in-the-hole", had bellied up. There's always got to be at least one man, at all times, on whom I can pin my romantic aspirations. Steve was now the best - really the only candidate, once again. I got a reply from Steve and I was not the least bit surprised that he didn't jump at the chance to see me again. In fact, the vagueness in his response was hauntingly familiar to those that I have written when gingerly placing a guy on retainer, in order to explore another option, but careful to not dismiss him entirely. I was nearly certain that his noncommittal response indicated that he probably even had a date that very night. I'd be willing to bet that he was all excited to be meeting someone new, but didn't want to tell me to get fucked, just in case this new chick was a dud. I harbored no ill feelings, been there done that. I predicted that his date would be unimpressive and even though he would bite his tongue for the rest of the weekend, I felt confident that he would get in touch with me early the next week.
Late Saturday night after cosmic bowling (nothing but good, clean fun - a much needed diversion, hell - I bowled a damn 54, Dawg!) with a few good friends and a bunch of kids (my own adorable daughter included) I snooped around the dating site on which Steve and I had met and noticed that he logged in at around 1 a.m.. Classic...he went on a date, it was shit and after sleepwalking through it, eyes glazed, he scurried home to assuage his misfortune by whoring around online...lifts the spirits, every time! He wasn't foolin' anybody, not that I cared, I swear! I'm just braggin' 'bout my Nancy Drew skills.
How are you doing? Is everything alright? Have things calmed down with your ex-husband? Did you get my email last week? I'll try calling you tomorrow in between Fios being installed and voting.
Talk with you soon... I hope!"
Need I say more?
Steve asked to go out with me at my earliest convenience...I may...
Sunday I met a man (with whom I've been talking for at least a month) for coffee, my cup for which (incidentally) he did not offer to pay. I mean c'mon! It was like the perfect opportunity for him to demonstrate what a gentleman he is, and it woulda only set 'im back a measly $1.89! Not sure if it was because he's had so few dates that he's so painfully clueless or if he's maybe some kind of an equal rights for women kind of guy or something, but damn - what a cheapie! Anyway, I was just glad that I actually had enough to pay for it (lately that kind of change is all that I have to invest in gas, fairly often) Anyhoo, let me just say that I knew from the outset that Copa Cabana (screen name) was not my type. His looks were not for me, not that he was unattractive, necessarily...I just have a type and he didn't fit the profile. I also felt that the double-breasted sport coat he wore in his profile pic. depicted a man with absolutely no sense of style. He later boasted that he'd scored the jacket off of Ebay. I'm not even sure I knew you could buy clothes on Ebay, or why anyone would chose to...Could be that he stumbled upon it by accident while browsing through the Miami Vice memorabilia. So, whaddya think? Should the fashion sense (or lack thereof) of a potential suitor impact one's answer to the burning questions: To date? or Not to date? To this I say, unequivocally, YES! Although I admit that this is terribly shallow of me. Ok, so you might be asking yourself, "What the hell is she doing? Is she so desperate that she would waste a perfectly good Sunday morning on a guy who literally does not move her one iota?" I can only defend my decision to meet Copa by reminding you that - wasn't it in the very last entry that I toyed with the idea of responding to guys who I normally would ignore completely? You know...reverse psychology...sorta? And I reckon there coulda been a smattering of desperation thrown in there for good measure. There...Happy now?
I have to stop myself from launching a full attack, I feel I must hold back from further scrutiny of this whopper of an hour and a half date because Copa Cabana reads the blog and since his only real offense was not treating me to a cup of Joe, I don't feel overly compelled to rip him to shreds in front of his very eyes. I was talking to one of my dearest online friends, Reid (Hey Baby! Muah! Love, love!) later that night and Reid said, "I say torch the bastard!" Actually it came to me like this, "I say torch the **stard" after being cleaned up by the site. It's so funny the way these dating sites have to be such goody goodies about that shit, like you can't even say the name "Dick" or "cocktail" or "pussycat" it's so silly, we're all grown-ups here, I mean really...I really wasn't trying to change the subject, there! But as I'm sure you've noticed, I AM going to refrain from "torching" Copa. There...nuff said.
I left the bookshop where Copa and I had failed to launch, and navigated my cute, little car through the gorgeous countryside to an idyllic, 1000 acre farm where Jordan was to participate (and as it turns out...to DOMINATE!) in an equestrian event. It was so therapeutic for me to be outside, breathing in the crisp Autumn air, surrounded by open fields and my children and several of my dearest friends. I was so enjoying a break from perpetually frying my brain, by staring at my computer monitor during every free minute - searching in vain for my forever lover, along with suffering through one disturbing outing after another, ugh...in fact I was semi-resolving to be frickin' done with the male gender, entirely. I felt somewhat at peace, really. It was downright refreshing, I'll tell ya'!...ahhh...
Snapping me out of my Nirvana there at Jordan's event, was an acquaintance of mine who approached me and in her characteristically brusque, take-control style asked if I was seeing anyone. Everyone within earshot, laughed uproariously, myself included, 'cept my laughter was tinged with a distinct bitterness. Was this a case of malevolent leg-pulling, huh, HUH? Anyway, instead of getting righteously defensive I simply asked, "Claire, don't you read my blog?" to which she replied, "I don't have time to read your blog, Isobel! Come here, I have somebody I want you to meet." Oh! Ok, and off we strode to introduce me to this mystery man, in the flesh, before ever having read each other's profiles or e-mailed or IM-ed or texted or webcammed -- woah! It had been forever since I'd taken such a traditional route to meet a man, suddenly I was panic-stricken, like seriously VERY nervous! She hadn't given me time to prepare and the next thing I knew I was hip to hip with a very attractive, age-appropriate, divorced man with three kids whose ages lined up almost exactly with three of my own children and we were from the same hometown and went to brother and sister schools and my stepmom used to work with his dad and both of our daughters won their events and my GOD! It was just such a whirlwind of excitement...wow, a real live human...