Everybody's Fall-Back Girl

I mentioned in the last entry, a banal date I had a couple of Tuesdays ago with the "Outlaw in Peru" (as he described himself) and I now realize that this date, easily the least exciting one of all time, is barely worth the effort of retelling, it was that insignificant. I will say that the guy was a bit of a freakazoid. In one of the first e-mails he ever sent to me, he boasted that he had seduced many women with his sensuous trombone playing (was he for real? I mean, Flamenco guitar - yes, maybe...but the trombone? Me thinks not) and that he had written many award-winning operas...(Did he actually expect me to believe that shit?) Anyway, his comically contrived personality coupled with my insatiable inclination to make really bad choices was what motivated me to agree to meet him. We settled on my suggestion to grab a cuppa Joe at a bookstore rather than doing yoga at the public library which was oddly, his idea of a sensible first date.

As soon as I spied him entering the building I got this really creepy feeling, like a sickeningly sour stomach. I can't put my finger on what exactly it was about him that just didn't sit right with me. He wasn't totally unattractive, not necessarily my type and a tad bit short, but he seemed fit and his face was fine. He did have heinous breath which knocked me back a little when we introduced ourselves. Another problem that I had with him was that once we got settled at a table and began chatting, I quickly realized that I didn't understood one thing that he was saying to me - every utterance was gobbledygook. I think he was attempting to sound esoteric and philosophical but each nonsensical comment that dribbled from his mouth was absolute crap, whole sentences went right over my head, and I consider myself somewhat with it. I seriously think he was concocting his own made-up language as he went along but since I wasn't all that interested in him or what he was trying to say, I didn't bother to ask him to clarify. I just nodded and said a lot of , "Hmmm"'s. Fortunately for me, he was enormously taken with himself, so he didn't really need me as a captive audience, anyway. After enduring an hour and a half of his drivel, I lied and said that I had a dental appointment and that I needed to get. He hugged me and that was that. Pretty boring, really...

About a week after my date with the "Outlaw in Peru" he texted me some nonsense about the site on which we had met and a girl on the site who was stalking him and how he was worried because she could have seen my number in an e-mail and that she might try to bother me. He told me that the girl had "hijacked" his page, but I seriously had no idea what that even meant. Once again, he had totally lost me with his bizarre rambling. Here's the weirdest part...just a minute ago, I went into my inbox to look for the "sensuous trombone" e-mail so that I might reference it in this entry and best I can tell, the "Outlaw in Peru" has up and vanished. All of the messages that he had sent to me had evaporated. Usually even if someone deletes their profile, the mail that they have sent remains in your inbox and there is just a little blank spot where their username used to be. Not so with his account, all of the notes that he had sent to me were gone along with his username. So I searched his name and it said that he had closed his account on Jan. 1, 2008. That's just not possible. We only ever communicated through that site and we met in person after exchanging e-mails for only a few days. His account had to have been active several weeks into January. I don't get it...maybe he's...a ghost...yeah, a ghost! That would explain why I could never understand a word that he said...he was talking to me in some sort of spooky specter speak...or maybe he really is just an outlaw...

After I punctuated my last blog entry by glibly dropping the bomb about Bill's mysterious make-up, I can say with absolute confidence that it was a glaringly insensitive bumble. I guess the best way that I can describe how I've been feeling since the unfortunate incident, is mostly like a sack of shit. Monday morning, after not hearing from Bill even one time over the weekend, I got a text from him which simply read, "Google search "vitiligo"" and even though I wasn't 100% sure what it even was, I was fairly certain that it was some sort of skin malady, per the situation at hand. Immediately I knew that he must have read my blog, even though he had promised that he wouldn't. This meant that he had to have also read my comment about how his make-up had made my stomach hurt and I surmised that this text was his way of trying to help me understand why he needed to wear it, and consequently - I was nothing short of mortified! I paced, zombielike around the room, repeating, "Shit, shit, shit" - all of my insides were churning hot and fast. I didn't know what to do or what to say or if I should say anything to him at all, or if I could even muster up the courage to ever talk about this with Bill or anyone else...ever. I just felt sick and sicker because I'd been so hasty and stupid and he definitely didn't deserve to be treated that way. I got another text from him later in the day and I simply could not bring myself to open it...for like 4 hours. I couldn't bear to read one more word regarding this uncomfortable predicament...I really just wanted the whole thing to go away and I wanted to disappear, completely. I finally texted back to say that I thought I might just crawl under a rock and stay there, indefinitely...and that's pretty much what I've done. Here is this perfectly decent guy with a legitimate reason to use concealer on his face, and yet I had let myself run with the misguided notion that he wore make-up because of vanity or something else completely ridiculous like that, despite the fact that after I had blabbed on and on about it to my friends, they had conjectured and encouraged me to believe that he must've had a logical excuse for applying it. I'm all jumbled up about the whole thing...this little snag has put a halt on the momentum of our exciting beginning. I can't seem to reclaim that initial ooomph and the reason for that is nothing other than sheer embarrassment on my part. I am too much of a chicken to confront him about the matter, even though he left a voice mail in which he stated - in the kindest most sincere voice - that he wasn't upset with me, that he had never been upset with me. God! I'm such a wuss! I talk to myself about it (I can't talk to Frances about it anymore, she is so blown away by what a cold bitch I can be. I am just too ashamed, plus it would be futile of me to try and rationalize my irrational behavior to her, how could I?) This little hiccup - the sudden pause in our forward motion - gave me time to realize that there are several things working against Bill's and my chance for success, outside of the make-up misunderstanding. Since retreating from him, I reminded myself that I really do not want to get involved with a native of my ex-husband's hometown, even taking into account the fact that Bill does seem to be a great guy with a lot of qualities that I like, and he made it pretty clear that he doesn't care at all about what other people say or think. I've talked a bit about this before, of my moderately strong desire to meet a man from out of town, which might keep my personal life slightly more anonymous (sort of a silly thing to say, considering I write about every single facet of my love life and post it on a public forum, but oh well). Since my divorce, I have carved my own, little niche in a neighboring town, but around my ex-husband's hometown I am thought of as something of a scorpion woman, by many folks for various reasons which I do not feel like divulging right now. Let's just say that to drag another of their local boys down my selfish, destructive, sordid path, could prove to be the final nail in the coffin...death by social suicide. I was admittedly uncomfortable the other day when Bill and I met for lunch, kissing hello and goodbye, right out there in the open on the pedestrian mall in the heart of Old Town. I am not a bashful person, generally, but I did not like feeling so exposed that day. There are just too many familiar faces, downtown - wandering around and peering out of shop windows and restaurants, and I am not the least bit motivated to provide further fuel for my naysayers' fire. Additionally, I believe that Bill doesn't deserve to be the victim of possible future slander within my blog, lord knows I have zero self-control in this area. He is a quality guy and I can't bear the thought of him slogging through the bullshit backlash that so often goes along with hanging out with me. And on top of that, the thought of locking myself into any sort of boyfriend/girlfriend scenario or regular dating at all - kinda freaks me out, right now. I'm getting pretty used to this bachelorette shit, I am terribly comfortable in my independence, these days. I embrace my status as a self-proclaimed online dating junkie and I don't see any signs of my terrible addiction dissipating anytime soon. Frances keeps reminding me that it would be ok for me to "date" (but not fuck) multiple guys at a time, because I can and I should. I understand that but I don't think that I am capable of effectively pulling it off. I believe that I am truly a one man at a time, kinda gal, even if that means one date only with fifteen different guys in a row.

I don't know...my gut tells me that the thing with Bill was a classic case of catch and release...I was pleasantly surprised when he just appeared there before me, but after studying him for a brief period, I felt that it would be selfish of me to take him home and eat him up. Heartless as it may sound, I feel I have no other choice but to toss him back into the dating pool and recast my line...

So, I guess my punishment for dissin' Bill is the absurdly large pile of garbage that has been continually dumped on me all week long. There was a resounding theme amid my online dating antics and it was definitely not my favorite...

My despair over my callous treatment of Bill shifted to unbridled fury when just about every major asshole with whom I've ever been in contact reappeared to try and rekindle the fire with me, and I spent the better part of my week violently cross. The first perpetrator was a guy I mentioned a few entries back, I call him Angry Elf. He is a much younger dude who lives nearby and every time he contacts me he opens conversation with something like, "Come to my apartment and let's watch a movie" to which I always reply, "I will not meet you at your apartment, if you want me to come see you, then it will have to be in a public place" and he always gets raving mad and starts typing his IM's to me in all capital letters, almost like he's yelling at me. I hate it. I have never seen someone's temper more effectively demonstrated in simple written word. Once I was like, "Damn! You're an angry little elf, aren't you?" and he shouted, "YES!!!!" Scary...I have no idea why I ever still talk to him, he's got definite anger management issues. Must be the fact that he is phenomenally G O R G E O U S ! This week, when he tried to sleaze his way into my good graces as well as my pants, we went through the same tiring rigamarole about me coming to his apartment. I droned on as usual, about how I was looking for a quality, long term relationship and NOT some scuzzy booty call and he said that he doesn't date old gals like me (such a sweetheart!) that the girls he dates are usually 18 - 24. I said, "You know...you talk to me as if I should consider it my duty to be your personal Pro, or something" and he comforted me by saying, "Oh, don't worry, there won't be any money exchanged" Neat. So I said, "Well, it's obvious that we're looking for two totally different things, might be better for you to call on one of your 18 year olds to service your needs" to which he responded with, "JUST COME TO MY APARTMENT!" and I said, "Stop yelling at me, you get so mad! I am not gonna come see you, cuz you're gonna be mean to me!" and I closed out my IM screen after he followed up with, "YEAH, BECAUSE YOU ARE SO DIFFICULT!"

Next there was the ever-refreshing Big D who churlishly disregards each adamant "NO!" that I fling at his pathetic pleas for me to come and see him. As you know, I ultimately gave him the boot once I found out that he was married and I have consistently maintained a frosty disposition in our rare and brief conversations. His new angle, which I guess in his mind justifies staying in contact with me, is that we should still meet, see if we have chemistry and once we discover (his predicted) undeniable attraction to one another - he, myself and his wife, can all live out his fantasy of having a threesome. DOUBLE NO! I gotta tell ya', conversation with Big D is the epitome of exasperation. He is beyond obstinate and his egregious pushiness sends me into an unprecedented state of choler. Finally, the other night, after ignoring several days worth of his desperate IM'ing, I decided to shut his ass down once and for all. He was clearly bombed out of his thick skull and I didn't hesitate to berate him for being a shitty husband and a scumbag. Tuning me out completely, he begged for me to turn on my webcam, "C'mon, I just wanna see your smile, I know I'll never have you...just turn on your cam" I suggested that he IM his beautiful wife and have her turn on her webcam and please leave me the fuck alone, and do you know what he had the gall to say? He said that his wife can't use a computer because she has no hands.........What a cocksucker! It was official - I absolutely detested the retarded troglodyte and from that moment on all that I would say to him was, "Turn on YOUR cam" I don't even really know why...perhaps some sort of subconscious reverse psychology thing, I dunno. Anyway, he finally acquiesced and I am here to tell you that I was completely disgusted by his goofy face and his plastered-on self-impressed smile, which, by my estimation, was nothing short of obnoxious and imbecilic. I HATED how he looked and I was so glad that I had never wasted my time and gas to drive an hour and a half only to discover that the loathsome blockhead wasn't even physically attractive. I closed out the webcam window and refused to reopen it no matter how many times he pitifully pleaded with me to do so. I was so done with that dolt, FOR GOOD! And it felt terrific! Oh wait, there was one more small incident...The next day, Big D IM'd me to apologize for being such a boor the night before, blaming his infantile behavior on "too much Scotch" - which I totally disregarded. But then I accidentally sent an IM to Big D which I had actually meant to send to a new guy whom I'd met over the weekend. All that it said was, "I just sent you some pics." Well, dontcha just know that Big D got all excited and replied with, "You did?! Oh Great!" I extinguished his elation by simply saying, "Sorry, wrong person" His response? "DAMN!"

Simultaneous to being subjected to Big D's inanity, I was tolerating IM's from Speedo, who I relished ignoring completely...and Christopher, the young guy from DC who was so forthright with me when we first met awhile back, about his sexual needs and wants and his curiosity about my predilections. I don't know if you remember, but right around Christmastime, he up and disappeared, without any warning at all. He removed me from his favorites list and simply never communicated with me again. Back then, I remember wondering what the hell I'd done to cause such an abrupt dismissal from his life, it felt, well...yucky. So now, he's back - lucky me! And the fucker acts like he has the right to just pick up where we left off. His presumptuousness made me positively fit to be tied. I mean how dare he saunter back into my sphere and start insisting that I describe to HIM all of the ways that I would want him to probe me with his peener, 6 ways to Sunday! You know what? Christopher fully blew his chance with me. (It's so funny to me how quickly I can change my tune about a guy who originally, I found so beguiling - once I've been even a little bit burned) He weakly apologized for having bailed on me and then chastised me for being incapable of getting over it and not allowing myself to get excited about him all over again. I told him that if he just would've explained it to me at the time, than I would have had no problem getting reacquainted with him now. I am a big girl and I could have handled the fact that he had met someone. In fact, I would've wished him well. Hell - we had no real ties to each other at that time. Christopher offends me in the worst kind of way, there is nothing sexy or cute about the way he acts like he deserves to be adored. Yeah, so he says he's got a great job and all and a beautiful home in an expensive neighborhood in DC and he's relatively handsome, but that doesn't mean that I should have to fawn all over him just because his last twist flew the coop and he's urgently looking to get laid. The pompous asshole kept me IM'ing me til like 2:30 in the morning - hashing and rehashing the same ole horse shit. After insisting that I had no interest in a casual hook-up, that I was looking for a real bf, and that I WANTED TO GO TO BED! he would infuriate me further by saying things like, "Well, if I drove all the way to where you live to meet you, would you make it worth my while, would you let me do it in that tight ass?"...AAAARRRGGGHHHH! You are just not hearing me, man!

We finally left it that I would call him the next day and we could decide then if we would hang out or not...(I already knew that it wasn't EVER gonna happen, but I really just needed to end the conversation) He gave me his number which I did not write down and in the middle of his endless badgering I wrote, "I'm signing off now" but he still kept hounding me...so I typed, "3", then "2", then "1" and then I closed my IM screen.

Mr. Cynical has been poking around, and sexual deviate extraordinaire Soldier Boy Jack has reared his sick and twisted head a couple of times, to no avail. Even cheeky, young Ryan from way the heck back in July (see the "Never a Dull Moment" entry) made an unwanted and typically rude appearance when he IM'd me and simply asked "Horny?" I said, "Nope" and he asked, "Do you wanna be?" and I told him to go to hell, in so many words...But probably most disappointing was when my good buddy and confidant, Better Jimmy, with whom I talk on the phone (just as friends) several times each week - had the audacity to ask if I wanted to help him rise from the ashes of his string of dating disasters by coming up to visit him so we could screw...Et tu Brute?

About the only asshole who hasn't come around to bother me is Mark...but it's not like I ever expect to hear from him again. I did laugh a little at his random choice for a new profile pic. when he posted a photo of two slices of pizza on a paper plate. I had no idea what that was all about, but I found it strangely amusing along with the way that he would change his status to say things like, "playin' the ponies" or, "right now my asshole itches" or my mostly favorite one of all, "I am administering a self-colonic" Asshole or not, he is undeniably funny but besides that even, I feel he deserves mad props for not following the herd and making me HIS fall-back girl, as well.

Enough, Already...I Give...

Today is Friday, my mostly favorite day of every bloomin' week. It seems that nothing very bad ever happens to me on Fridays and I am nearly ALWAYS in a stellar mood - today included. It's actually warm out, for the first time in what feels like an ice age. I think it's almost 60 degrees, which sure beats the pants off the brutal 9 degree mornings that we have endured here recently.

This particularly resplendent Friday morning began on a positive note. I was IM'd and then phoned by a yummy new hopeful - Matthew, who last night while we were chatting, sent me pictures of himself and I am pleased to announce that in these photos, the comely young man (but not too young) was fully clothed...well, best I could figure at least...both photos were taken from the chest up...Anyway, the fact that I had received G-Rated pics. felt promising and wholesome. The funny part was, that when I typed back to him to say how relieved I was that he hadn't sent me some enormous erection shot, I mistakenly sent the note to Big D with whom I was also chatting (Yipes! Especially since Big D HAS sent me PLENTY of photos of his ginormous johnson standing at full attention). Big D was rawther confused by my faux pas and I was so embarrassed that I halted conversation on the spot. It is kinda difficult to talk when there's a foot firmly lodged in your mouth. But speaking of Big D...have I told you the latest? Sometime earlier in the week, we were conversatin' and he quickly got into his "Do you have any idea how hard I am from looking at your pictures?" mode. Now, way back when we first started talking, I sent him a couple of well-composed humdingers, for his pleasure. Don't get me wrong, these were not like full-on crotch shots or anything, I considered them artistically suggestive really, but evidently Big D finds them terribly erotic, whatever.....Anyway, after listening to him whine and carry on about how badly he wanted the two of us to engage in all sorts of elaborately detailed sexual acts, naturally my hankerin' to finally meet the guy spiked, and once again I attempted to pin him down on a time when we could finally meet and try each other on for size. For god's sake - let's either shit or get off the pot, here! He was all like, "I want to soooooo badly" and I was like, "Well what's the freakin' hold-up?" and he was like, "Ok, when?" and I said, "How 'bout this weekend, I don't have my kids" and he said that he would be out of town over the weekend, but maybe Thursday or Friday we could meet for lunch. So I said that would be fine. Next he said, "I have something to tell you" (mmm...hmmm, think I coulda called this one...) and I said, "Ok, shoot...or should I guess?" and he said, "Why don't you guess. I think you already know what it is anyway" so I typed, "You're married" and he replied, "Bingo". Huh, well that pesky little monkey wrench could certainly make traditional dating a bit tricky, but it definitely solved the nagging mystery of why he'd been draggin' his feet so heavily about getting together all this time...duh. I quickly told him that homegirl don't play dat and he agreed that it would be a pretty shitty thing to do. Well yeah! Especially taking into account the fact that when I asked him if he was happily married he said, "Yes" and then when I asked him if he loved his wife he said, "Yes" What the hell? Sometimes I just don't get people. I mean what is this guy's problem? He has pretty much everything I am looking for (take away the actual marriage part) and he is totally taking it for granted and even willing to fuck it up, for the sake of a little nookie! Even sketchier yet is that by the end of our conversation he had actually convinced me that I should still meet him on Friday afternoon...ok, so now the question is - what the hell is MY problem?! I don't even know how I let it happen. Perhaps it was my overwhelming curiosity about him and that noteworthy baby arm sized cock of his or my increasing boredom or maybe I was just looking for something new and edgy about which to report in the blog. Had I really sunk so low though, that I was willing to jeopardize the stability of a marriage, for the sake of a provocative story? Evidently so, because by the time we said goodbye, I was all set to meet him for lunch that Friday afternoon. When I woke up the next morning, I slapped myself around a little and fortunately came to my senses about stirring that shit pot. I was cocksure that there was no way in hell that I would meet Big D for lunch or coffee or adultery or anything else...EVER! I reminded myself how crummy it felt when I discovered that Jimmy had cheated on me, and he was just some stupid, lame-o boyfriend who never gave a shit about me. Big D and his woman obviously cared enough about each other to commit - in front of god (if you believe in that sort of thing) and everyone - to be together forever, til death do them part...I could not in good conscience, potentially put another girl through something as emotionally atrocious as infidelity, there was absolutely no way. After reading a roughly 400 word short story that Big D had painstakingly written and sent to me late in the night, in which he graphically described all the f-ed up ways that he was planning on exploring the better part of my body with his mammoth member when we finally did make each other's acquaintance, I wrote him a letter apologizing for misleading him (sometimes I swear - I am just too nice) and proclaimed that it simply wasn't going to happen. He concurred by saying he was relieved to hear me say that, because he had changed his mind too (of course he had, how silly of me!) and just hadn't known how to tell me (that little tidbit was conspicuously missing from his 400 word cliffhanger)...He was a virtuous man of principle, after all, and the picture of a morally upstanding husband...HAHAHAHAHA!

So ok, back to this unseasonably balmy Friday-o-Joy...I went in to town and bought jumper cables to attempt to revive my sickly, little car (mission accomplished) and then took her to the shop and got her all squared away for the mini-road trip I was taking down to Richmond over the weekend, to visit Paul and hopefully lots of other long lost friends, with whom I had recently reconnected on my favorite networking site. I can't tell you how excited I am at the thought of filling my weekend with activities which are not entirely online dating related! Yippee!

Oh, and here's something - I got a note from Cheetah last night in which he begged off on our dinner date scheduled for tonight, claiming that he must tend to pressing issues regarding his troubled teenage daughter who I happen to know for a fact is actually locked up for bad behavior in some juvenile facility, somewhere. I politely told him not to worry about it and good luck with everything, blah blah, blah. I couldn't help but wonder though, what the heck he could possibly be doing about any of that on a Friday night...But to be perfectly honesty, I really just didn't give a rat's ass that we weren't going out again, the guy simply had not moved me the way that I was sure that he was going to, plus now I was free to meet my cute, little pixie friend Beth in town for a cocktail. The poor thing has been in a perpetual state of marital turmoil lately, and I was really glad for the opportunity to try and cheer her up a bit.

Ok, so now it's a whole week later, it's the following Friday (still sunny but icy and 20-something out) and brother do I need to get you up to speed on tricks...

Friday night I arrived at the killer new pub in town where Beth and I had planned to rendezvous. She wasn't there yet, so I stood at the bar texting her to make sure she knew where she was going. I noticed these two guys, a few seats down the bar from me. The one whose face I could see, was not attractive, but the other one looked pretty good, even though I could only see the back of his head - he had nice hair, ok? Right about the time Beth arrived, the two men stood up, I assumed because they were leaving (rats!) The not so good-looking one said good-bye to the cute one and left. The cute one then sidled up next to me, like immediately, without any hesitation, and started talking to me as if we'd known each other forever, (how handy! He had clearly homed in on my radar) it was effortless and completely natural. I liked the way that he looked. The skin on his face was phenomenally smooth and wrinkle-free and this guy is 7 years older than I am. I couldn't resist asking him if he followed some sort of age-defying regimen to keep his skin so youthful, and he bashfully shrugged shaking his head, and looking downwards "Uh...noo" Awww, such a humble guy! He was well put together, nice casual clothes and his variegated greying hair styled into a cute spikey do. He had this soothing, gentle voice mildly tinged with a touch of the classic local accent, which I liked. He was attentive and engaging and he laughed sweetly and genuinely, at my funnies but he wasn't too up in my world, right away, either. He didn't come across as overly eager or urgent, like so many guys do. Beth was sitting kind of around a corner of the bar and she kept giving me exaggerated hand and face signals which indicated that she approved and that I should go for it. I stealthily snuck glances back at her at first to say, "I don't even know this guy" and then "Ok, don't worry, I'm on it sistah!" At one point, (his name is) Bill and I were kind of leaning in towards one another discretely swapping scathing stories about local folks, and I noticed Beth leaning over on her barstool, a little bit...and then some more, not so slyly eavesdropping on the scuttlebutt when suddenly there was this horrendous crash, like an elephant had just passed out, and Beth and her barstool completely disappeared, just like that. I was like, "What the hell?!?!" She rebounded beautifully, popping right back up into position, clearly not wanting to miss any of our juicy gossip, and quickly shook off her short-lived embarrassment. It was hilarious! I could not stop laughing, one minute she was right there, tilting our way ever so slightly, the next she vanished from sight with an impressive clatter. I swear the whole place went silent, I think the music even stopped for a sec., it was like everyone was waiting to find out where the earthquake had registered on the Richter Scale. A waitress walked up to see what had happened and to make sure Beth was all right. She said that one of the diners in her section way the heck up in the front of the restaurant who heard (and probably felt) the loud thud said, "Wow, sounds like a pretty big person went down, you might wanna go check on that..."

After the hilarity of Beth's mishap faded, it was apparent that Beth just couldn't seem to shake her doldrums and all of the energy that I had meant to direct towards lifting her spirits was instead selfishly directed at shamelessly flirting with Bill. Beth decided to call it a night, and so she split and left Bill and me to focus entirely on one another. We had a surprisingly great time, talking and laughing all the way til last call, I even felt comfortable enough to tell him about the blog (gulp - must've been that snifter of single malt scotch...) As the night wound down, Bill asked if he could call me sometime and of course I said "Yes!" He was struggling to plug my numbers into his new Blackberry and I said, "Just tell me your number, I'll text you and then mine will be in your phone" I sent him a text which read, "Kiss me" When he opened it, he twittered kinda nervously so I asked if I had made him uncomfortable by being too forward, and with a sigh of relief he said, "No, definitely not..." and he leaned in and kissed me. It was a nice kiss and I told him so. I am extremely hard to please in this department but Bill had aced his first attempt. We closed the bar down, practiced kissing a few more times, said goodnight and promised to get together again...soon. Yep, true to form, it had been another FAB Friday!

I spent a ton of valuable time on Saturday morning sleeping off my hangover. I even slept under the spray of my shower until I had used up all the hot water. When I finally got my ass up and out, I had tile imprints on my forehead. I musta slept on the floor of my shower for 45 minutes or more. Jesus, I was more fucked up the night before than I had realized. Anyway, I hit the road and - my head punished by aching, swollen brain matter - and aimed my cute, little car towards Richmond, only about 3 1/2 hours later than I had originally planned. After 2 1/2 hours of only semi-lucid driving, I pulled into town and then up to Paul's house and was absolutely elated to see him appear in the doorway and then greet me with a giant bear hug! We hastily set off to find me a get-well bloody mary and some tasty victuals and so commenced a wonderful reunion weekend - no romance, just lots of art and music and laughter and fun with so many old friends...Bill and I texted a couple of times on Saturday, to commiserate with each other over our horrendous hangovers and that was the last I heard from him...I said goodbye to Paul on Sunday afternoon, promising not to let 20 more years pass before we hung out again, and I left for my quiet home in the country.

When I got back here, I was fully exhausted from having gotten literally everything I possibly could've out of my weekend sans les enfants. After plopping my weary body into the desk chair in front of my trusty ole Mac for the first time since that balmy Friday afternoon, prior, I wasted no time getting right back into my online dating groove, checking e-mail and studying the profiles of new guys who had "viewed" me while I was away. You know something, even if the actual messages suck, it's still always fun to open mail! I pulled up my IM screen and up popped Matthew's fresh-faced, collegiate profile pic., the one in which he's wearing a navy blue, v-neck sweater over a white tee, and he's reclining on the grass propped up on one elbow. He has a cheerful smile and his bright eyes are cast up and away from me and any other girl who has the good fortune of coming across his photo. I like the picture, he looks relaxed and happy and it's the main reason I've become somewhat sweet on him. I said something about liking that image once and he apologized for it being kind of old, and actually that was what prompted him to send me the new ones that I got from him the other night, the only discernible difference being that these days he wears glasses. He told me that the minute he first posted his profile, (what like two whole weeks ago?) he had been inundated with inquiries from interested women and I could definitely see why! Along with his photo came his opening words to our ensuing dialog which lasted for several hours. Thank god for IM, I had basically lost my voice entirely by Sunday night, so it was handy to still be able to "talk". We almost immediately started trying to figure out when might be a good time for us to meet for lunch the following week, and after a bunch of schedule tweaking, we determined that the very next day, Monday, was probably our best option. He kept saying things like, "I just want to make sure we plan it so that I get the maximum amount of time with you" and "I am so excited to meet you, I have a really good feeling about this" and "I hope you won't be disappointed when you meet me" I didn't understand what he was so worried about, I mean I was the old, used-up one entering the mix, what the hell did he have to worry about? Anyway, I changed the subject and asked about his weekend and he said that he had done a bunch of exercise and that he was getting back into healthy eating habits. He had gained a few pounds over the holidays and felt like at the rate he was going, he'd be back down to fighting weight within a month. I have to admit there was this teeny tiny warning bell resonating in my head, I mean, it was already the end of January and I had shed my own unsightly layer of holiday blubber...But I just kept poring over the three pictures I had of him and it seriously all looked fine to me. We stayed on the topic of body image for awhile and he asked me what I thought was my best asset. I told him that I thought it was "my personality" He liked that, it gave him a chuckle, but then he wanted to know, seriously, which part of my physique did I like the best. I told him that I felt pretty good about having a flat stomach, having had four kids and all, but that most people usually comment on my arms. He responded with, "My stomach is not flat" Uh oh...Naturally I was dying to ask,"Well, like HOW not flat?" but I also didn't want to embarrass him or make it seem like a little pudge would be a deal-breaker, and seeing as how we would be meeting face to face the very next day, I knew I would be finding out soon enough if the guy was really fat or if he was just hyper-self-critical, the way I tend to be.

Monday morning Matthew and I checked in with each other to make sure we were square on our plans to meet for lunch in a town near where he was attending a work-related meeting, about an hour and fifteen from where I live. Noon worked for me and he insisted that it would be no problem for him either.

As I was approaching the restaurant, he texted to say that he was running a little late, which was ok, because I was going to be about 10 minutes late, myself. I found the place, no problem and got comfortable at a table in a corner up front by the enormous picture window which spanned the entire facade of the building. I warmed myself with a pot of hot tea, ahhh. Matthew kept texting to say that he was getting closer and I was like, "It's fine, don't sweat it" Meanwhile that boy crazy gene of mine was working double time as I scoured the dining room, checking out the delicious assortment of men, who were enjoying their lunch all around me. I almost handed my business card to one sterling specimen. Well, what the heck else was I supposed to do? I was bored and Matthew was now nearly an hour late! My patience was beginning to wear thin, plus I was famished, humph! My phone rang for real and when I answered, Matthew confessed that he had ended up at the wrong restaurant. For cryin' out loud, he was the one who picked the goddamned venue, I was dumbstruck that he could be right there in the flippin' neighborhood and somehow not be able to find the derned place. My bonnie mood was going right out the window as I talked his pathetic ass through the directions which would hopefully get him to our destination, soon. I wasn't even all that excited to meet him anymore, I just wanted to feed my effin face! And then it happened, I saw Matthew come into view through the long, plate glass window...Can I just tell you something? I admit that I may have been losing my temper a bit when he was getting so late and all, but I have to say that the moment I first laid eyes on him in person, my understandable frustration shifted into...homicidal rage! I was overwrought with debilitating disappointment as he appeared there before me, oblivious that I could see him hurriedly waddling his fat fucking ass up the sidewalk and up into the restaurant. Here, let me break it down for you...Matthew was wearing a heavy, woolen overcoat, right? With each step - his colossal ass cheeks, one after the other - ba-bounced up and down behind him, and rhythmically the back of his coat echoed the reverberation. He walked with his pigeon-toed feet set abnormally far apart, I reckoned because his gargantuan thighs must have prevented them from getting any closer together. I was starting to get why he had only sent photos of his upper body...I was fucking livid! Not only had I wasted gas to drive all the way out there, and waited for over an hour for him to arrive, and was starving - now, NOW I got to look forward to undertaking the odious task of trying to choke down my lunch whilst in the company of this fucking gelatinous jerk-off who had no sense of direction or reality and who had most importantly...TOTALLY MISREPRESENTED HIMSELF TO ME!!! Oh, it gets better, don't you worry. So, ok - he enters the room, I let out an audible, pitiful groan. He sees me and starts spewing desperately complimentary things like, "Oh my god - look at you! You're gorgeous, I had no idea! Just look at you!" He weeble-wobbles towards me, arms outstretched, going in for the hug. My blood was boiling, I was utterly incensed. I couldn't greet him with a smile, it wasn't possible. The best I could offer was a nasty smirk as if to say, "You duped me you asshole!" I committed to giving him a one-armed hug, and let the other dangle limply by my side, but his protruding belly kept me at such a distance that I could barely reach the first arm around any part of him, so hooray for that!!! Oh, he was just pouring on the praise as we sat down at the table, the good news was that I was now feeling so nauseous I wasn't hungry anymore. I loved how every single time he moved at all, crossed a leg, shifted positions, reached for more food, he would practically knock the freakin' table over, I frantically caught the salt and pepper shakers before they hit the floor...repeatedly. It was like he literally had no control over his own gargantuan body, he did not fit at a normal sized table and in a normal sized chair and in a normal sized WORLD! Once, when he was changing positions, he bumped me in the leg so hard that it scooted me - in my chair, a good several inches backwards. I mean GODDAMNIT MAN! I've never seen a man's legs so tightly packed into a pair of dress slacks, it was quite a feat. I suspect that my dramatic change in attitude from bubbly and optimistic when we talked online...to icy and morose that tragic day in person...gave him an inkling that he might be "losing me" for he got up real close to my face and doing his seductive best (barf) asked, "Well, are they green?" and I quipped, "What are you talking about?" and he said, "My eyes, are they green today?" I was like dude, asking me to gaze through your retarded glasses into your green eyes a shade somewhere between over-cooked spinach and baby diarrhea in a feeble attempt to distract me from marveling over your magnitude, only makes me recoil in disgust over being that close to your pock-marked face, and erupting pimples...maybe not such a good strategy...But the true measure of Matthew's corpulence had to have been his fat fucking hands. I've never seen anything like that on a grown-up. On a baby, it's cute when their pudgy, little hands have dimples where the knuckles should be, but on a grown man it is nothing short of repulsive. He would reach his pork sausage fingers over to me and tap my arm and ask if he could feel "my guns" or rest the whole slab on my leg for a second and say, "God, you're so tiny!"

I could absolutely kill myself for ever referring to him as, "yummy"...

So dontcha just know that Lardbutt was IM'ing me as soon as we were both home and online again and he was positively beaming over how well he thought things went! I simply could not continue the madness. The first and only thing I said to him was that I did not think that we were a very good match...that I thought we were just too different. To which he replied, "That's why I like you, because you're different" (uncomfortable [for him] silence) "But I guess it is a two-sided thing" (more uncomfortable silence, like I gave a shit) "and I guess if that's the way you feel..." Click! I closed my screen and bolted...

I went on another date, the very next day with the "Outlaw in Peru", but this entry is already a little long in the tooth, I think it might be best if I save that for tomorow...I will tell you that this date was not such a good one, either, although it was not nearly as godawful...

By Tuesday night, I had basically given up completely on ever finding a man. I putzed around online for a short spell, and then decided to go back over to the house to watch a movie, believe me - that NEVER happens. I grabbed my cell phone which I had left in my car all afternoon and realized that I had a voice mail from Bill, this was the first I'd heard from him since Saturday afternoon. I called him back, right away and we enjoyed the most open and informative, captivating repartee for a full 3 hours! I was instantly cheered and hopeful and was even mentally preparing my "See y'all latah!" blog entry, convincing myself that I had found the wonderful man who was going to save me from all of this never ending misery! We agreed to meet for lunch on Thursday and for the first time in absolutely eons, I was nervous and uncharacteristically excited.

Thursday finally arrived (it felt like it took a couple of weeks) I actually had butterflies, like a seriously messed up tummy, I thought this was a good sign. As I parked my car I texted Bill to say that I was about to pass by his work and did he want me to stop by so we could walk together up to the restaurant. He texted back, "Yes" so I met him out front of his store and he gave me a quick but tender peck on the lips and we proceeded to stroll up the street to grab our lunch, like two goofy teens, stricken with puppy love.

Lunch was great, the food, the sincere interest in what the other had to say, the eye contact... Before we knew it we had wiled away an hour and a half, but it had only felt like 30 minutes, no shit! I walked him back to his shop but we ambled a little past it and stopped in a sunny spot to say goodbye. We kissed and when I pulled away, I made an uncomfortable discovery that immediately turned my fluttery stomach into a tangled ball of crampy queasiness...There was something about him that I noticed in the bright sunlight, that simply did not sit right with me, I'm sorry. I really just thought it was weird...

Later that afternoon, my little pixie friend, Beth texted to enthusiastically ask how my date with Bill had gone. I replied, "Good, except for the fact that he was wearing make-up…"

Riding That Wave of Hope

There was a conspicuous ebb in the recent flow of dating activity, following that horrific date with Speedo - you remember - the guy who ate my entire face and slathered it with a nasty shmear of sticky slobber, which then dried on my skin like glue. Uck! Having no new leads upon which to act felt woefully anticlimactic post disaster date but it was somewhat opportune, since I was to have my kids over the weekend. I willingly took advantage of the mandatory downtime by decompressing a bit with my chilluns and friends and keeping my online antics to a minimum.

Over the quiet weekend and as could have been predicted, I initiated what I knew all along would be the inevitable process of allowing Mr. Cynical, my fuck buddy of no more than two measly weeks, to gradually fade into obscurity. The few times we chatted I was never rude, I mean I always replied to his IM messages and all, but I never offered more than succinct, polite, reserved responses to his futile attempts at reviving our short-lived intoxication with one another. I did get a chuckle when he apologized for "being so aloof. This casual dating stuff" was pretty tough for him. Interesting...It almost sounded like he was trying to gently give me the brush off when I had been the one to consistently deny him access into my world, the last several times he had tried to wriggle his way in. Whatever, if that made him feel like the big man for being the one to end it, so be it. I had no problem shelving my ego for the sake of ceasing to force that square peg into the round hole anymore.

I reckon the most interesting little news flash since Speedo was that Cheetah and I finally talked on the phone, last Tuesday night and took the big plunge when we planned a playdate for this Monday. We kept in loose contact during the week and over the weekend, never actually talking after our initial phone conversation, just texting and leaving each other voice mail, but by Sunday night, it looked like we had finally ironed out the details (squeal!) which included moving our date to Tuesday morning (grunt...) barring any unforeseen catastrophes. Remarkably though, I was actually excited about going on this date - after all, I have been growing quite the crush on Mr. Reserved Communicator since first eyeballin' him, in late August. And on Monday, I was soooo wishing that we'd been able to meet then instead, eager beaver that I am! But he had decided that some mysterious appointment should take precedence over meeting me...ME! Phooey! (Another date, I wondered? Perhaps...) Ok, so on Monday, somewhat fretful over Cheetah's sudden, unexpected tweaking of our plans, I distracted myself with my usual drill...I sat down to my trusty ole Mac and alternated making a half-assed attempt at writing this blog entry with hopping around between dating sites and my favorite networking site where I saw an image posted by Al, an old acquaintance who had just "friended" me the week before. He had put up a photo of his "Golden Ticket" which was to be his admission to the Presidential Inauguration, the very next day. He was understandably quite proud of this prize and in the caption under the photo, he announced that it was actually one of two tickets so graciously bestowed upon him by a pal. I sat there wondering if I knew the lucky sod who would accompany him to witness Obama's induction into office...Next, I nosily read a message he had sent to someone on that same site in which he made mention that he was hangin' at his home in D.C. with Paul, another old, even better friend of mine from the crazy '80's back home in Richmond. I probably hadn't actually seen or spoken to either of these guys in nearly 20 years. (Just think, the last time I hung out with either one of them, I was tattooed and pierced probably bombed out of my mind chain-smoking Marlboro reds at some rock and roll show, ultimately stumbling back to my place and hooking up with some scumbag loser for one night only. Meanwhile - my little friend Propel Bottle was suckling on his mama's breast and pooping in his dipees, unable to discern images at a distance further away from his face than the current length of his enormous cock...Kinda puts the whole age gap thing into a different - sorta sick - perspective.) Sorry, I digress...I felt I had to offer my two-cents worth to Al's running dialog, so I said, "Oh ok, now I know who got the other ticket..." which in turn kicked off a rousing IM session between me and Al who also relayed comments from Paul (in the peanut gallery) including an off-the-cuff remark about how Paul had always been sweet on me...So dontcha know I wasted no time in getting reacquainted (via text/pic. text - nothing but savory pics, I assure you) with Paul - this wonderfully colorful man from my dubious past. We even went so far as to tentatively plan to get together sometime over the next weekend. I should tell you that Paul is something of a Richmond icon, a musical legend, a pioneer and a fixture there and around the world really, he's kind of a big deal...And curiously, my enthusiasm for reconnecting with Paul nearly overshadowed my previous excitement about my date with Cheetah, I had almost lost interest in meeting him, altogether. It seemed I was aligning having fortuitously stumbled upon Paul, after all these years, with an Obama-induced, omnipresent feeling of hope. Toning down my overzealousness for Cheetah was probably a good thing though, seeing as how he and I had never talked, texted or e-mailed at all, that day, the very day before we were to finally meet. I had this sneaking suspicion that when I went to text him Tuesday morning, on my way out the door to ask if we were still on, he was gonna say something like, "Well, I never heard from you, so I thought you had changed your mind..."

When I woke up on Tuesday morning, I got myself in date mode and focussed on Cheetah while trying to put Paul out of my mind for a minute. I did in fact text Cheetah on my way to the bank before aiming my big boat towards our destination, a charming, little town 30 minutes away. I asked, "So, are we still on for 9:30 this morning?" After making me squirm through a tedious 5 minute lapse in response time (which felt more like a half an hour) he finally replied, "Nope...Just Kidding! See you there!" Woah, that was a close one! For a split second I thought I was gonna have to get medieval on somebody ass...But we were still cool. 

I got to the coffee shop at 9:30 on the dot and Cheetah was waiting for me inside. He was attractive enough, a little short, but not prohibitively so. He had really pretty, big blue eyes and a full head of closely cropped hair which I did like. Nose? Ok...Hands? Very good. He was casually but well-dressed. I busted on him for not wearing socks, it was like 9 degrees outside, the foo'! He likes the right kind of music, (mostly) and we never broke stride in our lively conversation, although that was partly because he likes to talk...a lot...and he is also a chronic interrupter. I'm not sure if I ever finished a complete thought before he was steamrolling me with his own opinion on whatever subject was being addressed, or just changing the subject completely to something more interesting to him, hmmm...When he did let me talk during those rare, brief moments, he only seemed to be half paying attention. He would piddle around on his phone or inspect his hands and absentmindedly interject little comments, his timing way off. I would be mid-sentence and he would throw in a, "Right?" or something and I would stop for a sec. and think to myself, "That didn't really fit there, he is totally not listening to me" it was so jarring, just completely derailed my train of thought. I guess I should be grateful that he was at least acknowledging that he heard me making noises, unfortunately he just didn't really seem to care enough to process the actually words I was using.  

Anyway, we finished the coffee portion of our date and since we had had a respectably good time during our first hour and a half together and we did still have practically a whole day ahead of us, we decided to give lunch a try. Cheetah offered to drive and once we were out in the parking lot my impression of him took a dramatic turn for the better. Call me shallow, but he had this gorgeous seal blue/grey Chevy truck (I am usually a FORD girl, but I do make exceptions when the vehicle in question is that exemplary!) which had these really big tires with super aggressive treads. But that's not all...it was a diesel (proper) and...TURBO-CHARGED, for cryin' out loud - Love that! This was not the first time that a fella's wicked wheels had swayed my opinion of him, you know? Just then, the pavement of the parking lot blurred and I found myself gazing at the most lovely mirage...there was this enormously sloppy, deep, muddy bog, and suddenly I was a passenger in Cheetah's big truck, donning only a bikini (naturally) The windows were down and we were tearing through that oozy, muddy mess, executing one perfect doughnut after another, our chariot as well as our scantily clad bodies fairly well splattered with mudspray...d i v i n e...I snapped out of my hallucination just about the time we parked that beast out front of the restaurant. The lunch spot where we ended up was deluxe. We ate in the basement pub, all stone walls and sexy. The Inauguration was being aired on the TV behind the bar, it was pretty cool to actually witness such a momentous occasion, had he not taken me there I would've missed the whole thing completely, for I do not turn on the television of my own volition. We drank wine with our yummy food and for dessert he ordered Port, snickering that he was trying to get me drunk (good luck with that one!) The strange part was that Cheetah actually did seem to get a little tipsy. I was tipped off when his volume level increased rapidly and dramatically. I could see folks in the lunch crowd shoot dagger-like glances over at him as if to say, "Pipe down there, Buddy!" That part was a wee bit embarrassing, not terribly so, but whatever. My favorite part of the afternoon though, had to be when he took my hand and put it on his chest and slid it around until I said, "Oh!" He then scooted it over to his other pec at which point I said, "Let me see that" I peered down through the neck hole of his t-shirt and it was certainly true, the guy did indeed have pierced nipples and the rings going through them were, uh...BIG? This was when he started to make promises that if we were ever to end up getting intimate I would have to get over my squeamishness with his piercings and be prepared to pull hard on them during sex. He boasted that he used to have a whole row of rings, going down the entire length of his nut sack but when two of them got infected he had to remove, what? All 12 of 'em? Too bad! And finally, the Port now kicking in nicely, he put the icing on the cake when he informed me that he had some nifty little cord wrist-restraints that he looked forward to implementing in our love-making, should we ever get to that point. OhhhhhKaaaaay...

We drove back to where my car was and he said that the date was not officially over, and I asked why and he said, "Because you haven't kissed me yet" I know, I know, but he had spent nearly a hundred bucks on our inaugural (get it?) lunch, together...didn't I owe him at least one stinkin' kiss? Plus I am always interested to know if there will be sparks...so...we kissed. It was all right. I saw this as a personal challenge to see if I could help him improve his technique at all by working a little of my subtle magic and you know what? By the end of the mini-make-out sesh, he was actually pretty good, I considered this quite a coup! The only problem was...there had been no lightening bolts up my middle, no electrical currents setting the hair on the back of my head on end...there was a distinct lack of chemistry...

Cheetah and I said goodbye, promising to meet up again, this Friday night, but I am just not sure...

Now, before I scat, I have to share just one last tidbit. And this is a true story, I swear...I have witnesses to prove it! My kids already know about Paul and his famous band. I've told them the stories about when I used to live in Richmond and how I had the good fortune of collaborating with Paul and his band from time to time on different projects. They've seen photos and heard the cd's and they ask me regularly when I will let them look at the movie that Paul's band made, ages ago, in which I had a fun cameo appearance in a scene which was shot in my own tiny, Richmond kitchen. Normally I am very liberal with my children about the films that they may watch for example, my youngest daughter Blish got the 4 or 5 however many disc set of every Jackass episode ever made - from Santa for Christmas two days before her 3rd Birthday. Yet, I still consider Paul's band's movie to be a bit out of their realm just yet, it's just a totally different level of spew and blood and heinous acts than they are accustomed to, and so I continually tell my sweet and adorable children that I will let them see his raunchy masterpiece someday when they have kids of their own. So, last night, the first night I've had my kids back with me since I've been in touch with Paul, I told them that I had been talking to him for the first time in forever and that I might get together with him over the weekend and they thought that this was quite a coinkeedink since the boy that Jordan likes, was just telling a bunch of kids on the bus the other day that he wanted to do his 8th grade report on Paul's band...Weird, huh? I know! So, next we were in the car driving over to a friend's for dinner and I remembered that Paul had sent me a few pic. texts of himself and I decided to pull up the one of his face all done up as some sort of hideous monster man thing, instead of the one where he looks completely normal. I handed my phone back to the kids so they could have a look, giggling to myself. The girls were all like "Ewww, Mom, YUCK - That's not him!" I assured them that it was (at least I'm pretty sure it was him...) and then asked my son, who I knew was holding the phone at the time, if he would please hand it back up to me. All he could do was mutter something unintelligible. I stopped at the next intersection and looked back to check on him and he had rolled down his window and had hung his head out of it and was spitting and retching and gagging, he did everything except actually puke. The rest of us were like, "What the hell, Jamie?" Now granted, this little boy does have an inordinately weak stomach; bad farts, rotten food, maggots, vomit not his own, can send him hurling in a jiffy, but I have never known him to spontaneously dry heave upon looking at a still photograph. Turns out that picture text of Paul in full make-up, literally made my son sick. I nearly died, the girls and I were rollin'! And I know Paul would be very proud if he knew it, too...

Confessions of a Certified Dick Magnet

Man alive! I really just needed to catch my breath for a sec. before picking up where I left off, Sunday night. Woohoo! K, I think I'm good now...Let me rewind a bit, back to last Saturday night. Sometime after I blew off Mr. Cyinical but before Propel Bottle came by to model for me and in all likelihood - coinciding with the Two Quarters incident, I was in the midst of working out the details with Propel on IM, but still bouncing around from dating site to dating site when I came across a profile which I had never seen before, ahhhh...fresh meat! The stud in the picture was mid-jump, above a diving board, exhibiting perfect form, his scrumptious, in-motion physique - unencumbered by excess clothing, merely enhanced by a teeny purple Speedo. He didn't look to be 6' 1", the way his profile suggested, but whatev...And see, I have a diving picture of my own on my profile as well, so I was sitting there pondering having something somewhat unique in common (can you say, "private lessons"?) He also had composed the most brilliantly sarcastic profile I have ever read, so tongue-in-cheek, I felt it would be remiss of me to not praise his sardonicism but before I even had a chance to fire off a message, he had beaten me to the punch. So, Speedo and I shot a few e-mails back and forth and then sped up the getting to know each other process on IM. It took no time at all for me to be beguiled by his biting wit and captivated by his surprisingly sophisticated, seductive speak. I had to bid an abrupt, "Ta ta" though, when I looked at the clock and realized that Propel Bottle would be arriving at my place, momentarily. I rather enjoyed making Speedo squirm by boasting that I had a date (a gross overstatement, but he didn't need to know that) in just a few minutes. He insisted that I find him online after my date (I was a little worried since there was the very real possibility that I might not get free again til morning, but no sense in getting my panties in a wad, right then) He reluctantly sent me on my way, saying that he hoped I had an awful time. I assured him that if history continued to repeat itself, he could count on it...

Later that night as Propel Bottle scooted his way out my door, moderately dejected but still able to give me a disingenuous hug, I couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of a bet or wager between him and his schoolmates, riding on what they thought might (or might not) transpire that night at my house, you know- like, could he bag the milf or not. Everyone who bet on "REJECTED" wins the pot! No worse for the wear, I dashed over to my trusty ole Mac to see if I could find Speedo. I signed on and POP! There he was. We excitedly bantered back and forth til 2:30 in the morning or so and then continued our dialog on Sunday night, during which time Speedo got comfortable enough with me to start letting fly a string of illicit sexual innuendoes. I was like, ok big guy...settle down, there. You know, I had just been so hoping that he would prove to be a smidge different from all the rest of the libidinous fucks with whom I had had the misfortune of crossing paths, and possibly spare me from "going there" that early on. But, I tried to rationalize his behavior by telling myself that his methods had more class, or style or were more sincere, or something. I'm an idiot...Anyway, his diving photo emblazoned on my easily impressionable mind, I went ahead and made arrangements to meet for lunch the next day, Monday (that's the way I roll...) And there was one unusual element that we both agreed might put a quirky spin on our first date, we decided to try and not talk, at all...strange - I know, but I sorta liked the idea.

I drove into the big city where he works and circled the block about a thousand times, waiting for 11:30 to roll around (our slated meeting time) and finally parked my big boat out front of his office and gazed out of the driver's side window wanting to avoid seeing him walking up the sidewalk to my car in order to be fully surprised when he jumped in, AND BOY WAS I! He actually really did startle me with his frenetic entrance, he was all agitated and unnaturally tremulous and before I had time to size him up completely, he threw himself over to my side of the car and assaulted my face with an oral triple-threat; excessive slobber, bad breath and more tongue action than one would think physically possible - all over my mouth and the surrounding areas and almost to the back of my throat. It was the most horrific way to kick off a first date that I could ever conjure up even in my overly active imagination. When he finally unstuck himself from my face, he sat back, clearly pleased with himself, and smugly basked in what he obviously mistook to be "ability". I gasped for much needed oxygen and prayed that I wouldn't see my entrails issue forth as he broke his plunger-like adhesion to my mouth...Ewww!!! OH GOD! I hate reliving it, it was hands-down, the single worst suck-face fest of my ancient freakin' life. Zombie-like, I plastered a nervous smile across my poor puss which was gradually pulled more taught as the thick coating of his nasty saliva dried. I straightened my cattywampus sunglasses which had been rammed hard and cockeyed into the bridge of my nose, and following his hand gestures (no talking - remember?) pulled out of the parking space and drove on, fully dazed from the slimy onslaught. We kept up the silence thing until we parked...at a park, at which time I looked down and noticed the wedding ring on his hand...first I motioned to it, pointing repeatedly, eyebrows raised and he just shrugged and looked at me like "What?" I couldn't keep it buttoned for one more second, Me: "You are wearing a wedding ring?!" Him: "I can take it off" It was becoming glaringly apparent what I was working with here, this guy was a complete fucking moron. And so was I for meeting him. I asked him if he was in fact separated, like he had promised in our IM conversations, and he said that they live separately, in the same house. I asked if he thought "she" would be ok with him meeting me, that day and he said, "I think she has someone" He was terrifically evasive, never actually answering any of my questions, directly. I don't think he ever answered one question definitively, not once. I hated him more every second, like way more than strongly disliked - I truly hated the fuck. Plus he was physically revolting to me, his face was kind of flaky and his teeth were more grey than yellow and one had a huge chunk missing, nice. He was weak looking, bordering on geriatric with skinny, old man legs, floating around in baggy old man pants, which were marred with unsightly stains. I guess I didn't rank high enough on the scale to warrant him sporting a clean pair of slacks. His hands were my least favorite hands I've ever seen, which made having them touch me easily a million times worse. The white part of his nails were way too long, for a man, but the overall nail was small, shortish, stubby and full of deep ridges, yuck. And he was such a hard-headed sonofabitch! I wonder how many times I actually had to pick up his lecherous hand and remove it from the various areas of my person that he methodically, presumptuously tried to explore. Did I mention that I HATE HIM!!! Thank god we were in a public place with mothers and babies in strollers and swings and pedestrians...I shouted out loudly more than once, in an attempt to thwart his relentless unwanted petting. I got the attention of several passersby which he fully resented, that's right asshole! I finally got him calmed down for a minute feigning hunger and took the brief moment of sanctuary to inform him that I was definitely NOT feeling a connection. He rolled his eyes and asked what I thought of his kiss, though, huh? Huh? I felt it was my duty to critique it honestly and told him without hesitation, that he definitely used "TOO MUCH TONGUE!!!" He shrugged it off, we ate the wimpy (grocery) bag lunch that he brought along and directly following my last swallow, he instructed me to recline my seat so we could stop avoiding the inevitable. I was like, "Hell frickin' NO!" I finally couldn't take his shit anymore and said that I thought it was time for me to take him back to his office, which I did. It was like he just wasn't getting it. He was about as thick as Two Quarter's cock. He just kept groping and molesting me the whole drive back and persisted even after I had parked to let his lame ass out (Go on now, GET!) I was so relieved when it appeared that he was marginally approaching the realization that IT WAS NEVER GONNA HAPPEN between us, and that his only option now was to beat feet - far, far away from me. But before he would grant me a pardon from his excessive pawing, he had one final request...Get this - he asked if I would at least give him my undies so he could take them back to work, so that he could bury his nose in 'em and beat off in the men's room. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?! Strangely, in hindsight, it was almost like a more pornographic, less funny version of the panties scene in "16 Candles"...I should have known what a loser he'd wind up to be the minute he confessed on IM that he drives...a mini-van...

I recounted this story for my boss who suggested that I carry a gun. That's a nice idea and all, but the problem is that I am afraid I might actually use the fucking thing...

I was maybe never before so happy to be back home and more than that - out of my blessed car. It felt so good to stretch my atrophied legs and begin to let go of all the tension that had caused my whole body to seize up and cramp. It was too early in the day for a cocktail, but I knew just what to do to alleviate my residual dismay...I hightailed it over to my studio and jumped online straight away, eager to find someone, old or new, to distract me from my indignation. But guess who was the first responder to the emergency? That's right - Speedo was there, eagerly waiting for me so that he could make one last desperate plea for me to want him. That was it! For now I was home, safely out of his literal clutches and I didn't even try to restrain myself from ripping him up one side and down the other, first addressing his bogus profile pic., which I was now certain was definitely NOT of him, the liar! As was his nature, he hemmed and hawed, never officially admitting what a phony he was. Next I lit into him about his marital sitch and finally ended conversation with Speedo, forever, by telling him how repulsed I was by his objectionable, unwanted advances...there, done...I had washed my hands (and eventually my face) of that creep...

Right about the time I essentially told Speedo to get fucked, I heard from Big D. Did I not predict that he would make an appearance on Monday, after completely avoiding me all weekend? (I am good, aren't I...) He was IM'ing me from his office, and he didn't hesitate to describe his heightening state of arousal, brought about by studying my profile pictures. Jesus Christ! I mean c'mon, man! He insisted on phoning me, at which time he encouraged me to interject whatever I felt might help him find the end of the rainbow, so to speak...I asked if he could get away with all of that at work and he said it was no problem, cuz the door was locked and he had gotten a towel out of his gym bag, ewww. Honestly, I was just too mentally exhausted and disgruntled to service his needs by prattling on about some fabricated sexual scenario. Under normal circumstances, I would have relished the opportunity to weave a wondrous web of wicked words for his pleasure, but that day, I simply was not inspired. Turns out it didn't make a bit of difference, cuz Big D was nearly "there", as it was. I just had to offer up a few sultry, obligatory "Uh huh's" to his string of questions regarding what might happen if we ever met and - Poof! He found his little pot-'o-gold, and with only a modicum of effort on my part. This taboo tableau was reminiscent of the time Soldier Boy Jack Im'd me from his workplace in a similar circumstance (did I tell you guys this one, already?) the main difference being that he sat kinda out in the open at his job, and directly beside a co-worker. The conclusion was the same but his situation was complicated by the fact that he had to massage himself, inconspicuously under his desk and through his pants and then shoot his load right into his britches, I am not shitting you even a little bit. He assured me that it was cool though, because he was going home for lunch...

What is it with these guys? Does it say something somewhere in the unwritten online dating manual that this kind of behavior is de rigueur as well a par for the course? Does every girl tooling around on the web, looking for a man - have to endure equally disturbing vignettes? Or am I seriously some sort of magnet for the severely perverted and deviant...

Was it National Enormous Erection Week, and Someone Forgot to Tell Me??

Good lord! There is so much going on right now...I hope I remember to tell you EVERYTHING...My cell phone's picture text inbox is brimming with an impressive collection of almost freakishly remarkable specimens. Now just hold your horses, I'll get to that in a minute!...

So, the other night, (Wednesday or Thursday, I think) somewhere in the aftermath of successfully "willing" Rich to contact me, a new man popped into the fray. I'm gonna call him Big D (snicker). Big D quickly proved to be just about the polar opposite of subdued Mr. Cynical. He's a professional, with a real career, he's frisky and terribly fresh and energetic and if the pictures that he promptly sent to me are a true representation, he is more than amply endowed, sweet jesus! There was this one photo in which his gargantuan schlong looked almost too heavy for him to clutch much longer, you could see the tension in his wrist as he struggled to tote what appeared to be another leg. Anyway, at some point during that dizzying, crazy-busy night, I was simultaneously IM-ing both Mr. Cynical and Big D, and it was fascinating to me how dissimilar the two conversations were. I had to totally shift mental gears each time I typed back and forth to the two of them. I thought my feeble brain might completely short out after awhile, it was quite a panic trying to keep everything straight. See, when Mr. Cynical and I chat, there is always this sort of esoteric undertone and he restrains himself from making brazenly lewd overtures (unless it's really late and he's been drinking, but then that's to be expected, right?) He's mostly very polite and only interested in intelligent, thought-provoking subject matter. Big D, on the other hand, within minutes of introducing himself, got right to the meat of why he had contacted me. He thought I was "smokin'" and he wanted sex, plain and simple and he wanted it kinky. He said that he wanted my mouth on his cock before we ever kissed...awwwww, honey - that's so sweet! He also made it very clear that he was not the least bit interested in pursuing any sort of "real" relationship. He said that he had recently broken up with his long term girlfriend and just wanted to have some fun...understandable, I reckon. And I have to admit, now that I have discovered that I am capable of engaging in casual sexual relations with a man, without the need to feel "attached" or the hair-trigger impulse to immediately run away...and of course, ALWAYS equipped with a handful of handy dandy condoms, I did begin to consider the notion of keeping two (possibly more?) fuck buddies on retainer, at one time...I'm being serious. But I'm also wondering - how many guys could I have regular sex with, I'm not talking about how many guys could I have random hook-ups with, but regular sex, before I cross over into utter slutdom? Does the "regular" part of the equation (hopefully) negate the sluttiness of it? Who knows...Maybe I've already crossed that slut line and I'm just trying to rationalize my behavior...Well, whatever...So anyhow, even though Big D was about as forward with me as any man has ever been, miraculously it did not turn me off, not at all. I liked that he had a good job (as a writer, drool) and was candid, and I was flattered that he thought I was so hot. He told me that he has never wanted to fuck someone he has never met in person before as badly as he wanted to fuck me. And he punctuated that comment by adding,"That was supposed to be a compliment btw, lol" But when I suggested that we try to arrange to meet the very next weekend (Mama was def. up for some adventure) he stammered a bit, saying that he needed to check with his editor. Check WHAT with his editor? Humph... Does he work ALL day AND night - Friday, Saturday and Sunday? Sounds like somebody might not be so single after all, or something - what do you think? And let me just add that I am writing this entry on Sunday and I am here to tell you that Big D has not tried to contact me, in any way, at all since the last time he force-fed his exaggerated horniness to me, this past Friday morning. Seems a bit suspicious to me. I'll be very curious to see if he IM's me from his office, bright and early Monday morning. I should definitely call bullshit if he does, dontcha think? Anyway, in an attempt to change the subject (smooth move) he proceeded to graphically describe for me what he considered would be an ideal first "date" for us which then transitioned into the long and detailed beginning of a story that he wrote and e-mailed to me later that night. I read it the next morning and I have to give the guy mad props for his undeniable aptitude for using mere words to take this girl to that special, happy place! I hadn't even gotten to the bottom of the page, yet before I could no longer stave off caving to my arousal. I'm not necessarily convinced that he is such a great writer but he's got one hell of a vivid imagination, I'll give him that. Next, wanting to show him up with my own writing skills as well as return the favor- I could not resist picking up where his story left off and taking it to a climactic conclusion. And, not surprisingly, I found myself turned on all over again while penning my own contribution to the collaboration. Big D loved it and agreed that my ending was better than the one that he had come up with, even though if my ending played out in real life, the way that I had described, we would both have ended up in jail. 'Tis indeed true...

After finishing up with Big D, I decided to breeze through the profiles of available men on my second favorite dating site before attempting to be somewhat productive (yeah right) and like most every other time I peruse it, I immediately found myself face to face with R_E_M30. I swear to god, if I could build a man from clay, he would be made in the precise image of R_E_M30. He has this face, it's gonna sound cheesy, but there is a Mona Lisa mysteriousness about his smile (or is that a non-smile?) and I eyeball that mouth of his - a lot. His lips are beautiful, the upper one is at least as thick as the bottom one and his mouth is not wide but it is inordinately tall(?) I have to come clean here, I have this silly habit of taking the mouse and following the perimeter of that incomparable kisser with the little arrow, repeatedly...(I'm such a loser) He also has a better version of what I consider to be the perfect nose, it's like I never knew a nose could even be that good, until I saw his. His eyes are cleverly hidden behind mirrored glasses, despite the way he taunts me (as well as all of his other admirers, I'm sure) by advertising in his "About Me" section that "The First Thing People Notice" about him is...you guessed it - his eyes. His photo is a self-portrait taken on some stratosphere-scraping mountain peak. The outstretched arm aiming the camera at his impeccable visage, is not visible, but the cap of his shoulder, sheathed by a military issue, olive drab t-shirt is so pronounced, I just know he's cut. I have literally been obsessed with R_E_M30 since the first minute I spied him which was the very day I set up shop on that site, in late August. I wrote to him for the first time, the following day...he did not respond. And that is the real reason that I have never mentioned him to you guys, there has been absolutely no story to tell. The only thing I can say is this: I look at his profile from time to time so that I can do the stupid thing with the mouse and gush, in general, and recently I noticed that the last time he logged in to the site was Nov. 8. So...where the heck has he been? My stomach hurts when I consider the tragic possibility that he might've found his happiness with some...woman. But that morning after whackin' off twice to Big D's and my naughty story, I decided to play Nancy Drew and looked back at the notes that I have sent to him (only a few - but all unrecognized by him) and to my delight, I discovered that I had written him a note on Nov. 6. That means that the last time that he logged in was a couple of days after he received an e-mail from the dating site on which told him that he had mail from ME (cuz that's what they do) and it would've included the first few lines of my note (they do that too) So, doesn't it look like he went to the site specifically to read MY letter? And he hasn't been back since and I had not written to him again until...

Ok, so now it's a few months later and I'm thinking that he has flown the coop, completely, forever, but I'm still comforted by the fact that the last time that he bothered to visit that blessed site was to read something that I had sent to him. This is when I knew that I absolutely had to try and channel Schopenhauer again and attempt to shape my fate with the power of WILL...I enlarged R_E_M30's face to the biggest it could be which was pretty large, it nearly filled my whole computer screen. I stared into those mirrored glasses, and chanted over and over again, "Please write to me, please write to me, please write to me..." And then I said a bunch of other embarrassing, juvenile things and even kissed his mouth and nose, well...the computer monitor, really...That's a little scary, huh? (Why do I even admit to doing these things, I'll never know)...Anyway, I figured that I had to write to him again, and try to bait him into logging onto the site once more...diabolical, no? And I also made a pact with myself, that this time, if I still didn't hear back from him, I would hang up my schoolgirl crush on him, forever...I mean it. So, I wrote a letter and sent it and within one hour, he had stopped by the site. Now, don't you think that's weird? I was so excited, I could hardly stand it! I was certain that this time he would break his silence and stop being such a fucking pussy and talk to me. But, sadly...he remains mum. I have to let this one go, I know that. I simply cannot humiliate myself one more time.

So, Friday night rolls around and Mr. Cynical wants to know if I'm busy and I told him that even though it was my ex's weekend with the kids, I had Jordan staying the night with me because she was fox hunting near my house early in the morning, so I wouldn't be able to hang out. And then Saturday morning he asked what I was doing THAT night and I said I wasn't sure but that I thought I might be checking out a new pub in town, with a friend, which was only a slight fib. I really DID want to go to that place, but I was pretty sure that my friend wasn't actually available to join me that night. Taking into consideration the upswing of recent activity, I felt it might be prudent to keep that time slot open. And truth be told, I just wasn't really feelin' it for Mr. Cynical at that moment. Quite frankly, I was actually fine with doing absolutely nothing with anybody, including him. What is my problem, anyway? I can't even stay excited for more than 4 sessions with a fuck buddy, for fuck's sake?! Oh well, no sense in dwelling on it. I hopped into my desk chair, in front of my trusty ole Mac and scooted around from site to site. I don't know what the hell was going on, maybe a full moon or something, but it was like I had inadvertently stumbled upon a horn dog convention, I shit you not! First there was the guy who was so over the top, he was like Big D in triplicate! I call him Two Quarters and you'll see why a little later on. So, Two Quarters talked me into giving him my cell # so he could prove to me how gigundo his piece was, I guess he thought that might sway my decision to meet him or not. More than anything though, I really did just want to see if it was as prodigious as he had bragged it was. I already knew that I had no interest whatsoever, in ever meeting him, he was scarily concupiscent. The first photo he sent was ghastly. I'm pretty sure that I've never seen a dick as big as his before. No wait a minute...there was one in Richmond that was literally the size of a meatloaf, but I try to block that one out of my mind, (shudder) Anyway, as Two Quarters put it, his dick is 8.5 inches long and as big around as the cardboard center of a paper towel roll. That didn't actually sound all that huge to me, but to actually see it...for the love of GOD! Next he sent the mother of all of my erect cock pics.. It was an aerial view of his stiff johnson, out straight in front and on the top of the shaft, just behind the mushroom cap - he had resting, side by side - two quarters, and let me assure you, they were in no danger of falling off! Can any of you guys out there do that? I thought this was pretty impressive, but terrifying, nonetheless. He has texted me and tried to IM me like a thousand times since then, and I haven't responded, what would be the point? Enough is as good as a feast...

After or during my run-in with Two Quarters, sweet, young Propel Bottle (see older entry, "Back to the Drawing Board") said "Hello" for the first time since before Christmas and he had it in his head that that night (Saturday) was to be the night when he would finally come out to my studio and model for me, like we had discussed during every one of our prior conversations. I kinda dragged my feet on the whole thing, I definitely did not want to get mixed up with a 20 YEAR OLD COLLEGE STUDENT!!! But I was awfully curious about him, and that jumbo junk of his. Plus, since I was pretty sure that I didn't want to hang with Mr. Cynical, I may as well fill the void with...something, excuse me - someone. So I said, what the hell, and told him to get his ass on down the screet to my place.

The moment Propel Bottle got out of his car, I was certain that he was NOT the guy in his profile pic.. I'm not sure why I hadn't figured it out the time he cammed me, but whatever. He was shorter than the guy I had pictured and his shoulders and chest were not nearly the dimensions of the Adonnis in his profile photo, plus his hair wasn't as dark. But he had driven a whole hour and a half and out of common courtesy I felt like I had to go along with the plan. We sat at my kitchen counter and shot the shit. He didn't drink because he was driving (Ah ha! He wasn't planning on staying!) so I didn't drink either. It was somewhat disconcerting that his voice still cracked every once in awhile - evidence that he was STILL just a babe. Honestly? I was starting to feel like the quintessential cradle-robber, despite the fact that we managed to keep our chatter innocent. After awhile I asked Propel Bottle if he wanted to go over with me to my studio so I could fetch my art supplies, after all...he was there to model for me...right?

I gave him a quick tour of my studio, and then we came back to the house but before I bothered to set up all my art shit, I insisted that he come clean about his real reason for being there. He was utterly obsequious, assuring me that his only motive for wanting to be there, was so that I might sketch him. And I was like, "Well, all righty then"

He started off fully clad, sitting on the edge of my bed, petting the dogs and then worked his way down to just his boxer shorts, revealing a torso dramatically less honed than the one so proudly displayed on his profile. I was drawing him while he sat in a chair and I watched as he pitched a mighty pup tent in his undies. It was pretty adorable when he bashfully announced that he was getting hard...DUH! But I sloughed it off, like it was nothing and kept drawing like crazy. He then asked if I wanted him to get all the way nakey, and I said that it was fine with me, from an artistic standpoint...but ONLY, if he was cool with it! He dropped his drawers and there before me was the infamous Propel Bottle, in full, blooming color! And you know what? I was not the least bit turned on...honest injun. I kept a light, but professional attitude and doodled some cool sketches, but I knew it was inevitable that he would want to get laid. He tried to lay down on my bed, so I could draw him from a different angle but my dogs kept molesting him and finally we decided that he should maybe try reclining in my nice, warm bath, which he did. I have to say, I did probably my best drawing of the whole night, while he soaked in the tub...it was of his foot.

Ok, so when he got out of the tub, he asked if I wanted him to draw ME - translation - did I want to get naked? That is the point at which I felt that I had to end the madness, I simply could not deceive this innocent collegiate any further. There was absolutely no way that I could have plucked that little boy, virgin or no virgin, he was simply too, well...VIRGINAL! I told him that I am not typically an overly moral person, but there was something decidedly disturbing about the thought of playing with his hot salami. I mean, really...I am a mother of a son, and if I knew that some 39 (again) year old hag had preyed upon my own 20 year old son, I would hunt her ass down and snatch her baldheaded! He got my drift and sat on the edge of my bed again and said, "Well, I am gonna have to let one go here, pretty soon. Do you want me to do it in the bathroom, or right here? You can watch if you want" I was so confused, I thought he meant he had to fart or something, and then it clicked, and I said, "Oh! You mean you won't just eventually lose your wood?" and he said, "Huh uh, no way" So, he asked me to stay in the room with him and watch him finish, which I did. And I still was not the slightest bit turned on...I swear. It only took him like 20 seconds to cum. I was relieved. He showered, I apologized and thanked him and he left.

This is already a pretty long-winded episode, boys and girls...and I have barely even scratched the surface of all that has transpired in the last few days. Tell you what - why don't I sign off on this entry and begin yet another, fact-filled blow-by-blow account of the remainder, for your pleasure. Sound good? Oh, hell's bells, I almost forgot!...HAPPY NATIONAL ENORMOUS ERECTION WEEK!!!

What Exactly is the Definition of "Fuck Buddy"?

Couple of things...first of all, thank goodness for a new year, right? The gloom of the holidays is safely behind me and the stagnant online dating pool is beginning to gurgle a bit, with a fresh stream of new men...and action. Additionally, you might be astonished to discover that I have had a whopping, four dates with one single man, and no slip-ups in between. And, shockingly - I am not overwhelmingly compelled to slither away from him, yet. I did almost veer off on a wayward path for a split second with one ridiculously young and horny local guy, but I caught myself just in the nick of time, after he blew his cover by essentially admitting that all he was after was a random hook-up, nifty. Ok, so don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm falling for Four Date Steven, (a.k.a. Mr. Cynical) or anything ridiculous like that, I am mostly convinced that we have a limited shelf life...for several reasons...Mr. Cynical has me somewhat perplexed, for I am all at once, attracted to and repelled by him. On the one hand he is a bit staid which could prove to be the perfect foil for my capricious nature. But more than that, I find him almost too brooding and contemplative, I predict that either my exaggerated energy level will drive him to distraction or his overabundance of calm and control will suck the very life out of me. The general consensus among my friends who have met him is that he is definitely NOT my type, and I'm afraid that I have to completely agree. But on a strictly superficial level, his face is growing on me and I'm beginning to appreciate his trim athletic body more than I did in the beginning, lord knows, a lean, strong body is a real commodity considering the ages of the men I should be dating. And fuck if he is not just about the best lay, EVER, despite the fact that he is not particularly well-endowed, and that he has issues with retaining rigidity (he blames it on too much beer and the damned condoms) These two sexual negatives would normally make me do an immediate about-face, but the mere fact that he can get me so aroused and ultimately over the orgasmic top, says a ton about his mad skills in the sack - smallish, flaccid wiener and all. He has this way of talking - not dirty exactly - but naughty to me during sex, fabricating scenarios during the act, which combined with his capable hands, sends my body into an otherworldly orbit. He's a very giving lover, most times I feel like it's all about ME. And I rapaciously lap up his largesse. Another bonus is that he doesn't seem to mind making the trek from the big city out here to my humble house in the country, it's nice not being the one doing all the driving. It's better to stay at my house anyway, I think even he would agree. For one thing, I don't particularly dig his apartment, but he also has roommates and stuff. The one time that I was there, he kept shushing me when we woke in the morning, so I wouldn't disturb them, which was particularly irritating since I wasn't even being all that noisy. I'm still not entirely sure about his personality, though. He really likes to debate - mostly philosophical stuff and since I literally know nothing about philosophy, I can only base my opinions and input on my gut reaction to whichever theory he brings up at the time, and not at all from any sort of formal knowledge of the matter at hand. I like thought-provoking discussions, they can be intriguing and act as a window to the soul of the other participant, the only trouble with engaging in such discussions with Mr. Cynical, is that he is fundamentally inflexible, he is convinced that his opinion is creed and seems hellbent on converting me to his way of thinking. This can be moderately infuriating and exasperating, at times, and he appears egocentric almost to a fault. Anyway, so the other night we watched the movie "Life is Beautiful", and there are all these references to Schopenhauer and his philosophy on will and willing things to happen and Mr. Cynical couldn't wait to get to a bookstore to delve deeper into the theories of Schopenhauer, which we did. And as could have been expected, he without delay, proceeded to indoctrinate me on his revelations. I guess the devil's advocate in me simply could not go down without at least a teensy, little fight and I am proud to say that I successfully eschewed being hypnotized by his rhetoric. It was pretty entertaining (for me, at least) all in all. We came home, had some seriously great sex, minus the beer, plus the condom but still only equalling a semi-hard cock - and fell asleep in the middle of the day, for a couple of decadent hours.

Mr. Cynical left shortly after we woke and that night I was alone, left to my online galavanting devices. Oh, real quick, I should tell you that at some point after one of our lovemaking sessions, Mr. Cynical mentioned to me that he was afraid that I was going to "fall for him". (What? Come again?) I didn't bother to quantify this statement with a response, I just let him blab on and on about what a bastard he is and so on and so forth...But you should also know, that since we have been seeing each other, I have never once, not ever - contacted him first and I am absolutely fine with lapses in our communication. (Who's falling for whom here, buddy...) In fact, there have been times when I have begged my trusty ole Mac to please produce a suitable replacement for Mr. Cynical, my discomfort with his bombastic, self-righteous nature driving me to continue searching for someone just a touch more on the light and playful side. Anyway, so that eerily quiet night by myself, in front of my trusty ole Mac, the very night after watching the main character in "Life is Beautiful" will various things to happen during his life on the screen, I decided to attempt to manipulate my own situation when the target of an ongoing, unrequited crush of mine, viewed my profile. I was initially drawn to this gentleman, when I happened upon his profile on which he displayed a photo of himself quite obviously out in the bush somewhere, crouching down next to a real, and yes...live - cheetah. That part was undeniably cool, of course, but even better was the way his Levi's fit his trim legs and stuff. He appeared inquisitive and confident and casual, all of which I definitely dug. I call him Cheetah, when I'm talking about him to my friends, so Cheetah it is. Cheetah has historically maintained a safe distance from me, but not avoided me completely - his technique is gooood. He strings me along just enough so that I don't get totally discouraged. And this particular empty night, after weeks of uncomfortable silence following my "Merry Christmas!" e-mail to him, Cheetah f i n a l l y looked at my profile again. "Ohhhh! What do I do? Do I write to him immediately so that he knows that I know that he looked? No, that will make me look overly eager and possibly desperate...I need to stay calm and just sit tight, yeah, that's right"

The first time I ever e-mailed him was to inquire as to why he had removed his cheetah picture? (How the heck was I supposed to foster my growing crush on him without an image on which to fixate?) He did respond but was almost brusque when he quipped that he was having some issues with a teenage daughter and that he simply did not have time on top of family issues, at the moment, to deal with the constant deluge of mostly unwanted e-mails. I wished him luck with everything and committed to being scarce for a bit, so as not to annoy him further. So this night, alone in my studio, I stared at the only picture I had to work with - the default image - a plain, grey silhouette, (bleh) beside his profile name and repeated, "Talk to me Cheetah, just send me a note. Say something, please write me a message..." that type of thing, over and over again, never breaking my stare. And then the strangest thing happened! I nearly pooped my pants when for the first time ever, Cheetah IM'd me! "Oh my god! Now what? Holy crap, SHIT!" I spastically got my faculties about me and typed a short response to his "Hey". We chatted for awhile and I didn't fully believe him when he said that he had to go because someone had just stopped by, but it was ok...I was just so happy to have talked to him at all. And the whole thing of me feeling like I had willed him to contact me was somewhat baffling and queer, but I liked believing that I had made it happen.

Naturally, I have bounced my dilemma with Mr. Cynical off of Frances who insists that I don't need to understand why I keep getting together with him, when I question whether or not I even like him. She says I just need to enjoy it for what it is, which in her opinion is a textbook example of having found myself a "fuck buddy". This is something I have sworn for eternity, is completely out of my capacity. I have always maintained that I could not have continued sexual relations with someone with whom I felt I could not fall in love. For the moment though, I am fairly content to be eating those words...