A couple of weeks ago, after a modicum of surreptitious detective work, an old friend of mine tracked me down on OkCupid, my most favorite dating site of the multitude that I frequent. We had not seen nor spoken to each other at all, in nearly 20 years, so it was a really nice surprise to be able to catch up with him after so long and I also liked knowing that I had a new ally...a pal...a buddy! - on that site. The Professor had just recently joined OkC and after skimming over my profile he was not ignorant to the fact that I have become a somewhat seasoned online dater, so he asked me to please check out his profile and share any ideas I might have with which to improve his own page, so I did both. He then poked around some more on MY profile, and before too long he'd unearthed the web address of my dreaded, dirty blog...and - like a good little soldier - he promptly set about getting himself up to speed on my well-chronicled online (and otherwise) dating catastrophes from the last year and a half. After reading just a few entries, he sent a message, complimenting me on what he considered to be "outstanding writing" (why gracias!) and then concluded his note by saying he wished that he knew how much of what I wrote was based on truth and how much of it was merely "inspired"...which got me to thinking...
I guess it had never occurred to me before, that folks could be out there, merrily reading along on my blog site, all the while rolling their eyes thinking, "Oh she is SO full of malarkey, this one!" I mean yes - I do tweak quotes and names (for obvious reasons) and I do sometimes condense the string of events in order to expedite reaching each bitter end before I get like 5000 words deep, for godssakes. But the bulk of each entry is full-on truth. Believe me, I couldn't make this shit up if I had to! Which brings me to another little factoid...I'm beginning to wonder if I even have it in me to write fiction at all. I struggled with this conundrum, last month while working on my NaNo book. I chugged along effortlessly, during the memoir-ish portion of the novel, but the minute I reached the part in the story where I had to rely on creative imagination to guide me the rest of the way (and with only about 7000 words to go) I completely seized up. I definitely hadn't anticipated that happening, either - it totally threw me for a loop! I guess I'd figured that making up the moderately fantastical ending would be just as simple for me as the autobiographical part had been if not more so, but it wasn't - not even close!
The same thing applies when writing my blog. There are times when I literally have nothing noteworthy to report, especially during the extended time periods when my kids being here at home with me, limits my socializing or when I'm simply stricken by a particularly dull, s l o w phase. I'll moan and whine to my friends about how badly I'm jonesin' to write, but extenuating circumstances render me impotent to harvest any new material for my poor, neglected blog. Without fail, my friends will fuss, "Just make something up - for cryin' out loud!" And to that I say - not only would I never dare post glaring untruths for the sake of simply getting my blog up, but even if I wanted to fabricate some fabulously far-fetched fable - I am nearly convinced that I am virtually incapable of fudging the facts. Except for, that is...when my psychotic imagination takes the reins. There IS a difference, you know - between creative imagination and psychotic imagination - especially when it comes to theorizing about the unusual situations in which I find myself with the guys I meet online...Creative imagination needs no explaining, everybody knows what that is...but for me at least, psychotic imagination steps in (whether I want it to or not) whenever I need help solving a mystery or resolving a problem, by conjuring up oftentimes ridiculous explanations which usually either placate me...or totally wig me out. Agreed, I do throw out some pretty bizarre shit from time to time while waxing philosophic on the pages of my Big Ugly Blog, and it may seem like utter balderdash to the naked ear, but if I sincerely believe my wacky suppositions to be true, then it doesn't matter how off-the-wall they sound to everyone else - to me they are fucking creed and ain't nobody gonna change that!...(until I look a total foo' once they're proven otherwise, of course) But here, allow me to attempt to back up this hypothesis with a story about my recent, curious interaction with Mr. Model Man, or M3, as I prefer to call him...
When he did get back to me, out of the blue he sent his cellular digits and asked me to call him that day, so that we could formulate a plan to get together. I texted (so he'd have MY #) to tell him that I would be working in my studio all day, and invited him to call me whenever he found a free moment...but I never heard word one from him. So, THEN...I dunno...like maybe another week later, he wrote to me asking what my schedule looked like over the next few days and from there we set wheels into motion, and FINALLY decided on a time and a place to meet. I should tell you though, that soon after we'd ironed out our plans, M3 sent me a note in which he wondered, "You do know that I am interested in finding a monogamous, sexually-focussed relationship, right? I just thought that I should be clear about that before we go too much further, I don't want anyone to be disappointed" I was a little confused because, no - he had never specified what kind of relationship it was that he was after and honestly, I wasn't 100% certain what he meant by "monogamous/sexually-focussed". I mean I knew what the words literally meant and all, but what was he saying - that he was basically on a mission to find a faithful fuck buddy, no emotional strings attached? Not wanting to let insignificant minutiae stand in the way of a potentially good time, and - talking outta the side of my mouth, I answered back that it seemed as if we were looking for practically the same thing...(or something)
The last time I partook in "Date Night", was that heinous night when Blue Steel gagged me with his slab-o-bologna tongue and I then topped off our less-than-impressive evening together - by hitting a deer while driving my cute, little car home, grrr...So, not last Tuesday, but the one before that, I got the chance to resurrect and hopefully redeem "Date Night", by driving an hour east of where I live, in order to meet up with M3 for coffee. As I was parking my cute, little car I got a text from him, warning that the Starbucks where we were supposed to meet was closed and that he was waiting for me instead, on the third level out in front of Saks. He also threw in that his hair was shorter now than it was in his pictures online. Ok, no problem...it's coo', esse...I then reminded HIM that my hair was now blond, not knowing if he'd noticed the updated photos that I had recently added to my own profile.
I approached the fawn colored, leather sofa at the entrance of Saks, where I saw a slender, well-dressed man seated and slightly facing the other way. He was sporting tidy, business attire; a dark grey, lightweight woolen suit, and smart, black leather shoes. As he turned towards me, I was struck, not by the fact that M3's hair was much shorter than in his photos as he had warned, but more that it seemed to be so much darker than I'd remembered, and his face seemed a bit different too. At the time I kinda mentally poo-pooed the discrepancies in his appearance, because short hair or dark or whatever - the guy there before me - my date for the night - was perfectly turned out and delectably gorgeous and mama definitely wanted summa dat!
It only took me a few minutes though, to realize that this was not going to wind up to be one of those fun, spontaneous, seat-o-the-pants kinda dates. In fact, it wasn't looking like it was going to be much fun at all. Directly following our "How do you do" hug, we sat down on that jumbo, cold couch and I asked, "So, since Starbucks is closed, whaddya wanna do?" thinking that maybe we would head on over to one of the many restaurants in the mall and grab a drink or two, or even dinner. But he dashed that idea with, "Oh, I told you - I have to meet a client at 9 o'clock, so I was thinking that we'd just sit here and talk until I have to leave" I thought to myself, "Uhhh...pretty positive that you never told me that, but that's fine...we can sit here and just...t a l k..."
Allegedly, ours was M3's very first official online date, and it was clear that he had been instructed by someone, to follow to the letter - the unwritten guidelines of appropriate first date protocol;
1.) meet in a public place
2.) avoid consuming alcohol
3.) hang out for one hour only
( B O R I N G ! )
The whole thing was very sorta stiff and formal and polite and to put it bluntly, M3 really just didn't seem all that into me. I have to say, when he stood up to leave, at exactly the one hour mark, I felt like I had just endured a probing and somewhat clinical interview...for what, though? The position of his concubine? And even so, it appeared that my performance (in his eyes) was definitely not the equivalent of a slam dunk.
We hugged once more, then turning to leave, I sifted through the contents of my bag for my single car key and came up empty-handed. Seemed I must have absentmindedly left it in the ignition of my cute, little car! I do that all the time, back in my safe, quiet little town - it's become kind of a (bad) habit. But M3 and I nervously joked that especially since I'd parked it in a bustling parking lot in a big city, directly underneath one of those glaring pole lights, there was the very distinct possibility that my car might not be there when I returned to where I'd parked it...hahaha??
Fortunately, my car WAS still there and the key WAS in the ignition as suspected, and so I texted M3 to let him know that everything was cool. Not that I thought he would be driving to his very important meeting in a state of panic - worrying about me or anything lke that, but this did give me an opportunity to also offer up the obligatory, "It was so nice to meet you" bullshit. He promptly sent a few back to back texts in which he said collectively, Yes - it had indeed been nice meeting, he apologized for having to cut our visit so short, asked if I would share my regular email addy with him, and closed by saying that he'd enjoyed talking to me and looked forward to doing more than just continuing our conversation, the next time that we got together ;-)...And so began M3's gradual shift from proper business man to over-the-top sexual dictator...
For the entire hour drive back home, I analyzed the date with M3. I was itching to get back to my computer, in order to compare his photos to the way he looked in real life. I was also kind of confused by the bubbly effervescence that spewed from his enthusiastic texts, but which contradicted his dry, staid disposition in person. Stuff just wasn't adding up...the whole thing felt kinda weird to me.
When I did finally get face to face with my trusty ole Mac, I opened my inbox on the site where I'd met M3 and it was the strangest damn thing...all of the messages that he had ever sent to me were no longer there. So I went to the "sent" messages...and all of the messages that I had ever sent to HIM were now suddenly missing, as well. Now THAT really was odd! I've never known messages to disappear, unless I deleted them or the admin. on the website removed them after they'd reached their life expectancy. Additionally, when I searched his username, he was nowhere to be found. The only explanation I could come up with, was that M3 had BLOCKED me from contacting him and viewing his profile. If he had closed his account, our exchanged messages would've still been intact, there would simply be a blank spot where his profile name used to be - that happens all the time. And when searched, his profile name would've appeared and I would've seen, "So and So closed their account on such and such date"...So why in the hell would he block me? Was he already home from his meeting and so disgusted with me after our date that he wanted literally NOTHING to do with me ever again, and vice versa?! Or...did he simply not want me to be able to compare the face that I'd seen on our date with the one that appeared on his profile...hmmmm...diabolical...
By the next day I had really kind of written the whole thing off, I mean seriously...M3 was way too good looking for me and honestly - totally out of my league. I "got" why he wanted nothing to do with me, and it was no big deal. But I did find it sorta rude, the way that he'd gone about giving me the axe, sheesh!
Anyway, later that same day, while I was busily plugging away at my job, I was surprised to receive a text from M3 which read simply, "You've got mail ;-)" I assumed this meant that he'd reconsidered and presumably sent something to my regular email account since we were apparently no longer communicating on the dating site. (What in the world was going on? He was acting like everything was just hunky dory!) I told him that I was at work, but that I looked forward to reading what he'd sent, when I got home later that evening....and I finished out my day at work with a giant question mark hovering over top of my head...
The email that I opened that night, was the first in a string of increasingly more and more racy emails that flowed forth over the next few days. And they really did not seem to jibe with the demeanor of the man who I'd met out in front of Saks. (Enter my psychotic imagination...) I was beginning to seriously wonder if the man that I met had been some sort of a decoy for a more shady character skulking around online, looking to prey on a stupid, single, desperate divorcee. But since I am not a shy person and always one to up the ante a bit (so often for the sake of my blog) I egged him on (whoever he was) by answering each email, candidly.
Here's what happened when he asked me this series of questions:
(oh, and btw - a T.M.I. Warning is in effect! If you're at all squeamish, you might consider skipping this next section...)
1) What is your favorite position? - I am always willing (and happy!) to try most anything. But the amateur contortionist in me particularly likes it when I'm squished all up into a little ball…knees up beside my ears…you get the picture...Sure - I like it from behind, no doubt! But it doesn’t usually “get me there” unless I prop myself up underneath, with a pillow...if I do that, well then - I'm golden!
2) Do you prefer to be more submissive or more dominant? - Although I am not this way so much in daily life - I definitely gravitate more towards the submissive role with a lover...suffice it to say - I like to be told what to do...
3) Do you enjoy oral sex? - Hells yeah!...I’m more of a “giver”, though. I’ve never really warmed up to “receiving”...not totally sure why. I think that I always feel selfish or guilty or something.
4) When a man cums in your mouth, do you spit or swallow? ;-) let’s just say that I don't remember ever spitting…
5) Have you ever had a relationship based on sex? No...not really...I've had extremely passionate relationships, where sex was a huge push, but most of my relationships have encompassed far more than just "sex"
6) What would you like to do the next time we meet—any particular fantasies? - I've never gone on a second date with anyone, expecting to live out any specific sexual fantasies...necessarily. But I've already told you that I am submissive...so I guess, assuming we do in fact click in a more intimate setting - I would have to just do what I was told...(or...give you a blow job in the shower, ha!)
(Hey! Don't give me that look...you were given fair warning...)
Next, he sent me a detailed note depicting the way that HE wanted things to go, the next time that we got together...and here is where I really started to wonder if I was getting myself in just a leetle over my head...
Ok. This is how I picture the next time I see you. Let me know what you think...
You will prepare for my arrival. You will dress in a skirt (above the knee), white button up blouse, and no bra. You will wear black lace panties, until instructed to remove them. Your hair will be worn down. Your bedroom will be tidy, with candles burning and the blinds closed. The bedcovers will be pulled down. Two scarves will be placed on the bed; just so you know, one will be used as a blindfold, and one may be used to bind your hands…
I will call you as I get near to your house. You will open a bottle of wine, pour two glasses, and drink half of yours--to allow you to relax. As you begin to think about what we are going to do, you may begin to pleasure yourself…
When I park out front, I will call you again. You are to do the following: unlock the front door, go to your bedroom, put on the blindfold, and kneel at the foot of your bed. You will hear me enter your place. You will hear me enter your bedroom, and taste the wine you have poured. You will hear me walk over to stand in front of you, and you will feel me gazing at you hungrily. You will hear the distinct sound of my zipper slowly opening, and you will open your mouth…
Uh oh...that not sound so good...
I was almost a smartass when I responded to this last note. He just came across as SO imperious and I couldn't resist tempering his bossiness with a touch of my own assertiveness (so much for being submissive, eh?) I corrected him on many of his demands, such as: "I almost never wear my hair down anymore, my room is ALWAYS tidy, I don't own that type of clothing, I do not drink wine recreationally - it'll be vodka for me thank you very much, and if I DO wear the blindfold, I WILL have to peek out from under it to make sure that you're the same guy from the mall and not accompanied by five of your friends looking to get in on the action" I mentioned that I have 2 dogs who are somewhat protective and the chances of him actually entering my house and my bedroom, unescorted and unscathed, were slim to none. As I hit the send button, I knew there was no way in HELL that I could ever go through with something like this. No freaking way! The fact that he wanted to spend our next visit together at my house, led me to further worry about the possibility that he might not be the person that I met at the mall, and I must admit...I was beginning to retreat...
Simultaneous to setting a date for all of M3's kinky fantasies to go down (this past Sunday, to be exact) a certain someone from my not so distant past (who will remain anonymous for the time being) popped back into the picture after months of understandable silence. I almost felt like the fact that he was contacting me, must surely mean that I was being punked or something. I just couldn't comprehend why he would ever want to talk to me again, after I had so viciously, verbally castigated him here in the Big Ugly. But the weirder part was, that I was really happy to have heard from him, and even more delighted when he asked if I was available to do something over the weekend...I would have willingly put him in M3's slot on Sunday, but the guy from the past wanted to do something on Saturday, so I would not be able to use him as my excuse for getting out of the planned sex-fest with M3.
I was super stoked to have something much more savory (in comparison to the thing with M3) to wrap my brain around though, and the idea of reuniting with the guy from the past made it easier for me to disconnect from M3, who sent repeated, nagging texts telling me that he needed to know what I would be wearing, that he NEEDED that visual...and spooky shit like that. I would wait hours and hours before responding when I did at all, he was creeping me out pretty hard and I was totally backpedalling. I did finally ask him if he had blocked me from viewing his profile to which he replied, "I deactivated my account after we met ;-)" (Suuuure ya' did and what does "deactivate" mean, anyway...there's no "deactivate" button on Plentyoffish) Finally as we were nearing crunch time, and I was becoming even more remiss in responding, he said, "I guess I should assume from your lack of response, that you've lost interest and I should reactivate my profile" I said, "I wish you WOULD reactivate your account, I've been wanting to look at your pictures" He then said that if I wanted to see pictures of him so badly, that he would just email some to me, but he never did.
I was thrilled to be distracted from the M3 debacle, for the endurance of the guy from the past's visit. I was finally able to let my psychotic imagination take a break from filling my head with thoughts of being some fledgling serial killer's maiden victim. Quite frankly, I really didn't care if M3 eventually got so pissed off by my inattentiveness, that he just went away. Plus I was looking forward to having another, maybe better chance, of getting cozy with the guy from the past...
I had a very nice time with the guy from the past. It's always nice to visit with him...he's intelligent, fun, attractive...all of that, but he is definitely not into me beyond just a quick little overnight here and there. And this time, since I acknowledged that, I did not get my nose all outta joint over it. I just accepted that it is what it is, and realized that that was perfectly fine with me. So there...
Once the guy from the past had left my house late Sunday morning, the M3 dilemma was in my face yet again, after having checked my phone and finding a half a dozen unread texts from him, from that morning alone. Each one some variation of, "Looks like you're not interested...good luck to you...blah, blah, blah" I decided to call him on what my psychotic imagination had me totally convinced was his utter horse shit...
We texted back and forth and I immediately addressed my discomfort with the idea of him showing up at my place. I insisted that before we get carried away with living out all that he had in mind for us, we needed to first meet in a public place so that I could be certain that he was the guy that I'd met at the mall and that he was not traveling with an entourage. He took offense to my audacity to dare suggest that he might be as underhanded and deceitful as all that. But I unwaveringly insisted that if he was such an upstanding guy, as he claimed, then he should have no problem respecting and honoring my desire to play it safe. He said that attacking his character like that was hurtful. (Awww...poor baby!) And that meeting ahead of time sorta ruined the thrill factor (pshaw!) Anyway, this banter went on for awhile until I finally got fed up with texting the same exact thing over and over again. I said that we were getting nowhere with the texting and if he wanted, he should just call me. My phone rang a few minutes later and although I did not remember his voice in person sounding the way that it did on the phone, he did have a slight Michigan accent. I mean, I knew that M3 was from Michigan and all, but I did not remember him sounding quite like that.
By late Sunday afternoon (too late to still get together that day, phew!) we finally reached a middle ground of sorts, and after he accepted my concerns about my safety and I assured him that I was not questioning his character, we agreed that meeting at a coffee shop or restaurant up the road from my house first (when and if we do finally meet) would be fine. He asked when I would be free again, I told him NEXT Sunday, he said that would work for him and we left it at that.
Now, even though my sensible head tells me that I might genuinely have it all wrong...that M3 could actually be the handsome man from the mall, his intentions kinky but not sinister...my psychotic imagination STILL has me mostly convinced, that the guy behind the texts and the emails and on the phone, is NOT the guy who met me out in front of Saks...and if I'm correct, 50 bucks says that I never hear from him again. And if THAT turns out to be the case, then it really frightens me to think what might've happened if I'd just let him show up at my house, like he so adamantly insisted upon doing at first. It is psychotic imagination-driven speculation that M3 could be grossly overweight, or hideously ugly or too old or too young for me, or even physically perfect, but either way - clearly lacking the skills necessary to win the affections of a girl on his own merits...Or even worse still - what if he IS some sort of psychopath, looking to do horrible things to a disposable, dumb girl like me...I KNOW! It sounds CRAZY! But this is what I've been trying to tell you guys...even if the idea that I get in my head sounds utterly preposterous and IS completely "made-up" (FICTION!) I write about it because to me it's truth until I get some sort of proof that either debunks or quantifies it. I'm a whackjob...what can I say...
And so here's me...still nomadically roaming that vast online dating desert...and yeah, I've been lured towards some mighty tantalizing oases, to be sure! But each time that I reach what I'm hoping will be the edge of a clear, blue pool - I inevitably discover that it's nothing more than a stupid, freaking mirage...differentiating fact from fiction is clearly not my strong suit...
(Oh shit...looks like I owe you guys $50, too...I just got a text from M3..."Good Morning! ;-)"...I guess we're still on for this Sunday...wish me luck...burn a candle...say a prayer?)
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