The Big Ugly Blog is an honest and uncensored collection of anecdotes recounting the madcap shenanigans of a perpetually 39 year old divorcee, as she wades through the mire of the murky online dating pool - ravenously searching (evidently in vain) for the man of her dreams...Keep On Dreaming, Baby!


Sunday, November 15, 2009

Something Ventured, Nothing Gained

Well...I did it, thank freakin' god! I got my 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo - 50,107 to be exact, and I still have a couple more days to increase my word count, should I care to do so. What's funny though, is that reaching the 50k word mark might actually prove to have been the easy part. Now I get to look forward to the overwhelming task of taking this absurdly contrived, atypically reserved, skeletal structure of a manuscript and revising, editing and injecting it with an interesting voice in the hopes of winding up with at the very least, a halfway decent novel. In my best estimation though, doing THAT could easily take every bit of the year leading up to the NEXT NaNoWriMo...(*sigh*)...But more than anything else right now, I'm just so happy to be able to get back to work on the Big Ugly...I've been missing writing with abandon about decidedly edgier stuff...

All right, so even though writing my story was priority #1 this month, I still couldn't help but collect a little data for my next blog entry. I mean think about it, I was basically firmly fixed to my desk chair, in front of my trusty ole Mac for much of the entire month of November (and I've got the atrophied ass to prove it too, btw) and because I am something of the human equivalent of Pavlov's dog - conditioned to peruse all of my favorite dating sites whenever I'm at my computer - I kept a few tabs open at all times, so that I could bop back and forth between sites and keep an eye out for any new developments (I'm doing just that as we speak, matter of fact) So, one random, childless weeknight, I was diligently working on my book, with my Facebook page peeking out from behind my novel document, when I noticed that Willow was IMing me on FB. She was taking a break from tackling the formidable chore of straightening up her messy-ass room and she sounded pretty chipper. I was glad to see that she was in a good mood, because ever since our fun Friday night in D.C. a few weekends ago, she hasn't really heard much from M.C. Ginger, and since she is a girl who tends to fester incessantly over boys, needless to say, she's been a bit of a bundle of insecurity over his uncomfortable silence. While we were chatting, she mentioned that she might keep her options open by trying to reconnect with a couple of former, promising online options rather than just sit around waiting for M.C. Ginger to make a move. I told her that I thought this seemed like a very wise idea. After all, it definitely can't hurt to keep one or two on the back burner, just in case stuff doesn't end up panning out with your #1 pick. So, while Willow and I were IMing, I got a text from the 22 year old Grouchy Guy from the last entry. You remember...the one with whom I never managed to finalize a plan to get together, over the D.C. weekend? In his text he asked simply, "You still wanna try to get together?" I said "Sure" He then sent, "We could meet halfway and then find someplace to stay" I thought to myself, "Mmmm'd like that, wouldn't ya', little boy..." I didn't even bother to respond. Anyway, after marveling with Willow over the Grouchy Guy's brazen presumptuousness, I completely ducked out of working on my story for the moment, and skittered over to the site where the Grouchy Guy had first contacted me, and I discovered that he had just viewed my profile. Now let me remind you guys - that Friday night while I was in D.C., I had mentioned to the Grouchy Guy in a text, that perhaps Willow or Janine might be more reasonable dating possibilities for him. After which, he abruptly corrected me by quipping, "I don't date girls my own age"......OK! I got it dude...sorry - MY BAD!

I knew that Willow was nosing around on the same site over at her house on her own computer, and I suggested that she go check out the Grouchy Guy, so that she could see for herself what I was dealing with. I actually thought that there was the slim chance that she might find him, like I did at first, to be a somewhat better looking version of M.C. Ginger. And I dunno, maybe she would even be slightly interested in getting to know him despite his increasingly more grating personality. I forwarded his screen name to Willow and she immediately responded with, "Wait! That guy just IM'd me like 10 minutes ago" (How weird was that?! Like what are the chances, you know?...That he would be communicating with Willow and me simultaneously, and that we would actually catch him doing so?!) I said to Willow, "Oh really? How very interesting...cuz I mean - aren't you HIS age, and wasn't he just asking me if he and I were still gonna get together...the fucktard" So I texted the Grouchy Guy and said, "U know what's funny? Turns out ur talking to a friend of mine, right now. The same girl I tried to set u up w the other weekend?" and then I sent, "Small damn world, eh?" Willow on her end, was IM'ing him saying, "I think you're also talking to a friend of mine, about getting together with HER. You told her you don't date girls your age. So why are you talking to me?" He attempted to cover his ass by saying, "Well...I PREFER older women, but I think you're kinda cute. Wanna hang out sometime?" Both Willow and I were in a state of total amazement. Like did this douche bag actually think that he could effectively work both angles with two very close friends, who both happened to be privy to his stupid greediness? I mean honestly, man.

Willow and I ignored him after that, and I was this close to deleting his # from my phone. But I've done that before, deleted some irritating fella's number - I guess mistakenly believing that it would somehow miraculously make the owner of the # disappear, as well...which we all know, it does not. To this day, I still get texts from guys that I deleted ages ago, and it kind of drives me crazy to not know who the sender is, even though I'm pretty positive that I have no interest in talking to them. So, I decided that I better leave the Grouchy Guy's name and number in my phone, that way I could better moderate future interactions. And not surprisingly, after about a week, I got another text from him - it was his staple, "Still wanna try to meet?" message. I feigned ignorance with, "Who is this?" and then heard nothing until 4 hours later when he sent, "The young guy from D.C." Needless to say, I did not reply...and I haven't heard anything from him since.

Last Friday afternoon, I was swiftly approaching the NaNoWriMo finish line. I had already written about 3000 words that day, and the momentum I was generating indicated that I might actually be able to log in the last 2000 necessary to finish, which would merit rewarding myself with a celebratory night out on the town with Willow et al. True to form, I was intermittently writing and jumping between dating and networking sites, when I got a message on one site, from a 31 year old man, listed as "available" - which anyone floating around in the online dating netherworld knows - means that he is either married or is in some sort of committed relationship, yeah... His profile pic. displayed no face, only just about the most jacked torso imaginable. His note to me read, "WOW! You are one hot woman!!!!!!" I thanked him and told him that I appreciated him saying so. To which he replied with, "You have a smokin' body" I said, "Ditto" We continued swapping messages and after he willingly answered "Yes" to my question, "So, I guess I am to assume that you already have a significant other?" we switched from emailing to IMing and the conversation quickly became rawther educational. Clothespin, let's call him (you'll see why in a minute) is in the 7th year of a nearly sexless marriage. He claims that his high sex drive and his affinity for the more kinky, does not bode well with his wife's unapologetic lack thereof. Specifically, she has a particular distaste for his interest in BDSM. Now I know the basic premise of BDSM but little else outside of that, so I couldn't help but ask him to tell me about some of his fetishes. He first informed me that he likes to masturbate with clothespins on his balls.........I mean call me sheltered, but I had never even heard of such a thing, woah! I tried putting one on my nipple, just to see how bad it was and I'm here to tell ya', it was BAD! I tolerated it for about a half a nanosecond and ultimately found the clothespin to be much more useful as a hair clip.

But Clothespin continued, and really aroused my curiosity when he told me that he especially enjoys "orgasm denial"...Again, I had no formal knowledge of this facet of BDSM, but I urged him to elaborate. He said that he likes to hold off climaxing until his lover tells him to do so. Oh ok, well I did sort of get that. I have to say, the best sex for me has always been when I've successfully manipulated my mind and my body in order to finish, at the exact same moment that my partner does...makes it like 1000 times more intense. Anyway, I had gleaned from our conversation, that like mine, Clothespin's own sexual leanings were of a more submissive bent than of a dominant one. Pity...for mama DOES like to be bossed around by a paramour. Nevertheless, despite having, hours earlier already answered the daily call to pleasure myself, I was once again, seriously turned on - thanks to my uninhibited, in-depth discussion with Clothespin. Next he asked me if I could send him a photo and I said that I'd gladly do so as long as he sent one to me in return. After admiring each other's pics., both of which were of a "leave a little to the imagination" level of revealing, there was suddenly no holding back. We both admitted to feeling quite lusty and after a bit more dialog, he said that looking at my picture was taking him to that happiest of happy places and that he couldn't hold off any longer. I told him I had already gotten there and encouraged him to have at it.

After it was all over with, my instinct was to hurriedly sign off and get the hell back on task, but then I thought, "Wait a minute...maybe I shouldn't be so hasty...what if he's really just lonely and still wants to talk and stuff..." But moments after he had collected himself, he dispelled my misplaced sympathy when he stated, "I'm sorry, I gotta go. Can we chat again later?"...could I be a bigger idgit? I mean I really should know better, shouldn't I? The whole thing felt eerily reminiscent of my cyber relationship with Mark, waaaaay back in the beginning of all of this nonsense (see ancient entry "Let the Games Begin, Again!") I asked myself, like I had for the endurance of my stupid thing with Mark, if what Clothespin and I had done together online, could be categorized as "cheating", and the answer that I came up with was twofold:

1.)If I ever found out that my boyfriend or husband had done something like that, I would be nothing short of fucking pissed!

2.)It's really no different than jerking off to porn or more accurately - a dirty magazine, being that Clothespin and I only had the benefit of typed words and a still photograph as our inspiration...

K, think I'll go with #2

Oh but hey, real quick - while we're on the subject of masturbation and all that goes along with it...might interest you to know (as it did me) that according to an article I came across in some silly women's magazine (so don't quote me on this), recent studies have shown that people who have regular orgasms throughout their adult life, (I for one started diddling myself in the 5th grade, and my enthusiasm has never waned) either through actual sex with a partner or singlehandedly (*snigger*) enjoy numerous positive side effects including: lowered risk of prostate cancer in men and breast and uterine cancer in women, nice! Also, turns out that the rhythmic motion of sex and whatnot, helps strengthen and tone the stomach muscles. I feel like I can kinda vouch for that, since the only excuse I have for being even remotely fit anymore, is the modicum of sex that I have and the abundance of the other. Masturbation is seriously like the closest thing that I've got goin' on nowadays, to a regular fitness regimen...Anyway, get this - just 4.5 minutes of vigorous, whatever - is equal to jogging for 15 minutes...No freakin' way! Additionally, after reaching climax, one experiences a 30 % higher level of the antibody immunoglobulin A coursing through their anatomy, which subsequently keeps horn dogs like me somewhat impervious to common illnesses. Sounds preposterous, I know! But I am perfectly fine with believing that this may be the reason that I rarely ever get even so much as a common cold...and here I'd been thinking it was my daily Airborne tablet that's been keeping me well, Ha! I personally have always maintained (even before reading the article) that having an orgasm is the best way to snap oneself out of a nagging hangover as well, and as it turns out, an increase in the hormone oxytocin (in women) post orgasm, raises the pain barrier by 40%, making the "Big O" as effective or more so than a common analgesic - so see? I was right! And finally, I take solace in the assertion that sex strengthens and protects cardiac muscles...makes me feel a little bit better about all o' them ciggies I puff...

Ok kiddies, class dismissed...Now get out there and have some great sex - with yourself or someone else - it matters not...either way is fine. And you know what else? Fuck the apple, turns out it's the orgasm that keeps the doctor away!

Friday night, after friends stopped by my place for a few drinks, before we were to descend upon downtown Winchester, I felt primed and ready to celebrate winning NaNoWriMo, driven by the mindset that is so typical of the common (desperate?) single person out on the prowl - "TONIGHT...I WILL score a bed-mate, I refuse to come home empty-handed!" For me at least, it's not so much that I have been lacking in the casual sex department, but every time that I've hooked up with a guy recently, it's either been in a car, or in a shed or some stairwell or couch...Is it really too much to ask, for the next time that I doink a dude, that it take place in my own cozy bed? (btw, I did finally reassemble and jury rig my busted bed frame [see older entry: "Reclaiming My Mojo, But Misplacing My Moxy"] by supporting the sagging middle with a pile of magazines...preeeetty sure it'll hold...looooking forward to finding out...) But taking hooking up with someone even a step further...Recently, I've been contemplating the kooky concept of seeing a person MORE than just once, you know like maybe even DATING them..............K, nevermind that...makes me sound like I've fallen off the deep end.

Earlier that Friday evening, like always, I put fresh, clean linens on my bed, guided by my unflagging optimism that certainly someone besides my dogs would help me get those nice, crisp sheets all dirty again, later on that night. And then while I was in the shower I found myself getting kinda misty over something that I hadn't really let myself ponder in awhile. It occurred to me how much I seriously do miss having a steady beau in my know - someone with whom to sleep naked, tucked in tightly together under the covers...someone to greet in the morning with a big ole breakfast of bacon, scrambled cheesy eggs, cinnamon toast, baked apples and coffee with homemade whipped cream...someone with whom to romp in the shower - I mean it just feels like forever since I've soaped up a lover's body, or vegged out together on the shower floor, drunk as shit after a long night of partying, til the hot water runs out...Ehh well, fuck it...

As has become commonplace, my big night out on the town was as disappointing as ever, as far as men go. I mean it never fails that I end up having a blast with my friends, acting like total retards on the dance floor and stuff, and thank goodness for that, right? But honestly, the only bright spot in the Man Department was so ridiculous, that I hesitate to even address it...But of course...I shall...

Seems like every time I go out in Winchester anymore, I run into this really righteous guy, who I just always love to see! Copper Top is an M.M.A. fighter and an instructor at the gym where my son used to take Jiu Jitsu. He's a stellar, upbeat, young guy and every time I see him out, I try to finagle a love connection between him and Willow (he is clearly besotted by her otherworldly beauty, but she is always kind of on the fence about him) Anyway, so Friday night, I crossed paths with Copper Top again, and this time I was delighted to discover that he was accompanied by another trainer/fighter from the gym...the painfully young, but startlingly gorgeous - Les Yeux. I have to admit that I have always found him to be physically pretty fucking perfect...tall, cut, a badass...but my most favorite of his plethora of remarkable features, are definitely his eyes. This guy has the most beautiful eyes, ever! Big, bright and blue and rimmed with lashes so long and dark, that it almost looks like he's wearing eyeliner, it adds a sort of sweetness to his otherwise tough exterior. I've never really talked to him, other than to just say, "Hi" cuz for as long as I've known him, I've been pretty sure that he had a girlfriend, and knowing that has definitely helped to keep my cougar-esque tendencies in check. But Friday night, Les Yeux and I actually got the chance to chat a little, since Copper Top and I were spending a fair amount of time together trying to snag him a babe. After gathering the courage to inquire, Les Yeux informed me that he does not in fact, have a girlfriend at the moment, and this golden nugget of a news flash had the cougar literally clawing to get out of her cage...Les Yeux only exacerbated things when he ever so politely offered up a few glowing compliments which even made me blush a little, and I couldn't help but daydream about the idea of spoiling him on young girls forever...

Last Call was swiftly approaching and Willow and my other friends had gone up the street to get food. Even though I was trashed and definitely thinking impure thoughts about Les Yeux, I was still ambivalent about the idea of suggesting taking him back to my house or vice versa...But before I had the chance to decide whether to not to embarrass myself by either being unequivocally rejected by him or waking up next to one of my son's trainers, he mentioned to me that if he could leave with anyone that night, it would be the girl in the green hat. Dagger in the heart! A little - but not too much, cuz I actually did know that girl and I truly do like her and she would be a much more suitable match for Les Yeux. I told him all of that and led him over to her table to introduce the two of them and then I left to go find Willow and everyone else. And in a weird kind of way, I was sort of be going home all by myself...

The next morning, after greeting my haggardly face in the bathroom mirror, I was even more glad that I had woken up alone. God! I just looked so old and worn out from too many long nights of partying, and well, the fact that I AM just plain OLD! I couldn't imagine the trauma that someone, especially a 22 year old man like Les Yeux, might experience upon waking up next to something that looked so rough. These consecutive nights of extreme partying and desperately searching for a mate are definitely starting to take a toll, both physically and mentally, and for what? They never produce any real results. I'm almost to the point of giving up on the bar scene, completely. It just feels like such a stupid fucking waste of time...(We'll see how long that attitude lasts, huh?)

That was Saturday, and I spent most of the day, here at my desk writing. And I was perfectly content with that. I friend requested Copper Top and Les Yeux on Facebook and they accepted, so that was kind of fun, and I wrote a quick note to Les Yeux, asking if and sincerely hoping that things had worked out with him and the Green Hat. He said that they really didn't have a chance to talk all that much, since it was Last Call and all, but that she'd told him that she was gonna be out again THAT night and he thought that he might go try to find her...and I was happy for him.

But here's where my impulsiveness rears it's ridiculous head. All that day, I kept thinking about Les Yeux's gorgeousness and different things, (ehemm)...and by 5:30 or so, I caved to the whim to send him yet another message, and I was stone sober...go figure! I told him that it was probably inappropriate of me, and I hoped that he didn't find it creepy, but just in case he should ever want to use it - "my cell # is:.........." (So to answer my own question - YES! I CAN be a bigger idgit!) But even so, do you know how Les Yeux responded to my glaring faux pas? He handled it in a more gentlemanly manner than I ever could've hoped. He simply...thanked me ;)

I have a date lined up for this Tuesday, with a former model (or so he says) Judging by his photos, he is way too good looking for the likes of me, but the good news is that he does happen to be my same we'll see. We're meeting at 7 o'clock at a Starbucks which bisects the hour and a half distance between our two homes, so I'm really hoping that even if I dig him, there will literally be no way for me to end up doing something totally stupid. Although there was that little thing that he mentioned about looking for a sexually-focused relationship...Ah well...

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