...Feast

By the Sunday after Christmas, the novelty of my unexpected pre-New Year's "cleanse" had definitely worn off and I was hankerin' to put men back on the menu, and in order to do that - I knew that I had to be proactive...lord knows no one else was gonna do my scouting for me. So I shopped around a bit on my favorite dating sites and before long, my keen "new boy" radar honed in on an unfamiliar heavenly body. The target on my screen was tall, built, handsome, ex-military, divorced, had sole custody of his only child, was gainfully employed and lived close by...but I was afraid that maybe he'd think that we were too far apart in age. So, I wrote to him and in the subject line I put, "I may be too old for you..." and then continued my note to him with, "but you seem like an interesting and active guy, so I couldn't resist at least saying, "Hi""

The next morning, I received a nice message that he'd sent after I'd already tucked it in the night before - which he opened with, "Age is in the heart"...I took that to mean that he had no problem with the fact that I am 7 years his senior. So before leaving for work, I wrote back and invited him to go snowboarding with my friends and me, that upcoming Wednesday.

After returning home from work I was delighted to discover that I had more mail from him even though he had declined my invitation to go snowboarding since he had a friend arriving on Wednesday for a week long visit. But after a couple more emails, I learned that he WAS free THAT very night - Monday - and, never one to miss out on a promising opportunity, I asked him if he would be up for meeting me in town for a drink later...and he said that he was. Yip!

We exchanged cell #'s, I hopped in the shower, got all gussied up and left to go meet him at the pool hall up the road from where I live. As I pulled my big boat into the parking lot, I recognized the tall, strapping man walking past my car - as the "heavenly body" I'd seen on the dating site. I pointed at him and smiled and he about-faced in order to meet me at my car so that we could walk inside together...I could tell right away that I liked him already...

We ordered our drinks and instead of cramming ourselves into the limited space amid all the pool tables and other people, we set up shop in a cozy nook away from everyone else, kicked back in two easy chairs and shot the shit...'twas rawther nice.

It was terribly easy to like the guy...he was engaging and open and he had the greatest face imaginable - his Dutch and Italian lineage producing big bluey eyes and long, dark lashes, matte, oxblood lips and a gloriously angular nose - my favorite! And that body, jesus! I caught myself lost in thought a few times, imagining what it would be like to have my body totally enveloped by his...*sigh*

We got along famously and I was already looking forward to going out with him another time very soon, but after only one drink, he jumped ahead a little when he suggested that we save our pennies by playing pool and mixing our next drinks...back at his place......uh oh...oh boy...

Now, here's the thing...I was completely conscious of what this meant and even though I understood that following him to his house right then would most likely mean a dreaded hook-up on the first date which could easily eliminate any chance of ever seeing him again...I am a terribly impulsive lass, a legal consenting adult and was way overdue for a gratifying romp in the hay*...so I was completely down with it. It's like with me there is literally no middle ground, I am either hot or cold...fast or stop...FUCK YEAH! or HELL NO!... and whenever I meet a new guy, I know straight off the bat if I'd do him or not, and if I'm certain that I would, well then, quite frequently - I do...I'm sorry...I'm weak that way...what can I say...

*My most recent "romantic" foray had been just a couple of weeks before, with the Mystery Man and yes...we did have a nice time together and yes...I was as attracted to him as ever and yes...we did (try to) get cozy in the sack, but no...we did not seal the deal which I must say, was not for MY lack of trying, sheesh! In all fairness to the Mystery Man, the deficiency in his prowess that night could've been due to the fact that he did down the better part of my bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin over the course of the evening...nonetheless - snockered or not - it is undeniably damaging to a girl's self-esteem, when the guy with whom she's tryin' to get busy, can't for love or money...manage to get it up. I can tell myself that the Mystery Man was soused or suffering performance anxiety or that he has some physiological problem that the wonders of modern medicine could easily straighten out, but at the time I just took it personally and convinced myself that my relatively fit, naked body, all ripe for the pickin' - just wasn't doing it for him...(dagger!) So what happened was...my not-so-gratifying tangle with the Mystery Man left me dangling and I found myself even more starved than usual for a fulfilling interlude with a real live man...NOT myself...OR my stupid toy...again...

It didn't help matters any, that a particular comment that an acquaintance posted on an older blog entry, has remained stuck in the back of my feeble brain...a comment on which lately I've kind of relied, in order to justify my oftentimes impetuous behavior. After reading an entry about yet another example of my poor snap-decision-making, the old friend asked, "Am I the only person who begins long-term relationships with sex on the first date?" Hmmmm......Now there was something about this, that in essence - I felt kinda gave me license to go on ahead and test the waters with men to whom I felt a strong gravitational pull...because there was always that shred of a chance that the two of us could end up going the distance...you know, like beyond just that first encounter.

So, that bitterly cold Monday night, I left the pool hall and willingly followed my date way the hell on over to the other side of town and then further still out into the country 'til we finally ended up at his house, where I found myself startled by how tidy he was as well as impressed by his tasteful and restrained choice of decor. And it didn't hurt that I immediately bonded with his two adorable doggies! The guy seriously had it going on.

He mixed me a yummy drink in the most elegant, turquoise blue cocktail glass (I mean, c'mon! Was I seriously coveting his glassware?! Ridiculous...) after which we traipsed downstairs to the basement to get that pesky game of pool outta the way.

My lifelong curse of sucking at pool continued as did the conversation, and I learned that he had only just signed up on the dating site where I'd found him, the actual day that I first contacted him (I told you! That "new boy" radar of mine is GOOD!) and he told me that he had already blocked like 6 girls. For real?! I've been online dating for over a year and a half now and I've only blocked a total of like 3 guys on all of my sites, ever! I actually felt somewhat honored that he'd kept me around as long as he already had, hahaha! Anyway, once he'd handed me my ass in our mandatory game of pool, he asked if I wanted to go get in the hot tub and I said that I did, despite (and also because of) the fact that it was 12 degrees with a wind chill of something like a million below...We stood there together in his mud room, stripped down to our skivvies and he gave me a big cushy robe to wear in between the house and the hot tub. Once outside in that damned frigid night air, we wasted no time getting our nakey bodies submerged in the 101 degree water and this my friends, is where things turned from proper and polite to naughty...in a jiff. As soon as we started canoodling, I felt that electrical pull between my middle and his, which I always freaking LOVE! And before long I was introduced to his namesake here in the blog...the Babyarm...

Don't worry, not gonna bore you with all the gory details of the rest of our time in the hot tub through when I actually got my wish to have my body ensconced in his - during our post coitus, snuggly slumber...what I will tell you is that poor judgement or not, going home with Babyarm was for me - precisely what the doctor ordered. (Honestly, it kinda felt like maybe I should go SEE a doctor, afterwards. Fuck me! What glorious good fortune when all afternoon at work the next day my boss had me straddling the ceiling rafters in the attic, after he got the wild hare to have me install 6 recessed can lights......for the love of PETE!) Nevertheless, my tangle with Babyarm was the perfect antidote to my disappointing physical flop with the Mystery Man on many levels...I would even venture to say that the two "dates" were veritable polar opposites.

To start with, the very demeanors of the two men could not have been more dissimilar...Babyarm's ebullience was to the Mystery Man's forbearance like an effervescent waterfall is to a frozen lake...

Aaaand...unlike the Mystery Man, Babyarm wanted "it" as badly as (possibly more than?) I did, which absolutely boosted my ego as well as my libido. And his aggressive domination was well-received by this inherently submissive, rapturously captive audience. I liked that Babyarm was not the least bit shy about his body and stuff cuz that's the way that I am. I like being naked and I want the lights on so that I can see everything as it's happening...and I shrivel when my immodesty is met with overt inhibition...example: I'm the type of person who doesn't think it strange for folks to use the potty in front of each other after they've had seckshal relashuns. I'm not talking about taking a full-on crap in front of them or anything like that, but tinkle is cool...I mean what's the freaking difference at that point, you know? Babyarm was completely good with that, it just wasn't an issue at all...but the Mystery Man acted all awkward and shy in the morning and instead of using the loo right off of my bedroom, he went out and used the hall toilet...which then made me feel somewhat self-conscious...I dunno - it just felt weird.

So let's see...how bout this...

Babyarm = brash

Mystery Man = bashful

Of course there was also the obvious size/readiness discrepancy...and it's probably not even fair to compare the two fella's anatomies...I mean Mystery Man was clearly not on his game and freaking Babyarm was living up to his name! (Felt like my guts had been totally rearranged or shifted or something...for DAYS afterwards...Mother of God! He definitely found those hard-to-reach spots...)

Babyarm = a baby's arm

Mystery Man = a baby's thumb?

Something else that made my playdate with Babyarm extra specially enjoyable (and unusual for most all of my other sleepovers with men - I'm not only singling out the Mystery Man here) was how courteous and considerate he was to me the whole time that we hung out. He was just the absolute most gracious host ever. I have never had a guy bring me a warm, wet wash cloth and a dry towel after sex...I dunno, I just thought it was so sweet and thoughtful. We stayed wrapped around each other all night long, which is something that I personally crave and for whatever reason, I rarely end up with guys who can handle being touched much at all while they sleep. I happen to NEED that! I want to be completely intertwined with my lover til we rise in the morn and Babyarm was either very tolerant of this or he actually liked it himself...Oh yeah! And in the morning he made me coffee and a tasty, no-carb brekky...such a good man!

Babyarm = chivalrous

Mystery Man = chilly

Anyway so, long story short...I was tickled pink to have enjoyed such frisky frolicking with Babyarm. I was left feeling sexually sated and super excited that the swiftly approaching new year might actually be looking up, especially if I could score a sophomore session with Babyarm sometime in the not so distant future...I liked 'im and I definitely wanted to see 'im again, and that is so not like me.

That being said...a few nights later when I was contacted by a way too young, local hottie over whom I've drooled for the short period of time that I've known him - I jumped at the chance to finally sit down and chat with him, just the two of us, out from behind our computer screens, over drinks. We'd been threatening to get together since we met at Halloween, but nothing had ever panned out until that Wednesday night that I was supposed to go snowboarding. Since all of my buddies and I had lost our motivation entirely - to make the trek to the ski resort that night, I considered it divine intervention that I was actually available to meet the Young Hottie, after he suggested it that night.

The Young Hottie is practically half my age, he is exquisitely gorgeous, like I'm serious you guys...you honestly have no idea (Willow and my pixie friend Beth would totally back me up on this one) but besides that - he is a brilliant, accomplished musician and of a higher level of thinking than most guys his age...most guys my age, for that matter...I am severely intimidated by his intellect...I was actually more nervous about sounding like a complete idiot while trying to hold up my end of the evening's discussion, than being overshadowed by his otherworldly physical perfection, which was a given...

T.Y.H and I met at one of my favorite local bars and as soon as I got settled into my seat and got all situated, I drank in exactly how delectable he is...I couldn't help but think though, "This isn't for me" I mean the guy is definitely too young first off, and second, he can do so much better than l'il ole me - in the looks and the age department. But whatever, we were there for the night, the liquor was flowing and we were enjoying thought-provoking dialog over a myriad of enlightening topics. It was immensely entertaining, so much so that when my phone rang and I saw that it was Babyarm, I simply ignored the call...I mean it would've been rude to pick up while I was out with someone else anyway, yes? But I could've at least snuck a text to him or something when I went to the ladies room, you know? But I didn't. All of my attention was undivided that night, by T.Y.H....I was a little shocked that my initial excitement over Babyarm could be so easily displaced, and over something which had absolutely no potential for longevity. Stupid girl...

At last call, T.Y.H. and I left the bar and I offered to give him a ride back to his (parents'!) place since he'd walked downtown to meet me and by then it was beyond brutally cold out. Oh, did I forgot to mention the other little snag?...uhhh...well...I know T.Y.H.'s mom...pretty well actually...so it was a bit unsettling to be in my idling car out in the cul de sac in front of his house, necking and worrying that his mom might peep out the window and recognize my vehicle...T.Y.H. and I said goodnight, and all excited like - vowed to get together again soon.

The next night was New Year's Eve and Willow and I had plans to go into D.C. to ring in the new year at a killer new club there. She was meeting M.C. Ginger and I was hitting the town, stag. I was kinda bummin' that I wouldn't have anyone to stroke at the kiss of midnight...or whatever...but I wasn't too worked up over it, I had enjoyed a pretty prosperous week already, so no real room for whining and complaining. Plus, I was still officially single...I mean who knew what might happen that night...

Before we left to go out, I got a text from Babyarm, asking me what I was doing. I told him that I was in D.C. with friends and that we were about to hit the town, and that was it - I didn't hear back from him after that, not even when I texted him after midnight to wish him a "Happy New Year!" Oh well, it was fine, because sometime shortly before midnight, I was turning to walk away from the the bar and head back over to the dance floor, fresh cocktail in hand, when at the same moment the man standing next to me, also turned (towards me) to leave and it was one of those, "BOI-OI-OING!" moments, when two people get the exact same intense feeling about each other at precisely the same instant...it was crazy...and I liked it!

The Russian (far as I know the guy wasn't even Russian, but for some reason he just seemed Russian to me cuz his name sounded Slavic and was literally unpronounceable, hence the nickname) had riveting, electric blue eyes, close-shorn salt and pepper grey hair, a tall athletic frame and was - I quickly learned - a dentist from Atlanta...well shoot! No matter, we latched onto each other from that serendipitous second at the bar that our eyes met and locked, right up until we left the club to compete for the taxis that would carry us away from each other, presumably - forever...

Even though we feigned cheerful optimism that this could be the beginning of something cool, we both knew deep down that it was pointless for us to even be talking to each other, even stupider still to be getting all cozy together up in the banquette over where he and his friends had reserved a private corner of the room. It was fun though, to entertain the idea of him flying me down to Atlanta to come visit him sometime and it was REALLY fun to have a handsome someone to kiss at the stroke of midnight. It all felt oddly romantic and genuine per the high probability that we would never actually meet or even speak to each other again. I have my good friend Absolut to thank for my lapse in grasping reality...but so what, right? The whole night was an Absolut blast and I just loved every last minute of the old year and each fresh new minute of this year...

The next day ranked high on the list of worst hangovers ever...I literally could not rally my crippled ass to get up and head back home...til like nearly noon or some shit. I knew I would have to rely on a hardcore junk food fix to even begin to feel better...

No more than twice a year, after getting my serious drunk on, I thumb my nose at my low carb diet and go out and order a triple Whopper with cheese, fries, a real coke and a chocolate milkshake from Burger King...after which - miraculously - I am able to slowly rise from the dead and function a touch. New Year's Day was one of those Burger King kinda days...so much for starting the year off right...ugh...

Once I was back home again, and the medicinal effects of my fast food feast finally kicked in, I recharged my battery in quiet solitude and assessed my current situation.

I accepted that the Russian was a fly-by-night, fleeting fancy...end of story.

I then decided that the Young Hottie was most likely toying with me, perhaps merely basking in the pride-swell brought about by my obvious fascination with him. Or possibly slightly intrigued by the notion of hooking up with a moderately attractive, reasonably intelligent older woman who unapologetically fawned all over him, but clearly not wholeheartedly interested in going through with it...which I decided was probably a blessing in disguise.

And finally my mind drifted back to thoughts of Babyarm. I worried that I might have come across as too blase and had maybe unwittingly run him off. Which would've been too bad really, because for the first time in ages I had actually found a man who not only captured my attention, but wasn't of a totally inappropriate age and maturity level. I tried to find one eensy thing about him that rubbed me the wrong way, and I really just couldn't.

I was relieved and ecstatic when Babyarm called me later that evening and invited me to come hang out with him and his out of town guest! I collected my bedraggled ass, did my best to not look like death warmed over and headed over to his place.

The three of us watched a little TV, then relaxed in the hot tub and after bidding his friend goodnight, Babyarm and I retired to his chambre.

I am a fairly loud person, in general. I laugh (loudly) a lot and talk (loudly) a lot...but in the bedroom, I am uncharacteristically quiet. Not reserved physically by any means, just not a particularly noisy lover. Obviously Babyarm and I wanted to do our best to keep the volume at a low enough level so as not to disturb his friend who was sleeping in the adjacent room and I was a little concerned that this could be a bit of a challenge since he had brought out a surprisingly more vocal side of me when I was with him the time before, but I must say...I could not have predicted how shocked I would be - to hear myself shout out so uncontrollably during our lovemaking. I literally could not suppress the audible outbursts resultant from his powerful manhandling of my body...unfreakingbelievable...wooo!

Babyarm and I joined his friend downstairs in the kitchen in the morning, and after sheepishly apologizing for all the racket during the night, we all sat down together and greeted the new day over another outstanding breakfast...Homemade lemon poppy seed morning cake for the men (my contribution) and for all of us - a delicious egg scramble with cheese, venison/crabmeat sausage, Old Bay and plenty of hot sauce....mmmmmm...After which I nestled briefly into Babyarm's bear-hug embrace, and then went on my merry way back home - belly full, mind abuzz, heart swelling...

Famine...

I am of the mindset that it's banal and bromidic and all that, to make resolutions and set goals at the onset of every new year like people do...each one to hopefully (but not likely) be realized to some degree during or at the very least - by the conclusion of said year. Historically, it's just never been my bag to subscribe to that type of thing - and this new year was really no different. True to form, I did not compile some silly list of empty good intentions, i.e.: "this year I will exercise more regularly" (fuck that) or "I'm def. gonna quit smoking entirely" (anybody got a light?) or "I gotta get a better paying job" (can you say, "not qualified"?) But what DID happen, as this new year approached, was that I found myself sweeping up a small pile of wreckage; the shrapnel from run-ins with guys who I'd met and to whom for varying lengths of time I'd shown some interest, but who also categorically and coincidentally ended up on a list of sorts - right at New Years...my shit list. And it's not like writing off some asshole - in and of itself - is anything so spectacular, I've been methodically adding guys to my ongoing list of "Never Again's" since I first dove into the online dating pool a year and a half ago. The difference was, that unlike all of the times before, THIS time there was not one single solitary soul waiting in the wings to step up to the plate after I had literally wrung out the very last drop. It seemed almost odd good timing though, that I should find myself cleaning house (so to speak) and subsequently left with a completely blank dating slate - at the dawn of this new year...and rather than becoming discouraged by the deficit in dating options, I saw it as positive and productive preparation for ushering in a pristine and polished NEW YEAR...

One thing's for sure - with me and men, it's always either feast or fucking famine and actually both, in their own way along with the holiday mayhem, are responsible for the lengthy lapse of time between my last post and this one (which may wind up to be two, depending on how absurdly long-winded I'm apt to become) For a few weeks it felt like I literally had nothing earthshattering about which to scribble...and then I was blessed with a boon of accelerated activity, which left me thoroughly entertained, but with very little time to devote to doodling about it all. I should mention that the date at the top of each new blog entry is actually the date on which I BEGAN writing that post...not the date on which I completed and uploaded it. And in the case of this newest post, it also happened to be the date on which I stopped writing...after I simply ran out of material. But it's January 2, 2010 today, and I am savoring this first quiet moment in eons, not by packing up all of the Christmas shit or attempting to scale the K2-sized pile of dirty clothes overtaking my laundry room, like I SHOULD be doing...but instead by sitting down to my trusty ole Mac and spewing about all that has happened...

A few weeks ago, after diffusing and deferring the sitcheeashun with M3 and then spending umpteen, endless hours on my computer decompressing, I decided that I was cold and tired and the only way to fix THAT would be to go over to the house and thaw out in a nice, hot tubby. I undressed and stood shivering as I turned on the tap...only to have not one drop of water spill forth from the spigot, for fuck's sake! So now I was naked, SUPER cold, pissed AND worried...because my heat is geothermal, and (dunce that I am) I didn't know at the time that the system operates off of its own self-contained water source...so, in order to avoid what I thought could be catastrophic damage to the system - I got dressed, turned off the heat (essentially eliminating ANY chance of getting warm that night) and went back over to my studio (which runs off of the same well) to see if by some stroke of luck, I still had running water over there. And wouldn'tcha know it...I did not...

It was 11 p.m. or later, so calling the plumber to come determine and fix the problem was out of the question. Instead, I delayed going back over to my soon-to-be frigid-ass house and attempted to pacify myself by sitting baaaack down to my trusty ole Mac, in the hopes of finding someone with whom to chat. I logged onto my all-time favorite dating site and opened an email that had been delivered to my inbox, only a minute or two prior. The message began with, "Is a year too late to respond?" When I saw the profile photo attached to the email, I vaguely remembered contacting the author, many months before. And after going through old mail in my "sent box" I discovered that I had written my original, unacknowledged note to him almost exactly a year earlier. While I was composing my response, the sender - Muck Mouth - chimed in with an IM message. We began talking and he explained that he was in the throes of a nasty divorce and when I asked why in the world he had been on a dating site for all this time if he was married, he said that he and his wife had enjoyed an open marriage which worked out beautifully...until she fell in love with one of her extramarital paramours, although at this point she and that guy were no longer together.

Muck Mouth was now a nearly eligible, separated man, who had shed 30 lbs. since his horrible breakup and was eager to put the past behind him and to try and find his happiness with a new woman...preferably a divorcee who would perhaps identify with the pain and suffering that his ensuing divorce was causing him...O-Kaaaaaay...

We conversed effortlessly online for about an hour and before we signed off, I took him up on his offer to take me to dinner and a movie the very next night. I wasn't particularly stoked about the movie portion of the date though, cuz for one thing - I rarely ever go TO the movies, well...except for the local drive-in during the summertime, but that's different. Strange as it may sound, I don't enjoy going to movie theaters at all. I love to WATCH movies, but I prefer to do it in my jammies in my (normally) warm house with my own refreshments and the luxury of pausing for bathroom breaks and rewinding when I miss something. That's just me...I'm strange that way...But on top of that, I have never thought of the "movie date" as a very effective means by which to get to know a new fella. I mean duh...you can't exactly talk. I was kind of hoping that when Muck Mouth and I met for dinner - we would have such a glorious time shooting the breeze that we would forgo the whole movie thing, and just stay put at the restaurant chatting endlessly over drinks...then dinner...then coffee...a pollyanna in rose colored glasses, you say? pffft...

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before Muck Mouth got there, and I spent the idle time letting myself get all excited about meeting him. I reminded myself of his black and white profile pic. which showed him in a relaxed reclined position with a confident, devilish smile that washed over his otherwise moderately handsome face...and in the midst of my daydreaming...the real Muck Mouth entered the lobby...much shorter than my 5' 4" frame (which was admittedly somewhat exaggerated atop my signature 4" heels) Every component of his outfit looked suspiciously too crisp, almost as if he'd purchased it all in a panic just that afternoon for the sake of our date...(like the cell phone he produced at dinner - his first ever at age 36 - presumably so that we might better stay in touch after our date, *gulp*) He donned a "Man-in-Black" style dress shirt which was tucked into belted jeans that actually fit (eep!) and was accented by a necktie of an unfortunate, clashing shade of black...guh...I stopped myself from looking any further down for fear I might catch a glimpse of his shoes...too risky a gamble...

You know - it just so totally sucks ass when, after driving an hour with high(ish) hopes that you might actually like this one, the guy walks in and all you wanna do is be honest and say, "I am already certain that we are not a good match" and head home...But Muck Mouth had not committed any heinous infraction...he had not lied about himself in his profile, he was who he said he was...the problem was, that I just didn't dig the guy that he was, once I saw him in person. So I had to do the polite thing and not let my body language give me away. I lifted my slumping shoulders and I did my best to brighten what had to have been a disappointed look on my face...

We sat down to dinner and the moment that he began to talk, my list of grievances with Muck Mouth mounted...beginning with a mannerism (malfunction?) that I found altogether repulsive. Whenever the guy spoke, he made this weird sticky clicking sound with his mouth, almost like his lips were sorta dry or something and the only trace of moisture was of a glue-like consistency. I figured it was because he was maybe a little nervous - which I could've forgiven, but the trouble was, even after a drink and an hour of conversation, the disgusting problem did not subside in the slightest. EVery...TIME...he...UTTered...a SINGle...SYLLable, his lips stuck together for a halfa second - all gooey and gross and then broke apart, audibly (*gak*) And he way overused the word "essentially" which only emphasized the nasty problem. All I could think was that even if I had've liked him, there would literally have been no way in hell that I ever could've willingly let my own mouth touch that mess...ick...

But here's the thing...shit got worse, cuz not only did he make those disgusting sounds when he talked, but he also talked A LOT! And positively everything out of his mouth dug his grave even deeper...not the least of which was the interminable stream of self-incriminating blabber that he was seemingly incapable of suppressing. As soon as it dawned on him that he was indiscriminately rattling off the unflattering details of his bitter divorce, he paused for a second and apologized for broaching a topic perhaps inappropriate for first date convo...but before we had a chance to change the subject, he was back to his inculpating monologue. He willingly divulged the fact that his ex had put herself up in a women's shelter after fleeing their home with their two children (say wha'?!) and that it had been necessary for him to seek the council of a defense lawyer as opposed to a divorce lawyer (oh really) And curiously, Muck Mouth does not have visitation rights with his children. Matter of fact he told me that once he showed up at their school to try and sneak lunch with them, but the principal insisted that he leave and promptly escorted him out of the building (What could've possibly possessed the man to tell me these things? What an idiot!)...Despite all of the negative spin, he was determined to have me believe that he was this erroneously accused and persecuted father and husband. Naturally though, what I gleaned from all that he was telling me was that he was quite possibly a wife and child abuser, nifty!...I wondered if and when he replayed our conversation in his mind later, would he have any concept of how fucked up everything that he told me sounded...and how much (astonishingly) more unattractive it made him...Don't get me wrong, I did appreciate his honesty and all. Lord knows I would rather find these things out about a guy before bringing him into mine or my children's lives (not that that EVER would have happened in this case)

By the time we settled the bill and left for the movie, I was actually relieved that Muck Mouth and I would be relegated to an environment that was NOT conducive to conversation. We basically did not talk again, except to say goodbye in the parking lot after the movie was over. I sent him a message the next day, to say "Thanks for dinner" and he quickly responded with some annoyingly upbeat and hopeful message which I ignored and I have not spoken to him since, nor do I intend to...

So there ya' have it...casualty #1 on the pre-New Year's pile of rejects...

Next was M3...Ok, so as you know - after sorting out our differences, we'd made tentative plans to meet in a public place and if he turned out to be the guy who I met in the mall, then we were onboard to go back to my place and live out all of his warped fantasies. Although my gut was telling me that I might be putting myself in a potentially dangerous situation, there is definitely this sorta sick side of me that is titillated by the idea of being blindfolded and bound and boinked 9 ways to Sunday, so I was still kind of up for it. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that yeah - I definitely look forward to the day that I can dabble in that arena - but wouldn't it make more sense to experiment with a person with whom I'd already established some trust, like within the confines of a committed relationship? I didn't know dick about M3, I mean it was entirely possible that he really is some sicko who after the deed was done, would dice me up and ditch my bagged-up corpse into a culvert somewhere. But even so, I still felt obliged to move forward with our plan....if for no other reason than that he was my only good prospect for getting laid any time soon and writing about the experience would definitely crank up the heat in my tepid blog...(ima 'tard)

But before I had an opportunity to either fish or cut bait, M3 sealed our fate...He sent me an email in which he angrily announced that he had lost all interest in meeting me...for you see, he had read my blog...the entry about him to be exact...and as he put it, the things that I'd written were pretty shitty...As I scrolled down his note, the words "ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" kept running in a continual loop insida muh head. My insides seared hot with embarrassment and I was totally regretting having capitalized on his candid forthrightness on the pages of my blog for the sake of a little shock value. But the more times that I read over his hostile dismissal of me, the more I became galvanized in my steadfast suspicion that M3 was still just as full of sheize as ever. I became convinced that he was using his chagrin with unearthing the blog as his only viable exit strategy, knowing that we could never actually meet since he was more than likely NOT the guy from the mall. The more I thought about everything, the more my mortification morphed into irritation.

M3 had made it virtually impossible for me to learn much at all about him after he'd blocked me from viewing his profile...I mean after we'd met, all I'd wanted was to just peep at his photos and compare his real face to his pics., but Noooooo! And when I resorted to Google searching the name attached to his personal email account in the hopes of learning something...anything about him, I came up with plenty...but each of the numerous search results first needed to be translated from either Danish or Arabic into English, in order for me to be able to do anything with them...flippin' weird...So then I knew that even the name on his email account was fake. No two ways about it, M3 just oozed bullshit. It further drove me nuts that HE was able to snoop around and find out god knows what about ME, not the least of which was the very thing that derailed us; my damning, dirty blog. And while we're on that subject...M3's message to me was scolding and skewed which was unquestionably irksome, but the thing that bugged me the most was a simple, insignificant technicality. I'm still not sure why it bothered me so much when he inaccurately described my depiction of him and our interactions in the blog as "smarmy"...I mean, "smarmy"? Really? Sure 'bout that? Might wanna look that one up, buddy...I could definitely understand his malcontent with my decision to print his lusty emails, but he only bitched about that for a second, almost as an afterthought. Mostly he incorrectly recollected our correspondence by blatantly misquoting my reply to one of his first emails (must have gotten it confused with a note from one of his other bitches) which really frustrated me because since he'd BLOCKED me on POF (the asshole) I no longer had access to my messages to him, and was left powerless to effectively defend myself. Honestly, the general tone of the blog entry in question was not that far removed from my last phone convo. with M3. I mean if you ask me, it was all old news (with maybe just a pinch of irreverence) Again...I truly believe that he was simply seizing a fortuitous opportunity to legitimately back out. I decided that it wasn't even worth it for me to waste my breath responding to him...never look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say...

M3 was a sketchy piece of shit, no denying it, and after reading his note for the final time I was no longer wincing from acute shame. In a weird kind of way, I was actually relieved to be done with the whole thing before it had even really gotten started. I know I sound like a complete wuss, but the whole time I had definitely been more than a little leery of getting together with the guy, it just seemed like doing so had the all the earmarkings of something seriously regrettable...or possibly worse...

Mmmmhmmm...that's right...#2 (how very fitting) adds himself to the New Year's heap...

Alas, there is still one final fuckwad who found his place appropriately at the very apex of my shit list. I don't intend to waste more energy or time than necessary raking this one over the coals, enough is as good as a feast I dare say...I just need to state the facts simply, maybe ask your opinion and lay to waste once and for all, my fluctuating fixation on the prick. To whom pray tell, could I possibly be referring? Oh, well that would have to be none other than the misogynistic Mystery Man (from the older entries, "Spare the Rod..." and "Heaven has no rage...") a.k.a. "the guy from the past"...the name with which I not so slyly attempted to disguise him in my last post.

As I said in the last post, I was ecstatic to be invited to be suddenly reunited with the Mystery Man and even more delighted that he'd offered to make the drive out to see ME, this time. That being said, I still made light work of keeping my emotions in check. I'd adopted a sensible (though dreadfully unoriginal) mantra that perfectly suited my thing (whatever it was) with the Mystery Man: "it is what it is"...

Ok, so following our little play date, we were heading into the holiday week...Christmas was merely days away. While we were together, the Mystery Man had mentioned something about me or me with my kids, joining him at a party a couple of nights later, which he was attending at his sister's house not too far away from where I live. I was completely into it and hoped that he would follow up and officially invite us...but he didn't and I was surprisingly cool with that.

Next, I got an email from him which he'd also sent to a mutual friend and some girl that I don't know, inviting us all to come to his place Christmas night - for drinks, then dinner out and a night on the town in the big city. I was thrilled! And I told him so...Big mistake? Perhaps...

I got to thinking though, what if the other girl was meant to be the Mystery Man's date, and he was setting me up with the mutual friend? Well now, that might be just a tad awkward...but whatever, I was still excited to get out of town and go hang with good peeps.

I responded without delay and asked if it would be ok if the mutual friend and I (we were to be traveling together) arrived a bit late because of other obligations. He said that would be fine, but looking ahead at the abysmal weather forecast for that night, he predicted that there was a very good chance that none of us would be going anywhere...(the old grump)

K, so Christmas day arrived and I had the most amazing morning with my kids, ever. Their dad came to fetch them and whisk them away for a week long trip to my favorite tropical locale (*sniff*) I packed the things that I needed for my short trip to the city and left to go sup with friends. It was cold and rainy, but the roads were totally fine.

After dinner but before I left my friends' house, I checked in with the mutual friend, to see about making arrangements to meet up. He said that he was enjoying a relaxing, mellow night with family and thought that he might prefer to just stay put. Which was fine. I then texted the Mystery Man to tell him that the mutual friend was bailing, and asked if he was still up for having a visitor to which he replied, "I'm at my sister's. But another time soon, I hope"

Now...correct me if I'm wrong, but..............WHAT THE FUCK?!!!

I refuse to let myself go on some huge tirade about what a dickhead move it is for someone to invite a person (clearly an insignificant peon, no doubt) to drive an hour and a half to come out for a visit and then fucking brainfart on alerting them to the fact that not only did you renege on your invitation altogether, but that you aren't even AT HOME!

And so...after brutally curb stomping asshole # 3 in my vivid imagination and then tossing his limp (pun intended, but that's for another time) carcass onto the pyre...I happily flew solo for a few days before setting the table for......the FEAST...