No Apologies...No Regrets...No Mercy...

Yeah, yeah...soooo my last post was admittedly a whiny bag o' downers...*meh*...but if it makes you feel any better, it's not as if I enjoyed living and writing it any more than you guys enjoyed trudging through it - so I mean we're all in the same damn boat here, am I right? And even though I did feel guilty as sin to be publishing such a lame-o entry, I was so relieved to finally be done with the stupid freaking thing, that I did not hesitate to click the "publish post" button once it was finished - despite suspecting that the general tone as well as the content (or lack thereof) was of a far more "woe is me" bent than I should ever dare inflict upon you, my beloved audience. Believe me - I was not looking forward to the possibility that I would more than likely be letting everybody down, but it was a little alarming that less than 24 hours after posting, I started getting feedback which corroborated my hunch. After one friend commented on the entry by saying, "Yeah...maybe a little Mr. Clean-ish for me, but hey - Spring's almost here...maybe stuff'll start heating up again real soon..." I couldn't help but think, "DAYum! What kind of a precedent have I set here? Could it be that my Big Ugly Blog is simply not worth a good goddamn unless I doink some well-endowed dude and divulge all the dirty details therein?" Huh...maybe so...And if that is indeed the case - well then - I realized that in order for me to redeem myself in future blog posts, I was gonna havta drag my weary, old ass outta hibernation, kiss those Babyarm blues goodbye once and for all, and get my butt back in circulation - like pronto!

Surprisingly, this was not as daunting a task as you might think it could've been, thanks to one of my few, positive personality traits...an attribute that steps in when the chips are down, to stack them all back up again..."What! What is it? What is that thing that kickstarts your irrepressible spirit of adventure?" (you're bound to be wondering, ha!) Well let me tell you...that thing is "resilience"...plain and simple. Yes, I can be chopped down to bloody stumps same as anybody else, and I might even feel sorry for myself for a minute or two...but - eventually I get over it and move the hell on...it is nearly impossible to keep this old gal down for long...

I kicked off my renewed interest in milling around the online dating circuit, by putting up a new profile pic. on all of my favorite dating sites (and Twitter, as well)...it was a sort of hybrid shot - a composite of soft porn princess meets corny class clown - of myself out in the knee-deep snow, just finishing up a mock sunbathing session in a bikini and rubber boots. And almost immediately after posting it, I began to reap the rewards...I got tons of hits and a boatload of messages. Honestly? I was happier'n a pig in shit. But this still wasn't enough...I had to have MORE! I decided to do the least sensible thing (as we all know - I am wont to do) by opening an account on a new site called CougarLife.com. The name alone suggests a completely ridiculous premise and I knew that joining would be counter-productive to realizing my ultimate goal of finding my forever lover. But this wasn't about landing a long term deal...this was about cheering myself up and trying something new in an attempt to spruce up the blog. Although if you really think about it, the whole cougar/cub scenario isn't exactly a radically novel concept to me. In essence, I've been leading the CougarLife for quite some time now, and not necessarily by choice either...it's just sorta where my wiggle stick has been leading me lately. Anyway, I had threatened to join CL a few weeks prior, and after initially ignoring friends who urged me to scope it out so that they might live vicariously through my inevitable exploits (or perhaps become inspired to join - themselves!) I now felt fully prepared to rise to their challenge.

Once I had gotten my account all set up, and began tooling around the site, I was surprised that every handsome, young face and every bare, buff, glistening torso that I saw appear before my covetous eyes, belonged to someone who I'd never seen before. Seriously, I did not see one single familiar face...which literally blew my mind because across the three main sites on which I usually frolic, I consistently see the same old recycled mugs...and the guys on those sites are stuck always seeing mine. But on CL, I was clearly fresh cougar meat, and the cubs were stalking me in droves! I was viewed by dozens of oftentimes, impossibly young men, whose profiles boasted inviting (?) taglines like, "College student looking for an older lady to treat well" (oh boy), "I am rich and have a large wiener" (neat), "Looking for someone to pounce on me", "Young and hung stud on the prowl", "Feline Friendly", "Looking for a great night" (a particular fave...I mean this guy wasn't a bit greedy - he just wanted ONE good night, haha!) "Cub for Cougar", "Where are the fun cougars at?" (preposition at the end of a sentence? deal-breaker, baby) "Looking for a cougar on the prowl"' Seeking cougar training", "Here kitty, kitty"....you get the idea. But when I came across the tagline "Older women are simply better" I paused for a second...I got the feeling that the young man with the inquisitive, dark eyes...and the bee-stung ruby red lower lip...and the flawless tawny complexion...and the angular nose and the...*ehemm* 'scuse me...where was I? Oh yes of course...So what I was thinking was that the bearer of this delectable visage -slash- the author of such a succinct and accurate assertion about older women - might actually have some experience on his resume to back up his tagline, despite having only spent a total of 25 tender years here on the planet...I was definitely curious about him - more so than any of the others that had caught my eye...but since I was not a paying member, I was not afforded the privilege of opening dialog with him. Poop. Well, whatever...I guess it didn't really matter much anyway, because at the moment - mama was behaving like a kid on Christmas Eve - shaking packages under the tree until it was fiiiiinally time to start tearing into them. I scrolled down page after page of beautiful, young, horny studs, clicking on many...and I watched as one after the other, they peeped right back at me...

Almost immediately, my mailbox was inundated with a plethora of messages...most of which I completely ignored, but to some of which - I did reply. Some of these conversations went nowhere, some continued as sporadic IM chats (whenever I bothered to open my IM screen) but after sharing personal email addies, a few of the young men and I became virtual x-rated pen pals, if you will...each of us trying to best the other's last risque photo. You have no idea how badly I wish that I could post a sampling of my brimming new collection of raging hard-on pics. here in the blog, but alas...I cannot breach the trust of my generous donors. Some of the prize-winners, you'd seriously almost have to see to believe...I printed out a particularly noteworthy specimen for Willow to ogle...the guy's prominent johnson spanning the length of the sheet of paper...it was a startlingly "in your face" image...and all I could think while gazing upon it was, "Woah...I could literally do nothing with that" But then the same fella surprised me with an "action shot" you might say, and I found it incredible that he was able to capture at close range and with such remarkable precision - the exact moment at which he totally blew his load...amazing! Kinda reminded me of one of those super slow-mo ballistics pics. where the moment just after the firearm discharges, we see the bullet magically frozen in time and space...I consider this particular photo to be quite a masterpiece...the magnum opus of my curios, if you will...

Anyway, somehow this bumper crop of new picture mail has gotten my computer kind of contaminated and acting sorta screwy. It feels like every time I click to view certain pages, before that page opens - there is this split-second flash of some guy's chubby. It's really strange...and a little disturbing. I have to consider it blind good fortune as well as perfect timing, that I was just recently finally able to afford to get my children their very own trusty ole Mac which lives over at the house with us, instead of out here in my den of iniquity. Lord knows, if their only option was to still work and play on my computer in the studio, I'm not really sure how I would respond to their inevitable inquiries about the recurring, fleeting images randomly appearing on the screen - of boners the size of a rolling pins...

Simultaneous to getting fresh attention on all of my old dating sites and being overloaded with hits from strapping young cubs from CL vying to grease my palms by way of the subject matter in their raging erection pics., was a slight boost in the goings-on over on my feeble Twitter account. Suddenly I was being followed by a small new group of peeps, a few of which lived in South Africa...I was perplexed as to how these folks even found me in the haystack, but I didn't question it...I was just tickled that they had. The only male from the South Africa lot, struck up a Twitter-based conversation with me and for a couple of days we excitedly tweeted back and forth to each other, whenever the difference in timezones allowed. It made absolutely no sense to be devoting so much time to a man who lived worlds away from me, but I am prone to getting sucked into dead-end fantasies, whether out of boredom or what, hard to say. One day after I'd left work, South Africa and I decided to talk on the phone (I am terrified to see my next cell phone bill...no earthly idea how much a 20 minute cell phone call from South Africa is gonna run me, but it's done now...) The instant that I heard his luscious accent, I was hooked. I was picturing a rugby playing hunk along the lines of Hugh Jackman (Australian, I know...but whatevs...) but when I asked for and received a photo of his actual face the next day - what I got was something more on par with some guido American actor like say, James Gandolfini? 'Cept with a full head of greasy hair which grew like a cocks comb, starting roughly at the middle of his forehead...and rubbery lips surrounded by a scraggly goatee and absolutely no neck to speak of...all right, so he didn't resemble James Gandolfini, but that's not the point...the important part is that the whole thing was finito once I caught a glimpse of the guy...call me superficial...I do.

It reminded me of the time back when I was 19 or 20, living in Richmond, when I got all hung up on and fell madly in crush with a local dj who manned the late night shift on an am oldies station. The whole thing started with me calling in and making requests and quickly progressed to hours-long phone convos most nights, and then reached its final incarnation when we decided to meet for lunch one day. The DJ had given me a very vague physical description of himself and so I was relying on him to recognize me, which I figured wouldn't be too difficult since at the time my look was fairly distinctive, and he was aware of the specifics.

Can I just tell you how my heart sank when my "beautiful fantasy dj" quickly located me in the middle of the bustling lunch crowd there at the Shoney's, waddled up to me and then hugged me hello? I was like, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" The DJ was uhhhh...how do even I put this...oh I dunno...he made "morbidly obese" look like anorexia? I watched in awe as he squoooooze his rotundness into the booth, and proceeded to demolish three towering plates full of food from the buffet (but he did drink diet coke, as if that might somehow justify or counteract his consumption of thousands of gluttonous calories) and then topped off a meal so extraordinarily grotesque that it turned me on food for days afterwards - by treating himself ("just this once!") to a hot brownie sundae with a chocolate syrup lava floe erupting out of whipped cream snowcaps....the end.

After I completely ceased replying to South Africa's tweets and emails (several carbon copies of which, I noticed that he'd also sent to a Tweeter that we both had in common...some shit about, "Is it my cologne? Cuz I can change it..." puhleeze..."NO, jerkoff! It's your face!") he decided to "unfollow" me, and I found it curious that simultaneously - my Twitter account was hacked and my password settings were repeatedly freaking out...but interestingly enough, the instant that I blocked him, I never had another problem with any of that...huh...whaddya know...

I shrugged off the stupid thing with South Africa and immersed myself into the CougarLife site. I was optimistic about all of the connections that I'd been making, but a little bummed that none of them had materialized yet. It was Sunday, the tail-end of another childless weekend, and I was a bit despondent since the only action that I'd gotten all weekend long, was one of those frantic attempts to lock in a last-call hook-up, by some 22 y/o boy - as we were all being ushered out of the club and onto the street to scatter off into our own...different...lonely...directions. I glumly sat down to my trusty ole Mac, desirous of a last ditch fling before the weekend came to a conspicuously disheartening close. I opened up CL and proceeded to read messages...and next thing I know, I was laughing out loud at a hilarious note sent from a man of the respectable age of...wait for it...34! After we swapped a couple of emails, we moved over to our mutual IM provider and the conversation flowed well, was amusing and resulted in a plan to meet later that evening...SCORE! A direct HIT!

I thought Hair Gel was cute and all, and really funny in a dry wit kinda way, but he was a bit burly for my taste and there was of course...that freaking hair gel...I can't STAND that shit! All the same, we never stopped talking and finally shut the bar down and as he walked me to my cute little car, I knew the impending drill: he would grab me up, lay a smacker on me and ask if he could follow me back to my place...and it did happen...exactly that way. I hemmed and hawed and wriggled and squirmed, because I was seriously not all that interested in continuing the date...nor ever having a future one, for that matter. But there were a couple of things plaguing my rationale. For one: I kept hearing the haunting echo of my dear friend who had expressed her unapologetic disappointment with my last blog post...presumably because it was devoid of any gnarly sexscapades. The current situation with Hair Gel, if nothing else, held the promise of a blog-worthy anecdote and that did have value...I guess...but my limited desire to actually fuck the guy put a decidedly Catch 22 spin on the sitch.

Secondly though, there is this: I practice safe sex, right? Right. So, like a serious athlete trains for his sport or a dedicated artist hones his craft, seems logical that I too should sharpen the skills concurrent with my own chosen field - by practicing often...

Soooo...I let it happen...but here's the bitch of it...I did not wind up experiencing anything earth-shattering with Hair Gel (it was mediocre at best) and there were things about him that even kind of grated on me, not the least of which were his protruding belly (previously well-concealed by the loose-fitting cotton shirt that his brother had brought him from Mexico)...as well as his inordinately tiny tush, perhaps somewhat dwarfed by his considerable middle? After the deed was done, there was no snuggling, no chance for a second round and no interest on my part in him staying there with me for a single minute more. I considered the whole thing a total waste of time because I was left with nothing super funny to relay, no incredible physical phenomenon about which to report and definitely no romantic legacy. Practically the only exciting element that my night with Hair Gel provided for my ailing blog is the fact that I fucked a fairly fat guy...whoopie!

After my stupid goof with Hair Gel, I was floundering...wondering if my time in the sun had long since passed, and yet I still continued to mill about online, since by now - doing so has become second nature. At some point, a mutual pal on OkCupid introduced me to The Archangel and after just a few emails we noticed an effortless rapport with one another. The Archangel was spoken for romantically, but was still interested in talking to me upon learning that we both shared a fascination with the opposite sex...and also a love of writing. I turned him onto the Big Ugly, and I was surprised when shortly thereafter he told me that he had gone back to the very first entry and was diligently reading forward, working towards the present. The Archangel was getting a most accurate representation of who I am and what I'm about while scouring my stories, and because of that, he encouraged me to adopt a new m.o. in my approach to dating. Restraint. He asked if I would be willing to let him lead me through a few exercises which he thought might help me find more success in my interactions with men. He was evidently quite experienced at the art of taking desperate male losers and turning them into flagrant lotharios, but The Archangel saw in me, a slightly different challenge - kind of the reverse of the magic that he was used to performing. He wanted to see if it would be possible to tame me, to reign me in a bit...to make me less compulsive and willing...to see if I could be reconditioned to become more discriminate about the men with whom I communicate...and commingle...

We got started right away, The Archangel giving me written homework assignments which would presumably help me and him identify what it is that I am actually seeking as well as how my past experiences may have impacted my current behavioral peculiarities. I knew that revamping my online dating site profiles was the next order of business and so I cut my hair short and dyed it dark and was preparing to post photos better suited to attracting men of more appropriate intentions and age. But just as I was getting myself mentally prepared and wholly onboard to find my happiness via his expert tutelage, The Archangel went m.i.a..

I could see from his posts on Facebook that The Archangel was going through some crazy shit in his own life and rather than complicating his already topsy turvy situation by badgering him about my "studies", I took his impromptu abandonment of our little project, and ran the total opposite direction, determining to not just keep my online dating presence at the status quo, but to instead - crank my image up a notch. It felt like one of those "when the parents are a away..." type scenarios. It was like, "Well, as long as The Archangel's not here to frown upon it, I may as well enjoy a last hurrah...until he shows back up to guide me to a better reality." What I realized though, was that it was more than just wanting to perpetuate the kind of attention that I'd grown accustomed to getting from the guys I met online, I was also nurturing my Big Ugly alter-ego, affixing a new photo to all of my sites...one where my costume was nothing but a swatch of fabric tightly wrapped around my tits, a pair of black boy shorts and Emily Post's "Etiquette" teetering atop my new pixie coif. I chose racier versions of this pic. for select sites and the rise in attention from doing all of this impelled me to then tell everyone to whom I spoke, about the blog. I was hellbent on sloughing off any remaining hesitation about promoting it, especially in circles where I'd previously avoided doing so. And I liked the idea of getting the monkey off my back with online guys, before finding myself in another uncomfortable Babyarm/blog type situation. It felt pretty good to not only be honest with folks, but to also see a spike in views of the blog. There were times when I asked myself if this new take-no-prisoners caricature that I was creating - was still actually me...I mean, I'm a pretty regular person when I'm a mom or working for the old people...the absolute contrast to the scantily clad Big Ugly persona who was mere inches away from contributing photos to Twitter's #HNT and #FNF and who would not be bothered by any backlash at all from those who can't handle the blog.

There are many, especially within the confines of my sheltered community, who disapprove of me and the Big Ugly, but what I find interesting is that no one ever confronts me about any of it. Obviously it's a lot easier to bash someone behind their back than it is to directly approach them about it, and so mostly what I get is funny looks, the cold shoulder and underhanded remarks - I'm used to it by now...but it was a little alarming when this one online guy totally lost his shit over my blog...and me...after I used telling him about the blog as a possible way to scare him off...

Bipolar was young and lived states away and I was not the least bit interested in continuing the conversation once I found all of this out. But he was persistent...offering to drive here to meet me and all of this other garbage that really just wasn't working for me. He started out all nauseatingly sweet and sickeningly pseudo-sincere (which only lessened his chances with me) and when we somehow got onto the topic of the fact that writing is a hobby of mine...I used the ole "sic the blog on 'em" trick, thinking that if he read it he would no longer want any part of me and my trail of carnage...and might then go on his merry way. But it didn't exactly happen like that. Nope, instead - after reading a couple of entries - he started typing derogatory remarks into the IM screen and lambasting me for my slutty lifestyle...He was acting as if we'd known each other intimately, and that I'd somehow betrayed him and had some 'splainin' to do...like a furious boyfriend who's discovered you've cheated...(effin' creepy!) Each line that Bipolar typed was more scathing than the one before and although I did not back down from his barrage, I did finally get sick of dealing with the psychotic fuck and finally ended my side of the convo with, "run along now, little boy"...

What I liked about this particular vignette was the fact that I had finally gotten the chance to defend myself against an angry assailant. It felt good, I was not scared or intimidated by him at all, and I proudly stood my ground following every searing remark that he launched at me. It was enormously confidence-building, it pumped me up...and afterwards I was like, "C'mon world! Bring it on!" But although I was gearing up to deflect more possible flack resultant from indiscriminately blabbing to everyone about the blog - instead I was beginning to get a mess of positive critiques...most of which were from men...

For the first time in a long time, I felt like good things were on the horizon. That maybe my recent "no holds barred" attitude towards advertising not only the blog itself but the tramp behind it was liberating another side of me and that I was poised to find my real place in this world...with or without a man in tow. And then just when I thought I couldn't feel any more optimistic, something catapulted me further into nirvana...that cute boy from CL - the one who professed to know that "Older women are simply better" remember? Well, he "winked" at me on the site. The door was now open, for me to talk to him - and so I did. He suggested it might be easier to chat on Facebook - and so we did. We hinted around at feeling attracted to each other (best we could tell from having only "virtually" met) and discussed making a plan to meet - and so we did...

Now I knew that to even entertain meeting a 25 year old man who lives 2 1/2 hours away from me was diametrically opposed to the wee little bit that The Archangel had been able to drill into my head during the short period of time that he'd kept me safely under his wing. But the thing of it was - without his watchful eye, expert advice and nurturing guidance - the a.w.o.l. Archangel had consequently left me to my own devices - armed with my new Big Ugly slogan: "No Apologies...No Regrets...No Mercy..."

Easy C*m...Easy Go

Ok, my sweet peeps - I want you all to know that this time, (ref.: my alarmingly brief albeit hot fling with Babyarm) I do believe that I actually kinda cared a little (I know...right?)...and that I even really did sorta try for once (although those closest to me might argue that I tried maybe a bit toooo hard...eh, whatever) Fact is...I hoped for the best - and yet - my (tenuous) positive and eager attitude and (wavering) sunny, hopeful disposition (thanks to less than favorable conditions, at times) did ultimately knuckle under to (crushing) disappointment, frustration and humiliation...and upon reaching my absolute threshold (when simply feeling a bit unsure morphs into feeling like a steaming pile of dog shit) I was left with only one viable option - to slink off to a dark, desolate place and lick my wounds in solitude.

All of this nonsense is a safe distance behind me now, thank god - but I still shudder when I think of how pathetic and weak I must have looked leading up to when I found myself helpless to do anything other than surrender to cold, hard rejection. And so, with my whopping four week long stab at trying to make something happen with Babyarm - now two solid, silent weeks behind me - I can no longer put off writing about it...I cannot just skip over this whole segment of my continuing online dating saga simply because I dread admitting that I failed...miserably...*guh*...(plus, stuff is starting to get interesting again so I need to hurry up and get this pablum outta the way)

Sadly, there ain't no glossing over the grim truth that my sincere attempt to find some semblance of happiness with a guy that I liked (far more than any other, of late) even if it meant tabling the Big Ugly for a spell in order to protect him (which I was prepared to do) proved to have been nothing more than a lousy freaking waste of time. Evidently it's my destiny to languor here in online dating purgatory for infinity or more - whereby keeping the blog alive (is that the good news?) but the spirits of this hopelessly boy crazy, relationship-starved vixen - intermittently dashed. (Can I just tell you how disheartening it is to be plunked right back at square freaking one? Again?)

I have settled in - with the best intentions of working on this entry - easily a dozen times already by now...I have written and rewritten, and deleted whole paragraphs as the material therein became old news...irrelevant...as my momentary joy was trumped by disillusionment. Each attempt to jot down anything produced negligible results at best. I just kept piddling around, waiting for a better time to get you guys up to speed, like when I actually had something good to report, which might've then tempered all of the bad...you know...like say...a happy fucking ending, or some shit like that. And although I did enjoy a handful of bright spots, the four weeks leading up to when I finally got the boot from Babyarm were tinged with enough uncertainty and insecurity, to make it practically impossible for me to get motivated to really write. Of course, now that I've committed to keeping my pen to the pad until this entry reaches its bitter end, I could try to act all tough, and say things like, "lemme just tell ya' somethin' honey, our boy du jour has jacked mama around for the very last time..." but the truth of the matter is, that Babyarm was the one who decided our fate...and it wasn't what I wanted...and I had absolutely no say in the matter...

I have come out on the other side of these last two weeks of not hearing a single word from him (despite the fact that his last text to me declared, "In a meeting. Will call u later") - and have finally accepted that Babyarm and I are officially toast. I am cheered that the initial sting of rejection has dulled a bit, and quite frankly - I am somewhat relieved to be done with the fluctuating severity of wondering and worrying and stomachaches and angst...all prevalent negative side effects of Babyarm's erratic and icy aloofness...

Furthermore, the rapid deterioration of my thing with Babyarm substantiates something that I've consistently alleged...that apparently I really do have a four date cap. I mean, I've joked about this in other entries, but seriously? Is that really all the better that I can do? I can never seem to make it to that fifth flipping date, either by my own choice or in this case - his. It drives me batty! Like what in the world prevented me and Babyarm from reaching numero cinqo...what went wrong...what did I do wrong...what made him change his mind so abruptly and definitively? My friends scold that I should never have slept with him that first night that we met, that in essence I made it too easy for him, I did not afford him the thrill of the chase. And I do believe that they have a point, that in general this is probably not a good strategy for landing a long term deal. But - Babyarm and I continued to see each other after that first fateful night, and it really didn't seem to impact how he felt about me (other than the fact that he equated me = with getting good and laid) I mean after all, he slept with me on the first date as well...soooo, at least as far as our deal was concerned, neither one of us was any more slutty or "easy" than the other...if you ask me. Yes, it did probably establish the launching of a purely sexual "relationship", but I believe that in time those things can shift and I was hopeful that Babyarm and I might eventually graduate up to a more well-rounded relationship, like with emotions and commitment and all that good stuff.

Naturally, I had worried that Babyarm would discover my blog before I gathered the courage to tell him about it. I did not like the idea of him stumbling upon it and forming an opinion about me and whatnot, without being able to explain myself...and my questionable behavior. I had told him that I love to write, but he never bothered to ask me what I write. If he had've, I would've told him the truth about the Big Ugly...but he didn't. So I decided to do my best to keep the goddamned thing under wraps until I was good and ready to broach the topic. I removed the videos that I have posted on my profile, on the site where we'd met, since the blog address is plastered across the bottom of each one of 'em and since he'd told me once early on, that he had tried to view my vids. but his computer was too slow or something and so he wasn't able to do so (woo! bullet dodged) But I figured that someday he'd take a peek at them on some computer someplace else, and that was absolutely NOT the way that I wanted him to find out about the blog...

I'm still not exactly sure how he did it, but I am nearly 100% certain that Babyarm did somehow find my blog. (And if my Nancy Drew skills are on point, it looks to me like he still checks in every once in awhile...in fact, ima take a second to give a good ole-fashioned shout-out to Babyarm, "Hey there, ****! D'you find whatever it is that you keep comin' 'round here lookin' for?") Anyway, it's too complicated (and I'm too lazy) to explain how I think that I know that he unearthed my blog, so you just have to trust me on this one. I am here to tell ya' though, as soon as I figured it out, a wave of panic met my middle like a hollow-point bullet, it was a classic example of one of those horrific, "Oh SHIT!" moments. And compounding my trepidation was the fact that I made the discovery while I was sitting right there with him...on his lap in fact. Anyway, after I'd finally wrapped my brain around the situation, I reasoned that even though he'd read the blog, he must be ok with it, since he'd called me to come over and see him mere hours after finding it. I told myself that he must have an open mind about the whole thing and I was actually almost hoping that he'd go ahead and confront me about it so that we could get the whole mess out in the open and behind us. But that didn't happen. And quite frankly, at the time I was too focussed on the more appetizing matters at hand, to bring it up myself and risk potentially marring our carefree evening.

That whole last night together - from 11:45 p.m. when I arrived at his house under cover of darkness while his tiny daughter slept - until 5 a.m. when we finally called it quits, I could feel myself becoming more and more smitten. I had loved resting my head on the pillow on his lap, staring up at his beautiful face while he offered his commentary on the State of the Union Address, just as much as I'd loved all the crazyfuckingmadsex. Once again, we wiled away an hour or so on another frigid, winter night, soaking in the hot tub, and I relished how he so tenderly made certain that the cast on my arm was propped up safely out of the water. At some point, without prompting, he told me that he liked me (*flutter*) and that he definitely wanted to continue seeing me but that I would have to honor his wishes to take things slowly ("Jesus man!" I thought "Any slower and we'll be going backwards!") for the sake of his daughter who's happiness was understandably his top priority. Babyarm had been burned by the only two women that he'd allowed into his life, and in the process, his daughter had suffered as well. His caution seemed legitimate and I was more than willing to follow whatever guidelines he laid out, if that's what it took for me to stay in the picture. ("Yeah, yeah sure! You wanna take it slowly? Of course, whatever...I'll do anything!") Next he dispelled a concern of mine. I worried that during the extended quiet times in between our visits, he might be mixing it up with other women (his ex-gf included) He assured me that he had not been out with any other girls since he and I first met. Halleluia. Literally every topic and activity covered that night, seemed to indicate that we were definitely moving in the direction of dating...monogamously...and I couldn't have been happier. And so, feeling content and sure, I sunk deep into his big bear hugs and purred quietly along with his grizzly bear growls...

It all seemed so perfect and seamless...each of the few times that I was with him. The problem was, as soon as we were apart, Babyarm's "take it or leave it" attitude and unmitigated disinterest in talking to me beyond just a few texts here and there (and even fewer phone calls) sent me hurling around this vortex of confusion and doubt, fuck! Why is it that I am incapable of adopting such a blase attitude of indifference about the person that I want to be with? Why? I'll tell you why...because I'm an impatient girl...and by virtue of that fact - I'M NOT PROGRAMMED TO BEHAVE THAT WAY! When I want something I wanna have it...whenever I want it! Which can run the gamut from wanting to luxuriate naked in bed for hours on a Saturday morning alongside the object of my affection to simply wanting to call or text him at will (even if it means texting again before receiving a response to my last text - which some believe can be the kiss of death in a budding relationship) Willow (wise young woman that she is) vehemently forbad me from contacting Babyarm, until I'd heard from him again, insisting that I would come across as needy and clingy if I was doubling up on texts (naturally, I texted him anyway...cuz I can be obstinate and ornery like that) But you know what I call the protocol that Willow insisted I follow? I call it - playing games...or playing THE game, more specifically. But maybe that's truly what searching singles are supposed to do, manipulate and suppress their natural inclinations for the sake of perpetuating the chase, as well as striving to earn the title of "top banana" in those fragile first few weeks. I'm sorry, but none of that works for me. I am not into calculated moves, or calculated silences for the sake of getting a leg up. I'm more of a seat-of-the-pants kinda girl who wants to attack the situation full-force. Bottom line, if I feel compelled to do something, even something silly and sweet and random, well then I believe that I have the right to act upon it and that it should be welcomed by the intended recipient. And if they can't handle it, well...then I shouldn't be with that person anyway because either they're not really all that into me...or their never-ending game of cat and mouse will eventually drive me to distraction and fuck that! Is there really anything so wrong with wanting to be demonstrative with the person you like, for chrissakes?!

(easy now...deeeeep breath...)

Lemme rewind for a sec., back to Willow and all of her cockamamie notions about how to effectively snag a beau. Irritating as it is to admit, evidently she is kinda on to something...For months now she has played the "game" with her cards very close to the vest. And her diligent restraint and decorum have obviously paid off. Suffice it to say, Willow and M.C. Ginger have reached the holy grail of courtship bliss...they have made their relationship "Facebook official" Now...that's the real deal, ain't it?!

Sarcasm aside, practicing what she's preached really has worked out for her and Willow is now enjoying an enviably secure romance thanks to her patience and levelheadedness...that bitch...(love ya', babes!)

That last time that I snuck into Babyarm's house and we enjoyed such a cozy, fun night - my desire to be with him and only him, was positively galvanized. But what was it about Babyarm that caused me to become so taken with him? What about him out of all the other guys that I've met recently, had me ready to hide my online dating site profiles and discontinue the few remaining convos I had going on with other men? Why was I so hellbent on lassoing this particular young buck? Was it because he didn't make himself too available, cuz if that was the case, well then wasn't I essentially confirming that the "chase" really does work? It coulda been that I did actually like stuff about him...such as his appearance, and his personality, and his stemware? (ha!) Perhaps it was an addiction of sorts, to the seriously steamy fucking sex and the insane sexual positions with which he manipulated and contorted my obedient body. I mean let's face it - intoxicating physical chemistry is def. a tough thing to come by and if one is fortunate enough to happen upon it, it is NOT an easy thing to give up. I woulda literally done anything for the guy, no matter how weird or warped. Hell, I woulda stood on my head during sex if that's what he wanted (wait...come to think of it...I did stand on my head during sex...)...Or, maybe it was just my obsession with the need to be the one in control of the situation (which clearly, I was not) the lack of which totally short-circuited my common sense and ability to function properly, all of which made me even more determined to somehow realize a shift in that power...in other words, I was itchin' for the tables to turn so that he might instead...start falling for me. No matter what it was that had me so fixated on him, there was no doubt in my mind, that Babyarm was the complete package, embodying (a version of) my ideal man...and I was so hoping that soon I might be phasing out online dating and ultimately even the blog, for good...

All right, so one Friday - when Babyarm completely ignored the fact that he'd invited me to go to the shooting range with him (after he'd given me this lengthy tutorial on how to properly sight a gun etc., right there in his kitchen) and then acted all surprised (and very busy) when I texted to see if we were still on for that day, I got angry...I'm talkin' super freakin' pissed. I was totally fed up with his constant string of flimsy excuses for not being able to meet me. In toto, I saw a couple of precious childless weekends come and go without seeing hide nor hair of him and after that, I began to absorb the possibility that he just wasn't interested. Sure, my feelings were hurt, but one of the worst parts about getting the brush-off from Babyarm, was facing the bleak prospect of getting myself back on the market which meant...stepping up my game online and hitting the dreaded bar scene again...blah...

I was resigning myself to defeat, and yet still resistant to give up completely on Babyarm. I kept holding onto the "take it slowly" line that he'd fed me, believing that he was maybe testing my patience or truly busy or...something. Simultaneously, (adding insult to injury) was the reemergence of the preeminent asshole of the world. Yes, you guessed it, enter my miserable ex-bf: Jimmy. I will never forget my children's reactions, when I looked at my phone and asked, "Why is Jimmy calling me?" In unison my kids shouted out, "Don't answer it, Mom! Don't answer it!"...Precisely. I did not pick up the call of course, but I gotta tell you, the horrible stomachache that ensued, was rawther impressive. (Please dear lord, may I never be the cause of such physical revulsion in any living soul, a la Jimmy - a moi) Naturally I wondered why in the hell he would be calling me, and my prediction was that he had gotten his current gf preggers and/or they were getting married, for he is one of those people who delights in rubbing salt in a wound. It never even occurred to me that he might be trying to schmooze it up with me...that is until he attempted (via text message) to barter the service of helping me install my home stereo system, in exchange for one of my world famous back rubs. Cute...very clever...NICE TRY, DICKWEED!

Ah, yes...it was all making sense now...'deed if his horse-toothed bitch bartender gf hadn't just days before, handed him his walkin' papers...I'm guessing he thought that I'd jump at the chance to fill the void (or to have my own void filled, as the case may be) until he decided to fuck me over once more...lucky me...

I was unsuccessful at shutting him down with my glib "Not gonna happen, Jimmy...you blew your chance with me" but did ultimately leave him dangling after he sent, "But I'm bored and you're fun to hang out with"...prick...

The one ray of sunshine in this whole entire entry is the fact that even with the threat of Babyarm's rejection of me, I was not the slightest bit tempted to anesthetize my disappointment by hopping back into the sack with Jimmy. The whole purpose of online dating for me, way back in the beginning, had been to distract myself long enough to finally break our brutal cycle of repeated break-up's and reconciliations...and I was pleased to acknowledge that online dating had in fact, done its job. Enough time had passed since last being with Jimmy, for me to realize that the scattered few happy memories do not even begin to negate what a complete bastard he was to me back then and quite frankly - that he still is today. I now knew that I would never be so forsaken as to EVER wanna "go there" again. And to that I say, "Amen"...

As the weekend of the big snowstorm approached, my fading optimism was virtually annihilated. I was particularly bummed because I'd believed that if I could just finagle one more visit with Babyarm (especially during a blizzard which could leave us snowed-in together for days...so very romantic!) I'd be able to seal the deal...as well as get more answers...and to talk to him about the blog...to be honest with him.

Honesty, trust and loyalty were highlighted on his dating site profile, as the qualities he most hoped to find in his next partner, leading me to believe that he was a sincere and conscientious man, who had sadly been deceived by the women of his past. But what I found curious, was that these were the qualities that I was starting to think that he most lacked. In fact, the main reason for my stomachaches and moodiness, was the fact that I didn't feel like I could fully trust the oftentimes bizarre excuses he gave for his unavailability. Example: once he told me that he would be out of town all weekend, doing some obscure something or other that, if it really was what he said it was, would have him away from any computer for the better part of that Saturday, at least. However, that very Saturday, for hours during the middle of the day, I noticed that he was regularly signing onto the dating site where we'd met, leading me to believe that he was actually putting me on the back burner in order to pursue other women...or at the very least - simply sitting at home doing everything in his power to avoid having to see me. Call me paranoid...yes, maybe I am. But you have to admit that it does seem unlikely that he was on some covert mission out in the boondocks, somewhere...when at the same time, I could see that he was checking the dating site every 20 minutes or so.

I find that whenever people say things on their profiles like, "Not looking for drama" or "I do not play games" what they're subconsciously telling everyone is that they absolutely look for and do all of those things. I mean, does anyone ever really "look for drama"? Not usually. But the very mention of such, implies to me that this is what this person is actually all about. That whether they know it or not, the reason for all that damned drama that they bitch about, from all of their past relationships, is because they either attract or create it. So I'm wondering if when Babyarm wrote things similar to, "I will not tolerate liars and cheats" was he actually writing a reflection of his own personality flaws? Makes sense to me. (hmmm...maybe I should go back and reread my own profiles to see what idiosyncrasies I've inadvertently pinpointed, myself...)

Any case...so, not only did he feed me that bullshit line about "liking" me (was there really any point to all that?) but Babyarm never did call after sending that final bullshit text...and the more I festered over it, the more I began to realize that it was the text message that he'd sent before that one, that I should not have filed away so deeply into the recesses of my feeble brain. I'd let, "In a meeting. Will call u later" reinstate my shriveling optimism that he was still interested...that I did still stand a chance with him. I used "Will call u later." to help me bury his blunt and hurtful response to my inquiry as to whether or not I'd be seeing him over the upcoming weekend...

It was the quickest reply that I'd ever gotten from Babyarm, appearing on my phone no more than 10 seconds after I'd sent my own message (as opposed to the more typical delay of 6 hours to, well...never) He'd socked me with a hauntingly familiar phrase, one which I myself had arrogantly wielded weapon-like just days before. Reading those exact same words as they appeared on my phone however, did not feel nearly quite as awesome as it had felt to send them from my phone.

After asking him, "Do we get to hang out this weekend?" Babyarm responded with a succinct and biting text which simply read........."Not gonna happen"

Seems I can back up the idea that what comes around...really does go around...............