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...............