Three Simple Words: "Four"..."Date"..."Limit"

A few months ago, a Facebook friend posted this as his status update:

"I believe that it is possible to find a soul mate with whom a mutual connection completes body, mind and soul...without any trace of codependent low self-esteem"................

...............All right, so tell me if you would please...how reading this horse shit makes you feel. Chances are, if you are in an established relationship, you might concur, with varying degrees of accord - depending on how fresh or stale your own current state of affairs. But I wonder if you single folks out there can relate at all, to how reading this comment sent me fairly well through the roof!

My knee-jerk reaction was to take it out on my poor, innocent computer screen by wagging my finger frantically and shouting through it at the perpetrator, "OH!...how DARE you! You...you...you SELF-RIGHTEOUS PRICK!" Now this might sound a touch extreme, per the man's assumed intended goodwill...but allow me to explain why it registered in the retinas of this perennially single gal, as egregiously patronizing...and yes, I can admit that it did have something to do with the fact that after aaaaallllll this time searching for my forever lover, I can never seem to find my happiness with any one man beyond that brief, initial period of phony amorous bliss.

But my irritation with the FB friend's post, stemmed mostly from my knowledge that, after a long time searching in his own right for a mate, he had written this vainglorious drivel only after having made it nauseatingly clear via Facebook - that he had finally found his true love...

Naturally, it's a very easy thing to shout from your soap box that "Soul mates DO exist!"...when you're actually IN a committed relationship, duh! So, to hear him make such a declaration, while knowing that he was newly - IN LOVE - was nothing short of infuriating! But I wonder if this cat who ate the canary would’ve so easily barfed this blasphemy on all of us single slobs, if he himself was still milling aimlessly about, with the rest of us who endlessly traverse the barren dating wasteland...somehow, me thinks not. And I seriously doubt that this braggart will be sitting atop his high horse, preaching the same rhetoric, after the sickeningly sweet situation with his new honey - sours...or at the very least, becomes bland - as inevitably - it will...

I have let what the FB friend said, bother me ever since I first read it on my news feed and I have copied and pasted the quote into every subsequent blog entry since then, itching to find the perfect way to highlight it in whatever post I was working on at the time. But it wasn't until I started getting my thoughts sorted out for this entry, that I finally found it to be a good fit...

I can admit that my initial and lingering hostility was driven to a degree, by a modest dose of jealousy combined with an unhealthy helping of bitter resentment. It perturbed me that this person who had found his alleged unyielding happiness with another, would so blatantly ram his own good fortune down the throats of me and all of his other solo FB friends…I actually took it somewhat personally...like literally. But lemme also say this - Facebook does mess with my mind on occasion. There are times when I convince myself that (certain specific) Facebook friends, in response to my oftentimes racy pics. and questionable wall posts, use FB to air their grievances with my behavior, by posting timely, cryptic but relevant comments on their own walls, instead of manning up and sticking 'em on mine...I know, it makes me sound totally paranoid and narcissistic...and even a little mental...but that's just the way that I is...In the case of the above mentioned FB friend's post (who presumably is privy to my dating strife, since I promote the Big Ugly relentlessly on FB) in hindsight, I feel that perhaps he could have possibly written the "soul mate" bit as words of encouragement, or hope or comfort...but at the time, that is definitely not how I interpreted it.

Anyway...enough of all this for a moment…Let's move on, shall we?

So, at the tail-end of my last post, I confessed to having shrugged off any remote semblance of common sense, by making arrangements to meet up with that cute 25 year (oh so very) young man from CougarLife...the beautiful brown-eyed baby boy (who for obvious reasons, I'll simply dub..."B") B had so graciously offered to make the 2 and 1/2 hour drive from his house up to where I live, on a Friday afternoon - mere days after we'd first introduced ourselves to each other online. I was well aware of the implications concurrent with inviting a guy who lived that far away, to drive such a great distance and arrive at my house in the late afternoon for our first date. It was never discussed, but understood (by me at least) that he would more than likely be staying the night (whether I wound up wanting him to or not) simply because it would be inconvenient and somewhat rude of me (I thought) to make him turn right around and drive back home again, should things not work out. I was hopeful that B and I would click...nevertheless, I prepared accordingly by dressing the guest bed with clean linens...just in case...

The morning of the big Friday afternoon date, I dropped the kids off at school, and returned home to distract myself from an otherwise guaranteed case of the jitters by cleaning my filthy-ass house. I worked diligently until about an hour before B was to make his arrival...and even though the house wasn't quite to the level of immaculate for which I'd planned...it would simply have to do because I still needed to get myself cleaned up and presentable.

About 30 minutes before his e.t.a., I received a text from B which alerted me to his close proximity to my humble abode...and at that point, my nerves did finally kick in...I have to say, there is something so exhilarating about that adrenalized anxiety that precedes certain first dates, partly I think - because it reminds me that I have not become so disillusioned with all of this nonsense, to be completely incapable of experiencing the sensation of, well...feeling. Anyway, so while I was making some last minute adjustments to the house and my appearance, Willow called to see what I had lined up for the weekend. I gave her the skinny on my plans for the afternoon, and while we were talking I saw a slow moving vehicle turn onto my road and towards my driveway...I frantically shouted at Willow, "Uh, uh...I gotta go! He's pulling up to the house right now! I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how things went"

I met B out at his truck and hugged him hello. He was really very cute, with a trim athletic build and a sweet face. My dogs decided that he was someone who could be trusted and because of that, I did too. I invited him to come into the house, but before following me indoors, he reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out an overnight bag. Yep, looked like he'd planned for that undiscussed overnight, as well.

B and I made ourselves comfortable at the counter in my kitchen, and set about chewing the fat, without benefit of the prerequisite cocktail (I broke tradition and followed his lead to abstain, after he confessed that he was taking a break from drinking for a spell). Once, when something I said or did made him smile, I saw a slight tremor in his cheek near the corner of his mouth, which gave me a hint that he was maybe just a teensy bit nervous, as well. And for some reason, realizing this - totally diffused my own agitation...I'm guessing it was a shift in power kinda thing or something - who knows, the important thing was, that suddenly I was more at ease with the situation, and I now sorta felt like the one in charge. But not for long, because after about 30 short minutes of introductory chit chat, B stood up from his stool and motioned for me to do the same. He reached for my hand and pulled me towards him...and then he kissed me. I found this to be a very confident maneuver, and yet his underlying apprehension was still palpable. We stood there in my kitchen and made out for a few minutes and then just like that, he asked if I thought we should go upstairs...rut roh...

I begrudgingly led him up the stairs and to my boudoir, the whole time whining and moaning about what a bad idea it was to be doing this so soon...so fast. But B assured me that it was fine (well, of COURSE he did!) and as we negotiated this sudden turn of events I realized something, and that was - that I actually really wanted to do it. It wasn't like with Hair Gel, where I'd felt this sort of guilty sense of duty to have do it. Plus, I was aware of the fact that even if I talked my way out of it in the short term, there would be no getting out of it entirely. Let's face it, the guy was there at my house, 2 1/2 hours away from where he lives, with his duffel strategically set on the kitchen floor...there to remind me that he wasn't goin’ anywhere...anytime soon. So it was pretty much inevitable that we would eventually screw, and since I was attracted to him, I figured..."Eh...no time like the present"...(right?)

I mean c'mon people...tha hell is wrong with me?! Sure, we all know that I'm guilty of having more than my fair share of sex on the first (oftentimes "only") date...but sex within the first 30 minutes? Now this was something completely unprecedented...undeniably a landmark achievement...and definitely NOT one about which to gloat...

Anyway, once B and I gilded the lily post impromptu romp, by luxuriating together in a nice, hot shower for a spell...we realized that we were dying of thirst AND hunger. We assessed the current state of my bedroom as we got dressed, and although we were already well aware that we'd demolished my bed (this? again? really?) we now realized that it had also been scooted many feet away from its usual position against the wall and had come to rest in the middle of the room. It was kind of funny to both of us, that we hadn’t noticed til then.

We jury-rigged the bed so that we could sleep or do whatever in it, later on, and then descended the stairs back down to the kitchen to grab a bite and a non-alcoholic beverage (couldn't believe that I wasn't jonesin' harder for a cocktail) The clock, told us that it was 8:30 p.m....more than four hours had passed - from afternoon, through evening and into nighttime - since he'd followed me up to my cougar den that first time...neither one of us could believe how much time we'd spent, fucking around in there.

We also marveled over the realization, that we did not have alcohol to blame for our hasty hook-up, it was a conscious mutual decision. But besides that...we noticed that we were both now quite comfortable with each other, with nary a hint of nervousness to speak of. It seemed almost a good thing that we'd gone ahead and gotten the fucking out of the way early on.

Almost immediately following B's departure, early the next morning, I found myself yearning to see and be with him again...and the good news was that he expressed the identical urgency.

So......I drove down to B's place a couple of days later, after work, and stayed through the next day and night, then got up super early the following morning, in order to be to work (sort of) on time. My brief stay with B had been just as nice as I had expected, startlingly romantic, if you will. And I left feeling energized about the prospect of carrying on a meaningful relationship with the little guy. He made me feel appreciated and wanted, and surprisingly - all of his genuine enthusiasm and the sincere intent to try and make something happen between us, did not make me wanna flee...just yet...

Being that I'm getting older, faster then ever these days - I try to resist the natural inclination to sometimes try and hurry through any one day or days even - in order to get on to a more appealing one. But since B's and my crazy schedules dictated that the soonest that we would be able to get together again, wasn't until 10 days later, (which seemed too brutally loooong) I found myself kind of wishing away the days in between, in an attempt to fast-forward to our next conjugal visit. I did take it as a good sign however, that I was missing him so much, especially factoring in his unwavering dedication to keep my enthusiasm from waning by sending sweet texts and messages and calling me for long-distance pillow-talk, late at night. Sometimes that type of sweetness can come across to me as saccharine, and has a tendency to really turn me off. But I lapped up his heartfelt correspondences and enjoyed reciprocating, and in the process, I found myself looking ahead longingly to our possible future together. I hid a couple of my dating profiles and replaced the slutty pics. with more respectable (boring) photos on the sites that I did keep active, and basically desisted communicating with other previous romantic hopefuls.

Now here's where things got predictably sticky...

Much as I enjoyed my next, long weekend with B, I returned home a little bit earlier than we'd planned and was nowhere near ready to make our deal Facebook official (as he had indicated that he was) Instead...I hate to say it, but I'd mentally scooted much further away from all that. You see, there was this thing that occurred while we were doing the dirty right after I arrived at his house, and I have no idea where it came from, or why...but it was definitely a fly in the ointment...

Right in the middle of having (good) sex, something happened. I had no control over it, suddenly it was just there. It was like this little birdy flew in through the window, lit on the sill and peeped, "This is not the person who will rescue you from yourself" and I was like, "Now wait just a minute...where the hell did you come from...and who asked you, anyway?!" But the little birdy had branded his observation on my brain...and as the weekend moved forth, I began to backpedal.

Here's what I think...I think that I've gotta find some way to curb my early onset enthusiasm...to put a metaphorical governor on it or something...and here's why...As much fun as it is to get all excited about a new person and the prospect of finding a potentially fulfilling romance, the chances of me actually hanging up my dating hat and slipping into a comfortable relationship, are not real promising at this point in time...and this is not something that I'm proud to admit. I love the thrill of the newness of courtship, but as soon as I feel like I may be about to sacrifice my independence and my freedom (which I have grown to cherish so) I freak. And complicating all of this, is the fact that it's become way too easy for me to go from gung ho to ho hum in a jiff. Even more disconcerting, is my cold-blooded ability to totally ignore the likelihood that the person from whom I'm preparing to run, may end up hurt by my abrupt departure...Friends tell me that I simply have not met the right person yet...I have yet to meet that remarkable man who will quell my ravenous appetite to hop from guy to guy and inspire me to stick with just him, whereby, encouraging me to retire my Big Ugly persona...for good.

It's like this, I am not entirely opposed to the idea of having a bf. There is almost nothing in the world that I love as much as being in love...but I can't force it, even if the guy is sweet, and considerate, and good in bed and attractive...the instant that even a minor tremor of doubt taints (haha...funny word) my enthusiasm...it's almost certainly doomed...especially when it happens within the first few weeks. And so...the dreaded four date curse rears its ugly head...once more...

I noticed as I drove away from B's house and towards my own, that I began feeling a trifle downhearted, which was kinda confounding. I wondered, "Why am I so blue?" Was I possibly (hopefully?) missing B or something? Huh...maybe. But that would have been totally inconsistent with how that little birdy'd made me feel. Perhaps after such a whirlwind weekend, the idea of being all alone in my empty house was woefully anticlimactic. But I'd chosen to leave B's house early, so that I might have a minute of solitude before another workweek was upon me. And then it struck me...my melancholy might in all actuality, be the byproduct of shrouded regret, for having unintentionally misled B into believing that we were an item...

As soon as I was home again, I doled out lotsa good lovin' on my lonely pups and then scampered out to my studio...to dust off my neglected dating sites, and get back to my old tricks...

I always tell people, when talking about the blog and the guys that I meet, that I try to protect the "good ones"…and I will adhere to that credo in regards to B. I have nothing cross to say about him. I did have a wee tiny complex over the fact that my arms are bigger than his…but it wasn’t a deal-breaker by any means. He is a remarkable, hard-working, determined young man and he will be fine. He’s just not the guy meant to take me away from all of this stuff that I have grown to love…my freedom, my independence and researching and writing my blog…

I was almost too chicken shit to come clean with B about my change of heart. But I needed to get this new blog entry posted and if I would've slithered away without approaching B (who does read the blog) about the matter beforehand, this would've marked the first time that I've ended something with an online guy, via the blog…again, nothing about which to be very proud…So, I did the slightly less wimpy thing by sucking it up and sending him a "Dear John" email...There, now I was all set to get this derned thing posted...worry-free...

I've gone over this before, I know...but it's pertinent to the story...so it bears repeating. Too often, I treat people in general as if they are expendable. By and large, it is frighteningly easy for me to sever ties...this goes for men that I meet and/or date, my family with whom I have virtually no contact anymore (save my four dear children) and even close friends. I've seen some previously tight friendships wind up in the shitter and that is largely due to my policy of refusing to let folks who are supposed to be my allies, mistreat, betray and exploit me. But where I should feel some sort of residual effect, either remorse, or sorrow or a void where their once valuable friendship used to be, I instead find relief and solace. At the rate that I'm going, I'm apt to wind up totally friendless, the thought of which - curiously - causes very little distress. The only positive constant for me in regards to relationships, is my unconditional devotion to my kids, lord knows I couldn't fathom their absence from my life...I've always said that I wanted to live on an island someday...maybe I'll just end up becoming one, instead...

My rancorous sentiment towards the aforementioned FB friend's post remained resolute, until upon further consideration, I had a change of heart.

After aligning my own experiences to the FB friend's philosophy, I realized that I should not actually let myself be threatened by what he'd said. Although it admittedly touched a nerve at first, I no longer gave credence to any of that garbage that he espoused. The best way that I can think to illustrate my enlightened take on his nonsense is this: In general, I do not let things in which I do not believe, bother me. For example: all of that business about Heaven and Hell is utter poppycock to me. Ending up in either place has never frightened nor intrigued me, simply by virtue the fact that I don't believe that either place even exists. Similarly, after spending my entire adult life either single, manically searching for love, or in relationships that neglected to garner a "soul mate", I have come to the conclusion that the chances of actually finding a captivating, lifelong love - are slim to none. And since this is my newly adopted conviction, I am no longer worrying ceaselessly about ever finding mine...because I don't necessarily think that anything so perfect is waiting in the wings for me or anyone else, for that matter...

And so, "I believe that it is possible to find a soul mate with whom a mutual connection completes body, mind and soul...without any trace of codependent low self-esteem" doesn't rub me the wrong way, anymore. I see it as a trite series of words, which I now view to be a meager attempt by its delusional author to convince himself that the thing that he has found, is actually golden...the poor misguided soul…