"Your Pu**y is What I Want to Eat"

I am really lonely for my kids, this weekend which woefully began a few days earlier than it normally does since I suddenly have no job to speak of, anymore. I miss them even more than usual, and I'm not sure what the deal is. I shuffle aimlessly around this empty place, and every once in awhile, I catch myself inexplicably blurting out some random, irrelevant comment. For a split second I'm like, "Oh my God, who was that?" frightened to then realize that it was me and that I had no control over the fact that those words left my mouth and that they reached no apparent audience, other than myself and my dogs...and their English is only so-so. It's making me feel marginally insane, seriously. I'm a little scared. My stomach hurts and I'm teary. I tried positioning myself here in front of my trusty, ole Mac hoping that I could skitter around online and unearth some new treasure which might cheer me up, but try as it might, even my devoted computer can't seem to provide respite from this debilitating funk. The more I try to manipulate my fate, the more isolated I feel. The longer I sit here, flitting from site to site, and back around the sequence again and again and again...the less happens. It's brutally monotonous, I feel as if I'm spinning my wheels. I guess I'll go mow my yard for 5 more hours...

Well, after zoning out on the mower for a veritable coon's age, I was no better for the time away from my computer. I was powerless to extinguish a reemerging preoccupation, I simply couldn't, (haven't been able to for a while, now) get a certain someone out of my mind and believe me, this did absolutely nothing to lift my spirits. I spent the majority of my 5 hours of yard work irrationally pining for my old favorite - Mark. For whatever reason, he remains my only indelible, unrequited crush. I've had no difficulty scratching every last one of all the others completely off the list. I compare past and current guys to him and they just don't cut the mustard...There is no one else upon whom I am nearly as fixated. I hate to even admit that I still think about him because after things between us tanked he turned into such a dick. I need to remind myself that here was a man, living with a woman, fooling around with a single girl, online, and when the single girl, who lived 300 miles away, did the natural thing and dated other guys, he got preposterously incensed. In hindsight, I find his anger and resentment utterly inappropriate, per the situation. No doubt at the time though, it was a bitter pill. Regardless, these days I do the best I can to stave off my jealousy towards the new girls with whom I'm sure he romps, in my stead. I see him on IM all the time and for long periods of time. I am literally sitting there, pretending like I have something interesting going on, hoping that he thinks so too (if he even notices) when in reality I am bored to tears and completely alone. It's all I can do to NOT send him a message. I simply couldn't bear the inevitable agonizing humiliation of being ignored by him, certain that he would blow me off because a.) he detests me and b.) he couldn't be disturbed since he's most definitely in the middle of some erotic collaboration with a new twist. I miss our torrid romance, I miss the danger element and the sparks that flew. I miss the electric excitement I experienced when he rang, and the butterflies and giddiness resultant from our trysts. My cell phone was too full to receive new texts, the other day, so I was going through it and deleting all the superfluous crap, and I still had like 40 or 50 texts from Mark, which I had never erased. I got so fucking misty poring over them all again for the first time in ages, I couldn't stand it! My favorite was a text he sent me one night, I think while he was out drinking with friends. He said, "U love me?" I remember being dumbfounded and positively elated that he would even ask me such a thing and weirder yet, was the fact that I seriously felt like I truly did...I cautiously answered with, "How did you know?" and he closed the convo. by saying, "I'm smart...glad you do" I was unquestionably smitten.


Feeling prostrate about the grim memory of my failed romance with Mark and determined to relieve my loneliness-induced melancholia, I decided to pick myself up and put myself out there this weekend and diligently worked my tail off to make something happen. I immediately responded to an e-mail I got early Fri. morning, from Cary, who lived close by and by Fri. night we had discussed the possibility of finding each other downtown at a new brew pub. Frances and I were both without kids, so we were hot to trot and did in fact, wind up crossing paths with Cary and one of his friends. They turned out to be supremely fun guys who took excellent care of both Frances and me at the two clubs where we played but even though Cary was a super nice fella, he was not my physical ideal. I know...I'm way too picky. But I have been racking my brain to try and think of someone to set him up with 'cuz he's way too good of a catch to not share with some deserving gal, unfortunately though - she's just not me. Then, right at last call I was approached by a tall, dark (in the sinister sense of the word) gorgeous hunk of a man who greeted me with a surprise kiss on the mouth, (oh my!) and next by telling me that he was prepared to eat my pussy for the next 4 hours. Wait, didn't the last guy who offered to do that say he'd do it for 5 hours? I'm sorry, but 4 hours is simply not good enough! (But in all honesty...if it actually did take 4 or 5 hours...wouldn't something be drastically wrong?) The bummer is, initially I was intrigued by the hunk's enigmatic aura and was nervously excited when he entered my sphere, and then he had to go and ruin the whole thing by saying...THAT! Get this, though (jumping ahead a bit) - on Sunday night I got an e-mail from a new guy who also could not stop talking about eating my pu**y, as he put it. He must've sent me 15 notes mere seconds apart, declaring "Your pu**y is what I want to eat", "Your pu**y is what I want to eat" over and over again, you guessed it- "for 4 hours"! What in the world is wrong with these people? Jeez frickin' Louisus!@#*$

Sunday was dominated, once again, by yardwork. But just about everytime I made a pass by my studio, I would jump off the mower and skip inside to check my computer for new messages, which I was enjoying from one dude in particular. Wouldn't you know, he lived only 15 mins. away, convenient, but not necessarily a good thing if there wound up to be an "in the long run". We flirted mercilessly with each other, on and off all day long and finally that night he invited me to get a drink with him...over at his house. Hmmm...I informed him, as if there was any possible way he could not know this, that meeting a guy at his house for the first date, would be breaking the #1 stranger danger rule of online dating, duh. But we were both too poor to go out as well as a little weary from cumulative partying side effects from a bacchanalia-esque weekend, so like a dunce, I agreed to meet him at his house. I guess it's entirely possible that I was subconsciously looking for trouble, something to spice up this tedium. I still haven't confessed any of this to Frances, she would massacre me! I did leave all of the info I had about him, on a little slip of paper by my computer, in case the authorities needed to initiate a manhunt...

I got to his apartment which was sparsely furnished and that's a good thing. I prefer when men living alone don't have a bunch of knicky knacky crap everywhere, like useless baskets stuck to the wall and fake greenery all over the place, barf! But basically all he had the energy to do was sit and stare at the TV....boring! It was painfully reminiscent of many dull, wasted hours with Jimmy. Uhhh, we didn't even really talk. Once South Park was over, I announced that I thought I'd better get and only then did he become interactive, at all, which was - far as I was concerned - too little, too late. So I split without incident and even though there was something endearingly cute about his New Yawk personality and tough guy looks, I figured if this was the best he could offer, the very first time we that met, it could only go downhill from there, so...no thanks.

When I woke up the next morning, I realized that it was now time to focus on that evening's date with Steve (you remember, one of the Big Three, the one that Jordan likes) which we'd planned a few days earlier. Steve and I met online, just one week after he joined one of my favorite dating sites. He had put me on his Favorite's list but hadn't contacted me. I rarely get in touch with guys, simply because they put me on their Favorite's in fact most times I remove myself from their Faves, but Steve was attractive, I liked the photo he posted of himself wearing a white tee and shades while manning a "crash boat". I wrote to him and said, "So, you put me on your Favorite's list but you don't even say "Hi", tsk, tsk" He got back in touch with me fairly quickly, coyly apologized and for the last three weeks we have communicated intermittently through e-mail and over the phone. He is 10 years older than I am and even though I like that he seems hip, cool and open-minded, I am particularly drawn to his mature calm and confident reserve. All this aside, it was no effort for me to keep my emotions in check, since nothing really moves me anymore.

Hey, know what? I just realized that I made it through, what had all the earmarkings of a potentially desolate weekend, and I was no worse for the wear. I'd had a little fun, my yard looked great, I had gotten to talk to my kids, I was looking forward to a date with a nice guy...Shee-ot! I might actually be just fine without Mark, after all...

"Fine" is Never Good

What is it with my flippin' ex-es? Forgive me, I must give in to an irresistible urge to make a random broadcast announcement here. For the record, my ex-husband is a self-righteous, ego-maniacal, money grubbing prick and a complete and utter sonofabitch!" There, that was sufficiently cathartic, I feel a lot better. You know, it's not like I don't feel badly enough already about the fact that my life is in the shitter, but on top of it all I've got to endure being belittled and berated by him about what a fucking useless loser I am and evidently, in his eyes, have always been. Sure, I fritter away endless hours online trying to meet a honey and yeah, I spend infinite amounts of time documenting my quest, and waste tons of cash on fuel, driving all over creation to inevitibly be disappointed with the end result, I guess there truly is no real value in any of that, (I'm doing research for the blog?) and to compound my steady decline, I now have the added bonus of being indefinitely laid off from my first real job since my kids all got in school. That's right, I've got $60 to my name and when my lawnmower repair guy tries to cash the $213 check I wrote him on Fri., I can't imagine that it's gonna go very well. But my ultra-responsible, hard-working (cough!) ex is still a tightwad millionaire and somehow he can declare to me in all honesty that he "helps me out a lot!" Like lending me a boatload of cash so I could finish building a decent house for the kids and me, which I do appreciate, but I'll be paying the loan back to the tune of 8.75% interest! Who's doing whom the favor? I swear to god, after he lit into me about how great and wonderful he is and how fucking pathetic I am, I seriously wondered if it would be better for everyone; him, my kids who probably won't really have a Christmas at my house, this year, my family who has for all intents and purposes, disowned me anyway - if I just parked my cute, little, shiny, silver car in my brand new, garage, left the engine running and drifted off into slumberland...forever. But I'm way too much of a pussy to do that. I keep clinging to the notion that it simply has to all work out one day. (There is still the lottery)...But just when I thought I could not possibly sink any lower festering over every single miserable aspect of my tiny life, Jimmy sent me an outta-the-blue text, in which he tenderly declared that he misses my butthole, hmmm...Way to cheer a girl up, buddy! Why couldn't he have told me that he missed the way I spoiled him with yummy meals and the lunches I packed for him to take to work and how I never complained when he completely ignored me while I rubbed his feet with Burt's honey and almond hand cream for hours while he spaced in front of the TV and how I tirelessly worked in his yard, planting cheerful, new gardens and did all of his laundry and cleaned his bathrooms and picked up his psych meds. for him and played nurse when he was sick and took his dog to the vet and gave him a practically brand new fridge and a queen sized bed in which he cheated on me while we were still dating. Must be National Asshole Ex-es Week, or something. I don't remember ever sounding as bitter as this, what's my problem? Strangely, none of this has anything to do with online dating so I'm sure you're all very confused by my tirade. I'm sorry, I just had to get all of that off my chest before I delve into the bland pablum that is my ongoing, online dating debacle.*

I just don't know what it's gonna take for me to get excited about any man again, ever. I'm starting to get seriously worried that I may officially be emotionally null and void. Get this...I'm not even a teensy bit horny. I can't remember the last time I played with my toy. This is SO not like me, as by now, I'm sure you all know. Frances is convinced that none of this should be cause for alarm, that maybe my apathy could be a means by which I am preparing myself to experience a genuine, potent, all-consuming tremor when I finally do stumble upon my ideal dream boat. She says that she prefers the blase me to the insecure, neurotic nightmare I had become, post Jimmy. I 'spose I can relate to her rationale...

My date with Chris on Tuesday night was totally fine, but the trouble is...I don't want "fine" - I want FUCKING AMAZING, for cryin' out loud! I mean he was cute and all but he's VERY short, like seriously shorter than I am, in flat shoes...Here, let me illustrate...When I met him for date #2, we opted out of taking his Harley to lunch, thank god because frankly, I would not be caught dead on the back of that bike, I mean he's fastidious about keeping it immaculate, but for me it was purely an aesthetics thing, it was just too frilly, busy...I don't like Harleys, end of story! Instead, we hopped into his very cool, 1960-something Chevy Nova (phew!) and headed out of his homogenous, suburban neighborhood towards some homogenous, suburban shopping center for lunch, neat. Next thing I know, I could see him out of my peripheral vision, grab the steering wheel hard, pull himself so far forward that his hiney was in about the middle of the seat, but his leg still barely reached the peddle as he floored the excellerator and burned rubber up the street. He was trying to be so cool, but instead he ended up looking absolutely ridiculous, like a little kid playing in his Daddy's car, it was definitely NOT my favorite, not to mention I was completely mortified to be peeling up the road at breakneck speed in an otherwise placid neighborhood, so stupid. But let's revisit date #1, shall we...Chris and I met for drinks and eats at what is swiftly becoming "the spot" where I meet most of my "first dates", anymore. I'm sure that the nice people who work there are like, "What the hell is up with that woman, how many different guys can one person go out with?" but what the frick ever. Anyway, Chris and I had no trouble striking up and carrying on active conversation, we like a lot of the same stuff; cars, guns, alcohol. And we enjoyed this one amusing verbal exchange about obese America which after overlapping with our dismay with the crappy economy, particularly oppressive gas prices, we hatched a plan to convert "liposucked" fat into automobile fuel. Both of us thought this was pure genius, revoltingly disgusting, but a radical idea, nonetheless! Hell, I know folks around here who've made their millions by turning roadkill into chicken feed and they hold their heads up high and even strut around like they own the damn place with their gold-plated everything. So see? Even the kookiest concept can generate a wad of cash, no matter how gruesome. Once again though, I simply wasn't blown away enough to be motivated to line up a follow-up date. The next day, I glumly recapped the prior evening's events to Frances, as usual, saying that it had been "f i n e"..."Oh no..." she replied, "FINE is never good" I explained that I had felt no connection and even though she and I are always on the exact same page about the whole chemistry thing, (if it ain't there from the get-go, it ain't ever gonna be there...chemistry can essentially be neither created nor destroyed, and so on and so forth) she suggested that maybe I should go out with him one more time, just to make sure. He sounded like a decent guy, and who knows, if I gave him another chance, I may discover that we have potential. I know she doesn't really believe this, fundamentally, but maybe she's as convinced as I am that just for the moment, my acute, emotional dysfunction is sabotaging my chances of meeting a suitable mate because I'm giving up too quickly, on guys who might normally capture my attention. I was thinking about it the other day, how in the past, when I was entirely at the mercy of either my friends setting me up with guys or bar hopping and frequenting parties as suitable avenues by which to meet men, I think I sank my claws deep into the first decent option I came upon, relieved to give up the hunt. This is exactly why I landed with Jimmy (and lived to fully regret it) Back then, whenever I found someone satisfactory, I just stopped looking, where nowadays, I refuse to settle. I'm addicted to searching for the next better thing. I've said it before, I just don't see the point in wasting time on someone when there is no real chemistry. But, taking the sage advice of my best friend, I took Chris up on his offer to meet the very next day. At first he said that he would come out my way to grab lunch and check out a local art show, I've been wanting to hit, which would've been great, because, I'll be honest, I was on my last 1/2 tank of gas and wasn't gonna be coming into any major moolah anytime soon, so the idea of rationing my gas was practical and appealing. Somehow plans got shifted around though, and I wound up driving out to where he lives which, if I want to make myself feel better about the gas, I can at least take solace in the fact that the specific location of my residence is still privileged information. I would venture to say that date #2 was even less impressive than date #1. I started to discover little aspects of Chris' personality that repelled me; for one thing I could sense a squelched temper, barely suppressed beneath his surface. And for another he was pushy as hell. I had barely made it out of his driveway and he was asking me how late the art show would be going on that evening, as if he wanted to come and check it out after all. I said it was over already. Then he asked if we could meet at the pub, again, that Friday (the next time we had planned to meet) was just too far away. I said that I had a shitload of stuff to get done that night and that I probably shouldn't. He told me there are lots of things that we "shouldn't do", but if I though it was best to wait 'til Friday, he was fine with that. I did not reply, he was really crowding me. Frances said that I should be honest and tell him that I wasn't feeling a connection, that I had always been good about doing that with other guys when things hadn't worked out. I was like, "What?" Usually I just disappear and hope that the dumpee gives up pretty quickly. But that was irrelevant because fortunately, Chris beat me to the punch. He wrote to me and said that since I hadn't answered his last text and we hadn't talked at all the following day, he assumed that I had changed my mind. If for some reason he had gotten it wrong, he hoped I would feel free to get in touch with him, but otherwise, good luck with my search. Problem solved.

With one of the contenders knocked out of the Big Three, that left only two remaining, John and Steve, both of whom seem pretty laid-back and more relaxed than Scott, plus they're both really tall. No plans to meet John, yet, but we keep shooting each other inquisitive e-mails and I would definitely go out with him if he asked me to. I did, however, make arrangements to meet Steve for drinks, in the very near future. It was funny because Jordan and I were out here at my computer, the other night and I pulled up Steve's profile and asked her what she thought of him. I should tell you that normally when I think a guy is hot or a good possibility, my kids are like, "NOOO! MOM! He's scary! He's NOT attractive at all, yuck" and I'm stunned, cuz generally I have myself convinced that whoever it is, is decent and might be right for me, damn! But the little tykes are consistently dead-on in their initial impression of the guys to whose profiles I allow them to be privy. Why is it that my children possess consistently razorsharp intuition yet I am virtually devoid of it. Anyway, for the first time ever, Jordan gave a guy in whom I was interested, a decisive stamp of approval. She liked the way Steve looked and she said that she thought that he seemed fine. Hmmm...There's that dreaded four-letter word, again. I reckon I have to accept that "fine" to her, my pristine, 12 year old daughter, still carries a favorable connotation...

*Footnote: Frances just called and said that she read in the paper that my ex, along with his father and someone else, just sold 135 acres of prime real estate to folks who plan to build some high end retirement home. So now, the bastard has even more millions in his kitty, yet still pays no spousal support and less than half of the child support that the state of Virginia would require him to pay, if he adhered to their guidelines. And I, the pauper mother of his offspring, am unable to buy a gallon of milk, this morning. But it's all really just fine...and dandy...yeah...

The Big Three

Beau and I exchanged e-mail addresses that first fun night we accidentally met and we shot each other a couple of surprisingly longwinded and informative e-mails up 'til and into the weekend which led to a tentative plan to talk on Sunday at which time we might possibly meet for a drink. We did text on Sunday but it was evident that the novelty of our unique happenstance and the potential for friendship plus, was beginning to wane. And by Monday morning it was glaringly apparent that we had officially fizzled. I was disappointed that we had lost our steam but it didn't have anything to do with Beau on a personal level, or anything like that, I think I was bummed because Jordan and I had built the idea up in our minds that it would be the strangest turn of events if after all of this online dating, I wound up meeting the man of my dreams because I simply dialed a wrong number. But, consistent with all of my other dating failures, this was nothing more than a flash in the pan, providing about 48 hours worth of excitement and a minor distraction from my online dating doldrums.

In firmly establishing myself as an inveterate online dating LOSER, I believe that I have become a much more resilient gal, which is a good thing I guess. Lately I kinda just limp along through this virtual dating minefield, unfazed by an emotional disconnect and ironclad in my uncharacteristically apathetic coping mechanisms. Nothing gets me fired up in either direction anymore. Sucks! Anyway, after things flopped with Beau, I wasted no time in getting right back on that internet dating bicycle, completely out of reflex, and definitely NOT because of deluded optimism that something good will ever actually come of all of my mysteriously unwavering effort. I wonder what it will take for me to become enthusiastic about participating in all this nonsense again. I am so blahh! Shortly after diving back into the online dating pool, almost at once I was contacted by three new guys who are all strangely similar to each other in their stats... They're attractive but not too perfect looking, they are responsible men all gainfully employed, all three live roughly 30 miles away from me, perfect, and they are all appropriate ages. And even though conversation with each one is interesting enough individually, I find myself answering their e-mails, almost identically, sometimes it takes me a minute to inventory messages received and sent in order to avoid sending duplicate notes, I'm like, "Wait, did I write to him again, already?" At the same time I was making the acquaintance of the Big Three, I was contacted by a young guy with a smokin' hot bod who I'd talked to a bit, before, but who I let slip through the cracks because of distance between us in geography and age. He wrote wondering if I'd forgotten about him and kicked off a vigorous campaign to have me meet him in the very near future. I told him I didn't see the point but he refused to give up, citing an inability to let me "get away", hmmm...It was silly to even remotely entertain the notion of getting together with him, but I was flattered by his tenacity and we decided to meet somewhere in the middle of our two towns, this upcoming Tuesday night. He chose the town after hunting around on mapquest and, admitting that I knew nothing about the place, I asked him if he recommended any particular destination. Don't you know that he absolutely wowed me with the brilliant, well-thought out, wildly romantic plan that he hatched...He suggested that we take the first exit off the highway and get a room, ho ho! The really funny part was that he was completely serious, huh...don't know why didn't I think of it? Tempting as his offer was, I told him that I had no interest in a booty call but thanks anyway and he retorted, "What? No booty call? But I wanna touch you, smell you..." I was like, "DELETE!" You know, I'm just so over the whole MILF thing, I mean I totally get it, we old girls are definitely righteous, but that doesn't mean it's our duty to babysit all of these horny young bucks, jesus! I had a 21 yr. old write to me the other day and all he said in his e-mail was, "Do you know what a MILF is?" Duh! I answered, "Do you know what a cougar is?" not so much to perpetuate conversation with him, but more to let him know that us old gals can play predator too, if we want. I guess I effectively scared him off because I never heard from him again, oh shucks. But back to the Big Three...The first guy, Steve, is ten years older than I am and I know that that can work for me because I happily (until the end, of course) dated a guy, ten yrs. my senior, for 18 mos. not long ago. I made a colossal error in judgement by dumping him for Jimmy (ten yrs. my junior). I remember, at the time, a good friend of mine, several years older and infinitely wiser than I am, saying, "It's always better to be an old guy's queen than a young man's slave" I shrugged it off back then but in hindsight, her advisory comment resounds with eagle eye precision. Anyway, Steve is physically active and his pictures reveal a physique to prove it, he's got a sexy, deep voice of which he genuinely seems oblivious, and we share a fascination with cars. Trouble is, his dream car is some souped up, high-performance Corvette, ugh. I don't know what it is, but for me there is something intrinsically off-putting about a guy who loves his Harley, his Corvette, or wears an excessive amount of jewelry. As far as I'm concerned, it's grounds for dismissal. But there are good things about Steve that redeem him and keep me curious enough to stay in touch; his good job is somewhat art-based, he had a slightly more refined air about him than the guys I've met who are in love with Corvettes and he is the primary care-giver of his two children, I think that says a lot about a fella! Next is John, tall with an athletic body and a shaved bald head and a goatee, sporting a great-looking crisp blue, polished cotton dress shirt in his profile photo. He is the one who makes it the most fun to write back and forth because he is always asking a ton of questions as well as taking the time to address whatever unusual or nosey topics I bring up. I'm not fully stoked about his taste in music, he takes a shine to heavy metal and glam rock bands, not necessarily my cup-o-tea, but at least he does care about music. And finally there's little Chris, "little" because he's only 5'5'' (you all know how well short worked for me the last time) but I literally just got really excited because I made a surprise discovery while filling Frances in on all of his details- a new picture on his profile - and I suddenly can't think of anything bad to say about him, he's definitely got a nice body and looks like he knows how to party, he's CUTE - giddyfrickinup! Chris and I, just 20 minutes ago, firmed up plans to meet at one of my favorite haunts for drinks and grub...TONIGHT! Ok, this seems as good a place as any, to sew up this entry. I'm gonna go shower and make myself beautiful and I'll let you know later, how things went, don't wait up for me!

Fewer and Farther Between (Blog Entries as well as Men)

True to my personal vow to mellow out and "not try so hard" to find a man, I have definitely been taking it a bit more easy with my online dating push, of late. It's funny to look back at the beginning of all of this mayhem and remember how gung ho I was to jump right in, with both feet spending every free second in front of my Mac, lapping up all the attention, (cuz back then I was still fresh meat) trying to make the acquaintance of as many people as possible (online first and then hopefully, in person soon after) and in the process, discovering a multitude of unfamiliar means by which to do so (IM, texting pics., webcam...) And when I look at how things are going now, 6 months later, I realize that my current attack is completely diametrically opposed to the way I originally dove into online dating. Gone are the butterflies in my tummy and those thrilling flutters which used to sear my insides upon making contact with certain individuals. These days, I'm in a sort of lackadaisical, I could give a shit, phase, which was somewhat spurred on by the swift elimination of my prior seemingly endless freetime, (a la this past summer) on account of work and the kids' after school activities, and my disenchantment with all the nifty gadgets which used to make online interaction so much fun, for me. I only sit at my Mac early in the morning and late-ish in the evening and I squeeze in a teeny bit of decadent downtime during the weekends when my kids go with their dad, at which time I try to get caught up on any new developments and write my scant blog entries. Aside from unavoidable time constraints limiting my chances for positive results, is the fact that I am thoroughly jaded with online dating and everything that goes along with it these days. I'm talking about a whole new level of "jaded" than 25 entries ago when I first I referred to myself as being so afflicted. Back then I quite obviously had no idea of the depths to which my listlessness would plummet. Where once, I was naive and eager and soooo green, now I am just kind of indifferent to the whole thing. In a weird way, online dating has made me better capable of dealing with rejection and resistant to disappointment. My formerly high octane emotions have been neutralized, I'm an emotional zombie, anymore. Never sad or bummed or elated even, just sorta, nothing, especially in relation to the ebullient joy that online dating used to bring me. Also, you may be happy to know, that I can honestly say that I don't care if I never get my jollies again with a fella online, via the webacm or IM or even texting, I want a warm body here beside me, for heavens sakes. I want regular sex, with the same guy until we're old and die within a year of each other, ok?! Additionally, I seriously have no interest in jacking any guy off online, ever again, either. I do believe that that form of entertainment has totally run its course, with me. Some of the guys with whom I have engaged in these ridiculous antics, regularly try to contact me and are conditioned to think that I offer an obligatory, package deal: initial conversation blending into dirty talk which, even if I stay clothed, may lead to them baring it all so that together we can ultimately end the tale with a "happy ending". What they don't realize is that all that was fun for me while it lasted, but I am so over that rubbish! And that explains why I am only talking to guys who just TALK to me, period, end of story. Current conditions also indicate that anyone who has read my blog thinks I am now and will forever be, some kind of online hooker, and that it's almost my duty to provide them with a "good time", when we get together online. There have been a couple of guys, recently, who've gotten my hopes up that their motives were sincere and innocuous as we went through the motions of getting to know each other a little better through pleasant conversation, (maybe they really do LIKE me, for ME and not just 'cuz they're itchin' to experience one of my online sex tutorials) but my hopes are consistently dashed when without fail, sometimes completely outta nowhere, they broach the subject and reveal why they're actually there, "Why won't you let me see you?" (almost as if to say,"You let all those other guys have a peek, what's wrong with me? I wanna try it, please, please?") Ugh, here we go again...And you know, for some reason I almost feel guilty, 'cuz it's like I have led them on and then let them down by not obliging them. Inevitably they sulk off and lord knows if I'll ever hear from them again. But guess what? I'm sulking too, because I want a real boyfriend not another "john", did they ever think of that, huh?! They misled ME, as well, by making me think that they were interested in me when all they wanted was for me to spank their monkey, fuckers! Yep, it appears that I have made my bed, so to speak, and now I guess I must lie in it...ALONE!

The good news is I have managed to exercise a little self-control and keep it buttoned about my blog, with several other good, possible dating candidates. There's this one guy, James, who I've been talking to sporadically since the beginning, he's intelligent and mature and doesn't crowd me, so things have consistently moved forward, but always at an unhurried pace. I gave him my number finally, we'll see if he calls. Oh my gosh! I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you about this one e-mail I got over the weekend! I have to let you read it. Hang on, I'm gonna copy and paste it here...Kay, you ready? It's from "BoneDoc" I get that! He made a funny! Here it is,

"Just imagine...

arrive at the doctor's office and be escorted to the "examination room"... While you make yourself comfortable and slip into a short examination gown... that barely covers you... "You are my last visit for the day," the doctor says with a wink, meaning that we have plenty of time and no one will be interrupting us. (did you just hear him lock the front door?)
He begins by rubbing her neck and shoulders, helping her to relax and then has her lie face down on the table. Long, slow massage strokes across her back make her start to purr... The strokes get longer and longer as his hands caress her ass with each pass... Then farther still as he strokes her thighs with each long, slow stroke... He can feel her heat building from deep inside. She unconsciously begins to wiggle her ass a little as she starts to push her hips into the table and then push against his hands. He loves teasing her like this... getting her hotter and wetter... Mmmm. Finally he calmly says, "turn over please." She looks so inviting, lying there on her back... He starts long slow strokes once again on her legs and thighs... With each up-stroke her legs open a tiny bit farther... inviting him closer. His massage strokes move up under her gown, closer and closer to the source of her heat... teasing her (and him)... she feels herself getting extremely wet. She can't stand much more of this teasing torture.
Then he reaches under her gown and finds the waistband of her panties and she automatically lifts her hips off the table... he slowly slides them over her hips... down her beautiful legs... and off they come.... She just lets out a low moan that sounds almost like a growl... throws her head back and opens her legs for him. In an instant, she can feel his hot breath on her inner thighs... He teases her even more by just softly running his lips back and forth across her... then just the tip his his tongue touches her... Mmmm, they both moan... Her body opens up for him to enter her. He thoroughly loves the taste of her... licking and flicking her clitoris... exploring every bit of her with his tongue and lips. She pulls his head against her tighter... wanting more of him...

(to be continued...) Would you like to help me finish the ending of this story?!?


~Doc"

Can you believe that shit? That someone would dare send something so crass to a perfect stranger? I mean, he's lucky that he sent it to me, (like - how did he know that I'd be someone who could handle his poorly written pathetic prose?) instead of some prude who would, without a doubt, blow the whistle on him on the host site! Are there seriously women out there who would find this kind of garbage so intriguing that it would motivate them to respond? If this guy doesn't wind up getting sued at some point for sexual harassment, I'll eat my hat!

Oh yeah, something else I've gotta tell you...I got an e-mail from sweet, jilted Thierry, the other day. He informed me that he is happily seeing someone, but that he would love to talk with me, sometime, especially in French. I didn't have the nerve to tell him how laborious it was for me to compose those e-mails that I wrote to him in French, back when we were all hot and heavy. I swear to god, that is the absolute reason I cut off ties with everyone else, I would work on the letters for hours to the exclusion of everything else, without interruption before I felt confident enough to send them and still he'd comment on how "cute" my grammer was, really frickin' adorable. Anyway, once I read that he had a new gf, at first I was like, "Aw man, is he just rubbin' it in, that I ditched him but he's already found someone new?" But it didn't take me long to remember that Thierry is very different than the scumbags I'm accustomed to dealing with on my regular dating site route. I believe he is a sincerely nice guy (probably too nice for me, I think that was part of my problem with him) and I seriously doubt that he possesses a profligate bone in his body. I kind of think he was letting me know so I wouldn't continue to worry about the fact that I left him alone and moderately broken-hearted. I was actually relieved to hear he had moved on. Now, if my ex-husband would just find a girl, I could scratch some more guilt off the list.

As my weekend without children approached, I literally had made no exciting plans to get together with any new or current men. My good friend, Anna, had made plans for me, though, and honestly I was none too pleased. There is this guy, Bryce - who contacted me on a dating site after recognizing me as the mother of a little girl (my little girl) who rides at the barn where he is perpetually painting the roof, it seems. Once he brought it up, I guess I kind of recognized him too, but I had glanced at him on the site, numerous times and his face had never registered as being someone I knew until he pointed it out. I was not attracted to him and was skeptical that meeting him in person would change that. But my good friend Anna, was hellbent on introducing us in person, and since I had no other plans, I went along for the ride. Bryce and I met at Anna's house where she and her husband hosted a bonfire party with homemade chili and good cocktails and an all-around great group of folks, the rest of whom I already knew and liked. Bryce was the person I talked to the least and quite honestly there was zero chemistry going on from my end. He was nice enough and attractive-ish, but I definitely was not feelin' it. Anna kept ramming it down my throat that even if we didn't hit it off romantically, he would be a good person to be able to call up and go out with when there was nothing else going on, uh yeah. I seriously doubt that it was his ever his intention, to embark on a platonic friendship with me so that we might escort each other out to the bars where at least I would be constantly looking over his shoulder, for the next best thing. Doesn't really work that way. It was difficult for Bryce to get a word in edgewise, not only because he was the shy, new boy, but also because of all the boisterous convo. and embarrassing inside jokes (at my expense, usually, har-de-har-har!) which provided the bulk of the evening's entertainment. We did finally find a quiet-ish moment to set a spell, but after a brief and decidedly stilted chat I decided to call it a night, went home and tucked myself in at a reasonable hour, grateful for a full tummy, a mild buzz and the side-splitting laughs I'd enjoyed with my already friends.


One of the other things that makes the prospect of dating Bryce prohibitive, is that it goes completely against my flimsy credo which states that dating close to home, rarely pays. We've gone over this before, and as you know, I definitely don't like the idea of leaving a bunch of unsuccessful dating shrapnel scattered around my immediate stomping grounds. I guess if I were absolutely smitten with a local guy, I'd give it a try, but casually dating guys in my area goes against the grain, for me these days. Segue! Ok, last Thursday, I had just dropped off 75% of my kids to their respective activities which left me with just my oldest daughter, Jordan. We were driving back home from town and I tried to place a call on my cell, to my real estate agent, but had mistakenly combined his number with my boss' and ended up landing in the voice mailbox of a complete stranger (his voice was far sexier than my real estate agent's, fo' shizz!) I was like,"Whoops!" and instantly hung up. I then dialed the number I meant to call and this time successfully reached my agent, but while I was talking I heard someone else trying to beep in. Since I was in the midst of a reasonably important conversation, I didn't click over. And then it happened again. After I finished making my calls, I totally forgot to look and see who had been trying to reach me, but when Jordan and I got home, I received a text...from the wrong number guy! He said, "Who is this? What, no message?" Jordan was like, "Mom! You have to text him back, he could be hot!" This comment was completely out of character! My sweet, responsible, typically staid preteen was zealously encouraging me, almost daring me to do something, well...just plain silly (She sounded eerily like her mother, poor soul!) Anyway, we were reveling in our big girl time alone (which is rare) just the two of us acting super goofy, so sising to her challenge, I did indeed, text him back explaining that I had accidentally combined two different numbers, etc.. and then I said, "Too bad you didn't pick up, it might've been fun to talk by accident" to which he replied, "Ya, you never know where you might meet your next friend. How do you spell your name?" and we bantered back and forth like this for the remainder of the evening. Contrary to my earlier declaration of wanting to avoid dating guys in my "neighborhood", Beau did actually live close by and I was STOKED! (Ain't I a wishy washy bitch?) At some point not long after Beau and I stumbled upon each other, Frances stopped by and after being frantically brought up to speed on the goings on, she surmised that he must be unhappily married (her patent, skeptical supposition about all of my most mysterious men) or else dog ugly. She backed up her theory by saying that no normal guy would be so wholeheartedly enthusiastic about taking a misdialed phone call so quickly to such an extreme level, unless he suffered some irreparable affliction. Jordan and I then rebutted her allegation by referring back to one of his texts in which he stated that he was currently playing the love interest in an independent film being shot, nearby. So there! He'd have to be good-looking to get the part, suckah! Frances shrugged off our smugness and Jordan and I began convincing ourselves that Beau was gonna be "THE GUY"! Jordan and I were absolutely beside ourselves with glee because this stranger whom I had met accidentally by inadvertently calling his cell, we were certain, was gonna turn out to be my real, final and forever, happy ending!

Might Wanna Mix Yourself a Drink, This is Gonna be a Long One!

I had a thought last week during my 30 minute drive to work, one morning...wonder if my inability to find a man who captures my attention for more than just a few witty e-mails, clever IM exchanges and rarely ever more than one real life date has everything to do with the fact that I am literally trying too hard to find a fella or possibly just juicy material for spicy blog entries. I found myself equating my affliction to the misfortune that certain couples suffer when they giddily resolve to try and have a baby but their hopes are dashed when after repeated attempts, they get nothin'. So they go through all the necessary testing and finally wind up taking fertility drugs, but to no avail. Ultimately, after agonizing over their powerlessness to make their own baby, they decide that adoption is the obvious solution. They bring home their sparkling and new, wonderful bundle of joy and get him/her all settled in and next thing you know, the jubilant couple gets knocked up, for real! It's like once they relaxed a little because they traded in their fixation with tweaking fate for appreciating the glorious gift of the adopted baby, and subsequently, the thing they previously sought so desperately - appeared out of nowhere with very little effort at all.

I had already decided to take it easy with the online dating, for the next little while, maintaining a moderately controlled level of excitement about my big date with Travis as well as keeping all other contact at a minimum. I also adopted a more mellow mindset about cause and effect; I wrote letters to anyone I pleased and I didn't get all bunched up if I didn't hear back from them, and I decided to go for broke and aim high, this time too. I contacted a few men whose profiles taunt me practically every time I get on my favorite fun site. I always tell myself that they would never talk to me, they're just out of my league, bottom line. There was this one guy who particularly stood out from the pack, he had that surfer guy, je ne sais quoi and was like the poster child of my dream man incarnate, best I could tell from studying his profile. He was tall, fit and had a great face and hair. He had posted a candid and well-written profile which painted the image of a man who resists conforming to traditional social aesthetics, a characteristic which I am all over, and complementing his apparent alternative bent was his leaning toward a creative flair for fashion. I loved all the photos of his crazy outfits, he seemed so confident and unique, I was definitely intrigued. Feeling confident that he would never talk to boring, old me, I was cheered when I discovered that he had peeped back at my profile after busting me for checking out his. And then he looked at mine again, so I told myself it would be ok to write him a brief note, he must have been at least somewhat interested, right? "You look like the good kind of trouble..." seemed an appropriate opening line with which to start up a convo.. I absolutely could not believe my eyes when I found an e-mail from him (Anthony) with the heading, "Here comes Trouble!" It turned out his deal was dramatically different than what I had expected. He is married and has been for 20 years, although he is almost 7 years my junior. After all those years of marriage he told me that he and his wife are still CRAZY in love, more so, all the time. I couldn't figure out why he had put "Available" under the "relationship status" portion of his profile. I was really perplexed by everything I'd read, so far. Then he explained that he and his wife are polyamorists, and went on to educate me a bit about what that means, exactly. He politely told me that he did not expect me to understand nor condone his chosen lifestyle but that I seemed cool and that we had a few things in common (our jobs are similar, and we both have bunches of kids) and so if I was receptive, he would be interested in the idea of getting to know each other a little better. If you're up to speed at all, with my blog and my online dating experiences, you may be aware of the three things that have happened to me through online dating which dealt with previously unexplored territory: #1 - being somewhat rigorously interviewed by a man who was searching for a good candidate to service his sexual needs, several times weekly, for an undetermined amount of cash...mmmm, nope #2 - being propositioned to take place in sexual acts, the specifics of which I still haven't mustered the courage to disclose in my blog because they are so far out of the realm of my normally open-minded approach to sex and most things unfamiliar. I did finally come clean with Frances the other night, about the questionable acts in which soldier boy Jack heavily encouraged me to partake, and I could practically hear her jaw hit the floor! Nuff said #3: being introduced to and invited to participate in the mind-boggling concept of the cuckold relationship. I think you all know that I was this close to participating in every one of these intriguing but taboo scenarios, but something in me simply said, "No" Anthony's admission to subscribing to the ways of polyamory was startling at first, yet never rubbed me the wrong way. It definitely wasn't a matter of me disapproving, I simply had a hard time believing that it could actually work. I wrote him back and said that I found it remarkable that he and his wife could pull off such a thing. I said that for me I think jealousy would derail any foray I might make into such a seemingly complex situation, I couldn't imagine sharing my lover with another woman or women as the case may be, but that I was envious of their obvious deep love for one another, true love such as theirs was all I was really after, essentially. I just didn't see myself as someone capable of maintaining a peaceful partnership in that type of relationship. With the three other "shockers", I figured out, rather quickly that I would not fare well should I give any of them the good ole college try, but the more I thought about polyamory, the more I realized that in a weird kinda way, it might be just the thing I'd been looking for, I'd just never been able to put my finger on it, before. Personally, I would rather be one half of the steady couple who does the inviting, as opposed to being the invitee, because I really do want a lifelong companion, if possible. And this was actually contrary to a theory I'd just been discussing recently with my co-worker, Sam...We were talking about threesomes and I confessed to never having been a part of one, again my jealousy made such an endeavor prohibitive. But anytime in my life the idea was considered, it was between me and a lover, and I always put my foot down, "NO!" - I simply could not fathom watching my bf getting it on with some other hottie. Next, Sam and I addressed the minor stumbling block which was that I had never been attracted to a woman before, much less fooled around with one and I questioned my capacity to do so. I don't think I ever seriously convinced Sam that I'd never been with a chick, I have no idea why this was so hard for him to grasp, but that's beside the point...It than occurred to me, while we were mulling the whole thing over, that I actually probably could handle a threesome if could a.) gear myself up to get nakey with a girl and b.) if I could be the "third", jumping in with an established couple, then jealousy would be a non-issue, right?

One of the main problems I chronically endure in my relationships, is that after the initial thrill diminishes, a cancer of apathy and boredom can set in and if it metastasizes, well unfortunately at that point, all the fun is over. I can develop a roving eye which usually prompts an eventual break-up. A polyamorous couple enjoys the benefits of always having their main, truest squeeze, but with both agreeing that it's kosher to see other people individually or as a couple, it seems very unlikely that things would get stale the way they commonly do in streotypical one-on-one's. Cheating is a lie, and lying breeds mistrust and mistrust leads to all kinds of erratic behavior, not the least of which can be exaggerated and unfounded jealousy. Jimmy broke my heart when he cheated on me, (more than once), and I never could fully trusted him after he fessed up to his indiscretions, additionally, any time he was even slightly flirtatious with other women it sent me through the roof, I couldn't handle it at all. Polyamory appears to be truth and honesty, and yes - it is unconventional, but then again, I tend to lean more in that direction than that of traditional, well... anything. After Anthony shared the basics of polyamory, I became somewhat obsessed with the concept and fantasized about creating my very own polyamorist relationship with someone, some day.

Basically, in my little world, I earn the accurate description of being a bit off-beat, most people around me just don't "get me". Wouldn't I compound the negative light in which some folks already perceive me and my actions if I immersed myself in something so non-conformist? Could I handle the potential to be slanderously derided by folks who previously just gave me the disapproving hairy eyeball? I was certain that my few really close friends would always love me no matter how kooky my high jinks, they may roll their eyes and worry about me but I don't think they would shun me into exile. I may be getting a tad ahead of myself, here. I mean, I can't even FIND a guy to be with, much less a guy who would be hep to striking up a potentially polyamorous relationship with me. But still, I couldn't help planning my strategy to save face socially, if all of this did someday miraculously come to fruition. I thought about people who break the news to their family or friends that they are gay. I imagine that it can be downright terrifying. Sure, it may take a little while before their loved ones accept who they are, or maybe they must tolerate never being understood, but isn't subscribing to polyamory basically just a different method by which certain couples find their happiness, same as homosexuals? Yes, monogamous heterosexuality would like to think that it wins the majority by a longshot, but even if that is true, it shouldn't negate the validity of alternative relationships. So, within days of being introduced to this entirely new (to me) form of he-in and she-in, I had gone from surprise at the mere mention of it, to insatiable curiosity, then on to acceptance, next to contemplating implementing this fascinating practice within my own life and finally to plotting a method of self-preservation should I indeed decide to take a wild stab at polyamory. Phew! I was exhausted!

The next cool thing to which Anthony so graciously introduced me was a "club" in which he and his wife are active members. It's not a polyamory-based club, although Anthony told me he new a few couples in his local chapter who subscribed to polyamory. He sent me a video file which chronicled an annual, week long celebration at which 50,000 or so of the"club's" members meet to throw the most insanely raucous party I have ever seen. I was immediately and completely transfixed to the images on my monitor. So now, my curiosity about Anthony's life was extending beyond just hearing about his polyamory and into knowing more about this organization in which he was so enthusiastically involved. He willingly addressed all the mounting questions I threw at him, either through e-mail or during lunchtime phone calls. It was all very exciting, for me, the notion of meeting a whole new crowd of people all of whom appeared wide open and fun, simultaneous to educating myself further on the joys of polyamorist relationships.

I love my small but devoted circle of friends and I am so grateful to be surrounded by truly loving folks who in essence, have become my family, since I have virtually no contact with the people in my immediate, actual family. But after hearing about Anthony's club, I began to wonder if there might be room in my life to take on a more adventurous crowd of friends with whom I could fully express some neglected aspects of my personality, not the least of which is a penchant for creative dress. Around here, people consider my normal attire to be somewhat askew, and believe me, in recent years, I've been holding back, bigtime! So the thought of having a little more fun with my appearance, was enticing but mostly I was looking forward to hopefully finding a new niche within a completely different crowd of people. Since I've been an active participant in online dating, I suppose I've always been looking for a happy ending of sorts, you know with a man, forever and ever...amen. But maybe my happy ending would be in expanding my social network, not romantically, necessarily. It didn't appear that Anthony was trying to seduce me into his bedroom, more that he was offering friendship and hospitality and I felt that there was the potential through Anthony to meet many new people, perhaps even someone who might become my lover. This was exactly the sales pitch I threw at Frances to convince her to watch my kids, this past weekend so that I might attend a party at Anthony's house which was to be attended by folks who were members of the organization which was obviously so dear to Anthony and his wife Tina. I insisted that I was not going to the party to become involved in a polyamorous relationship with Anthony and Tina, which was Frances' main concern, but more to branch out a bit and hopefully make some new acquaintances. She realized that my motives were sincere and harmless and being a truly great friend, she encouraged me to go have fun but to also be smart and safe.

I got to the party in roughly twice the time it should have taken after navigating my adorable, yet totally impractical, little car through maybe the worst driving conditions I have ever endured. The sky relentlessly unloaded so much rain at a time that my antiquated windshield wipers were incapable of effectively clearing my view since the fastest they could operate was with about 2 seconds between swishes. Needless to say, I had nearly 3 miles of traffic backed up behind me because I was traveling on a two-lane highway with a double yellow line most of the way. With no interior light by which to read my mapquest directions, I was completely at the mercy of the blinding, oncoming headlights and about a half a second per passing vehicle to try and find the place where I left off reading the last time, and somehow managed to NOT drive into a ditch or into the approaching traffic. Once I finally got onto the deserted country road which was to get me ever closer to Anthony's house, I made the irritating discovery that my headlamps were rendered absolutely useless to illuminate the street signs because of unusual positioning of either the signs or my lights, so at every possible turn, I had to jump out of my car, (which incidentally, I could not leave running on even a slight incline because I have no e-brake and naturally I couldn't leave a manual transmission running in gear, UGH!) and literally walk right up to each sign, wait for my eyes adjust to the black night and then read every consecutive one until I finally reached the correct turn. Since I was already out of the car, I went ahead and checked my directions in the headlights so that I could figure out where I was going next. I ended up at a mystery dead end and after turning around and around, I decided to admit defeat and call Anthony from my cell. But out of nowhere, a good samaritan neighbor, drove out to the road where I was so obviously struggling, and clearly aware that I was in distress, kindly led me to my destination, THANK GOD! Jesus! What a friggin' nightmare!

I always travel with the ingredients with which to prepare my favorite cocktail (potato vodka, limeade, soda water and a wedge of lime) since I am particular and most people don't stock all of the necessary fixin's. I wasted no time mixing a drink out of the back of my car which I believed would alleviate my stress from the horrible drive and my mounting nervousness to enter a party where I barely knew anyone. I straightened my sassy, silver wig and made my way to the door. Once inside, I was warmly greeted by Tina and Anthony. They were perfect hosts, very kind and attentive but after settling in, I couldn't help feeling a little bit like I had thrown the party dynamic off just a touch. Their crowd is a very tight-knit group and I got the distinct feeling that my presence upset the pecking order or the balance, almost as if things were the way everybody wanted them and there just wasn't room to comfortably admit one more into the group. I was never mistreated by anyone, but I definitely drifted around on my own, a bunch.

Past experience has taught me that it's always better for me to not deviate from my usual, tried and true concoction because it simply never does me wrong. I get the perfect amount of "buzzed" and never suffer embarrassing black-outs or hangovers. Well at some point during the party I was handed and promptly drank a mystery libation foolishly breaking my cardinal drinking rule. Not long after polishing off the tasty elixir which I had so erroneously accepted, I returned to the mini-bar in the back of my car in order to fix one of my own beverages to have up at the party for later, and by the time I got to where I was parked, I was definitely feeling a bit kooky. All I wanted to do was lay down and so I did just that, in the eensy weensy stowage area of my two-seater car, for like four hours. I was awakened when someone needed me to move my car so they could get their own car out. I could not believe that I had slept through most of the party, in the back of my car, I was mortified! I managed to drag my discombobulated ass into the house where I slept for four more hours before slithering out Sunday morning, still unusually disoriented.

Saturday, before I left for the party I had read a horoscope which predicted that my plans would turn out differently than I had expected and after my little episode at Anthony and Tina's party, I was cognizant that this was quite the understatement! Once again I had put an inordinate amount of hope or faith in a situation and people to fill a void. I'm almost 40 years old. I am way too old to be passing out in my car at a party. Additionally I should be tremendously satisfied that I am surrounded by a wonderful, core group of friends who accept me despite all of my quirks, as well encourage me to embrace my peculiarities, why should I ever need to tweak that? At a certain point in life, one must appreciate the many gifts bestowed upon them, and comfortably settle in amongst them. Anthony and Tina also have an established group of friends and I completely understand that it's sometimes challenging to effectively bring in an outsider. I've been trying too hard to find my happy ending, when I should really just be grateful for the goodness already so plentiful in my life: my kids, my friends, my health, my home, a job that I like. So, once again, I am back to a beginning of sorts and drawing from the beginning of this seemingly endless blog entry, I think I will take my own advice and just chill out for a bit, and hope that maybe someone incredible just falls right into my lap, no pun intended!

Back to the Drawing Board

I have noticed a pattern of sorts, and it may just be the overly-superstitious numbskull that I am, reading more into things than really exists. But it seems to me, that as soon as I mention with eager anticipation that I am poised to make the acquaintance of a new, hot prospect, I jinx the chances of it ever working out! The minute I declare to my friends or co-workers, "Oh, this one feels right!" or "He feels like he could be the one" or "I have a good feeling about this one" the whole thing goes to Hell in a handbasket in a jiffy, I'm serious! That is precisely the reason that I will NOT divulge details about my upcoming date for this Saturday. I'd like to try to NOT curse what feels like a potentially good match-up. I've told you a bit about my intended escort, in a previous entry, but that's all the info you're gonna get for now. Don't worry, I'll give you a blow by blow account if the whole thing totally tanks (true to predictable form) or if miraculously we gel in real life, the way we have online and on the phone. I'm going to break tradition and meet the guy in person first, before I blab endlessly about how perfect he could be for me and once I have the first date under my belt, I will either spew ceaselessly about how wonderful things are or groan bitterly about what a disaster it turned out to be.

I'm not sure if my lack of enthusiasm to wholeheartedly pour myself into online dating these days has slowed because I'm distracted by my impending date, this weekend or if I'm seriously losing steam out of boredom. I'm in a kind of "been there done that" phase. I can honestly say that I believe my days of webcam antics, may be far behind me and even the sexy texting has completely lost its appeal. You guys may remember the smokin' hot, Italian cop who I briefly mentioned, awhile back. Well, nothing much has developed between us, I mean he IM's me from time to time and we get each other caught up on the minutiae of our lives and then inevitably the conversation lags and say goodbye. It's that way with me and several other fellas - kind of pointless really. We never do much more than briefly chat and sometimes one of us will trail off into oblivion, mid-sentence effectively ending an apparent waste of time. I always have the feeling that the guys in this category check in with me occasionally, to make sure I'm still there in case all of the other hotter, younger more geographically accessible tail they're chasing suddenly vanish. And, true to form, he, Gus - like all the others so many times before, recently came crawling back to me - the quintessential "Fall Back Girl", but with a touch more gusto this time. The other night I discovered a couple of missed IM's, which is fairly common with him, but in the morning when I looked at my cell, I noticed that he had tried to call, and that was something new. I texted my reply and told him that I almost always leave my cell in my car at night, and sorry that I missed his call. Let me remind you that this was the guy who when we first spoke, ages ago, wasted no time getting to the meat of what he considered to be important. Such as; did I like rough sex, was I submissive, how did I feel about anal, you know, the usual, heh heh! But in his phone message he sounded well, normal. He had a nice voice, deep enough, and with no apparent accent even though he's from NJ, and he kept it simple and polite, nothing dirty or untoward. I called him back on my lunch break, and again, we chatted about totally benign stuff, I was actually getting excited that maybe this time he would take me a bit more seriously and I hoped that we could possibly entertain the idea of a date with more in mind than simply, well...fucking, which was clearly all he was after when we first introduced ourselves. As I headed back to work after lunch, I got a picture text of him clad in his policeman uniform, situated in his patrol car looking very official, and I liked it! I returned the favor by sending him a shot of me in my work clothes and tool belt, not nearly as sexy a uniform as his, but I thought he might get a chuckle out of it. This was the point at which things began to spiral downward, who ever would have thunk it. He wrote back, saying that he had a "tool" for me, lol, ha ha, very funny! And then he requested that I text him a more revealing pic. of my hot bod when I got home. And that is where the conversation ended. You know, in the old days I would have been all over that shit, racing home to put on a cute pair of hip hugging, boy-cut undies and wearing nothing on top except my strategically positioned arms which would cover just enough of my boobs to make it a-ok, if the photo somehow ended up on the internet. But these days, I rarely have the time nor the gumption to deal with that kind of silliness. It used to be fun and amusing, but with my time and energy so limited, these days, I really can only devote my attention to the guys with whom I feel I could potentially cultivate a real relationship. I'm referring to the ones who refrain from badgering me relentlessly until I acquiesce and send "the goods", and sadly, these guys are few and far between, anymore. I had a similar thing occur a few nights later, when my foxy, little 19 yr. old pen pal who is from Chicago but goes to college in D.C., got in touch with me. We speak infrequently and it has never been anything more than polite small talk, barely flirting and mostly teasing each other about what might happen if he did ever come to my studio to model for my artist friends and me. After a bit of Im-ing he said that he was gonna turn on his webcam and I was like, Jesus Christ, here we go again...I was seriously NOT interested in messing with it, but he simply ignored my insistence that we should say good night because I had an early day, the next day and before I knew what was happening, he was flaunting the most ENORMOUS cock, right there on my computer screen. I was agog, to say the least, I mean that sucker was JUMBO, like the size of a Propel bottle, for real! And he claimed it was only semi-hard, FUCK an A! Listen here though, I was not turned on by it, I was utterly terrified of it. I seriously think if I tried to fit a dick like that inside of me, I would suffer, lasting physiological damage, yee-ouch! Fortunately, I managed to politely conclude our conversation, though there really wasn't much chatting going on by that point, put my trusty Mac to sleep and still hit the hay myself, at a reasonable hour.

The reason for needing to rise so early on a Saturday morning when my kids were with their dad, was because I had a DATE, remember? I wanted to get up in time to tidy my house (in the event we ended up back there since we planned to hang out for most of the day at the Fall Point to Point Races which were taking place in the general vicinity of my home) before meeting him - Travis - at 9 a.m. in a nearby town for coffee before the races. I'm gonna paraphrase here, we had a good rapport with one another and enjoyed a delightful day together at the races. My kids and my ex were there and Travis never made strange with them, nor them with him. I must have introduced him to a thousand people and he was always cordial and seemed sincerely interested in getting to know my friends and family. We laughed and had a lot in common, he is trim and attractive and shares a similar taste in music and cars. We ate a good dinner at my house, took a nap, played on my computer, smoked a joint and he eventually found the courage to tell me how pretty he thought I was and that he liked me very much (sweet). But you know, we never even kissed, leading me to believe that he was either very nervous or a complete gentleman, neither of which particularly works for me, although I was glad I didn't have to fend him off. I drew the obvious conclusion that I could not possibly have been attracted to him, really, like in that chemistry way, or else I would've been on him like stink on shit. He was more of a cute, little brother type than a potential paramour. I guess my jinxing theory doesn't really hold water because I had mostly kept a lid on the fact that I had a date with a new guy, prior to the big event. And even though we did have fun and taking him to the races was a great way to spend one of the last days of summer, I was, once again, back to the proverbial drawing board, for cryin' out loud!

Oh My God! What a Snooze Fest!

About the most exciting thing that's happening, lately, with my online dating adventures, is pretty much a big, fat NOTHING. I guess it's cuz I'm working during the day now and as soon as I'm done with that I'm running kids all over hell and gone to their after school activities. By the time I'm able to plunk myself down in front of my computer and decompress, it's pretty late which only compounds the fact that I am fully whipped. I sluggishly travel around to all my favorite sites and stare at the screen through glazed eyes at the pittance of attention I typically get anymore, sigh. I am almost too tired to get excited about the few quality guys who show any interest in me, these days and about equally as motivated to freak out about the lack thereof. I hope I'll make time to be more mentally engaged as well as participatory over the upcoming weekend. Unlike this summer, I cannot sit down just any, ole time to my trusty Mac anymore and doodle around. And I do believe that with online dating, the more you are "on", the more hits you get. People see that "Online Now" caption below your pic. and they seem way more likely to open dialog or to simply snoop arpund your profile. When my kids are with me it may sometimes appear that I am "on" more often than I really am because I do let my kids mess around on my computer, from time to time. I've actually had guys "buzz" my children, thinking it was me who was "on". They come to me and they're like, "Mom, some message came up on the computer from a guy named, So and So"...Lord alone knows what their opening line was, they can be little racy, sometimes...Neat-o!

Something which I have a hard time grasping, is that I can have tons of folks viewing my profile but unless they are someone I would be interested in talking to, they just don't register in my brain at all, they are essentially invisible. As soon as I close out their note or the simple fact that they looked at me, I delete them from my mind, either forever or until they pester me again. And even if I get a whole bunch of these types of hits but with very few good ones sprinkled in the mix, I misinterpret it for NO or VERY LITTLE attention, a dry spell of sorts. "Why is nobody talking to me? Am I washed up already?" When in reality, plenty of guys are checking me out but my god! Sometimes the collection of losers looking at me is appalling! I hate to be such a bitch but I'll be sitting there, in absolute disbelief that someone so ill-suited for me would even have the nerve to bother me. I'll let out an audible "Oh No, huh uh! What is this guy thinking!?" when I come across a real humdinger, like someone missing critically important front teeth or angrily giving the camera both middle fingers, or someone with horn implants in their forehead, yuck, spooky! Nowadays, it can go the other way too, though. My favorite fun, new site has the most supremely deeelicious collection of men from which to chose, and uncharacteristically, I find myself making the introductions, more times than receiving them. Most times, I get no response. I can't help but wonder if they're looking at my profile, divorced mommy of four, average looking at best, and saying, "WTF! I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole!", akin to the way I react to the duds who contact me, much to my own chagrin. After a few days of uncomfortable silence, however, Adam, one of my newer online crushes, did answer my opening e-mail, I was delighted! By all appearances he seems better than good. I especially like his all black ink, total sleeve tattoo coupled with the fact that he is a real professional, a mucho attractive dichotomy! There is that little fly in the ointment though...the fact that he NEVER drinks. Duh..duh..duh...duuuuuh! Could be either a major bone of contention or a great reason for me to go on the proverbial wagon for a spell. Anyway, he's out of town until the middle of next week so I'm prepared to not hear from him any sooner than that, if ever. Then there's this other guy, Travis, who contacted me after I peeked at his profile, we've been shooting regular e-mails back and forth, he seems cool and cute and funny and interested in meeting me. During our last exchange, we began contemplating what we should do exactly, when we do finally get together, which could be as soon as next weekend, hooray! I feel like Julie McCoy - Cruise Director, planning out all of our inaugural activities, which we mutually agreed should take place in my neck of the woods, this time. Btw, soldier boy Jack has been IM-ing me again, I guess he got all the other girls (and his wife) out of his system, and came groveling back to me, perhaps hoping that I wouldn't notice nor mind that he had bestowed upon me the dubious honor of now being his "fall-back girl". But guess what? So sorry - homey don't play dat! (well, for now, at least...) When I see all of this written here on my screen, the picture doesn't appear as dismal as I'm painting it, good stuff is still happening but my overall attitude towards everything is decidedly lackluster.

For the past week, all of my dating activities have been limited to online communication almost exclusively, specifically e-mail and IM's. I did talk to this one super nice guy on the phone the other night after I received an e-mail from him, completely out of the blue. Harry, who I met about 3 years ago at a party, (not an online acquaintance) literally weeks after I had become smitten with a new beau, was introduced to me by the hosts who diligently set out to lay the groundwork to set the two of us up. I explained that I would be happy for them to introduce us but they soon realized all their good intentions were for naught when I revealed that I was freshly head-over-heels with a new man. I saw Harry a year or so after that and by that time, I was deeply embroiled in the devastating Jimmy saga, so again...no dice. Turns out a few weeks ago, Harry left mere minutes before I arrived at a party hosted by the same kind couple who continue to look out for my best interest. While their two families vacationed together, just the other weekend, my name came up again, hence Harry's subsequent e-mail and our eventual phone convo.. I was glad to talk to him. Things already felt a little more solid than the typical online dating crap shoot. The surprise element was near nil, cuz I've met the guy in person before. I knew what to expect. He is short but not too much so and a good bit older than I am which is fine, he's attractive and widowed with two children whose ages match up just great with my own children's ages. So, there we were talking on the phone, clearly both excited by the simple fact that we're both very single and he says to me, "I don't even remember what you look like" I laughed so hard, I could not get it together! I don't think he quite got why I thought it was so funny, but to me it was hilarious! I asked him if he did Facebook and he said he didn't, he thought that kind of thing was creepy (the man's entitled to his opinion, I 'spose) but I told him to set up an acct. for himself, it's an easy thing to do and that way he could peruse my "albums", that the photos there should jog his memory of how I do indeed look. He finally made his way to my profile and the first thing he did was read aloud, "Isobel is chatting it up with a real hottie, cross your fingers that he's a keeper!" which came straight off of my main page, I was like, oh shit! I had completely forgotten that I had typed those very words into the little box where you can inform your viewers of the mundane, insignificant little things that you may be doing at the time. That particular selection was penned during a rousing convo. I'd been having earlier, with Greg. I was so busted! There was no way that Harry would think it was written about the conversation I was currently having with HIM, because readers were conveniently notified that I had made the remark...A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO! I was so embarrassed. I attempted to neatly sweep it under the rug by not even so much as acknowledging it, but still...what a bummer. I got the feeling that he took me for a complete tart, which I very well may be. We hung up the phone after tentatively planning to get together in a couple of weekends, but I'll wager that after my gross misstep, the date never happens. This unfortunate intersection of a "from life" potential date with the virtual world brought to light the dramatic difference between online dating and traditional dating, on many levels not the least of which is the way in online dating we implement so many nifty tools by which to communicate. Before I ever tried online dating I pretty much relied exclusively on the telephone to talk to my bf's. Sure, there would be that occasional e-mail, like if they were out of town or for an extended stay or during break-ups when things are still too raw to address over the phone or in person, but typically we relied on the good, ole-fashioned telephone, to talk or make plans to see each other in person. I rarely talk on the phone with guys who i've met online and even more rare, of late, is the ever-elusive, face-to-face heart-to-heart. So, here we all sit, online daters anonymous - glued to our computer monitors, completely at the mercy of modern technology to keep us abreast of the comings and goings of the objects of our affection as well as under the intrusive eyes of those for whom we might not always feel the love. It's very difficult to cruise dating sites and be available to IM, discretely, folks just know when you're on and you, them. Which can be a blessing and a curse. Obviously it's great when you open your IM screen and instantly someone you dig, hits you up for conversation. Conversely, it totally sucks to get on, to be cheered to see someone who you find particularly captivating to be online, as well, so you keep yourself busy, hopping from site to site, hopeful that they may say "Hello" first and sometimes they simply never do. We all play the waiting game sometimes, neither wanting to appear the needier, so both wait indefinitely to contact the other until one caves, (phew!) or closes their screen in frustration or even indifference, crap! If a certain someone is on and they don't message me -it's very easy, (glutton for punishment, that I am) to succumb to an overwhelming lack of willpower by throwing caution to the wind by trying to reach them first, only to be disheartened by the absolute worst end-result: I open my IM account, my eager, face beckoning from a tiny, little square amongst all the others vying for the attention of every yummy possibility with whom we might chat, and just like that...one of my top favorites, immediately signs out. That is such a dagger - I flippin' hate it! It's so obvious that they're trying to "get away" from me and most times I really don't understand it. This is exactly the kind of ridiculousness that has completely derailed the good thing that I had brewing with Greg, for a few days. One or both of us got a bug up our butt, and in stubbornly refusing to be the first one to contact the other we both wound up pissed off and feeling slighted, so we simply do not chat anymore, it's a minor tragedy. That's not to say that I haven't been guilty of intentionally utilizing such base tactics myself from time to time, in order to preclude possible interaction with someone no longer considered worthy, or to simply thumb my nose at a specific target as if to say, "I'd rather be bored and alone than sit next YOU on this stupid screen! I know what you're doing over there, you asshole! Same shit, different girl! HUMPH" I may open my screen and see someone who makes my skin crawl, and I immediately close myself out. Other times I purposely stay on as if to say, "Hey, I'm not gonna be scared off of here by you, you bully! I've got men to talk to" which may or may not be the case, but what the hell does he know? It's amazing how complex this relatively simple online dating tool can make things become if we let it. I think that's why I've let my activity level and even my overall interest to aggressively date, taper off a bit. I'm literally too tired these days, to wade through the bullshit that accompanies full-blown online dating, even knowing that there COULD be a glittering prize on the other side. I guess there are more pressing issues in my life these days, diverting my attention from this typically all-consuming online dating capriciousness...

Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't

For the record, I have put myself on an indefinite self-mandated probation prohibiting me from meeting any man in person anytime in the near future, as punishment for my colossal screw-up, last week. Well, that and the fact that I can't afford to keep putting gas in my car in order to go on all these typically, long-distance-ish excursions, much less pay my way when I get there. I'm in a funky kinda way, right now. I'm not all that motivated to stir shit up because I can't afford to go out even if I wanted to, really. But, strangely - at home, sitting in front of my beloved Mac, rather than engaging in my usual paradigmatic, objectionable behavior in an attempt to stave off inescapable online dating ennui, I find myself ignoring most of my current stand-by's, these days (and nights). Cuckold Zach? I am actively blowing him and his prominent idiosyncrasy - off! Dean from Cincinnati, continues to urgently IM me to no avail, making desperate declarations that he actually has real "feelings" for me or something absurd like that. Even my new webcam hottie from NY is growing impatient and annoyed because I never acknowledge his solicitations, I'm sorry if I've lost interest in mutually masturbating with someone when there are 300 miles and two cell phones between us. Curiously, I soured on tall, Texas accent William almost immediately after meeting him, for no justifiable reason. One of the perks of meeting fellas online as opposed to meeting them at a bar or somewhere else in your own "neighborhood" is if you do decide to be done with the situation, be it after one date or five, it's way too easy to just disappear. Hooking up with a local guy is different in a couple of ways, if there's even a shred of interest mutual or one-sided, well, good! They live nearby and it's convenient to test-drive each other for awhile until you figure out it if it's gonna be a "Go" or not, unlike meeting these guys who live forever away where you might've enjoyed a perfectly good date, but would date #2 be worth all the hassle of hoofing it all the way out of town again? Conversely, though, if you pique the curiosity of a local boy and you decide he's not for you, it's a little more tricky to slither away, and hide from him forever. Especially if he knows where you live, they just don't seem to give up as easily, it's too convenient, not to. As cold-hearted as it sounds, when I lose interest in a guy I've met online who, chances are, lives out of the immediate area, I tend to fade into obscurity, not the least bit worried that we'll bump into each other out in public or that he'll come hunt me down. And the phone, well, it's not that hard to simply ignore it, if need be, god bless caller i.d.. I think I've reached a plateau in this online dating landscape. Just kinda bored with most of what can happen on my computer, too poor and irresponsible to go out on a real date, I want more...and REAL. Enter Greg...I have been having the most fun in a long time, simply chatting, (absolutely NO FUNNY BUSINESS, whatsoever - SWEAR!) with him since I met him online last Friday night. It's invigorating that such a sweetly innocent interaction with a man has me so spellbound. I reckon sometimes one has to completely bottom out (i.e. last week's blatant fuck up) in order to regroup and get back on the good foot, by starting at ground zero and engaging in the grassroots fundamentals of he-in' and she-in'. Every time Greg and I have talked it's never for less than at least a couple of hours, sometimes more than 4. He's got so many of the qualities that I dig; he's my age (roughly) he loves music and not only do our tastes overlap, I look forward to expanding my musical library, thanks to him. He's physically attractive (bonus!), tall and thin with a cute, messy mop of chestnut hair, and heavy eyelids hovering over dark eyes. I like the clothes he's wearing in his pics., slightly wrinkled, button-down shirts always loosely tucked into low-slung jeans with a belt, and the way he consistently has his hands in his pockets all kind of shy and "aw shucks-ish" is completely fetching. He speaks (types) French to me, and by now I'm sure you all know what a sucker I am for that shit - it's soooo romantic! One of my favorite things about him which particularly aligns us on a creative level is the fact that he loves to write, and best I can tell, he's pretty damned good at it. Here's where things get a little sticky. I told him how much I enjoy writing as well, but I can't really elaborate. If I turn him onto the fact that I've spent ostensibly hundreds (?) of hours of writing, wouldn't he naturally want to see the product which is this Big Ugly Blog of mine? I can't possibly expect him to ever want to speak to me again, lord knows I've made that mistake in multiplicity. It kills me that there's something I do, the artistic value of which I am relatively proud, yet the literal content of which makes me, its very creator, shudder from time to time with debilitating mortification. So, I continue to bite my tongue and distract myself from the dangerous urge to share, by trailing off in half-assed directions, like talking about cars or food, which do genuinely interest me, but I'm itching to connect with him on a writing nexus.

Incidentally, do you guys have any idea how much I love writing my big ugly blog? (Could I love any one man nearly as much?) It's entirely possible that only 12 people read it, but that's fine, cuz 12 or 12,000 - knowing that I have an audience at all, makes me write. Those 12 are the invisible fire under my ass motivating me to strive to entertain them, the devoted few who take the time to muddle through this mish mash, regularly. In a perfect world my blog would become enormously popular everywhere except for in my teeny tiny little town (and the surrounding areas) in order to to spare my children the potential to have to endure ridicule projected on them by folks who disapprove of my libertine ways. Not that I care what people think of ME, but I would absolutely freak if any of my questionable behavior negatively impacted my children, you know? My kids know I write a blog and they know that it is about online dating and they even grasp a pretty clear definition of what online dating actually is, since I am painfully honest with them about a lot of stuff. That is not to say that they wouldn't be scarred for life if they were made aware of just a fraction of the 90% of my online dating antics about which they are still, thankfully, clueless. They do know I go out with guys who I've met online and they know how excited I can get about certain fellas at the time, as well as how disappointed I end up most times. I am conflicted because there is that part of me that wants to say fuck everybody, and let's just get the word out about the blog and see if I can generate a respectable following (sounds creepily cultish, sorry). But besides wanting to minimize discomfort that possible fallout may bring to my kids as well as prematurely educating them about sexual topics which are absolutely out of their realm of comprehension at their tender ages, there is the uncomfortable predicament that goes hand in hand with informing good dating candidates about my blog. Basically, I've learned that if I want someone to continue to be interested in the prospect of dating me, I better not make a peep about the blog. Why in the world would any self-respecting man knowingly position himself to potentially wind up under the microscope in this desperately single girl's melodramatic saga? Sometimes I cannot resist, though, maybe their line of work is parallel to what I'm trying to achieve with the blog so I spastically offer it up before I have a chance to come to my senses. Spontaneously I throw it out there and boy, watch em scatter! Just the other night I contacted someone whose good looks initially snagged my attention but when I saw he was a filmmaker, I couldn't resist talking to him. I even made up my mind that I would have to sacrifice thinking of him as a good dating candidate, because I really wanted his advice about the blog from a professional standpoint. I promised him I wouldn't mention him here but since I am only vaguely referring to our interaction to illustrate my point, I hope he won't mind. As I clicked the "return" button, sending him the blog site, I immediately regretted it. I could just tell, almost immediately following his first glance, even though he was polite, that he wanted to run away, FAST! I was kicking myself repeatedly for being so "seat of the pants". What am I doing? Have I no common sense? Needless to say, this sweet, attractive most likely very good catch politely gave me the boot. "Nother lesson learned, I 'spect. So from now on, it is my sincere and determined intention to keep my flippin' pie hole shut about the blog, unless there is literally no way in hell I stand or even want a shred of a chance with the fella to whom I am sending the info.. Think I'll actually be able to pull it off?

A New Star on My Walk of Shame

I considered sweeping this one under the rug, but if I did, I'd be: a.) robbing the blog of the most pressing, new development in this swirling online dating vortex...b.) essentially withholding the truth, which I've always maintained was the lifeblood of this derned blog even when the repercussions could prove to be cataclysmic and...c.) Frances would so bust my chops! I think she believes that publicly humiliating myself by admitting such a blatant fuck up in my blog is an appropriate penance.

I drove out to meet Christopher, the other night. The drive seemed to take forever, the mapquest directions were thoroughly confusing and not the least bit direct, plus I am near-sighted as hell and I must've missed every other turn, but eventually - I DID get there. Where is "there" you might be wondering? Well, I made the moronic mistake of agreeing to meet him at his apartment, RED FLAG! He lives in a big city and I guess I just figured we'd go directly from his place, out somewhere for a drink or maybe even dinner. He met me out on the sidewalk in front of his home and he gave me a "Hello" kiss, uh oh...there was palpable electricity, shit! I knew it had the potential to be bad! I was sweating like crazy and not just because my little car is hot as blazes (no a.c.) but also from a touch of instant anxiety, already a little afraid that I might be powerless to NOT misbehave. In his profile, the height he listed was one inch taller than I am but by my estimation, he had to have been at least an inch shorter than I. It felt slightly amiss, but there was that instant attraction, which can so magically negate physical imperfections. It reminds me of this one time when I had a massive make-out scene while patio dining at a favorite restaurant with a guy who was far more heavy-set than I typically tolerate and who wore white socks with sandals, yuck! His overall "look" was appalling! Additionally, his initials were E.G.O., which - trust me, was a very fitting acronym. This dolt didn't even have it going on in the personality department! But during our one and only date, at some point he got up to go visit johnny, and he leaned over me from behind while I was sitting in my chair and he upside-down kissed me, it was pretty flippin' incredible! I was shocked, because he was such a complete dud otherwise, and yet he had these mad kissing skills! So, you see? It is possible for chemistry to at least temporarily override a complete lack of anything else, unfortunately - it rarely has any staying-power. Anyway, so back to Christopher...

I think you may know that we had been communicating for all of one, whole week, by the time we met, and we flirted heavily for the endurance of our "courtship". There seemed to be a genuinely nifty connection when we were getting to know each other online, so I was willing to overlook the height deficit, even though I'd already determined that if we advanced past this initial date, I would probably never get to wear heels when we went out. (Sadly, without heels, I am incapable of looking even remotely glamorous) There were a couple of other physical features which weren't really workin' for me that I hadn't noticed on the webcam, one of which was his blobbish nose. I think you guys know how important it is for me to dig the nose and hands belonging to the man I'm seeing, or there is literally no chance for a lasting union. Peculiar, I know, but that's just the way I is. Once inside, Christopher offered me a beer, (as I'm sure you know, I am a virtually exclusive vodka drinker) which I gladly accepted. I figured any alcohol would have been helpful in minimizing my swiftly accruing trepidation. We stood just inside the doorway of his eensy, weensy apartment and I kept asking him, "So, what are we gonna do?" and every time I did, he came up to me and kissed me again, a lot. I kept making general references of concern about "booty calls" and "one-night-stands" and he did his best to verbally eschew my concern, but physically he was flippin' Satan - positively unrelenting and I was powerless to overcome his advances, despite his diminutive stature (cuz I kinda liked 'em!) And I can't blame my lamentable lapse in willpower on alcohol either, since I never even had a chance to swill my brew. Let me cut right to the chase here - YES - we had sex, ok?! Believe me, I hate having to actually admit it! I called Frances right after I left his house to tell her I was driving home and everything was fine (she worries, so) and I thought about lying to her but I couldn't, she'd know. And as I could've predicted, she completely ripped me a new one because of my glaring error in judgement, duh! I got it, already! Honestly, I can't even really explain why I let it happen, you know? The whole time I kept repeating to him that it was a bad idea and that I knew if we did it I would never hear from him again, blah, blah, blah... and on top of that there was the fact that his dick wasn't quite as small as one inch, but not much bigger, either. So, anyhoo - I've been marveling over the unusual juxtaposition between my undeniable physical attraction to him and my repulsion by several of his physical attributes. On the one hand, even despite his teeny wiennie, the sex felt great (now that could be directly related to my recent lack of real human contact) but on the other hand, I couldn't stand to look at his squat, primate-esque body as he chimp-walked out of the room. And get this, his feet were smaller than mine, I had a real problem with that. So why did I go through with it? I don't have the foggiest notion! Maybe to make all that driving somehow worthwhile? Could've been I was way overdue for real sex or possibly I felt obligated to him to put out, for some reason, I truly cannot explain it. We left it that he'd call me over the weekend while he was away and the more I thought about it the more disgusted I became by the whole thing. I sent him this note:

"You know what? On second thought, don't bother getting in touch with me. I think the way we behaved on our "first date" was completely stupid and I'm not even sure why I ever worried that you might not call me if you convinced me to have sex with you. Sure it felt good and all, but it's definitely NOT what I wanted on our maiden outing (overstatement!) together, or any other first date, for that matter. Why would I want to have even one more conversation with a guy who should've taken me out for a drink or dinner, after I drove across the frickin' planet to meet him, instead of taking me immediately to bed? The least you could've done was be somewhat sweet to me after we got it on, but sadly, you opted to be a greedy, critical, cold fish. I like your dog way better than you, she's genuinely kind!"

I felt instantly better, ahhh...The one smart thing I did during our little interlude was insist that he use a condom, so ultimately all I was really worrying about was feeling like a hosebag. What Frances was worrying about and always worries about is the fact that after all the time I've spent actively online dating and writing about online dating and analyzing online dating, I obviously haven't learned very much, especially where my personal safety is concerned. What sensible 39 yr. old meets a complete stranger at his house for a first date and neglects to leave even so much as his cell# with her best friend in case she disappears...forever? Frances really lit into me about all of this, it was verging on parental, but I willingly took my medicine. It never ceases to amaze both of us, how trusting I can be...it's just plain idiotic. So far the best example of how potentially dangerous my naivety can be is definitely my terrifying date with the Boxer. Mind you, this was way back when I was an online dating newbie, still trying to figure out the learning curve...no excuse, I know but whatever. So after this professional boxer (that alone was enough to get my panties in a twist, because at the time I was training to box, myself) made the initial contact with me, I investigated his profile info. and was disappointed to see that his face in his photo was so blurry. I was, however - encouraged that his body, which was proudly on full display, was such a good one! We quickly exchanged a few e-mails and then he IM'd me (I think he was the one who introduced me to the whole IM-ing thing) and within minutes of first talking we made a plan to meet, that very same morning. He seemed in an awful hurry, but my schedule allowed for an impromptu meeting and as is my nature, I was game. We met at a breakfast restaurant and as soon as I laid eyes on him I knew I was not interested. Yep, he had a great body and a gorgeous car but his face was all wrong, way too intense, nary a smile to be had. I am a fairly light-hearted person and I cannot thrive with someone who is brooding or sullen. In the restaurant we both had only coffee and I felt like the convo. was somewhat forced and rigid. It was time to leave and I was totally fine with simply going our own ways, but he asked if I needed anything from Target (which was directly across the street) and I said that I could actually use a few items so he offered to drive us over there, no big whoop. We did our shopping and afterwards sat in the Target cafe for a bit. The next logical thing would have been for him to take me back to my car, unload my purchases and bid each other adieu. But that's not what happened. He made the executive decision to forego taking me to my car and instead decided we'd take a scenic drive together. He said he wanted me to go with him to his house (fuck!) so I could see his show dogs and all their awards and stuff. I didn't like one thing about this, I mean here is a guy whose job description includes punching the shit out of people. He could literally kill me right there in the passenger's seat, with one direct blow to the temple. My stomach was beginning to hurt, but I was working really hard to maintain some composure while silently convincing myself that this was all going to be ok. The drive to his house was virtually endless because he literally lived in the middle of B.F.E.! I was feeling more certain that I could officially be in deep doo doo. Oh yeah, AND I had no cell service that far back into the mountain or wherever the hell we were, so that was very comforting. I politely endured his lengthy tour of the dog kennels, keeping my cool when his enormous dogs smeared their shit-covered paws all over my jacket, "Awww, aren't they're cute? Nice doggies!" Pat, pat, pat...He explained at length their royal lineage and I feigned interest in hearing about all their accomplishments within the dog show circuit. If I hadn't been so terror-stricken I would've been bored to tears! Mostly I just wanted to go back to my CAR, but he still had to show me his home gym and of course give me a thorough tour of his whole house which terminated in, you guessed it...HIS BEDROOM. He wasted no time putting the moves on me and I delicately asserted that I was simply not interested. The real trick, having no accurate sense of his temperament, was how firm to be. Evidently I gauged it perfectly because, long story short, after a fair amount of his relentless lobbying to get me in the sack, I hammered home the fact that it wasn't gonna happen and he finally conceded, without incident. Enough time had passed now, that I had the legitimate excuse of needing to get back to my car because my kids would be dismissing from school relatively soon. We got back into his car and he pouted and gave me a bit of attitude, but I did not care in the least. I believed I was heading to safety, phew! The weirdest thing he did during the whole date was - on the drive back to my car, he began clicking around on his iphone and repeatedly pulling up and showing me videos of himself performing anal sex on a variety of beautiful women. Huh. Nifty. I guessed it was his last ditch effort to try and woo me...Woo hoo!

I have rarely been as relieved to be away from another human as I was once, I buckled myself into the sanctuary of my rattletrap grocery-getter, rife with the aroma of moist dogs and stale snack scraps ground into the carpet and crumbs in the seats and trash and dirty socks...Normally these reminders of my children's blatant unwillingness to pick up after themselves, AT ALL - would send me into a frustrated frenzy. But appreciating the fact that I was still all in one piece and totally unscathed by this frightening eye-opener, I couldn't imagine being even a tad bit upset by something so comparatively insignificant as a little grunge in my car...