So I'm in the midst of arranging dates with two different boys, plus messaging with another. Although with the latter, I'm not sure if he's genuinely interested or it's a "courtesy reply."
Don't message me back if you're not interested. I don't care what the dating sites tell you. If I don't hear back from you, I get it--and that's if I even remember messaging you in the first place. I think it's far ruder for you to turn me down or to disappear after I ask to meet you, than to be polite and not waste my time or yours by forgoing the "courtesy reply."
The thing is--and I really hesitate to say this because I know my sister reads this blog, but what the hell. Sis, consider yourself warned--I'm almost more about sex than dating at this time. What can I say? It's been a while. I'd even take a good makeout. And when I noticed that at least two guys I was interested in had "casual sex" on their "interested in"--among other things like "short-term dating"--well, it wasn't exactly a deterrent.
As Rock and I discussed when setting up our profiles a few months ago, I don't want the inevitable pervy-straight-dude responses I'd get if I listed "casual sex" among my "interested in"'s. A shitty double standard, but it exists. I'm interested in dating-dating too. Really. I just need to get some physical stuff out of my system, ya dig?
In fact, I nearly propositioned a dude via message, but then Rock reminded me how I hate when a guy asks me out in the very first message. I don't want to be a hypocrite.
And speaking of hypocrites, I just broke my own rule and messaged a guy whose profile picture features him and a girl. They weren't faux making out, though.
First an addendum to date #2, we've continued chatting and texting- he's even helping me get a job at his company. Hopefully he feels the platonic friend vibes as well, I think he does, but I'm a little concerned that he doesn't.
Date #3 was so awkward. A lot of awkward pauses. He definitely showed up wanting to not like me. I even texted Doris that I was going to put in my hour and go. Then we kept drinking and kept drinking and then all of a sudden we were making out in this straight bar. We went our separate ways, no talking or texting since. We might be at the same event tonight. But there's definitely no future there. Even if the trashy PDA was fun.
I got the FedEx box full of my clothes from 2.0 today. I texted him a thank you, he texted back that he hoped I had a good birthday. Maybe there will be a little more closure now that I have my stuff back, though I fear he might be at the event tonight as well.
The search continues. Also supposed to see The Faux Spaniard again on Wednesday.
It's barely worth writing about. We both enjoyed ourselves. I'm pretty sure we both found it pretty platonic. We had a drink and dinner then went back to my place and watched some television while partaking in a little pot. We hugged good-bye and said we should hang again.
I don't care how cute you are. If one of your photos features you faux-making out with your very pretty female "best friend," I am NOT messaging you.
Seriously. Who does that? It doesn't make you look desirable. It makes you look like you have something going on with your "best friend," and if you and I go on a date I can expect her at my apartment the next day, wielding a shiv.
Aw. Too bad he sports a nasty soul patch. I can't get past that.
"Finally, someone who agrees Mike was the superior MST3K host."
Aw. Too bad he kind of resembles Fat Neil from Community. Can't get past that either.
And now, Doris' rules of OKCupid engagement:
1. Please don't ask me out in the first message--like before I've even messaged you back. You wouldn't walk up to somebody and ask them to coffee without exchanging a few words first, right?
2. If your username/screenname/handle/whatever contains a reference to masturbation...just no.
3. Photos of you in a bar with your friends? Cool. Photos of you with a cigarette and/or joint hanging out of your mouth? Ew.
4. I want to know you've actually read my profile. A message about my hotness doesn't indicate that. On the contrary, it tells me you're sending the same damn thing to 15 girls.
5. If we're on a date and you discreetly and politely check me out, that's fine. If you are sending me a message complimenting the size of my chest, you WILL get a rude retort right before I block your ass.
And finally...
6. If you don't post at least ONE picture of yourself, I won't assume you're too hot for the interwebs. I WILL assume: a) there's something seriously wrong with you physically, b) you're too damn lazy to press a button, which does not bode well for how you will treat me in public and private, or c) all of the above.
Have no fear, gentle readers and snarky Rock: there are a few gentlemen with definite potential I'm messaging with.
...but in order to protect a bit of the anonymity of this blog. We're going to pretend that I did. Rather than use lots of pronouns, we'll just pretend that John Mellencamp is my favorite singer in the world and he performed last night.
I discovered the Coug when he opened for one of my other favorites about a year ago when I was getting over EE#5. A lot of people have that personal connection with an artist or two, one that the rest of your friends understand but don't quite "get." Mellencamp is that artist for me. He has a way with lyrics that completely captures my heart, and one song in particular helped me get over that break-up like nothing other than time did.
It's never worked out for me to see Mellencamp as the main act until yesterday. I've had my tickets for months. As you recall, 2.0 was supposed to go with me, leading to a last minute scramble to find a replacement. When none of my friends were really interested, I invited The Faux Spaniard for an interesting date. He had never heard of Mellencamp before, but he was good and willing to check it out. I told him three songs he should check out on youtube to know what he was getting into.
And he was a good date. He arrived on time. He paid for half of the drinks and tried to pay for more. He talked about which songs he liked, and let me carry on about why I love Mellencamp so much.
And Mellencamp did not disappoint. He just has this effervescent energy and genuine joy to be able to perform and do what he loves night after night. It was a perfect concert: an ideal mix of newer material and older favorites. I found myself dancing, singing along, smiling from ear to ear.
And then I realized that I had a second date next to me who was enjoying himself, but nowhere near the level that I was.
And then I realized something even more amazing. I didn't care.
At the end of the day, this concert was about me and the Coug. And I realized how often I like a boy and suddenly it's all about how that boy looks at me and thinks of me and how can I fit myself into the life of a boy. How I idealized 2.0's life and was so willing to overlook his faults (and really you can substitute the name of any guy I've ever liked in for 2.0's). How if 2.0 had gone with me, I probably would have held in a little of my joy instead of shouting it to the stage and the roof. I would have worried about how awful I dance instead of not caring. I would have held in the tears when the line that always gets to me got to me.
Instead I dgaffed (dgaf: pronounced "dee-gaff." Don't Give A Fuck. Learn it, love it, live it.). And my life was better for it. And I realized how there are a lot of things I need to work on for me right now. And I'm not going to work on them by finding someone with the life I think I want and emulating his life. And maybe I can work on me while dating someone but it's going to need to be done carefully and slowly.
After the show we got pizza, watched tv, and he spent the night. We had the same amount of sexual interaction as last time. Which is fine, it's just going to stay on this level for a while if we continue to see each other.
I've often said that the best relationship is a contest of generosity (and I stole it from someone's profile who probably stole it from someone else). I feel like I've found someone who could give me a run for my money, and I actually don't know how I feel about it. It's almost annoying me. Maybe it's just new to me. He seems to be trying so hard to not annoy me or piss me off or inconvenience me that I'm almost offended that he thinks it would be so easy. I almost want to start talking about how "Hitler had a good point" just to see if he agrees with me. Or maybe I should get used to it and explore the sparks that seem to be there. Still, I'm not 100% sure the zsa zsa zsu is 100% there. We'll see.
Last night I told a coworker/friend about the Russian's marital status.
Even though it's over, I'm still careful about who I tell, and what I tell them. While it was going on--and remember, because of the holidays we communicated for about a month before we actually met--some of my friends knew I was seeing somebody. Only about four--Rock, my roommate Stan, my sister, and a friend who reads this blog--knew he was married.
Now that it's over, I will tell a few more friends. Many will never know.
It's not that I associate with a bunch of judgmental douchebags. However, more and more of my social circle is getting married. More and more have children. Some are very traditional in their views of relationships. I don't mean anti-gay (because if that's the case, they are not my friends), but I do mean I have a close friend who didn't even like me joking about making out with Joel McHale, because this A-list celebrity who probably wouldn't give me the time of day, is in fact married with two children.
I don't want anyone thinking I'm a homewrecking piece of shit, or that I'm after their spouses, or that I get off on dating married men. First, I would have never let it go that far if I suspected the Russian was lying to his wife. He was full of shit a lot of the time, but was always sincere when it came to his relationship. Second, I'd never pursue the spouse of a friend, even if it were an open relationship situation. That would just be weird for me. Third, though I was intrigued by the open relationship idea, it wasn't the sole reason I dated the Russian. I liked his profile. I was attracted to him. The conversation, both written and spoken, was always good.
Moreover, I don't want anyone pitying me, seeing me as the poor lonely misguided unmarried who is being taken for a ride by a cheater. I knew the score from day one. I wish it could have gone on longer and I would have gotten some closure, but I was never under the impression it was going to be a lasting relationship.
As it happens, my coworker/friend had the perfect reaction:
"I've always thought that it's on the married guy," she said, taking a sip of her beer. "He chose to go outside the marriage. Any fallout in that relationship, it's on him and not the woman."
After class last night, I met up with one of the three guys I've been talking to. We met at a "trendy"ish burger and beer place that I had been wanting to try.
We hit it off fairly well. He's not at hot as 2.0, but he's definitely attractive. We had a nice witty dialogue going as we zoomed through obvious first date questions (Any siblings? What's your favorite Harry Potter?). I made the mistake of ordering the spiciest burger (or anything) that I've ever ordered in my life so I was tearing up as I ate, but we just laughed about that.
A possible red flag: he's never dated anyone for longer than 7 weeks. Not a dealbreaker, but something to be aware of. He also admitted to some self-esteem issues. I don't do well with these. Reassurance is not my strong suit.
It came time to pay the pretty substantial bill, he admitted that he took care of it on his last trip to the bathroom. I feigned frustration for a minute before graciously thanking him and secretly being impressed and super thankful. Rock is still recovering financially from that trip with 2.0.
I promised myself that there would be no second location, but after however many beers, I found myself offering him three options...
1- Say good night and go our separate ways.
2- Find a bar in the area for one more drink.
3- He could come over to my place to watch RuPaul's Drag Race, but we would not be fooling around.
He picked #3. And just like that, my new standards went out the window.
By this time, we were both pretty drunk. Now this guy is Polish and Irish, but was a Spanish major and studied abroad for a year. As he lost sobriety, he started speaking with a Spanish accent, which was kind of cute. Hence his moniker for this blog.
We were in the cab and sparing you the specifics he figured out the timeline for when I broke up with 2.0. He was a little awkward about how soon it was, but I assured him he wasn't a rebound and he remembered that people use OKCupid for lots of things, and he himself had been on many many dates in the past few weeks.
We got back to my place, and I went to turn on the tv and he went to take off my shirt. I wanted to fool around. I wanted my new standards as well. I called him out that I explicitly said I didn't want to do this, he said we could stop. I said we could keep going.
It is what it is. I'm not proud of it. But it's not the biggest of deals. It's not like I rounded home or anything.
We were fooling around and establishing those roles that gays have to establish when they fool around. He said to me, "Not to weird you out, it's really not that big of a deal, but I've never bottomed before. Or else I would want to right now."
Now let's get one thing clear. It was the first night we met. As far as I was concerned, no one was bottoming (and no one did). But that's another possible issue in the future should this progress. That's a big deal for someone.
But the fooling around was good. Actually better than the majority of fooling around with 2.0.
He left this morning. And then I did something that I will possibly regret.
I was supposed to see my favorite singer in the world tomorrow with 2.0. Now I have an extra ticket. My one friend around here that likes him already will be there. My other friends either don't really care for him or don't know who he is. I'm sure Doris would have kept me company, but she's not the biggest fan of him. I sent out a mass text to see if anyone was interested or knew who he was. No one really responded.
So I invited The Faux Spaniard. I told him my cousin bailed on me so I had an extra ticket. So date #2 is much sooner than I wanted it to be (and a little more personal than I wanted it to be: this singer means a lot to me), but que sera sera. At least I have someone to go with me. And out of necessity it will be at least a week until date #3 if he earns it and wants it.
Next week I have dates lined up on Monday and Tuesday with the other two guys that I've been talking to. Just talked to one of them on the phone to make plans. I liked the sound of his voice.
This comes as a total shock to those who know me, but I really like Valentine's Day. Maybe it's just because I love red, pink, lace and chocolate, but I've got a lot of fun memories, romantic and not so much, associated with the Hallmark holiday.
When I think of Valentine's Day, the first memories that come to mind are of grade-school class parties. Not only was there free delicious food, but my school had an "everyone in the class gets a Valentine" policy, which might seem forced to some, but for misanthropes such as myself represented a second or two of goodwill from fellow students who were otherwise blockheads. (We'll ignore the Valentine's Day party of fourth grade, where I threw up my chili in the girls' room.)
The next memories are the more lovey ones. Often Excalibur and I didn't celebrate on the actual day. Usually one of us had something school-related or otherwise going on, so we went out to dinner or just exchanged Gummi Worms on an earlier or later date. One year he gave me a puppet shaped like a praying mantis and a homemade card. Which was really cute.
But what I associate more than anything with Valentine's Day is the fabulous Eve Ensler and her equally fabulous show The Vagina Monologues. For several years on or after Valentine's Day, I'd take part in an amazing play that raised money for a local women's shelter and awareness of the violence against women that pervades society and how we can help. Each of my involvements with V-Day were beautiful and rewarding, and THAT, guys and dolls, is what Valentine's Day means to me!
And now for the cynical portion of our broadcast.
I know there's a lot of anti-Feb 14th-ers out there, and with good reason: the holiday's crass, commercialized, and couples-heavy. So how 'bout some fun singleton videos to ring in Valentine's Day with a smirk?
First, we have Annie Lennox's "Walking on Broken Glass," the gorgeously-costumed tale of running into your ex who happens to be John Malkovich after you've married Hugh Laurie:
Second, Cee Lo Green and Gwyneth Paltrow team up with the Muppets to forget a former love:
And finally, who HASN'T wanted to get back at their boyfriend by fucking Matt Damon?
Oh February 14. I really want to like you. I want you to be an awesome day. I really thought it was going to happen this year. Still, I'll focus on that future February 14 when I'll be happily in love or like or crushing and not hate on the holiday. I think it's a fun one at heart (see what I did there?).
Tonight I'll be making drinks for couples that are too poor/don't care enough to go to a restaurant nicer than my own. I'll be trying not to think about how 2.0 will be at a concert surrounded by tons and tons of other gays.
Seriously I hope he has fun.
Seriously I hope he thinks of me a few times today.
In "jumping back into things too quickly" news, I've been talking to a few boys on OKCupid.
I have a date with one of them on Tuesday. Grabbing dinner between class and a "gay wine night" at a friend's place. He seems nice enough. Pretty witty. At a similar place in his life as I am. His pictures are a little weird: they all look a little different so I need to see him in person so see which one is most accurate, hear his voice, feel his energy.
Another guy is incredibly sexy looking. He has a beard. He plays in a band. We have a 94% match. I think we would get along very well.
One thing. It says on his profile that he doesn't want children. I realize it's too soon to think about that now, but it does give me pause. I don't need a Monica/Richard situation where we fall in love and then have to end it and hurt because we want different futures.
But I couldn't get over that beard or the 94% (most of my matches in the 90s are uggo). So I started a conversation that is going well I believe, though he may be trying to veer it into the friend zone.
Then there's another guy that I started a conversation with because he has a picture where he's wearing a baseball hat of the team I like (which is weird around here). He wrote back gushing about me and how awesome I looked and would I like to meet up for a drink.
So I called him out on his over-enthusiasm, made fun of him a little bit, and now we're having a normal conversation and getting to know each other.
I'm usually turned off when guys are a little too into me, but we've seen time and time again how that works out. So I'm entertaining this a little. If we do eventually meet and he's not terribly tragic, it could be good.
The other day, I admitted to my friend that I'd once crushed on her boyfriend.
This was a conversation I'd hesitated to have for a long time, and had written off as unnecessary (at least without the help of a few cocktails). But here we were, in her car, me spilling my unrequited guts about my in-the-past attraction to her in-the-present sweetie.
Thing is, we all work together. I didn't get to know him for my first couple years of employment--it's a small office, but our paths didn't cross beyond the occasional "hi." Then we started working together on a couple of projects. He was very complimentary of my writing (Way to Doris' Heart #1). He's courteous, enjoys baking, adores movies and has a lovely basso profundo.
And he's straight. When I meet nice, sensitive dudes I get along with, I automatically assume they're gay. Not this dude.
I mean, a crush was inevitable. It was summer. There was some energy. We had stuff in common. I never did much about it and to this day I'm not sure if he figured it out.
Just as inevitable was the fallout. I realized it wouldn't work between us. I'd bulldoze him, he'd drive me crazy with his laid-back vibe. So I took the crush and put it to bed.
A couple months later, he's dating another coworker and friend, and I'm genuinely happy for the both of them. They have a similar energy, and he fits into her life perfectly. It's been really fun to watch.
I always thought it would be weird to tell her that once upon a time, way before they got together, I'd had a bit of a thing for her man. I figured if it ever came up, I'd need some alcohol in me.
But no. It happened very organically. She mentioned finding an email from this past summer where she remarked that, surprisingly, our coworker was turning her on.
I took a chance.
"Funny you said that this summer," I stammered, with a nervous laugh. "'Cause that's when I sort of had a crush on him."
I went on to explain what happened--it was a short-lived thing, went away weeks before they got together, and I couldn't be happier for the both of them. All true. But I still wasn't sure how she'd react.
She laughed.
"How could you NOT crush on him? He's awesome!" said my friend.
And I laughed too. "I know, right? Those brownies were amazing!" Then I took a deep breath. "I'm so glad you're cool with this. I wasn't sure if it would be weird to tell you."
"Nah," replied my awesome friend. "It just means you have good taste."
A few years ago, I lost my job and decided to undergo a major career change. In the meantime, I did a seasonal stint at one of my favorite stores. Most of this time was spent ogling the ass of my douchey punk rock coworker who had a girlfriend. I really know how to pick 'em, huh?
So in the wake of the Russian fallout, I'm back on OKCupid and find this message:
Well, this is going to be either sweet or mildly creepy.
I was browsing and stumbled upon your profile...not sure if you remember me at all, but we worked together briefly at [store]. I don't think we spoke two words to each other, and reading in reading your profile, I simply didn't know a thing about you. Which is obvious, because we never talked.
Well....I did find you incredibly cute, and your book and film picks are excellent. If I didn't make myself out to be totally standoffish in my profile (which I think I did...I have to roll up my sleeves and do some editing), I'd love to hear back from you.
No, it's not from a now-single douchey punk rocker. (And it's kinda sad how I sort of hoped it was. What can I say? He's cute.)
Instead, it's from a guy who I believe still works at the store, which I frequent.
And I am flattered as all get-out.
I mean, he thought I was cute then? Damn! To put things in context for you, I was a good 15-20 pounds heavier, wore glasses (not that glasses can't be cute, but I look way better with contacts), and had a fashion sense that can only be described as Post Grad I Have No Idea What the Hell Looks Good Oh Look Cheap Polo Shirts! (Okay, maybe he means he finds me cute now, but I'd love to think someone found me cute then.) And honestly, this is one of the nicest messages I've ever gotten. It made my day. I'm not creeped out at all.
I only wish I were attracted to him. He's always been very professional and courteous when I've visited the store. In fact, he sent this about a month ago, so I wonder if he's been eyeing me since then when I've visited the store, wondering if I got the message or why I haven't responded.
And honestly, I'm not sure what to do here. I mean, like I said, I'm really flattered. He's one of those nice guys that if I had any sense I'd totally go after.
That said, I don't want to even have coffee. He's just not my type physically and I can't ever see it happening even in the short-term.
So what do I do? Send him a "you're really sweet but not my type" message? Ignore it? Whaddaya think?
It stings, but it doesn't hurt. If I keep telling myself that, it's true, right?
I keep trying to remember all of the ways that he wasn't a perfect match, even though they were all imperfections I could live with.
I had saved one of his little wrapped Starburst presents. I decided that if I threw it away, I was attaching too much sentimental value to it, so I made myself eat them.
I hurried up and got on Connexion and OKCupid and changed my status to single and blocked him on both sites because it would have killed me if he got to it first.
And I've been doing pretty well. My friends are great at distracting me. Right now is a little rough. I had a few drinks with a friend while watching tv and cooking dinner. That was great fun. But then I got on OKCupid. Seriously there are some uggos on there. Seriously the one guy that is hot and has a high match rate with me has been online without writing me back. Still I'm shooting out messages and trying to aim high.
I'm really trying hard to be selective. There was a time where I wouldn't really worry if someone wanted kids or not. Now if they don't want kids, I won't message them even if they're uber-hot. If they're super Christian, I'm not down. If someone is witty and funny and seems amazing but not super attractive, sorry that I'm shallow but I really think it's nicer to just not engage than to realize in two weeks that their gut isn't working for me. I'm (finally) to the point where there are better things to do than to go on a first date with someone that is going to be a problem eventually.
I realized I shouldn't be looking for another guy to make me happy. I should recover on my own first. But a distraction is a distraction!
Since I was already feeling a little down, I emailed 2.0 to ask him to find a way to get some stuff back to me. I'm hoping he just mails it, but I can handle a 2 minute encounter if need be. I will not be picking it up though. It's on him. Not in a vindictive way, but in a "it's only fair" way.
Tomorrow night is going to be a little rough because I wanted to be at this concert with him, but what can you do? Blerg. :)
So Rock and I are getting back in the saddle on the ol' OKC.
To bring you up to speed, the Russian was supposed to contact me this week about hanging out again. Well, it's Thursday and I haven't heard word one. I got a feeling on Monday that it wasn't going to happen, but Rock said to give him until Friday before I truly gave up.
Not going to be necessary.
Here's what went down: just a little while ago, I logged back onto OKCupid for the first time in over a month. (I know, I know, I said I was going to keep looking while involved with the Russian, but then vacation happened. Then sick happened. Then busy week at work, third date with Russian, and awkward second date with Straight Anthony Rapp happened. Before I knew it, January and half of February got away from me.)
I was checking through my messages when I saw it:
Sorry, [Russian's username] no longer has an account.
Huh.
When I got the feeling it was over, I didn't get a feeling as to why. I wasn't sure if he'd met someone else or what. And I don't know how OKCupid works--maybe if someone blocks you it says they no longer have an account. Anyone know?
But something makes me think his wife put the kibosh on the whole open marriage thing.
Don't get me wrong--this is not me blaming some woman I don't even know for ruining my relationship. Not at all. He's her husband, a fact I was aware of from the beginning. She has every right to stop something she's not entirely comfortable with. And to be honest, after the first and second date, I halfway expected never to hear from the Russian again. I figured with a married man, it could end at any time.
That said, I do wish he would have contacted me personally. After a first or second date, with anyone, if you're not feeling it I'd rather you just let me figure it out. Otherwise it's just too awkward.
But in this case, after three dates, a helluva hickey, and having him over to my apartment, a text saying he couldn't see me anymore would have been nice.
At any rate, I clicked around, shook my head at some, messaged others.
Well you'll get to hear more about awful first dates from me! And we have a possible contender for EE#7 (though I don't know if he added to my baggage at all, if anything he lightened the load).
It's over. 2.0 and I talked. It's been feeling more platonic for him for a while. He was rooting for us, tried to make it work, but it wasn't for him. I agreed that we both deserved better than this situation.
It was a good talk. It was personal, and I don't feel like going into a lot of it. We were both sad and respectful and it was very adult. We hugged and said good-bye.
Talked to my two absolute besties on the phone. Had some alone time with some comfort TV and food. Sent out a mass text to my buds (including Doris of course). Got a few to meet me out in a bit for some drinks at a bar and NOT talk about the break-up. I just want to have fun. Not looking to rebound AT ALL, but if a cute guy makes eyes at me, it would really make me smile.
This was good though. It was the closest I've come to dating a man instead of a boy. No regrets.
Apart from Rock, my roommate Stan, and my therapist, I have told no one about the almost encounter of last week. I feel like that gives it too much power, and the goddamn thing already happened so I really don't need ten different opinions on how I handled it. My therapist had some very wise words: often in relationships, there are a lot of gray areas, and this is one of them. There wasn't one right or wrong way to handle things. My problem is, I'm thinking there WAS a right way and I didn't do it.
Then last night, I had a dream.
I'm a big believer in dreams: I really do think they're a cocktail of your scrambled subconscious and if you analyze them carefully, they can provide real wisdom. (Some of them. Others are just garden-variety weird, or they're just further proof I want to bang Jon Hamm.)
Basically, I was en route to some sort of vacation with my family in tow, and who do we run into but Excalibur, who really, really wants to talk to me. Like, won't leave me alone wants to talk to me. I very specifically don't want to speak with him and keep running away. At one point I even run out of my jacket like you see on sitcoms.
Then somehow my family and I end up in a car, sans Excalibur, but with his girlfriend.
And we drop her off at her house, and it turns out she's rich. Really blonde. Tan. Sorority girl all the way. All pink paddles and gold-edged mirrors and as far a cry from my pale-skinned, apartment-dwelling, citygirl existence as you can get.
I don't know why, but I was very disturbed by this dream. Upset. To the point where I woke up with a stomachache and I almost called in to work.
I miss Excalibur. I'll own it. I think it's normal. He was a part of my life for fourteen years, and he's not anymore. Judging from his texts, he would like to be, but I'm not ready for that yet. I don't know if I'll be ready for it ever.
And missing him doesn't mean I want things to be the way they were. Not at all. I think I'm better off, because I realize how emotionally dependent on him I was for so long. I enjoy being single and meeting new people.
Just, that dream. It really threw me off.
Oh, Rock. Between your letting-go woes and my toss and turn night, we are quite a pair this Tuesday.
I went into work last night so I sent an email instead of calling. I just asked him to think of plans and that I was sorry I wouldn't get to chat with him that night. I got a reply that it sucked I had to work, but he would think of something for us to do and then let me know.
No doubt he is now trying to think of some public place that is near one of our apartments that won't scream "break-up location." Will he be nice and pick a place by me?
I wish we could just do this over the phone or email. We both know it's coming. Maybe he doesn't know that I know. I haven't made it easy on him. I haven't played his "let's cut all sentiment and emotion out of our conversations" game. Let him struggle with this.
But no good night text, no good morning text. This from someone who used to do it on a regular basis. All the time. Pretty sure we have an EE#7 on our hands!
I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know why he grew disenchanted and not into it. But I do know that he deserves to be with someone he's into, and that I deserve to be with someone who is into me.
Today just happens to be our two month anniversary!
So the Russian is supposed to get in touch this week. Two days after the hickey incident, I got a text (seriously, I always get a text exactly two or three days after we hang out. It's like the guy's living Swingers) saying he had a great time, he was busy the next week, but did I want to hang out the week after?
As luck would have it, I was charging my phone and didn't see the text till the next morning, so there was none of that should-I-text-him-back-now-or-wait-a-few-minutes? anxiety. (Hm, maybe I'VE watched Swingers too many times). I told him I'd had a great time too, and that sounded good.
Well, it's only Monday of the aforementioned week. And maybe I'm burned out or paranoid or something, but I'm not sure if I'm going to hear from him again.
And I'm a little sadder about that than I'd like to admit.
It's not that I wanted to build some emotional foundation. I mean, the guy's married for God's sake. And I can't say I'm really hankering for another ten-minute description on how Hitler screwed over the Russians in WWII. I can only pointedly play with my phone for so long.
True, the guy was a grade-A blowhard.
But he was a really good kisser. I could do with another makeout.
Whatever. We'll see what happens.
I tell you what, though: I'll eat glass before I become one of those whiny Grey's Anatomy-type neurotichicks who stress about not getting texted by some douche.
So 2.0 had the busiest work week of the year in New York then got stuck in the blizzard and then left the next day for Vegas. I've understandably had very little contact with him. One phone call. A few texts. I'm purposely not seeing him tonight (don't want to give him a "I'm super tired" excuse) and then we'll see each other tomorrow.
Why I'm concerned: even when he was recovering from surgery, even the first two weeks of his really busy month, I still got plenty of "good morning" and "good night" texts. They were filled with compliments and "xoxo"s. He also went so far as to tease me about all of the drunk dials I would get from him in Vegas.
I didn't get any. Okay. That's fine. I texted him to have a good trip on Friday, he responded very politely and matter-of-factly. I texted him on Saturday. Same story. I didn't text him on Sunday. He texted me when he got home just saying that he was home and he hoped I was having a good night.
Let's get one thing straight: I can handle getting a text that doesn't have "xoxo" in it. I can handle a text without a cute nickname. What is concerning me is the actual change in his semantics and calling and texting frequency. If it had started out like this, I would be fine. But if texts could have warmth, his used to and not they are friendly but a little cold. I would die for an "xoxo" text right now. Just one out of the last 20.
We'll need to talk on the phone at some point tonight to make plans for tomorrow. I plan to go in there tomorrow super happy to see him, super playful and fun, with no resentment for the past week. If he responds and things are great, then they're great and we'll move on. If he is off, then he's finally going to politely be called out on it. I'm also kind of expecting him to end it with me. Which at this point will be okay.
It makes me sad, because that first month was really something special. I don't know if we're victims of timing or circumstance or if he always falls quickly at the beginning and then quickly out. And I'm trying to remember that possibly everything will be fine and we maybe aren't victims at all. I'm a big planner, so it's very hard for me to go in without a plan or agenda, but I'm really really trying to just see how tomorrow goes. He was pretty special that first month and a half. I hope that 2.0 is back.
So I'm sure all 5 of you have been DYING to hear about my trip with 2.0. It's been a crazy week, and I needed a little time to process. Not that it didn't go well.
I headed over to his place on Friday afternoon, and brought champagne as a congratulations for his crazy month (almost) being over. He seemed genuinely touched, and we relaxed with some champagne until it was time to leave. When he put on his backpack without first putting on his coat, I teased him a little, but thought nothing of it. We cabbed it over to the airport, and it was clear that he was still in work mode a bit. Let's not forget, that this trip was happening because he had to NY for work, and while his company wanted him there a few days earlier than everyone else, he would mostly have time to enjoy the city. That's where I came in.
In line for security, he brought up me teasing him about "forgetting" his coat. "I wasn't going to forget it. I was doing a dry run." I kept teasing him since he wouldn't admit that he made a silly mistake.
Then some bitch of a woman behind us says to him, "You can slap him if you want." We both kind of laughed. I said, "Did you hear the whole story? Cause if you did, you would be on my side." She admitted to hearing just the end. But I was being "obnoxious."
So the three of us stood there in pretty much silence. Somehow it came up again on the other side of security and I offered the flippant apology myself. The old standard: "Well I was totally just teasing you, but I'm sorry that it upset you."
We ordered food and sat down and I was still unhappy with it. He made attempts to move on. I finally said, "I'm unhappy with my apology, it was flippant. I do think that you were being extremely, out-of-character sensitive earlier, but I apologize that I didn't pick up on that earlier than I did."
He said, "I appreciate that. I will admit that the past few weeks, I have been extremely sensitive and tired and out-of-character. So I apologize for that." And I said that I appreciated that.
We played cards until it was time to board. The flight was uneventful. We were both tired when we landed and pretty much got food and went right to bed.
It's hard for me to transition into that "we're together but we're both tired or out of it" mentality, especially when someone has just told you that they're not ready for the "boyfriend" word, unlike previous conversations had led you to believe. To me, that word invokes a sort of safety net for the few off days you're going to have. But on this night, I was tired enough to just go to bed no worries.
We woke up and cuddled for a bit and flirted with the idea of fooling around. But then we had to go meet his friend for brunch so it was postponed for after we checked into our second hotel. He still seemed a little distracted through lunch, and about halfway through the museum we checked out after. But then there was just this shift where he decided he could finally have fun. We were packing up at our first hotel and I was lying on the bed waiting for him. He bent down and kissed me, and my god if I hadn't been waiting for something like that for the past two weeks. That kiss might have been the highlight of my trip.
And from that moment, things were amazing. We checked into the second hotel and immediately got down and dirty. We had dinner and saw a show. We picked up some beer and cuddled and watched SNL. The next morning he had to run some errands before he had to report for work. We turned it into a little shopping trip and had fun.
We stopped at a cafe for a little snack and I said, "I like to talk too much, you know this, but I wanted to say that the past few weeks have been a little iffy, and I think we were both kind of looking to this trip to see how it went." He nodded his head in a "that's fair to say" kind of way. I continued, "But I've had a really great time with you this trip, and I'm really looking forward to seeing how February goes."
"It's almost here," he said with a smile.
And that's honestly where I am. We had a big stick thrown in our timeline with January being so crazy. If the guy I started falling for continues to be back, then great. If not, moving on.
This past week has been a bad indicator. He was in New York still through Thursday, getting very little sleep and being busy all day. I flat out told him that I realized he would be crazy so to not feel like he needed to get in touch with me all the time. I got a text or two and a phone call and that was about what I expected. Now he's in Vegas for the weekend with a friend. I've been promised drunk dials, but none so far. Just a text. RuPaul says that "expectations create resentment" and I'm trying my best to remember that. And remember that this week is a wash and some decisions can be made next week when we have a date on Tuesday and are going to see a concert with some friends of his on Friday.
I had this realization that possibly I demand too much from partners. I'm trying to make an effort right now to uphold my standards and wishes, while lowering expectations just a bit. I get a little upset when guys don't follow the same thought processes that I do, but really if I dated myself I would go crazy. So either I have a good time with someone or I don't, and that's it. But I'm just ready to actually evaluate without any outside influence.
While on a trip with my family, my sister encouraged me to give him another chance because "it's a second date, you're still figuring things out." And he'd asked me, so why not? We made plans to meet several days after I returned from vacation.
Then I got sick. We rescheduled.
Then my schedule got too full. We rescheduled again.
Then I realized I really didn't want a second date with this guy.
If I were a nicer person and had nicer feelings, I would like him. He's smart. He's in graduate school on a career track he's passionate about. He's cute. We like a lot of the same stuff.
I'm just not feeling it.
If I were a smarter person, I would have sent a gracious text message or perhaps made a phone call saying he's a great guy, but I don't think it's meant to be. Instead, I felt this would make me a jerk. Possibly I was afraid of what he'd say or not say.
So instead, I met up with him and right off said I had a deadline so I couldn't stay out too terribly long. (I did have a deadline. It just wasn't for several days.)
"Oh, I get it," he responded with an edge in his voice.
"Um, sorry?" I ventured timidly. We were walking down the street so I couldn't see his face and I didn't know if he was kidding. And as horrible as this is, I was kind of hoping he was being a jerk so I'd have an excuse to end it right there.
He started laughing. "I'm teasing. That's what I do with people I know well." Except you don't know me well, I wanted to say. You don't know me well at all.
We proceeded to a tea shop, which was totally crowded with people studying and getting their Sunday evening ya-yas out (well, as much as you can get your ya-yas out in a tea shop). Basically, there was only one stool, which Straight Anthony Rapp graciously let me have while he stood and we made conversation over tea while trying not to upset the precariously balanced laptop next to us. He asked questions that sounded like they came out of a First Date 101 handbook and the conversation didn't flow at all.
He is awkward. So horribly, horribly awkward.
I'm not sure if it's an age thing, a graduate school thing, or another thing altogether. He's 25 and may not have grown into himself just yet. Granted, Rock is 25 too, but Rock is also a freak of nature. I kind of wonder if it's due to grad school, which I know firsthand turns otherwise intelligent, articulate people into stammering bastions of social awkwardness when faced with a non-classroom situation. Or it could just be his personality and he'll have it forever.
(And as I mentioned in my first Straight Anthony Rapp post, there's that annoying, annoying voice. We were talking about The King's Speech, and he mentioned that he himself had a speech impediment that he was coached out of. I don't think his therapist did a good job.)
Whatever it is, I don't want to wait around for him to grow out of it or fix it.
We got out of there, but not as fast as I would like, and parted ways. Thankfully, he didn't try to kiss me. I've never been good at hiding my feelings, and though I really did my best, I'm sure he picked up on my lack of enthusiasm.
I haven't heard from him since.
I'm sorry, Straight Anthony Rapp. There should have never been a second date in the first place.
So what has Doris learned, boys and girls?
If after date one, I'm not hankering to see you again, at least a little, NEXT!
If only I hadn't realized it minutes before our bus was scheduled to arrive.
If only Rock weren't such a good friend that he trekked back to the theatre with me.
If only the hat wasn't in the first floor office and we would have had to go upstairs to find it, making us miss the bus we ended up taking.
If only I hadn't expressed an urge for hard liquor at the end of a long week.
If only we'd taken a different street to the grocery store and arrived a few minutes earlier or later.
If only I'd decided to go home rather than to Rock's.
If only any of these had happened, I wouldn't have had the Excalibur Encounter.
Oh yeah, and one more:
If only my Excalibur intuition weren't so goddamn strong.
I don't know if I believe in psychics, but I do believe in intuition/wavelength. Sometimes when I spend a lot of time around a person, I develop it. I've got countless examples of this where Rock is concerned.
With Excalibur, I always knew when he was going to say something big, or something I wasn't going to like. The air changed, buzzed so only I could hear.
And in the milliseconds before, when Rock and I were crossing the parking lot, I thought his name.
Only to look up from underneath my hat and see him.
(My hands-down favorite episode of the wildly underrated Parks and Recreation is last season's episode "Ron and Tammy." Not only are Nick Offerman and his real-life wife Megan Mullally brilliant, it has a great message that exes are exes for a reason. Anyway, there's a moment when Ron is going on about his own Evil Ex and suddenly, unprompted, he stands up, looks around and goes, "She's here, isn't she?" Well, this was my Ron and Tammy moment.)
I saw his eyes. I recognized the coat. I know it was him.
We didn't make eye contact, didn't say a word, didn't even physically run into each other.
I was with Rock, whom he knows and would recognize, but there was no acknowledgment of Rock either.
Oh, and he was with a girl who I assume is the girlfriend. I didn't get a good look at her. It felt like an invasion somehow, and anyway I was hustling for the entrance.
As we wandered down the produce aisle, Rock asked, "Do you want to leave?"
My eyes were shifting back and forth, my head swiveling almost 360 degrees.
"I don't want to, because what if they're still out there at the Redbox? Let's do a lap."
As we selected what we came for--frozen hangover food for Rock, chips and whiskey which I now REALLY needed for me--Rock was my rock. He checked down every aisle to make sure they weren't there. He reassured me that Excalibur hadn't actually seen me, and that he could have said hi if he did.
We never saw them again.
Back at Rock's apartment, I proceeded to drive my best friend crazy when all he wanted to do was fix potato skins and turn on the TV.
"Doris. Chug your drink and stop rationalizing." Again, my voice of reason, now calmly popping potato skins in the oven.
"I know, I know, I'm being neurotic. I'll shut up in three minutes, I swear." I went into his bathroom, sat on the toilet and cracked the door just enough that we could keep talking. I didn't want any silence at that moment.
"You can talk about it, but you don't need to justify. I would have told you if I thought he had seen you. I would have told you if I thought saying hi was necessary. I really, really don't think he saw you. If he did, he could have said hi too, you know. I get you're weirded out. Just don't feel like you had to force an interaction you didn't want to have."
Friends, the boy has been talking like this since he was in high school. I think it was all the O.C. he watched.
So I did one last thing before we settled in to watch Australian comedy and pig out: I checked my phone. No text. No email.
Either he was abiding by my "no contact, please" edict, or he really didn't see me.
Thank God.
Oh, and here's the song I listened to this morning to wash the ex encounter taste out of my mouth. Nothing like rapping along with Nicki Minaj to make everything better.
So I'm in the midst of arranging dates with two different boys, plus messaging with another. Although with the latter, I'm not sure if he's genuinely interested or it's a "courtesy reply."
