The Big Ugly Blog is an honest and uncensored collection of anecdotes recounting the madcap shenanigans of a perpetually 39 year old divorcee, as she wades through the mire of the murky online dating pool - ravenously searching (evidently in vain) for the man of her dreams...Keep On Dreaming, Baby!


Thursday, November 27, 2008

Happy Frickin' Thanksgiving!

Ok, you guys. I am gonna be out of town til Sunday, so I'm gonna try and get something new down here, for you, right now before I leave. I don't have much time, cuz I've got tons to do to get ready for my trip, so I apologize in advance if this ends up to be kind of a weak entry.

I went to my folks' for Thanksgiving and it was a great day, that is until my step mom wigged out on everybody about a pot of turkey noodle soup that we were making. I guess it was driving her nuts that we were still messing with it at 10:30 at night which made it impossible for her to get the kitchen completely tidied up before she was to go to bed. She is terribly anal and a complete control freak. Anyway, she demanded to know what we were gonna do about the soup and I calmly offered, "Why don't we just turn the stove down to simmer, cover the pot and let it cook slowly, overnight" "NO! I'm turning it off! It'll be fine til morning! I'll tell you one thing, this soup is NOT going to happen, next year...I'm going to bed and I'm putting this kitchen to bed as well!" I swear to god, I could feel my whole face fill with scalding water. I could not make eye contact with anyone in the now uncomfortably silent room. Her off-the-wall, unwarranted vituperation was like a dagger in my heart as well as everyone else's, I'm sure. I mean who can turn something as innocuous as a bunch of siblings and their children, all working together to make a pot of soup from the holiday carcass, into a bad thing? Some of the best pictures I got from the day, were of my middle daughter, Bailey and her cousin, diligently working to pick the bones out of the broth. But this bitch had no problem snatching the fun right out from under all of us. I leaned my jittery body over, rested my elbows on the counter, cupped my face in my hands and stared hard through welling eyes. When I felt the first tear breach its levee, I went upstairs, collapsed onto the toilet and issued forth years of repressed resentment, frustration and utter heartbreak, in the form of an hysterical meltdown. I cried hard, for a solid 20 minutes and only came out of my tiny potty room fortress knowing I could no longer put off helping my sweet children get ready for bed. I shuffled past Jordan and announced to her that we would never set foot in that house again and continued my tirade about what a fucking bitch my step mom was. I was inconsolable. You know, I wasn't just crying about the goddamned soup. There is so much wrong with my fucked up family, and this was me, powerless to corral for one more minute, all of my accrued and squelched grief from years of familial indifference and inscrutability, specifically in regards to the mysterious death of my mother. We aren't a family, we only get together once a year, I suppose - to make sure there are at least a few current pictures in the photo album to fraudulently attempt to prove to the outside world and ourselves that we are a functioning family unit. My people don't give a shit about me, not one of my siblings or my dad or step mom have ever shown sincere concern for me especially in my recent tenuous financial situation. They have never offered to help me in any way. My friends at home, are my true and real family. They are poor people like myself, who still somehow manage to tenderly guide me through tough times, be it with a few groceries snuck into my fridge or a stealing my car to fill it with gas. You know, we all help each other, it's effortless and feels good to perpetuate our established, unspoken reciprocity. Whenever someone needs it, in whatever capacity we are able, we offer a hand to each other, the way loving families do entirely of their own volition. I realized that there would be no way for me to stay the night in that hell hole. So, after excoriating my step mom, relentlessly, for all of her years of iciness, her Napoleonic control over my brother, my sister me and my dad - her adopted "family", and her consistent nefariousness which made me miss my real mom, every single day, I packed up my kids, in their jammies and headed out the door of that house for the very last time, at 11:40 at night. Yeah, we cried until everyone but me fell asleep, but my kids had rallied for me, they stayed close by my side as I frantically gathered our shit and made my way to the car. They accepted my apology and insisted that I had done the right thing. I love those little buggers more than anything, don't know what my life would be, without them...After letting it all sink in, that I was officially done with my family, I realized that I was relieved. The proverbial weight had been lifted. I'd gotten everything off my chest and had now written those fuckers off completely and for good. I know this has nothing to do with what I usually talk about in this Big Ugly Blog, but I just needed to purge here on my trusty, ole Mac. I feel better...again.

Here is the latest breaking news, in a nutshell. A friend got me in touch with a local guy through one of those networking sites, he is a little older than me and not bad looking. After we officially became "friends" he invited me to go with him for a helicopter ride, which was supposed to happen tonight, but when I found out that I would suddenly be leaving town, I had to beg off. I did meet him in person, last Wed. night at a restaurant, nearby, where his sons' band was playing and he was bartending. He seemed good, but I'm not entirely convinced that he passes the litmus test.

I have been getting e-mails and texts from Sam, who's out in Nebraska with family for the holidays, and he did seem excited to alert me to the new development in his life, that he did indeed take a new job in the town 30 minutes from my house and will eventually be moving there. Who knows...maybe we will give this thing a whirl, after all.

After my dreadful Thanksgiving, I was desperate to have a little fun and Better Jimmy stepped up to the plate to aid me in my quest. Saturday afternoon, I drove to nearly where he lives and after having to reroute due to an atrocious car accident and doubling my drive time, I finally met up with him late Sat. afternoon. Before he even got out of his car, I knew he was good. And as he approached me from across the street, I had no doubt we were gonna gel. We went to dinner and I loved how he peppered his monologues with piles of cuss words, it cracked me up to see in my peripheral vision, people's heads whip around in response to his colorful choice of words. After dinner, having only spent an hour and a half together, I made it very clear that I had no intention of turning my car back around and heading home for another nearly 2 hour drive. Better Jimmy was totally cool with that. I followed him over snaking roads and across like a million train tracks way out into the Pennsylvania countryside right up to his quaint, little house. We got right into the hot tub and for the first time in ages, I felt like I had finally thawed out. I liked how he asked at one point if I was "cool with all of this" and I said, definitely. We both knew we were gonna have some fun and that it would most likely be nothing more than a good time, that night. He is a guy I could fall for, no doubt, but I am not a fool. I understand that he has his life there, 2 hours away from where I will be living my life far into the future. We fooled around and talked til 3:30 in the morning, never ran out of things to say, including the fact that either one of us could meet our perfect partner in 3 weeks and wouldn't that be super duper, but if not, it certainly would be fun to get together anytime we can finagle it. I found him absolutely adorable, just really so cute. He embodies pretty much everything I'm looking for in a man; great looking, sporty, sexy, nice cock, funny, crass, carries a gun, does his own laundry, not clingy but still kind, owns his own business and works hard but appreciates his playtime on the weekends. And he's realistic and honest. The next day - miserable, cold and rainy, he led me back to a place from where I knew I would be able to find my way home. We sat in the Hardee's while I downed a coffee and continued our effortlessly flowing dialog. He sent me off with a big hug and a wet kiss in the icy rain and has been surprisingly good about staying in touch with me a few times each day, ever since we said, "G'bye". Sometimes just to text me some goofy joke, or to IM me before bed or even to catch up on the phone. You know what? He's good, just like I thought when I first saw him sitting in his parked car across the road form me.

I kept waiting to hear from young Christopher, the hot D.C. political consultant, who was so hot and heavy, right from the get-go. I accepted a friend's invite to go to a big Ball on Friday night and I said yes, even though Christopher and I had toyed with the idea of getting together that night. I was actually kinda looking forward to turning him down, since I was now going to be occupied, the ole "You Snooze, You Lose" policy was in effect. But I didn't hear from him...And then I was prepared to have to decline again for Sat. night, certain that by then he'd HAVE to see me...Of course I would've had to say "No" for a Sat. night date as well, since I'd made plans with cute Better Jimmy. But I still didn't hear a peep from Christopher. There was absolutely no reason for me to call him, since I couldn't even find a slot for him, over that crazy weekend. I went to the place on the website where we met, where one can view the activity of men who have put you on their "Favorite's" list and guess what? He wasn't on there anymore! He had taken me off of his "Favorite's" list, the bastard! I was like, "Damn, what the hell did I do?" Oh well, no sense in getting all worked up about it, I 'spose...I've got enough on my plate these days anyway. Well, sorta...

Now the only other interesting thing I have to report is this strange situation I've got going on with my blog. I now have a way of knowing how many people view the blog, and even though I cannot tell exactly WHO is reading, I can sometimes figure out in what city these readers live, only sometimes. Mostly it's indecipherable, cryptic codes and stuff. But there is one set of numbers that has begun to appear multiple times each day, indicating that this particular individual is stopping by The Big Ugly Blog an inordinate amount of times, especially considering the infrequency with which I post new blog entries. It's like, haven't you read that one already, like 55 times? And best I can figure, said individual is a guy I met, not so long ago, and he is the only guy I've met who lives in the city referenced in the numerical code attached to his "views". The guy is Copa Cabana, remember, the one who didn't buy my $1.89 cup of coffee? Now don't you think that's a bit bizarre? I almost feel stalked, in a weird kind of way. I know I should be happy that he's reading and all, but every time I go to see who's been looking, I am almost disappointed to find out that it's just him again, instead of a new reader or one of my less fanatical supporters.

K, that's it. I've got shit to do to get ready for my thingy. I guess there won't be too much online dating about which to report until at the very earliest, next week. I hope I can stand to be separated from my trusty, ole Mac and my cell phone which will be rendered virtually useless for the endurance of my sabbatical...this is gonna be D I F F I C U L T!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Roller Coaster of Love, er...Lust?

I'm sorry, I just don't even know how to start this thing. I've tried writing this entry like four times already and I'm still struggling to organize all of the thoughts jumbled up in my contorted, little brain. The added bummer is that I wish I would've just gone ahead and written the goddamned entry when I started it, like 5 days ago, cuz now I can barely type since six of my fingers are completely raw on the tips from soaking in some caustic shit at work. A few of my poor little digits are even bleeding on the keyboard...neato! I am trying to type with my ring fingers...this could take a little while. The good news is that I am back at work for the time being, the bad news is that I barely have time to write anymore, much less online date full-tilt. So there is the added trauma of this being a Monday night and I have no date. Monday night is Date Night, for goodness sakes! My kids are always with their dad on Monday nights. But this windy, rainy, dreary night, mama has no plans, what a friggin' waste. I know! I know...I'm stalling, jeez...I'm just trying to put off the inevitable as long as I possibly can. Ugh...

So the last time we talked I closed out the entry with a pasted-on smile across my face, still basking in the pseudo-afterglow of what I deluded myself into thinking was genuine love-making. Ha! You guys weren't fooled, I'd bet a million. Not sure why I thought I could fool myself. Anyway, I can now accept that the fornication which Sam and I enjoyed, was just that. We did not make love and saying that it was, was unintentional bullshit. I suspect that I was trying to validate having sex with a second guy in a three day period by labeling it as something meaningful, when in reality it was, it seems, just another hook-up. Yeah ok, so Sam and I texted and blubbered on for a few days about how great everything was...and would continue to be...(riiiiight) and then like textbook online dating behavior (and falling within the parameters that he and I have established with one another) our excitement wafted into thin air. You wanna know what I think? I think that Sam and I actually do like each other, we each think the other is cool and attractive, as a matter of fact, he told me that he likes that I am strong. He says that most of the women with whom he gets naked are weak and kind of wimpy, they just lay there and let stuff happen to them, there's very little pull to his push. He felt that I was more physically engaged, subsequently...the sex was definitely gooood, it all looked promising on paper until we started to grasp the sizable discrepancy in age and stations of life. And with Sam I cannot blame my waning interest in him, on geography because the last time that we talked we were both delighted that he would most likely be accepting a job and moving to a town which would put him only 30 minutes away from where I live. I believe that we were being sincere about wanting to hang out again, often - but once a little time had passed and that initial honeymoon period faded away, we both realized that we were perfectly fine without each other - same as we'd done for the endurance of the five months in between our two visits. And you know what else? I think that even though I try to avoid admitting it, I may secretly really want to find a boyfriend, and Sam would be a great catch, if he could even be caught. (My fingers really hurt, btw...) Bearing the whole boyfriend concept in mind - perhaps I convinced myself that finally spending a romantic afternoon and evening with an above-average romeo and saying sayonara without worrying one bit about whether we would see each other again, must surely have meant that cupid's arrow had finally hit its mark. Looking back on it, my date with Sam was basically the same as my date with Jack. The difference being that Jack and I had no preconceived notions about getting together again. Our deal was to satisfy a curiosity about each other after months of sexual tension finally reached a fevered pitch. The sex was satisfying but not earthshaking like we'd assumed it would be. None of what transpired between Jack and me was so incredible that either one of us felt the overwhelming urge to plan a second date. Neither of us breathed smoke up the other's ass about wanting to spend more time together, and no one was hurt, and no one felt slighted. We were cool with admitting that it just didn't really leave a mark. And we both knew that our date was more about the literal sex than kicking off a relationship. I think I was especially fine with accepting that we deteriorated the way we did, once I knew that I would be seeing Sam before the weekend was through. Sam and I had never talked in vivid detail about kinky sex and crazy fetishes to the point that we had to mutually pleasure ourselves over the phone, a la Jack and me. So, I mistook Sam's and my foray for something more virtuous. When in reality, the end result was the same, we had just been more polite and reserved in getting to that point. For a split second with Sam I felt hopeful that I might be able to don blinders and pour my energy into making him my next big project. I am just so pooped from searching for a man and finding absolutely nothing worth writing home about that I was nearly willing to settle on Sam...with bells on. But even during those first few days of optimistic bliss, I still continued to bop around online, keeping up with existing beaus and even discovering a few new gems.

Moving on...

I haven't played around with Mark in ages. The only messages I get from him he leaves on my IM screen when I'm not online and all he ever sends is one of those goofy emoticons, either the Chesire Cat grinning one or the one leaking drool out of his mouth. I mean, how do I even respond to that? Why can't he say something to me, using real words? I guess that whole thing is going nowhere...wonder where I expected it to go...

I've had a couple more webcam sessions with gorgeous Brennan from Indiana, he is undeniably hot, but more often than him getting all nakey and me talking him to orgasm we just chat, for hours at a time, we even talked on the phone for the first time on Saturday, ranting about the losers who hit on us on our mutual dating website and forwarding profile names of real humdingers to each other so we can marvel over their pics. and then rip the losers to shreds. It makes for a guaranteed laugh-fest. He really is a sweety and he acts like he will come out to see me at Christmas, when my kids are away. I dunno, as much fun as it is to tell ourselves we're perfect for each other, the reality is that we're just filling time til we each find someone suitable...close by.

Propel bottle IM'd me the other weekend (let us not forget that he is a 22 year old college student) and he invited me to escort him to a college basketball game. I was like, "Are you flippin' kidding me?" It would've looked like he was being chaperoned by his mom, which would been beyond weird, right?! But I was flattered that he asked and if I hadn't already told Frances that I would come over and watch a movie at her house, there is this sick part of me that thinks I might actually have made the trek out to see him, just for shits and giggles.

There are two new guys who have hopped onto the bandwagon...New Jack and Chris-to-pher (3 syllables, love it!) They could not be more dissimilar. Christopher is a political consultant, 31 and oozing confidence and bravado. He is 6'2" and true to his astrological sign, has a leonine mane of wavy golden locks, he's gorgeous. He doesn't need to subject himself to online dating to meet women (so he says...) he assures me that he has a gaggle of girls pecking at him, scrambling to be his next lay...but they all fit the mold of a certain stereotype with which he is terribly bored, anymore. He claims that he signed up on the dating site where he found me, a couple of weeks ago, to just poke around and see if anything out of the ordinary might strike his fancy...and apparently...that would be me. The first night we IM'd for awhile and then he taught me something new. I had no idea that it was possible to carry on a phone conversation over my computer, but we did just that, it was really cool. It was more three-dimensional than a regular phone call, I guess cuz it was a full-bodied sound which came through better speakers and his voice was in the room, not just in my ear. So, I liked that. He spoke quietly and deliberately, taking his time to deliver comments and questions, he was a shameless flirt and very curious about my sexual leanings. By the end of our 3 1/2 hour conversation (at 3:45 a.m.) he seemed eager to meet me despite my disgruntled attitude about online dating and my skepticism over ever finding "the right guy". His untainted enthusiasm towards internet dating was the perfect foil for my unbridled ennui with the whole farce. We kept a safe distance over the weekend, touching base briefly only a few times but when we IM'd on Monday he surprised me by saying that he had "missed" me over the weekend. I wasn't sure how to take that...It was sort of an odd thing to say to someone with whom you've never even hung out. It was a nice thing to say, but was it just a little creepy? Anyway, I kind of pinned him down about hot prospects that he had met so far, cuz I have ways of knowing what these guys are doing when they're online, and he said that I was by far, the most intriguing. Well, la-tee-da!

Christopher and I have talked loosely about meeting this weekend, the Friday or Saturday after Thanksgiving, but I just have this feeling that it's gonna sink in with him how old I am and how far away I live and before we follow through with an actual plan, some young hottie will dethrone me from my current post as his reigning queen of intrigue...

And finally, let me tell you about New Jack, he's almost more of a Better Jimmy, in fact - that's what I'm gonna call him, yih...This guy is something else! He's little-ish, only 5'8" (but at least he's a few inches taller than I am) He raced motorcross for 17 years and was #6 in the world in jet ski racing, a few years ago. He's badass! He's got a tight, tiny body and a grrreat face! Messy blondy/browny hair on top, close cut everywhere else, oh and sideburns! His eyes are dark, velvety brown and he has such a fetching smile, it screams mischief! We IM'd throughout the weekend and sent some "check this out!" texts and then last night we talked on the phone for like 2 1/2 hours, he's awesome! He's gruff and loud and brash and frank and anything but shy. He runs his own successful business and does his own laundry and owns his own house. He's stable but not boring. And he's a terrific audience. He listened attentively to my stories and made parallels between my tales and his own life and he was completely honest about wanting to fuck me like every two weeks (since that's the best we could do with my custody schedule and living 2 hours apart) He shrewdly shrugged off ruminating over real relationship stuff, for at the moment- he was all about the sex. If after getting it on - something blossomed between us, well then - we would address it at that time. I liked his veracity. He was just all around good. It's funny cuz we'll be traveling down the same highway the Friday after Thanksgiving, going in the opposite direction, and we joked about meeting at a truck stop and having a quickie in the bathroom. That's the new visual that I use when I'm making myself happy, so hot and slutty, I love it!

Update! Mark and I have been IM-ing, on and off all afternoon, today. Nothing too dirty, surprisingly. In fact, I ended up telling him some crazy shit about my family that he had never known before. Makes me realize how little we really do know about each other. It's been nice, I've liked it especially since he used actual words and not just smileys! (I really wish that I didn't like him quite so much...)

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Cautiously Optimistic

You know what I just realized? I never told you about my date with Reid. I must have been too busy dwelling on smut to think to delve into something bordering on salubrious...surprise, surprise...Reid and I got together last Monday night, over a week ago already, jeez! I drove to where he lives and as soon as he invited me inside his house, I was instantly comfortable and felt right at home. We set about to mixin' some cocktails after he took a lint-roller over my entire sweater, evidently my down jacket was leaking feathers, whoops. Reid has the most amazing stuff, like no one else that I know; thousands of cd's and dvd's, 30 electric guitars plus recording equipment and other musical instruments, a pristine, old Chevelle and these salt water fish tanks which are like microcosms of the actual sea floor - they totally blew my mind...I could not stop looking at them. And he loves plants, like I do, but his collection was remarkable - exotic and unfamiliar varieties trailing and winding themselves all over the place. He was neat and polite and made me a most delicious steak on the grill, and we talked nonstop about so many things that we barely ever finished one subject before jumping on to the next. So it was no surprise that he was exactly the way he describes himself and appears on his profile. From what I've gathered, he's just a real stand-up guy. Adding to his credentials, is the fact that he is the only man with whom I've maintained a reasonably long correspondence, who has not made one single sexual overture, which says a lot about his integrity not to mention his manners, if you ask me. It really was great fun to hang out with him and I can only explain why I didn't jump at the chance for romance with Reid by comparing our deal to a tricky situation I went through with my bff, awhile back. About 3 years ago, Frances was dating Russ, kind of a loose cannon, archetypal bad boy, and at some point during their relationship he began to put gradually more and more pressure on Frances, my very best friend mind you, to petition me to join them in their bedroom. She never did officially invite me to assist in seeing Russ' Utopian threesome come to fruition, but she did tell me of his growing fixation with the idea. I was dead-set against it...because first of all, by this point I was already starting to see Russ for the complete asshole that he actually was, second - I had never been with a woman nor dabbled in three-ways (not that I'm opposed to trying it someday) and third, I wouldn't dare consider dipping even so much as my big toe in what I theorized would be emotionally turbulent waters, for the first time ever with my very best friend and her boyfriend, are you shitting me? I could barely think of a more decisive way to test the strength of Frances' and my friendship and to potentially gamble and lose. We both agreed that there was little chance that anything good could come out of it, aside from her boyfriend getting his ya-ya's. So we just stopped dwelling on it and the idea eventually faded away, along with their relationship. I feel kind of the same way about taking my friendship with Reid to the next level, I feel like there is too much genuine good between us to risk chucking it all, by throwing sex into the mix. It certainly didn't help, that preceding my "date" with Reid, I had reconnected with Mark and my amorous juices were swiftly flowing in his direction simultaneous to Reid and I meeting in person, for the very first time. Reid's dignified reserve and positive outlook told of an enlightened soul and I felt lucky to have made his acquaintance. I left his house with an almost unheard of concept running through my head; even though I did not think it prudent to enter a courtship with him, Reid was definitely someone with whom I'd like to spend more time...

Next, I guess I have to come up off what transpired on my long-overdue date with the Soldier Boy. All we go...Jack and I met at my favorite neighborhood pub (yep that's the one, the same respectable establishment that I've tarnished with many a damned first, and only, date) I stepped out of my cute, little car and lurched a little when I heard Jack's subdued, "Hey". I was engrossed in trying to figure out how to text him on my new phone at that moment, so he really kind of startled me. Besides, you guys know how nervous I was to meet him already, I blew off three tentative dates before actually going through with this one, remember? And without ample time to prepare to be this close to him this soon, my body nearly convulsed with anxiety-induced tremors. I tottered over to greet him and not surprisingly, I liked him right away. We hugged hello. He was incredibly cute, with a boyish face and a nice masculine build and he wasn't the least bit scary...okee dokee, so...maybe we would be just fine, huh? All that aside, I was still shaking like mad. We went inside, grabbed some drinks and a seat by the fireplace and began a running dialog critiquing the other patrons and analyzing their scenarios, it was fun and light. Each time I leaned over towards him a bit, to whisper some snide jab about one of the customers, there was that static electricity, making my hair stand at attention and a causing a noticeable rise in the temperature, that shit is for real! We each plowed through our first drink and debated whether to order another or blow that pop stand. As much as I wanted to get on outta there, I felt like we had to hold off for at least one more drink (some kind of unwritten dating etiquette, I guess) though it was quite obvious that we were both growing impatient with delaying heading over to my place. I was undeniably attracted to him, he did nothing that even remotely annoyed me and I could find no fault at all with his looks, clothing included. I particularly liked his mouth, his smile a little lopsided and his dark they were just a scad lighter than black, hypnotic. Our second round of drinks was demolished within minutes so we hurriedly settled up with the barkeep and interrupted discussing our next plan of action on the way back to our cars with a how-do-you-do kiss in the parking lot, mercy mercy about magnetism, fucking hell!

There's probably no need to mince words here, you all know what happened. Yes - Soldier Boy Jack and I did the deed, several times and Yes - it was very good...well, except for the fact that my dogs couldn't stand being evicted from their usual post in my bed so they sat outside the bedroom door holding vigil and shouting at regular intervals that they really were ready for us to let them in. It was a tad disruptive and hindered necessary concentration, so we broke down and let them in the room...and the bed, which did absolutely nothing to rectify the situation. Now we had to deal with limited space in the bed and random, surprise licks in the face. Poor Jack, he did a good job of glossing over their annoying behavior, but I knew he was terribly frustrated with their meddling. We did manage to tune them out enough to seal the deal (repeatedly) and I tucked Jack in and all four of us tried to stake claim to our own teeny portion of the bed. Something you have to undersatnd, is that I have not shared my bed with a man in eons, and my snuggly, little doggies have been more than happy to fill the vacant space. Here's what we look like at night, all three sleeping together: % I am the long line in the middle, catty corner across the bed, my dogs are the two dots: Gwennie burrows deep down under the covers to the foot of the bed and LuLu rams herself up against my head near the pillow. We are touching, all night long and I love it, keeps me warm and cozy! But throw another human into the mix and things get slightly more problematic. It's hard to spoon with two dogs hogging critical space between you and your sweetie and if you so much as touch the pups, Gwennie growls and snarls ferociously and LuLu mistakes it for affection and reflexively shows her appreciation with a barrage of kisses, this is not for everyone. Jack was polite about getting virtually no sleep, but I could tell he couldn't wait to get back to his own bed and sleep for real, in complete isolation, poor thing. I figured he might be in less of a hurry next time, to hoof it 1 1/2 hours across hill and dale to forfeit his beauty sleep for a couple of hours of good sex, he might not have any interest in doing it ever again.

Jack texted me the next day to say that he'd had a nice time and that we'd talk soon...I wondered if my former allure was no longer whetting his curiosity...I'll be honest, I kind of felt like I had gotten my fascination with him out of my system. I think that would explain why it was no effort at all for me to scamper off to investigate my next exciting lead...Enter Sam, Sam-u-el three syllables, and you know I'm all about "3"...Sam is my consolation prize from Bethesda. I've mentioned him before, long, long ago, as having offered much-needed solace from some flash-in-the-pan fling which promptly nose-dived, way back then. Sam and I have maintained a unique online dating-induced correspondence, since we first bumped into each other this past June on one of my favorite dating sites. I think I made the initial contact, unusual for me but he was sarcastically witty and intelligent and dazzlingly handsome, I found him delectable. I didn't actually expect to hear back from him, his profile says that he is only 28 (he tells me that he is actually 33, and that the site wouldn't let him un-do the age he originally input) and in each of his pics. he had his arms around two different girls, so he didn't appear to be hurtin' for attention from the opposite sex. But he did respond and so began an ongoing round of tongue-in-cheek bantering, lots of needling and ribbing, but all in good fun. After graduating to phone chat, we hatched a plan in which he would make a quick detour to my house on his way out to the mid-west for a 2 week summer vacation. There was no awkwardness the day he parked in my driveway and got out to visit for awhile, we just played and goofed, and I liked him very much. He made me laugh and his face was beyond pleasing, large almost sad eyes, perfect angular nose, straight with cartillage right to the end, and a dreamy smile, bright and genuine and constant. He was tall and of an athletic build, nice! He's sculpted like a marble statue of some mythological character, all creamy white and smooth, virtually no body hair, naturally. At some point during our brief first visit, he scooped me right up into his arms, "across the threshold" style and apologized but said that he couldn't help it, he just had to grab me up because I was so tiny and cute, LOVE that! No one has ever done anything like that to me was the absolute best - so spontaneous - demonstrating that he was playfully impulsive. That first day, he really couldn't stay long, so after a good lunch and non-stop chatter I sent him on his way with an impassioned kiss which I hoped would keep me on his mind for the duration of his trip.

Sam and I texted sporadically, while he was away but by the time he was back home, again, we had faded into near oblivion. Every month or two, Sam would check in with me to see if I might be available to get together, but since he usually gave me no lead time, I consistently declined his invitation to get together. In most instances I either already had plans or my kids were with me or I simply said "No" out of principal, it felt almost rude that he had waited til the absolute last minute to ask and expected me to drop everything, for his highness. I consistently gave him no end of sardonic grief about his rudeness, since I got the distinct feeling that he only called me after having spent the weekend looking in vain for a honey. Suspiciously, he only called me on Sunday evenings, hmmm...His most recent Sunday night call, came about two weeks ago, directly following my deletion of his number from my cell (during my "housecleaning" phase) I did not recognize the number as his text came in, but I knew it was Sam almost immediately after reading whatever smart-alecky thing he had sent, and of course, his sassy charm won me over again. This time, he seemed to have a little more gumption, like he was determined to plan a date, anytime, not just on a Sunday night. I told him I'd believe it when I saw it and that's when he changed it up and called me last Saturday morning, right after Soldier Boy Jack kissed me goodbye. Sam came out the next day, Sunday - and we immediately jumped into my little car to stop in at a book-signing, my very first book-signing, as a matter of fact. Nah, it's not really that big of a deal, just a book about Clarke County artists in which one of my animal portraits had been selected to appear. He was such a sport, he dove right into the event, buying his own copy of the book and getting as many artists to sign it as he possibly could, not to mention schmoozing with the Mayor. My god! I'VE never talked to the mayor. We milled around doing our own thing, but were pulled into each other's orbit, regularly to check in and canoodle a bit. I loved that he was not clingy but he was always quick to show respectable affection each time he was near me.

After a yummy meal at my house, we raced through more small talk and then Sam and Isobel... made love, for real...Lights on, dogs in the fray, and for some inexplicable reason - it all just worked, and was dramatically different from the sex for which I've been settling.

I'm not really sure what it is that I expect to happen with Sam. Nowadays, I am way more adept at keeping my emotions in check, and it feels like I have a slightly better footing, regarding men. But I notice myself putting the breaks on trying to meet new guys and I honestly do like a lot about him, so far, he's the pick of the litter. He's been good about staying in touch, calling when he feels the urge or simply texting or e-mailing some silly remark, and I respond appropriately. And it's encouraging that he seems unmotivated to play those stupid games that boys feel they must play, in order to keep us girls at bay, or preserve their independence, or whatever - I dunno why they do it. But for right now, this very instant, whatever Sam is doing, is surely workin' for me.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Stuff is Really Just Happenin' All Over the Place

Last Saturday morning, I was doing my usual...fiddling around on my trusty, ole Mac, working on the blog and typing e-mails and stuff. I had my IM screen up but wasn't talking to anyone. I heard that "ffft" sound which indicates that one of my "friends" has signed on or off or something and I looked over to see who it might be. A wave of compunction contaminated my complacency when I noticed that it was my beloved Mark, and it's not as if I haven't seen him sign on and off like a million times before, it wasn't that, the reason I got kinda wigged out was because for the first time ever - he had changed his profile pic. from a city skyline to an actual photo of his glorious face. I was now in nothing short of a dither, because I hadn't seen him in so long and I was ecstatic to ogle this tiny picture of his puss. The problem was that I suspected that he was most likely chattin' it up with one of his recent conquests and that he must've put the pic. up for her benefit. But I pondered the miniscule possibility that perhaps, maybe just maybe...he'd done it for me, either to maliciously torment me, or better yet, to coax me into breaking our silence. So, what to do now? Should I ignore him and respect his privacy as I had done for all of those torturous months since being banished from his life? Or act on the confounding impulse to drop him a line? I decided to write, "I'm sorry! I just can't take it anymore! Especially since you put up that new pic.. Are you gonna be mean to me if I just say HI?" He wasn't mean to me at all. It was great to see his voice again, I was aflutter with excitement and anxiety the entire time, in fact my agitation increased the longer we talked. I have missed him more than anything. You guys know that I've been unsuccessfully forcing myself to try and block him out of my head and my heart since we severed ties, and in turn to transfer my obsession onto some other pour soul. But no man has filled Mark's shoes, in any regard, and we're talking about a guy who I've never even touched and who I still may never actually meet, which makes my adoration seem preposterous, doesn't it? Here's where Frances would interject that for me - it's all about the chase and Mark, being the ultimate challenge, captures my attention like no other, for the simple fact that the task of catching him, for real, is formidable, to say the least. Anyway, Mark and I shot the shit, as if we'd never stopped talking in the first place, and once again I was over the moon for him. Throughout the next couple of days we were back to our trademark frolicking, teasing each other with revealing texts and tempting messages, he even bestowed upon me the most delectable mini-video, which I must've replayed like 55 times, sweet jesus! I loved finally feeling alive and forgiven and missed. I wondered if we would continue to pick up exactly where the good stuff had left off, months ago...and if we did, well then, what about my continued online dating and indiscretions and the dreaded blog? Did he still read the derned thing? I didn't even want to bring it up with him, when we spoke, hoping that maybe he'd forgotten about it. Should I keep meeting and dating and writing explicit entries about my follies at the risk of being harshly dismissed by him, yet another agonizing time? I can't explain why I am so protective of his feelings. My sensible head tells me that certainly he should expect nothing other than for me to date and be the single girl that I am and look for a man with whom I could share my life, after all he gets to snuggle up with his woman each and every night, you know...seems only fair. The trouble is, that I can go through the motions of meeting and flirting and dating and screwing, but will I allow myself to fall for someone if Mark is in the picture at all? I am seriously hung up on this perfect stranger. In hindsight, I'm thinking that when I wrote to him I fully expected to get shut down definitively which would've sucked but it also would've provided a little closure to know that there was no chance of perpetuating our inveterate improprieties. I think then I might've been able to more easily move on. But that's not what happened and I was delighted and dismayed at the same time that he actually gave me the time of day. See, here's the trick...before mending fences with Mark, I had already made plans to see Soldier Boy Jack, remember? And sometime after reuniting with Mark I nearly derailed the plan to meet Jack by passive-aggressively accusing him of philandering, which would be fine with me as long as he came clean about it. He was clearly irritated with my reproachful comments and even though he admitted that he still wanted to give me the fucking of a lifetime, he wasn't all that excited about dealing with my erratic behavior and unfounded accusations, if I was intent on persisting. I sent him a somewhat heated note defending my suppositions and evidently my fiery attitude, infuriated him but also caused quite a stirring in his loins. We ended up getting things straightened out and I couldn't help but contemplate the possibility that I had somewhat subconsciously (or even consciously) tried to sabotage our plans in an attempt to stay true-ish to Mark. I know, it makes absolutely no sense to protect the feelings of a guy who I'll most likely never meet. I decided to go through with my plans to meet Jack which I am doing tonight. The sexual tension between us online has steadily accrued and if I am as attracted to him in person as I have been during our conversations, I know we will fuck..a lot. Since my instincts are chronically off the mark though, I realize that there is the very likely possibility that I will not feel it for him when we meet. So now the predicament, what to do about Mark? Shouldn't I continue to galavant around the internet and elsewhere in search of the man of my dreams? Can I carry on relations with a tangible human but continue to mess around with Mark, online? What if by some stroke of magic, things actually take off with me and the Soldier Boy, can I carry on simultaneous "relationships" with cyber Mark and real life Jack, or will I be cheating on them both? Can cyber sex even be considered cheating? (borrowed that one from you, Matt...hope you don't mind...) Cuz if it is than I'm in deeper doo doo than I ever could've imagined. Things are a little more complicated than I think you might realize. There is still another factor in this convoluted equation...I haven't yet told you about Brennan...

Brennan and I have been IM'ing each other for at least a month now despite the nearly nil probability that we will ever hook up considering he lives all the way out in friggin' Indiana. He's young, late twenties - but displays a perspicacity in regards to relationships and humans and life in general which belies his actual years of experience and spurs on many in-depth conversations about our individual journeys and our personal philosophies. Frances gives me the hairy eyeball each time I endeavor to rationalize my far-fetched excuses for galvanizing this bond with Brennan. She cannot comprehend why I pour so much energy, time and attention on a person who makes no sense for me age-wise nor geographically, when I should be cultivating a relationship with someone more sensible, like with Steve or Stuart, say. I do believe there is value in the fact that I sincerely enjoy his company though, 650 miles between us and all. Bottom line...I love to talk to him. He is so damned sweet to me, I can literally feel his affection like a real caress, through the tender way that he speaks to me, and astonishingly, we've always kept things proper. That is until Thursday, the day before my date with Jack. Brennan had the day off from work and I am, as you are well aware, indefinitely laid off, so we luxuriously wiled away several hours, daydreaming about how nice it would be if we could cuddle up on the couch at one of our houses and shrug off the damp cold with hot tea and mushroom soup and a movie and tootsie rubs...I had no warning that he would go there, but outta the blue he asked if I had any idea what I was doing to him. Not fully certain of what he was implying, I said that I did not and he asked if I wanted to see...The hair on the back of my neck and the base of my scalp bristled and a hot wave of anticipation tore down my middle, ah ha! Now I knew what he was talking about. I accepted his generous offer to show me what he meant, curiosity had gotten the naughtier of me. He hooked up his webcam without asking me to turn mine on and lo and behold! There he was, as three dimensional as I'll probably ever get to see him...his fabulous body - naked on his bed, thin but athletic, with just the right amount of hair and tattoos. And don't even get me started on his face...doe-like, haunting, green eyes, nose like an arrow, full, berry-stained lips and an angular chin with a dimple in the middle. He is extraordinarily good-looking. Needless to say I was beyond pleased with everything I saw, and then I felt the blood drain from most everywhere in my body and pool into one singular spot...Christ on the cross - Brennan's was a most prodigious pole, he put "Propel" bottle to shame! I beamed over his enormous compliment and after picking my jaw up off of the floor and setting it on my desk for the time being, I did my best to return the favor by typing an inspired stream of consciousness about what would be happening if I was right there with him, skin to skin. He did it, he took my little tale and ran with it - all the way home. I nearly did as well, just sitting there in my desk chair fully-clothed, never having even touched myself. This unexpected episode was titanic, to say the least. I think what I liked the most was how Brennan did not hurry off post-eruption, the way every single other guy has done before him. He was content to keep visiting with me, messy tummy and all, it made me like him in triplicate. I now believed that the kindness he had consistently demonstrated towards me was bona fide. It was I who eventually ended our conversation, I needed victuals, something fierce, so we bade our bittersweet farewells and set about to feed our faces.

I still didn't make it to the kitchen...literally the instant I hung up with Brennan, I got an e-mail from Jack asking me if I'd finished myself off the night before following our second libidinous telephone jaunt. I assured him that I had but not until the next morning, yet there I was, poised to go at it again as soon as I was nourished. He had no inkling that this was because of my torrid rendez-vous with Brennan. There isn't any harm in him assuming that my current condition was residual from our own spicy interlude the prior evening, is there?

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Cyrano de Bergerac Meets Karl Malden

Last Thursday, I went to my children's track meet and I had a sneaking suspicion that I might, just maybe, run into horse show Harold, since the school that his kids attend was hosting the derned event. As soon as I set foot on the campus I started surveying the peanut gallery looking for Harold. He was conspicuously missing and I will admit that I was a bit bummed, after all, I had actually gone to the trouble of putting on make-up in case I saw him and everything. But there was this other dad there who kept stealing glances at me from across the green and although there was something about his face that I wasn't totally loving (he was far enough away that I couldn't quite put my finger on it) I didn't exactly find him unattractive. He was rugged and tall and had a nice body, he was undeniably intriguing. Plus, his apparent interest in me was most entertaining, enough so that I forgot to pout about Harold for a bit. I was flattered, no doubt, by his unsuccessful attempts to covertly spy on me, and there was definitely something curious about him, so I peeped at him, as well, from behind my dark glasses. Right about the time I was thinking of beatin' feet back to my cute, little car, Jordan came up to me and said, "Mom, there he is!" "There who is?" Oh yeah - him, there was Harold. Huh. You know? He really wasn't as cute as I had made him out to be in my hazy memory of our introduction. His hair grew from way further back on his head than I had remembered and in his conservative, preppy boy attire (I don't do belted, pleated Dockers that sit right on the waist, sorry) and with his diminutive stature, he bore a startling resemblance to my ex-husband...this was not working in his favor. But I went ahead and did the right thing, and approached him to say "Hello Harold, remember me?" He acted at first, as if he mightn't (well I never!) but then I saw it click and he said, "Oh hey, how are you?" I stopped walking and planted my feet thinking he might come my way and perhaps strike up a conversation, but he continued to walk in the total opposite direction, which indicated to me, a complete lack of interest, dagger! Ehhhh, what's the difference, I had already stopped thinking he was cute anyway, right? Well, now there really was no sense in me dickering around at the meet anymore, my kids were through running and I needed to head back towards their school to pick up my youngest daughter, anyway. Walking down the gravel path towards the parking area, I saw a man approaching and as I got closer, I realized that he was the dad who kept beepin' at me the whole day. I don't know why I got awkward, but when we passed each other I barely looked up at him, when offering my good-neighborly "Hello" and then immediately Indian gave my nanosecond glance as soon as he said "Hi" It was weird, I don't usually make strange with folks.

I didn't get back to my trusty, ole Mac til, like 10 or later that night, and I checked for messages and even answered a few fun ones, including one from sweet and wonderful Reid! He had decided that it was time that we should finally meet, for real. I mean we have had a very simpatico rapport with one another since first yuckin' it up online, I dunno, sometime during the summer, and I guess it did make sense that we finally make our friendship, official. It was funny, cuz Reid had e-mailed me to say that he had gone out, just that evening, with a friend of mine who messes around on the same dating site, he was the second guy on this one particular site with whom she and I had both gotten friendly. Huh, what are the chances? Anyway, I was checking more mail on the "Reid" site and I came across a long e-mail which was not accompanied by a profile pic.. Now usually, I just ignore the picture-less notes, but this guy had clearly put a bit of elbow grease into his message so I decided to have a look...

" This is kinda weird and requires a bit of a lead-in, so please bear with me....

I’ve been on "dating site #1" for....well...for longer than I’d like to admit. I wasn’t finding or attracting the type of gal I’d hoped to, so I ventured farther into cyberworld. I checked out "dating site #2". I had to fill out of their silly questionaires just so I could poke around. I didn’t bother with any photos, or actually join. I’m already paying more than I should to be on "dating site #1", remember? But I did come across your profile and was tempted to shell out the $17.95 or whatever so I could contact you. But I didn’t.
Then, just a couple of days ago I came across this "dating site #3" thing. It’s free, but again with the necessary questions. I did the bare minimum just so I could access it. I came across your profile once more.
Now I’m can I contact this gal without having to upload a bunch of pictures or struggle over writing an impressive profile? I needed to study on that one.
So today rolls around (this is where it gets weird) and I head to The Hill School in Middleburg for my daughter’s cross country meet, and as I’m making small talk with the ex, who do I see in the paint splattered Carhart jacket? Yeah, you guessed it.
So now what? Do I go talk to her? Just blurt out, “Hey, don’t I know you from all of those internet dating sites”?
No. That would probably be weirder than what I’m doing now.
The ex leaves (work called - go figure), my daughter is running around, being the social butterfly that she is...I’m pacing...counting the minutes til we get to leave....I decide to walk back to the truck to check my cell phone. On the return trip, I round the corner by the fence, and...I’m face to face with the mini-bike riding, roof-sitting, quirky artist gal from "dating site #3". You smile and say, “Hello”. I return the greeting and keep walking. Remember? I was the guy in the ball cap, brown shirt, week old whiskers?
From then til now, I’ve been thinking about what to do. Obviously, this is my solution...
I’m not going to pay "dating site #2". I’m not going to add pictures to "dating site #3". I’m going to direct you to my "dating site#1" page. I’ve tested it, and I’m pretty sure that non-members can at least search for a user name. If not, the next time we see each other at a school function, at least you can say, “Hi Stuart”. That’ll raise the ex’s eyebrows.


Holy fucking shit! Is that not the most romantic thing, ever?! Ok, that may be a bit of an overstatement, but it sincerely left me feeling a smidge bashful...and woozie. The cool thing was, I knew as soon as I got to the "Hill School" part of his letter, exactly who it was...and I felt that this surely must've been my reward for not getting bent out of shape about Harold. The weird thing was that as I was unearthing this treasure, my online dating world went eerily quiet, absolutely silent - everyone stopped writing, and IM'ing, I could hear crickets chirping as I devoted the remainder of my night to reviewing Stuart's profile on "dating site #1" and reading and rereading his charming note, completely uninterrupted. It felt as if there was an unspoken understanding amongst all of my other suitors that I should not be disturbed while I contemplated this captivating coinkedink.

Now, I have to be brutally honest here, which I am characteristically want to do...after studying Stuart's profile, I gathered that he was a devoted dad, successful in his chosen career, a musician, surrounds himself with many dear friends and travels til his little heart's content. All of this was terrifically appealing! And he had a nice assortment of photos posted...and that's, unfortunately, where the trouble begins. His photo revealed the most penetrating eyes, incredible, blue that they were almost white! And a flawless, genuine smile, with teeth so white that they were almost blue (hee hee), but dangling down in the middle of all of that goodness was a nose that I simply could not wrap myself around. It was like Cyrano de Bergerac meets Karl Malden. I know most people probably wouldn't really even give a shit about a nose when everything else is so flawlessly geeeorgeous, but you know how I am about the nose, I mean christ! Why that? If I just focused on his eyes or his smile I was fine, even attracted to him, but as soon as my eyes locked onto that schnoz I got all mixed up. Frances just threw her hands up in despair when I recounted this story for her, she was like, "What is your problem? You can fix a nose, my god! If you're at all interested in the guy just go out with him, you can fix the nose later, stop being so goddamn picky!"

I e-mailed Stuart and agreed that the whole thing was kinda crazy, but neat, and said that I hoped to hear from him soon, cuz I really believe that I did at least want to see what would happen if we continued talking. Over the weekend, he wrote a brief note to me, apologized for it's brevity, that there would be more to follow, and said that he was looking forward to getting to know more about my art and my farm and my kids. I only just today, three days after receiving his second e-mail, got around to sending another note, and I have not heard back, as of yet...

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Sorry to Keep You Dangling...Again

Oh brother, K, I'm a little ashamed to admit that I may have allowed my good intentions to avoid hangin' with the wrong crowd, to run a little slipshod. By now we are all well aware that I am, without a doubt, reproachfully impulsive. Which kind of explains why, in the aftermath of casting aside a guy or guys who finagled capturing the spotlight for a spell, I am often rendered powerless to resist foolishly cracking open the door to communication a wee little bit, peering around from behind it, my eyes cast sheepishly downward, and cautiously inviting in a questionable guest who's come a-knockin', usually one from my diminishing lineup of bad boys. It could be that I do this purely out of boredom, gotta keep things spicy and all that. But sometimes I sincerely do get suckered in, especially when I receive one of those pitiful pleas from a scorned would-be lover, begging for me to please just talk to them, pleeeeease...or perhaps nothing more than, "Have I done something? Why are you ignoring me?" Ohhhhhh....that one kills me for some reason! I just hate to feel like I'm being such a meanie, and sometimes, on account of that...I do cave..."Ok, we can talk - but just for a second...seriously! I'm really busy!" (Yeah, right)

Sunday night, after I had devoted a moment of silence to reflect on my gross error in judgement regarding Dan, Simon and Copa, I cultivated some warm and fuzzy feelings about the real life guy, Harold - from the equestrian event on Sunday, which motivated me to write a quick e-mail to my friend Claire thanking her for introducing me to Harold, 'cuz even if he and I never laid eyes on each other again, at least meeting him had reminded me that there really are decent guys out there, and please feel free to forward my contact info to Harold, dadadadadada...Next, I puttered around online masochistically searching for the dirtball who would certainly make me his next victim, when in chimed, none other than - Soldier Boy Jack, quintessential danger boy extraordinaire. The last few times he's tried to reach me, I was busy wasting good energy on some well-disguised loser, I'm sure - so at the time, it was a cinch for me to ignore him. But this night, I was mostly dejected and alone again, and he is aaawwwfully damned cute...He greeted me with his trademark, upbeat, "What's up, Chica?" "Chica" being the operative word here, 'cuz it puts a blush on my cheeka-s every time he calls me by my all-time favorite pet name. Still, I stiff-armed him a little with only a muted, "hey" I was just in such a crappy mood, you know? And I definitely had a bug up my butt about some something or other that I had convinced myself he'd done to me the last time we'd crossed paths, maybe he'd logged out of his IM as soon as I logged on, one night, I really can't remember...But this was of no consequence because Jack is the master of drawing me out of a funk. No matter how pissed off I try to act, or even truly may be, he routinely manages to genuinely lift my spirits, every time we chat. I have never left a conversation with Jack feeling down or upset. In fact most times, I wind up feeling calm and optimistic, (despite the topics that are generally discussed) not to mention aroused...he's that good. You might remember that Jack is the one who completely flipped me out by turning me onto this one particular sexual act, which is beyond outre, and the really frightening part is that while peeking at forwarded videos through parted fingers, in order to acquaint myself with said act, I found myself categorically...turned on. My rapidly growing fascination with this particular form of love-making (if that's what you can call it) has everything to do with my quick climax anymore (like only 30 seconds sometimes), when diddling myself. Ever since Jack and I broached the unspecified, aforementioned topic (I'm sorry, I just can't say what it is!), and even during those intervals when we were not speaking and when I thought we might never speak again, he and his wild fantasy, both emblazoned on my mind, have remained the catalysts which spur on my self-pleasure...each and every time...they are all I can think of when I get myself off...

This night marked the first time in maybe three or four weeks that I had acknowledged an IM sent from Jack and right away he asked with heartrending poise, "Why have you been avoiding me?" We open most of our dialogs with a similar song and dance; He finally succeeds after multiple failed attempts to contact me, at which time I reply to him out of hesitant empathy, but confess nonetheless, to being absolutely terrified of him, which is certainly true. I am loath to move forward in our friendship, come out from behind my trusty, old Mac and meet him for coffee or drinks. We might notice that we are as attracted to one another in person as we are online so we fuck like crazy and after getting comfy with each other over weeks or a month, the obvious next step would be to perform the horrifying sexual acts which comprise his twisted fantasy. I could never do those things, EVER, but I feel like in contemplating them with Jack, as I have, I may appear more open to the possibility than I mean to be. He is always so cool about it when I admit to being scared by him and his fantasy. He tells me he would never demand that we do those things or any other things, for that matter, that the very beauty of a fantasy, can be in maintaining it as such. Why risk spoiling the magic by making it a reality? He assured me that he would never force me to engage in anything with which I am not completely comfortable but that he would be sure to whisper in my ear all about our dirty little secret if we met and liked each other and decided to screw. Do you get why I find him somewhat irresistible? And then I remind him that before all of that, we have to first see if we even make it through coffee and he laughs and says, "I know, you're right" One problem with Jack is that I don't entirely trust his shakey claims that he's not been with a woman since he split from his wife (I told you that I had previously severed ties with him til he got seprated, right?) nor that he is not interested in pursuing anyone...except me. And it's not that I care if he has designs on other girls and is talking with them or even doinking them, he just better be telling me the truth, that's all. Just fucking tell me, cuz if you're lying about it you're toast!

Jack and I have been talking intermittently for nearly four months, now. It's probably one of my oldest running online "friendships". We had never talked on the phone, we had never texted nor played with the webcam. All we'd ever done was IM'd and e-mailed each other, and it's not like we were getting off while we were chatting all of these times, but our frisky conversations did usually get me worked up into such a frenzy that immediately after saying good-bye, his vividly depicted fantasies became my own. I surrendered to the havoc that these intriguing yet disquieting images wreaked on my body and brainwashed my mind into playing the game as well, the outcome of which was altogether explosive, to say the least. This night, the first night we'd written back and forth after so many weeks of silence, we decided to try talking on the phone. You can see how proficient he is at changing my mindset, I was a cold bitch when he first said "Hello" but within probably 15 minutes of IM'ing, he had me so horny that I agreed to have phone sex with him, our first time together (awwww, ain't that romantic?) He did most of the talking and I lapped it up. I liked how he sounded, his actual voice as well as the way that he talked to me, the very words that he chose. He was confident but not cocky and most striking was his adeptness at gradually peppering his credible story with increasingly more fervid detail until I found myself charging into that happiest of happy places (and to think I was so grouchy just a short while before!) This was one of those big "O's", too, 'cuz after I had reached my zenith, I was having a hard time seeing out of one eye and I was noticeably discombobulated for a minute. Ok, but fair is fair, so now I had to take a crack at returning the favor of verbally seeing him to his own finish line. I began to tell him about how I wanted to take a cube of ice from a cup on the night-stand and encircle my mouth with it before blooping it inside. I would then wrap my cold, wet lips around the head of his feverish cock after which I would swirl the dissolving piece of ice, all around the tip with my tongue before gliding up and down as much of the length as I could manage, my hand working the base, and as the ice melted away I would swallow the tepid water and pull harder on his...when, just like that...HEY, whaddya know?! My little story worked, hooray! I know, I know. I should be ashamed of such tawdry behavior, but we were just playin' and I hadn't gotten laid in so long nor even messed around with anyone in like...forever. This was harmless, really...wasn't it?

He e-mailed me the next day from his office. Our conversation took its usual turn towards the unmentionable fetish and I was once again moved to succumb to the fantasy. I nearly died laughing when he reported that he had just made a mess in his boxer shorts, right there at his desk - at work! I was dying to know how he pulled it off without the guy at the next desk, only a couple of feet away, realizing it. Thank goodness he'd planned to go home for lunch!

You know, Frances is absolutely aghast that I would dare contemplate meeting Jack even for a simple coffee. She is unwavering in her opinion that he will ultimately seduce me over to that proverbial darkside. And if I follow through with meeting him for coffee next Friday like we've planned, I have to almost hope that we don't have that connection, you know? It would so solve the problem before it even began...because this admittedly does have all the telltale earmarkings of a problematic sitcheeashun.

Monday, November 3, 2008

"I Say Torch the Bastard!"

I had a bit of jolly, good news the instant I was reunited with my trusty, ole Mac on arriving home after the Simon fiasco. One of my all-time favorite dating sites had bestowed upon me the coveted honor of making it onto their "Hot List"! I honestly, had no idea what it even meant, but it sure sounded good to me! So I celebrated by proudly placing my glittering mental trophy in a place of prominence amongst my otherwise dubious online dating achievements. If the judging panel could've only seen me in action the night before, woo-hoo! All I have to say is, "And I'd like to thank the Academy..."

Saturday, I took the day off from actively online dating, except to sew up a few loose ends with spurned lover wannabe's including Dan, to whom I had boorishly neglected to send any kind of follow-up note after our date. He had written to me asking when he could see me, again and you know, it wasn't like he had done anything horribly wrong to me during our evening together, well - other than groping my breasts, completely without warning, but besides that...He had taken me out for a really yummy, super expensive dinner (he was clearly taken aback when the waiter brought the check...oops! Them was some 'spensive cocktails!) and you know, I'd like to think that a note to Dan, politely explaining that we would not, in fact, be getting together again, would prove that I am making an effort to enact a more decent and mature approach to slithering away from un-datables. Hence my decision to be a big girl and write to thank him for spoiling me at dinner but more importantly to let him know that he had kinda crowded me and that I worried about an even higher intensity of physical invasion if we were to go out again, and that I was sorry and good luck to him. The funny thing is that relatively speaking, the date with Dan was a freakin' cake walk compared to my date with Simon, but this was my story and I was stickin' to it. He got back to me before I'd finished composing my second "Dear John" letter and said,

I'm so chill
I may have been enamored a bit over the top
I assume it's just out of boredom
I think that it was fun and I'm sorry you feel that way"

Ok, so - thank you very much...NEXT!

Understandably, I had no reservations about firmly kicking Simon to the curb. I felt it best to cut the cord with him, unapologetically - he deserved nothing more. I told him that I did not appreciate the liberties he had taken with me, physically - that he had been way too forward for my comfort level and that frankly, the fact that he had said "I love you" was more than bewildering. I said that I would never dare even consider putting myself in a situation like that with him, another time and that it was too bad that he had been such a horny dumbass because we did have some neat things in get the point. He tried to defend himself as well as defer the blame, saying that I had essentially encouraged his deplorable aggressions (not in those words, obviously). It was kinda creepy to witness such a drastic shift in his demeanor, adoration being swapped out for acute acrimony. Yep! I should consider myself lucky to have escaped all in one piece, huh?

Finally, I broke down and typed a "touch base" type of note to Steve, yes - Steve! See, Frances has been vehemently urging me to not let him slip through the cracks. She is constantly reminding me, "Don't forget, you had a connection with him, and you know how rare that is, nag, nag, nag" In my note to Steve I offered up some paper-thin excuse as to why I'd been so scarce and basically just said, "Hullo". I reckon it was somewhat sleazy of me to so callously attempt to pluck him out of the archives, immediately after Dan and Simon, who had temporarily snagged first and second place over Steve as the most captivating "aces-in-the-hole", had bellied up. There's always got to be at least one man, at all times, on whom I can pin my romantic aspirations. Steve was now the best - really the only candidate, once again. I got a reply from Steve and I was not the least bit surprised that he didn't jump at the chance to see me again. In fact, the vagueness in his response was hauntingly familiar to those that I have written when gingerly placing a guy on retainer, in order to explore another option, but careful to not dismiss him entirely. I was nearly certain that his noncommittal response indicated that he probably even had a date that very night. I'd be willing to bet that he was all excited to be meeting someone new, but didn't want to tell me to get fucked, just in case this new chick was a dud. I harbored no ill feelings, been there done that. I predicted that his date would be unimpressive and even though he would bite his tongue for the rest of the weekend, I felt confident that he would get in touch with me early the next week.

Late Saturday night after cosmic bowling (nothing but good, clean fun - a much needed diversion, hell - I bowled a damn 54, Dawg!) with a few good friends and a bunch of kids (my own adorable daughter included) I snooped around the dating site on which Steve and I had met and noticed that he logged in at around 1 a.m.. Classic...he went on a date, it was shit and after sleepwalking through it, eyes glazed, he scurried home to assuage his misfortune by whoring around online...lifts the spirits, every time! He wasn't foolin' anybody, not that I cared, I swear! I'm just braggin' 'bout my Nancy Drew skills.


"Hey Isobel,
How are you doing? Is everything alright? Have things calmed down with your ex-husband? Did you get my email last week? I'll try calling you tomorrow in between Fios being installed and voting.
Talk with you soon... I hope!"

Need I say more?

Steve asked to go out with me at my earliest convenience...I may...

Sunday I met a man (with whom I've been talking for at least a month) for coffee, my cup for which (incidentally) he did not offer to pay. I mean c'mon! It was like the perfect opportunity for him to demonstrate what a gentleman he is, and it woulda only set 'im back a measly $1.89! Not sure if it was because he's had so few dates that he's so painfully clueless or if he's maybe some kind of an equal rights for women kind of guy or something, but damn - what a cheapie! Anyway, I was just glad that I actually had enough to pay for it (lately that kind of change is all that I have to invest in gas, fairly often) Anyhoo, let me just say that I knew from the outset that Copa Cabana (screen name) was not my type. His looks were not for me, not that he was unattractive, necessarily...I just have a type and he didn't fit the profile. I also felt that the double-breasted sport coat he wore in his profile pic. depicted a man with absolutely no sense of style. He later boasted that he'd scored the jacket off of Ebay. I'm not even sure I knew you could buy clothes on Ebay, or why anyone would chose to...Could be that he stumbled upon it by accident while browsing through the Miami Vice memorabilia. So, whaddya think? Should the fashion sense (or lack thereof) of a potential suitor impact one's answer to the burning questions: To date? or Not to date? To this I say, unequivocally, YES! Although I admit that this is terribly shallow of me. Ok, so you might be asking yourself, "What the hell is she doing? Is she so desperate that she would waste a perfectly good Sunday morning on a guy who literally does not move her one iota?" I can only defend my decision to meet Copa by reminding you that - wasn't it in the very last entry that I toyed with the idea of responding to guys who I normally would ignore completely? You know...reverse psychology...sorta? And I reckon there coulda been a smattering of desperation thrown in there for good measure. There...Happy now?

I have to stop myself from launching a full attack, I feel I must hold back from further scrutiny of this whopper of an hour and a half date because Copa Cabana reads the blog and since his only real offense was not treating me to a cup of Joe, I don't feel overly compelled to rip him to shreds in front of his very eyes. I was talking to one of my dearest online friends, Reid (Hey Baby! Muah! Love, love!) later that night and Reid said, "I say torch the bastard!" Actually it came to me like this, "I say torch the **stard" after being cleaned up by the site. It's so funny the way these dating sites have to be such goody goodies about that shit, like you can't even say the name "Dick" or "cocktail" or "pussycat" it's so silly, we're all grown-ups here, I mean really...I really wasn't trying to change the subject, there! But as I'm sure you've noticed, I AM going to refrain from "torching" Copa. There...nuff said.

I left the bookshop where Copa and I had failed to launch, and navigated my cute, little car through the gorgeous countryside to an idyllic, 1000 acre farm where Jordan was to participate (and as it turns DOMINATE!) in an equestrian event. It was so therapeutic for me to be outside, breathing in the crisp Autumn air, surrounded by open fields and my children and several of my dearest friends. I was so enjoying a break from perpetually frying my brain, by staring at my computer monitor during every free minute - searching in vain for my forever lover, along with suffering through one disturbing outing after another, fact I was semi-resolving to be frickin' done with the male gender, entirely. I felt somewhat at peace, really. It was downright refreshing, I'll tell ya'!...ahhh...

Snapping me out of my Nirvana there at Jordan's event, was an acquaintance of mine who approached me and in her characteristically brusque, take-control style asked if I was seeing anyone. Everyone within earshot, laughed uproariously, myself included, 'cept my laughter was tinged with a distinct bitterness. Was this a case of malevolent leg-pulling, huh, HUH? Anyway, instead of getting righteously defensive I simply asked, "Claire, don't you read my blog?" to which she replied, "I don't have time to read your blog, Isobel! Come here, I have somebody I want you to meet." Oh! Ok, and off we strode to introduce me to this mystery man, in the flesh, before ever having read each other's profiles or e-mailed or IM-ed or texted or webcammed -- woah! It had been forever since I'd taken such a traditional route to meet a man, suddenly I was panic-stricken, like seriously VERY nervous! She hadn't given me time to prepare and the next thing I knew I was hip to hip with a very attractive, age-appropriate, divorced man with three kids whose ages lined up almost exactly with three of my own children and we were from the same hometown and went to brother and sister schools and my stepmom used to work with his dad and both of our daughters won their events and my GOD! It was just such a whirlwind of, a real live human...