I'm thinkin' it may be a good thing for everyone concerned, that I am (sort of) taking the month of November off from dating and partying and chronicling my shenanigans to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWrimo)...Today is November 15, which means that I am halfway through my month-long sabbatical from blogging. Aaaand...I have written half of the required words necessary to become a NaNo "winner" which brings me great joy as well as a sense of relief since when I embarked on the project, I had no concept of how difficult it would be to stay on schedule. And because I am feeling fairly confident that I will be able to reach my goal of 50,000 words by November 30, I figured it couldn't hurt to take a little time out from all of that wholesome, clean writing to tend to my neglected blog a bit. I am, after all, irreversibly programmed to have Big Ugly-relevant thoughts and the idea of waiting for an entire month to jot them down feels nearly negligent. Plus I just miss you guys and hate the thought of leaving you dangling for so long...
Honestly, there really isn't anything very exciting to relay. The only thing dating-wise that's happened is this: Two Sundays ago, the very day that I was to kick off NaNoWriMo, I was heading home from my daughters' riding event. My hangover from the Halloween party, the night before was beginning to neutralize and as I found myself finally able to process crisp thoughts, I intended to use the 30 minute car ride home to mentally prepare myself to knuckle down in front of my trusty ole Mac, the instant that I got home...I was sorting out my story in my head and was determining to tune out all other distractions in order to log in a hefty helping of wordage, over that initial day of NaNoWriMo. Not 10 minutes into my trip back home though, I received an unexpected surprise, in the form of a text. The Thursday night prior, while attempting to quickly rustle up some fun, since my kids were away and I did not have to work the next day, I came across the familiar face of a man who's been intermittently peeping at my profile on this one dating site, for over a year now. I have always reciprocated and peeped back at his profile and have even sent him a couple of (unanswered) messages, asking him to just say, "Hi" or something - for godssakes. I liked the way that the Silver Fox looked; salt and pepper grey, military short hair, unusually pale eyes and a confident but in-check masculinity. I could tell that he had a decent sense of humor too, since the caption beside his main profile pic. said, "Polar Bear...Something to Break the Ice" I dunno, I just found that to be very cute and clever...call me corny. Ok, so that Thursday night, after catching the Silver Fox snooping around my profile again, I was like, "Fuck it. No more of this namby pamby bullshit. I gotta try and make something happen." I sent him a new message and said something to the effect of, "All right "Silver Fox", you've been sneakin' peeks at me for over a year now. Why won't you just go on and talk to me? How 'bout this...what say we meet for a drink in Winchester...tonight..." and I typed in the digits of my cell.
I never did hear from the Silver Fox, but this did happen to be the same evening that I ended up going on that late, last-minute date with the Creeper...so the night was not entirely for naught.
Anyway, here it was...three days after I'd sent my message to him and the Silver Fox had finally decided to get in contact with me. He apologized for the delay in his response, and explained that he was a reservist in the military and that he had been away on duty for the last few days. He had been interested in meeting me since we first noticed each other online, but since he was not a paying member on that particular site, he did not have the paying members' privilege of communicating via email. He told me that when he saw my most recent message, he had decided to suck it up and pay the $35 dollars to become an official member, so that he would be able to talk to me...but once he saw that I had included my #, he realized that he didn't have to bother with any of that nonsense...he could bypass the site altogether and just give me a ring. I told him, "Well yeah! So, since I saved you from having to cough up that $35, I guess you'll be buyin', if we ever finally go out." The Silver Fox said, "I would have it no other way."
I had just that morning, emptied out my text inbox, so there were only a few scattered texts in my phone before the Silver Fox and I started talking. We texted for my entire drive home and for several hours after that and about the time that my inbox was completely full with texts from the Silver Fox and my phone was dead on charge, we switched over to emailing each other. Needless to say, I did NOT get very much writing done, on that first critical day of NaNoWriMo...ugh...But at least I had a date lined up for the following Tuesday night! Weee! (so much for implementing my "nose-to-the-grindstone" method of attacking my NaNo project and curbing my socializing, whoopsie)
All of this build-up, I hate to say, is just a bunch of smoke and mirrors, because the truth of the matter is, that my date with the Silver Fox was positively good...but definitely not as good as great. I liked the guy very much don't get me wrong, but even after spending a couple of hours effortlessly chatting nonstop, I really just wasn't feeling any sort of attraction to him. I do believe that he would make a very nice companion to some other gal, but I myself, simply wasn't blown away by him, on any level. The good and the bad news was, that without the distraction of a new love interest, I would be able to get myself focussed on writing my book, but I was really discouraged to have crossed yet another good prospect off of my dwindling list of hopefuls.
Naturally, during this time of isolation and solitude, hunkered down here in my studio - pouring myself into my mediocre novel, I have had plenty of quiet time to consider my current single girl status and very little opportunity to do anything to improve upon it. My assessment of the situation is pretty disheartening. In the last entry, I glibly made light of the Rough Rider scenario which transpired at Flemming's boisterous Halloween party, but the fact of the matter is - amusing anecdote or not - this was not good decision-making on my part (no shit!) And later that Halloween evening, after my sweet and wonderful friends created interference by breaking up not only the first, but also a couple of follow-up interludes with the Rough Rider - I kinda collapsed...emotionally.
I have the most amazingly devoted friends and even my peripheral acquaintances take my undulating strife to heart...which I appreciate beyond expression. After word got out about my first slip-up with the Rough Rider, I heard from a number of concerned people who offered the inside skinny on the nefarious monster and insisted that I be made aware of his ghastly exploits - the direct byproducts of his rapacious drive to rack up conquests. I heard a particularly tragic story in which the Rough Rider had allegedly introduced an innocent, 18 year old newbie to a sordid world of hardcore sexual deviation, and consequently transformed her into a raving, seasoned swinger in a very short period of time. The side effects of her sudden immersion into this newfound, alternative lifestyle, coupled with the Rough Riders quick abandonment of her, has to this day - left an indelible mark on her ability to function properly in relationships with men. It was alleged that the Rough Rider, during his long career as a sexual marauder, has passed along various venerial diseases to certain of his prey, and has sired 3 children - each with a different mother and none of whom he supports financially...VERY honorable. So why, after hearing all of this following my first run-in with the Rough Rider, did I continue to try and slink off with him every sneaky chance that we found at the Halloween party - which was the second night that we crossed paths? And this very question is the reason that I totally lost my shit when J. finally coaxed me into walking away from the temptation to continue fucking around with that asshole, and instead, to follow him - J. - out to my cute, little car for a minute...to chill. J., like so many of the people to whom I gravitate, is much younger than I and I've said it before, but I'll say it again..it is my youngest pals who consistently prove to be infinitely more wise than I as well as some of my older friends are. But it still felt a little strange to be tenderly scolded by someone so much younger than I. Nonetheless, hearing J.'s take on things, definitely got me thinking...
We all know that there is this glaring, fundamental glitch in my wiring, the result of which is my apparent unwillingness to recognize good men as viable dating options in favor of fixating on the stinky, rotting chum of the dating world. Whether this is a protective mechanism by which to stay safe from commitment or simply inherently bad judgement of character, it's hard for me to say. But either way, hearing J. chastise me for being such a fool, was quite an eye-opener. I looked into that metaphorical mirror that he held up to my tear-soaked face, and saw myself for the ridiculous joke of a human, that I have become. And for a second, I leaned more towards the side of perhaps hangin' up my fishnets and hooker boots and cleaning up my act a tad, in order to get serious about finding a reasonable candidate to date. This is not a totally foreign concept, my god no. I have always waffled back and forth between wanting to find the man with whom I am meant to grow old...and whorin' it up just to fill idle time. J. insists that he knows a really great guy; divorced, my age, has kids and is an artist...and he has vowed to introduce us. Now, whether or not J. will actually go to the trouble of arranging for us to meet, remains to be seen. But I am hopeful, that if an indisputably good thing presents itself, I will have the wherewithal to distinguish it as such...rather than chalk it up later, as another good opportunity - missed.
I decided to let myself celebrate reaching the 25k word mark in my novel a couple of days before arriving at the official midway point of NaNoWriMo, by joining Willow and a few other friends in D.C., cuz it also happened to be Friday and my kids were with their dad, this weekend. I'd agreed and was perfectly happy to act as a sort of buffer along with another girlfriend, Janine - since Willow was wanting to hang out with this new guy she likes, but she didn't want it to seem like a date...you know, in case he wasn't thinking about HER, that way. The three of us girls joined up with Willow's guy, M.C. Ginger who brought J. along and we hit the town for a long night of balls out partying. I had just been so sure that hanging out in a different geographical location would equal=tons of new faces which would get my congealing juices flowing again. We started off at dinner, which was yum but not exactly conducive to plumping up my repertoire. I did manage to catch the eye of the two guys restocking the soap and paper towels in the men's room, though. The line for the ladies room was absurdly long, so - like we sometimes do - Willow and I burst into the men's room, past the guys standing at the urinals and back to where the stalls were. Unfortunately all of the potties were occupied, which left Willow and me standing out like sore thumbs, in the middle of the men's room. We ducked into the broom closet and waited til one of the stall doors opened. And when it did, I shot through the broom closet doorway to try and nab the open stall before someone else did, and the instant my high heels touched that disgusting, soaking wet floor, my feet flew out from under me and I nearly fell all the way down to that filthy-ass floor! EWWWW, oh my GOD! It was sheer self-preservation that I was able to catch myself with the inside of my elbow on the sink counter, before suffering the horrible fate of donning urine-soaked clothing, for the rest of the night...Willow and I did our business and as we quickly washed our hands and turned to leave, the two employees looked me up and down and excitedly spoke to me in Spanish...I didn't understand their words, but I felt like I had an inkling as to what it was that they were saying...their eyes did all the talking!...The whole thing was only slightly embarrassing...
The five of us left the restaurant and strolled around, trying to decide what to do next and happened upon a party in a big house full of George Washington University students, presumably. There were tons of peeps, but the absence of vodka and the abundance of trust fund babies with popped collars, tipped the scales toward the decidedly "bunk" category. We lasted maybe 10 minutes before opting to move on and as we neared the abnormally long flight of stairs which would lead us back down to the front door, I could not resist throwing myself down 'em...just like old times! I got a couple of requests from startled observers, to prove that I had done it on purpose, by repeating this - my favorite party stunt, and of course - I was happy to oblige them...Unfortunately, my clothes were now BEER-soaked, BUT - somehow, miraculously...nary a hair on my head was outta place...Hi-YAH!
During dinner, I had gotten a text from this 22 year old boy(?) from one of my dating sites, who had been inquiring over the last few days whether or not I was into dating younger guys cuz, "I think ur hot". I had explained to him about my miserable relationship with Jimmy and the resultant bad taste in my mouth which clearly had not registered with him, and so after this - his first text to me - I suggested that one of my younger friends, like Willow or Janine for instance, might be a more suitable match for him. He immediately snapped back, "I don't date girls my own age" I apologized for offending him and left it at that. After leaving the party and while on the way to our final destination, I got another text from the very young (but admittedly good looking!) Grouchy Guy. He wanted to know if I was interested in getting together at all that very night - and I, now a bit tipsy and hungry for action said, "Oh, why not. I'm hangin out w friends in D.C., come join us if you want" He said that he was in Reston, and that it was too far for him to travel. Maybe tomorrow night. I said "K" and that was the end of that.
My four friends and I finally agreed to end our search for the perfect place to party when we reached a packed-to-the-gills bar in Dupont Circle. Just being in a room with that many people gave me a bogus sense of certainty that there would be no way in HELL, that I could leave outta there without at least one guy's number...or something...
As could've been expected, Willow was fairly well occupied with M.C. Ginger, but Janine and J. and I were def. on the prowl. I kept waiting to locate someone...anyone - in that enormous crowd of people, on whom I might zero in, but I simply could not find a single living soul who whet my whistle, so to speak. I said something to Janine about the shortage of hot guys, wondering if she felt the same way and it turned out that she was just as stymied as I was that per capita, the pickin's could be that slim.
Last Call was fast approaching, and I was accepting that this night would be remembered as nothing more than a fun night of partying with my buddies...no skanky story to recount in my blog, no potential for long term romance...nada...But wait...What was THIS? Oh nothing really...it was only - JUST ABOUT THE MOST ADORABLE GUY I MIGHT EVER HAVE SEEN IN MY LIFE! I moved away from my perch on the bench against the wall, and slyly positioned myself out more in the middle of the room...closer to the Brit. Ok, now listen to what this guy was wearing, and I'm here to tell ya', most men could not pull this shit off. But for whatever reason, the Brit made a chunky Mr. Rogers-esque cardigan sweater over a rumpled white button-down shirt, complemented with a black skinny tie - absolutely WORK! He had his hair done up all spikey and his face was animated and bright with blue eyes, a broad smile and the most divine, clear complexion. Once I was in his general area, it didn't take long for us to recognize a kindred kookiness in one another. We immediately started talking and goofing off and for those last 30 minutes or so, before management kicked everyone out of the bar, the Brit and I had a really big time. I gave him a Big Ugly business card, which unfortunately has no personal contact info., nothing but the link to my blog. We left the club at the same time, said goodbye with a quick peck on the mouth, turned to walk in opposite directions...and here is where THIS story ends...
I guess I could be bummed that I didn't do a better job of giving the Brit the tools needed in order to contact me if he so chose, and vice versa. But honestly - I was really just happy to close out the night, knowing that the world is not totally barren of interesting guys...
I awoke in the morning, only 3 or 4 hours after we'd gotten back to Janine's place. I couldn't believe that I wasn't more hungover than I was...but as the day dragged on, I realized that it was only because I musta still been drunk when I woke up, HA! The Grouchy Guy texted to see if I wanted to get together that night and I told him that my phone was about to die and that I'd text him after I'd gotten home. He said "Cool"
After I got home, I spent several straight, semi-lucid hours mostly sleeping through a shit ton of TIVO'd America's Next Top Model reruns before regaining full consciousness and realizing that I'd totally spaced on getting back in touch with the Grouchy Guy. I considered my options before contacting him, and decided that I just couldn't go out for another big night of partying. Not so much because I couldn't take it (well, sorta) but more because I had wasted an entire childless Saturday in a sad state of slow recovery...and once I got myself vertical again, all I really wanted to do, was sit in my comfy pj's, in front of my computer and catch up on the writing that I SHOULDA been doing all day. I texted the Grouchy Guy and said that I was kinda wrecked still, from the night before and really didn't feel like driving out of town a second night in a row. He said, "Same" I said, "K" and that was all she wrote...
As I luxuriated here - in front of my trusty ole Mac - for the better part of this unseasonably warm autumn day, windows up and doors thrown open...I enjoyed two notable achievements...#1: This is the very first Big Ugly entry that I have ever written, all in one sitting. And I firmly believe that #1 was made possible only because of #2 which was this: I begged off on meeting the Grouchy Guy, caught up on much needed rest, had a nutritious late breakfast, and suffered no hangover (today) nor remorse for doing something terrifically regrettable over a childless weekend, all of which enabled me to be productive by posting this blog entry...and I still have ample time to work on my NaNo story...
And so I close out this unexpected, new post (maybe not the most exciting one ever) but it's the very lack of gritty material that has me signing off - this time - with a pleasantly satisfied grin on my face...
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