A Magician?

Okay, so James isn't just a flake, he's a magician as well (Please read The Flake if you don't know what I'm talking about).  He disappeared over a month ago from one dating site and now he has reappeared, like magic, on a different one and has found me again!  (To cast a wide net I'm on three sites.)

I see a familiar username in my inbox and I'm stunned.  Surprised.  Shocked.  This is definitely someone I never thought I'd hear from again.  I open the message. 

"I wish there were something I could do to erase my actions."

Psh, yeah right- I think, but curiosity gets the best of me and I bite.  I send him a message basically asking where the heck he's been this past month.  We were talking on the daily.  He was calling me names like babe and sweetheart.  He bought me roses (kinda).  He thought I was his "dream girl," and by the time we finally set up a date where there would be no work-related interruptions- POOF- he vanishes into thin air without a trace.  What the heck happened?? 

"I got sick, had a huge family blow out, then lost my phone.  Then I got sick again and I didn't want to hurt you again.  I felt you deserved better so I left it at that.  But every time I see you, it hurts."

Well the last line is cute, and a faint grin emerges, but the rest of it I'm not buying.  Sick? Blow out? Lost phone?  Um, what about a computer? I'm pretty sure most companies, libraries, and homes have computers in 2011, so I'm pretty sure you could have shot me a message.  After all, you know where to find me on Match. Plus we were friends on Facebook. I know you had access to the internet, because thanks to Facebook's newsfeed, I could see when you changed your profile picture.  Which you did a lot.  So really, there's no excuse for leaving me in the lurch.

"I'm sorry, I had so much going on in my family, and you're absolutely right.  I was 1000% wrong and I'm sorry.  I liked you more than you know and I handled it all wrong."

True dat.  But if you really liked me, this wouldn't have happened.  When a guy really likes a girl, he makes time.    

"I never expected you to say anything or ever give me the time of day, let alone another chance.  I just wanted to say I'm sorry and if I could go back in time I would." 

Sigh.  This is where I become mushy.  Now I'm thinking about why I liked him in the first place.  But really, there's no excuse for his being MIA for one month.  And this cluster fuck of events he describes, they just don't sound real to me.  It's a good thing I've been talking to this other guy that I really like and have actually gone out with a couple of times and *still* really like him (shocking, right?), because otherwise I might cave.  I might give James a second chance.  But like the great George W. Bush once said, "There's an old saying in Tennesse-I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee- that says, 'fool me once, shame on... shame on you... The fool man can't get fooled again."  I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. It was staring me right in the face!  You know what I'm saying: If I wasn't dating this guy who I also have a connection with, whom I've actually had the pleasure of meeting not once, but three times,  then I might feel a little hopeless and give James another shot.  But that's not the case.  I feel a connection with someone else and like him more than I liked James and I rather not waste my time spending it on a flake when I could be spending it with him.  And like that saying really goes, "Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me."  And while I don't always succeed, I try not to be foolish.  Now George, was it really that difficult?  Really?  

I thank James for finally getting back to me and letting me know what happened (even if it isn't the truth, it's still nice to know that it wasn't something I said or did that made him disappear).  

"I hope you find the man of your dreams.  Wish it was me, but life got in the way.  I really wish you the best.  You deserve it."  

"Thank you," I write, "I wish the same for you as well.  Except a woman. :)"  Within a year I believe he did meet and marry a woman with a child.  Hope he doesn't pull a disappearing act on them as well.  

The end?  Almost.  Six days later I get another email.  "Can I do anything to get you back?"  It depends, do you have access to a time machine?  I'm not really sure what you can do to win a person back after you've been missing for a month.  Besides, if I told him how to get me back, then that would be cheating, right?  It wouldn't mean anything.  When a guy really wants something, or someone, he goes after it and nothing can stop him.  He doesn't ask for instructions or permission, just like he doesn't ask for directions when driving and doesn't read the manual before putting something together.  He just does it.  Anyway, maybe I'll hear from him again or maybe I won't.  But at this point, I'm happy where things seem to be going with this new guy, and so far he's magical in all the right ways.  

Online Dating- You're Doing it Wrong

Three short stories that left me wondering- what are you thinking?!

Short Story #1

I stumble upon a guy, I look at his pics, I look at his profile, and I like what I see.  However, I notice that the very last sentence of his profile is "Do not email me."  Strange, I think, but perhaps he gets lots of messages and he rather be the hunter than the hunted.  I send him a wink.  He winks me back.  Getting the green light, I write a message that reads, "I guess this means I can ignore your, 'Do not email me' warning now, right? Haha."

I guess I was wrong because he never responded.  Which leaves me wondering, why are you on a dating website if you don't want people to talk to you?  

Short Story #2

I receive a message from a guy that reads, "LOL, looks like you know how to handle a big gun, ey? ;) How's your evening going?"

I'm assuming that message is in response to a Halloween costume picture where I'm dressed up as a cowboy sheriff holding plastic pistols.  Okay, so that was a little clever but also slightly inappropriate for a first contact.  I write back hoping to guide the subject away from penises, "Hahaha I'd say that's an average-sized gun, but I'm no expert.  My evening is alright. I got to leave work early (yay), but I have a cold (boo)."

Again, a sexual response awaits me.  "LOL, what's a big gun then in your opinion?  9.5"x2.5"? LOL ;) Well sorry to hear about your cold, it was very wet outside last night...."

I decide not to encourage this topic and write, "I don't know what's considered a big gun, you'd have to ask my ex.  I've done a fairly good job staying out of the rain.  My guess is it's because I work with hundreds of sick people."

Now he's confused.  "What do you mean, what do we need your ex for?"  I explain that he's the one with the gun experience.  He replies, "Hahahaha, you're a good girl.  Didn't get the reference to a nice big fat cock did you?"

And this is when I decide to teach him a lesson:  "Nope, I did.  I'm just not as excited as you are to talk about it.  I see penises 36 hours a week.  They're not that exciting."

"Oh sorry."  I hope you're embarrassed.  A grown man shouldn't be talking to a lady about dicks unless you know her pretty darn well.  And definitely don't talk to a nurse about a dick unless it's a story about shoving something up one, like a catheter or a ballpoint pen.  Then you'll have my attention. But first conversations that are sexual in nature, automatically casts you in a sleazy kind of light.  It also shines a light on their priorities or the topic at the forefront of their mind.  At least he has his dick to keep him company.

Short Story #3

The proposition I received, that was oh-so-tempting.  

"I'm the Big Bad Wolf.  Wanna Play? (In reference to a Little Red Hiding Hood Halloween costume.  Maybe I shouldn't post Halloween pictures now that I think about it....)  I'm just a horney devil.  I haven't had sex since July! But if you're not interested, I understand.  I just find you attractive.  It might lead to more, but I'd love a one night stand.  Call or text me.  (Insert phone number here) Mike"

Seriously? If I wanted a one night stand, I'd go to a bar.  I wouldn't be paying $100 online for it. Maybe I can help him out though.  Anyone interested in a guy with an eyebrow piercing who hasn't had sex since July, spells "horny" wrong, and takes only kissy-faced photos of himself?  Yeah, I didn't think so.


Addendum to Short Story #3:
Minutes after posting this blog entry, I get another message from Mike at attempted proposition number 2.


"Hey sweetie.  You seem very sophisticated and lovely. I would be interested in talking.  Maybe we can have an erotic conversation and if we like each other we can take the next step.  Call or text me.  I'm a gentleman.  We can start slow."


OMG I have no words.  One night stand? Erotic conversation? I'm a gentleman??  And why did I just get downgraded from sex to phone sex? LOL  I better find a man soon because I just might text this guy.  

KIDDING!

The Flake

This one is about Jason.  I had seen him on this site the last time I was registered but I didn't remember responding to him.  Probably because he had tattoo sleeves.  Even his username had "tattoos" in it.  As someone who personally has no tattoos and finds them mildly unattractive, I was hesitant initially to date someone who is so in love with them. However, after over six months of being on this site AGAIN with no promising prospects, I have become more open minded as far as body art goes. I still can't get past nipple rings though... they kinda freak me out.  Besides, his profile said he was a clean-cut guy with lots of tattoos.  I'm wondering how can you be both clean-cut and have tattoo sleeves... isn't that an oxymoron?  

I begin talking to James and he surprisingly seems to be a very very nice guy.  He's friendly and funny and honest and he seems like a genuinely good guy.  We talk about ourselves, we talk about our likes and dislikes, we talk about qualities and traits that are important to us in another person, and we talk about past relationships and why they haven't worked out.  Strangely enough, we have broken up for the same exact reasons.  A girl who couldn't provide him with the affection and intimacy he needed to be happy.  A girl who was content with her job but not the least bit interested in a career.  This guy is great!  He's good looking, he's got a great smile, he knows what he wants, he's thinking about the future, he's a hopeless romantic (haven't had one of those before) and he has a sexy voice.  For the first time in a long time I'm actually excited to go on a date!  I want to *meet* this guy.  And the feeling is mutual.  He told me several times how excited he was to meet me, because he thought I was his dream girl.  Our occasional emails were now daily texts.  This was promising and I was hopeful.

James scheduled a lunch date on Saturday, warning me that for the next two weeks at work he was on-call, meaning that during our date he could get called back to work at any time.  He assured me though that this was an infrequent occurrence.  He gets called in maybe three times a week when he's on-call, so the chances that he'd get a page during our date was slim but worth mentioning anyway.  Like a gentleman, he offers to pick me up for the date.  Unfortunately on the drive over, he gets called back in.  He apologizes and suggests meeting up afterwards if his call is short.  That's fine with me, that gives me time to paint my nails.  

A couple of hours go by, my nails are dry and fantastic and he texts me apologizing again but this call is going to be long.  Maybe Sunday instead?  Sunday rolls around, half the day goes by and I don't hear anything from James.  Later in the evening I get another apology text.  He's been working the whole day.  Working in a hospital, I understand the concept of being on-call. I get it.  No one likes to be called into work, but when you get the page, you don't have a choice.  You have to show up.  That's your job.  But I'm still disappointed.  I was looking forward to meeting him all week.  I was smelling great, my hair was perfectly coiffed, nails red and glittery, high heels- the works.  I was dressed to impress and this weekend of four potential dates has now dwindled down to a total of zero.  I was bummed.

Then two or three days go by and I haven't heard from James.  I wonder if he really blew me off on all those dates.  He went from texting me everyday to nothing.  I send him a text saying that if something's wrong or he lost interest, I'd appreciate a courtesy text instead of ignoring me.  I get a text the next day saying there was a family emergency with his stepdad several hours away and in a rush to get to the hospital he left his phone at home and was unable to contact me.  "I wanted to call you so bad," he said.  "I like you a lot, I will never stop talking to you," he said.  That made me smile.  

We set up another date under the same circumstances- the chance of being called in.  This time before I even have time to get ready he gets called in.  "I swear to God it's never this busy!"  We're both frustrated but still after each day I'm liking this guy more and more.  I feel like we've been talking for months but it's really only been three weeks.  At some other point I stop hearing from him again, I ask him about it and he confesses that he feels with all the date canceling he's done, he's already messed things up.  I reassure him that I'm okay with his work schedule.  I understand the concept of being on-call. I understand work can get crazy from time to time.  I understand that it's out of his control.  But I'm also very interested and if I wasn't, then I wouldn't still be talking with him.  "You're right, I just feel so bad.  I've been working here for six years and it's never been this busy.  I already have 31 hours of overtime in a week and a half.  I want to meet you so bad, I just felt like I was already in the hole."  

He comes up with an idea, perhaps if we meet halfway, then even if he gets called into work he can at least spend a little time with me before having to leave.  We decide to get coffee one evening.  Again I get all fancy, I drive there, park, and as I'm walking to the coffee shop I get a phone call.

"Sweetheart?" he says.

"You got called didn't you?" I ask.

"Yes! I feel absolutely terrible! You have no idea how awful I feel. I'm so so sorry!  I even bought you flowers."  He takes a picture of a bouquet of roses sitting on his passenger seat and sends them to me.  "Send me a picture of you so I know what I'm missing.  I bet you look beautiful."  I walk back to my car bummed.  Again.  I go home and I take a couple of pictures send some and post the rest on the dating site.  

The next day he texts me again, still apologizing for last night. He asked me what I did today and without really thinking I mention posting new pictures online.  He sounds hurt and at the moment I'm a little confused as to why.  We haven't even gone out yet and he's posted ten or so new pictures of himself since we started talking anyway.  

"It's not a big deal, you just don't need to go out of your way to say it.  And I posted those pictures before we started talking everyday."  

I apologize for hurting his feelings, we continue talking and decide that it would be best to set up a date sometime after his on-call period ends.  Which won't be for another week and a half.  

"What are you doing that weekend?" I ask.

"I might have a wedding to go on Saturday, but if not, then I'm spending the whole weekend with you," he smiles.  Sounds like a plan. The texting trails off, we each get sleepy and go to bed.  

A couple of days pass without a text from him.  I remember the time of the family emergency, another time he left his phone at work, and I don't think anything of it.  So I send him a text here and  there saying I hope he has a good day or something along those lines.  After three days with no response I decide to stop texting and wait for him.  Another three days go by.  I'm nervous and confused.  I send him another text.

"Hey there.  I don't know if something's changed and you're not interested anymore.  I'm not sure if this is about my stupid comment about posting pictures or not.  If that's what this is about then I'd hope you could be as understanding as I have been.  In either case, if I don't hear from you I wish you the best of luck and I truly enjoyed talking with you."  Days go by and deep down I still hope that I'll get some crazy text about how he lost his phone or something, but he's actively using the dating site and Facebook during this time so I knew he's #1 alive and #2 able to contact me if he wanted.  The weekend approaches and Saturday morning I still haven't heard from him.  I sadly delete him from my friends list and give up on ever meeting this seemingly perfect tattooed version of what I want.  

I still don't know what happened.  Was my brain fart comment about posting pictures really the cause? And if it was, was it really that bad?  I don't know, maybe somewhere on here a guy is posting about his bad dates and there's an entry about a girl who told him that she was updating her profile and all these people are commenting how stupid she was.  I have no idea.  But in this situation, I think I deserved a little forgiveness.  After all, James flaked on me four times and not once did I give him a bad time about it.  Especially since he sited that it was a problem for girls in the past.  Even though I was disappointed, I was supportive and understanding because he seemed just as disappointed as I was.  Is it so wrong for me to think that I deserved some slack for a thoughtless comment?  Maybe it is.  But just like dandruff, all I can do now is wash this flake right outta my hair.  

A List of Do Not's

After two dates with Chandler, I've compiled a list of Do Not's, just for you.  Let us begin.  

1) If your job is boring, and you know it's boring, and I ask you about your job, try to make it sound interesting.  Or make it short.  Don't go on and on about it using your work jargon that I don't understand and then finish with, "I'm sorry, that was really boring."  Yeah, I know, I was there.  But thanks for trying to spice it up for me.

2) Don't offer to cook for me if you're not cooking in your own kitchen.  You should be familiar with the food that's available and where all of the cooking utensils are located.  Half the time cooking shouldn't be spent with both of us digging through all of the cabinets and drawers looking for a salad bowl and white rice... three times.  

3) Don't offer to cook for me if you're not a good cook.  I do appreciate the offer, and attempting to make me dinner on a second date is a big deal.  In fact, it had me thinking that you must either really like me or you really want to impress me with your awesome cooking skills.  Then you told me you had never done this before, which had me a little worried that you were experimenting on me.  Then came the confession that you didn't know how to cook one dish and the last time you did it, it came out bad.  Now I'm just plain worried and wishing I had stopped by McDonald's for a Big Mac appetizer before the main course.  

4) Don't drive a stick if you don't know how. That seatbelt sure did get a good workout, and at the end of that drive I was craving an ice pack.  There's no shame in owning an automatic.  You don't get sexy points for owning a manual.  I know guys think it's sexy if a girl can drive a stick, but girls don't care.  You know what we care about?  A whiplash-free ride.  Seriously, it's time to upgrade.    

5) If you like a girl, don't insult her... repeatedly.  There's no complimentary way to say "you talk too much,"  because it's not a compliment.  If you're not going to talk, I'm going to.  I'll let the first insult slide.  I'll even sympathize since you said you never learned how to communicate with women because you went to an all boy's high school, that you majored in a male dominated field, and now you only work with men. So the first slip up is a freebie.  But to say it once, twice, three times?  Not cool.

Let me paint a picture for you.  We're sitting across from each other at dinner in an empty house with no music or TV in the background, nothing but silence.  He's a self-proclaimed quiet guy, so I attempt to get the conversation started.  I wait for him to take over, take a turn, contribute, something, but nothing.  So I keep going.  And going.  And going.  Then when he decides to insert a comment, he chooses, "Wow.  You talk a lot."  I'm a little surprised because no one has ever told me I talk a lot.  He quickly tries to save himself, "I mean it in a good way, because I'm so quiet."  Alright, there's your free pass.  Use it wisely.

Dinner is over and now there's absolutely nothing to do.  Because this house has no television. That's right, no TV.  Can't pop in a movie, can't watch a show, all we have for entertainment is each other, which apparently means me.  So I start talking again.  He smiles and listens and laughs but again, has nothing to share or add.  He makes another comment about me talking a lot.  I think to myself, Well I wouldn't have to talk so much if YOU did some of the talking!

I get home late and after work the next day I have a text waiting from Chandler asking about my day. I tell him it was rough because I was so exhausted from lack of sleep.  His reply?  "Well you're the one who wouldn't stop talking! .... I don't mean it as a knock, it's a compliment."  Really?  Says who?  Give me one example where talking too much is a compliment.  You keep thinking and get back to me on that.  Anyway, I respond to Chandler with, "No worries, girls love it when a guy tells her she talks too much."  He laughs.  Most bland dinner ever, and I'm not just talking about the food.

6)  Don't be a wuss.  If you want to make a move, then make a move.  If you want to kiss me, kiss me.  What's the worse that can happen? I turn my face and you kiss my cheek?  Don't put your face inches from mine, close your eyes, pucker your lips and wait.  Don't then open your eyes and ask why I haven't kissed you.  I'm not kissing you because you haven't kissed me.  To be fair, Chandler didn't do that but it's happened before, this made me think of it, and it's annoying nevertheless.  

Anyway, he's driving me home, he pulls over in front of my house, shifts in his seat, and then laughs, "Geez, meet me halfway!"  Huh?  Did I miss something?  Apparently the shift was my cue for: Crawl over across the center console and kiss me!  Lame.  That poor excuse for a move doesn't even the "whoops, you kissed my cheek instead" move.  Maybe back in high school those slutty Notre Dame girls were already straddling him in the driver's seat before he could put in the car in park.  Maybe this whole, "remain seated" thing was the work of someone who was playing hard to get.  I thank him for dinner and I climb out of the car.

Let's recap Chandler's List of Do Not's:

1) Do not tell a boring story when you know it's boring and then conclude the story by validating that it was boring.  Just skip the whole thing and do us both a favor.

2) Don't cook in a stranger's kitchen unless you're good at improvising.

3) Don't cook something you don't know how to make or make well.

4) Don't buy a car you can't drive.

5) Don't tell a girl she talks too much.  If you think you've said something to insult her, don't repeat it again and again and again. It will not make her think it's a compliment.  It will make her think you're a stupid dick.      

6) Be a man and make a real move.  Don't make a fake move and then blame her when it doesn't work. Unless that's your move to make her make the move instead...  Which leads me back to: be a man and make a real move.

That's the end of the list and that's the end of Chandler.  He did text me several times after that night, but I was practicing not talking so much.  Oops.  

The Double Date

After seeing my relationship status change on Facebook, my friend and old coworker wasted no time in sending me a quick message.  He thought I'd hit it off with his best friend.  I agreed to some match making after I got some background info.  His name was Aaron and he was 30 years old, goofy, and worked as a city police officer.  My friend suggested a double date for drinks one evening- him and his girlfriend, me, and Aaron.  That sounded like a good idea to me.  Maybe even fun!  Obviously, this date didn't turn out quite the way I expected.

We arrive at the restaurant and order a round of drinks.  I've never met my friend's girlfriend before so I'm talking to her, talking to my friend, and asking Aaron some questions here and there and we're all laughing except for Aaron.  He seems like he's somewhere else entirely.  He spends a lot of time looking around the restaurant, behind him, at the bar... he's not contributing to any conversation and I don't mean just with me, I mean with anyone.  I like my friend, and now I like his girlfriend, but I came here to get to know Aaron.  So I direct all my attention to him to bring Aaron back to planet Earth, or at least back to the table.

My first attempt is this: You must have a lot of interesting stories to tell, let's hear one.  He assumes I'm talking about stories about my friend since they've known each other for 14 years.  I don't care what it's about, I just want a good story.  You know, one where Aaron speaks.  He thinks.  And thinks.  And thinks.  Silence.  Silence.  And more silence.  Finally he speaks.

"I don't know, there are so many..." 

"Okay, how about a story within the last year.  That should narrow it down by a lot!" I laugh.

He thinks.  And thinks.  And thinks.  Silence.  Silence.  And more silence.  He speaks again.

"... I don't know..."  Wow, Aaron.  Work with me here!  

"Okay then, how about a work story.  You've been a cop for 10 years right?  I bet you have some pretty crazy stories about work," I probe.

"You don't want to hear about my job," he replies.  Really?  Because I thought I just asked... 

"Actually, I'm not working right now," he states.  

"Did you get in trouble?  Did you get hurt??" I ask.  

"I shot and killed someone," he says with this distant look on his face.

"Oh... so you hurt someone else.  Well I'm sure you didn't have much of a choice about it.  But after killing someone, they require you to take some time off and see a therapist, right?"  You see all the things I learn from TV.  It's like I'm a fricken genius!  Okay, maybe that's a bit of a leap.

Aaron proceeds to tell me the story of the night where an adult woman calls 911 saying that her adult son  is in the yard waving a gun around.  They get to the scene and the man appears to be distressed and hysterical.  He appears to be contemplating suicide.  Then he begins shooting at the cops.  They all take cover and have their guns pointed at the guy.  He's now a danger to himself and a danger to others and he's armed.  Whoever has the chance to take the shot to stop this guy from killing his mom or an officer is instructed to take it.  It just so happens that Aaron has that opportunity and he does just that. Suicide by cop.  He doesn't like to talk about it.  It's been two months and now it makes sense why he seems so far away.  The guilt is eating him alive.  Sounds like therapy hasn't been helping too much, sounds like he needs some good old fashioned drugs.  You know, the Zoloft/Celexa/Wellbutrin type.  I wouldn't tell a cop to take drug-drugs now! Come on.

Anyhow, he proceeds to tell me how disturbing it was that some people on the force were congratulating him, like it was a victory.  As if he just entered some kind of cool kids club.  He kept repeating that he prides himself on being able to talk people down from situations, on being a caring person, on relating to people from all kinds of backgrounds and all types of situations, and he only uses force or violence as a last resort.  After all, he became a cop to help people, he tells me.  And now he's killed someone.  I remind him that if he didn't do it, someone else would have or someone else could have died instead.  Multiple people could have been injured or killed.  That man wanted to die.  No one expects to live when they're waving a weapon in front of a cop.  If you hold anything that even resembles a weapon in front of cops, then you're asking to be shot, because they won't hesitate to shoot you.  

I know I asked Aaron to tell me a work story, but I was expecting something a bit more light hearted than this.  I can clearly see he's traumatized and I feel bad for him, but at the same time I think he needs to be dealing with this first before he thinks about dating.  I'm also not so sure he should be a cop at all after this.  

Aaron then tells me how he's supposed to go back to work soon, but he still has triggers.  For example, when he sees the color lime green (the color of the mother's clothing), he thinks about that day and everything comes flooding back.  So not only is he depressed and guilt ridden, but he also suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.  We all order another round of drinks and Aaron goes back to being his quiet self, gazing around the restaurant.

Another round of drinks later and Aaron is drunk.  I learned years later that before the date he was nervous so they call took a couple of shots before heading over to dinner.  This explains things because now he's all smiles and all over me.  He keeps whispering in my ear, grabbing my leg, holding my thigh...  He scoots real close to me and grabs one of my legs and crosses it over his and then holds my hands.  It's funny because I had dinner before this date and I only ordered two drinks because I didn't want to get drunk, act like a fool, and then make a bad impression.  Obviously, Aaron doesn't have the same concern.  He won't keep his hands off of me, oh, and he keeps calling me a butt head.  For the rest of the night, I'm "butt head."  Alicia?  She doesn't exist.  I feel like I'm on a date with a kindergartener.  One butt head is okay, but when it becomes a substitute for my name then we have problems.

My friend and his girlfriend suggest we should go to a bar next door for some dancing, so we walk.  They get to the bar and Aaron possibly gets another drink, I can't remember, but as soon as I sit down on the couch, he picks me up and sits me on his lap and wraps his arms around me.  My friend and his girlfriend are smiling, I'm sure they think we're hitting it off.  I, on the other hand, am uncomfortable with all of this touchy-feely business, especially since just 30 minutes ago, the guy would barely speak to me or anyone else for that matter.  

He asks me to dance, so we dance.  It feels weird because he's not much taller than me (I'm 5'2") so I'm looking him right in the eyes.  Being nearly nose to nose is making me feel awkward, like my personal space is being invaded.  Then he moves in closer and I'm afraid he's going to kiss me but I'm wrong.  He goes for my neck instead, not to kiss it, to nuzzle it.  That's right, nuzzling.  You know, like an animal nuzzles its young?  He's rubbing his forehead, his cheeks, and his shaved head all over the side of my neck.  Now he moves to the other side of my neck.  Now I'm just plain confused.  I feel like a lion or something, like I should start grooming him.  I resist the temptation to lick the stubble on his head and after a fair amount of nuzzling I decide that I'm done with the dancing and the nuzzling.  I'm ready to go.  

We walk back to my car and my friend and his girlfriend keep walking to give me and Aaron some privacy.  That's sweet of them but inside I'm whimpering "please don't..." Aaron whips out his phone and hands it to me, insisting I put in my number.  I type in "Alicia Butthead."  He gives me a hug goodbye, I get in my car and hear a door slam.  I freeze.  That wasn't my door.  I look over to the passenger side and Aaron is sitting there.  "Can you give me a ride home?" he smiles.  

I hear my friend calling, "Aaron! Your car is parked at my house!  What are you doing??"  

"I'm getting a ride home!" he shouts out of the car.

"Man, your car is at our house!  How are you gonna pick it up if you go home? Get outta the car!" my friend shouts back.

Aaron climbs out of my car and heads over to the two of them on the corner and I drive back home.

As soon as I change into my pajamas and I'm climbing into bed, I get a text message from Aaron.  He's complaining that my friend left him alone so he could spend the night at his girlfriend's house.  Aaron invites me to come over, asks me to spend the night with him, and I politely say no.  Even if I was interested, I'm exhausted. I feel like I went on a date with two completely different people.  Quiet, withdrawn, repentant Aaron vs. handsy, nuzzling, and horny Aaron.  And I didn't care for either.  

My Big White Creeper

I'm not gonna lie, my first date back into the single world was with a guy named Todd that my mom talked me into going out with.  His pictures were distant and blurry so I was reluctant, but his profile was surprisingly witty and clever.  He seemed like he had a great personality.  After writing back and forth we eventually exchanged phone numbers.  That's when he stopped sounding funny and started sounding creepy. 

He asked me if I wanted to finally meet one night and I replied that I had just gotten home from work and all I was in the mood for was to veg out on the recliner and watch some TV.  Todd's response?  "I'll come over with some popcorn and cuddle on the recliner with you."  Ew, no thanks. That was not an invitation.  I ignore the comment and instead we set up a date for dinner and a movie later on in the week. 

That night Todd texts me again at 12:30am asking what I'm up to.  I tell him I'm in bed, hoping he'll get the hint and let me get some sleep for work.  "Wish I was there," he said. 

"I don't," I respond.  Again, EW.  We haven't even met and you want to cuddle and lay in bed with me?  This is way creepy.  At this point I'm really starting to regret my dinner and a movie date.  I want to cancel it altogether but I convince myself that maybe he's trying to be sweet and I'm just making a big deal out of this.  After all, this is the first time he's been creepy.  He could be normal in person.  I'll keep the date, but dinner and a movie is definitely too long for comfort now.  Maybe just a movie.  No, movies are dark and I'm a little afraid of him now.  Maybe just dinner.  Dinner can be too long.  A drink?  Coffee.  Who roofies a coffee?  Coffee it is.  Operation: Scale Down Date, is in full swing.

Before date night rolls around I manage to downgrade it from dinner and a movie to just coffee.  Todd teases me that it's because I want to make a quick getaway if he's weird.  I don't deny it, I do laugh... nervously. 

The time has come.  Coffee.  In a public place.  With a possible creeper. I take comfort when I see several city police cars driving back and forth the area.  All of this, however, ends up being an overreaction.  Todd's nice and witty and funny, just like his profile.  I notice throughout the date that he keeps tilting his head, kind of like when your neck is bothering you and you're trying to crack it.  I feel bad so I ask him if he has a problem with his neck, thinking I had some tylenol I could give him. 

"Kinda... we'll talk about it later,"  he said. Okay.

The date continues.  So does the neck cracking.  I'm distracted and having trouble focusing on his moving target of a head, the curiousity is killing me so I blurt out, "Seriously, what is wrong with your neck?!"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" he asks.  No, I think to myself, I'm not a fricken mind reader.  "I have a mild case of Tourette's." 

Silence.  I must look like a deer caught in the headlights, except I feel like an ass.  All I can mutter is a quiet, "Oh..."

"Worst date ever!" he smiles and jokes.  I'm not thinking that.  Right now I'm thinking a lot of things but not that his Tourette's makes this the worst date ever.  I'm thinking how awkward I feel.  That his profile should have mentioned something about that... like a warning so you don't stick your foot in your mouth like I just did.  My thoughts continue to race.  Is this active all the time, or is it worse when you're nervous (like on a date perhaps)?  Tourette's is hereditary right?  So we'd have little Tourette's babies? I'll adopt. I wonder if he's looked into the brain stimulator thing I saw on MTV. I can look past this, right?  I can get over it, right?  It's mild.  It's not like he's blurting out racial slurs, cussing, or swinging his body around violently or anything.  I mean, he's funny and nice and otherwise normal.  This doesn't have to be a deal breaker.  I attempt to move on.

The date continues.  The topic of worst date comes up.  It's my turn to tell a story.  Geez, how do I choose?  I decide to tell the one about the guy who rattled on and on about how sexual he is.  "I'm a very sexual person.  I like to try new things.  I've read about the kamasutra and tantra.  I'm about doing whatever feels good.  If you want to say something racist, then say something racist!"  I told him how confused I was by that conversation. 

Todd has an idea what the guy meant, but he's torn whether or not he should tell me.  This goes on for a while: "I don't want to offend you.  Well.... Nevermind.  I think he meant.... It's probably inappropriate.  But... No, it could be offensive.  Maybe he was talking about... forget it.  Are you easily offended?  Nevermind... I don't want to offend you...  Fine, I'll just say it."

It's about time!

"So, my last girlfriend was black, right? And we were having sex and she yells out, 'I love your big white cock!'..." 

Wait, is this really happening?

"...And I ask her, wait, can I say stuff like that too?  She said yeah, so I say, 'I love your big black ass,' and I could tell she was really into it, ya know?  So maybe that's what the guy meant when he said 'say something racist.'"

I'm stunned.  Speechless even.  The story wasn't offensive.  It was just completely inappropriate.  I'm pretty sure it's unacceptable on a first date to tell me about the dirty talk you had with your ex-girlfriend while having sex with her.  In fact, it's probably not okay to talk about it on the second date, third date, fourth date, fifth date, or pretty much any date ever.  He's waiting for a reaction, but I have no idea how to follow that story.  Say something.  Say.  Something.

"Excuse me, we're closing in five minutes," the barista interrupts.  Thank you!  Thank you God for bringing me this angel barista!  Get me the heck out of here! 

"We should do this again soon," Todd smiled as we walked out.  "I'm hungry, do you want to get some dinner?" 

No thanks, Todd.  I ate beforehand so I'll pass on dinner and your big white cock.  But thanks for the coffee.

I'm Baaaaccckkkk- the remix

So I dated a cop and things didn't work out.  Well technically he's a deputy (sexy, right?), but yes we were together briefly.  Anyway, we broke up because our relationship was missing a key ingredient and after almost a year, that ingredient was still missing.  Three years ago when I originally wrote this post, I was embarrassed to say what that ingredient was, but like any good remix, this post is better because I'm revealing the ingredient: sex. 

That's right, my boyfriend: an ex-army turned deputy sheriff, did not want to have sex.  I don't mean every day, I don't mean three times a week, I mean never.  Like never ever.  Like we never even got close.  And since I only had one real partner, I was kind of looking forward to seeing what it was like with someone else.  But instead I was left puzzled, hurt, resentful, and pissed off.    

"Well, Alicia, did you make a move?"  Holy hell, yes.  I made all kinds of moves short of raping him, but it never amounted to anything.  He'd either push me away giggling or seemed just as uninterested as if I had asked him to play with Barbie dolls.  A girl wants to feel desirable, but instead I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with me.  Obviously nothing, I'm amazing, but after months and months of putting on the moves and getting shot down I must have suffered a mental break of some kind to think that.  At one point I sat down with him ready to have a "you're gay" intervention.  This intervention resulted in a lot of yelling and cussing on his part, which pretty much sold me on the notion that he was a homophobic gay in denial.  But then again, maybe all this pent up anger was a sign of something else... roid rage? 

Seriously, the guy was not nice.  I mean he was nice to me, but he was not nice to the general public.  He talked to me about giving tickets to illegal immigrants, crumbling the ticket up, putting it in their mouths, and making them chew it.  "They're not people.  They're animals," he said.  And in public he'd purposefully talk shit about people loud enough so they would hear him.  It was horrifying.  The more I write this the more I wonder why I endured this for so long or at all... clearly it had to be rebound desperation.  Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if he took some kind of steroids because he kept dragging me to these health stores asking people for some pill that was taken off the market.  If steroids cause impotence, maybe that's why nothing ever happened?  This is me trying to find another excuse because I don't want to give gays a bad name by adding him to their roster.    

After I had the, "it's okay, you can tell me if you're gay" conversation, he agreed to go to the doctor who suggested that his low libido was due to a side effect of his anti-anxiety meds.  (Anti-anxiety?  Oh, did I forget to tell you that this guy had ADHD and social anxiety to the point where he refused to go to any of my family functions or social gatherings by conveniently "forgetting" what time they started or suddenly "developing a headache.")  However, that was bullshit, because he didn't start taking those meds until months after we started dating and we weren't doing anything besides cuddling before then either.  

The doctor prescribed him Cialis, which he claimed he took but I'll never know because I didn't sit there and watch him take it and again, he never made a move.  Now I'm no erectile dysfunction expert, but I don't think Cialis just gives you a boner.  Based on their commercials (that's legit research, right?), you take it in case "the opportunity" presents itself later and then BAM, you're in business.  I'm not sure how you're supposed to get an erection taking me to Denny's for dinner.  In fact, I don't want your erection after a Denny's dinner.  Denny's, seriously?

After nearly a year of brazen and failed attempts at intimacy with this douchebag and I threw in the towel.  He's racist, he's mean, clearly weird, probably crazy, he refuses to spend time with my friends or family because of his social anxiety, and he's gay.  Not my type x6.  We're done.  

I restarted my account on the dating site, threw in some new pictures, updated some old info and viola!  I'm single and ready to mingle again! Except without the enthusiasm haha.  This shit is getting old.  

And that's where you come in.  It's been six months and though I haven't gone on nearly as many dates as I did the first time around, I still have some pretty good stories.  Let the games begin!

P.S. Nearly a year after our breakup, I read in the news that the deputy was arrested and convicted for felony grand theft!  Yep, he stole an instrument from a band at a hotel and was caught on tape.  Wow, just wow.