Double Date...

So I was supposed to go on a "double date" today. I'm not really sure how I exactly feel about said double date, buts seeing as how I haven't been on a real date in a year or so, I'm game for it. My friend's friend came out with her to the bar last week and brought his friend along. His friend we'll call Scotland. So Scotland takes the seat next to me, we have our little introductions at the table and whatnot, then started chatting. We seemed to hit it off in our general conversation, having similar music styles and humor. We spent most of the time joking around about karaoke songs and people singing. Once in a while our legs would sort of touch under the table or he would nudge me in the arm with a joke. Basically the whole time, I am thinking nothing of any of these things... I'm fairly oblivious when it comes to men and "signs" or whatever. So they end up having to cruise early, to which I hound Scotland about, knowing that he's a bartender and doesn't have to be up until the next afternoon. Anyway, they leave when I am in the bathroom, so I don't get to say goodbye. Again I don't think much of it, until my friend mentions that they said bye. She tells me that Scotland specifically told her to tell me goodbye... interesting. Then I start to think that he wasn't bad looking, we had fun, cool, he must dig me a little. Then, of course, my friends have to hassle me a little about it, making me get a little girlie smile on my face. I mean, it's been a while since I've had some attention from the opposite sex, of that nature. As the night went on I continued to drink and have a good time, but still thinking of Scotland in the back of my mind. Later I sent my friend a text, telling her that (if anyone asked) she's got my number to give out. To my surprise, she asks me if I want to go on a double date. Her and her friend, me and Scotland. And I was game. I already knew that we all would get along and at the least, it gets me out of the house. The next day (via text) she makes some plans. I was sure to ask her whether or not it was her idea for the date. She told me it was dude's idea and we settled on Wednesday. Now this being a Friday, I have all weekend and half of the week to get all worked up and stupidly giddy. Then Monday rolls around and I mention something to my roommate about the date biz. He tells me that our friend made it sound like the date wasn't going on. And since I hadn't heard anything along those lines, I decided to send her a message. Later in the evening I get a text from her, apologizing and saying that the date is probably not going to happen. Turns out that dude neglected to run this double date thing by Scotland. Oh and also that Scotland is "a big flirt". Well. Crap. That leaves me with shattered hopes of meeting someone nice, in a normal way, and making a go of it. Now I realize that I am taking this all way too seriously and shouldn't be planning mine and Scotland's wedding just yet, but really. It would have been nice to go on a date. And what kind of putz signs his friend up for a double date before asking him? Duh.

So as I sit here, slightly disappointed and more bored than not, I toy with the idea of revisiting my internet dating options. I am sort of a busy person and I like the idea of being able to preview my selections, so the internet seems like a reasonable choice. But then I remember just how ridiculous the internet and dating websites can be. I have a list of "winners" when it comes to online dating. This list we likely serve as my outline to the dating blogs I will be writing in the near future. All of these men were from either Craigstlist, Plenty of Fish, or OKCupid. Now I have nothing against any of the websites, but I must say that there definitely were some doosies!

Chronologically my encounters were as follows:

Foot Fetish

Microsoft Reject

Bar Buddy

WOWer

The Cowboy

Peace Corps

Morocco Soccer

Drama King

The Gambler

Indie Rock

Booty Call

Turkish Pirate

Stage Hand

Each guy has a funny, if not creepy story to go with him.

When the "benefits" really aren't worth it...

So a few months ago I decided to reconnect with a guy that I had sort of dated. Let's call him FWB for now. It had been a year since we stopped talking and I don't know if it was out of curiosity or desperation that I emailed him. Either way, we ended up meeting at the SAM and then having some food/ drinks. I felt bad because I didn't really feel like there was much there anymore and maybe I was wasting both of our time. Then some time past and I sent him an email explaining that I was going through some personal issues and it wasn't fair of me to try to start up something that I had no intention of pursuing. This was completely true at the time. I was super depressed and had just started taking Zoloft. I didn't hear anything back from him, until recently. He said that he had wanted to respond to my email, but he got lazy, didn't know what to say, etc. No biggie. I wasn't expecting to get a response. About a month later he sent me a text to see how I was and how I felt, which led to us communicating rather frequently via text. Most of these texts were of a very general nature, just daily ho hum stuff. And there were a few flirty ones too. Eventually I went to hang out with him and ended up staying at his mom's place, on an air mattress. There's a reason we stayed there, not his actual place, but it is unimportant to the story, I guess. Maybe I will touch on that later. Anyway, we end up messing around a little and kissing. So I think to myself that we could definitely become "friends with benefits". I don't really want to date him, but it would be nice to have a little adult attention once in a while! Then he came over a couple of weeks ago and we had a some fun before and after going out to the bar. It worked out for what it was. We still were texting a bit back and forth and seemed on good terms. This brings us to last Wednesday.

I had plans to meet up with FWB at a concert. I was going with my best friend and some other guy friends (that FWB had met, the night he stayed over). Before the show had even started, he had be drinking, so I was getting some pseudo flirting texts. I had been drinking too, so I found them to be really funny. One of them said something about being drunk and fondling me when he saw me. Another was about "meeting up" in the bathroom. Which would have been hard considering the giant, separate sex facilities. I was fine with the texts and even slightly amused, but I definitely didn't want him to be pawing me in front of my friends or everyone else at the concert. Lucky for me, he did nothing of the sort. In fact he did the opposite and barely spoke to me. Whatever, we are at a concert, you can't expect too much conversation. In between bands, in the bar area, he decides that he wants to get my guy friends talking to girls (which they are not adverse to doing, but aren't exactly smooth talkers). So he starts trying to chat up random ladies, while we just kind of watch while sipping our beers. This continued through the whole evening. At one point he stopped over to our group, handed me a beer, then trailed off to a couple of women he had met earlier. My best friend was asking me if he thought he was making me jealous or something... I have no clue. If that was his intent, it was a bust. He should know that's I could care less what he does, even in my company, since we are not an item. And further more, it is totally not my style to fall for that kind of shit. He knows that I am not into games. As we are leaving (going to a bar that FWB suggested) he is no where to be seen. One of my friends tell me that they last saw him talking to some girl. Whatever. At this point, we are all pretty drunk and want to get more drunk. So we head to the bar with out him. We have some shots and some beers before I finally hear from him. He texts me to say that he is on his way and that he was talking to a girl. I attempted to tell him to bring her along, but I was in no shape to be forming sentences. By the time he got there, we were sufficiently drunk and I didn't care what was going on. He was pumped because he got the girls number. It didn't phase me, good for him. I knew that we would be going home separately, because I had my friend in town. And really, I didn't care to even talk much to him. I was having a fine time before he got there. I don't remember much of the conversation between FWB and I, but I definitely remember one of the guys saying that he thought FWB was a douche. Funny. He's a really nice guy, but he was kind of acting like a douche. Maybe it was the drinks giving him new found confidence or maybe he was trying to make me jealous. Either way, I was not impressed. So I ask myself, is it really worth the "benefits"? I'm gonna say no. And I guess that puts me back to square one in finding a new someone.

Just Breathe

Near the end of last year, I was under a lot of stress because I had been laid off, my roommate had moved out suddenly leaving me weeks to find a new one, and I had the entire responsibility of finalizing a divorce to handle. I was red-lining on stress, even for me. Curly decided he wanted to do something that would help me manage this stress. Unfortunately, he picked an activity guaranteed to make me grind my teeth – a partnered breathwork session for calming and centering oneself while connecting with a partner. Not how I wanted to connect with people at the time. Racquetball or a kick-boxing lesson would have been a better option. Given my temperament, entering me into a martial arts tournament like Blood Sport would have been closer to what I needed.

So, this outing was far outside my comfort range and every interaction between the two of us before we got there made it worse. Curly had forgotten that we needed to bring food to share, our own blankets and pillows, and he hadn’t gotten directions to the place yet. I try to use my phone to find the place and get told to “put my cute toy away” and let him do it. About then, he realizes that the location wasn’t in the Central District, it was somewhere in West Seattle. Jumping in the car, we try and fly but get jammed up by an eerie traffic snarl started by CSI-type vans investigating something on the railroad tracks. So, I pull out my cute toy phone, look up the number and call the place, asking if we should keep heading their way or reschedule for a different session.

Robyn, a co-facilitator answers the phone. "We'll just fold you in...oh wait, let me ask my transforming partner to see if he confirms my solution," she says. I’m personally glad that eye-rolling is silent. Any hope that I can avoid this evening is now dashed.

When we showed up, Robyn hugged me while asking if it was okay to hug me, right after Tim just finished his hello hug. I often wonder if there is a polite way to say no to that question but I haven’t found it yet and not from a lack of trying. Then I get asked if I want to change into something more comfortable...I’m wearing a t-shirt and jeans which *is* comfortable. I say as much and then get “folded” into the circle already in progress.

The group is sharing something that was an ecstasy and an agony for us; topics around the circle ranged from fear of failing as a parent to regaining repressed memories of a father. Everyone here is working on “processing” their current “life obstacles”. I don’t want to share personal feelings with total strangers so I mention that I had to stop playing soccer and that I was going back to college. I’m apparently not fit for this commune. Like a television cue, my talk of college draws another another couple to the door over an hour and a half late. They hadn’t called, they made no apologies and they were both Fairhaven students. (the college I’m returning to)

Now we moved on to the actual breathing/hyperventilating work and Curly informs me that I’m going first to “get it out of the way.” I’m close-minded and skeptical but I figured I was already there and should try to make the best of this experience anyhow. As I lay down on the table and started hyperventilating as instructed, the facilitators flipped on the Enya-triphop-birdsong-sampling-hell music and began wandering around the room “laying hands” on prone participants.

It is officially impossible for me to relax at this point as random people keep touching me while my eyes are closed. “You’re in a cocoon, you are safe,” they tell me. To make matters more like a bad sitcom, the guy on the other side of me is sobbing like someone made him kill a puppy with his bare hands and instead of being concerned for him, I’m wondering how he keeps managing to breathe like an old truck with a bad carburetor through it. A table down from him, a woman is screaming “NO” and continually rehearsing the orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally. Distantly, I hear more moaning. As for me, all I’m feeling is blinding pain heating up in every part of my body that has ever been damaged (most of it) and the need to pee.

Eventually, I throw in the towel and sit up to use the restroom. The facilitators instruct Curly to go with me into the bathroom in case I pass out; he seems surprised when I shut the door in his face.

For the sake of brevity, I won’t share the sights I saw while he was on the table but at least it was interesting. (demon possession, dry humping and more screaming orgasms) Or detail my struggle not to crack up laughing. Eventually, the music stops and so does the breathing.

Finally, I think the night is over and we can leave but not before we gather back together to process our joint experience. The circle shares stories like gaining back repressed memories of dad, transcendental spaces created between the 3rd eye and heart-space only experienced during tantric sex, standing in the fear of not loving your children enough (crying guy),and flying from peak to peak climbed last year in Nepal (possessed dude). Then there is me, with nothing to share but pain and snark. I try to channel my mother who always manages to be polite and use her name like a mantra to help me spin my painful and awkward experience into positive reinforcement for taking time off of soccer.

Near escape velocity now I get interrupted as Tim, one of the facilitators, pulls me aside (literally) to tell me the following, "I know you're still grieving about giving up you athletics. You'll come through that to a calmer space without them" and gives me another unsolicited hug. I manage not to punch him in the nose and leave with a cheery wave.

Suffice to say that the ride home was silent.

Who knew Craig's List could be so entertaining?

I have a slight addiction to Craig's List. Basically once a day I check the missed connections and usually the men for women ads. I check out the casual encounters and sometimes I read the rants/ raves. I just like to see what kind of madness is lurking out there. For the most part I don't take it too seriously, but there is a small part of me that hopes one day, I'll be someone's missed connection (I just puked a little in my mouth, so I will understand if you do too). I wouldn't say I'm obsessed, but I definitely miss it if I don't look for a few days. I might have a problem...

Ok, anyway, I really had only used CL to find apartments, jobs, or random shit. I hadn't even really read the personals much. So I start browsing ads, seeing how people present themselves in an online format. I was amazed at the sheer volume of men seeking women ads. I mean, really? Tons. And people had their pictures on there! It was like people watching, but never having to leave the house. I distinctly remember being a little freaked out, but more importantly, highly entertained by the shit that people are willing to put out there. My favorite was a dude looking for nursing mothers, for breast milk. But he didn't just want to drink it, he wanted to suckle it. What the hell. That was one of my first times looking. Now I see that kind of post all the time. Do I think it's normal? Uh, no. But I've become desensitized. And who am I to say that is normal or not. If there is someone looking for breast milk and someone else wants to give it to him, then so be it. Whatever. If anything, I always feel much better about myself, knowing that there are tons of people out there way more fucked up than I am!

At this point in my life, I wasn't really full blown into the online date stuff yet. I was still holding out for meeting someone in real life. I actually thought I had an in with this guy that I met at a gay bar. He was like 1 of 3 or so straight men there. I was out with a bunch of my lesbian friends and we were at a bar/ club full of mostly gay men, so I wasn't scoping the scene at all. I ended up dancing with this cute dude for most of the night. I'm pretty sure he was really drunk and I'm sure I was too. He was a DJ, which I found to be extremely attractive. He leaves before I do, but gives me his number. I'm pretty pumped at this point, since I've never really had that happen before. As we are standing around, I realize that he's left his jacket. I grabbed it and was going to take it 0utside, but he was already walking my direction. I handed him the jacket, then he turned to leave again. So I decide to grab his ass. He then turns around to me with a big grin on my face and plants a big kiss, directly on my lips. It was awesome. Sometime after leaving the bar, I sent him a text so that he would have my number as well. I got up the guts to call in the next couple of days and we talked a bunch on the phone. We seemed to have a bunch of random stuff in common and similar humor. I was digging it. But he lived in Federal Way and I lived in Lynnwood. It wasn't exactly ideal for potentially hanging out. But we still talked every couple of days and for like 20 minutes at a time. Then he tells me that his phone will probably get shut off, because he didn't pay the bill... hmm. Ok. Well, I spent a week or 2 deciding if I thought his phone story was legit or not. I might have called once after that (to see if the phone was back in service), but I never heard from him again. I was a little disappointed. I should have been more disappointed in letting myself get so easily caught up in someone that I barely knew and had only talked to on the phone. Duh. But I can look about on that and realize that I wouldn't be caught dead waiting around for him to call me now. I can't remember his name... maybe Travis. Actually I think it was Jason. I'm not entirely sure. I always referred to him as "the DJ".

So where does one begin...

I'd like to think that there was a "starting point" and an "ending point" to my "dating" life. But really, I feel like I'm never really dating, just putting myself through misery. And sometimes (in that misery) I get laid. Most times though, I am piecing together what in the world I was thinking when I decided to make an effort at dating. By effort, I mean not wearing the same t-shirt I've worn for the last 6 years and possibly attempting to apply some make-up. It's been about a year since I last had a sort of date. Before that was a year or so of online "dating". In that time I only came close to a relationship twice. They were both named Jon and they were both for about 3 weeks (that is the extent of my long term relationship history). Along the way I had a bunch of ridiculous encounters and a couple not so bad ones. I guess I'll start with that...

I will warn you that I write like I talk/ think, so a lot of this will be run-on sentences and random collections of thoughts. I'm a tad A.D.H.D. and a bit wordy, but it all lends to the story. Let me also say that everything I write will be completely factual (as to the best of my memory) and I need not embellish anything. It's just that real people. Get ready!

Congrats on breeding

I recently updated my dating profile with the equivalent of "I'm about to have a little person so dating isn't really on my agenda" followed by "Status: Dead to the World".

I expected this to be enough avoid messages from interested parties. My miscalculation was that it meant I'd now get messages from a segment of the dating pool that I hadn't considered before: the pregnant chick fetishists. I'm still working on my standard response to these guys but I think it'll look like this:

Dear weird guy who can't take a social cue or read for basic comprehension,

No, I don't want to have sex with you. Generally, I don't want to have sex with anyone that just outright asks me this question as an opening line, but especially not with someone that only wants me because I'm gravid and extra awkward feeling. Also, you are older than my Dad. Good day.

Or something to this effect. Revisions and thoughts welcome though I'm probably just wasting my breath with these guys.

Sometimes it takes a Tranny to help you find your way to the "Friend Zone"

So I'm on the third date, We have been on one date in my neck of the woods and I have traveled upstate to his neck of the woods and now it's time for the date where I meet all his friends. It's a house party and they have set up the karaoke machine. No big deal I can sing but it is always awkward to sing for like 8 people. Everyone is quite nice and I have enjoyed meeting them all. I think it was the best date so far because the guy I had been seeing (let's call him Shazbot) has finally loosened up at this party and seems to really be acting like himself instead of acting like a nervous wreck. So it gets to the end of the party and it's just me, Shazbot and one of the hosts of the party we'll call him Barry. Now Barry appears to be a very handsome and sweet young man but Barry has been chugging beers all night long and from what I have heard from Barry's girlfriend he does not do this very often. So I'm standing on the steps outside with Shazbot and out comes Barry to have a cigarette. Barry says to Shazbot "So why haven't you kissed her yet? She seems nice we all liked her, What's wrong no chemistry?" So we are both are staring at Barry a bit mortified so I say "I don't know he hasn't' put the moves on me yet" thinking this will be the end of it. Oh No, Barry is no where from done with this bout of diarrhea of the mouth. The next thing Barry said was not something I was expecting. "MsDmode did you know that I'm a pre-op transsexual female to male?" to which I said "no I just met you tonight I just thought you were a handsome young man." So Barry proceeds to go on and on about since he used to be a woman he can relate to what we are both feeling. I'm thinking if you related so well to women why are you now a man but I digress. Barry also goes on and on about other girls Shazbot has been dating off the website we met on and then goes on and on about how we should just fuck and get it over with. At this point I'm thinking this date is doomed and I just let Barry go on and on with his drunk self because at this point I think this is too funny and it can't get any worse. Needless to say after this date the relationship moved into the friend zone and now Shazbot and I just trade knowledge about Doctor Who and Zombie lore. Thank you Barry for awkwardly landing this relationship square in the friend zone.

The Shenanigans of a 6’3 Smelly Liar

I started this adventure on a dating website and was emailed by Smelly Liar to see if I was interested in chatting and getting to know each other. I proceeded to chat online with Smelly Liar and he seemed nice so I gave him my cell phone number so we could text. Over the next few days he mostly seemed nice but my first red flag was that he really wanted me to come over to his place 24 hours after I had started chatting with him for a one on one dinner in his home for his birthday. I thought this was strange because usually you would already have plans for your birthday (I found out later he does not really have any friends). So while we were texting on Saturday afternoon we made a date for a Monday night to meet. We had settled on meeting at a local beach and then walking over to a local brewery for dinner and drinks or so I thought. Over the next 24 hours he started to change the plans over and over and over. I should have known then to put a stop to this date. If you have to send someone a text that states “Make a freaking decision and jut tell me where and what time to show up!” there is probably an issue. Needless to say Monday rolls around and I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant I’m meeting him at.

So here are some highlights:

* The pictures on his Facebook and dating website profile have got to be at least 10 years old.

* Did not try to look nice (work boots, dirty jeans, hair did not look combed)

* Seemed to lack some basic hygiene (body odor, and this odd smell that was either ash tray or maybe smelled like bong scrapings)

* Took me to the worst/cheapest conveyor belt sushi place and raved about it. It was so horrible! I ended up eating 2 plates of cooked California Rolls and then went home and ate a nice big spinach salad.

* Shared with me that he sold his daughters mini bike so he could afford to take me out on a date.

* Proceeded to tell me about a cyst he had on his nut sack 10 years ago that he thought was cancer and this experience was what started him on the path of smoking weed of which lead into asking me if I smoke.

* Told me he had a present for me of which he forgot and then had to tell me all about it (some vinyl records of some sort)

* Had previously told me he was a DJ but when I asked about it he said well not so much anymore because I pawned most of my equipment.

So let me elaborate…..
When I pulled up to the restaurant I knew it had to be him standing out front and right away I wanted to step on the gas and just text him some excuse as to why I could not show up, but right when I was about to do it I get a text from him that state “Oh I see you parking now”. Rats! Now I have to get out of my car. The only thing this guy did not lie about when it came to his looks was the fact that he was 6’3. He said he was 37 but man this guy looked closer to 50 years old. He was wearing dirty work clothes and seemed to lack in the general hygiene department. Needless to say I walk into this Sushi place and it just looks old and dingy. As I scan the place I see the conveyor belt with what looks like day old sushi trekking its way around the restaurant. Meanwhile Smelly Liar’s eyes are the size of saucers he’s so excited to sit down and eat. So we sit down and upon a closer look at the dishes going by I notice the little bonnet/hood type covers they put over the plates look dirty, broken and generally appear that they have covered approximately 2,058 previous sushi concoctions. Needless to say I’m not impressed and I don’t really want to eat here, but I venture forth to find something I’m comfortable with grabbing off the belt. I choose some California Rolls because I figure at least everything is cooked and I should be safer that way. I take my first bite and its warm, I’m thinking wow how does this place stay in business and then I look over at my date that at this point is finishing his second plate full and telling me how wonderful it is. I just nod my head and say “Yeah this is great I’ll have to remember this place and tell all my friends” (sometimes I’m just too nice).

So we make a bit of small talk, where do you work? Yes I enjoy my job. Blah, blah, blah Then I ask him if he always has Monday’s off from work and he tells me “No I only have Saturdays and Sundays off but I always have my kid on the weekend so I took today off just to meet you. I’ve been so nervous all day.” I’m thinking to myself that this seems weird to me. Personally I probably would not take off a day of work for a first date, but to each their own, right? So insert a bit more small talk and I mention “Wow you seem to really like it here you’ve had 6 or 7 plates of sushi, at least it seems pretty affordable here.” To which his response is “Yeah this is one of my all time favorite places to eat. I can just eat and eat and eat and it’s just so cheap! Although I’m totally broke at the moment so I had to sell my daughters mini-bike just to afford our date tonight.” So this guy is telling me that he sold off some of his daughters belongings just to afford shitty sushi with me, boy does this really make me feel special. Now all I can think is, poor kid. So dinner literally lasts 25 minutes and he says to me “So where’s this beach you wanted to take me to?” and I’m thinking I don’t want to take you anywhere, but instead what I really say is “Oh do you still want to go there? I thought since you changed the venue of this date so many times that this was all we were doing.” He says “No let’s go walk on the beach, so how do you get to this Mukilteo beach?” to which I reply “Didn’t you say you’ve lived here in this area since you were fifteen? How have you never been to Mukilteo?” He just says “I don’t know.” I tell him to just follow me there in the car.

So where off down the road and I think to myself that maybe I can speed and totally loose this guy then I’ll just text him that the sushi made me sick. My idea is quickly dashed when he rides my ass, sticking closer to my bumper then white on rice. We get to the beach and if you have ever been to this beach it’s not very big and it has a paved path that leads from the boat launch to the end of the beach. We walk and chat the length of one trip down the path and he says “Whew can we sit I’m whipped out?” I’m thinking we walked all of three minutes but okay. We are talking about family and he’s telling me he comes from a great big Catholic family when he asks me “So do you want to have kids soon? I want to have a whole bunch more kids, I only have one right now but I totally want more.” I’m thinking WOW does this guy come on strong but I tell him yes I’d love to have kids but I have no need to rush into anything. This line of conversation though starts taking a turn for the worse when he decides to tell me about a prostate cancer scare that just ended up being a cyst on his nut sack so everything ended up being alright but it caused him to go donate sperm for future children and got him hooked on smoking pot for the pain which lead him to ask me if I smoke pot. At this point I’m tuning this guy out and thinking what excuse I can use to get away from this cystoidal, smelly, nut sack of a man!

Basically while this guy goes on and on about some gift of vinyl records of some bands he thought I would like since he can’t use them anymore since he pawned all his DJ equipment. I think to myself, you know what self I don’t care what you say to this colossal retard you are going to leave Smelly Liar right here on this bench and go home. I chicken out and just tell him “Thank you for the lovely evening but I have to get home before dark and walk my dog.” (it’s lame I know but I promise I will make up for it later). So I get in my car and drive home and I cannot believe how crazy that whole date was. So while I’m home decompressing from this cluster fuck I decide to write this guy an email that says the following:

Hi Smelly Liar,

Thank you for the lovely time last night but I just don't feel a vibe between us. I would like to break it off now before anyone is to emotionally invested. I don't like to play games so I will not lead you on and try to be your friend. I think a clean break is best. I apologize for doing this in an email but I admittedly dislike confrontation which I'm sure is a disease of the digital age. If I may make a suggestion (for future dates) I feel like you tend to over share a bit. I think the story about the cyst on your nut sack is a bit much for a first date and you probably should not share with a girl that you had to sell one of your daughters possessions in order to take them out on a date it's not conducive to making a girl feel comfortable with you. I would also put some current photographs of yourself online instead of some that are pretty obviously a few years old.

I truly wish you the best of luck on your search for love I'm sorry it wasn't me.

Again thank you so much for dinner,

MsDmode

(Still to fucking nice, I know!)

Type_River's Rules of Engagement

So, I've fully committed myself to this online dating adventure. "Sure I'll meet you for drinks after a couple of emails and a phone call" I mean, why not if someone isn't giving me a serial killer vibe and you can make me laugh in an email? So often in the past, I've wanted to meet people, but then chickened out or over thought it.

I've been on a couple of dates now and while I fully intend to chronicle the best of the worst here. Especially if the two hours I've spent in your company has made me consider becoming a suicide statistic. I've come up with some important rules to make this whole filtering process easier and faster for everyone involved.

If you are going to be boring - be catacylismicaly boring. Be so boring that you make me fear that the universe has run out of energy and is grinding to a halt and you are just more tuned into it than the rest of us.

If you are going to be late, please don't tell me until I'm already at the agreed at location (I'm on time, more proof that I'm actually trying here) so I can sit there awkwardly trying not to replay scenes from bad romantic comedies where the girl gets stood up and the wait staff asks her to leave when closing. This gives me plenty of time to text message my friends in hopes of getting sympathy even though I know I'll just be mocked. (I might need better friends)

Please don't answer any questions with more than 3 words. I like that horrible silence between us as I watch you chew your food. It also gives me a chance to listen to the constant white noise buzzing in my ears and reminds me to buy ear plugs for the next concert I go to.

I'm sure there is more... but I have a date soon and I have to get prettied up. But I have to say that my biggest problem is with the dates that are neither great or bad. I don't know what to do with these stories, they don't amuse my coworkers or make them jealous and I can't write about them. So in closing, just do me a favor and be one or the other boys - great (kisser, conversationalist, dead baby joke teller) or really bad (no personality, rude, smelly) because I'm looking for good stories.

Responding to my first CL ad

Newly Single and Looking -
A simple headline that drew me in with hints of shared pain and experiences. I had just broken up with my boyfriend of almost 3 years in the past 2 weeks. Maybe this guy and I could at least chat and have dinner.

Nothing gets you over a breakup and the resulting down on yourself feeling faster than realizing that other people still think you are worth being around. I know folks, it's a poor excuse for true self esteem, but after this last break up, I'd take any dose of good I could get.

So I responded to Music Man, just told him about my new year's resolution not to do the LTR thing for a year, how I was learning to arrange my life without thinking about someone else for a change, and that I liked to roller skate. He responded and we exchanged emails that grew longer and longer. He had broken up with his girlfriend of 10 years...

Let me just say that again: He had broken up with his girlfriend of 10 years.

It was safe to say that this meant he was more damaged goods than I was, but it also meant I got the chance to play my favorite role - crazy fun sprite-like girl.

Okay, with this spirit possessing me, we make the first date for a sushi joint. He can't eat with chop sticks, but he's game to try. Bonus points for him.

Oh, a little side note: if you like sushi or something similar that requires unusual utensils, this makes a fantastic first date. Even if they are a dud, watching them struggle with the chopsticks should liven up your night.

We chatted and it was nice. Afterwards we wandered around the UVillage and swapped crazy ex's stories. I still hadn't made a decision about him yet.

Then he did it; he called her his girlfriend.

It just kind of hung there in the air...until I busted up laughing. Music Man had placed himself firmly into my friend zone with that comment. Which isn't a bad place to be.

Well, CL, you didn't get me laid, but I didn't get killed by some psycho and I did welcome a new friend into the fold. Dating mission #1 accomplished.

bitter is always funny right?

I didn't have a computer for FOREVER so a good friend loaned me a laptop so I could get online and reconnect with the world away from my live-in ex boy who I'll call Social Security (because I've only heard of old folk falling for this).
Well, I got a slick new laptop for Xmas and he kept using the old extra one my friend loaned us. At some point, I found a Western Union transfer to some girl in Nigeria with $500 price tag on it. Okay, Social Security and I are broken up and I have no right to ask about it. I only found it because I was stealing laundry quarters. The issue is dropped.

When I moved out, he returned the laptop and my friend went through it to clean out any crap she didn't want. While cleaning she found a snapshot of a scam - 2 letters and 2 IM conversations between Nigeria girl "hunnie" and Social Security. Long story short, he sent her $2800. This hunnie got more cash out of the tightwad than I did over the course of 3 years. Now, I don't like a guy spending a lot of money on me so that's not the point. The point is that the guy who told me I'm terrible with money sent a SERIOUS chunk of change to Nigeria because some girl called him hunnie. The pain comes from reading a letter that says how much more romantic this woman is than me.

I'm moving on now, but whenever I feel a little hurt that I'm not as romantic as someone who may or may not actually be a woman; I think I'll call him up and call him hunnie while picturing his cringe factor.

We all deal in different ways.

...but you work on seaplanes?!

This was post break-up, dating freedom mission #2.

This particular guy was from another dating website. I'm going to call him BrainSlug. His emails were short but interesting and he was quick to want to meet. We didn't share much in the way of interests, but I figured he was a seaplane mechanic and a pilot during the summer so he would at least have good stories to tell.

I set up all my normal first date safety nets up (I know his full name and place of employment - information that I've given to a close friend who I will text message before a certain time...after this time, they will call me. If I don't answer they will begin to panic and I had better be in trouble because they are calling in the cavalry) and agreed to meet him for dinner and a movie. This was his idea.

It's the holiday season and I'm feeling pretty good. On my way there though, I have the strangest series of experiences.

First, there are like 300 people all dressed up as Santa Claus and beyond drunk wandering around. One of them throws a beer can in the back of my pickup. They are everywhere and I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. Was there an event that I had heard nothing about?

After navigating the Santa Clauses, I find a good parking place. It happens to be on the same street as my date's car. I know this because he is driving an old diesel British taxi his father and he had just gotten somewhere in Portland. They are pretty distinctive. Then the second strange thing happens: a cop is ticketing the taxi. I park my truck and walk over to the cop. Our conversation goes like this:

"Hi, I have a question. I couldn't find any signs and I'm not sure if it is okay to park there (wave vaguely in the direction of my truck) because if it isn't, I'd rather just move it and save you the trouble of writing me a ticket." I say and smile.
"Where? There, that's fine," says the cop, all gruff and not thinking for a second that I'm funny.

"Okay, thanks." I hesitate and then plunge on, "One more question please. I have a blind/first date with the guy whose car you are ticketing. Should I tell him before or after the date that he got a ticket?" (in retrospect, the blind/first date thing is a stupid thing to say since all blind dates are first dates)

He sort of just blinks at me, then almost smiles (I AM funny, I am!) and says "Don't ruin the date from the get go. I wouldn't tell him if I were you."

Vital advice since I really wasn't sure what to do about it. The cop keeps chatting with me now and wants to know when the date will be over since his father used to repair these cars back in England and he'd like to chat about them. I tell the cop 10 and move along to my date...

I meet him at the bar and he looks nothing like his pictures but I do so he picks me out of a crowd of drunk Santa Clauses. We go to some Mexican restaurant where I begin to realize I'm doomed to listen to the buzzing in my ears. Every question meets with a 3 word or less answer. He won't say much about his job, has no funny stories about clients he's flown into the San Juan islands, and doesn't ask me anything. It's like having dinner with someone with a Brain Slug. I'm not eating my food and when he gets up to use the restroom, the waitress comes over to ask concernedly if it is okay. I tell her it's a first date and she shakes her head pityingly. The check comes and he's annoyed that I balk at splitting it. Hey buddy, I had the $5 salad and no drink and you invited me out. Grudgingly he offers to get this, but says that I can get the movie tickets. Fine.

Dinner has taken less than 30 minutes so it is too soon to go to the theater. He wants to wander around. I wore comfortable shoes and I'm all for wandering up and down this long busy brightly lit road, but the very very tall man wants to go down the quiet residential streets. He flashes more annoyance that I'm not interested in checking out the inside of the taxi even if it has the original ads on the seats.

I buy the movie tickets and he buys himself a box of Junior Mints. He asks if I want anything, but I figure that he means he'll pick something up for me but I'll have to reimburse him. Besides, I just had a holiday sugar overload at work and the last thing I want is more candy. We find seats.

The next 10 minutes drag on painfully as the theater fills up. He doesn't say anything to me except to repeatedly shake the box of junior mints in my face and ask if I want any. Over and over until I threaten with no humor to take them away and throw them under the chairs.

The movie finally starts and is good. No Country for Old Men is excellent and completely reminds me of Cormac McCarthy's books in style and pacing. (I haven't read this one) When the movie was over, I stand up quickly and dash for freedom.

Damn damn damn...I parked on the same street, now there will be that awkward goodbye where he might want to touch me...help help help. And there help is: the cop. I see him coming, wave my goodbye to the date that made me understand the trapped animal's desire to chew my own leg off, and dash for my truck.

So, I learned a lot from this date. Firstly, if a cop is the highlight of your date, it can officially be labeled as bad. Secondly, I always set up a special text code with one of my friends. If they get it, they are to call with a "girl emergency" so I can get away. We call them code blues. It's been a blast to make them up. Thirdly, don't let holiday sugar impair your dating judgment people.