Funerals

T's grandfather passed away a couple weeks ago. This week was the funeral.

I had not yet met T's extended family. I was quite concerned about being introduced to a highly religious bunch as T's live-in (in sin) 'special friend' in those sorts of circumstances.

After a whirlwind round of introductions at the funeral home, I decided to sneak out for a smoke. I say sneak because T has been hiding my habit from his family since I met them. I creep around like I am a teenager again, making excuses to be outdoors and out of sight. T's parents must believe by now that my dog is completely incontinent, and wonder why I take her everywhere...

So I was standing outside, smoke palmed, checking for parents before each drag. One of T's cousins, J, caught me. He asked if he could bum one. I handed it over, and told J he had to cover for me if any parents came out suddenly. He laughed and commented that at least we weren't smoking dope, then went on to say that if I was interested, he had some good BC bud in the car. I laughed like I thought he was joking, and he let the subject drop, but I felt a little better knowing that I wouldn't be the blackest sheep at the party.

After the burial, we were sitting in the holding pen at the church, where they make the family wait while they seat everyone else. Another of T's cousins came over, introducing himself to me, and saying he had a funny question to ask. He wanted to know if it would be okay if he used T's last name to refer to me in the eulogy, 'to make it easier for everyone to understand'. I started to get nervous again at that point.

I am terrible with names. Sitting in the holding pen, I was trying to use some fancy memory tricks to help me remember the names and relationships of the forty-six people in the room. I asked T to help me sort out who belonged with who. I asked him to tell me something memorable about each of his relatives. T is not very good at this game, in general, as he is not close with his family. However, T surprised me.

He started out pointing at a cousin. 'That guy's father is the one in the green shirt over there. But he's not really the father. The woman in the blue shoes, over there, was cheating on him, so neither of the kids looks like their 'dad'.

'The man over there is my sort-of uncle. Mom's sister was married to him for awhile, but he didn't make enough money, so she divorced him and married the British guy in the grey suit. He's a millionnaire'

'The gal with the little baby in the carrier over here...well, we just found out she was pregnant. Last week. The baby is about six days old. She likes to party, and we're not sure who the father is.'

I don't know why I try so hard to impress these people...

...And I don't know why I think 'religious' people would look down on me...

So anyways, the funeral went much as funerals do, and T and I came home and did some passionate affirming of life on the couch when we got home. Something about funerals does that to me every time...

...And I have to say, the family's less intimidating, somehow...

Kittens

I am now the not-so-proud owner of two kittens. They were accidental. I do not like kittens. At all. The combination of sick helpless things, terrible weather, and T being a bigger softie than me did me in, though.

T said he would deal with the litterbox.

T found the litterbox too dusty, and in a place where he never remembered to scoop it.

Your faithful author moved said litterbox, drove an hour to get no-dust litter, reminded T twice a day, then gave up and did it herself.

The next fight we had was about me being sick of being everybody's mother. I have chosen not to have kids (so far), so I don't understand how I get stuck in the role of coddling and/or supervising the people around me. I told him I was sick of having to do everything, or make sure he was doing it. I am sick of having to remind people to do things that they should just up and do for themselves. I am sick of having all the responsibility. I used the litterbox for an example.

"But I've been scooping it twice a day" he said.

I started yelling at that point.

Roles

I think I have mentioned before that I am not a girly girl. I am an indifferent housekeeper, and I am only a good cook because I like eating. I tried sewing, once, when I was fourteen. After stitching my hand to the shirt I was trying to make, I gave up and took woodworking in school.

I don't think I've ever really even had a girly job. I was a waitress, once, for about a week. A customer decided to grab my ass. That customer wore his very hot coffee home. I got fired, but it was worth it.

My current job includes un-girly aspects such as playing with guns and yelling at people. I don't really like it, but it pays better than waitressing.

My car needed an oil change last week. I had the filter and a case of oil sitting in the trunk, but I was being lazy about it, mostly because it is starting to get cold out, and the weather had been windy and rainy. It got to be pretty critical, though, as I was well over the recommended 5,000 kilometers, and T and I were planning a trip home, which adds another 1,000.

I spoke to a girlfriend at work and arranged to use her garage on Thursday. I mentioned it to T when I got home from work. T cocked his head.

"Shouldn't I be doing that?"

"Do you know how?" I replied

I guess that wasn't the most political thing to say, but T just isn't that type. I'm sure he could do mechanics, but he doesn't seem to want to. It turned out that he does know how to change oil, though he doesn't enjoy it. I told him it was fine, I was happy to do it myself.

"But what will your friends think of me?"

"I'm sure they will think you are a progressive, open-minded gentleman."

Supper was waiting for me when I got home.

Perceptive.

They say that travelling with someone is a good way to learn about them. They're right.

We were on our way home, taking the 'scenic' route, which added about 6 hours to the trip. It was already suppertime. We came to the town where my granny used to live, and I got unexpectedly choked up, realising I hadn't been there since the funeral. That's the first time T has seen me cry.

I explained. Granny and I were close.

T looked at me, head cocked, and said "do you need to visit the grave?"

I would never have asked, as we were running so late, but I really, really did.

What a sweetie.

Days before, we had gone to introduce T to my father. Neither of us were looking forward to that. Calling my relationship with Dad 'strained' would be equivalent to calling the Rockies 'a few hills'. Outright combative would be a little more accurate.

We went for dinner, and Dad picked up the tab, then tucked a wad of bills into my pocket. Driving away from the restaraunt, I shook my head.

"I hate that," I told T.

"Does he show he cares by giving people money?" T asked

Perceptive.

"Yeah," I admitted, "and he shows he's pissed off by writing us out of the will."

"Well," T mused, "if that's the only way he knows how to say he cares, why not just accept it?"

Touche...

Packing.

T met my mom a few weeks ago. And Mom's girlfriend. For a guy raised in an uber-religious family, he was pretty blase about it.

"I like your mom," he said, "Actually, I felt pretty comfortable around them both."

Good thing, that - we're packing up and going there for the rest of the week, as we are on holidays.

I managed to carry everything I needed for a year-long trip covering four seasons on three continents in one backpack...once. I have since discovered that I pack exactly the same amount of crap whether I am going for two days or a year.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I pack more for a weekend.

Problem is, I knew I wouldn't want to be dressing up and wearing makeup in the middle of the Sahara desert. When I'm travelling, looking good is not on the priority list, and high heels just aren't necessary. However, going home and visiting friends is another story entirely.

First off, you never know whether it is going to rain, snow, or shine - temperatures in the Prairies at this time of year range from thirty above to twenty below (celcius SWF, celcius) and the weather dudes really can't predict what's going to happen in the next hour, let alone the rest of the week.

Secondly, chances are good I'll run into people I haven't seen in a few years. You want to be looking good when you run into those stuck-up bitches from highschool - there is something gratifying to say "oh, no, I haven't gotten around to having kids yet, I got a degree and traveled Africa instead" while you watch them wiping the snotty nose on their third or fourth little brat. Well, that and I weigh exactly the same as I did in grade 11.

T has already figured out my packing style. I was finishing the laundry this morning, and he was setting out the stuff he intended to take. He'd dug out quite a large bag - we both usually just stuff a few things in our laptop knapsacks, but this one was a duffel bag.

I started packing my own things, in my laptop bag, of course. Then I realised I needed to bring a nice pair of shoes, and a fall jacket. And another pair of slacks, in case I go out bar hopping with my cousin. T had two pair of jeans and three shirts in that great big bag...so much space left over...so I asked him - "hey, can I tuck a few things in there?"

"That's what I'm bringing this bag for," he said smugly.

Who says they don't pay attention?

Apologies

I got home from work yesterday, excited to have discovered there is a craft supply store in the next town over. I had every intention of going, but wanted to wait for T to get home because...well, just because.

He often doesn't get home until 5:30, but I called the store, and they close at 5:30. I tried to call T, but his phone was off.

I thought about it, and realised we'd had a conversation a couple of weeks back about nights off. I volunteer on Tuesday nights, so he gets an evening to himself every week. I (rather bluntly) suggested he find something to do one night a week, or even every other week, so I could have an evening alone, too. We agreed that Thursday would be a good day for that. Yesterday was Thursday.

So, I packed the dog in the car and drove to the craft store. I spent an hour chatting with the lady and picking out pretty scrapbooking stamps and papers. Spent a wad of cash. Then I stopped at the bank. And ran to the grocery store.

With all my running around done, I came home, in no particular hurry.

I could smell the barbecue when I pulled in the driveway.

The first thing out of T's mouth when I walked in the door was "Sorry!"

"Sorry for what?"

"For being late. You aren't mad? I thought maybe you were mad. My phone died, and I couldn't call."

"Me? Mad? Hell, no...I was shopping"

"Oh. Whew. Thanks for being sane..."

And, with this, I got a hug and a great big kiss. I do not know what sorts of women he has been hanging out with, if he considers me exceptionally stable and sane. I told him I thought he was out playing Scrabble with his friend J, as per our conversation a couple weeks back. He said "No, if I do that, I will call for sure."

Later in the evening, I pointed out that the best thing about our relationship (to me) is that it's just like being single, but less lonely. He places no demands or ultimatums on me. I can do what I want, spend my time and money however I like, and hang out with anyone I choose. Mr Wonderful (an ex) stayed here on the weekend with his new girlfriend. T had no issues with this, and, afterward, decided he quite liked both of them. What a sweetheart. He really does fit into my life...

Play

T has no sense of play.

In my family, play is just a given. Mom still starts water fights in the kitchen (though, in her devious wisdom, she always hands a mop to a kid afterwards, and is good for another week...), and granny, at the tender age of 82, could still be found chasing my younger cousins around the farmyard with a hand-made elastic gun.

T doesn't do these things. For a guy who doesn't really want to grow up, he hasn't got much of a handle on how to stay a kid.

Yesterday was a birthday. One of T's nephews turned 2. The party included both of T's brothers, their wives, 5 kids between 6 years and 3 months, and T's parents. I hadn't met T's brothers, yet.

We did the introductions, then I escaped the scrutiny by taking the kids out to meet my dog, who loves little guys. Then we ate. Birthday cake and present opening followed. Then...

Then T's brothers brought out a slip'n'slide for the kids, perfect on a 30 degree day. T's mom started handing out water guns, too. The brothers trooped back inside and changed into swimsuits, and proceeded to show the little guys how it's done. I was wearing jeans, looking on jealously and sweating, but one of the kids shot me, and I 'died' so dramatically that I got hosed down pretty thoroughly.

T sat in the corner, trying to protect his camera from the spray.

T's mom was trying to get him to join his brothers, but he just wasn't into it. I may have discovered a natural ally, however; she stated that she would go if T did. I made big eyes at T and said that I would also go, jeans and all, if he and his mom went first. The pair of us badgered him until T rolled his eyes, took off his shirt, and did a half-hearted plunge at the slide. Then his mom and I went about five times each, while T returned to the corner.

I just don't get this. I'd have been the first one on that damned slide, if I weren't trying so hard not to embarass T in front of his family. Of course, I am finding them a little less reserved, lately, but still. He just doesn't know what to do with my silliness, and I don't know how to deal with his lack thereof...

By Popular Demand

...I guess some folks missed me.

It's hard to generate news when you're busy being domestic. The big accomplishment lately has been the pair of us learning to barbeque, which isn't exactly breaking news. I also find I'm not comically inspired when I'm not mildly pissed off. Go figure.

We did have a 'moment' yesterday.

I got an email at work that my department is recruiting for the rebuilding effort in Afghanistan. I love a challenge, and I have traveled quite a lot in Muslim countries, and loved every minute of it. I looked up the death toll for foreign civilians, and the year-by-year rate was about the same as for the highway I commute to work on every day. I have to admit, I was interested.

I forwarded the email to T, thinking we could discuss it when I got home.

I arrived to T's level stare. "A year in Afghanistan, huh?"

Uh-oh.

I am not quite sure what reaction I had expected, but it certainly wasn't what I got. T is quite guarded with his emotions, and I guess I had him pegged as an uber-independent type. I guess I was wrong.

He stormed off to shower, not even really looking at me.

Eventually it all came out that he feels happy and stable for the first time in forever. He felt like that would be abandonment. He knew how interested I would be, and was frustrated with the situation, because he felt that expressing himself would be tantamount to holding me back.

I finally got across to him that I was just opening a discussion, and had not made up my mind.

In the end, he said he hadn't realised how important I had become to him, and felt really shaken by his own emotions.

Today, I came home to a bouquet of hand-picked field daisies, tucked into a pop bottle on the table.

I guess I'll be staying home...

Sex and other random things

I have been saying for awhile now (though never in earshot of another boy) that the sex with M was probably the best I was ever going to get. I am thinking of revising that statement. Technically, sure. He had a knack for doing just the right thing for the moment. But, you know, he didn't want to be with me, didn't want any future. Sure, we cared about each other, but it was in a rather...restrained way.

T isn't the most experienced guy. He says he's not fussed about it, as long as it doesn't bother me. Nah. Less bad training to try to undo.

T wants to be with me. T wants a future. T is a quick learner.

Mmmm...yeah...



Last night, I was out at a meeting until past my usual bedtime. T was sleeping when I got home, and I crawled into bed, but couldn't get to sleep myself. I got up again, not wanting to wake him with my tossing and turning. I kept having all these thoughts about T, the pair of us, and life in general. So I wrote him a note, and leaned it up against the coffee pot where I knew he would find it in the morning. I was trying not to get too sappy - T is still nervous about 'mushy stuff', but I don't know how well I succeeded. He seemed happy enough - he woke me with a big kiss and a 'thank you for the note'. I really like it when he smiles at me like that...

Moved In

Well, T. is more or less all moved in.

Friday and Saturday were the big days - a truckload from his place, then a trip to his parents' on Saturday to collect a couch they had been storing for him.

T's parents scare me. They are very religious, and I am very...not. T decided a long time ago that Christianity didn't do it for him, though both his brothers are still practicing. I don't have a problem with religion, but I just have no exposure, and am not interested in being converted. It is difficult to remember that T's parents honestly believe T's immortal soul is in major and immediate danger, though it does occasionally explain their reactions to things.

Saturday, I was leery of going with T to get the couch. However, his parents invited us (both of us!) for dinner, so I couldn't really back out.

Actually, the dinner went quite well. T's dad was as friendly and chatty as last time, and his mom was much more relaxed, for some reason. T took his dad out back to move the couch, leaving me with his mom, and we chatted about crafts for half an hour. The parents needed their truck back right away, so they followed us out to my house and wrestled the couch downstairs.

When they went to leave, T's mom gave him a hug...then gave me one, too. I guess it will be okay.



In other news, domestic bliss has been the order of the week. I mentioned to T how impressed I was that I really only had to tell him once about doing his 50%. I've had to remind him a couple times about little things that drive me crazy, but he really is getting it right most of the time. "Well, I told you to give me a little time to change," he said indignantly. I reminded him that I am not good at taking people's word for things. I believe in action. Now, I've seen action, and I must say things are looking a lot more hopeful. T is suddenly domestic, vaccuuming and doing dishes and calling on his way home from work to see if he should stop at the store to pick anything up. It's pretty sweet, actually.

I think he's a keeper.

Settling In.

Well, the countdown is on until T officially moves in...at the end of the month...in 4 days. Right at the moment, all it will change is the amount of furniture in the house. He hasn't slept at his own home in weeks.

Since I snapped at him about housework, we had a little discussion about what, exactly, constituted 50%. Little things, like doing the dishes includes drying them and putting them away. Like I don't want all the mental responsibility for tracking which chores need to get done, or having to ask him to do them.

I gotta hand it to him, the boy learns fast.

This weekend, we went for a nice drive, then Sunday was cleaning day. We both just got at it. Monday, I had a girlfriend over for supper. I cooked, we ate, then I took my girlfriend out to show her the backyard. By the time we got back inside, the dishes were done. I coulda kissed him. In fact, I did.

Yesterday, we were both exhausted from work. We dug some leftovers out for supper, then sat in side-by-side comfy chairs, reading. He was dozing off, and it was only 6:30, so I offered to make him a coffee. As I went to stir in the sugar, T came up behind me and gave me a big hug.

"Aah, domestic bliss," he said.

Indeed.

Good morning.

T. and I went out for drinks and a few games of pool last night. This is becoming a cherished tradition, in my mind...it is a fun evening, every time.

We came home early, though, as T had to work this morning. Not THAT early, mind you, but earlier than usual.

T got up before the alarm went off. I heard him turn it off, then dozed off again. Next thing I know, he's leaning over the bed, giving me a kiss goodbye.

"Don't worry about the dog," he said, "I already took her out to pee. Sleep in if you want."

I did.

When I did finally crawl out of bed, the stuff for coffee was all set out on the counter, and he had taken the garbage out. He's not home yet, but when he arrives, he'll be getting a great big kiss...

Peaks and valleys

I am much more stable when I'm single.

A couple days ago, I was floating, realising I'd finally found a guy who was serious about getting serious.

Today, not so much.

T got a random day off work; due to a slowdown, there was nothing to do. We found out at 0730.

At 0815, I had already petitioned my boss for a half-day off.

At 0930, I was on the phone with T, hearing that he had finished the dishes, and was moving on to the vaccuuming.

At 1000, the boss agreed to the half-day.

At 1030, T and I were back on the phone, planning an evening together.

At 1130, I discovered an important meeting would be happening at 1300, and I couldn't miss it.

At 1430, I finally got out of the office, full of anticipation.

At 1445, we were both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, playing on our computers, at his request for some 'down time'.

At 1700 hours, I ran to the grocery store.

At 1930, I got up and put in a load of laundry. As I sat back down, I asked T if he would like to do something. He declined.

At 2030, T snuck off to bed.

I am sitting here in my livingroom, wondering why I wasted the holiday time to take part of a day off work. I was really eager to come home, but when I got here, he seemed utterly disinterested. I started out being fairly okay with that; he'd busted his butt cleaning house, and I could understand wanting to sit and relax for a bit. Once it started to drag on into hours of quality time with the computers, I started to get a bit pissy. I just don't get it: why plan an evening with me, convince me to take time off work, then ignore me when I get home? Now that he's gone to bed without even saying goodnight, I am seriously considering pulling out the fold-out couch...why sleep next to someone you'd rather kick?

I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow, but I sure hate being ignored.

...And he's going to be moving in at the end of the month?!?

Parents

T has only ever introduced one girlfriend to his parents. It's a big, important step for him, and one that makes him very, very nervous. I told him quite awhile ago that I wasn't fussed about it one way or the other, that it could happen in its own time.

Then we decided to shack up.

T's parents are religious. Not just 'go to church once in awhile' religious, either. Really religious.

I told T that I'd rather meet his parents before I officially became "Devil Woman" by living in sin with their son.

Last night, I met the parents.



T's dad, G, shook my hand in both of his. T's mom looked like she was going to hug me, though I fended that one off. Apparently T having a real, actual girlfriend is a big deal. I was a little nervous, but managed to hold up my end of the conversation, and dinner was very tasty, which gave me something to focus on. I was very careful not to swear or take the Lord's name in vain. I didn't dig in to the food until after the prayer had been said. I managed not to embarass T too badly.

Actually, afterward, T said he thought they really liked me.

"Just wait till they meet my mom," I grumbled.


Sitting at home, later, deconstructing the evening, I mentioned to T that I am concerned about how his parents will react to the news that we are shacking up.

"They'll just have to get over it," T replied, "since you're going to be part of the family."

**melt**

Sugar

I am starting to see that I have lived alone long enough that shacking up is going to be...interesting.

I got up this morning, made coffee, poured my cup, added cream, then...aak! The sugar bowl was empty! No sugar in the cupboard, either. Dammit, coffee's no good without lots and lots of sugar! AAAARRRRRGGGHHH!!!

I knew I was running low. I even had it on the shopping list. I figured that if I ran out before grocery day (tomorrow), I'd stop by the convenience store on the way home from work and get some. I knew I'd know before I ran out, as I had enough to fill the sugar bowl once more, so I didn't worry about it.

Except that T did the 'right thing', and filled the sugar bowl when it got empty. Had I noticed him doing so, it wouldn't have been a big deal. However, I didn't see, so I hadn't bothered to get more, 'knowing' that there was that last little bit.

Sigh.

Spill

Well, a whole evening without T. This may actually kinda suck.

He is at his own home, as his roomie's daughter is having a birthday party. Apparently she's pretty attached to him. It's interesting that he feels a certain sense of responsibility toward her. I like that. It's a good sign.

Funniest thing, one minute I worry that he might be getting into my head, next thing, I'm agreeing to shack up. I think perhaps he put something in my coffee that morning. The worst bit is that I'm not even having second thoughts - I am excited to start moving the furniture around.

Since our little tiff, we have had conversations about a few things. It went much better, though I probably still lack tact. He is going to try to learn not to get defensive when I have 'that tone', which sets him off, but may or may not actually mean I am annoyed.

I noticed that in the last couple of days, he has started picking up his empty beer bottles and putting them in the recycle bin, set out a new bar of soap in the bathroom when the old one finally dissolved, and laid a (machine washable) blanket down on the couch before sitting down in his filthy work clothes. There's hope, at least.

We have started establishing little routines. We go for long drives and longer walks on Saturdays (if he's not working) or Sundays. Somewhere away from town, places with trees and water. We wander riverbanks looking for pretty stones. He waits patiently while I take pictures, and only rolls his eyes about half the times I point the camera at him. Recently, we have started going to the pub near my house and playing pool. When I cook, he washes the dishes.

He is starting to fit more comfortably.

The other morning, we were standing in the kitchen, and he came up behind me and gave me a hug. I turned to face him. He always looks away when our eyes meet when we're doing that. He says it makes him feel 'mushy'. This time, he looked down at me and told me he was afraid I might be 'the one'. **melt**

This might just work out okay.

Absence...

...really does make the heart grow fonder.

I was gone on a conference for work last week, and, whaddya know, but I missed T. Quite a bit, actually. And he missed me, too. After one particularly draining day, all I really wanted was to curl up in his arms. Instead, I phoned, and we agreed to do that when I got home. And we did.

Sunday morning was a lay-in-bed kinda morning, something we've never really done before. We snuggled on the bed, just chatting about 'stuff'. Stuff like hopes and fears and goals, the deep things that don't really just come out in conversation. As we were chatting, my head on his chest, I realised I haven't felt that close to someone in a long, long time.

Then he brought up moving in together.

That one was slightly shocking. Shocking-good, mind you, but it came as something of a suprise to me that he would want to step things up, somehow. I've spent too many years around commitment-phobic guys, I suppose. I told him I needed a little more time, but by the end of the conversation, we had pretty much agreed on August.

Oh, my.

Communication

Well, after a couple days' break, we went out last night. Not really a typical date - clothes shopping and dinner - but fun. We chatted about random stuff. Including the fact that he had screwed up his courage and asked his boss for a raise, and that he had a plan for dealing with the psycho roomie.

Oh, and that I hate it when he leaves his dirty work clothes on the bathroom floor, and don't appreciate picking up after him.

Then we came home and had great sex.

Funny how communication seems to facilitate these things.


I am really not quite sure what to do about this guy. I don't know if I am overly prepared to write him off, if this is growing pain that is normal in a new relationship, or if there really are legitimate concerns. I have no concept of what a healthy new relationship really feels like. It's been too long, and I think I am getting cagey about having someone in my life and inside my head. Maybe I am less tolerant of quirks, having been more-or-less happily on my own for several years. I am afraid of losing my sense of independence, the feeling that if he disappears, things will keep chugging merrily along, with a slightly adjusted weekend routine, which is how out-of-town dating seems to go for me.

When Mr. Wonderful and I broke up, it took years for me to feel like I was really going to be okay on my own. I don't think I have given anyone a fighting chance since then.

Whether T is 'the one' or really only the fourteenth is pretty immaterial. It boils down to what I can cope with, how vulnerable I am willing or able to be. I know it can't go anywhere if I don't allow it, but I gotta admit, it sure ain't easy...

Backbone.

T. has a crazy roommate. Not in the 'crazy-cute' way, but in the 'crazy-psycho' way.

T's roomie refuses to give him a housekey, even though he is paying rent. She is apparently quite upset with the amount of time he hasn't been spending at home. T thinks she is lurking in their flat, waiting for him to come home so she can pick a fight.

My first thought: you don't have a key to YOUR OWN HOME?!?

T just looked sheepish and shrugged.

T has been sleeping at his parents' place rather than going home, because he doesn't want to deal with a pissed-off roommate.

My second thought: where is your backbone, sweetie?

My third (and most concerning) thought: if you can't deal with a pissed-off roommate, and go so far as to buy new clothing rather than going home in order to avoid a fight...what is going to happen when I actually get mad about something?

Hmmm.

Forgetting

They say that if women could accurately remember the pain of childbirth, no-one would ever have a second child. I have no experience with that sort of thing, but I am thinking that if I ever remembered the pain of dating, I would never have another boyfriend.

It's not even pain, so much as pain-in-the-ass. With M., it was that he never put the toilet seat down. With Mr Wonderful, it was that he was forever dragging home stray cats that our landlady didn't allow, and we couldn't afford the vet bills on anyway. Little things. But annoying.

Like when I see the results of T drying his not-quite-clean hands on my good hand towels.

Or when he washes the dishes, but doesn't dry them or wipe the counter.

And then there's the interpersonal crap. The differing beliefs or expectations or communication styles. The misunderstandings.

Last night, we were laying in bed. I have some health problems that were bothering me. He asked if I was in pain, and I said 'yes'. He started tossing out 'solutions' that 'we' were going to use to make me 'better'. I stated that they would not work. I neglected to mention that I knew this for fact because I had tried them. He told me I was defeatist.

I told him to never, ever, make blanket statements on topics he knows nothing about.

I managed to haul my 'defeatist' ass through a dozen countries in as many months, at age 29, solo, after everyone told me I was crazy to go to Africa and the Middle East alone. I have survived, and left, abusive relationships. I work in a male-dominated, demanding job in a place where women are expected to be barefoot and pregnant. I managed to complete one entire degree. Defeatist. Hrumph. T clearly has a lot to learn about me. I can't currently think of a more offensive thing someone could say to me...

That one little comment still has my blood pressure up. And I'm still trying to figure out which bit of Sunday's conversation lacked tact...

Tiff

T loves his Scrabble. He goes to competitions, and actually practices daily. He writes out lists of words to memorise, and has an anagram program on his computer that he uses to help him study. His next competition is in June.

I think it's pretty cool. People who are passionnate about things (even things I don't really care about) are just more interesting to spend time with.

However.

However, it seems like we have been spending entirely too much time sitting side-by-side on the couch, him practicing Scrabble, and me playing video games. Sometimes, after a long day at work, this is a necessary thing, and it's a relief that he doesn't feel ignored when the only thing I want to do is spend some quality time with Civilisation III. But I don't want it to become a routine.

This weekend, T was doing his Scrabble thing, and I was puttering around the house, cooking and cleaning and organising - weekend stuff I like to do. I wasn't fussed that he was playing, as he had worked 6 days last week, and overtime most of them, to boot. I kind of planned to pamper him a little.

Every time I got going on something, though, he got up to help.

I got annoyed - I felt like I was guilting him into doing housework, but really I just wanted to get a few things done. I did not want his help. I did not expect him to do anything.

I bit my tongue at first, but brought it up a little later, when I wasn't feeling so snappy. Told him I didn't want to feel like I was coercing him into helping, but didn't want to sit on my ass all day, either. While I was at it, I mentioned that maybe we should spend time together when we wanted to see each other, and not get caught up in the side-by-side computer games...Suggested he stay home on nights that he really wanted to focus on Scrabble practice.

T seemed pretty upset.

Later, he mentioned that it would be easier to have these discussions if I were more tactful about it.

I forsee a problem.

Tact and subtlety really aren't my strong suits. Not that I'm a jerk about things, but I tend to be quite direct. Direct like: "This is bothering me. This is why. Here's what I propose we do about it" sort of direct. Apparently, this is disturbing. I am not quite sure how to word things much more 'nicely' without missing the point of whatever I was trying to say.

Aah, well. In the end, we agreed that when we're together, we will do things together, and save the computers for the wind-down hour before bed. Hopefully, problem solved...

Goodbyes

I took down my profiles on PoF and Lava awhile ago, and have been cheerfully broadcasting that I have a real actual boyfriend to pretty much everyone. There were some loose ends left to tie up, though.

I finally got ahold of Mr UK this morning. It made me late for work, but was a necessary conversation. He was talking about booking tickets to meet in Chicago...which was the plan a couple months ago, but isn't quite right, anymore, with T in the picture.

Mr UK took it well. Better than I expected, actually. Said he was happy for me. Wanted to know about T. Congratulated me. Asked if he'd still see me in July when he comes to town. I said "of course, but T may want to join us". Mr UK said he understood.

He commented that if we had lived in the same region, or even the same country, we'd probably be dating, but sounded pretty philosophical about it.

When we said goodbye, he said he loved me.

I told him I loved him, too.

And, you know, in its own way, it's true. Not in the "let's get married" sense, but Mr UK has been in my life for a long, long time, and there is definitely a special relationship there. I am relieved that he can accept the situation, and grateful that our friendship will continue, albeit on a different level.

It was a little bittersweet, though.

Girly

I am not a girly girl.

As a teenager, I routinely got mistaken for a boy. Actually, that happened well into my twenties. I grew my hair and nails long so people would have visual cues, then I got fat and grew breasts, rendering all that a moot point anyways. I wear jeans and tank tops. I shop for shirts and shoes in the men's section out of necessity - I am an attractive girl, but not a little girl, and size 11 ladies' shoes are hard to come by. I do not spend huge amounts on clothing. I could care less about fashion. Motor oil does not wash out of $150 jeans any better than $40 ones. Being feminine just isn't practical.

T appears to be turning me into a girl. A girly girl.

I own makeup, for the three or four occasions a year I have to wear it. For some reason, I had the impulse to wear some a couple of nights ago. T had never seen me wearing makeup before. T was extremely vocal about how impressed he was. He said he does not generally like girls wearing makeup, and prefers the natural look (thankfully), but thought I looked phenomenal (huh?).

Likewise, I have a pair of super-comfy capri pants. I wear them when I am doing housework. T thought they were fantastic. Said so several times. Grabbed me and pulled me down on top of him on the couch to demonstrate how great he thought they looked. When we went out for dinner later that evening, I wore them out, with a pair of high-heeled sandals. T couldn't stop looking at my ass, and said so.

I went shopping yesterday. Now, shopping is not unheard of in my world; I am always happy to go to Home Hardware and pick up a few new tools. However, I went shopping for makeup and clothing. Pretty stuff. Capris. High heels. Mascara and lip gloss.

My fashionista sister is going to love this guy. Everyone else is going to wonder what the hell he's done to me. Including, possibly, me.

The things we do for love...

Disclosure

T is an honest sort of guy. He doesn't seem to mind discussing any topic, now that the shyness has passed. I admire that.

There are parts of my history that, while I am not ashamed of, I can't say I am itching to share with a prospective long-term partner. Who I am still in the stage of wanting to impress.

T has shared some lass-than-savory details of his past, and although I am not going to end things over this, it does make me stop and think.

Then, I read this. It made me think (thank you, T-shirt, for making me think, again). I decided that I didn't want to have to worry about T finding my blog, or finding out about my history from someone else.

So, this morning, over coffee, I told T about Mr UK and M. Not all the details, of course, but enough. I told him that although I don't really intend to have any contact with M, Mr UK remains a good friend, and will still be part of my life. That Mr UK may be staying here, at my house, in June. That T is welcome to be here for the whole time, if it makes him more comfortable with the situation. Of course, Mr UK doesn't even know about T yet - that's a project for this weekend.

I don't know why I was worried. Moonbeam was quite prepared to distance himself from me, in order to make sure T didn't get jealous...thoughtful of Moonbeam, but the idea disturbed me. When I mentioned that conversation to T, he was apalled. He told me in no uncertain terms that I should not be losing friends over this relationship.

Right answer.

He did it again this morning. He said that he felt I was interested enough that he wasn't worried. I told him that a person can say they won't cheat as many times as they want, but it means nothing without the behavior to back it up. T said he believed me. Said he wasn't at all concerned. I could have kissed him. In fact, I did. Several times. What a relief.

Another week.

Well, it has been another week of T, and although I have to admit he slides admirably easily into my life and routines, I am not sure where he fits in my head.

T. has never heard of half the music I listen to. He is forever saying "Who is this? I think I like them". Another common one is "What does that word mean? How do you spell it? I think it might be a [Scrabble] bingo". He certainly appreciates my intelligence. He is very respectful of my privacy and my space. But he is in it.

I spent seven years building up my home, full of MY things, done up the way I like it, and only allowing a very few good friends in. Apparently I have done the same with my head. Every now and then, I realise...omg, this guy is creeping in. My instinct is immediately to push him away, keep him at arm's distance. I love and hate that I can just call him anytime I want a hug and he'll be here in half an hour. Mind you, he is pretty much always here anyway, doing dishes after dinner or bringing me coffee in the morning. Good things that are a little disturbing because of their intimacy.

I went for drinks with Moonbeam last night, specifically to tell him about T, just in case. Moonbeam swears he just wants a friendship, which is perfect. He felt he should enlighten me about the inside of the male mind, however, and warned me that the L-word will likely get tossed into play in about 6 weeks. Given the situation, I wonder if it will take T that long, and hope he can/will hold back on that one. T is already routinely telling me how lucky and thankful he feels for having met me. He asks if I am always this nice, tells me I am beautiful. He is rather demonstrative, verbally and physically, which again is something of a mixed blessing. I do enjoy it, but...But.

I declared last night a night off again. I am thinking of doing the same tonight. T has spent the last several years alone, but I don't believe it was by choice. I guess I haven't been especially alone, but I have carefully arranged my life so that no-one, especially no man, can interfere with my freedom and independence and comfort. It is disturbing to realise I have cooked proper dinners every night for close to two weeks. I usually eat leftovers or a bowl of oatmeal.

Poor T may be getting a neurotic basketcase that he hadn't bargained on...but I am still doing my best not to shoot myself in the foot...

Going Slow...

...is not what we are doing. T came over last Thursday, and did not go home until THIS Wednesday. Last night was a 'night off', which I apparently needed most desperately, as I was starting to feel out-of-sorts about having my routines disrupted.

I poured two cups of coffee this morning before I woke up enough to realise he wasn't here anyway.

T picked up the dishes after supper the other night. He made coffee on the mornings he was first out of bed. He calls if he will be late coming home from work. He'll eat whatever I can dream up to cook, and thank me for it after. He is still exciting and fun, but at the same time, comfortable like an old sweater. There is nothing we won't talk about.

This is scary. It's been about seven years since I have dated anyone who lived in my own area code. It's less pressure when they can only change your routine on the weekends. I've always said that they don't fuck up my life, that way. Well, that, and I date emotionally distant guys, as a rule, so they really don't interfere at all.

T is interested in me. He is available, physically and emotionally. I look forward to spending time with him. He scares the hell out of me.

I am trying not to shoot myself in the foot by finding reasons to run away or pick a fight. I told him that I have a few issues that way.

T fits into my life.

He'll be here again tonight.

I'm looking forward to it...

***Grin***

What a weekend.

T is amazing.

He came over Friday night with a backpack and a scrabble board, plus an ear-to-ear grin. We went for dinner, cooked dinner, walked the dog, watched movies, did dishes, and cuddled lots. He fits my life. He has a beautiful smile. And brains to spare.

Interestingly, we did not have sex. He said later that he had thought about bringing condoms, but thought I was something special, and did not want to rush things. Funny...I had thought about buying condoms, but did not want to rush with him. Strange...

My pets love him. My cat would rather curl up in his lap. My dog won't leave him alone. It's cute. He likes pets.

He was so shy and bashful on Thursday, but that faded fast. Some of it is his own courage...he was bashful and blushing madly Sunday morning when he (toe-in-dirt shyly) invited me to join him in the shower. It's a little contagious - I was blushing madly when I (toe-in-dirt shyly) accepted. My hot water tank must be broken...seemed like the hot water ran out right away...

Not A School Night

I had a shit day at work. Being exhausted didn't help one bit. By quitting time, all I wanted was a hug. Rather than sit home and sulk, I called T. Invited him over. For the weekend. He thought I was joking.

**grin**

He should be here in about an hour...

And I'm not sure who's driving, and I don't really care.

Sleepover

I should have been sleeping three hours ago. He braved horrible highways to come for dinner and board games. He whooped me at Scrabble, then I beat him at crib. We had a couple of drinks and chatted. The weather deteriorated, getting colder, icier, and snowier. He looked dubiously out the window at the near-blizzard. I invited him to stay the night. He asked me if I was really okay with that. Five times.

He is so shy it hurts, almost. He gets nervous around people he doesn't know well, and more so with girls. I could almost see him making circles on the ground with his toe. We chat, but he doesn't make eye contact, much. He petted the cat so gently with those huge hands. I checked him out, sidelong, when he wasn't looking.

I half-teasing suggested we share the bed for warmth in this nasty weather. I could almost hear him blush. He is out on the fold-out right now. We were both doing toe-circles saying goodnight, akward. Eventually he asked if he could have one thing before bed: a hug.

And a very brief, chaste one, at that.

********************
Next morning edit:

Sometime just after I finished typing, T came tiptoeing up the hallway to my bedroom. "hey," he said, "can I take you up on your offer? It's kinda lonely out there..."

Based on the last time I actually got up and looked at the clock, the absolute most sleep I could have gotten was approximately four hours. I did not get four hours sleep, though.

It was like a kids sleepover...chatting and giggling, in our pajamas. He is less shy, and more chatty, in the dark. We didn't even kiss, though I have to admit his arms around me sure felt...right...

I told him he wasn't allowed to come over on school nights anymore, though...

Not Driving

I went for drinks with Moonbeam, the guy from work, a couple nights ago. I still have no idea what he's angling for. I have to admit, we have great conversations, but I don't think he would be a good long-term match. I really don't want to lead him on, but I'm not sure how to bring it up in conversation. Dammit.

Scrabble guy, T., called last night. We have a date for tomorrow at my place. Now, I wouldn't normally invite an internet guy to my home after only meeting them once, but I am also a good judge of character, and I'm certian T is not stalker material. He is far too...well, it's hard to pin down, but he hits me as a good guy. He asked if it was okay that he called. He hasn't been pushy in any way, shape, or form. He is very...respectful.

It was an interesting conversation. We do really have a lot in common. I have to learn not to bombard him with questions, but, dammit, I'm curious.

There are a couple red flags, though. He last lived with his parents a few months ago. He has started three different degrees, without finishing any of them. On the other hand, he appears to be able to say 'no', and has actually held the same job for a couple of years.

This not driving thing is really causing me headaches. I have no idea if T is even looking for anything more than friendship, and if he's not, then I'd rather know before I get too interested. Likewise, with Moonbeam, I'd rather have things on the table. However, asking these sorts of questions seems to be the start of me taking over, so to speak. Dammit, I'm just not subtle enough for this...

Scrabble

So, there's this PoF goy. Let's call him T. If there's been a PoF T before, please disregard. This one is totally new, but I've been on so many first dates that I just can't remember, but there hasn't been a second date with a single one...

This one is going to get a second date.

T is tall, well over 6 feet, and pleasant-looking. Broad shoulders, green eyes, full lips. He is soft-spoken, in a slightly fumbling, shy way. He drinks his coffee with lots of sugar. He plays Scrabble competitively. He has freckles on his forearms, and huge hands.

We've been chatting online for over a month, with conversational topics covering religion, gender roles, travel, and books. He says he is not a 'manly man', and just got his first 'guy job' this year. He is slightly nerdy, and loves to read. He got teased a lot in high school. He seems impressed, but not threatened, by my non-traditional line of work, and the fact that I know a bit about cars. He has complimented me a few times, none of which had anything to do with my looks.

We finally met for coffee yesterday afternoon. I can't even remember what we talked about, but three hours went by without any uncomfortable pauses.

There is definitely chemistry. I had forgotten about chemistry.

We agreed to meet online later in the evening, and play Scrabble. He won three games out of four, and gave me a bunch of tips about how to play better. By the end of the night, I was certainly playing better. He was using words I had never heard of. I had to go get my dictionary and look a bunch of them up, just to find out what they meant. That is so hot. Finally, a guy around here who has a brain and isn't afraid to use it.

It is going to be hard to not 'drive the car', and do it too fast. My urge is to go out on a few more dates, see if the chemistry lasts, then go drag him off and do something about it. Actually, my urge is to see what he's doing later today, and see if he'd be interested in a strip-Scrabble marathon, but I know that isn't really appropriate, and will attempt to restrain myself...

Erasure

Over the weekend, M. sent a cryptic e-mail stating he was withdrawing his offer of a flight to Vancouver. I haven't talked to him since, except to email a reply of "yeah, no worries". I have no idea what the "change in circumstances" consists of, though I can make an educated guess.

I am certain M has a girlfriend.

Now, I do not, and have never had any right to get upset over this. To be honest, I'm not all that upset, though I AM disappointed that I won't get a free flight to visit my sister. Mostly, I feel resigned. It was inevitable, and I have known that for ages.

I went down to the post office on Tuesday, bought a little bubble-pack envelope, and mailed him his housekey back. No note - there's nothing much else to say.

I took the wicked photo of the two of us down from 'the gallery' on my wall. I don't want to look at him anymore.

I removed him from my hotmail 'favorites' list. I don't want to have his name hanging around in plain sight.

I am considering changing my phone number. I have already erased his from my address book.

If he is not going to be in my life, then he needs to be all the way out of it. I want it to look as though he never existed. As though 'we' never existed. I do not want to see photos of us kissing. I do not want to be reminded of him at all. I do not want to see him or hear from him or really to even have to think about him anymore.

This is beyond closure...this is erasure.

Dysfunction Break

They say bad luck comes in threes. I should be okay for awhile, now, as I have had my three bad man news items this weekend:

1) Beavis (see last post)

2) M. appears to have found himself a girlfriend. This is purely an assumption on my part, based on the fact that he withdrew his offer of a free flight to see my sis, but I can't think of any other reason.

3) Mr UK can't get holidays to come visit until June, when his annual vacation with his family is booked. His family hates me for long, complicated historical reasons, so I don't imagine I will be seeing him much, if at all.

None of these things is all that bad alone, and I have to admit I was half-expecting each of them, but not all at once. Suddenly, I find I am all alone, which might be a necessary break, anyway. It will certainly cut the frustration level in my world, anyhow.

But dammit, it's hard to feel loveable and attractive when you get ditched three times in the same weekend...

The Hardest Word

I used to be a pushover. Many of my friends were the same way; easily guilted into things, or simply incapable of saying "no". It took me a long time to get over that, but here I am. I have carefully surrounded myself with people who are good at setting boundaries, and at saying no.

I find it easier to ask for something if I don't have to worry about that person saying "yes" out of some misplaced sense of obligation. Ironically, I never said 'no' because I was afraid people would like me less, but in fact, I have more and truer friends now that I freely admit it when I don't want to do something.

I have forgotten how frustrating it is to deal with someone who cannot or will not state their needs. I have forgotten so thoroughly that I miss all the warning signs, apparently.



My car is not working well. I spoke to Beavis tonight, and he mentioned that he would be driving to our hometown for Easter. I asked if I could come along, so I could visit Mom. He said 'sure', but then made a couple of half-hearted excuses...he didn't want my dog in the truck, etcetera. I told him I would call him back in an hour. I called Mom to make sure it was okay if I came, then arranged for a dogsitter.

I had a funny feeling about the way Beavis had agreed to the trip. Something about his tone of voice.

When I called him back, the first thing I asked was "How good are you at saying 'no'?"

"Not very good"

Damn. Right. "In that case, I'm not coming."

Suddenly all the things that confused and frustrated me about Beavis are crystal clear. He operates on guilt. He can't say 'no'.

Now, I'm just frustrated.

I already know I am not subtle enough to deal with someone who can't state their concerns, flat out. I am blunt, and honest, and it doesn't even occur to me to second-guess what someone has said. If I say yes or no, I truly mean it, and I have gotten used to the people around me being exactly the same way. I do not have the time or patience to try to figure out if someone means what they say. I cannot spend any significant amount of time with someone who cannot stand up to me.

Sorry, Beavis. If or when you call again, we will be having a conversation about this, and if you don't think you can learn to be blunt with me, then we're wasting both our time.

Assumptions

I have known Beavis for a long, long time, but I can't say I know him well at all. Unfortunately, conversation is not his forte, so all I have to go on for much of the time is behavior and history.

I tend to stick my foot in it from time to time.

This weekend, I asked him if he knew how many women he had been with.

Perfectly legitimate question - we may get physically involved, and this is the sort of thing I should be privy to. However, my wording was a bit...offensive. There's that assumption thing - Beavis is a very nice looking guy, and I know for a fact that both his best friends were in the three-digit range ten years ago. I backed up and re-phrased my question, but the damage had already been done. I therefore had no right to get pissy about his reply:

"Probably a lot less than you."

When we started talking actual numbers, it turned out that he was absolutely right - his count is around half of mine. Of course, he was wise enough to not ask a question he didn't want the answer to, but I can do the math all by myself.

This sort of shocked me on a couple of levels. First: I had made a judgement about Beavis that was dead wrong, and offensive to him. Second: Beavis made a judgement about me that was dead right, and offensive to me.

Hmm.

Onions

Every time I write Beavis off as a hopeless cause, he suprises me. I am not certain whether this is a good thing or another way for me to string myself along in hopeless relationships.

This time, there were a couple of things.

One: He really is acting like a gentleman. He always has, but it is easy to overlook, because he can be awfully rough around the edges at times. However, in terms of not pushing issues, not testing my boundaries, not questioning my choices...yeah.

Two: He respects the fact that I have a life. A girlfriend had a terrible week, and needed to just hang out. He offered to make himself scarce so that I could spend time with my friend. Again, the rough edges make it easy to overlook how thoughtful he can be.

Sometimes, it's like peeling back layers on an onion.

However, I really question whether I can cope with a relationship with someone as non-verbal as Beavis tends to be. He can get his point across, but he's not much for long discussions. As in, conversations of more than, say, twenty words...

And no, he most certainly didn't sleep in the truck...but he waited for my invitation. And that impressed me. A lot.

Taking It As It Comes.

I am a bit of a control freak. I like to know what is going on, how things are going to happen, and what the plan is. I am obsessive about knowing what is coming next. I like to be the boss, and I want things to happen on my schedule.

This is a poor attitude for dating.

I am forever questioning the motives of my date, second-guessing him, and obsessively deconstructing the evening in the car on the drive home. I am out of my element when dealing with the unpredictable quirks of other people's emotions and expectations while also trying to cope with the quirks of MY emotions and expectations.

This results in all sorts of quirky situations and miscommunications. For instance, with Beavis, it meant forcing the issue with sex after a couple of months, because I wanted to know if we were a good match in bed, wanted to know if he found me attractive that way, and was really, really horny. Not that he didn't want to have sex with me, but he wanted to take it slow, and me forcing the issue added a lot of confusion to his world. Like, we didn't talk for two months.

I am trying to learn to take things as they come. Moonbeam and I went for a nice supper tonight, and spent four hours chatting about 'stuff'. Stuff that included a lot of questions/comments about relationships, expectations, likes/dislikes, etcetera. I have no idea if he is wanting to date me, or just talking about random stuff trying to make friends. I am working VERY HARD not to 'interpret' anything, and just see what happens.

Likewise, with Beavis coming up tomorrow, I will try to just relax and let things unfold as they will.

This is difficult.

I want to learn, because I suspect (though I have absolutely no proof) that it might result in a more...respectful...relationship in the end, however that relationship might be defined. I suspect that my habit of taking the lead and stepping things up a notch is intimidating to men. I am certain that I have missed out on all sorts of fun courting rituals, simply because I didn't have the patience to enjoy the courting. I gotta tell ya, though, patience is NOT my forte...

Company Ink?

There is this guy I work with. Let's call him Moonbeam. We've worked together for years, in different departments. He moved into my department temporarily last year, and we wound up working together quite a bit.

He is a genuine sort of guy, funny and outgoing once he gets to know you, though a bit shy at first. Very protective of his private life, but I have to say, I'm the same way...ironic that I blog, but anyways...

Moonbeam is tall, heavy-set, and nice-looking. He likes cats and has a motorbike. He is about 15 years older than me, but that really isn't an issue to me for making friends - most of my friends are about 10 years older, anyways. It becomes an issue with dating, as I want kids, and most 45 year olds are closer to planning retirement than planning a family.

Moonbeam did me a favor at work a few weeks ago, helping me with a file while I was on holidays. I told him I owed him a coffee. A while after that, he needed help outside work, moving a couple of vehicles around. He took me for supper as a thanks. Today, he asked me to help him with a file.

I asked him if it negated the coffee I owed him.

He said it was a big deal (it wasn't), and that he figured he owed me dinner and drinks, now.

I teased him that I knew how that story went, that he'd put it off until one of us moved departments.

He said: "Tomorrow at four, then".

Good thing I told Beavis not to come up till Saturday...

Three (not so wise) Men

M. sent a one word email yesterday. it said:

"regrets?"

hmmm. Not really. I got what I expected: a place to sleep while I was doing other things, and some meaningless sex. It didn't come as a surprise. I haven't mailed his key back, yet, but I'm thinking about it.

Beavis phoned. He wants to come up this weekend, and spend the night. I asked him, straight up:

"So, where, exactly, are you planning on sleeping?"

He didn't miss a beat when he replied: "in my truck". As long as we're all on the same page, I suppose. I'm glad he doesn't have any expectations.

Mr UK called. He didn't have anything in particular to say, except that it was a boring day at work without me sending him notes (I was on training). He just wanted to say goodnight. Wish I coulda been there to tuck him in and give him a kiss...

Courting

Mr UK remains incredibly disappointed that I won't let him fly me back over. We had a loooonnggg discussion about the nature of love, and the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I mean, no-one doubts he and I love each other, deep down. But we're not in love. I told him that my biggest problem with the whole idea is that I am not even a little bit in love with him, and it feels cold-hearted to let him jet me around when there's no butterflies-in-stomach on either end.

I don't know if he realises it, but he's basically been courting me ever since that conversation.

I love it.

He sends me a zillion emails a day at work. Cute, short, 'just thinking of you' type notes.

He sent a little gift by mail, with a hand-written letter.

He calls every few nights, and we chat about nothing for hours.

We reminisce. We debate. We talk dirty. We laugh.

I worry that he is falling in love, a little bit. He's mentioned that he has reconsidered his statement that we would never work out as a couple (distance aside, of course). Honestly, after four or five sleep-deprived phone marathons, I am questioning that statement, myself. However, neither of us is prepared to move.

I worry that i might actually be falling a little bit myself.

He is threatening to come visit at the end of April. He can't really afford it right now, and doesn't really have the time off. I half-heartedly try to talk him out of it, but I'd love to see him again...

Apparently It's March...

...because Beavis called.

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can catch up here.

I have no idea what he wants. When I got home from work Friday, there was a message from him on my machine saying he was driving by my town and thinking of me. He says he's working in the area for a few weeks. Good for him.

I called back and left a reply on his message machine, saying I was going out of town, but he could call Sunday if he wanted to. Now, I am quite curious...

*****Sunday night edit*****

I guess he just wanted to hang out. We rented a couple of movies, and curled up on the couch, his arm around my shoulders. No mention of what happened in January, or the conversation we had in February. In fact, the only mention of anything 'us' related was when he commented that he finds it entirely too easy to spend time with me. A hug goodbye, and he was off, with a parting comment that he'd like to come up next weekend, and maybe stay the night. I told him to call later in the week...

yeah, i know, i know...

"...so, if life were a video game, and you could reset when things went bad, what would you try?"

"Hmmm. I'd want to test-drive the stuff that I'd be really afraid of screwing up. Maybe some of the career options I vetoed in University...photography, history...maybe motherhood...What would you try?"

"I'd test-drive us"

"..."

"..."

"See you tomorrow..."


*****End of Weekend Edit********

Well, THAT was fun. It's awfully hard to regret doing something that leaves me feeling so sated and relaxed. AND I managed to get together with two girlfriends I really wanted to see, and do some home-hunting for when I put in a transfer application...a productive weekend all around...

Romance

There's this guy on lavalife. He's messaged me twice. Email #1: he wanted to know when we could meet. I told him I'd rather sent a few more notes back and forth first, and decide IF we should meet. Email #2: he wants to know what kind of kissing I like, whether or not I like massages, and what constituties a romantic evening.

This is right up there with strangers calling me sexy.

A stranger would probably go for flowers and a nice dinner. That stranger would probably turn me right off. Roses remind me of an ex who used to buy them for me when he had cheated on me (again) or broken something I cherished. I hate roses. Especially red ones.

Romance is so dependent on mood, and on the person you're with. One of the most memorable 'romantic' evenings I can think of with Mr Wonderful was a game of Trivial Pursuit. With three of my cousins, an aunite, and my Grandma, but Mr Wonderful kept dropping hints and allusions to private jokes between him and I, and, at the same time, entertained a bunch of people I loved dearly. He didn't especially want to be there that day, but came because of me. That's romantic.

Mr UK keeps emailing me links to web design/building tutorials, and to shareware and open source programs that he thinks I would be interested in. Often, attached to sweet notes about how well I am doing with my learning html.

One guy took me for lunch at my favorite restaraunt, then took me to the SPCA and talked me into buying a dog. He didn't last, but I still think of him all the time - I do love the dog to bits.

These things all stuck out in my mind as romantic. Mr UK would never take me dog shopping, and it probably wouldn't feel romantic if he did. But, he does know me well enough to know that free software is a great gift. It's the caring and acknowledgement in the gesture that makes it romantic to me. I'm not a Hallmark kinda gal, and romance has to be personal...

Oh, yeah, and I don't imagine there will ever BE a first date with Mr Romantic on lavalife...

Backbone Update.

Well, I was reading comments on a recent post, and I felt like I had more to say on the topic.

You know, I think the reaction I have when M contacts me is just...habit. An ingrained reaction. It just goes through my mind every time, but, on the other hand, it goes through my mind, then goes away.

Sure, a part of me would still like to be with him. No denying that. I can't figure out why I haven't shut that door entirely - usually when I break up with someone, or they break up with me, then it's over. Just done, over with, and time to move on.

Even with Mr Wonderful, who I didn't want to leave (but felt I had to), I told him he had a few months to get his act together, or I would move on. When the time passed with no action on his part, I went back to meet him the place we had shared for the requisite bitter-sweet goodbye sex on the floor of our empty bedroom before he handed in the keys, and that was that. Finis. Done. Never to be revisited.

M is...different. I've never really been in love with him. Oh, I love him, in a way, but I've never felt that sparkly, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling. I know it could happen, like a word that's on the tip of your tongue, but it hasn't. It can't. He has such thick walls built up; they put me off, push me away, and I have never really been able to let my own guard down enough to just...feel.

We spoke for a few hours yesterday. He mostly respected the boundaries I have set, avoided talking about 'us', though he dropped a hint or two about having thought a lot about his commitment issues. I chalk that up to him not really wanting to let go, either. We didn't explore it. I have to admit, I am curious as hell, but if we have that talk, it will be when I am in a headspace to do so. He doesn't get to set the agenda anymore. I am fairly certain that the outcome of that conversation will be the usual conclusion that nothing has changed.

So we spoke for hours yesterday, and I feel...nothing, really. Not especially happy or sad, just kind of...indifferent. No real urge to go see him, though a part of me wants to go back and revisit the bits of the conversation that we avoided. Like I said, I'm curious, and right at the moment, he doesn't seem to affect me much, so the timing would be right. On the other hand, maybe it will hurt, feel manipulative, make me angry, and I can finally just say "enough".

Someday, I will pack up his housekey and all the baggage, mail it back to him, and just...walk away. Finally.

What's With The Sugar Daddies?

So, M sent an email. This is not terribly unusual. Infrequent, but not unusual. This one was about a mutual friend who I had lost track of, with a comment that she might not be doing so well, but no details. These are the sorts of things that drive me to pick up the phone.

So, I called.

Yeah, I know, I'm a sucker.

In the course of the conversation, asked how much time off I could get from work on short notice.

Huh?

Well, turns out his company is flying him to The Coast for training. Depending on how long the course goes, they will pay to either fly him home for a visit, or pay for someone to fly out and visit him. My sister lives on The Coast. He said:

"Now, this isn't a booty call or anything, but I thought you might like to take a free flight to see your sis, and you don't have to stay with me, or even see me, if you don't want to."

Damn. That's hard to pass up. And thoughtful. Damn. Double Damn.

I told him to call back when he gets the details...

Where Did My Backbone Go?

I have all the motivation in the world to stay as far from M. as humanly possible. I tell myself this every time he calls or emails, or even when a song on the radio remainds me of him. I remind myself that as great as he is, being around him always hurts, eventually. It's always great for a few months, then the big letdown when he reminds me 'this is not long-term' or 'we don't want the same things'. And it hurts more every time we go through this.

Why is this a battle?

Why does he have to be so FUCKING sweet?

Why can't he just grow up and realise that commitment does not mean the end of the world?

Why can't he recognise how wonderful I am?



Why do I email back?

Why am I considering going for a drive?

What am I going to do if I move to his city?


Damn.

Help This Lady Out.

I am a closet softie. I admit it. But, really, some things are worth skipping a nice dinner out for, and I think this is one of them.

I challenge YOU to pony up a few bucks, and to link back to Esme's page with a challenge of your own.

Just for today, I'm going to quit bitching and do some good. I'll bet we can raise that thousand bucks in no time at all. I know I can't run four miles, but it's easy enough to pay her to do it for me...let's all do something altruistic with our blogs, today.

Tomorrow: back to the bitching...

On Shaving

I noticed today that it's been awhile.

I can't say I have any pressing motivation to shave. My cat and dog are far fuzzier than me, and never complain about my stubbly legs when we snuggle up in bed at night. And I don't generally let guys see my legs on the first date. There's been a few 'first dates' lately, but no second dates, so it's just not an issue. I'd hate to feel like I put an effort into a bad date...

Part of the problem is that I shower in the morning. Mornings are not my friend. I have my morning routine timed down to the second, so I can sleep as late as possible, have a seven-minute shower, get dressed, pack my lunch, and get out the door in time to get to work within 5 minutes of when I am supposed to arrive. Seven minutes is not nearly long enough to shave. I have a lot of leg.

I once had a hair-growing contest with Mr Wonderful. Mr Wonderful can not grow a beard. The best he can manage is a sad sort of fu manchu, which, in reality, looks like someone glued a mangy rat to his chin. Mr Wonderful decided he wanted to grow a beard.

I told him he did not want to do that.

He insisted.

I told him that if he stopped shaving, then I would stop shaving. That conversation happened in November. Let's just say I only went swimming at night the following summer. Alone. Or with a minimum personal space of six feet between myself and my nearest companion.

My legs scared me, but didn't deter Mr Wonderful. I think we broke up before either of us actually caved and bought a razor. I shaved the morning after I moved out. With relief.

I spent a good bit of last year travelling in North Africa and the Middle East. Their interpretation of the toilet is a hole in the ground. With a porcelain footrest, if you're lucky. And a tap on the wall. No soap. No toilet paper. Nowhere to even dispose of toilet paper.

Part of my challenge was learning to do what the locals did. That meant eating with my (right) hand, and learning to cope without TP. I spent my fair share of time in public baths also, where I was educated as to local hygiene rules. As in, it is 'more hygenic' to 'wipe' with a (left) handful of water when you are bare 'down there'. I learned to shave. Everything.

I got used to that.

It's pretty sad when the sight of your own slightly furry crotch reminds you it's time to shave your legs...

Acceptance Speech.

Well, thanks to this fine lady, I have been awarded this:






(sashays up red carpet to podium, wearing suitably stunning attire)

(ahem.)

Thank you so much, T shirt, for this honor.

(hefts gold statue)

Well, I have to give my heartfelt thanks to Beavis, who motivated me to start a blog in the first place (though really it was mostly 'cause my girfriends were sick of listening to me bitch about you), M., for providing the occasional twinge of unrequited something-or-other, and Mr UK for some juicy details to post. Special thanks to all the random online men who regularly provide blog fodder (blodder?) for my six (sorry, Esme) seven diehard readers. Who I thank, profusely for showing up and lending me support, as well as motivating me trying to think up something interesting to say now and again.

(bows, does fluttery little celebrity wave)

(damn, gotta remember to shave before I wear dresses in these little fantasies...)

In return, I nominate:

Our Bodies Our Blog

Letters I Wish I'd Sent

Kiss & Blog

The Dog's Name

If Sex Doesn't Scare The Cat...

Should you choose to participate in this meme, please make sure you pass this list of rules to the blogs you are tagging.
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to five blogs that make you think.2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote (available in silver or gold version).

(But really, T-shirt, I am a little disappointed...apparently I make you think, but I was trying to make you laugh...)

On that thought, I am giving a special "Made Speedy Pee Her Pants Laughing This Morning Award to Mist 1 of To Do: 1. Get Hobby 2. Floss. Lucky thing I set my coffee down before I started reading...

Spring Burnout

In the last two days, I have turned down four dates. Three from online strangers, one from a known commodity. I have absolutely no interest in meeting any men, new or otherwise, unless they are going to make it easy on me by, say, showing up at my house with a bottle of wine and a movie in hand. In fact, I'd prefer if they dropped off said bottle of wine and movie, and left.

I can tell spring is coming.

I am not thrilled about dating at the best of times, but view it as a necessary evil, unless I want to die alone in my tiny, filthy house, surrounded by my 63 cats and seven dogs, and the debris of a bitter, lonely life. However, I really lose interest in the whole game when I get that first whiff of nice weather.

I mean, who wants to spend their summer being rejected by dumb-ass rednecks when she could instead be travelling around the Western provinces, visiting friends and family, taking up kayaking, skydiving, and organic gardening? In the summer, I have more than enough ways to fill my time, and don't really feel the urge to complicate things by introducing new people. It's only in the dark, cold months that I really wish I had some company.

Right at the moment, I think I'd be quite content for Mr UK to schedule a visit around May, and me to fly back over there in the fall, and call it quits on the dating game for the season. With a scheduled week of good sex to bracket the beginning and end of my busy season, I could quit pissing around on the internet, chatting with random losers, and go outside to play.

Don't get me wrong, here. I'm not bitter or angry...in fact, I'm in a better mood today than I have been in weeks. I just don't feel like wasting my time when the sun is shining and the birds singing...in fact, I think I'll go join them right now...

Pride.

My buddy Rockhead called tonight. We have been pals since forever. Platonic friends; he's one of the few men who has never, ever hit on me. Even when we went down to Mexico and got really drunk together. He's a geologist, and loves to argue politics.

He asked me what was new in my life. Sadly, I didn't have much to report...even my date for tonight backed out. Rockhead said he just got back from another Mexico trip, and asked me how my trip to London had gone, so I told him all about the incredible time I'd had. I mentioned that Mr UK had offered to fly me back again, but that it felt like too big a hit to my pride. Rockhead said: "pride doesn't buy you any plane tickets." Bastard. I hate it when people point things out so succinctly.



******Next day edit*******

I shoulda known better than to go looking for Rockhead's sympathy on this one. He flew me to Mexico last fall, and paid for the hotel and such. He's done that for several people, though, and says we can pay him back whenever. He really doesn't seem to care if any of us ever get him the actual cash. He says he doesn't want to waste his timeshare weeks, but he doesn't like going alone. I still owe him a bundle. It's quite a bit different, though; I WILL pay him back, eventually, and he will let me. I am not singled out for the special treatment, and I completely understand why Rockhead would do that. His motives are crystal clear.

Of course, Mr UK phoned not ten minutes after Rockhead and I hung up. It was 3am his time, but he said he was thinking of me. He "just called to say goodnight".

**melt**

He is such a sweetie.

It wound up being a long, interesting, and strangely intimate conversation about our history, the nature of our relationship, and the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I had sort of been trying to keep all that emotional stuff out of things, but you know, maybe that's part of why I don't want to accept his gifts anymore. It just seems cheap and manipulative to accept such lavish gifts when there's no emotional connection. I know it is silly, but it feels different if there's love involved...

Instant Turn Off.

Mr UK once said that part of my appeal lies in the fact that I am clean and wholesome, but at the same time utterly, utterly filthy. I really questioned that statement, until this morning's random PoF IM conversation.

The guy had contacted me, and we'd been chatting for twenty minutes about travel and hobbies. He was looking like a potential candidate. Then he switches conversational gears:

"has anyone ever told you that you've got great lips?"
(I was cueing up the Deliverance banjos when I saw that...'you sure got a purdy mouth, boy)
(**and when I was a kid, the other kids called me 'nigger lips'. Thank God for Angelina. She made me sexy.**)

"um...yeah..."

"Can't take a compliment, huh? You know, you are really sexy."

"look, i gotta go get ready for work."


I know I am really sexy. I know a lot of guys think I am hot. I have absolutely no doubt about those sorts of things. I have no problem accepting compliments, either. But, you know, I find it incredibly offensive when people who don't know anything about me say those things out loud. It seems crass, somehow.

It must be my feminist upbringing. I don't want to be anybody's sex object, period. Now, someone who appreciates my intelligence and personality...well, that's a different story. If Mr UK told me I had really sexy lips, I'd start describing how I intended to use those sexy lips on his cock the next time I saw him. Graphically.

But then, Mr UK sees me as a whole person, maybe a sex subject, a parnter in crime, so to speak, but certainly not an object. Part of the reason he finds me sexually attractive is because he is drawn to who I am. My personality. My goals and accomplishments. The stuff you can't see. It's about more than just what I look like. And, I see him the same way. I'm comfortable with him.

Wholesome and filthy. Yeah, I guess I can see it...

Puppy...

My dog was an adult five years ago when I got her, but she's really still a great big puppy.

She spent her morning out in the yard rolling around in the snow, as if nothing could possibly feel better. Actually, the only things she likes better than snow are ducks and rabbits. For supper. After she runs them down. I've never actually seen her catch one, but gawd, she tries hard...

I think she was extra-enthusiastic with her snow angels because the weather has been warm. She probably knows the snow will be gone soon. By soon, I mean mid-May, but still...

With several consecutive days of plus-temperatures, the exposed ground under my deck has started to thaw, as well. My dog is an amateur archaeologist, and was delighted to resume excavation. I am not entirely sure what she thinks she will find, but from the size of the hole, I suspect she is looking for Chinese artefacts. I will have to explain to her that coming upon them from the bottom messes up the dating.

Mr UK called last night, in relation to a rather raunchy webpage I coded and sent to him. My HTML skills are coming along nicely, though he said he was too distracted to even look at the code. I would call that a success. I was quite pleased with the page, myself, and am happy to get the intended reaction. Essentially, it was a nude picture of myself, set up so that he could click on different bits of it, and it would take him to a different section of the page, with more photos and some graphic reminiscing. He was impressed.

Of course, he wanted to know how soon he could fly me back over. It led to an arguement. He thinks I'm silly. I agreed - I am silly, but as much as I'd love to spend a week with him in Berlin, I'm just not comfortable accepting such a lavish gift right now. He said we would discuss it again later. I suggested we discuss it next year, when I have more money. Unfortunately, Mr UK is at least as stubborn as I am, and appears intent on grinding me down. It's almost worth agreeing, just to avoid the yelling match. Aah, well, nice to know he cares, at least...

Preening...

Well, Mr UK may have created a monster. I spent all of last night and most of today working away at the tutorials he sent me, and I think I am getting the hang of it. I looovvvee a challenge. I am making it fun, by coding up little webpage 'cards' to send him, and inserting hidden naughty comments that he will only see if he checks the actual code. I think he is shaking his head at me, but I won't be motivated to actually do anything with it unless I have a fun way to practice.

No real updates on the dating front. I am going for dinner with another POF guy on Thursday, and have no idea how this one is going to go. We sent about six emails back and forth about food and cooking. I got bored with that, and fired off a cheeky reply; I asked him if he was actually interested in chatting/meeting, or if he was just replying to be polite. Hence the dinner date. I haven't talked to him on the phone. his profile is not terribly informative, except for stating that he can and does use multi-syllabic language. It's a start, I suppose.

I spoke with Mr UK on the phone last night and today. I wish we lived in the same place. Even if dating wouldn't work out, I love the conversations we have.

He wanted to know when I would come over again. He thought maybe April would work well. He offered to pay, again. Suggested we go to Paris or Berlin.

Aargh.

You know, I just can't do it.

I loved the idea...once. But I'd feel like I was taking advantage of him if I let him keep flying me back and forth. I mean, he's got a good job, but he's not rich. I know I'm absolutely amazing, but I'm not certain I am worth that. It's a tough one, it really is. But I'm afraid I have too much respect for both of us to carry on like that.

At least, that's how I see it when I'm feeling tall and strong tonight. I may revise that opinion when I'm horribly lonely and bored again...

Bored...

...Or, "Why I Should Never Be Allowed To Get Bored"...


This cold is lingering on and on. My dog is going crazy because she hasn't had a walk in weeks. Going outside aggravates the cough to the point that I have to stop every few paces and lean on something while I hack up a lung. Not fun.

I am not normally quite as lazy as I have been lately. I have to admit, I am totally sick of lounging around the house surfing dating websites and blogs, although I did set up a date with a brand new victim for Thursday.

Anyhow, I was laying in bed a couple of nights ago, coughing, and had a brilliant idea for a website. No, I'm not telling...but when Google buys me out for 7 billion dollars, I'll buy the beer.

I called Mr UK and another friend who works in IT to see what they thought of the idea. They said it was great, so I asked them if they could help me set it up. They got a LOT less enthusiastic at that point. After each of them had spent a couple of hours explaining the costs and effort involved, I got a lot less enthusiastic, too.

However, being the stubborn broad I am, I asked what it would take for me to be able to do it myself. They started throwing out random strings of letters, like "html", "psp", "css", and basically the rest of the alphabet in creative combinations.

I have to admit, the last time I felt like I knew anything about computers was when I used to program cute little cards/messages for Mom#2 on our Commodore 64. I was nine.

So, this week's project is learning html. I am not very good at learning out of books, and need to actually do things and make mistakes in order to understand. So, I suspect that this blog will be undergoing some renovations in the near future...

Wish me luck...

Ancient History #4: "Nice Shoes"

It was the second-most expensive relationship I ever had.

When Mr Wonderful and I broke up, I started drinking. Quite a lot, actually. I had decided to go out and catch up on all the partying that I had missed while we were together. I also had a stretch where I did all the things that I couldn't before, the stuff I couldn't or wouldn't do when he was around.

I went out and bought CD's by bands he hated. I went waterskiing. I bought crazy clothing that he would disapprove of. I went to art galleries.

And I decided to have a one-night stand.

With a stranger. A hot stranger.


On the fateful Friday night, I didn't even dress up, though I wore makeup and heels with my jeans. I swore I was going to pick up the hottest guy in the bar.

I didn't have anyone picked out...just this idea that I was going to do something crazy. I was really shy. This was a challenge.

When I got to the bar, there wasn't much going on. I sipped my drink, not wanting to get too drunk; part of the challenge was to be at least half-assed sober when I did it. I looked around, but didn't see anyone I just had to have.

Then he walked in. Tall, well over six feet. Broad shoulders. Nice ass. Dark hair and smouldering eyes. Perfect.

I had seen him before, several months prior, when he had tried to pick up my sister by putting a cigarette out in her shirttails. He was a magician, and it was a cool trick. These things always happen to my sister - she's the pretty one. Of course, she had told him to fuck off, and I had never seen him since.

Until that night.

I ordered a second drink, screwing up my courage and plotting my attack. I watched him like a hawk (or a good stalker-in-training); he was with a couple of friends, and they didn't seem to be drinking much. They all sat in a group, except when they were dancing. They didn't always dance with partners, but would spread out on the dance floor and pull crazy moves. Eventually, one friend went to the bathroom, and the Magician and the remaining friend went up to dance. On opposite sides of the floor. Without partners.

I saw my opportunity.

Drink in hand, I sauntered across the dance floor, trying to look seductive. I got in close to him, and swayed in time with him and the music. On my tiptoes, I leaned in close, so my lips were just brushing his ear, and said:

"Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"

His jaw dropped. He stopped dancing. He had that wide-eyed look of a deer just before it gets hit by an 18-wheeler.

His friend came over to ask if he was okay.

The Magician grinned and assured his friend that things were alright. He looked at me, and asked me to repeat myself.

"You heard me" I said.

I don't remember much of the rest of the night, except the end. We were parked in a field, making out in his car, and I realized I didn't have it in me to sleep with a total stranger. I told him so. He just kind of shrugged, and kissed me some more. Later, when he dropped me off, he gave me his number, written on the back of a cigarette package. He was a good sport. I called him the next day.

We spent the next six months taking random road trips, skinnydipping in the river, and staying up way past our bedtimes discussing Freud and philosophy. Oh, yeah, and the sex was great, once we got around to it. He told all his friends how we had met. Hell, he even told his father. It was a great time.

Until he lost his job, borrowed $2,000 to move closer to me, and rode off into the sunset, never to be seen again...

I'd never admit it out loud, but the fun was worth it.

And you know...he did have nice shoes.

PoF vs. Lava

I'm to the point that I'd almost rather go to the dentist. I mean, I already know what he looks like (cute, with puppy-dog eyes), his earning potential, and whether or not he can carry a conversation. Oh, and the fact that he's probably a sadist, but at least he has channeled it into a well-paid career.

Online dating is at least as big a pain in the ass as getting dressed up and going to the bar. Possibly even more so. I don't know about you, but I don't go to the bar every day. Twice a day. Problem is, if I don't check the notes regularly, they pile up, and I have to spend three hours replying. Ugh. And, I'm on two sites right now.

I'm waiting for the day I go on a 'first date' with someone from PoF who I've already been on a first date with off Lava. Don't worry, you'll be the first to know...

So, comparative mertis of Lava vs. PoF.

PoF: free. every time you message someone, you've saved 50 cents toward your next cup of coffee.
Lava: at least you know they can afford to pay for coffee.

Lava: thousands of idiots.
PoF: hundreds of thousands of cheap idiots.

Lava: it costs to send a message, so most people at least take a few minutes to compose an introduction.
PoF: typical first note: "hi. wanna chat?"

Pof: you can set your mail settings so that anyone looking for 'intimate encounters' is automatically barred from messaging you.
Lava: at least you can laugh at all the money they wasted when they send you the third message that says 'hey, wanna fuck?'


It's a real toss up as to which is a bigger waste of time. The PoF guys can't be asked to write an actual note, and it doesn't cost them anything to say 'hi', so they'll go 'fishing' without having bothered to read your profile and see if you have anything in common. As soon as I figure out how, I'm gonna bar anyone my father's age from contacting me. Even if they do want to be "just friends"...

Lava is just as bad, in its own way. There's no way to filter the 'hey, wanna fuck' crowd until after they've contacted you. On the other hand, the more serious ones who send a message really do seem to put a bit more effort into the introduction.

Both appear to suffer the same lack of quality men. Guys who are 50 pounds overweight, but list their body type as 'average'. Guys with a two-line introduction who haven't even bothered to list their hobbies. Ppl who cnt or dont spel. In fact, I've seen plenty of the same men on both sites. I suppose I shouldn't say anything, I'm on both. But still...