Monday, January 29, 2007

Who Not To Date #2

Who Not To Date #2

The Recidivist Commitment Phobe

(especially 2 years and 9 months after the FIRST time he dumped you)

[uber-especially when he's actually a nice guy AND a great lay]

Okay, everyone's gotta get one of these ones at least once in their lives. But really, the ex-sex never ends...at first, you think it's just an interim solution to your inability to get laid by anyone new. Next thing you know, you wind up spending weekends at his place, him bringing you coffee in bed in the morning and offering to babysit your dog while you go for your annual vacation to Europe. Three months later, you realize you haven't bothered making a date with anyone else in over two months. You comment to him that you're basically dating again. He concurrs, then two weeks later, he dumps you...again. Six weeks after that, he invites you over for a little hanky-panky, 'no strings attached'...Three years later, you realize you've just wasted an awful lot of your life on 'just a great lay...'




My dog shit in the spare room today. I realized it's a sign.

She had an attack of the runs a few weeks ago, and lost bowel control in that room. Of course, I didn't punish her; it was a medical thing, an accident. I guess I didn't clean it up well enough, as today she had an 'accident' that couldn't possibly have been accidental, for the second time in five days, right in the same spot.

This relates how? Well, girls, M. basically just shit in my spare room. He's inviting me to go waste another few months of my time trying to convince him to get over his commitment problem. He's doing it because he got away with it before. I guess I didn't clean it up well enough the last time. So, I called him and told him, straight up: if you ever do that again, I will change my phone number. Get it unlisted. Make sure we never speak again. He says he wants to salvage a friendship from the ruins...I told him that if he ever wants to be friends, he has to act like a friend, and friends don't shit in my house...

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Almost Perfect

M. phoned last night.

I cried.

M. is the reason I'm dating, and probably a big part of the reason I'm blogging. He is the reason I was able to spend a year backpacking in Europe and Africa last year. And the reason I happen to have developed a taste for blueberry fritters and chunky redheads.

M. is very nearly the perfect man.

He is soft-spoken and considerate, but not afraid to stand up for himself. He understands the way I think, and can often tell that something is bothering me before I even figure it out. M. can communicate. My dog loves him. He is hilarious. He's reliable, and has never failed to do exactly what he's said he was going to. He is gainfully employed and financially sensible. He is the only person I have ever been able to spend a week in a foriegn country with, without wanting to smack repeatedly. My girlfriends think he's great. He is respectful. He is one of five people I have ever cried in front of. We agree about religion, money, child-rearing, and values. He has never tried to restrict my independence. I trust him utterly. He is the most incredible lover I've ever had.

He also believes that a houseplant is more responsibility and commitment than he can handle.

We spent three years exploring it, and I have come to the conclusion that it will never change. As incredible as he is, I want more than eternal non-committal dating. I want kids. Or at least the option of kids.

He called to say he missed me, and to ask if I'd like to drive (two hours) to his town to hang out. The last time I saw him was November 20th, when I packed up the last of my stuff and moved here.

I have just finally gotten to the point where I don't automatically start dialing his number whenever I pick up the phone. I still miss him terribly. When I have a bad day, he's the first person I want to speak to.

We talked for five hours last night.

And, really, nothing's changed.

I didn't go for the drive.

I curled up in bed and bawled.

I sure am glad I'm going to London, but I'm pretty sad, today.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Hell Week

Monday, I had a terrible toothache. One of those sharp, stabbing pains that actually made me glad to go to the dentist (well, okay, that and the fact that the dentist is awfully cute...). He told me I needed a root canal, and put me on antibiotics in the meantime.

Ugh. Instant yeast infection, and only two weeks till I go to London.

Not the best start to a week.

Wednesday, I had a medical booked. Mr. UK and I decided on his-and-hers STD tests, which sounded like such a good idea at the time.

After the pap smear, I came home and scrubbed in a hot shower for an hour, like a good rape victim. Usually the exam isn't that bad, but what IS it with guy doctors? They refrigerate the KY, use half a bottle of the stuff, jam that speculum in as far and as fast as they can, then crank it open as wide as it will go. They never warn you beforehand, either. If doctors shag like they conduct exams, I'm glad I've never dated one...

I went out and bought a boquet of daffodils as an apology to my pussy for the manhandling.

Mr. UK was apologetic when he heard about hell-week-so-far. He actually told me last Sunday that he would be incommunicado this week, as he is off on a snowboarding holiday. In fact, he's sent me graphic and sweet notes every couple of days. Today's installment was wondering how I like my coffee. This is significant, as it is impossible to find a good cuppa in London without spending a fortune. They have this taste for Nescafe...goes so well with steak-and-kidney pie, or something (shudder). Mr. UK has a good memory - I bitched endlessly about the coffee there, and he earned my undying gratitude by bringing me a proper cup of brewed coffee in bed the first time I slept over at his place.

Lava boy J. decided that we would work out better as 'just friends'. This is not a suprise, but I don't know if I'm annoyed or relieved that he came to that conclusion before I had to say it out loud. I mean, it saves me the hassle, but on the other hand, I got dumped...

Lava boy C. is a new addition. He gets bonus points for sending a six-page introduction, including a (long) list of the countries he's travelled to, a note that he is gainfully employed, and no mention of "let's fuck" anywhere in the novel. Downside: He lives in a different area code...par for the course, in my world...

Beavis hasn't called back since Sunday, which, I suppose, is no shock, as I was a little annoyed with him when we spoke last...if he was really bright, he'd call, and soon...

So, all in all, I'm glad I have London to look forward to. Mr. UK is impressing the hell out of me, and I'm looking forward to a week of great sex, great conversation, and daily coffee's in bed...

Sunday, January 21, 2007

How Not To Date Me #1

It never rains but it pours.



How Not To Date Me #1

1) Call me out of the blue, strike up a conversation, and call back every second day for a month.

2) Drive for four hours to come visit me for the weekend. Act super-nice. Take me out dancing.

3) Invite me to your place. Take me out, buy my dinner and drinks.

4) Take me back to your place for a wild night.

(it's all good up to here, don't get me wrong. I'm just giving a little background, here)

5) Tell me you'll call Sunday. Don't call.

6) Tell me you'll call Thursday. Don't call.

7) Don't call for a couple of weeks. Always be busy or 'indisposed' when I call you.

8) Wait until I've accepted tickets to another country for a cheap-and-dirty Valentine's date.

9) Call and ask me to go steady.



So, Beavis called tonight, a couple of weeks late. He said he had really needed some time to work out what he wanted to do about me.

"Do About Me? Why Not Try Calling?"

He said that's not what he meant. He said he was really, really into me, but doesn't want to deal with the long distance driving, not being able to see me often or be there to cuddle and watch movies whenever we want. He said he was torn about what to do, whether to ask me out or leave it at 'just friends'. He says it's unfair to both of us to expect each other to be able to maintain an exclusive relationship when we may not see each other for weeks at a time. He thinks it will be incredibly difficult to make it work, given that he works almost every day and lives a long way from me. He said that, in the end, he figured I was worth it.

You big, dumb, prick.

I told him to call me back in March.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

How To Impress a Girl #1

Finally, somebody got one right!

How to Impress a Girl #1

1) Phone up a random ex who you had amazing sex with, and actually still like as a human being. Make sure it's someone you still treat respectfully and have a decent post-relationship friendship with. When you find out she's single, tell her you still think she's totally hot.

2) Invite her to meet you in another country for a weekend. Let her know that, platonic or not, you'd still like to hang out.

3) Offer to pay if she can't afford the flight.

4) Let her hum and haw and say no, that it just seems too cheap and dirty to contemplate.

5) Explore the cheap and dirty theme in a four-hour intercontinental phone marathon that leaves her sitting in a puddle and too horny to actually think straight. Remind her how much fun cheap and dirty can actually be.

6) Send the flight confirmation by email. Book it for the week of Valentine's.



Mr. UK obviously knows me entirely too well. I spent my night dancing around the house, pacing in shocked disbelief. I mean, it's one thing to talk hypothetically, and another thing entirely to come home from a crappy Friday at work to find flight confirmations in your inbox. How lovely!

Now I know this is going to end, but it doesn't have to end badly. Mr. UK and I have had an ongoing thing for years, and we always seem to have a great time. Except that we are both stubborn, opinionated people, who rarely actually agree on much of anything. We have about three weeks' worth of playing nice before one or the other of us picks a fight. Never anything serious, but enough to take a break from speaking to each other for a month or two. It's not really so bad, though, since I hate London, and never seem to spend more than a week there at a time, and he hates Canada, and rarely comes here. So, we hook up for a week at a time, here and there, have a ball, then drop it until one of us needs a vacation from whatever reality is annoying us at the moment. And there's enough trust and honesty in the relationship make for an incredibly uninhibited week-long romp, every time.

So I suppose that puts a kibosh on dating for a few weeks. I mean, how can I realistically go out with a random online boy and give him any sort of a chance? Sorry, guys, but I will be spending my dinner date with you thinking about someone else, someplace else, which is totally unfair.

Mr. UK was fussing about doing it up properly for Valentine's, since I occasionally get funny about those sorts of holidays. I told him, in all honesty, that he'd already make my month, and no special dinner out was necessary. I told him we could have a picnic on his living room floor, for all I cared. Apparently, I am now booked for said picnic, with a champagne appetizer, me for the main course, and a jar of chocolate sauce for dessert. Yeah, I think coffee at the local bookstore is going to pale in comparason...

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Where Not To Date #1 & 2

Where Not To Date #1

Bookstores
If you want to show off how intelligent and cultured you are, go to an opera. Bookstores are so 'in' that they don't prove anything, unless it's a used bookstore, which only proves you're a cheap bastard. Unless, of course, you live in a rural area where people label THEMSELVES rednecks, in which case you earn Dating Brownie Points for a) being literate at all, and b) knowing where the bookstore even IS. Just leave your rifle in the truck, ok? Please?



Where Not To Date #2

The Bar
Hmmm...take a guy to a place full of under-dressed, extremely made-up teenagers with perkier boobs than yours, then try not to get offended when you catch him checking them out. Scream at the top of your lungs, and try to sound sweet and endearing while doing so. Get offended when he won't dance, then get kicked out of the bar for getting hammered and taking your shirt off while dancing alone on the speaker. Try to make sure your number is somewhere in the pile of other numbers he picked up while you were in the bathroom re-applying lipstick. Just my idea of a great time...save the bars for your girlfriends, gals...

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Sugar Daddy

So Lava boy J. invited me out last night, for a coffee at the bookstore. It was nice. We went for a nice dinner, and had a nice chat. He is very nice. So nice, he doesn't even watch horror movies - they creep him out - he's...sensitive.

I can't figure out what streak of masochism I have that requires a guy in my life who is at least capable of a little viciousness. I mean, J is great to have conversations with, and is very stimulating on an intellectual level, but really I can't imagine him pinning me up against the wall and having his way with me. And, dammit, I like that...

So I called Beavis, as he is definitely NOT nice, not calling when he said he would call, and continuing to not call for so long after that incrediby intense road trip I took a little while back...He mentioned he'd been 'indisposed'. He managed to fake a cough. Then mentioned it was nice when I called. I suggested that if he wanted me to keep calling, he needed to either call when he says he will call, or let me know he's not interested, so I can quit running up my long-distance bill to no constructive purpose. He says he's been ignoring everyone lately. See? Definitely not nice. I will probably go for another random road trip to his town the next time I'm lonely, too, even if it is a bad idea...

My history is coming back to haunt me in the best possible way, however. I got a call recently from a former lover in the UK, and he's single again. And has money to spare, apparently. He brought up an old theme of a wild weekend in New York, and I know I can count on him to not be nice. Or at least to only be nice when I want him to be nice. HE will call when he says he is going to call, but can be counted on to say any number of incredibly nasty (nasty-good, mind you) sorts of things. I thought about it. Believe me, did I consider long and hard, but the budget just won't stretch that far. When I told him I couldn't afford it, he suggested doing it on his tab.

I told him I'd think about it.

The thought of meeting in a country neither of us lives in for a wild weekend seems so...dirty. Doing it on a sugar-daddy's dime seems so...dirty and cheap. It makes every self-sufficient feminist bone in my body cringe. It seems so crazy and demeaning. That's SOOO hot...

So I called him back tonight to see if he was serious.

He said that, on second thought, it seems silly to fly him to New York and me to New York when he can just fly me to London for half the price. He suggested the week of Valentine's would work well for him, if I could get the time off work. WTF? Can somebody please pinch me? I think I'm dreaming...

And, he reckons he can fly himself out here for a week and still save money over the NY idea, while getting twice the time together - See? Nice when he needs to be nice...

I plan to speak to him again tomorrow, when he's sober...

Monday, January 15, 2007

Three Married Men and an Ex

What is it with married men, today?

One friend called, an threatened to come over and spank me for moping about a guy who's too stupid to realize what he's lost by not calling. Well, ok, what's a little spanking between friends, right...WAITAMINUTE, WHAT? Sheesh, you don't have to go into the loving detail about my ass, either. I've known this guy (and his wife) for years, and the flirting isn't entirely new, but REALLY...

Married Guy Number Two is sending me crazy emails at work, with references like whipped cream and bubble bath. I asked him to find a friend to set me up with, since lava is so hit-and-miss. I can see from the comments about leather bustiers and silk scarves that he misinterpreted my request...

Married Guy Number Three is really intent on coming over for coffee and hanging out, but I am a little suspicious of his motives, and have been putting him off. I broadcast to everyone I knew, at work and outside, that my New Years resolution was to get a social life. That has led to some interesting invitations, to say the least, and I've got to admit that these guys are CUTE. However, I'm pretty sure that there isn't a married man in the world who has the time and energy for a wife PLUS me, not to mention the moral ramifications...


On top of that confusion, I got a call from an ex. A cute ex, who I dated rather briefly when I was living in London, UK, last year. I rather liked him, and I have never had much problem with long-distance dating, but that one really stretches the limits of credibility, since I hate London and he isn't into living in Canada. He wants me to meet him for a quickie in New York. Not that he put it quite so bluntly, but his intensions were pretty clear when he started the conversation with "Hey, gorgeous, I'm single again" and ended it with some rather graphic reminiscing. I have to admit, if he were within fifty miles, I'd have hopped in the car and taken him up on one or more of his offers...

I have to admit, the idea is intruiging. Unfortunately, the budget is tight, and I can't imagine travelling to New York just to see the view from the hotel room window...let's be honest, here - chances are slim we'd make it out of bed much longer than it takes to order in pizza...

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Who Not To Date #1

Who Not To Date #1

Your Ex From Highschool's Best Friend, Who You've Known For 15 Years, And Haven't Talked To In Five

...Especially when he just tracks you down out of the blue and strikes up an utterly random conversation on the phone, which somehow has nothing to do with sex, but everything to do with sucking you in. Chances are, he's still drunk from last night, when he and your ex were out for beers and got to reminiscing. And somehow, you came up in the conversation, and your ex innocently mentions that you give the best blow-jobs EVER. And the drunken 'good idea' comes into said friend's mind to get your number off his passed-out buddy's cell phone and call you up "just to chat". Then comes to town "for work", and takes you out for a LOT of beers, on his tab, of course. Shows his sweet side, opening car doors and such. Keeps you laughing with his sly wit all night. Tells you he's not just interested in the physical side of things, as he romances you right into bed...

Word to the wise – he won't call you in the morning. Trust me on this one. Go for the nostaliga lay if you have to, but don't sit by the phone for the next week, wondering what happened to the really sweet side you suddenly saw for the first time last night...

Special Thanks to all my girlfriends, who pointed this one out to me...about three weeks too late...

On the bright side, Potential Bad Date #1 went fairly well. Lava boy J. kept me quite amused for five hours' worth of conversation ranging from philosophy to photography to laminate flooring. He is decent looking, and actually looked like the photo he posted. Does not appear to be axe-murderer material, though he may be just-friends material. Not exactly sparks flying, though sometimes that takes time...

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Online Dating Rant

Online Dating Rant

I was rooting around in my computer, and came across a rant I had written a couple of years ago, which is (funny enough) awfully applicable to my current situation...I am posting this one under the 'note to self' category:



Well, as some of you may know, I have made a recent foray into the online dating world. Having gotten laid once through this meduim, I am making another attempt to find Mr. Right (or at least Mr. Right Now, or perhaps even Mr. Maybe If You Buy Me Enough Beers). I will likely chalk this up as a research project, or possibly temporary insanity. However, for those who wish to try the online dating scene for themselves, some hard-learned tips to keep in mind:

1) Although I am sure that everyone on LavaLife has a delightful personality, INSIST ON A PHOTO.

2) In addition to #1, if it is a good picture, and they are extremely hot, INSIST ON A PHOTO OF THE PERSON YOU ARE ACTUALLY CHATTING WITH.

3) LavaLife has three 'sections': Dating, Relationship, and Intimate. As far as I can tell, Dating means 'lets go mountain biking and fool around in the bushes by the side of the trail. Relationship means 'let's go for coffee a couple of times, then fool around'. Intimate means 'lets fuck, don't bother telling me your name'.

4) For those of you scanning physical descriptions, "Fit" means 'can see my feet and tie my own shoes'. "Average Figure" means 'I can suck in my belly and see my feet'. "Extra Pounds" typically means Jabba the Hut. Adjust your expectations accordingly.

5) Scan ads for spelling and grammar. If he can't run the spell check or string together a sentence more complicated than "Me Tarzan You Jane" be aware that the conversational opportunities are likely going to be limited, and either come up with a back-up excuse to leave early, or place the ad in the "might fuck if I'm desperate" pile, if he meets your rigorous physical standards.

6) As an addendum to #5, keep in mind that you are actually on a dating service, and again, adjust your standards accordingly. Admit it, YOU ARE DESPERATE. If it has a pulse, it is probably good enough, at least for now. You can always keep looking.

7) watch Out!!! for creative. Punctuation, this is a Sign of a Deranged!!! Mind...

8) NE1 who writes like THI5 is not the 1 4 u...they are probably between the ages of "supposedly 18" and "possibly 23", not to mention they are probably AL50 FR3AK5...say "c u l8tr!!!"

9) ALWAYS talk to them on the phone before setting up a date...nothing more dissapointing than finding out that the rather appealing and intellingent-sounding dude you were MSN-ing with sounds just like Mickey Mouse, or says 'like' every second word...save yourself the potentially embarassing situation...fake a 'sudden cell phone death', and block them from your e-mail.

10) Word to the wise: if you are even moderately attractive and your weight is less than that of an average elephant, posting a photo will lead to enough e-mails to crash your computer, with 95% being along the lines of "Let's Fuck!!!", regardless of what your profile actually says, or which section it is posted under. On the bright side, you will never have to pay to send THEM a note.

11) Ladies, if you (like me) are at an age where 'cougar' is not yet a comfortable description, and would never consider applying the phrase "attractive older lady" to yourself...and someone calls you one...take a chance! If that young punk has the parts to call a 28-year-old an "attractive older lady", he'll have the courage to do whatever you want him to, with the added bonus that he'll actually expect you to tell him what to do, and not get offended. Yes, chances are he's a virgin, or close to it, but what he lacks in finesse, he'll probably make for up in enthusiasm...

12) Once you have screened for spelling, grammar, and punctuation, and chatted for awhile on MSN and on the phone, you may wish to actually meet your prospective victim. A few tips: Meet in a public and preferably very crowded place. Tell them you will wear red, and wear blue, grey, or green. Arrive at least 20 minutes early, and find a hidden corner with a good view. Set up surveillance. If your prospective date has a facial twitch, gross physical deformity, or disgusting habit like picking his nose, you can melt into the crowd and later claim your car broke down...before blocking them from your e-mail.

As always, an experience...do your best to learn from mine...Good Luck, and c u l8tr!

Friday, January 12, 2007

Dating: sucks.

Dating: sucks.

It's like a cattle auction, really, with the nice little touch of personal rejection. Having rounded that big 3-0 corner without a mate, significant other, or even Mr. Right Now, I thought I'd get out there a bit and see what my options were.

So far, not much.

I started out by dusting off my lavalife account (having let it go dormant about three years ago, the last time I felt a masochistic streak winding down), telling all my friends I was back on the market, and buying a little black dress.

I should add, at this point, that I live in a town of 500, including pets and livestock. In a rural area...you know, the sort of place where people call THEMSELVES rednecks, and are proud of it. I can't stand that attitude, myself, having been raised in a city by my gay mom, gotten a degree, and having traveled fairly extensively. Folks who brag about not having read a book since they were forced to in highschool don't do a thing for me.

Fortunately, I have a car, the money for roadtrips, and two good-sized cities within a couple hours' drive.

Anyways, back to dating sucking.

So there's these guys...let's call them Beavis and Butthead. I dated Butthead for a couple of years, back when Hypercolor shirts were still really cool. It didn't work out, possibly because he was sleeping with all my friends, or maybe just because we were too immature to work things out. Hard to tell. I was really hung up on him, though.

Hung up enough to call him about seven years later, to tell him how badly he had messed me up, and demand an apology. I don't know if my shrink would have thought that was a good idea, but we had a refreshingly honest conversation, in which he shocked me by actually issuing said apology. We've been great friends ever since, though I still refuse to set him up with anyone I actually like. He's my secret weapon for the next chick who REALLY pisses me off.

Butthead has been friends with Beavis since before I ever met either of them. They are currently roommates. I was driving through the town they live in a few weeks back, and went for a drink with Butthead. He mentioned Beavis, and I said "Wow, how's he doing? I haven't seen him in years". Apparently that meant (to Butthead) that he should give Beavis my number.

A few days later, I got the most interesting message on my answering machine. This led to phone calls every second night at seven o'clock for a few weeks. Things seemed pretty cool, and he piqued my interest by commenting that he a) likes giving footrubs, b) would really like to be involved in something serious, and c) thinks IKEA is cool. Things were looking up.

A couple more weeks of calls led to an invitiation for him to come out to my place for a visit. Yup, he was just as cute as I remembered, albeit with a few grey hairs. Both being single, we made a New Years date in which I got to show off my little black dress. A week later, I clinched the deal with a road trip on my part, and a really, really hot night on a twin bed which didn't involve any sleep whatsoever.

Followed up by...eight days of Radio Silence. WTF?

I realize at this point that although I am a very confident woman, I sure put myself through the grinder with men. I admit I'm still snatching up the phone every time it rings, only to be horribly disappointed when it's not who I was hoping. I flatly refuse to grovel, or even appear to be grovelling, by leaving more than two voicemails in one week.

So, I've scheduled a Wednesday night coffee with the first lava-guy who dropped a note, to be followed by a blind date that a friend from work has promised to set me up with...They say you've got to suffer through seven bad dates before you get a good one, so let's start the count...