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...

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...

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...

The Truth...

...is not on my blog.

It's more the truth as I see it, edited for anonymity and entertainment value.


Mr. UK and I had a lovely Kurdish dinner last night, and an interesting conversation about things you should never ask your lover/date/mate.

There are a long list of questions to which I will always reply "Are you SURE you want to know the answer to that?"

If they think they do, I will always tell the truth, but most men don't want to know the truth. They're fishing for a specific answer, and it's one they rarely get.

"How many men have you been with?"
"Am I the best lover you've ever had?"
"Do you love me more than ---?"

"Are you SURE you want to know?"


Mr. UK is bright enough not to ask me questions he doesn't REALLY want to know the answer to. He knows damn well I'll tell the truth. He can't believe the number of men who torture themselves with it.

On the other hand, he continues (with my permission) to read my blog.

"You hated it the other morning? But we've had morning sex before...you seemed to enjoy it...didn't you?"

"Nooo...yes...Damn. I just don't like morning sex in general. Morning sex with YOU is fun. Yes, I enjoy it. It just prompted a thought, and I wrote that thought down. Nothing personal, really. Honest. In fact, we can go back to bed right now, and I'll PROVE how much I like morning sex with you..."

I've had to explain very carefully that my thoughts are not the literal truth. That not everything I've written is congruent with time/date/place/person I'm with/things I've said or done before.

That Beavis wasn't really that big a prick to me. I just felt at the time that he'd been quite a jerk.

That I actually like dates in bookstores, but AT THE SAME TIME feel they're cheesy and overdone.

That I reserve the right, as a complex human being, to contradict myself whenever circumstances warrant.

I love Mr UK. In the end, he completely understood. And I told him he can keep on reading...as long as he thinks he can handle 'the truth'...

...and yeah, in case you're wondering, we really DID break the bathtub...

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...

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.

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...

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...