Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I finally did it! I broke my own record!! Blown off by not one, but TWO men in a single week. Yay me!
Me doing the Happy Snoopy Dance with a few pelvic thrusts thrown in just to show that I’ve still got “IT”…whatever IT is. The IT that apparently isn’t visible to the naked eye. Or to men. Or to anyone. Is this mic on? Can anyone see me? I know I’m here, because I ran out of toilet paper this morning and said I better go get some, and somebody did buy some so I must exist.
I know NerdBob on Plentyoffishies (an online dating service) saw me. He was all excited, but he looked like a child molester, so I passed. SnertzfartheadfromWinkerpool saw me too, but he smoked and liked killing deer, so I passed.
But then I saw HIM. The one I wanted. He wrote a real ad. Not one of those lame “I wnt 2 meet U and we can maybee gofer a long roamantic walk.”
His had substance. His had passion. His had…WORDS SPELLED RIGHT!! I was like totally in love. And he even wrote back. Woo! And asked me out. Double woo! And since I’m such a fucking genius on the internet (remember that now) when he sent me his pictures, I was able to secretly discern his business website because I was like Tom fucking Cruise in “Mission Impossible: The Scientology Edition”.
Clickety Clack Clack. I mean smoke was rising right out of those keys. Within seconds I had his name, address, phone number, fax number, which side he parted his hair on. (Heh! I’m just kidding on that part) And then I jumped over to Mapquest and typed my address and his address and we were only a mere 1.5 miles apart.
Oh come on, you know you would have done the same thing. And then I did the unthinkable. Well, you know what’s coming next. I got into my old rusted out clunker and drove rather furtively over to his nearby street. Unfortunately since I’m not actually on “Mission Impossible”, meaning I’m not that bright once I step away from my computer, I forgot to write down his street number, so I just drove around his neighborhood and I’m fairly certain my car was recorded by every single security camera along *** Lane that day.
And yet even with that transgression, he still dropped me another note the night before we met. Just a “wow what a hard day at the stock market. I’m really looking forward to meeting you” note.
The day finally came. I was nervous, but I dressed the best I could on pauperhood. Did the make-up, the hair, nail polish. Took the “chill pill” “A” mentioned (thank you clonopin). I didn’t want to babble or be too scared to talk. And then I went over to the pizza place which according to Mapquest was 1 mile from my house and 2.5 miles from his house. That was really the total investment on his part. Driving 2.5 miles and buying me a slice of pizza. Remember that now. It may or may not be important to the story.
Anyhoo, so we met. He was like way cuter in person than his pictures. How often does that happen? Nicely dressed (hey, he’s a yuppie!). Terrific smile. Curly hair which made me go all goose-bumpy, since I love curls. And he had been playing up that he was stodgy since he was a stockbroker, but I sure didn’t see any of that. Quite the opposite actually. He was very down to earth and bright and funny.
So we had lunch. And talked. And laughed. I was pretty comfortable…for me. Ms. Angst Central 2007. And I was very very very very well behaved. No putting myself down. No badmouthing previous dates or men. And the conversation was very give and talk rather than one-sided like it had always been with Handyman. The Village Guy was very attentive when I talked and pretty much had a smile on his face the entire time we were together.
Was I happy about that? Totally. Did I think the tides were finally turning on my previously crappy love life? Absolutely. Did I think we were going to go out again? You bet’cha!!!
So we were together for an hour and a half and it totally flew by. I mean flew. Even he said that. No slow spots in the conversation or anything. He finally said he had to get back to his home office. The stock market, of course, had been really horrible the previous day and who knows what it was doing that day. Well, he probably did, but he never let on if anything was bothering him and I really liked that about him. I have contact with a lot of negative people, so it was really refreshing interacting with a person who looked at the bright side of things.
So we parted ways out in the parking lot and I’m fairly certain I heard the phrase “I’d like to see you again” which made my heart sing, because WHEN do I ever hear that? I mean, when Guardcat? I felt like I won the lottery.
When I got home Zue had already e-mailed me wondering about the date, but I actually had a splitting headache, despite all the festivities, so I took a nap. And then she called about 4:30. She is an Aries after all. They don’t like being ignored, so I told her how well it went. I told her I was writing him a thank you note and she’s all “NOOOOOOO! Don’t do that! He’ll think you’re needy!!!!!”
Huh? I did it anyways. I just said thank you and that I had enjoyed the afternoon and hoped we could take that walk we had talked about. Nothing pressing.
So I waited for a reply, since I didn’t have anything better to do. Waited. Waited. Waited. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Finally late Sunday night I got a very lengthy letter from him. On the surface it seemed very kind and compassionate. But man, underneath…what a total crock of shit.
Evidently he wasn’t sure if he was ready for a long term relationship (which he asked for in his personal ad) because he was very very busy with his career and even though he only had his kids part time, sometimes they needed him full time and even more. And then he said he was also very confused.
And then he started talking about Eros, which of course, is the Greek God of Love, lust and intercourse…or if you’re him, I think he meant internet dating nookie. He said he wanted to recapture the “sizzle” he had had in his 20’s.
Don’t you HIRE people to do that?
So I think that was really just code for “I’m not attracted to you physically” which I have gotten so many times, I can now officially list it in my resume. I think what it actually boils down to was that I’m not some deeply tanned botoxed bleached blonde hoochie mama who would “do him” out in his car after a slice of pizza.
That’s just me. Ms. Not Giving it Up for a Two Dollar Slice of Pizza. Sorry. True, I may be hypocritical to the guys who look like retards in their personal ads and can’t spell so I reject them before I meet them, but at least I don’t go out and meet someone, talk to them for an hour and a half and then write some “noble” letter about, well, maybe I shouldn’t be persuing this relationship because I should be at home with the kids.
Dude, you’re out on the internet, trolling for women. Don’t hide behind your kids. That’s so fucking cowardly.
My initial reaction to his letter was to send him a note and say, “So, I guess you’ll be pulling your personal ad, since you’re so busy and all.” And then my evil bipolar twin wanted to send him one of my naughty nude pictures (yes, I have several) and say, “So, how do you think Eros would like this piece of sizzle?”
But I know I’ll be seeing this guy around the neighborhood and over at the store and the YMCA, so I slowly retracted my evil girl claws and just decided that I’d let him find his little perfectly coifed, yet kinda dumb…yet kinda shrewd future wife, who will wipe out his bank account with extensive shopping and send his kids into therapy with her narcissistic personality, and that will be MY reward somewhere down the road….
Internet Dating Karma.
p.s. I still liked him though. 😦