Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Yum!


Just a short note. My most recent admirer on Match.com posted this picture for all to enjoy. He believes this photo will woo the women. He wants to get together with me because he thinks we have so much in common. Again, I am trying not judge based on physical appearance, but I think any sort of chemistry starts with an initial spark. Now some may say there is a woman out there for this man, and perhaps that is true. But I am fairly certain that woman is not me. Although, check back with me in 6 months and I may be pathetically desperate enough.


Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Porkchop and guns

I have embraced the online dating world. I am trying not to rush to judgment. But it is so very hard not to mock men who write in their profile that their favorite thing to do is take long walks in the fall, holding hands, leaves crunching beneath your feet and stealing kisses. Really? When the hell are you doing this? Because in the real world I am cursing as I rake those damn leaves and bag them, before I rush to one of two soccer games and prepare dinner. And I try not to send an evil email to the men who insist their new loves must not be judgmental or opinionated. So basically they just want we to agree with whatever they say. That's enticing. But I will persevere. And when I last left you, waiting with anxious anticipation, I was about to go on my first Match.com date. And I did.

So we agreed to meet at a mutual location. There are all sorts of dating rules about online dating. You need to call someone when you leave for your date. Then again you call them when you are headed home and then you call them when you get home. This is to assure yourself that you have not just had a date with a serial killer who has followed you home to bludgeon you to death in your driveway. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

As usual I am fifteen minutes late. Anyone who knows me, knows this to be a truth in my life. But he patiently waits. I arrive and there he is, or is that him? It is hard to tell because he is at least 30 pounds heavier than his Match.com photo. Is that fair? I am not that particular about weight or hair but I think honesty is important. If you have gained weight, put a new photo up and don't describe yourself as 'athletic and toned'. Eventually you are going to be seen and these lies will come back to haunt you. He is a gentleman, standing to pull out my chair and ordering for me. Hmmmmm.....maybe I can look past the two chins. But then he starts talking about his life.

He decides that in order to woo me he will tell me a story about how he spends Christmas Eve with his kids. I am sure this will be an adorable story about a father spending quality time with his kids. Oh, how wrong I am. He tells me he starts Christmas Eve by making a roaring fire in the fireplace so there is no way Santa will attempt to come down the chimney. Then just to make sure, he takes out his guns (yes, guns) and places them in his lap as he sits on the couch making sure Santa doesn't use a fire extinguisher and still make an attempt to enter the home. He then tells his impressionable children that he will make sure that Jolly Fat man never comes in the house. After telling me this story he laughs uproariously. I want to as him how much he has spent on psychologists for his kids but I restrain myself.

The evening only gets better from there. I make a decision to have a second drink and then spend the rest of the time together talking about myself. Because honestly I am way more interesting than this guy. He tells me three times that he is an intellectual. I don't think he knows what the word means. He talks about living in Alabama and I have readied myself for him to say something racially awful. Luckily he skirts the issue by talking about the poor people there and how he tried to avoid them. Oh he is just such a catch. Then he tells me that 'Armageddon' was one of his favorite movies. Check Please.

Just as we get the check his cell phone rings. It is his son, PorkChop. He calls his son Porkchop. It is not an endearing nickname, I think it is his actual name. I think his birth certificate says Porkchop on it. Porkchop is at his girlfriends house and needs a ride home. My cue. I tell him he needs to go help his son and I race for my car. He points out his truck and I am relieved to see there is no gun rack or Confederate Flag on it. I hop in my car quickly, avoiding the awkward 'I am never going to kiss you' moment. He says he would like to see me again. I smile and pretend I can't speak English. And I am off. I call my friend to tell her I am on my way home.

So this time didn't work. I am sure there is a man for me on Match.com. How could there not be? There are millions of subscribers, right? So I go back on and suddenly there is an instant message from a man. Well, a boy. He is 30 years old, thinks I am sexy and wants to meet me. I laugh and tell him he is a little young for me. But wait, he doesn't want a relationship, he wants to meet me now, Saturday night at 9:30pm and have sex. He suggests that I leave my house and we meet outside and if I like what I see, we can get down to business. Are you kidding me? I am desperate but nowhere near that desperate.

And then the phone rings. The caller ID on the phone is a number I haven't seen in so long. It makes me smile. It is Bob, my high school obsession who has only recently refriended me on FaceBook. He is actually calling. Calling me. I should get a backbone and not answer the phone. I should just say no. But I can't. I am obsessed. I don't think it is a real problem since I know what I am doing. Like smoking. People know it is bad but they do it because they like it and they are obsessed (ok, addicted). I answer the phone. His voice. His voice makes me smile broader. He wants to know if we can get together. YES. I have no pride. Of course we can get together. He will come pick me up for dinner. And he does. He shows up on time. He looks amazing. I put myself as close to him physically as I can. I love him. And then he turns and kisses me. I am in heaven. I don't care about dinner. I don't care about having self respect. I don't. And we do have dinner and it is a lot of fun. And I will probably not hear from him any time soon. And I will obsess and stalk. And I will be ok with it. Because I have a new mission. I will make him mine. I will! Because after all I am 41 and single.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

I'm out

No knocking. There has been no knocking at my door. No single men beating down my door, asking me out. I am actually surprised. I thought by this time my mother would have been handing out fliers with my photo, stats and address on them to anyone men she might happen to see. But no, she hasn't gone that route yet. So as I stood looking out my front door noting the lack of single available men walking by, I decided I needed to do something. Something drastic. Perhaps something proactive. Maybe even something risky. Dammit, I am going to put myself out there.

First I go to dinner with some girlfriends and one friend asks me if I would be willing to go on a blind date. Is there really such a thing in the age of the internet? Can't you find anyone online? Isn't everyone on FaceBook? So who is this blind guy. He is a 40 year old who has never been married. Hmmmm....does he live with his mother? No? Ok, then I can consider him. But then my friend tells me he is really shy and I will have to contact him first. Now, I am not a traditional woman who insists that the guy ask me out but seriously come on. This may be why he is 40 and never been married. And I am not sure my bubbly, vivacious and sometimes bitterly sarcastic personality is an exact match with a guy who is too shy to email me. But wait, didn't I just say I would take some risk? So, I email him. I try to come off as sweet and kind which is really a stretch for me. I tell him to friend me on FaceBook and that way he can get a sense of who I am and then decide if he wants to get together. We'll see. No response yet.

But I am not just going to sit around and wait. No, the new me is going to find a date. But wait.....a friend request on FaceBook. Is it the blind date? No, it is the crazy high school crush who defriended me a year ago and thus became the object of my stalking. He wants to be my friend again. Joy! Hold on, I should get a backbone. I should not accept. But I need to accept. I need to have access to his life. I will accept. I accept. And there he is in all his glory. Photos of him kiteboarding. Photos of him having fun with his brothers. And wait, what is this? I am losing interest. The access has given me freedom.

And if that wasn't enough, I have an email from Match.com. And it isn't awful. He is a few years older than me, decent looking if you overlook the photo of him in a sleeveless shirt using power tools (really? that is not sexy). He seems to have a good job. He has been married and has kids. This is promising. I write back. He writes some more. He gives me his cell phone number. And dammit, I call him and we talk. He is neither as quick or as funny as me, but who is? I am not going to judge yet. We make a date. Yikes. I have a legitimate date. What will I wear?

He emails me every day. And I am not trying to be negative before I meet him but I have no patience for people who say, '
in my world I try to let every day be wonderful'. I will not judge. I will look past this optimism. Optimism is a good thing right. I will not let my cyncism ruin this. I will go on my date. Oh, I can feel where this is going. He is going to say goofy sweet happy things and I am going to want to puke in my very cute shoes. No.....I will make my Mother proud and go on this date. Yet I won't tell her about it because then I won't hear the end of it. The incessant questions will be too much for me. I will go on this date and I will smile becasue after all I am 41 and single.