Sunday, March 13, 2011

Your hair is very long.

I am starting to think it might be me. I think I may need to take lessons in the art of dating. Maybe I need a chip implanted in my head that cuts me off when I get too sarcastic, witty, smart, outgoing, and all around intimidating. Maybe I also need to shrink my ego a bit. Maybe. But doubtful. I think I need someone to follow me on dates and tell me what I am doing wrong or, a much more likely scenario, figure out why I am picking the wrong men. I mean how much could I be doing wrong. I wash my hair, shave my legs, wear makeup, expose some cleavage and laugh at all my dates jokes. It must be them. And if it is the men, then clearly I am making some questionable choices which brings it back to being me. This is not good. I can't possibly be wrong. I will find a way to blame it on someone else.

So, I have had no new dates. Meaning I have had no new men enter my life. Sad but true. Just the same old ones that hibernate until I am just about done obsessing over them and then they rear their ugly heads (ok, their heads aren't that ugly) and suck me right back in. And what is it about these men that draws me back in. Is it their witty conversation, their shocking good looks, their rock hard abs. No. It is a pathetic lack of something else to focus on that leaves me a window of too much time to allow them in. I need to take up knitting, sewing, weaving or some sort of hobby that fills that void.

So who was back you ask? Of course you know it would be Bob. Bob. The elusive, emotionally unavailable Bob. The good looking, tempting Bob. The Bob I can't say no to. The Bob whose favorite form of communication is to send one sentence texts. And when did he text me? Oddly he texted me just as I walked into a friends house to have a beer and ran into Dave. You remember Dave. Or Mr. Four Hour Date. Dave who thanked me for my thank you email and then vanished. Now you may also recall that Dave has access to this blog and probably read what I wrote about him. So when I arrived at my friends house, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I could almost hear him screaming 'Run! I need to run!' But there was no escape for him. I was on him like white on rice. I kissed him on the cheek and said a warm hello as I passed by on my way to the very necessary beer. And then my phone vibrated in my pocket (hey a girls got to have some fun) and it was Bob, just checking in. It was as if he looked at the calendar and said to himself, 'Hey a month has passed, time to reach out and drive Stacy insane'.

So as I sat in the kitchen of this friends home, drinking my beer and contemplating this odd situation, Dave wandered in. I waited for him to join our conversation, but no, that was not to be. He just stared at all of us and then wandered out. Hmmmmm. Am I really that scary? That intimidating? That hideous? I mean, here was the chance for us to talk and he ran. But then there was another chance. He wandered in again about 20 minutes later only to wander back out. Was he drunk? Did he not see me? My friend worried that she had not warned me that Dave would be there. But honestly, I am not the one who fell off the face of the earth after a four hour dinner. And yet, even with all the wandering and ignoring, my interest was piqued again. What the hell is wrong with me? Let bygones be bygones. Nope. Clearly not my motto.

So Dave left. I left. I texted Bob back. No reply. No surprise. He can commit to one text and not much more. I was hopelessly in limbo again. Waiting. Hoping. Delusional. And then came a sign. A sign from who? God perhaps? More likely the Devil having some fun at my expense. Bob texted me. Did I have plans that evening? Why no Bob, I don't. I have now broken every rule of dating there is. You can never reply too quickly or be too available. As my mother says 'Why would he buy the barn if he can get the milk for free'. This of course implies that I am not much unlike a cow in my mother's eyes. But this was Bob, asking me out at least four hours in advance. That is like a week in Bob time. I prepped, I preened. I was ready. And there he was at my doorstep looking so very Bobbish. That half devilish smile. His 'I just threw these clothes on because I am too cool to care' look. His 'I kiteboard and surf a lot ripped abs'. Ok, so no I could not see those but I imagined.

So how was the date you ask. And why am I incapable of just saying no? Teenage crushes die hard. Just like Ms. Perry says 'Feels like I'm living a teenage dream'. So a bottle of wine later, a little making out and Bob started to put on his best moves which sadly were not all that great. Most women like to be complimented, told that they look pretty, are smart etc... The best Bob could do was to look at me and say 'Your hair is really long'. That astute observation was all I got. Wow. I could feel my heart go pitter patter. This guy knows how to woo a woman. It is remarkable that he has stayed single for so long. And yet, when he departed my company I found myself wanting him to text me again. Which brings me back to asking myself, what is wrong with me?

And what happened to Mr. Four Hour Dinner you ask? Well, his email told me it was nice to see me at the party. Which part was nice? The part where he stared vacantly through me or the part where he never spoke to me? Now it may sound to you like I have a huge ego and expect all men to throw themselves at my feet. No. That is not true. Ok, maybe a little true. But honestly, if you go to dinner with someone and spend four hours talking, you would
think you could manage a little minor chit chat at a party. This isn't high school after all.

So now what? Do I actually move on? Do I let go of Bob because really he is not adding anything to my life. I could delude myself and say I am going to walk away. But really who am I lying to. Do I accept Bob for who is and expect nothing more from him? Not possible. For I am a woman and all women know we can change men to make them better versions of themselves. I will sit back. I will wait. Thumbs at the ready to text back should the occassion call. I will hope that next time his wooing skills have improved and perhaps he will say 'Your hair is not only long, it is shiny'. A girl can dream. In the meantime, I wait by my cell phone. I wait for the texts that don't come. I wait becasue afterall I am 42 and single.