Wednesday, October 23, 2013

This isn't Penthouse Forum

There are some times when you are flattered to be hit on.  But more often than not, there are times when you wish you weren't being hit on at all.  It can be awkward, uncomfortable and in my case, downright gross.  So how is one to react when confronted with the unwanted, unsolicited and grammatically horrifying come on that is sent via email?  Well, of course first thing is to gag, second forward to it many friends so they can gag with me and then third, wonder what the hell went through this man's head when he wrote this come on email.

To start this story we have to go back in time.   It's high school (no I am not telling you what year it was) and I was a geek, a weirdo and a pariah when it came to dating.  My best friend on the other hand was a boy magnet.  All the guys loved her.  Me, they didn't love so much.    They somewhat tolerated that I was a third wheel.  I was always there, standing awkwardly as my best friend and her boyfriend whispered in each other's ears, nibbled on each other's necks, stuck their tongues down each other's throats.  Yes that was me, the girl trying to look anywhere but at the couple making out.

One of my best friend's many paramours was the school's hot bad boy.  Let's call him Brad.  Brad joined our small private over privileged school in 10th grade and immediately established himself as a boy to be reckoned with, which meant he didn't look at me twice.  By senior year my bestie had snagged him and kept him to herself all summer.  So he knew who I was but didn't really acknowledge me as any more than that flat chested girl who hung out with them.  I am pretty sure he barely knew my name.  

Fast forward many years.  High school reunion time.  I have boobs now and a wee bit more confidence than I did as a teenager. Brad shows up.  He looks pretty good but he is definitely not my type.  Never married, still living as he did in high school, still didn't get any smarter.  But this is a reunion and everyone is happy to see everyone, although behind their backs we are gossiping about how badly we have all aged.  As the night wears on and the drinks continue to flow, the flirting begins.  I am aware that Brad is making sure to be near me.  I am not shunning his attention but I have no intention on acting on them.  My inner high school is relishing this attention from a boy who at 16 years old would have laughed at the prospect of dating me.  I giggle, I touch, I flirt.  I am having fun.  But not the kind of fun Brad has in mind.  And to his dismay we end the evening with a mediocre hug.

As expected the phone call to ask me out follows the reunion.  We don't go out.

A couple of years pass.

Suddenly Brad pops up on my Facebook Private Message.  He just wanted to say hi and tell me how beautiful my photos on Facebook are and how he has been thinking about me.  Well isn't that sweet.  He goes on to say that he really liked me in high school and has thought about me a lot over the years. And now he finds me so intriguing.  He wants to know if he can write me a letter telling me his thoughts about me from high school to now.  

Well my ego needs to know what he thinks.  Although I suspect he barely remembers me from high school, even though there were only 69 kids in my graduating class.  I am pretty sure it won't be bad, right?  So I tell Brad, go ahead, send me a letter.  And I sit back and wait for him to sing my praises.  

A few days later the letter arrives.  Via email.  It starts out sweet enough.  Brad tells me he enjoys our friendship and loves to talk to me when we see each other (which has only been twice in many, many years).  But then the tone changes.  Abruptly he jumps into describing his fantasy night with me.  Skipping to the end of a meal we have shared, he writes that 'we can't wait any longer' and return home together.  From there the letter takes a turn into horror.  Brad goes on to describe our sex in great and grammatically awful detail.  He manages to make himself into a sex god and me into the perfect playmate, one who is shy yet somehow knows exactly what to do in bed.  

He writes. ' I'm thinking how good it feels to be in you after wondering for so many years what it would feel like.  You are uninhibited yet proper and you do not disappoint.'  Of course I don't disappoint.  But how can I be proper and uninhibited at the same time?  It's a quandary.  Brad regales me with how long he can last and how quickly he can recover.  It's a highly detailed and particularly crude letter.  I don't shock very easily but this letter does shock me.

According to Brad after out first lovemaking session has ended, we chat in bed and then moments later he is ready to go again.  And go he does.  He is a machine.  I should be so lucky.  He ends the letter trying to inspire me into action.  He writes 'It is our desire to explore and explore we do.  You are shyly smiling as I say this and after I'm done you say you can't wait to explore with me and that my desires will be fulfilled and more.  Our journey into our sexual passion and exploration has only just begun and we have no idea the carnal pleasures that await us as we open up and explore everything our minds and hearts desire.'  Really? I am here on earth to fulfill his sexual desires?  Yes, I am in!

As I finish reading this letter I am at a loss.  What do I do?  Should I write back and say, 'Hey, the was an awesome letter, despite the spelling errors and the fact that you called my vagina 'cunt meat', but I am pretty sure there is no way in hell this is ever going to happen between us'.  Or should I just say, ' Well thank you but no thank you', which could invite the rebuttal I am trying to avoid.  So how do I make a decision?  The answer is simple.  I forward said letter to a few of my trusted advisers.  The votes come back unanimous.  I cannot reply at all.  I need to shut the door and leave it shut.  So I do.

But I am perplexed still.  Did Brad think his gruesomely detailed letter would make me come running to him?  Did he think this is the way to woo women?  Did he think I was put on this earth to sexually satisfy him?  Oh Brad, this letter is probably the reason you are still single and have never been married.  These kinds of letters only work in movies and Penthouse Forum.  Yes, women like sex.  Yes, women want sex.  No, women do not want to receive letters describing in graphic detail how you are going to put them on all fours to satisfy you own carnal desires.  And who the hell uses the word 'carnal'?

So no, I did not respond to Brad.  A week later I received another note from him saying he was glad he said what he said.  Well I am too Brad.  Because on my bucket list of things I want before I die, a gross, poorly worded sex letter has now been checked off.  On to the next item on my list.  Because after all I am divorced and single.  

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

While you were sleeping.

Maybe I am too picky.  Or maybe I am unrealistic.  Or maybe I sometimes live in a parallel universe.  I know what I want and I definitely know what I don't want.  And I am pretty sure it is not too much to ask that the man I date at least be somewhat familiar with popular culture and not completely bizarre.  Or either he should be normal and not familiar with popular culture.  Or bizarre and  familiar with popular culture. But being both bizarre and living under a rock is not quite as appealing one may think.

So this was my most recent date.  He suggested a lovely walk in the woods.  It was a beautiful day, so why the hell not.  Although the extremely adorable outfit I had picked out; skirt, strappy heels and a low cut shirt, would obviously not work.  I am adaptable.  Cropped jeans, cute hiking shoes (or Coach sneakers I got on sale at DSW) and of course a low cut shirt, would work just as well.  So walk we did. We started down the path, talking away as two divorced people will; about our divorces, our kids, the horrors of dating.  He on my right side, bumping hands 'accidentally' and enjoying the weather.  But then after a few steps, he moved from the right side of me to the left side.  I thought it odd, but kept walking. Was there evil lurking on my left side that he was attempting to protect me from?  As we moved deeper into the woods, we stopped to admire some plants.  Once again, we resumed walking and he was on my right side.  Suddenly he burst ahead, sprinting,  in order to make it back on my left side.  I slyly sniffed my right armpit to see if perhaps I smelled.  No.  That wasn't it.  When we got to where we were going to turn around, once again he ended up on my right hand side.  Jogging slightly, he maneuvered to get on my left side one more time.  Now I had to know.  Was this accidental or on purpose?  I stopped to point out some fascinating vegetation and made sure when we started walking again that he was on my right hand side.  Seconds later he managed to work his way over to my left hand side....again.  I stopped dead in my tracks.

Looking at him I asked, 'Why?  Why must you be on my left hand side?'  He looked at me blankly and replied 'Because I am right hand dominant.'  Is this a thing?  Is he preparing to strangle me with his right hand?  Karate chop me at a moments notice? I side step a little further away from him.  But now I am also determined  to stand on the other side.  Try as I might, his damn dominant right hand keeps me in place.

We make our way to dinner.  Luckily we sit across from each other so I don't have to worry about being stabbed by a knife in that dominant right hand.  The conversation turns to television and movies.  And that is when he says 'The Princess Bride, never heard of it'.  And of course I laugh because he must be joking.  But horribly, he isn't.  It isn't that he has never seen 'The Princess Bride'.  He has actually never heard of it.  He writes it down to 'check it out'.  So I say, 'Ok, what is your favorite movie?'  He smiles and tells me I will totally agree with him.  He has two favorites.  He chirps, 'Grownups' and then he follows up with 'The even better Grownups 2'.   I am stunned into silence.  Luckily the food comes and I stuff it in my mouth to avoid speaking.  How can that be his favorite movie out of all the movies ever made?  Ever.  In the whole world.

But I can't help myself.   He must be kidding about his favorite movie.  He must be kidding about his lack of awareness of popular culture.  I must know more.  I ask him if he has heard of 'The Bourne Identity'?  Nope.  'Die Hard'?  Nope.   'Breaking Bad'?  He heard mention of it but can't remember where.  So I stop eating, put down my fork, look directly in his eyes and say 'Were you in a coma for a really long time?'  He then says, 'I have two tickets to see Depeche Mode if you are interested'.

And that is when I know it is over.  His answer to my coma question was 'no'.  Maybe his possessed dominant right arm wouldn't allow him to go to the movies or watch television or notice the world around him.  Either way, it would be far too hard for me to fight the arm for control and there is clearly too much lost time to make up for.  So, check paid, I turn to him and say 'Have fun storming the castle'.  Door closed.  Moving on because after all I am divorced and single.