IN WHICH I GET OVER IT AND MOVE ON or MOONLIGHT, MAGNOLIAS, AND BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

Deep breath. 

It’s fine; I’m just moving on from that last entry.  No worries, and not too much leftover angst.  Hopefully Janus is growing up and learning about rejection since he told me he’d only been on the site for about a month. Either that, or he’ll go back to his mother (with whom he is pictured in one of his photos) and cry a little on her shoulder.

I wish there was a way of warning people about the denizens of the site, but that could be horribly abused and we definitely wouldn’t want that.

I have slowed down a bit.  A slight weariness in all of this and the tolerance for all the nonsense is getting less and less.  I obviously need some kind of rejuvenation.  I’m sure it will happen.  I am the eternal optimist. I want world peace.

I did finally see Mr. Atlanta.  It was interesting to say the least.  We spoke a few times on the phone and he emailed me a couple of times as well.  Saying things like he was going the extra mile for me and that he was my Hotlanta connection.  Yes, I see you recoil too. Later I was told that I just don’t understand the different sections of the country, and that perhaps to a Southern lady, his line might have seemed utterly charming.

That going the extra mile stuck in my craw.  It just annoyed me, but I tried to brush it off.  After all, perhaps sectional differences (that have nothing to do with the Civil War) are something valid to consider.

He left it up to me where we would go and what we would do, since we were, as he said, in my home court.  Did I mention I hate sports analogies?  Besides, I am always bereft in this department so I just copied what I did the week before sans the friends.  I made reservations in an excellent restaurant, dressed, took a deep breath and off I went.  At least I knew I would eat well and I could make a quick getaway.

Since he is not a native and I made him drive fairly far, I was not surprised that he was late.  He did, however, get there.  Mr. Atlanta is a lawyer and a ballroom dancer, neither of which were exactly evident in his mode of dress.  Suffice it to say that his jacket, some sort of hounds tooth in black and white, almost hurt my eyes and I was certain it would strobe on TV. He took my hand in his and kissed it, as he said in his profile he would do.

Okay, while not exactly charmed, I thought that he was at least pleasant.

He sat down, looked at the menu and continually grabbed his lapels as though he was straightening out his visual headache of a jacket.  Though he was, as I said, in no way unpleasant, he most assuredly had a routine.  He was smooth and practiced, and basically had a monologue going, telling me little bits of this and that and really very testy about interruption.  I shouldn’t say testy that’s not accurate, he simply ignored questions or statements like “I know…” or “I’ve heard that….” and pushed on completely unfazed, undaunted and unaware. 

Not in his repertoire?  He didn’t pursue or answer, he simply soldiered on.  He almost seemed to have the whole thing timed down to the part when he needed to tell several jokes. 

I have to say that I HATE jokes…I love laughing, I love wit, but stories usually either leave me cringing or rolling my eyes. I so rarely find them funny, and I so rarely DON’T know what’s coming.  My lack of hilarious laughter left him unmoved, and he continued unceasing and relentless.

I kept asking myself throughout the meal was he attractive enough to ignore the deficiencies of his actual presence…what I mean is his being in the moment and with me as opposed to going through his entire sequence of date-night entertainment. I concluded that the answer would have to be in the negative.

He, in his Southern Gentleman mode, walked me to my car and took my hand again.  Eyes were definitely rolling in my mind….

“Do you know why,” he queried, “I’m kissing your left hand?”

“No,” I said obligingly.

“The English kiss a lady’s right hand, but the French kiss a lady’s left hand because it’s closer to the heart.”

I had it!

“Do you know that you’re not supposed to kiss the hands of unmarried ladies?”

Bull’s-eye.

“Well, that’s a matter of debate.”

Actually, I’m right about this.

And, I knew I’d never hear from him again.  I hadn’t fallen for the Rhett Butler/Ashley Wilkes charm and he loped off, hoping for someone, I suppose, either more impressionable and naïve or at least more polite that I was.

Moving on.

In the last week I’ve had some more nibbles and it’s possible I’ll meet one or both or not…as you can see I’m temporarily running out of steam, but no worries…I’ll get my mojo back – promise.

Was reading about the 10 big lies that men tell on dating sites.  None of them were news to me.  It’s interesting, guys don’t lie about their age the way women do, but they do lie about height and weight.  Women lie about weight.  Also, evidently men lie or enhance their careers to the nth degree as do women and according to the article, they even say that they know celebrities to make themselves seem more desirable and interesting.  Living in Lala Land, knowing celebrities only interests me temporarily.

Imagine bragging about knowing Kim Kardashian.

Lastly, supposedly, they lie about their income as well, but since I don’t care about that, I never worry.  Luckily, I can say with great assurance, that I have never lied about anything except when people wanted me to lie about my age and I did that on two sites, one of which I’m not on anymore.

In the article the owner of a particular site called BeautifulPeople.com was interviewed at great length.  I looked into this site as I thought at least the people would be good looking as I thought they would be fit on the Fitness site.

So your intrepid reporter went over to the site and saw that you register and post a picture and people of the opposite sex vote on whether you are attractive enough to be on the site.  I must have left my brains outdoors for an hour since I actually registered, put one of my good pics on the site and started frantically checking every few minutes to see how I was doing.

I was in, I was out, I was in, I was out.  They had a little red and green line with a little circle that moved up and down in the red and green as the votes came in.  I had some positive and was in green territory and then went into red territory.  To be scrupulously fair, they don’t tell you how many negative votes you get, but only the positive votes.

It was morning, and I’m assuming that most people weren’t yet perusing the dating sites… that seems more of an afternoon, I’m getting bored and day is winding down kind of activity.

I went for a run and had an epiphany. 

What a REPUGNANT site!!!!  Hello Ilana, where was your sense.  You’ll be happy to know that I came home and took down my profile at once.  I did notice I had 13 positive votes and someone had awarded me a virtual diamond. 

Frankly, I’d have taken it if it were real.

IN WHICH I TELL A CAUTIONARY TALE or REALLY YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS STUFF UP

I suppose it was inevitable.

I’ve been doing this over a year now and most of my experiences have been fun, hilarious, disappointing, hurtful, but in no way horrible – except perhaps for the guy who looked like he rolled out of bed and had a weird skin disease.

Had recently gone back on the free site that I had thought really atrocious for reasons I can’t explain.  What can I say?  I thought I’d just give it one more try.  I uploaded the new photos, wrote a little more in my profile.  Yes, I still have a car, but I was able to put in more, say more (again, not that I in any way shape or form think that anyone really reads profiles).  Anyhow, there is a feature on this site that shows you a series of photos of bachelors also on the site and asks you if you want to meet them.

I was bored one day, and was rifling through the pictures and just idly yes, this guy is cute, I’d meet him, and no this guy is not for me, I wouldn’t meet him if the world was coming to an end.  It was virtually a slide show and I was doing mostly “no’s” and a couple of “yes’s”.

Lo and behold, the ones I said “yes” to all wrote to me.  It was nice in a way, so automatic, and easy.

I thought, maybe this is the way.  No reading just looking, just the response to the physical.

Two of the gentlemen I really wasn’t interested in after a cursory glance at their profiles, but one looked rather nice.  He was tall enough, attractive enough and quite literate in his profile.  I actually enjoyed reading it; there was an intelligence and sense of humor present that is somewhat rare for these things.  So, as the pickle man said in Crossing Delancy, this one I’ll meet.

I’ll call him Janus for reasons that will soon become obvious.

We emailed back and forth, just a few times.  He was the usual, complimentary, yadda, yadda, yadda, and was swift to say, let’s meet.  I said fine as endless emailing was starting to get on my nerves.  We made a date for a place very near to me, which was good.  Minimum of effort, I felt and possibly maximum results.

Traffic was bad that evening that we met.  However, Janus did show.  He was polite, a little too gushing in his compliments (I eventually told him he was a little over the top), and self-deprecating and smiling when I told him he was OTT. He was only a few years younger than me, but made a point of telling me I didn’t look my age.

We sat together chatting for about two hours.  He was eager, energetic and did most of the talking.  In fact, I really didn’t get a word in, to be honest.  I thought he might be a little nervous, which is fine, after all, who of us doesn’t approach this with some nervous trepidation?  As the date wore on, I knew he was into me, however, there was something nagging at me about him.  I knew he seemed nice and I should see him again, but something was preventing me from entering in the idea wholeheartedly.  He was saying things like we’d go on multiple dates, and that was bothering me for some reason as well.  It seemed a little presumptuous.  Anyhow, as we were waiting for my car, he asked me if I wanted to see him again.

My mother seemed to be standing there telling me that I ought to give him a second chance.  See him one more time and then make up your mind.  I prevaricated a bit, trying to think of when I could see him.  He suggested a day, I wasn’t sure, and then I said to him, let’s communicate over the weekend (no, he didn’t suggest a weekend date).

Several days later, it was a Saturday morning, he texted me and asked how my weekend was going so far, and how nice it was to meet me.  I was still hesitant and trying to think of response that evening when I went out to dinner with friends.

One of the diners snatched my phone and texted him back: “Great.  Having dinner with friends.  It was nice meeting you too.” 

Harmless so far, right?

He promptly texted back saying “Lucky you”, which I wasn’t reading as snarky, but just brief, and then a second text asking me if I wanted to meet him again.  Once again, I hesitated.  I didn’t answer again.  In fact I didn’t answer for two days.

That Monday evening I thought, this isn’t nice, I really have to answer him and have to say something that will not hurt his feelings but convey the fact that I don’t want to see him.  So, nicey nice me says: “I’m sorry I haven’t answered, I didn’t mean to be rude.  I’ve decided to re-think computer dating and take myself off the site (editor’s note: I did.)  I just want to take a breather and wish you the best of luck.”

I went to take a shower and when I returned there was already a message.  It was the most vile, obscene, nasty, misogynistic  message I’ve ever received in my life.  I was shocked, shaky and not just a little alarmed.  I had never been talked to in this way and felt extremely violated

I called a friend and talked with her about it, she tried to calm me down and told me not to be upset as worse had been said to her.  This is meant to make you feel better, but it rarely does.

I started searching my mind wondering if there was any way he could identify me further or find me.  It was really that upsetting to me.  Luckily, no more messages were received and I didn’t hear from him again.

It was such a turnabout.  So much the opposite of how he had behaved when he saw me.  Perhaps I saw the desperation and hysteria behind all the compliments and perhaps that was what repelled me.  Another friend said I had dodged a bullet and frankly, I am proud that for once, my instincts were correct and I actually followed them.

Oh, and I forgot the corker… he had the nerve to say in the message I was too old for him anyway!!

You’ll all be relieved to know I wasn’t discouraged, and got together with a much nicer, normal guy.  I told him what happened and he said he had my back.  It was kind of him, however, he elaborated saying that he was worried about me doing the online dating thing and for all I know I could be meeting the next Ted Bundy.

I honestly don’t think that’s going to be the case, and I am pressing on.  I know the rules of internet dating safety – very well, so please, one and all, don’t worry.

Just to lighten up this entry and give you all a bit of a laugh, I have included a self-description that I read from username: Mikiehotass:

I am ATTRACITIV, HONEST, and PASSOINAT.CARING.I am a one woman man that would never cheat on my woman i am not that type.I like the out doors camping,pic-nics mountains go for romantic walks on the beach.Like to explor new places going on week end road trips.I a hard worker i own a small l;andscape business.Have good values and morals.A good family man like to have a family. I am very will mannered. I PEREER THAT YOU LIVE IN SAN DIEGO

I am looking for a long trem relationship that lead to marrrriage.
looking for attracttiv female long hair and must be hot looking
with similar interest Iand goals
THAT YOU ARE VERY ATTRACTIVE AND AFFECTIONATE

This is lifted directly from his profile.  This is not a joke, and I looked, English IS his first language.

I despair, truly!

IN WHICH I SUBJECT YOU TO ALL I’VE BEEN SUBJECTED TO or DIARY OF A MAD ONLINE-DATER

I thought you should all suffer a little… or a lot.  At least endure the pain of reading a title that ends with a preposition… if that isn’t disturbing enough. 

Actually what I thought is that I’d catalogue my contacts for a little while to give you the absolute idea of what the experience is like.  As Edward R. Murrow used to say,

“YOU ARE THERE…”

Poor souls.

On my fitness site I was contacted by two, count ‘em, guys from Washington State.  I’m not sure why out-of-staters contact me.  Perhaps they just can’t resist those new photos SM took of me.  Really, I’m baffled.  However, they did. 

The two of them were most definitely hunks and one, whom I mentioned last time, kept asking me if he was crossing my mind.  I bit once with him and said yes, and got an effusive email back, then nothing.  Then a little while later yet another query if I was crossing his mind.

At that point, I thought, demented, and haven’t heard since. 

The other guy just dropped off like a little autumn leaf – the way most of them do. The rate of attrition is very high.  As you might have guessed, it’s basically about 99.9%. As I said in another entry, it’s as though they like to get their little tootsies wet but if the waves come in too close, they jump away.

On my favorite free site was contacted by a gentleman with the lovely yet subtle moniker HORNYMoFoFor69.

Charming, I thought.

Wanted to know if I wanted to hang out and have some fun.  After breathing out and breathing in several times, I wrote a polite and mature (he is 31) note thanking him for his interest and telling him that I was looking for something a little more substantial.

Undaunted, he wrote back that I could be his girlfriend, and wasn’t that substantial enough? 

Exhale.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Another man, Mr. Potatohead, near enough to what he called himself on the site, wrote that he thought that I seemed pretty neat.  Reminds me of what Kevin Costner thought of Madonna and her performance in one of her documentaries, I think it was Truth or Dare.  How she ridiculed him for that statement --though she ridicules fans who are stupid enough to bring her flowers she doesn’t like, so I don’t think I’ll put myself in her company.

I read through his profile and saw that he cautioned women who voted a certain way not to contact him. I wrote him back and thanked him for thinking that I was neat, but that he might not think so if he knew my voting patterns and that I was sorry.  His response was, if I was sorry for how I voted in the past, it was forgivable.

I said I was more sorry about how I voted in the present, and then received something incomprehensible from him.  It was all just too complicated for me, so I decided no answer was the best course.

From the land of moonlight and magnolias, I received a message from a courtly gentleman who named himself after one of the great heroes of the South.  Again, I’m not sure what this long distance thing is, though, something whispers to me that they may be married or otherwise encumbered, and, perhaps, this is how they get their vicarious thrills.   At any rate, this man was at least age appropriate, nice looking, and enjoyed competitive ballroom dancing. 

I am all admiration. 

I don’t know how to dance.  When I go to weddings, I always dread it if someone wants to fox trot or otherwise partner dance.  However, I do greatly esteem those who can. 

He told me (after giving me several stories to illustrate this fact) that he could, from just looking at someone and reading their profile, intuit whether there would be any chemistry between them or not. Evidently, he thought there would be with me.

I wish I had that gift; it would have saved me a lot of expenditure on green tea.

He’s called me several times, so the jury is out on him.  He says that he comes to LA a lot.  So did the other guys from Washington State, and another guy from Idaho. 

And so does the ex-Marine from San Diego, who thinks I’m the most beautiful girl on the fitness site. Very flattering, so I looked at his photos and he has the most amazing set of tattoos.  I’m not one for body art, so I’m not impressed, but he did have one of the most developed backs I’ve seen in a while.  Yes, on this site, no one hesitates to take off his or her shirt.

I’m sure you’re tired by now.  Perhaps your head is spinning with the sheer number of oddities that I endure.  There is, dangling at the moment, a gentleman who names himself after a superhero and talks about himself in the third person. 

My eyes roll heavenward. 

He has contacted me before and then disappeared, so when he wrote this time, I gently reminded him of this fact.  He said he remembered, but had met someone else and wasn’t a serial dater.  He was giving her a try in order to see what might develop.  She, however, appears not to have worked out, so he was now seeing if I was still interested.

It is all so fatiguing, but I’m putting Superman on the back burner for now, not because I’m vindictive, but because someone else has come forward and actually offered dinner!  Not just green tea, but full feeding, soup to nuts.

And, sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but if he’s nice, you won’t be hearing about him!

A SHORT MEDITATION or ENTRE’ACT DEUX

So many thoughts have been revolving in my head that I can’t remember what I’ve written here and what I have been blathering on and on to friends about ... however, there is definitely more to say.

I’ve figured out why the whole online process is so weird and you will be proud at the profundity of what I’m about to impart.  There may be a Nobel Prize in this for me. (Do they give them in sociology?)

There is absolutely NO context in online dating!  What I mean is that in the bad old days, prehistoric actually, the only way to meet someone was either face-to-face, in letters or on the telephone.  And, it was usually because your relatives, friends, or the Sears Roebuck Catalog had introduced you.

You had some kind of connection, some kind of framework, some kind of commonality even if it was just your brother’s girlfriend’s second cousin’s brother-in-law.  Because if this, you could gossip about the hapless friend who introduced you, or complain about the family member, or, if appropriate, bad mouth the acquaintances that made the arrangements.  It made for an interesting bond between two people and at least had the advantage of keeping the conversation stimulating and going for the interminable space of one date.

This is not the case today.

Now we have another matchmaker extraordinaire. 

It is your computer.

I mean, really?

Cogitate on that for a second.  YOUR COMPUTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The laptop or PC you’re peering at is your matchmaker, your yenta, your shodchenta, need I go on?

Okay, have you thought about it?  Are you appalled and hasn’t the utter unreality of the situation hit you between the eyes?  It certainly has me!  … and yet, I continue to do it, and with optimism.

Jeez, it’s sort of awful, though, isn’t it?

I have friends who say to me, Ilana, you’re an elegant, attractive, intelligent yadda, yadda, yadda, woman, surely you can meet people the old fashioned way?  (Don’t call me, Shirley).

You would think, eh?  However, in my case, I work in an environment where the nearest man is about 22 (not in my wildest cougar dreams!), and my writing friend is the aforesaid computer (erstwhile matchmaker… OMG!!!).  I’m simply not the type to strike up a conversation in the hardware store, or give come hither looks at gas stations.  The wall of ice is just too difficult for me to break.  That seems to be an unfortunate and enduring character flaw of mine.

A corollary to that whole meeting from the computer issue is the fact that it is easy to be a fantasist … you begin to imagine you’re in a relationship or at least at the beginning of a relationship with someone who has responded positively to (let’s face it) your photographs.  He or she says something flattering about them, you feel complimented and you begin to respond as though you had met that person, were flirting with and had a strong connection with them.

There again, it begins.  You start having that whole relationship IN YOUR HEAD!  Remember that? And, oh the falling to earth is extreme, and worse than usual because there’s absolutely no question about how foolish you’ve been.

So, I ask, what do you do?

It’s the oddest thing. 

There is a whole subset of our population that is over forty and unmarried.  It’s a new sociological phenomenon, and society has yet to become equipped to cope with it.  So you have singletons (as they call them in England) who are a certain age, don’t want to go to bars and clubs, usually the habitat of the twenty-something group, and don’t want to join the highly dreaded singles groups organized by churches and synagogues.  I can assure you there is no URGE there… not for miles!

As I quoted Queen Victoria in another entry:  There is no one here who is depressed.  May I add that there is no one here who is discouraged.  I am determined to use this wisdom to my benefit!

So what we do in the end is hang out with friends of the same sex, continue being a tolerated addition to married friends at dinners and other such outings, or sitting home, eating take-out and watching rom-coms with female relatives.  Yes, I’m talking to YOU!!

It’s just so old-fashioned, isn’t it?

IN WHICH I RUMINATE ABOUT THOSE LAZY, HAZY DAYS OF SUMMER OR WARM BUT NOT SO FUZZY

Have I mellowed out? 

I’ve been told my tone is not so biting and acerbic.  Evidently this was what people liked about my blog.  Well, I’m not going to take this accusation lying down, I will be tougher, meaner, bitchier!! 

I will…

The summer has been fun; I’ve gotten back on some of my old standby sites.  Will not bore you with the details, however, the big FLASH here is that I’ve gotten new photos taken and put on my various different profiles.

Serial Monogamist, my buddy, is an excellent photographer and made me look good, folks.  I mean, I would even date me.

So I posted and on the various (un-enumerated) sites and waited for the masses.  Actually, I did get a lot of attention, just not exciting attention.  I think I’ve mentioned that I see the same old faces on these sites.  They say they have millions, and some even zillions, but where are they?  I don’t know.

So why the hell do I see the same faces, the same irradiated faces, the same desperado faces (NOT ME OF COURSE), the same pleading faces … pick me, pick me, etc., etc.  Why?  Because WE LIKE YOU… no wrong show, wrong medium. 

Simple, really, DUH, the reason is that they are also playing the numbers game like I am… can’t blame, them, don’t even want to, but I still want to know where the trillions (at least as many as our national debt) are, according to these sites.

I do have a story, however, that must be told.  As you all know, by now, I am the profile detective!!!  I am practically the Profile Whisperer…  I can spot a phony at forty paces, or something totally brill like that.  Well, I was going though suggested matches on one of my free sites and lo and behold, a man in uniform.  Those of you who know me, know that I am an awful sucker for such a gentleman, so of course I looked further.  The profile photo showed a man in camouflage with his name clearly visible on the pocket where these things generally are.

I thought this slightly suspicious for several reasons: 

1) A soldier that far up in the chain (I believe he listed himself as some sort of General) would never picture himself on a public site in uniform. 

2) … and I know there is probably some deep seeded reason for this, profile phonies seem to impersonate military for some reason.  Possibly because they think they are catnip to women – and they are for some women.

Me, for instance. – er…. I???

At any rate, I cleverly googled the photo and found that it was indeed a military man and that the photo had been taken from Wikipedia!  To put the cherry on top, whoever did this was enough of a dumb ass to make another profile using the same picture with a different location and a different age!

Gone and NEXT!!

I’ve learned something of value in the last month or two and naturally must share.  There have been several dates with the same guy.  I’ll call him Cinemaboy…   Anyhow, we had a great first date at a boutique hotel in Beverly Hills.  Lovely place, dark, looked my best and had a delicious drink.  We chatted for several hours and had fun.  He was cute, I wasn’t feeling a great stir of URGE, but thought to myself, you can’t hurry these things.

When it was over, I said, hey this was fun and he agreed.  Didn’t say anything about another rendezvous, but I wasn’t downcast either way.  Later that evening there was an email, wanted to know if I was “up for a movie”.  I’m usually up for a movie unless they are so arty there is no discernible plot, too scary, or just too plain esoteric.

We met again had some nice hors d’oeuvre, and drinks again.  I thought to myself, of course, hmmm, there seems to be more imbibing that I would have liked.  Then we went into the film. 

Here’s what I learned about this.  It wasn’t the imbibing, if you thought that was foreshadowing or something, it wasn’t.  It’s that when you barely know a guy sitting for two hours in the dark, even if your enjoying the movie is an awkward experience!

Best to have several more dates under your belt before trying this.  You sort of sit there stiffly wondering if you can put your elbow on the armrest.  Better to wait, take it from me.

If this all sounds silly and elementary (of course it does) remember that online dating is different than regular dating, the dating of my youth, where people at least had some head start in knowing each other before going out.  The more I do this, the more the medium is beginning to feel overly artificial and forced. 

I currently have a very handsome guy on the Fitness Site who keeps asking me if he’s on my mind, and continually tells me that I’m on his.  As flattering as that all is, it’s harder to believe than when guys used to say that in order to coax you into doing something that you were for various reasons (which I can no longer remember) reluctant to do.

Need I elaborate?

IN WHICH I REVEAL MORE or THE VIBE BUT NOT THE URGE

Much has transpired since last I wrote.  Not, I hasten to add, anything that is going to get me off of online dating.  Good for you, not so much for me! There have been some interesting adventures.  Have gone on a few dates since the last time and more in the hopper.

Firstly, there was Yogaguy.  He’s like an 8^th degree yogi or something odd like that and thinks he’s got it all figured out.  We met at a local bar, a nice one with a restaurant I’ve never been to…I waited in the front and waited in the front, etc.  Retreated outside and then he came out the door saying that he’d been inside the entire time.  Had he not thought to look at the entrance?  Perhaps 8^th degree yogis can just intuit that.

We sat at the bar, neither of us drinking anything alcoholic.  Probably, I should have as he was standing in what was definitely my personal space the entire time.  It was a little odd, and I drank down my Peligrino quickly.  He then began to massage my lower spine.  I’m good in that I don’t flinch anymore when strangers touch me (I did used to do this).

He was running his hand up and down my spine and it rested on my lower spine.  Might have been much better had I been more attracted, but it was a mediocre experience. 

He asked me what I felt.  Wasn’t sure what was expected of me, and replied, “…er well a little vibration.  What was I supposed to be feeling?”  And he then said, “No chemistry.”  And I thought, yep, buster that’s about right.  So I slurped down the rest of the Pellegrino and made to leave.  He then decided to walk me to the car.

I must interject that when we first made contact he emailed me and made it clear after 3 emails that I had reached my limit.  He gave me his phone number and said that I could call when I had time.  I found his process confusing and not just a little annoying (as well as abrupt and rude).  And, I was so annoyed that I thought, let me call him because I’m feeling such hostility that maybe there’s something there.  On the phone he told me his life story and seemed somewhat nicer.  He did inform me that getting a second date with him was like hitting the jackpot, and a great compliment.

So back to walking me back to my car.  I thought I wasn’t getting the second date, and it wasn’t breaking my heart.  I got in my car and drove away.  Two weeks later I get an email from him that either I needed a stiff drink the next time I saw him or I should just go directly to his bed and have a couple of orgasms and then maybe I would loosen up and he could get to know me.

There is no answer to that.

There was another guy that I winked at on Match.  I have said how very much I hate those, but, nevertheless, I do it.  At any rate, he asked for my number and called right away.  He was nice looking and apparently a special effects coordinator for the movies.  He proceeded to tell me his life story.  He was a simple man as he constantly told me.  He loved to ride his Harley, he was a cowboy, and he was just down to the earth.

He harped on those themes for nearly a half hour.  I mentioned that nothing was going to get me onto his motorcycle.  He then said to me, “I pretty much have talked you out of this, haven’t I.”  And, I said, “Yep.” 

Next!

Got back on my fitness site.  Don’t ask why as there is no earthly reason for it other than the fact that it seemed a good idea to go out with guys who looked good in bathing suits for the summer.

I contacted another guy who was a stunt and fight coordinator. 

Are you all impressed with how proactive I am?? 

Anyhow, this guy was a black belt in about 20 different types of self-defense and actually a very nice person.  We met for coffee in a different place, not my usual coffee bean and had a decent chat.  When it was time to go home, I said to him that it would be nice to hang out and he agreed.

I received an email from him the following day that he would like to take in a film with me.  I thought that okay.  His problem was that he was a little far away and so we had to agree to meet in-between. We did and saw X-Men.  I thought we were doing pretty well, although I have to admit that I didn’t have a lot to say to him.  He did enough talking with prompting and I kept telling myself he’s very nice, he’s good-natured, he’s attractive.

However, in the end, the movie was it for us.  I guess he just felt the same vibe I did and thought we didn’t click.  I would have given it another date, but then, I am always willing to give it another date.  It’s how I was raised.

Luckily done with my class and on a respite going to the other end of the country for a week.  Before I went, I contacted one more guy at Match.  He was an actor that had been in law enforcement, and since One Syllable, I’m afraid that’s been the type that makes me salivate as much as some of my friends (and you know who you are) despise me for this penchant.

He texted me back and forth for a day or so and then sent me a picture that I should use for my contacts and did I have one for his?  Well, frankly, even if I did, I thought the whole process was a little premature.  And I was right.  I met him at the local coffee bean and listened to him talk about himself for about two hours.  I contributed a little, but seriously, just a little.  He needed little prompting and few questions.  He was really, REALLY attractive, but at the end of the two hours, I actually had to cut him off, and he muttered something about the fact that he could tell me even more stories.

Once again, I thought, perhaps he’s worth a second date.  Perhaps he got his storytelling out of his system and we could actually have some back and forth communication.  At any rate, I politely texted him that I had a nice time and enjoyed him, and may I say, I thought I was being generous.  I needn’t have bothered.  He didn’t answer, which was, I thought, extremely rude. 

Just in passing this texting thing!!  I am only beginning to understand the rudiments of the process.  How long one is supposed to wait before returning a text, how much you say in a text which is might be utterly different to how you would speak to someone in person.

It’s manipulative and mystifying.