Now Paging Debbie Downer

You Down With ODB?
(Old Dirty Bastard)

So, dirty old man from the other night at the pub texted me this morning, and I decided on a plan of attack.  I would either let it die out with like one text a day and just let it fizzle into oblivion, or I'd go with the whole bullshit line of not being over my ex and "aww shucks, guess I'm just not ready to date."   Not only that, but he knows someone above me at work, and you know, that could be awkward, especially since my money is on him already having told his brother and the gf about our "date."  Sigh. 

I totally am ready to date.  I'm over that shit.  But, I figured no need to hurt his feelings by telling him I  think he is a liar and creepy, and therefore I'm not interested.  So when he texted me and said that he could "sense [my] sadness" and that he hopes I "find peace," I was like oh hell yeah, he opened that door for me to slip in and get on that bandwagon.  So I wrote back that I guess I'm just not over it, and the feelings are still raw.  Totally thinking that this would end this awful encounter and we could move on (separately).  Instead, to my utter disgust, he wrote back, "I'd rather you be a different kind of "raw" ;)"

Oh.  Dear.  God.

I actually yelped in horror when I read it.  Yelped.  While at work.  Out loud.  Ugh.

Gross, man.

So, that didn't work.  I didn't reply, nor do I plan to.  ewww.

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 Wax On, Wax Off


Speaking of the men from dating websites--namely plenty of fuckers...errrr...I mean fish, and OKCupid.  I just got a message from a man who has a profile picture of himself eating a slice of pizza with a hugely distracting unibrow.  I'm not talking a little unibrow.  This isn't a few hairs.  This is like a fucking landbridge of hair across his brow.  For goodness sake, wax, shave, anything! 

It is called waxing guys.  WAXING.  Your eyebrows should never, and I mean NEVER, touch.  Not even a little.  That much unibrow should be illegal.

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The Impending Disappointment

Soooooo, what I didn't tell you is that I've been talking to a new guy.  I'm reveling in the banter, the texts, the phone calls filled with anticipation, with flirting, those delicious moments when you feel like there is a spark and you can't wait to see if it turns into a flame.  Filled with hope, deliriously drunk on lust and hope, ahhh, what a feeling.  Unfortunately, I know that it is a feeling of sadness that comes with it, b/c I know that in theory I'm the person of his desire.  On paper, on text, on the phone, I'm a catch.  But in person, when guys meet me and find I'm not a super skinny chick, well there ends that entirely.  So while I'm loving the moment and the feeling, it makes me sad too, b/c I know it isn't reality.  I know that come tuesday, when we are to meet, the reality will hit me hard, and he won't like me.  It has, sadly, happened before.  We were such a match on chat.  Entirely hit it off on the phone, the chemistry, the banter, the experience was amazing.  But the minute we met, I knew.  I knew there was no future.


And I know it is here again.  So, I fast forwarded it.  He already sent me a face pic.  So I sent one back.  Of course, I haven't received a reply text--but that was expected.  I might as well delete his number from my phone, because we all know I won't hear from him again.


It just is.



These moments make me a little sad and melancholy.  I think back to men over the years, that came close.  That ex that wanted me to leave my husband for him, who I did care about, who just got re-married to not-me.  Even though I totally put my heart out there and he ignored it.  I know he isn't the man I thought he was, b/c he didn't reply when the man I knew would have--even if to let me down easy.

Or I think about the guy I'm fucking on the side.  The one who is a delicious secret.  He has a sort of girlfriend, more like a baby mama that he is attached to, and who he can't seem to walk away from.  Mostly he stays because of the child, and even though I disagree, I can respect his choice.  I would consider dating him if the situation was different, but alas it isn't.  The other day at work someone made a comment that hit a nerve about my appearance, and I felt down about it.  I texted him that I felt unattractive, and being concerned I was upset, he called me.  He told me that if his situation was different that he would want to date me.  I told him that it was easy to say things like that when you can't actually run the risk of having to make good on them.  Then he disproved what he said, and totally put himself back into that category of men who just want to fuck me but probably wouldn't date me.


I mean, let's be honest.  There are two categories of men who are into me.  There are the men who want to date me, and the men who just want to fuck me but wouldn't date me.  The dating ones are a lot harder to find good ones, but I've never had trouble finding men who just want to fuck me.  That is easy, I mean, what man turns down easy, no strings, discreet sex?  Yeah, not many--regardless of who the chick is or what she looks like.


I guess even though my new fuck friend was just, and is just, a fuck friend, and I'm totally happy with that, and I know b/c of his situation that things are what they are--but I guess it made me feel good when he said that if the situation was different he would want to date me.  So a minute later, when he said he's my boytoy, well, that dispelled that bullshit immediately.  He's in the "just wants to fuck me" column, and that just makes me sad.  It's nice to feel wanted, for more than just free sex.  Oh well.


And then, it makes me think about that guy.  That one guy that has always been "that guy."  The one, that despite everything, you just always have in your life.  The one you measure people against, the one you compare men to, compare sexual encounters to, you know, that guy.  I saw him recently, and despite our last encounter where I realized he couldn't handle our relationship and it ended badly--and almost ended our 15plus year relationship/friendship, this time it was different.  Like night and day.  He was exactly the man I always knew he was.  He was grown, engaging, deliciously mature and sexy.  And when we got back to his hotel room, it was more than just the comfortable ease that we fall into like a worn and well loved sweater, it was a whole new kind of hot.  The chemistry was dripping off us, the attraction was tangible, and the encounter was deliriously intoxicatingly good.  And even after it was over, he still was the man I knew he could be.  No matter how many years that we've been intimate, or that we haven't seen each other, we fall back into each other so easily, so effortlessly.  This man takes my breath away when we are in bed--literally--he quickens my breath, he makes me want to please him, and even just seeing a (non-sexual) photo of him stirs in me a physical sexual response.  And yet, he is far away.  Once he offered to come live here, and I turned him down.  It is a conversation and a moment I will never, and can never, forget.  I want to find that kind of chemistry, everyday.  I want to experience it daily, to feel the electricity of that kind of encounter when I come home at night.


Where can I find that?  lol.  Apparently not on the dates I go on!!!! 


Maybe I'm just meant to be alone.

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Old Men In The Rear View Mirror Are Creepier Than They Appear

I'm seven minutes away from the pub, and he sounds pretty awesome.  He's switching careers, but going into a field that sounds like you must be compassionate, at the least, to do so.  He's 46, sure a little bit old for me, but my best friend's husband is 42, and he acts and looks just like we do, despite the 10 year difference, so hey, why not.  I'm game.  I'll give it a shot.  His pics are decent.  He lists his body type as being "jacked."  He sounds like he is a good dad.  He lives nearby.   He sounds like he can take charge in the bedroom and toss me around for some good romps.  He sounds like a dream.  I sound delusional. 

So, we've been emailing on the website, and he did start flirting hard and almost immediately turned it super sexual, but I laugh it off, and you know, I know this is a bad sign, but he sounds sooo nice.  And in my heart, I want him to be nice and not a creepy old dude.  You know me, I give them a chance.  Even when I shouldn't.  So, I scrutinize the pics again, and meh, not that great, but hey attraction can grow, right?  right?

Right?  Sigh.

And he sounded like a reasonable guy who wasn't a douchebag (which is, by the way, totally on my "must haves" list).  You may not know it, but the area below my belt is a douchebag free zone.

I parked the car, and then totally saw a spot closer.  And not because I'm lazy, but because this is NYC and I'd like my car to not get stolen, I walked all the way back to my car, flipped a bitch, and moved it.  Ok, ok, and I wanted a quicker escape route outta there for when the shit hits the fan.  Come on, it is one of MY dates, afterall.  What do you expect?  Roses and happily ever after?  Yeah, ok.  Can you really blame me????  It's a wonder I didn't have the date while still in my car with the keys in the ignition and shaft in drive!

So, I adjust my skirt, the damm waistband of which is always halfway to my neck, and fix that underthing I wear to keep the girls (and maybe some bits of gigglyfat) wrestled down and in place, and start walking up the hill to the pub where we are meeting.  It is about 11:15pm, and in the glow the of the streetlight, I see a man standing outside, all in black, with a bowed gait, a belly that looks like he is carrying triplets to term, a mushed up tiny face, and frog lips.

And immediately, I know.

This is him.

Who else would this guy be there for?????   OF COURSE this is MY date.  Who else wants to date my ass.  Spectacular. 


And then, as usual, I woke the fuck up from that dream of happiness.  Rudely.   He looks like one of my dad's friends.  Like if my dad said, hey this is my buddy so and so, it would be totally normal.  Except that he isn't.  He's my porn talking naughty email writing date.

As I see him, those nasty naughty emails he sent me where he talked about throwing me on the couch, ripping off my panties, and forcing himself into my pussy (yep, he said that) ---the ones that an hour ago seemed overly dirty but yet somewhat provocative in a naughty way, slap me right in the face as the memory floods back and crashes into the image before me--and totally made my gag reflex start kicking.  Cause really, who wants to bone your dad's buddies?  Oh, therapy, please.  Lots of therapy. 

What the fuck.  Seriously, when he said "jacked," oohh I get it, he meant "jacked UP," b/c there was nothing jacked about him. Unless you mean jacked, like "I got jacked," or "someone jacked my car"--then I could see it.  TRIPLETS.  TRIPPPPPPLLLLETS.  Seriously, I'm a woman and I don't think I'd ever look THAT pregnant.  The best part was where the shirt drops off and hangs like a blanket over a cliff, off the huge stomach and flaps in the wind below.  Soooo sexy yo.

Now, I don't care that he isn't "jacked"--jacked isn't even on my list of what I'd love to find in a guy.  Sure, if you happen to have some muscles I'm not gonna kick you face first out of my bed, but it isn't a pre-requisite.  Just be honest.  I appreciate honesty.  Although,  "old and creepy" probably doesn't sell as well as "jacked."  

His face was nothing like his photos.  Well, I mean, back in 1989 his face obviously did look like his photos, but not recently.  And his shirtless photo with the muscles, um, photoshop maybe?  Because maybe he does have muscles, but they must have been in hiding under his HUGE ASS BEER BELLY.  Also, his arms were soft, so I'm calling bullshit on the jacked description.  Again, it never fails, men describe themselves soooo inaccurately on those dating sites.  I wonder, in all seriousness, is it that they truly see themselves that way or just a ploy to lure you in?   He had these froggy lips, you know the kind where you can't see the person's teeth and they are all flat and thin and wide, and it's just creepy.  And his face was kind of small (although maybe it was just when juxtaposed to his huge belly that it looked so tiny), and he had a wandering eye, and I don't mean that he was checking out ladies nearby.

The bartender looked (which I'm going to take as a compliment), thoroughly confused at our being together at this bar.  He told me he doesn't drink, so of course, he proceeded to have two beers.  I had a seltzer, and let me tell you, that lime was the highlight of my evening.

I tried to be average, to be not super friendly and engaging.  I don't mean to be a bitch, but if I'm myself, I can chit chat with just about anyone; I see value in people and their experiences.  But if I did that here, he would take it as me being interested in him in a romantic/sexual way, and I didn't want to lead him on.  And then there was the part that he kept trying to touch my leg--and that coupled with the dirty emails he had started to send me--I knew I was in treacherous waters there.  Back away slooowwwllly.

Then he mentions that he has 2 kids and a crazy ex-wife who likes to violate their visitation and he has to call the cops weekly.  (Sounds like dating would be sooo fun with this guy, no?)  Then he asks if I know so and so, who turns out to be kind of someone above me at work.  Awesome.  It's a small world after allllll, it's a small world after all, it's a small small world.  Small seems to be the theme of the evening.

I waited 45 minutes and ran out of there like my pants were on fire.  Thank goodness I parked close!!!!

The icing on the cake?  That person above me at work is about 10 years older than me, and she is dating this guy's YOUNGER brother.  That's right.  I'm on a date with the OLDER brother.  OLDER.  Me.  OLDER brother.  ME.  OLDER BROTHER!

Someone kill me.


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