Lessons Learned: Looking for "Love" is an Interesting Endeavor These Days

So I've met all these guys, ranging from creepy, to dorky, to dumb, to nice, to obnoxious, to taken,* ... And what have I learned from it all? A short list:

- If you're a tall girl, you're going to need lots of flats. Guys of average and below average height almost always lie about it. If he says he's 5'9", expect him to be 5'7". Or shorter. (I'm nearly 5'9". As if I wouldn't notice...)

- You should meet sooner than later. I've found that when I have a great rapport with a guy online but, for whatever reason, delay meeting him, it always fizzles almost immediately after the meeting. Perhaps it's because our exchanges were so great online that in real life neither of us could live up to the standards we'd established in that forum. Whatever the case, I think it's best to meet early on.

- Talking about midget** porn can be fun. The mental images, not so much. I think being open to random conversations is a better way to get to know someone than the standard "Age? Background? Career? Dislikes? Entertainment preferences? Fitness habits? Goals? Hobbies?..." bit. My word of caution is to be prepared for any possible paths such random conversations might lead you down.

- You should listen to your vibes. I have this habit of sticking around a bit longer than I should so I can understand why I have a bad vibe or what someone has done to give me that vibe. Really, it doesn't matter. And the longer you (or I) stick it out, the more likely it is that some creep will convince you he is not such a creep. You should listen to your gut instinct. If for any reason, even an unidentifiable one, someone gives you a bad vibe, run.

- Lots of people hold their potential mates to much higher physical standards than they hold themselves. Reading through CL postings you'll find that about 70 percent*** of the guys who actually post what they're looking for in a woman require that she's "slender," "trim," "petite," "fit," "well-proportioned," "attractive," "well-groomed," etc. Now, take into account that about 85 percent*** of those guys are ugly, short, bald, hairy, toothless, and/or fat.


* Goodgodsweetjesuslordinheaven, that list of adjectives makes this whole endeavor seem pretty dire, doesn't it?
** My apologies to any vertically challenged people this might have offended. I didn't choose the un-PC term or the topic of conversation, honest.
*** Yes, I totally just made up those percentages. Give me a break; I'm no statistician.

Cheap Therapy: Moving on through making out

So I know I said I'd give myself adequate time to get over NRA by waiting Charlotte's mandated amount of time before going at this whole dating thing again, but who was I kidding? I'm not Charlotte! A friend who also is dealing with a recent breakup (albeit a much messier and more emotionally taxing one) and I were talking and decided we each needed to make out with someone to help us get over our respective exes.

Being that I'm a little tired of the CL scene, last week I made use of another site I'd joined at the behest of a friend a few months back. I hadn't spend much time on the site before dumping NRA because I established my profile at about the time we started dating.

Anyhow, I was a bit tipsy as I was chatting with Mr. Disney about things I can't even pretend to remember now. Being that I was tipsy and the idea of moving on through making out had already been firmly implanted in my brain, I agreed to go out with this guy later in the week. When I realized I'd made a date for last Thursday, about all I did remember from our conversation were these two facts:
1. He was going to be in town for a few days for business.
2. When I asked what he was into (meaning, I swear, if he would rather go to a bar or a pub or a freakin' poetry reading or what-have-you), he said, "oh, S&M, Bondage... You know. The usual."

Naturally, I started to get a little worried about what Mr. Disney might expect. The whole "in town for business" thing didn't quite sit well with me. Would he expect me to sleep with him? I started to worry about how I would keep this stranger from slipping Ambien into my drink while I was in the bathroom.

Mr. Disney called to establish plans on the night he said he would, automatically easing my worries a tiny smidge. When we talked, I immediately warmed to his sense of humor. By the time we got off the phone, I felt much more comfortable about meeting him, although still not entirely so. The whole business trip meeting loomed large in the back of my mind as something that could likely land me on the evening news.

I have to say, I dropped the ball on one thing in this scenario. Being extremely busy with work (and still going back and forth with NRA about everything), I neglected to choose a location for us to meet. This left us meeting at the bar in his hotel, which only exacerbated my fear that he expected me to fulfill some stranger-in-a-strange-city fantasy.

Fortunately, on the day Mr. Disney and I were to meet, Ms. Potato asked me if I wanted to go out with her that night. Being that I already had plans to meet a perfect stranger for drinks, I, of course, completely selflessly invited her along.

I have to say, Mr. Disney was a good sport about it. He didn't complain once, and I think a good time was had by all. I didn't get any kind of creepy vibe from Mr. Disney in person (despite the nearly-excessive talk about strippers and midget porn and a hooker named Peter), so when he asked if he could see me again when he returned to the area in a couple of weeks, I said yes.

He did kiss me goodnight, but not in front of Ms. Potato (how we managed that, I might never tell). And, I have to say, it did feel good to kiss someone other than NRA. It wasn't a sweep-me-off-my-feet kiss or even a remarkably good kiss. It was just a kiss, but I needed it. It helped to know that someone who seems to be more mature and more straightforward than the last dink (heh. thanks, LuLu) wanted to kiss me. Even though this guy lives hundreds of miles away and offers nothing in the way of potential for a relationship, sometimes it just feels good to be kissed. To know that someone somewhere actually wants to kiss you.

Thank you: You just made it all so much easier

A well-meaning friend told NRA I was having second thoughts earlier this week. After that, I spent a good portion of the next several work days responding to his IMs* and wiping away tears. We went back and forth, me saying the lack of trust just wasn’t going away, him saying he’d change. He’d introduce me to his friends. We’d define the relationship. And on and on…

On Wednesday, I told him I’d have to think about it. He said he understood, that, while he didn’t want to wait forever for my answer, he believed I really should think about it because he didn’t want me coming back to him just because I was comfortable with the idea of a relationship and not because I wanted to be with him. I agreed he had a valid point. Being new to the relationship thing in general, I wasn’t at all sure what my mixed emotions really meant. I’ll admit, I really was second-guessing myself at this point. The negatives were becoming fuzzy. All the good things were heightened and emphasized in my mind.

So I sat down and read everything I’d ever written about NRA, both in this forum and in my paper journals (yeah, some of us still keep those, too). Looking back through my paper journals completely solidified my feeling that going back to him would do no good. I realized that, no matter if we changed everything else that had been wrong, the lack of trust would still be there, making me suspicious of his every move and motivation.

Some people seem to thrive on jealousy and distrust in relationships. I’m not one of those people. I don’t like jealous guys, and I don’t want to be the jealous girl.

I’m not kidding when I say I have serious issues with trust. About 60 percent of the entries in my paper journal addressed the subject in some way. And reading those entries reminded me that I’m not one who can forgive and forget a major breach of trust. Not immediately anyway. I need time for the wounds in such a situation to heal. I need time to come to terms with the infraction in my own way. I need time away from the person who violated my trust. And even given time, there’s no guarantee of forgiveness.

When I saw him online Thursday, I said hello to him,** and then I told him what I’d decided.***

...
NRA: I cant keep talking to you about all this
NRA: it sucks, but if this is the case than it is
Belle: I wish it was something I could just say, okay, I'm going to believe you, but it's not.
Belle: you're right. we don't need to keep dragging it on.
NRA: it is what it is, but I can't keep reopening the issue everyday
…
NRA: I'll stop contacting you and what not
NRA: I wish you the best of luck hun
NRA: bye
Belle: I wish you the best, too.
Belle: I hope everything goes well for you.
Belle (9:24:01 AM): bye, NRA.
NRA (9:25:29 AM)****: why couldn't you have just let things go go
NRA: damn, why did you have to bring it up again today
Belle: I'm sorry.
Belle: I thought you wanted an answer.
Belle: I didn't want you to still be wondering about it.
NRA: I would have rather you just never contacted me again
NRA: I would have been fine
Belle: that's crap, NRA
NRA: I already erased all your numbers, emails, everything, so you would have to contact me
Belle: okay. well you showed up on my buddy list, and I just thought you might be waiting for a response since you hadn't been signing on IM at work lately
NRA: I didn't want to keep dragging you through it
Belle : I'm sorry.
NRA: its fine, I just need to get work done and now I cant think again
Belle: I'm sorry. Really.
NRA: I honestly think I was falling in love with you*****
Belle: I'll leave you alone now.
NRA: ok
NRA: bye
Belle: bye
NRA: well I'm sorry for getting pissed, and thankyou for the answer, at least I know now not to still think maybe down the line, and can move on and find someone else
Belle: okay
NRA: are you mad now
Belle: I'm upset. I don't know how this suddenly became me dragging things out and getting blamed for distracting you at work
Belle: i've been sitting at my desk crying every day this week while talking to you
NRA: I'm sorry, forget I said all that
Belle: and now it's my fault.
NRA: its not your fault
NRA: I'm sorry, dont cry
Belle: I'm not crying now.
NRA: ok good
…
NRA: ------- asked me to ask you to go to dinner with me at there house next week
NRA: asked me to bring you with us to the Dillan night at that place on monday
Belle: you're right. we can't keep dragging this out.
NRA: nevermind
NRA: I have to go clear my mind and get ready for a meeting
NRA: I'm about to get chewed out, so have a good life I guess
NRA: bye
Belle: jesus
Belle: bye
...

You bet your ass I wasn’t crying. I was furious. He had the nerve to be a jerk to me like that in the same conversation he was telling me he was falling in love with me and asking me to go meet his friends? The nerve to accuse me of distracting him at work and dragging things out, when he was the one who had contacted me repeatedly every single day since we broke up, keeping me from work and destroying my ability to concentrate?

Things didn’t end here, but this post is already gargantuan, so I’m just going to sum up now. I’m honestly glad he was a jerk to me. It made me wholeheartedly believe that my decision to end things was the right one. It replaced my sadness with anger (and we all know I can handle the latter a helluva a lot better). It made me realize that, like my friends had been telling me, I do deserve better. It made me realize that he is even more childish and immature than I’d suspected he was and that, even though I’m the one with the lack of relationship experience, he was the one who wasn’t really ready for a girlfriend.

* I’d say it’s noteworthy that every time he initiated a serious conversation, he did it via text or IM rather than in person.
** This was the first time I’d initiated contact since I broke up with him. The daily contact we’d had since then was all his doing.
*** The IM excerpts have not been edited, save to remove or change names.
****Note the time it took him to come back and flip everything around on me.
***** An instant message is not exactly how I thought I’d first be told that someone was falling in love with me. It wasn’t quite awesome.

Of course I would be...

... second-guessing myself. When am I not?

NRA called late Sunday/early Monday. He was obliterated. I’d had at least a bottle of wine and wasn’t entirely sober myself. The conversation was emotional and, at times, nearing nonsensical. I cried buckets.

------I've deleted this section because of paranoia, but I'm not getting into my reasoning here. What I took out basically said I feel like shit, I'm going back and forth on it and beating myself up over my long-standing issues with trust.------

And, then again, maybe I’m just making excuses, and my decision was right, even though it’s difficult now. And he would’ve hurt me even more. Or, then again, just maybe I should’ve mentioned everything I was feeling rather than suppress it for fear of being nagging and demanding. Or, then again, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Ugh. It’s too much to consider. My head might explode.

Unsent, Alanis Morissette

dear matthew I like you a lot I realize you're in a relationship
with someone right now and I respect
that I would like you to know that if you're ever single
in the future and you want to come visit me in california
I would be open to spending time with you and finding
out how old you were when you wrote your first song

dear jonathan I liked you too much I used to be attracted to boys
who would lie to me and think solely about themselves and you
were plenty self-destructive for my taste at the time I used to say
the more tragic the better the truth is whenever I think of the early 90's
your face comes up with a vengeance like it was yesterday

dear terrance I love you muchly you've been nothing
but open hearted and emotionally available and supportive
and nurturing and consummately there for me I kept drawing you in
and pushing you away I remember how beautiful it was to fall asleep
on your couch and cry in front of you for the first time you
were the best platform from which to jump beyond myself what
was wrong with me

dear marcus you rocked my world you had a charismatic way
about you with the women and you got me
seriously thinking about spirituality and you wouldn't let me get away
with kicking my own ass but I could never really feel relaxed and looked out
for around you though and that stopped us from going any further
than we did and it's kinda too bad becasue we could've had much more fun

dear lou we learned so much I realize we won't be able to talk for some time
and I understand that as I do you
the long distance thing was the hardest and we did as well as we could
we were together during a very tumultuous time
in our lives I will always have your back and be curious about you
about your career about your whereabouts

I suppose some tears are to be expected

So today was a bit harder. I awoke from dreams of NRA to find some texts from him asking if talking would do any good. I gave him the long version of “no,” asking what we had to look forward to if our relationship of three months had already required as many talks as we’ve had.

The texting continued for a while, and I told him I didn’t want us to be enemies. He said we weren’t.

Much later, I missed his call and noticed another text saying my things were on the stoop. He’d returned the gifts I’d given him. I probably deserved the spiteful move, since I’d done nearly the same thing* to him. He included a letter with the returned gifts, and I spent the next half hour wiping tears away. Obviously I’m not as tough as I like to think I am.

I still think it’s best we stop seeing one another right now. I won’t say I wouldn’t consider dating him again in the future, but it'd have to be so far away that we could start from scratch. At this point, I can't forsee him wanting as much with me. Either way, I know this move is for the best.

I think I’ll take a cue from Charlotte and give myself an adequate amount of time for recovery. By her standard that it takes half the length of time any relationship lasted to fully recover from said relationship, it should be a month to a month and a half before I’m ready to date again. In the meantime, I’ll keep you all updated on any NRA developments and try to come up with some other topics you might find interesting.

* I don’t consider our actions quite the same, since I’d returned things of his he’d given to me (old sweatshirt, etc.). The things he returned I actually spent time picking out and purchasing while I was visiting the Southern homestead. They were things I bought specifically for him because I knew he’d like them and because I wanted to let him know I’d been thinking of him while I was away.

Riding in silence sure gives you time to think

My plan was to tell NRA today, before his sister and his brother-in-law got into town and I was obliged to attend dinner with them as I’d promised. That plot was foiled when I first talked to NRA early this afternoon. The sis and hubby were already in town and with him.

Dumping over the phone wasn’t an option, and I thought it would be incredibly rude for me to make a scene in their presence or send him to dinner alone to explain my absence. So I dutifully readied myself and let NRA pick me up.

He realized when I wouldn’t agree to spend the night with him or have him sleep over that something was amiss. He asked for more information repeatedly before we met up with the family, but I insisted we’d talk about it after dinner.

Unfortunately, NRA couldn’t wait that long. He mentioned the other girl’s Valentine at dinner. Then his sister, knowing nothing of the BIG, FAT FUCKING LIE, asked a question about New Year’s Eve, which we all know is a sore subject. Apparently, that was pretty obvious, as was the fact that NRA and I had some talking to do. The sister and brother-in-law excused themselves after dinner, and I was left with NRA.

The conversation was fairly short, but there was nothing sweet about it. I told him the other girl’s Valentine filled me with questions, but that those questions were less important than the fact that I couldn’t take him at his word. As much as I’d tried to trust him, it obviously hadn’t taken. I said I couldn’t see anything progressing if I couldn’t trust him, and I couldn’t see us continuing to see one another if nothing was going to progress.

We spent the next 20 or so minutes in utter silence as he drove me home. At first, I wanted him to talk and was prepared to force out tears to encourage as much. Then I thought that was just… well, stupid. If he really didn’t want to see me go, there was nothing stopping him from at least talking to me. I wasn’t emotional or irrational. I hadn’t yelled or kept him from talking. I even asked him if he had anything to say, and he delivered an emphatic “no.”

So I stopped worrying about what he was thinking. I stopped wondering if he had anything to say to me. I realized I’d been thinking of other things and that I wasn’t really upset. If nothing else indicates I shouldn’t be with him, that alone should suffice.

Timeline: Your relationship will self-destruct in 5… 4… 3…

After picking up my car yesterday, I went to NRA’s to get my flowers and such. He had a package from UPS. When he opened it, pink and purple hearted-tissue paper came out first, followed by a nice, cuddly blanket, a DVD of a romantic comedy, a box of home-baked goodies (including heart-shaped rice crispy treats), and a home-made card in the shape of a heart. The note read: “I hope this Valentine’s Day you know that someone far away is thinking of you and that this gift warms your heart like my thoughts of you warm mine.”

He claims she’s an ex. His last ex. That he hasn’t seen her since last May. That they broke up “this time last year” because he was moving here and she was staying put.

He offered to send the gift back or throw it away. I told him no; that would just hurt the poor girl’s feelings. She’s obviously a nice person, whether he’s telling me the truth about any of the things I mentioned above or not.

And, at this point, whether he’s telling me the truth or not doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I can’t trust him. I don’t feel good about this relationship, or non-relationship, or whatever the hell it is. And if I’m not feeling good about it, it’s time to vamp.

I promised him last night that it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him. I’m a woman of my word, so I’ll go over there tomorrow and tell him to his face.

This shit sucks.

Taking the suck with the awesome: Is this what being grown-up is like?

So 2007 marked the first time I officially celebrated Valentine’s Day with an “Other” (be he significant or not). I must say, I was pretty impressed with NRA’s overall effort and delivery. There were two dozen roses and chocolates and (three!?) cards and a lovely, delicious, romantic Italian dinner with candlelight and musicians, and a sweet dessert back at his place, complete with a white table cloth and candles and wine.

And, then, there were some not-so-impressive parts. Those parts were mainly on the days preceding and following the actual day. The night before, he lit into me about asking for a V-Day plan. I was merely talking about logistics, I tell you… I wanted to know if I was to drive to his place, where I would leave my vehicle, what time I should be there, etc. I can’t see how these are unreasonable questions. Although I’ve dutifully asked for the ability to teleport every year when I blow out my candles, I haven’t yet been blessed with the gift. So, unfortunately, there are times in life that require a bit of planning on my part. This* was one of those times. Apparently, NRA found the need for a plan unacceptable. At least that’s what it sounded like to me.

NRA: Just go home, pack a bag, put on something nicer than jeans, and I’ll pick you up.
Belle: Wait, we still haven’t figured out what time or how I’m getting to work or anything. I need some kind of plan.
NRA: If you want me to be the guy who says, “Be ready at 6” and shows up at 6 on the dot and has the whole evening planned out point by point… I’m never going to be that guy. I’m just not. If that’s what you’re looking for, it’s not me. You need to post some more ads or something.
Belle: Oh, I have your permission for that now?
NRA: You don’t need my permission for that. Do what you want. We’re not togeth… Never mind. I didn’t say it.
Belle: Right.

I didn’t even know how to take that. This is the same guy who was so insistent from the very beginning that I not date other people. Why would he say something like that to me? Did I deserve it for asking that we consider one evening’s logistics? I hardly think so. Roommate suggested I wait until after V-Day and do exactly as he said – post another ad. I mulled my options in a nice hot bubble bath.

The next morning, he woke me with a call wishing me a Happy Valentine’s. I spent the snow day lounging about and pampering myself. When I got ready and drove to his place,** I found his road hadn’t been plowed and a nasty buildup of snow and ice was blocking all the street parking. I called to tell him he’d have to park somewhere for me (yeah, this Southern girl can’t handle snow and ice… make all the fun you’d like). After waiting a full 10 minutes for him to “come right out,” I finally saw him appear. I was miffed all over again, but I tried to squash the bitterness in the hopes of not ruining the evening.

He brought me a dozen red roses and two cards. We parked my vehicle in a nearby lot so we could make our reservation, and he said he’d move it later. We had a nice dinner, only occasionally interrupted by me voicing complaints. I tried not to, but he just pressed me about things, and they came out. I told him he’d really hurt my feelings when he told me to post another ad the night before. He apologized profusely. *sigh* I’m getting kind of sick of all the apologies. When we first started dating and he apologized all the time but was being so sweet and great, I thought some bitch ex-girlfriend had him scared to do or say anything. At the time, it seemed like his habit of apologizing might’ve developed as a mechanism of preemptive self-defense. I’m beginning to think now that he’s always apologizing because he’s always fucking things up, which actually makes a lot more sense than my original theory.

Anyhow, the dinner was nice overall. Rather than move my vehicle when we reached it, he called the company responsible for towing that specific lot and talked to a woman who assured him they were too busy plowing streets and towing cars in emergency lanes to bother with someone parked in an empty Whole Foods lot. She even offered to take down his number in case someone called to have it towed. Off we went to his place, where candles and more roses (pink ones, this time) and chocolates and wine and cheesecake were waiting. Let’s just say the rest of the evening went well.

In the morning, things were a little less rosy. My truck had been towed. As a result, I was more than an hour late for work. NRA was irate about the situation, but I was just resigned. Shit happens sometimes, and this was one of those times.

The thing now is I’m questioning myself. I have been for a bit of time, obviously. The main question for the day is, how do I know if it’s time to cut him loose or if I’m just trying to avoid anything resembling a relationship because such things scare me? I do a fantastic job of dwelling on the negative, and that’s mostly what you get here (because it’s usually much more interesting than the good stuff, obviously). I try to sprinkle in some of the good stuff, too, but it nearly always takes second billing.

I think Roommate is sick of the whole saga and him. She’s the only one of my friends who has spent any time with him, and she’d been saying to keep him around only as long as I’m having fun. Now, she seems to just want me to tell him off and get rid of him for good.

Obviously, I’m still holding out on that one, which makes me ask a whole slew of questions…

- Should I dump him and move on, or am I just scared of seeing anything more come of this?

- What is keeping me from dropping him right now?

- Has he done anything recently to make him worthy of me?

- Why does the thought of dumping him without a significant event to point to make me feel bad?

- Should I be worrying this much about all this when we’re not quite three months in?

- Are the things I feel I need to talk to him about only going to increase in number and frequency as things progress?

- Again, are things progressing?

- Again, where in the hell are the friend intros?

* Factor in: Getting home from work on ice-covered roads, showering (and shaving), applying makeup, turning my messy mane into something fabulous, negotiating my way into this ridiculously difficult corset and garter thingy, picking an outfit, accessorizing, packing a bag that includes EVERYTHING I need to get ready for work the next day (which, by the way, NEVER happens), fussing with my hair some more, retouching my makeup, deciding on another outfit, re-accessorizing. See? See? I NEED to know how much time I’ve got to cram all this shit in.

** He insisted he wanted to pick me up, but, it being a ‘school night’ and all, it just didn’t work out that way.

*** These officially being the first flowers any guy has given me, if you exclude the flowers Roommate’s Boy Toy brought for me when he came to the house and the two flowers (one a carnation, one a rose with an embarrassingly sappy poem attached) left under my windshield wiper by two shy guys in high school.

Anger and Insecurity: Time to let him go?

After a couple of months of dating, Roommate wasn’t having fun with her Boy Toy anymore, so she decided last weekend would be a perfect time to let him go. Being that she’s a really nice person and such conversations aren’t really pleasant or fun, she broached the subject in a roundabout way, asking what he thought of “them.” He, being apparently insane, said that, due to his upcoming move, he saw two options for the pair: either Roommate could move with him, or they could break up.* Roommate happily agreed to the latter.

“How does this relate to you, Belle?” you might ask. Initially, I was going to say this relates to me because I don’t want to be the psycho person who assumes too much too soon in a relationship. But, now, I can’t even justify that concern.

I think I’ve mentioned that NRA has, on a few occasions, waited until practically the last possible moment to tell me he’s going out of town or has plans that don’t include me. Although I think it somewhat annoying that he not just clue me in when he knows he’ll be gone, I haven’t said as much because he isn’t technically my boyfriend or anything. Still though, we’re at the point now where we usually talk to each other several times a day and see each other several times a week.

Even though it is pretty much assumed that we will spend a few nights of the week together, he still resists making plans with me in advance. I think I’ve whined here about that before, and I know I talked to him about the thoughtless habit. Since we talked, he’s been a little better at (grudgingly) making plans… although mostly at Roommate’s behest and for weeknights. Weekends seem to be, for the most part, monopolized by outings with the boys and road trips to visit friends.

NRA waited until Friday to mention that he was going up to Baltimore Saturday evening. I casually asked what he was doing, and he said visiting a buddy then launched into a lame diversionary tale. When Roommate asked the same question a little while later, he gave her the same response he’d given me. Verbatim. She, not being in a pseudo-relationship with this guy, was free to call him out on his avoidance of any real answer. Even still, all we got out of it was another lame diversionary tale, this one of much greater length, still with no real details about plans for the evening.

I suppose it was my own naivety that allowed me to assume the Baltimore outing was another guys’ trip. It wasn’t. It involved at least as many girls as guys, from what I gathered when I saw him next. After I found out that fiancées and girlfriends and even just regular old girls who are friends went on this trip, I found myself feeling troubled and insecure. Why didn’t he invite me to go with him? What’s he hiding? Why is he still not letting me meet the friends? Is he hiding me from them? What has he told them about me?

I spent the night tossing and turning in NRA’s bed, waking myself and him on several occasions with loud whimpering noises that signaled I was about to cry in my sleep. I don’t remember my dreams, but I know I woke up feeling just as miserable as I did when we went to bed. The day didn’t make the feelings disappear. In fact, they only intensified.

A huge wave of resentment surfaced when I realized it isn’t just that NRA isn’t including me on all these great, fun times with friends.** It’s hardly just that. When he goes out with his friends, I suffer for it for the next few days at least. He gets obliterated and goes to sleep well after the sun is up when he’s with his friends. And what do I get? I get the shitty hangover days when he’s too tired and sick to get off the couch. I get to listen to him whine about nearly everything. I get to hear he’d rather stay in than go out with me because he dropped $500 last weekend with the boys. I get to hear him tell me he’s too tired for sex. Again.*** Sprinkle all this troubling insecurity and resentment with the bitterness that springs from recalling how NRA pretty much just stopped trying when he found out I wasn’t seeing anyone else and you've got a pretty unhappy Belle here.

When I got home and laid the worries of the day on Roommate’s cutting board, she asked what was making me stick around. I didn’t have an answer for her. And I don’t have an answer for myself.


* In case you didn’t catch that, Boy Toy proposed that Roommate move to some unspecified location with him after two months of unremarkable, un-exclusive dating. Two months. That’s just crazy.
** Great, fun times that he insists on sharing photos and stories from after the fact, mind you, as if he just wants to rub it all in my face.
*** I think I’ve avoided mentioning this little problem in this forum up to this point, but it wasn’t long after we first started having sex that he told me he was too tired one night. This has been repeated on several occasions, despite me being extremely vocal about how I find this behavior inappropriate at this juncture of the relationship. We’re not talking about days when he’s run a marathon, or even gone to the gym, for that matter. Besides, it’s not like the few minutes of mild-to-moderate physical exertion would kill him. I’m not even going to get into the ego-bust it is to hear a member of the horniest demographic on earth repeatedly turn down sex.

Oh the Dreaded V-Day

I’m an idiot.

On one of our first dates, something came up about Valentine’s Day, and I told NRA I hated the pseudo-holiday. I told him I’d always loathed it and probably went on a small tangent about the worthless damned celebration. And when he asked what I’d prefer be done to recognize the day, I said, “Nothing.” And he said, “Just ignore it?!?” And I said, “Yeah.” This sparked a response from him along the lines of, “You’re the most awesome girl ever. Seriously. You’re awesome.”

Did I think at that moment that NRA might still be around several months later to actually put my short-sighted Valentine’s Day request into practice? No. I obviously never think ahead when doing so could be even remotely beneficial to me.

So now the big, stupid freakin’ sorry-excuse-for-a-holiday is right around the corner. And, you know what? I, of course, want something out of the whole stupid freakin’ outlandish candy and greeting card company-created holiday. I want a (small) hoopla made and an exchange of gifts and/or a romantic night out (or in) and some long, tender love-makin’ (or a close approximation thereof), by damn.

The reasons for this desire are pretty obvious to me. In the 24 years preceding 2007, there was not one passing of the 14th of February that involved me being technically involved with another living soul. I’ve never had the sappy, makes-you-want-to-puke-it’s-so-sickly-sweet Valentine’s Day experience. I haven’t even had a cheap knock-off version or a bad carbon copy of the overly-hyped experience.

Heretofore, my preferred method of passing Valentine’s Day involved consuming as much whiskey as possible and discreetly throwing conversation hearts at the backs of happy couples’ heads. But now, like I said, I want to be part of one of those icky couples flaunting their happiness in everyone else’s faces. Or I want, at the very least, to be able to pretend I’m making up one-half of such a monstrosity.

Alas, I opened my mouth and inserted my foot months ago and am only now getting a taste of that previously-chewed gum and sidewalk grime combination that was stuck on the bottom of my shoe at the time.

I was going to hold off on the V-Day ranting until I had a good reason, but I think I might just have one now. During my visit to the Southern Homestead this weekend, The Grams asked what NRA was getting HER for V-Day (The Grams lives for presents… even if they are from strangers). I jokingly relayed her request for flowers or candy to NRA last night, who responded with a literal guffaw and, “I’m not even getting you anything for Valentine’s Day.”

Ouch.

The Grabber: Hope you got your fill, buddy

I agreed to meet The Grabber for the first time at his house one Friday night several months ago. We were to watch Pulp Fiction. When I got there, he poured us some wine, and we settled in to watch the director’s cut. Since we’d both seen the film quite a few times, we talked throughout about various things.

It didn’t take long for me to realize this guy was too self-important for me to have any romantic interest whatsoever in him. His actions indicated he was on about the same page in his feelings toward me. We sat pretty much at opposite ends of his couch, and he kept answering his phone and responding to text messages throughout the evening.

During one of these conversations, he actually reached across the couch and grabbed one of my boobs. He kind of squeezed it and let go. I told him I hoped he’d enjoyed it because that was the only time he’d ever get to touch me. Ever.

At one point during the night he’d picked up his guitar and played a DMB song. He stopped mid-strum to tell me I was lucky. “Usually I make the girls take their shirts off before I’ll play for them.” I rolled my eyes and reminded him that I didn’t request any damn song from him and honestly couldn’t care less whether he played or not.

Yeah, I never saw this guy again. Turns out the creep had slept with The New Yorker’s Pretend Girlfriend anyway. Gross. (I will post about her one of these days. Perhaps even soon. In the mean time, just know: Gross.)

---

And, on a wholly unrelated note, (I’m “hiding” this next little bit in this post because I don’t think SWB has/will read anything on here that isn’t obviously related to him*). He told me last week that his friends offered him money** to stop speaking to me after our last date. He told me he hasn’t told them about the blog, which I might actually consider a justifiable reason to dislike me if they knew about it. From what I gathered, they thought it unacceptable that I didn’t put out after date 4 or 5 or whatever it was. They told him I was bad for his self esteem.

I must stop here to say (again) that I’m fully in favor of friends helping friends out in the insert-penis-in-vagina department whenever is needed/necessary (for the most part I’m talking figuratively. If your friends literally help you with this, I probably don’t want to know about it). But it isn’t like I was a tease or anything. And just because his (and his friends’) agenda was to get him laid as quickly as possible didn’t mean I had to comply. Fuck. He went to Amsterdam in the midst of all this. I even encouraged him to make use of the Red Light District. Whether he did or not, I don’t know, but hell, since when does making out 3 or 4 times constitute an automatic roll in the proverbial hay?

Bad for his self esteem? Try finding out that the friends of someone you thought you were friends with offered to pay that person to never speak to you again. I think I’m most upset because I feel like this means he was just placating me when he said we would be friends. And because I really did want to try to be friends with this guy (although now I’m having trouble remembering why, exactly). If his friends despise me that much, I don’t see a way the two of us can be friends in the real world.

I even dreamed about all this last night. In the dream, SWB and I were at his place watching a movie, and I asked about his last date. The girl had spent the night and actually managed to sleep, despite his tendency to cut down forests in his sleep. He mentioned that the new bedding (yes, he got new bedding! In real life) was a good idea, and I asked to see it. While we were in his room, his roommate came in and began yelling at both of us for my very presence in their place. I got my things together and left.

The whole thing is insulting and upsetting. Of course, as usual, I’ve said nothing to him about being upset (save sharing the dream, to which I got a rather dismissive, “awww…. Who knew you cared so much?” in response). I don’t know if it’s worth mentioning to him at all. I should probably just count him as an entertaining person to talk to while I’m at work and forget I ever met him in real life or something. Or maybe when I actually do see him next (to return the books), I’ll bring this up. Nah. That probably won’t happen. At the rate I’m reading this book, I’ll have forgotten all about this before I finish it.

* And, of course, because part of me secretly hopes he will “stumble” upon it, thereby saving my sometimes-cowardly self from deciding whether to bring it up.
** The money was to replace his favorite book of all time, which I borrowed and which is still in my possession. But, still, it’s money exchanging hands to keep me out of someone’s life.

Killin' time with three strange cats

Since I have a bit of time to kill, I thought I might start going back in time and visiting those lovely little blips on the radar about whom I've yet to pontificate.

PoPo

In his ad, PoPo detailed three not-so-lovely dates he’d had with women he met on CL. Though these women differed from one another greatly (based on his descriptions of them, of course), they had one thing in common: they completely misrepresented themselves to PoPo before meeting him. I was highly amused by his ad and responded with (very) abbreviated versions some of my “favorite” CL stories of guys who turned out to be something other than what they said (Ice Cream Guy and Frank).

PoPo responded to my message almost immediately and asked me out after a couple of witty exchanges. He wanted to meet that evening. I told him that was a bit too fast for me. We hadn’t even exchanged the most basic of information. He apologized, saying he only asked me out because he was about to head into a meeting and wasn’t sure when we would catch each other again, and he told me a bit about himself. The only thing I remember about him now is that he said he was a cop.

Great. Fantastic. All I need is a cop! My best friend from high school is married to a cop. He's an asshole. Most cops are. I happen to believe most cops are overgrown bullies. With guns. And legal backing. I’m not a fan.

I wrote him back, the main bit of information in this message being something along the lines of, “Since you’re in law enforcement, you should know that I occasionally participate in activities deemed illegal in our fine, fine country.”

I never heard from him again.

Lurch

This guy. He’s everywhere. I responded to one of his ads many, many months ago. After going out with shorty after shorty, Lurch’s main selling point for me was his height. He’s tall. Really tall. Lurch tall. We exchanged some instant messages. There was nothing great about him, and contact eventually stopped. After that, he responded to every ad I posted (the one I posted for Roommate… more on that later). When I opened the message and recognized his photos, I told him we’d talked before and it wasn’t going to work. He wanted to know why, said he didn’t remember talking to me, etc., so we had several exchanges. There was nothing flirtatious about them, but we sometimes chatted after that. I viewed him as another dater who occasionally popped up in my buddy window. Just as before, our occasional IMing eventually tapered off, and I removed him from my contacts.

When he responded to Roommate’s ad, I told her to stay away, primarily because he seems to respond indiscriminately to every single ad in Women Seeking Men. When he responded to the next ad I posted for myself, I wrote back to tell him that he’d responded to every single ad I’d posted. This started another round between us, ending when he finally said he didn’t remember what I looked like and asked for my photo. I sent him one I had handy, which was primarily of my face. He asked for my height, weight, and measurements. Something like this transpired next:

Belle: Seriously?
Lurch: Yes
Belle: You get girls to tell you that?
Lurch: Yeah. Unless they have a picture in a bikini.
Belle: Yeah. I’ll get right on that.

Um, so, yeah. I know I could be more fit. I’m doing everyone a favor by not getting in a bikini and doing myself a favor by having no pictures of me in a bikini floating around. But this guy… while his photos depict a reasonably well-proportioned guy, they also depict a freakishly tall guy with features that seem somewhat alien and distorted. I say good luck to him in his quest, but leave me the fuck out of it.

The Blind Guy

Totally bored one afternoon, I responded to a one-liner in the “Strictly Platonic” section of CL requesting an IM buddy. Pretty much immediately, The Blind Guy started grilling me. While I was really just looking for someone to pass time talking with, he seemed to be interviewing me for the very vacant position of Wife. (Or at least Serious Girlfriend.) In no time at all, he was detailing his last relationship and asking me about my dating history.

He told me he was about an hour outside Boston, which made me question why he posted on the D.C. site. (I would’ve also asked why he posted in Strictly Platonic, but by that time I’d seen where he posted in Men Seeking Women, too.) This led to him revealing that he’s been completely blind since birth* and asking if I could handle something like that. I answered honestly; I don’t know if I could handle something like that. I’ve never dated a blind person. Hell, I don’t even know any blind people. To know if I could handle it, I’d have to at least have some exposure to the situation.

What I did know was that I wasn’t in a dating mood that day (which is why I was in Strictly Platonic to begin with) and that when he said he wasn’t even in the area, I wasn’t interested in dating him. Long-distance, from what I gather, is hard enough when it’s between two people who’ve been living and dating in the same place. But going into a relationship with a geographical barrier is even more complicated. And expensive. Besides, it would necessarily lack several of the main things I was looking for in a relationship… having someone to go out with or stay in with, cuddling, kissing, sex more often than not.

We continued to chat, and somehow something about homosexuality came up. He made a statement along the lines of, “I don’t care if people are gay as long as they aren’t flaunting it in your face.” Without touching what I thought to be an odd choice of cliché for this particular person, I told him that it was very important to me that the person I date not have bigoted ideas about homosexuality. He started telling me about the one gay guy he knew, who, you know, was cool about it and all, and how he didn’t mind that the guy was gay because he didn’t flaunt it in his face (that cliché again!).

I was pretty firm in my stance that he wasn’t for me, but he said he didn’t think he was explaining himself well and asked if he could call me. When he called, I said hello then couldn’t get a word in edgewise for the next half hour or so. I probably smoked half a pack of cigarettes while chasing my unreliable cell signal around in the parking lot of my apartment complex. He stressed me out. Even when he asked me a question, he tended to cut me off before I got to deliver my answer. (And, by the way, he did nothing to redeem himself on the whole gay flaunting issue.)

Because of the crap cell service, he mandated that I should call him back when we got our land line in a day or two. The next day when he messaged me, I told him I was infatuated with someone else. He wished me well, and we’ve never spoken again.

* The Blind Guy uses a program that reads Web pages and IM dialogues to him. I can only imagine how annoying that is if you get a person who uses IM speak or can’t spell. He talks into a microphone, and the computer types out what he’s said. Occasionally I got some very strange IMs, which I attributed to computer error and his Boston accent.