Being stood up, revisited

Since things aren't working out with the Cub, and the Forehead Kisser got offered a job in Atlanta and will be packing up and leaving town in as little as two weeks, I decided that Memorial Day weekend would be FILLED with many first dates...and so it was.  But I digress, because there is one incident that I couldn't wait to blog about.

I got a message that literally made my blood start to boil.  Remember this guy?  The asshole that stood me up to my face?  He came out of the woodwork this weekend. 

Him: What's new with you?

(Pause, pause, pause. Here is the internal struggle with answering this email.  Men are idiots.  Did this guy accidentally contact me because he didn't recognize my new picture, or because he's offering an olive branch, or because him standing me up didn't even make a blip on his radar?  Hmmmm...)

Me: Are you kidding me?

You stood me up...to my face when we had plans to meet  for the Syracuse vs. UConn game. Remember? You were sitting at the bar, wearing an Orange sweater, I walked in with a black coat on, you have me a look of disgust, shook your head and turned your back.

I don't know what's worse, the fact that you're less of a man, and cheap to boot, and couldn't buy me a $5 beer (which I bought for myself because I wasn't going to walk into a bar and walk back out), or that you texted me saying you were on your way AFTER you rejected me making me believe that I was some kind of
blind, dumb idiot. And please don't try to say it wasn't you...not only were you easy to pick out of a crowd, but I heard someone call you by your name.

That's some kind of game you have there. Honestly, if you didn't find me physically attractive, you should've just sucked it up, bought me a beer and said that you didn't feel we were a match. It happens, and its a lot easier to swallow than what you pulled, which really hurt my feelings.

Him: I honestly didn't go to the bar that night....I would tell you if I did....I had several bad dates off here and figured when we were going to meet it was going to be another one....but that really wasn't me...I'm sorry for standing you up... 

Me: I wish I was born yesterday, so I believed you.  Regardless, you wasted my time and made me feel worthless. Just for the record, I'm not a bad date. I'm fun, sometimes silly and an excellent conversationalist. I
could have a good time with a rock. But that's ok...after I finished the beer I bought for myself, I went home, put on the sexist dress in my closet - the one that shows off my cleavage - and headed out to the fundraiser that I was going to skip to go out with you. It ended up being a good night. 

Him: lol....your attitude is priceless....look you seemed like a cool chick...I'm sorry I stood you up...we are both still on here so maybe we should try again? how about I make it up to you and take you for a ride on my Harley today?

Me: Thank you, but no thanks.  You have yourself a good holiday weekend.

Him: I won't stand you up.....are you afraid to ride on the Harley? Please?  I'd really like to meet you.

Him: Just give me a second chance.  

(Repeat 4 more times with the same kind of plea.)


I think that someone's bad karma is catching up with them and that makes me giddy with happiness.  (Which is probably bad karma for me.)  I would love to know WHY he contacted me again and why he thought I would jump at the chance to put my life in the hands of a stranger. 

Mr. Could-You-Be-More-Wrong?

So, there's this really cute guy that just moved to the area. 

He can't drive in a neighboring State until 2015 because he got a DWI. 

And, he was a Chippendale's dancer. 

I'm going to take one for the team and go on a date with this guy this weekend because I just know there's going to be a great blog post out of it.  It's research.  You can thank me later. 

G-O-O-G-L-E

"Research me, you'll find me...click those keys and google me."

I've been googled!  I must say, it is very unsettling to go out on a date with someone and have them bring up things you know you haven't shared with them because they googled your name, or found your profile on Facebook. 

Now, don't get me wrong - I've googled many a first date.  But, I don't get all stalker'ish and bring up any of my findings or pretend that I know them as well as I know my best friend because I saw some college pictures of them in a random newspaper story on-line!  What made it even creepier is that this particular person found another blog I write, went through the entire thing (I started it in 2007) and gave me a handwritten page of grammatical, spelling and punctuation corrections that he said he "noticed."  I've never felt the need to bounce out of a bar so quickly -- and I might actually have to give up that bar now because he revealed that he frequents the place often and has actually seen me on dates. 

That sucks.

I wonder what kind of upbringing someone experienced to be such a weirdo?  Although I didn't ask...I'd put money on the fact that this guy probably lives in his mother's basement and kills cats. 

Did he just kiss my forehead?!

Let me preface this blog post with the statement, I am not in an exclusive relationship.  I date.  I sometimes sleep with guys (a girl has needs) and have fun, while playing the field.  Should the moment come along where I meet a special guy that I actually want to be solely with, I will stop being "single."  (Believe me, I'm scared shitless about this - but that's an entirely different blog post for a later time.)

I've been seeing this guy for several months now - in between dates with the Cub, which incidentally have grown more infrequent as time progresses.  This guy is nice.  He's tall, good looking, has a great job, is intelligent, has a wonderful sense of humor and treats me like a goddess.  Besides all of that, he never lets me pay for anything - an act that I have tried several times because I don't feel like the man should always open their wallets.  We actually have fairly decent chemistry, in and out of the bedroom.  He strives to make me laugh, which honestly isn't hard, but he has this little smile that he does when he knows I'm looking at him that cracks me up every single time.  However, if you've been reading this blog you know that there must be something wrong with him because that's the kind of luck I have...so what is wrong with him, you say?  Well, a couple of things...

He has a significant limp.  At 19 he twisted his ankle while playing basketball and while in the emergency room additional tests were performed on his leg due to a numbing feeling that proceeded this injury.  The numbness was a result of a cancerous tumor that had wrapped around his spinal cord, probably for years prior.  He went into surgery immediately, but the doctors were unable to remove all of the tumor due to it's positioning.  If they had, he would be a paralyzed from the neck down.  They took what they could, and every five years or so he must have the same surgery to remove more of the growth.  The result is a semi-paralyzed leg and a limp.  It's a really sad, unfortunate story, and honestly, it makes me tear up to know that he was once this athlete that now can't even climb stairs easily. 

He's also not local.  His house is in Georgia (Southern Gentleman!) and he has been living out of a hotel room for over half a year while working on this particular long-term contract.  He travels for work a lot.  He's usually gone 4 out of 10 days. Due to this, he's not looking for a serious relationship, just dating and fun times, which he's been upfront and honest about from the beginning.  His contract for this particular job may be ending soon and he'll be once again temporarily relocated to another part of the country.  So, I understand him wanting to keep things light.  In the same token, I do see him a couple of times a week, and am getting to know him pretty well...trying to keep *my* feelings in check is a little tougher because I do genuinely like him.

We went out to dinner a couple of weeks ago to this rustic steak house, because I had mentioned in passing that I was craving red meat.  He went all out - much to my waistline's chagrin.  Appetizers, salad course, entree, dessert and a couple of bottles of wine to wash it down with.  During that dinner, I was able to peel away some of the layers that he was keeping.  His family is very well off to the point where it's ridiculous, starting with his grandparents who owned a company out of Boston.  His father was a high profile military guy before retiring and his parents live out in Orange County, California.  I couldn't stop laughing when he explained that his grandmother is a modern day Mr. T because she likes to wear every single piece of gold jewelery that she owns.  He's never flaunted any of this, which makes me even more impressed with him. 

Of all the sports he played, he misses golf the most.  He was once a really good competitive golf player, which earned him a full college scholarship - which after his accident, he had to give up.  He's a provider in the sense where he would rather his future wife stayed home to raise his children, or worked only to satisfy her desire to stay satisfied, instead of working to pay the bills.  This dynamic is a bit of a tradition in his family centering on the values he had been brought up with.  He also claimed to "not be good" with women, which I think is also a by-product of the limp.

It's hard to get past these issues, not that I'm at that point anyway, but it's hard not to think about, especially when he gives mixed signals from time to time.  Like, the other night we were hanging out in his hotel room watching TV.  I had my head resting on his thigh, he was rubbing my back and I must have fallen asleep for a split second.  In that in-between state of snoozing and knowing, I felt his thumb brush my cheek and he kissed me on the forehead.  It was gentle and confusing and I found myself questioning if he was starting to feel something for me.

Later that same night, a commercial came on that showcased a cul-de-sac neighborhood and he asked "Can you ever imagine yourself living there?"  I wondered if he remembered that he told me his house in Georgia was on a cul-de-sac.

There has got to be a guy out in cyberland who can explain what this means, if anything!

My gut tells me that for all of the "I don't want to be in a relationship" proclamations, he does.  And, I think he might want to with me.  Yesterday he sent me a text telling me that he thinks I'm simply amazing because I don't mold myself to be anything other than me.  This scares me almost as much as the thought of a spider landing on my face does.  I want a relationship, I really do...but I also like being single and not having to answer to anyone except myself.  There's no pressure to spend the night with anyone, or answer their phone calls at the drop of a hat, or plan your weekends around their availability.  I'm afraid of losing my identity. 

What makes it even harder if that I'm a tad bit superficial.  The limp is keeping me from even talking about him to my friends.  I'm totally hiding him, and that's horrible.  I'm a horrible person!  It's not that I'm embarrassed to be seen with him or anything, quite the contrary.  But, I don't want to shove him into a position where he has to explain himself and I don't want to be the one saying "listen...don't make fun of this guy because he limps.  No Forrest Gump references!"  (Because as soon as you mention something like that, it's the first thing on everyone's mind.)  He's also limited in what he can do physically.  No walks, no parks, no fairs, no hiking - all things I like to do, and do with someone special are swiped off the table completely.

I'm not closing the book by any means.  Listen, time is all we have, so I plan to just ride the wave and see what happens.  His job could be over in two weeks...or go another year.  He could be dating someone else as well.  He could feel my fear of commitment and decide that it's not worth it.  Whatever the case, someday, one happy woman will have this man all to herself and thank her lucky stars because he is just that kind of guy, underneath the issues that I can't help but see in him.