Dry spell

I'm finding myself in a bit of a dry spell recently.  On purpose.  I have no mood for dating.

Of course, saying I'm in no mood for dating is counter productive for a dating blog, so I did accept an invitation to dinner from the Russian Spy.  (And in doing a quick search on my blog for the Russian Spy date recap, I realize I failed to write about him, which means I have nothing time stamped and I'll probably end up making the date of the date - ha! - up.)

I do remember wearing a sweater and open toe shoes, so I'm guessing it was around early fall last year.  Let's just go with that, shall we?

He picked me up.  In our prior conversations, which lasted much longer than I usually allow due to his military travel schedule, I found out that he came to the US as a 16-year old with his family and immediately became a US Citizen.  After high school he joined the military and completed medical school and is currently a scientist for the Army, researching really bad stuff like infectious diseases and weapons of mass destruction. 

OK - that kinda sounds like a big turn off right there, but when he showed up to pick me up and I got in his tricked out car with the heated tushy seats and apologized for having to call his grandmother in my presence...then proceeded to have an entire conversation in the sexiest Russian I have ever heard...well, I was hooked.  Our date went so splendidly that evening that I was able to see my very first (and only) uncircumcised penis. 

We made plans for a second date to a very fancy place in town for the next weekend, which he then cancelled on me claiming he had to travel.  We spoke a couple of times afterwards, then I wrote him off because he really didn't have time for a relationship, or at least not the kind that I wanted.

He easily faded into the background. 

Just recently, he's resurfaced.  Not sure why.  But, he sent me a text asking how things were.  I told him about the new job I was starting and how I was nervous.  He very boldly said that he was going to take me out to celebrate.

Um...sure.

Then, he disappeared again, with moments of "I didn't forget about you" texts every couple of weeks. 

Our second date went into effect Friday night.  He once again picked me up and we once again went to the same bar we had our first date at.  Yawn!  I have got to mention one of my pet peeves - don't ask a girl out then NOT have a plan!  If you go so far as to ask me out and pick me up, please just make a plan to go somewhere YOU pick - and stop asking me where I would like to go.  I could care less where we go really...but I am interested to see what kind of effort you put in.

It then dawned on me that I may have been incredibly intoxicated that last time we went out, because 1. I thought the Russian Spy was hot, 2. I thought he was interesting and 3. I thought he had a full head of hair.  He basically spent the whole time telling me about all of the other dates he went on since the last time he saw me.  (Apparently he takes a liking to social workers - of which I am not.) 

I shit you not, I almost walked out of there...until I remembered that I didn't drive myself.  It also has made him crazy that I didn't invite him in, only gave him a goodbye kiss on the cheek and didn't respond to his first text the next day.  Instead of getting the hint that the chemistry wasn't there, he's trying harder.  That whole conversation is not one that I am looking forward to.

Intellectual Inequality

I've been rather quiet the past couple of weeks, but I met someone. Our first date was a meet and greet at a coffee shop in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. Our second date was a couple of days later for sushi and a walk in the park on a particularly sparkling day. Our third date was my suggestion of bowling - which I suggested, followed by several matches of darts - which he suggested because (and I quote) "I just don't want this date to end!"

Neither did I.

He's a kind soul and on paper, a suitable match. And he has 20 inch arms, which for me is as big of a draw as a hairy chest! He is, however, kinda dumb. OK, not even close to kind of. Talking to him makes me feel like I'm speaking to a five year old. I find myself using very basic language and even then I get a quizzical look from him. Can people find happiness with someone who does not have the same intellectual capacity? Or is this just a futile effort on my part?

Real men don't eat "morsels"

I used to like morsels.  Little chocolate drops of goodness in my cookies, patented by Nestle Toll House.  Now, when I hear the word, a chill goes down my spine and gives me the willies - and all because I once went on a couple of dates with a guy who refused to eat normal sized meals.  It was just weird. 

For the record, I know that's a pretty shitty reason not to pursue a relationship with someone.  The actual excuse I gave was his clingy'ness was overwhelming - which it was - but his appetite of a bird was the true reason for the separation.  If there is one thing I know about my rules of attraction, is that I like manly men.  Manly men don't eat bite sized meals, just like they don't eat quiche...they scarf down 20 oz. steaks!  If I'm cooking for a man, I want him to eat my food with gusto and help himself to seconds, not pick at the plate like a little girl. 

We chatted for a while before meeting.  This was way before I was suckered into creating a profile on-line.  I was scoping out the awesome men on the Craigslist Personals.  (Which honestly, in my experience is creepy, but did produce better dates than the ones I met on an actual "dating site.") He was a genuinely nice guy - new to the area, a professional photographer specializing in naturalist art.  He asked me out for dinner to a lovely Thai place and thus is started.

I was famished when I arrived for the date and really excited to try their pad thai, which is one of my favorite dishes.  Even now, my mouth is watering just typing about it!  I glanced at the menu, but I knew what I had my heart set on, so when the waitress came over to take our order, I didn't hesitate at all.  Of course, this is also when I learned that you should discuss your food choice with your date.  I excitedly ordered the pad thai, extra spicy, and he ordered an appetizer. 

The thought and worry that went through my mind at that time were a little "female crazy."  Did I misunderstand him when he said he wanted to go to dinner?  Did I unknowingly order the most expensive thing on the menu?  Why isn't he eating?  Did he already peg me for someone he wasn't interested in, so he ordered something small so that he could get out the date fast?  Can he not afford this place?  I'm going to be eating in front of him while he sits and watches me!  I should've ordered something small too, because now I feel like I'm going to owe him!  God, he thinks I'm a fatso.  I know...I'll just eat half and take the rest to go - - or offer to share.  Ahhh....what if he pulls that move that you see in movies where the guy feeds the girl?  That's so stupid.  Fuck that!  If he wants to eat off my plate without swapping spit first, I'm outta here.  Oh god, my stomach just growled.  Wait!  Here comes my food! 

Yup.  That was pretty much the internal monologue I had.

And true to form, he finished his 3 dumplings first, and I ate in front of him for the next 15 minutes. 

After our plates were collected (and my leftovers put into a handy container for me to take home), I asked him why he didn't order a meal. 

"I like small morsels of food."

Honestly, I didn't know where to go from there.  Obviously, the men I've dated or had relationships in the past were great big food loving hogs - and I appreciated that.  This whole thing was so new to me, and not new in a good way.  The date ended casually, he walked me to my car and gave me a big hug before we parted ways.  I immediately texted a friend who was out with a couple of girlfriends - and met them out for a nightcap. 

"Guys...he eats morsels. What the fuck are morsels?  That's just weird."

"Stop finding the perceived negative in people and just give him a chance for fuck's sake.  You are being way to shallow." 

That's my girl...always ready to kick my ass the way real friends do.

Mr. Morsel didn't wait until the pre-requisite 3 days to call me again.  I heard from him the next day, asking me out again for the next weekend.  I swallowed my shallowness and said yes, thinking I can play this game and eat small bites too.  Funny thing, he suggested a fancier place with a well known chef who is known for their small bites - mainly a dish made of pork belly.  (Yum.  I've only heard rumors of this pork belly dish and now was excited about my own morsel experience!)

Second date was good and lasted for hours.  Plates of morsels littered our table as we both picked at the spread before us.  This date ended with a kiss, which was very nice.  It happened in the street between our cars and actually caused a pedestrian to whistle and proclaim that it was inspiring to see two people in love.  Ummm...

The getting to know you phase lasted another couple of weeks, followed by a dinner at my house, which I painstakingly prepared and filled with, you guessed it, small morsels.  That's when I realized that I hated cooking in that way and the constant state of cling'dom came on full force.  This was not going to work. 

And really, it wasn't him...it was me.  Some people have their quirks and although his as such a small drop in the bucket, I couldn't deal with it.  Food is so sensual, and the preparation of food in particular.  It's a way for me to show my desire for someone - and in this entire dating cycle, he is the only one I've ever prepared a "meal" for...and it sadly, just didn't work for me.  

Truth be told, there is someone out there that will snatch him up in a heartbeat.  That someone just wasn't me.

Reflection

A couple of weeks ago I met a lawyer after work for dinner and drinks.  It was a lovely date...a beautiful restaurant, nice bottle of wine, interesting conversation and a sweet kiss at the end.  The guy is semi accomplished as a bankruptcy lawyer, is well spoken and looks a lot like Matt Damon from some angles, but as the weeks passed I realized that...I just wasn't into him. 

He didn't do anything particularly creepy.  He wasn't too aggressive or forward.  I'm simply not attracted to him. 

I find myself in these situations quite often.  Guys look great on paper, and then I meet them and there's absolutely no spark, either mentally or physically or both.  It's frustrating, and it's hard to talk to my friends about it because I get accused of being too picky and not giving people a chance.  I often worry about that because I am quick to move on to the next prospect.  I'm trusting my insticts...but I'm also making a mental comparison against these seemingly good guys. 

I have what I consider a "perfect man" (for me) in my head.  My ultimate boyfriend, let's say.  When I think of this imaginary person, I actually envision a face of someone who is very special to me...a guy who I've been involved with for three years now...a guy who is married and never leaving his wife.  It's true.  I compare potential suitors to a man that will never actually be my suitor because he's what makes me feel like a million bucks when times are good.  Even though he has several issues of his own (besides being a married man who cheats) I still have a hard time looking past that and seeing other guys for who they are, or may become over time.

When I started dating my ex many moons ago, I was not immediately in love with him.  He was fun, and funny and could hold a conversation even though he couldn't retain said conversation worth shit!  As we hung out more I could feel myself falling for him.  I know that is the natural progression of things, and yet now...I can't seem to get through that second date without wanting to run for the hills.

I wonder if I am actually ready for a relationship or if I'm just dating to date because society tells me that every woman should have a man?  I wonder if I continue to have this relationship with someone who in unattainable because I know subconsciencely that I don't have to worry about being his girlfriend and all the stress that comes from that.  It's like I'm attached...but not.  I still have someone asking me how my day was and being attentive to my physical needs, yet not have to ask permission or justify the time I spend with my friends.  Unfortunately, the catch 22 is that I do want someone to spend holidays with, bring home to meet mom and spend my nights with.

Thinking about all of this is quite frustrating and eye opening.  I don't really like that person that I seem to have become.  That girl who is easily satisfied with having a long term affair.  That girl who lies to herself that it's totally OK - because it's not.  I want and deserve more, but I'm not letting myself have it.

Sigh.

Miz A isn't following her rules too well...

You know Rule #3, Quality over Quantity?  Yeah well, since I'm having a hard time finding Quality, I might as well pursue Quantity.  After all, maybe internet dating plays by the 10% rule - - out of every 10 dates, only 1 will be good.  That seems so sad.

I have a full weekend booked, starting today:

Thursday - outdoor free concert, followed by drinks at a local pub with a guy I met last week at the dog park.  He's too young and short for me, and he already told me that he doesn't like sex - so this is a courtesy date, because sex is too important for me to give up and I'm too old to be a teacher.  Ha! 

Friday - dinner and drinks at a local brewery with a guy that I'm very interested in meeting.  I'm definitely getting the "fun" vibe from him, especially when he recounted his tales of his Memorial Day Weekend.  If I know myself like I think I do, I will probably arrive with great expectations and be disappointed.  The only thing that I will be keen on, is that I've met several people at this particular hot spot and the last time I was on a blind date there, a guy I had previously met was also sitting at the bar, staring.  Awkward!!!!

Saturday - movies with the Pilot, a man which I have yet to blog about.  That's forthcoming.

Sunday - destination and activity yet to be determined with a bodybuilder who also goes to my gym and often does cardio on the treadmills right by the yoga room so I can see his face in the mirror.  I'm hoping this second date will be less of an interview, like the first one was.  He's totally my type though - tall, dark and handsome with a killer body and NO KIDS or ex wives.  I may also try to fit an afternoon date in on Sunday as well, because you know...go big or go home.

"Miz A, you are a playa!" ~ my sister

Yes.  Yes, I am...but not by the Urban Dictionary, whose definition says "A male who uses women for sex or other favors usually by charming the girl till they fall in love with them. A lot of guys do this in order to be a "playa" cuz in our modern society it is (by idiotic dickheads) "cool" and "hip" to be labeled as a "playa". A female version of this would be slut." Wait?  What?!

It's funny that I am playing the field as much as any guy out there, and I am labeled a slut, because I don't have a penis (that you know of!  LOL).  It's true that I have had a couple of one-night stands...but it's also true that I have held my vagina in high regard and have tried to find someone worthy of it's greatness.  It sickens me that sexual labels are handed out like candy and often times, it's the women who a given a demeaning name.  Labelers need to grow up and realize that women are sexual beings who should not be thumbed down! 

However, that being said, I totally rejected someone based on their sexual background...or rather, the sexual background that he admitted to me...after I joked that I would go out with him for "research".    Which included a stint as a Chippendale dancer.  Naturally, because I've seen quite a bit of porn, my first question after that reveal was "So, have you ever had sex at a party in front of everyone?"  The answer was a YES - in capitals.  With an explanation about how exciting it was, followed by a picture of his cock (which wasn't that impressive) and an explicit proposition.  I'm pretty sure that he probably has a video of himself somewhere on the internet, and who knows, I may have seen it.  Too forward, too creepy, too dangerous for me.

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.