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.

Good Lord

"I-I-I-I-I-Iiiiii'm a saaaaaa-lesman for a lo, lo, local technical c-c-c-c-ompany, like that.  I have a, a, a, a, a, nephew, like that.  He's four, like that.  I'dddddd li-li-like kids some d-d-d-daaaaaay, like that."

Date night...with a stutterer who also has a weird verbal tick. 

Seriously?  Do I even have to type the whole experience out?  You get it, right?  One of the hardest first (and only) dates I have ever been on. 

The Cougar vs. the Cub, Part II

I spent Sunday afternoon doing one of my (new) favorite things - watching a live sporting event.  Now, most probably wouldn't call flag football an event, but when you are watching your cub take control on the field and you start to feel your insides get all mushy when he smiles and waves from the sidelines, you kinda start to think of it as an event. 

There is something about the way an athlete carries himself...his center of gravity, the way his feet are so sure on the ground, the gentle sway of his hips and shoulders and where to put his hands - it all exudes this sure-of-self demeanour that for the life of me, I really can't even explain without getting all giggly.  I've never really paid attention to the confidence in the way an athlete moves, until now.  Funny thing is, I only noticed it when my cub ran to the woods to take a leak!  How can something that I've never noticed until now, turn me on so much about this person?  It's so strange.

There's a certain feeling of pride and scariness about watching someone in their element.  I was able to tell in very short notice that the cub is very respected on his team, both with the players and the coaches.  He had his teammate's backs on the field and off - - and when the referee started to make some bogus calls, it was the cub who chilled the team out and got them re-focused.  You can just tell when someone loves what they are doing - and sports is this guy's thing.  I asked him later that night what sport he absolutely refuses to watch, and he replied with "soccer."  A true American!  The scary part comes when I start thinking about if I'm good enough to be with this person.  I'm not the girl who can be the trophy on someones arm...I just don't have that kind of face or body.  All throughout the game I found myself wondering if the cub was going to come over to me afterward, or if he would keep me hidden away - not speak to me until we were alone.  I don't know why I thought this, since we have been out a couple of times...IN PUBLIC...and he's made no intent to make people think he wasn't with me.  It's that whole non-athlete self-doubt coming into play!  And, sure enough, after the last minutes of the clock counted down, and his team lost by 1 point, he jogged over to my seat on the bleachers, leaned in front of me and gave me the sweetest kiss, smudging a bit of mud on my nose in the process.  He proceeded to tell me that I looked nice (I was in yoga gear) and that he had to shower or he would totally stink me out. 

Dare I say this...but he seems to kinda like me.

In about 10 minutes, we were sitting in his car staring at each other, trying to figure out where we could go that was private for a little make out session.  :)  The cub had a family event in the same town an hour later and going back to my place wouldn't work since it's a 35 minute trip one way.  It was way too nice of a day for the park, which was teaming with all kinds of weirdos, so jokingly I threw out the idea of the cemetery.  I swear I was joking!  At first.  Then, I kind of melted into the idea - you know, besides being completely disrespectful to the dead and all.  If I start to feel haunted, I'll know that it was a bad idea!

The cub parked the car in the back of the lot and we both climbed into the back seat in the most hurried fashion I've ever seen.  The cub at least got out of the car to get into the back, whereas I climbed right over the seat divider.  Classy.  We made out in the backseat, which progressed to more when we realized that the seats folded down all the way and the tinted windows would hide any exposed skin. 

In about an hour, we both collapsed into each other and stayed that way until the cub realized that he was 30 minutes late for his family gathering!  Ops.  It was then, that he ran into the woods to pee and I came to my athlete epiphany while watching him from the car.  I found myself smiling to the point that when he returned to the car, he asked me what was going on.  All I could do was nod my head and internalize it. 

I'm really attracted to this guy who is so many years my junior.  It's totally lust - but there are nights when we talk for hours and I forget that he's only 23 and it scares me.  I guess we shall wait to see how this all plays out....

The Cougar vs. The Cub

To quote a friend, "young boys have their place in any good rotation."

I went out for drinks with a very young 23 year old last night.  I am not anywhere close to the age of 23...in fact, if you invert the numbers and add a couple of years, then you've got my age.  This boy was not only young and tall (6'3'') but incredibly handsome and had muscles for days - obviously an athlete.  

Our date got off to a slightly awkward start when he asked his buddy to tag along.  I was thinking "what the hell?  This is not a tag team situation!"  Luckily, there was no intention of that happening, but my young cub did admit that he felt more comfortable having a wingman in case I was a weirdo.  Totally understandable.  Can you imagine if I started showing up for dates with a posse in tow?  That sounds like a little bit of awesome!  Anyway, about 5 minutes into the date, it then became a game of "lose the wingman."  

We were chatting it up, sitting entirely too close to each other, when I decided that I was going to offer up the first challenge of the night...I told my cub that there would be something very special in store for him if he could tie a cherry stem using only his mouth.  (This trick also shows me if he will be useful in other areas too.)  For someone who claims that he never tied a cherry stem before, he sure busted out a perfect knot awfully fast!
  

The something special came about an hour and a half later when the wingman left, our tab was paid and my cub went into the men's room before we departed to check out another local hangout.  I very smoothly snuck in behind him, grabbed his hand and led him into the only bathroom stall.  He pinned me against the wall and started to kiss me, grinding himself into my pelvis.  I let my hands do a little traveling, then unbuckled his belt and...well, you know.  


Here's the minor issue when getting frisky in the men's room - besides guys walking in and out constantly.  Sometimes, to keep your balance, you accidentally steady yourself with your bare hand on the pee soaked toilet rim!  So disgusting!!!  Then, you have to keep that hand completely out of commission for the rest of the act which can be difficult, especially if you're dealing with what my cub was packin'!  By far, the biggest penis I have ever experienced....not only lengthy, but incredibly girthy.  


We darted out of the bathroom afterwards and headed over to another bar to play some darts.  My cub was definitely in an affectionate state of mind the rest of the evening.  There was inappropriate touching during the dart hand-off, stolen kisses right out in public viewing (I guess they weren't really "stolen" but describing them that way is terribly romantic) and the second challenge of the evening!  To be honest, I can't remember what the challenge was - - but I do know that I won it and got to pick my own prize, which I collected on when we finally got to my place.  ;)  Yep...


I'm fairly sexually driven.  My drive was nothing compared to that of my hunky 23 year old.  What a fucking animal! No downtime for me at all, so I'm not only sore in all the right places, but I'm also a walking zombie with a serious case of beard burn all over my face!  By the first light of daybreak, I graduated to being one of those girls who just lays there.  I just couldn't move anymore.  It didn't matter, if he wanted me somewhere, he just picked me up and plopped me down with absolutely no effort at all.  My alarm clock didn't have to wake me...there was no sleeping last night.  Not even a little snooze.  However, the shower that I thought would re-energize me turned into another round when he surprised me by throwing open the curtain and hopping in.  So, today at work, I look and feel spent.  My hair is a mess because I did a half-assed shampoo job, I barely used soap, my legs and pits are hairy, I'm pretty sure that I didn't apply deodorant and it looks like to got dressed trying to keep someone's hands from ripping off my clothes - which I was.  (Not to mention the aforementioned beard burn and sore girlie parts.)  


Before walking out to our cars to return to the land of the well-rested, he pulled me to him and said "I will get to see you again, right?"  Oh cubber, you will...if this old cougar can keep up, and only on a Friday or Saturday and NOT A WEEK NIGHT!  I may need to start eating my Wheaties!