One month into online dating and I am already feeling bored, frustrated and a little sad. Even with the best intentions of viewing this only as a social experiment and a project to fill my time, I can't help but allow feelings of loneliness and fear to creep in. That silent and pounding thought of "being alone forever" hums in my heart if I am not consciously batting it away.
I am about 97% certain I won't meet the man of my dreams or even a 3 month boyfriend online. Ok, that I can handle. The flip side...WHERE will I meet him? The last time I met a boy I even remotely considered as a potential interest was months ago while I was in the midst of a nervous breakdown in Minnesota after the supposed love of my life dumped me in the most brutal way possible. But I met this beautiful and interesting boy in a bar around 2am (I think). This was after I sat alone at a dingy bar literally crying in my beer in the corner for about 4 hours. We spent some time together that weekend and I still think about him. Too bad I was such a disaster and he lives a million miles away. And let's not forget, I met him in a BAR.
It is absurd to hope to meet him at work. My office environment gives very few opportunities of meeting anyone other than the delivery guys. So this really leaves only one other option. Yoga.
I have been religiously attending yoga for a few months now. Ever since evil farm boy dropped me like a hot potato and ran like the wind, I was having these night terrors trying to fall asleep at night. Wicked panic attacks that would last until I drank mouth fulls of codeine cough syrup. This seemed like a good solution at the time ok! I knew I needed to find a better solution though. The next morning my head would feel like I slept in the dryer (set to permanent press) the night before. So in lieu of begging my doctor for cases of Xanax and probably overdosing due to my sleep eating disorder, I listened to my mom and ex-therapist and joined a yoga class.
I was so nervous the first time I went. Panicked is putting it mildly. My entire body was vibrating and sweating. I walked into class looking like a human sprinkler and vomited my story of heartbreak and psychiatric issues to the yoga instructor. He was kind and calm and cute and told me some bullshit about how thoughts aren't real, blah, blah, blah. I was just trying not to pass out from fear. After a few classes I began to notice my strength and flexibility increasing and realized I wasn't having any trouble falling asleep. In so many ways, I feel like yoga saved me from going off the deep end. I made it through one of the toughest times in my life without breaking into a million pieces. I am forever grateful for that.
Fast forward a few months to last Thursday as I was driving home from work I saw the most perfect rainbow. It was a complete arc and every color was so distinct. It looked like it was going to rain again but I walked to yoga anyway. I was drenched by the time I got there and I was alone with the yoga instructor. We talked for awhile and it seemed nobody else was going to show up so I said we can forget class...it's just too weird to do yoga alone at the gym. He said "we could go grab a beer and watch the football game." Be still my heart. I looked at him and fully recognized I have developed a massive crush on this man. It didn't really occur to me at first and I probably put it out of my mind because I didn't want anything to ruin yoga for me. But this is the first time in years I have met someone in the light of day, became friendly with first and felt my heart go pitter patter. Unfortunately some other people showed up for class. He helped me into an arm stand and as I was standing on my head, trusting he wouldn't let me fall, I wondered if he was looking down and liking me too. Concentrate woman...not breaking my neck should really take precedence. He gave me a ride home that night. It was still raining. So now what do I do? I keep (ironically) repeating a mantra in my head. "I will not become romantically involved with my yoga instructor. I will not become romantically involved with my yoga instructor. I will not become romantically involved with my yoga instructor." Every time I have tried this attempt at resistance in the past I have failed miserably. I tend to the exact opposite of what is "right."
So tomorrow is a big day. I move into my new "corner" office and I go to yoga class with my heart filled with all the hope and expectation of a 16 year old girl.
I have an online date scheduled for Wednesday so hopefully I will be off this tangent and back on track with my next blog. My heart will thank me for playing it safe right?
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Dates #2 & 3 aka Sick Cyclist and Nice Guy
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I started to get excited for my second date. We made plans to go to dinner and then a comedy club. I was leaning towards going to see the local production of “Guys and Dolls” but he bought tickets for D.L. Hughley. Going to see an African American sitcom star turned political pundit is an interesting choice for a first date but I am always down for new experiences.
I had a few butterflies in my stomach as I was getting ready for him to pick me up. I actually spent more than 5 minutes on my hair and felt cute in my short, purple hippy dress. His pictures looked good. 42 years old, in great shape, almost an innocence to his eyes. His emails and phone calls had a smooth, positive tone, if not a little high pitched. There was probable hope. Until I walked outside.
He pulled up to my apartment building in his cherry red Audi and he looked great from a distance. Nice clothes, shoes and (obviously) car but as I got close enough for a hug I began to guesstimate how many hours until the date would be over. He looked sick, as in ill, as in he has cancer and took a break from an intense round of chemo to take me out for a few hours. Seeing what he ordered for dinner, which looked like parakeet food next to my sea bass and baked potato, I started to wonder if he was anorexic. He said he rides his bike a lot. A lot being very subjective. Ish.
Dinner went fine and the comedy club was well dark, in more ways than one. I felt very white and blond and didn’t quite get the jokes especially the ones about giving his daughter a bath and having to put lotion on rashes in unmentionable places. I took cues from the lady across from me who was laughing so hard with her entire body that the table would shake. I tried to fit in.
My date never turned around and looked at me except to ask if I wanted something more to drink. I think he was disappointed my hair wasn’t curly as it is in ONE of my pictures online. No, that’s not true, I know he was disappointed because he said so. Ouch. He also made a couple more underhanded remarks that I smiled thru at the time but seemed to insinuate that he thought I was a little boring and weird.
I happily survived the rest of the evening by looking at the back of his bald head instead of his gaunt face with sunken in eyes. I was pretending to pay attention to the show but mostly I was trying to decipher why it smelled (reeked) like Doritos in that room. I will forever now associate D.L. Hughley with the smell of nacho cheese corn chips. What the frick happened to smoky, alcohol laden, sticky floored bars!
He dropped me off at home, opened the car door and gave me a hug, never to be seen again. I think we both drew a sigh of relief when we parted ways.
My lunch on Sunday with Date #3 went remarkably well. He was cute, showed up 10 minutes late and we talked for almost three hours. Yeah, I dunno. He was normal and I could imagine myself kissing him so that says a lot. He did make a weird gagging noise when I ordered fish tacos but my best friend does the same thing. Bitchface.
Other than that I enjoyed his company. He likes animals, cares about the environment and laughed at some of my jokes. Amazing! He is probably too nice of a guy and I would chew him up and spit him out after a couple of dates but at least he gave me some hope. I apologize in advance.
Back to work to find my next victim to take me out this weekend.
I had a few butterflies in my stomach as I was getting ready for him to pick me up. I actually spent more than 5 minutes on my hair and felt cute in my short, purple hippy dress. His pictures looked good. 42 years old, in great shape, almost an innocence to his eyes. His emails and phone calls had a smooth, positive tone, if not a little high pitched. There was probable hope. Until I walked outside.
He pulled up to my apartment building in his cherry red Audi and he looked great from a distance. Nice clothes, shoes and (obviously) car but as I got close enough for a hug I began to guesstimate how many hours until the date would be over. He looked sick, as in ill, as in he has cancer and took a break from an intense round of chemo to take me out for a few hours. Seeing what he ordered for dinner, which looked like parakeet food next to my sea bass and baked potato, I started to wonder if he was anorexic. He said he rides his bike a lot. A lot being very subjective. Ish.
Dinner went fine and the comedy club was well dark, in more ways than one. I felt very white and blond and didn’t quite get the jokes especially the ones about giving his daughter a bath and having to put lotion on rashes in unmentionable places. I took cues from the lady across from me who was laughing so hard with her entire body that the table would shake. I tried to fit in.
My date never turned around and looked at me except to ask if I wanted something more to drink. I think he was disappointed my hair wasn’t curly as it is in ONE of my pictures online. No, that’s not true, I know he was disappointed because he said so. Ouch. He also made a couple more underhanded remarks that I smiled thru at the time but seemed to insinuate that he thought I was a little boring and weird.
I happily survived the rest of the evening by looking at the back of his bald head instead of his gaunt face with sunken in eyes. I was pretending to pay attention to the show but mostly I was trying to decipher why it smelled (reeked) like Doritos in that room. I will forever now associate D.L. Hughley with the smell of nacho cheese corn chips. What the frick happened to smoky, alcohol laden, sticky floored bars!
He dropped me off at home, opened the car door and gave me a hug, never to be seen again. I think we both drew a sigh of relief when we parted ways.
My lunch on Sunday with Date #3 went remarkably well. He was cute, showed up 10 minutes late and we talked for almost three hours. Yeah, I dunno. He was normal and I could imagine myself kissing him so that says a lot. He did make a weird gagging noise when I ordered fish tacos but my best friend does the same thing. Bitchface.
Other than that I enjoyed his company. He likes animals, cares about the environment and laughed at some of my jokes. Amazing! He is probably too nice of a guy and I would chew him up and spit him out after a couple of dates but at least he gave me some hope. I apologize in advance.
Back to work to find my next victim to take me out this weekend.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Vintage Online Dating Story #1 aka Marine Biologist in my Pink Dress
This isn’t my first attempt at online dating. I tried the first time about 8 years ago when I moved to a new city far from home. It was lonely, I was bored and I still believed in true love. After what transpired, I know I must be insane to subject myself to this again.
Because this was the prehistoric era of online dating, most people did not post photos. Looking back it is bizarre to think I would actually decide to meet boys without having ANY idea what they looked like. But I went ahead and plugged my computer into the phone jack and began to “surf the web.”
The first guy I met was…how do I put this…a bible thumping stalker? I guess that is pretty accurate. He actually took me to see Pat Green before Pat Green was popular so I will give him props for that. (I had just moved to Texas and I remember seeing all the 20 year old boys in Wranglers and cowboy hats. Heavenly.) I am agnostic with my beliefs bordering on atheism so continuous talk about Jesus ain’t gonna cut it with me. I possibly could have overlooked his Christianity if I wouldn’t have come home from work one day and found him sitting outside my apartment in between the bushes and the sidewalk. Sigh. Do I REALLY need to call the police again?
The second guy I met was nice. He liked my cats, gave me rides to the airport, and bought me diamond earrings for Christmas. This was slightly creepy because I only went out with him 2 or 3 times. Keep in mind I was 22 and didn’t have a care in the world when it came to breaking hearts. So I broke his when I met the next one who was quite a snooze so I stole his carpet cleaner to entertain myself. I should have stayed with Diamond Earrings boy a little longer.
Then comes the fourth guy aka Marine Biologist in my Pink Dress.
Now, this is one of the most fucked up things that has ever happened to me and I have a God given gift for bringing fucked up shit into my life. I think he cooked dinner for me on our first date. He was cute little blond boy getting his masters degree in marine biology. He was nice and really liked me so I let him hang out with me a few times. I would have been more excited about him but he didn’t really like to drink. I was 22, all I did was DRINK! We would go out to a bar and after 3 beers he would become mute and refuse to move. You know, that type of drunk. B-O-R-I-N-G!
I was just beginning to tire of his refusal to hang from chandeliers and/or wear a lampshade when IT happened. My car was having issues so he spent the night at my apartment. The next morning he wakes me up by knocking on my bedroom door. My bathroom and clothes closet were separate from the bedroom area. He said he had a surprise for me. Breakfast in bed? How nauseatingly sweet is that! Too bad I almost barfed for a much more disturbing reason.
He sloooowly opens the door and I almost go blind. He is wearing my pink dress, high heeled sling backs and is holding a tray of scrambled eggs, juice and bacon. He sits on the bed and pulls the dress up and says “look! I even have your panties on.” I want to die. I want him to leave. I don’t want eggs. I possibly don’t want eggs ever again. I dare myself to look at him and he has makeup on. My makeup! Lipstick, mascara, the whole nine yards! I need to get this guy out of my house NOW. This isn’t funny. Or cute. Nobody belongs rummaging thru my underwear drawer. I feel violated. So I jump up and run outside on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. It is February so he throws a hoody on over the dress and comes out with me. Sitting in the chair with his legs crossed lady like style, swinging my high heeled shoe, I almost began to cry. He was upset I didn’t understand his humor. I told him it is only ok to dress up like a woman on Halloween.
He pouted and finally left. I put plastic baggies over my hands, picked up the dress, shoes, panties, bra (not my favorite bra dude!) and brought them to the dumpster praying this was the last I would hear from my cross dressing ex-boyfriend. No such luck. A couple weeks later I go out to my car and there is a note on my windshield asking for a refund for the Valentine’s Day gifts he bought me. An itemized list with the costs and tax. The laugh I got from that was almost worth losing my favorite bra. Almost.
I gave up online dating for a few years.
Because this was the prehistoric era of online dating, most people did not post photos. Looking back it is bizarre to think I would actually decide to meet boys without having ANY idea what they looked like. But I went ahead and plugged my computer into the phone jack and began to “surf the web.”
The first guy I met was…how do I put this…a bible thumping stalker? I guess that is pretty accurate. He actually took me to see Pat Green before Pat Green was popular so I will give him props for that. (I had just moved to Texas and I remember seeing all the 20 year old boys in Wranglers and cowboy hats. Heavenly.) I am agnostic with my beliefs bordering on atheism so continuous talk about Jesus ain’t gonna cut it with me. I possibly could have overlooked his Christianity if I wouldn’t have come home from work one day and found him sitting outside my apartment in between the bushes and the sidewalk. Sigh. Do I REALLY need to call the police again?
The second guy I met was nice. He liked my cats, gave me rides to the airport, and bought me diamond earrings for Christmas. This was slightly creepy because I only went out with him 2 or 3 times. Keep in mind I was 22 and didn’t have a care in the world when it came to breaking hearts. So I broke his when I met the next one who was quite a snooze so I stole his carpet cleaner to entertain myself. I should have stayed with Diamond Earrings boy a little longer.
Then comes the fourth guy aka Marine Biologist in my Pink Dress.
Now, this is one of the most fucked up things that has ever happened to me and I have a God given gift for bringing fucked up shit into my life. I think he cooked dinner for me on our first date. He was cute little blond boy getting his masters degree in marine biology. He was nice and really liked me so I let him hang out with me a few times. I would have been more excited about him but he didn’t really like to drink. I was 22, all I did was DRINK! We would go out to a bar and after 3 beers he would become mute and refuse to move. You know, that type of drunk. B-O-R-I-N-G!
I was just beginning to tire of his refusal to hang from chandeliers and/or wear a lampshade when IT happened. My car was having issues so he spent the night at my apartment. The next morning he wakes me up by knocking on my bedroom door. My bathroom and clothes closet were separate from the bedroom area. He said he had a surprise for me. Breakfast in bed? How nauseatingly sweet is that! Too bad I almost barfed for a much more disturbing reason.
He sloooowly opens the door and I almost go blind. He is wearing my pink dress, high heeled sling backs and is holding a tray of scrambled eggs, juice and bacon. He sits on the bed and pulls the dress up and says “look! I even have your panties on.” I want to die. I want him to leave. I don’t want eggs. I possibly don’t want eggs ever again. I dare myself to look at him and he has makeup on. My makeup! Lipstick, mascara, the whole nine yards! I need to get this guy out of my house NOW. This isn’t funny. Or cute. Nobody belongs rummaging thru my underwear drawer. I feel violated. So I jump up and run outside on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. It is February so he throws a hoody on over the dress and comes out with me. Sitting in the chair with his legs crossed lady like style, swinging my high heeled shoe, I almost began to cry. He was upset I didn’t understand his humor. I told him it is only ok to dress up like a woman on Halloween.
He pouted and finally left. I put plastic baggies over my hands, picked up the dress, shoes, panties, bra (not my favorite bra dude!) and brought them to the dumpster praying this was the last I would hear from my cross dressing ex-boyfriend. No such luck. A couple weeks later I go out to my car and there is a note on my windshield asking for a refund for the Valentine’s Day gifts he bought me. An itemized list with the costs and tax. The laugh I got from that was almost worth losing my favorite bra. Almost.
I gave up online dating for a few years.
