Repeats

Repeats: (n - plural) Guys that you date, that fade away and come back again.  Sometimes once, sometimes a lot.

I've had a repeat that has re-appeared multiple times this past year. You guys may remember him ... Bob*, as in - Bad Breath Bob Frog.   

BBBob and I have probably gone on 15 dates over the last year. He works for the same company as me, in another building, and will send an instant message, or text, randomly - always alerting me that something made him think of me.   

I always over looked him because (not to sound shallow but ...):

• He had halitosis (not recently though - must have seen the dentist)
• I'm taller than him. Shortest guy I've dated.  Flats 24/7 around him.
• He has a hairy chest, and hair pops out of the top of his shirts. Like a squirrel tail. 
• He has a hairy back, and told me he asks people to shave it for him in the summer.  
• He has a mumble when he talks. Like his mouth is full of marbles, tiny balls. 
• And he has a name that matches all of the above (not his online alias here, Bob - something even more out-there).

BUT - he also keeps appearing, and reaching out, and since my uncle passed away last month, I have been asking him to put in a good word with God to send me a good man.  Bob wrote to me the day my uncle died, and continued to reach out to me often since then, and then as of more recently - many times every day.   

I began to wonder if this was my guy, and I've been overlooking him.  

After a handful of dates (fun dates, watching the Bruins, making macaroni and cheese from a box, making future plans to hike and fix things in my house together), and constant reaching out from him, me telling my friends and sister about him and getting words of encouragement - I decided to do something momentous.   

I decided ... to like him.  

It's almost a physical task that I can somehow perform.  I told myself I was going to let myself like him.  And POOF - just like that ... I did.  

So last Monday I took him out to dinner - it was his birthday eve.  We had drinks, good food, the bartender gave us complimentary birthday tequila, Bob was driving so I probably had more than I should have but it was FUN.  We talked about our upcoming week.  I had my aunts wake and funeral. He had a lot of birthday dinners.  He said he'd probably be able to come to my friends Halloween party with me Saturday.  I felt pretty happy!!  

So we went home and for the first time in the year I'd been dating him ... we made ... cookies.  You know, cookies.  And after cookies, I asked him to stay and not drive home because he had beers here and was going to drive far home.  He didn't listen.  He went home.  And texted me two hours later telling me he got pulled over.  Only a warning though.  I made a joke via text back about how he should have listened to me ...  but was glad he lucked out. 

And that my friends ....  was the last I heard from him. 

Until Thursday late afternoon.  When I sent out an email about a happy hour update that he was included on - and he replied "How was the funeral".  

How was the funeral?  It was amazing - so much fun.  Duh.  

I emailed back "Sad. The funeral was sad.  And I think I'm a little sad or maybe I'm a little mad... I haven't heard from you since ... you know".

He immediately texted me and pointed out:
It was Thursday and
I knew he was busy and
I was obviously (unreasonably) mad.

I felt silly so I just said "I'm extra sensitive today, forget I said anything".  And that was all.  I couldn't believe how quiet he was being now.  

But - like the hopeful little soul I am, I told myself I was probably wrong about my gut telling me this doesn't seem right ... and I pinged him Friday to ask him if he was still coming on Saturday. 

I got this back:

"I don't know how to explain it. U have too much going on personally, which makes u intense, and u expect more.  It's all a lil bit too much for me".  And then ...

... he dropped off the planet.  

The short, hairy, mumbly guy with bad breath DUMPED ME because people related to me died, and I expected at least a "hi" within the 48 hours after cookie making, considering I was getting multiple communications all day, every day, before then.  Considering I was at a wake and funeral crying, and he knew that.  

NOPE.  Fucker.  (Pardon my language, but he's made this my new favorite word)

Lessons learned/notes: 

• "Boys" in their 30's can still be out for just your cookie making skills. Aren't they too old for that yet? 
• I hate the letter "u" instead of "you"
• What guy writes "lil"?  Watch out for that - it's weird.  
• Going forward, I should really stop letting people close to me die.  Really wish I thought of that earlier. 
• Even the short, smelly, hairy ones can still break your heart. 
• Best friends eating cheeseburgers with you helps said broken heart. 
• Stomach aches from a vegetarian eating said cheeseburger takes away from the broken heart feeling.
• Bob can go F himself. 

The Importance of Wing-Women (Frog-Slingers)

Yesterday was a prime example of why wing-women are imperative!  I'm lucky to report that all of my friends, and even my co-workers, are skilled in this field - at all different levels of expertise.

We've already covered there are frogs everywhere.  Some are frogs in sheeps clothing. Wednesday was a prime example of that with lots of frogs hanging out around my work-event.  Diverted those on my own.

Friday was a whole new day.

At lunch - the gem who works for me gave me the sly "ummm... to your left, don't look right now, white shirt, amazing blue eyes ... no wedding ring. Ok, look now now now!!!"

Man does she know my type.  Perfection.

But I'm at a work lunch, and I never would ever ask my co-workers to get involved in this type of business.

Enter Tricia*, the waitress in training serving our table.  She looks fun.

She asks "everything ok over here"?

"Yes, but can you come huddle into our table for a second..."  her eyes light up and I instantly know she's got good energy.   "Are you serving that table of good looking guys over there?  We're trying to figure out if the one in the white shirt is single".

"For you?" She says.  "Are you single??"

"Sadly I am"

"Me, too!" she says.  "I've been starting to think something is wrong with me. I'm 33 and all my friends are married with kids and I keep dating bums!"

I tell her we might be the same person and explain to her how important I think wing women are in the dating world and how I'd rather have a website service for ...

"Wing-women/single friends instead of a match.com????"   We finished each others sentence.  We immediately exchanged contact info.  New wing-woman added.  She then went a step further.

I see the hot guy get up and go to the bathroom inside.  About 5 minutes later, the door opens a crack and I can see Tricia has stopped him.  5 more minutes pass by and Tricia comes out and says "Single, his name is Tony, we're going on a double date soon with him and his friend Matt, also at the table." (Also cute).

That is a prime example of advanced level winging.

Also a great example are the wing-friends that push you to do things you wouldn't normally do. And that also happened last night.

I recently talked Riri* into joining match.com with me.  Misery loves company right?  I joke.  So Riri finds there are these mixer events match.com sponsors.  Some are totally lame but looks like this one was a beer tasting in Boston.  She not only suggested we do it, but bought the tickets and made me feel like there was nothing to be nervous about here - and it would be an experience.

Boy was it an experience.

When we got there, I instantly got nervous.  I used to get nervous a lot with the dating scene but as of late, thanks to the massive amount of frogs I've been dating, my skin has thickened substantially.  But the sight of a room full of single people, whom at first glance looked like a room full of comic book/anime/star trek fans .... made me panic.

Riri made me go in.  But thankfully skipped the instruction from the event coordinator to take a name tag and not write our names but our "guilty pleasure" on tag and wear it around.  I loved even more that she joked "no one here needs to know my guilty pleasures".  Ha!

It was a shit show.  I made friends with the bartender and we got free shots.  We sat at the bar and didn't mingle at all.  In fact, I don't think I even made eye contact with anyone.  I did catch a very short short man staring me down at one point.  That's when I told Riri to pound her drink and we got out of dodge.

We went down the street to Eastern Standard where we talked all about relationships, penises, the assholes we've dated.  We drank a good drink, ate a great meal, and then went home.

We covered a lot of things to think about and some lessons learned.  I'll capture them quick - I'm late for the beach!

Lessons Learned:

• Put yourself out there.  Be more open.  Chat with (friendly looking) strangers.  Even if it's scary.  Chances are you'll walk away with a good story. Or free shots.  Or a new wing-woman and a double date. 
• Match.com events are NOT my cup of tea. 
• There is a market for a wing-woman match-making service and also a need for better match making mixer events.  Someone give me money so I can start it. 
• After lots of research and discussion:  Penis size does matter. 

Thought Provoking Items:

• Maybe we should just plan to go out and have fun doing things we love with our friends and Mr. Right could just show up.  Maybe we need to stop the "hunt". 
• Why don't fabulous single women like me and my friends close the book on asshole men? Was my mom right?  Is that why something else that's better doesn't come into our lives? Because in the back of our minds we're still subconsciously holding onto the jerk that treated us bad?  And WHY would we do that?  Especially if they had small penises that didn't work properly.  Like really - not good.  

Going to think about that today while I'm at the beach, with one of my besties and her family that I love so much, watching fire works and soaking up the sun.  There's more to life than these frogs.  That's important to remember!

*Names of course changed to protect the fantastic wing-women.  I don't want anyone stealing mine! 

My Mother's Two Cents on Me and My Frog Situation

I had a glorious 4th of July!

Even with a tropical storm hitting us on my absolute favorite holiday and canceling the fireworks in the little magical beachside town of York, ME - It was still amazing.

Woke up every morning to the sight, sound and smell of the ocean.
Walked the beach with my bestie and her dog as the sun was coming up over the harbor.
Spent a lot of time with my bourbon and whiskey making friends.
Ate lobster rolls and pie.
Layed on the beach.
Read.
Saw shooting stars and a mini-fireworks display.
Played with lovely kids and had drinks with lovely friends.
Put my bare ass in the ocean.

Then I came home.

My pups spent the weekend with "Nana".  My mom. And when I went to pick them up, she'd had some whiskey, or wine, or vodka, or all the above.

Before I left with the dogs she asked me if I heard from Nantucket.  I said yes.  And then she said ...

"Do you know what you are Caron?  I can describe you in three words. You are:
Self deprecating, too generous with your feelings towards people who don't deserve it, too forgiving to people that don't treat you right, and you're a doormat. Close some doors with these guys."

So a little more than three words. That was pretty tough to hear.  And since Monday I've been rehashing those words over and over again.  Maybe it's all true.  And I kept thinking - those are the words that describe me?  Nothing positive.  I've been so blah about it all week.

And then a few minutes ago... my mom called.  Just to say:
"I thought about it and there's another word that describes you"
"Can't wait to hear it, Mom" I replied.
"Lovable. You're one of the most lovable people ever, don't you think?  I think you are."

...  My heart.
...  My mom.

Wish it was always like that.

And just so this post isn't completely depressing and emotional - I would also like to say that I danced like a maniac and fell off a bar chair in front of most of the senior leaders I work with last night.  One of them high fived me for the latter.  Perhaps I am a little lovable.  :)

Judging Fish

Today was the second day in a row I woke up feeling totally lousy, tired (despite getting around 9 hours of sleep, albeit interrupted with bad dreams), the sun was shining, birds were chirping and I didn't want to get out of bed.

Coincidence that's it's been two days since I woke up with Nantucket next to me?

After I finally dragged myself up and into the shower and still surprisingly made it to work at 7:30 AM, here were some other things that happened:

• I casually interviewed 10 Indians.
• I was informally mentored by a woman that I've admired for roughly the last 12 years.  She works in headquarters, is my age, ran a similar program to me, is now a director ($$$) has perfect style, perfect hair, is so so smart, and I've basically wanted to be her for a while.  And today she told me "Don't underestimate yourself, tell people what you want or you'll never get it and you deserve it".  She later checked in on me with some more ideas, all on her own, because she, who barely knows me, wants me to succeed.
• I bumped into two friends I hadn't seen in a while and they commented they couldn't believe I was single, and mentioned where the cute guys in their building sat.
• I then saw my ex-boyfriend whom I dated for 6 years, and we smiled at each other, totally fine.
• Went back to my office and met with my new manager, who thinks I'm capable of being the leader of my program managing 200 people. 
• Met with my old boss who wants to help me, even though he's not in a role within my program anymore, just because he wants to see me succeed. 
• Met with an employee who thanked me for doing what I do, caring for him and helping him succeed.  
• Talked to Scooter, who checked in to see where I was, talk about life and give me crap for who I chose to go to the concert with Saturday night.  I told him some of the things Nantucket said... Scooter said he knows I went nuts before but he knows that's not me, and hasn't been me for months, and that he values our friendship.  I asked him if somehow we both ended up single again at the same time if he'd ever date me again.  He said yes.  (This was all hypothetical - I wouldn't date him again, the zsa zsa zsu is gone and he's going to marry his girlfriend, I know it in my gut). 

So all of the above is in my mind ... my poor poor crazy mind ... and is outweighed by what Nantucket does.

I just read something that said ... "if you judge a fish on it's ability to climb tree... it will live it's whole life believing it's stupid."

He's the only one that judges me on what I do wrong.  And everyone else supports and cares about what I do right.  He makes me think I'm stupid and something is wrong with me.

One of my best friends, Katrina, told me he's like a tick.  Under my skin.  Embedded.  Sucking life out of me.  And I've been told that even if you pull a tick out sometimes, the head stays and the life-sucking-body grows back.

He's devolved past a frog into a tick.  Does anyone know how to get a tick out from under your skin!?

Lessons Learned:

• I need to keep relearning the same lessons over and over again. Obviously.
• Sometimes people get stuck under your skin and you know it doesn't make sense, but you just can't help it.  
• Fish can't climb.
• I need to make the next blog more uplifting!

Ebbing and Flowing

Am I an idiot?   I've asked myself that at least 38 times today.

The "dream team" of 5-ish is really no longer.  When it rains it pours ... and then if there is a drought ... I take whatever I can get.   Case and point:  last night.  After not seeing him for 2 months, I went out with Nantucket Paul. The slimiest of the bunch.  He lied to my face at least twice while we were out. He also made a couple comments that stand out in my mind...

Him:  "Do you think I look older, younger, or the same?  I think you look older."
Me:  "What!?  Really!  It's only been two months!?"  (gulp bourbon drink).

Him:  "You went crazy" (x10)
Him: "You went nuts" (x8)
Him:  "We'll see if we can be friends ... if you don't act mental anymore" (x 12).
Me:  (gulp bourbon drink x3)

If nuts is getting completely frustrated at the fact that you are ridiculously attracted to someone that can be such a dick....  Yes, I'm certifiable.

No clue why I feel the way I do about him.  Honestly.
He slept over last night because I stupidly parked in a garage where the attendant was too busy (asking me in his foreign accent why I was alone and if I would go to dinner with him) to tell me what time the doors locked.  11pm ...  couldn't get my car.  Paul to the rescue.

He drove me home.  Threw my change from the toll booth out the window (drives me nuts to think about that!! "It's just 15 cents"...  ya, that I worked for!).  Came in and asked me to massage his back because it hurt so much.  Like an idiot I did.  Like a bigger idiot, I used my fancy expensive moroccan oil body lotion on him.  He snored most of the night.  And when I couldn't sleep I glanced over, he's so cute to me.  But his hair!  It was longish again and standing up so funky.  I kept thinking "thattt haaaiiirr!!"  His phone was going off getting text messages from the girl he had picked up at a funeral a couple weeks ago, gone out with twice, and said he was going to end things with her.  Despite the fact that he texted her from my house.  Then this morning told me he was probably going to see her again.

Everything happening in my brain is a shit show right now.

I left things by telling him I like spending time with him, but I'm done reaching out.  If I never heard from him again it would be ok (which it would), but I missed him (and I do).  As one of my best friends said "the heart wants what the heart wants", and that's so true.  But leaving it all up to faith from here on out.

I was thankful to spend the day with some of my best friends at a graduation/farewell party.  LOVED hearing that someone I didn't even know was reading my blog - is.  Everyone was sweet telling me I deserve better, offering to talk when I wanted to talk to him, or delete his number from my phone for me.  I'm just so so so nervous I'm going to end up 50 and still single.  For a girl that just wants family so bad ... that's one hell of a scary thought.  But I know he's a turd bag.

Just like the ocean ...  guess I have to let things with him naturally ebb out before something wonderful can flow back into my life.

Effing stupid Nantucket.

Lessons Learned:

• Friends, laughing, and sunshine make everything better.
• Vodka helps.
• My drink limit has dropped from 3 per night to 2.  
• I DON'T LOOK OLD!

My Friends Are Going to Kill Me...

...When they find out who I am going to the Phantogram show with tonight.

Frogs Flying Everywhere

They say when it rains it pours.  Same applies to Frogs.

Right now I'm in regular correspondence with 6 different guys.  Not all frogs.  Nantucket Frog is one of the 6 ...  as of right now, he's the only slimy one.  I know what everyone is thinking "You so shouldn't be talking to him!"   But I am doing it for a calculated reason.

We all know I'm a little OCD and I'm known to not be able to hold back when I want to text someone. Well there is some potential amongst the 6.

One is Bryan, a life flight medic slash finance mogul who is currently in my number one spot. We've gone out and already have plans to go out again and he's funny and laid back and cute.  I can't mess things up with him.  So when I get the need to drunk text or OCD text, I write to Nantucket Frog to get it out of my system.  Everything already went south with him and can't get any worse so I see no harm. Slightly weird that after 2 months, Nantucket still talks to me, but whatever - everything happens for a reason right.

Let's break down the rest of the 6 that make up the current dream team, there's something for everyone:

After the medic/finance guy, there's Paul*, the 35 year old attorney that lives nearby.  He has the same name as Nantucket Frog.  So to distinguish between the two, I've had to label them "Good Paul" and "Bad Paul" in my phone.  Hopefully I don't mess up and write to the wrong one under the influence of bourbon.

There is also Matt, who is the manager of a yacht club on Nantucket.  I figure most of the appeal with Nantucket Frog was that he lived on my favorite island.  So ... why not find someone else on the island. I did. He's 38, cute, not super tall, works all summer, has all winters off paid to travel.  We became facebook friends last night.  It's moving so fast.  Ha!

Then there's Adam.  The single dad who's so cute but so shy.  I met him and didn't feel the spark but he seems so nice I can't not return his calls and texts.

And finally, I still talk to Scooter nearly everyday.  And don't judge me for it. I'm not sticking my tongue down his throat anymore and we're just friends.  That's all I'm saying about that!

So, just wanted to catch people up on what's happening over here.  Not sure what will happen with any of these guys but I'm so busy with jobs, adventures, friends, summer ...  I'm kind of not worried about any of it!

However -- I do have tickets to a show next weekend that I will likely have to drag one of these guys to because it's music too weird for any of my girlfriends.  Who will be the lucky fellow?  Stay tuned to find out!   :)

Lessons Learned:

1. I am creme brulee. 

* And as always - the * means the names are changed.  Can't let people know my identity or theirs.  Yet.

Millionaire Matchmaker

It's the Friday night of Memorial Day weekend.  I am sitting at my desk with a glass of red wine, my jambox bumping out some weird-ass indie tunes, and I'm all Carrie Bradshaw looking out the window while it's raining and I'm typing.

I like to think I'm Carrie Bradshaw, but did Carrie Bradshaw ever encounter a Patti Stanger, Miss Millionaire Matchmaker herself?  Did I just one-up my fictional idol and inspiration?  I think I did.

Last night ... I went out on a blind date, set up by a local matchmaker that scouted me months back and kept me in her files to share with eligible bachelors that apparently have some money.  All I knew about this guy was that his name was Roy, he was a medical doctor, had cool hobbies and was tall.

My day leading up to this evening was pretty typical.  I left for work without my bag of "sexy clothes" (per the matchmaker, I needed to show skin.  I don't show skin, mostly because it's droopy in nature, but I digress...).  I had to be at work at 7:30 AM to present to my leadership team.  Of course since I was running late I didn't get to eat breakfast.  Note:  I'm newly on "head meds" to control some OCD and anxiety.  Note:  I REALLY should eat when I take those in the morning.  As soon as I stood up to speak, my legs turned to jelly (not loose-skin-jelly, like they didn't want to hold me up jelly).  My pits also started to sweat, bad.  And I saw spots.  I'm still not sure what came out of my mouth for 5 minutes.  All I was thinking was "Don't pass out, you're wearing a dress and you forgot your underwear.  Again.  Don't hit the ground.  Don't."  I know I had a remote clicker in my hands, I think I used the laser and accidentally pointed it in a chubby guys eye.  Survived my speech, speaking jibberish.  Ran out of that meeting into about 5 others.  Ran home, changed into my "sex clothes" then remembered I had a psychiatrist appointment.  Ugh!

Ran out of the house emailing my shrink telling her I would be late.  And traffic sucked.  Ugh.  As I'm driving my boss is looking for me.  Can't tell him I'm at the shrink so I say I'm "in a meeting" and will see him in 45 minutes.  I run into the shrinks office and the receptionist and others in the waiting room stop and stare.  5 inch heels, 4 inch skirt, more makeup than a lady of the night.  "Hi, I'm here for my 4pm appointment".  The receptionist says "Ummmm, you cancelled this afternoons appointment".  I stood there, crinkled my face, and then yes ... I did cancel that didn't I?  Because the day was so busy.  My response... "Oh man, I'm going crazy!"  In a shrinks office.  Again, looks from the others waiting.  To recover I said "Well I guess i'm in the right place for that then, huh?".

Ba dum dum ching. Thank you, I'll be here all night folks.

Run out of the psych office and am now furiously hurrying back to meet with my boss because we have a huge meeting with the CIO in the morning and need to finalize things. I get all the way to the office and as I open my car door to step out, I remember my outfit.  I'm dressed like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.  Before she gets the wad of cash to shop.  GREAT.

I have no choice but to walk into my bosses office and tell him the truth.

"Listen, I know I'm not in the same clothes I was wearing all day and I look very inappropriate but I'm going on a blind date after this.  If you don't want me to be single for the rest of my life you'll ignore this outfit, not ask any questions, and just carry on.".

He says "This is exciting!! How did this come up.  Did a friend ..."

"Nope!  No questions".   He laughed and we worked like maniacs until 5:30.  I wasn't supposed to be in Boston for my date until 7:30.  I planned to just sit in my car for a while, no point driving home, no where else to go in between dressed like a tramp.  And just as I stepped out of the office for the millionth time that day - I get a text from one of my friends from work...  "Chinese and a drink"?

"Can I drink before a first date"  I ask.
"Absolutely".
"Fine then - let's go"
"Ok," he says "I'll ask Scooter, too".

We all remember Scooter.  Who I loooooved.  He who was going to help me break down my issues with my therapist.  Perfect.  And of course, he who is always busy, is readily available to drink with us now.

"Where are you going dressed like that" was the first thing he said when he saw me.
Our mutual friend who started this happy hour, Jake, says "She's going on a blind date, she'll probably get murdered later.  We're going to drink before she ends up on the news".

About 1/2 of my watermelon martini in, the boys, the bartenders, and 95% of the patrons at this establishment were aware I was going on a date with a rich guy that I'd never even seen a picture of, courtesy of a match maker.

And they ALL thought I was nuts.

I told Scooter this would be my first time drinking while on my head meds again, too.  I honestly think he was genuinely worried about me.  And I caught him staring at me a few times.  I'm joking that I looked like a hooker.  I actually looked every classy in my high heels, and black pencil skirt, and a beige camisole top.  My makeup was perfect.  My hair was in messy waves because of the humidity.  I wished I was just staying with Scooter at the bar.  And almost said I'd be happy when he asked "What would you do if I walked into the restaurant you're meeting this dude at and just sat at the bar to keep an eye on you, make sure you're ok?".   Sigh.

So ... off I went.  A martini down the hatch to relax me and I wasn't nervous as I headed into Boston.
I got there and group texted those concerned parties of Jake, Scooter, and two of my friends to let them know I arrived safe.  I got a "run, run while you can" and some "good lucks", "can't wait to hear about it".   Then a note from Roy: "In case you don't look like your pictures, I am in a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and shaved head".

Shaved head.  Instantly I wanted to leave.  That always means bald.  Not that bald is bad.  But my imagine in my mind of him looking like Dr. McDreamy just flew out my car window.

I had beat him there, so in I went to sit at the bar and await my fate.  3 minutes later, and in he walked.

Age appropriate was ... 57.  I was expecting a little older than me, maybe 40.  I'm 35.  I don't consider 57 age appropriate.  I knew there would be no spark.  He also wasn't as tall as I thought he was.  He was nice though.  And we chatted about travel and music and he didn't ask me to pay for dinner like other dates have.  I was thinking of other friends he might be appropriate for.  But I think he wants to date the youngin's like me.  The whole time I was sitting with him, I could hear my phone in my bag going off.  When he went to the bathroom I glanced down ... 51 text messages.  Mostly group chat stuff but a couple sweet ones from Scooter telling me to be open to shaved heads and to be careful.

After the date everyone was sad to hear it wasn't going to be a fairy tale ending for the Millionaire Matchup.  I was ok.  I was kind of proud I did it and didn't chicken out.  Which I could have done and months ago probably would have.

Weird how life changes.  Drinking with an old flame before a date with a new guy.  Realizing your friends love you and your crazy ass life stories.  Even right now -- one of my other best friends who's so busy with a demanding job, little baby, brother getting married - she remembered and is "dying to know how last night went".  <3

Lessons Learned:

• Life is crazy. 
• You never know what tomorrow will bring.
• You can go from heart broken to being real friends with your ex in less than 5 months.  
• Shaved heads usually means bald.
• Friends are priceless, and they're the real soul-mates. 

Charlotte

Happy May 10. It's almost 2 o'clock in the morning and this blog is going to be done all via talk to text.

I feel the need to capture this blog in real time because tonight I pulled a "Charlotte".  Maybe some of you remember the episode of Sex and the City when Charlotte stepped out of character and went on two dates with two different men on the same night.  Both her dates were really great, but she ended up single at the end of the evening when guy one caught her out with guy two.  I kind of did that tonight.  Only my night when a little differently. 

I left work early with a splitting migraine because of how the day started. This morning I got a text from Nantucket Paul saying "Sorry,  I can't even be your friend. I have too much going on. You're sweet and great but not for me me".  

Knife.  Heart.  

Everyone always lies and says "Sure, let's just be friends" when they decide not to date anymore, even if there's no intention to.  Not this guy.  One my my best friends pointed out "You are sweet and great and not for him because he's NOT a good guy.  Thank him. He's doing you a favor".  So I did.   I sent a "Thank you.", cried a ton, and dragged myself through my work day.  Came home - cried some more and tried to psych myself up for the evening. 

I only had one date planned for tonight.  It was with the tadpole from town. See previous blog post.  He was from my hometown and knew my sister.  His older sister used to want to beat me up in high school.  I thought going out with him would be "harmless". I was a little off with my assumption. 

He was nice.  Seemed nervous.  He talked a lot about our hometown.  I heard names I hadn't heard in a long time.   He told me that all the girls that used to hate me are for the most part miserable in their lives and with "bums".  He also said that some of them look like "beat up prostitutes".  That didn't make me feel as happy as I thought it would.  Those girls were so mean to me, and I always figured karma would get them.  But I think getting older brings compassion.  I actually felt bad hearing those stories.  

After he had 4 beers as I drank 4 waters -  he decided to change the subject and mention that I was the  oldest woman he had ever dated.  He's 32. I am 35.  As soon as he said that I felt terrible.  But he continued... He asked me how I felt about having children being an "older woman with a ticking clock".  I told him I stopped putting so much pressure on myself to live and date by my biological clock.  He proceeded to ask me "well how do you feel in your gut. Do you think you can have kids?". 

I reiterated that I try not to think about it, my gut said nothing, family history proved to cut women off from reproducing around my age, but I try to live by "everything happens for a reason".  I could always adopt.   

That made him appear distraught. He said: 
He wanted two kids. 
From his own loins. 
So they would be athletic.  
He also said he was very against adoption.  (Which was the wrong thing to say to someone with a sister who was adopted)
Then he proceeded to ask if at my next gynecologist appointment I could get a report on how my reproductive organs were working.  

I thought this was a joke. Until he asked four more times if I really thought I couldn't have kids.
Whyyyy were we talking about that!?  I tried to stop it a couple times with no avail.  I left feeling old.  Like I was never going to have kids of my own.  And like my ovaries needed a hug. 

He wrote to me after the date telling me he had a blast, hoped I did too. Can't wait to do it again. 

Sigh. 

While I was with the kid-craving-guy Matt* texted me.   I've been talking to Matt since January 2013.   I've only met him once, by accident, at a grocery store. He's a friend of one of my friends.  

Matt's older, 43, and persistent.  His text to me said "You need to get off Match and go on a date with yours truly"

I looked at that text again as me and my old eggs drove home.   

Yolo.  I said "come meet me out now".

And he said where. 

We ended up at the local Chinese dive bar.   I had one drink. He had two. And I was hungry.  Bar wasn't serving food anymore.  He asked me if I wanted to go back to his place and try a Newmans frozen cheese pizza.  We were getting along ok.  It was only 10 minutes away.  

Yolo.  I said "fine". 

I followed him back to his place. He made a pizza. I sprawled out on his couch.  I bossed him around. Complained about his toilet seat being up. Made fun of his stereo. Forced him to watch my shows. He didn't care. He served me two pieces of pizza on a plate, handed me a beer.  Then told me I was beautiful and proceeded to make out with me.  

All I could do was think of stupid Paul. 

I stopped the make out sesh, ate my pizza, drank my beer, and said I needed to go home. It was 1 AM.  

I am home now in bed, struggling trying to figure out what I should be doing.  Do I take a break from dating or keep doing this.  Nights like tonight are exhausting and depressing.  

It's the damn zsa zsa zsu!

It's so rare for me to have it.  I'm mad and sad I didn't have it with either guy from tonight.  But I'm thinking as I'm typing/talking to text ...  the zsa zsa zsu hasn't really ever worked out for me.  Every guy I had it with - obviously didn't stick around. Was that because I'm different when there's zsa zsa zsu?  Or am I getting the zsa zsa zsu from a specific kind of guy that's not good for me. Do I explore opportunities with guys I'm not excited about and have no zsa with?   Or do I hold out for the guy with the zsa that will like me just as I am.  

Did I mention I'm seeing a psychiatrist Monday.  A psychiatrist.  I have a feeling there are some head meds in my future.  That might not be a bad thing. 

Anyway ...  I'm tired.  Physically and mentally - because it's late and dating is a bitch.  I yelled at God a lot today for doing this to me over and over again. I miss stupid Nantucket - even though he's a dick and is probably sleeping at some other girls house right now.  FRIGGING ZSA ZSA ZSU ... you get me every. single. time. 

I want more pizza.  Different kind of 'za. 

Lessons Learned:

• Be kind to your ovaries.  They can't help getting old.  It's part of life.
• Karma probably does exist. 
• Newman's Frozen Cheese Pizza has no preservatives and is pretty good. 

Will they all eventually come back?

So this happened this morning. It makes me wonder ...  Will they all eventually come back around?  I wish some would more than others.  Actually just one. Sigh. 

Bad Breath Bob Frog

Just had lunch with one of my best friends and bumped into BBB, Bad Breath Bob*.

He's a frog from not too long ago that I stopped talking to after an incident on Thanksgiving Eve where I got drunk and made out with his best friend.  It happens.

He was pretty mad and I'm not too sad about it because, well...  I call him Bad Breath Bob for a reason.  

In my defense, that day, I had lunch with Ding Dong Frog and drank bourbon.  Then I went to my friends house so I could watch and learn as she made cranberry sauce and cookies.  I drank all her wine instead.  Then called Bob and told him he should come over my friends house since he knew her, too.  He brought a friend and a 30 pack.  I probably drank some of those, too.  

It all started to go downhill later that night when Bob went to the bathroom and I made my friend, and his friend, go hide outside on the porch with me.  Bob coming out of the bathroom and not knowing where we were was the funniest thing ever to me at that moment.  Despite the 20 degree weather that night, they humored me.  Everything's blurry after that. 

I later found out:

• While we were hiding on the porch, I rang my friends doorbell so many times that I broke it. 
• I went back out on the porch with Bob's friend, smoked one drag of his cigarette and coughed so much I nearly passed out.
• Then made out with the friend.
• Then Bob left, and left his friend behind with us.
• Then I apparently realized my friend had taken my keys away so I wouldn't drive.
• Then I woke my friend up, who had gone to bed, and I was crying I didn't want to sleep with Bob's friend. 
• Then I was told to go to sleep. 

Glad my family doesn't do much for holiday's because I was in rough shape on Thanksgiving, and I beat my body up so much I actually was sick for a whole week after that.  Karma?  Probably.  Probably getting some form of bad karma back for referring to this poor dude as Bad Breath Bob, too.  :/

Bob actually just emailed me. He saw me, now he's telling me he was thinking of me the other day. Very chatty. Guys from my past tend to make regular re-appearances.  Which of course has me wondering if I'll ever hear from Nantucket Paul again.  Hate that I care if I do.  I need a distraction dude. Or head meds.  Either/or.     

The Ding-Dong Frog

I'm about to learn something big.

I can feel it in my bones.  And I think the Ding Dong Frog will have something to do with it, so I need to document a little bit about him.

All my friends and my family know this one very well.  We'll call him, Scooter.  Although I lovingly, yet frustratingly, referred to him for a year as "Ding Dong".

Where are we right now with Scooter, well ...  About 30 minutes ago we walked out of our building that we work in together.  I had to ask him a favor, and as I phrased it to him, it was so big of a favor I felt like I needed to butter him up with booze.  His response was "Well this can't be good.  Might as well tell me when I walk out to my car.  Meet me by the shitter in 7 minutes".  So I did.

As we walked out I asked him ... "Scooter, we're friends, right?  Like after all the crap we went through we're friends and friends want to help each other, right?" He looked at me nervously as we walked.  "I'm either going to cry or laugh when I ask you this but ... I had to call my therapist.  No one else even knows this yet.  I feel completely effed up after this last situation with that guy from Nantucket and my therapist asked if there were any guys that I dated that I'm still friends with.  I told her there was one, and that would be you.  She then asked if you'd come into her office with me so she could get your perspective.  I told her no, I know you won't and I don't want you to do that ..."

He let out a quick "good, ya, I don't want to do that".  And I continued with ...

"I know, I know. But I'm hoping if I get some questions she has and share them with you, will you answer them so I can give her your input the next time I go?  I feel so stupid."  Even stupider because now I was walking and crying. He'd never seen me cry before today.

Much to my surprise - he instantly said he'd do it.  I didn't think he would but he said yes. He said "I might not want to answer all of them but I'll answer what I'm comfortable with.  What the hell is going on with you??".

I said "Paul! Stupid Nantucket guy!  I feel so screwed up.  I've texted him 6 times, Scooter, with no response, and I feel desperate to fix things. Six times!! And I can't eat, and I just want him to give me another chance. I'm nuts!"

Scooter said "First of all why are you worrying so much! You have to stop worrying.  And you have to stop writing to him.  Next time you want to ... just don't."

"Easier said than done!" I said "I feel like I screwed things up, he told me I did.  Maybe I did.  Maybe I'm the one that messes things up.  I feel like I need to make things right with him now and I just keep writing."

We're standing in the parking lot now, co-workers leaving and passing us, and Scooter is actually standing close to me, kind of following me as I'm trying move away from him, as not to make this conversation drag on longer than it has to because I feel bad I'm even asking him this.  I'm also still crying, which I assume makes him uncomfortable.  He's so shy and doesn't do well with emotions.

But he kept talking and said "It's not you - the guy dicked you over and you shouldn't be writing to him. Why do you think you are the one that messed it up?".

"Because he told me I did.  And you told me I did with you, too."

He looked at me like he felt so bad.  I said "I'm 35 and single, I'm going to be single for the rest of my life".

He said "No you won't.  It will be ok".  I said thank you like 5 times and sorry I had to even ask him this and walked across the parking lot to my car, tears streaming down my face.

Talk about a humbling moment. Asking the guy you used to love with all your guts, not that long ago, who's now in a happy relationship with someone else, to help you figure out why you're so fucked up.

In summary, and perhaps I'll get into more detail about Scooter another time, since it did encompass a year plus of my life... I was introduced to him through my friend in October of 2012.  Over the course of 2013 he stole my heart.  He told me multiple times he didn't want a relationship but we'd spend time together, just the two of us, doing things like dinner, Bruins games, drinks, concerts, we'd talk every day - at work or on the phone.  I was crazy for him and always thought he'd change his mind.  Until New Years Eve of 2013/2014 when after doing some creeping - I found out he had a girlfriend, and did for a while.  Broke my heart.  As we parted ways from our on again/off again relationship, or whatever it was, he told me ... "I liked you a lot, from October until about March when you started to go nuts.  You sent me some crazy emotional emails.  From that point on, I checked out.  But I liked spending time with you, and you're funny, and a good person.  I just didn't want to date you anymore, but I wanted to spend time with you."  Honest.  Brutally honest.  But I think that conversation is what ultimately led to us being able to be friends.

And here we are now - him hearing details about a guy that I was head over heels for, that started to call me intense, and hard to deal with, and controlling, and misguided, and went to that Red Sox game without me.  And Scooter is referring to him as a dick now and will get outside of his comfort zone to help me figure out what's happening here and how I can improve.

This should be interesting to say the least.  And hopefully helpful.  I just want to know why I'm so sad about Nantucket when he didn't do nice things.  Was what I did terms for him giving up on me?  Am I really the one messing things up every time I feel like I really could see myself with someone.  I'm so afraid what those answers are ... but I guess I need to  hear them.

Ohhhhhh dear. Here we go ...

The Recently Separated Frog

I'm finding writing this blog is somewhat therapeutic.

In the aftermath of Nantucket ... One of my guy friends told me yesterday that when one of these assholes shows their true colors, I start to go down the "crazy path".  I banter with them.  Attempt to change their minds.  Check - have been doing that.  He said I should have more respect for myself and stop acknowledging them.

My other dear friend who just returned from vacation came by to check on me yesterday, too.  I told her I just feel so stupid.  And I do.  So very very stupid.  She told me the only thing that would make me stupid is if I pursued anything further with this jerk.  And looking back on the recent texts from him that I responded to - I do look stupid.  Especially since he seems to write something that will rile me up, I respond, and then he disappears.  Further proving that he is indeed an asshole.

So in order to keep my sad little brain and texting fingers occupied, I'm going to keep writing.

Let's break down Tinder Date #2.

After the Dumpster date, I thought "well it can't get any worse than that".  So I wasted no time and put myself back out there.  With a guy named Kelly*.  When telling this story my friends immediately chimed in:

"Well there's your first problem.  Don't date guys with girls names."

There were lots of other problems, too.  Like how I discovered on our first date that Kelly was not only married before, but he actually wasn't divorced.  Only separated.  And only for a couple months.  Oh, and he had two kids.  Little kids. Like 3 and 1.  That he kind of forgot to mention when we were talking.  And we talked A LOT.  There must be something about me.  Nutbag guys tend to love texting/calling me and talking like we've been married for years BEFORE I even meet them.

Anyway - less than halfway through this date, I knew there wouldn't be a second.  Kelly on the other hand, was having a grand ole time.  Cracking jokes with the bartender about how he and I had never met before - and the idiot bartender was telling him my body language said I was 'totally into him'.  Bad bartender.  Bad.

Kelly made it clear he was into staying out late that night, and kept ordering drinks when I was ordering waters.  He said he wanted to live it up and have fun since he didn't have his kids that night.  I'm too nice.  I played along and let him drink.  Until he started talking about his ex/kind of current wife.  I honestly thought he was going to cry.  I got the whole low-down.  She cheated on him.  With a guy from work.  She was telling Kelly though that she wanted to move and they were looking at new houses that would put them in debt. He loved her.  How could she do this to him.  And then he'd catch himself... "I shouldn't be talking like this about her in front of you, if you're part of my life and the kids' lives - I don't want you to form an opinion of her before you even meet her ..."

Oh, buddy.  I wouldn't be meeting her.

It was time to call the night a night.  He went in for the make out session.  I kissed him a little.  I was worried he'd cry if I didn't.

I got a text that night about how much fun he had.  Then more the next day ... "when can I see you again".  Ugh.  I hate that moment. When you have to break someone's heart a little.  I would type, then delete, then type again, then delete.  Finally I just settled on "I think we're in two different places right now, and looking for two different things. I 'm sorry".

Immediately my phone rang.  It was Kelly.  He disagreed with me and wanted me to meet him out once more so he could explain.  He said the discussion on our first date didn't cover enough.  He was a good salesman.  Despite my extreme hesitation and gut-feeling that I wasn't going to change my mind - I told him I was meeting my friends at 6PM in Boston that night to see a show, and I could meet him around 4 in town if he really wanted to talk.  Oh boy did he ever.  He said to meet him at the Starbucks in Copley.

It was a Saturday.  I got there around 3:55 PM.  He was already there, dancing around by the Starbucks entrance.  Two huge drinks in hand and he practically ran towards me with them with his arms open for a hug.
Ugh.

I, being the huge bitch I can be, ducked the hug and said "is there caffeine in that drink?  I can't drink caffeine."

Again - he looked like he was going to cry.  "Oh jeez, yea, there is, I'm sorry, I didn't know".  I said it was fine and instantly regretted being there.   I could tell he thought this ~2 hour window was going to go much different than I did.  He said we should go sit down and talk.  I obliged.  He moved his chair closer to me.  It was one of those squishy chairs the area between Champions and Starbucks has there in the mall.  He sat in it sideways, so his legs were draped over one arm rest, and his back and arms were close to me, and he kept trying to touch my leg and he awkwardly began his speech about his marriage/situation again.  It wasn't anything new from what he told me the other night.  It was deja-vu actually.  He was getting upset talking about the cheating and being responsible for kids on his own and I stopped him.

I said "Listen, I don't think you've fully come to terms with your situation with your wife, and this isn't something I'm comfortable with.  We're in two different places and it's just not going to work, I'm sorry."

Kelly looked at me, tears welling up for real now.  He said "Are you dumping me?"

What??  "Dumping you, Kelly, this is only the second time we've been out.  We aren't in a relationship".

"You're dumping me.  Oh my God, this is really happening".

Ya, you're telling me ... this is really happening?  I looked at my wrist hoping I had a watch on and hoping it was time to go meet my friends.

He then said "I knew I shouldn't have suggested this place.  It's a bad omen, this Starbucks.  This is where I brought my wife to confront her and tell her I knew she had been cheating on me. Oh I can't believe this is happening to me again."

Ohhhhhh boy.  Out of ALL the places in Boston he suggested the place he confronted his wife?  Was this candid camera??  I was like a parent trying to think of what I could do to prevent a child from having a mental meltdown in public.

I immediately changed my tune and said we could still be friends, and we should be, and who knows what will happen some day (I mean other than me, I knew what would happen down the road with us - nothing - but I didn't want a scene).  He seemed happier with that and started up with the leg touching again as he sipped from both cups of caffeinated teas he had in front of him.  He told me he had a gift certificate he needed to use on Boylston and asked if, since we were friends, I'd go help him pick out some stuff.  I figured I would.  It would make the remaining hour before I met my friends go by faster.  As we walked to the store he kept trying to hold my hand, put his arm around me, I kept saying no to that.  I walked fast, kept my distance... and as he purchased his two shirts, each at approximately $100, he picked up on the notion that we probably weren't going to be friends.  As we walked back towards the train station where I was meeting my friends, he said "We really aren't going to be more than friends right now?" and I said no.  He then commented that he wasn't happy about that... and that he paid "like $30 to park here in Boston just to get dumped".  I told him there are other garages around that don't charge that much and he should do his research next time he drives in - but I had to go meet my friend so it was time to part ways.  He asked if he could hug me, I said fine.  It lasted longer than I hoped but I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  He sulked off towards his parking garage, and I hurried off to meet my friend.

As I sat there waiting for her ... I looked at my phone.  I had a text from Kelly.  It was a picture of the parking garage screen stating he owed $30 for parking, and he included his address with a note "you can send me the parking reimbursement to this address".

Ohhhh boy.  I ignored that.  And I ignored the many other texts that came through in the days that followed. I thought I'd never see him again.  But, lo and behold, the universe likes to be funny.

A couple nights later, Monday night actually around 11:30 PM, my sister and I were getting out of a cab by the same train station in Boston.  We'd just gone to a concert.  There was a couple standing right by The Salty Pig sucking face.  I looked at them thinking "jeeez, that's so weird" as my sister paid the fare. And then as the sucking-face-couple turned - I saw who it was.  It was Kelly with another girl.  Sucking face right there in the same area I left him in a few days earlier. We got out of the cab as their faces detached and I found myself walking a couple feet behind him as he left his date and headed back in the direction of where his expensive parking garage was.  I had to say something.

"Hi Kelly."

He turned around, his smiley-I-just-made-out-with-a-girl face immediate changed to disbelief.  "Holy shit" was all he could say.

I chirped "This is my sister.  She lives around the corner.  We just went to a concert."  He just stood there, jaw dropped".  I continued "Looks like you were on a date, looks like it went well.  Good for you.  Have a good night, Kelly".  We kept walking the whole time as this happened, and he just stood there.  The next day he tweeted a whole thing about the universe and acts of randomness and what they mean, and he texted me a handful more times before fading out of my life.

He wasn't a bad guy I guess, just totally not for me.  I still wonder if he asked that new girl to pay his parking that night? Probably not. Making out is probably worth $30. 


Lessons Learned:

• Don't date guys with girls names unless you're 100% sure they're normal.
• Don't keep texting/talking to guys so much before you even meet them.  Hasn't really worked well.  
• If you do talk to them, make sure you have their marital status figured out.
• When you know in your gut something's not going to work - don't waste their time - or yours!  Cut the cord and move on!   

*Names changed, of course.

The Infamous "Dumpster Frog"

This is by far THE BEST dating story I've got.  

It's a friend and family favorite.

Guys I've told it to love it and share it with their buddies.

It's one of those stories that makes you think "this can't be true"... but it is.  And it will go down in history.

It started with Tinder.  I heard about the app.  I discussed with some friends.  I made an account and we got to swiping.  Swiping left meant you didn't like them.  If you swiped right you put these guys into a bank where if they also swiped right - you'd be connected.  I didn't do any swiping this night.  We later realized it was my friend Shirley* that found this beauty.  And poor Shirley has been the matchmaker for multiple dates that have gone awry.  Most of the real heavy duty, long term ones, actually.  But even Shirley couldn't have known what was about to happen with this one.

I woke up the next morning and had a "match" in the Tinder app.  It was Brad*.

Brad was fairly good looking, tall, and was messaging me like crazy.  The banter was good.  Another case of "clickage" (my word for when things click - so clever).  We played off each other well, so I went with it. And so did he.  He messaged me all day that day, into early the next morning.  When he asked for my number, we moved to text messaging for another couple days.  Talking about everything under the sun.  He referred to our lengthy conversations as the equivalent of a first date.  But suggested we actually go on a real first date.  The conversation was so easy and we covered so much, I didn't even feel nervous.  I agreed and the next day I threw on a new dress and went into Boston.

He walked in and I knew it was him.  But he had white stuff on his face.  My first thought was "coke.".  I mentioned it to him.  Not coke.  Deodorant.  He explained he put deodorant all over his body because he liked the smell of it.  Nantucket Frog wore women's deodorant because he liked the smell of that.  There are a lot of similarities between Dumpster Frog and Nantucket Frog.  I digress...

We had a great day.  It was sunny in the city.  We had a late lunch, some drinks, walked around, and then went to Lucky's to listen to a Frank Sinatra impersonator.  We made friends at the bar.  Had another drink.  It was a really fun day!  So of course I said yes to a second date when he asked.

The second date of death.  Most guys don't make it past date number 2 in my world.  Brad would be one of those guys.  And I'm about to explain why.

He asked me to meet him in Waltham at 6:30.  It was near his house, not mine.  Not ideal but I went with it.  He didn't show up until 7:30.  "I got stuck talking to some people" he said.  I thought ... "you could have texted me", but whatever, trying to be less picky per my friends suggestion.  When we were seated he immediately went into a discussion he seemed very eager to have with me.  It went just like this:

"I have some things I need to tell you about.  They're things I usually get judged on in relationships, and I like you, so I want to tell you about them right off the bat and get it out of the way."

I braced myself.

"One - I don't have a college degree.  People think poorly of me for that, but I have a good job now so it is what it is"

Fine, I thought ... this isn't that bad.

"Two - I might have collected unemployment from the state.  When I was employed.  And I went to court for it.  And I had to pay $20,000 back.  It's all taken care of now.  It was stupid.  I just thought you should know because if you google me, it will likely come up."

Ok ... Not ideal again, but ... he cleared it up and it's all good now, right?  I could hear my friends saying BE OPEN.  And even when I explained this story just like this to them, they did indeed say "ok - not thaaaat bad".

"Three - I was arrested recently for a DUI.  I only have a day-license and I can only drive from 8AM - 8PM"

I looked at the time.  It was 8:15PM.  "Brad, it's past 8PM ... how are you going to get home?".

"Well ... why don't we just get a hotel room?"

I said no.  "No way", actually.

He said "well I live right around the corner.  Could you give me a ride home.  I'll just get my car tomorrow".  Obviously I didn't want him getting in worse trouble than he'd already gotten into so I said fine.

We finished dinner and left.  He got in my car and asked if I was sure about the hotel.  I said I was very sure. That wasn't happening.

He then asked if I'd hop into the backseat.  Really?  The backseat.  No.  I wouldn't be doing that.  I explained I'm 35 and classy and don't do backseats and reminded him it was our 2nd date.  I was a little flattered though he was so attracted to me.

The persistent bugger then suggested a sleepover.  He said "I only live around the corner...  why don't you just sleep over.  Come on ... do it.  I'll just ext my mom and ask if it's ok."

His MOM???   He took his phone out and started to type and showed me the phone "Mom - I'm with a friend.  Can she sleep over".

Was he serious??

Mom replies in two seconds "Are you serious?"

Thank you, mom.   I said "Nooo way. And wait, you live with your parents???"

"Yes, but it's only temporary, I'm between places".

I said "I'm sorry, Brad - thats not going to happen.  I'm going to just drop you off and head home."

We proceeded down the road until we got to his parents condo village.  He pointed theirs out to me, and then said ... "Are you sure you don't want to come in."  I said no.  "Sure you don't want to get into the backseat?".  Yup ... very sure.  I wasn't flattered anymore.  I was annoyed.

What happened next is what makes everyone say "You need to be writing this stuff down".

Brad says "Well, if you're not hooking up with me ... pull over up there by that dumpster.  I need to beat off.  I can't do it in my parents house."

WHAT!?

I said "Are you kidding me??"

He said - "No, just pull over up there by that dumpster. Do you have any tissues?  Napkins?" as he opened my glove compartment and fished around for some.  And in a split second, like a magic trick, before I even knew what was happening ... his pants were unzipped and there it was.  Brad's dick - fully exposed in my passenger seat.

"What are you doing!  Do NOT do that!  Get out of my car" I said very shocked and rather loud.

Very casually Brad replied "Oh come on ... like no one's ever done this with you before".

Ummm.  Nope!  They hadn't!!

I didn't know how to make this situation stop so I turned on my interior lights and got louder with my request to "Cut it out!!".  He shut the light off and proceeded to do his work.

"I'm going to lay on the horn and scream louder!  DO NOT DO THAT!!  GET OUT OF MY CAR!!"

He looked at me like I was the weirdest girl he'd ever met and  begrudgingly put his pecker away.  Looked at me and shook his head.  Then he asked once more "Are you sure you don't want to come in".

I didn't reply.

"Ok, well text me when you get home so I know you're ok".

I don't think I have ever driven faster over speed bumps in my life than I did leaving that complex that night.  I didn't text him when I got home.

He wrote the next day to tell me he walked into his bosses office that morning and quit his job.  With no back up plan.  But he thought he'd want to drive tractor trailers.  I didn't reply.    I'd hear from him a bunch more times over the next weeks.  Usually around 1 AM on a weekend.  I'd get some drunk texts about how beautiful I was, and how I was the one that got away (Thank God I did).

As awful of a date that was, I thank him for this gem of a story.  My friends thank him.  I met a friend of a friend on Wednesday and she said to me "YOU are the girl who dated the 'dumpster guy'?????".  Yes ... that's me. I'm famous.

Nantucket guy loved this story.  When things were "good" with us, he had sent me a picture of himself in full uniform standing behind a dumpster.  It was funny at the time.  Now looking back at the similarities, it's not that funny.  That last note I sent to him telling him he wasn't a nice guy, I actually told him I thought he was just as bad as Dumpster guy.  Maybe worse.  At least Dumpster guy was honest.  I still feel bad about that.  But it's kind of true.  Lessons learned and re-learned.


What are those lessons??  

• Beware of guys that text like they've been dating you for months before you even meet them.  
• Be even more wary of guys that are all about you being hot and wanting to have sex with you on the 2nd date. 
• Don't date guys who have really weird deodorant issues. 
• Stay away from dumpsters.  

*Names changed to protect the less-than-innocent.  

The Tadpole from Town

While I have a lot (and I mean A LOT) of past stories to catch up on - I want to mix some old stories with new stories.

My sister just requested I add this quick one from this morning.

I can't classify this one as a frog ... I haven't dated him.  But anyone who's been online dating has likely had that moment when they realize someone they know has found their profile.   I woke up this morning to 46 new messages in my inbox from Match.com.  I only slept for 6 hours last night.  Those are pretty good numbers, people.  One of those messages from from a 32 year old that grew up in my hometown.  He said:

"You don't know me ...  I'm from "small town in Massachusetts".  I think you knew my sister. "

Panic.  I did know his sister. I don't think she, or her friends, liked me very much in high school (I don't think this, actually - I know this.  They'd wait for me by my car after school to beat me up.  I'm not 100% sure why they didn't like me so much, but I knew they thought I was a slut.  Little did they know I had just as much of a struggle with boys then as I do now.  I only kissed one boy in high school and it was when I was 5'4'' and weighed 176 lbs.  I'm pretty sure he did it on a dare.  Not a slut then, not a slut now.  But this situation wasn't going to help my reputation with his sister, I'm sure).

While I grew up in a small-ish town, it wasn't like everyone knew everyone else.  This kid should have known my little sister.  Not me.  He had to have been in the 8th grade when I was a senior.  We never walked the same school halls together or anything, and I definitely wasn't invited to the parties his sister threw!  I just shared his message to me with my little sister. She knows of him, and she asked "Did he know you as soon as he saw your picture?".  I don't know!  He must have if he referenced that I'd know his sister and he knew I was from the same town as him - there's no mention of that anywhere on my profile.

So this morning I'm thinking about a couple things:
I hope his sister isn't waiting for me by my car to kick my ass later today.
And if he did indeed know who I was ... does that mean that maybe ... MAYBE ... I'm finally FAMOUS!?
Yes, I think it does ...  

There Once Was a Frog From Nantucket

Before I kick off my first story - a disclaimer:

I'm not an English major.  I've been told I write just like how I talk.  Expect typos, and expect an occasional swear.

As much as I say I'm not ashamed of being single, I am a little ashamed I'm publicly airing what some of these toads have done.  I'm a girl that believes in the "do unto others ..." schtick (and I even more so believe Justin Timberlake when he says "what goes around, goes around, goes around comes all the way back around") so I won't be using anyone's real name here.  However, if someone reading needs to private message or tweet me for any additional info ... I can't say I won't share! Sorry toads.

So here we go.

I had just come off a spell of three Tinder dates.  Tinder is a great app.  It's so casual and easy (and a fun drinking game with friends) - it gave me the confidence to meet online dating potentials.  I was always nervous to meet guys in person from dating sites.  But after my 3 Tinder dates, I decided to revisit Match.com. Step up my game, get more "quality" matches. As soon as I logged on, I saw Paul*.   He was tall, blonde, handsome, tan, lived in Cambridge, had a great profile (that I quickly glanced over - lets be serious, we always look at the height, occupation, and pictures first.  I'd realize later he didn't live in Cambridge, he lived on Nantucket, and his whole profile was copied from a lesbian's Match.com page - but I digress...). I was so attracted to him that I immediately dished out some cash and signed up for a membership. Then I did something I hate doing ... I wrote first.  And as soon as I did I thought "he'll never respond to me".  Later that night ... to my surprise, Paul wrote back.

Funny I wrote about "karma" above, because Paul's opening message to me was all about karma, and I fell for it, like I usually do when it comes to "signs" in relationships.  And there were LOTS of signs with Paul.  He told me he was a firefighter, and he was just on a serious call that ended up surprisingly ok, and as soon as he looked at his phone post-call, "there you were".  Maybe I was his "good luck charm.  His good karma (even though he wasn't sure he believed in karma.  I've come to find people who do mean things never do.  Again, I digress...)".  And just like that ... I was hooked.

Paul continued talking saying he was divorced, and ready for a relationship, ready to really like someone, he thought I was beautiful, "hot" actually.  He was amazed at how quickly we connected and he couldn't wait until I got home from my business trip to Ireland so he could come "off-island" and take me out.  He texted me all day, every day. First thing in the morning with a "Hi, sexy", and after what seemed like hundreds of texts throughout the day he'd end with a "sweet dreams, sexy". I felt like I had been dating this guy for months before even meeting him.

When I got home from Ireland, I was properly taken out.  I had to drove into Boston on a work night.  I live about 20 minutes outside the city, and can't parallel park to save my life.  But he was insistent on a "good date"- which to him meant Boston and oysters, even though I said I wasn't sure if I liked oysters.  I'd actually suggested our first date be at Spanky's Clam Shack in Hyannis because of the fun name, and it was closer for him living in Nantucket and taking the ferry but ... nope, Boston. (All of our other dates would end up being on work nights for me.  Never on Nantucket.  I still wonder if he actually lives there ... digression).

I looked good that first night.  I knew I did.  He told me to wear a skirt, so I wore black leather pants.  I don't like being told what to do.  I could instantly tell he liked me.  And I instantly thought "he has weird hair".  It was blondish/reddish, and thin in the front but longish in the back.  His hair looked like the hair on a wig that a man in my office with alopecia had.  I wish that hair turned me off more - would have saved me trouble - but he was so cute.  And tall.  And said he didn't have back hair. He seemed nice and funny.  I was only nervous until my first cocktail was gone and then I was good.  We talked a lot, but about nothing important.  No real detail on things like jobs, families, friends, hobbies.  We talked about ... us, a relationship, and if we hit it off how it would be.  And this conversation was led by him.  All conversations going forward on all other dates, and all conversations in between, would be the same.

This guy was planning vacations, asking me what concerts I wanted to go to, and told me to plan to go to the Red Sox game on Marathon Monday - which was a few weeks out at that point.  That made me swoon!  I always had wanted to go to that game, but none of my friends ever were able to/wanted to go.  I was so pumped!  So those conversations turned more into other serious conversations that had me a little nervous this was maybe moving too fast.  It went from when would I want to get pregnant, to when I would get an IUD, to would I send him a "nuddie" (which drove me nuts because not only would I not send a nudie, he couldn't even SPELL "nudie").  I'd try to talk about other things like, oh, my middle name and birthday, sisters, family, dogs ... nope. Sadly never happened. 

After our second date, I'll admit, I was kind of starting to like him a lot (because I'm not good with reading warning signs).  I was thinking he was tall, and a firefighter, and he lived in Nantucket, and he wants a relationship, and maybe this is what happens when you're divorced and 38... things move fast!?  He talked about how good looking our kids would be, and he got a haircut!  Nice!

One night when I was out, he texted me this ... "I love you".

He said he loved me.  After our 2nd date. (He'd drop the "L-word" three more times with me over a month long courtship) Why I didn't have alarms and buzzers going off in my head, I don't know.  I went quiet.  I was out with two friends (one of which was my most recent ex.  Paul didn't know that) and I drank 2 drinks over my 3 drink limit.  When I woke up the next morning I had a text from Paul that said "Dude ... really ... why are you messing this up?".   Shit.  I had drunk texted Paul before I passed out in my bed.  It was indecipherable.  Nothing bad.  Something about "general consensus" and how I was drunk.  But apparently Paul did not like this.  This is when Paul started to change,  slowly but surely.  He told me he was going to "pick me apart and find things wrong with me in his head".  Again...  should have bowed out at this point.  Nope. Instead I did what I rarely do - I fell for him hard and despite my fear of letting people in, I did. 

Over the course of the next week, I had my third date with him.  And he started to refer to me as "too intense" and would ask "something must be wrong with you, you're hot and single, what is it?", to which I would say - you're hot and single, too!?  And his response was "ya, but I was married before".  Since when does divorce trump never settling?  Anyway ...  Our conversations were now only revolving around what car he could buy that would make him look hot, if I would send him "nuddies", and when would we have sex.  I told him I didn't want to have sex with him if he was dating other girls.  His response "well once we have sex, that will happen naturally.  You'll stop dating and I'll stop dating".  The next time I saw him ... we had sex.  I wanted the dating I knew in my gut was happening to stop.  The next morning he was still at my house.  I knew he had logged into Match.com.  I still had an account.  I could tell.  I was quiet.  He asked what was wrong.  I told him I wanted him to deactivate his account. He seemed appalled. It was TOO SOON.  Too soon for that but not too soon for him to say he was thinking about moving off island to be closer to me because the "distance was hard".  He said "I'll get off Match right now if you give me a blow job".  Again -internal alarms, horns, and whistles - silenced.

To make this story shorter than a Stephen King novel, I will jump to earlier this week.  He met my friends.  He was late (because he was looking at cars), when he arrived we all chatted casually enough.  Then I accidentally caught a glimpse of his phone.  Some girl was texting him.  He had a picture of some older woman's headshot in his camera roll, followed by a series of very odd shirtless selfies he had taken of himself.  Shortly after I noticed that - he got into a very inappropriate political debate with my friend.  Normally, I wouldn't care.  But he talked over me, he didn't let her get a word in edgewise, he was stubborn, he ignored me when I asked him to stop.  And still like a fool, I paid the $200 tab.  Mostly because I felt so bad for my friend and I wanted to just get out of there.  Paul and I came back to my house after dinner.  I asked him about the stuff I saw in his phone.  The girl texting was a friend (I didn't believe that) the picture was his sister (no it wasn't), and the selfies were going to be sent to me (I hate selfies, especially shirtless weird ones like that.).  We went to bed.  I was upset.  But still the next morning being in the same bed and a new day ... well ...  you know, things happen.  And right after that moment of weakness ... Paul gets up, starts to get dressed, asks me why I didn't wake him (and his snoring ass) up earlier.  He had a doctors appointment (supposedly).  He got dressed and said "Thanks for the sex" and left about 1.5 minutes after that.  I knew in my gut this would be the last time I saw Paul.

So what do women like me do when they know a guy is checking out.  They panic.  I texted him and practically demanded to see him again over the next 5 days when he wasn't working.  I hated how he left that morning.  His response: "I wish you wouldn't talk about relationship stuff so much".  This from the guy that had planned out the behaviors and heights our children would have. That turned into:  I was misguided in dating, I worried too much, I didn't know what a "total catch" I was, I wasn't easy to deal with, I controlled everything.  And like an idiot.  I apologized.  It officially ended Marathon Monday, when Paul told me he couldn't go to that Red Sox game after all.  There was "too much involved" in going when he had to work the next day.  At 4:30 PM Marathon Monday - Paul sent me a text.  A picture from his seat at Fenway with the words "last minute tix".

What a knife in my heart that was.

He'd later tell me we "butted heads" after the night he met my friend.  He had checked out.  He knew the signs of a bad relationship after being in one for 5 years with his ex-wife.  I googled her.  She is married with a baby now.  She's beautiful and looks like a sweet happy person who ended up with a good gentle man.  Despite my better judgement, I texted him a final mean text telling him he wasn't a nice guy.  I'd never done that before, and wish I hadn't now because it's not like me.  But what's done is done.  I've never dated someone never to hear from them again.  I'm pretty sure this will be the first time I don't. The frog from Nantucket went out just as fast as he came in.  And he left a shirt here.  I couldn't throw it out so I put it in a bag, then in a box, and tucked it into storage. I might have been his good karma.  But I wanted to keep his bad karma out of my place.

Recap of lessons learned:

• When your gut is telling you not to believe the stories you're hearing, don't.
• When it seems "too good to be true" and instantly turns into "he doesn't remember a thing I told him about myself", it is indeed too good to be true.
• When a guy keeps telling you how hot you are, vs. how smart, fun, creative, quirky you are, and doesn't get to know you as a person, it's not a good thing.
• Don't ever send "nuddies".
• Don't apologize for being yourself.
• He was right about one thing ... I am a catch. I need to be more confident and worry less about what people think of me.  Especially firefighters from Nantucket.

The End.

*Names changed to protect the less-than-innocent.  

Why 4000 Frogs??

Today was the day.

The latest frog croaked and pushed me over the proverbial "dating ledge".

This latest experience with said frog made me realize it's time to stop keeping my stories a secret. It's time to start documenting and accepting ...This. Is. My Life.  My real, uncensored, can't-make-this-stuff-up, life.

I'm publicly admitting it ... I am single.  I'm not ashamed, but it's not something I'm totally happy about. I'm 35. I have a great job, a couple dogs, good friends, family, my own place, and not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty fricking cute.  For reasons only known to God, I seem to be destined to date WAY more than my fair share of frogs.  But I'm more determined than ever to keep going on this super slimy journey until I find the one that makes it all worth it.

Whilst I continue to kiss what seems like 4000 frogs, I'm going to take to my laptop like Carrie Bradshaw to make sure I capture and reflect on each amphibian I've encountered over the years.

I'm doing this for a handful of reasons:
1. To share (and perhaps commiserate) with other princesses on their journey who can read my stories and either relate or be grateful they never encountered these frogs themselves!
2.  To reflect on the lessons learned (sometimes re-learned) from each experience.
3.  To remind myself of something I believe to be very true - "everything happens for a reason".
4.  And ... to hopefully look back on one day and see that all of this led me exactly where I needed to be.

I'm not sure I totally believe in fairly tale endings, but I really do hope my prince is at the end of all this (and I hope he gets a kick out of this blog)!