Original Blog: "Wonders never cease"

19 Mar 08

Wonders never cease

Mr. Coffee must subscribe to the blog and felt compelled to do something so bizarre that I would be sure to write about it.

A necessary prologue; last week, Mr. Coffee asked me to lunch. We met up, started to talk and eat when two gentlemen passed by that he recognized. They recognized him as well, said hello, exchanged quick pleasantries and sat down at a table right next to us. Mr. Coffee told me that he was going to go over to their table to have lunch with them for a little while and then come back to me. They had not invited him or even expressed any interest in meeting up with him later. He then proceeded to gather his entire lunch and moved over to the adjacent table, asking me as he left to make sure he didn’t forget his lunch cooler. I was stunned and hurt. I conspicuously finished my lunch and tried to appear perfectly okay to have been so thoroughly dissed. While sitting there I decided that he was dead to me and that this would be the last time I talked to him. I’m not one for scenes or confrontation so when he returned, resuming our conversation like he’d never been away, I let it be and didn’t call him out on it.

Later that day, he called me and I then informed him that he was dead to me. Yes, I used those words exactly. I explained that what he did at lunch was the rudest thing anyone has ever done to me. He tried lamely to provide some sort of justification before giving up and saying that he 100 percent agreed with me and that he was wrong and was very sorry. I told him that I would take his apology under consideration. He asked if he should keep apologizing and I told him no. He asked what he could do and I told him, “show me.” He said “ok” and then we hung up.

I hadn’t heard from him since and didn’t expect to. Today, he called me. I answered the phone and he began to sing to me;

“imagine me and you, I do
I think about you day and night, it's only right
To think about the girl with the hurting hand (or something like that)
So happy together.” I’m not even sure I need to go on. But I must.

So after he stopped singing he told me that he’d been thinking about my hand and wondering how I was doing. He was concerned about nerve damage and what feeling I may have lost. I know, totally bizarre. But it gets better.

I mentioned that I had a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and he asked if I wanted him to come with me. I told him that I didn’t even know why he would say such a thing as we both knew he would do no such thing. He was adamant that he would and insisted that I take down his phone number to call him if I didn’t feel like driving to work from my appointment. It’s worth noting that my appointment is 45 minutes from work.

Let the record reflect reasons 46 and 45 why I’m single.

**This concludes the Mr. Coffee series**

Original blog: Embarrassment of Riches

21 Jan 08

Embarrassment of Riches

I’m stuck. Do I write about my embarrassing breakdown when my mother was admitted to the hospital over the weekend? Or what about the poignancy with which my father entertained moving to Baltimore because he loved my mother and wanted her to be near the hospital in the city we’ve all grown to hate?

I could write about my new seamstress who is so classic sweet old lady that she deserves her own sitcom. Her blond hair stands at least (and I swear I’m not exaggerating) 4-6 inches from her head, teased to high heaven and frozen with still visible beads of hair spray. She has now twice held me hostage in her house for interminable periods of time telling stories, showing pictures, educating me on my ill fitting bra and recommending sizes I’ve never heard of or seen in stores, showing me her ‘certified undergarment fitter’ pin, and various other things. She is so sweet but I left her house tonight thinking I might either never return or I would have to engineer natural and timely escapes for every visit.

Even still, I could write about lunch with Mr. Coffee where his wife is making steady progression. Today she was estranged and the “r” word (reconciliation) was even used. My God, I must run far, far, away from this man.

Or I could write about how exposed I feel now that I’ve given the blog wider (but still ridiculously modest) exposure and explore what it means that I think I’d be more comfortable with total strangers reading it.

Or I could just go to bed.

Original blog: "Lowered Expectations"

Original post date: 15 Jan 08

Lowered Expectations

The Beatles were on to something. I’m already nostalgic for yesterday. Yesterday, Mr. Coffee asked me out and I was so overcome with !YAY! that I had to leave the room as soon as I got off the phone with him. I couldn’t wait to call my girlfriends. It was pretty awesome. We squealed, and described him, and provided verbatim transcripts of the conversation. It was all great girly fun.

Today wasn’t as awesome.

Fresh from an evening and morning full of daydreams and excitement, I went to see him today and learned a new euphemism for “divorced,” which is what he was yesterday. Today he was “technically” married. I’ll give him credit for not dropping that on me six months from now but it goes without saying that my excitement from yesterday has cooled considerably. He is legally separated so I suppose I’m not a home-wrecker but it still seems vaguely wrong.

I’m torn. This is very unlikely to end well. Not because he isn’t the swell guy he seems to be but because he’s already been more of a distraction than I welcome. I’m already a person I don’t like. That person who reacts to a flicker of interest by becoming super excited and obsessive. I’m the person already with the most to lose--the one who is more into it. The person who has to work to dial it down a notch. People in relationships rarely respect that person. I’d like to feel more like my approach to grown-up relationships reflects that I’m in my 30’s. Instead I’m writing in my grown-up journal about a boy who hasn’t called me yet.

I’m putting ‘being over this’ on the to-do list.

It seems wrong, however to write him completely off and treat him like a pariah just because things didn’t work out quite they way I’m sure he hoped it would when he married. I don’t want him to feel that he’s doomed to be alone because he’s in between the life he knew and whatever is next for him. Ugh...I do this every time. I get wrapped up in not hurting people’s feelings. He’s a big boy. Big enough to pursue me through the pain and big enough to find a suitable substitute for me. I’m not that important and it’s not that deep for him.

I’ll always have yesterday. It was fun to imagine the possibilities. It’s the one thing I think I might miss if I inexplicably end up being married. No more moments of delighting in the potential of a new person and no more marveling the seemingly magic coincidences that bring those people into your life. Onward and upward.

I'm out

Closely on the heels of my disappointing conversation with Down Low, I got an e-mail from another guy. I should know better by now not to answer an e-mail when all a guy has to say is 'hi' or 'what's up.' But I did. I responded with a short 'hi yourself' and he responded by asking me if I liked his pictures. What? Who the hell asks someone a question like that? I responded that I felt that was a pretty random question and he could assume if I was writing him back, I thought he was a nice looking guy. Another short message followed, 5-10 words max and I started to wonder what the point of this was when I got this message (note: what follows is the ENTIRE message):

"Family party yesterday...just relaxin today...naked in bed right now,lol"

Oh brother...

So, I think I've given it the old college try and then some. I'm completely over internet dating. The next person who tells me their best friend/guy at church/neighbor/co-worker, met their spouse on the internet is going to get a dirty look and possibly a punch in the crotch.

What I've learned from Match so far

I've moved quite beyond the 30 contacts I vowed I would make before spitefully ending my membership even though I would get no money back. I've moved beyond another strange encounter with Batman on whom my bluntness is wasted. I have even moved beyond the disappointing results of my first completed determination of 2009 to ask a guy out. I've changed my profile many times, I've written many, many guys. To borrow an analogy from a previous post, I've moved from the shore to the water but I'm still pulling up sneakers, tires, and assorted non-fish material.

When I first started reading profiles and came across a funny, well written, clever profile, my heart would do a mini-swoon, delighted that such men even existed. I reflexively considered them one in a million and that they would naturally see that we were compatible after reading my witty and well composed profile. A couple of months later, I realize that male literacy rates were higher than I first estimated and the lack of interest from clever-turn-of-phrase guy is no longer as disappointing. They are everywhere. They grow their own vegetables and love to cook. They write short stories and do lead vocals in a local band. They are funny writers, they travel, they love to read, they help the disadvantaged. Some of them may be lying, but instead of resigning myself to imagining how many kids Batman and I might have together and figuring the odds against any of them being even remotely normal, I'm taking solace in the abundance of men that I am attracted to and hoping that sometime between now and August, someone I'm interested in will actually feel the same way about me.

What is good from all this, at least today, is that the rejection is starting to lose its sting. I saw CCO tonight while I was out walking and we let the dogs visit, made minor small talk and parted ways. No mention of the e-mail, nothing to suggest that we have even had contact outside of our random chance encounters. Ignoring the elephant, that is a way of addressing it, yes. I could have said something but I'm just not that quick on the take and was simply pleased that I was dressed nicer than the last time he saw me. He didn't say anything either so we parted satisfied that the dogs are at least making progress in their relationship.

The other thing I'm starting to realize is that I'm a very conservative (read: boring) dresser. I don't do cleavage. The few things I have that do show cleavage, I tug at all day and vow never to wear again. I'm fairly well endowed so I've always been consumed with keeping the girls under control, not tossing them around in people's faces. I envy anyone who doesn't have to consider military-grade support in dress decisions. I really didn't think to make sure I had a profile picture that made it clear that boobs were included with the witty banter and wry humor they would get in a date with yours truly. Then I combed through my photos and I only have one photo, which I hate immensely both for the cleavage, which was near obscene, and my horrible hair. It one of the least flattering pictures on file. Anywhere. Worse than mile-high teased middle school bangs. Ick.

I don't disagree with my friends who insist that a good picture with face and cleavage would probably increase the traffic on my profile. I find cleavage distracting and I'm a girl. A guy, even if he claims to be an ass man or legs guy or whatever, can not NOT stare at cleavage. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to hook a fish that way. If the boob factor sways an otherwise disinterested guy my way, is it likely that true love or even true like will follow? We'll see....to be continued.