Am I wrong in wanting men to step up?
No, probably not.
But am I willing to do the same?
That takes a moment to pause. And then an, "Umm."
So, what is it I want? A genuine man, who understands me, who loves me, has a sense of humor, who is smarter than me (but isn't an ass about it), who will put me first and be ever-loyal.
So. Can I be the kind of partner a man like that would want? Eh.
I don't know. Is that man looking for a great rack and a tiny waist? Because, if so, then no.
Ok, let me add a man who finds me attractive. Not just attractive, but hot. A man who wants to have sex with my mind and my body. Ew. That sounds dirty - but really, I want all of me to be loved. And cherished.
So, I meet this great guy, would I make a decent partner to him? Would I be shortchanging him or would I bring my share to the table? That's really the question, right?
So.
1) Be genuine. Real, honest, natural.
I hide behind games a lot when men actually show interest in me. Stop that! If a man shows interest in me, feel myself worthy of that interest and explore. Either I find him interesting or not. But it takes courage to step up to someone and show her who you are. I will, from now on, respect that and be just as brave and show who I really am. (Ouch. That's gonna hurt.)
2) Be understanding.
Ok. This is gonna go a couple of ways. I need to be more clear because no one can read my mind (I don't even want to go in there). Meaning, I need to be more in touch with myself so that I can give a clear "yes" or "no." And. I need to remember and demonstrate that I know that we are all human and I understand that. We all make mistakes, we all communicate differently and we all deserve respect.
3) Have a sense of humor.
Laugh at myself. Laugh with him (not at him). Don't be so sensitive and just let joy flow. Don't be overly critical and just giggle more.
4) Be humble (not competitive) about my brain power.
Let some of my baggage go. I had a boyfriend who was smarter than me and was really mean about it. If I couldn't express my opinion or thoughts well, I would be ridiculed. Yes, he was abusive. Yes, I put up with it - until I didn't. But yes, it is in the past. Let it go. I am smart. I know this. I also know that it is a HUGE turn on for me when a guy has a Big brain. I can be with someone who is smarter and that doesn't take anything away from me.
5) Put him first.
If he's great, let him know. Go ahead and re-arrange life to include him. Friends will understand. I don't have to let friends go. Making room for someone doesn't mean giving up something, it simply means making room. Clear out some of the clutter and let him in.
6) Love. Loyalty.
I love with all my heart. I'm loyal to a fault. These can probably fall into place - if I could just get to them.
If I haven't done these things in the past (I haven't), maybe I have no one to blame but myself for being alone. Maybe taking personal responsibility is the answer.
-----AND YET as I type this, I laugh.
Ok. I will henceforth take personal responsibility for my own love life and be on the lookout for mister right and mister good-enough. I can be the kind of partner I am looking for. Um, was that correct? No. I will be the type of partner for which I am looking. (See Ma, correct syntax.) I will live life as if there is enough love even for me.
Please don't send me dick pics. I don't appreciate them. (That's me being numbers 1, 2 and 4.) If you decided, however, to send me dick pics, I will laugh and show them to others. (That's me being numbers 2 and 3.)
You're welcome, world!
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Villanelle to Men
I was bookfacing and stopped to view a picture of my best friend's little
brother (side note: wow, that's a lot of qualifiers). It was a picture of his
stepson and daughter. And he had a serene look on his face and an
almost-smile. And it hit me: he is a man. A man. Somehow time has eroded and
washed away our supposed to's and left us with who we are. And he is a blue
collar worker, an ex-wanna-be rocker, and a father, you know, a man.
I love men. I love when they lose that sleek boyness and become men. I love their scratchy, stubbly chins. I love the crinkles at the corners of their eyes from too many late nights and so many smiles. I love their strength and the feeling of their arms; the sinew and muscle held in check under the surface and their skin. I especially love the feeling of being held in those arms. The feeling of their strength as it enshrouds you and obscures all of your weaknesses. I love that feeling. I imagine that their stalwartness can make the world better, can cure my ills, and can protect me in their everlasting strength.
And yet, they wouldn't have to have everlasting strength. They wouldn't have to be perfect or perfectly strong. I want a partner. That’s all I have ever wanted. And so that means I want to shoulder some of the load. And I want to share. Everything. I want to help make money for the roof over our heads and I want to help make the beds where we lay them. I want to take turns making dinner and washing dishes. I want that man that can lie on top of me or let me take the top in our ever twisting, loving dance.
Where is my lovable rogue, Nathan Fillion? Where is my grown up Luke Wilson? Or Aidan Quinn in Practical Magic (or god help me, Aidan Quinn in Desperately Seeking Susan)?
I know this sounds like urban legend. You know, I heard it from a friend whose friend's cousin says that she has a “Real Man.” But I believe they really exist even though I've never been in the same room with one that looks at me that way. You know, that way. The way Ben Stiller looks at Cameron Diaz at the end of There's Something About Mary. That determined look that lets you know you’re in for it. I feel like Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed - but without the hottie, Michael Vartan, to come give me a big wet one at the end and kiss me senseless.
I know this sounds like I live in fantasy - but real men do exist, don't they? They are not unicorns. I've seen my father be devoted to my mother, even when she was less than nice. I have witnessed my uncles treating their wives with kindness, patience and love. I have heard of the elusive "Victor" who buoys up my beloved Jenny, The Bloggess, even though I haven't met him in person. It is true that one never knows what happens in someone else's relationship behind closed doors but I continue to believe. With all of my strength, I believe.
I love men. Men just don't love me. Not yet, anyway.
But all I need is one. One man, a man -- that's all I need.
**UPDATE** 7/26/13 4:53p
I didn't mention that I have another blog that you don't want to read either that talks about being fat, being unhealthy, being mentally ill and loving The Bloggess. That is where I've introduced The Bloggess and for those who do not know she is a lovely and tremendously funny blogger. Her website is: http://thebloggess.com/
And she can be found on Twitter and Facebook, too. So I'm just a fan, a mentally-ill internet semi-stalker. Although I *did* meet her at a book signing once. Also, I have like 3 copies of her book and I would give you one, but buy your own damn copy.
Oh, if for just shits and giggles you want to read my other blog it is: UnComfortableNess.
I love men. I love when they lose that sleek boyness and become men. I love their scratchy, stubbly chins. I love the crinkles at the corners of their eyes from too many late nights and so many smiles. I love their strength and the feeling of their arms; the sinew and muscle held in check under the surface and their skin. I especially love the feeling of being held in those arms. The feeling of their strength as it enshrouds you and obscures all of your weaknesses. I love that feeling. I imagine that their stalwartness can make the world better, can cure my ills, and can protect me in their everlasting strength.
And yet, they wouldn't have to have everlasting strength. They wouldn't have to be perfect or perfectly strong. I want a partner. That’s all I have ever wanted. And so that means I want to shoulder some of the load. And I want to share. Everything. I want to help make money for the roof over our heads and I want to help make the beds where we lay them. I want to take turns making dinner and washing dishes. I want that man that can lie on top of me or let me take the top in our ever twisting, loving dance.
Where is my lovable rogue, Nathan Fillion? Where is my grown up Luke Wilson? Or Aidan Quinn in Practical Magic (or god help me, Aidan Quinn in Desperately Seeking Susan)?
I know this sounds like urban legend. You know, I heard it from a friend whose friend's cousin says that she has a “Real Man.” But I believe they really exist even though I've never been in the same room with one that looks at me that way. You know, that way. The way Ben Stiller looks at Cameron Diaz at the end of There's Something About Mary. That determined look that lets you know you’re in for it. I feel like Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed - but without the hottie, Michael Vartan, to come give me a big wet one at the end and kiss me senseless.
I know this sounds like I live in fantasy - but real men do exist, don't they? They are not unicorns. I've seen my father be devoted to my mother, even when she was less than nice. I have witnessed my uncles treating their wives with kindness, patience and love. I have heard of the elusive "Victor" who buoys up my beloved Jenny, The Bloggess, even though I haven't met him in person. It is true that one never knows what happens in someone else's relationship behind closed doors but I continue to believe. With all of my strength, I believe.
I love men. Men just don't love me. Not yet, anyway.
But all I need is one. One man, a man -- that's all I need.
**UPDATE** 7/26/13 4:53p
I didn't mention that I have another blog that you don't want to read either that talks about being fat, being unhealthy, being mentally ill and loving The Bloggess. That is where I've introduced The Bloggess and for those who do not know she is a lovely and tremendously funny blogger. Her website is: http://thebloggess.com/
And she can be found on Twitter and Facebook, too. So I'm just a fan, a mentally-ill internet semi-stalker. Although I *did* meet her at a book signing once. Also, I have like 3 copies of her book and I would give you one, but buy your own damn copy.
Oh, if for just shits and giggles you want to read my other blog it is: UnComfortableNess.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Yesterday
So I'm having a meal with my father and at the next table, a man sits down
followed by a very pregnant woman. His woman, I assume. I
proceed to eat my meal and notice that for 95% of the time before their food
arrives, he plays on his phone.
Texting. Facebooking.Whatever.
Their food arrives. He looks at food. He looks down and only looks at his food.
I just read somewhere that direct eye-contact might be too much for men, like it's too intimate or something. What? You've had your inside of her. (I am thinking penis, fingers, and tongue are all appropriate for the fill-in-the-blank above.) So let's restate: Sir, you have had, at the very least, your penis inside of her vagina and looking her in the eyes while you speak to her is too much? You can't respect her enough to glance up while you answer any questions or take notice of her hair or outfit?
I don't understand men. I don't understand women who would let this go. Now I know that I've had another post about a guy spending all of his time on the phone while the couple was dining, but they at least were making eye contact from time to time.
I think men need to step it up. Having a meal with someone is a communal thing: a time for relationship bonding, sharing common interests, telling a joke. And there you are stuck on Twitter? You do want to have sex again sometime, don't you? Maybe the answer is no. I guess it doesn't matter because I won't be having sex with him.
Fact is I'd like to have sex again sometime. But not with anyone I've met recently. Like at all. My boyfriend list is filled with people that are interesting and fun and I've never met. The fact that they already have beautiful partners (probably) and are rich and famous really doesn't matter. I haven't met them, so they have yet to disappoint me.
Yep, I'm never having sex with a partner again. Woo me!
Texting. Facebooking.Whatever.
Their food arrives. He looks at food. He looks down and only looks at his food.
I just read somewhere that direct eye-contact might be too much for men, like it's too intimate or something. What? You've had your inside of her. (I am thinking penis, fingers, and tongue are all appropriate for the fill-in-the-blank above.) So let's restate: Sir, you have had, at the very least, your penis inside of her vagina and looking her in the eyes while you speak to her is too much? You can't respect her enough to glance up while you answer any questions or take notice of her hair or outfit?
I don't understand men. I don't understand women who would let this go. Now I know that I've had another post about a guy spending all of his time on the phone while the couple was dining, but they at least were making eye contact from time to time.
I think men need to step it up. Having a meal with someone is a communal thing: a time for relationship bonding, sharing common interests, telling a joke. And there you are stuck on Twitter? You do want to have sex again sometime, don't you? Maybe the answer is no. I guess it doesn't matter because I won't be having sex with him.
Fact is I'd like to have sex again sometime. But not with anyone I've met recently. Like at all. My boyfriend list is filled with people that are interesting and fun and I've never met. The fact that they already have beautiful partners (probably) and are rich and famous really doesn't matter. I haven't met them, so they have yet to disappoint me.
Yep, I'm never having sex with a partner again. Woo me!
Thursday, June 20, 2013
So Why I'm *Way* Without, I'm guessing
So to tell you the truth, I'm a little scared of sex. You know, with other people. I'm caught somewhere in between "He's only after one thing" or the ever popular "He won't buy the cow if you're giving away the milk for free" and women's sexual liberation which proclaims "Women can like sex just as much as men!" but they don't add maybe the most important part, which I take to be "without judgement." Honestly, I think most of America is stuck smack-dab in the exact same place.
So, I have needs. I'd like to have me some sex. But. Butt. Boobs. Belly.
Suffice it to say, I am not a fan of my naked body. Don't get me wrong, I totally dig what it can do and what it is capable of - I just don't want anyone to, ya know, see it. And there are some technical difficulties when having sex with a woman of my size. Plus the whole, "loving partner" thing. I'd like to explore my sexuality with a loving partner. Something, someone I do not have.
Which puts me back to where I started. Do I take my autonomy and just go out and have me some sex? With who? Do I have to be naked for it? I really have to break someone in, you know, like ease him into accepting my nakedness. And are men just after one thing? Because do they even try anymore?
Scene:
Tiny, high-desert (closed) mining town. Convenience store. 8 am.
Me: dying because it is So Freaking! early, waiting my turn at the iced coffee machine.
Random Guy: Excuse me. (Moves over and does double take at me.)
Me: goes about my business. Pays and walks to car.
Random Guy: Hey! (hushed, fast, loud whispering) Come here! (throws something out window onto ground.) That's my number. Get it! Hurry! Before he comes out!
Me: ?? (blink) I'm not picking up your trash.
This starts in back-and-forth between Random Guy and Me. I can't really understand what he's saying, except for he's rushed, doesn't want someone in store to see him talking to me, wants me to pick up crumpled paper in parking lot because supposedly it's his phone number. I give Random Guy my business card and tell him to call me because I'm not picking up his paper.
End scene.
Phone calls. This guy is still whisper/yelling and I can't understand his name exactly so I start calling him Jeremy (true) saying he wants to "hang out". (sidebar: at this time, I had NO idea that "hanging out" was a euphemism for "have sex".) I say, why not? and also, why you trying to keep it quiet? Doesn't want everyone to know his "business".
Texts. Suddenly, I have text of man squatting with his dingle and berries hanging between his knees. Cash in one hand. Another text comes in with his penis up close and personal saying "hi".
I'm all DUDE! UMM, NO! Not ok. And what's with the Cash!? Like I'm a prostitute? And I don't even know your last name! I don't get freaky until someone at least takes me on a date.
So apologies, etc etc. And it seems as if he might be trainable. But then, "so yea i guess when can i take u out?" Sorry, not good enough. You need to try harder.
So after weeks of ignoring his texts, he asks, can't we at least be friends? So I relent (and I still do want me some sex and not for nothing, but it wasn't terrible, ya know?). So I text back that we could if we start slowly and be friendly (which in my book was things that friends might do, say or be. Not sex buddies, just like "Hi, we just met but you seem interesting. Also, I'm allergic to beets.") He goes on again about me having a "man". Which, granted a friend might ask (but not in that way -plus he really just got points off for being repetitive. I mean, he'd already asked and I'd already answered about a dozen times. Plus, like I'd be wasting my time with this looser if I had someone better.)
Texts. Can I please meet him at the park, he needs someone to talk to (8 pm)? No response from me so at 2 a.m. more penis shots.
fin
So yeah. I've been told over and over that my standards are too high. But really, penis texts in the first week? Acting like he's trying to keep me on the D.L.? I guess it must be true, my standards are higher than this.
That's all I got for now.
It's a sad state of affairs.
So, I have needs. I'd like to have me some sex. But. Butt. Boobs. Belly.
Suffice it to say, I am not a fan of my naked body. Don't get me wrong, I totally dig what it can do and what it is capable of - I just don't want anyone to, ya know, see it. And there are some technical difficulties when having sex with a woman of my size. Plus the whole, "loving partner" thing. I'd like to explore my sexuality with a loving partner. Something, someone I do not have.
Which puts me back to where I started. Do I take my autonomy and just go out and have me some sex? With who? Do I have to be naked for it? I really have to break someone in, you know, like ease him into accepting my nakedness. And are men just after one thing? Because do they even try anymore?
Scene:
Tiny, high-desert (closed) mining town. Convenience store. 8 am.
Me: dying because it is So Freaking! early, waiting my turn at the iced coffee machine.
Random Guy: Excuse me. (Moves over and does double take at me.)
Me: goes about my business. Pays and walks to car.
Random Guy: Hey! (hushed, fast, loud whispering) Come here! (throws something out window onto ground.) That's my number. Get it! Hurry! Before he comes out!
Me: ?? (blink) I'm not picking up your trash.
This starts in back-and-forth between Random Guy and Me. I can't really understand what he's saying, except for he's rushed, doesn't want someone in store to see him talking to me, wants me to pick up crumpled paper in parking lot because supposedly it's his phone number. I give Random Guy my business card and tell him to call me because I'm not picking up his paper.
End scene.
Phone calls. This guy is still whisper/yelling and I can't understand his name exactly so I start calling him Jeremy (true) saying he wants to "hang out". (sidebar: at this time, I had NO idea that "hanging out" was a euphemism for "have sex".) I say, why not? and also, why you trying to keep it quiet? Doesn't want everyone to know his "business".
Texts. Suddenly, I have text of man squatting with his dingle and berries hanging between his knees. Cash in one hand. Another text comes in with his penis up close and personal saying "hi".
I'm all DUDE! UMM, NO! Not ok. And what's with the Cash!? Like I'm a prostitute? And I don't even know your last name! I don't get freaky until someone at least takes me on a date.
So apologies, etc etc. And it seems as if he might be trainable. But then, "so yea i guess when can i take u out?" Sorry, not good enough. You need to try harder.
So after weeks of ignoring his texts, he asks, can't we at least be friends? So I relent (and I still do want me some sex and not for nothing, but it wasn't terrible, ya know?). So I text back that we could if we start slowly and be friendly (which in my book was things that friends might do, say or be. Not sex buddies, just like "Hi, we just met but you seem interesting. Also, I'm allergic to beets.") He goes on again about me having a "man". Which, granted a friend might ask (but not in that way -plus he really just got points off for being repetitive. I mean, he'd already asked and I'd already answered about a dozen times. Plus, like I'd be wasting my time with this looser if I had someone better.)
Texts. Can I please meet him at the park, he needs someone to talk to (8 pm)? No response from me so at 2 a.m. more penis shots.
fin
So yeah. I've been told over and over that my standards are too high. But really, penis texts in the first week? Acting like he's trying to keep me on the D.L.? I guess it must be true, my standards are higher than this.
That's all I got for now.
It's a sad state of affairs.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
No. 2 (Perhaps)
I just got my hair cut. I used to have long hair (which I imagine that men like) but as I wore it up, and in a bun no less, at least a good 90% of the time, I figured it doesn't really count. So being the easily bored type (which, by the way, I *am* totally the easily bored type - but this Absolutely, Positively Does Not Count because I swear I've had the same hair cut more-or-less for 10 years), I decided that I wanted to change it up. So I changed the color slightly: from RED with a bit of blonde streaks to RED with a bit of copper streaks. And I had her cut it. And I wanted it to be Very noticeable.
It's not. I look exactly the same but with shorter hair. And that's always the way.
I have the same face and take the same picture as when I was a baby. Now here's the unfair thing: Jsa, my nephew, looked exactly like me when he was a baby. He looks totally different now and such a cutie! For real, y'all. He is a very attractive young man. He got to "grow" into his looks. I got to keep mine. Hmph.
Oh, so getting back to the "why I probably don't have a boyfriend reason number 2" thing. I need to style my hair now as I don't have the option of putting it up. Also. I need to wear makeup. I decided I was going to start making an effort on my appearance more and yeah, that's gone to shitake mushrooms. Also. I need to shave my legs, get my nails done, get a pedi, lose some weight, exercise, walk my dogs, learn to speak Spanish, study more, clean my house, clean out my refrigerator, mop, dust, do laundry - WAIT! I'm exhausted. What was the point again?
Right.
Take pride in my appearance.
I lost my mascara. I have like three of them. I keep one in my purse and I can't find it. In fact, I hate my purse. In fact, that's not the point at all. But how am I expected to put on mascara when I can't find the stuff to put on!?
And shave my legs? Do you people realize that I live in a teeny, tiny trailer the size of large SUV and the shower is like half the size of a port-o-potie?
And again, I am quite LARGE. Oh! And to top that off, the hot water heater storage tank holds about four minutes of hot water. So I can wash my front side or my backside, but not both.
I exaggerate. Slightly. But not about how much hot water I get, I really don't get much and four minutes is about right.
I need to take pride in my appearance, which I kind of do because I am ALWAYS (wait, where is the Bold and underline and italics for that?) trying and buying clothes in an attempt to look Less fat.
And, if I do say so myself, I do have a great sense of style, quite unique to me, and still hip, if a bit funky.
I just can't be bothered with makeup and hair styling all the time. I think I look pretty good without it. But as one person put it, it's the icing on the cake - would I give a birthday cake to a friend that I hadn't put frosting on? Well . . . eh. Ok, ok. I wouldn't. I guess.
But, it just seems like a lot of work to do everyday for a guy. At least the guys I know anyway.
Wait! I think I'm inspiring myself to go out shopping! For mascara! For new razors! For things I can't afford! A new purse! A new movie to watch as I sit here alone on a Saturday night without a boyfriend!
Target, here I come!!!!
It's not. I look exactly the same but with shorter hair. And that's always the way.
I have the same face and take the same picture as when I was a baby. Now here's the unfair thing: Jsa, my nephew, looked exactly like me when he was a baby. He looks totally different now and such a cutie! For real, y'all. He is a very attractive young man. He got to "grow" into his looks. I got to keep mine. Hmph.
Oh, so getting back to the "why I probably don't have a boyfriend reason number 2" thing. I need to style my hair now as I don't have the option of putting it up. Also. I need to wear makeup. I decided I was going to start making an effort on my appearance more and yeah, that's gone to shitake mushrooms. Also. I need to shave my legs, get my nails done, get a pedi, lose some weight, exercise, walk my dogs, learn to speak Spanish, study more, clean my house, clean out my refrigerator, mop, dust, do laundry - WAIT! I'm exhausted. What was the point again?
Right.
Take pride in my appearance.
I lost my mascara. I have like three of them. I keep one in my purse and I can't find it. In fact, I hate my purse. In fact, that's not the point at all. But how am I expected to put on mascara when I can't find the stuff to put on!?
And shave my legs? Do you people realize that I live in a teeny, tiny trailer the size of large SUV and the shower is like half the size of a port-o-potie?
And again, I am quite LARGE. Oh! And to top that off, the hot water heater storage tank holds about four minutes of hot water. So I can wash my front side or my backside, but not both.
I exaggerate. Slightly. But not about how much hot water I get, I really don't get much and four minutes is about right.
I need to take pride in my appearance, which I kind of do because I am ALWAYS (wait, where is the Bold and underline and italics for that?) trying and buying clothes in an attempt to look Less fat.
And, if I do say so myself, I do have a great sense of style, quite unique to me, and still hip, if a bit funky.
I just can't be bothered with makeup and hair styling all the time. I think I look pretty good without it. But as one person put it, it's the icing on the cake - would I give a birthday cake to a friend that I hadn't put frosting on? Well . . . eh. Ok, ok. I wouldn't. I guess.
But, it just seems like a lot of work to do everyday for a guy. At least the guys I know anyway.
Wait! I think I'm inspiring myself to go out shopping! For mascara! For new razors! For things I can't afford! A new purse! A new movie to watch as I sit here alone on a Saturday night without a boyfriend!
Target, here I come!!!!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
No. 1 (Probably)
So, I mentioned that I am trying online dating again. (Seriously, this is the most ridiculous way to meet someone and I have endured it at least a dozen times.)
And why I don't have a boyfriend?
Men type, "Hi - love your smile (eyes, hair, _____ ). Here is my phone number, text me."
Seriously? I don't know you. I don't want to give you my phone number. I don't even want people I do know to have my personal phone number, i.e. my cell.
Some men get tired very quickly. Some stick it out. Some don't seem to really want to go anywhere, so on one occasion, being so bored with it/him, I offered my phone number.
So trying my hand at online dating (a fat-girl site) anew, when a "gentleman" wrote he wanted me to text him please, in fact, he practically demanded it, I capitulated and text him. But I used my google voice number. So there! Anyway, I digress. Here is what that text conversation looked like:
I must admit a few things.
First! I am nice enough that I have deleted his phone number. It was probably a throw away phone anyway and he's probably using a different one now, so it isn't like I'm a saint or anything.
Second: Between 4:09 and 4:15, I was suspicious but still trying to offer the benefit of the doubt. At 4:24, I was indignant. Then I decided to play along. But as I have an incredibly short attention span and I really was trying to get some work done, I got bored.
Third: I wrote "the end" and then couldn't stop myself from bitching and lecturing him. My bad. Also, stole the Ba-boom or Bam! moment when I continued to engage him.
So.
Yeah.
Not much to say now, right?
Well, the next "gentleman" who wanted to text is, oh, I don't know, in Afghanistan? He says he's in Tennessee but then asked me what time it was there (here) and then text "good morning" at 1:08 am. Now, technically that is morning - but give me a break.
Another time when I couldn't respond back immediately because I was driving, he accepted my explanation. But the next day (after the good morning text - which I replied at 8:30 am my time and told him good morning, it is 8:30 am here) when I didn't hear my notification that I had a text come in he wrote:
Um, WTF? You are giving attitude already?
My response (trying to keep it light although I was irritated, to say the least:
He purposely evades my question. Ok, trying to score some points by being romantic maybe? Fine.
We chat a little back and forth via text. Nothing spectacular but nothing terrible either. He tells me that a friend of his found his wife via that particular site, so he'd try it out. I told him the only other guy I'd text had been a scammer he was protective and ready for action. Sure.
Nearing the end of the conversation, I had to excuse myself for some business. He responded that he'd be right there, waiting. Yeah, twenty minutes later when I came back, no response. None the next day or the day after that. No response to my friendly, "How are you?"
So, REASON NUMBER 1 I don't have a boyfriend (or a MANfriend). Men are bullshit and want to text when they don't have anything to say via email even. I call Bullshit!
And why I don't have a boyfriend?
Men type, "Hi - love your smile (eyes, hair, _____ ). Here is my phone number, text me."
Seriously? I don't know you. I don't want to give you my phone number. I don't even want people I do know to have my personal phone number, i.e. my cell.
Some men get tired very quickly. Some stick it out. Some don't seem to really want to go anywhere, so on one occasion, being so bored with it/him, I offered my phone number.
So trying my hand at online dating (a fat-girl site) anew, when a "gentleman" wrote he wanted me to text him please, in fact, he practically demanded it, I capitulated and text him. But I used my google voice number. So there! Anyway, I digress. Here is what that text conversation looked like:
I must admit a few things.
First! I am nice enough that I have deleted his phone number. It was probably a throw away phone anyway and he's probably using a different one now, so it isn't like I'm a saint or anything.
Second: Between 4:09 and 4:15, I was suspicious but still trying to offer the benefit of the doubt. At 4:24, I was indignant. Then I decided to play along. But as I have an incredibly short attention span and I really was trying to get some work done, I got bored.
Third: I wrote "the end" and then couldn't stop myself from bitching and lecturing him. My bad. Also, stole the Ba-boom or Bam! moment when I continued to engage him.
So.
Yeah.
Not much to say now, right?
Well, the next "gentleman" who wanted to text is, oh, I don't know, in Afghanistan? He says he's in Tennessee but then asked me what time it was there (here) and then text "good morning" at 1:08 am. Now, technically that is morning - but give me a break.
Another time when I couldn't respond back immediately because I was driving, he accepted my explanation. But the next day (after the good morning text - which I replied at 8:30 am my time and told him good morning, it is 8:30 am here) when I didn't hear my notification that I had a text come in he wrote:
Um, WTF? You are giving attitude already?
My response (trying to keep it light although I was irritated, to say the least:
He purposely evades my question. Ok, trying to score some points by being romantic maybe? Fine.
We chat a little back and forth via text. Nothing spectacular but nothing terrible either. He tells me that a friend of his found his wife via that particular site, so he'd try it out. I told him the only other guy I'd text had been a scammer he was protective and ready for action. Sure.
Nearing the end of the conversation, I had to excuse myself for some business. He responded that he'd be right there, waiting. Yeah, twenty minutes later when I came back, no response. None the next day or the day after that. No response to my friendly, "How are you?"
So, REASON NUMBER 1 I don't have a boyfriend (or a MANfriend). Men are bullshit and want to text when they don't have anything to say via email even. I call Bullshit!
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Today
Today I witnessed a young-ish couple having late lunch (or early dinner) at a restaurant. They were just one table over from me. And the young male, a "cool" type, was on his cell. And he talked and talked. Apparently, his "bro" was on the other line. The young woman, also a "cool" type, just sat there, eating her lunch-dinner.
I was waiting for my meal and I ate chips. I got a refill on my iced tea. My dinner came and their waiter presented their bill. She put down a card.
So, to sum up: He sat there being incredibly rude and she picked up the tab. And I thought, "This is why I don't have a boyfriend, number 942."
Now, honestly, this is obviously not reason numero uno why I don't have a boyfriend but neither do I have an actual list. There are a multitude of reasons why I don't have a romantic partner, otherwise known as a boyfriend, a husband, a lover.
1) I am fat. This is a big sticking point but it seems to me, as I walk the malls in our America, that overweight people are having sex with some regularity, if screaming kids in Wal-Mart are any indication. And! I have recently joined a fat-friendly online dating site. I won't go so far as to say it is fat loving but I have been getting some nibbles, so maybe this entire post, this entire blog, is moot.
2) I am obviously damaged. I mean I have baggage. Like garbage bags in steamer trunks in a semi moving truck kind of baggage. But why should that matter? I'm mostly functional. I own my own house. I'm responsible (when I'm not having an episode). I know of a woman who is a schizophrenic drug addict (recovering). She has a husband who works and takes care of her and, now, their two girls. And it's not as if she doesn't exist. She does. I know her. She's a friend of a friend but, still, I know her. And she has a man. Not that she isn't just lovely, but pa-lease. I'm at least as good as her.
So I am thinking - it is a kind of funny thing - to not have a man. To never have a man, really (because all the time I spent in a non-relationship relationship counts as bupkis if you ask me.)
And I know so many women that are not me, that are beautiful and thin and fun and smart, and they aren't in relationships either. What is going on?
So I am here and I am going to see if I can document why I won't sell myself short, what I will not accept, to hopefully get to what is acceptable and find out what it is I want - and finally, ultimately, get myself some companionship (and god please, some sex).
Let's see what happens, shall we?
I was waiting for my meal and I ate chips. I got a refill on my iced tea. My dinner came and their waiter presented their bill. She put down a card.
So, to sum up: He sat there being incredibly rude and she picked up the tab. And I thought, "This is why I don't have a boyfriend, number 942."
Now, honestly, this is obviously not reason numero uno why I don't have a boyfriend but neither do I have an actual list. There are a multitude of reasons why I don't have a romantic partner, otherwise known as a boyfriend, a husband, a lover.
1) I am fat. This is a big sticking point but it seems to me, as I walk the malls in our America, that overweight people are having sex with some regularity, if screaming kids in Wal-Mart are any indication. And! I have recently joined a fat-friendly online dating site. I won't go so far as to say it is fat loving but I have been getting some nibbles, so maybe this entire post, this entire blog, is moot.
2) I am obviously damaged. I mean I have baggage. Like garbage bags in steamer trunks in a semi moving truck kind of baggage. But why should that matter? I'm mostly functional. I own my own house. I'm responsible (when I'm not having an episode). I know of a woman who is a schizophrenic drug addict (recovering). She has a husband who works and takes care of her and, now, their two girls. And it's not as if she doesn't exist. She does. I know her. She's a friend of a friend but, still, I know her. And she has a man. Not that she isn't just lovely, but pa-lease. I'm at least as good as her.
So I am thinking - it is a kind of funny thing - to not have a man. To never have a man, really (because all the time I spent in a non-relationship relationship counts as bupkis if you ask me.)
And I know so many women that are not me, that are beautiful and thin and fun and smart, and they aren't in relationships either. What is going on?
So I am here and I am going to see if I can document why I won't sell myself short, what I will not accept, to hopefully get to what is acceptable and find out what it is I want - and finally, ultimately, get myself some companionship (and god please, some sex).
Let's see what happens, shall we?
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