After getting what was apparently the extra nudge I needed from my soon-to-be brother-in-law, I finally bit the bullet after about three (or has it been four?)years of procrastination, and joined the gym. Whether I did this to get healthy and buff and feel better about myself, or to meet new men is completely immaterial. The important thing is that I joined. And I'm happy to report it's been a great experience so far!
I had an appointment to take a tour of the gym and discuss membership options last night. So, I showed up in my white capri pants, coordinating black and white top and gold wedge sandals. Seemed like appropriate gym orientation gear to me. It certainly turned a lot of heads...or was that my dazzling smile, captivating laugh, sparkling eyes and silken hair turning those heads? Probably all of the above.
I don't know if it was my nerves, or all of the testosterone surging around me, but I was in rare form, even for me. Even I didn't know what had gotten into me. As I was toured around the gym, my Tour Guide questioned my knowledge of where my triceps were- back of the arm, of course. He challenged me to do 2 dozen crunches on 2 different ab machines- DONE! And said he wasn't going to introduce me to the free weights yet...at which time I let him know I like doing free weights- especially working on my "guns." Did he think I was a novice just because I showed up overweight and in gold sandals? Silly gym manager/membership guy Tour Guide!
I talked up a good game, and even impressed with my crunches, but I admitted to my Tour Guide that I was completely intimidated by the whole scene. It was overwhelming. Apparently, the place is about 40,000 sf...can that be right?, and it was jam packed- meatheads lifting weights, girls bouncing around in the aerobics room, guys playing basketball, spinners spinning and seniors swimming in the indoor pool...and that was just the first floor! He assured me that Monday night was the busiest of the week, and it's not always that crowded.
Along the tour I was introduced to a personal trainer who happened to be crossing my path...he was a 5'7" Pitbull, weighing in at 208, with about 12% body fat. I didn't see any fat, just bulging muscles everywhere. We shook hands and Tour Guide said he'd get me a training session with Pitbull. Then he asked me if Pitbull intimidated me. I said, "No, I like him." There was something about Pitbull that made me feel very comfortable....like I could just walk up to him and push him in his pumped up pecs and say, "Hey, help me get buff!"....but that's fast forwarding....
Although I was extremely hesitant to walk in there tonight, I did. I joined the gym and summoned Pitbull to train me. He promptly sat down next to me, muscles popping, and seemed quite happy to see me. He asked me why it took me two days to come back in. I said, "Two days?!? I was just here last night...must have just seemed longer because you missed me!" I'm telling you, I was out of control! But, he admitted he did miss me and that he'd called me last night to see if I was coming back in today. Hmmmmm. I checked my call log, and sure enough he'd called shortly after I left the gym.
We sat there chatting, volleying sarcastic, silly banter, as if we were in a bar instead of a gym, while he filled out my "training paperwork". I think this was a ploy to pump me for personal information. "Do you have someone to support your efforts and encourage you to reach your goals, a boyfriend?, he inquired. "Smoothe move", I replied. How much do I want to weigh? How tall am I? How old am I? Seemed kinda one-sided, so I asked him all the same questions back! Pitbull is 33, moved here from Philly six months ago following the end of a long term relationship, he worked as a mason up North, and is half Italian and half Irish, to which I replied, "Could there be a worse combination?" And the guy gave it right back to me. Pitbull matched my wit, jab for jab. I knew I liked him yesterday. And right there and then I told him he was going to be my new best friend! He was quite agreeable to this idea.
Then,things took an ugly turn. Granted, he gave me fair warning that he was about to weigh me and test my body fat. I told him I found this extremely rude! But, he persisted. Before I stepped on the scale, I turned to him and asked if I should take off all my clothes first. Again, a witty comeback. The numbers were off the charts and I told him his machines must be broken. But he wrote the numbers down anyway. With this part of our mini-date concluded, it was time to work out. After breaking my body down into 3 sections, he asked me what I wanted to work on today. I chose shoulders and tris. He then took my purse from me and hid it behind the counter for me, suggested I actually take my water bottle with me, as opposed to leaving it on his desk, and then he held my towel for me as we walked to the machines. Said he was going to whip me with it if I didn't work hard enough. And I've been busy looking for a Cavalier King Charles?... who knew what I needed was a Pitbull?!
As we went from one arm sculpting machine to the next, he adjusted my weights and seat positions for me, counted my reps and sets (jokingly counting down from 100), encouraged me and helped me along when my arms became to noodle-like to do it on their own... all the while, chatting and I guess flirting....but it just seemed friendly to me. He asked me where I live. Asked me what I like to do. I said, "Drink." When I asked him what he likes to do, he said he'll drink with me. I asked him if he drinks beer, considering his Philly Irish-ness. He said beer, or Scotch...I forget which label he mentioned...Black or Blue? He asked if I'm interested in getting a trainer. I told him, "Yes, because I'm very lazy, and I need someone to push me." He said he'd give me a deal I couldn't refuse. I said, "Yeah, you will." Then he told me I was going to get him in trouble...for asking me out, and for keeping me as his own "client". Apparently, he manages all of the personal trainers. He was supposed to meet me, assess my needs and personality and then set me up with a trainer who would be a good fit for me. Upon him explaining this to me (and knowing that his personality fit mine just right, and I would accept no other trainer), I looked around the gym and asked, "So, which trainer would that be?" When I looked back at Pitbull, he replied, "You're looking at him." The whole thing was comical and funny, but best of all, fun.
The next thing I knew, I was done being trained. That was the most fun I ever had exercising. Then it was time for cardio. Pitbull retrieved my purse for me and walked me up to the cardio room. He set me up on the treadmill, which had fans in it, and turned them on for me, saying they're great for lazy people like me! How dare he use my own words on me! He re-confirmed for the umpteenth time that I'd be back in on Thursday morning for my next (free) session, and apparently we have a date next Saturday...the drinking kind, not the working out kind. I thanked him for his help and told him I had a lot of fun. Pitbull really listened when I told him I like a lot of attention. If he could have done the exercises for me, I think he would have. Before he left me there on my walk to nowhere, I asked him, "How many tattoos do you have on that body". To which he replied, "Want to see?" I told him I was looking for a brick layer during my 24 hour whirlwind tour of Philly last year. Who knew I'd find him at a gym in South Florida. Thursday we pump up the guns!!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Disappearing Act- Take Two
Although I had high hopes for the Southern Gentleman after we shared a cozy night over chicken soup and movies in my apartment a few weeks ago, alas, a zebra does not change his stripes. He disappeared again. For another two weeks. Without so much as a phone call, an email or a text...without a trace. Again, perplexed by the pieces of this puzzle just not fitting together, I emailed him. I never had this much communication with either of my ex-fiances after running away from each of them...I'd never return a call, an email, a text...but with SG, I was compelled to write. Again. Maybe because of the simple fact that there was really no love lost.....just morbid curiosity. My email went something like this:
"As I'm sure you're well aware, you've disappeared again. Trust me, I've had some strange dating experiences before...but I was able to deciper logical explanations for them. But this is so bizarre, I just can't wrap my head around it. Did your wife come back and you two decided to reconcile? Did your parole officer track you down and put you on house arrest? Did you have a relapse and go back into the hospital?
I invited you into my home last week, we had what I thought was a really good time...you asked me out again, called me for the next 3 days, and we planned a date for Thursday (I guess I'm recounting these events just to illuminate how bizarre this whole scenario is, since I'm sure you recall what happened...unless you've come down with amnesia and have no idea who I am, which is why you stopped calling (again) and haven't returned my phone call or text message).
Well, I certainly hope you're in good health and that's not the reason you've disappeared for the second time. And, again, I'd appreciate an explanation of your disappearance, because I just can not understand this behavior. At the risk of sounding like a schmuck, I have to say, this is really bothering me. Hope you're well."
And then I went on with my life. A week passed before SG unexpectedly popped up in my inbox, again. His email went something like this:
"I am sorry for not being in touch sooner. I really am. I don't know what's right in this situation. I have had a rather difficult several weeks for a variety of reasons (some of which you know about), and it's not fair to drag you through some of the things that are going on, especially this early. That is my rationalization for keeping you separate from what's going on, and I can convince myself that it is legitimate. Is it? Do you want to be involved in the inner-goings-on of that last several weeks? I tell myself you do not, and that is a safe place from which I, and you, don't have to talk about it.
It is difficult for me to talk about it, and I don't mean that to underestimate your ability to be understanding. It is nothing crazy, but it is very personal. I would really like to talk to you about it, but I don't know if it is a good idea. I like you . . . I like you a bunch, which is why I dropped off. I had such a good time with you at your home. I don't have the secret on how to proceed with this, so if you would like to talk, I would be willing to let you in.
I would be baffled if I was in your shoes too. I should have let you know what was going on, or at least that I couldn't make Thursday. I apologize for that. It was thoughtless. It would be great if you could extend a little faith and talk to me again although you don't owe me anything. I handled the situation poorly to say the least."
His writing was so gramatically correct and enticing, it lured me back in. I replied, succinctly, "Okay, please explain". He replied immediatley, with the following:
"I was hoping to talk, but I will type. I completely understand how you feel and why you feel that way. You have very little to go on with me except that I've disappeared twice without a peep. It's not a very glowing picture of me as yet. I have very much enjoyed the time we have spent together, however short, and think that it's worth telling you something personal.
I have a family member who goes from institution to institution as he has some physical and mental difficulties. He was in an institution in Hendersonville, NC which was not working out. My father asked me to come up to help him move from Hendersonville to a place right outside of Spartanburg, SC so he could be closer to home . . . and it's a nicer place.
I left on the Wedsnesday before I was going to see you. I got back into town yesterday. My only excuses for not getting in touch were that I didn't know if I should share that with you (didn't know how), Metro PCS does not work outside of S. Florida, and I didn't even bring my phone with me to Hendersonville anyway. Regardless of the above, I still should have given you a call to let you know I wouldn't be around . . . I have no excuse for not doing that, and I am sorry for it. It was kind of a hectic time though. Family stuff is difficult sometimes.
Again, I could've handled this better with you, and I'm sorry I didn't. My life rarely has the "drama" that has been the case over the last 2 months . . . things have just clumped up lately. I hope that I can talk to you again at some point because I do like you and have fun when we see eachother. If not, I do understand, and I wish you well. I hope everything is going well for you."
It was compelling, interesting, and I actually do believe his story, the meat of it, anyway. I don't buy the fact that he didn't have access to email for two weeks. Don't they have the internet in the Carolinas? And if he left town on Wednesday, why didn't he return my text from Monday or call from Tuesday? Still, too many holes in the story and unanswered questions remained.
I was enticed by the way he so beautifully strung his words together. And because his writing was so lovely I actually debated this for a while, even though in my heart of hearts I knew I could not pursue this further. I debated for a few hours...to respond, or not to respond. The guy's credibility was totally shot, so what would be the point, really? And all he had to do was send a text, an email, saying he had a family emergency & would call when he got back. Is that really too much to ask? So, I decided: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I'm not so great with second chances, third chances rarely exist in my world...and why should they? If someone disproves themselves to you twice, what do you think they're going to do the third time around? As I re-read his melodic words I admit I'm drawn to email him, offering him that third chance to make things right, so I can look up into those sparkling green eyes again. But, I won't allow myself to. I know it's not wise and I deserve more. So, as much as I may want to probe further, I think it's best to simply not respond. And so, sadly, I let SG go the way of all my other sexless lovers....fading into the past.
"As I'm sure you're well aware, you've disappeared again. Trust me, I've had some strange dating experiences before...but I was able to deciper logical explanations for them. But this is so bizarre, I just can't wrap my head around it. Did your wife come back and you two decided to reconcile? Did your parole officer track you down and put you on house arrest? Did you have a relapse and go back into the hospital?
I invited you into my home last week, we had what I thought was a really good time...you asked me out again, called me for the next 3 days, and we planned a date for Thursday (I guess I'm recounting these events just to illuminate how bizarre this whole scenario is, since I'm sure you recall what happened...unless you've come down with amnesia and have no idea who I am, which is why you stopped calling (again) and haven't returned my phone call or text message).
Well, I certainly hope you're in good health and that's not the reason you've disappeared for the second time. And, again, I'd appreciate an explanation of your disappearance, because I just can not understand this behavior. At the risk of sounding like a schmuck, I have to say, this is really bothering me. Hope you're well."
And then I went on with my life. A week passed before SG unexpectedly popped up in my inbox, again. His email went something like this:
"I am sorry for not being in touch sooner. I really am. I don't know what's right in this situation. I have had a rather difficult several weeks for a variety of reasons (some of which you know about), and it's not fair to drag you through some of the things that are going on, especially this early. That is my rationalization for keeping you separate from what's going on, and I can convince myself that it is legitimate. Is it? Do you want to be involved in the inner-goings-on of that last several weeks? I tell myself you do not, and that is a safe place from which I, and you, don't have to talk about it.
It is difficult for me to talk about it, and I don't mean that to underestimate your ability to be understanding. It is nothing crazy, but it is very personal. I would really like to talk to you about it, but I don't know if it is a good idea. I like you . . . I like you a bunch, which is why I dropped off. I had such a good time with you at your home. I don't have the secret on how to proceed with this, so if you would like to talk, I would be willing to let you in.
I would be baffled if I was in your shoes too. I should have let you know what was going on, or at least that I couldn't make Thursday. I apologize for that. It was thoughtless. It would be great if you could extend a little faith and talk to me again although you don't owe me anything. I handled the situation poorly to say the least."
His writing was so gramatically correct and enticing, it lured me back in. I replied, succinctly, "Okay, please explain". He replied immediatley, with the following:
"I was hoping to talk, but I will type. I completely understand how you feel and why you feel that way. You have very little to go on with me except that I've disappeared twice without a peep. It's not a very glowing picture of me as yet. I have very much enjoyed the time we have spent together, however short, and think that it's worth telling you something personal.
I have a family member who goes from institution to institution as he has some physical and mental difficulties. He was in an institution in Hendersonville, NC which was not working out. My father asked me to come up to help him move from Hendersonville to a place right outside of Spartanburg, SC so he could be closer to home . . . and it's a nicer place.
I left on the Wedsnesday before I was going to see you. I got back into town yesterday. My only excuses for not getting in touch were that I didn't know if I should share that with you (didn't know how), Metro PCS does not work outside of S. Florida, and I didn't even bring my phone with me to Hendersonville anyway. Regardless of the above, I still should have given you a call to let you know I wouldn't be around . . . I have no excuse for not doing that, and I am sorry for it. It was kind of a hectic time though. Family stuff is difficult sometimes.
Again, I could've handled this better with you, and I'm sorry I didn't. My life rarely has the "drama" that has been the case over the last 2 months . . . things have just clumped up lately. I hope that I can talk to you again at some point because I do like you and have fun when we see eachother. If not, I do understand, and I wish you well. I hope everything is going well for you."
It was compelling, interesting, and I actually do believe his story, the meat of it, anyway. I don't buy the fact that he didn't have access to email for two weeks. Don't they have the internet in the Carolinas? And if he left town on Wednesday, why didn't he return my text from Monday or call from Tuesday? Still, too many holes in the story and unanswered questions remained.
I was enticed by the way he so beautifully strung his words together. And because his writing was so lovely I actually debated this for a while, even though in my heart of hearts I knew I could not pursue this further. I debated for a few hours...to respond, or not to respond. The guy's credibility was totally shot, so what would be the point, really? And all he had to do was send a text, an email, saying he had a family emergency & would call when he got back. Is that really too much to ask? So, I decided: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I'm not so great with second chances, third chances rarely exist in my world...and why should they? If someone disproves themselves to you twice, what do you think they're going to do the third time around? As I re-read his melodic words I admit I'm drawn to email him, offering him that third chance to make things right, so I can look up into those sparkling green eyes again. But, I won't allow myself to. I know it's not wise and I deserve more. So, as much as I may want to probe further, I think it's best to simply not respond. And so, sadly, I let SG go the way of all my other sexless lovers....fading into the past.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Wolves In Sheep's Clothing
I'm not sure if it was the chicken soup, or seeing his 6'3" green-eyed handsome-ness in the flesh again, but I felt much better after Southern Gentleman's visit. And he must have been just as delighted to see me (why wouldn't he be?), which was apparent when he called me the next day...just to say hello and touch base, and when he called me the day after that, as well. And he called the following day, Sunday, at which time we solidified our dinner plans for the upcoming Thursday.
Everything seemed to be going along swimmingly, and whatever red flags may have been waving in front of me I promptly ignored, true to form. I'm sure I was too busy looking in the mirror to notice them. It seemed things were back on track now that SG resurfaced from his 2 week disappearance, 6 days of which he was hospitalized, the other 8 of which he was apparently not able to use a telephone to either talk or text. This can happen, right? Now that he was admittedly feeling exponentially better, he was very attentive to my healthcare needs and, most importantly, to me. Everything was okay.
I wanted to be reciprocal...since he'd mentioned before his disappearance that I could call him too. So, I texted him on Monday to wish him luck with a new endeavor that he was embarking on. He didn't respond. I figured he must be very busy, what with his new endeavor, and all. So, the next day, Tuesday, I called him on my way home from work...got his voicemail and left a caring, friendly message... caring, friendly person that I am. I didn't hear back from him that day either. Maybe he was still busy with his new endeavor? Twenty four hours later I still hadn't heard from him. It was at that time that I was forced to conclude that our Thursday night date was most likely not still on. So, what does anyone faced with such a situation do? I went out and got drunk with my soon to be 60 year old mother and 84 year old grandmother, and then got perhaps a little too friendly with a 150 pound Mastiff...but that's a story for another time.
And here we are, 6 days into SG's second disappearance and I have to say, I am deeply disturbed by this one. I just can not wrap my head around it. It doesn't make any sense. Aston Martin guy I understand. I totally get it. Four dates in, he made it crystal clear that he wanted to get laid. I didn't give in. And I never heard from him again. I understood it. I accepted it. I had no questions. Nothing to wonder about. And I went on my merry way to the next lunatic. Even though Aston Martin is clearly a disgusting animal, it all made perfect sense to me. This, does not. SG never even tried to kiss me. He appeared to be a sweet, kind, caring gentleman...not manipulative or underhanded or harboring any ulterior-motives. Truth be told, although nothing should surprise me, I'm in shock and awe. I don't like shock and awe.
Without question, and beyond the shadow of any doubt, I would not let SG ever have the pleasure of my company again (not that he wants it anyway, apparently, but I'm just saying). Not even if he came to me begging, with doctors notes and hospital records of an emergency kidney-ectomy in hand, would I give him the time of day. Clearly, he is not worthy of my affections. He's now proven this. Twice. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, and I'm a complete and total ass----. Come to think of it, if SG hasn't had an emergency kidney-ectomy...I think he absolutely should.
I honestly wish I were past this already and not even giving him the time of day with my thoughts and words, because I do realize that's bad enough, but I can't let it go. Give me another week and it'll be gone, but at the moment I can't get past it. This behavior is so bizarre, so perplexing to me, that it's almost all I can think about. My friend, Latin Lover, assures me that this is indeed normal behavior...of a man who has another woman who he decided he likes better than me. While I do recognize that that scenario is within the realm of possibility, the actions still don't add up for me. It just doesn't make sense. And I want answers. Answers I know I'll never get. Answers that, even if I got them, I wouldn't believe. So, what am I looking for? Am I looking to hear or read words that are completely meaningless, completely useless, words of a liar. Clearly, I am looking for something that I have not yet found.
SG has reminded me of, and illuminated for me, a lesson that Al Pacino and Keanu Reeves taught me years ago: Beware of wolves in sheep's clothing. They are the most dangerous of predators. But really, who am I to judge SG's actions? I'm sure someone else will take care of that.
Everything seemed to be going along swimmingly, and whatever red flags may have been waving in front of me I promptly ignored, true to form. I'm sure I was too busy looking in the mirror to notice them. It seemed things were back on track now that SG resurfaced from his 2 week disappearance, 6 days of which he was hospitalized, the other 8 of which he was apparently not able to use a telephone to either talk or text. This can happen, right? Now that he was admittedly feeling exponentially better, he was very attentive to my healthcare needs and, most importantly, to me. Everything was okay.
I wanted to be reciprocal...since he'd mentioned before his disappearance that I could call him too. So, I texted him on Monday to wish him luck with a new endeavor that he was embarking on. He didn't respond. I figured he must be very busy, what with his new endeavor, and all. So, the next day, Tuesday, I called him on my way home from work...got his voicemail and left a caring, friendly message... caring, friendly person that I am. I didn't hear back from him that day either. Maybe he was still busy with his new endeavor? Twenty four hours later I still hadn't heard from him. It was at that time that I was forced to conclude that our Thursday night date was most likely not still on. So, what does anyone faced with such a situation do? I went out and got drunk with my soon to be 60 year old mother and 84 year old grandmother, and then got perhaps a little too friendly with a 150 pound Mastiff...but that's a story for another time.
And here we are, 6 days into SG's second disappearance and I have to say, I am deeply disturbed by this one. I just can not wrap my head around it. It doesn't make any sense. Aston Martin guy I understand. I totally get it. Four dates in, he made it crystal clear that he wanted to get laid. I didn't give in. And I never heard from him again. I understood it. I accepted it. I had no questions. Nothing to wonder about. And I went on my merry way to the next lunatic. Even though Aston Martin is clearly a disgusting animal, it all made perfect sense to me. This, does not. SG never even tried to kiss me. He appeared to be a sweet, kind, caring gentleman...not manipulative or underhanded or harboring any ulterior-motives. Truth be told, although nothing should surprise me, I'm in shock and awe. I don't like shock and awe.
Without question, and beyond the shadow of any doubt, I would not let SG ever have the pleasure of my company again (not that he wants it anyway, apparently, but I'm just saying). Not even if he came to me begging, with doctors notes and hospital records of an emergency kidney-ectomy in hand, would I give him the time of day. Clearly, he is not worthy of my affections. He's now proven this. Twice. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, and I'm a complete and total ass----. Come to think of it, if SG hasn't had an emergency kidney-ectomy...I think he absolutely should.
I honestly wish I were past this already and not even giving him the time of day with my thoughts and words, because I do realize that's bad enough, but I can't let it go. Give me another week and it'll be gone, but at the moment I can't get past it. This behavior is so bizarre, so perplexing to me, that it's almost all I can think about. My friend, Latin Lover, assures me that this is indeed normal behavior...of a man who has another woman who he decided he likes better than me. While I do recognize that that scenario is within the realm of possibility, the actions still don't add up for me. It just doesn't make sense. And I want answers. Answers I know I'll never get. Answers that, even if I got them, I wouldn't believe. So, what am I looking for? Am I looking to hear or read words that are completely meaningless, completely useless, words of a liar. Clearly, I am looking for something that I have not yet found.
SG has reminded me of, and illuminated for me, a lesson that Al Pacino and Keanu Reeves taught me years ago: Beware of wolves in sheep's clothing. They are the most dangerous of predators. But really, who am I to judge SG's actions? I'm sure someone else will take care of that.
"I'm A Very Sexual Person"
So, I was strong-armed into joining a ridiculous dating service which, upon first glance, seemed reputable, but in hindsight (and a few google searches that led me to the Better Business Bureau, later) is clearly a complete sham. My mother, as she along with my sister, watches the years and my clock tick away, was determned to find me a husband...and she truly believed this service was the way to do it. I hesitantly agreed, after being wooed by overzealous sales people promising love and my "happily ever after". As if. Do people still say "as if"? After plunking down a big enough chunk of change to buy a couple of Louis purses (which, in retrospect would have been money much better spent), my "dating coordinator" called to set me up with my first match....who, she promised, was "just perfect" for me! Needless to say, he wasn't. The guy didn't even bother to button his shirt to meet me, leaving what appeared to be his undershirt, on full display. This definitely couldn't be The One. Sham dating service: strike one.
My dating coordinator extremely overly excitedly called with my next match, who was also "just perfect" for me. Upon meeting him I was blindsided by his Cartier Love bracelet, Louis Vuitton belt and borrowed (from his employer) Aston Martin. He seemed refined, low key, with a good sense of humor and style...and, while he didn't look like anyone who would ever turn my head, there was an attraction. Must have been the roar of the 12 cylinders that was getting me going. Arrghhh!! I'm not supposed to be wooed by the wrong things anymore... I'm supposed to have learned this lesson already... but sparkly things continue to catch my eye... and mesmorize me, though always only temporarily...until that sparkle inevitably flickers out.
We seemed to hit it off that night. He asked for my number, texted me (the new calling) the next day and asked me out again. I saw him the following day, and from then on he texted and/or called me every day. Apparently, when this happens I am supposed to see a huge red flag waving before me. Instead, as usual, I loved the attention and ate it up with my usual verve. Our third date, the following week, ended on my couch, with apparent chemistry and unexpectedly passionate kisses. He just didn't seem the type. Never judge a book... Before tongues started to roam beyond faces, I made him leave. He was still very attentive...contacting me each and every day. "How nice", I thought. He likes me, I like him, and I appreciate the straightforward approach, as opposed to that waiting for three days to call juvenile crap.
Our fourth date in only two weeks ended on his couch. Again, intense passion ignited...he was with me, after all, and apparently I'm quite a looker....if you like my look, that is. He mentioned something about me trying to seduce him!?!... which, of course, I was not trying to do. Just because I'm straddling you on the couch and showering you with the best kisses you've ever tasted, IN NO WAY means that I am trying to seduce you. If you happen to feel seduced by my salacious-ness... well, that's on you. What part of "tease" do you not understand? I had no intention of letting him do anything beyond kissing the Kissing Bandit. I've only known this guy for two weeks. Did he really think because he picked me up in a car that costs more than my apartment and fed me four times I was going to sleep with him?...or do anything close to sleeping with him? Clearly, he had no idea who he was dealing with.
After he asked me repeatedly to "stay over", and told me how much he liked having me there and how he just wanted to make me "feel good", I knew it was time to go home. When he actually spewed the words "I want to make love to you", I knew it was time to get out of there, and quick. Make love to me? You don't even know my middle name...how much can you love me? Enough was enough. If he couldn't just enjoy being in my presence and kissing the Bandit, well...there was clearly nothing more I could do for him at that juncture.
He walked me out to my car and asked me to text him when I got home so he knew I was home safely. I said, "Okay". Then, as I was about to get into my car, he said, "I'm a very sexual person and we have great chemistry together". I suppose it was as if the words just didn't register, or I couldn't comprehend them. All I could muster at that moment was a confused, deer-in-the-headlights look of stunned miscomprehension. And with that, he retreated into his cave and I drove home. Not really realizing or understanding what had just happened, I actually texted him when I got home. He never texted back. Or called. Ever again. Sham dating service: strike two.
And I was stupid enough to think he was "refined", as I described him to my friend. When will I learn? They say hindsight is 20/20. I guess that's because sometimes it's not until you're looking back that you can see that a scruffy Cuban from New Jersey who still plays video games at 37, drives a Honda, thinks hot dogs and macaroni and cheese are gourmet fare, and has absolutely no discernable social graces is far more refined than a Cartier and Louis wearing, Aston Martin driver ever could be. I suppose when I can recognize that in front of me, as opposed to in hindsight, I will have learned. Until then, I am trying to keep my eyes wide open. But sometimes the sparkles still make me blink.
My dating coordinator extremely overly excitedly called with my next match, who was also "just perfect" for me. Upon meeting him I was blindsided by his Cartier Love bracelet, Louis Vuitton belt and borrowed (from his employer) Aston Martin. He seemed refined, low key, with a good sense of humor and style...and, while he didn't look like anyone who would ever turn my head, there was an attraction. Must have been the roar of the 12 cylinders that was getting me going. Arrghhh!! I'm not supposed to be wooed by the wrong things anymore... I'm supposed to have learned this lesson already... but sparkly things continue to catch my eye... and mesmorize me, though always only temporarily...until that sparkle inevitably flickers out.
We seemed to hit it off that night. He asked for my number, texted me (the new calling) the next day and asked me out again. I saw him the following day, and from then on he texted and/or called me every day. Apparently, when this happens I am supposed to see a huge red flag waving before me. Instead, as usual, I loved the attention and ate it up with my usual verve. Our third date, the following week, ended on my couch, with apparent chemistry and unexpectedly passionate kisses. He just didn't seem the type. Never judge a book... Before tongues started to roam beyond faces, I made him leave. He was still very attentive...contacting me each and every day. "How nice", I thought. He likes me, I like him, and I appreciate the straightforward approach, as opposed to that waiting for three days to call juvenile crap.
Our fourth date in only two weeks ended on his couch. Again, intense passion ignited...he was with me, after all, and apparently I'm quite a looker....if you like my look, that is. He mentioned something about me trying to seduce him!?!... which, of course, I was not trying to do. Just because I'm straddling you on the couch and showering you with the best kisses you've ever tasted, IN NO WAY means that I am trying to seduce you. If you happen to feel seduced by my salacious-ness... well, that's on you. What part of "tease" do you not understand? I had no intention of letting him do anything beyond kissing the Kissing Bandit. I've only known this guy for two weeks. Did he really think because he picked me up in a car that costs more than my apartment and fed me four times I was going to sleep with him?...or do anything close to sleeping with him? Clearly, he had no idea who he was dealing with.
After he asked me repeatedly to "stay over", and told me how much he liked having me there and how he just wanted to make me "feel good", I knew it was time to go home. When he actually spewed the words "I want to make love to you", I knew it was time to get out of there, and quick. Make love to me? You don't even know my middle name...how much can you love me? Enough was enough. If he couldn't just enjoy being in my presence and kissing the Bandit, well...there was clearly nothing more I could do for him at that juncture.
He walked me out to my car and asked me to text him when I got home so he knew I was home safely. I said, "Okay". Then, as I was about to get into my car, he said, "I'm a very sexual person and we have great chemistry together". I suppose it was as if the words just didn't register, or I couldn't comprehend them. All I could muster at that moment was a confused, deer-in-the-headlights look of stunned miscomprehension. And with that, he retreated into his cave and I drove home. Not really realizing or understanding what had just happened, I actually texted him when I got home. He never texted back. Or called. Ever again. Sham dating service: strike two.
And I was stupid enough to think he was "refined", as I described him to my friend. When will I learn? They say hindsight is 20/20. I guess that's because sometimes it's not until you're looking back that you can see that a scruffy Cuban from New Jersey who still plays video games at 37, drives a Honda, thinks hot dogs and macaroni and cheese are gourmet fare, and has absolutely no discernable social graces is far more refined than a Cartier and Louis wearing, Aston Martin driver ever could be. I suppose when I can recognize that in front of me, as opposed to in hindsight, I will have learned. Until then, I am trying to keep my eyes wide open. But sometimes the sparkles still make me blink.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Missing You
When you're lucky enough to grow up with siblings who you are very close with, inevitably, one day you will no longer be that close...physically, anyway. One day, you will no longer be sharing a room, getting in trouble for talking and laughing when you're supposed to be asleep, you won't be waking up together at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning to run downstairs in your thermal pajamas to see what Santa brought and see who got the most presents...neatly stacking piles of Hers, His and Hers, you won't be eating oatmeal together every morning and meatloaf or chicken or meatballs together at night, you won't be riding your big wheels around the block, or your bikes across town even though your mother forbade you to go that far. You won't be watching Little House On The Prairie in bean bags after school, or assembling your above ground pool in your Brooklyn backyard for the first swim of the summer. You won't be making Rice Krispie treats, or walking together to the corner in the freezing cold to catch the school bus, you won't be fighting over whatever you fought over back then, or playing Asteroids and Pac Man. You won't be watching movies together in the back of your closet, and you won't be making your sister's first pigtails...delicate little flowers that they were, ever again.
These times, although they are forever ingrained in our hearts and memories, have passed. And these people, who are not merely an extension of you, but are an integral part of you, the only people who lived what you lived and who know what you know, are torn from you...simply due to the natural course of life.... living in different cities, different states, each in our own homes, instead of under the one roof where our bonds were built. And we have to accept this, because this is how it's meant to be.
And life gets busy... with jobs and responsibilities and opportunities that take us away from each other, as we each pursue the paths that we've chosen. And the phone calls get less frequent, and in this current cyber age phone calls are diminished to text messages, and visits are few and far between. And, suddenly, one day it occurrs to you...or you allow it to occur to you, that this person is hardly in your life anymore. And because of this distance that has been allowed to develop, this person that you once shared a room with, who you rode in the back of the car with, who you tossed stuffed animals at at bedtime, this person who crawled across your bedroom floor in stealth mode and popped up next to your bed scaring the crap out of you, this person with whom you ate dinner every night, and whose life formed simultaneously with yours, becomes somewhat of a stranger to you. And even though you know you are still close, it's not close enough anymore.
I realize that it's not the case in all families, as unfathomable as it is to me, but in my world, siblings are the embodiment and epitome of unconditional love, support and acceptance...your allies, your cheerleaders, your confidants, your teammates... they are as joyful as you are in your most shining moments, and as heartbroken as you in your darkest hour... the people you can always turn to, at any time, no matter what, forever, always... and they understand you and "get" you the way no one else quite can. As I write this at home on my couch, a 3 hour drive from my sister and a 3 hour flight from my brother, I still wish we were closer, sharing more meatloaf dinners, seeing each other's faces on Christmas mornings, and just sharing ordinary days.
These times, although they are forever ingrained in our hearts and memories, have passed. And these people, who are not merely an extension of you, but are an integral part of you, the only people who lived what you lived and who know what you know, are torn from you...simply due to the natural course of life.... living in different cities, different states, each in our own homes, instead of under the one roof where our bonds were built. And we have to accept this, because this is how it's meant to be.
And life gets busy... with jobs and responsibilities and opportunities that take us away from each other, as we each pursue the paths that we've chosen. And the phone calls get less frequent, and in this current cyber age phone calls are diminished to text messages, and visits are few and far between. And, suddenly, one day it occurrs to you...or you allow it to occur to you, that this person is hardly in your life anymore. And because of this distance that has been allowed to develop, this person that you once shared a room with, who you rode in the back of the car with, who you tossed stuffed animals at at bedtime, this person who crawled across your bedroom floor in stealth mode and popped up next to your bed scaring the crap out of you, this person with whom you ate dinner every night, and whose life formed simultaneously with yours, becomes somewhat of a stranger to you. And even though you know you are still close, it's not close enough anymore.
I realize that it's not the case in all families, as unfathomable as it is to me, but in my world, siblings are the embodiment and epitome of unconditional love, support and acceptance...your allies, your cheerleaders, your confidants, your teammates... they are as joyful as you are in your most shining moments, and as heartbroken as you in your darkest hour... the people you can always turn to, at any time, no matter what, forever, always... and they understand you and "get" you the way no one else quite can. As I write this at home on my couch, a 3 hour drive from my sister and a 3 hour flight from my brother, I still wish we were closer, sharing more meatloaf dinners, seeing each other's faces on Christmas mornings, and just sharing ordinary days.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Special Delivery
SG called a little after 7 to say he had the food and could come over early if that was okay...I told him, "Sure, come over". He showed up with bags from TooJays (and he's not even Jewish! Impressive.)...chicken soup and a giant hunk of chocolate cake for me, a chicken sandwich for him, and about a dozen movies for me to choose from.
We hugged hello he told me I didn't look sick, and he sure as heck didn't either! He looked very well recovered and more handsome than before...I couldn't believe my eyes. It was like bluejays were swirling and chirping around my head, and stars were shooting by! And no, I did not have anything to drink...I'm sick, remember?
I guess absence made the heart grow fonder. He was even tan, apparently from being outside pressure washing his deck...I learned that he mows his own lawn, too...how unusual. And he seemed to think it unusual when I mentioned the word "gardener".
So, we settled onto the couch and I grilled him about his illness, but he did not produce the hospital bracelet that I told him I would need to see. We ate and watched the movie sitting on the couch...not touching...then he asked if I wanted to watch a second movie...this time I was the one nodding with the wide eyed enthusiasm of a little girl who just snagged the gold ring on the carousel.
I couldn't bear to watch another movie without laying down...which I told him, and asked if he'd mind if I went on the loveseat (I didn't want to be rude and seem like I was tryng to get away from him on the other couch...which I most certainly was NOT trying to do. But I needed to lay down, and I thought it might be a bit presumptuous to swing my legs up on him.). So, SG suggested that I just lay down where I was and put my legs on him. Score! He even put a pillow on his lap so my legs would be comfy...at least, I think that's why he put the pillow there.
He said that my feet were really cold....and he offered to massage them which I, of course, took him up on...then he massaged my calves (good thing I shaved...you never know where these guys are going to end up touching you... well, I know...they better not touch me ANYWHERE below the neck or above the knees!!!) Before he went there he asked if I like my calves massaged (smoothe move...who's gonna say no?)...but it was not in a perverted or disgusting manner, at all. He seems to be a perfect, sweet, gentleman. So far, 3 dates, no kiss.
We talked on and off throughout the second movie, which sucked, and I was moved to tell him that I was really glad he came over and was there with me. He said he was too. I thanked him for bringing the soup and cake and he thanked me for inviting him over. The second movie ended about 12:45...time for bed.
I walked him to the door and he asked me if I wanted to keep any of the movies to watch... I told him, "No, I'd like a new selection next time." He bent down a foot and 3 inches to hug me goodbye...no attempt at a kiss...which was nice, actually... not sure if he didn't want my germs, or if he felt it wasn't time. Then he asked when he could see me again...and then immediately rephrased and asked, "When may I see you again?" After discussing a few scheduling conflicts, I asked him to give me a call the next day and we'd figure it out. He texted me when he got home saying he had a great time with me, and to sleep well.
It's 1:18 am and I'm wide awake! Guess I'll go into bed now and envision this green eyed stunner on the pillow next to me. He appears to be a genuine, sweet, good person who just may be deserving of my sweet and good side... I'm actually inclined to cook for, or do something nice for him... and just enjoy hanging out on the couch together... which is how I felt before he went missing for 2 weeks. Hopefully, I'm not wrong about this one...
Note: there will be no "Save The Dates" this time around. Dingerelli wedding is the last big hurrah...unless I get caught up in the romance and change my mind later:))
We hugged hello he told me I didn't look sick, and he sure as heck didn't either! He looked very well recovered and more handsome than before...I couldn't believe my eyes. It was like bluejays were swirling and chirping around my head, and stars were shooting by! And no, I did not have anything to drink...I'm sick, remember?
I guess absence made the heart grow fonder. He was even tan, apparently from being outside pressure washing his deck...I learned that he mows his own lawn, too...how unusual. And he seemed to think it unusual when I mentioned the word "gardener".
So, we settled onto the couch and I grilled him about his illness, but he did not produce the hospital bracelet that I told him I would need to see. We ate and watched the movie sitting on the couch...not touching...then he asked if I wanted to watch a second movie...this time I was the one nodding with the wide eyed enthusiasm of a little girl who just snagged the gold ring on the carousel.
I couldn't bear to watch another movie without laying down...which I told him, and asked if he'd mind if I went on the loveseat (I didn't want to be rude and seem like I was tryng to get away from him on the other couch...which I most certainly was NOT trying to do. But I needed to lay down, and I thought it might be a bit presumptuous to swing my legs up on him.). So, SG suggested that I just lay down where I was and put my legs on him. Score! He even put a pillow on his lap so my legs would be comfy...at least, I think that's why he put the pillow there.
He said that my feet were really cold....and he offered to massage them which I, of course, took him up on...then he massaged my calves (good thing I shaved...you never know where these guys are going to end up touching you... well, I know...they better not touch me ANYWHERE below the neck or above the knees!!!) Before he went there he asked if I like my calves massaged (smoothe move...who's gonna say no?)...but it was not in a perverted or disgusting manner, at all. He seems to be a perfect, sweet, gentleman. So far, 3 dates, no kiss.
We talked on and off throughout the second movie, which sucked, and I was moved to tell him that I was really glad he came over and was there with me. He said he was too. I thanked him for bringing the soup and cake and he thanked me for inviting him over. The second movie ended about 12:45...time for bed.
I walked him to the door and he asked me if I wanted to keep any of the movies to watch... I told him, "No, I'd like a new selection next time." He bent down a foot and 3 inches to hug me goodbye...no attempt at a kiss...which was nice, actually... not sure if he didn't want my germs, or if he felt it wasn't time. Then he asked when he could see me again...and then immediately rephrased and asked, "When may I see you again?" After discussing a few scheduling conflicts, I asked him to give me a call the next day and we'd figure it out. He texted me when he got home saying he had a great time with me, and to sleep well.
It's 1:18 am and I'm wide awake! Guess I'll go into bed now and envision this green eyed stunner on the pillow next to me. He appears to be a genuine, sweet, good person who just may be deserving of my sweet and good side... I'm actually inclined to cook for, or do something nice for him... and just enjoy hanging out on the couch together... which is how I felt before he went missing for 2 weeks. Hopefully, I'm not wrong about this one...
Note: there will be no "Save The Dates" this time around. Dingerelli wedding is the last big hurrah...unless I get caught up in the romance and change my mind later:))
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Chicken Soup For The Cold
Southern Gentleman has been in constant contact since resurfacing a few days ago...phone calls and text messages checking on me and wishes and hopes that I'll feel better soon... and offers, not just once, but twice, to bring me anything I may need... including a variety of health-inducing soups, and movies for my entertainment. I asked SG if he makes special deliveries, to which he replied, "For you...absolutely." Okay, so he had me at, "For you...absolutely". I'm a sucker for attention.
Apparently, tomorrow SG will be delivering chicken soup and a comedy to my door, per my request. I'm not quite sure if this is just a delivery service, or if he's staying to partake in the soup and watch the movie WITH me. I vacuumed, just in case it's the latter.
This will be a rather unusual leap forward... 2 dates, 2 weeks MIA and then coming over to watch a movie at my place....and eat soup. I guess stranger things have happened. And, at this stage in the game, nothing really surprises me anymore (other than someone being "just not that into me", of course). What do I wear for a chicken soup (possible) date? My usual at home sick attire of pajamas and my big, blue, snuggly robe that completely envelops me seems a bit too... familiar, jeans aren't comforting enough when you're curled up on the couch trying to recover from a touch of the flu....maybe my velour pants and hoodie- comfy and cozy, whether lounging at home a deux, or even if he drops off the goods and bids me adieu.
Apparently, tomorrow SG will be delivering chicken soup and a comedy to my door, per my request. I'm not quite sure if this is just a delivery service, or if he's staying to partake in the soup and watch the movie WITH me. I vacuumed, just in case it's the latter.
This will be a rather unusual leap forward... 2 dates, 2 weeks MIA and then coming over to watch a movie at my place....and eat soup. I guess stranger things have happened. And, at this stage in the game, nothing really surprises me anymore (other than someone being "just not that into me", of course). What do I wear for a chicken soup (possible) date? My usual at home sick attire of pajamas and my big, blue, snuggly robe that completely envelops me seems a bit too... familiar, jeans aren't comforting enough when you're curled up on the couch trying to recover from a touch of the flu....maybe my velour pants and hoodie- comfy and cozy, whether lounging at home a deux, or even if he drops off the goods and bids me adieu.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Going Pseudo Vegan
In my never-ending quest to lose those last ten pounds I have embarked on a new and revolutionary way of eating...a new lifestyle, actually. I have become a Vegan. I'm still researching the details of what this means and what it will entail...but from what I understand I no longer eat meat, fish or dairy products, foregoing those heinous diet staples in favor of berries, barks and weeds.
Being the voracious carnivore that I am, this might prove challenging once I get over my mild case of the flu and get my appetite back. But,while I'm feeling weak and woozie, and self-medicating with Theraflu, Vitamin C and chicken noodle soup, I am a Green, meat-free, animal friendly Vegan. Uh oh...I just realized that the chicken noodle soup I've been downing is probably not Vegan friendly...but I'm sick, and I'm Jewish, so a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Besides, life is about balance...so, I'll balance the water with the wine and the tofu with the bacon cheeseburgers. I said I'm Jewish, not Kosher!
Being the voracious carnivore that I am, this might prove challenging once I get over my mild case of the flu and get my appetite back. But,while I'm feeling weak and woozie, and self-medicating with Theraflu, Vitamin C and chicken noodle soup, I am a Green, meat-free, animal friendly Vegan. Uh oh...I just realized that the chicken noodle soup I've been downing is probably not Vegan friendly...but I'm sick, and I'm Jewish, so a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Besides, life is about balance...so, I'll balance the water with the wine and the tofu with the bacon cheeseburgers. I said I'm Jewish, not Kosher!
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Wonders Never Cease
Just when I'd put the Southern Gentleman behind me, having finally accepted the fact of what must have been his untimely death...he surprised me...with an unexpected email, and an explanation of his disappearance. My eyes just about popped out of my head. Indeed, it was as I'd surmised...well, almost. He was, in fact, not only sick, but beyond violently ill...truth be told, he was actually almost on his death bed...in the hospital...for 6 days. Granted, he was missing for two weeks...but in the week prior to checking himself into the ER, he was bedridden at home, getting up only to race to the bathroom as his body wrenched with violent convulsions...or so the story goes.
I knew he was dead! ...or almost dead. It was the only logical explanation. Of course he wasn't "Just not that into me". Ridiculous! Have you seen me? Two emails and a text message later, I decided to reply to him. He shared the details of his ailment (thankfully, nothing actually terminal). I told him I was glad he's feeling better..and he thanked me. And that was that. No plans were made, no words were spoken. I'm sure I'll hear from him again...barring any unforeseen incidents. And when I do, I'm going to need to see his hospital bracelet.
I knew he was dead! ...or almost dead. It was the only logical explanation. Of course he wasn't "Just not that into me". Ridiculous! Have you seen me? Two emails and a text message later, I decided to reply to him. He shared the details of his ailment (thankfully, nothing actually terminal). I told him I was glad he's feeling better..and he thanked me. And that was that. No plans were made, no words were spoken. I'm sure I'll hear from him again...barring any unforeseen incidents. And when I do, I'm going to need to see his hospital bracelet.
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