Hey Guy(s)! :: Online Dating: Week 4, II

I swear I have more to say, I just haven't had to the motivation to find the photos and screen captures I need to finish out a post I composed days ago. But I'm here, I swear. And I'll write more than just re-postinglocating my ridiculous jaunt with online dating that I recently undertook, but until I kick my own ass into print screening submission, here's Part II of week four. 

PS The Real Housewife, after four months of silence, randomly texted me this past Saturday. As did Jersey Shore Dr. Cox...after eight months. Fuckin' Hey Guys, man. Seriously...

WTF Full Moons?!  Anyway...

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2012

TWS Week 4: The First Four - Part II

RH date two was dinner. Without the veil of illness, I began to see he was much surer of himself than I had previously thought. I can’t decide if this is a good thing, or just cockiness – with a pinch of insecurity he attempts to hide. He is also extremely willing to talk about past relationships, which again I can’t decide if that’s a good thing, or a bright red flag. Then again, both of these were the failing of the last guy I dated, so maybe the point goes to RH. I asked him why he deleted his profile and gave me a long-winded answer I could barely follow - something about wasting time and money on dates that go nowhere. Strange timing, sir.

But on the topic of long-windedness, his answers always took a while, which I warned meant I’d space out, so could he keep them succinct. He made fun of this – I think due to underlying insecurity – for a while until I said “Stop that, you’re getting on my nerves”. Guys, don’t badger a lady (especially one that is trying to help you out). Also, during the date he asked if he would get to kiss me again that night: Guys, DO NOT DO THIS either. Mk. It's awkward and uncomfortable: Instead, go all Nike on the ladies if you feel a vibe and Just Do It. Regardless, after dinner and more drinks, he walked me to my car and I let him kiss me - slightly more impassioned than I was feeling, which led me too believe he may be slightly aggressive when it comes to that stuff. (I got home he texted to thank me for coming out and that next time he wouldn’t “abuse” me – in reference to the badgering. Good idea, dude.)

As a caveat, I should probably explain that I really like kissing. I think during first dates – and perhaps subsequent second dates – a kiss makes a guy go “SCORE! I’m in.” when I’m just there going la la la. I like kissing… (similar to how I feel about spooning/sharing my bed).

Which brings us to the second second date: Dinner with MH. He decided we'd go somewhere in my neighborhood. I have no idea why he wanted to go around there: Convenience for me? Parking? He leaves work before me? He figured we'd go back to my house for the no pants dance? I’m not sure, but we had dinner down the road from my house. I had to request he pick me up instead of meeting at the restaurant. GUYS! Offer to pick a lady up. She can decline, but fucking offer. Even if you don’t have a car – offer to meet her at her house and go together…eh-hem Housewife. I know it’s online dating, but your tongue’s been in my mouth; you can come to my house.

But I digress, we went to dinner, during which time, I began to see him differently: More comfortable; less feminine. (Or maybe I was just ovulating last time and extra sensitive to effeminate gestures and Madonna praises.) After dinner – of which all dinners in dating appear to automatically include cocktails, which I like – he had to pee. We could not, for the life of us, find the bathrooms in that place even after asking staff for help – although we did find “Hipster Fight Club” (as he put it) a.k.a. 20-somethings playing ping pong in the back. I told him to give up and pee in a bush. And then I decided that's sort of rude and said he could just use my bathroom. So we headed to my house. If this was his plan all along, he is a fucking evil genius. And I should have fucked him eight times on my front porch out of sheer respect for such a masterminded plan.

Because once in my house, he broke is iPhone with a Praying Mantis. As in, he went to poke at the thing with his phone and when the bug touched him, he panicked and flung his phone on laminate. Point: Effeminate. After he failed to make it turn back on, I started to feel guilt – since I was the one curious about the Mantis – and told him I would fix it if he gave it to me. Men don’t like to be called assholes; they also don’t like to be told a woman can fix something they, themselves, cannot. I took it anyway, went upstairs and put it on my docking station. After a bit, he got bored (I assume) and came upstairs as I continued to troubleshoot. I got it working, but slightly embarrassed by the state of my room – and him checking it out – I started to pick up a bit (clothes were strewn about since I’d been busy/sick/on travel). Eventually he turned to my DVD collection and after about 10 minutes in my room, asked if we could watch Aladdin. So we did. I love a good cuddle. And then he ended up sleeping there. Did I mention I love a good cuddle?

There was spooning and kissing. And after telling him to go to sleep, and essentially giving him the ol’ blue balls shove off (okay, he likely didn’t have blue balls, but I like this term I just created), he said, “Okay. I’m patient.”

“That’s good,” I replied, wondering if he thought Aladdin would actually lead to sex – and on a second date. (Barking up the wrong easy-tree there, guy.)

Regardless of timing, that patience may come in handy, because, as it turns out, I think I’ve come to realize that these men are being vetted: Once I decided to go on dates, I wondered what I was doing since my interest in a relationship right now is minuscule to rolling over and playing dead. But, perhaps I’m looking for someone to scratch that Loop itch until Monogamist Mary pops on over to my crib again. So now I wonder, is it either of them? And do I need to tell these "relationship" "matches" that I'm Short-Term Sally at the moment? Furthermore, is it a horrible idea to date just mostly for sexy time - and spooning? I’ve been there with a crush and that's the Crashed and Burner; are pseudo-strangers are a safer bet?

And if I go through with scratching the itch, it leads to even more questions because you (well, I) can’t sleep with more than one person at a time so: 1. How do you decide? and, 2. How do you tell the other perfectly suitable person to shove off?

Online Dating: Post IV: Week 4, Part I

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2012

TWS Week 4: The First Four - Part I

Four weeks; four dates.

I know I wrote a while back stating that I was going to get to telling you about my first date…and then I didn’t. So now you get my first four. Or rather, my two first and two second dates. I’m fairly certain I can barely juggle one guy, but here are two: Both vying for my affections, and by affections, I mean sex. I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. Granted, I’ve been out of the sexy loop for a little while, but I believe that's still how it works.

I suppose I should take a moment to explain my absence from the Loop’o’Sex. First and foremost, I am picky – and I have to be comfortable with someone before I can sleep with them (one night stands need not apply…anymore). Secondly, STDs scare the crap out of me (not literally…that would be gross). Thirdly, babies should not have babies (…and I’m 28 going on 20 for a little while longer). After The Ex, I started seeing sleeping with this guy and we did that for a while; so after that crashed and burned last year, I put myself on one year of self-imposed sex-sabbatical, which lasted 362 days. Why not the full 365, you ask: A couple of months after I met the last guy I dated, my loins were burning holes in all of my underwear and it was just getting too panty-expensive to go without on those last three days. That was in January: That’s the last time I got laid. By choice, of course; I’ve had many-a-man sleep in my bed since then - one of which is called Pierre, because he peed in my garbage can. I later learned he was a lawyer, turned lobbyist on the Hill and I briefly entertained the idea of going out with him more than just the second time AFTER the pee incident, until he acted like an asshole, I told him so, and, as it turns out, men don’t like to be called assholes. [EDIT: 1/17/13: I would later be matched with Pierre on OkC. Awkward.] This is the crop I have to choose from? I’d rather be Chaste Charlie. (Or Vestal Vicky.)

Alright. So that’s where we are on the sexy-time front. And then we added online dating to the mix. Since I never planned to actually go out with any of the guys from OkC, I set up my account and answered my 200+ questions with the honesty and mindset of my typical dating style: Dating for a life partner. At heart, I’m a serial monogamist; right now, I feel anything but. So now I’m getting matched up with guys that probably want more than "anything but a serious relationship" and my mom thinks I’m going to “break someone’s heart”, but I don’t want to re-answer the questions and get a bunch of skanky dudes with STDs and huge egos thinking they can come in my bed…and then in me. (See: Explanation for absence from Loop’o’Sex.) Plus, it's never a completely closed off idea, the universe will have you know. 

So, here I am going out with two guys with fairly high “match” percentages. Read: Not just in it for the booty, I assume. Or are all guys just in it for the booty?

Anyway, back to the dates. The first date was the Housewife, or RH, for short. I nickname everyone. Deal with it.

The first date was cute: We met outside my metro and then went to a book store that’s also a bar/restaurant and shared apps and had cocktails – hot toddies for me since I went full-on half dead with illness the rest of the week.  He asked me lots of questions about myself and, generally, I like to talk about myself, so I found this most pleasing. I also began to wonder if he was actually interested, strictly interviewing, or just really good at first dates. Afterwards, he said “I’m going to take you on a walk”. So we walked a few blocks then sat down on the stairs of some German Bank building to watch a YouTube clip he had told me about over drinks, and then chatted more. On the steps he touched me – a lot. In the most random of ways: An arm here, a shoulder there; hair…every dating book ever says: Interested. Not too long after sitting down, I realized I needed to leave to catch my train. He held my hand as we walked to the metro and got on topic of my cultural foods and stated which restaurant he would take me too next time. “Okay,” I said. Before I walked to my side of the platform we said goodbyes, ending with a kiss. A good one: Brief, honest, nice. We would continue to chat/text almost daily and eventually squeeze date two into my schedule – nearly two weeks after the first one.   

My second first date was with Mini-Horse, or MH, for short. We met up at a bar/restaurant. There was barely anyone else there and the music was weird. Very 80s. At one point Madonna came on and he expressed his love for her. I questioned his sexuality aloud. He took it in stride, but he came off very feminine to me that night and a little bored; he talked about his job a lot. In stark contrast to RH, didn’t ask many questions about me. I began assuming he wasn’t interested, but then after that place, he wanted to go to another place around the block (that we had talked about). Maybe I was wrong…and maybe he’s not gay, I thought. We went; we laughed. I hadn’t eaten dinner, since it wasn’t specified and I didn’t want to be the only one eating, so by night’s end, I was a little toasted; as was he. He offered to have a cab take me (out of his way) to my house before he took it to his. Pleasant surprise: Points for MH. He asked me if he should walk me to my door, to which I lushly exclaimed “OF COURSE!”, and there we shared a drunken, yet pleasant, kiss. He texted me when he got home and asked if the following day was too soon to see me again. (Don’t worry, after the vodka wore off, he rescinded it by saying he had to work late the next day.) I don’t think I need a dating book to hear the scream: Interested. 

Okay. So good. I'm good at vetting people online. I'm good at interviews first dates. Solid. Point: Window Shopper.

Online Dating: Post III

MONDAY, AUGUST 27, 2012

A Weird Thing Happened

 Okay guys, so a weird thing happened. 

Yesterday date one, henceforth known as RH, sent me a text. Later in the day I texted him back and he called me - using some excuse as to why, yet keeping it brief. I believe within the exchange he called me "babe" and definitely within the exchange set up another date. Okay, fine. But here's the weird part. I signed onto OkC today and found that he had looked at my profile again mid-afternoon yesterday. I only know this because his name was listed in my "recent visitors", but not his face. Why not his face? Because apparently he deleted his profile. What. the. fuck. 

Now I am over-analyzing that OkC has served its purpose for him as bait and here I am a helpless hapless fish out of water (man, that line would be so much better if we used Plenty of Fish). And having only discovered this deletion after I agreed to see him again next week, I am afraid I'm going to end up disappeared. I don't want to disappear.

So it begs the question: How common is it for someone you meet to hide or deactivate their account after meeting you? Just coincidence? Should I be afraid? Or am I oh-so-clearly over-reacting? (Cause that's weird, right?)

Guys. Guys! LISTEN. If you can't find me after next week, you know who took me. Please come find me.

The One Where I Officially Became Tenacious

I meant to write this months ago. And then it fell through the cracks of life being busy. So I want to make sure I mark it down: The day I officially became tenacious: October 13, 2012.

Six days after my birthday, I ran a half marathon. This would mark my... hmm...
[Nashville. Frederick. Virginia Beach. Baltimore.] ...fourth half-marathon. The thing is, is that during my birthday celebrations the previous Saturday, I had apparently twisted my ankle. And only realized the enormity (I noticed it was sore on Sunday) of it that Wednesday when I was partaking in my pre-race gym session.

5 inch platforms, bottle service and wet floors equal ouchies.

Ouchies. Headline reads: Oct. 10, post gym: Life participant
realizes the enormity of the situation, posts to Facebook

After posting my admission photo that I may have, in fact, sprained my ankle in my heels on my birthday, my mom and slue of other Interneters insisted I not run the half marathon in Baltimore that weekend. And that's exactly what I did...

...Psych! I totally ran it. And finished.

And PROMPTLY hobbled to the medical
tent. Wherein they said, "You did what?!" 

That's right, volunteer medical personnel (one of which brought me chick-fil-a meant for volunteers and made my day), I ran a half marathon knowingly sprained. And I almost PRed! I was 3 minutes from my personal record - which I would have beat had I not stopped to retie my shoes 3 times and fix my KT tape. Admittedly though, I got sore at mile nine - like really really sore, but shocked I lasted that long (go KT tape!) - and began to walk. I quickly realized how bad my ankle was and started to run again, knowing full well that if I walked or stopped, that I wasn't finishing. So the last three miles were spent with me telling myself "there is no pain" and "there's ice at the end" over and over again.

Forward thinker and expert self-parenter, I came prepared for what I assumed with be a very painful post-race time:


And this sight confused the bananas out of everyone. Tee-hee.

It was somewhere around that point in the day, sporting my medals and my boot (I borrowed from a friend) that I officially deemed myself tenacious. And then we rode horses, as planned. Which was mildly painful, but totally worth it.



Cause that's what you do after running 13 miles on
 a sprained ankle, right?

Furthering my tenacity, I made an appointment the following week at the orthopedist: Not because I feared it was broken - though it hurt like a mother - but because I had another half-marathon that was five weeks away and I wanted to make sure that I could run it and remain not broken. Nothing major, he concluded, just a serious sprain and ballsy idea to keep running. Luckily, I got a ortho who is also a runner, so he did not judge me. He simply said no running for 10 days, then start out slow and suggested swimming instead (like the medical tent doc).

(So I started to swim. This has lead to a plethora of stories and lots of naked Asians. The community pool is quite the experience. I know, you're totally looking forward to that post now.)

I remained sore for a while. So I sat out of running for three weeks as I slowly began my experience in the community pool arena.

What? I shouldn't run on this again?

Three weeks later, I felt good enough to give it a go. I ran 11 miles. I was still a little sore, but I had to make sure the half in Miami in two weeks was still do-able after doing such a stupid silly tenacious thing. And wouldn't you know, two weeks later, with little continued training to speak of and still having to wrap up the ankle, I finished my fifth half marathon - and this time, with the added bonus of Miami-club-smoke-induced asthma.

Finisher.

(And to think: All of this began with one Yes Year request.)