No Action Here Folks….Keep Moving

Damn….I’m an awful blogger. I can barely recall the last time I posted and yet each day I’m so excited to see my new Twitter followers – surely anxiously awaiting my next entry of snarky and amusing dating anecdotes.

Or not.

Dating has been slow. While work has been fast – and exhausting. No excuse, or should I say, more like an excuse a man would give. “I really dig you baby but I’m too busy with my career to be in a relationship.” All a load of crap I know. So I continue to hang out on occasion with Clark Kent. Nice guy but I can confirm without hesitation that I do NOT want to be his girlfriend or in a relationship with him. He’s a nice enough guy – end of story – end of the emotional trail. I’m still looking and have continued to meet a gaggle of fabulously stylish gay men. And although I continue to troll online, have had quite disappointing results and interactions.

I continue to try but often wonder when I’ll find real love again. The good news is that I know who I am, what I want, need and expect from a man and a partner. I see my parents, married for almost 50 years, truly one another’s best friend – then I see my contemporaries who are in one stage or another of divorce when they realize in hindsight that they never really should have married that person….but it was the right time or the thing to do. In the end, that’s just not enough. Not enough for me anyhow. Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy?

I think so….

I Kid You Not

When I say psychos, criminals and pervs are the only ones who contact me online…

I’m not kidding!

Always Judge a Book By its Cover

Been on a few dates now with Clark Kent. I haven’t written because I’m not really quite sure what to say. Strange from me, I know.

I don’t have anything bad to say about him. He hasn’t done anything awful or offensive. But something is clearly off or missing that I can’t put my finger on. Putting that aside, we had a very candid conversation about how he is not looking for a relationship, doesn’t have time to commit to someone at the moment and wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to anyone. So….where do you go from there?

I told him, that I was in fact, looking for a relationship, but I appreciated his honesty and wasn’t sure where that left us. Put that together with me being ambivalent and I was okay no matter how this thing pans out. He said he was ideally looking for a friend that he could hang out with, do things with and be sexually attracted to them (which I suppose is code for sleeping with them). Dating with no strings or friends with benefits…no matter what you call it, it’s what a lot of men (I won’t say most) want and it’s bullshit. It’s all the so-called good stuff and none of the committment or obligation. Nice try buddy.

Needless to say, of course I heard from him again days later. Checking in and saying hello, and then ultimately asking if I’d like to go out again. Hmmm…..

“Is this us going on a date or going out as friends?” I asked.

“How about friends going out on a date?!” he lamely offers up.

So what am I supposed to do with that now? Ah, fuck it, I’ll go. I’m not feeling vulnerable like I’ll get hurt because I’m so on the fence anyhow. But I need to at least kiss this guy to see if we have any sexual chemistry since our social chemistry is fair but a bit awkward in my opinion. Perhaps this will tip me over the fence one way or the other.

But here’s the kicker…..he doesn’t drink…..or smoke….or drink coffee….or eat sushi. I mean my entire social existence is based on those things! So I ask – if you go out to dinner on a date,and you don’t drink, and there’s a certain nervous awkwardness and questionable things in common…..what do you do when you’re done eating???

Which was where we wrapped up date number two btw.

I don’t know about him, but I needed to be a little buzzed in this scenario while I test the waters. So outside of me acquiring some kind of date rape drug, how am I supposed to loosen up, loosen him up and see if there is anything lying beneath the surface with Clark Kent? I should note that his texts throughout the week were consistently sexual in nature, despite us barely touching skin beyond a good-bye kiss on the cheek and then peck on the lips. He was giving definitive, wolf in sheep’s clothing vibe and I’ve been down this road before.

The best looking, most charming, sexiest guys (The Pilot, The Greek, Still Married Guy etc.) all had a magical spell over me until we hit the sack. Then their mystical powers vanished and then what I was left with was a selfish or inadequate lover who clearly has never been told by, or asked a woman what actually works and what clearly doesn’t. And I guarantee they all think they’re spectacular in bed.

But I digress…..

The flip side to this coin is that the mild-mannered, somewhat nerdy, non-player, average Joes have always been amazing when it comes to pleasing a woman (namely me) and can’t seem to do enough to make me happy and pleasantly surprised and left with a newfound respect and sense of wonder and delight.

So I just KNEW Clark Kent would be good. I just felt it. He has no vices he’s got to be a sexual deviant or at the very least, damn good in bed.

He asked me to a museum and it was one of those days that I just felt like nesting in. Watching a movie, making dinner and wearing loose clothes or sweats if possible. He happily agreed and I knew I had to get him drunk, or at least tipsy and test these waters….

Since I don’t like to describe my sexual exploits (simply hint to them), I’ll say I made my famous sangria that just about any non-drinker will imbibe with delight. I threw in a pinch of rum, clearly disguised by the sugar and wham! We’re good to go. Home cooked meal, a biz of booze and he’s at my place. I’m no dummy.

Yadda yadda yadda….

We talked and cooked and dinner was fucking delicious if I must say so myself. Peruvian roasted chicken with brown rice, salad and cilantro dressing. Again questioning our chemistry and if we were on the same wave length, I was still stuck on the board and waiting to grab my get out of jail or you’ve won a beauty contest collect $200 to move this thing ahead or back two steps to get out of the holding pattern in my brain.

My so-called plan worked. He eventually leaned in and kissed me and I knew from that moment this was going to be good….And I was right.

So do I like him now? Still not sure. But it’s nice to have options.

Why You Don’t Shit Where You Eat….and other important life lessons

Was on the train early the other morning in my usual half daze. Somehow managed to squeeze myself into a seat and started to slowly enjoy my steaming hot Starbucks Venti. Most mornings I’m so engaged in my morning ritual of AM NY or Metro, the free newspapers given out by homeless men which satisfy my need for a. a small paper to hold while balancing my purse, coffee and whatever crap I’m dragging into the office b. a quick read of the hot news topics and c. my daily horoscope – but today the near comatose speed baristas killed a solid 10 minutes to make my damn coffee so I had to wiz by the paper boys, only to have to stare at fellow passengers and the Dr. Zizmore skin or teeth ads on the train (I’ve been looking at his ads for years and still not sure exactly what it is he treats).

Two stops in, and a well dressed guy gets on the train or at least moves in front of me…directly in front of me but with his back facing me. I see a portion of his face and I think….shit…..I’m pretty sure….it’s Hurricane Man. Only his hair is grown in (he had randomly shaved a really luxurious head of hair for absolutely no reason). I feel my palms began to sweat and a flush comes over me. I’m patting down my forehead in a panic…..do I say hello? Randomly look off into empty space or try to find an old Con Ed bill in my bag I can fully engross myself into and look engaged for the remainder of this twenty-five minute ride downtown??

Shit, but what if it’s NOT him?! How dumb do I feel then?! But I also don’t want to give him satisfaction of him thinking I’m avoiding him….what to do….what to do…what to….ooops……he got off at 42nd Street. I know he works downtown but maybe he switches trains there…..or…..he saw me and figured he was getting off that train regardless of where it stopped next. Who knows.

I had to confront him….in the most non-confrontational way of course. I sent him an email simply asking him if he was wearing green cords today? As awful as it sounds, this guy (whomever he is) was actually quite dapper and well put together – in spite of or because of the green cords with the snazzy blazer and debonair scarf and stylish carry/bag. And no, I don’t think he was gay….but nothing surprises me – so who knows.

He responds…“No why” and then we went back and forth and I told him which train I saw the guy from afar (lie) on and he responded “I was on that train this morning” to which I replied “that’s why I think it was you.” This went back and forth a few times to the point where he actually seemed unsure if this was in fact him when I finally answered “wouldn’t you know if you were wearing green cords?!”

“How are you? How you been?” and a bunch of other bullshit questions trying to be polite ensued and then I eventually stopped writing. He clearly has or had limited interest in me but the last thing I need is to have someone in Manhattan (no less my neighborhood AND work neighborhood) that I’m trying to avoid.

Because in all my years living here I can say without question……if you try to avoid someone in this city of 8 million….you will without question bump into them.

Dating a guy in your neighborhood has its definite drawbacks.

Clark Kent

Hurricane Man is out like his predecessor Sandy. Although I have a strong feeling I’ll hear from him again at some point telling me how busy he’s been…bla bla…bla…bla…blaaaa……I’m bored. If I can’t even rely on you as a booty call, what good are you?

So I went on a date last week with a guy I’m intrigued by, yet on the fence about. On paper we have a lot in common. On paper he’s a great catch. But there’s an “X” factor…something wrong or missing (I’m assuming) that I can’t quite put my finger on…yet.

Handsome, clean cut, seems relatively successful, intelligent, well-traveled and educated forty something…..Never married…no kids…uh oh….watch for falling shoes…to drop.I’m getting a Clark Kent vibe from him.

He’s a little nerdy for lack of a better word. He has no game, and I’m always on the fence deciding if that’s a good or bad thing. Of course I don’t want a player, but a man who knows how to date, how to treat a woman, how to PLAN a date. I’m not looking for chivalry (God forbid) but just some old-fashioned pleasantries to take the sting out of the wretchedness of dating.

Doesn’t drink, or smoke or do drugs. No tattoos, no notable vices. Sounds like a snoozer I know. But to offset this, he is incredibly well travelled….a HUGE plus in my book. Very adventurous and has family in corners of the globe and apparently the will and desire to take off at a moment’s notice. So I wonder, has he never married because of this whole vagabond/citizen of the world crap? Is that why I’ve never married? Or…is he just a closet deviant with female body parts in jars and bags under his bed?  It’s a 50/50 shot at this point.

I always seem to be drawn to a specific type of personality. Charming, smooth, sarcastic, funny…..and ultimately….kinda douchey when they’re not being charming. Always a yin for the yang. This guy, although well spoken, has a sort of awkward quality to him. I’m just not sure if that will irk or entice me. Something about him reminds me of the Brainiac Cowboy, but cuter….and hopefully dresses better. Not really my type, but a possible option and contender. The first kiss will be critical.

So besides him falling asleep during our conversation (eyes closing, me catching him before the full nod-off) he was a perfect gentleman on our first meeting. Note that once I confronted him “Uhhhh are you sleeping?!” he ran to the counter and purchased a triple shot espresso beverage and then explained how he was coming off three hours of sleep the night before.

It’s one of those wait and see scenarios, I’m being open-minded and I really need to go out again before forming an opinion. But here’s the kicker…Clark Kent appears to be a closet perv. He hasn’t said anything inappropriate but he’s definitely putting his feelers out there. Him texting me at 11 pm asking me if I’d like him to come over was the first indicator. Subsequent messages packed with sexual overtones and double entendres sealed the deal. Apparently I send out a sex goddess vibe I’m completely unaware of! Of course I find that intriguing as hell. Wolf in sheep’s clothing and all that jazz. Let’s just hope it’s not of the Ted Bundy/Craigslist Killer variety.

Things to be cautious of…him noting that he isn’t looking for a relationship per se, but if it happens that’s great. I fucking hate when they say that because it’s really bullshit. It’s simply code for “I want to hook up with no strings….unless I decide I’d like to pursue you….so don’t hold me to it.” Second clue…his profile says he’s looking for “friends and activity partners.” WTF?

Jeeeeez Louise!!! Doesn’t anyone older than 25 and younger than 65 want to be in a relationship?!

With me anyhow???

My Existential Moment in the Back of a NYC Taxicab

I always thought wanting it all and having it all were simply by-products of hard work and determination. What scares me is, now after all these years of life, I’m really wondering if that entire concept actually exists. Or if it is supposed to be a concept we use as a tool to constantly strive for something. Something more…or something else.

For pretty much the entirety of my adult life, I have found myself seeking and searching for something I don’t have and yet still want. I think Carrie Bradshaw once remarked about how New Yorkers are always looking for a job or an apartment….or a man. And if she didn’t say that, then perhaps it was me – because it has truly been the story of my life. One out of three. Two out of three. Two and a half…..no wait, I hate that fucking job, we’re back to two. What do you mean you think I’m great but you don’t want to be in a relationship asshole? Whoops…..back to one! Is it me who can’t seem to have it all or does everyone go through this? Or do most normal people not torture themselves with this and just have lower expectations? Am I tortured by my own hopes and dreams? Quite possibly yes.

So I’m in the back seat of a cab, making the long trip home after an exhausting day at work, looking out the window, at all the sights and lights of the city – feeling like I should feel happy and grateful and yet I find myself feeling worried, anxious, stressed, tired and wondering if I can have my cake and eat it too. Can I and will I ever have the career, the man, the relationship, the security, stability and the “things” be it material or emotional, that I’ve always longed for? I yearn for balance of work and personal life but I seem to merely swing like a pendulum back from one extreme to the other.

Work= stress=money=no life/no time.

No work=free time=stress=no money=feelings of inadequacy.

Fuck me! I swear the people I watch on tv seem to have it all, why can’t I?!

Some days I enjoy the hopeful prospect of meeting new people in the search for the man…well the man I’ve been searching for. Other days I’m just so spent I wish I could simply come home to someone to cook me dinner and rub my feet. Instead I have to figure out how I’m going to look fresh and act enthused about a first date I don’t want to be on with someone who doesn’t know a thing about me. I work all day and then have to put on my Meryl Streep to appear all breezy, fun and just so full of enthusiasm with someone who’s life story I’ll be subjected to over the course of a glass of wine and nachos.

I’m not sure if I’m feeling down per se, or simply reflective. Maybe I’m just too complex to be happy. Maybe I need better meds. Maybe I need to start drinking. Maybe I need to start studying eastern philosophy. I worry too much, I think too much, I care too much and I put too much pressure on myself. These qualities are reflected in every pore of my being at work and in my personal life. I am truly my own worst enemy.

I know I’m lucky in many ways, but that doesn’t ease the stress. Does writing help? Sure. And I don’t have time for real therapy anyhow. Will tomorrow be a better day? Who knows. All I know is I’ll feel better about it all for about 10 minutes when I get home and open up the box of new boots I ordered online.

This Too Shall Pass

Thinking of my fellow New Yorkers (even those I’ve dated), as well as the rest of the East Coast communities that have lost so much.

As the news and media fades away, so many will be forced to rebuild and repair, starting anew. New Yorkers have a certain resilience, and I’m constantly blown away by how times like this can bring out the best in people.

Give time, give clothing, give money and give prayers….all needed badly.

p.s. Hurricane Man and  still haven’t met. That clock is a tickin’

Shut The Front Door!*#&%!

When I used to read comments or messages or even see pictures on Facebook of or from Still Married Guy, at first it would hurt me…or I’d feel jealous…or sad….and obsessive. But instead of deleting him, (because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting the best of me), I decided I would exercise restraint and just not go to his page or read his posts. But I still thought of him – often.

When the focus in my life switched to my career and my love life was officially on hold, the pain gradually lessened and the anger began to build. I’d much rather be angry than hurt. Albeit, apathy would be the preferred emotion, I’m not quite there yet. I’ve been tempted many times to send him one of my famous “fuck you” emails just to make him feel like shit for how he treated me and make him aware that he surely had no idea how much he hurt me. But I didn’t. Maybe I want him to see me flourish without him, and then feel like shit. Now I read his comments or messages and simply say (out loud mind you) Fuck you asshole, shut the fuck up! So I suppose I do still care, but it’s peppered with hatred…a step in the right direction!

So my career is once again taking me back on the road and I’m heading back to New York again. I’m not expecting any miracles, but I’m moving for work and hoping the love will fall in line after that. I’ve taken a look online and sure, there are plenty of familiar faces. Funny how these guys don’t seemed to have aged (some even turning back the hands of time) and some lame-asses are still using pictures that were old 2,3, 4 years ago. What’s old is always new again.

I wound up meeting with the Right Up My Alley dude. He picked a really cute but pricey townhouse bar/restaurant and greeted me at the door with oversized hipster glasses and a big smile. He was adorable, super cute, sweet, fun. We sat for about 2 or 3 hours talking about everything under the sun. We had a lot in common and similar backgrounds. Needless to say the man-child alert flag was at full staff, but that didn’t surprise me a bit. 40 never married, living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn but I was digging him nonetheless.

We wrapped things up and walked him to the subway and me to a cab. He made no mention of seeing me, calling me or speaking with me again. Oh but he did wish me luck on my interview the next day! Yup, a great date that I’ll never see again. So I ask myself, what’s worse, a shitty date that I never want to see (i.e.: Iced Tea douchebag) or a great date that is just that…..ONE great date. The lesser of two shitty things I suppose.

Chapter 642, my new life….again!

What a Fool Believes

My head hurts.

I had an in-depth conversation with The Cowboy about….well….this n’ that. I was beginning to feel as though he was avoiding me, evading questions, not making much of an effort etc. and I was convinced he was slowly pulling the plug from the middle of the cord. Just a little tug, a slight wrench…enough to loosen himself to make the final extraction. I fucking hate that. If you’re into it, then be into it, if you’re not then yank it out (literally or philosophically) and get on with it!

We made plans because I asked him out, wanting to see him in person and wanting to get a vibe on whether or not I was imagining this doomsday scenario. I was ready to hear the truth, good or bad, and would prefer to know now, before I invest any further time or energy into this “relationship.” Shit or get off the pot, as they say in certain circles.

We talked….and talked…..and talked and talked. And I’m still not sure where we stand and what lies ahead for us. He looked at me as though I had two heads, what on Earth was I talking about? Avoiding me? Playing cool? Certainly not…or not intentionally as he says. I look at it as we have been dating a month, he adds up the actual “days” and says we’ve been seeing each other a week. We’re both right, it’s just two sides of the same coin. Mars and Venus. He’s dating other people, admittedly so. I don’t have the desire to serial date. In my mind, after 5 or 6 dates, one should be able to determine if you want to continue seeing a person or move on. I’m not talking marriage, just dating for Christ’s sake. I don’t think I’m being rash, premature or unreasonable. But he’s not ready. He needs to move slowly. Geeeez Louise…

Says he wants to get to know me better. Meanwhile, if we are only causally dating once a week, how long is that going to take? I don’t mean to sound impatient, but I’m not a kid. I know what I want, I’m not afraid of taking chances and I don’t suffer fools kindly….especially if that fool is me. I’m not going to chase him or any one else for that matter, but I’m not going to sit around and wait either. I’m in a pickle, you could say.

I believe in his sincerity, he hasn’t uttered a word of bullshit to me yet. I like that about him. The flip side of that is he also won’t tell me what I want to hear for the sake of placating me. Damned if you do or don’t, of course I realize this irony in my twisted brain.

Thing is, I’m not sure if he’s right for me, if we’re compatible or if our world’s are simply too far apart. He’s Texas slow…and I’m NY fast…..can we co-exist and meet in the middle? No idea. But my philosophy is that I’ll never know without trying. Sure I’ve gone down that slippery slope before, but it’s the only way I can live a life of no (or few) regrets.

As we sat outside on a crisp early Spring night, I had a moment where the light and the wind hit him in such a way that for the first time I looked at him and thought…..ya know, he really is cute! And it was at that moment I knew I was fucked. When you realize you are looking at them in that way, you just know you’ve crossed the line of liking and really liking someone.

So he’s digesting what I’ve said. And I’m considering my options.

And like the sands through the hourglass….so are the days of our lives.

Perennial Bachelor Meet The Old Maid

This subject has been beat to death, so I won’t harp on why society finds it perfectly acceptable for men over a certain age to be seen as bachelors while the women are deemed multi-cat owning nut jobs who have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than getting married. I’m not going to sound angry or bitter….I’m just fascinated that’s all.

I remember when I first entered the world of on-line dating, my married friends all told me “pick a guy that is divorced, you’re much better off than with a guy who cant’t commit and just chasing skirts, looking to have fun.” Ewww no….I don’t want someone’s damaged goods! I want someone fresh and new to this world, ya know…..like me!

Ahhh, I was sooooo naive!

I don’t want to label, because of course everyone is different and has a different story and set of baggage, but in general, any time I’ve dated a never-married man over….oh I don’t know let’s say 35, it has become quite apparent rather quickly as to why he never married. It has nothing to do with looks, success, intelligence or charm and everything to do with them either not wanting to, or not being able to settle in or settle down. I should know, most of the men I had great dates with fit into this category after all. And even years later, most of them are still single.

Are they too picky? Are they sabotaging perfectly good relationships and discarding amazing women? Possibly. Holding out for that one person that has everything they always thought a woman should be, possess or say? …With huge breasts to boot! I haven’t used the term man-child in a while so I’ll throw that into the mix as a possible explanation. Are they looking for their mother or the antithesis of her? Hmmm….this is getting a bit Freudian for a humor blog.

Perfect example….

Some of you older readers may recall Dr. McDreamy. The guy I went out with a few times and absolutely adored him. And wanted to rip his clothes off. And told him that in no uncertain terms. We had the date where he had tainted blood spit up all over him so he was late for our date, showed up in blood stained scrubs, showered at my house and then was so traumatized by the string of events he couldn’t enjoy himself. We kept in touch on and off for a few years, I think even sometime last year after I left NY, but nothing materialized. I would have happily had a meaningless sexual relationship with him. Or married him in a flash. Hey, I’m open-minded!

Lately I’ve been perusing the NY bachelors, in the event I return. I also feel as if I’ve tapped the Boston market dry and I’m pretty bored with the selection. The needle is buried so far in the haystack that you’d need Indiana Jones with a magnifying glass to find it. I happen to come across Dr. McDreamy. Same photos, same stats, same paragraph from a few years ago. It’s either working so well he doesn’t feel the need to update, or he’s just too lazy/busy to be bothered. So here’s a very handsome, charming, full head of hair, well-educated NY doctor over 40 who has been online as long, if not longer, than I have. You going to tell me there isn’t a piece missing to this puzzle?

He states he wants a relationship, marriage, kids etc. but maybe that’s just on paper. I somehow find it difficult to believe he couldn’t have his pick of the litter from women ranging in the low 20′s to high 40′s in New York City. That’s a pretty big dating pool. Of course I’m stereotyping and since I don’t know him very well he naturally seems like Prince Charming. Who knows, maybe he’s saying the same about me! If I’m lucky that is.

Meanwhile, Boston Magazine last month did a story on how singles are no longer ashamed of being so and in fact, happy to stay single by choice. Of course the article focused on women, but the point is that it’s now a big deal that no one openly uses the term Old Maid, and single women can now stay single as long as their male counterparts with less stigma. Three cheers for Gloria Steinham, Oprah and Jennifer Aniston, unite my unmarried sisters!

Not sure how much of that I truly believe, but women like myself have certainly chosen not to settle, not to grab any guy or the first that will marry them and to continue to search for an appropriate man that they love, cherish, admire and find compatible for the long run.

So why the hell are we still single?

Who knows.