Monday, April 18, 2011

Chasing Men Through Machines

Date #1

OkCupid suitor number 1 was a decent guy; a waiter by day, musician by night. Also, over the age of 40. We agreed to meet a a coffee shop called Intelligentsia. The moment he walked up to me in his skin tight, black t-shirt and skinny jeans I knew . . . he was gay.

We spoke for a while about music and careers. He has a 6 yr-old autistic child with a woman he never married.  We spoke about autism which reminded me of Abe's mom, who works in special education. Whatever.

He never looked me in the eye when we spoke, and often seemed distracted during the conversation. I tried not to flirt with the younger men at the table next to ours.

The meat of the conversation for me was discovering he had not been in love for 15 years. He wasn't in love with the woman of whom he had a 10-yr affair and a 6 yr-old child. I asked how can you go so long without being in love? He shrugged his shoulders. Its all so mystifying to me.

He mentioned this woman, the mother of his child, worked next door and always checked over his shoulders when speaking of her. Then, he insisted on walking me to my car, in front of the music store where she worked. So ridiculous.

Later, I got a text about how I was "adorable" then a message that I am his type. I am not a dude, so no, I'm not. I told him there was no romantic chemistry and he said that's how everything works in his life, and I never heard from him again.

Date #2

This guy was someone I was looking forward to meeting. TALL, 6'4, 35 yrs old and an actor on Nickelodeon who hated LA drivers and loved Charlie Sheen. He and I exchanged some decent banter and he was on top of texting me about a time to meet, despite cancelling/rescheduling a few times.

He was decent looking- no Abe/Prophet but who is? Christ-like . . . freckles  . . . argh!

We met at a Tavern I really like in Pasadena called  T Boyle Tavern. Its only beer and there are plenty of pool tables. Unfortunately, I never go to bars at night, so I forget how busy they get when most people aren't at work. In this case, it was packed and there was an 80s band on full blast.

This guy walked in, let's call him Frank. I saw him and was attracted to him. We hugged and grabbed a beer. I ordered after he ordered and apologized for always taking control. I try to be conscious of letting men do things so they don't get lazy on me.

We went up and spoke a little bit about acting and doggie daycare before taking off and going to the next bar where we could hear each other speak. I did catch him looking at another woman's ass quickly, but I looked at her ass too, so I let it go.

When we started walking outside, he made his first douchebag remark.

"I remember when I was in my late twenties, my friends all started getting married and having careers making what I thought was a large amount of money. It pays off in the end."

Its not exactly what he said, but how he said it. He was puffing out his chest and saying it like he was chewing on a toothpick. He knew I was poor and thought that I would believe a Nickelodeon actor on a first run program would be actually rich. HAHAHAHA! I just laughed out loud.

Then I told him I was an STD phobe. He asked me what I was most afraid of. I said, "Herpes."

He said, "I had sex with a girl once who waited to tell me afterward that she had herpes."

I stopped, "Oh no. Do you have it?"

He slowly nodded and said, "Is that a dealbreaker for you?"

I said, "Yeah, sorry."

He said, "Just kidding. I don't have it."


We walked into the Yardhouse where I ordered one of the best beers of my life. I think it was a Lindeman's or something, a strawberry beer. So wonderful, thinking about it now makes leprechauns dance on my soul.

"I Will Buy You a New Life" came on. (sigh) Those radio gods are following me.

He said, "Yeah I had sex with a girl who waited to tell me after we had sex that she had herpes."

I said, "You already told me that story, remember?"

He said, "Yeah, but I had to wait 6 months for all the tests to come back negative. I could have killed her."

I said, "Well, you could have sued her."

He said, "Thank God, I am clean!"

Yeah . . . he has herpes.

At this point, I saw his phone get a text from a woman named Katherine who wanted to know if they would "Hook up later." He clicked the message away but caught that I read it in the half a second the text appeared. To his credit, he didn't underestimate me.

He said, "You should know that I have a booty call with a 24 yr-old who just wants to fuck me, doesn't want anything else from me. Just fucking." I winced. I don't like men using that word with me in the context of intercourse. Its so jarring.

Then he said, "I also have a date with another girl tomorrow night. She is kind of strange but interesting. Like you." I smiled. I said, "I appreciate the honesty."

He said, "Well this is dating. (pause) So do you have a booty call right now?"

I thought, Rummy? No, I don't want to degrade him to booty call. I said, "No, not really. I don't believe in sex outside of a monogamous relationship." He took pause. Maybe I should put this on my dating profile.

I do say:

You should message me if:
You aren't looking to hump me. Please don't waste our time. 

Not specific enough?

I said, "I enjoy sex but it really is pointless unless there is a level of intimacy. I don't orgasm and once you have intimate sex, make love, you never really enjoy casual sex again." Is this true? I think it is.

He said, "Yeah, after I got out of my 3 year relationship, I went on a fuck rampage. I had sex with all sorts of women. Finally, this hot girl, great body, big tits was riding me when I fell asleep. I stayed hard so she could finish herself off but she was pissssed. That's when I decided I needed something a little more substantial."

I can't believe I actually thought this guy was a potential suitor. At this point, I was just going to enjoy the candid conversation, my spectacular strawberry cider and let this guy hang himself.

He asked if I was on Facebook, and I told him I was. He looked me up and pulled up my bikini photos. He said, "Wooowwww!"

Somewhere in here, he asked me how old I was. I told him 33 which surprised him. Then he said men like younger women because of their bodies, not the conversation.

I said, "That might be the expectation, but my body is the best its been. Even since my 20s."

He said, "You have a . . . cute body."

Hey, asshole, the last three men I slept with said they "loved" my body, ok? Its not cute, its pretty fucking hot (if my Roman debauchery this month doesn't catch up to me).

We decided to leave and walked back to my car, several blocks down. We got on the subject of Abe, which I didn't care about since this D-bag had herpes and thought being paid to dance around on children's programming granted him a lifetime supply of pussy.

He asked about how old Abe was and if the sex was good. I said, "Yes, the sex was amazing, but it was more than that." He nodded, "Of course . . . of course."

He said, "You know the right guy for you will be older, right?" I nodded slowly. Why does everyone keep telling me that? These older guys are such assholes. And not nearly as adorable. All they have is money, that's it. Someday I will have money too. I will. Right?

I drove him to his car and he said, "You smoke?" My fucking car still stinks of it.

I said, "I was smoking to get over Abe after I dumped him. I quit now."

He said, "You dumped him? Are you sure?"

Ha . . . ha . . . ha.

I was still in love with the little shit. So what?

As we parted, I said, "Good luck on your date tomorrow."

He said, "You would say that. I would like to see you again. Would you see me again?"

I said, "Um . . . even though I am sexually unavailable."

He said, "Yes, of course. I am looking for something substantial too."


I choked, "Ok" when he pecked me on the lips.

I got home and called Abe. No answer. The whole point of dating is to get over my ex, not like him more!!!

The next day, my sister came to town. She is passing through to spend spring break with a friend somewhere in Southern California.

She arrived with wine, food and 100 lbs of dog food for her dog nieces. My sister and I aren't always close, but damn, sometimes she can be the best sister in the world. When it counts! Then she took me grocery shopping, but I didn't ask for much. Just some water and juice. She is barely making it as a 9th grade English teacher, even though it is considered one of the most prestigious schools in Las Vegas.

She asked we finish a bottle of rum she took with her, so we had pink lemonade and rum on my porch with the dogs as the sun went down.

She mentioned her students were "fucking morons" and even the kids she tutors on the side to supplement her income didn't have a light behind their eyes. I told her about the two 20 yr olds at Doggie Daycare who were untrainable. They do shit. They don't learn shit. And they have to be micromanaged.

I said, "One of these kids asked how to spell the word 'romping' so he could start using bigger words on the dog notes. And his i is dotted with a big circle like a 2nd grader."

My sisters hand fluttered into a fist, staring off in the distance she muttered, "Welcome to my world."

She is excited about her new suitor, who actually found her attractive and asked her out on a date. That hasn't happened in years.

They discussed their quirks.

She said, "I told him I had a lot of shoes. A lot. He said, 'I'm trying to think what a lot is.' I said, 'More than you're thinking. You probably have 6 to 8 pairs of shoes.' He replied, 'Yes, I have 8 pairs of shoes.' I said, 'I have 8 pairs of grey shoes.'

We talked about Murray, my cat who passed in February, and I broke down crying.

She told me it wasn't my fault and we refilled our drinks.

Then I told her about how the pet crematory keeps calling me to pay for his ashes. I can't afford them so I am begging they hold on for a little longer until I have the funds. I called Abe, crying in a moment of weakness, and he replied, "Your emotional well being is not my responsibility." I hung up on him.

My sister said, "What an asshole."

When I told Em this, she had to take a walk around the house, she was so pissed. Apparently, she already spoke to Abe about covering the bill for ashes when it happened and made him promise to take care of it. Then Em gave me some cash, I can't bring myself to spend.

I said, "Oh he texts me from time to time. Here is one. "I think about u. I think about us. I discovered something unique about us both. We tend to learn things in reverse. Or its just me, not learning anything. I keep trying to find the words to apologize for being so cold hearted. My heart must have a bad twist in it."

I interject here, "Or you are just an asshole."

I continue, "I never wanted to be mean to u. I hope you'll lighten p and stop bringing on the end of the world You might feel better. I might feel better. (beat) We could feel better."

I told her I hate text him. Where Helen wants to taper off her relationship with her boyfriend sexually, I have to taper off communication. If I didn't constantly feel the need to communicate from the beginning, I wouldn't have become a good writer. 

I hatext him. It feels good even though its weak behavior.

"My mom was excusing your behavior as immature up to this point. Now she says you are too cold and uncommitted. You are a jack ass."

"Its called a heart. Look it up. North of your penis."

In 1 minute, 1 letter increments: "f-u-c-k-y-o-u!!!"

To which he responded, "G thanks. How was your day?"

If I don't text him insults for a while, he will write me, "I wouldn't mind hearing more about where I went wrong and became a bad person, tonight."

I guess any attention is good attention at this point, for either of us. Its so toxic.

My sister and I killed the rum and moved on to a bottle of wine. 

We got on YouTube to watch Mick Jagger dance and sing. This is what chicks do when they get drunk.

She then introduced me to the lead singer of Hinder, who is exquisite.

She sighed as she sipped her red, "Skinny white boys covered in tattoos."

I said, "How do I know he has a big dick?"

She said, "Cause all skinny white boys have big dicks."

Then we went back to Guns N Roses. I was obsessed with Axel Rose in elementary school, and dressed like him at Girl Scout Camp. I really didn't think it was that big of a deal until other girls in other troops took pictures of me.

We watched Axel slither around the stage, then back to young Mick Jagger.

Then she took me to BuckCherry and Cavo who I was less impressed with. The wine was making my mind swim. I asked to have a turn and show her the Weezer video I have been obsessing over. "Say It Ain't So."

The song is about a boy whose father left the family due to alcoholism. One day, with a new step father, the boy comes home from school and sees a beer sitting in the fridge and is forced to wonder if the nightmare will continue. I don't know why that song is inside me all the time, its just precious- the heart in the song. 

Jesus Christ, that boy stole my heart. I know he is no longer a boy, but his singing really makes my body drip.

During the song, I start weeping over Abe. My sister tried to get me to stop, but my head hung so far down, my forehead was tapping my desk.

She said my name gently then, "Men don't love like this."

They don't?

I grabbed my pipe and smoked. I turned to my sister and she had tears in her eyes and said, "Smoke more. Its ok." She was giving me permission to hurt and I really appreciate that.

She put on Kid Rock to try to get my mind off Abe, who I already hatexted. 

"Go fuck yourself for several reasons."

"Where r the lightbulbs?"

"You are an asshole."

"I will find someone as good in bed as you. And he will be a rock star! So FUCK  . . . YOU! And I loved your family. So double fuck you!

I told my sister I had to lay down and wandered into my bedroom where I sprawled out and threw up all over my bed shortly after. I tried to clean the sheets, but my head was spinning, so I did my best, changed everything and laid a towel down.

When I woke up in the morning, my sister and I were both hurting. Pasta and sauce spilled all over the stove top and sink. Oh yeah.

Bed sheets were left on the shower floor for cleaning.

My sister was limping from twisting her ankle, and my eyes were swollen like wooden nickels from crying.

A text from Abe read, "U are making me worry about you. And you are still being negative."

We both had some coffee, took the dogs for a slow hangover walk which Maggie (my eldest) loved. And then I sent her off for her spring vacation before I went to work.

Remember the opening monologue in SIX FEET UNDER? He admires the Italians for crying, wailing over their dead. It looks like a spectacle to an outsider, but Nate, the main character, appreciates it. There is no facade, no show . . .there is just the nakedness of hurting. I love that.

Italians know how to grieve. No shame. Jesus, where would I be without the women in my life?

Mia famiglia.

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