On the other hand, there's The Good Stuff.
I'm in love with a wonderful woman, and it's awesome. Literally. I'm just stunned at how great it feels. Sometimes I have to step back and take a breath.
She's shocked, too. She says it's like looking in a mirror. We see each other. We GET each other. We're a lot alike. And it's great. It feels like we've known each other for years.
We go hit Goodwills and CD stores and used book stores together. We wander through antique malls and flea markets and look for overlooked great stuff. She loves that I like to "go junkin'." Over the weekend, when we were thinking about making our usual second-hand-store stops, she said "Yeah, let's go play." That summed it up. And we went.
The most boring, normal, everyday stuff is special now because I'm with someone who makes it magic.
It's silly, but the gloppiest, most romantic lovesongs all ring true to me now. They all make sense.
I've got it bad.
She says she's listening to music in a different way now, because of me. We have some common ground -- we agree on how amazingly great Aretha Franklin and Al Green are.
This past weekend, she bought a Three Dog Night best-of, and we were driving through the streets of nearby Bremerton with the music turned up, me screaming along with "One Man Band" (which I hadn't heard in YEARS, sounded GREAT) and "Celebrate" and "Try a Little Tenderness," murmuring along with "Out in the Country" and "Easy to be Hard," and joining in on the choruses while she be-bopped to "Joy to the World" (silliest song to ever sell six million copies, including one to 12-year-old me).
And it was perfect.
I was getting pretty grim awhile back, thinking that Life Sucked and nothing made me happy.
And then along comes this surprise gift from God.
And I am humbled and grateful and I don't know what to say.
Don't give up. This could happen to you.
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Friday, July 1, 2016
Sunday, July 20, 2014
A marriage made in heaven
I have this roommate. My roommate has this girlfriend. Sort of.
Even though money is tight and we can barely feed ourselves and stay ahead of the bills, over the last few months my roommate has let his sort-of girlfriend move into the house, bringing all of her stuff with her, and taking over a bedroom my roommate could have rented-out for at least $300 or $400 per month.
My roommate is not being "a nice guy." He Wants Something from this sort-of relationship. And he's not getting it. She won't sleep with him. She always has some kind of lame excuse.
She doesn't pay rent. She doesn't have a job. She's technically homeless. She gets food-stamp money every month, and spends it at the nearest grocery store ... but she also has five little nieces and nephews that live nearby, and most of the food ends up going to them. And my roommate has to go pick them up when she wants to see them.
When she cooks, it's for the kids. She never cleans up after herself, no matter how big the mess. She won't do dishes.
When she's in the house, she always has the TV blaring -- even when she's asleep. A couple days back she noticed some of the old record albums I have stashed in my room -- Aretha, Al Green, THE MOTOWN STORY. "There's some great old stuff here," she said. "You should play some of it."
"I would," I said, "if you'd ever turn the TV off."
She can be drunk by 11 a.m. She can go through a bottle of wine or vodka in a day, easy -- and start looking around for more. And when she gets a good buzz on, she won't shut up.
When she's really hungover, she spends all day in her room and never makes a sound.
She sometimes creeps around the house like a drug addict, sneaking in and out so no one can ever tell when she leaves or returns. Sometimes she leaves the TV turned up to cover the sound of her sneaking out. Sometimes she leaves just before my roommate gets home from work -- maybe so she won't have to deal with him...?
She's stolen money from my roommate three times. Last winter, a $1,000 electrical generator was stolen out of the back yard when she was the only person in the house -- she claims she never heard a thing. For awhile, I was constantly carrying my laptop and checkbook with me, because I don't trust her. I'm still carrying the laptop -- it's too easy to grab and go pawn-off.
My roommate has threatened to leave all of her stuff out on the front porch, has threatened to haul all her belongings to the dump. He wants her to go back to school, get her GED, go to college.
She'd rather stay home, get drunk, and stare at the TV.
My roommate drinks too, and when they're both drunk, it's something to see. She'll call his name every few minutes about something, and he'll snap at her. When he's REALLY hammered he calls her every name in the book. They can sit on the couch for hours sniping at each other.
She's never around on weekends, because she's out partying with someone else, people we don't know about and have never met.
She's young enough to be his daughter.
What I want to know is What does he get from this "relationship."
When he's drunk, my roommate can talk for HOURS about all the people in his life who have screwed him -- from his parents and his family to his co-workers to his roommates. EVERYBODY'S out to screw him over.
And he must have a real martyr complex, because he's setting himself up to be screwed again.
When I ask what he gets from her, all he says is "It's better than being alone."
No. There are lots of things that are worse than being alone. One of them is being stuck with someone who doesn't love you, doesn't care about you, doesn't respect you.
I've told my roommate he's being used, and he just blows it off. He's in denial. Unless he's really drunk, and then it comes out in the ugliest possible ways. He knows what's going on....
When they get after each other, I usually go hide in my room and try to ignore them. Sometimes it's like they want me there to play referee. I won't do it. They argue anyway, and sometimes I don't get much sleep.
But there's been no violence, so far. Lots of yelling and abuse, but no violence.
Everybody has issues, but Jesus. After seeing these two go at it, I'm surprised anyone ever gets close to anybody, anymore. Do they think this crap is "Normal"?
What do women want? What do men want?
It's hard enough trying to figure out what I want.
Even though money is tight and we can barely feed ourselves and stay ahead of the bills, over the last few months my roommate has let his sort-of girlfriend move into the house, bringing all of her stuff with her, and taking over a bedroom my roommate could have rented-out for at least $300 or $400 per month.
My roommate is not being "a nice guy." He Wants Something from this sort-of relationship. And he's not getting it. She won't sleep with him. She always has some kind of lame excuse.
She doesn't pay rent. She doesn't have a job. She's technically homeless. She gets food-stamp money every month, and spends it at the nearest grocery store ... but she also has five little nieces and nephews that live nearby, and most of the food ends up going to them. And my roommate has to go pick them up when she wants to see them.
When she cooks, it's for the kids. She never cleans up after herself, no matter how big the mess. She won't do dishes.
When she's in the house, she always has the TV blaring -- even when she's asleep. A couple days back she noticed some of the old record albums I have stashed in my room -- Aretha, Al Green, THE MOTOWN STORY. "There's some great old stuff here," she said. "You should play some of it."
"I would," I said, "if you'd ever turn the TV off."
She can be drunk by 11 a.m. She can go through a bottle of wine or vodka in a day, easy -- and start looking around for more. And when she gets a good buzz on, she won't shut up.
When she's really hungover, she spends all day in her room and never makes a sound.
She sometimes creeps around the house like a drug addict, sneaking in and out so no one can ever tell when she leaves or returns. Sometimes she leaves the TV turned up to cover the sound of her sneaking out. Sometimes she leaves just before my roommate gets home from work -- maybe so she won't have to deal with him...?
She's stolen money from my roommate three times. Last winter, a $1,000 electrical generator was stolen out of the back yard when she was the only person in the house -- she claims she never heard a thing. For awhile, I was constantly carrying my laptop and checkbook with me, because I don't trust her. I'm still carrying the laptop -- it's too easy to grab and go pawn-off.
My roommate has threatened to leave all of her stuff out on the front porch, has threatened to haul all her belongings to the dump. He wants her to go back to school, get her GED, go to college.
She'd rather stay home, get drunk, and stare at the TV.
My roommate drinks too, and when they're both drunk, it's something to see. She'll call his name every few minutes about something, and he'll snap at her. When he's REALLY hammered he calls her every name in the book. They can sit on the couch for hours sniping at each other.
She's never around on weekends, because she's out partying with someone else, people we don't know about and have never met.
She's young enough to be his daughter.
What I want to know is What does he get from this "relationship."
When he's drunk, my roommate can talk for HOURS about all the people in his life who have screwed him -- from his parents and his family to his co-workers to his roommates. EVERYBODY'S out to screw him over.
And he must have a real martyr complex, because he's setting himself up to be screwed again.
When I ask what he gets from her, all he says is "It's better than being alone."
No. There are lots of things that are worse than being alone. One of them is being stuck with someone who doesn't love you, doesn't care about you, doesn't respect you.
I've told my roommate he's being used, and he just blows it off. He's in denial. Unless he's really drunk, and then it comes out in the ugliest possible ways. He knows what's going on....
When they get after each other, I usually go hide in my room and try to ignore them. Sometimes it's like they want me there to play referee. I won't do it. They argue anyway, and sometimes I don't get much sleep.
But there's been no violence, so far. Lots of yelling and abuse, but no violence.
Everybody has issues, but Jesus. After seeing these two go at it, I'm surprised anyone ever gets close to anybody, anymore. Do they think this crap is "Normal"?
What do women want? What do men want?
It's hard enough trying to figure out what I want.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
#719: Dressing up in women's clothing and hangin' round in bars
My best Halloween ever happened a long time ago, around 1994 in Rawlins, Wyoming -- very much a "Wild West" sort of town.
My family was visiting my then-wife Cyndi's best friend Deb, a former newspaper co-worker of mine ... and between the two of them, the two women I trusted and loved most in the whole world, they hatched a plan for me to compete in a Halloween costume contest at the bar where Deb worked.
Cyndi dressed up as an Old West schoolmarm -- not far from what she was in Real Life. Deb went as a bar floozie -- again, not far from what she was in Real Life.
When they were done putting themselves together, they turned to me. And you could almost see the lightbulbs go on over their heads simultaneously. They whispered between themselves briefly.
I thought I was going to stay home, or at most be their Designated Driver. I was wrong.
"Do you trust me?" Deb asked. Of course I did.
"How do you feel about dressing up as a woman?" Cyndi asked.
I took a deep breath. I could use a good laugh. Work had been a non-stop stress-a-thon, and I could use a good hilarious Night Out With The Girls.
"If we're gonna do this," I said, "let's go all the way out. Let's not hold back. Let's make it something we can look back on and laugh our asses off about."
Suddenly I was Into It. I went to Deb's closet. There I found a garish purple number cut off above the knee, with some thin spaghetti straps to hold it up. Deb pulled out a wild brunette wig with hair splaying out everywhere.
They started laughing. Nobody would believe it. Nobody would be able to take it seriously. It was perfect.
I was gonna be a white, flat-chested Tina Turner.
They started working on my lips and my eyes. Deb slathered on the purple eye-shadow. They lined my eyes in thick black and put on mascara to enhance my eyelashes. All that stuff's a pain in the ass. They gave me the reddest lipstick Deb could find.
They gave me two handfuls of Kleenex for my fake "boobs" -- I had to have them to hold up the front of the dress.
They slapped on the wig, and teased it up and out even more.
When they were done, I looked in the mirror. And I couldn't stop laughing. I was gonna win that damn contest just from comedy effect.
When I was done, my kids looked me over.
"Dad, you look ... funny," said my then-8-year-old son Andy. But he wasn't laughing. I'll bet my then-6-year-old daughter Alicia was even more confused.
We headed for the bar. When we got there the place was packed and rowdy. Deb got us a table, and the ladies started doing tequila shots and other stuff that's beyond my experience. Good thing I was driving.
I settled in, and except for constantly having to pull up the front of my dress, I started getting fairly comfortable.
Until I started attracting ... admirers....
A rugged cowboy type, probably in his mid-30s, sat down at the table right next to me. He was hammered.
"Wow ... you're really something," he slurred.
"Thanks," I said in my normal voice.
Then he started buying me drinks.
I turned to my wife the schoolmarm, who was sitting on my other side -- for protection if nothing else.
"Do you think this guy realizes I'm not a woman?" I asked her.
She gave the cowboy a long look-over.
"If I were you, I'd go for it," she said.
After the contest was judged, we somehow got out of the bar alive -- and to push the ante even higher, we headed for a nearby Truck Stop for breakfast.
I learned some interesting things while climbing in and out of the car on the way there. Like how women in skirts climb in and out of vehicles without showing off all the goods. It ain't easy!
And I had to keep ... readjusting my "boobs" because they kept trying to fall down to my stomach ... which I hear can happen as you get older....
We pulled up a table at the Truck Stop and ordered breakfast. The Truck Stop staff seemed to take it all in stride -- it was Halloween, after all. But halfway through the meal, the Ultimate Challenge appeared.
I was gonna have to head for the restroom. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
So I walked through the Truck Stop, massive hair, slumping boobs and all, and turned the corner to head for the Men's.
From the bar, one of the truckers called out: "Hey, are you sure you've got the right room?"
In my deepest, most manly voice, I said: "Oh. Yeah, right. Thanks."
And kept on going. Faster.
Somehow got out of there without getting the crap kicked out of me. And when we got home we laughed about it a lot. When I looked in the mirror at the end of the night, I didn't look half as "good" as I had earlier. But I was still laughing.
Oh, the contest? Well, I placed sixth. My wife, who's schoolmarm-in-cowboy-boots costume took absolutely no fashion risks whatsoever, placed fifth. And the floozie placed third. Sometimes it's best to go for the obvious.
When I got back to work, I wrote about the experience in a weekly column I did for the newspaper. Nobody knew quite what to make of THAT, either -- whether they should laugh ... or what. And I thought that was pretty funny too....
My family was visiting my then-wife Cyndi's best friend Deb, a former newspaper co-worker of mine ... and between the two of them, the two women I trusted and loved most in the whole world, they hatched a plan for me to compete in a Halloween costume contest at the bar where Deb worked.
Cyndi dressed up as an Old West schoolmarm -- not far from what she was in Real Life. Deb went as a bar floozie -- again, not far from what she was in Real Life.
When they were done putting themselves together, they turned to me. And you could almost see the lightbulbs go on over their heads simultaneously. They whispered between themselves briefly.
I thought I was going to stay home, or at most be their Designated Driver. I was wrong.
"Do you trust me?" Deb asked. Of course I did.
"How do you feel about dressing up as a woman?" Cyndi asked.
I took a deep breath. I could use a good laugh. Work had been a non-stop stress-a-thon, and I could use a good hilarious Night Out With The Girls.
"If we're gonna do this," I said, "let's go all the way out. Let's not hold back. Let's make it something we can look back on and laugh our asses off about."
Suddenly I was Into It. I went to Deb's closet. There I found a garish purple number cut off above the knee, with some thin spaghetti straps to hold it up. Deb pulled out a wild brunette wig with hair splaying out everywhere.
They started laughing. Nobody would believe it. Nobody would be able to take it seriously. It was perfect.
I was gonna be a white, flat-chested Tina Turner.
They started working on my lips and my eyes. Deb slathered on the purple eye-shadow. They lined my eyes in thick black and put on mascara to enhance my eyelashes. All that stuff's a pain in the ass. They gave me the reddest lipstick Deb could find.
They gave me two handfuls of Kleenex for my fake "boobs" -- I had to have them to hold up the front of the dress.
They slapped on the wig, and teased it up and out even more.
When they were done, I looked in the mirror. And I couldn't stop laughing. I was gonna win that damn contest just from comedy effect.
When I was done, my kids looked me over.
"Dad, you look ... funny," said my then-8-year-old son Andy. But he wasn't laughing. I'll bet my then-6-year-old daughter Alicia was even more confused.
We headed for the bar. When we got there the place was packed and rowdy. Deb got us a table, and the ladies started doing tequila shots and other stuff that's beyond my experience. Good thing I was driving.
I settled in, and except for constantly having to pull up the front of my dress, I started getting fairly comfortable.
Until I started attracting ... admirers....
A rugged cowboy type, probably in his mid-30s, sat down at the table right next to me. He was hammered.
"Wow ... you're really something," he slurred.
"Thanks," I said in my normal voice.
Then he started buying me drinks.
I turned to my wife the schoolmarm, who was sitting on my other side -- for protection if nothing else.
"Do you think this guy realizes I'm not a woman?" I asked her.
She gave the cowboy a long look-over.
"If I were you, I'd go for it," she said.
After the contest was judged, we somehow got out of the bar alive -- and to push the ante even higher, we headed for a nearby Truck Stop for breakfast.
I learned some interesting things while climbing in and out of the car on the way there. Like how women in skirts climb in and out of vehicles without showing off all the goods. It ain't easy!
And I had to keep ... readjusting my "boobs" because they kept trying to fall down to my stomach ... which I hear can happen as you get older....
We pulled up a table at the Truck Stop and ordered breakfast. The Truck Stop staff seemed to take it all in stride -- it was Halloween, after all. But halfway through the meal, the Ultimate Challenge appeared.
I was gonna have to head for the restroom. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
So I walked through the Truck Stop, massive hair, slumping boobs and all, and turned the corner to head for the Men's.
From the bar, one of the truckers called out: "Hey, are you sure you've got the right room?"
In my deepest, most manly voice, I said: "Oh. Yeah, right. Thanks."
And kept on going. Faster.
Somehow got out of there without getting the crap kicked out of me. And when we got home we laughed about it a lot. When I looked in the mirror at the end of the night, I didn't look half as "good" as I had earlier. But I was still laughing.
Oh, the contest? Well, I placed sixth. My wife, who's schoolmarm-in-cowboy-boots costume took absolutely no fashion risks whatsoever, placed fifth. And the floozie placed third. Sometimes it's best to go for the obvious.
When I got back to work, I wrote about the experience in a weekly column I did for the newspaper. Nobody knew quite what to make of THAT, either -- whether they should laugh ... or what. And I thought that was pretty funny too....
Saturday, May 4, 2013
#661: Dating After 50 (Part 2)
OK, to recap....
The Fast One was a REALLY great kisser. But she was Crazy -- & Not in a Good Way. & the main reasons she seemed to want a guy around were for money & emotional support.
The Slow One was a nice person, but there was a lot of Mystery workin' there. One Winter night she actually called ME at work, which she NEVER did, & said -- out of the blue -- that she'd "really love to have a warm body to cuddle up with on these cold nights."
Bing-bing-BING! I gently offered to come right over after I closed the store ... but she said she didn't want that. I never really figured out what she DID want....
The 28-year-old disappeared after she came into the store one busy night & I wasn't absolutely overjoyed to see her. Besides, she had guys Her Own Age to chase after. Before that, she'd started showing me pictures of them that they'd sent to her cellphone....
Somewhere in the middle of this, an old friend kept popping up unexpectedly. She was also Just My Type, & a little closer to My Age, just passing 40. I thought she was gorgeous, & a lot of fun to talk with.
& even though her daughter's birthday inspired from me the first piece of comedy-fiction I'd written in YEARS as a birthday present -- they read it & laughed 'til they cried -- even that wasn't enough to win her over.
She finally told me very gently that -- even though she liked me -- I was WAY down her list of eligible men.
After these failures, I backed off for a bit. Like, 2 years. I started wondering if there was something wrong with me, if I expected too much, if I was misreading women. I'm famous for over-reacting, getting things wrong, making Something out of Nothing.
So I cooled off for awhile, gave up, kept to myself -- read & listened to music & wrote on this blog, & felt fairly happy. I thought I was doing OK. Maybe I was a little lonely sometimes, but I got to the point where I didn't obsess about it. In fact, I tried not to think about it at all. I thought My Life Was Good.
Maybe I was wrong. My roommate -- who had to put up with me through this -- told me at one point that I was being "insufferable." & that's a big word for him.
So I got brave, looked at my bank account, & took the plunge. I joined Match.com.
It was a fun experience, & a real eye-opener. I was only on Match for 2 months -- long enough to get WAY cynical about it. Even got a blog post out of it -- look up "2 months on Match.com!", it's worth the trouble, lotsa laughs.
I was on long enough that my Match profile/bio turned into a satire of all the women's bios I'd been reading -- poking fun at the laundry-list of requirements they had for a guy. Sure, I wanted a financially-secure, romantic, emotionally-stable, passionate mate who enjoyed long romantic walks on a moonlit beach -- who wouldn't want THAT? But the Reality was....
I was in my last couple weeks on Match when a woman walked into my work & introduced herself -- as I'd urged brave women to do in my bio, because I thought I came across better in person than in a photo.
Problem was, I didn't know who she was. Match had sent my bio to her, but I hadn't seen her profile.
She got all embarrassed -- but I told her not to be, that it was All Good & maybe we'd talk more....
I went home that night & checked Match & there she was. We e-mailed each other, & agreed to meet for coffee & talk. We met again for coffee a couple nights later, then agreed to have a picnic on my next day off -- pretty brave planning for Western Washington in the Spring.
& we've been together pretty-much ever since. That's been over a year, now.
At first it was nice just having someone new to talk with. Then it became obvious that we were very much alike in our interests & temperaments & OCD-ness. ...& then we started finishing each other's sentences. & calling each other at the same time. & making each other laugh 'til we cry. & all that other gooshy stuff that happens when you start Falling for someone.
We're very comfortable with each other, & at my age that means a lot. It hasn't been perfect, exactly. We've both got weird work schedules, & we're both a bit of a challenge to live with. There have been a couple bumpy spots along the way, but not as many as I'd expected, & nothing really Major. Mainly, I think, because the new girlfriend is a grown-up. She's very steady. That makes a big difference.
This could happen to you, too. Don't give up.
But watch out for the Crazies....
The Fast One was a REALLY great kisser. But she was Crazy -- & Not in a Good Way. & the main reasons she seemed to want a guy around were for money & emotional support.
The Slow One was a nice person, but there was a lot of Mystery workin' there. One Winter night she actually called ME at work, which she NEVER did, & said -- out of the blue -- that she'd "really love to have a warm body to cuddle up with on these cold nights."
Bing-bing-BING! I gently offered to come right over after I closed the store ... but she said she didn't want that. I never really figured out what she DID want....
The 28-year-old disappeared after she came into the store one busy night & I wasn't absolutely overjoyed to see her. Besides, she had guys Her Own Age to chase after. Before that, she'd started showing me pictures of them that they'd sent to her cellphone....
Somewhere in the middle of this, an old friend kept popping up unexpectedly. She was also Just My Type, & a little closer to My Age, just passing 40. I thought she was gorgeous, & a lot of fun to talk with.
& even though her daughter's birthday inspired from me the first piece of comedy-fiction I'd written in YEARS as a birthday present -- they read it & laughed 'til they cried -- even that wasn't enough to win her over.
She finally told me very gently that -- even though she liked me -- I was WAY down her list of eligible men.
After these failures, I backed off for a bit. Like, 2 years. I started wondering if there was something wrong with me, if I expected too much, if I was misreading women. I'm famous for over-reacting, getting things wrong, making Something out of Nothing.
So I cooled off for awhile, gave up, kept to myself -- read & listened to music & wrote on this blog, & felt fairly happy. I thought I was doing OK. Maybe I was a little lonely sometimes, but I got to the point where I didn't obsess about it. In fact, I tried not to think about it at all. I thought My Life Was Good.
Maybe I was wrong. My roommate -- who had to put up with me through this -- told me at one point that I was being "insufferable." & that's a big word for him.
So I got brave, looked at my bank account, & took the plunge. I joined Match.com.
It was a fun experience, & a real eye-opener. I was only on Match for 2 months -- long enough to get WAY cynical about it. Even got a blog post out of it -- look up "2 months on Match.com!", it's worth the trouble, lotsa laughs.
I was on long enough that my Match profile/bio turned into a satire of all the women's bios I'd been reading -- poking fun at the laundry-list of requirements they had for a guy. Sure, I wanted a financially-secure, romantic, emotionally-stable, passionate mate who enjoyed long romantic walks on a moonlit beach -- who wouldn't want THAT? But the Reality was....
I was in my last couple weeks on Match when a woman walked into my work & introduced herself -- as I'd urged brave women to do in my bio, because I thought I came across better in person than in a photo.
Problem was, I didn't know who she was. Match had sent my bio to her, but I hadn't seen her profile.
She got all embarrassed -- but I told her not to be, that it was All Good & maybe we'd talk more....
I went home that night & checked Match & there she was. We e-mailed each other, & agreed to meet for coffee & talk. We met again for coffee a couple nights later, then agreed to have a picnic on my next day off -- pretty brave planning for Western Washington in the Spring.
& we've been together pretty-much ever since. That's been over a year, now.
At first it was nice just having someone new to talk with. Then it became obvious that we were very much alike in our interests & temperaments & OCD-ness. ...& then we started finishing each other's sentences. & calling each other at the same time. & making each other laugh 'til we cry. & all that other gooshy stuff that happens when you start Falling for someone.
We're very comfortable with each other, & at my age that means a lot. It hasn't been perfect, exactly. We've both got weird work schedules, & we're both a bit of a challenge to live with. There have been a couple bumpy spots along the way, but not as many as I'd expected, & nothing really Major. Mainly, I think, because the new girlfriend is a grown-up. She's very steady. That makes a big difference.
This could happen to you, too. Don't give up.
But watch out for the Crazies....
Friday, May 3, 2013
#660: Dating After 50 (Part 1)
It's a jungle out there.
After the end of my last long-term Relationship (10 years), I was actually kind of excited about meeting somebody new. But I didn't realize how weird things had gotten since the last time I went out on a date.
I went through 5 years of scaring women off, meeting & going out with women who were Obviously Wrong for me, even joining a dating website before I finally met someone who was Right for me -- by accident. & so far we've been together for over a year.
Once I became Available again, I made two obvious mistakes: I was a little too obvious & desperate. & I asked out just about any woman who seemed even mildly interested.
This led to 3 women in a row saying yes, they'd go out with me -- & then they vanished, never to be seen or heard from again. I got the message. I didn't like scaring women off, so I then became perhaps overly cautious.
Which led to me going on dates with one woman who was way too SLOW for me ... & another who was way too FAST. WAY too fast.
The Fast One was an impulse, A Date Of Opportunity, because I realized it had been too long since I'd actually said the words "Do you want to go out?" & she'd just broken up with her boyfriend, so she was easy pickins. But I paid for it....
"So, what's up?" I asked. "Oh," she said, "I just got done kickin' my old boyfriend to the curb." "Well, you need to go out with ME, then!" DONE!
We went out a couple times for a midnight snack, & she always left abruptly, as if she was scared of being followed. Nothing happened. Wasn't sure I WANTED anything to. She seemed a little crazy. Maybe more than a little. So I wrote her off.
Months later, she showed up at my job just as I was closing up. As I locked the front door, she ran up and kissed me on the cheek. "I want to go out with you RIGHT NOW," she said in a breathless rush. "I want you to drive MY car -- & you're gonna Get Lucky tonight 'cos I'm not wearing ANY PANTIES!"
Uh ... Oh ... Kay....
Survived that. But I learned what the game was pretty quick, because she'd only show up out of the blue, without any warning, whenever she needed emotional support or gas money to go see her son in Seattle. Eventually she just drifted away. Thank Ghod.
The Slow One was a couple years older than me, had been alone for 5 years, & said she'd gotten used to men not noticing her. She told me up-front she wanted me "to do all the work" -- call her, figure out things for us to do together, do all the driving, etc. We agreed to get together to check-out second-hand stores, have coffee, maybe go to a movie now & then. We agreed we'd be friends, not rush.
We went out a few times, had some laughs, were pretty relaxed with each other -- but after 3 months of seeing each other every couple weeks we had maybe gently pressed our lips together twice. Things were moving very slowly. We weren't learning much about each other. The conversation dragged. There was a LOT that wasn't being said.
& she wouldn't return phonecalls. After 9 p.m. she wouldn't even ANSWER her phone.
The End came when she got us movie matinee passes & I asked if she wanted me to put my arm around her in case the movie got scary.
"You just keep your arm to yourself," she said. Boom.
Then she COMPLETELY stopped answering her phone.
Too bad. She was a nice person, even if she was a little ... slow ....
There was a 28-year-old I met at work & went out with a couple times. She was My Type -- long dark hair, a few extra pounds in the right places, & she went on&ON about how she LOVED to come into the store when I was working. So I asked her out. I figured she was being pretty obvious.
I didn't realize how young she was until we were out drinking coffee & trying to cover the basics. Then I learned she was almost young enough to be my daughter.
I was uneasy, but kind of flattered because I thought she was HOT -- & very open in her conversation, which was also attractive.
But I noticed that as we sat there talking in the cafe, she looked at EVERY GUY who walked by, & that's when it hit me:
She was just Passing Time with The Old Guy until The Right Guy came along. Once that was clear to me, she wasn't so hot anymore.
(To Be Continued....)
After the end of my last long-term Relationship (10 years), I was actually kind of excited about meeting somebody new. But I didn't realize how weird things had gotten since the last time I went out on a date.
I went through 5 years of scaring women off, meeting & going out with women who were Obviously Wrong for me, even joining a dating website before I finally met someone who was Right for me -- by accident. & so far we've been together for over a year.
Once I became Available again, I made two obvious mistakes: I was a little too obvious & desperate. & I asked out just about any woman who seemed even mildly interested.
This led to 3 women in a row saying yes, they'd go out with me -- & then they vanished, never to be seen or heard from again. I got the message. I didn't like scaring women off, so I then became perhaps overly cautious.
Which led to me going on dates with one woman who was way too SLOW for me ... & another who was way too FAST. WAY too fast.
The Fast One was an impulse, A Date Of Opportunity, because I realized it had been too long since I'd actually said the words "Do you want to go out?" & she'd just broken up with her boyfriend, so she was easy pickins. But I paid for it....
"So, what's up?" I asked. "Oh," she said, "I just got done kickin' my old boyfriend to the curb." "Well, you need to go out with ME, then!" DONE!
We went out a couple times for a midnight snack, & she always left abruptly, as if she was scared of being followed. Nothing happened. Wasn't sure I WANTED anything to. She seemed a little crazy. Maybe more than a little. So I wrote her off.
Months later, she showed up at my job just as I was closing up. As I locked the front door, she ran up and kissed me on the cheek. "I want to go out with you RIGHT NOW," she said in a breathless rush. "I want you to drive MY car -- & you're gonna Get Lucky tonight 'cos I'm not wearing ANY PANTIES!"
Uh ... Oh ... Kay....
Survived that. But I learned what the game was pretty quick, because she'd only show up out of the blue, without any warning, whenever she needed emotional support or gas money to go see her son in Seattle. Eventually she just drifted away. Thank Ghod.
The Slow One was a couple years older than me, had been alone for 5 years, & said she'd gotten used to men not noticing her. She told me up-front she wanted me "to do all the work" -- call her, figure out things for us to do together, do all the driving, etc. We agreed to get together to check-out second-hand stores, have coffee, maybe go to a movie now & then. We agreed we'd be friends, not rush.
We went out a few times, had some laughs, were pretty relaxed with each other -- but after 3 months of seeing each other every couple weeks we had maybe gently pressed our lips together twice. Things were moving very slowly. We weren't learning much about each other. The conversation dragged. There was a LOT that wasn't being said.
& she wouldn't return phonecalls. After 9 p.m. she wouldn't even ANSWER her phone.
The End came when she got us movie matinee passes & I asked if she wanted me to put my arm around her in case the movie got scary.
"You just keep your arm to yourself," she said. Boom.
Then she COMPLETELY stopped answering her phone.
Too bad. She was a nice person, even if she was a little ... slow ....
There was a 28-year-old I met at work & went out with a couple times. She was My Type -- long dark hair, a few extra pounds in the right places, & she went on&ON about how she LOVED to come into the store when I was working. So I asked her out. I figured she was being pretty obvious.
I didn't realize how young she was until we were out drinking coffee & trying to cover the basics. Then I learned she was almost young enough to be my daughter.
I was uneasy, but kind of flattered because I thought she was HOT -- & very open in her conversation, which was also attractive.
But I noticed that as we sat there talking in the cafe, she looked at EVERY GUY who walked by, & that's when it hit me:
She was just Passing Time with The Old Guy until The Right Guy came along. Once that was clear to me, she wasn't so hot anymore.
(To Be Continued....)
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