Just...Don't

A few months ago, probably around the time of my last blog post, I was speaking with a friend about my fears of getting involved with another man. I told her I was afraid that a man would break my heart and it terrifies me. Naturally. She responded with "well, then don't let him."

This is not to say that you should stop yourself from having feelings, but it's a great reminder to temper them. I have a theory that I am personally so desperate (yes, I'll admit the "desperate" part) to have that love of my life that sometimes I will react too quickly. Since becoming aware of this I have really been able to slow myself down, let things...simmer...marinate...what have you...and my theory at this point is to simply enjoy things for exactly what they are.

I have met someone. I enjoy spending time with him. I wish I could spend more time with him but schedules and distance do not permit. But because of this, we are both able to maintain our personal interests and focus on our careers instead of falling into the trap of dysfunctional co-dependency.

This new relationship has given me a tremendous amount of insight to my past relationships, which is why I'm even bothering to write about it here. Before I expand on that point, let me say that things, lately, have been "me-focused" in that I find it extremely important to keep the focus on what's important. While he makes the top five, he's not number one. My daughter, my family/friends, my career, financial security...then him. It's not meant to insult him at all! In fact, I find this to be a healthy way of looking at things and he should be flattered. Besides -- isn't it creepy to discover that you've become the latest obsession in someone's life? I think there are laws in most states against that sort of thing. Well, the action that can occur from that sort of thing.

I have reflected on the past and considered some of the truly dysfunctional relationships I've been in. I think it all boils down to my self-perspective. I didn't think I was good enough. I figured that I had to change who I was because WHO I AM isn't "good" enough. Over the last year, I have become determined to be my own best friend; to be someone who I enjoy spending time with. In doing so, I have found great joy in being alone. I have found that the time I spend with others is more pleasant. I have developed a more genuine heart and feel I have become more charitable. It feels amazing. No one is going to change that about me.

In learning to love myself, I reflect and cannot understand how I thought so poorly of myself. There are moments, of course, when I doubt myself but that's healthy and natural. The point is, I am not as vulnerable to the passive aggression that some insecure men will emit upon others in order to feel better about themselves. I am confident and therefore I attract confidence. I enjoy life so I attract those who also enjoy life. I am positive and outgoing and therefore, I attract those qualities.

See, folks, the point is, for all those fucked up dates and relationships, it wasn't ever really their fault that I ended up sitting next to them, or finding their boogers on my bed, or shit on the towels or whatever...I mean yes, the actual ACTION of crapping on my bed is nothing I can prevent, but they were only in my life because I felt that I didn't deserve anyone better, in some subconscious way.

I'm sure there will be more bad dates in the future, at some point (although my guy has truly been a prince so far...) and I'm sure that my judgment will falter from time to time. I am only human. But the self-perspective has changed to one of love and friendship unto myself. And that, I think, makes a HUGE difference in love with others.

Be well this holiday season, and enjoy the bad dates because the bad dates make the best stories....

Much love,

T

Online Dating Don'ts - Part 1

FYI:

....this does not work.


At least, it shouldn't.


That is all; carry on.

He's So Sensitive

One of my biggest fears is turning in an old woman who hates men and cannot trust anyone. I fear that I will end up with a zillion cats and plants (okay, I already have the plants...) and that I'll wear ugly house coats and have few friends.

I believe I have a big heart and I feel that it's so big sometimes...that it lets in the wrong people. Actually, while I'd love to think that, I really just think that some people are just  big assholes. And I have a magnet for them.

Those of you who know me in real know that while my stories seem fantastic (and I won't deny the slight exaggerations) they are true. They are true because for some reason, I live a big life and that tends to attract some insanity. It's been inspirational for this blog. It's also helped me develop strength within myself as well as learning the value of FRIENDS.

That's all good and great, but you know what? People are still assholes. On the road, in our workplaces, in the mall/restaurant/commercial building...just dicks. And frankly, I do believe in that some instances there are those people who truly enjoy being assholes. Fine. Go ahead and be that dick. I'm not going to stop trying to have faith in people.

I've always wanted to give men the benefit of the doubt that all they're after is sex. I cannot comprehend a life completely focused on SEX. I know lots of men who are successful with interesting non-sexual hobbies...so between all that, are they REALLY thinking about sex all the time? If that's the case, does a man even know how to love? Or is it entirely lust-based?

I have blindly given the benefit of the doubt to several men in the last year or so with whom I developed feelings for. No, I did not sleep with them all. I'm not that big of a slut. But once I was "caught", suddenly the game was over. No more interest. I really thought that perhaps it was some kind of deep seated fear in commitment or that they were still sore from their last girlfriend. God damn, how naive can I possibly be!

It's the PERFECT escape route for getting away from a sensitive and caring person; make them believe that it's NOT about them (and the fact that they are boring, fat, busy, embarrassing, whatever...) and in fact about their OWN wounded hearts. Then, these women will nod knowingly and understand the break up. The end...because, you know, wow, he's so sensitive and, wow, that's great that he's acknowledging that his heart still hurts...We walk away thinking "boy, I feel okay about that because maybe he's not MY guy but something in ME allowed him to realize the pain he's still carrying-- I'm glad I was able to help him."

What the royal fuck. These guys want an ego stroke, a bed to sleep in and other expletives that, while I think them, realize that even I am not bold enough to enter them here.

I am angered but even more determined than ever to break these horrible habits of mine...patterns...that leave me feeling hollow and more abused than ever. Knowing this, I am proceed and try to enjoy the rest of my time on this rock. Bad date or love of my life...

Smelly Socks...

A friend of mine was delighted with his new socks! "They're so soft! Stick your hand in there! They're awesome!" I hesitated...but I DID touch the socks....and a flood of flashbacks came to me.

John had a particular taste for socks. He liked high quality wool socks. No problem right? Yeah, except if you don't wash them on a regular basis.

Who decided that wearing the same pair of socks...

two times...

three times...

a dozen times...

...before washing them is a good idea? Our feet are harbors of bacteria and filth...depending. At least, mine are. I like going barefoot so it's important to wear socks with my shoes as well as washing my feet on a daily basis. And NOT wearing socks over again!

I had to stop touching those damn socks. I swear, I could even SMELL those nasty things!


...that is all...

What is WRONG with you?

NOTHING is wrong with me. I can't speak for you but when it comes to myself, I know I'm just a dandy human being. Maybe snarky (okay, so yes, I'm snarky) but I'm certainly smart, successful in a mediocre kind of way, cute, and happy. Mostly happy.

So I'm at a loss as to why I remain perpetually single. Don't we come to a point where we realize that it's time to settle down and find that partner? To grow up and enjoy life with someone? Why has dating  become so damn difficult?

I've got several theories. One relates to the man-child theory. Perhaps I'm too much of a woman to want to take care of a man, but it seems like a lot of the relationships I witness are based on the woman taking care of the man, almost as if they are another child within the relationship. Maybe I need to realize that if I want to have a man in my life, it'll have to be one of this seriously dependent men and I'll have to just get over this idyllic man-as-equal thing. (What the hell happened to equality?)

The second theory I have is that perhaps our culture of online dating has really worked against us. It's easy to pass on a profile online based on the way they look or one sentence that they type or whatever. So we are passing up potentially awesome folks based on something superficial. I have to wonder, then, are we really serious about finding a partner? Or is it easier to just say "there's no one out there for me" and reject the entire idea of compromising for the sake of a relationship.

Things just seem so extreme; it's either all or nothing these days. You're either in it or not at all. For example, I'm not committed to anyone at this point. However, I know there would be some jealousy if it was known that I was going out with a couple of guys. Then I ruin my chance with one guy because of assumptions. We do that too -- we (men and women) are SO GREAT at assuming things...yet we still haven't mastered the ability to read minds (hey, I'm working on that patent; I'll be a millionaire! No, a BILLIONAIRE!).

Look, guys, a decent woman will want you to be yourself. She'll want you to also have the ability to make some compromise to have a healthy and balanced relationship. You don't want a clingy woman? Don't give her a reason to cling; instead, give her some attention as well as explaining your need to have some alone down time. A rational woman will understand; if she throws a fit, throw her out! That's just a big sign of trouble.
Ladies...stop over analyzing (hey, I do this ALL THE TIME, I'm not innocent!). People are far more simple than we give them credit. But when we start to analyze...that's when trouble crops up. I'm in the throes of analyzing a great date (date number 4-- usually I know that we're a couple by now but that has always lead to a huge disappointment, so I'm taking a different approach. But what IS the fourth date?); if I let my brain take over, then I have the potential to ruin something that might be great. So instead, to save myself and shut up that stupid voice inside my head (telling me I'm a loser, ugly, not good enough, etc), I'm going to get busy on my own stuff (I've got cleaning, plants to pot, kid stuff and it's time to decorate for fall-- yay!).

We protect our own egos even though this might hurt someone else; this needs to stop. We need to show more empathy and realize that we are all on the same playing field. We avoid the truth because no one really wants to hurt anyone; we don't want to be the bad guy. This works against us, however. We HAVE to communicate. We HAVE to stop making assumptions. We HAVE to start standing up for what we need/want and also accepting what our potential partners want/need. Personally, I think this is a very rational way of looking at things...but yet...I'm the single girl...always....

Oh People!

Sometimes I contemplate how fair it is that I bitch about dating and my dating life in particular. I feel that I should take a few moments to clarify a few things...just to understand that I am not, in fact, as crabby as this blog may lead you to believe. In fact, I continue to date because I am an optimistic person. I believe that someday someone will capture my heart and I'll be able to spend a comfortable life with that person.

I try to keep my statements generalized for the sake of anonymity. I don't need to embarrass anyone or throw anyone under the bus. After all, haven't we all done shitty things to one another?

I will readily admit some of the bad things I have done to men. Sadly, when I reflect on my dating history, the song below often pops into my head:

I have left in the middle of the night.
I have a vast collection of strange gifts (including a can opener, a coconut opener, and an empty basket).
I have done the text break up.
I have ignored someone until they "get it."

Yes, folks, I am a bad person. But can you look in the mirror and tell yourself that you've never figuratively shat on someone? Lets just face it, sometimes we don't want to deal with other people.

However, in reflection, I think it's important to try to curb this behavior. Seriously-- karma is a bitch! All of my man eating, I think, has left me alone and lonely...maybe, maybe not. But my personal philosophy on life is just to try to be nice to folks.

Of course, I'm gonna keep writing about the weirdos...after all, be nice...but have some fun!

Happy Friday!

Attraction...

I have been on the fence about whether or not I should continue to post in this particular blog. It's mean, it's condescending, it's petty and it's ridiculous. It was meant to be a joke but when I review these entries, I see just how sad my dating life has been. And it's no one person's fault...it has made me question the type of person I am that ends up attracting these types of men. Boys. Whatever.

Part of me is ready to give up to it all, but in the last year or so, my biological clock has gone off...the alarm bells are ringing at high volume and I realize that my priorities have changed. In fact, many are surprised that I have opened up my heart and soul to the idea of having a second child. I would love that.

I refuse to go down that road again as a single mom, though. It's been difficult enough as it is with my daughter and my self...I cannot imagine trying to have a second one on my own. I really can't think of anything more awful. So no, instead I continue to put myself out there, in hopes of finding that special someone...that partner...who I can call lover and friend. I want to do this the "right way". (Which may be my fatal flaw... is there a "right" way?)

In doing so, I seem to have started attracting a new breed of men.

The recently wounded.

I have no idea how to handle this nor do I know how to make it stop. Men suffering from recent heartbreaking tragedy seem to gravitate towards me. They love to suck the love out of me...and then leave me. I'm not sure why this is happening but I would really like it to stop.

In 2013 alone, I have been a rebound girl for not one...not TWO...but THREE guys who have had their hearts ripped apart by women (who, in my opinion, really didn't know what they were missing). And no, I didn't sleep with them. I can blame their exes or whatever, but something in that set up didn't work for those couples. One of the common threads I found was that all three of these men were in these long term relationships (3+ years for all) and no one had proposed marriage! If I were lingering in a relationship that long and the question hadn't been popped, I'd get out too! Of course, how can I possibly know what goes on inside any of their relationships; there could be a whole number of factors that I don't understand and that's completely fine. I'm just saying that if after the first year or so you haven't decided if this is someone you'd like to get serious with, then get out. Save folks the heartbreak. And your own heartbreak...that can really only come down to your own indecisive behavior.

I blame the media, still. The idea of the man-child as an acceptable way for an adult male to behave is ridiculous and abhorrent. Why should women have to grow up and balance a) family b) relationships c) being feminine and sexy and physical attractive in a multitude of ways d) have a successful career and e) be delighted to take care of anyone who falls in their path. All this while men (from my vantage point only) a) have to have a job b)...*anyone else hear crickets*???

It's a double standard and I personally refuse to continue to partake. So in reflection, men, perhaps your broken hearts aren't due to the fact that your ex is a cold hearted bitched but instead, maybe you were existing in the very selfish form of man-child.

In other words, grow up.

Have a day, my loyal readers! XOXOXO

All the Single Ladies...

In a recent conversation with a new friend, I have learned that appalling behavior does not only apply to the men-folk (or boy-folk, as I like to call them), but in fact, we ladies have done just as many disgusting things towards to the opposite sex as they have done unto us.

Having a different perspective on my own gender now, I realize that, gosh, people are weird. We do strange things to one another. We have strange ideas and strange expectations. It's all incredibly strange.

I would love to share my friend's story but it's not my place. I try not to relay information secondhand; it has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion. It's a new personal policy to keep stuff to myself.

I don't have any particularly funny dating stories this go-round, but I have been thinking much about "dating". Thinking about what it means in this day-and-age. We try to apply high standards to each other but then don't apply them to ourselves. How can we single folk possibly expect to find a good match if we can't even live up to our own standards? It's easy to point the finger at another person and blame them for our problems...when the problems really are within ourselves.

In the past few weeks I have been contemplating a few things. You see, despite my troubles with dating, I genuinely feel ready for a real, grown-up relationship. You know, the type that's based on friendship and common ground, common goals and a similar appreciation for life? Yeah, that's what I'm looking for. I mean, granted, yes, hearts, stars, fireworks-- all that is great! But eventually it fizzles out. And if you don't have that great foundation when all that crap is done, how can you expect anything to last indefinitely?

I read an article in Psychology Today about dating. How we should create a list of all the qualities we want to find in a partner. Then..stick with it! BUT before we go traipsing around with a list of qualifications, we should instead reflect on that list and see how those things must apply to ourselves. For example, I'd like someone who enjoys camping and the outdoors. Well, how can I expect someone to enjoy those activities if I don't partake myself? So, accordingly, I need to get outside more and pitch my tent! It makes sense and in a way, as we embrace our pleasures, there becomes an opportunity meet someone while doing so.

I've made some other observations but as I enter into the "experimental" phase of dating (aka, trying new techniques rather than sticking with the tried and true and FAILED techniques from the past)...I am not ready to share those "things." I need to collect additional information before sharing it with the general population. But I feel optimistic. After all, I am perfectly lovely, as is.

Enjoy the day, my single (and not-single) friends!

After the Tone, Please Leave a Message....Or Not...

Back in the day, when I was around 20 years old or so, I made the huge mistake of dating an angsty emo boy. Everything was tragic, man. He dyed his hair black and could not see anything pleasant about anything. He liked my poetry. I liked his music. We were miserable together. I should have known that it would end up in the toilet.

Seriously, John and I had a decent time. We had some friends in common and generally got along. I can't remember a great deal about the relationship; I was 20 (I think). I was also on the rebound after a heartbreak. I don't remember the details.

What I DO remember is calling him every day for a week and developing a relationship with his answering machine.

"Hey John, it's me. Thought I'd see how you're doing today..."

"Hey John, such-and-such band is playing at the 8th Note tonight. I'm thinking of going. Maybe I'll see you there?"

"Hey John, haven't heard from you...what's new? Call me."

You get the picture.

And on the seventh day I hear his answering machine:

"Hi, you've reached my answering machine and I'm sorry I can't take your call. Please leave a message after the tone....except if you're a crazy bitch named Tessa- don't leave a message and fuck off." Or some such. I might be embellishing a bit but that's pretty much how I felt after I heard that.

I was appalled. So not only did he leave that message for me to hear but everyone who called him would get that message.

Will someone please explain to me how difficult it is to pick up the phone and say "hey, you know, I'm really sorry...I had fun but I just don't feel it anymore. I'm sorry and I really hope you meet someone that compliments you better than I."

You know, sometimes it doesn't work. Doesn't mean you have to turn into a giant asshole.

After that vague blog post, I figure I'd better follow it up with something a little more concrete.

It's been awhile since my last blog post for a couple of reasons. Reason one is that my computer "went down" and I was enjoying the internet silence in the evening. Of course, I have a "smart" phone so I wasn't totally without. I'm just not going to write a blog entry from my phone. Silly.

The second reason is that I met someone. Yes! Even me! I met someone and it was awesome. Was awesome. Until he pulled the rug out from under my feet and dumped me based on some of his own issues.

I'm beyond the whole what's-wrong-with-me thing. I'm too old to blame myself for being too fat or not this or that, or ugly, or whatever other self-criticism might cross my mind. I'm far from perfect, of course, but I am certainly not faulty goods here. I'm reasonably attractive, smart and funny, driven, and independent. In any light, I'd be considered a "catch."

John and I met through an online dating site. I even paid for it this time around (silly me!). He was in hot pursuit of me...he sent me the classic "wink" and whatever else. I ignored him at first but then curiosity got the best of me. I figured I might as well message him back. After all, you never know what could happen.

Fireworks happened. We had a date about a week or two later and we connected. We had some mutual friends who got to bear witness to our connection and by all accounts, the sparks were genuine. We took off like gangbusters with so much in common and such a strong attraction for one another. I expressed my concerns as they came to light with nothing but positive reinforcement from him, telling me he didn't want to hurt me.

Like the idiot that I am when it comes to matters of the heart, I ate it all up. Delicious! The buzz of a new love! It's intoxicating, really.

Then came the text. TEXT. After six weeks of bliss, I am told that he is not ready for what we had going on and that he needed to deal with his own personal stuff. His explanations were legit; it came to light that he hadn't been entirely honest with me from the get-go. I won't go into details because that's hardly something I want to share here. But what I find appalling is the text.

A text. A text message halting such a brilliant time...after proclamations of falling for each other...and boom, all ended with a few texts.

I cannot express to you how rude I find this. I understand that we have many communication conveniences nowadays, but I don't accept that as an excuse to simply fire off a few pixels over the airwaves to end such an intimate connection.

I have ended things via text myself; however, only when it's been a single date and I didn't feel chemistry. In those cases, I think a text is an okay thing. While it's not the best thing to do, I find it acceptable. But barely. So I am a criminal in this sense myself.

But after this much closeness...this much bearing of the heart...this much intimacy and thoughts for the future...no, a text message is most certainly not appropriate. Not at all.

I question where the manners and etiquette have disappeared to when it comes to my generation of men.

I wonder very much if it is all just a lost cause.

One of my biggest fears, I realized over the weekend, is becoming so bitter about love due to heartbreak that I no longer believe that it's a philosophy that'll ever apply to me.

Everyone dies alone, but I'd like to have some company along the way...

...things haven't changed much...

Manners (Part 2)

The cigarette smoking John is primarily what inspired me to review the laundry list of piss poor manners I've seen displayed over my dating history. But no story sticks out more than the blatant disrespect of John and his inability to use a tissue...

He has been mentioned previously, so don't think that these are all different men that I've dated. I might enjoy the more nocturnal activities, but I'm not a total whore.

John and I had been broken up for awhile. As part of my efforts to clean the slate and start fresh, I decided to purchase a new bed, from start to finish. Bed, box spring, frame, headboard...the whole nine yards. And as a declaration of my independence and ability to invest in my new bed, I paid for delivery and mattress removal (much to my father's delight)

On the day that the mattress set was to be delivered, I stripped down my old mattress in preparation of the men to haul it away. I tossed the sheets in the laundr and the mattress protector in the trash (no, it's not a rubber sheet - stop that!) and discovered, to my horror, a quarter sized collection of boogers, stuck securely in a nearly hidden location on my mattress. It would have been under the protector thingy.

It was John's side of the bed from when he'd stay the night.

I can only summise that each night while I was fast asleep, dreaming of better things, John would pick his nose and, for lack of a tissue, he'd simply wipe the offending booger on my bed.

Because the bathroom was so far away.

Because I didn't keep tissue or toilet paper on my nightstand.

Because he felt that he was within his rights to wipe his excrement on my bed. When is it within anyone's rights to do such an offending thing? And why would you think that something like that would possibly be okay? I guess I was raised differently because an action like that is never in the realm of possibility.

I don't know if it's a lack of a proper upbringing with manners or that he simply didn't care about my property (and me). But when I confronted John (because at this point I was so pissed off that I didn't really give two shits about what he had to say about it) he denied it all. I reminded him of the numerous times I've busted him picking his nose in front of me as well as the handkerchief he carries with him (except when he's in bed and you know, the hankie in his pocket in his pants on the floor is too far away to simply reach down and pick up to use....much more convenient and sensible to simply wipe your nose guts on my bed...duh). Not surprisingly, he wasn't able to admit fault nor was he able to apologize.

And the manners (or lackthereof) continue...boys, boys, boys....

Manners? (Part 1)

It's been a busy week between work, family, and friends. There's been quite a bit of internal rearranging and I have to say, I attribute part of my new found confidence to the relief I get when I crank out another disgusting story from my dating history.

With the development of technology and how it applies to our dating and love lives (or one-night-stand, hook up, fuck buddy lives), manners seem to have fallen by the wayside. No more are the days when a nice man smiles at the pretty girl as he holds open the door. When do lashes bat as an invitation to continue conversation or engage in flirtation? It's been at least a decade since I met someone face to face in a comfortable, sweet sort of way.

John was a friend of friends. I had known of him for several years and was interested in getting to know him more. We had seen each other and exchanged conversation from time to time but it wasn't until after an evening at the theater that we were able to talk and get to know each other. It certainly helps to invite alcohol into the situation, especially when there's an obvious tension.

We argued, something that continued to carry on in our painfully long relationship. In particular he was telling me how much he hates children. I don't very much care for children myself but I don't vehemently hate them. Especially when they're not interfering with my life; bad parenting, on the other hand, well...we won't go there. Not today.

I told John that if he hated children so much he should resign himself to the idea of ever having sex again. He proclaimed he was going to get a vasectomy; I replied that he shouldn't have sex until he's had the procedure done. And round and round we went.

I was still interested despite the argument and told him I wanted to get to know him further. I'm sure it didn't sound as put together and eloquent as that but you get the idea. Rather than set a date, the man slapped me across the face.

He laughed and I slapped him back. And again, he slapped me. I left.

The next morning there was a drunken email in my facebook telling me how he didn't think I was a "bitch" (because he called me that during our argument and not surprisingly it isn't the first time I'd heard that applied to myself) and that he wanted to hang out. So we hung out. For far too long. But he never slapped me again.

Drunk or not, playful or not, I am puzzled why a slap across the face should be interpreted as an invitation for flirtation. Is that flirtation? I won't put the blame entirely on John; he gave me negative attention which I sucked up. I tolerated the slap. I tolerated a lot of stuff in that relationship. I lowered the bar of what is tolerable in a relationship and I will own that to my dying day. I am not the first woman who has done this, sadly...and it seems almost as if men are allowed to behave like children and women are their toys. It's my fault, women's faults, media's fault, men's fault...whatever. Fortunately, however, it seems as though the older I get, the more confident I get, and the less bullshit I'll tolerate.

And I'll certainly not allow a man to ever strike me again.

You Want...What??

While most of my tales of woe are from years past, this entry comes from a very recent episode. It leaves me wondering what kind of message I put out towards men. However, I was assured, by a male friend, that his request was merely a last-ditch effort for some fun.

Last week I was scheduled to go out on a date (I know, totally going back on what I have said in the past, but to be perfectly honest here, I'm lonely...and I haven't given up hope completely). About a half hour or so before said date, the gentleman texted me to let me know he was a smoker. A bit of a heavy smoker. I replied, asking him what "heavy smoker" meant. Apparently that encompasses a half pack to a pack a day.

As a former "heavy smoker" myself (I could have out-smoked him back in my Milwaukee days, easily), I can appreciate the stress relief that cigarettes provide. I can also appreciate the struggle it can be to get away from those cigarettes. And even I, now, cannot claim to be a one hundred percent non-smoker. I like to have a cigarette in the evenings before bed.

But I cannot get involved with a heavy smoker. It's just a lifestyle choice.

It would have been different had he indicated that he was trying to quit and so on. But that wasn't ever mentioned. I told him that I couldn't get involved and on his merry way he went. I cast no judgment (I didn't say "ewww you're sick" or better, "ewwww ur sik) but just let him know that his choice was incompatible with my choices.

I thought nothing of it all weekend.

But it's not the weekend anymore, now is it? No, it's Monday. A cool, rainy, muddy, overcast crappy Monday. So all bets are off. Bring on the jerks!

Shortly before lunch, a text message came through on my phone. Generally I don't really pay much attention to this but this one caught my attention. It was from this John, asking me how my weekend was. I replied that it was fine and asked him if he needed something.

Ladies. Never, ever ask a man if he NEEDS something. We all know what they "need."

"Wanna be FWB?" For the layperson, FWB means "friends with benefits." Aka, no strings attached sex.

I was flabbergasted.

Okay, so everyone has their sexual needs, right? But what part of "I can't get involved with you because you're a heavy smoker" indicates "lets have free-range sex"? I guess this must be part of the strange world of men, because I don't understand (nor do I speak) that code.

Okay, look. I'm no spring chick here. I'm overweight, I'm crass, and I'm a mom. I'm bitter about plenty of stuff and I hardly "giggle". I'm nearly 32. This doesn't make me "old" but I'm not a horny teenager either. Even if I was as horny as a person would need to be for this kind of arrangement to work, who the hell has the time? Kid, work, household, cooking, laundry, bathing, mowing/shoveling, car maintenance...oh yes...sign me up for an at-your-leisure fuck fest. I'll squeeze that in there sometime.

As a hint, boys, if you want to get into the pants of a tired, single mom with sarcasm dripping from her pores and a bit of neurosis, asking for a lay is not the way to do it. Try offering to make or deliver dinner. Try handing out back and/or foot rubs (preferably both). Chocolate is good. Give your intended a special night out...AFTER she's had a nap and a glass of wine. But for heaven's sake, don't ask her to screw you!

Whether this guy was making a last ditch effort to get some lovin, it doesn't excuse his crude behavior. If you cannot say something to a woman...to her face, don't think that hiding behind a computer or text messages somehow justifies you being a complete wanker. It doesn't. In fact, it just makes you look even more creepy.

Otherness

I can't claim to be the nicest person. I'm not. I, just like others, will cast judgement on "otherness" though most of the time I try to keep it to myself. I'm sure that I'm judged as much as the next person; my hair is greasy or not shiny enough; I'm too fat and too short. I'm this, that, or the other. It's human nature. I used to feel incredibly guilty about casting judgment on others but really, how else do we weed out folks we would rather not associate with? The statement is not meant to be elitist but rather as a reflection on how nature works. We prefer to associate with folks who have similar customs, likes and dislikes, hobbies, and so on. It's just the way things are. And just because we are different it does not make some folks better or worse than others. Just different.

I know there's this whole culture of being completely tolerating and accepting of everyone and that we are all love and we should all pretty much be totally in love with others. That sort of culture is not for me. There is some stuff that I just do not care for. There are some lifestyle choices that are not for me.

However, that being said, I must reiterate that just because it's not to my preference or taste and that I might have a negative association with "it", it doesn't make it wrong. It's just not for me.

John, recently in and out of my life faster than...whatever metaphor expresses a quick experience, had sexual preferences that were beyond what I was capable of engaging. While I never wanted him to feel uncomfortable with expressing his sexual preferences towards me, I also had no desire to share those sexual preferences with him. He noted, several times, how great it was that he was comfortable in sharing with me his desires as his previous relationships never left room for conversations such as those, let alone expanding on those preferences.

Being one who understands the complex nature of sexuality and one who comprehends that there is a vast array of sexual choices across the globe, I am certainly not one to judge. Quite simply. And I would not want one to judge my sexual preferences (though they have been judged time and time again. And no, for the last time, bare feet are sexy but that does not mean that I have a foot FETISH).

John had a marriage that, according to him, was hell on earth. His ex wife was hardly the type to change the sexual situation from missionary to anything creative or, heaven forbid, more fulfilling (for both him as well as her). I run the risk on bagging on a woman that I don't even know, but I have to question a woman who refuses to engage in oral sex. I know, I know...it's a PREFERENCE. But sometimes we ignore our preferences in order to provide pleasure to our partners, correct? Apparently the excuse was that her mouth was too small and it "hurt" to "do that disgusting thing." (I don't think it's disgusting).

After John explained all of that, I completely understand why he was did not ever share his tranny pegging fantasy with this woman. If she viewed oral sex as disgusting, then putting on a strap on and drilling him in the ass wasn't about to happen either.

I can honestly say that I can appreciate a slightly depraved sexual fantasy life. However, I had no desire to dress up like a man dressing up like a woman, wear a strap on and dominate my partner. I did not want to show him how to apply makeup and select the perfect shade of lipstick. I did not want to share my knickers with him. He can do that all on his own but I wasn't going to participate.

At one point in my hesitation - no, refusal - to engage in that sort of lifestyle I was told that in order to have a good relationship, I'd be required of me to increase my sex drive for him. For him.

I guess I missed that bit in sex ed, but I've always thought that my sex drive was my sex drive for me to share with others as I choose and see fit. I've been wrong before, according to him, this would be another instance where I was wrong.

While I was busy understanding and accepting his choices he spent a lot of time telling me how and what I should do..how I should feel...and what I should do. It felt incredibly hypocritical. I felt that while I need to accept his desires, he didn't have to accept the fact that I didn't want to.

I never did venture down that path with him. After learning of the "requirements" of our sexual relationship my sex drive pretty much dropped off (and frankly, has yet to recover). We broke up not too long after that.

We exchanged the few things we had left at each others homes. I put his, ahem, items, in a bag and tied the bag shut. I left his stuff at his doorstep...where I found my items. Enclosed was a lengthy letter pointing out all of my faults, true or not, with one particular slander that continues to haunt me, in that I am, apparently, a tremendous whore. Whore.

Tranny Pegging Fantasy and MORE!

...some of you readers have been waiting to hear the weird whacky world of the fetishes I've encountered...

Stay tuned....this one is going to take a bit ;)

I am Definitely Crazy

The term "crazy" gets tossed around quite a bit. I've had it applied to me a handful of times, right at the end of the relationship. I personally prefer it when there is laughter attached to the label "hahaha, you're fucking crazy Tessa!" Am I really? Or are you just emotionally lazy.

My sister was home for spring break, up from Austin Texas. She and I had decided to head to the Science Museum of MN on a Friday as I was also on a spring break. It felt like an enjoyable way to spend a very early spring day.

John had expressed an interest of joining us the previous week and a half or so. I told him that he was welcome to join us. He explained that he'd have to find out what his work schedule would be like on that Friday and that he'd let me know.

Usually he knew what his work schedule was like the Sunday before the start of the week. So Sunday evening I called him and he said he wasn't sure yet but that he'd let me know. Knowing that John was notorious for NOT letting me know (especially when it came to my time -- more times than I can count had I been waiting on him for hours, without even so much as a returned text message. This after I had arranged babysitting for my daughter and turning down plans with other, more reliable friends. But it's my fault - I tolerated it! Maybe that's the real part that made me crazy...).

I hadn't heard from him by Wednesday so I shot him a quick text to say "hey, what's up for Friday - are you coming?" which was responded with a two hour verbal lashing about how I was nagging, bitchy, bossy, and so on. It got so bad that I turned off my phone and held back the tears until I could get home from work.

The very next day I had joined him and some friends to go out and have drinks. I was speaking with one girlfriend and telling her how my sister was home for the week and how the following day we were going to the Science Museum.

Keep in mind that I still did not know if John was joining us.

On our way walking home, John asked me why I hadn't included him in the plans to the museum while talking to our friend about it. (This was not a good way to start the conversation).

"Because I don't know if you're joining us."

"Well, it made me feel left out and I thought it was rude."

"I didn't want to ask you if you were coming because of what happened on Wednesday; I wasn't interested in being dragged through that again."

"It was rude."

"Well, we're going with or without you. So are you coming with us tomorrow?"

Long pause.

"No, I have to work."

I'm pretty sure my heart was going to explode; I was furious. He dared to tell me that not including him in the plans was insulting and rude and it hurt his feelings but he didn't bother to tell me he wasn't going to be joining us?

"When did you find out that you are working tomorrow?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"After our text conversation? I thought you were going to let me know right away?"

I felt I had full grounds to lay into him about how dare he attempt to make me feel guilty over something I had no idea about...because he had made me feel guilty about asking about it...even though he had the answer.

But I'm crazy. I'm crazy because I expressed my feelings about this situation.

I found and article (Labeling Women Crazy) that expresses my thoughts better than I can about the label "crazy." If you have ever been called crazy or have used this term to hurt someone, I employ you to read this article. You might learn something about yourself (I did -- as in, I started to believe that I was "crazy" because my emotions were inconvenient for my father, my brother, and nearly every relationship I've had since...)

I have never felt more sane and stable in my entire life than I do right now because I simply refuse to listen to the intellectually and emotionally lazy label that so many men like to apply to women...feel free to call me crazy...but beware...refusing to consider that I'm any emotion other than the one you're capable of dealing with makes you...lazy...

Is It Me or Is It Men?

I'm in my thirties and no closer to a successful relationship than I was in my early twenties. And forget teens; the only wonderful relationship I had back then was with a man who came out of the closet several years later. And all that time I thought he was just very respectful and didn't want to push me into something I wasn't ready for. In a way, it was a blessing in disguise that he didn't pressure me into sex. Too many kids are having sex these days, way too young. That's just my little opinion (because, you know, my opinions are so sparse).

While I reflect on my disastrous dating history I see that the majority of the men I have chosen to spend time with...attempt to become intimate with...have all had a few things in common. Aside from me, of course. But stripping away all of their own personal little nuances, the common theme seems to be selfishness. Maybe not so selfish but more or less oblivious.

Like the previous entry...the man who couldn't bring himself to go camping with me that it caused a car accident. What is so painfully difficult about setting aside a weekend for something that your partner would like to do?

My ex husband had a serious selfish streak in him. At one point he actually requested that I pick up a second job so I could support his car hobby. Needless to say, I put my foot down on that situation and he was the one who picked up a second job. The second job came complete with a willing mistress and eventually divorce.

But it really is all the little things. I'm a pretty tough cookie when it comes to taking care of myself. That doesn't exempt me from the needs and wants of nearly every human being on the planet. For instance, while ill, I like a little coddling -- some tea and footrubs, soup served up, etc. I recall one time when I was horribly sick with a cold or the flu, I had asked my then boyfriend to come by and bring me some soup and company. Several hours later, a text message comes in from him to let me know that soup was in a jar outside of my door; he didn't want to come in and catch the plague. He did include that he hopes I would feel better.

Soup in a jar on my doorstep. I cried.

It seems as though all the niceties...all the reasons for being in a relationship are elusive and escape my eager and often too desperate grasp. Christmas gifts with highly vulgar statements...car accidents to avoid a camping trip...soup on the doorstep....

There are stacks and stacks of records of this sort of thing throughout my dating history. While I seem to pick up these types, I'm not so concerned with the individual man with his individual needs. Hell, I'm plenty selfish! But what I'm concerned with is exactly what is it that attracts me to this particular type? I could go into it, it's all very Freudian. But what's the point?

I dated a guy back when I was a vegan. A hardcore vegan. I really enjoyed not eating any animal products and while the choices that other people make are certainly up to them, I also would like my choices to be respected.

John invited me over for dinner; I thought it was quite sweet! I arrived only to notice the smell of beef wafting through the air. He made us meatloaf. I cannot excuse this as anything other than a seriously jerk move as he knew I was a vegan.

I can't blame them all for treating me like that; after all, I'm the one who stuck around. I tolerated some of that nonsense. And why would anyone want to bother with caring about my needs when I wasn't caring about my needs? Rather, I was more concerned with making sure I wasn't making them uncomfortable.

A little while ago I was very sick with pneumonia and a nasty ear infection. I stayed home but asked John to swing by and make me some tea and whatnot. He refused as his socks were wet from earlier at work. He refused any night that week as it was this or that or the other. But this time, I did not tolerate it when I was told that I was being selfish for wanting tea and comfort. No, I was not going to listen to that.

Wet socks will never trump pneumonia.

Vroom Vroom CRASH!

Today at lunch a coworker made a jest towards me; she asked me if I had been in a cruddy mood yesterday (I had) and went on to tell me that it had influenced her mood. She was taking a walk with her hubby and picked a fight. I told her that I wasn't going to take responsibility for her fighting. Don't worry though, as far as I know, it was all in good fun.

It made me reflect upon the catalyst for a breakup. A BIG breakup.

Ohhh, I loved John. I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with him! I'd enthusiastically join in with his hobbies, regardless of whether or not I found them interesting. I embraced his lifestyle and attempted to get to know his family. I am, in fact, still friends with his family and we have many mutual friends.

But talk about the blame game. In the last six months or so of our relationship I had started to become far more assertive. Some of my big hobbies include traveling and camping, both are activities that he did not care for. That's perfectly acceptable, of course, though disappointing because getting him to go traveling or camping with me was like pulling teeth. I would travel all over for his solar powered electric car stuff but a camping trip? Forget it.

The autumn before my second year back at school I had gone ahead and scheduled a late summer trip for myself up to my (hands down) favorite place on earth. It's fabulous that my favorite place on earth is a five hour drive along Lake Superior, especially since I've lived in Alaska, traveled around Europe a little bit and spent several weeks in Australia. Grand Marais MN is my recharging station; it fills my heart and soothes my soul. However ridiculous that sounds.

I had extended the invitation to John but insisted that it wasn't necessary that he join me. I explained that this trip was something I had to do for myself, regardless of his company. I did thoroughly explain to him that camping in Grand Marais is very, VERY laid back; I haul my sweet queen sized air mattress (complete with battery operated pump -- you won't get my blowing that thing up with my mouth!), I read a lot, I draw and sometimes bring watercolors. I like to hit the trails and indulge in a little Lake Superior trout caviar. There is no agenda other than to rest and relax. Sleep. Make great food. Stay up late and drink. He said he'd like to join me. Granted.

A month before the trip he expressed how he wasn't interested in going. I said that it was perfectly okay if he decided to stay back. No, he insisted that he wanted to join me, acknowledging that it was important to me. Then a few weeks before the trip, the same conversation came up again. I, again, told him he did not have to go. He told me he had spoken with a mutual friend and that she said that it was respectful that he join me up there and that it was special to me; he should be happy that I'd want to share that with him.

The Tuesday (how could I EVER forget what's about to happen) before the trip, I received a phone call from him. He'd been in a car accident. I immediately asked if he was okay, he was. I couldn't talk long due to being at work. But that even, thy shit hitteth thy fan...

John explained to me that he'd blacked out (oh, I should insert that no one was hurt but his work van was totaled and there was some property damage) and had driven off the road. I asked him how and why it happened -- it was explained to me that he'd been thinking about the camping trip and it stressed him out so badly that he blacked out.

...my camping trip stressed him out so badly that he blacked out and totaled his van...

...

{REPEAT: I did thoroughly explain to him that camping in Grand Marais is very, VERY laid back; I haul my sweet queen sized air mattress (complete with battery operated pump -- you won't get my blowing that thing up with my mouth!), I read a lot, I draw and sometimes bring watercolors. I like to hit the trails and indulge in a little Lake Superior trout caviar. There is no agenda other than to rest and relax. Sleep. Make great food. Stay up late and drink.}

...my camping trip stressed him out so badly that he blacked out and totaled his van...

If your mouth is on the ground then you are reacting appropriately.

If you are at a loss for words, the appropriate phrase is "what the fuck?" Yes, "what the fuck."

I ended it that night.

(he's still single...but then again, so am I)

P.S. I went camping anyway, by myself, and had (hands down) one of the best experiences of my life. In a way, it was a blessing in disguise 

The Wild, Wild World of Online Dating

I feel that it's particularly important to bring up the subject of online dating on a day like today. The sun is out and shining and despite the biting wind, the snow continues to melt and you can simply FEEL spring in the air! So for those of us who find ourselves single, spring fever creeps in around the edges and the annoyance of being alone seems to stick out even more. Though I guess I can't say that any season is exempt...in the summer who can you make love to when you're out camping in the woods...sharing a bonfire and beers...a skinny dip; in the fall how beautiful are those autumn leaves when you are all alone? Hot cider and pumpkin patches are just not the same when you're flying solo. Then winter...the long, cold, dreary and snowy winter (especially this year!). Christmas presents, Valentines Day and even if you don't celebrate those holidays, there's always the longing to snuggle up under covers while watching the snow silently fall outside.

When you're single, you are painfully reminded of it during any of these events. It is easy for a coupled off person to say "you don't have to have a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse; it's okay to be alone." Is it okay to be alone? With all the media bearing down on the events surrounding equality, I find myself thinking "I wish I had someone to fight for, whether they are a man or a woman." Obviously that's not the point and I'm feeling especially selfish about the whole thing but really. In our society, you're a freak if you're not coupled off by a certain age. And if you go past that age and you're not coupled off then the dating pool is just a puddle, mostly filled with oil spills, spit, and whatever refuse you see on the street.

To make matters even worse, a person like me, straddled with a child and divorced once, has been veritably marked with a scarlet A; it's assumed that since I'm a single mom, I'm lazy, on all sorts of assistance programs, there's a ton of baby-momma/daddy-drama, that I want a Mister with a wallet to bring home the bacon and so on. Thank you America, for making us the criminals! But I might want to save that soap box speech for a different kind of blog.

I have been trying out online dating for a numbers of years. It has proven to be mostly disappointing though I have to admit that I've made a few good friends through online dating. Though things didn't work out in the romance department, friendships were formed and I can actually ask for insight as to why I happen to struggle so damn much.

What I find disturbing about the online dating world is the high amount of dishonesty. I won't limit this one to men because I'm sure that women are just as bad as trying to pull the wool over someone's eyes as men. The disappointing part is that there are honest men and women on dating sites that are looking for companionship while juggling kids and career and all the other challenges that life offers. Sadly, though, there are enough dishonest jerk-faced crazy-pants idiots out there who ruin it for the truly honest folks.

I have rule about posting whether or not I have a child. I don't. I don't because there are some seriously messed up men on the internet (no way!) who are perfectly content to troll around for single vulnerable women with children to prey on. I don't keep my motherhood a secret but I do not make it well known...

...case en pointe...

For awhile I did display that I have a child. A man contacted me via an online dating site. He included his full name. Now, here in Wisconsin we have a great little online database where we can, for free, give our potential dates (and friends and employers and neighbors and anyone else...) a quickie background check This guy gave me his name, to which I immediately stuck in the database. Ping! He's a sex offender. A multi-offense sex offender. "Sexual assault to a minor." What? And he GAVE me his name; obviously not the brightest crayon in the box. But how many men (and women) are out there trolling with the intention of committing acts of crime? And what of the states (and countries) that don't have free online databases of criminal activity? How are those single parents supposed to protect themselves?

No, I choose to leave my parental status a private matter. I don't want to attract the aforementioned unsavory types and frankly, dating is my business until it needs to be her business as well, and it's my job to protect her to the best of my ability even if it means protecting her from my own bad choices.

Merry Christmas?

Awhile back I made the horrific mistake of dating a man who was not quite over his ex wife. When I say "not quite over" his ex, I mostly mean that he seemed to merely want a woman in that "wife" role in his life. I'm pretty sure he is not nor ever will be capable of being single. But fortunately for him, since he is a man and is fairly successful in his career and whatnot, he can pretty much get some kind of woman to fill that role. I didn't imply that the woman would be stable herself, but he will never fall short of finding a woman who is ready and willing to commit.

We had been dating for a very short time, less than two months, when he told me he loved me (via email, how romantic...) which was shortly followed up with a conversation about "soul-mates". He asked me if I believed in soul-mates to which I responded "No, I don't. I think that puts unnecessary pressure on the other party to live up to some kind of unrealistic expectation when in the long run we are all mere humans. Also it gives you a reason to never actually settle down as you will always have one eye out for 'the one.'" He replied that he "...believes in soul-mates and that (I) am his soul mate and that (I'd) better be okay with that." He completely ignored the rational point I was making. As usual, it seems.

I broke up with him shortly before Christmas that year as I felt an unbelievable amount of pressure from him to move in (after a mere couple of months) and sign onto his mortgage and so on.  I felt strongly that I was not being heard and if you know me at all, you know full well that I am not the type who can sit by idly, being ignored and being told what's "best for me". No way. He responded to the break up by sending me a letter detailing how and why I am such an awful person and basically a failure at life. It stung at first but given the psychotic nature of the man, I realize that his words have absolutely no weight.

Several months after the break up I was still not seeing anyone. As much as I dislike being single I also enjoy my life. I have some great friends and my family is pretty awesome as well. Plus the job I had at the time was very involved and so my priorities were: friends, family, career.

I didn't recognize his number when the text came in with him apologizing to me. After I realized who it was and what it was about, I had to investigate. It turns out that the man had a woman move into his home a few weeks after I broke up with him (...do you recall my comment about him simply needing a "wife"? En pointe...). The woman became upset and moved out. So in his texts he informed me that not only did he miss me but that "it (was) time to get back together and move in with him."

Are you nuts? Because I'm not...

Obviously I did not nor did I accept any of his invitations for drinks or sex or whatever else it was he was after. I finally had to block his phone number as well as his email address. Who knows whatever will happen with him.

Before I cut off all contact with him, I had to ask him what it was that he had gotten me for Christmas that year. I had selected a hand carved chess set for him. I thought it was a great choice though a bit on the spendy side! He told me he bought me a coffee mug that said "What do we want? Coffee! When do we want it? I'll F**king cut you."

Funny, true, but not something I'd want to put under the tree nor something I'd want to receive in front of my parents. "I love you, you're my soul mate, move in, marry me, sign my mortgage...here's a coffee mug with vulgarities."

Maybe I am more shallow than I thought....

Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty...

I'm sharing my stories with you in no particular order. Each experience has left a mark on my soul and made me question who I am. And as you make your way through my, ahem, adventures, I'm sure you'll be wondering the same couple of things that I wonder.

First of all, I wonder why. I wonder why men behave the way they do and why they accept such a substandard way of living. I also wonder why they seem to find me.

Then I wonder how; I wonder how on earth I can change my dating karma to obtain what I really want. What I want is a partner who is caring and gentle. Someone who cares about themselves and their home. Someone who has personal and relationship goals. Someone who doesn't simply want someone to take care of them. Unfortunately, to this point, that seems to be exactly the opposite of what I've experienced.

I blame a lot of it on online dating (which is why I am choosing not to do that anymore).

I met John on a dating site. He seemed full of promise. He was an executive chef for a first class catering team for a local airline. So right away I knew he could cook. Since I have always been the one to work it in the kitchen, the thought of handing some of this responsibility over has always been a bit of a dream. After a long day of work it would be amazing to come home and have my partner taking care of dinner rather than having to figure it out on my own.

I honestly cannot recall our first date. I'm sure it must have gone well because I agreed to go one two additional dates. But the third date...oh, the third date...

He had purchased tickets to some sort of dinner cruise boat. I expected something really lovely; I dressed up a bit. It was agreed that I would go to his house and then from that point he'd drive us to the dock. He was very proud of his home and wanted to show me. It was his first home purchase and he was in the midst of remodeling. I arrived at the agreed upon time and he welcomed me in.

I was shocked. The place was filthy. And not just filthy because of sawing and hammering and other home remodeling projects but filthy with that thick greasy dust and a stale odor as if the windows hadn't ever been opened. The lawn wasn't; it was merely brush growing up and around the windows. I felt stressed out just looking at everything and wondering what was going to be expected of me.

With him being a chef, I expected to see a wonderful kitchen. Of course, once I was inside the house I knew it wasn't going to be nice. But you know the saying "the cobblers children do not have shoes"? Yeah, that totally applied. The door was off the pantry and revealed packages of instant foods. The greasy layer of dust continued into the kitchen. The stove was coated with old grease and bits of stuck on food. I was sure that if he turned on the stove it might light the entire home on fire. Of course, given the state of things, it probably would have been better to cash in the insurance policy had the place burned down.

I couldn't understand how he was so proud. Maybe I have a touch of OCD but I wouldn't be able to live in filth like that let alone share it with someone else. I was appalled.

He continued to show me around his home. I kept my hands to myself, worried that if I touched anything I might catch a staph infection. Finally we made it to the back porch.

There was a crunching underneath my feet. It was louder than the general crunch of stepping on the bits of dirt around his home. I looked down to see that a white pail, maybe three gallon pail, of cat litter and shit had spilled all over the porch.

I don't remember seeing a cat.

I didn't think he said he had a cat.

"John, do you have a cat?"

"Oh, no. That's from my ex girlfriend's cat."

"Oh."

Funny thing is, the ex girlfriend had moved out six months prior. So for at least six months, a three gallon pail of cat shit sat on his porch, festering, rotting, stinking (though it must have been far too old to carry an odor as I didn't smell anything).

And right next to it was a shop-vac.

"How come you don't just vacuum it up?"

"I don't want to wake up my roommate" And so that was the explanation of the cat shit.

The cat shit stuck in my brain (no pun intended) and the rest of the evening was awful. I'm not going to go into much detail but lets just say that while I was looking mighty fine, John chose a stained shirt (which he added to during dinner), his table manners were repulsive (no elbows on the table, but belching, etc)...and the worst part about it was that I was trapped on a three hour boat ride with this crow-magnum.

At the end of the evening he asked me to stay over (which I most certainly did not) and when I got home, I sent out the "thanks but no thanks" email. Yeah, email. It was internet dating so that's part of the MO, right?

I received a response letting me know how shallow and high maintenance I am. And again, if that's the case, I'm perfectly content to stay high maintenance.

Its not so much that I wouldn't live like that but it makes me wonder how some CAN live like that. How they choose to live that way. Isn't it disgusting? Am I along in thinking this? What am I missing? Do these men think they are just going to find a woman to do the housekeeping for them? I guess I am really not quite understanding this....

Oh well.

The (Road)Rage from Within

I hadn't dated John that long, maybe six weeks. I was delighted when he suggested we go to the theater. I haven't ever dated anyone who wanted to actually go to the theater with me (let alone the opera where I have never been and would be completely swept off my feet if a man suggested taking me...*swoon*). I was taken aback and thrilled at the prospect. I thought that perhaps I had finally met someone with a little class...some interest in subjects other than football and beer...perhaps someone who even managed to properly wipe his ass! What a lucky girl I was!

We drove into town, preparing to take the freeway. I remember the weather was decent; it was still winter but the sun was out and I recall being in an overall good mood. As he accelerated down the ramp he saw a woman, already on the freeway, who was going to be in his way. Rather than back off a bit and let her by (which, I believe, is what a person is supposed to do when getting onto the freeway), he sped up and cut her off. I thought we were going to hit her!

She became upset and while I can't swear that she flipped him off, it seems familiar that she did. Well, that out and out pissed off John. Instead of laughing it off, he became enraged. His already pale skin turned into a red color as his temper rose and rose; there was a vein in his forehead... He motioned to her as if he were going to bump her mini van. Or run her down, drag her soccer mom ass out of the van and curb stomp the bitch on the side of the freeway.

I was terrified.

I started to cry and told him to stop...to leave it alone and just get away from her (because she was no peach herself; she was ready to play the road rage game herself!). But he wouldn't give it up. It was as if he couldn't hear me. So despite crying and, at this point screaming, he was far too focused on "winning" against the other driver.

I envisioned him beating me down in a fit of rage some time when he didn't get his way. Would he use a baseball bat? Definitely not a gun - that doesn't allow for enough rage to get out. Of course, if he emptied several rounds into me that might quell his thirst for violence. I know I shouldn't joke but the episode of road rage was writing on the wall that more immediate abuse might follow.

I dumped him 2 weeks later.

A couple of Saturdays after I broke it off, he spent an entire day texting me about how I am such a horrible bitch, that I'm crazy...that I don't know anything...etc. I'm pretty sure he was drunk. And since he had called several times before I turned my ringer off, I knew he was driving. So he was pissed. And driving. AND drunk.

Finally, after the threat of calling the police, he stopped.

One of his dearest friends informed me, several months later, that she knew it wasn't going to work out between him and me as I was too stable and sane for him.

(How I wish I could say I was making this up...)

The Kiss...of Death?

With the invention of the internet, folks immediately began to use it to satisfy our primal urges. The internet is a hub for shopping, learning, sex (isn't online porn one of the main reasons the internet was invented? So that people can enjoy their depraved sexual fantasies from the privacy of their homes?) and with sex comes dating. Or what is supposed to be dating.

I have, like many in my generation, engaged in online dating. However, at the time of this writing, I have pretty much decided that online dating is not going to work for me. I have found it exhausting and mostly unsuccessful. The vast majority of men that I have met off the internet have mis-reperesented themselves so thoroughly that they have pretty much tainted it for the honest ones out there. How can I trust anyone off the internet when so many have been so dishonest?

One of my first experiences with meeting someone off the internet happened years ago and it has left and impression in my psyche that leads me to ask any internet date what their dental hygiene is like. Of course that leads to mockery and laughter and I have to explain this horrifying experience.

This...guy (he was neither a man nor a boy, well, maybe more boy-like but that's something else), I'll refer to him as John. I think, in fact, that all of the men throughout this blog shall just be called John, for the sake of ease.

John and I had been chatting from an online dating site for several weeks. We both lived in Milwaukee so it wasn't difficult to make the decision to meet up. He seemed like a decent enough guy but he was obsessed with kissing. In several of our conversations, he asked me to promise to kiss him on our first "date." It seemed odd to make such a request and despite my obviously poor choices in the past, I refused to promise such a thing. In fact, I pretty much have a rule that making promises like this lead to trouble. It creates an unreasonable expectation within something that is point blank unknown.

(I'd like to know the psychology behind this? When someone makes a request for something that simply cannot be known...fear?)

Anyway, I refused to promise to kiss him. And in reflecting, I might have vomited in his mouth if I had been held to some kind of promise like that.

This is another situation where I have pretty much blocked it out of my memory. Perhaps reliving all of these horrible dates isn't exactly healthy. I do find it humorous, however.

We met outside of a coffee shop. I had my contingency plan set up and I was ready to take off if need be. Let me tell you, the need was there. He approached me, with all the physical appearance of scrawny, malnurished drug addict and the fear of that as a truth was confirmed when the man smiled at me. He had a mouth full of rot. Green and fuzzy stumps with an odor that could destroy a small city.

I did not even go into the coffee shop. Nope. I took off. How could I possible sit across a table and engage in a conversation with a man with a toxic mouth? I also understand why he was so focused on a promise for a kiss.

This experience taught me two valuable lessons when it comes to online dating. One, have a contigency plan and two, ask after dental hygiene.

I have encountered a fairly high frequency of men with poor dental hygiene. In some cases I understand. There are, in fact, medical conditions that leads to bad teeth. There is also the condition of "laziness" that leads some folks to neglect brushing their teeth altogether leading to the toxic mouth as outline above.  Poor dental hygiene makes me wonder what else they are neglecting when it comes to their health. And if they are neglecting their own health then they'll most likely neglect my needs and wants.

There's the saying that you can't judge a book by a cover but that's a load of crap. We are humans and we do judge a book by its cover. A person who projects confidence and displays a healthy amount of self care is going to be far more attractive than someone who just doesn't care about their physical self. People! These are our bodies and we are assigned to live in them until we don't anymore. No one is perfect but we should at least keep ourselves reasonably healthy so that our bodies can do the things that we'd like to accomplish.

He wanted a kiss...but his choices to neglect his own hygiene prevented him from getting a kiss.

Several weeks after I bolted away from this guy, he sent me an email to let me know how I missed out on "getting him" as he "met someone" and they were very serious and living together and whatever else. Somehow I don't think I missed out...but I'm glad he me someone who is okay with toxic mouth syndrome....

Boys and Their Poo

I'm not quite sure how so many men became so comfortable with their own waste but this is a bit of a problem that has come up over the years with different men in my life. Understanding that other women have had similar issues with their male companions I feel comfortable in generalizing that there seems to be a thing going on here with men and their shit.

Years ago when I was married, my husband had a very dirty job. He worked at a place that performed quickie oil changes and he'd come home absolutely filthy. I would insist that before he pretty much touch anything, he take a shower. Even still, his greasy hands would graze the walls and leave streaks and you can bet he wasn't going to be the one to clean up those paw prints. He'd end up in the shower anyway and by dinner time he be once again presentable.

After awhile, though, I started to notice a pattern. Heaven forbid he hang up his own towel (because, after all, that's what a wife is for -- even if your wife works full time (and you don't) it's her job to take care of her husband as if he's a toddler) and I noticed that the towels had some streaks on them. It looked like streaks of dirt and so that's what I assumed it was. Since we had separate towels I didn't think much of it. I was already annoyed that he'd come home and mark up the walls and leave his wet towels on the floor after he took a shower. My towel was always hung up after my morning shower so it was easy to tell which towel was mine.

But then the story takes a horrifying turn for the worst.

I recall, faintly (as I believe my brain is trying to block out this memory), reaching for my towel one morning after my shower and toweling off. Normal behavior. But as I bent over to whip my hair up into the towel, I see the dreaded streak of dirt on the towel. Well, it wasn't quite black like the undersides of his fingernails...so I looked...and looked...and looked...

It was shit. It was a 4 inch long streak of shit. On a towel that I just dried my whole body off with. Obviously I hopped right back into the shower and used a CLEAN towel when I was done.

Upon confrontation of the (not-supposed-to-be) striped towel, my husband became combative and defensive and insisted that I had no idea what I was talking about and that it was normal.

In what universe is it normal to take a long shower then get out of said shower and still be so filthy that in the process of drying off your butt crack you end up using the towel like toilet paper? I don't believe I have encountered this problem for myself so I don't really know how normal it is.

Needless to say, his behavior didn't change. And now I have white towels. That I can bleach. And remove any hideous marks which are made obvious anyway.

So...years later...post divorce

I had dated a man for several months when we finally decide to have the big sleepover. In the morning I went and had coffee while he was sleeping (or...not...). After awhile he woke up and joined me and we had a pleasant conversation before he had to leave. He left and of course I went about my business, including making up my bed.

There was a streak. A streak I was all too familiar with. Cautiously I approached the streak and looked it it in disbelief. How could another man be so comfortable with his own fecal matter that he'd feel comfortable using my bed sheet as a piece of toilet paper?

It was...shit. It was!

Having had to tolerate my towels being ruined by someone's shit...I wasn't ready to deal with this man's shit on top of the shit I had already been through with my ex husband. I didn't even think twice but instead I threw them into the trash. Simple and effective. Not what I would prefer but SHIT.

If you are a man who is reading this I would truly appreciate some insight on this whole fecal matter thing. I have to ask...do you feel unresolved poop on your skin if you weren't able to wipe properly? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable? Itchy almost? I fail to understand how men can feel okay with feces stuck to their skin and then to be defensive when the hygiene problem is presented. To further this argument, I must also ask why men feel that their ladies should be okay with (and in some cases clean up after) their men and their weird pooping habits. Streaks, track marks, racing stripes, etc...all of these terms have nick-named this problem which again, makes me believe that it is a legit male trait.

I do not want shit on my sheets or on my towels ever again. How do I avoid this?

The Common Denominator

I'm nearly 32 years old and just about every relationship I have had has ended in disaster. This includes being married for several years where that just sort of exploded in my face. I've dated the ultra feminine (yet not gay), the gay, the filthy, the filthy minded, the rude, the pushy, and the stinky ones. I reflect on my entire dating history and there are very few men that I would consider some of their traits that I'd like to find in a future relationship.

I do not pretend that I'm the nicest person; certainly not. And this blog is definitely reflecting some of my own poor choices and bad judgment calls. As much as this is a rant of all the crap I've tolerated over the years, I fully acknowledge that the common denominator is me. Yep, me. It IS my fault because I tolerated this silliness, I've chosen mates who are subpar, and I questioned my very being based off of their ridiculous accusations, assumptions, and opinions. None of that should matter.

As I air out my grievances, please note that I am still hopeful that Mr. Right is somewhere out there for me, just waiting for me to completely become myself before we make that connection. I am a lonely person but I also have been spending the last few years really enjoying my own company as well as the company of friends and family. I have enjoyed expanding on my hobbies and discovering news ones. So as much as I would like to have a partner, I'm perfectly content with who I am and where I am at in life. I also completely understand why some folks really love their pets!

So as a share these juicy little details of my pathetic dating life,  please note that names have obviously been changed as well as some time frames and places...as much as these bone heads do not deserve privacy (if only to warn other women that they might date), I do not care to take on a lawsuit over slander. I value myself more than calling out men on their specifics.