The one who recorded live concerts

(according to this I am not a cradle robber, but still...)

In honor of the guy that I’m going on a date with tonight who just graduated college last year (that makes him what, 22? 23? Oy!) I thought I’d share my own cradle robbing story, but when I was actually in the cradle.

And while you read this, please enjoy Rod Stewart and the Faces' “Maggie May”: the best cradle-robbing-cougar-song out there.

The year I turned 24, I was the hottest thing around. I was living in a new city with lots of young single people. I had two boyfriends during that time and dated a few more. (I almost even had my first dating-a-girl experience; I still regret that that didn’t happen.)

Seriously, I think I had more luck in those 10 months than any other period in my life. I cough it up to the city.

I’m going to call this guy The Pirate because he recorded live music concerts, and even though he would have gotten approval from the bands to do so, it was still in a way illegal. He would go to a show and set up a huge microphone on the floor and stand there with his arms crossed.

I was 23, he was 32. He was the oldest guy I had ever dated. (Tonight it seems we’re switching those numbers around.)

I realize that I wasn’t as big of a music dork then as I am now, and would probably be even more into this guy now than I was then. It would be an interested in experience to date a guy like that now.

I met The Pirate through The-One-Who-Paid-My-$250-Parking-Ticket-Late. It was weird, even though I knew he liked me, he sort of pawned me off to his friend, The Pirate, thinking that we’d get along. I remember that I was watching the Sex in the City DVDs and felt like I was in the show with all the men I had in my life.

I didn't really get anywhere with The Pirate. I think I tried kissing him once and he wasn’t ready for it. I seem to do that a lot, don't I? What’s wrong with me, eh? But we did hang out quite a bit there. And he did give me a bike rack for my car that I used for years. Wasn’t that nice of him?

Rawrrr, well tonight I’m a cougar. Why not? This kid has great hair (like this guy). Seriously.

UPDATE: Just got home: GGFG (Gay Gay Fucking Gay) as my brother would say. Sort of a bummer, but he's so sweet, I want to be his friend. He's moving not to far from me, so I'm glad to hang out with him as he gets to know the city.

The one who just wouldn't go away

Dear first love,

Please stop flirting with me. I've loved you since 1993. Now you're married with 3 kids. Every time you say something sweet and endearing, my heart breaks a little more. Enough now. Enough.

Sincerely, Heartbroken Girl.

Found this on "Dear Blank, Please Blank" today. Reminded me to share an update with you.

Please check out parts 1 & 2 of this story. But the gist is that I'm probably in love with the boy I dated at summer camp when I was 13 for like 2 weeks. Firecrotch was my first boyfriend and my first kiss. He liked to toy with my emotions and take advantage of them with things like calling me at two in the morning on a regular basis because he knew I would pick up, things like that.

Part 1

Part 2

After that wedding I saw him at with the "most perfect woman in the world" I emailed him saying that I needed to speak with him (to spill my guts and tell him for the second time that I have feelings for him and I don't know what to do about it). He had just started his residency and I guess he just didn't have the time to get back to me. Or it scared him silly. And since he was never good at confrontation, I got only silence.

So months later I finally worked up the courage to send him an email. "I obviously still have feelings for you and I just need to not have you in my life right now. Please do not call me or email me. I am un-friending you from facebook. I gave you a chance to talk, and you ignored it, this is over." That was the main idea.

Firecrotch tried to re-friend me. THREE TIMES he tried to re-friend me in the course of six months or so.

I finally had to call him and in tears and plead with him to stop doing it. Every time he did it hurt so badly. Not only was he doing what I specifically asked him not to, this was his lame and half-assed attempt at some sort of apology or something.

On the phone I asked him why he kept doing it even though I had asked him not to. "I don't want you to forget about me" said Firecrotch. "I can't forget about you" I said, "that's the problem. Why can't you understand that?"

He had nothing else to say for himself.

Honestly, if at any point he had picked up the phone, or written me an email explaining himself, I would have been open. Even now, if he decided that he actually had something to say, I would listen. But this facebook shit just KILLS me.

A couple months ago, Firecrotch tried to friend me AGAIN on facebook. That was it.

I finally blocked him.

Every time I wonder if I'm ready to talk to Firecrotch again, I remember to remind myself that he made me miserable, always reminding me of what I couldn't have.

So Heartbroken Girl, I hear you. But please do yourself a favor and find the strength to cut him off. I still think about Firecrotch way more than I should, but at least he's not he's reopening the wounds.

I figure this story is not over. But I'm happy for now that it is.

The one who left for a three month Zen Buddhist retreat

It would be just my luck to meet someone right before they left for three months to find peace meditating in the mountains. Additionally, I’m not sure how he feels about me, but when is that ever the case, especially right when you meet someone?

I met the Music Engineer at a party where I was providing the iPod mix. He recognized one of the tracks he put together in his studio on it and took a liking to me immediately. I think he gave me his card twice. He’s kinda funny looking but still very handsome and cute.

And even though I never share names on this blog, let me just tell you that his name is one of my all time favorite names in the world and when I start having children, if my husband doesn’t have this name, I think one of my children might have to. It would also be a great name for a dog or cat. That’s how much I love this name.

ANYWAY, I followed up with the Music Engineer like a good networker should and we ended up having lunch, which he paid for. And I thought, hmm, that’s nice of him to have paid for that. Was that a date?

I called him a few days later to see if he wanted to hang out that evening. He told me he would let me know if he could, and emailed me the next day explaining that he ended up working until midnight with no offer to reschedule. I thought maybe he was blowing me off until I got an invitation from him to a going away party; he was leaving for a Zen Buddhist retreat in 10 days and would be gone for three months. That explains that maybe he wasn’t blowing me off, just that he had another things on his mind.

I figured that was that, but then he called and invited me to a wine tasting party that evening. Even though I was battling a cold, I went. We had a great time and there was even a strange moment where a friend of his said that’s a long time to go away and the Music Engineer and I exchanged what I understood to be, a yup-it’s-a-long-time-and-our-timing-is-terrible look.

So long story short, I missed my train and ended up having to stay at his house, on the couch. The Music Engineer lives at his recording studio, so he sleeps upstairs in the loft. So I could hear him, and he could hear me cough and sniffle all night.

Hot. I am super hot.

And, I didn’t know if I ended up on the couch because I was sick, or because I was going to end up there anyway.

In the morning we had breakfast and talked music, it was fine. I still felt a little awkward about it, but he was great about it.

I went to his going away party, had a great time. Met his Dad and a bunch of his awesome friends. I even made some musical connections that might prove to be very useful.

I emailed him later to say thank you and that I’d love to see him before he left if it was possible, but I totally understand if it’s not. He was trying to wrap up a bunch of projects before he left. I promised I would send him postcards.

He’s leaving in two days and I’m now having fantasies about him calling and asking for one last night of earthly pleasure before he goes to full on monkland and how that conversation would go. Of course I would agree.

I'll let you know if I hear from him. But otherwise I’ll be sure to send him postcards.

The one who was a sexy kisser

I met the Hipster Lawyer online. He had a picture of him and Henry Rollins in the most hipster bars of hipster-dom in town. His handle was something about music being his crack.

I had to write to him:

"Please save some of that crack for me, I need the music to survive as well."

Hipster Lawyer was humanitarian lawyer, you know, the sexiest type of lawyer. He worked from home, so he didn't look like a lawyer at all. He was scruffy with overgrown hair. He was a little bit older than me, and super hot.

At the end of our first date (at a bar) he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a big bear hug. I loved it. At the end of our second date (also at a bar), I got out of the car claiming that I wanted a hug, and oops - we made out a little bit and...

OH-MY-GOD he might have been the best kisser EVER. A little nip there, suck there and oh-LORD-wowie-wow. I was hooked. Too bad he was aloof, texting me back at weird intervals and not contacting me at all after our dates. It was all me.

I'm not so good with waiting for guys to ask me out again if they make me wait for a few days. I figure, I want more, I'm going to go out and try to get more. Men are stupid and don't know what they want... HA! Wait, that never really works... but I do it anyway because I get antsy. I read "He's Not that Into You" and sadly, it's true. If they want to see you more, they'll make it happen.

But I just wanted to kiss him more. Really.

The third date we went to a music festival in town and were going to meet up with a bunch of his friends. All of them bailed except for this one girl. I asked him how he knew her,

"We used to date, is that okay?"

Sure it's okay, she was nice. And weirdly enough, it was nice to have someone else there to talk to. Definitely a sign that Hipster Lawyer and I were not meant to be. She just seemed a little nervous and was worrying about everything. I told her so - to her face. That might have been a bad move on my part because he asked me about it later. Was I annoyed with her? No. She was just worrying a lot.

We did get to kiss in the car later, and I told him that the only reason I keep called him is because of that. He seemed into it. We meshed that way.

Didn't hear from him again... but I figured I'd make a move anyway and ask him to a show. I heard back THREE DAYS later claiming that he'd like to go but had to "be up early the next morning."'

So I let Hipster Lawyer slip away. I did, at least, get some good kisses out of it.

The one who decided I was a slut before he even met me

When you meet a new person, and your ex comes up in a conversation, what does a smart person do? You refer to them as your friend, right? The word "ex" just raises red flags for me all over the place and makes my skin crawl a little bit.

So I guess I understood when Woody Allen got a little weird about me referring to my "friends." (I call him Woody Allen because he was a nebbishy Jewish Lawyer).

Over IM (BEFORE I met him) while I was on a business trip:

"So what did you do this evening?"

"I went to a comedy club with a friend of a friend. I met him a couple weeks ago and promised to hang out when I was in town."

"So are you going to see this person again."

"Uh..."

I finally called Woody on it, he explained that the dating site that we had met on was prone to being very sexually promiscuous. "You never know what someone means by the word 'friend' anymore."

Okay, I guess I could see that. Could have just asked me though instead of being subtly rude.

Also, he tended to accost me every time I hopped online. It was annoying, especially when it was midnight and I just wanted to check my email before bed.

I actually did go out with Woody, and the date was actually okay. I had a couple of drinks and probably told him a little too much about myself. I told him that my longest relationship was only 4 months. Oops...ammunition he would use against me later.

After the date, I didn't hear from Woody and he didn't hear from me. I figured I would go out with him again if he called though. Five days later I sign on really quickly to check email, he IM's me and we chat a little bit.

He says "I had a good time the other night, and I felt like the conversation flowed well, but I got the feeling you weren't really into me." Honesty! I can appreciate that.

My phone rings, it's my boss. "Can't talk now! Sorry!" Woody signs off while waiting for me to get back to him and his awkward statement, but sends me an email saying that we can talk about it later.

I go to play a gig and come back around midnight and start writing back to him. I was trying to figure out if I wanted to go out with him again, give him a second chance.. Woody IM's me the moment I'm closing the browser. I do not feel like having this conversation this late at night.

I get another email from him. "Nevermind." It says.

Uh, what?

I go back to my email, and rewrite it. "What the hell was that "nevermind" all about? Are you angry or frustrated with me?" It says basically. "No the vibe was not there, good luck in your dating adventures."

The next morning I wake up to this email:

I wasn't angry with the "nevermind," just resolute in my certainty of the outcome.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were relationship material, but I was open to seeing what happened between us. It can be hard for people to be themselves and make an amazing connection during something as inherently awkward as a blind date. Besides, some amazing relationships start with a slow burn instead of fireworks.

Unfortunately, I could tell that you weren't of the same mind. And at the risk of sounding cruel or meanspirited, I think your focus on instant chemistry is probably why your longest relationship has been 4 months long.

No hard feelings. I do hope you find something lasting. Take care.

Did I mention that this is after ONE DATE???

ONE DATE, people!!

I wanted to write Woody back and tell him he had no idea what he was talking about and to go eff himself. But I let it go.

Fly, fly nebbishy Woody Allen man who is so uptight and annoying!!

Good luck finding a cynical and jaded woman to make happy.

The one who was a bad vegan

This a repost of an earlier story. I feel like I might do this from time to time because some of you kinky boot beasts newbies might have not seen some of the older ones and it's fun for me to reread and reshape a little bit.

BUT, for some reason this particular entry has been collecting Japanese spam comments EVERYDAY for the last 5 months, and it's really annoying. So I figure I would just delete it to throw the spammerbot off the trail and then repost rather than trying to delete all 150 comments one by one.

And also, these graphics I've found after googling "bad cheese" are awesome.
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Have you ever met a vegan that has the worst diet ever? I mean if you’re going to cut out that much protein, you have to replace it with some really good stuff. Also, you have to be really careful and read labels.

I could never do it. I like chicken and cheese too much. And it turns out that being vegan isn’t the best thing for the human body or animal rights anyway. (Not that I don't respect that way of life, I'm happy to admit that I am too lazy.)

Anyway, this guy called himself a vegan and ate Nacho Doritos. ‘Nuff said.

The one who wasn't crazy enough

The Professor was nerdy and cute, just the way I like ‘em. But one thing kept us from really connecting: he just wasn’t that crazy. And I mean crazy in that dirty, playful kind of way.

The Professor was seven years older than me and a math professor at a small Catholic college (a good place for a nice Jewish boy). I met him on that Jewish dating website. His pictures were nothing special, I think what drew me to him was his love for his students. I was in academia once upon a time, so I could definitely relate.

The Professor also loved music.

He sang in a local choir, liked to jam out to Billy Joel and musicals on his keyboard. We bonded over our love for the Camina Burana. He didn’t own a pair of jeans, was allergic to cats and lactose intolerant. He also danced like a white man should. You know, like my Dad.

Sounds like my type right?

He hadn’t had a lot of girlfriends either, surprised? Turns out, The Professor had dated a woman a year before me who he said showed him “the ropes” (remember he was seven year older than me, putting him in his mid 30s). So once he worked up the courage to kiss me, we entered that territory.

We would make out on his couch and then he would say “Want to go inside?” Meaning, “let’s go in the bedroom and get naked.” Whoever this woman was that he dated the year before taught him well in some areas but I don’t know what was going on in others. He was good with his hands, but when it came to “performing” it just wasn’t there. I blamed it on nerves and figured maybe it would get better in time, but no dice.

He just also wasn’t “crazy.” I mean there was no passion in the bedroom, he wasn’t into trying something different and I didn’t know what to make of it. Was The Professor still nervous? Was he just too nerdy? Was he just not comfortable? Was he really a 17 year-old boy and had an aging disease? WHAT? And of course I was too weirded out to ask him. I figured we’d work it out if and when we had to.

What was bizarre about that though is that just being around The Professor physically excited me. So there was definitely something going on there.

We had only been seeing each other for three months and he was scheduled to go away for six weeks for the summer to visit his family. About two weeks before he was supposed to go he had a little picnic in the park with some of his friends. I noticed that he wouldn’t show me any affection in front of them, it was really awkward and it made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t feel this way when I had met his friends before and he hadn't acted in the same way.

I confronted The Professor about this the next day and all he could say is that we didn’t have that "lovely- dovey" vibe he wanted. So I said, well, I’m not waiting around six weeks for us to figure it out. So I guess I’m just going to go home.

And that was that.

And it was okay. I needed to go find me some dorky AND crazy.

I know he's out there somewhere. I keep getting closer and closer to him. I can feel it.

The one who was old and douchey

This is one of my favorite flattering stories. It was one of my best friend’s birthdays and she was celebrating in a restaurant where she had gotten a gift certificate through her job. If it wasn’t for that, I would have not been caught dead in this bougie part of town in this swanky restaurant. I just don’t go to this part of town.

Anyway, we only ordered one bottle of wine because we didn’t want to shell out cash for another bottle. But then the waitress came by with another bottle of wine courtesy of a generous gentleman at another table. She said that he sent a “happy birthday” message to my friend and a special “hello” to me. At that moment I could feel my entire face go red.

Everyone at the table freaked out. Ooooooooo. That guy LIKES you.

Are we adults here or what?

I will call him The Old Man. He was 42. I was 28. Perhaps “Old Man” is a little harsh since he's really not that old. There are other 42 year-olds I would date. But for some reason, being 42 and douchey makes you an Old Man in my book.

The Old Man came over to our table to say hello and chat a little bit with us, but really, chat with ME. I thanked him for making my friend’s birthday a little more special and he gave me a piece of paper with his name and contact info on it. I guess he was nice enough.

“Will you call him?” “You should CALL HIM!”

Thanks guys.

After some cyber-stalking I found out that The Old Man was one of those guys that likes to buy and sell companies and it looked like he had made a lot of money doing it. What do they call them, Venture Capitalists? Totally my type. ha!

I figured "what the hell" and emailed him, thanking him again for the wine. He asked me out to a bar in a much less douchey part of town. Once he started name-dropping and telling me he could hook me up as a music writer, I was flattered, but a little weirded out. He hadn’t even read anything I had written. But I went out with him for a second time anyway. Why? I don't know. Maybe I had nothing else to do.

When The Old Man figured he had buttered me up with his money and connections, this is when he figured he could bag me now, right?

Wrong, sucker. Get your hand off my leg.

Now, I have a friend who’s into rich, powerful guys. It's just her thing. You go girl! After telling her about The Old Man, she was way more interested than I was. But she said, he won’t like me, he likes YOU. But I figured, what the hell, this is a perfect way to get rid of him. In an email, I wrote (and I’m paraphrasing):

“Hey Old Man, thanks for the drinks, but I don’t think it’s going to work out with us. But I have a friend who you might like, interested? If not, no need to reply.”

No reply. Oh well.

Thanks for the wine anyway Old Man!

I leave you with the wise words of Ke$ha's "Dinosaur"

D-I-N-O-S-A U R a dinosaur!
O-L-D-M-A-N You're just an old man!
Hittin on me, what?
You need a CAT scan!

The one who just wasn't worth all that work

I met Mr. Solar at an environmental conference. I thought it was cute that he was drinking water out of a cup he had made in a pottery class. I didn't get his contact info, but a friend of mine did. So I got it from her and emailed him. Yeah, so I was a little bit stalker-y. But it's okay sometimes.

Mr. Solar said in an email two days later, "it was nice to meet you too. Let's get a drink or dessert sometime." I said "great, but I have people in town this weekend let's do it next week."

Got nothing back. So I gave him the benefit of the doubt, which I have been known to do and emailed him the next week saying the next weekend would be good for me. After the weekend was over Mr. Solar emails and calls saying sorry but he was in Portland; we should plan something. So I call him back. Get nothing back.

You think I would just let it go there. I mean he called AND emailed. Sigh, he must REALLY like me... No. I like humiliation I guess.

So I texted Mr. Solar a few days after Thanksgiving: "Hope your Thanksgiving was good. Am I ridiculous for continuing to bug you?"

He texts back: "No, I'm glad you did :) I'm in Vegas, let's do something after Thursday.

He calls, leaves a message. I call leave a message.

IS ALL OF THIS WORK WORTH IT?

He calls, I pick up. I can't believe it. We're actually talking. We plan a brunch date for the next day, MORE THAN A MONTH AFTER WE MET FOR THE FIRST TIME.

It's nice enough. No problem. Mr. Solar checks his phone about a bazillion times. UNDER THE TABLE. He's texting. Gawd. He's in his 30s, doesn't he know not to do that on a first date by now?

He pays though. I offer to pay tip, he says sure.

I give him a ride to REI. I drop him where he's meeting his cousin. He walks the sidewalk checking his phone.

Not worth all that work. But at least I know for sure.

I mean "I stalked your father to go out with me the first time" would have been a really great story to tell the children. Maybe that's what I was hoping for.