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.

The one who farted

I went to a show the other night and Mr. Bouncy was just all over the place. He would dance right up to me and my friend and just shake it in front of us. He smelled bad, had beer breath and bad teeth. But I thought his dancing was funny and humored him a little bit by shaking my butt a little bit with him.

He tried to do some grinding from behind, but I don't dig that. I mean really, I don't appreciate some strange man's penis pressing into my butt. Even through clothes. I just don't like it, especially if I don't like the man it's attached to.

After the show was over, I sat over that the bar hanging out while my friend talked a guy. Mr. Bouncy came over to chat. He was from the North Carolina and had just moved to the area, blah blah blah. He tried putting his hang on my back, I tried to squirm away politely.

He smelled terrible.

And then he farted.

I was done.

"I'm going to go check on my friend."

"Your friend looks like she's doing fine."

"Well I'm going to go check on her. It was nice to meet you."

I walked over to my friend who is deep in conversation, so I check out the merch table. I look over quickly and he's leaning against the bar looking very dejected. I pretend not to notice.

Smelly men are one thing, farting is another thing. A smelly farting man hitting on you is something different all together.

The one who must have thought I was hideous

I honestly don’t think he thought I was hideous, but that’s what I could have thought. I mean I’ll never know. And I don’t really care.

Let just called him “Mr. Confused,” because I was looking cute that night and he must have had some crazy shit going on in his head. And calling him “Asshole” just doesn’t seem right, although it warranted. I know, I’m being very kind to this guy by giving him this name.

I met Mr. Confused on the Jewish dating website. He was a school teacher, tall, skinny and really not much to look at. But I guess he seemed nice enough.

I was volunteering to work at a screening of a film at the Jewish Community Center. I told Mr. Confused about this he said he wanted to see the movie, so the plan was to watch the movie and go out afterwards. He had also told me that he used to work at that same Jewish Community Center. This was a good sign

Something funky happened with scheduling and some people thought that the film started a whole hour later than it actually did. Mr. Confused was one of these people. I was able to watch the film and grabbed a spot in the back so I could slip out quickly and do whatever need to be done afterwards. Mr. Confused walked in about ten minutes before the film was over and randomly ended up sitting right next to me.

“Oh, hi!” I said looking at him when he sat down, immediately recognizing him from his picture.

“Hey!” He said smiling.

“You must have gotten the time wrong too, sorry about that. There was a problem with the scheduling.”

I don’t remember where the conversation went from there, it was a little awkward but no big deal. The lights came up and I had to jump up to do my job.

As I was talking to my supervisor for a second, Mr. Confused comes over.

“I’m going to take off.”

“Um, okay, well you have my number.”

He bolts.

I thought maybe he didn’t want to stay for the Q&A for a film he didn’t see. Maybe we would meet up later?

No call, no text message, no email.

Nothing.

I’m sorry, but people get away with the craziest shit in the name of dating and it pisses me off. That’s just not right. And if I were someone else, I could have thought that he just didn’t like the look of me and so he bolted. Who knows what was going on in his life at the time, I don’t care, you don’t treat people like that.

“Maybe you should pick your dates more carefully” a friend said. He’s a Jewish day school teacher? What raises red flags about that??

I gave him a full 24 hours before I sent him this email:

Dear Mr. Confused,
I obviously can't claim to know what you're looking for, but the way that you've handled the last 24 hours is not the way you're going to find it. The fact that you bailed last night with no reason and haven't even bothered to email me saying that it was nice to meet me but there's other things going on with you is pretty disrespectful and rude. I don't care if we were supposed to be on a date or not, I think it's pretty terrible that it's okay with you that you would do that to another human being. Please think before you do something like that to the next girl you try to date.

Kinky

I felt amazing. It was so good to tell someone off like that. It’s one thing to ignore someone when you haven’t even met them in person yet. But it’s another thing to meet them, not give them a chance and then run away. Not cool.

I wouldn’t have cared if he emailed me back. In fact I expected him not to.

But he wrote this email right back:

Kinky,

I'm so sorry that I didn't handle this better. I just didn't know how to express what I was feeling.
I hope that I have learned something from this mistake.

Mr. Confused

At least “the one who went to the bathroom was funny.”

This was just lame: "didn't know how to express what I was feeling"? What the hell does that mean?

It only gets better and better doesn't it?

The one who made me cry

Just to get it out of the way if you were wondering, it was the good kind of cry: you know, the one where someone says something so sweet to you that you cry? Not the you-hurt-my-feelings kind of cry.

And also to get it out of the way, the one who made me cry, let’s call him “Sad Lawyer”, was the reason why my ipod is now broken.

Let me explain.

I met Sad Lawyer online as I meet most of these interesting characters. He was in his last year of law school, and he hated it. This dude was a downer.

Sad Lawyer and I went to another bar to talk some more. After a couple drinks, he fessed up to being recently out of a relationship. It ended because the love of his life cheated on him. Like I said, this dude was a downer. 

Somehow we got on the topic of education and the worth of each individual. I happen to believe every person in the world has some skill or talent that could be of productive use or enjoyment to the world. Sometimes individuals just don’t have the means or access to cultivate these talents. I mean how do you know you’re an amazing skier if you’ve never seen snow?

Anyway, the point is that this is a very optimistic, idealistic way to see the world. One which I suppose at the age of 29, I should have lost.  I'm very proud of this part of me, it's also what keeps me dating by the way. I am a hopeless idealist and romantic at heart.

“You’re a good person aren’t you?" Sad Lawyer said.  "Most of the people I know, including those older than me (he was 26 I think) don’t think that way anymore. We are all so jaded. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

That made me cry. It took a total stranger to look into me like that and say it to my face. I’m sure my mother has said something like that to me before, and maybe my friends think that about me. But hearing those words from an emotionally devastated stranger made me emotional. It was sort of embarrassing. 

Given Sad Lawyers' own emotional status, it is no surprise that he didn’t call me for a second date. He was probably too embarrassed too. I've found that if I drink too much on a first date, too much information is exchanged, and second dates are rare. There's also the occasional making out, but that didn't happen on this date.

But back to the dead ipod…

I had a little too much to drink I guess that night. And the next morning I had to get up relatively early for something and was a tad hungover. Not the I-feel-terrible-sort, more like the, I’m-in-a-grumpy-daze sort. I’m sure only some of that feeling had to do with the booze.

I went to the kitchen to fill my water bottle, when it was full I  put it in my purse.

“Why is your purse leaking?” My roommate asks.

What? I looked down. Shit. My purse was indeed leaking.

I was so out of it, I put the water bottle in my purse WITHOUT the top.

Oy.

Turns out that I drowned my ipod. It needs a whole new hard drive. That was several months ago and I haven’t spent the cash to get one. I work out at the gym without one.

I blame Sad Lawyer.

The one who was too drunk to remember

I had become friends with the trumpet player in my band at the time. I will call him Sillyman, because, well, he was and still is, one of most of lovely, crazy, goofy people I've ever known.

Sillyman had so much silly positive energy I just could not stay away. He told terrible jokes, said bizarre things, and would get really excited about random things and dance around. But I loved being around him. He was fun and made me happy.

My friends were throwing a pirate themed party and I brought him as my date. Since I was the driver, Sillyman was free to drink as much as he liked, and boy did he... But I guess I wasn’t aware of how much he actually did have to drink.

I tried to kiss him in the car when I dropped him off. I should have known better than to make a move at that exact moment. But I did. I tried kissing Sillyman three times and each time he seemed very confused, which is why I tried three times.

A friend told me a week or so later that he had told her that he woke up in his bed and didn’t remember how he had gotten there. It was only then did I realize that he was way more intoxicated than I had thought. Great… Smart move...

I wonder if he remembers that I had tried to kiss him and just doesn’t want to bring it up, because we are still friends. But more likely, he really doesn’t remember at all and that he really was that drunk.  One day I will bring it up.

Either way, we are still friends and have that agreement that if we reach 40 and are still single we would get married.

How cute.

The one who was so hot and didn't speak much english, one year later

To review: I met the Israeli in Israel a couple years ago. This is what happened. In a nutshell I spent the night at his kibbutz and he couldn't keep it up after putting on a condom. So no love for Kinky.

Kinky and the Israeli keep in touch over broken English emails. Israeli goes to Central America and says he's going to come visit.  I don't know what to expect.

I told him he could visit for two days. I just wasn’t really comfortable with him staying with me for more than that. I just wasn’t. I wasn’t even sure when he would be coming into town. I had a test to study for and, of course, I had to be at work. So a couple days would be all that I really wanted him around for.

He took that to mean “a few” days I guess. Which probably meant a couple weeks to an Isreali kibbutznic.

I ended up picking him up from the airport. I’m not sure why his friends didn’t pick him up. He had been traveling with them through Central America for 5 months. They were probably sick of him.

Nevertheless, My roommate and I picked him up from the airport and we went directly to a show I had already bought tickets for. I bought him an extra ticket. He smelled AWFUL. I feel really bad for the person he was sitting net to on the plane. I know they have showers in South America... wait a minute he was flying in from visiting his cousins in the States... wtf?

I picked him up, he looked good though. His hair had grown out and he was sporting a jew-fro. It was cute.

When we got to the club's bar, I asked flirtatiously, “You’re going to buy us drinks right?” Didn’t I just pick him up from the airport and pay for his ticket to get into the show. He said, of course, and bought them with no arguments. It was a good show, even though he continued to smell bad.

When we got to my house, I requested that he shower.  I also had to decide where he was going to sleep: in my bed or on the couch? Due to our history, I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to go down that route again. I ended up deciding that I wanted him in my bed. And due to his “sexual” problems, I don’t even count what we did as “sex.” It lasted a very, very short amount of time.  I was disappointed. He didn’t say anything.

The second night we stayed at my brother’s house to dog sit. During the day I drove him around town, showing him the sites. He didn’t seem too excited. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. He never said 'thank you', or offered to pay for anything.

That night as we were walking around with a friend, we saw two naked men just walking down the street, adorned with only shoes and cock-rings. It was hysterical. He was so embarrassed. Oh, I love watching people as they are pushed outside their comfort zone.

That night I stayed away from him in bed. I just didn’t want to go through it again. It wasn’t worth it.

Saturday morning I was feeling sweet and got up and made breakfast while he slept. He slept and slept and slept. No problem except his food got cold. When he woke up, he ate it. All he said was “You made this?” That’s it.

I showed him around town more for the rest of the day and outright requested that he pay for lunch. I didn’t have a fulltime job, I was not rolling in the cash. It was his turn to pay.

The next day I had made plans to meet up with some girlfriends of mine, his plans kept changing making me late for my friends.  I was getting really angry. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

 
He still didn’t have much to say, especially “thank you.” And he certainly didn’t seem too excited to be in town. I was so angry at his lack of respect and consideration for me. I felt used. Frustrated, I asked him to pay me back for the ticket to the show we had seen on his first night in town.

“How much was ticket?” He asked in broken English.

“$25”

“Well I bought you a drink, so I’ll give you $15.”

Um, no. Are you fucking serious? You’re going to give me the full $25. I’ve let you stay at my house, I cook for you and drive you around town? If we were having a great time and having amazing sex that would be one thing, maybe it would be worth it. But neither of these things were occurring. Who do you think you are? My lame-ass smelly boyfriend?

Of course I didn’t say this. I just made it clear that I didn’t want him to stay at my house that Sunday night. I asked that his friends come by the house later to pick up his stuff.

That night, after spending a nice day with my girlfriends, I was sitting in the living room talking to my roommates, waiting for him to come by and pick up his stuff. I went into my room and the door leading to the outside (I live in the old garage and have my own entrance) was wide open. His stuff was gone. 

He had entered my home, taken his stuff and left. No 'thank you', nothing.

Are you kidding? How fucked up is that? 

At least I figured he was mad enough, or embarrassed enough that I wouldn’t be hearing from him again.

One of his friends that he had been traveling around Central America with was from the area and stuck around for several months working and saving money.  I saw her and had to ask her what he had said about me.

"He was sad and he knew you were really angry at him."  

Oh well, this didn't really make me feel bad. I told her about the sexual issues.

"Really?" I knew the other guys at the kibbutz tease him about that, but I didn't think it was true!

Okay, now I felt better.

I never heard from him again. Thank god.

The one who was the Perfect Gentleman

I met the Perfect Gentleman on that free website, he was from the South and worked on the creative side of computer programming, to the point that he was not just your regular computer programmer guy. He was a little extra nerdy, if that was even possible.

We met at a club where his friends’ band was going to play. This was also a band he used to be in, but it seemed that he was more interested in talking to me and listening to the music (which he told me he never really liked anyway).

The Perfect Gentleman paid for the tickets and bought a round of drinks. I liked him immediately. He was cute, but had a face had a quality that can only be described as being a little squished (but it was cute). I liked his build: he wasn’t much taller than me, but was a little thick. I like them like that.

I met his friends before they went on stage, they all seemed perfectly nice, which is always a good sign. I bought another round of drinks and the Perfect Gentleman and I continued to have good, intelligent conversation about music and art and I even tried my best to understand what he does at his profession. There was chemistry, body language and grazing knees. He also had a fabulous laugh, something I personally love.

After the band was done, I suggested going to get some food since I hadn't eaten dinner. We went around the corner to a Polish restaurant and chatted more. I even broached the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, a topic he didn’t seem too excited to continue.

The Perfect Gentleman then walked me to my car, put his hands on my waist, kissed me good night (a nice quick peck on the kips), and told me that he was going to be out of town for the weekend just so I knew. I offered him a ride home, but he declined like a perfect gentleman and insisted on taking a cab home.

I couldn’t believe what a perfectly respectful first date it was. There was no pressure, I knew he liked me, I knew I liked him and he had paid for virtually everything and yet didn’t mind when I bought a round of drinks. I figured it was the Southern thing, but whatever it was, he was the Perfect Gentleman.

The weekend came and went, with no word from him. Not even an email the next day saying it was nice meeting me. By Monday evening I was starting to get antsy, so I called him and asked him out. The Perfect Gentleman seemed perfectly excited to go out again.

So the following Wednesday, exactly a week after our first date, I picked him up at the train station (after a misunderstanding of which train station he was supposed to get out at. Men: they’re not so great at following directions are they sometimes?) and took him to a good and not too expensive restaurant. We split a salad and a pizza and then went to a cool bar for some bluegrass, a game of scrabble and some drinks.

I had a great time with him. Again, the conversation was good and while we were picking out which game to play, the body chemistry was there. He laughed his hardy laugh at my jokes and I got him back on the train after midnight worried that he might miss that last one back to his house.

When I dropped him off at the train, he said he had fun and that we would talk soon. We had and awkward good bye as we turned sideways in the car to hug, I think he might have been going for a kiss but it was weird. So as he was getting out of the car, I pulled him back and laid a fat one on him. We made out for maybe a total of 30 seconds. I can’t say he was a great kisser, but he wasn’t bad either.

I drove home with a smile on my face. In recent memory I could not think of a dating experience that had gone this well. It was so normal! I do not have normal healthy dates, I just don’t.

I figured it was his turn to call and ask me out on a third date. A few days went by: nothing. A week went by: nothing. I don’t know what happened! 

I mean, the only thing I can possibly think that went wrong was that I farted while we were at the bar on our second date, was that it? Are farting girls a turn off for him? Are girls that kiss him a turn off? DAMN!! Is he that much of a Perfect Gentleman? Like Rhett Butler? I mean if Scarlett had farted, would Rhett have ceased to like her?

I just can’t get this right can I?

I decided to let it go, and not call him again. I am not a stalker. I refuse to do all the work.

I did have a moment of satisfaction when I was chatting with a friend of a friend a couple weeks later who knew the Perfect Gentleman. Turns out she had his old job and was rewriting all of his code. Turns out he wasn’t much better at his job than he was at dating.

The one who was so obnoxious

I met Mr. Obnoxious online. He was older than me by five or six years and worked as a bartender at private parties while he was studying to become a police officer.

The fact that he was Jewish was a nice added bonus and so I figured why not? He wasn’t necessarily my type, but you never know.

Mr. Obnoxious picked me up at my house in a double-breasted pinstripe suit, brimmed hat and bald head. He was wearing a tie with a matching handkerchief. He looked like a Jewish gangster. I was wearing jeans and insisted that I change into a skirt at least just to not feel out of place. He stated that the suit was new and wanted to break it in. No problem, it was certainly different and sorta classy.

We got into, what I call, his “penis car”: a stick shift two-seater sports car. I swear Mr. Obnoxious was going to give me whiplash before we got to the restaurant by the way he drove that thing. His voice was piercing, and I could tell from the first few minutes of this date that I didn’t like him much. The fact that he hadn’t really asked me any questions about myself from the get-go was an automatic turn off. He talked my ear off about the boat he was going to move into. Not that I don’t care about boats, I just don’t need to know all the details about this particular boat.

The restaurant was nothing special. Mr. Obnoxious had made reservations though which was thoughtful. It seemed he had taken some steps to make this date nice, which I did appreciate. I mean, no one has ever shown up to a first date in a double-breasted pinstripe suit before.

So far, I just had an idea that this guy was not for me. But when we got to the restaurant it became clear that I did not wish to spend much more time with Mr. Obnoxious.

He wanted to order a rye whisky. I don’t know enough about alcohol to know what that was. But he’s a bartender, so I’ll give him that.

“Well it’s obvious which one I’m going to get,” Mr. Obnoxious said looking at the menu, “they only have three and I own two of them.” Well, good for you.

“Oh look,” I said, “they have my favorite scotches” trying to sound somewhat cultured in that area.

“Which ones are your favorite?” Mr. Obnoxious asked (probably the first question he asked me all night.)

“Talisker and Oban,” I said.

“Oh, I figured you would say that.” (What was THAT supposed to mean?)

“Well I’ve been to the breweries”

“Aren’t they called distilleries?”

Alright, fine. It seems that this date isn’t that bad yet, I see that.  But getting rather obnoxious, no?

I noticed that when I was speaking, (not that he had asked me anything, I just decided to offer up information about myself) he would start looking at the menu or something, as if he wasn’t paying attention to me. I really don't like it when people won't look you in the eye.

During one of these times when I was talking, Mr. Obnoxious interrupted me and said,

“I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but do you want to go hot tubing?”

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t want to go hot tubing.”

“Okay, that’s cool, I just didn’t want you to think I was an asshole or something.  I mean, it’s not like I just want to see you naked, although that would be cool too… it’s just a nice place to talk.”

Right.

I declined dessert and getting more drinks, I just wanted him to take me home.

As I got out of the car, I wanted to make it clear that I did appreciate the nice dinner.

“See you around,” I said... DAMMIT! I panicked.

“Really, can I call you?” Asked Mr. Obnoxious.

“Um, maybe?” I said. SHIT!

I could see in his reaction that he knew I meant, NO!

He never called me, thank the powers that be.

I found out later after telling this story to a friend’s boyfriend that the only hot tubing place in the area is a naked one.

And hence, the story of the worst first date I’ve ever had, even worse than the one who went the bathroom and didn’t come back. Sure, that date was a disaster, but at least it wasn’t painful from the moment it began.

The one I was "too young" for

I just got this email. One of my brother's ex (yes, one of them) wanted to set me up with a friend of her's. Jewish, single, into live shows, used to work with her at yahoo! years ago. I was excited, I've never been set up before.

Today I got this email

hi Jamie,
I got your name and email from Alice. she was singing your
praises and was trying to set us up on a date. initially i
was open to the idea, but the more i thought about it the
more i realized that the age difference is a bit too much
for me. i know they say the older you get the less
important that difference is, but for me right now it's
still a barrier.

sorry that it's breaking this way, but i hope you
understand.
have a great weekend,


He's maybe 34 at the oldest. 6 full years older than me. really? I'm too young for him? I guess I have to give him props for at least emailing me and telling my himself. I suppose I'll have to write back and thank him for that?

The one that I totally forgot about: continued

I'd like to refer to the one I totally forgot about as the Lawyer Artist.

So this thing with the Lawyer Artist is getting more and more intense. What the hell am I doing?

I made him a mix CD yesterday and sent it over. Since we talk mostly about music and he likes everything from classical to Malian to alt-country. It was really fun to make and I thought that he would really appreciate it.

But listen, I kinda went over the top: IT HAD LINER NOTES! I briefly explained who the artists were or why I picked the song. CD mixes are deeply personal to me and I feel like my music is a way for others to look into my soul. I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. I spend a lot of time and energy making them, I love to make them and I love thinking about the recipient, and it doesn't matter how well I know them.

CD mixes are my creations. They are my own personal art form. (I'll make you one if you promise to report back to me and tell me what you liked/hate)

I requested Lawyer Artist to make me one. Because you know that a CD mix is the way to a music lover's heart.

Whatever, I'll make one for anyone that asks.

He's sent me a few mp3s: some from an Algerian artist we both like and some from this samba/merengue singer, of course all in other languages.

Well, the one I got today is this band called Blackmore's Night. a song called "Wish You Were Here" and he made sure to tell me the name of the song.

But um... check this out and some of the lyrics

Wish You Were Here...
Me, oh, my country man,
Wish You Were Here...
I Wish You Were Here...
Don't you know, the snow is getting colder,
And I miss you like hell,
And I'm feeling blue...

I've got feelings for you,
Do you still feel the same?
From the first time I laid my eyes on you,
I felt joy of living,
I saw heaven in your eyes...
In your eyes...

And I miss you like hell...
And I'm feeling blue...
I miss your laugh, I miss your smile,
I miss everything about you...

etc, etc, etc...

WTF??

I'm trying not to get carried away, but it's really hard not to.

I'm having fantasies of moving, getting married, having babies and going to lots and lots of concerts with him. jesus christ.

Like I said, if this goes on, I'm going to have to go there just to see what it's like physically being there with him.

The one who was so hot and didn't speak much english, re-VISITING

Let's review the one who was so hot yet didn't speak much English shall we?

Well, he's going to be in the area for the next few months. Well, remember when I said that Mr. Hottie was traveling around Central America and working his way up to the States? Well he's coming a couple months earlier than he thought.

He was supposed to be visiting family and then working there for a couple months, but it seems as though he doesn't like it there and wants to come up here.

He's staying mostly with his friends parents, but since they are in Mexico for the week, I'll be picking him up at the airport and he'll be staying at my house for a couple nights

I have no idea where he's going to sleep. But I have a feeling I'm justing going to say what the hell. We'll see.

The one who won't leave me alone, pt. 2: Firecrotch

Alright, so I have to finish this one, because there certainly is more to tell.

And I'm going to try something new; instead of calling my cast of characters random names that I have chosen for them like some terrible real life tragic story from Seventeen magazine, I will call them something personifying my image or association of them. So I will call the one who won't leave me alone "Firecrotch."

Anyway, I had a conversation with Firecrotch last night and it seems that every time I talk to him now, I am overtly sarcastic. I also make fun of him to his face and I am mean. I am not a mean person. I also take my sweet time calling him back, but so does he. There is obviously something going on here.

I know that he is not worth my time, but I wonder if I put up a wall because I still have feelings for him. For a long time I really pined for him, but I don't anymore. But I still obviously still have intense emotions, and it's really, really, really annoying.

I have to see Firecrotch at a wedding in June, with his new gorgeous thin Indian doctor girlfriend, and I really want it to be a good time. I don't want to feel awkward and frustrated.

Alright, let's backup a little bit shall we? I need to fill in the blanks of the last ten years or so.

Firecrotch and I never lived in the same city except for before we met each other at camp. Soon after I met him, his Jewish family moved to Vegas to live among the many Mormans that live there. (Ironic that so many live in the vice capitol of the country isn't it?) I saw him about twice a year when he came to town to visit cousins. We would go get food, drive around, whatever. I always looked forward to seeing him.

I tried to make quasi moves on Firecrotch, like putting my legs up on his while watching movies, but it always seemed awkward for him. But I didn't really know how to do things like that, so I would try a little bit and then give up if I wasn't getting anything in response.

I do vividly remember having a conversation with him when I was about 16 about my eyes. I probably said something about how my glasses obscured them or how their color was really boring. He said something really nice like "getting lost" in them or something. I think I didn't know what to do with a comment like that. What the fuck was he trying to do to me?

Firecrotch is all about lists. How many girls he's kissed, how many countries he's been to, how many girls he's had sex with, etc. And then comparing it to mine.

At one point in college he told me that he liked to kiss girls simply to clear the air of sexual tension. But of course I was never one of those girls. He liked to tell me all about it though. And like I mentioned previously, he liked and still likes to remind me that I was his first REAL kiss. Just reminding me.

Thanks.

In my last year of college and his first year of med school he would call me at 2 in the morning, and I was okay with this. I don't even remember what we would talk about. In what world is it okay to wake a friend out of a dead sleep just to shoot the shit on a regular basis even if that person says it's okay?

I did realize that he never really told me much about the nice Jewish girl he fell in love with in college. That he kept quiet.

But Firecrotch wanted to hear all about my love life, and when I started having sex, he wanted to give me tips. Explicit ones. That made me crazy, emotionally, mentally and certainly physically. It was like the most torturous dirty talk in the history of dirty talk.

One summer we both went to Europe. I went to live in Scotland and he had a EuroRail pass that didn't go to the UK. He didn't want to come visit me because his train pass wouldn't get him there. I got pissed at him. Why wouldn't he come visit me? It was too expensive. Whatever.

Toward the middle of the summer I went to Denmark to visit a friend, and while in Copenhagen, guess who I randomly run into on the freaking street?

Yup. Firecrotch.

I start freaking out and the rest of my summer is shot as far as trying to hook up with any Scots there, especially since I didn't know how to find the one that started it all. My poor friends in Scotland had to listen to me obsess about Firecrotch and how it was so weird that I RAN INTO HIM ON THE STREETS OF COPENHAGEN. I thought it was a sign from the Gods or some crap.

Later that year back in the U.S. I saw Firecrotch and told him that I had feelings for him. It was a super big deal for me to do this. All he said was "I'm flattered but..." and that's all I needed to hear, I changed the subject. It was bad. We never talked about it again.

The next summer I went back to Scotland, and he sent me an email saying that we should go somewhere together, on a trip. I wrote back, "how can you ask me a question like that when you know how I feel about you?" I didn't hear back, AT ALL. So I emailed him later sort of apologizing. Lame. I love how somehow he got me to apologize for bringing up the fact that I had feelings for him and he was being a douche.

So I've brought up my feelings for him a couple times. It was 6 and 7 years ago though. I still talk to him. Not sure why.

Since then I've continued to see him about once or twice a year. While in med school he traveled around a lot moving to a different part of the country every time he changed rotations. I even went to New Orleans with him and some other Jews for Christmas one year including the girl he was fucking. It was awesome. I managed to have a good time though.

Firecrotch has friends, or acquaintances, all around the country. After awhile I started feeling like I was part of his harem. How many other women around the country had crushes on him? I knew of a few. This made me feel pretty horrible and pathetic the more I thought about it.

Since then I've been backing away from him, and (hopefully) obsessing less.

During the last semester of grad school, I was mad at him for some reason I can't even remember and I avoided his calls for months. I just couldn't bring myself to deal with him. This was not a confrontation I wished to have.

Finally when I did talk to Firecrotch, he asked me why I had been avoiding him, I apologized and said that I was angry with him for some stupid reason and I should have handled it better. He didn't press the subject further. Awesome, I apologized again.

I feel that there's no point in bringing this stuff up anymore. But now I feel that I just want nothing to do with him and that maybe it's that I don't want anything to do with these feelings anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with him. He just happens to be the person that they are directed at. It has more to do with me and these bottled up emotions of being rejected by so many dudes.

But if I call him now and try to talk this out, I don't even know what I would say. The feelings go back 13 years!

I'm mad at him, but I don't even really care anymore.

I'm wondering that maybe I should force myself to talk to him about all of this just for the sake of the couple that's getting married in June. It's not going to be fun for anybody, especially for me if I can't enjoy myself because of him... But of course it will seem really fishy if I do this now because he's just gotten himself into a relationship, something that he's not had since college. He's not just fucking this girl, he's actually dating her. (Not that I really care, I don't want him anymore, I know that!)

Help! Why can't I just let this go? It's because I'm a girl dammit! And we don't readily do that.