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 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 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 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.

The one that I totally forgot about

The internet is a strange thing. What did people do before it? Jesus, we actually wrote with pens, looked things up in books and talked to people. What a horrible world that sounds like...

Sam found me on one of those networking websites earlier this week. I had a huge crush on him in college right around when I was "dating" the one who was painfully shy. I think I met him through is roommate who lived around the corner from me in the dorms. I've completely forgotten about him, he wasn't even on my list of people to talk about in this blog.

I thought Sam was so interesting. I've always been drawn to Renaissance Men, you know, guys that do everything: paint, play music, are ridiculously smart... Sam was one of those guys. He also grew up in Eastern Europe and Texas, so he had this hot cute accent. Oh yeah, and he's Jewish.

His dorm room was full of his paintings, all what I remember as very Italian Renaissance-esque looking portraits. I was horrified when I saw that he would paint over old paintings that he didn't like, they were all so gorgeous! He played the classical guitar, had the largest music collection I had ever seen mostly filled with classical music and classic rock and was a double major in biology and psychology. We would "rock out" to Palestrina and Simon and Garfunkel.

Physically, he had all the qualities that I usually like that my friends never understand. He was a little chubby, had a goatee and that late 90's floppy hair.

We anyway, he found me online earlier this week. He's now a freaking human rights lawyer, has lost like 40 pounds and loves to travel.

I saw that he went to grad school (not law school mind you, he's got two grad degrees including the law degree) in the city I lived in after college.

"I lived there too" I typed, "I wonder if we were there are the same time. Wouldn't it be annoying if we just missed each other?"

He responded, "I am disappointed…don't you remember meeting up at a coffee shop? I think we hung out once before you left….That's ok, it was a long time ago …I forget what I did two days ago"

I'm so embarrassed and pissed off at myself at the same time. First of all I DO vaguely remember running into him and thinking it was weird awkward or something. But that could have just been me, for all I know I could have been involved with the one who didn't know how to make up for it. I mean not only did I let this guy go while I was lonely in this city, I didn't even bother trying to be friends with him. But I guess it goes both ways.

Anyway, we emailed back and forth everyday long emails for the next few days after that, updating each other on our lives, sharing musical recommendations and youtube videos and travel plans. He remembers things about me that I'm really surprised about, like that my Dad is a lawyer.

I'm kinda freaking out about this... I mean I'm actually thinking of finding excuses to go there and see if we can meet up.

Am I that desperate? Is this real? I went out on a date last night with a boy that I think is fun and cool, but I can't stand kissing him. It's pretty horrible. And I'm also going out on a first date tonight with a guy who seems like he's a surfer-lawyer-frat boy. I don't do surfer-lawyer-frat boys! We'll see, I don't want to assume things about him before we even meet in person. I'm trying people!

Anyway, Sam didn't email me yesterday or today and I'm really hoping he does. I don't even know if he's single or straight or what? Why does my imagination get the better of me? I get so disappointed all the time. It just creates a world of it's own and runs away. It never gets bored, that's for sure.

I make myself crazy sometimes! But he just seems so perfect for me from all the way over here...