Confession: in the wake (is it still a wake 5 years later?) of my first major relationship, I have struggled to allow myself to become invested in my attraction or feelings for the opposite sex. Now, it could be argued that I have not met anyone that has really struck my fancy or given me the stupid grin of attraction that ended up causing me my most significant heartache to date. I appreciate that heartache for the lessons, the growth, the blah blah blah that came from it, but it's no easy feat to lay your heart on the line. This isn't breaking news. Anyone in the dating world can attest to it. Just confessing what I'll call the chief bane of my existence - when I started to get attached in a post first-love-of-my-life world, I tend to have a very real "head for the hills!" instinct kick in.
Attraction, however, is a force of nature. It cannot be controlled or adjusted or manhandled. It is what it is. So, you have three options: you stand on the beach and watch other people have fun surfing, you wipe out from trying to hard to control the experience, or you just ride the wave.
This will be my mantra in the coming posts becuase, folks, I'm in some serious like.
Or semi-serious like.
Date 2 got off to a rocky start - all of which was my fault. I got stuck at work, I messed up the time of the sweet sixteen game I made a stink about watching with SmartyPants, who could care less about college ball (and, who pointedly told me he would root against my team because he likes underdogs - contrary little sucker this boy). Because of the bar I suggested being packed due to an earlier game time, SmartyPants trolled bars for the thirty minutes prior to our official meet time only to end up at a very strange little place in my neck of the woods that I had never been to and which I had trouble finding which made me LATE for the date.
Something about SmartyPants - he has a very real "blankface" that I found intimidating in the first two minutes of Date 1 but that I now understand is some sort of Pokerface. I note this only because I can see myself at some point looking at this face and saying "emote! you're not going to make me uncomfortable. stop trying!"
The game is a blow out and after 1 beer, I pack him into my car with a promise not to rape him and we head to two neighborhood bars that I frequent. The first is packed and blasting some serious frattiness that makes us both head for the doors. We settle in comfortably at the second - and it's good that we're on my turf.
(Interesting aside: when I asked where we should go via text "North? South? Meet in the middle?" he says "I'll come your way this time. You can come my way next time" Already planning date 3, Smartypants?)
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Smartypants is a smartass. As am I under the right circumstances, and hanging out with this cute guy who keeps sassing me with a couple beers on board are the right circumstances. We're relentless in our one-upping and then the conversation takes a slightly more serious tone as we examine what we're looking for/attracted to. He keeps harping on my statement about wanting to make-out with him before I met him, and I try to explain that I'm attracted to a challenge, by the fight, by a little bit of struggle all of which he displayed via text and that I prayed would translate to the real world. I was thrilled when it did.
Red flag: he's been cheated on twice. Trust issues. I'm not judging because of the confession that opened this post. My stomped on heart has given me intimacy issues as well, so who am I to get judge-y (at least about THIS one thing which would be pot calling kettle and all that)
Other than that, we're more comfortable, the conversation comes easier, and the night goes well.
I drive him back to his car and he unbuckles his seatbelt and I unbuckle mine.
"Um, not to be awkward, but why'd you just unbuckle your seatbelt?" he asks with a grin.
Damn! Called OUT.
"Maybe I was feeling restricted by it thanks to all the beer," I counter smoothly.
"Really?"
"Really," I insist, refusing to give in.
"So...you're going to drive seatbelt-less home?"
"Maybe," I say. Don't start a fight with me, buster. I don't back down. EVER.
"Okay, so I'm going to go..." he says, calling my bluff.
"Really?" I say skeptically, calling HIS.
He turns back towards me, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
I look at him squarely, not moving towards him in the slightest, but in fact settling back against the driver's side window.
"Listen, I made the first move last time. Ball, your court," I say.
"Oh really?" he says, challenge in his eye. "And if I don't make a move?"
"Then, get out of my car," I say.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. I can play this game longer than you," I say.
Now something sparks in his eyes. Oh, we are alike, I realize. Sport in this, and we both like it.
"I don't think so. And don't dare me, because I'm very very stubborn," he warns.
"Me too. But what if I make a move next time? You're saying you won't kiss back?"
"Yup," he says.
"I don't believe you for a second," I say.
Suddenly he lunges across the seat at me, his face close enough that are lips are ALMOST touching. But not touching.
"I'm not making the first move," I say against his mouth, but not quite as badass as I would like. I WANT to make-out with him. I COUNTED on it. It's why I unbuckled my GD seatbelt. If he hadn't gone and called me out, this would not be freaking happening.
He doesn't say anything but moves his mouth as if he's going to kiss me, still NOT kissing me though. On purpose.
Okay, one of the hotter things that has ever happened to me. Anticipation and such, BUT....
"I'm not doing it," I say, definitely less sure than even the moment before but God bless me for getting the words out. Hormones, I conquer you! You don't own me!
And FINALLY he realizes I mean business and just kisses me. A really fabulous makin out session in the car ensues making me feel about sixteen again, which is probably the last time I really made out this intensely in a car. At some point we pause.
"This is my favorite face," he says, harkening back to our earlier discussion about his little pokerface and much more transparent faces.
"Why? What?" I say, confused and caught up in the moment not wanting to talk.
"This face. Because it's really happy," he says.
I both love this line and also think "oh, what a line!" I choose to not address it and just keeping making out. You're a smoothie, I get it. I still think I unsmoothied you more tonight than the first night, which gives me hope of outgaming you.
Finally we break, because I've been saying for 30 minutes I need to get home because I have an early morning with my kid and a pancake breakfast, swim lessons and gymnastics on the agenda. Also, if I don't stop kissing him, I'm going to jump on him. That would be a terrible plan.
"Get out of my car," I say breathlessly.
"Date 3?" he says, smiling.
"Yup."
"Tomorrow, Wednesday or Thursday," he reminds me of his schedule, because I'm tired of planning all these get togethers and getting grief for them. Take the reins.
"Yup," I say. Get out of my car, buddy, or I'm going to jump on you! Danger, Will Robinson, danger.
He sees it in my face, triumph and that smirk all men get on his face, but gets out of my car.
I don't grin like an idiot until I'm driving away and he can't see me. I might be in like.
I call my best friend, recount, glowy and gushy.
"Okay, don't freak out," she warns, knowing me.
"I'm trying not to. I'm going to...I'm going to ride the wave. Remind me of this. Over and over if I continue to like him and start freaking out."
"I will. Just...ride the wave."
"Ride the wave," I repeat, driving home, grinning like an idiot.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
SCORE FOR THE REDHEAD!
That's a far more loaded title than it actually is.
The translation of that title is: THE DATE ROCKED!
Rejoice! Hurray! Huzzah! (eeee, there need to be more one word exclamations of joy if I got to "huzzah" after two words)
Here's my assessment of SmartyPants after all the hemming, hawing, worrying, etc.: he is a big old nerd encased in a fantastic shroud of smartass.
and I LIKE it.
We agreed to meet at Sol Cantina in Martini Corner at approximately 5:30-5:45. I thought I would get there early to get a drink started to help me not just stare at him awkwardly in case he intended to do the same to me.
I'm never early to anything, but I was pulling in the parking lot at 5:20 when I get a text that says "So...."
And I reply "So...what?" thinking, oh my lord Jesus, he is going to stand me up after I explicitly earlier in the day said not to do that.
"I'm here," he says.
Dammit, how does this guy keep one upping me even when he's not trying!? He clearly had the same idea as me about getting his drink started before I arrived.
"I'm in the parking lot...where are you sitting?"
"On the patio - you said you wanted to be outside. I'll be the one that looks like me."
Moment of truth - is he as cute in person as he is in pictures? Becuase, honesty, via pictures he's maybe too cute for me. Now, after some facebook stalking, he was also not always as cute as he appears to be now, which helped push along my belief that he was more nerd than douchebag.
YES! He's cute! Shorter than I thought but still taller than me by half a foot so I'm going to get my ridiculous need for dudes much taller than me in check and enjoy that a good looking guy is sitting across from me drinking a Corona.
I intended (and told my mother who was babysitting the small person I am responsible for) that I would be home by 7 or 7:30 depending on things went. It was 8:10 whe SmartyPants looked at his phone and said "two and a half hours...not bad!"
The conversation was good stuff. He's perceptive, just enough cocky that I am comfortable calling it confidence with a side of bluster, and he asked very interesting questions. (Note to self: prepare for first dates better with good insightul questions) He also asked an EXCELLENT alternative to the "what are your flaws" question that I like to nail on a first date with "what would your ex-boyfriends say about you"
I smartly responded to this "I don't think they get a say or I'd still be dating them. Each relationship is unique - can't apply what they thought to me as a whole. Now, I can apply why i learned from THEM to future relationships"
Fast-paced, snarky conversation. Almost out-gamed...and I'm usually only out-gamed when I'm really attracted to someone.
And, lest you think I did not bring up the infamous "Grats" text...I did not pass up an opportunity when discussing the more interesting aspects of internet dating to retell the story of how I had reasonably assumed his little "grats" text was gigantic blow-off of epic porportions. He was somewhat dismissive and jokey of it then, but circled back around to it later in the conversation when we were talking about flaws to say he gets busy and can be flaky with texts, but that it rarely means anything more than he's busy. On THAT particular night he was going in to work at a late hour.
Uh huh. I'm glad you were bothered by this, SmartyPants, don't do it again.
My other favorite part of the conversations:
"So, I'm just going to ask this, becuase, well, you post your every move on facebook and you seem to have a healthy social life...where is your little guy then?"
I appreciate he thinks I'm more social than I probably am, BUT, I give him a big old quirk of the eyebrow and say:
"Are you asking me if I'm a good mom? I mean, are you wondering if I party it up all the time and leave my two year old at home with food in a bowl?"
This was the one time he got to do the backstroke a bit - I liked that as well. I calmly explain that there are more people vying for small fry's attention than for MY attention, and that I like happy hours and late outings becuase they protect my time with my kiddo so I'm always around near bedtime when I can be.
That he cared that I was a good mom meant a little something. He has three nieces ages 2, 4 and 6 - who were just in town last weekend. He's clearly crazy about them so my small person doesn't appear to have him running for the hills despite being 26, never married a with no children. I'm finding people with nieces and nephews GET the kid thing more even if they don't have kids of their own...at least in theory. 24-7 small children is different than weekend visits.
Date conclusion: we walk out of Sol and I can see we're both trying to plan our next move. There's uncertainty becuase we're both smartasses more inclined to crack a joke or be sarcastic than get serious (although, when I asked if anyone ever got PAST his smoke and mirrors, he replied "quicker than you think...you'll probably find me utterly uninteresting") So we turned to one another, as I'm parked in a different lot than him.
"Well, I'm going to at least require a hug," he says after a second's hesitation. So, we huge and pull back and are pretty close together still.
"I think I might require more. Can I kiss you?" I say. This is the three beers talking.
He grins and says "I didn't want to presume..."
This solidifies the non-dick/player assessment. A player would have just gone for it. Here he is being just a little shy, just a little defenses down...and I'm MELTING.
Kiss assessment: MOST excellent. Soft,but intense. Promise of more.
And I pull away with a big ass goofy grin on my dumb face and say "oh, yes, we're DEFINITELY going to have to do this again."
He's grinning to but feigns affront "NOW? You've made that decision just NOW after THAT?"
We had talked about wanting to do a second date earlier, but, dear friends, it's in his kiss. And you know it.
I'm backing away though, laughing. "Yup. It's official now." I give a little wave and turn around to head to my car.
I drive home talking to my best friend who is in some grueling army training in Arizona and trying to have a serious conversation with me about being the godmother to his unborn child but I'm so hyped up on good-date juju that is finally says "what are you glowing all over about?"
I get home, hug my kid, give my mom the skinny and then get a text:
"Okay so I have to know the answer..."
"To...?" I ask
"Why you wanted me to kiss my prior to actually meeting me?" (crap, in the heat of the moment, I'd admitted that i wanted to do this and said "is that weird?" to which he nodded and I said "okay nevermind" and just kept kissing him.)
"I'm not stroking your ego," I say upon third edit of this text.
"No, I'm dead serious. I really want to know."
Well, hell.
"Let's just say I'm glad your live personality matched your text personality...which I liked"
There, that was diplomatic, right?
"Well, I have to say I really enjoyed it but that kiss kinda left my gaga ;)"
and this is where say "SCORE FOR THE REDHEAD!" I'm taking that one to the bank, folks. And a winky face to boot. A smart sassy girl would have said something really smart and sassy here,but I just say:
"we should do more of that"
when in doubt, appeal to the possibility of more kissing.
"no, realy....just left me in wow."
Keep it coming, buddy. It's working. BUT, since I can't leave it alone completely:
"Well, that kiss pushed us way over on the good side of the spectrum. Grats"
See what I did there? With the grats?
"Lol, well I like being there...and way to totally push all the right buttons"
DUDE. I like the smartass, but I am HOT for the smartass that also throws compliments around like this. For some reason, I believe the more in relation to being generally a snarkfest. Don't try to understand my logic; just know that it IS.
But I suck a taking compliments so I just say "I do what I can"
"So decent first date?" he asks.
"Eh...I think we did alright. You?"
"I can't remember a better one"
And to him I say, and to you I say "now those are words to fall asleep with in mind"
To Be Continued...
The translation of that title is: THE DATE ROCKED!
Rejoice! Hurray! Huzzah! (eeee, there need to be more one word exclamations of joy if I got to "huzzah" after two words)
Here's my assessment of SmartyPants after all the hemming, hawing, worrying, etc.: he is a big old nerd encased in a fantastic shroud of smartass.
and I LIKE it.
We agreed to meet at Sol Cantina in Martini Corner at approximately 5:30-5:45. I thought I would get there early to get a drink started to help me not just stare at him awkwardly in case he intended to do the same to me.
I'm never early to anything, but I was pulling in the parking lot at 5:20 when I get a text that says "So...."
And I reply "So...what?" thinking, oh my lord Jesus, he is going to stand me up after I explicitly earlier in the day said not to do that.
"I'm here," he says.
Dammit, how does this guy keep one upping me even when he's not trying!? He clearly had the same idea as me about getting his drink started before I arrived.
"I'm in the parking lot...where are you sitting?"
"On the patio - you said you wanted to be outside. I'll be the one that looks like me."
Moment of truth - is he as cute in person as he is in pictures? Becuase, honesty, via pictures he's maybe too cute for me. Now, after some facebook stalking, he was also not always as cute as he appears to be now, which helped push along my belief that he was more nerd than douchebag.
YES! He's cute! Shorter than I thought but still taller than me by half a foot so I'm going to get my ridiculous need for dudes much taller than me in check and enjoy that a good looking guy is sitting across from me drinking a Corona.
I intended (and told my mother who was babysitting the small person I am responsible for) that I would be home by 7 or 7:30 depending on things went. It was 8:10 whe SmartyPants looked at his phone and said "two and a half hours...not bad!"
The conversation was good stuff. He's perceptive, just enough cocky that I am comfortable calling it confidence with a side of bluster, and he asked very interesting questions. (Note to self: prepare for first dates better with good insightul questions) He also asked an EXCELLENT alternative to the "what are your flaws" question that I like to nail on a first date with "what would your ex-boyfriends say about you"
I smartly responded to this "I don't think they get a say or I'd still be dating them. Each relationship is unique - can't apply what they thought to me as a whole. Now, I can apply why i learned from THEM to future relationships"
Fast-paced, snarky conversation. Almost out-gamed...and I'm usually only out-gamed when I'm really attracted to someone.
And, lest you think I did not bring up the infamous "Grats" text...I did not pass up an opportunity when discussing the more interesting aspects of internet dating to retell the story of how I had reasonably assumed his little "grats" text was gigantic blow-off of epic porportions. He was somewhat dismissive and jokey of it then, but circled back around to it later in the conversation when we were talking about flaws to say he gets busy and can be flaky with texts, but that it rarely means anything more than he's busy. On THAT particular night he was going in to work at a late hour.
Uh huh. I'm glad you were bothered by this, SmartyPants, don't do it again.
My other favorite part of the conversations:
"So, I'm just going to ask this, becuase, well, you post your every move on facebook and you seem to have a healthy social life...where is your little guy then?"
I appreciate he thinks I'm more social than I probably am, BUT, I give him a big old quirk of the eyebrow and say:
"Are you asking me if I'm a good mom? I mean, are you wondering if I party it up all the time and leave my two year old at home with food in a bowl?"
This was the one time he got to do the backstroke a bit - I liked that as well. I calmly explain that there are more people vying for small fry's attention than for MY attention, and that I like happy hours and late outings becuase they protect my time with my kiddo so I'm always around near bedtime when I can be.
That he cared that I was a good mom meant a little something. He has three nieces ages 2, 4 and 6 - who were just in town last weekend. He's clearly crazy about them so my small person doesn't appear to have him running for the hills despite being 26, never married a with no children. I'm finding people with nieces and nephews GET the kid thing more even if they don't have kids of their own...at least in theory. 24-7 small children is different than weekend visits.
Date conclusion: we walk out of Sol and I can see we're both trying to plan our next move. There's uncertainty becuase we're both smartasses more inclined to crack a joke or be sarcastic than get serious (although, when I asked if anyone ever got PAST his smoke and mirrors, he replied "quicker than you think...you'll probably find me utterly uninteresting") So we turned to one another, as I'm parked in a different lot than him.
"Well, I'm going to at least require a hug," he says after a second's hesitation. So, we huge and pull back and are pretty close together still.
"I think I might require more. Can I kiss you?" I say. This is the three beers talking.
He grins and says "I didn't want to presume..."
This solidifies the non-dick/player assessment. A player would have just gone for it. Here he is being just a little shy, just a little defenses down...and I'm MELTING.
Kiss assessment: MOST excellent. Soft,but intense. Promise of more.
And I pull away with a big ass goofy grin on my dumb face and say "oh, yes, we're DEFINITELY going to have to do this again."
He's grinning to but feigns affront "NOW? You've made that decision just NOW after THAT?"
We had talked about wanting to do a second date earlier, but, dear friends, it's in his kiss. And you know it.
I'm backing away though, laughing. "Yup. It's official now." I give a little wave and turn around to head to my car.
I drive home talking to my best friend who is in some grueling army training in Arizona and trying to have a serious conversation with me about being the godmother to his unborn child but I'm so hyped up on good-date juju that is finally says "what are you glowing all over about?"
I get home, hug my kid, give my mom the skinny and then get a text:
"Okay so I have to know the answer..."
"To...?" I ask
"Why you wanted me to kiss my prior to actually meeting me?" (crap, in the heat of the moment, I'd admitted that i wanted to do this and said "is that weird?" to which he nodded and I said "okay nevermind" and just kept kissing him.)
"I'm not stroking your ego," I say upon third edit of this text.
"No, I'm dead serious. I really want to know."
Well, hell.
"Let's just say I'm glad your live personality matched your text personality...which I liked"
There, that was diplomatic, right?
"Well, I have to say I really enjoyed it but that kiss kinda left my gaga ;)"
and this is where say "SCORE FOR THE REDHEAD!" I'm taking that one to the bank, folks. And a winky face to boot. A smart sassy girl would have said something really smart and sassy here,but I just say:
"we should do more of that"
when in doubt, appeal to the possibility of more kissing.
"no, realy....just left me in wow."
Keep it coming, buddy. It's working. BUT, since I can't leave it alone completely:
"Well, that kiss pushed us way over on the good side of the spectrum. Grats"
See what I did there? With the grats?
"Lol, well I like being there...and way to totally push all the right buttons"
DUDE. I like the smartass, but I am HOT for the smartass that also throws compliments around like this. For some reason, I believe the more in relation to being generally a snarkfest. Don't try to understand my logic; just know that it IS.
But I suck a taking compliments so I just say "I do what I can"
"So decent first date?" he asks.
"Eh...I think we did alright. You?"
"I can't remember a better one"
And to him I say, and to you I say "now those are words to fall asleep with in mind"
To Be Continued...
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Boys Are Weird
To recap:
I have been flirtexting with SmartyPants since February 9th, a date which I discovered this weekend as my best friend (a not-even divorced gal who already has a new boyfriend...wtf...further proof that I have some fatal flaw I'm blissfully unaware of) gave me grief about the integrity of this boy becuase we hadn't been out in a month+. I then explained that we should have been but that I kept cancelling which begged the question "who's prompting these dates?" It was mostly even, my having played generally coy after the Valentine's Day rejection debacle.
This was also the night of the previous entry's "Grats" zinger which I was convinced was a very concise "fuck you, lady" from the opposing party.
Then, last night, I'm bathing my kid and doing laundry (maybe this is why I have a hard time feeling sexy?) when I get the following text:
"whatcha up to, miss antisocial?"
Frowning, I stare at my phone, reliving the word "Grats" in my mind before replying, shortly and without my usual flair, "living on the edge...night of laundry" without a counter question.
I am equally suspicious and unforgiveably excited (how is that possible for a dude I've NEVER MET. Maybe I'm having shades of "You've Got Mail" and thinking Tom Hanks is sitting somewhere in the Northland having as much consternation over our communiques as I am)
"Am I still on the meet list or did you get a better offer?"
Wait, WHAT!? I think my head spun around and I'm really officially confused. My gut wants to spill my confusion and call him out on the "grats" blow off, but...but the thing about texting is that you don't want to be that chick that sends one text that turns into four messages via. I AM that chick as any of my friends would hopefully lovingly attest, but I a try not to look like a crazy person TOO early (although at this point, between blown dates for work, people dying, and bronchitis, I probably seem like the "I have to wash my hair" excuse girl)
So, I say: "haha, I was thinking the same of you!"
Becuase I was. Really. I mean, logic (I don't know why I have any business throwing this word out...i know LOGIC isn't a prime player in the game of love and war) dictates that a blowoff is an indication that SmartyPants is still trolling match.com and was ON a date (still possible) Saturday night and wanted to, considerately, not be found texting another chick. He also could have been out with his boys for all I know, but, bottom line is: when you like someone, you talk to them. You don't shorten a five syllable word to one syllable as a sign of affection.
So, why, oh, why Smartypants, are you texting me on a Tuesday night and trying to turn the tables around as if I'm the blow off party?
"If you knew me well enough to trust me, I'd say trust me that this has been a crazy series of unfortunate events preventing us from making this little meet and greet happen" I say in response to a quick back and forth about who is blowing off who.
"Uh huh."
"Does that mean you don't believe me?"
"No, that's a "i kinda feel like i have to pull teeth to get some interest"
The funny thing is...I KNOW this gig. I am the MASTER of this "got you right where I want you" gig. This is MY gig, SmartyPants! Back the hell down on this too cool for school thing.
"Okay, let's do this. For real. Sickness free, work free, stars aligning...bells ringing, angel choirs...whole shebang" I text, feeling both over it and inexplicably desirous to close this deal at the same time.
My fear is he will be totally lame in person.
My fear is that I've met my match via text...one which I need to prove I can stifle in person.
My fear is that we'll just stare at eachother and a month's worth of flirtexting consternation will all be for naught.
"What's your best offer?" he asks.
Eyebrow quirked, suspicion back in play, I respond, "how good does my offer have to be?" (maybe I'm hoping he's secretly the guy with a girlfriend in Iowa my younger sister seems convinced he is by the reading of the flirtext saga and a quick talking of his facebook. If he was a douchebag, I could dismiss him more easily. the quasi d-bag/charmer is the one i fall for hopelessly. damn you, first boyfriend!)
"lol, not that good"
"good answer" (Really, good answer. Anything else besides that would make me thing he's legit sleazy which he edges on just enough to keep me intrigued)
We compare schedules and are both busy the rest of the week.
"not that we don't rate weekends, but happy hours seem so nice and innocuous," i throw out.
Now, had he said that to me, I might have been offended...but I say it anyway. Becuase we're two strangers poking at eachother and at least one of us that I can accurately account for keeps being surprised by her continued interest. I've got to believe it's his own, perhaps begrudging, continued interest in a girl who keeps cancelling on him that keeps him texting and ultimately has him respond to my slightly pithy statement.
"ok"
"ok?" I ask. Did I ask a question?
"Monday it is. where?"
And thus the most hard-won date on earth was rescheduled.
Dear dear Smartypants, you will either be a massive waste of my time and have far too many blog posts devoted to you, or, dear readers, you are witness to the beginning of something interesting...
I have been flirtexting with SmartyPants since February 9th, a date which I discovered this weekend as my best friend (a not-even divorced gal who already has a new boyfriend...wtf...further proof that I have some fatal flaw I'm blissfully unaware of) gave me grief about the integrity of this boy becuase we hadn't been out in a month+. I then explained that we should have been but that I kept cancelling which begged the question "who's prompting these dates?" It was mostly even, my having played generally coy after the Valentine's Day rejection debacle.
This was also the night of the previous entry's "Grats" zinger which I was convinced was a very concise "fuck you, lady" from the opposing party.
Then, last night, I'm bathing my kid and doing laundry (maybe this is why I have a hard time feeling sexy?) when I get the following text:
"whatcha up to, miss antisocial?"
Frowning, I stare at my phone, reliving the word "Grats" in my mind before replying, shortly and without my usual flair, "living on the edge...night of laundry" without a counter question.
I am equally suspicious and unforgiveably excited (how is that possible for a dude I've NEVER MET. Maybe I'm having shades of "You've Got Mail" and thinking Tom Hanks is sitting somewhere in the Northland having as much consternation over our communiques as I am)
"Am I still on the meet list or did you get a better offer?"
Wait, WHAT!? I think my head spun around and I'm really officially confused. My gut wants to spill my confusion and call him out on the "grats" blow off, but...but the thing about texting is that you don't want to be that chick that sends one text that turns into four messages via. I AM that chick as any of my friends would hopefully lovingly attest, but I a try not to look like a crazy person TOO early (although at this point, between blown dates for work, people dying, and bronchitis, I probably seem like the "I have to wash my hair" excuse girl)
So, I say: "haha, I was thinking the same of you!"
Becuase I was. Really. I mean, logic (I don't know why I have any business throwing this word out...i know LOGIC isn't a prime player in the game of love and war) dictates that a blowoff is an indication that SmartyPants is still trolling match.com and was ON a date (still possible) Saturday night and wanted to, considerately, not be found texting another chick. He also could have been out with his boys for all I know, but, bottom line is: when you like someone, you talk to them. You don't shorten a five syllable word to one syllable as a sign of affection.
So, why, oh, why Smartypants, are you texting me on a Tuesday night and trying to turn the tables around as if I'm the blow off party?
"If you knew me well enough to trust me, I'd say trust me that this has been a crazy series of unfortunate events preventing us from making this little meet and greet happen" I say in response to a quick back and forth about who is blowing off who.
"Uh huh."
"Does that mean you don't believe me?"
"No, that's a "i kinda feel like i have to pull teeth to get some interest"
The funny thing is...I KNOW this gig. I am the MASTER of this "got you right where I want you" gig. This is MY gig, SmartyPants! Back the hell down on this too cool for school thing.
"Okay, let's do this. For real. Sickness free, work free, stars aligning...bells ringing, angel choirs...whole shebang" I text, feeling both over it and inexplicably desirous to close this deal at the same time.
My fear is he will be totally lame in person.
My fear is that I've met my match via text...one which I need to prove I can stifle in person.
My fear is that we'll just stare at eachother and a month's worth of flirtexting consternation will all be for naught.
"What's your best offer?" he asks.
Eyebrow quirked, suspicion back in play, I respond, "how good does my offer have to be?" (maybe I'm hoping he's secretly the guy with a girlfriend in Iowa my younger sister seems convinced he is by the reading of the flirtext saga and a quick talking of his facebook. If he was a douchebag, I could dismiss him more easily. the quasi d-bag/charmer is the one i fall for hopelessly. damn you, first boyfriend!)
"lol, not that good"
"good answer" (Really, good answer. Anything else besides that would make me thing he's legit sleazy which he edges on just enough to keep me intrigued)
We compare schedules and are both busy the rest of the week.
"not that we don't rate weekends, but happy hours seem so nice and innocuous," i throw out.
Now, had he said that to me, I might have been offended...but I say it anyway. Becuase we're two strangers poking at eachother and at least one of us that I can accurately account for keeps being surprised by her continued interest. I've got to believe it's his own, perhaps begrudging, continued interest in a girl who keeps cancelling on him that keeps him texting and ultimately has him respond to my slightly pithy statement.
"ok"
"ok?" I ask. Did I ask a question?
"Monday it is. where?"
And thus the most hard-won date on earth was rescheduled.
Dear dear Smartypants, you will either be a massive waste of my time and have far too many blog posts devoted to you, or, dear readers, you are witness to the beginning of something interesting...
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
"Grats"
I had to cancel a date due to bronchitis.
Three days later, after a beer and a conversation about having flirtexted with SmartyPants for over a MONTH without an official date, I send a quick text to reaquaint myself and get this monkey show on the road.
"I'm all better now. ;-)" (I love the ubiquitous winky-face)
....
....
"Grats"
Another one bites the dust.
Lesson: no matter how good your excuse is, three cancelled dates equal inevitable disinterest.
'Grats, Little Red.
Three days later, after a beer and a conversation about having flirtexted with SmartyPants for over a MONTH without an official date, I send a quick text to reaquaint myself and get this monkey show on the road.
"I'm all better now. ;-)" (I love the ubiquitous winky-face)
....
....
"Grats"
Another one bites the dust.
Lesson: no matter how good your excuse is, three cancelled dates equal inevitable disinterest.
'Grats, Little Red.
Monday, March 7, 2011
"If I like something, I tend to want a lot of it"
So sayeth SmartyPants, who has quickly mastered me through wit, charm and an inexplicable ability to be sexy via text (i didn't actually think this was possible).
I am almost equally intrigued and suspicious. Maybe that's not the right word. I am...well, I told him today "you are trouble" and this statement is usually always true and usually always means that I like someone. Apparently, I only like troublesome guys.
Sitting in my deskchair at the office and getting a text that says "if i like something, i tend to want it a lot" is also the kind of double entendre, baiting statement that I am also the master of, and which, turned back on ME - I grinned like an idiot and thought about five different ways I could take the statement...and liked all of them.
Trouble. Trouble trouble trouble.
February has been a slow month due chiefly to a demanding worklife and personal drama. Turns out a friend passing away, working late more than not, and your father going off the deep end kill your dating mojo. And yet, I'm still talking to this yahoo. Date rescheduled from last week to Wednesday of this week.
I'm going to be so disappointed if its lame. I've totally hyped it up in my head - which is a TERRIBLE plan. I also didn't think it was possible to want to jump someone you've NEVER met, but, lord, if I don't want to just jump this guy.
That could also just be the hormones talking. I bought myself a Valentine's Day present that was meant to help SATE the hormones and instead has managed to INFLAME the hormones. If my mood hadn't been dampened by aforementioned work and personal strife, and if it were possible for a human to be in heat....well, you get the idea.
In the NON Match world, I have a minor but increasing crush on that hot lawyer that started my match.com journey and ultimately this blog. I just had to check to see if I had told THAT particular story here, and, lucky for you, I have not:
So, New Year's Eve represented a very real realization on my part that I needed to kickstart my dating life and remember that I not only wanted but OWED it to myself to be something beyond mother, daughter, sister, friend, co-worker, etc. etc. etc. with "woman" at the very bottom of that list. This realization came as I sat slightly inebriated on the floor of the living room where my ex-boyfriend and one of my best friend's boyfriend live while another one of my best friends was making out with said ex-boyfriend in his bedroom.
Two things really quick: it was fine that they made out and very good for both of them.
Back to the story: it was WEIRD because they were making out, I had to listen, I'd harmlessly flirting/having a good time with another friend of the boys' who happens to be a very hot lawyer who had just been dumped by his girlfriend. We'd been doing that playfighting thing over who was getting the long couch in the living room to crash on (becuase my 5'3" self had as much right to it as his 6'3" self) and ended up laying down on the couch together in a fight to the finish. And then the best friend/exboyfriend thing happened.
I was more weirded out in a drunken Twilight Zone state than I was UPSET, but he naturally assumed I was upset and very sweetly started playing his ipod loudly to drown out the noise.
And how did I respond? Hot lawyer inches from me, music playing, alcohol on board?
"So, what happened with you girlfriend?"
That's right, folks, I became a mother figure/therapist...chatted...and then passed out to wake up on the big couch alone the next morning.
EPIC. FAIL.
Little Red of OLD would NEVER have let a drunken make-up opportunity flit by in such an affronting fashion. New Little Red was CLEARLY more conflicted about threatening her current attempt to best the Virgin Mary on that whole saintly motherhood thing.
So, I've seen hot lawyer twice since and each time he manages to pull out enough sass that I enjoy his company. This weekend I REALLY enjoyed his sass and thought to myself "i might have a little tiny crush on you and your hot lawyer self" He, however, appears to be getting dumped shortly before each encounter and I'm not sure what THAT means.
All I know is that when I threatened to roundhouse kick in the face a douche-y pooltable hog, he said, "Lindsey, I am liking you more and more by the minute" and I found myself wanting him to - no matter how many douchbags I had to kick in the face to impress him.
Common thread: sass. why oh why do i like boys with so much backtalk. It makes me grin and try to one up them and it gets me as close to hot and bothered as just talking can get.
I must have a wire shorted out in my brain somewhere. Or it all goes back to the only time I have ever been punched in the face - in the first grade when this kid (oh my gosh! I used to know his name by heart and I've forgotten it! I'm OLD!) - anyway, this punk KID used to call me "little red riding hood" and chased me around and pulled on my coat and one day punched me in the face and gave me my first and only black eye. He later told the principal it was becuase he liked me.
Anyone who thinks boys are not just as crazy as girls is out his or her damn mind.
And so today, I am pining a bit over two boys - neither of whom I have so much as kissed.
Let's hope the next post I can claim to have rectified that problem.
I am almost equally intrigued and suspicious. Maybe that's not the right word. I am...well, I told him today "you are trouble" and this statement is usually always true and usually always means that I like someone. Apparently, I only like troublesome guys.
Sitting in my deskchair at the office and getting a text that says "if i like something, i tend to want it a lot" is also the kind of double entendre, baiting statement that I am also the master of, and which, turned back on ME - I grinned like an idiot and thought about five different ways I could take the statement...and liked all of them.
Trouble. Trouble trouble trouble.
February has been a slow month due chiefly to a demanding worklife and personal drama. Turns out a friend passing away, working late more than not, and your father going off the deep end kill your dating mojo. And yet, I'm still talking to this yahoo. Date rescheduled from last week to Wednesday of this week.
I'm going to be so disappointed if its lame. I've totally hyped it up in my head - which is a TERRIBLE plan. I also didn't think it was possible to want to jump someone you've NEVER met, but, lord, if I don't want to just jump this guy.
That could also just be the hormones talking. I bought myself a Valentine's Day present that was meant to help SATE the hormones and instead has managed to INFLAME the hormones. If my mood hadn't been dampened by aforementioned work and personal strife, and if it were possible for a human to be in heat....well, you get the idea.
In the NON Match world, I have a minor but increasing crush on that hot lawyer that started my match.com journey and ultimately this blog. I just had to check to see if I had told THAT particular story here, and, lucky for you, I have not:
So, New Year's Eve represented a very real realization on my part that I needed to kickstart my dating life and remember that I not only wanted but OWED it to myself to be something beyond mother, daughter, sister, friend, co-worker, etc. etc. etc. with "woman" at the very bottom of that list. This realization came as I sat slightly inebriated on the floor of the living room where my ex-boyfriend and one of my best friend's boyfriend live while another one of my best friends was making out with said ex-boyfriend in his bedroom.
Two things really quick: it was fine that they made out and very good for both of them.
Back to the story: it was WEIRD because they were making out, I had to listen, I'd harmlessly flirting/having a good time with another friend of the boys' who happens to be a very hot lawyer who had just been dumped by his girlfriend. We'd been doing that playfighting thing over who was getting the long couch in the living room to crash on (becuase my 5'3" self had as much right to it as his 6'3" self) and ended up laying down on the couch together in a fight to the finish. And then the best friend/exboyfriend thing happened.
I was more weirded out in a drunken Twilight Zone state than I was UPSET, but he naturally assumed I was upset and very sweetly started playing his ipod loudly to drown out the noise.
And how did I respond? Hot lawyer inches from me, music playing, alcohol on board?
"So, what happened with you girlfriend?"
That's right, folks, I became a mother figure/therapist...chatted...and then passed out to wake up on the big couch alone the next morning.
EPIC. FAIL.
Little Red of OLD would NEVER have let a drunken make-up opportunity flit by in such an affronting fashion. New Little Red was CLEARLY more conflicted about threatening her current attempt to best the Virgin Mary on that whole saintly motherhood thing.
So, I've seen hot lawyer twice since and each time he manages to pull out enough sass that I enjoy his company. This weekend I REALLY enjoyed his sass and thought to myself "i might have a little tiny crush on you and your hot lawyer self" He, however, appears to be getting dumped shortly before each encounter and I'm not sure what THAT means.
All I know is that when I threatened to roundhouse kick in the face a douche-y pooltable hog, he said, "Lindsey, I am liking you more and more by the minute" and I found myself wanting him to - no matter how many douchbags I had to kick in the face to impress him.
Common thread: sass. why oh why do i like boys with so much backtalk. It makes me grin and try to one up them and it gets me as close to hot and bothered as just talking can get.
I must have a wire shorted out in my brain somewhere. Or it all goes back to the only time I have ever been punched in the face - in the first grade when this kid (oh my gosh! I used to know his name by heart and I've forgotten it! I'm OLD!) - anyway, this punk KID used to call me "little red riding hood" and chased me around and pulled on my coat and one day punched me in the face and gave me my first and only black eye. He later told the principal it was becuase he liked me.
Anyone who thinks boys are not just as crazy as girls is out his or her damn mind.
And so today, I am pining a bit over two boys - neither of whom I have so much as kissed.
Let's hope the next post I can claim to have rectified that problem.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)