My girl on the back-burner, burned. Left her back there too long and she scorched. It's happened before, but it was usually with women I wasn't really interested in - in the first place. Some friend of a friend that thought I was cute, or a little sister of a girl I thought was cute... or yeah... "just some girl." When that was the case I had no problem stringing them out and then shrugging when they got tired of it. This time I left a good one on the hook a little too long. Too-tall Tami's number is officially retired, and I left her dead like Disco. Not Elvis dead, where you think you see him down the aisle at Kroger at 3 AM. "Is that Elvis checking out a can of corn?" "Maybe that's me and Too-tall back together again in a few weeks?" Nope. I made sure this one was dead like Disco Duck.
Now how did this happen? Well I'm sad to say I basically got tired of feeling guilty. I have my brother trying to set me up with this fine looking friend of his wife's, and I got this girl I met a while back at Compound calling me out of the blue for... yeah. This has been a really good set of weeks for your humble narrator. Not my usual brand of fortune at all (which isn't shabby at that). But this run has been a good one. So I was going to take advantage of this and I thought Tami was telling the truth when she said she was cool with the "arrangement." Heh... Jackass. So after increasingly more frequent arguments in which I later hung up the phone knowing I was to blame, I called it off. Tired of feeling guilty. We had sparks, but nothing so bright I didn't see the other stars out there. And oh boy did I end it. Not by admitting I was wrong, ohh no friends. Ladies and gentlemen I give you the softer side of Blake, and the straw that broke the Back-burner's back... AHEM...
"If you hadn't pressured me into that bullshit family lunch or brunch or whatever the hell it was, we wouldn't be here right now."
Thank you.
Where did that come from? That wasn't even a sound and justified "flip" of the argument. That was just... freaking... mean. Phone arguments are the worse. Someone is going to hangup and then not call back. Or if they call back, someone isn't going to answer. And even if they call back to apologize for hanging up, the other person is going to be so pissed that they got hung up on, that they don't want to hear it. So then we gotta throw something back that is equally as insulting as the hang-up and thus the cycle continues until you get really great make-up sex, or call it quits... Yeah, I'll take my chances this time.
So I only have one regret and that's that I was such a prick. That, and I'm sure it'll be a few spins at the wheel until I find another good girl that will put up with me. Now...
Can I tell you about this fine looking girl my sister-in-law hooked me up with! I'm telling you, having a married younger brother is a sweet deal. Even in the occasional doldrums of dating, you always have that sister-in-law wanting to set you up. She doesn't even like me, but if I'm going to be at her house anyway, she might as well make some introductions so that I'm there with someone she DOES like.
So, Diana is sort of a girly-girl and I can work with that, but I gotta get a feel for what that means in her case. Lots of girly-girls out there, some pounding bibles and some pounding shots... we can't assume anything yet. So two Friday's back we hit Dad's Garage for improv. Now, I think improv is kinda campy, but they're good there and it's a way I can see if I'm dealing with a depression session or someone who enjoys laughing. Good first date litmus. They are doing this "Ask Dr. Frapple," thing right now where you shout out "personal problems" and the group diagnoses you and so on. This gives me a chance to be the "good" sort of "idiot" and have some fun at my own expense without being held responsible if she doesn't respond well. I like walking that line with women. I know so many guys that just think "acting like a bad ass" is going to get them somewhere. And on the other end you have the dudes that go so far out there it's just painful to watch. I'll get a little ridiculous and then bring it back. That kinda "keep you laughing, keep you turned on" game is fun for me. Great sex never came after "you're hilarious, you remind me of my brother." Diana passed the litmus. Game on.
The show is a pretty late one, so we got out closer to Midnight than not. Another good thing about Dad's for first-second dates is that you get out late but you're kinda wired, so no heading home yet. Since Atlanta formally closed Buckhead (after I freaking moved there... what's that all about?) I've been experimenting around the city (Remind me to give my recommendations sometime.) Right now I'm liking Midtown. Loca Luna has a great Brazilian band that plays late on Fridays and the mood is good for when you're arriving with the same person you hope to be leaving with. (Side note, I just discovered this place... and I'm the one supposed to be giving advice here...) It's got the loud areas and the quiet areas. I hate yelling in bars... I freaking hate it. You sound like a jackass, and you can hardly be subtle. So anyplace that offers a patio, or a corner, or something secluded, while not drifting into "corny romantic" is a good thing.
At Loca Luna I learned that Diana wants to go back to school and become a teacher - Noble. Reads a lot - Smart. Likes dogs - Kind Hearted. And Hates cats - Perfect. We talked a lot about my brother's marriage through our respective lenses and I made sure to listen and take mental notes for future dates to come. See... I exploit the fact that you think we don't remember stuff. We can forget 13 "important things" (Where you went to school, your birthday... your last name...) if we remember one stupid "little thing" about you ("You wore that necklace the second time we ever went out."). Devious-ness. I'll collect them like baseball cards.
Bottom line, I like her. We've been out two more times since, and it's hardly dull yet. We'll see what happens.
Let us know you're into us, we don't like the whole "tease thing." But don't start chasing. Walk that line carefully, but walk it. Don't move too far one way or another in the opening months, because we'll either prematurely decide it isn't worth it, or leap into something we'll regret not having thought out later down the line. I had convinced myself I was going to slow down and try to work something out with Tami "The-Girl-that-Wanted-More." I don't think I wanted that at all, and I wrote a whole article on it. Even though she didn't really "pressure" me into anything, I had to make a choice. Whether it was right or wrong? Well I know what the mass majority will say... But with good-looking options... I can worry about that later.
Blake would like to remind you that he has been rather thoughtful and sensitive in past articles. He would ask that you forgive him his temporary bout of cockiness arguing, "Hey, it was due... I have a penis don't I?" He would also like to apologize for having just used his penis as an excuse for acting like a prick... um... The point being, he realizes that he will most likely be "kicking his own ass" sooner rather than later.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Thanksgiving Day Guilt: The Trouble with Good Girls
Maybe I'm a hypocrite, but I want a do-over!
A few weeks back I was so proud of myself. Oh boy, was I gleaming! I had decided to single out the “good girls.” The ones with “values.” The girls who “got it.” Well now I’m not getting it and I got nothing but my own preening to blame. I’ve lived a pretty fun life up until now, but I can honestly say that Thanksgiving 2007 will tend to stick out like something Fido left in the snow.
I had decided that I would stop disappointing this girl Tami. (Yeah she has been a steady and respectable back burner since we began this romp a few months back.) She has steadfastly chased me and I have continuously reminded her that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. She always answers “Oh God, I know. Me neither!” I believed her. Idiot.
She knew I was going out, seeing other women, and she tended to be fine with that. I assumed she was doing the same. Idiot. She didn’t live in the city yet, and we only saw each other every few weeks. But somehow along the way, her move to Atlanta was involving me a lot more that I figured it would. Don’t get me wrong. She was going to move here regardless. But I heard a lot more of, “Well I can’t wait until I get down there so we can (insert couple-like action).” Hmm… I’m not thinking about “us” this often. There isn’t really an “us” to think about.
How can I derail this thought process? Well, she’s finishing up grad school and there’s going to be a lot on her plate, so I tried deflective comments like “Well you’ll probably want to focus on looking for a job/apartment/life. January could be kinda hard for um… yeah… all that stuff.” (I’m not even sure what the hell that means. I’m just trying to intercept some dangerous conversation paths here.) Her answer is painfully simple. “Family.” She’ll be working for her family, staying with her family, and focused on helping her family’s business. Wow. That is really… family orientated of her. A “good girl,” a girl with “values,” and a girl who “gets it.” Is this an Asian thing? Because it’s definitely a scary thing.
And then she makes the move (figuratively and literally), and the whole “values” thing I was harping on the week before, firmly harpoons me in the ass. “Let’s have Thanksgiving Brunch with my folks.”
“Um… huh?”
“Nothing serious, not like dinner or anything. They just want to meet you. In and out, like an hour. It’s a Japanese thing.” (I’m getting flashes of like, Papa-san ninja-ing me in half for having “tainted his daughter.”) This is an impossible situation. And yeah, I’m screwed.
My Options as they came to me that faithful evening:
Response 1: “Um… that’s a little much isn’t it?”
Outcome 1: “Why do you always think this is more than what it is!? I understand the whole ‘not serious’ thing. I’m tired of hearing it.” And…. fight.
Response 2: “Um… I can’t, I’m with family that morning.”
Outcome 2: “But you hate your family.” And I’m lying… and she knows it…. and… guilt.
Response 3: “Um… That kind of family introduction thing isn’t something I really do.”
Outcome 3: “It’s something I have to do. They are already asking about this guy I’m spending time with when I’m in town. It’s important to me. Why can’t you just give them like an hour?” And…. I’m stuck.
So I’m having Thanksgiving Brunch with Tami’s family. Yeah, bombard me with the “shouldas” and the “couldas” now. Mom’s smiling a lot, but not saying much. The two sisters, both married with children, are going nonstop and asking me all kind of pointed questions, they don’t really like me. Dad’s just as uncomfortable as I am. I’m struggling to find small talk and failing miserably. And for the first time in my life I wish I was with my family… and I hate my family.
This sucks. I’m only dating women who hate their families from now on.
I can’t be here, we aren’t to this level yet. I really could care less what her family thinks of me at this point. Can we just get back to the fun stuff? You were already winning out because of the “good girl” points, you were moving down to the city, and the sex was becoming increasingly better.
It’s not her fault, I know that. I’m not so clueless that I didn’t see her chasing. (I’m honestly not even worth a brisk jog.) But what I was looking for and what she was telling me was no where near what she was really thinking.
The awkwardness of that morning led to a fight the next day. My vacation weekend was spotted with calls or text messages accusing me of “not knowing what I want.” “I don’t get you.” “Why can’t you just let things happen?” I thought I was! That was my game plan for a while. Total disclosure. No leading-on. Nothing serious from day one… when I um… yeah… slept with another girl the night after. Damn. Well, ask a guy to be honest right?
So here I am. I went out this past weekend with this girl my sister-in-law set me up with and I got a message on my phone from Tami. The first in a week. “I’m sorry. What are you doing?” Guilt. I’m doing guilt now thank you very much. I was hoping to be doing something else in the next few hours but now I’m back to guilt.
Pretty weird huh? Before Thanksgiving 2007 I wasn’t guilty when I was out with someone else. I wasn’t lying to her. I was honest and up front about it. Now I kinda want to lie. I’m not going to; I can’t really do that sort of thing to women anymore. But see what the “good girls” are capable of? Freaking hypocrite.
A few weeks back I was so proud of myself. Oh boy, was I gleaming! I had decided to single out the “good girls.” The ones with “values.” The girls who “got it.” Well now I’m not getting it and I got nothing but my own preening to blame. I’ve lived a pretty fun life up until now, but I can honestly say that Thanksgiving 2007 will tend to stick out like something Fido left in the snow.
I had decided that I would stop disappointing this girl Tami. (Yeah she has been a steady and respectable back burner since we began this romp a few months back.) She has steadfastly chased me and I have continuously reminded her that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. She always answers “Oh God, I know. Me neither!” I believed her. Idiot.
She knew I was going out, seeing other women, and she tended to be fine with that. I assumed she was doing the same. Idiot. She didn’t live in the city yet, and we only saw each other every few weeks. But somehow along the way, her move to Atlanta was involving me a lot more that I figured it would. Don’t get me wrong. She was going to move here regardless. But I heard a lot more of, “Well I can’t wait until I get down there so we can (insert couple-like action).” Hmm… I’m not thinking about “us” this often. There isn’t really an “us” to think about.
How can I derail this thought process? Well, she’s finishing up grad school and there’s going to be a lot on her plate, so I tried deflective comments like “Well you’ll probably want to focus on looking for a job/apartment/life. January could be kinda hard for um… yeah… all that stuff.” (I’m not even sure what the hell that means. I’m just trying to intercept some dangerous conversation paths here.) Her answer is painfully simple. “Family.” She’ll be working for her family, staying with her family, and focused on helping her family’s business. Wow. That is really… family orientated of her. A “good girl,” a girl with “values,” and a girl who “gets it.” Is this an Asian thing? Because it’s definitely a scary thing.
And then she makes the move (figuratively and literally), and the whole “values” thing I was harping on the week before, firmly harpoons me in the ass. “Let’s have Thanksgiving Brunch with my folks.”
“Um… huh?”
“Nothing serious, not like dinner or anything. They just want to meet you. In and out, like an hour. It’s a Japanese thing.” (I’m getting flashes of like, Papa-san ninja-ing me in half for having “tainted his daughter.”) This is an impossible situation. And yeah, I’m screwed.
My Options as they came to me that faithful evening:
Response 1: “Um… that’s a little much isn’t it?”
Outcome 1: “Why do you always think this is more than what it is!? I understand the whole ‘not serious’ thing. I’m tired of hearing it.” And…. fight.
Response 2: “Um… I can’t, I’m with family that morning.”
Outcome 2: “But you hate your family.” And I’m lying… and she knows it…. and… guilt.
Response 3: “Um… That kind of family introduction thing isn’t something I really do.”
Outcome 3: “It’s something I have to do. They are already asking about this guy I’m spending time with when I’m in town. It’s important to me. Why can’t you just give them like an hour?” And…. I’m stuck.
So I’m having Thanksgiving Brunch with Tami’s family. Yeah, bombard me with the “shouldas” and the “couldas” now. Mom’s smiling a lot, but not saying much. The two sisters, both married with children, are going nonstop and asking me all kind of pointed questions, they don’t really like me. Dad’s just as uncomfortable as I am. I’m struggling to find small talk and failing miserably. And for the first time in my life I wish I was with my family… and I hate my family.
This sucks. I’m only dating women who hate their families from now on.
I can’t be here, we aren’t to this level yet. I really could care less what her family thinks of me at this point. Can we just get back to the fun stuff? You were already winning out because of the “good girl” points, you were moving down to the city, and the sex was becoming increasingly better.
It’s not her fault, I know that. I’m not so clueless that I didn’t see her chasing. (I’m honestly not even worth a brisk jog.) But what I was looking for and what she was telling me was no where near what she was really thinking.
The awkwardness of that morning led to a fight the next day. My vacation weekend was spotted with calls or text messages accusing me of “not knowing what I want.” “I don’t get you.” “Why can’t you just let things happen?” I thought I was! That was my game plan for a while. Total disclosure. No leading-on. Nothing serious from day one… when I um… yeah… slept with another girl the night after. Damn. Well, ask a guy to be honest right?
So here I am. I went out this past weekend with this girl my sister-in-law set me up with and I got a message on my phone from Tami. The first in a week. “I’m sorry. What are you doing?” Guilt. I’m doing guilt now thank you very much. I was hoping to be doing something else in the next few hours but now I’m back to guilt.
Pretty weird huh? Before Thanksgiving 2007 I wasn’t guilty when I was out with someone else. I wasn’t lying to her. I was honest and up front about it. Now I kinda want to lie. I’m not going to; I can’t really do that sort of thing to women anymore. But see what the “good girls” are capable of? Freaking hypocrite.
Monday, November 19, 2007
What I Want Ain't What I Need.
So I’ve been reassessing what I’m looking for in a woman yet again. It’s definitely been an evolution over time here. I tend to do this every few years. Kinda like Spring Cleaning. Something happens where we look around at the women we are dating or chasing or have recently gotten rid of and that little cartoon light bulb goes off. ::bing:: The women I wanted at 20 are far from the women I wanted at 24 which are far from the women I want today. The most recent fine-tuning began last April when my younger brother got married and it’s only now coming to its final (and hopefully stable) result. Took a while huh?
I’ve already mentioned how many of my friends are either married already or in the process of joining the ranks. Well having your little bro get all serious and married-like was enough to phase this guy for a few weeks. That little punk forced all eyes on me and got the ball rolling in a dangerous direction that found me looking at women and asking “is this girl someone I would want to commit to or be married to?” That’s no good for any guy to be thinking. Ladies don’t want that nonsense coming from their “Jeremiah Johnson.” And thank god that role’s already spoken for and you’re good at it girls. Plus, we don’t want to have thoughts like that pop into our heads and tear at our Mega-chismo. So we’re all in agreement.
The second stage saw legs and lungs develop for my little evolving thought process, when about a month or two back I spent an evening outside the parameter with the Suburban League of lame couples. That little episode had me scared straight or scared stupid, I’m still not sure which, but it made me realize that a serious relationship doesn’t need to be my goal right now. It can come when it’s right or it can just not come.
Now, thankfully, this latest plot twist on “What I’m Looking For” has shifted to something I can stick with. Something that makes sense for both my age and my attitude. Values have stepped in and taken a seat next to looks and outlooks. Now I left behind that whole “you must have breasts ‘this’ large to ride” thing a long time ago. But let’s face it, you have to be attracted to someone, even a little bit, before you can ever learn who they are in the first place. And when it comes to a woman’s outlook, I just can’t run with the whole serious ultra-professional. If she isn’t laughing (with me or at me) I’m not interested. So I’ll promise to think about whether you’d call what I’m wearing “sneakers” or “shoes” and you promise to smile at least three times a day. Ok? Deal.
Now my hope is that “values” will complete this ten year evolution and force the door wide open as to prospects. (My door wasn’t exactly covered in locks and deadbolts before) When you boil it all down, if you agree with how someone thinks in many or most areas, you’ve got yourself a good friend and partner in crime. But what a guy thinks of as important, and what a girl values are two different things. When it comes to my sister-in-law the only values that matter have something to do with “To House-Wife or not to House-Wife.” Another girl I dated went through a phase where you had to be Jewish, or convert to Judaism to have a shot. I know a girl who’s a little crazy who wanted nothing to do with a guy that wasn’t Asian. I overheard a bartender tell a patron “All I want is a guy that will let ME watch the Patriots instead of keeping him happy while HE watches the Patriots.” But I know it’s all kinds of stuff for us. If he’s a carnivore it might mean no vegans. For a politico it could mean voting the right colored state every election. It might come down to one bank account or two (a favorite of my brother’s). Or maybe dog vs. cat. Some people find smoking evil while others don’t see what all the bitching is about. If he’s a zealot it might mean helping him strap on the dynamite. We all got values.
So I’ve gotten to the point where I’m starting to care about mine. I’ve been seeing a girl the last few months that seems to agree with many of them. The problem is we don’t have a healthy sexual relationship and that has me going other places. She’s a beautiful girl but it just seems to end badly every time. It’s a curse or something. No matter how much weight we put on outlook and values a guy is always going to need that third quality. I imagine in a few years that’ll be the “true” final step in the evolutionary process. But Christ, I’m not looking forward to that one! Hopefully I won’t start thinking like that one until I’m married, old, and Viagra-less.
I’ve already mentioned how many of my friends are either married already or in the process of joining the ranks. Well having your little bro get all serious and married-like was enough to phase this guy for a few weeks. That little punk forced all eyes on me and got the ball rolling in a dangerous direction that found me looking at women and asking “is this girl someone I would want to commit to or be married to?” That’s no good for any guy to be thinking. Ladies don’t want that nonsense coming from their “Jeremiah Johnson.” And thank god that role’s already spoken for and you’re good at it girls. Plus, we don’t want to have thoughts like that pop into our heads and tear at our Mega-chismo. So we’re all in agreement.
The second stage saw legs and lungs develop for my little evolving thought process, when about a month or two back I spent an evening outside the parameter with the Suburban League of lame couples. That little episode had me scared straight or scared stupid, I’m still not sure which, but it made me realize that a serious relationship doesn’t need to be my goal right now. It can come when it’s right or it can just not come.
Now, thankfully, this latest plot twist on “What I’m Looking For” has shifted to something I can stick with. Something that makes sense for both my age and my attitude. Values have stepped in and taken a seat next to looks and outlooks. Now I left behind that whole “you must have breasts ‘this’ large to ride” thing a long time ago. But let’s face it, you have to be attracted to someone, even a little bit, before you can ever learn who they are in the first place. And when it comes to a woman’s outlook, I just can’t run with the whole serious ultra-professional. If she isn’t laughing (with me or at me) I’m not interested. So I’ll promise to think about whether you’d call what I’m wearing “sneakers” or “shoes” and you promise to smile at least three times a day. Ok? Deal.
Now my hope is that “values” will complete this ten year evolution and force the door wide open as to prospects. (My door wasn’t exactly covered in locks and deadbolts before) When you boil it all down, if you agree with how someone thinks in many or most areas, you’ve got yourself a good friend and partner in crime. But what a guy thinks of as important, and what a girl values are two different things. When it comes to my sister-in-law the only values that matter have something to do with “To House-Wife or not to House-Wife.” Another girl I dated went through a phase where you had to be Jewish, or convert to Judaism to have a shot. I know a girl who’s a little crazy who wanted nothing to do with a guy that wasn’t Asian. I overheard a bartender tell a patron “All I want is a guy that will let ME watch the Patriots instead of keeping him happy while HE watches the Patriots.” But I know it’s all kinds of stuff for us. If he’s a carnivore it might mean no vegans. For a politico it could mean voting the right colored state every election. It might come down to one bank account or two (a favorite of my brother’s). Or maybe dog vs. cat. Some people find smoking evil while others don’t see what all the bitching is about. If he’s a zealot it might mean helping him strap on the dynamite. We all got values.
So I’ve gotten to the point where I’m starting to care about mine. I’ve been seeing a girl the last few months that seems to agree with many of them. The problem is we don’t have a healthy sexual relationship and that has me going other places. She’s a beautiful girl but it just seems to end badly every time. It’s a curse or something. No matter how much weight we put on outlook and values a guy is always going to need that third quality. I imagine in a few years that’ll be the “true” final step in the evolutionary process. But Christ, I’m not looking forward to that one! Hopefully I won’t start thinking like that one until I’m married, old, and Viagra-less.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The Ex-Factor
Well it’s been a while, and a lot has been going on. Halloween has been giving Atlanta tons of opportunities to get out and find new friends for the cell phone. This is my favorite time of year for a million reasons, one of which is the “Mardi Gras-like” atmosphere this city seems to have for Halloween. And I have to say that the season was going along pretty strong, until about a week and a half ago when I got utterly derailed.
So there’s a certain dream we all have at some point in life. It’s been made fun of in almost every sit-com I can think of. (Clean thoughts people) I am talking about the “naked-in-high school dream,” or maybe the “haven’t-studied-for-the-test dream,” or maybe both at the same time, which is the worst version yet! You can be 16 years old, 45, or even 85 in a rocking chair and you’ll still bolt straight up in a cold sweat to this ever-ticking time bomb. That time of his life was a long ago for grandpa, but he’ll still give a shiver from out of his nap and tell you “there must be a draft in here.” No it was the dream. He totally just had it. Well there’s another event I can think of that can elicit this same sort of muscle seizing cold sweat reaction across the board, and it happened to me the other weekend and I’m still reeling from it. I ran into one of the ex-girlfriends. ::Bump Bump Baaaaaahhh…::
Now sometimes the Ex-Factor can be a nothing issue. It all depends on the how you ran into them. Like if you’re with someone way more attractive than the Ex. Or maybe they are with someone way uglier than you. Maybe you both run into each other by yourselves and just don’t feel anything. Who knows? Regardless, even if it’s not life changing, it’s a little shock to your Saturday. One of those, “I can’t believe that just happened,” moments. So I was at a Halloween festival a few weekends ago with a friend of mine. I’m a little groggy from the night before, but in a pretty good mood. Kids are running around, people are laughing, it’s a fun Saturday. Then I see her and who she’s with and I’m forced to make that split-second decision. Do I say “hey?” Do I let her walk by? Or do I make like Oscar and hide in that trash can until the storm passes. Well I’m no Muppet. I said hello.
Ships didn’t pass in the night, these were like jet skis, it was like “Hey, wow, what are you doing here, I’m here with my co-worker, have a great day, bye.” I didn’t know I could cram such lame small talk into a single sentence. She had been with her new boyfriend and obviously felt as awkward as I did. I turned around to my friend and she just shook her head. “What the hell was that,” she says to me. “What was what,” I say, still recovering from the exchange. “Co-worker? You lame ass,” she says. “You’re married,” I say! “Oh Jesus! I just meant you sounded like an idiot.” Damn… she’s right. I did sound like an idiot. I think I’m sounding like one right now.
And so I did exactly what the Book of Man forbids. I started thinking about calling the Ex. The worst Ex you can run into is the one where it didn’t end badly. This was one of those breakups where harsh words were never exchanged. It was a “bad timing” kind of thing. Those are mentally exhausting when you run into them later down the road. I think a lot of times a guy will be a severe ass leading up to the end just to help the break have some finality. If we make it more of a spiral fracture than a clean break, maybe we’ll never have second thoughts. That’s usually when we’ve decided it’s over long before you have. We’ll do that or just stop answering the phone. That’s another easy way out we’ll work. And this isn’t only a “young mans” disease. I heard about this happening to a couple in their late 30s – early 40s at my office. Immaturity can come at any age, and sometimes we’ll just spontaneously derail onto that track.
This relationship didn’t end like any of those nastier ones. I stung her once, she stung me once, and then we tried to remain friends. Yeah that failed. But I had actually stayed in a good position with this one. I had tried to make it work on the friend-level, I just couldn’t really keep it up. There is one key aspect of the “guy/girl friendship” that’s missing. Sometimes not having that aspect continue is alright, most of the time with me it isn’t.
So now it’s six months later and it’s all rushing back. Let me explain my current situation, because up until that Saturday I was feeling pretty good. I am still seeing this girl we call Tami who lives outside Atlanta. It’s going well and we’re having fun, nothing serious yet. I’m in a great mood because it’s October and every weekend is packed with opportunity. Even the night before the Ex-Factor occurred, I had got a date out of a girl I met at Compound. Which I might add, I have never done before. The clientele there can be a little tricky to work. Definitely a place you can’t show up to alone and you better pack some luck for the trip. So high spirits all around. Why was this affecting me. Jet skis remember? Quick and painless right? No.
And did I call her? Yes. We talked for a little while and it was cool, I mentioned I had been doing some traveling for work. She mentioned she was going to the same place I had just been visiting for a Christmas vacation type thing. With family? Nope. With the new boyfriend. Fantastic. Now I’m jealous over a girl I haven’t thought about in months going somewhere with I guy I could care less about. How does this stuff happen? It’s out of our control. An Ex can ruin your day or even your week.
We want to get jealous sometimes. Maybe we just want to get angry. It comes from the ego burn we take at seeing you happy (or at least we imagine happy) with some guy that isn’t us. That should affect my day in absolutely no way whatsoever, but instead it has me shaking my head all week. I may not understand be able to get why that happens, but I do know I’ll try to go easy on any girl I’m seeing when she runs into her own Ex-Factor. Because that little shock can affect us across the board. The natural response is that unfounded jealousy that will ruin your day, or at least your evening with whoever you’re with. I lucked out this time and was with a friend of mine. What would have happened if I had this blindside me while out with Tami? Or the Compound girl? It could’ve been bad folks.
Cute story. My grandfather recently went to his 50-something high school reunion. Now back in the day, he was apparently known to “cut-a-little-rug.” The dance was “The Shag” and it was apparently how he rolled. Now he was so good in his day that he was in dance competitions with this girl he had a huge crush on and dated for a while. They won these things with their seductive and risqué moves courtesy of “The Shag.” (This was before the Swinging Sixties and Austin Powers gave it that other meaning.) Now all these years later he is happily married to my grandmother (not Mrs. Shag-tastic). They’re at this reunion and he sees Mrs. Shag-tastic for the first time in a long time. He asks her to dance. (Scandalous trouble brewing right?) My grandmother is pretty cool about that kind of thing and lets him have his dance. She knows who he’s going home with tonight haha.
As he’s telling me this story he gets a grin on his own face. “You know, that girl had me wrapped up on her for years and years. And while I was dancing with her all I could think about was how much I wanted the song to end so I could dance with your grandmother.” It only took half a century, three kids, and a happy healthy retirement for him to lose that Ex-Factor reaction. Maybe I’ll go easier on mine.
So there’s a certain dream we all have at some point in life. It’s been made fun of in almost every sit-com I can think of. (Clean thoughts people) I am talking about the “naked-in-high school dream,” or maybe the “haven’t-studied-for-the-test dream,” or maybe both at the same time, which is the worst version yet! You can be 16 years old, 45, or even 85 in a rocking chair and you’ll still bolt straight up in a cold sweat to this ever-ticking time bomb. That time of his life was a long ago for grandpa, but he’ll still give a shiver from out of his nap and tell you “there must be a draft in here.” No it was the dream. He totally just had it. Well there’s another event I can think of that can elicit this same sort of muscle seizing cold sweat reaction across the board, and it happened to me the other weekend and I’m still reeling from it. I ran into one of the ex-girlfriends. ::Bump Bump Baaaaaahhh…::
Now sometimes the Ex-Factor can be a nothing issue. It all depends on the how you ran into them. Like if you’re with someone way more attractive than the Ex. Or maybe they are with someone way uglier than you. Maybe you both run into each other by yourselves and just don’t feel anything. Who knows? Regardless, even if it’s not life changing, it’s a little shock to your Saturday. One of those, “I can’t believe that just happened,” moments. So I was at a Halloween festival a few weekends ago with a friend of mine. I’m a little groggy from the night before, but in a pretty good mood. Kids are running around, people are laughing, it’s a fun Saturday. Then I see her and who she’s with and I’m forced to make that split-second decision. Do I say “hey?” Do I let her walk by? Or do I make like Oscar and hide in that trash can until the storm passes. Well I’m no Muppet. I said hello.
Ships didn’t pass in the night, these were like jet skis, it was like “Hey, wow, what are you doing here, I’m here with my co-worker, have a great day, bye.” I didn’t know I could cram such lame small talk into a single sentence. She had been with her new boyfriend and obviously felt as awkward as I did. I turned around to my friend and she just shook her head. “What the hell was that,” she says to me. “What was what,” I say, still recovering from the exchange. “Co-worker? You lame ass,” she says. “You’re married,” I say! “Oh Jesus! I just meant you sounded like an idiot.” Damn… she’s right. I did sound like an idiot. I think I’m sounding like one right now.
And so I did exactly what the Book of Man forbids. I started thinking about calling the Ex. The worst Ex you can run into is the one where it didn’t end badly. This was one of those breakups where harsh words were never exchanged. It was a “bad timing” kind of thing. Those are mentally exhausting when you run into them later down the road. I think a lot of times a guy will be a severe ass leading up to the end just to help the break have some finality. If we make it more of a spiral fracture than a clean break, maybe we’ll never have second thoughts. That’s usually when we’ve decided it’s over long before you have. We’ll do that or just stop answering the phone. That’s another easy way out we’ll work. And this isn’t only a “young mans” disease. I heard about this happening to a couple in their late 30s – early 40s at my office. Immaturity can come at any age, and sometimes we’ll just spontaneously derail onto that track.
This relationship didn’t end like any of those nastier ones. I stung her once, she stung me once, and then we tried to remain friends. Yeah that failed. But I had actually stayed in a good position with this one. I had tried to make it work on the friend-level, I just couldn’t really keep it up. There is one key aspect of the “guy/girl friendship” that’s missing. Sometimes not having that aspect continue is alright, most of the time with me it isn’t.
So now it’s six months later and it’s all rushing back. Let me explain my current situation, because up until that Saturday I was feeling pretty good. I am still seeing this girl we call Tami who lives outside Atlanta. It’s going well and we’re having fun, nothing serious yet. I’m in a great mood because it’s October and every weekend is packed with opportunity. Even the night before the Ex-Factor occurred, I had got a date out of a girl I met at Compound. Which I might add, I have never done before. The clientele there can be a little tricky to work. Definitely a place you can’t show up to alone and you better pack some luck for the trip. So high spirits all around. Why was this affecting me. Jet skis remember? Quick and painless right? No.
And did I call her? Yes. We talked for a little while and it was cool, I mentioned I had been doing some traveling for work. She mentioned she was going to the same place I had just been visiting for a Christmas vacation type thing. With family? Nope. With the new boyfriend. Fantastic. Now I’m jealous over a girl I haven’t thought about in months going somewhere with I guy I could care less about. How does this stuff happen? It’s out of our control. An Ex can ruin your day or even your week.
We want to get jealous sometimes. Maybe we just want to get angry. It comes from the ego burn we take at seeing you happy (or at least we imagine happy) with some guy that isn’t us. That should affect my day in absolutely no way whatsoever, but instead it has me shaking my head all week. I may not understand be able to get why that happens, but I do know I’ll try to go easy on any girl I’m seeing when she runs into her own Ex-Factor. Because that little shock can affect us across the board. The natural response is that unfounded jealousy that will ruin your day, or at least your evening with whoever you’re with. I lucked out this time and was with a friend of mine. What would have happened if I had this blindside me while out with Tami? Or the Compound girl? It could’ve been bad folks.
Cute story. My grandfather recently went to his 50-something high school reunion. Now back in the day, he was apparently known to “cut-a-little-rug.” The dance was “The Shag” and it was apparently how he rolled. Now he was so good in his day that he was in dance competitions with this girl he had a huge crush on and dated for a while. They won these things with their seductive and risqué moves courtesy of “The Shag.” (This was before the Swinging Sixties and Austin Powers gave it that other meaning.) Now all these years later he is happily married to my grandmother (not Mrs. Shag-tastic). They’re at this reunion and he sees Mrs. Shag-tastic for the first time in a long time. He asks her to dance. (Scandalous trouble brewing right?) My grandmother is pretty cool about that kind of thing and lets him have his dance. She knows who he’s going home with tonight haha.
As he’s telling me this story he gets a grin on his own face. “You know, that girl had me wrapped up on her for years and years. And while I was dancing with her all I could think about was how much I wanted the song to end so I could dance with your grandmother.” It only took half a century, three kids, and a happy healthy retirement for him to lose that Ex-Factor reaction. Maybe I’ll go easier on mine.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Just Listen...
Please excuse the following article if it feels a bit rushed. I've been on vacation the last week and change in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Man it's great saying that. "I've been on vacation in Santa Fe, New Mexico." Haha... Ahem! Composure...
I recently got a call from a girl that had gotten the "no dice" in my book. I didn't hang up... She got me thinking... There are certain "situations" that I try to stay away from... typically it's prudes, serious folks, or women on a mission for commitment, but let's add to that, Chili's waitresses. Not because I know something you don't... just because I like blanket decrees, and this girl had me blankify the group. (Well... until another really really hot one comes along.)
When I was younger I was given the advice of "never run your mouth for the sake of talking." My uncle told me, if you have to say something, make it worthwhile. Well I run my mouth all the time. It's my thing. So I'm already screwed. Fine words spoken on unfocused ears. But I got the drift. Get an idea of what your saying and who you're saying it to, before you run your mouth. "Check." When it comes to the first date with the Chili's girl, well... I don't want to say conversation was like pulling teeth... but yeah... let's use that "old timer" analogy.
This was a girl that was dedicated to Chili's. If there is a middle management recruiter for that organization they need to focus on lower Forsyth County. Something in the water there is growing dedication. Take advantage. I met her at... ahem... Chili's and struck up a conversation at the bar (not the table) where my friend and ego couldn't find me if I failed. Waitresses are tricky business no matter where you're at. They're used to getting hit on as a playful thing so you never know if they "get" what you're shooting for. Plus they've heard it all before. So yeah, it's hard for us. At the restaurant they're there to make some cash, and if you can provide it you're on top of the "flirt pile" for the night. It's hard to learn if a waitress is into you or just "working." I got lucky. "Chili's" told the guy I was with, "tell your friend to stop checking me out" in a playful way. (My eyes do roam.) I got a little red and fessed up to being the "bad guy." It's funny how that works. It's creepy unless you like us right? Then it's kinda hot? I don't get that. I'll just keep doing whatever works I guess. Anyway...
"Chili's" was interesting. After speaking to her on the phone I learned she had a "game face" at work and a true side off clock. At work she had been flirty, witty, and kinda sexy. On the phone I was drifting off. This is saying something. I only do well in general because I have fun with people. I can make any situation endurable by acting like a fool or grinning, or making light of the everyday. That's my "in." So I'm pretty good at pulling us out of a dive when needed. I couldn't raise this girl. We kept talking about Chili's. The bartender, the waitresses, the customers. I figured it was nervousness but no... this girl loved some Chili's. This was boring to me, but she loved it. I was just trying to have a good time... and uh... get a "shot" so... "endurance."
When I asked her where she was having me take her for dinner, I expected her to list some joint she had never been right? Usually people in the restaurant business know what's hot at the moment and have the inside scoop on the best/new places in the area. TGI Friday's people. I can't make this up. She told me she really wanted to go to TGI Friday's. This was the coveted restaurant she wanted me to take her to. I nodded to myself and suggested a few Atlanta places on the radar (names withheld until I get financial compensation). But this girl really wanted TGI Friday's. They had a new menu and she really wanted to try it. (Like I said, I can't make this up.)
So we went to the joint. I had tried to shift her opinion and failed, so I gave in. She dressed like it was a date, but it just felt wrong. This joint had kids running around all over the place and was famous for the "Jack Daniels" steak. I don't get it. Now I'm sure for a few people TGIF is a great time. I mean, the Jack Daniels steak is probably delicious (do they still have that?). But I was out of my element... usually you people (women) say "where ever is ok," because you genuinely don't care. You just want to have a nice dinner, get a chance to ask us a few questions, and look at us long enough to decide whether we are worth a damn. (I would fail that test by the way) But this girl was so "matter of factly" pro-TGIF I had no recourse... I was being used to get an inside scoop on the competition! This is a first date people.
So here I am looking over a fajita/chicken fingers menu and I feel like I'm not doing it justice. She is reading the hell out of this sucker! I have never seen a woman look more intently at a menu. Ever. She is treating it like an Ayn Rand novel and there's a test Thursday for this girl. I can' believe it. She's "mad-dogging" the waiter for Christ's sake! She's taking on that tone with him where you think he's lying to you. "So exactly which medley of vegetables does it come with?" "So if it doesn't have that, it really isn't a Caesar salad then is it?" "Wow, I've never had a hamburger that didn't come with pickles." It could be "When Harry Met Sally" cute if it wasn't happening to me... Not cute folks.
I am half way through an attempt at conversation when the food arrives. "They don't even give you a salad fork." Does Chili's??? I don't know! I've been used people. I have been taken advantage of and used like some cheap... "simply heavenly" chocolate item. I was being used for "covert ops" over "the enemy." This was war and she was practically encrypting the menu in code for the Chili's HQ. I hadn't even been given the "Rosetta"... The rest of the evening wasn't a turn on. I learned a little about her, but mostly realized how into her job at Chili's she was. Her family was the staff, her "moments" were the times held in-between customers. She was happy. She had tried a regular 9-5 at a bank and it hadn't been the same. And as I listened to her, completely bored out of my mind, I realized that there wasn't anything wrong with that. It wasn't right for me, but who cares. I followed my uncle's advise. I didn't say anything. She wasn't "running her mouth for the sake of talking." She was talking about what she cared about. If it wasn't something I cared about... well... that's on me.
As you can imagine, it didn't go anywhere. But I did learn why the seats and walls are so ridiculously colored and decorated at Chili's. It's supposed to make you uneasy and lead you to the door. I also learned that they make there money from drinks and dessert, not the entree (higher margin of profit). I sat, surrounded by "See the California Redwood Forest" signs and Chile pepper decor and was bored out of my mind. But I started listening. Not to what she was saying, but how she was saying it. I could write an article about how it was "the worst date I have ever been on," and honestly, I even started out that way. But I think it showed me something else. She was comfortable being herself to a guy she had just met. That is awesome. More people should get that. It didn't work out but who cares... I am hardly a prize people.
She'll find her perfect guy around the bend. And he'll find her quirky nature endearing and "When Harry Met Sally" cute. That's awesome too. You just learn to listen... and that's important. If the guy is rolling his eyes then screw him. Look for the guy that'll listen. He'll probably groan and moan and honestly be bored out of his mind, but in the end, he at least listened to what you gave a crap about in the first place. Hell, I'll probably still be contemplating whether to go chicken or steak on the fajita. I'll think on it... I tend to go "combo."
I recently got a call from a girl that had gotten the "no dice" in my book. I didn't hang up... She got me thinking... There are certain "situations" that I try to stay away from... typically it's prudes, serious folks, or women on a mission for commitment, but let's add to that, Chili's waitresses. Not because I know something you don't... just because I like blanket decrees, and this girl had me blankify the group. (Well... until another really really hot one comes along.)
When I was younger I was given the advice of "never run your mouth for the sake of talking." My uncle told me, if you have to say something, make it worthwhile. Well I run my mouth all the time. It's my thing. So I'm already screwed. Fine words spoken on unfocused ears. But I got the drift. Get an idea of what your saying and who you're saying it to, before you run your mouth. "Check." When it comes to the first date with the Chili's girl, well... I don't want to say conversation was like pulling teeth... but yeah... let's use that "old timer" analogy.
This was a girl that was dedicated to Chili's. If there is a middle management recruiter for that organization they need to focus on lower Forsyth County. Something in the water there is growing dedication. Take advantage. I met her at... ahem... Chili's and struck up a conversation at the bar (not the table) where my friend and ego couldn't find me if I failed. Waitresses are tricky business no matter where you're at. They're used to getting hit on as a playful thing so you never know if they "get" what you're shooting for. Plus they've heard it all before. So yeah, it's hard for us. At the restaurant they're there to make some cash, and if you can provide it you're on top of the "flirt pile" for the night. It's hard to learn if a waitress is into you or just "working." I got lucky. "Chili's" told the guy I was with, "tell your friend to stop checking me out" in a playful way. (My eyes do roam.) I got a little red and fessed up to being the "bad guy." It's funny how that works. It's creepy unless you like us right? Then it's kinda hot? I don't get that. I'll just keep doing whatever works I guess. Anyway...
"Chili's" was interesting. After speaking to her on the phone I learned she had a "game face" at work and a true side off clock. At work she had been flirty, witty, and kinda sexy. On the phone I was drifting off. This is saying something. I only do well in general because I have fun with people. I can make any situation endurable by acting like a fool or grinning, or making light of the everyday. That's my "in." So I'm pretty good at pulling us out of a dive when needed. I couldn't raise this girl. We kept talking about Chili's. The bartender, the waitresses, the customers. I figured it was nervousness but no... this girl loved some Chili's. This was boring to me, but she loved it. I was just trying to have a good time... and uh... get a "shot" so... "endurance."
When I asked her where she was having me take her for dinner, I expected her to list some joint she had never been right? Usually people in the restaurant business know what's hot at the moment and have the inside scoop on the best/new places in the area. TGI Friday's people. I can't make this up. She told me she really wanted to go to TGI Friday's. This was the coveted restaurant she wanted me to take her to. I nodded to myself and suggested a few Atlanta places on the radar (names withheld until I get financial compensation). But this girl really wanted TGI Friday's. They had a new menu and she really wanted to try it. (Like I said, I can't make this up.)
So we went to the joint. I had tried to shift her opinion and failed, so I gave in. She dressed like it was a date, but it just felt wrong. This joint had kids running around all over the place and was famous for the "Jack Daniels" steak. I don't get it. Now I'm sure for a few people TGIF is a great time. I mean, the Jack Daniels steak is probably delicious (do they still have that?). But I was out of my element... usually you people (women) say "where ever is ok," because you genuinely don't care. You just want to have a nice dinner, get a chance to ask us a few questions, and look at us long enough to decide whether we are worth a damn. (I would fail that test by the way) But this girl was so "matter of factly" pro-TGIF I had no recourse... I was being used to get an inside scoop on the competition! This is a first date people.
So here I am looking over a fajita/chicken fingers menu and I feel like I'm not doing it justice. She is reading the hell out of this sucker! I have never seen a woman look more intently at a menu. Ever. She is treating it like an Ayn Rand novel and there's a test Thursday for this girl. I can' believe it. She's "mad-dogging" the waiter for Christ's sake! She's taking on that tone with him where you think he's lying to you. "So exactly which medley of vegetables does it come with?" "So if it doesn't have that, it really isn't a Caesar salad then is it?" "Wow, I've never had a hamburger that didn't come with pickles." It could be "When Harry Met Sally" cute if it wasn't happening to me... Not cute folks.
I am half way through an attempt at conversation when the food arrives. "They don't even give you a salad fork." Does Chili's??? I don't know! I've been used people. I have been taken advantage of and used like some cheap... "simply heavenly" chocolate item. I was being used for "covert ops" over "the enemy." This was war and she was practically encrypting the menu in code for the Chili's HQ. I hadn't even been given the "Rosetta"... The rest of the evening wasn't a turn on. I learned a little about her, but mostly realized how into her job at Chili's she was. Her family was the staff, her "moments" were the times held in-between customers. She was happy. She had tried a regular 9-5 at a bank and it hadn't been the same. And as I listened to her, completely bored out of my mind, I realized that there wasn't anything wrong with that. It wasn't right for me, but who cares. I followed my uncle's advise. I didn't say anything. She wasn't "running her mouth for the sake of talking." She was talking about what she cared about. If it wasn't something I cared about... well... that's on me.
As you can imagine, it didn't go anywhere. But I did learn why the seats and walls are so ridiculously colored and decorated at Chili's. It's supposed to make you uneasy and lead you to the door. I also learned that they make there money from drinks and dessert, not the entree (higher margin of profit). I sat, surrounded by "See the California Redwood Forest" signs and Chile pepper decor and was bored out of my mind. But I started listening. Not to what she was saying, but how she was saying it. I could write an article about how it was "the worst date I have ever been on," and honestly, I even started out that way. But I think it showed me something else. She was comfortable being herself to a guy she had just met. That is awesome. More people should get that. It didn't work out but who cares... I am hardly a prize people.
She'll find her perfect guy around the bend. And he'll find her quirky nature endearing and "When Harry Met Sally" cute. That's awesome too. You just learn to listen... and that's important. If the guy is rolling his eyes then screw him. Look for the guy that'll listen. He'll probably groan and moan and honestly be bored out of his mind, but in the end, he at least listened to what you gave a crap about in the first place. Hell, I'll probably still be contemplating whether to go chicken or steak on the fajita. I'll think on it... I tend to go "combo."
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Four Guinness Philosophy: Commitment
The singles extravaganza Smyrnabration was a huge success, but unfortunately for me, that wasn't Blake you hooked up with on the Ferris wheel. I was already locked into a farewell party for a good friend who will very soon be fighting overseas in Iraq. So yeah, instead of thinking up new ways to contort a woman on the giant game of “Twister” I was hanging with approx 10-15 engaged/married couples in the deep suburbs putting on the “game-face” for a guy going off to war. Unfortunate timing, yes... but honestly that choice was really no choice at all.
The Suburban Experience was certainly an eye-opener. Single guys will eventually look around themselves and notice that the cake walk is halfway through and the chairs are growing fewer and fewer. Your friends are starting to scrunch their noses at apartment living, and starting to pick up those free real-estate magazines at Publix. Your list of “Women I know that I’m not allowed to hit-on” grows way too long. And that guy nicknamed “Unstoppable” back in grad-school is tucking his shirts in after work hours and picking up trash during the party. It's called growing up, but more realistically "getting into a commitment." Because I know that if I'm not already making that shift, a committed relationship is going to find me there fast.
Friends start leaving the "wild-flavored" woman behind too. The "mint raspberry swirls with peanuts and sprinkles," are traded in for the good old reliable "chocolate or vanilla." Maybe the women themselves change. I could go for that, and I don't even like ice cream. (Please excuse further ice cream references... I'm practicing poor analogies this week. Or is it poor metaphors.. I need a Guinness...) Anyway, I’m at this farewell party and am literally target-less. The Committed are everywhere, truly and happily living up to their name. Even my buddy leaving to fight overseas has secured his address to send the letters home to. Good for him. But this article isn't for them. I repeat, this one is not for you Committedy types... with your Wine Parties and your Man Rooms... (Actually, I rather like the sound of both of those.) Moving on...
This suburban scene is something out of "A Very Brady Christmas" People my age talking about linoleum and mentioning how cute a garden would look in the corner of the yard now that "Ted's got his grill set up by the porch." Have my friends grown up this fast? How did I miss this? It all gets me thinking about how the guys I know have handled reaching this point. The point where a guy may say he's not looking for anything serious, but after suddenly realizing “+ guest” is becoming mandatory, re-evaluates. I’m thinking about the three weddings I’ve been in since April and the two I have coming up by next April. I'm thinking about how all these Committed are having their night of the week (possibly month), and I'm already planning what I'm doing after this shindig wraps up tonight. I'll be heading that way looking for a good time, while they are wine and cheesing it into the night and already having the time of their lives. And all this even has me thinking about the past women I've let go or been let go by along the way. Should any of them be here right now? I'm not really second-guessing people... it just got me thinking a bit.
How did most of my friends handle the "holy crap, I'm getting left behind!" stage of the game when it came? It's a lot harder for us ladies, and it doesn't run naturally with anything we're told in our locker rooms, sports bars, or other sites of great debate. Also, women seem to find a hell of a lot more "Best Friends" and "Soul Mates," than we do along the way. Seems like every other month there's a new one. What's that all about? But no need to fear. You see folks, I've been drinking. Four Guinness Philosopher's got this one wrapped up. The world seems a lot easier to figure when you've had a few beers. So I'm figuring, break them down into groups that tend to work with the guys I know, and that has to apply to everyone in the entire world right? Right.
1. "Well, when the time came to settle down, that one guy dumped his girl and went Magnum P.I." After that the only thing he committed to was a lifestyle of mustaches and younger women.
2. "That one over there took the easy road," he lowered his standards until “family-life” was a sure thing. (Good for him, he needed a reality check.)
3."That dude kinda disappeared," he pulled all the way back, found comfort and solitude in sports, “TV Land” marathons, and focused on his work. He’ll probably just purchase that family later on, and at a reasonable retail price too.
4. "And Christ! Those guys just got huge," they hit the gym harder than Barry, focused on impressing the "prettiest prize on the shelf," and worked out til it paid out. And their prizes look pretty good to me...
So I’ve got all these things kicking around in my head, I'm growing more brew-brilliant by the second, and I’m starting to think “which am I?” If anyone in life is so sure of their opinion as to say “there are X types of women in this world,” they better be prepared to tell you which category their mothers and sisters fall under right? So if my Four Guinness Philosophy holds true, I have to fall into one of these pits.. er... categories. Now clear-headed I know there are totally gray areas. But let’s just see…
I don’t have a mustache nor do I intend to grow one. Not a fan of “TV Land,” but love sports. I do get to the gym every week but am not trying to win any female "trophies" in the immediate future. Not focusing on the money quite yet, but definitely want to find my niche in “Career Land.” And am certainly open to a serious relationship but not really salivating for one. I guess I’m in that gray area. Damn. I thought I had this business figured out!
Cut to me writing this article, and maybe about two or three paragraphs up it hits me. (Somewhere around those incredibly current pop culture references. I totally lied about not liking "TV Land.") See you've got to actually want that commitment, with that particular person before anything should be expected or chased after. Try not to laugh at the "duh" moment, most of the people I know never figured this one out. I got one that married the first girl he ever went out with and they've never liked each other! For the rest of us, this is our Category 5. Category 5 is all of us out there open to anything, hoping for everything, but not expecting all of it now. We aren't jumping toward or away from those long term commitments until we've had our fill and found our flavor.
And how can we begin to make that decision until we've got a handle on what we actually want and can get an idea of who we actually want it with? We've got to work those samples at that "Ice Cream Shop” until we see which flavor we respond to (yeah... I'm back on ice cream). Maybe it really is one of the classic flavors, or maybe it's something we never even heard of. I've said before that the types of women I've been with were rarely the ones I should have been with. So my perfect profile's still a work in progress for sure.
The pressure of finding Miss Right - right now is tiring. That ain't me. And it rarely works out in the end, so why do so many keep doing it. We single-ites have to calm down. Now I know I can't begin to understand the whole "bio-clock" thing, and don't really want to. I told my cousin he was bought in a store and I'm going to stick with that rationale for now. But see, I’m not even in a relationship and this “Suburban League” had me thinking about joining The Committed after only a few beers. In some countries that would get me banned from the Men’s Room permanently. Screw that mindcontrol! It's a damned conspiracy, forcing me to feel guilty about playing the field and taking my time like that. If you need me, I'll be back in the city, focusing on having fun and making sure I got the means, mind, and health to keep doing it... Yeah, that's where I'll be. Maybe?
Because this is in no way an argument for the Bachelor's life. That's not for me. But they tricked me into becoming an advocate for them. (I never knew learning a new a guacamole recipe could be such an aphrodisiac for some of you women. I'll remember that.) But folks, it should never feel forced or pressured. Let's do it the right way. Which reminds me of something else that I think works across genders. A while back a friend of mine was going through a rough time trying to get his “one-and-only” back after a nasty bit of break-up. My advise for him was to focus on getting himself right first, that way no matter what happens, he can be proud that he is what he is. (Kinda like Popeye was saying.) When those break-ups come, try to focus on the constant that ain't leaving anytime soon. Sometimes the thing you are fighting so hard to get back, wasn't worth a damn in the first place. My friend was ready for that next flavor if this one didn't sit right in the morning. And later down the line, he ended up getting back together with her for the right reasons. He took the “need” and "right now" out of the situation and focused on reality. And what he realized was that she probably was the “one-and-only” for him after all. So he got himself squared and won her back. That's the right way. All together now… “Aww…”
And so, your humble narrator is pushing the Category 5 mindset, mainly because Atlanta is a very easy city to do it in. We have locales for every walk-of- life, great single/couple ratios and some of the finest looking people (::cough:: WOMEN) in the South East. So get your head on right and mix it up a little. Try a girl with a lip-ring or a guy that "seemed so dull at first." If you like dark hair, try out a blond guy. If you like short women try out a taller one. (Lord knows I did...) Regardless, hit that Category 5 and you’ll be in the right physical shape, mental frame of mind, and emotional attitude to find that special someone actually worth joining the Committed with. If you took out the pressure, and made sure it felt right along the way, you probably won't be able to mark when he "got serious" on a calendar. It will just come natural. Or maybe you'll realize the whole commitment thing's not for you and grow a mustache... At least you’ll have your little pink spoon at the ready just in case.
That last paragraph of inspirational cheese is dedicated to my 74 year old Great Uncle who acted as counselor and advisor to his two young impressionable nephews when he said, “What the hell has you idiot kids thinking you need to be going steady at your age?! Christ, haven’t you heard of dating?!” We were still kids, but I got the point.
Blake further apologizes to guys everywhere for losing the key to the Men's Room last weekend. He promises to have it back by Thursday night.
The Suburban Experience was certainly an eye-opener. Single guys will eventually look around themselves and notice that the cake walk is halfway through and the chairs are growing fewer and fewer. Your friends are starting to scrunch their noses at apartment living, and starting to pick up those free real-estate magazines at Publix. Your list of “Women I know that I’m not allowed to hit-on” grows way too long. And that guy nicknamed “Unstoppable” back in grad-school is tucking his shirts in after work hours and picking up trash during the party. It's called growing up, but more realistically "getting into a commitment." Because I know that if I'm not already making that shift, a committed relationship is going to find me there fast.
Friends start leaving the "wild-flavored" woman behind too. The "mint raspberry swirls with peanuts and sprinkles," are traded in for the good old reliable "chocolate or vanilla." Maybe the women themselves change. I could go for that, and I don't even like ice cream. (Please excuse further ice cream references... I'm practicing poor analogies this week. Or is it poor metaphors.. I need a Guinness...) Anyway, I’m at this farewell party and am literally target-less. The Committed are everywhere, truly and happily living up to their name. Even my buddy leaving to fight overseas has secured his address to send the letters home to. Good for him. But this article isn't for them. I repeat, this one is not for you Committedy types... with your Wine Parties and your Man Rooms... (Actually, I rather like the sound of both of those.) Moving on...
This suburban scene is something out of "A Very Brady Christmas" People my age talking about linoleum and mentioning how cute a garden would look in the corner of the yard now that "Ted's got his grill set up by the porch." Have my friends grown up this fast? How did I miss this? It all gets me thinking about how the guys I know have handled reaching this point. The point where a guy may say he's not looking for anything serious, but after suddenly realizing “+ guest” is becoming mandatory, re-evaluates. I’m thinking about the three weddings I’ve been in since April and the two I have coming up by next April. I'm thinking about how all these Committed are having their night of the week (possibly month), and I'm already planning what I'm doing after this shindig wraps up tonight. I'll be heading that way looking for a good time, while they are wine and cheesing it into the night and already having the time of their lives. And all this even has me thinking about the past women I've let go or been let go by along the way. Should any of them be here right now? I'm not really second-guessing people... it just got me thinking a bit.
How did most of my friends handle the "holy crap, I'm getting left behind!" stage of the game when it came? It's a lot harder for us ladies, and it doesn't run naturally with anything we're told in our locker rooms, sports bars, or other sites of great debate. Also, women seem to find a hell of a lot more "Best Friends" and "Soul Mates," than we do along the way. Seems like every other month there's a new one. What's that all about? But no need to fear. You see folks, I've been drinking. Four Guinness Philosopher's got this one wrapped up. The world seems a lot easier to figure when you've had a few beers. So I'm figuring, break them down into groups that tend to work with the guys I know, and that has to apply to everyone in the entire world right? Right.
1. "Well, when the time came to settle down, that one guy dumped his girl and went Magnum P.I." After that the only thing he committed to was a lifestyle of mustaches and younger women.
2. "That one over there took the easy road," he lowered his standards until “family-life” was a sure thing. (Good for him, he needed a reality check.)
3."That dude kinda disappeared," he pulled all the way back, found comfort and solitude in sports, “TV Land” marathons, and focused on his work. He’ll probably just purchase that family later on, and at a reasonable retail price too.
4. "And Christ! Those guys just got huge," they hit the gym harder than Barry, focused on impressing the "prettiest prize on the shelf," and worked out til it paid out. And their prizes look pretty good to me...
So I’ve got all these things kicking around in my head, I'm growing more brew-brilliant by the second, and I’m starting to think “which am I?” If anyone in life is so sure of their opinion as to say “there are X types of women in this world,” they better be prepared to tell you which category their mothers and sisters fall under right? So if my Four Guinness Philosophy holds true, I have to fall into one of these pits.. er... categories. Now clear-headed I know there are totally gray areas. But let’s just see…
I don’t have a mustache nor do I intend to grow one. Not a fan of “TV Land,” but love sports. I do get to the gym every week but am not trying to win any female "trophies" in the immediate future. Not focusing on the money quite yet, but definitely want to find my niche in “Career Land.” And am certainly open to a serious relationship but not really salivating for one. I guess I’m in that gray area. Damn. I thought I had this business figured out!
Cut to me writing this article, and maybe about two or three paragraphs up it hits me. (Somewhere around those incredibly current pop culture references. I totally lied about not liking "TV Land.") See you've got to actually want that commitment, with that particular person before anything should be expected or chased after. Try not to laugh at the "duh" moment, most of the people I know never figured this one out. I got one that married the first girl he ever went out with and they've never liked each other! For the rest of us, this is our Category 5. Category 5 is all of us out there open to anything, hoping for everything, but not expecting all of it now. We aren't jumping toward or away from those long term commitments until we've had our fill and found our flavor.
And how can we begin to make that decision until we've got a handle on what we actually want and can get an idea of who we actually want it with? We've got to work those samples at that "Ice Cream Shop” until we see which flavor we respond to (yeah... I'm back on ice cream). Maybe it really is one of the classic flavors, or maybe it's something we never even heard of. I've said before that the types of women I've been with were rarely the ones I should have been with. So my perfect profile's still a work in progress for sure.
The pressure of finding Miss Right - right now is tiring. That ain't me. And it rarely works out in the end, so why do so many keep doing it. We single-ites have to calm down. Now I know I can't begin to understand the whole "bio-clock" thing, and don't really want to. I told my cousin he was bought in a store and I'm going to stick with that rationale for now. But see, I’m not even in a relationship and this “Suburban League” had me thinking about joining The Committed after only a few beers. In some countries that would get me banned from the Men’s Room permanently. Screw that mindcontrol! It's a damned conspiracy, forcing me to feel guilty about playing the field and taking my time like that. If you need me, I'll be back in the city, focusing on having fun and making sure I got the means, mind, and health to keep doing it... Yeah, that's where I'll be. Maybe?
Because this is in no way an argument for the Bachelor's life. That's not for me. But they tricked me into becoming an advocate for them. (I never knew learning a new a guacamole recipe could be such an aphrodisiac for some of you women. I'll remember that.) But folks, it should never feel forced or pressured. Let's do it the right way. Which reminds me of something else that I think works across genders. A while back a friend of mine was going through a rough time trying to get his “one-and-only” back after a nasty bit of break-up. My advise for him was to focus on getting himself right first, that way no matter what happens, he can be proud that he is what he is. (Kinda like Popeye was saying.) When those break-ups come, try to focus on the constant that ain't leaving anytime soon. Sometimes the thing you are fighting so hard to get back, wasn't worth a damn in the first place. My friend was ready for that next flavor if this one didn't sit right in the morning. And later down the line, he ended up getting back together with her for the right reasons. He took the “need” and "right now" out of the situation and focused on reality. And what he realized was that she probably was the “one-and-only” for him after all. So he got himself squared and won her back. That's the right way. All together now… “Aww…”
And so, your humble narrator is pushing the Category 5 mindset, mainly because Atlanta is a very easy city to do it in. We have locales for every walk-of- life, great single/couple ratios and some of the finest looking people (::cough:: WOMEN) in the South East. So get your head on right and mix it up a little. Try a girl with a lip-ring or a guy that "seemed so dull at first." If you like dark hair, try out a blond guy. If you like short women try out a taller one. (Lord knows I did...) Regardless, hit that Category 5 and you’ll be in the right physical shape, mental frame of mind, and emotional attitude to find that special someone actually worth joining the Committed with. If you took out the pressure, and made sure it felt right along the way, you probably won't be able to mark when he "got serious" on a calendar. It will just come natural. Or maybe you'll realize the whole commitment thing's not for you and grow a mustache... At least you’ll have your little pink spoon at the ready just in case.
That last paragraph of inspirational cheese is dedicated to my 74 year old Great Uncle who acted as counselor and advisor to his two young impressionable nephews when he said, “What the hell has you idiot kids thinking you need to be going steady at your age?! Christ, haven’t you heard of dating?!” We were still kids, but I got the point.
Blake further apologizes to guys everywhere for losing the key to the Men's Room last weekend. He promises to have it back by Thursday night.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
The Bad Boost
Men are driven by their ego. This isn't exactly breaking news. It shares the same apartment in our heads as our "self-confidence" and they make fairly good roommates. Ego drives us to come up to you in a bar while friends are watching, and self-confidence drives us to come up to you when nobody else is around. Either way, we're talking to you right? Guys can confuse the two in their heads sometimes. A girl can build my self-confidence in the way she encourages me and focuses me and pushes me to be a better guy. But taking home the ridiculously hot girl of the group will give me a boost that can sustain me for weeks without hearing an encouraging word uttered.
We learn to get a handle on them later, like when we have to start families and become a "we" instead of a "me." But a lot of us haven't been in the "perfect relationship" that could lead to that yet. And if we thought we might have, we are probably wrong. There are very few near perfect relationships, but quite a few things in life that can boost that wicked little ego of ours. I say this stuff so you'll understand how the most decent guy will do the things he does. Why we lead women on, break from great relationships, stay in bad ones, and generally do all the things that earn us the title "typical male." By the way, I consider myself a decent guy. I never took a test or anything though so I don't have a score to back it up. Now…
The last two weeks have revolved around two women, with two very different personalities, sending off two very different motivators for me break it off before it grows. The first being nature's fault, and the second… well you'll probably think it's mine.
I've spoken about the first woman on-air. I was introduced to Tami about two weeks ago by a friend of mine. My friend thought we'd really have a lot in common and would be down for some fun while Tami was in town visiting. Tami was described as a very pretty, smart and athletic woman of Asian decent. That sounds like some fun to me, so I said "get me the intro, I'll handle the rest." When I finally met Tami I realized just how wrong the "petite Asian flower" stereotype was. Tami was athletic… but it was WNBA athletic, women's basketball athletic, and 6-7 inches towering over me athletic. Thank God everything else checked out. Beautiful, quick witted, and into me. Three things I tend to dig in women I've just met. I've got no issue with tall women so it was a little shock, but nothing shocking. Guys are taught to go for the tall women. I think it has something to do with "the media," but I'm not sure. I can't remember what the talking-head on CNN was telling me to think the other night. Regardless, I was surprised but in no way looking for that window to jump out of yet.
Everything that weekend went perfectly. Group-date Saturday night with friends who made me look good, number exchange, lunch and afternoon at Piedmont Park Sunday with just the two of us, and dinner and drinks in Buckhead Sunday night (strategically close to my house and far from the friend's house she was staying at). I was playing on the fact that she was leaving Monday to return home and was exploiting the window of opportunity we both were in. I normally don't go this all out, but if you have a recommendation from someone you put a lot of faith in, cover all the bases right? The plan worked and I had her convinced to crash at my place more easily than I imagined. The plan backfired in the bedroom, where I discovered that not all people are meant to be "together."
I have had off-nights in the bedroom before, maybe we had too much fun at the bar beforehand, maybe it was rushed, maybe it dragged on, or maybe it made me want to go to church the next morning. This night had been led up to brilliantly, only to discover that sometimes nature just builds folks to be incompatible. It just wasn't working out. I felt like I was trapped in some bamboo forest of Asian arms and legs. Every time I moved I got smacked in the face by another appendage. What had started as the tall, dark-haired lotus blossom had decayed into Cinder-zilla. Tokyo didn't have a chance. Legs and arms and repositioning and… well you get the point. Labor Day morning came and I felt like I truly deserved the day off. "Utter failure," was how I described it to my roommate. "Abysmal," in the strongest sense of the word, to my neighbor. "A cruel joke," to a female friend of mine. Total male ego shutdown. Mother Nature can have a wicked sense of humor sometimes.
So that was that. I wrote it off, and set about trying to coax my traumatized battered and bruised ego out from under the bed. So I did what most men do after such a crushing defeat. I went to Moondog's in Buckhead and hit on drunken women. The birthday-girl needed someone to remind her it was "her special day," and not the workers of America. That's cool, but she was way to far gone at this point in the night to be healing any egos. Furthermore, I may not have taken the "decency" test as mentioned earlier, but I wasn't so knocked down by the previous evening to go that far. Not to mention her friends or "bodyguards" weren't having any of that. But hey, bodyguards need love too. And the one that really needed it that night was Katie.
So I think you know how this goes. I did what will make most of you roll your eyes, shake your heads, and groan "typical." But as I said in the beginning, we are creatures of ego, and if something causes our ego damage we are going to correct it and correct it fast. Guys don't think it through or talk about it. We don't worry over it, we don't try to figure out what it all means, and we certainly don't "hug it out." This was how I fixed it. Even your humble narrator is guilty of acting the part. I'm not happy about it. It wasn't to brag about. It was for me personally. Interesting enough, I spoke to more of my friends about my own titanic tragedy the night before than I ever did about the Labor Day recharge, of which, I mentioned to my brother alone… and as of this moment, anyone with Internet access I guess…
But what a fantastic recharge! Bad beginnings led to quite an enjoyable evening, and no matter how shallow, pathetic, or "typical" it could be called, it was exactly what I needed. Katie was far from the prettiest girl in the bar. On the number scale I would say a solid "6." But wow, she was a total 180 spin from the night before. And by morning my ego felt like it had just finished Thanksgiving dinner and was lying down with some pie to watch a game.
Story finished right? Our humble narrator has proven he is capable of being just as bad as the rest. He selfishly satisfied his own sad ambitions at the expense of some innocent young girl, and all because he couldn't handle a "real woman." Well, I'm not sure about all that. But I will say that as the week went on, the booster shot to the ego faded. I felt worse and I knew why. I can explain why men do things, but it doesn't make it right or wrong. For me, this time, it felt wrong. I have had one-night-stands before. I think there's a heat and passion to them that most relationships will rarely see and often need. But this one didn't sit well.
In the two weeks after, I have spoken with both Katie and Tami multiple times. Katie because I had to call this girl and see if there was anything, behind the ego boost. There really isn't, we are about as different as you can get. But she's a nice girl and will probably stay on my cell phone "just in case."
I've continued with Tami because, to my surprise, she's apparently still into me, despite our "inconsistencies." Tami continues to amaze me in how we think alike in all the right ways, and differ in all the ways that make it interesting. And even though my newly supercharged ego is aching to get another shot at the title, logic is stepping in and holding him at bay. "What is a two hour drive out of town to give it another shot? We can do this," ego says. "We were crushed underfoot by the mighty Cinder-zilla last time. This isn't a Rocky movie my anxious little friend," says logic.
Sometimes it's hard for a guy to win out over that need to feed his ego. It's so deeply entangled with how we see ourselves as men, that we do lead women on, avoid leaving bad relationships, and make the biggest mistakes of our lives. We aren't all going to find that perfect relationship around the corner, but we will keep trying.
I continue to postpone admitting that it can't work out to Tami. Right now, she isn't feeding my ego. She's edging into that other area. The one that makes me feel better about my days and eases me down after work. And even though it can't work out, I'm not ready to lose that kind of good boost quite yet. That other side can be just as addicting.
We learn to get a handle on them later, like when we have to start families and become a "we" instead of a "me." But a lot of us haven't been in the "perfect relationship" that could lead to that yet. And if we thought we might have, we are probably wrong. There are very few near perfect relationships, but quite a few things in life that can boost that wicked little ego of ours. I say this stuff so you'll understand how the most decent guy will do the things he does. Why we lead women on, break from great relationships, stay in bad ones, and generally do all the things that earn us the title "typical male." By the way, I consider myself a decent guy. I never took a test or anything though so I don't have a score to back it up. Now…
The last two weeks have revolved around two women, with two very different personalities, sending off two very different motivators for me break it off before it grows. The first being nature's fault, and the second… well you'll probably think it's mine.
I've spoken about the first woman on-air. I was introduced to Tami about two weeks ago by a friend of mine. My friend thought we'd really have a lot in common and would be down for some fun while Tami was in town visiting. Tami was described as a very pretty, smart and athletic woman of Asian decent. That sounds like some fun to me, so I said "get me the intro, I'll handle the rest." When I finally met Tami I realized just how wrong the "petite Asian flower" stereotype was. Tami was athletic… but it was WNBA athletic, women's basketball athletic, and 6-7 inches towering over me athletic. Thank God everything else checked out. Beautiful, quick witted, and into me. Three things I tend to dig in women I've just met. I've got no issue with tall women so it was a little shock, but nothing shocking. Guys are taught to go for the tall women. I think it has something to do with "the media," but I'm not sure. I can't remember what the talking-head on CNN was telling me to think the other night. Regardless, I was surprised but in no way looking for that window to jump out of yet.
Everything that weekend went perfectly. Group-date Saturday night with friends who made me look good, number exchange, lunch and afternoon at Piedmont Park Sunday with just the two of us, and dinner and drinks in Buckhead Sunday night (strategically close to my house and far from the friend's house she was staying at). I was playing on the fact that she was leaving Monday to return home and was exploiting the window of opportunity we both were in. I normally don't go this all out, but if you have a recommendation from someone you put a lot of faith in, cover all the bases right? The plan worked and I had her convinced to crash at my place more easily than I imagined. The plan backfired in the bedroom, where I discovered that not all people are meant to be "together."
I have had off-nights in the bedroom before, maybe we had too much fun at the bar beforehand, maybe it was rushed, maybe it dragged on, or maybe it made me want to go to church the next morning. This night had been led up to brilliantly, only to discover that sometimes nature just builds folks to be incompatible. It just wasn't working out. I felt like I was trapped in some bamboo forest of Asian arms and legs. Every time I moved I got smacked in the face by another appendage. What had started as the tall, dark-haired lotus blossom had decayed into Cinder-zilla. Tokyo didn't have a chance. Legs and arms and repositioning and… well you get the point. Labor Day morning came and I felt like I truly deserved the day off. "Utter failure," was how I described it to my roommate. "Abysmal," in the strongest sense of the word, to my neighbor. "A cruel joke," to a female friend of mine. Total male ego shutdown. Mother Nature can have a wicked sense of humor sometimes.
So that was that. I wrote it off, and set about trying to coax my traumatized battered and bruised ego out from under the bed. So I did what most men do after such a crushing defeat. I went to Moondog's in Buckhead and hit on drunken women. The birthday-girl needed someone to remind her it was "her special day," and not the workers of America. That's cool, but she was way to far gone at this point in the night to be healing any egos. Furthermore, I may not have taken the "decency" test as mentioned earlier, but I wasn't so knocked down by the previous evening to go that far. Not to mention her friends or "bodyguards" weren't having any of that. But hey, bodyguards need love too. And the one that really needed it that night was Katie.
So I think you know how this goes. I did what will make most of you roll your eyes, shake your heads, and groan "typical." But as I said in the beginning, we are creatures of ego, and if something causes our ego damage we are going to correct it and correct it fast. Guys don't think it through or talk about it. We don't worry over it, we don't try to figure out what it all means, and we certainly don't "hug it out." This was how I fixed it. Even your humble narrator is guilty of acting the part. I'm not happy about it. It wasn't to brag about. It was for me personally. Interesting enough, I spoke to more of my friends about my own titanic tragedy the night before than I ever did about the Labor Day recharge, of which, I mentioned to my brother alone… and as of this moment, anyone with Internet access I guess…
But what a fantastic recharge! Bad beginnings led to quite an enjoyable evening, and no matter how shallow, pathetic, or "typical" it could be called, it was exactly what I needed. Katie was far from the prettiest girl in the bar. On the number scale I would say a solid "6." But wow, she was a total 180 spin from the night before. And by morning my ego felt like it had just finished Thanksgiving dinner and was lying down with some pie to watch a game.
Story finished right? Our humble narrator has proven he is capable of being just as bad as the rest. He selfishly satisfied his own sad ambitions at the expense of some innocent young girl, and all because he couldn't handle a "real woman." Well, I'm not sure about all that. But I will say that as the week went on, the booster shot to the ego faded. I felt worse and I knew why. I can explain why men do things, but it doesn't make it right or wrong. For me, this time, it felt wrong. I have had one-night-stands before. I think there's a heat and passion to them that most relationships will rarely see and often need. But this one didn't sit well.
In the two weeks after, I have spoken with both Katie and Tami multiple times. Katie because I had to call this girl and see if there was anything, behind the ego boost. There really isn't, we are about as different as you can get. But she's a nice girl and will probably stay on my cell phone "just in case."
I've continued with Tami because, to my surprise, she's apparently still into me, despite our "inconsistencies." Tami continues to amaze me in how we think alike in all the right ways, and differ in all the ways that make it interesting. And even though my newly supercharged ego is aching to get another shot at the title, logic is stepping in and holding him at bay. "What is a two hour drive out of town to give it another shot? We can do this," ego says. "We were crushed underfoot by the mighty Cinder-zilla last time. This isn't a Rocky movie my anxious little friend," says logic.
Sometimes it's hard for a guy to win out over that need to feed his ego. It's so deeply entangled with how we see ourselves as men, that we do lead women on, avoid leaving bad relationships, and make the biggest mistakes of our lives. We aren't all going to find that perfect relationship around the corner, but we will keep trying.
I continue to postpone admitting that it can't work out to Tami. Right now, she isn't feeding my ego. She's edging into that other area. The one that makes me feel better about my days and eases me down after work. And even though it can't work out, I'm not ready to lose that kind of good boost quite yet. That other side can be just as addicting.
Get to the Point: Part 2
When last we met I had struck up a fantastic evening with a girl that thought she was in love with a dude that wasn't your humble narrator. I stand by my original statement of "it didn't work out' however, things changed along the way and I am totally responsible for the magnificent catastrophe that followed. It totally coulda worked out. I'm just an idiot.
At the time of the original article, Liz was in love with a bad dude. Bad because he referred to her in ways unbefitting a lady, and bad because he intended to go home and sleep with the girl I had plans for. They are one in the same. She said, "he treats me like this whenever I'm around these people." I said, "let's go somewhere else then." She laughed, but... we went somewhere else. A culdasac, in fact.
I heard every reason this girl wanted to break up with her boyfriend. Every possible reason. And I tried my best to take advantage. I guess I did, but I couldn't claim skill was involved. I wish I could tell you I was some wolf out for meat but I can't. I really did like this girl. She was perfect in that way that only makes sense to the loser that feels it. A dude can say "I like blonds. I like brunettes. I like large mammaries." But then you look at his track record and think, "this guy hasn't dated his described profile." Is he full of it? Not really. I am learning that the type of women guys say they go for is rarely the type of women they actually go for... or should go for... Liz was conventionally beautiful for sure. Your man or mate would agree. But I say I like pale redheads, and she was definitely dark and sultry. And she was definitely looking for a reason to cheat on the guy that just called her a slut. So, advantage taken.
I really liked this girl. It kinda stings just saying it. Because I know what you don't. I know that they are no longer together and she was calling me after, and it was mine to lose. But like I said earlier... I'm an idiot.
The culdasac was how you imagine. Blah blah blah you are better than that. Blah blah blah you are beautiful. Blah blah blah is that Wintergreen? She was teary eyed at one point and I felt really guilty. Not THAT guilty, but guilty. I wasn't actively taking advantage but I was definitely taking advantage you know? Let me say this. A small convertible can earn you a lot of scorn or praises depending on the commenter, but it was a convertible and it was affordable so I bought it ok? That evening I wish I had bought an Element or something with some "utility space." We made it work, but not without some marks and bruises. Regardless, at the end of the night, we were back in the house and she was sleeping next to her passed out belligerent. I had learned that she could spell out "snuffaluffaguss" with her tongue and can scream "there" in two different languages, but what did that really mean? I did get her number and it was apparent that she wasn't exactly happy to be sleeping with Captain Asshole. There's a plus. But our futons were beside each other for Christ sake! She's looking at me, he's snoring, and I'm wanting round two. She is too. Oh well. Next time don't go to a barbecue an hour away from your house.
The morning was awkward city. Breakfast with everyone I didn't know, nor cared about. Weird exchanges across the table. Real teen-drama nonsense. Everyone went their own way and I thought "to hell with it." But around 5pm I got a call and I couldn't believe it. Guys are suppose to call the girl right? And is it after 3 days or 2 days or 32 days? I don't remember Swingers that well. But regardless we are supposed to call the girl, and THIS girl, WITH a boyfriend, is calling me after one night? They had the big fight that morning, all the things I had said to her she had repeated to him (the stuff about how she is better than that etc.). But unlike the typical stereotype, she had actually decided to leave him! When does that happen?
What followed was a week of rushed lunch hours and seeing movies for the second time. She was just as fantastic as I imaged. But then she started talking about him and I was far from "sensitive." She was locked up for sure. I was the escape and not the new deal. I guess I saw it for what it was without even knowing it. She needed someone to tell her she was beautiful, but she wanted someone to break her down. My response was typical of someone who knows they are being taken advantage of and "ain't having none of that."
I really liked this girl, and could have made it work. But I said the things that had the other guy losing his ground. It was mine to lose and I lost it magnificently. I'm a little mad at myself, a little ashamed. I should have been better. I should have worked the angles that were so graciously thrust into my lap. I should have actively taken advantage. Because that is what I'm learning wins the game. Be the asshole now and the good-guy later. I was the asshole in the wrong way. Jealous and impatient. Wrong asshole. But for one week it was fantastic. Even if it didn't work out.
At the time of the original article, Liz was in love with a bad dude. Bad because he referred to her in ways unbefitting a lady, and bad because he intended to go home and sleep with the girl I had plans for. They are one in the same. She said, "he treats me like this whenever I'm around these people." I said, "let's go somewhere else then." She laughed, but... we went somewhere else. A culdasac, in fact.
I heard every reason this girl wanted to break up with her boyfriend. Every possible reason. And I tried my best to take advantage. I guess I did, but I couldn't claim skill was involved. I wish I could tell you I was some wolf out for meat but I can't. I really did like this girl. She was perfect in that way that only makes sense to the loser that feels it. A dude can say "I like blonds. I like brunettes. I like large mammaries." But then you look at his track record and think, "this guy hasn't dated his described profile." Is he full of it? Not really. I am learning that the type of women guys say they go for is rarely the type of women they actually go for... or should go for... Liz was conventionally beautiful for sure. Your man or mate would agree. But I say I like pale redheads, and she was definitely dark and sultry. And she was definitely looking for a reason to cheat on the guy that just called her a slut. So, advantage taken.
I really liked this girl. It kinda stings just saying it. Because I know what you don't. I know that they are no longer together and she was calling me after, and it was mine to lose. But like I said earlier... I'm an idiot.
The culdasac was how you imagine. Blah blah blah you are better than that. Blah blah blah you are beautiful. Blah blah blah is that Wintergreen? She was teary eyed at one point and I felt really guilty. Not THAT guilty, but guilty. I wasn't actively taking advantage but I was definitely taking advantage you know? Let me say this. A small convertible can earn you a lot of scorn or praises depending on the commenter, but it was a convertible and it was affordable so I bought it ok? That evening I wish I had bought an Element or something with some "utility space." We made it work, but not without some marks and bruises. Regardless, at the end of the night, we were back in the house and she was sleeping next to her passed out belligerent. I had learned that she could spell out "snuffaluffaguss" with her tongue and can scream "there" in two different languages, but what did that really mean? I did get her number and it was apparent that she wasn't exactly happy to be sleeping with Captain Asshole. There's a plus. But our futons were beside each other for Christ sake! She's looking at me, he's snoring, and I'm wanting round two. She is too. Oh well. Next time don't go to a barbecue an hour away from your house.
The morning was awkward city. Breakfast with everyone I didn't know, nor cared about. Weird exchanges across the table. Real teen-drama nonsense. Everyone went their own way and I thought "to hell with it." But around 5pm I got a call and I couldn't believe it. Guys are suppose to call the girl right? And is it after 3 days or 2 days or 32 days? I don't remember Swingers that well. But regardless we are supposed to call the girl, and THIS girl, WITH a boyfriend, is calling me after one night? They had the big fight that morning, all the things I had said to her she had repeated to him (the stuff about how she is better than that etc.). But unlike the typical stereotype, she had actually decided to leave him! When does that happen?
What followed was a week of rushed lunch hours and seeing movies for the second time. She was just as fantastic as I imaged. But then she started talking about him and I was far from "sensitive." She was locked up for sure. I was the escape and not the new deal. I guess I saw it for what it was without even knowing it. She needed someone to tell her she was beautiful, but she wanted someone to break her down. My response was typical of someone who knows they are being taken advantage of and "ain't having none of that."
I really liked this girl, and could have made it work. But I said the things that had the other guy losing his ground. It was mine to lose and I lost it magnificently. I'm a little mad at myself, a little ashamed. I should have been better. I should have worked the angles that were so graciously thrust into my lap. I should have actively taken advantage. Because that is what I'm learning wins the game. Be the asshole now and the good-guy later. I was the asshole in the wrong way. Jealous and impatient. Wrong asshole. But for one week it was fantastic. Even if it didn't work out.
Get to the Point
It didn’t go anywhere. I’ll begin with the ending, or as my neighbor referred to it, "the point." A guy’s hookup story has a beginning: "So I was at this barbecue and this hot girl was there with her boyfriend." A middle: "I totally made out with her while her boyfriend was getting wasted." And an end: "It didn’t go anywhere after that." That’s what you tell. It’s short, to the point, and seems to make logical sense to all parties involved. But get this. I’m still kinda stinging from the ending to this one.
The barbecue was a house-warming for a guy I don’t know, who is friends with many people I have never met. But this girl, hereafter to be referred to as Captain Jinglebuckles… or maybe Liz, has been in my scope for a few weeks now. I had been looking for the opportunity to catch a conversation with her since the first time I met her, her bikini, and her in her bikini.
For a guy, a pool can be fantastic trouble. The view is fantastic, for obvious reasons, and it’s not so irritating seeing a girl with her man, because we still get to see most of the business that he has to buy dinner and watch Dancing with the Stars to see. Fantastic. The trouble comes when you see a girl that is more than just "another girl in a bikini."
Bikini-girls are meant to remain nameless or name-forgettable. This maintains the balance of life at the watering hole. It’s mutually beneficial. They get to tan, we get to watch them tan. But when I first saw Liz things played out differently. She had the right looks, smile, and laugh, at just the right moment to provoke me into learning a little more. I kept it to asking around about her and getting some info on the guy she was coming to the pool with. The pool was not my moment... and also I kept making up excuses. "That's probably her boyfriend. She's probably just here to relax. I'm just here to relax etc. I see a girl that I’m interested in at a bar, and I bite my bottom lip, think for approximately 13.7 seconds, and then move in. Why not? But, I see a girl looking up at me from a pool chair through those Onassis glasses and it’s a little more intimidating. Pools are rough spots in those situations. Not at all as easy as, oh… let’s say… a Barbecue at a house warming party.
And so, I ran into her for the third time and it was on. Liz had that elegant but playful thing working for her that night and it was just too much. I had been told, and wasn’t surprised to find out, that the guy she kept showing up with was a gay friend of her's. So with that little boost I felt fine moving in and talking to her. We talked for a long while, got all the nonsense small talk out of the way and she was laughing and giving out all the signs that she was interested. We honestly had a lot in common once you got past the nonsense, and I was feeling pretty high. It seemed like it wasn't just fun flirting but might go on to date or two. But then I got an odd answer to a simple question. "How do you know Jon? (Her supposed gay friend, who had given no reason to suggest otherwise.)" Her response, "You mean, how did we meet?" My response, "Huh?"
Liz then went on to explain a very strange and eye-crossing bit of information. Jon was her "boyfriend" who didn't want to be seen as her "boyfriend" in this crowd. He had dated a girl before from the "group" (of which I didn't know, nor cared about) and felt uncomfortable with the idea of being "attached" when hanging around these people. It just brought up "bad memories..." Stop me if at any point this makes sense to you... Furthermore he was spending the night flirting and getting drunk with several other women at the party and it was clear that perhaps her view of the situation was a little different than his. At this point I totally backed off. I had been under the assumption that this mid-to-late twenties woman had actually been a mid-to-late twenties woman. But if someone is laying out this story in front of you, you have to question their sanity (or at least their driver's license).
I walked away. Said "oh well." And focused on a good time. But this was before John got drunker, meaner, and more annoying. Before he said some things to his "girlfriend" that you usually can't take back. Before he sent her crying into a neighborhood culdasac. And before, for COMPLETELY selfish reasons, I said "giddy-up, the game is back on."
It didn't go anywhere. Not after about a week. But the week was a pretty good one.
To be continued...
The barbecue was a house-warming for a guy I don’t know, who is friends with many people I have never met. But this girl, hereafter to be referred to as Captain Jinglebuckles… or maybe Liz, has been in my scope for a few weeks now. I had been looking for the opportunity to catch a conversation with her since the first time I met her, her bikini, and her in her bikini.
For a guy, a pool can be fantastic trouble. The view is fantastic, for obvious reasons, and it’s not so irritating seeing a girl with her man, because we still get to see most of the business that he has to buy dinner and watch Dancing with the Stars to see. Fantastic. The trouble comes when you see a girl that is more than just "another girl in a bikini."
Bikini-girls are meant to remain nameless or name-forgettable. This maintains the balance of life at the watering hole. It’s mutually beneficial. They get to tan, we get to watch them tan. But when I first saw Liz things played out differently. She had the right looks, smile, and laugh, at just the right moment to provoke me into learning a little more. I kept it to asking around about her and getting some info on the guy she was coming to the pool with. The pool was not my moment... and also I kept making up excuses. "That's probably her boyfriend. She's probably just here to relax. I'm just here to relax etc. I see a girl that I’m interested in at a bar, and I bite my bottom lip, think for approximately 13.7 seconds, and then move in. Why not? But, I see a girl looking up at me from a pool chair through those Onassis glasses and it’s a little more intimidating. Pools are rough spots in those situations. Not at all as easy as, oh… let’s say… a Barbecue at a house warming party.
And so, I ran into her for the third time and it was on. Liz had that elegant but playful thing working for her that night and it was just too much. I had been told, and wasn’t surprised to find out, that the guy she kept showing up with was a gay friend of her's. So with that little boost I felt fine moving in and talking to her. We talked for a long while, got all the nonsense small talk out of the way and she was laughing and giving out all the signs that she was interested. We honestly had a lot in common once you got past the nonsense, and I was feeling pretty high. It seemed like it wasn't just fun flirting but might go on to date or two. But then I got an odd answer to a simple question. "How do you know Jon? (Her supposed gay friend, who had given no reason to suggest otherwise.)" Her response, "You mean, how did we meet?" My response, "Huh?"
Liz then went on to explain a very strange and eye-crossing bit of information. Jon was her "boyfriend" who didn't want to be seen as her "boyfriend" in this crowd. He had dated a girl before from the "group" (of which I didn't know, nor cared about) and felt uncomfortable with the idea of being "attached" when hanging around these people. It just brought up "bad memories..." Stop me if at any point this makes sense to you... Furthermore he was spending the night flirting and getting drunk with several other women at the party and it was clear that perhaps her view of the situation was a little different than his. At this point I totally backed off. I had been under the assumption that this mid-to-late twenties woman had actually been a mid-to-late twenties woman. But if someone is laying out this story in front of you, you have to question their sanity (or at least their driver's license).
I walked away. Said "oh well." And focused on a good time. But this was before John got drunker, meaner, and more annoying. Before he said some things to his "girlfriend" that you usually can't take back. Before he sent her crying into a neighborhood culdasac. And before, for COMPLETELY selfish reasons, I said "giddy-up, the game is back on."
It didn't go anywhere. Not after about a week. But the week was a pretty good one.
To be continued...
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