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.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
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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