Yeah, I watched Sex in the City. Not first run, ’cause I don’t have cable, but in reruns. One of the episodes that made an impression on me is when Carrie was hired to teach a Learning Annex class on where to meet men. Hundreds of women show up, and of course she has nothing new or insightful to tell them. I can relate to the women in that audience in a way that I never could to the 4 characters on the show. They represented the real single women of Manhattan. They didn’t have thousands of dollars to spend on designer clothes and shoes and bags and they didn’t get invited to trendy night club openings. But they were there, trying, willing to try anything, even willing to shell out a few bucks and humiliate themselves by showing up at a Learning Annex class because they were tired of being single. They didn’t see single-ness as a great adventure, to be chronicled in a weekly column or blogged about. They were lonely.
So many men, it really is a wonder I keep track of them all. You’d think that with this many guys buzzing about I’d be getting laid, but no. They come, they go. None of them stick around long enough for that.
I know I’ve mentioned this before, more than once, but I need to vent. I REALLY hate the phone thing.
I do not like to talk with guys I’ve never met on the phone. I realize that this is a normal part of the screening process for a lot of online daters. They exchange messages, sexchat, or maybe even wink first, and then they progress to IMs and then talk on the phone once or twice all before deciding to meet. And I understand the reasoning behind it. I do.
But I don’t like it. I don’t like to talk on the phone with the people I know. I like to see people, to read the expressions on their faces, to have actual physical contact.
And so if that means I waste a few extra nights or dollars meeting people I might have screened out if I’d spoken to them first, then so be it. I can live with that.
I just spoke with someone I’ve been wanting to meet for a while. I mentioned him in my last post. We first exchanged messages in September. And then I had some family stuff take me out of town for a while. And then he had some family stuff take him out of town for an even longer while. And now it’s the end of November and both of our lives have calmed down and we’re both available. And he called. And it was incredibly awkward. Not because he was awkward, but because the situation is just bizarre – making polite adultchat with a stranger who you’ve previously expressed an interest in maybe dating.
Well, I think it’s bizarre.
But, anyway, we’re meeting on Wednesday. Mr. Potential better pull his head out of his ass or I won’t have any time left this week for him.
ps Check out Tom Waits on my Song of the Day
I hate nosy people. HATE them. I hate it when people butt their noses into my business. I hate it when family members invite themselves into my personal life and ask me about things that I feel they have no right to know. I hate it when co-workers ask me about my family and upbringing, as if that were a topic that was on the table.
I no longer consider myself a private person. That went out the door when I launched this blog (Though I still struggle pretty regularly with my self-imposed boundaries – what is and isn’t off limits – some days it’s hard to tell). But I do like to be in control of the information I dispense about my life and I don’t like it when people come poking around asking for things.
That’s just my nature. A part of who I am.
This carries over to the way I interact with the people in my life. I do not like to poke and pry into other people’s lives. I am completely comfortable with waiting to learn information about someone over time.
This has been a major issue in some of my relationships. It drives one of my friends crazy. When I am dating someone new, and let’s say I mention he is divorced, she’ll immediately ask, “How long was he married? Why did they split up? How long ago was the divorce?” And in many cases I won’t know the answers. It’s not for lack of curiosity. I want to know. But I am waiting for him to tell me because I don’t want to pry.
It seems ridiculous even as I’m typing it, but it’s true. I leave the amount and quality of info I have about a person completely up to them. This frequently leaves me with an information deficit and well, see my last post where I have links to some of the less pleasant effects.
I know this is something I need to change about myself, a skill I need to learn. I’d like to start immediately.
Mr. Potential is divorced. I know this because he said so on his online profile but also because he has mentioned his ex a few times. Not so much as to make me feel it’s an issue, but a few times. I have never once used it as an excuse to ask about their marriage. I know I wouldn’t be comfortable saying, “what happened, why didn’t it work” or something super-intrusive like that. But I would like to know how long they were together, how long ago they split and if he’s been in any major relationships since then. I think that info would be helpful to me. I just have to get over myself and ask.
In person, of course. The next time we see each other. Whenever that it. That’s a whole other issue.
I try to politely let guys down when I’m not interested in them. I think it’s kind of rude to just stop answering emails or to not return phone calls.
There are times when this policy falls by the wayside. If someone’s been rude or nasty to me, or just unpleasant, well, I might be less likely to follow through. I know that’s kind of pathetic. I should treat everyone the way I’d like to be treated. That’s the way I try to live. Try that for a dating rule – just treat your dates the way you’d like to be treated. How novel.
Just to be clear, this only applies to guys I’ve actually met. Not the guys I meet online and then never meet for one reason or another.
Anyway, a few months ago I sent someone what I thought was a polite, “no thank you” email. I wasn’t interested in seeing him anymore. And frankly, he’d been a jerk to me. Most women would’ve just blown him off. But I tried to end things politely. That’s just me.
He replied with a pretty vicious email. It was a classic case of sour grapes. He said I was a bitter, old, lonely woman and no one would ever want me. Or something like that. I didn’t save the email.
I didn’t take him seriously, because I knew that what he said wasn’t true. I’m not bitter (lonely and old, well…). I know what bitter feels like. I’ve felt it in the past. I hope to never feel it again, but I know that I’m not immune.
Earlier this evening, Getting Single mentioned on Twitter that she had a friend who’s been single for 8 months who has fallen into the ‘bitter single category’. I feel for that friend. Bitter is a bad place to be and hard place to get out of.
I don’t want to dwell, though. This isn’t one of those posts. Yeah, sometimes life sucks and it can be hard to not internalize it all. And then the smart people in the world find something that reminds them that life doesn’t actually suck. Not all the time. And we move on. We get out of the bitter place.
Today’s Song of the Day is Bitter, by Jill Sobule, btw.
I’ve been sitting on my thoughts, thinking about what I would post in the future, when the kinks here at my new home were all worked out. But dammit. I have lots of shit to do today and I don’t want to wait anymore. If it turns out that this transtion continues to take longer than I thought it would then, well, there’s not a lot I can do about it. Technical difficulties and poor planning and whatnot. It’s the story of my life.
I hear that I may lose some of my prolific commenters because they either do not want to or cannot register with onsugar. That’s a shame. I’m really upset by it. As you know, one of the things that I enjoy about this blog is the interaction with my readers. I plan on emailing the nice woman in tech support who’s been helping me all week to see what I can do (??) and I guess, if my comment box continues to remain empty I can always move again. I now own my domain name and so I can move as many times as it takes without it affecting my readers (I think?).
Now, on to my lovelife. Which, by the way, is starting to resemble a LOVE LIFE. Note the caps,bold, underline and red on that statement. Mr. Potential used the phrase ‘making love’ to refer to what we were doing the other night (most of the night and all morning, btw, for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter). And I wasn’t astonished.
I use fucking as my default verb for sex. And quite frankly, that’s what I’m usually doing when I’m having sex. When I have found myself sexually incompatible with men in the past (men I was dating) it was more than likely because there was too little fucking going on. Mr, Potential used the phrase making love, but it wasn’t, I don’t think, to be polite or decorous. I think he meant, making love when he said ‘making love’. And yes, of course, we were when he said it.
We are still getting to know each other. There are still so many unknowns, for both of us. And there are still some potential dealbreakers in the closet, unfortunately. But so far I am extremely hopeful. He’s been nothing but wonderful to me. It’s been years since I could say that about any man that I’ve known for a whole month (wow, that’s sad).
So here’s my last thought for this lazy Saturday morning – I hid my online profile last night. This is a huge deal for me. I just realized that I have no interest in going on any more first dates for a while. Until I know whether or not things are going to work with Mr. Potential. Until those potential dealbreakers come out of the closet and we see how we’re going to cope with them, together. Until then I just want to focus on my life, my writing and my relationship with him. Those other guys can wait. If it turns out that Mr. Potential was just another bump in the road of my single-ness, they’ll all still be out there in hookup dating land when I’m done figuring it out. Of course, Mr. Potential hasn’t hidden his profile yet. And I’m sure that sometime in the next 24-72 hours he’ll realize that I’ve hidden mine. And then he’ll have to react. Or not. Either way, it’s going to chance things. Or not.
Oh yeah, I’m going to get lots done today.