No, I did not have a breakdown in the grocery store, although I was occasionally irritated by people parking their carts in the middle of an aisle in such a way that others with carts cannot pass them, while the offending person takes an inordinate amount of time choosing a bottle of salad dressing, oblivious. (Yet another instance of people failing to realize that others inhabit the planet. This is a major pet peeve of mine.)
Anyway, two nights ago I made one of my rare major grocery shopping trips. My usual trips involve stopping in when I need something specific or when I'm planning on actually cooking something, and just getting what I need right then plus a few other things, maybe. You know--the kind of trip where you just need a basket, not a cart. (This effectively avoids the above scenario where you can't push your cart around the carts of clueless others. Zipping around with a basket is much more efficient.) Every now and then, however, my kitchen reaches that near-empty point, where I've run out of just about everything and opening the fridge door and peering inside is just depressing. (There's something inherently comforting in looking at a full fridge and disheartening in looking at an empty one--don't you think?)
So, on Monday night, I ventured out to do some real shopping. I planned on spending about $70-80, which may not sound like much to some of you, considering I only do a major trip once every three to four weeks. But, I'm a single, relatively small person who eats out a lot--how many groceries could I need, really? That's the question I was asking myself when I exited the store 45 minutes later, having dropped about $130.
What I failed to remember--what I always fail to remember--is that I am a single, relatively small person who likes to indulge herself, and who also has three voracious animals who seem to never stop eating. Still, in the car on the way home, I wondered how I managed to spend almost twice the amount I had planned on spending. So, last night I got out the receipt and broke down the items I bought into categories, just to see where my money was going. Here are the results, in percentages*:
Cleaning products: 11%
Personal hygiene products: 8%
Sin items (beer, ciggs): 12%
Junk food: 7%
Condiments: 6%
Pet food and treats: 18%
Actual food: 40%
Hmm. I've always wondered why, even after a "major" trip, my fridge always seems to still look relatively bare, and this explains it--there's only about $40 of food in there. Very enlightening.
*Percentage may not add up to 100 due to rounding.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Another Hazard of Texting
Last night, I encountered an entirely new hazard of dating in the text-message age. Well, not really a hazard, per se--maybe a quirk? It's pretty funny, actually--you'll like this.
I got home from my work happy hour around 7:00, fed my little ones (the dog and cats, that is), and took the dog for a long walk. About five minutes after I got back, I got a text message. The exchange went like this, word for word, with some explanatory comments:
Texter: Its john; want 2 come down 2 german village?
[Older Young Guy's name is John.]
Me: Where are you?
John: House sitting across from barcelona [a restaurant]
Me: Want to just meet out somewhere around there?
John: Sure; where r u now?
Me: Home. Just got back from happy hour.
John: U should head down here
Me: Where exactly?
John: Want to just meet me here, then we can head out?
Me: K. Directions?
He then gave me directions and said he would meet me at my car when I got there and we could just walk to a nearby bar. I headed on down, found the place easily, parked my car, and called him. He said he'd be right out. I thought his voice sounded really odd. So the door to this house opens, and out walks . . . a totally different guy than the one I thought I was meeting.
I can only imagine what my face looked like as he approached my car; luckily, it was dark out. I had to recover pretty quickly. This guy was another guy named John, and he's a friend of a friend. I met him last summer and have run into him a few times at parties and such, and he came to a party I threw for a friend a few weeks ago. Well, apparently, he'd gotten ahold of my number--presumably from said "friend." Keep in mind that I'm piecing all of this together in my head as we're greeting each other and exchanging pleasantries and walking to the bar. It occurred to me that it was a bit presumptuous of him to just text me out of the blue like that as if we were good friends, and on a Friday night, no less. This is not someone I would have gone on a date with if I actually knew it was him I was meeting. He's a nice enough guy, but I'm just not attracted to him. But I was kind of stuck now, wasn't I?
In the end, it wasn't a total loss. We had a couple of drinks and talked, and he's actually a very nice guy, and one of those rare ones who actually listen and ask a lot of questions and seem genuinely interested in the responses. In fact, I found myself wishing I was attracted to him . . . but that just wasn't happening. (He's not bad looking at all--just not my type.) And here's a kicker--I wound up telling him the whole thing, all about the mistaken identity, and he got a big kick out of it. More points in his favor. But I'm not going to date him. The evening ended with the understanding that we'd just be friends.
Be careful with the texting, people. It's been an issue with me more than once this week.
*In retrospect, I should have known. Older Young Guy would never use semicolons.
I got home from my work happy hour around 7:00, fed my little ones (the dog and cats, that is), and took the dog for a long walk. About five minutes after I got back, I got a text message. The exchange went like this, word for word, with some explanatory comments:
Texter: Its john; want 2 come down 2 german village?
[Older Young Guy's name is John.]
Me: Where are you?
John: House sitting across from barcelona [a restaurant]
Me: Want to just meet out somewhere around there?
John: Sure; where r u now?
Me: Home. Just got back from happy hour.
John: U should head down here
Me: Where exactly?
John: Want to just meet me here, then we can head out?
Me: K. Directions?
He then gave me directions and said he would meet me at my car when I got there and we could just walk to a nearby bar. I headed on down, found the place easily, parked my car, and called him. He said he'd be right out. I thought his voice sounded really odd. So the door to this house opens, and out walks . . . a totally different guy than the one I thought I was meeting.
I can only imagine what my face looked like as he approached my car; luckily, it was dark out. I had to recover pretty quickly. This guy was another guy named John, and he's a friend of a friend. I met him last summer and have run into him a few times at parties and such, and he came to a party I threw for a friend a few weeks ago. Well, apparently, he'd gotten ahold of my number--presumably from said "friend." Keep in mind that I'm piecing all of this together in my head as we're greeting each other and exchanging pleasantries and walking to the bar. It occurred to me that it was a bit presumptuous of him to just text me out of the blue like that as if we were good friends, and on a Friday night, no less. This is not someone I would have gone on a date with if I actually knew it was him I was meeting. He's a nice enough guy, but I'm just not attracted to him. But I was kind of stuck now, wasn't I?
In the end, it wasn't a total loss. We had a couple of drinks and talked, and he's actually a very nice guy, and one of those rare ones who actually listen and ask a lot of questions and seem genuinely interested in the responses. In fact, I found myself wishing I was attracted to him . . . but that just wasn't happening. (He's not bad looking at all--just not my type.) And here's a kicker--I wound up telling him the whole thing, all about the mistaken identity, and he got a big kick out of it. More points in his favor. But I'm not going to date him. The evening ended with the understanding that we'd just be friends.
Be careful with the texting, people. It's been an issue with me more than once this week.
*In retrospect, I should have known. Older Young Guy would never use semicolons.
Off the Wagon
Dammit, I texted him. But only once. O.K., twice, but the second time was in response to his response. And O.K., I probably would have texted him more if he had responded to my response to his response . . . but he didn't.
What the hell is wrong with me?
For those of you who were at happy hour, please don't tell G--she'll kill me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
For those of you who were at happy hour, please don't tell G--she'll kill me.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Counting Days
Well, I'm now on day six of successfully not texting a Certain Person. Yep, I'm pretty darn proud of myself. However, happy hour looms, a mere four hours away. Could be dangerous--I have been known to drink and text.
I may need a sponsor.
I may need a sponsor.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Random Thoughts
Apropos of nothing:
1. I hate it when people I know do things to validate and perpetuate stereotypes. Jokes are often based on stereotypes, right? Here's one:
Question: What do you call it when two lesbians move in together?
Answer: Their second date.
I really do like your new girlfriend, sweetie--I just wish you'd take it a little slower.
2. Because I fell asleep wearing my contacts last night (again), I had to use eyedrops this morning. As I was standing there in the bathroom with most of the drops dripping down my face, as they do, I casually read the bottle of drops, which featured bullet points listing the beneficial attributes of said drops. One of the bullet points proclaimed the drops to be "Non-staining." WTF? Is this really necessary to point out? What kind of scary eyedrops are floating around out there? Be careful, people.
3. Lately, I'm putting an inordinate amount of energy into not texting a certain person. It's amazing how much of one's life can be caught up in not doing something. I've actually spent up to an entire hour just sitting on the couch, mentally debating the pros and cons of texting this person. I almost slipped last night, but I managed to turn the phone off and plug it into the charger in another room. It's day five.
1. I hate it when people I know do things to validate and perpetuate stereotypes. Jokes are often based on stereotypes, right? Here's one:
Question: What do you call it when two lesbians move in together?
Answer: Their second date.
I really do like your new girlfriend, sweetie--I just wish you'd take it a little slower.
2. Because I fell asleep wearing my contacts last night (again), I had to use eyedrops this morning. As I was standing there in the bathroom with most of the drops dripping down my face, as they do, I casually read the bottle of drops, which featured bullet points listing the beneficial attributes of said drops. One of the bullet points proclaimed the drops to be "Non-staining." WTF? Is this really necessary to point out? What kind of scary eyedrops are floating around out there? Be careful, people.
3. Lately, I'm putting an inordinate amount of energy into not texting a certain person. It's amazing how much of one's life can be caught up in not doing something. I've actually spent up to an entire hour just sitting on the couch, mentally debating the pros and cons of texting this person. I almost slipped last night, but I managed to turn the phone off and plug it into the charger in another room. It's day five.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Another Lesson
O.K., folks, here's another lesson on What Not To Do.
[Seriously, I should be writing an advice column, don't you think? If someone, somewhere, took me up on this, heartache would be saved. Or at least headache. Really, someone take me up on this, please.]
So. You're a single guy, and you've been out with a particular woman a couple of times. You both had a lot of fun. There's no pressure, you're just having fun. So, you haven't seen each other in about a week, and you call her up. She's casual. You chat. You tell her you'd like to see her soon. So far so good.
The problem? You have no plan. None whatsoever.
You give her no clue about when you'd like to see her or what you'd like to do. Your conversation is more along the lines of that of a good acquaintance who is just clueing her in to the fact that he might like to glimpse her in person sometime in the next few weeks. No rush.
But wait, it gets worse. When she takes the initiative and suggests a particular night, you're evasive. You might be going out of town, you say. You're not sure yet. You tell you'll know the following day, and you'll give her a call and let her know.
Can it get even worse still? Yes it can! You fail to call her the next day as promised. And the night she suggested is the following night.
Guess what she's going to do? That's right, Einstein--she's going to make other plans. At the very least, she's going to tell you she's made other plans, whether she has or not.* What's more, she's completely turned off by your wishy-washy rudeness. She's going to turn you down the next time you suggest an actual plan for a date. In fact, she may very well stop taking your calls altogether.
Idiot.
*By the way, I did make actual other plans. You can go piss off, Aaron. (Not Aaron from work, by the way! A different Aaron. But hi, Aaron from work!)
[Seriously, I should be writing an advice column, don't you think? If someone, somewhere, took me up on this, heartache would be saved. Or at least headache. Really, someone take me up on this, please.]
So. You're a single guy, and you've been out with a particular woman a couple of times. You both had a lot of fun. There's no pressure, you're just having fun. So, you haven't seen each other in about a week, and you call her up. She's casual. You chat. You tell her you'd like to see her soon. So far so good.
The problem? You have no plan. None whatsoever.
You give her no clue about when you'd like to see her or what you'd like to do. Your conversation is more along the lines of that of a good acquaintance who is just clueing her in to the fact that he might like to glimpse her in person sometime in the next few weeks. No rush.
But wait, it gets worse. When she takes the initiative and suggests a particular night, you're evasive. You might be going out of town, you say. You're not sure yet. You tell you'll know the following day, and you'll give her a call and let her know.
Can it get even worse still? Yes it can! You fail to call her the next day as promised. And the night she suggested is the following night.
Guess what she's going to do? That's right, Einstein--she's going to make other plans. At the very least, she's going to tell you she's made other plans, whether she has or not.* What's more, she's completely turned off by your wishy-washy rudeness. She's going to turn you down the next time you suggest an actual plan for a date. In fact, she may very well stop taking your calls altogether.
Idiot.
*By the way, I did make actual other plans. You can go piss off, Aaron. (Not Aaron from work, by the way! A different Aaron. But hi, Aaron from work!)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Chuck Sucks
Here in the Heartland, we're in the middle of a major winter storm today. It snowed pretty steadily for two days, and then last night, we got freezing rain on top of it all, followed by a steep temperature drop, followed by more snow. What this means in practical terms is that I knew my place of employment would either be closed today or, at the very least, running on a delay. Extrapolating further on this set of circumstances, I should have been able to sleep in today--yes?
No.
At 6:30 this morning, something woke me up. A noise outside my window. An awful, continuous, scraping noise. Scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape. It went on and on. I roused myself to look out the window, and there was my neighbor, Chuck (who lives in the apartment formerly occupied by Hippie Neighbors), shoveling the walkway in front of our building. At 6:30 in the morning.
You know that awful feeling, where something is happening that just annoys the crap out of you, and you know there's nothing you can do about it, and you just sit there seething quietly, obsessing about how much better your life would be if this particular thing was not happening? And then your quiet seething turns to fantasies about hitting a particular person over the head with, oh, say, a snow shovel? This was how my day began. (It should be noted that 6:30 is considerably earlier than I get up on a regular day, let alone a glorious snow day when I should be allowed to sleep in.)
And so I lay there, hating Chuck and missing Hippie Neighbors, who never would have undertaken this particular task--or any task, for that matter--at 6:30 in the friggin' morning. Why? Why did he have to shovel that early? Why? It's like those people who mow their lawns in the early hours on a weekend. Does no one stop to consider that they're not the only people living on their block? To top it all off, you can't say anything and piss off a neighbor, because who knows when you might need them to bring in your mail or rush you to the emergency room or something?
Eventually, I got over it, got up, made some coffee, and watched Chuck out the window. Scrape, scrape, scrape. It took him half an hour. I wondered about the other neighbors, whether he'd woken anyone else up, whether they'd been as annoyed as I was. And then I thought I might forgive Chuck if he also shoveled my part of the walkway. The walkway in front of our building comes up from the street and branches off into a Y, with one part leading to the apartments of Chuck and the Asian woman on the end of the building, and the other part leading to the apartments of yours truly and They Who Are Never Seen. Since TWANS are an older couple, and I'm just a girl*, I thought it would be nice if big strong early-rising Chuck shoveled our part of the walkway as well. But no. He shoveled just his own part of the Y, and then retreated back into his apartment. Selfish, selfish Chuck.
(As it turns out, even if Chuck hadn't woken me up at 6:30, I would have been woken up around 7:05 by Guy Who Took an Hour and Fifteen Minutes to Get His Piece of Crap Car Out of Its Parking Spot on the Street and Almost Hit My Car in the Process. More on this saga later, maybe.)
*Of course I was kidding about the "just a girl" thing, but the truth is, I don't own a snow shovel.
No.
At 6:30 this morning, something woke me up. A noise outside my window. An awful, continuous, scraping noise. Scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape. It went on and on. I roused myself to look out the window, and there was my neighbor, Chuck (who lives in the apartment formerly occupied by Hippie Neighbors), shoveling the walkway in front of our building. At 6:30 in the morning.
You know that awful feeling, where something is happening that just annoys the crap out of you, and you know there's nothing you can do about it, and you just sit there seething quietly, obsessing about how much better your life would be if this particular thing was not happening? And then your quiet seething turns to fantasies about hitting a particular person over the head with, oh, say, a snow shovel? This was how my day began. (It should be noted that 6:30 is considerably earlier than I get up on a regular day, let alone a glorious snow day when I should be allowed to sleep in.)
And so I lay there, hating Chuck and missing Hippie Neighbors, who never would have undertaken this particular task--or any task, for that matter--at 6:30 in the friggin' morning. Why? Why did he have to shovel that early? Why? It's like those people who mow their lawns in the early hours on a weekend. Does no one stop to consider that they're not the only people living on their block? To top it all off, you can't say anything and piss off a neighbor, because who knows when you might need them to bring in your mail or rush you to the emergency room or something?
Eventually, I got over it, got up, made some coffee, and watched Chuck out the window. Scrape, scrape, scrape. It took him half an hour. I wondered about the other neighbors, whether he'd woken anyone else up, whether they'd been as annoyed as I was. And then I thought I might forgive Chuck if he also shoveled my part of the walkway. The walkway in front of our building comes up from the street and branches off into a Y, with one part leading to the apartments of Chuck and the Asian woman on the end of the building, and the other part leading to the apartments of yours truly and They Who Are Never Seen. Since TWANS are an older couple, and I'm just a girl*, I thought it would be nice if big strong early-rising Chuck shoveled our part of the walkway as well. But no. He shoveled just his own part of the Y, and then retreated back into his apartment. Selfish, selfish Chuck.
(As it turns out, even if Chuck hadn't woken me up at 6:30, I would have been woken up around 7:05 by Guy Who Took an Hour and Fifteen Minutes to Get His Piece of Crap Car Out of Its Parking Spot on the Street and Almost Hit My Car in the Process. More on this saga later, maybe.)
*Of course I was kidding about the "just a girl" thing, but the truth is, I don't own a snow shovel.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Adventures in Singledom
Hello there! It's been a while. I don't want to write a long, drawn-out post about why I haven't blogged in over three months, but I do apologize to those of you (all three or four of you!) who miss my occasional rantings and musings. I could say I'm just too busy, but as most of you know, I watch far too many episodes of Law & Order for that to be a viable excuse. I could also blame it on my wonderful dog, whom I got back from my ex right around the time I stopped blogging--and it's true that the long walks we go on every evening suck up a healthy chunk of my time--but that's not really it either. The truth is, I just haven't felt like it. And now I do. It's that simple.
Anyhoo, a couple of weeks ago marked the year anniversary of the start of my post-marriage life, and I took the opportunity to reflect upon my journey back into the dating scene since then. It also got me thinking about when I was still married and hanging out a lot with other married couples, and howmany of these people often mentioned how glad they were that they didn't have to date anymore, what a hassle it is, how difficult it is to find anyone to connect with, etc. etc. (Meanwhile, I would often wonder whether some of these people were actually "connecting" with their spouses . . . .) And as someone who has suddenly been plunged back into the dating pool as a late-30s divorcee, I can attest that there's a lot of truth in all that whining. Dating can be tedious, especially for women in my situation. That tired, stereotypical chick-flick mantra that "All the good men are married or gay" exists for a reason, especially when you're talking about men my age. Of course, statistically speaking, there should be a healthy pool of divorced, age-appropriate men out there, but I haven't really found that to be the case so far. And then again, in that situation, there are often kids involved, and I'm just not in a place to deal with all of that right now.
Luckily, none of that really fazes me, because I'm just not looking for a relationship. I know some people probably think I'm just saying that in a sour-grapes sort of way, but it's true--I'm perfectly happy on my own. And that's a very freeing attitude. I've been able to spend the last few months just meeting and hanging out with people and having fun without bogging things down by constantly evaluating them for long-term relationship potential. It's a constant adventure, and it's also excellent blog-fodder. So, without further ado, let's take a look at some of the people I've had the pleasure and/or annoyance to meet over the past several months. (Note: Descriptive aliases have been used to protect . . . well, me, from libel suits by any of the below parties I might have been stupid enough to give my blog address to.)
*Hippie Neighbor Brother
What can I say? He was just always around. When the hippie neighbors were still here (they moved to Colorado, by the way), hippie husband's brother was over at their place constantly. And in the summer, we were all outside all the time, often drinking beer on the porch(es). And he was really cute and single . . . it was kind of inevitable that we would wind up hanging out.
Pros: really cute, fun, good at grilling food
Cons: a total flake, broke, not all that smart
Status: out of touch since hippie neighbors moved away, except for one note left on my porch asking to borrow a hairdryer (?)
[Here's a photo I took of him surreptitiously out my front window while he was sleeping in the hammock. Sorry it's such a lousy photo, but it was out the window.]
*Young guy #1
Most of you know who this is--several of you have met him. And you were probably thinking, what is she thinking? (Age difference: 15 years.) What I was thinking was that he was sweet, smart, straightforward, and a lot of fun. The fact that he was an extremely talented musician didn't hurt either. We had a great summer until he got himself into some trouble. I still care about him, and I hope he finds someone (a bit more age-appropriate) who deserves him someday.
Pros: again--sweet, smart, fun, musician, very cute
Cons: way too young, substance abuser (recovering!)
Status: we still talk on the phone sometimes, and go to an occasional movie
*Young guy #2
I know, I know. But, as I pointed out before, available guys my age aren't that easy to find. Also, there's something about the young ones. They don't drone on and on about their careers or their investments or the hassles in their lives. They like to go out and have fun. They don't have kids from former marriages. They can stay up past midnight. They're uncomplicated and passionate. And, as I've been pleasantly surprised to discover, the young men of today often appreciate older women who are substantially more secure with themselves than your average 20-year-old. And this one in particular was (is) quite intriguing.
Pros: cute, smart, funny, musician
Cons: way too young, and another reason I can't really mention here
Status: good friends
*The Ex
No, not the ex-husband. Out of the blue one day, I got a call from an ex-boyfriend from my pre-marriage days. He'd heard I'd gotten divorced. (Yes, this can be a very small town sometimes.) We arranged to go out one night and met for dinner and drinks. The evening started out well enough, catching up on what we'd been doing the last few years. As the night wore on, however, I was reminded over and over of why we broke up in the first place. The whole thing culminated in a stupid, pointless argument over the circumstances of our break-up. In the end, he told me that he was confident he would eventually find the right person (who was obviously not me) because he was, in his words, the "total package."
Pros: still really cute, able to pay for dinner
Cons: boring, arrogant, tiresome, self-delusional
Status: will probably never speak to each other again
*The Guy Who Should Be Gay
What is it with me and this type of guy? This is the third one in my life who's been interested in me--a guy with impeccable taste, articulate, no guy friends, way into the arts, hates sports, super sensitive . . . gay, right? No. I'm pretty much convinced he's not--he's 38, after all, and would have probably figured it out by now. But I can't help thinking that his love life would be much better if he was. Believe me, I love gay men--I just don't want to date one. Nor do I want to date one whose whole persona screams gay, even if he's not. I'm sorry if that seems mean or insensitive, but at some point in life, a person has to drop political correctness and face certain realities. There may be women out there who are attracted to this type of guy, but I simply am not.
Pros: smart, good conversationalist, shares my taste in movies, music, and books
Cons: no spark whatsoever, needy, not a musician, still possibly gay
Status: I may have to cut off contact soon, although I wish he could be my good gay male friend
*Older Young Guy
Seriously, when I met him, I thought he was about 34. Turns out, he's 26. It's almost unbelievable--he looks older, acts older, and is way more cynical than I would expect a 26-year-old to be. And he's a musician. (Do you see a pattern here?) And I met him at a kick-ass concert that we were both really into and had a great time hanging out. A few weeks later, our interest in each other is waning. It's mutual and obvious. I'm not sure why--just one of those things.
Pros: extremely smart, good conversationalist, interesting, attractive, musician
Cons: cynical, unreliable, arrogant, ignores my dog (This is a big red flag to me, by the way. Here's a hint to all single men: If you're interested in a woman, and this woman adores her dog, and you ignore her dog, this woman is not going to adore you.)
Status: dying on the vine
So, there we are, a snapshot of my ongoing quest to not have a relationship. Because, looking back over this list, it's pretty obvious that that's what I'm doing.
And that's O.K.
Anyhoo, a couple of weeks ago marked the year anniversary of the start of my post-marriage life, and I took the opportunity to reflect upon my journey back into the dating scene since then. It also got me thinking about when I was still married and hanging out a lot with other married couples, and howmany of these people often mentioned how glad they were that they didn't have to date anymore, what a hassle it is, how difficult it is to find anyone to connect with, etc. etc. (Meanwhile, I would often wonder whether some of these people were actually "connecting" with their spouses . . . .) And as someone who has suddenly been plunged back into the dating pool as a late-30s divorcee, I can attest that there's a lot of truth in all that whining. Dating can be tedious, especially for women in my situation. That tired, stereotypical chick-flick mantra that "All the good men are married or gay" exists for a reason, especially when you're talking about men my age. Of course, statistically speaking, there should be a healthy pool of divorced, age-appropriate men out there, but I haven't really found that to be the case so far. And then again, in that situation, there are often kids involved, and I'm just not in a place to deal with all of that right now.
Luckily, none of that really fazes me, because I'm just not looking for a relationship. I know some people probably think I'm just saying that in a sour-grapes sort of way, but it's true--I'm perfectly happy on my own. And that's a very freeing attitude. I've been able to spend the last few months just meeting and hanging out with people and having fun without bogging things down by constantly evaluating them for long-term relationship potential. It's a constant adventure, and it's also excellent blog-fodder. So, without further ado, let's take a look at some of the people I've had the pleasure and/or annoyance to meet over the past several months. (Note: Descriptive aliases have been used to protect . . . well, me, from libel suits by any of the below parties I might have been stupid enough to give my blog address to.)
*Hippie Neighbor Brother
What can I say? He was just always around. When the hippie neighbors were still here (they moved to Colorado, by the way), hippie husband's brother was over at their place constantly. And in the summer, we were all outside all the time, often drinking beer on the porch(es). And he was really cute and single . . . it was kind of inevitable that we would wind up hanging out.
Pros: really cute, fun, good at grilling food
Cons: a total flake, broke, not all that smart
Status: out of touch since hippie neighbors moved away, except for one note left on my porch asking to borrow a hairdryer (?)
[Here's a photo I took of him surreptitiously out my front window while he was sleeping in the hammock. Sorry it's such a lousy photo, but it was out the window.]
*Young guy #1
Most of you know who this is--several of you have met him. And you were probably thinking, what is she thinking? (Age difference: 15 years.) What I was thinking was that he was sweet, smart, straightforward, and a lot of fun. The fact that he was an extremely talented musician didn't hurt either. We had a great summer until he got himself into some trouble. I still care about him, and I hope he finds someone (a bit more age-appropriate) who deserves him someday.
Pros: again--sweet, smart, fun, musician, very cute
Cons: way too young, substance abuser (recovering!)
Status: we still talk on the phone sometimes, and go to an occasional movie
*Young guy #2
I know, I know. But, as I pointed out before, available guys my age aren't that easy to find. Also, there's something about the young ones. They don't drone on and on about their careers or their investments or the hassles in their lives. They like to go out and have fun. They don't have kids from former marriages. They can stay up past midnight. They're uncomplicated and passionate. And, as I've been pleasantly surprised to discover, the young men of today often appreciate older women who are substantially more secure with themselves than your average 20-year-old. And this one in particular was (is) quite intriguing.
Pros: cute, smart, funny, musician
Cons: way too young, and another reason I can't really mention here
Status: good friends
*The Ex
No, not the ex-husband. Out of the blue one day, I got a call from an ex-boyfriend from my pre-marriage days. He'd heard I'd gotten divorced. (Yes, this can be a very small town sometimes.) We arranged to go out one night and met for dinner and drinks. The evening started out well enough, catching up on what we'd been doing the last few years. As the night wore on, however, I was reminded over and over of why we broke up in the first place. The whole thing culminated in a stupid, pointless argument over the circumstances of our break-up. In the end, he told me that he was confident he would eventually find the right person (who was obviously not me) because he was, in his words, the "total package."
Pros: still really cute, able to pay for dinner
Cons: boring, arrogant, tiresome, self-delusional
Status: will probably never speak to each other again
*The Guy Who Should Be Gay
What is it with me and this type of guy? This is the third one in my life who's been interested in me--a guy with impeccable taste, articulate, no guy friends, way into the arts, hates sports, super sensitive . . . gay, right? No. I'm pretty much convinced he's not--he's 38, after all, and would have probably figured it out by now. But I can't help thinking that his love life would be much better if he was. Believe me, I love gay men--I just don't want to date one. Nor do I want to date one whose whole persona screams gay, even if he's not. I'm sorry if that seems mean or insensitive, but at some point in life, a person has to drop political correctness and face certain realities. There may be women out there who are attracted to this type of guy, but I simply am not.
Pros: smart, good conversationalist, shares my taste in movies, music, and books
Cons: no spark whatsoever, needy, not a musician, still possibly gay
Status: I may have to cut off contact soon, although I wish he could be my good gay male friend
*Older Young Guy
Seriously, when I met him, I thought he was about 34. Turns out, he's 26. It's almost unbelievable--he looks older, acts older, and is way more cynical than I would expect a 26-year-old to be. And he's a musician. (Do you see a pattern here?) And I met him at a kick-ass concert that we were both really into and had a great time hanging out. A few weeks later, our interest in each other is waning. It's mutual and obvious. I'm not sure why--just one of those things.
Pros: extremely smart, good conversationalist, interesting, attractive, musician
Cons: cynical, unreliable, arrogant, ignores my dog (This is a big red flag to me, by the way. Here's a hint to all single men: If you're interested in a woman, and this woman adores her dog, and you ignore her dog, this woman is not going to adore you.)
Status: dying on the vine
So, there we are, a snapshot of my ongoing quest to not have a relationship. Because, looking back over this list, it's pretty obvious that that's what I'm doing.
And that's O.K.
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