Na na na na na na… I’m Not Listening!!

I have the face that people want to tell their life stories to.

 

Seriously, I had a Wal-Mart employee once tell me all about her daughter and her drug problem, the kids they were trying to get custody of and how tired she was… I was just trying to read ice cream labels.

How do you respond to that anyway?

I just awkwardly nod my head, say “I’m sorry” and try to inch my way down the aisle, fuck ice cream, I need to GO!

But, I did listen… she needed it.  I hope she felt better.

So today, I get a text from my ex.  “Call me when you get the chance”.

Fucking hell.

So I text back “Is something wrong?”

The return text includes these statements:

I’m sick.

I consider you a great friend.

How do I get someone to love me?

She hates my family.

How do I get in the position to give advice, LOVE advice, to someone that I went through literal hell with?  And, in what alternate, fucked up reality, is this somehow expected or normal?

I’ll say this, I don’t hate him… I don’t hate, it’s not what I do… I let all of that go when I let him go.

And let’s be real here, what in the actual fuck do I know about getting someone to love anyone?  It’s not like I have my life so together that I can actually school someone in the art of getting theirs together. Sheesh.

I actually got up in a good mood today, after a continuation of the best birthday week EVER… now this.

I am trying to be the bigger person; I am an ordained minister after all.

Runaway Relationships

Relationships…

 

I want one.

 

I don’t want one.

 

I’m ready to jump in.

 

I’m scared to fucking death.

 

It’s like everyone is always playing hot potato with relationships…

 

“Come on throw it to me!”

 

“Ouch, fuck, here you take it back!”

 

I really think that I’m in the place now to accept a relationship if it is presented to me.

I am craving some comfort, some dependability and some intimacy on the regular.  Is that too much for a girl to ask for?

 

Those are things that I’ve NEVER really had.  In my one LTR I didn’t have comfort or dependability.  I never knew from day to day what things were going to be like; it was like perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

I think that situation has made me gun shy.

 

“And you can’t run the minute something doesn’t go right” said M as we discussed a current romantical prospect for me.

 

Intellectually, I know and understand this.  No one wants to be the runaway girlfriend.  But I take every hiccup and bump in the road to be a sign of worse things to come.  Again, I know this doesn’t have to automatically be the case. 

 

Working through the hiccups makes relationships stronger, right?

 

Anyway, I’m ready…

TrippyBeth is opening herself up to the universe.

 

There has to be one good guy out there:

 

who thinks that my quirks are endearing

who tolerates my obsessions

who loves my backrubs

who enjoys a neck nuzzle

who will wake me when I hit the snooze too many times

who will call me for no reason

who will traipse around in the cold with me to take photos

who will take road trips

who will want to do various family things

who will bring me tea when I’m sick

who will have a hearty appetite when I’m cooking

who will lay their head in my lap when we watch TV

 

That’s the short list.

 

Now, for a short rant on dating sites.

 

Well it’s not the sites in particular that I have an issue with or men in general.  It’s just SOME men, and these men COULD be perfectly good guys… but what I take issue with is the screen names that the select.  I’m not sure if they think that the names are sexy and enticing or that they really are pervy.

 

Last night I get a notice that “Lickyyou” wants to meet me.

Really dude? THAT’S the name you choose?

 

It seems like all of the pervy screen names are various combinations of “lick”  and “69”. 

 

Kudos for originality guys…

Shit Magnet

I seem to get the most interesting emails on the dating site AFTER I’ve gone to sleep, apparently I still appear to be “online”.  Take this thread for example…

This dude kept sending messages, I guess he thought that I was ignoring him.

In one message he said “I love you, Kimberly”.

What the fuck?

So the next day I replied with “I think that you must have me confused with someone else.”

To which he replied “Kimberly is my ex, I was just trying to get your attention.”

Let me get this straight, this guy thinks that a good way to get a girl’s attention is by addressing her by his ex’s name?

Jeebus, it’s no wonder he’s still single.

I told him that it was just “bizarre”.

He apologized, said it was a mistake and he wouldn’t do it again, then said if I didn’t want to talk to him that he’d just move on.

I suggested that he move on, and not try the “Kimberly” thing with any other girl, because it will NEVER work.

Again, I wonder am I just a magnet for this crazy bullshit?

One more thing….

Remember the dramatic emails I got from the exes fiancé s recently?

Today, the ex, M, texts me and says “Now that everything has calmed down, T wants to know if you’re interested in make-up and skin care, and if she could add you to her Mary Kay mailing list.”

Fucking seriously?

I text back “Ummmm I kinda thought she hated me.”

Then he tells me that she never had a problem with me.

I just replied “M, she did have a problem with me.  She wrote an unkind, unprovoked email.  Now, that’s her thing.  But I don’t want drama and I don’t like it laid at my doorstep.  I love you as one of my dearest friends and I want you to be happy and I want the kids to be happy.  But it’s a little hard for me to act like it didn’t happen, especially when I didn’t deserve it.  And I’m allergic to Mary Kay make up anyway.”

Then he replied about T being harassed and his sister-in-law.

I told him that I was done talking about it.

Again, what is wrong with people? Why create drama and bullshit where there is none?  My life is too busy for that…

Accenting the Obvious

Accents…

Admit it, you either like them or you hate them.

Most people begin to immediately make assumptions about a person as soon as they hear a voice that doesn’t sound like their own.

Whether the assumptions carry any weight or not, that’s just how our minds seem to work.

You know that when you hear a southern, a New York, a Boston, a British, an Indian accent you already think that you know something about the person.  A little slow perhaps? Snooty? Sophisticated?

I’ll admit I’ve been a little swayed by a lovely accent before; I’ve dated Irish, British and Italian men.  But underneath the soliloquy, they’re just dudes.  We all know that there are assholes in every nationality.

These makes me think of a guy I once met on a dating site.  We started out texting, which is how I prefer things to go, then, late one night, he called me.

“Wow, you have an accent!”  Was his initial comment.

“Yea, I know, I’m not a Cincinnati native.”  I reply, thinking it will be the end of the discussion about my accent.  Which, by the way, isn’t a bad accent at all.  And the longer I live here, the slighter it becomes.

But… it went on and on…

“From looking at you, I’d never guess you had a country accent!”

Sheesh…

I may not look like a country girl, but, underneath all this ink… I am one.

I’ve always thought that I sounded like a hick and even as my accent becomes slighter, there are words that I know I’ll never be able to say “right”.  But that’s ok, that’s part of my charm.

Anyway, he kept going on and on about my accent, even trying to mimic it (or mock, I’m not sure).  I began to feel a little offended.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a chip on my shoulder, and I can accept some good natured teasing, but for fuck’s sake, he wouldn’t let it go.

I was sooooooo relieved when he got another call that he had to take.

Now, he could have been a perfectly nice guy who was a little nervous, not a good conversationalist or just a total dunce, I don’t know.

I have to put him in the same category as the guy who said I looked like a really cute cartoon character.

Oh yea, before I forget to mention it, TrippyBeth is smitten.

I know, look out and batten down the hatches!!

I don’t know if it will go anywhere, not sure if he’s smitten or not, all I know, right now, is that I like spending time with him…

Oh, don’t forget to check out my photo blog if you get the chance!!

http://reflectionsuponmyreality2.wordpress.com/

Improving Karma

Yesterday I get a text message from a number that was unknown to me asking “Is this B?”

I hesitate to answer.  But after a little while, I reply “Yes”.

Before I continue, let me give you the backstory.

Last fall (I think) I went to dinner with a guy, he was nice, we talked, I enjoyed dinner, but kinda knew he wasn’t for me.

However, we remained Facebook friends and would text from time to time.  There may have even been few drunken text messages exchanged on a couple of occasions.  He had invited me out for drinks several times, I never made it out.

I should also make this clear, we never even kissed, not once.

Ok, so fast forward to a couple of months ago.

I get this really nasty email on Facebook, from his GIRLFRIEND, who I didn’t even know existed.  I don’t remember everything the email said except for this statement “Your very existence offends me.”  And there was something about “she better not see me out anywhere.”  The last statement made me feel a little threatened.

So, I deleted the message, blocked both of them and moved on.

Back to yesterday’s text.

She replied saying that she was his GF  and she said “I think he lied to me about you and if so, I want to apologize.  I think he lied to me a lot about it all.  I’m sorry.”

I was floored, a gracious apology is not something that I’m accustomed to receiving.

She went on to tell me the things that he had said about me, which were 90% untrue.  That I was all jealous and kept hitting on him and dating his friends etc etc… so I can see how she formed her opinion of me.

I told her that I had been tempted to tell her about the relationship that he and I had (which really wasn’t a relationship at all) but, I  thought better of it, I wasn’t defending myself to someone I didn’t know for something I didn’t do.

I accepted her apology.

She asked “Did he, in fact, cheat on me?”

My reply “Not with me he didn’t.”

I told her that I am not the girl to go after a “taken” man or, especially, a man that didn’t want me!

We continued to chat a little bit, weird I know…  she mentioned that we were both photographers, we both write and we both have red hair… maybe that’s really the weird part?

Anyway, I don’t believe that he is beyond redemption (he probably would be if he was MY guy, but he’s not) I suggested that they talk about things and try to move on from it.

But, hey, what in the fuck do I know?????

Howling at the Moon

For those of you that do not online date, I am going to give you an example of some of the email that I receive, and I’m sure I’m not alone in getting these types of messages.

I cannot let it be said that I do not offer constructive criticism, as is evidenced by this series of messages.  I am pretty sure that it was falling on deaf ears though.  I like to think that I do what I can to improve the fabric of society, by helping guys not to be so douchebaggy.

Sadly, this isn’t the first (or 50^th) message of this sort that I’ve received.  Honestly, I probably get more of these than sincere messages.  It makes it pretty hard to have hope.

Are all guys creepo pervs that just want to see my boobies?

I’m a realist.  I know that the majority of men love boobies and are generally eager to see them.  But, if a man plays his cards right, he could see them without being a creepo perv.  I just can’t see the creepo perv angle EVER working on the normal woman (or a woman like me).  Is it desperation? They’ve tried everything else?? This fella seems to think that he has, although, I’m pretty sure that he has NOT.

I do think that the anonymity of dating sites really brings out the dark side of men that they kept hidden from the general public.  It’s almost like there is always a full moon on the dating sites.

 

Let’s pass out the wolfsbane…

Maybe……….. I should carry one of these handy dandy little werewolf kits…. You know, just in case…

 

The Unrequested Penis

Some days, my brain feels so full that I cannot shut it off…. Today is one of those days, so I hope that you will bear with me.

 

A post on http://theapeleader.wordpress.com/2013/07/24/a-handy-guide-for-the-men-out-there/  made me think of an experience that I had a few years ago…

 

Let me preface this by saying that, even though my brain runs a hundred miles a minute, I am otherwise quite lazy.  I have, honestly not cleaned out the phone book in my phone for YEARS, I get a new phone, I transfer EVERYTHING.  So, needless to say, I have contacts in there that should be deleted.  Aside from the ones I’m afraid that I could potentially drunk-text, I have started to delete them.

 

ANYWAY…

 

I realize I am not a silly 15 year old girl, and I know that I should know better.  I tend to be a little impulsive at times, not always thinking things all the way through.

 

So here’s what happened……

 

I had been chatting with a man I’ll call S for a few weeks.  It was early into my reintroduction into the dating world, so I was taking my time.

S and I were exchanging texts during work when he requests a photo of my panties.

 

Hhhhhmmmmmm, I sat at my desk and considered the request.

 

I wasn’t even sure how I could take a photo, not in the public bathroom that was for sure.  I could see myself standing in front of the mirror, in panties only, as someone from the human resources office down the hall walked in.  So that method was out.

 

After much contemplation, I had a brilliant idea!!! No shocker there, right?

 

Since I happened to be wearing a skirt, I went into the private bathroom, took my panties off, lay them on the sink and snapped a photo.  I know that was kinda cheating……

While I have the photo up, I go to my contacts list…. Find S and send the photo…..return to my desk and carry on with my day.

The recreated panty shot.
Don’t judge, those are work panties!

 

I expect a text soon from S, but nothing comes.  I’m a little irked.

 

Then, I hear the familiar ding, alerting me of a text.  “It must be S” I thought.

 

I open the message to see a photo of a Full Monty, but not from MY S!!

 

Turns out that a friend of an ex of mine had the same first name as S, and I had inadvertently sent the photo to him.

 

FUCK

 

So, he replies to a photo of my panties lying on a sink with a photo of his junk!! What the fuck???  I threw up a little in my mouth.

 

Interestingly, this guy had said some awful things about me after the break up with the ex, none of which were true…. One would have thought that he hated me….. I suppose he could have hated me still, just wanted me to see his wiener.

And, honestly, I think I am pretty visual for a girl.  But not for one second did that photo make me want to molest him, even though it had been some time since I had molested a wiener.

 

I will never pretend to understand the male mind.  I had a guy friend try to explain to me that men aren’t as complicated as women like to believe.  As women, I think we try to second guess the actions of men when we don’t understand what they are doing “Maybe he did that because of this”.  And we could come up with many scenarios to try to make their actions make sense to us.  According to my friend, men just do what sounds reasonable at the time……. Since I do not possess a Y chromosome, I am not even going to try to fathom what goes on in their gray matter (or their underpants).

 

Never, if I had received a photo of one of my Bff’s ex’s underpants, would I respond with a photo of my boobs.  It wouldn’t even cross my mind.  Probably because I’d be so creeped out.

 

But, hey, that’s just TrippyBeth…..

 

Lesson learned:  when you have more than one person with the same first name in your address book, do SOMETHING OBVIOUS to distinguish them from one another…… lest you may have to have your corneas assaulted by an unappealing, unrequested penis….. no one wants that.  I deleted S, the exhibitionist, from my phone book.

Tracking Bad Dates

I have had more FIRST dates, or maybe I should call the “MEETS” because I prefer to pay my half, for it to be somewhat limited in time and casual, than I could enumerate.

 

In all of my first MEETS, I have only walked out on one.  Which, considering some of my experiences, I think is pretty amazing.  I usually stick it out, try not to be rude, give a hug and go about my merry way, no harm, no foul.  Everyone is not for me and we all know that I am not for everyone.  It is what it is.

 

The guy that I walked out on was one of my first dates (after my brief relationship with the guy that turned out to be certifiable—and believe me I know from where I speak).  We talked for a couple of weeks before we met, which in hindsight was a waste of time, aside from teaching me a lesson about time wasted.

 

We arrange a meeting at a bar/restaurant.  I arrive first; take a seat at the bar that was within eyeshot of the door.  I only waited a few minutes before he made his entrance.

 

I would like to make it clear before I continue with the story, that I am not materialistic, I do all my shopping at thrift stores, I could give a shit if you shop at “Express” (which one guy told me, and I had zero idea what that was).  But, when something is too much, it’s just too much.

 

So, I see, walking through the double glass doors a somewhat attractive man, that I recognized as him, wearing…………………………………………………………………

 

A POUFY NYLON TRACKSUIT, circa 1985.

 

And I will also make this point, HE HAD NOT COME FROM THE TRACK.

 

I chided myself for the visceral response that his attire elicited.  “You’re not THAT girl, TrippyB, clothes do not make the man.”

 

So, I waved to him from the bar and he took a stool beside me.

 

He was pleasant enough, but I couldn’t help but to be distracted by the tracksuit.  He got up to go to the restroom and I could hear the “swish, swish, swish” all the way across the room.

 

Finally, he says “I don’t normally dress like this.”

 

I breathed a sigh of relief, until he says “I normally wear bib overalls.”

 

What the actual fuck???  I could hear the banjos playing in the background… and for fuck’s sake I DO have a pretty mouth!!!

 

He was not a train conductor, who else wears bib overalls??????

 

At this point, I am thinking that I just need to get through this, so I ask about his job, which, at one point he had told me he had been at for over 10 years.

 

He says “I am going to barber college.”

 

I am mildly fascinated, I’ve never known anyone that went to barber college, honestly, I didn’t know that such a place even existed.

 

“But, I thought you had been at your job for a long time?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I quit my job; they were taking too much child support out of my check.”  He says as he smiles at me and takes a drink of beer.

 

I was not ignoring the visceral response that statement elicited.

 

I got up, gathered my coat and purse and said “I’m out” and walked to the door.

 

He followed me to the door, when I arrived at the sidewalk he says “I only live two blocks from here.”

 

I turn and say “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

Minister TrippyB

The biggest and really ONLY news that I have to report to you is that I am now…………….

Hold on……….

Wait for it…………

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

AN ORDAINED MINISTER!!!!!

Yep, dig it people!

Getting married? I’m your girl!!

Dead? Give me a call!

I already have one person interested in having me perform a wedding!

I think that I could be really good at this, this could be my calling!

I can’t wait until I receive my badge!!!

I have a Facebook friend, that I don’t even know how I became friends with him, but here’s his deal… He apparently has a teeny tiny pee-pee.

Not that I know, from actually seeing it in person, thank jeebus, but he’s told me. It’s like he’s weirdly obsessed with talking about having a tiny pee-pee. Which in itself is totally bizarre.

But yesterday, it gets dialed up to an entirely new level.

He messages me on Facebook and asks if I know how to remove a post from his wall.

So, being the sweet and helpful girl that I am, I tell him. Without asking any questions, NO QUESTIONS.

Then he, voluntarily, tells me that someone had posted something very embarrassing to his wall.

I don’t go look.

But he goes on to tell me that he can’t remove the photo, that it’s extremely embarrassing and he’s freaking.

So, at this point, I feel oblidged to go look.

FUCK, after looking I am extremely disappointed in myself for not DE-friending him a long time ago.

The photo posted to his wall is of a teeny, almost non-existent pee-pee, with a ruler by it. I have no idea what the point of the ruler was, not for bragging rights I can assure you. It was posted by a woman who made a comment about if he was going to cheat, he shouldn’t leave her photos etc… OUCH!

I report the photo to Facebook, and try to move on with my life.

Well, he has other ideas, and keeps asking me how the photo looks!! I tell him that I don’t feel comfortable discussing it and I can’t give him any advice, other than DENY, DENY, DENY!

People be crazy, yo…

Sisyphus Has Nothing Over on Me

This story takes place early in my dating career (I hate that term, now that I think of it, career signifies some longevity to me, and I sure as fuck don’t want to date forever.  As a matter of fact, I am ready to retire right now).

I had been talking to this fellow for a few weeks.  It was before I came to the realization that talking forever before actually meeting is a bad idea.  If you spend 3 weeks chatting/emailing/texting, then meet only to find out that: he’s a potential serial killer, he eats like a ravenous wolverine, his wardrobe consists solely of Ed Hardy apparel, he insists on touching you inappropriately, he reeks of cologne that curls your nose hair.  Well, those 3 weeks are WASTED.  Okay, maybe not completely wasted in my case, it gives me fodder for my stories.  But in the big picture of actually meeting someone and having a real relationship, it’s squandered time.

We decide to meet at a restaurant not far from my office after work.  We had texted back and forth all day.  I was excited, I was still naïve about dating at that point and had much more hope than I’ve had lately.

I pull into the parking lot, send him a text that I’m there and have a final look in the mirror.  He texts me back to tell me where he is sitting and I head on in.

When I walk in a place to meet someone, I feel like I have a flashing sign over my head “DESPERATE TO MEET SOMEONE” in neon.  I can imagine people shaking their heads “THAT girl is never going to meet anyone…. Poor girl.”  But like Sisyphus, I keep rolling that rock up the hill…….. one of these days I’m gonna get it there and cheer triumphantly as I watch it roll down the other side, stirring up dust, bouncing off trees, frightening small animals, until it is out of my view.

Back to the date……

I walk in, to the designated area, turning a corner, there he sits………………………….

……………………………wait for it……………………………………………………..

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

…………………..WITH HIS THREE CHILDREN!!!

I’m pragmatic; I understand and expect for men my age to have children.  However, I do not expect them to be brought along for the first date.

There they were with their little cherub faces smiling up at me.

FUCK

He, BB, stands up, ushers me into a seat.  The kids are excitedly saying “Hi”.

I almost felt like I was at the animal shelter and the puppies are vying for my attention, eager to be taken home.

At this point, I’m not even sure what is happening, it all seemed surreal.

The waitress comes by to take our drink orders, the kids told her what they wanted, then she turned to me and asked “What will Mom have?”

I bit my tongue and didn’t interject that I wasn’t “Mom”; it wasn’t the fault of those 3 adorable little children that they had been dragged along on a date with their father, much like a raw slab of meat lying on a bear trap, to entice a woman, or perhaps convince her.

I politely ordered an iced tea, although a beer, hell a shot of tequila sounded much more appropriate.

I can’t say that the rest of the meal was unpleasant, they weren’t horrible children.  As we stood on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant at the end of the evening, saying our goodbyes, each child hugged me.

I really felt like a total asshoke (this is an intentional misspelling fyi).  I knew I would never be the mother that BB was looking for.  He was a widower and was searching for a Mommy part deux, with a little too much zealousness.

I politely declined further dates with the BB family.

Interestingly, about 2.5 years later, I went to a singles dance with KR (not my scene, no one there looked like me) and BB was there.  I did not see his children, but I’m still not sure that they weren’t there.  I hope that he is baiting his trap with something besides children now, but since he is still on the prowl, I can’t be certain.  Of course, TrippyBeth is still on the prowl too, so I have no room to talk.

All I bait my trap with is me…….wait………..maybe I’ve just discovered my problem.