Bad Dates: On being single and other comedy

Two observations, from the street

2008-01-28T13:06:00.000-06:00

If you are a girl and a dude tells you they are afraid to walk in a certain neighborhood, telling them you will pretect them is probably a bad idea as it could be perceived as a threat to their dudeliness and shit.

Conversely, if you are a dude and are afraid of walking in a certain neighborhood, it
might just be better not to raise that with the girl you are walking with. Especially if she is wearing a lot of leather and motorcycle boots and her hobbies include different flavors of full contact martial arts, and/or she grew up in a neighborhood much tougher than the one you are in.

Bad person

2008-01-25T16:28:00.000-06:00

Possibly my least favorite thing about dating is how you get accused of being a bad person if it doesn't work out, no matter how the breakup goes down.

I broke up with the Pushy Boy last summer by simply saying "You are being too pushy, I can't date you anymore." And I left. It should have been no surprise either, since I had been calmly explaining to him when he was making me uncomfortable every single time that he did.

Pushy recently got back in touch with me, telling me that he basically thinks I am deep down a good person even though I let the world suck the goodness out of me. No, seriously. Apparently, the only way to be a good person is by staying in a relationship with someone who is totally giving me the heebies.

When someone breaks up with me, I usually go through this long introspective - about what I did wrong, what I could have done differently, I generally at least think of a few things that I would try to do better in the future.

So I guess this guy is not just not getting the relationship he wanted, but denying himself any self-reflection or personal growth. Which is the comfort I take from being openly insulted months later. I swallowed my pride at the time of the breakup and did the whole "It's not you, it's me" thing, so I suppose I kinda did encourage this. I just didn't want to create another stalker by explaining exactly why the guy freaked me out. (Again.)

Hair.

2008-01-05T09:28:00.000-06:00

The next time a guy tells me to grow my hair out, I'm telling him to grow his fucking penis out.

Traditionally, I have really short hair. But, I have been working on growing it out for the last year and a half. If is now chin-length and already driving me batty. I have very fine hair that looks straggly when it gets long no matter how many hours I spend on it or how many thousands of dollars in "product" I use.

I am never, ever going to have long flowing hair. But, I'm 5'8", a size 6, have 13% body fat, d-cups, and am told I am generally pretty. Why is this not enough? Oh, and throw in smart and successful, too. I get facials. I look at least five years younger than I am. I am always in way better shape than any of these dudes.

And yet, not enough. I have to have a sheath of useless HAIR all over the place that fucks me up when I'm riding my bike and becomes a liability when I am fighting to be considered pretty.

Today, I am cutting it all off. I might get laid less, but at least I won't be bothered by people who can't appreciate the me that is not my hair.

The non-fucking other girlfriend

2007-12-18T04:06:00.000-06:00

Guys like to pretend they are saints for having female friends. This, my friends, is utter bullshit.

I was actually really really into a guy. Really thinking he could be the one. Really, really head over heels.

But, he had a non-fucking other girlfriend. His roommate was his "best friend." I finally had to start putting my foot down after one weekend where I had a work retreat and barely got any sleep, but wanted to see him so he came to my house and she texted him needing beer and suddenly we had to trudge through the rain for two hours to bring her beer. Later that night, he texted her FROM BED. No, seriously.

Turns out, she had some fucking childhood trauma that allows her to continue to manipulate him for years and years. Normal people would just get a fucking shrink, right? Instead, I get regaled with extreme tales of sex and violence from something her brother did last weekend with some other dudes that she somehow doubleteamed before and some other chicks blowing him and texting her the pictures and this isn't supposed to upset me.

So, this is somehow in his mind him being a hero or something because is her emotional support, and she's super needy. She snaps her fingers, he comes running. This apparently, is not cheating or trying to essintially date someone without fucking them, no. UGH. I try talking about this rationally and he rewards me by sneaking. Check out this IM convo where he is deliberately overly vague about meeting up with her and then when I call him on it, he not only lies to me (when I can read back through the scroll!) about what was said two minutes ago, he then blames me for his duplicity.

So yeah, I got broken up with by who I really thought was an amazing incredible guy because I asked him not to lie to me.

IM convo below:
liarpants: I'll do happy hour then come a running when you get out of class

me: i thought maybe I could take some vacation this week but now I have shit to do every day

liarpants: I'm currently having library fun.
Damnit!

me: ah. where is hoppy hour?

liarpants: The 18th Amendment

me: who ya going with?

liarpants: That cool place I was telling you about where you have to go down through the bowells of a hotel like Spinal Tap trying to find the concert.
. Maybe Bitsy and/or Elaine. We haven't actually seen eachother since like Wednesday, so we figured grabbing a beer was a good notion.

me: question.

liarpants: Shoot

me: the phrasing raises red flags for me

liarpants: Ok. How so?

me: my abusive manipulative ex used to do that
like, most people would say "i'm going to get a beer with "
the backwards nature of the saying what's up, makes me feel uncomfortable
anyway.
I gotta run.

liarpants: Yeah. That's fair. Ironically I said it that way because I know you're a little uncomfortable with it and feel like I kind of need to justify hanging out wiht her.

me: that is just plain shitty then

liarpants: I don't like the feeling.
Shitty in what regards?

me: If you start lying to me because I will get upset if you tell the truth, maybe there actually IS something wrong with the truth

liarpants: I'm not lying. We in fact haven't seen eachother since wednesday
It's more that I know you feel uncomfortable about it. And I'm trying to be accomidating to that feeling.
(Editor's note: whoa, thanks for lying to me to protect my feelings. How charming and sensitive.)

me: that's not my fault, and concealing the truth is going to make me trust you less

liarpants: I wasn't concealing the truth.

me: you weren't being up front

liarpants: That's why I said "I'm going to do happy hour with because we haven't seen eachother in awhile"

me: but. you didn't want to just tell me that up front
that is the definition of not being up front
i gotta go.

liarpants: How did I not say that up front?
Ok. We'll talk after.

me: scroll back.
you just said you were going to happy hour, I had to ask twice to find out it was with

Holy Crap

2007-12-17T21:49:00.001-06:00

Wow, I haven't updated in close to a month! Not that I've forgotten about you, but things still seem to be going well for me in Datesburg. The Head and I are still quite happy, The Boy is still The Boy, and life is good.

I do want to post this quickly; earlier this year my friend Mike asked me to do a quick guest spot on his web-show Pwned! which I was happy to do. You'll see me at about :23 for just a few moments. I'm the one in the wedding dress wailing the crap out of Mike. Good times!

I dig the whole video, but that's because I'm kinda a geek. Your mileage may vary. Warning: Fart humor and swears ahead!

Knock on Wood

2007-11-26T18:02:00.000-06:00

I still don't know what it is about the Head that I like, but I think I've gotten to the point where the fact that I like him is enough.

A dirty little secret: This guy really does make me happy. He makes me happy right now. And that's a good thing. I don't know if he'll make me happy tomorrow, or next month, or next year, or next decade, but for right now, I'm kinda ready to be happy.

Not that I'm loosing my head over this; as Rosa pointed out in the comments on The Big Three, you never really stop looking for flaws. And yes, this still is the "kick the tires" stage, but damn, the tires look good.

One of the things that I found while I was doing a lot of heavy dating was that dating gets boring. It's rather tedious to go into every date just waiting for the moment when it will become apparent that the guy is all wrong for me. The Head isn't boring. The sex is good. He likes my cooking. He had Thanksgiving with my family, and it was okay. We mesh really well. It's great.

So, I guess I'm going to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but right now, I'm going to take advantage of this being happy thing.

How strange it is.

The Big Three

2007-11-09T21:51:00.000-06:00

The Head has been doing this thing lately where he stares deep into my eyes both before and after sex. "You make me so happy!" he tells me, as he catches his breath. He sends me cute text messages while at work, he rubs my feet, he likes my cats. Deuces, I think to myself, he's going to break out The Big Three words, and he's going to do it soon.

I tell my friend Emma about the situation, bemoaning what is to come. "I don't know Em, if he tells me that he's in love with me, I may have to kill him. I don't want that kind of drama! It's too soon anyway!"

"You should hit him with a big rock," Emma tells me. Sage advice, I feel.

So, last night, we're curled up, we've both had the day off, and the house to ourselves. There have been a few drinks, and life is good. Oh no, I think, it's going to happen now. Crap!

"You've made me happier than I think I've been in a long while, Miss M." That's not bad, I can handle that. "I feel like this could be so very right. Hrm, "think" what an odd word to use... "You amaze me Mmy! I don't get the nickname... but we'll let that slide.

We wake up this morning, and I feel like I should face this one straight on. "Say... Heady... You weren't going to pull The Big Three out last night, were you?"

"Of course not," he tells me, looking surprised. "I wouldn't do that. Pfft, I'm far too jaded to say something like that without really meaning it, and I don't want to lie to you. About anything. I figure we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

I will admit, I got a little turned on by that.

I'm still in something of a quandary as what to do with this boy. Every time I come up with something that I'm sure will be a deal breaker, it turns out he felt the same way I did in the first place. I think I'm a little fucked up. I keep looking for reasons that the guy is all wrong for me, and instead find that he was a better match for me than I thought in the first place. Infuriating! It's as if all my dating common sense has flown out the window, and been replaced with a... a.... guy who's a fucked up and jaded as I am.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The trouble with stalkers

2007-10-28T10:48:00.000-06:00

They are not the most clueful.

Remember Muk and her stalker of April? Wherein Muk goes on three whole dates with this condescending fucktard who then doesn't take "I find you offensive, stop talking to me" very well? Wherein Muk had to contact *federal police authority* to intervene? And then creepy stalker becomes truculent with *federal police authority*??

Well. He left me alone for 6 months. Then, today, out of nowhere, I get another fucking creepy e-mail from him.

I'm SURE he doesn't think it is creepy. The first line is about how I try too hard. Which is assinine for two reasons: 1 - now I'm taking personality lessons from a creepy little troll like him? and 2 - hey, I tried the blow-off method to get rid of him at first. That's a complete lack of trying. But, as with those pesky coffee stains, you eventually have to pull out the Whisk or live with a stain. Or wait, what exactly is it that I am trying too hard about?

Then, he says I can have all I want if I just let it happen. (All I want is for this dickhead to leave me alone, and that doesn't seem to be happening. So really, NO. What this says to me is if I just stop being a grouchy cunt, he can have all he wants.)

Then he says that he wants to remember me at my best. Seriously, the more I think about that line, the more intensely angry I become. What does he mean by my best? THe akward first date where I couldn't get a word in edgewise? (I thought he might just be nervous so I gave him another chance.) Or the akward second and third dates which pretty much went the same way? To Stalker-Boy, I am at my best when I am not sticking up for myself. When I am calmly accepting his condescending suggestions about how to live my life.

He said something about how circumstances might have changed. Yes, women who don't do what they are told are probably just mentally ill. Maybe that crazy shrew bitch got some Prozac in her and now she'll be a good compliant little girl.

I am now, in addition to fighting with Vonage on Monday (never get Vonage by the way, they SUCK) I am going to have to take time to visit with the *federal police agency* AGAIN.

So, this is it for Muk. I am just not dating anymore. At all. Ever. I know, I said the same thing about drinking when waking up with a bad hangover, but dating hangovers last for days, weeks, months. SO not worth it.

The System Is Down

2007-10-24T09:41:00.000-06:00

My computer gave up the ghost a few weeks back, and so I was blogging on the road, as it were, stealing my roommates computer, friends, my brothers, and even from my mothers ancient iMac. It's purple! My poor machine still seems to be out of whack, but the Boy has taken possession of it, and hopefully his CS degree will come in handy. Failing that, maybe the Head can take a crack at it.

A few quick updates:

The Head and I are still together, and while I was ambivilant at best about him before, I think things are much better now. I do like the monkey, and we'll see what happens there.

The Boy continues to be the Boy. He's leaving to visit one of his other girls this Thursday, and will be gone for a week. I've sorta given him something of a maybe ultimatum though; we've been together for a long while now, and I've put up with a bunch of his shit, and I want something more in return. He's still pondering.

Mr. F still has problems finding a woman that makes him happy. Welcome to the world, Mr. F.

More to come!

Gloomy.

2007-10-18T17:30:00.000-06:00

I have finally found the musical dirge that most appropriately expresses my feelings about dating, love, and my relationship with the two.

For a long time, I thought Tom Waits did a pretty good job of summarizing my love life in such classics as "Warm Beer, Cold Women," "Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis," "I Never Talk to Strangers," or "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You."

Then I realized he's way too perky, optimistic, and upbeat to appropriately and fully express such a tragic state of affairs.

Or maybe it's just October and I'm feeling a little goth about the whole thing.

Maybe I should take my own advice?

2007-10-12T10:20:00.001-06:00

I'm getting the sense from some of my friends that I am being too picky. I am debating this premise. Text boy texted me last night, at 10:45 just as I was drifting off to sleep, about something on TV. Text boy has been told a) I really, really despise texting. It is overly arduous for very little return. AND b) I go to bed at 10:00 or 10:30, and I only answer the phone after 10:30 if I value you more than sleep. Which is not a status people earn after a date or two. YET, even after having broken up with me because I was so demanding as to need 8 hours to work and 8 hours to sleep every day, he's STILL infiltrating sleep hours, only now without any hope or promise of any benefit for me here.

I am also having a bit of a grump about someone I went out with last weekend never calling me back. And by "bit of a grump," I might actually mean existential crisis.

I just think that somewhere between never calling, and getting text messages at work and late at night, there is a happy middle ground. A sane realm where people converse with one another during reasonable evening and weekend hours. Text boy dumped me not really because I didn't write, it was because I didn't respond to his 2:30 PM e-mails immediately. (Though I did write him back in the e-mail that night.)

Lately I have had a spate of people interested in me who think they are more important that normal sleep and work hours. One guy who I would have otherwise been very interested in because he was so gosh-darned cute actually e-mailed my BOSS to get my contact info. A cute butt can overcome many sins, as Pance says, but not getting me fired.

All I am asking for here is a little social intelligence. Am I crazy? Because I'm starting to wonder if maybe my standards need revision or something.

A possible reason for being single at age 51...

2007-10-10T15:22:00.000-06:00

Sure, she was cute and hot and 20 years my junior and in shape from biking like it is a job. Sure, she's smart and compassionate and has good frineds and tells great jokes and has a great job. But she just wouldn't return my text messages during the workday.

...someone's expectations might just be a little unrealistic.

Though Muk is proud to join Kevin Federline in the ranks of those who have been dumped via text message.

The Run In

2007-10-07T09:20:00.000-06:00

Raise your hands if you remember The Snork. You don't? Here's a quick refresher: WORST DATE EVAR!

Why do I bring up this man, this man that I so despise? Because we just had A Run In. Let me explain.

There I was at work, minding my own business (I work for one of the largest fabric wholesalers in the Midwest), when I see this very tall brunette man walk in. He turns, and a flash of recognition. It's the Snork! All hands to battle stations, Red Alert! I can see the anger start to cloud on his face, and know that something bad is about to happen.

And then.

She walks in. This blond, skinny, well coiffed woman on 4 inch heels totters into the store. She asks me where the upholstery trim is. She takes Snork by the arm, and leads him away. I laugh, the power has shifted.

He's there with his girlfriend, and he can't say a damn thing to me! If he does, it makes him a Bad Boyfriend, for yelling at someone while Around Her, for Picking on Someone Else, for not Paying Enough Attention, and possibly because she's never seen him Act This Way before. And I'm sure he knew that I'd have him thrown out, so add Totally Embarrassed Me to the list of reasons he can't bitch me out in front of his girlfriend.

I sat right up front at the register the whole time they were in the store. The big Russian stock manager watched my back, and the other gals laughed the whole time. He kept staring over and glowering, and got all snippy with the new girlfriend, who was (as I overheard) "trying to make a home for both of us, and you just aren't paying attention!"

They finally left, without buying anything, and I'm guessing he's not getting laid for a week. I couldn't be happier.

I can't think of a better way for a Run In to go. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but hell, it was so funny, I don't care.

Playin in ATL

2007-10-05T13:55:00.000-06:00

My cousin died over last weekend. My youngest aunt's oldest, in his sleep, at the age of 21. Tragic. Unavoidable. Out of the blue.

The Boy was out with me on Saturday night for a big party with the folk from my second job. Drinking and dancing, and more drinking. I got the news the next day from my roommate since I had lost my cell phone. Tuesday, I flew out to Atlanta with my family to be there for the funeral. In a big Irish Catholic family, it's what you do.

My family is not much one for overly loud grief, even in these moments. We like each other too much to not have fun with one another, and laughing is the only thing that keeps us from crying.

My aunt decided to break the mood by parading me around. Since my other girl cousin got married I'm the single one. "Have you met my niece?" my aunt asks the single men between 20 to 35. "She's single!"

Normally, this would be funny. Hell, even under the circumstances, it was pretty amusing. We all have our rolls to play, and it seems that for my aunt, it was as the cute, young, single and somewhat odd niece.

I spent a lot of time being quiet. I tried calling The Boy at one point, but he didn't answer his phone, and never got back to me. At one point I would have been mad about that, but I know that's just the way he is now. And I'm okay with that.

I texted back and forth with The Head a bunch. I wish I could figure out what I feel about that boy.

We got home today, without any phone numbers of interesting Atlantan men. Checking through the mail, there was a big envelope with the address written in calligraphy. An invitation to the wedding of a childhood friend. Which makes me the last single one left.

I think I'm looking forward to going to that wedding by myself. And I'm wearing a red dress when I do it.

Un-single friends, from Muk

2007-09-29T20:34:00.000-06:00

So, once you hit your thirties, there is an additional indignity one can expect from the dating experience.

That would be the condescending advice you get from the occasional "happily coupled" friend. Now, don't get me wrong - everyone wants the "dump him, he's a loser" or "try wearing something more provacative" kinds of advice. No, what I am talking about is the advice that comes from a... dark place. The kind that suggests there's just something inherently wrong with you, that your character is so deeply flawed that you can't possibly end up happy, and gee what a shame it is that no one can figure it out.

For my single friends, don't despair. I have discovered the root of such advice is embedded in the giver's own deep personal despair, the kind that is only quelled when one tells his or herself that the fact that someone is willing to live with them is proof positive that they are a worthwhile human, and therefore others who haven't found someone to regularly screw must therefore not be in possision of such characteristics. Because after all, we all know that everyone who is married is a Good Person, by definition.

Bah. Maybe that's just the concussion talking.

Love to all,
Muk

The Big Chill

2007-09-25T12:25:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite movies in the world is The Big Chill. Sure it came out when I was but a wee thing, and sure it speaks about the disillusionment of my parents generation, but in addition to one of the best soundtracks ever put together, what it really speaks about is what it means to get older. A favorite line about men:

They're either married or gay. And if they're not gay, they've just broken up with the most wonderful woman in the world, or they've just broken up with a bitch who looks exactly like me. They're in transition from a monogamous relationship and they need more space. Or they're tired of space, but they just can't commit. Or they want to commit, but they're afraid to get close. They want to get close, you don't want to get near them.

What the hell happened to us? When did we get to be adults? When did we get old?

The Head somewhat reminds me of this. I like him, but it still feels like there's something off there. A lack of passion. Or something. Frankly I wasn't sure why I kept at it, other than boredom. Then I remembered that at the very, very beginning of the Curly Saga I wasn't so into him either. And in spite of how things ended up, Curly honestly made me happy. So.

So.

So last night I was at Head's place, we're both tired and up for a quiet night at home. I made dinner, we watched a movie, and napped a bunch. Things are going well. I'm deathly afraid that he's going to bust out an "I love you" soon, but we'll get to that when we get there. It was a good night. And then I got a call from Mr. F. He had started dating this girl right around the time The Head came into the picture, and things had gone south, and she had broken up with him. Long 1:00am conversation followed.

One of the things that Mr. F brought up was that he feels like he's running out of time. Thirty is looming, and he thought he'd be done with this kind of bullshit by now. It's not an adventure any more. Now it just feels like a commute. Same shit, different day.

Maybe that's what bothers me about The Head. He makes me feel old. Not like granny spectacles and full coverage briefs old, but like my time for adventure is over and the time for settling down has begun. And I don't know that I want that.

Biggest reason that I keep The Boy around is because he makes me feel like there's always an adventure to be had. We don't always have to go on one, but the option is there. And that's what I want. I don't want to feel like I'm at the end of something, that I can still be crazy, or silly, or goofy, or amazed, or awed, but that on occasion I can still choose to have a night at home. I want to feel wiser, not older.

In the the beginning of The Big Chill, there's a funeral. The end of an era. And the song that plays is The Rolling Stones "You Can't Always Get What You Want".

Let's see how this plays out.

A new record for Muk

2007-09-23T17:47:00.000-06:00

I met a guy at a party last night and we made plans for today and he totally blew me off. We went from strangers to getting stood up in under 24 hours!

I am half tempted to send the guy a congrats note or something.

Substance

2007-09-14T08:37:00.000-06:00

Hello, my name is Miss M, and I don't think I have a problem yet, but I'm headed that way.

I was out with The Boy last night (we've patched things up, but that's a different post) at the 331 for bike time trials and the Bicycle Film Fest. (Ran into The Head while we were there, he was bar hopping with friends and just happened to be in the same place at the same time. The city is very small.) Over the course of the night I think I had about 2.5 drinks (and did a lot of betting on heats with Normy) and to be totally honest, I don't remember when The Boy decided we should go home, all I recall was that I was in the shower, then puking, then waking up in a damp puddle in bed the next morning.

That's right. I got so drunk I wet the bed.

I have noticed that I have been drinking more than I usually do recently, and if you read the blog regularly, you'll know that I drink a lot. I drink when I'm out on a date, I drink when I'm at home, I drink when I break up with someone, and sometimes I just drink. Thankfully, I don't drink when I have to go to work, nor do I feel a compulsion to drink, it's more like something you do because we're young, and have few responsibilities, and everyone else is, so why not?

So, I've decided to hold off on drinking for a while. A beer with dinner? Kosher. A drink while on a date? Fine. Getting myself so ass plastered that I piss the bed like a 4 year old? Man, that totally has to stop.

"Not gunna happen"

2007-09-13T15:43:00.000-06:00

Muk's latest dating debacle is a guy we'll call "Tater."

I decided to date a bike guy, inkeeping with my fancy new plan to date only people with interests and hobbies. Not a bad plan, to start out. We went for a long bike ride on the first date, and then he took me to his gig where he mixes sound at bars for bands and DJs. Which meant free beer.

A date involving bikes and free beer? I'm officially enthused.

The second date was another matter. He wanted to come over and watch a movie on a school night, which caused me to remembered why I don't date "Really Cool People."* RCPs think it is lame to have a job with responsbilities where you can't be drunk and you need to sleep. So, after an hour of me asking him to leave please because I had an important hearing the next day, Tater finally tells me "Nope! Not gunna happen!" Which is probably the most he'd really said all night. I think the five shades of purple that I turned when faced with such an asinine proclamation really was his official cue to exit.

On his way out he tells me he has a girlfriend in Boston, anyway. Sure, Tater, that's a great way to make me regret not making myself miserable by hanging out with you into the wee hours.

Later, Tater.

*for you Gaiman/Pratchett readers, yes, Really Cool People was my favorite temporary extraneous horseman of the apocalypse.

xkcd Gives Me Hope

2007-09-12T10:23:00.000-06:00

I'm a huge fan of xkcd. I think it's the very best thing on the web right now, and I secretly want to marry Randall Monroe.

This comic made me smile an awful lot, and I had to share it with everyone.

Randall, if you ever read this, I'm cute and single. Ask me about my math tattoo. And I'm totally willing to move to Boston.

Status Quo

2007-09-07T10:53:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was a strange day. I had started out writing a piece about how I was generally pretty happy with the way things are going in my life. That I've made peace with the fact that The Head doesn't seem to know what he's doing, and that I'm happy with The Boy and how things are going.

And then The Boy blew me off so he could go fuck someone else.

Except I'm not entirely sure that he did. I'm about 97% sure that's what happened, but the most I've heard from him since I called him on it all I got was a text message saying he's a jerk and in a bad mood.

I'm not even really sure what's going on right now, but I know what's going on in my own mind. I'm pissed off, and I'm hurt, but I'm not broken over it. It's a strange feeling.

On one hand, I know that I've been exceptionally busy lately. And the plans that we had for last night were made over a week ago, and in between then and now he and I have both had work, and other dates, and he was on a 3 day vacation earlier in the week. If I had to lay odds, I'd guess that last night he simply forgot that we had made plans, and instead of owning up to that, he decided to... hell, get out of it? I don't know what the last part of that is. But if he had simply admitted to it, said that he forgot and that he'd make it up to me later, I would have been pissed, but would have understood.

On the other hand, he and I have been together for over a year and a half now. I'm still never sure what the status of our relationship is (are we a couple? Is he my boyfriend? Friends with benefits? None of the above?) but there's something there. We've weathered a lot of drama and bullshit, his crazy ex, my own depression, and just the realities of life. If he can't trust me enough to just tell me the truth when I ask for it, do I want to keep him around?

Here's the point of all this: A year ago, I would have threatened to break up with him, I would have cried all night or gone out and drank way too much. This kind of thing would have been "the end of it" for me. But now, now is different. For better or worse I am in this for the long haul. The quality of the anger is different. I'm mad because after everything, he should have known that he could trust me. I'm mad because he won't talk to me about this. I'm mad because he's leaving me in the dark, and all I really want is to know what the hell happened.

I love that cockbite. I really do. And I think, in his own way, he loves me too. I think he fucked up, and is embarrassed about it, and is trying to save face. Not really sure. Either way, I'm headed over to his place before I go to work and we're going to talk about this.

Muk could use some advice...

2007-09-04T08:09:00.000-06:00

A couple of years ago, I ran into this dude (let's call him Skippy) who was peripheral to my group of college friends. At one point we got drunk and made out. From this, he decided we must pursue a relationship. Natch, right? Every boy I kiss then wants to marry me the next week. But I realized I kissed a TOTAL frog.

He came to DC to visit me once, and it was a disaster. The man opened up my fridge and dumped out my coffee (I keep iced coffee in the fridge) because keeping cold coffee is "gross." I'm already worried at this point. If he is exercizing dictatorial control over the contents of my icebox, I can only imagine how much worse this gets.

All he brought to wear were khaki shorts and shirts adverizing pubs. And yet. He insisted on going "someplace fancy" for dinner. Now, I'm not a restaurant snob or a clothes snob or anything? But I also get rather embarassed getting thrown out of the nice places (and they WILL do that here) for not meeting dress code. I also wasn't feeling like being the skippies at the punk clubs, so we went someplace fairly mediocre for dinner. And he whined the whole time about how it wasn't fancy steak.

Then, we went to a party at my friends' place. At one point, I bummed a smoke from my one friend and then he was all sulky on the subway on the way home. Now, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's the "I'll be quiet as a psychopath and let YOU figure out what you did wrong" treatment. Finally, I wheedled out of him that he was upset becuase I was "being obnoxious." Turns out, he was Really Mad At Me for smoking. Okay, I can see being turned off, maybe a little annoyed, possibly even a tad patronizing under the guise of worrying about my health. But no. He was MAD at me. A thousand alarm bells went off and I unceremonially dumped him right there. I almost left him to fend for himself alone in the subway. In the end, I babysat him the rest of the weekend until his plane came.

Later, he apologizes. He wants to be friends. Occassionally we correspond. He was recently dating a chick that dumped him and I expressed condolences. Then he called me and we talked civilly for a while. Suddenly, he decides that we should start dating again. Now he wants to come visit me again in DC.

I know that most girls would say "no, I'm washing my hair that weekend" and dude would get the hint. Knowing my track record, I think I need to come up with something more compelling, or I'll end up with another stalker.

So, do I lie? For sanity's sake? Tell the whole truth? Tell part of the truth?
I pretty much suck at lying and it never works anyway. But I've had this mail from him in my inbox since Thursday and I've just chickened out of responding.

From Muk: Please be interesting

2007-09-02T10:28:00.000-06:00

There has been something similar between a few of the people who have been asking me out lately. And that similarity is: nothing.

No, this isn't a clever Zen koan.

These guys who are interested in me lately seem to be fine people. Nothing wrong with them. Also, nothing right.

Maybe unfairly, I am finding it a little infuriating that they expect me to date them but have absolutely nothing to offer me.

They're all extradinarily average. No projects, no special intellectual pursuits, no athletic accomlishments, no professional accomplishments, and nothing in common with me. To borrow a Miss M-ism, they just have a giant girlfriend hole, and here I am a cute and friendly girl. Please! Come fill my girlfriend hole now, thanks!

I'm sorry, but part of the reason you date someone is to learn and grow and exerience more of life. Or to experience the things you like more richly. The coolest thing is when you meet someone who inspires you - because they have really amazing friends or because they know everything about Tibetan Buddhism or because they love building bicycles or because they are a human rights lawyer, or read really great books that they then want to discuss with you.

If I can't date someone who really adds color to my life, I can do that on my own. As a young pup, I had a habit of dating excruciatingly boring people and then sacrificing the time I would have spent building or exploring or learning. I ended up wasting it all watching teevee and sometimes going to the mall with Boring McSitsalot.

U and Me

2007-08-28T14:58:00.000-06:00

That's "assume," for those that don't know the old saying. And assumption is the other side of The Girlfriend Hole.

Random Girl and I were talking about assumptions over the weekend, and I felt the need to write more about it. We were discussing her new beau, and how well they get along compared to the other guy she had started to see a few weeks ago. Things didn't click with the old guy, but with the beau it's as if they had known each other for ages. Which isn't a bad thing, and I've had my share of relationships like that in the past as well. You meet, your eyes lock, and suddenly your lives are forever entwined. Love at first sight, or at least first fuck.

I've started to take a stand against that kind of relationship building recently though, largely in part of aforementioned Girlfriend Hole issue. That love at first sight (L@FS) feels great, but if you don't take the time to actually get to know the person, you're going to be screwed. But Miss M, it feels like we know each other so well! It's never been like this before! True, but just because it feels like you know each other so well doesn't mean you actually do.

I'm going to delve into my personal history for a moment and talk about my engagement. When I was a young thing, 19, I had met the most wonderful and amazing guy ever. Sure, he was 7 years older than I was, and yes, we disagreed on so many important things, like drinking, smoking, swearing, and eating meat (I'm for them, he's against them) but when we met it was like a thunderbolt hit us both. Amazing.

Flash-forward two and a half years. We're living together in a house that he bought, but I'm paying for since he is now unemployed, we've stopped having sex, and we can barely stand to be in the same room for more than 5 minutes at a time. But we knew each other so well...

It's not that I'm against chemistry, not at all. And most of that L@FS thing is just pure and simple chemistry. I'm mostly against the idea of dumping all rational sense and going for all chemistry.

How's this for a new rule: Don't Be Stupid. Hey, while the chemistry is great, does he have a job? Shower regularly? Terribly messed up family life? Willing to be honest and attentive? What are his politics like? Thoughts on kids? Nice ass? Cool with tattoos? Likes beef?

*sigh* This newer, saner dating that I'm trying seems to be good for me, but surely is lacking in some of the fun.

The Girlfriend Hole

2007-08-24T10:32:00.000-06:00

You know, that title sounds a little pornographic, doesn't it?

Here's a little thing I've noticed over the last few months; the Girlfriend Hole. You know that friend that had a long term girlfriend and they recently broke up? Know how he often stops by your place or calls in the evenings to "see what's going on?" He's got a girlfriend hole.

That guy that you know that never really seems to do anything, but the second he starts dating someone he gets more interesting? He's got a girlfriend hole.

And do you notice that while the girls keep changing, they're all essentially the same person? The same type of girl? They all seem to favor Abercrombie shirts and drink Arbor Mist. They seem to have much the same hair style, and while some favor glasses and some favor contacts they seem to have the same look in their eyes? Plug for the girlfriend hole.

There seems to be a whole class of men out there that don't really seem to come alive until they have some kind of counterpart, like there's something vital missing from their lives. As a friend of someone with a girlfriend hole, it just gets annoying. I'll be damned if I can remember that this weeks special is Tiffany instead of Tina, but when you're expected to fill that hole, it becomes all the more apparent.

"Why don't we go the Fringe Festival?"

"What? No, you know, I've never done indie theater before. Jessica always preferred Michael Bay movies."

"Oh. Well. How bout we go to breakfast at the Birchwood tomorrow?"

"Nah, Shelly introduced me to some wicked good stuffed crepes at IHOP. How bout that?"

"I guess IHOP will be okay. I'll wear the new shirt I made!"

"Yeah, that's nice. You know, Katie had an awesome shirt from Old Navy. How bout I buy it for you as a gift?"

Like a jigsaw puzzle with a few missing pieces, they have an emptiness to them that just seems to be waiting for someone to fill. And like an impatient nine year old, if the piece at hand doesn't seem to fit, they'll carefully arrange it so it almost fits then pound the living shit out of it until it squeezes into the larger whole. Look Ma, all done! Just ignore the frayed edges around Snoopy's head.

Muk comes home

2007-08-22T16:44:00.000-06:00

Not sure how to delete posts, so I just deleted the content of this one. Sorry all.

Not My Blog

2007-08-16T17:41:00.000-06:00

Linda wrote in to ask

Hi,

Am curious? Are you the same writer for "The Incredible Dating Adventures of Alice? Some of the characters like "curly" is in this one too!!

Nope, not my blog! I have trouble enough keeping up with this one, let alone writing a second blog about my dating habits. However, Alice seems like my kind of person, so if you ever feel the need for more dating stories, she's now in the links on the right hand of the page.

Alice, how bout a link back for a dating soul sistah?

Almost Romantic

2007-08-16T06:43:00.000-06:00

We stood outside in my garage watching the rain come down, the Head and I. Lightning rolled across the sky, the thunder boomed, and the skies were open. His hand found mine in the dark, and we sat there giddy and punch drunk.

It had been a good night so far; we had met at my favorite bar, chatted with the bartender and ate some of the finest bar burgers in the whole of Minneapolis while drinking cheap beer. We came back to my place to watch a movie, but it really ended up as background noise to our conversation. Then the storm that was promised all night broke, and we ended up in the garage to watch it.

"Head," I said as the storm raged, "you met me at a strange time in my life." (I think I stole that line from Fight Club.) "Things are strange and complex, and you might just be in for a whole world of heart ache, so it might be best to just get out now."

Head looked me right in the eye and considered me for a moment. "Miss M, you amaze me," he said. And then he kissed me. One of those glorious kisses that you cherish for all times. The slow and passionate variety that romance writers try so hard to capture, but if you've never been kissed like that, it's useless to try. "Everything about you amazes me."

We watched as the storm petered out and I sent him on his way; I had to work early the next morning. I walked back into my house in something of a daze, I hadn't been expecting something like this to happen.

I change into jammies, and stop in the bathroom, and consider my own reflection. What an amazing night! I smile. I stop.

I had had a piece of lettuce from my burger stuck in my teeth the whole night.

Comedy. You can't make this shit up.

Rest Area 5 Miles

2007-08-12T20:53:00.000-06:00

Last Thursday, I had yet another first date. I'd met the guy off of *popular social networking site*. We'd traded several pleasant and well thought out e-mails, and chatted online a few times, and he seemed like a great guy. Given my recent history with guys that seem great on paper I wasn't that jazzed about the whole thing. We're going to call him The Head. I need to come up with some better nicknames.

The Head and I arranged to meet for breakfast on Thursday. I was running late. Like, an hour late. And I didn't have his number, so I couldn't call him to let him know I was late. Not the best way to make an impression. Thankfully, he was still waiting for me at the restaurant, and hadn't really noticed I was late, since he'd been working on the crossword. We split an order of pancakes, had some good conversation, went on a walk. I was impressed at the conversation; it came easily, and was of real meaning without being overly deep for a first date. On our walk, we stopped by some great little places in Uptown and chatted more. It was a good time.

We have plans for a second date tomorrow, and things are looking good. He's into me, without being weird or clingy. He's called me once or twice since the first date to chat briefly without making it seem forced or weird. I like that.

But, there's always a but. This time, it's not the guy, this time it's me. See, I haven't been actively looking for a date since July figuring that I would let the dates come to me. I think the combination of the crotch rot and breaking up with Curly, things hit me harder than maybe I let even myself realize. A friend recently commented that he's seen me better, and wondered if I'd given up on looking pretty. Ouch. Maybe things haven't been as good for me as I'd thought.

I think I have a plan to get over this hump. I'm going to start living the life I want, and if The Head fits into it, he's more than welcome to come along for the ride. If he's not interested in coming along, well, we'll drop him off at the next rest area on the highway of life. He can hitch-hike from there, right?

So, Tuesday morning, we'll see how this leg of the trip goes.

So Busy, Going Crazy

2007-08-12T18:07:00.000-06:00

I just started a new job, and have barely had time to check my e-mail let alone blog for a while. It's good to be busy though. There will be regular updates this week, once I get my schedule settled down again.

Bloop

2007-08-07T07:33:00.000-06:00

Hey cats and kittens, it's Miss M. Today I'd like you all to meet Pants, a good friend and witness to many of my bad dating talents. Months ago, when this blog first started, I asked her to help out from time to time, and while I'm on quasi-hiatus she'll be filling in from time to time. Thanks Pants, and I'm looking forward to reading more!

-Miss M.

Hey all, I'm the friend that Miss M calls 'Pants', so I'll go with that nickname here. I figure I'll entertain you guys while there's a first date lull of sorts around here. While a LOT of my life is probably comedy gold (mostly because I'm a klutz with no tact and questionable social skills), my dating life hasn't really been comedy in a while, as I kinda ended up with a really rad boy with lotsa funny tattoos.

I know most of you don't read this blog for happy endings of this sort, but hell... here's a story that sorta says even if your first couple 'dates' go incredibly crappily, it might work out for a while...

So anyhoo, I got to the gym quite a bit in the winter-- even when I'm not getting paid to teach indoor group cycling. Being that this is a frozen tundra, and I'm happiest when it's sunny and warm (above 40 degree F) out, I need to keep my endorphin levels up in the winter. There's this boy with psycho eyes and lotsa tattoos who also goes to the gym a lot. He talks to me, so I give him my number, and we decide to meet at a bar, with exceptionally bad cell phone reception, later that week. I go to this bar with a friend who I hadn't seen in forever caught up with her. Good times. But tattooed boy flaked, because his job was busy. Whatever.

I run into him again at the gym on a Sunday... and I teach my 2 hour cycling endurance class with lotsa punk rawk, and he does his work out. We decide to wander to Uptown for food and cd shopping. Food the Uptown grill is always greasy goodness and he picks out some pretty decent CD's. All is well, especially since good music taste is a MAJOR thing for me. Afterwards, we can go chill and hang at my condo for a while. At this point, I'm tired and on a LOT of decongestants and cold meds. So we veg out in front of the tube, and I totally pass out on him. After a bit of that, I drop him off at his apartment with a quick smooch. Figured nothing would come of that...

But fast forward to next Sunday later. It was the Sunday after Stupor Bowl IX, which I had just raced, and I had a spin class to teach. I woke up still out of sorts from the day before, which involved several strong special cookies, because dinner at the bar took forever to arrive. Needless to say, I was still under the influence. Unfortunately, a lot of mocking monkeys, including the tattooed boy showed up for the class. Fortunately, the class went well and quickly for a 2 hour class on the bike with tattooed boy and Big S serenading one of my other regulars with an a capella version of a Peter, Paul, and Mary song. Sometime during class, I had quoted Half Baked.. because "Dang. Someone needs to do their shirt laundry...", in reference to my weird odor. Tattooed boy offered to shower with me. So... afterwards, I took him up on the offer and dragged him home with me.

And, it takes me a while after that Sunday to realize he has no phone. Which is why he didn't leave a number when he flaked on me. I chalk that up a minor quibbling, funny detail... and it's all good from then on. Aside from other odd funny details.. but other posts ahead.

Here We Go Again

2007-08-06T08:33:00.000-06:00

I feel like I've been on something of a dating hiatus for a while. I haven't felt the pressing desire to go out on a first date in ages (outside of the Snork, I don't know what the hell was up with that.) but I've also sorta been okay with that. I guess I'm feeling a little jaded.

Of course, this doesn't mean that I don't still have an ear to the ground. It becomes a habit, like smoking. Bad for you, and not really accepted in polite company, but oh so nice after a long day.

So when I went to go check my inbox on *popular social networking site* and found a message from a guy that seemed somewhat interesting, it was a little exciting. Until I read it and saw this:

I have to tell you that I am absolutely intrigued by you. You are truly a rare creature, the type of woman who is genuinely, completely attractive to me by every aspect of your being that I’ve been able to uncover.

Damnit. What if I don't want to be intriguing? Can I settle for being simply mysterious, or do I have an obligation to ensorcel him? Sweet tap-dancing deities, that's a lot of hype to live up to.

Really what it is is the last line "that I've been able to uncover." I do have a fairly well maintained profile on *popular social networking site* so I guess there is a bit of me there to uncover, but by no means all of me. So what happens when I'm flesh and blood real person? *sigh*

Right, I'm being mopey. The guy was trying to be nice, and flattering, which is a somewhat nice change. I shouldn't be so hard on him, or read to much in a simple internet missive. I just wish he hadn't used those particular words.

No.

2007-08-03T15:29:00.000-06:00

It's a complete sentence. If I ever have a kid, I'm going to try to make sure it is his or her first word.

I have been thinking about it in the dating context quite a bit lately. Some whacko I have barely ever talked to has declared his love for me on World of Warcraft, and fills my little screen with love notes whenever I want to play video games. One of my work contacts has been e-mailing me increasingly personal e-mails and signing them Love Ya. (This is a man I've been having to occassionally smack down for the past five years.) Pushy isn't getting the boundary thing at all, and I'm now frankly a little scared to break up with him because he's so overinvested. A creepy guy from another office across the street from me seems to be whereever I go, lurking and staring. He's sent emissaries to ask me out, but won't do the deed directly. I've told the emissaries no, but yet he lurks. And of course there is my stalker HS BF.

I'm generally a pretty straightforward girl. (Unless it's clear you're trying to pick a fight with me. Then I lie and pretend to agree unless I actually have to defend a position for practical reasons. I argue for a living, so I rarely do it in real life if I can avoid it.) In dating, after a long period of just going along with shit I didn't want just because I didn't have the courage to have to be so blunt, I have learned to give people a firm "no." Sadly, still, too many people tend to have one of two reactions to blunt rejection: 1 - ignore that I said no, or 2 - get hostile.

Personally, I find rejection a little embarrasing. When faced with it, I do what I can to distance myself from that situation in time and space. I don't try to hold on to a job where I'm not appreciated and I really don't try to cling to a clearly one-way relationship. Why would anyone?

Is it a sense of entitlement? A complete lack of self-respect? Maybe just total ignorance. Why can't NO just mean NO? Furthermore, it really shouldn't even have to get to out-and-out rejection. I mean, when someone isn't interested in me, I tend to notice. What with their lack of returning phone calls, or the fact that they aren't looking at me the same way anymore. How can people imagine chemistry with a wall? Who are these people and why don't they want to be liked BACK? And if they LURVE me so much, why don't they at least respect my freaking wishes?

Bridges

2007-08-02T12:31:00.000-06:00

Me and mine are all okay, and the city soldiers on. I was in a gas station getting a Slurpee when one of the employees said "Oh my God, a bridge collapsed!" Less than five seconds later my mother was on the phone with me making sure I was okay.

Others will have better things to say about the humanity and the fear that can come from something like this. I'm sure in the next few days we'll hear a lot about failing infrastructure and the recent culture of fear, the grief of families and friends and plans for rebuilding this vital part of the city that I call home.

But this is a blog about dating. How does one relate a bridge collapsing and bad dates? Thankfully, my friend Mr. F had the answer. Reprinted is a conversation he had with a woman he recently started dating. We'll call her Terrible T.

Mr. F:

I've decided to make my Friday evening available if you would like to take advantage of that. Saturday is still available, too. Sundays I like to rest. And Mondays, I've never gotten the hang of, anyway.

About the I-35W collapse - It's fascinating to hear 7 structural engineers speculate on it. ...in my office. Good times.

Terrible T:

"good times"???

Mr. F:

I'm not a typical engineer - I can get my geek on when it comes to some things, but I also see the human-side and the reality-is-chaotic-side of things. But hearing engineer speculate can be amusing in the same way that hearing anyone who has a narrow view of the world speculate can be interesing.(sic)

Terrible T:

Well I'm glad to hear that people dying and our city being majorly (sic) fucked up for years to come offers you another way to amuse yourself.

Don't contact me ever again.

See, if you try hard enough, you can make anything connect to anything else.

Heartfelt condolences to the people that were hurt and to their families as well. You're all in our thoughts today.

Tourists

2007-07-29T08:10:00.000-06:00

Oh Snork- what a bad two dates those were. Actually, I take that back, the first date was a 6 out of ten, but I think we'd have to find a whole new kind of math to describe how piss poor the second date was.

I was reading back through the pro/con that I did earlier this week, and there's still a feeling that the guy might not be that bad, maybe I should call him back for a third date, but then the part of my brain that's more rational kicked in and started kicking the other parts of my brain with steel toed boots. There might not be words to tell you why this would be a bad idea, but I'm a blogger, dammit, so I'm going to try.

I think the problem is that the guy was a tourist. My friend Emma used the term, and in dating it means much the same as any other usage: The guy came to see the sights, take a few pictures, and get some interesting stories to share with the guys back home.

You ever have that friend that once, in college went on a date with "that black chick," and now will bring that up every so often to show how cosmopolitan he is? "Man, when I was dating that black chick, we went to this bar. That was cool." Substitute "Jewish" or "Pagan" or "hippie" or "bi-chick" or "goth girl" or any other non-standard dating partner for your average white guy, and you've got the idea.

And that's how it goes. Snork likes everything about me, except that I cut my own hair, and dye it unnatural colors, he didn't like my tattoos (actually laughed at one of them, "Why did you get that?") he didn't like the way I dressed, the music I listen to, the books I read, the movies I watch, or really anything about me at all. But just wait until I meet his brothers/friends/parents etc. etc. Look how edgy he is by proxy!

The hell of it is, I'm not even all that edgy looking. It's like he was going to take a vacation in Paris, but only got as far as Detroit before the culture shock got him.

Or, this could be a case of God cursing us with what we wish for. Either way, I think the time has come to re-evaluate the criteria that I have.

Pushy

2007-07-28T20:50:00.000-06:00

I have a list of things that scare the ever-loving hell out of me. A new boy, Pushy, seems to have a knack for hitting them. The problem is, they are things that can easily be justified as innocent, so I'm not sure if I'm being fair.

The cardinal sin is mentioning love or marriage or kids in the first month. I mean, I want a guy to be really into me. But where's the middle ground between not being able to plan more than 2 days out and having to pick out china patterns on the third date?

Pushy has also made requests about what I should wear. I'm 32, I know how to dress myself, thanks. I know my clothes look good on me, that's why I bought them. But Pushy's insistence that I wear the black tank top tells me that maybe he doesn't trust me to pick out something equally flattering every day. I mean, it's nice to compliment a girl on what she's wearing. Compliments are not the same as INSTRUCTIONS.

But the very very scariest thing? Every time I express minor annoyance at anything, he tells me I'm "wound up" and maybe I just need a backrub. I know that's supposed to sound like a nice thing, but wait, are we expecting me to always be little miss Suzy Sunshine, even when I have reasonable cause to be annoyed about something? Why is it so unladylike to complain about normal stuff? My phone broke, it took a whole week to replace - for really stupid reasons, my bill was off, and about 8 things went wrong at work all on the same day. I realized it raised my hackles because this is a thing that a psychopath I dated about a year ago used to do to me - make me think that I'm not justified in having frustration or negative feelings. The long term strategy, for the psychopath, was to make me worry that I'm not rational. To make me not trust my feelings. Makes a girl easier to manipulate, you know. If he were to merely offer a backrub because I'm justifiably upset, it would be a whole different thing that, well, pathologizing my annoyance as a personal problem.

He's also a little too eager to learn about all my troubles, insecurities and weaknesses - even after knowing the one thing he needs to know in that regard - I've been diagnosed with PTSD from that past crap relationship. A quick google search should tell him that I can't (and SHOULDN'T) get all immediately trusting of new people. Yet, he assures me that he's not a bad guy. I keep trying to explain to him what rotten logic that is. A bad guy isn't going to tell me he's a bad guy. Therefore, words are completely pointless and yes, if you want to date me, you better be willing to like, chill the fuck out and not rent the u-haul two weeks into dating.

Which actually takes me back to wondering if I'm overreacting. I mean, not every over-enthusiastic guy is actually a psychopath trying to get you hooked so he can completely screw you over. Is it worth it, though, to take that kind of chance?

Never Dating A Square Again.

2007-07-27T11:23:00.001-06:00

The Snork is history. Oh lords. The sex was fantastic, but every second I spent with that man set my teeth on edge. Simply miserable.

Two things I have learned from this:

1.) Don't have a lot to drink before a first date. People are far more interesting and cute when I am drunk.

2.) Don't have a lot to drink after a bad date. I think my head is going to explode.

I'll have more later, I need to crawl in bed and be sick for a while.

Now What?

2007-07-26T07:38:00.000-06:00

I'd posted a while back about getting back in the saddle and starting to date again, and Tuesday night, I did just that. Ape ended up disappearing, which is fine with me, I don't want to have to convince anyone that I'm not scary. I had updated my profile on *popular social networking site* and just as I was logging out, I noticed a message from someone I had never noticed before on *popular social networking site*. We'll call him The Snork. We chat for a while, and he suggests that we maybe should get together and have a beer. He's free tonight, how 'bout me?

Now, I'm in this very odd place. I'm not quite sure what to do with The Snork. On paper, he's damn good, but I don't know. I'm afraid that I'm over-thinking things or not seeing the forest for the trees. Let's go to the Pro/Con:

Pro: He brought me flowers on the first date.

Con: He was an hour late, without a phone call on the first date.

Pro: He is very tall. Much taller than I. And athletic too.

Con: His butt isn't so cute. My friend Pants says that a good butt can make up for many sins, and I tend to agree.

Pro: He's very smart, and is proud of it. Even has a degree in corporate finance (with a minor in women's studies).

Con: He spent 15 minutes trying to explain the international bond market to me. It's not that I don't care about the international bond market, but not really first date material.

Pro: Herpes isn't a deal breaker for him. He's totally cool with it.

Con: He makes weird humming noises during sex. Not like autistic weird noises, or as Emma put it the "I'm fucking you, but in my mind jerking off to Hustler" nosies, just the absent minded noises of someone who's seen too much porn and thinks that it's sexy to be muttering "yeah, you like that?" during the act.

Pro: He wants to get married and have kids some day.

Con: He's 31, five months out of a very intense and serious relationship, and has just started dating again. He feels that we have an instant connection, and that this could be great. What do I think about monogamy?

Pro: He does come from good people. Old school feminists, gay rights advocates, well spoken, well educated, they care about their kids, and very respectable.

Con: He's living in his parents attic while he's apartment hunting.

Pro: He believes in the power of being goofy, and that we don't always have to be serious about everything.

Con: I was smoking a cigarette in my own car, with the windows down as we were driving to breakfast, and instead of asking me politely to put the smoke out because it bothered him, he pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose. Are we 12 now?

Pro: He's very affectionate. Likes holding hands, snuggling, and otherwise being cute.

Con: He was groping my tits in the restaurant at nine in the morning while I'm trying to drink my tea. He also tried to snuggle me while I was driving my manual transmission car in morning rush hour on surface streets.

I'm thinking I'm overthinking this. Sometimes it takes a while to decide what you think of a guy; I first went out on a date with Curly a full year before the Curly Saga and hadn't realized then that he was a good guy. The Snork and I have plans tonight, so we'll see if this is just first date jitters gone awry, or if I'm still getting the vibe from him as time goes one.

* * *

Quick response to Northern Debater on the post You're Great, But Let's Just Be Friends

His question:

Do you have any advice to avoid this? Perhaps even from the outset since people know whether they want to date /sleep with someone or not, what's worked on you to avoid the lets just be friends line?

Easy. Think about how you treat your other friends, especially friends of the same gender. Do you ever look deep into their eyes and say "Wow, you really are awesome." No? That's because a fellow guy would punch you in the face if you did that, or at least wonder if you're fishing for some man on man action. The Let's Be Friends phenomenon seems to take place mostly when a.) you have a "connection" with someone that you are otherwise find physically unattractive or b.) when you really do just want to be friends with someone who's interested in you and you don't know how to tell them no without hurting their feelings.

Solution: Just be friends. Look to your other friendships as examples. Do you ever feel a need to declare to your friends "We are Just Friends!" You don't need to go above and beyond, or force anything. If being friends works, it works. If you have to force it for any reason, don't bother.

You're Great, But Let's Just Be Friends

2007-07-24T07:25:00.001-06:00

Note: This isn't about any one particular person, and it shouldn't be read in that light. Miss M is in a pissy mood, and everyone is a target.

I don't know that there's a more condescending sentence in the English language. Let's just be friends, my ass.

You hear that phrase a lot during dating. Hey, I don't want to go out with you. We're already friends, but I don't like you like that. We've been dating for a while, but I think I can do better. So long, and thanks for all the oral sex!

On second thought, worse than that is the phrase "You're a great gal..." Hey, I know I'm great. I read, I think about things, I'm politically active, I make things, I'm an above average cook, I like to dance even if I'm not that great at it, I'm kind, caring, empathetic, and I can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. Modest too. I'm not just great, I'm fan-fucking-tastic. Your mother wishes you would end up with a girl like me, and your friends at the bar will be impressed at the amount of whiskey I can put away.

Nine times out of ten, it's because I'm not the physical type they think they deserve. I am, in a word, Amazonian. Think Xena, Warrior Princess, and you've got an idea. I'm tall, 5'10", which is taller than most guys, and solidly built. This is not to say I'm fat, but if you ran into me in a mosh pit, you'd know you hit something. I dated a boy for a while who loved that about me. He claimed that he envisioned me like some sort of Amazon Goddess, clad in a fur and chain mail bikini, smeared with blood holding a battle axe to the sky in triumph as a pile of my dead and bloodied enemies lie at my feet. Shame he had to move away, that's a guy you want to keep around.

Look, I'm never going to be waifish, but I will continue to be great, and I'm perfectly happy with that. If I could trade being great for conventionally pretty, I wouldn't, because pretty will fade in 10 years, but I'll still be able to make an awesome roast and fix the drywall even if I look like a troll. And I'll still be able to make you smile and make silly jokes even when I have to wear Coke bottle glasses and my tits are around my knees. I will still be fan-fucking-tastic. Will you?

So, no. I don't really want to be just friends. Let's just be friends is a cop out, a way of trying not to be mean. Really, what is is slow torture. You think I'm ugly, why the fuck do I want to spend time with you? And every time I see you, I think that you think I'm ugly. I will continue to be friendly, sure, because I'm gracious and kind, but you can take your "I can do better" attitude and shove it up your hypocritical ass.

P.S. I bet your new girlfriend has herpes too, but she won't tell you about it.

*whew* That was ranty, wasn't it?

100 Posts!

2007-07-23T08:20:00.000-06:00

Just in time for our 100th post, some annoying animated gifs!

Before anything else, I want to say thanks to you, the readers out there. I started this blog as a way of keeping myself sane while slogging through the single life, but you guys make it worth while. Thanks everyone, ya'll rawk! Have a gif!

My very first post was on February 18th, and Muk and I thought it would be fun to take a look at things that we've learned in the last 155 days.

Things I've Learned by Muk

1 - Trying to talk someone out of breaking up with you is like trying to get Bai Ling to dress like Sandra Day O'Connor. Or vice-versa. Either way, it is worse for the fabric of the universe than washing silk in Hot.

2 - Don't date drummers. (Okay, this has been a rule of mine since I was 16 and yet I STILL KEEP BREAKING IT, when now I am 16 x 2.)

3 - The only normal people are just people you haven't gotten to know very well.

4 - Something About Mary was probably actually a documentary, come to think of it.

5 - Too many men seem to think that their penis is a tiny stepping stool that gets them younger, hotter, richer dates who really ought to be making pot pies while wearing a bikini. Who also can, of course, win eating contests while still fitting into a size six. The same women who can ride in a convertible with the top down without getting their hair messed up - hair which is of course long and lustrous because only dykes have short hair and... wait, am I ranting?

6 - One of the key characteristics of psychopathy is glib and superficial charm.

7 - Your guts are way smarter than your brains, most of the time.

8 - Much like the ape at the zoo, it's probably not a good idea to taunt the Crazy Ones.

9 - Dating deserves its very own DSM.

10 - The odds that your Craigslist date is hotter IRL than Jack Daniels is roughly 1 : 934

Things I've Learned by Miss M

1 - Dating sucks.

2 - Good friends are invaluable. There's nothing better than sitting in a friends kitchen, drinking a beer, and trying to exactly replicate the pretentious assholery of your last bad date. Something else I've learned: Beer coming out your nose hurts.

3 - Great people are everywhere, but they just might not be great for you.

4 - Take your mother's advice with a grain of salt. I love my mother, and could ask her anything, but there are just some things you don't want to tell her. I think that if she found out about some things, it would just break her heart.

5 - The kind of guy that wants you isn't always the kind of guy that you want. And vice versa.

6 - Hang over cure: Take Advil before you pass out, and make sure to drink lots of water. Simple, but effective, and most surely indispensible.

7 - Always bring cash. Always always. Even if the guy says he's going to pick up the check, always bring cash. If you need to run fast, you can always throw it down and gun it for the door. If nothing else, you can use it to buy ice cream after words.

8 - Don't tell guys about your blog on the first date. Or ever, really. It makes them start to act weird.

9 - Sometimes life just sucks. That's the way it is. You can cry in your beer, or make a go of it. Partial answers still get partial credit.

10 - Bad dates are everywhere. You can't get away from them. You can still have bad dates even with a great guy, but that doesn't make it the end of things.

And the most important lesson I've learned: Hope is more important that you think. Having it makes the difference between an okay date and a great date, or laughing off a bad one and crying in your room. Keep it, treasure it, nurture it, and behold it. You can't have enough of it.

More bad gifs:

So, what will the next 100 posts bring us? I guess we'll find out!

I Love/Hate Women

2007-07-17T23:45:00.000-06:00

Let's start out by saying this: I like girls. Always have, probably always will. I just don't date women very often because women are crazy.

I say this as a woman and a feminist, but women are psychotic to date. Some days, I wonder how men put up with us. The make-up, the clothes, the hormones, the weird jealousies, the over-thinking everything; just about everything that makes women attractive also makes us intensely insane.

The last few weeks I've been seeing this girl off and on. I say off and on because I have no freaking clue what the hell is going on. One day Special K wants nothing more than to spend time with me, the next she won't answer her phone. One moment she wants to cuddle and be cute, then she blows me off. She changes her mind at the last minute, if you can even get her to commit to something at all. Argh.

Part of this could be her age; she is, after all, only 21. I feel like cradle robber just admitting that. Sure, I'm only twenty*mumblecough* but there's a big difference between being in your early-mid-twenties and 21. Special K is very smart, we have the same taste in books, and she's very cute to boot. (Call me shallow, but I like blondes.)

She blew me off for the last time that I'm putting up with last week. There were plans to go out of town, but she decided not to go, pointing out that she had never actually agreed to go, so she wasn't really canceling on me. That's how I ended up in Bancroft, Iowa. Frustrated, I just left with Boy because I need to get the hell out of the city.

I would love to tell her that she's blown me off one time too many, but she won't return my calls. Or text messages, or e-mails. I guess I could get a sky writer to get the message to her, send a telegram, get the pony express or rent a bill board, but I think that might just take me from crazy into straight-out, total and complete nuttyville.

This could just be that I have bad taste in women, and should stop dating people younger and flakier than I, but I'm not sure. Every time, without fail, that I have given into my desire for the fairer gender, the crazy comes out in full force. It's something that seems to hold true with most other gals I know that also date women; we're all just insane.

So, men make me crazy, women are crazy, and I shouldn't date a bottle of whiskey. Thank the gods for Smitten Kitten in the meanwhile.

Home Again

2007-07-17T10:51:00.000-06:00

I got back on Sunday, and while I was on the road, I got a call from my friend Mr. F. He's been going through a fairly painful break up recently, something that's been going on behind the scenes here at Dating Central. He had a bunch of house work to be done, and could I help him out?

There's something about other peoples break ups (O.P.B-U) that can be very draining. I like Mr. F, he's a good friend, but at the same time, his now ex was all wrong for him, something that his friends have long known. "Mr F, she's kinda stupid. And she's not very nice to you." "But I love her!"

The urge to say "I told you so" is overwhelming, but I'm too nice to say it, and I know my friend doesn't need to hear it.

I always think that the best litmus test for any relationship is how well the SO gets along with your friends. That should have been a flashing red light accompanied with sirens for Mr. F; ex-Ms F generally despised his friends, and hated to have him around her friends. How can you plan a life together when you're not really part of each others lives? I recall one night when Mr. F had called me up to go out for a beer at our favorite watering hole because the now ex Ms. F was going to be hosting a birthday party for her former roommate at the apartment they used to share. She was embarrassed by Mr. F, feeling that he was "too crude" to be around her apparently more artistic and sensitive friends. We drank, and he groused, but went back home to the "love of his life" at the end of the night.

I would go on a thousand bad dates before I would resign myself to something like that. Hell, I'm almost at a thousand anyhow, and I still think I'm ahead of the game.

I guess I'm mostly amazed at the things people will tolerate from the people that they claim to love and the people that claim to love them. I'm a patient woman, but I demand more respect than that.

More than anything else, the best advice I could ever give when it comes to dating is that you should find someone that treats you right. What right is varies from person to person, sure, but you should never waste your time on someone that's going to treat you like second best. If you're not getting what you want, and it's not going to change, all the love in the world can't fix it. It just makes you bitter and jaded in the end.

Anyhow, time for me to work on my own damn house.

Vacation

2007-07-14T15:18:00.000-06:00

Right now, I'm in Bancroft, Iowa. Nice little town. Boy's brother is going to be deployed fairly soon, and they're having a going away party for him.

Boy and I have been seeing each other for about a year and a half now, but never seriously. We've somehow managed to reach that "old couple" stage without ever having really been an official couple. Odd, but comforting in it's own way.

Point is, it's nice to have some time away. I spent most of yesterday hanging out, reading a book, while some very cute kittens played with my hair and napped on my lap. Gives me some time to sit back, relax, and sort of evaluate things with some time and distance.

We went out drinking the other night with Boy's siblings, and somewhere around whiskey sour #6, or possibly #7, I started thinking about Curly. *sigh* I still miss the monkey; I really wanted that to turn out better than it did.

I'm finding the whole missing him thing to be kind of odd. For a long while, I had the post-break-up down to a science, and I've never really been one to spend too long pining over anyone. Hell, look at Howard, that was over and done with pretty quick. I think this is the first time I've really missed anyone after a break up in years.

Anyhow. I'm starting to depress myself on that one.

I'll be back in Minneapolis sometime on Sunday, and ready to return to the grind when that happens. Muk and I have a fantastic plan for our 100th post, so keep an eye out for that.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend everyone. I know I will.

Painting faces

2007-07-13T08:16:00.000-06:00

I have gone on a couple dates with a boy from the midwest who has to travel here for work. Nice guy, we're having fun. He seems very nice and sweet.

However, I wouldn't be posting if there weren't some sort of amusing observation, right? Which is to say that I noticed something that I had forgotten about midwestern boys. They seem to be attracted to girls who are wearing makeup but claim to hate makeup - i.e. when I am wearing makeup they all say "Gee, you don't wear much makeup, that's great! You don't need it." On the other hand, on days I'm not wearing it, boys often ask if I am ill. (This used to be my method for getting to leave work early - just don't wear any makeup in the morning. People would think I was feverish.)

Why is this always so amusing to me? I cake the shit on. Three kinds of foundation (concealer, liquid, and powder) two kinds of blusher, eyeliner and four colors of eyeshadow, and lipstick. I just... well... apply it tastefully.

The oddest thing is that I've noticed that makeup, on the East Coast, seems to be equated with simply being well-groomed. As in, I really don't know anyone who shows up for work sans cosmetics. Yet, in the midwest, there seems to be some sort of hoochie-mama implication attached to makeup. See also: tall shoes. I had a friend who nearly got arrested for wearing heeled shoes in her neighborhood once, even though she was all covered up in a giant parka. I think that's because it was winter in Minneapolis and maybe that is the only way police can tell the hookers from the non-hookers - makeup and shoes. Since EVERYONE must wear parkas in the winter.

I have to say, I think claiming an aversion to makeup is really sweet. It seems to be a way of saying that they don't expect girls to bear the responsibility of being aesthetically pleasing to the world by shelling out for expensive cosmetics and wasting hours each week in its tedious application and removal. However, I just sort of like wearing it. I like how I look in the mirror better with it than without. On the other hand, it is refreshing for it to not feel like an obligation to wear it in order to reach "well-groomed" status. What I wonder about is if the same boys who tell me that I don't need to wear makeup would have noticed me if I hadn't been wearing it in the first place?

I suppose this is all too much consideration for an off-the-cuff comment. It's just an interesting regional/gender dynamic of dating and attraction.

Back in the Saddle Again

2007-07-11T09:24:00.000-06:00

After some time crying and drinking, I posted an ad to CraigsList Monday night (Fun game! See if you can find it!). I had forgotten what a crap shoot that could be.

My very first response to my brand new "Yes, I have herpes" ad?

that's what happens when your legs spread like peanut butter and you're out floozin around. SLUT!!

The very next e-mail was from craigslist.org saying my ad had been flagged and deleted.

So.

Tuesday I reposted the ad, with a note that hey, not everyone is going to be this up front, so think about all the girls that have herpes already and won't tell you til you have it on your face.

I did get a somewhat interesting response (and only one) from The Ape (as we shall call him). We've e-mailed back and forth, and I sent him a link to my profile on *popular social networking site* so he could look at some photos of me and read some of my non-date related personal thoughts. (What, you think I tell everyone about this blog?) Ape's thoughts:

I do have to tell you that some of your pictures scare the shit out of me (but I'm not sure that is a bad thing) mainly because I am a lunchbox-toting-9to5-cubicle -monkey right now.

I used to be a lunchbox toting 9-5 cubicle monkey myself, and I hated every second of it. Since I took a job that allows me more freedoms last year, yeah, I've dyed my hair funny colors and gotten some tattoos, but I guess I've never considered myself so far off from the cubicle monkey world. Hunh, when did I get to the point where they stop recognizing me as one of their own?

When did I get "scary"?

Either way, I think this adventure in Craigslist did not go well for me.

Ninja Edit: I would like to point out that I have had several interesting and fun conversations with Ape back and forth, and I mostly object to the "scary" comment. We've talked about that one, and there's a truce. So, let's all be nice to Ape.

No such thing as coincidence

2007-07-11T09:18:00.000-06:00

First, Miss M's horoscope is annoyingly accurate. My weekly horoscope from Rob Brezsny is also startlingly on-point.

My dumb HS BF is the swan. I thought the attention was cute. FIFTEEN years ago. Somehow, it is starting to get old.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): A misguided swan became infatuated with a pedal boat at a pond in Hamburg, Germany. Apparently mistaking it for his soul mate, the devoted bird guarded the boat jealously and rarely left its side. The human owner of the boat found it amusing at first, but later regarded it as a nuisance, since the enamored swan chased away all potential renters of the vehicle. I propose to make this poignant creature your anti-role model in the coming weeks, Capricorn. May he inspire you to free yourself of all delusions you have entertained over the years about the kind of intimate ally you need in order to be happy.

That's the Universe Laughing

2007-07-09T11:42:00.000-06:00

You will contract an illness that's more irritating than dangerous...

Fuck you horoscope.

Sometimes, you just gotta laugh.

Visceral

2007-07-07T18:45:00.000-06:00

One of my side jobs is at a local venue that's available for weddings. In fact, most weekends during the summer, you can bet that I'm working a wedding.

Let me tell you, in the layer cake of hell, being forced to be around happy, in-love people pledging to give themselves to one another for the rest of their lives after going through a break up is like sweet gooey frosting of evil.

I was amazed at my own reaction to the whole thing. Watching the happy bride walk down the aisle, the way the groom glowed as she took his hands, I just wanted to hurl in my shoes. When do I get this? I thought, Where's my happy ending? Just the pure gut level of hate and anger that I felt disgusted and confused me all in one shot. Why the hell was I this angry at perfect strangers?

I do think it did me some good though. Sure, maybe it was wrong of me to want to throw red Kool-Aid on the bride, but it did redirect my grief, even if it does feel amplified. I'm not mad at Curly, and I don't think I ever will be. He really is a good guy at heart, but I think maybe this was just all too much for him. Get out while you still can Curly, it doesn't get any easier.

I'll admit that I harbored a lot of silly girl fantasies while Curly was gone. Maybe he'd realize that he was madly in love with me, that he'd come home and say "I don't care that you have crotch rot, you're better than that." I hoped that he'd take me in his arms, like in a Harlequin novel gone Hunter S. Thompson, and we'd live happily ever after.

Fantasies just don't seem to work out in real life though.

So, I've been thinking about my other fantasies; the getting married, the having kids, the life that I've wanted for as long as I can remember. Some girls want to grow up to be astronauts and jet pilots, to cure cancer and raise award winning pure bred dogs; but I wanted to be a wife and mother. It was the best thing I could think of, to care for the people I love, and to pass on the things that my parents taught me and the lessons that I have learned in my own life. Do I have to give these up too?

This isn't how I wanted to remember my life. This, right here, the sadness, the bullshit, and the rejection. It kills the spirit. The herpes stole my sex drive, goodness knows it's hard to feel sexy when you have painful sores sprouting all over your genitals, and I thought that would be the worst of it. But now, now I just feel ugly and diseased and who would want me now?

Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, and feel better. Maybe I'll wake up, and go to the farmers market and reach for some leeks, bump hands with a tall handsome man, I invite him for dinner and we wonder how we ever lived without each other. We get matching tattoos. Something. But, I don't even really want that to happen.

Dating this much, putting yourself out there day after day, trying to be honest with people and build something takes a lot of hope. Hope that things will work out, that the sun shines, that you're happy and healthy, that they want what you want. Thomas Fuller once wrote If it were not for hopes, the heart would break.

If my heart is broken, does that mean that I'm out of hope?

Good News/Bad News

2007-07-07T09:31:00.000-06:00

Bad news everyone, Curly and I broke up last night.

Yeah, I don't have much more than that right now. I'll admit that I'm a touch hung over, and this typing nonsense makes my head hurt.

Good news? At least I'll start to have some more interesting stories about Fresh Meat sometime in the future.

My stalkerific life

2007-07-06T11:04:00.000-06:00

Muk here. Remember the trogladyte high school boyfriend? Apparently he has figured out how to view pictures I have posted to my LJ and is trying to pretend someone on my friends-list has been sending him info about my blog.

I'm getting very, very sick of the constant "OMGWTFBBQ!" of the latest threat to me that he posts in his userinfo. Because they usually all throw me off my game for at least some period of time. And frankly, I have enough stress in my life from work. Or, you know, people I've seen in the last decade.

So today's debate is whether or not to set into play the threat assesment team at my office which will entail secret service agents showing up at his house and job and quite possibly lead to his firing, and divorce. Which means instead of having an employed, married stalker with four kids, I will have an unemployed single stalker. Which doesn't sound like an improvement in the situation. Because so far he hasn't offered up quite enough threat level to be incarcerated.

Seriously, it's enough to put you off dating permanently.

I Miss Curly

2007-07-02T09:54:00.000-06:00

I know I've done a lot of posts in the past about all the things that I like about Curly, so I'll hold off on that and let you read the links.

Curly is still out of town, and I miss the boy. I find myself doing little things to keep myself occupied.

Like, Curly has not a single living thing in his home other than himself. No pets, no plants. When I was re-potting Herbert, my aloe plant, I made sure to split the potting so when Curly gets back he can have his very own Herbert Jr.

I went out and bought all the ingredients for oatmeal cookies the other day so I could make some when he returns.

I'm saving funny stories for him. I'm cleaning my house so it looks nice when he comes over next. I shave my legs and think about him.

*sigh* One of my friends says I've got it bad. I don't know that that's the case so much as I'm worried about his return, given the current circumstances. There's still sort of a lingering fear that he's secretly pissed off at me, and simply waiting until he gets back to Minneapolis before he breaks up with me.

I should stop worrying. It's only going to make me paranoid and crazy. Of course, I might be paranoid and crazy anyhow, so lets hope that Curly doesn't mind paranoid and crazy.

Anyhow, I have some cookies to bake.

To Hell With iPhones

2007-06-30T13:04:00.001-06:00

Since everyone else in the blogosphere has something to say about iPhones, here's my two cents.

Don't care about it, and it has nothing to do with dating.

Right. Now I've done my civil duty, and thusly shall sign off.

Porn! In Denver

2007-06-29T10:30:00.000-06:00

Last night, I was watching a silly movie, and realized I haven't done a dick pic post since May 10th. What's wrong with me? Every time I start to feel down, hilarious pictures of dick always makes me feel better.

Now all I need is a joke to segway from. Here's what I've got: With Curly still out of town, things are still in a holding pattern, and what makes me think of holding patterns better than Denver? Man, that's bad. But it's what you're getting today. There's a reason I'm a blogger and not a professional comedian.

Remember, my little voyeurs: Not Safe For Work content below!

That's an old keyboard! Again with the focus. Look skippy, if you're cruising for chicks on the internet, you've gotta have better peripherals. A smart woman knows what to look for.

The One That I Want. I actually don't want to make fun of this one. Any man who will use accessories and humor to entice me to touch his penis is okay in my book. Shame Denver is so far away....

Let's MSPaint our dicks! Really... Why are you cutting out the background? Was... was your mom's framed photo in the background? Was it my moms?! Really. This just looks stupid.

Now with Glow In The Dark! Could you imagine? It's a dark room, you're curled up in bed when you hear a crash. And then, then you see it: Winky, The One Eyed Wonder Ghost comes chasing after you! Mmmm... ectoplasm...

Why, yes, I have had chapped lips recently! Not much more to say than that!

But DaaaAAAaaad! This guy wanted you to call him "Daddy." "Daddy? We're out of beer, Daddy! Daddy! Not the belt, Daddy! You'll miss NASCAR, Daddy!"

It's coming right for us! RUN!!!!

Penis! Look, buddy, if you want to stop popping out of your shorts like that, maybe you should get new boxers, with a button on the fly. And maybe move your web cam, that feed is live.

Quit it with the pants! Is it that hard to actually pull down your pants? Or do you have some sort of rash on your pubis that you don't want us to see? You know, I've recently become an expert on rashes, so maybe we should talk. I can give you some numbers to some resource centers, if you want. No? Okay then.

WHY? I've read that recently, the new thing is to get a blow job while on the toilet defecating. Ick, ick, ick, ick, ick, ick, a thousand times, ick. I have one word for you: Backsplash.

That's dick pics for this week. Remember to hold and love your family, after this episode, I know I will.

Also, if you have time, and like laughing at CraigsList, you should check out CraigsLeast a blog that finds the best of the worst, even if I do corner the market on the NSA board.

More Dick Pics? You know you want to click.

The octogenarian

2007-06-28T16:00:00.000-06:00

Muk here. So have you all seen that movie "Love, Actually?"

Let me share with you the story that ruined that movie for me.

Harold was a nice old guy, so I was really nice to him. Too nice, in retrospect. He was working for international social justice issues, and the occasional drop of cash for a certain rare disease. I worked with him on the latter.

In my job, it's fairly common for folks to drop by once or twice a year, to see how funding for their project is coming along. Sometimes, as much as three or four times a year. If they're special persistent.

I knew something was up when Harold starting showing up every week. And calling every day. But he was a very sweet octogenarian. What are you going to do?

One day, he asked if I would meet him at the work cafeteria.

Do you remember the scene in the movie where the guy confesses his love for the girl, using handwritten posterboard signs? Harold did that to me. In the work cafeteria. But, wanted an answer right then about whether I would date him. And then told me of his vast wealth. No, really.

Poor Harold. I told him no, I was seeing someone. A few months later, he married a woman from Guatemala. Cute, too.

Tah dah. My weird vignette of love for Thursday June Whatever, 2007.

Reactions

2007-06-26T08:33:00.000-06:00

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

It's been a long week.

For the record, I'm holding up just fine. I've been reading more, and learning a lot, a lot about this disease, about myself, about my lovers and friends this week, and I think I'm going to learn a hell of a lot more in the upcoming weeks.

When you're a gal like me, a "dating hobbyist" who's spent her time sleeping around, and sleeping with people that sleep around, you sort of accept that at some time in your future you're going to contract something. I mean, it's not all that uncommon. It's almost the cost of doing business.

But you never expect that it really will happen.

I've spent the last week pretty freaked out, not just for me, but for the other people in my life. Curly, The Boy, Special K, Danger Man, all those people in the last few months that have meant something to me. I'm not a overly religious person, but I spent some time talking with the divine spirits that I like the best, hoping against hope that this cup too could pass them by.

Digression point: I really like Curly. I'm not going to get all weepy and talk about how much I'm in love with him, because I'm still me and we all know that I don't go in for that kind of thing this fast, but I do like him. I like all sorts of things about him; I like that he owns my second favorite Ikea bed, I like the silver little hairs coming in around his temples, I like the look he gets when he's working on something, I like the wrinkles he gets when he smiles, and I like making him smile just to see it. I like the way his face lights up. I like the way his brain works, and the things that come out of it. I like laughing at geeky in jokes with him. I like the things we have in common, and I celebrate the things that we don't. I like his hands, just watching them work, and when he touches me too. Hell, I especially like that last part.

Sunday night I drove Curly to the airport so he could fly off to warmer places for some work training. He's going to be gone for the next two weeks. What timing.

We were in the car, and it was like none of this had happened. We talked, we laughed, we enjoyed each others company. I'd been afraid all week that he would freak out at me and yell and scream, and frankly, I was relieved that it didn't happen. It was a stand up thing, and yet another reason I like the guy as much as I do.

Of course, not all stories have a happy ending. I went to kiss him before we left and he stopped me. "I cut myself shaving, and now I've got these things..." he trailed off. "I'm worried about them."

I could feel my heart drop in my chest.

He wasn't being malicious, or evil, or even petty, he was worried about my health. And I thank him for it. But I still was crying as I pulled away from the curb.

I don't know what happens next. With Curly out of town, the whole thing feels like someone put a big To Be Continued... sign on things. I think it's good for both of us to have some space and some time on this one. We'll both keep in touch, no worries about that one, but when he gets back, I don't know what happens next.

I really wanted to do this right this time around. I like Curly enough to want this right. I don't know if there's a way to salvage this one or even if he wants to try and salvage this. I hope he does.

But for the record, in spite of all of this, I really am okay. Just waiting.

Results

2007-06-25T13:34:00.000-06:00

Well, there it is. The nurse at the local free clinic tells me that I have herpes.

It's not the end of the world, and I know that. It is depressing though.

I need some time to process, and besides, I'm working on a drywall project today. I should get back to that. I'll have something more interesting to read later.

Cowerdice

2007-06-25T08:59:00.000-06:00

I haven't called for results yet. I will soon. I just don't want to hear the words that I already know are true. I suck like that.

I'm scared. I don't know what happens next.

I'll write more later. I will call soon.

Muk: on losers. Again. And again, and again.

2007-06-22T12:10:00.000-06:00

My good friend Emma, who has known me since high school, keeps telling me I need to learn to be more mean. Part of this is informed by a Bad Dating experience that lasted throughout my high school years.

When I was 14, I met a boy I thought was cool. We'll call him Woogie. Turns out, he was a whiny loser and I started trying to break up with him about 6 months into it, but he just kept ignoring my breakup attempts, insisting I was his One True Love Forever and Ever. This is back when I had seen too many movies like Say Anything , and didn't quite understand how condescending and awful is to expect that women really shouldn't get to break up with someone who Really Likes Them. Just like saying no makes you a Bitch. (Isn't it more merciful to say no than to pitydate?)

Finally, after four years, in college, we really broke up all the way. Mostly because I just started seeing other people when he wouldn't believe my break-ups.

Fast forward twelve years - I saw him online and randomly said hello.

Turns out, Woogie has Found Jesus, and married some chick in our hometown who started popping out kids in her mid-teens. If my math works out, she had three by the time they met, and he fathered a fourth. Now he blogs all day about how happy he is that he's found his soulmate, that he has some crappy old house in the ass end of the ghetto, and that he's a cube-monkey at the cable company.

Anyway, his passive-aggressive yet attempting-to-be Christian side said hello in response to my first e-mail. For months, he sent me stupid e-mails about how his wife made salsa that day, or how they took ALL the kids to IHOP (with a clearly implied golly gee, don't you wish YOUR life was this fun?) These conversations were like pulling teeth, but I did work hard to come up with appropriate responses, because it was me that did the re-connecting after all. Then, the e-mails started being increasingly insulting - about all the jackals in my line of work, or how he's SO GLAD I broke up with him so he could find his soulmate. (That makes two of us, buddy.) Finally, I asked that he stopped being so insulting about my colleagues, because they are people I care about very much. I got the most bizarre, abusive note back. So I looked up some therapists in his area, and sent him their contact information, told him to get help and lose my e-mail addy.

For about a year, I got periodic e-mails from him, profusely apologizing and asking me to forgive him. Finally I did, and he was polite for some time. Then I moved to a NEIGHBORING STATE and he LEFT HIS WIFE hoping I would hook up with him again. Since I refused, sometime last fall, he's been posting mean stuff about me, my line of work, my boss, and my life in general to his LJ profile. I mean, the most fourth-grade, juvenile shit you can think of, too. His sister posted something along the lines of "durr hurr hurr I bet she masturbates with a jack ass" or something equally childish.

A small part of me has studied the possibilities of such passive-aggressive hostility. Odds are, he'll die of a stroke in about 5 years. But there's that outlier statistic that he'll snap and go all Charlie Manson. Anyway.

Many of my stories have a point. I suppose the point of this one would be "don't date a loser in high school," but hey, who hasn't? I guess the more pertainant one would be to let the past stay in the past, and doefinitely don't romanticise about it.

On Titles

2007-06-21T09:51:00.000-06:00

First, I want to thank everyone for all the support recently, I appreciate it more than I can possibly tell you all. And just because I might have horrifying and life altering news coming next Monday doesn't mean that I can't try to cheer myself up with copious amounts of booze. Or, maybe that is the reason.

Either way, Tuesday night I went out to the Spring St. for a beer and a burger, and to meet up with Curly who's studio is in the area. We had a few beers (or rather, I had a few beers, Curly sticks to hard liquor), I rocked the Guitar Hero night, and was thinking about going home when Curly's phone rang. Seems that some of his friends were going out to the Kitty Cat Klub (I love how they're not the Kitty Kat Klub, kuz that's komedy!) and would we like to come with?

Now, I've met Curly's friends once before, and they seem like a very interesting group of people. I don't know that Curly has ever introduced anyone he's seeing to his friends before, so when I first met them, I don't think they know what was quite going on.

We were standing outside the studio, while Mr. Car, one of Curly's friends was on the phone with someone else, trying to convince them to come; "Yeah, it's me, Bill, Joe, Curly, and Curly's friend Miss M."

Yes, I realize that they have a long time friend who shares my highly common first name, which was why there was probably the distinction that I am Curly's "friend," but it got me thinking about titles.

Titles are a tricky thing, usually because they start with the possessive. "This is my girlfriend." "My boyfriend and I...." Most folk I know are steeped in a heady brew of feminism and egalitarianism, and are loathe to assume that anyone belongs to anyone else, especially in some sort of intimate sense.

That first time you're referred to as someones girlfriend is a special and defining moment, even if you really aren't there yet. It turns you from a rare anomaly into a part of things, it's not just belonging to someone, it's belonging with that person.

An aside: My mother knows not to refer to whomever I'm seeing at the moment as my "girlfriend" or my "boyfriend," but also knows that just calling them my "friend" is kinda lame. She's adopted the term "swain" when she has to refer to them. "Miss M, why don't you invite one of your swains to dinner? I like that Special K girl, she seems nice."

Anyhow. I don't think I'm any one's girlfriend right now, though I wouldn't mind the position. Though, given current circumstances, that might be jumping the gun. *sigh* Either way, first time it happens, I'll be sure to let ya'll know!

This Isn't Comedy

2007-06-19T11:22:00.000-06:00

So there's this thing that I want to write about, but I can't right now. I'm stuck here waiting for some test results, and not everyone effected has been notified, and I don't even really have the words to write about it right now. I will someday though.

I'm not sure what news the next week is going to bring me, but I hope it's good. I hope it's good because otherwise it's not just the death of fun, it radically alters the way that I've lived my life in the past and will dramatically change the way my life goes in the future.

If I don't update too much this week, it's probably because I'm just not up to it. I'm sure Muk will have some stories for you, because Muk is a disco queen.

Wish me luck.

Things not to say to a girl

2007-06-15T15:56:00.000-06:00

Things have totally and permanently ended, not so abruptly, between Muk and the Drummer.

Somehow, we ended up talking about my mother, who died of breast cancer. I said something about how if I were diagnosed, I would immediately just lop them both off and say good riddance. They may be perky and nice, but not worth dying over. My mom always felt bad about it, though. She felt less feminine without hers.

So he says to me that honestly, guys just don't think of women as sexy after a certain age, so why does it matter anyway?

Fortunately, I didn't start screaming at him. I said:
1 - My mom was THIRTY FOUR, two years old than I am now, and FOUR YEARS YOUNGER THAN HIM.
2 - That was seriously, the MOST insensitive thing I have EVER FUCKING HEARD
3 - Attractiveness isn't What It's Really About, and
4 - Why the fuck would anyone care WHAT his lame ass opinion is of their attractiveness? With or without tits and twenty years of aging, I'm hotter than he is anyway. This is what I get for slumming.
5 - Finally, the idea that you get someone who is younger, smarter, in better shape, makes more money, and is hotter than you? Well, that mindset is indicitive of pathological narcissim. DC is full of highly qualified mental health professionals, and I suggested he see one, pronto.

See? I totally get all the winners.

At least it gave me an excuse to walk out on dinner leaving him the bill. He owed me a few anyway.

Bad Dates: In the News

2007-06-13T13:45:00.000-06:00

I would like to take this time to nominate Ms. Sarah White of California as this months Bad Dating Drama Queen!

It seems that Ms. White was supposed to meet someone for a blind date in a local park, and decided she didn't want to go. Goodness knows that I've felt that way before on a blind date, but I wouldn't take her route.

Remember, the cops don't like it when you prank them. And I bet the guy was pretty unhappy as well.

Phone Games

2007-06-11T15:39:00.000-06:00

I'm over at a friend's place today, babysitting her adorable new baby, and decided to spend some time cleaning out my cell phone. It's amazing the number of phone numbers I have in there that I never use, and considering my SIM card was almost full, I needed to make some more room.

Long ago, I devised a plan to organize my phone numbers. Sure, I have all of my regular phone numbers like work, my folks, my little brother, but I also have a bunch of boy's phone numbers as well. And since so many boys come and go through my phone, I needed a way to sort the worthy from the worthless so I would know who to erase in the future. It keeps me from staring at my phone and wondering who this Jon D. person is, and why I want his number.

If it's just a guy, they get a "@" after their name. My @ boys are all ones that I've gone on a date or two with, and aren't terribly interested in. They tend to last in the cell phone for about 2 months or so.

There are my "." numbers, which are boys that have gone on more than a few dates with, and all the booty call boys. They don't all need to be active though, so I'm fine deleting them if I don't talk with them in a while. Those numbers I also keep in hard copy in my little black book, figuring that if I ever need to track someone down for DNA testing or to notify them that I've caught some kind of bug, I can do it. I'm a responsible girl, right?

Then there is the rare boy that transcends the whole identification system. There aren't many who have won themselves a permanent place in my phone, safe from the ravages of deletion, but those that do have a place of honor.

It's not like I ever tell any of the boys when they've upgraded, or occasionally downgraded positions in my phone. However it's important to me. It's my once a month ritual to evaluate what's going on in my life of bad dating, and what I want to be doing.

I do think it's important to stop and think about these things. I know too many chronic daters that are after the head over heels thrill of a new person, something I can be guilty of myself; but after a few weeks, I stop and decide if the New Relationship Energy is worth it. Frankly, most boys don't make the cut. But, every so often, I do run into someone, like Curly or The Boy that I want to try and make things work with.

So, here's to stopping to smell the roses while you're pulling weeds.

Muk and drummer, the saga continues...

2007-06-11T08:02:00.000-06:00

Let me start with a book recommendation on bad dates. I just finished "You Suck" by Christopher Moore. Dude wakes up to find his GF has turned him into a vampire. Hijinks ensue, and Muk thanks the stars that at least none of her bad dates have ended in an eternal bond of bloodsucking and running from my former turkey-bowling pals turned vamp-hunters.

So, my deal today: I find myself asking why I'm still dating The Drummer.

Friday, he was already having a barbeque with his folks and wanted to come over at like 10:00 after they had left. Gee, what a swell romantic date. I said no.

Then Saturday, he has already made plans with some other friend to go see some uber-pretentious minimalist hipster band whose songs are indistinguishable from one another. Or, for that matter, from all the other pretentious minimalist hipster bands. (No offense to anyone reading this who might be into that kind of thing. I'm not, though.) Anyway so then my choices are: no dates this weekend, or date with Drummer and friends at a band I don't want to see.

He ends up talking me into going. When we get there, we meet his friends out front but then they disappear for the first two bands somehow, while we were at the cash machine. (Which I am irritated about, because he said that he'd pay for the band and drinks because I got dinner. Yet when it comes time to buy tickets, he is miraculously out of cash.)

But, here's the thing that I'm finding impressively annoying: a good friend of mine and her dude randomly showed up there. Now, w/r/t Drummer boy, I have been continually asked to hang out with a steady stream of friends whose personalities varied from positive noxious to benignly annoying, only a couple of whom seem genuinely nice. I mean, it's like a new set every single weekend.

Yet when my friends come over to chat, he suddenly finds someone else to talk to and doesn't even acknowledge mine. Then they go to get a drink and he's totally rapt in convo with some other dude so eventually I wander over to talk to them, but he NEVER comes over.

Am I the only one who finds that impressively rude, a little manipulative, and almost bordering on creepy?

On privacy: continued story from Muk

2007-06-08T16:45:00.000-06:00

Muk says to trust your gut and she deeply believes this.

However, Muk has also learned something about dating manipulative people. They don't just make you distrust yourself and your feelings during that particular relationship, but that personal self-doubt carries itself into other relationships. (This assclown I dated last year was the king of all abusive manipulators. After a few martinis one day, I will share with you the whole saga.)

Back to my point, about never doubting your gut.

Drummer boy apologized and I accepted the apology. Which may have been folly. It turns out that my gut was, of course, right in this case. Last Friday he asked if we'd ever see each other again. I said maybe. He said "well, I have friends in town over the weekend." So we couldn't get together then. Then on Sunday, I got invited along to watch teevee at his friend's house. At which point a particularly loathsome female friend of his made a few unacceptable comments.

It's okay, things happen, I move on. Though I do learn a bit about the kind of people he associates himself with.

We see each other once during the week, but he wants me to drag ass an hour to his place in the 'burbs to do so. AFTER getting off work at 8:00, and even though I have to be in at 8:30 the nest day. Well. Fine, if sacrifices are made on his end as well, eventually.

However. Let's inspect Drummer Boy's "date night" priorities:
Friday night, well, his parents are coming over for a barbeque, but maybe we can catch a late movie? (But I like to get up early and bike. I would entertain a late night, if maybe that was part of something more substantive, but not just a late night itself.)
Saturday, he's already promised his friend that he'd see a band.
Sunday, he has a gig.
Also, he's out of town for the next two weekends.

Friends, there are several lessons here. Aside from breaking the cardinal rule of trust your gut, it is this:
1 - Don't move to the outer-ring suburbs if you want to date. Especially not if you have dependant animals that preclude you from sleeping in town. I pay double rent becuase I fucking hate the subway, and driving. No date is going to change that. IF I can bike to your place in an hour, you're golden. If you wanna come into town to hang, even better. Otherwise? Sorry, but that's gotta be points against ya, in the long run.

2 - If you want to date, set some goddamned time ASIDE for dating. Human beings are not Jell-O. They are unlikely to be willing to fit into the cracks in your life, unless they are miserable spineless morons you pry don't want around in six months anyway. I think I mentioned before that I have a VERY serious job. If I can set time aside given that and MY friends and hobbies, so can you.

3 - You shouldn't need another person to complete you. On the other hand, people need people to be reliable. There's a huge difference. When I asked Drummer Boy about his online pursuits, it wasn't because I wanted him to imediately pledge undying love for me. But, one needs to know where they stand. Unfortunately, continued exposure to Drummer Boy only confirms what I already knew - I'm not very high on his priority list.

4 - Everyone deserves someone who's totally into them. "Soul mates?" Vomit. "The sun the moon and the stars?" Give me a fucking break. "I dig you a lot?" FAB.

Bad Ideas in Dating: Snooping

2007-06-06T11:06:00.000-06:00

Muk recenty posted about how she found out that Drummer Boy was playing the field online. "This might sound funny coming on the heels of Miss M's critique of judging other people's internet behavior, but occasionally it is indicative of bigger problems," she writes.

Generally, I take a very negative view of snooping. I think it's important to trust your partner, even if it is just right off the bat. Trust is what builds relationships. However, there is an essential difference between snooping and just keeping your eyes open.

According to dictionary.com, snooping is To pry into the private affairs of others, especially by prowling about. Snooping is sneaky. It's private. It's something you would get into trouble for. Things like breaking into your partners e-mail, or intentionally cruising their browser history, digging through their underwear drawer looking for sex toys or porn all fall under my idea of snooping. Trying to find something incriminating or personal.

Keeping your eyes open is a different matter. There are plenty of "public" places on the web where you can find all sorts of things about a person, even with a simple Google search. Hell, I'll admit that I Google people. I think of it much like asking a mutual friend "Hey, what's up with the guy?"

Fulghum once wrote that there are three different kinds of self. There's the public self, the one at church and work, acceptable for wide consumption. There's a personal self, the one that's shared with family and friends, and the private self, the one that only exists within the confines of your own brain. The internet is now changing the way the public self, the personal self, and the private self are changing and interacting. If you're not careful, the things that you think are private turn out to be public, and readily accessible to everyone.

Is this a good thing? Not sure. That's not really the focus here.

A friend of mine was telling me about how she decided to break up with her boyfriend of seven years. He had started to build himself a MySpace account, and my friend was curious. She signed up for an account, and went to visit his publicly available MySpace page. There were pictures of him with her cats, him with their friends, him with his family, but not a single mention of her. Not a picture, not a comment, just an odd note about having a roommate. The damning thing was the fact that he listed himself as "single." A few days later, she dumped him. She kept her eyes open, and found that publicly she wasn't as important to him as he said that he was in private.

Here's my two cents; when you first start dating someone, you have a right to public information. Ask your friends, ask their friends. Google them if you want. I figure if it shows up in the first two pages of search results it's game. In the first few days and weeks, public information is entirely germain.

Part of the magic of building a relationship is moving from the public to the private. Finding out things that other people don't know. Trading stories over dinner and in bed. For the first few weeks, you might not really get past the personal level, finding out about how they love old Jack Lemmon movies, or where the scar on their chin came from. But the real wonderful stuff is finding out the private things. For some people, that takes a long time, if ever for them to share that sort of thing. When you snoop, you loose out on the chance to discover those things on your own. The patience of waiting can lead to some amazing and wondrous things.

Keeping your eyes open is never a bad thing. If nothing else it keeps you safe. Finding out that someone has a girlfriend on their MySpace is something that no one will ever fault you for, but breaking into some one's e-mail to find out if they told you the truth about where they were on Tuesday night is never a good thing.

The Divine Secrets of My Mother's Sisters

2007-06-04T12:40:00.000-06:00

Some months ago, I wrote about my cousin's wedding and the cluster fuck that it was going to turn into.

On Mother's Day, I made a point of calling my Aunt Sue because I love her a lot, and I know that her kids have been little shits to her recently. I hadn't heard back from her, but that was okay, I know she's busy too. She's in the middle of a very protracted and painful divorce, and her children have stopped talking with her, and she's feeling very isolated and unloved.

I did get a call from her this weekend, and we talked for a long while about things and how they're going for her. The long and short of it is, things suck. She's loosing weight rapidly, she can't make ends meet, and my uncle is being something of a bastard. She was crying for a lot of it.

After I got off the phone with her, I called my mother. The first thing my mother asked was "Was she drunk?"

In most stories or myths, there's always that one sequence where some event defines the hero. It is the moment where they stop being a little kid and start being an adult. Of course, this never happens in real life, because we become adults in bits and pieces. The first time you drive a car, your first credit card, first loves and first losses. And yesterday, when my mother asked me "Was she drunk" it was another little bit of childhood that I lost. I stopped being an observer of the generation that came before me, and became an active participant in the story of my family. I got to go behind the scenes.

Now, this has nothing to do with dating, bad dates, good dates or otherwise, but I do find it interesting the relationships that we build with other people. Watching my aunt gives me new insight into my own life and relationships. She's taught me, through painful experience, watch your own finances, be your own woman, don't put yourself in a box, and don't hang everything on one person.

Anyhow. The whole thing has mostly thrown me for a loop. More dating stuff tomorrow.

Muk: on the internets and the dating

2007-05-31T11:52:00.000-06:00

Things were going swimmingly with reporter boy. Well, until I realized that I was just someone he was dating until something better came along. This might sound funny coming on the heels of Miss M's critique of judging other people's internet behavior, but occasionally it is indicative of bigger problems.

I noticed that this boy would tell me that he was off to the gym but then log into this paid personals site. (I know this, for I have googled. I know, googling is a Bad Idea.) It bugged me. I recognize that in and of itself wouldn't be a problem for most people. It just... I had a nagging suspicion anyway that we'd end up shagging for months before it would be okay to make plans more than a week out.

Now, Muk is certainly not a fan of Getting All Serious after a date or two. On the other hand, I do believe in either focusing one's attention on the person in front of you and basically just dating one person at a time. Which I generally make clear at the beginning.

Anyway, so I casually raise the dating site issue at a ballgame. After, he says that he's not trolling for other women, he's just looking out of habit. I was willing to accept that and move on, but he wanted to take the conversation into yucky territory. He said that now he's worried about how complimentary I've been of him. (Saying such outlandish things as "you're really cute" or "you're nifty, I like you!") He said it made him somehow feel cornered to commit to something or whatever.

Really, I told him that I just wanted to keep it casual - but also not be constantly on the lookout for a better deal while evaluating this situation. He kept talking - digging. Making me feel like I was trying to push it in a serious direction.

So I dropped him off at his place and said it's over and just walked out. He said I was being cold. Perhaps, but I'm just too old for this playing the field crap - the obligatory NSA screwing for six months prior to having any ability to count on the person to be reliable on any count, or even be there next week.

I think the moral of the story is that relationships are a trust-your-gut thing. Really, the personal-ad cruising is a minor thing, probably not a deal-breaker in most contexts. What your gut knows about the core of the problem, however, is almost always a series of things not at all related to a single act or conversation. Ignore at your peril.

Bad Ideas in Dating: Hidden Messages

2007-05-30T08:43:00.000-06:00

The other night when I was over at Curly's place, we were in bed chatting, and I brought up the topic of this very blog. Does it bother him when he shows up in it? Or is he amused, or flattered? He pondered for a moment, and gave his answer (and no, you don't get to know it, some things a girl keeps private) but wondered if I'm maybe trying to tell him something with some of my posts.

"Wait, what?" I asked.

"You know, like, maybe I should... you know. Like with the toothpaste thing. Did I do something wrong or something?" he mumbled into my hair.

The answer, of course, is a great big fat NO. Why would I write about something on the blog that annoys me with out telling him about it first? Just seems counter-productive to me.

Then I realized that some girls really do try that kind of a thing. Some guys too. I pondered this notion for a while, and came up with all sorts of things that people have tried as little hidden messages that they hope their partner will be able to decode and act on, when they almost never work.

Some of the worst examples of passive aggressive hidden messages? Check the bullets:

Re-arranging your top friends on MySpace, Facebook, or any other social networking site. For starters, it means that your partner needs to know exactly how important those things are to you, and they have to be just as important to them. Personally, while I do have a MySpace, I don't ever really check it, and have never messed around with my top friends. Were I removed from someone elses, I wouldn't know. And I wouldn't care.

Conspicuous clues. When you want your partner to try a new sex act, or cook you dinner, or really anything else, saying something to the effect of "Honey, I was reading this thing today about anal sex/Spanish food/precious baby kittens that was really interesting!" will not get your message across. When that happens to me, I think "Gosh, why were you reading about anal sex while at work?" not "Gosh, am I supposed to do something about this?"

The Shun. Oh, how I hate The Shun. While not a hidden message in the traditional sense, the notion of not talking with your partner or acting sullen to get them to ask you what's wrong is just petty. Frankly, when I see it happen, I just get mad. If you have something on your mind, just say it.

Throwing a fit. Usually this comes after The Shun, when your partner has failed to intuit whatever message you were trying to convey, so you flip out about something totally unrelated. "WHY DO YOU KEEP LEAVING WET TOWELS ON THE FLOOR!?!" is more about leaving wet towels on the floor, not about your new haircut that they didn't notice. Worse than this is the "Chase me down" portion of the game, where you run out of the house expecting your partner to follow you, and getting mad when they don't. Only works in romantic comedies.

There are many more examples, but I think you get the idea. Anything that obfuscates real communication can be counted as a hidden message.

Now, this is different than in-jokes. I like in-jokes a lot. Some weeks ago, I had a post entitled The Best Part of Spending the Night which is part of something I had mentioned to Curly the night before, that the best part of spending the night is morning sex after. That's an in-joke. If he gets it, awesome, because I just got to put a smile on his face for a moment. If he doesn't, no harm, no foul, because there is no expectation for him to notice or even get it.

Hidden messages are just insidious. I'm not a mind reader, and I'm damn sure that everyone I've ever dated lacks that skill too. If you're going to have a meaningful relationship of any kind, one that's better than the beginner relationships you had in high school, you have to start acting like an adult, and start speaking your mind.

(And no, Curly, this isn't me trying to get across some other hidden message. I promise. Just an interesting topic.)

Bad Ideas in Dating: A Series

2007-05-30T08:22:00.000-06:00

This week, we're going to start looking at some of my least favorite trends in the world of dating. As I'm sure you can guess, there are a lot of those.

Why look at BIiD? For starters, I don't think everyone gets that they are bad ideas, because I keep hearing about them. I'm sure you do too. They're the things that sound good in romance novels and movies because in fiction, they always work out. Stuff like "taking a break," hidden messages, too fast too soon, regression, over-analyzing, snooping, and more. You know that friend that's constantly in trouble with their partner? The one that's always coming to you with stories about how their partner just doesn't "get" them? Those are the things I'm talking about.

Everyone is guilty of these things from time to time, myself included. But, hopefully, together, we can break that cycle, and usher in a new era of painless dating where everyone is happy. Also, puppies will pilot airplanes and kittens will frolic freely in the streets. Maybe it's fantasy, but a girl can hope, right?

Muk on Old Bad Dates

2007-05-29T13:43:00.000-06:00

Muk's dating life has been going swimmingly lately, with a friendly journalist she's been seeing. By the way: have you noticed the disproportionate number of superheroes who work at a newspaper? I was just thinking of that recently while having a discussion about which was crappier, the new Spiderman who hits his girlfriend, or the new Superman who knocks up Lois Lane and leaves her with no child support. I hope the new breed of superhero doesn't indicate that as a society we've entirely given up on goodness and chivalry. (Okay, you can argue until you are blue in the face that Spidey "just wasn't himself" when he knocked the shit out of Mary Jane. I'll give you $100 if you can find any other domestic abuser who doesn't make the exact same argument.)

Anyway. So I thought I would give you a past-life bad date.

This is a bad date in which the gentleman in question turned out to be a decent guy. However, the date itself was - well, terrifying. I mean, it started out okay. We had sushi and drinks. Then, he asked if I wanted to see the tunnels under the City. I thought, okay - tunnels, neat! Maybe at some point in the future that would be fun. No, he meant right then. I ended up going along with this, but I found out that accessing the tunnels meant breaking in through a sewer tunnel. Not a tall enough one to walk in, either.

I reiterate, this guy was really nice. Cute, even. But. Crawling through a sewer on a first date is asking a bit much.

After crawling maybe 100 feet, the tunnel widened enough that we could stand up. In coffin-shaped tunnels. This was about when I realized that this man could well be planning to kill me. I thought about my ability to outcrawl him. I then also remembered I had no idea when it was going to rain next. I thought about water gushing down the corridor and washing me up to the narrowed part, and I realized that I probably couldn't get all the way through there holding my breath.

So, crawling through a sewer, combined with thinking of two distinct possibilities that could well end in the kind of death where they wouldn't find my body for a very long time sorta made for an unappetizing combo. I think probably the top two things you don't want to be thinking about on a first date are 1) gruesome death and 2) raw sewage. In that order.

I know that I disappointed him deeply by getting creeped out and needing to leave so quickly after entering the sewer. But, well, at least that bad date didn't ulitmately end up with me dead in a gutter. So I guess it wasn't all bad.

Contentment

2007-05-28T15:52:00.000-06:00

Song, from Pippa Passes

The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world!

-- Robert Browning

While on a bike ride with some friends yesterday, I managed to break my bike twice. Talented, I know. First the crank just fell right off, meaning I couldn't peddle any more, and then the rear inner tube blew. Happily, we were near our destination, so it wasn't that bad of a walk.

We were on our way to a party with more friends, and it was a good time. The more knowledgeable bike people there were able to help me fix the crank, but in the end there was nothing to be done about the rear tire. (Long story short, the new wheel that we were trying out on the thing was slightly smaller than a true 27" wheel, so the inner tube was getting pinched and popping. And there's no way around that, except to replace the wheel. Very annoying.)

I ended up calling Curly to see if he could pick me up when he was done with pool. He said he'd be happy to. Hooray for Curly!

Later that night, after the party had wrapped up and Curly and I were back at his place curled up in bed, I took stock. I was tired, PMS-y, sunburned, and very much annoyed at my bike, but in spite of all of that, could not imagine a better way for the day to have gone because I ended up there with him.

I used to have a philosophy teacher who taught that happiness is a fleeting emotion, and that what he felt were the best philosophical systems weren't there to encourage happiness as an end goal, what you want is contentment. The idea that while there might be bad things out there, that overall, the course of things is to your liking. God's in His Heaven- All's right with the world.

I mentioned this as I was drifting off, that I was content.

"I am too," he said.

I do not have words to tell you how that felt.

I promise, tomorrow will not be so schmaltzy. It's time for an anti-Unicorn Chaser.

Didn't Even Get a Free Meal!

2007-05-26T09:11:00.000-06:00

Just a quick update on the pity date with Billy last night.

Went to the Spring St, because I love it so. We sat down and ordered, had a few beers, had a lovely conversation that was actually kind of boring. And when the check came, he stared at it for a few moments, then told me what I owed.

Well, I guess not every date ends up with free quesadllia in my belly.

He dropped me back off at home, and suggested that we toss in a movie or something, and I just really wanted the night to be over. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to see if Curly might still be up and online and if he'd be interested in a late night booty call. I declined the movie idea and sent him on his way.

Billy is a good guy, but so very much not my speed. He's sweet, but kinda dopey, and I felt bad when I kept having to explain things to him. Sure, he's got some great stories about flying a helicopter into Siberia for a two week ski trip, but he doesn't read books or pay attention to current events. Like I said, not my speed.

Well, the weekend is here, and I'm going to get some work done around the house. Have a great Memorial Day Weekend everyone!

Pity Dates

2007-05-25T19:35:00.000-06:00

Here it is on a Friday night, and I'm going on a pity date.

What's a pity date you ask? Well, tonight I'm going out with a guy that I kinda dated a while back, but didn't really click with. I haven't seen him in ages, and I sorta felt bad after canceling on him so often. Tonight, we're going to call him.... Billy. Billy is a good name for him.

Last night I was out drinking with the Boy, and I'm willing to admit that I was pretty hung over this morning. I was working this afternoon and just got home so I'm fairly tired too. Good thing Billy lives kinda far away, so we can call it an early night.

Why am I going on a pity date? Because I'm not very good at saying "no, you don't interest me like that." Strange sounding, I know, but it's one of my failings as a bad dater. Or maybe it's a strength as a bad dater. I'm not sure which, but there it is. And he called and he asked, and I've said no about a dozen times, and I guess he gets points for persistence.

Frankly, I'd rather be out with Curly. Or just napping on the couch. But then again, I don't get paid this week, and hey, free meal. And yes, maybe that's a little shallow, but I know I'm not the only one that does it.

Thinking of, I've been updating my blogroll, and there are some new additions in there. If you read Bad Dates and like it, and you have a blog of your own, feel free to drop me a line via e-mail or leave a note in the comments.

Anyhow, updates tomorrow. Next week we're going to take a look at bad ideas in dating. If you have a particular pet peeve let me know that one too, and we'll discuss next week. My personal least favorite idea? "Let's take a break."

On Toothpaste

2007-05-24T09:56:00.000-06:00

I've had this post that I've been mulling over for most of this week, and I'm finding that I'm having problems getting my thoughts right. Until I do get that figured out, I want to share with you the best advice my mother ever gave me. It's about toothpaste.

Mom was always kind of the crazy feminist in her large Irish Catholic family. She moved in with my father before they were married, and as a result her parents didn't talk with her for almost 2 years until she and my father got married. Even after that, my grandmother was disapproving of the relationship because my mother chose to keep her own last name instead of taking my fathers. Mom went to college a full state away from home. She had a job and lived on her own. She did what made her happy.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been helpmates, partners, and very much in love with each other. Sure, they argue, but they work things out. They have the kind of relationship that I dream about having.

When I was engaged to A. I mentioned this to my mother; that I envied my parents relationship. My mother told me about toothpaste.

For thirty years my parents have shared a tube of toothpaste. Mom likes pushing toothpaste from the bottom of the tube while Dad tends to squeeze in the middle. And since Dad is usually up before Mom is, every morning, for thirty years, she would go into the bathroom to start her day, and the toothpaste would have a huge dent in the middle. For thirty years, she started every day a little annoyed at my father. Sure, she got over it by the time she got downstairs, but those small annoyances add up.

One day she was at the dentists office and he recommended that she start using some toothpaste for sensitive teeth. The kind that numbs your mouth a little. She picked up a tube and brought it home.

Suddenly, she wasn't annoyed at my father in the mornings. He had a tube of toothpaste to do with as he wanted, and so did my mom. Now, she would walk into the bathroom in the mornings and could ignore Dad's Colgate, because her toothpaste was exactly the way she wanted it.

"Life is about little things," my mother told me. "I was mad at your father every morning for a long time, but with a simple and easy change, it went away. And it took me thirty years to figure that one out."

My parents are still perfecting their relationship. Dad always makes sure Mom's car has gas in it, and when it doesn't, he fills the tanks. He doesn't mind doing it, and he knows it makes Mom happy. Mom buys every article of Dad's clothing. Sure, my father could buy his own damn blue jeans, but shopping makes him crazy. They do lots of little things to make each other happy that play to their own strengths and weaknesses. And I think that might be their secret.

Compromise and patience. My mothers story is about compromise and not settling and finding what is really important to you. It's finding the little things that make a relationship work, and knowing that it happens over time.

Mom asked me if A. did any of these small thing to make me happy. And to be honest, he didn't. I knew that he was very much tied to this egalitarian model where one night it's my turn to do dishes, and the next night it's his turn; one weekend it's my turn to mow the lawn, and the next weekend it's his turn. Sure, we might have figured that out eventually, but I knew then that I couldn't marry that man.

It's a bit of advice I really took to heart. This little story about toothpaste has kept me sane for years now. When I get annoyed at a partner, when it seems like every day has some thing in it that drives me a little up the wall, I stop and ask myself, "Is this about the toothpaste?" And it usually is.

Memeday

2007-05-21T08:24:00.000-06:00

Christine , writes a very delightful blog Watch me! No, watch me! which I read to get my daily kid fix. If you don't read it, you should.

Anyhow, Christine tagged me with a meme, "7 Things About Me," and so, I shall attempt to find 7 things about myself, other than my name, that you might not know about me.

1.) I really dislike fresh tomatoes. I have two possible explanations for this. The first comes from an environmental engineer that I was dating for a while, who suggested that since tomatoes are part of the same family as poison nightshade, that when I eat a raw tomato that I'm tasting "poison" and the primitive Neanderthal part of my brain rejects it. The other comes from George Carlin, who claims that they don't look like they're done yet. I'm not sure which theory is right, but you put one near me, I get a little uncomfortable.

2.) I am allergic to flax seed. Found that one out during a photo shoot, which was not fun.

3.) I have a little brother. He's 5 years younger than I am, and we really get along. We're about as opposite as we can be, he's the maths and sciences guy, I'm the arts and humanities girl. He dated the same girl all through high school, and when they graduated, he started dating another girl whom he's been with since then. See, he gets all the monogamy genes as well.

4.) I'm not a huge grammar nut, but I did learn an awful lot about how the English language is supposed to be written. Yes, it really does bother a little me that the meme is "7 things..." and not "Seven Things..." I don't care what you say out loud, but when you're writing something, I do think effort is important.

5.) I really liked the movie Starship Troopers. I have no idea why. I mean, it was a pretty bad movie all around, but I still really enjoy it for some strange reason.

6.) I'm deaf in one ear.

7.) I have my nipples pierced. I got it done last summer, and I really like it. It's not a kinky thing, and I'm not doing it to show off or catch guys; I just really enjoy taking my shirt off before a shower and catching a glimpse of them in the mirror. "My," I say to myself, "don't I have such pretty nipples?"

Well, there's seven things that you might not have known about me before. I think up next is Shar who is a kindred spirit in the world of bad dates, and Mel who's going to make it big some day, and I'll be able to say I read her blog when. Go to it gals!

Lazy Week

2007-05-19T07:42:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the lack of updates this week darling readers. It's been a slow week here in BadDates-burg.

When you mostly start dating one person, you tend to let the Fresh Meat go, so there haven't been any new dates.

And when you mostly start dating one person, you kinda let some of the older boys go.

And when that one person that you're mostly dating is busy a lot, you tend to find other things to do with your time.

So while I have some new hobbies, and some time for some old ones, that doesn't make for riveting story telling.

Really, about the most interesting thing that I have to share with you is that Curly and I went to go see Hot Fuzz this last Tuesday. After words, we had a small fire in my back yard (only advantage to living in the burbs, near as I can tell) and then went to bed. It was one of those nice, quiet, middle of the week dates that soon leads to more nice, quiet middle of the week dates.

I think I'm going to go out dancing tonight.

Of course, I'm not blind. I have indeed met some interesting fellows recently, but none that I'd pursue any time soon. Like Normy. He's a friend of a friend, and I know almost nothing about him, other than the fact that he's amazingly tall and looks good in black. And my friends swear he's a sweet guy. But, he's also leaving town for the summer.

Let's see if this weekend gets any more interesting.

I Hurt Me!

2007-05-16T08:39:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the lack of updates this week, one of those cases of living life and not writing about it. I have lots of stories for the rest of the week.

Saturday night Curly and I got together. Some friends of mine had been planning a big outing, but we were both feeling a little unsocial and tired after our long days and decided to stay in.

Over to Curly's it was, me with my book in tow. Now, before you start to yell at me about bringing a book on a date, I was in the middle of The Traveler and it had taken over my brain. Curly and I were pulling books off his shelf and talking about our favorite authors. The rest of the night is something of a blur, I was pretty tired, but I do remember curling up in bed.

The next morning, we're engaging in some, how to say... vigorous morning exercises, and I hit my head, hard, on the corner of his night stand. My comment? "Oh... I think I just donkey punched myself!"

Curly extracts himself delicately, runs into the kitchen and grabs me something to ice my head with. We curl back up in bed and laugh about this.

Now, normally this wouldn't be a story that I would share with you, considering this is a blog about my dating life, and not my sex life; however on Monday night I was out with Curly again, and we were talking about this blog. Yes, he does read it (Hi Curly!) and was wondering why I hadn't shared that story. Well, I did. Hooray!

I'm Not the Only One!

2007-05-14T11:31:00.000-06:00

I always like to know that I'm not the only person to publicly shame men who send us horrible pictures.

As of this moment, Lucy Holland is an official friend of bad daters everywhere!

Oh, and hello to all the Farkers. I promise, no site redesigns anytime soon.

Muk, and another not-bad-date

2007-05-13T10:05:00.000-06:00

When I was 15, I used to fantasize about being that girl who goes into the club and gets in free because "I'm with the band."

At 9:45 PM on May 12, 2007, it happened. Of course, I am now of the age where I own more business suits than leather pants and I'm more worried about my 401(k) than what's on my iPod.

Thankfully, he's actually a good drummer so I didn't have to lie about it later.

Porn! In Washington DC

2007-05-10T13:44:00.000-06:00

Ah... time for more porn!

In keeping with last weeks theme of traveling the country online looking for dick, this week we're hitting up our nations capitol, Washington DC, home of the sex scandal to see what there is to see. Remember, I found all of these pics posted in Craigslist under casual encounters. These really are the pictures these guys feel best represent them and their... assets.

Let's look at the scandalous pics that I have found!

Lights! Well, this picture surely could be a cute looking guy. Has all the makings of a tasty bit of manflesh, but with the lack of lighting, it's hard to tell.

I hate small pics! Really, when it's scaled down so small, I can barely see the graceful curving.

Drink Up! I noticed this a lot in the DC pics, that guys were holding up shampoo bottles and water bottles to show off the size of their johnson. I don't know yet how I feel about this, but the crazy anti-consumerist in me feels like they're reducing their own dicks to a commodity. Maybe it is? Who knows?

God, I hope that's soap. Cuz, if it's not, that would be a little disturbing.

What the hell is up with this? Well, the blurring around the edges is a little weird, but I can't get over the pose. Is he pressing his penis down, or is that gut fat that he's holding at bay?

Cock blocked. I think. That might be the end of his penis there, but it's hard to tell.

Like a superhero, but not. I think he's stealing Superman's underwear. It's the only explanation.

*gigglesnort* Really, that's all I have to say about this picture.

He calls himself a 'chubby lover.' I don't disagree.

Ah... there we go! Finally, some eye candy. Too bad he was posting m4m though.

Muk, darling, I finally understand your bad dates. If this is what our nations capital, home of the best and the brightest has to offer, I'm moving to Canada.

See all the Porn! posts!

Got a bad dick pic you want to share? Mail it on in!

The Best Part About Spending the Night

2007-05-09T11:45:00.000-06:00

I've got the smiles. You know, that smile that you just can't quite get off your face no matter how hard you try?

I ended up spending the night out at Curly's place last night. He had some work to finish up, so by the time I got there, it was pretty late. We watched several episodes of Bullshit and an awesome independent film Primer (which I highly reccomend!), then curled up in bed and got chatty, and snuggley, and naked, and...

Well. I'm sure you can gather where that went.

I know I've spoken before about the wishy-washy "I really want to enjoy this" vs. "I don't want to fuck this up" feeling, and it's still there. I'm all happy and giggly and could barely keep my mind on the road as I drove home this morning but at the same time I don't want to overstay my welcome. Argh. Why isn't this stuff easier?

Muk here. On desperation...

2007-05-08T11:21:00.000-06:00

Hi, baddater friends! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. After the stalker bit, I laid low for a while. And then, fortunately for me - but not for yon gentile readers - I have been on a series of good dates with a sweet, sane, good looking, emotionally intelligent fellow. Which makes for crap comedy material.

But, I am still logging into OkCupid. For my amusement, and your own, I present to you the Catch of the Day:

I think you are great looking,how are u doing today, just want to say hi toyou by sending you a warm email may be i will get a reply from u so that wecan get on from there...i may be able to speak the languages of human beingsand even of angels, but if I have no love, my speech is no more than a noisygong or a clanging bell. I may have the gift of inspired preaching; I mayhave all knowledge and understand all secrets; I may have the faith needed tomove mountains-but if I have no love, I am nothing. I may give awayeverything I have, and even give up my body to be burned-but if I have nolove, this does me no good..I want a woman for my soul,( In all ways besides(Emotionally)i really love to talk to you on yahoo im

Dear Big Guy, I'm sure if I read the DSM IV more carefully I could diagnose you based on that e-mail. Aside from the slightly meglomaniacal bent, there are few other things you might want to be aware of:

Being able to quote Corinthians does not make up for not being able to type a complete sentence with all the words spelled out.
And, frankly, you kinda seem like that type of Christian freak who insists that we don't need condoms because we're Really In Love and rubber makes the baby Jesus cry.
Finally, as Miss M so aptly pointed out - there is really nothing attractive about the stench of desperation. I checked out this guy's profile and it reads about like the mail. HI I NEED A LONG TERM RELATIONSHIP RIGHT NOW. With YOU! Because YOU (unknown reader) make my heart pump faster. YOU (unknown reader) are my very reason for being. Can I pork you now?

PS, "I want a woman for my soul" reminds me an awful lot of Tom Waits portraying Renfield in the 1992 Dracula remake. "Souuuuls for the mahssstah..."

Godot Just Needs a Better Watch

2007-05-08T10:10:00.000-06:00

An ex of mine had this little rule, which he called the 60/40 rule. He was willing to do 60% of the work in a relationship or a friendship, so long as the other person did 40%. Not a bad idea, I think. For me, it's a good rule because I like to make sure that people are actually interested in spending time with me instead of simply tolerating me.

This is a longish way of explaining why I haven't had crazy awesome date stories this weekend. I realized that I had been the instigator on the last few dates I've been on, and while I'm a lyberated womyn and all, I'm still enough of a girly girl to like being asked out every so often. So, this week, the boys are falling by the wayside in favor of spending time with my family and oft neglected friends, because if the boys want me, the boys know how to get in touch with me.

"But," you might say, "what happens if the boys never call you again!" Well, my little hummingbird of no-confidence, then they're not pulling their weight, and I wash my hands of them.

What have I been up to this weekend? Here's the quick update.

Curly and I went out to Spiderman 3 with some friends. We waited in line forever because we were told that the lines were going to be crazy, and they weren't. I think we spent more time needlessly in line than we did watching the movie. Curly's feet were hurting, he'd injured his heel playing Ultimate earlier in the day, and I think the late night got to him. I think we both went home a little cranky. Ah well.

Sunday, Danger Man stopped by. Haven't seen him in a while, but he was only able to hang out for dinner and to steal my cigarettes, then took off. Somedays, men are next to impossible to read.

Last night was out for burgers and a beer with my home-improvement friend. I've alluded to my home woes, but he's got them on an order of magnitude worse. Fun times, all around.

Still trying to get a hold of Frank, the guy that a friend of mine is trying to set me up with. Sadly, Frank works second shift, and when he's getting up in the "morning" I'm usually busy around the house or working, and when he gets out of work, I'm either asleep or out with someone else. Curse schedule problems.

Well, that's what I've got today. Muk mentioned writing soon, and it will be good to see her shining face on these pages again. Anyhow, you know the drill, same Date-Time, same Date-Channel!

The Cure for the Common Craigslist Ad

2007-05-07T09:37:00.000-06:00

Every morning I stop by and read craigslist on my way to BoingBoing and Consumerist. Every morning I go through a half dozen ads that make me want to cringe. I'm no great shakes at writing (as I'm sure you can tell) but I'm not abysmal at it either.

So, all you guys that engage in online dating, Miss M has put together a quick list of things you can do to write better ads, and avoid Bad Dates.

-Start using specific examples. Everyone loves movies, except for a few social deviants. What sorts of movies do you like? Zombie movies? Car chase movies? Art house flicks? Sensitive portrayals of modern families torn apart by rage and quiet desperation? Notice how some of those are very different from others? Yeah. This applies to movies, music, or anything you can have an opinion on.

-Quit it with the damn "girlfriend applications." It was cute once, and funny too, but now everyone does it, and now it just feels like you're posting for a minimum wage job. It lacks creativity and makes you look boring and overly picky.

-Brevity is the soul of wit. You don't need to tell us everything, God, leave something for you to talk about on a first date, if you ever get there.

-Do write more than a few lines. How can you sum yourself up in 20 words? If you have nothing to say, then what the hell are you going to talk about on a first date, if you ever get there?

-Yes, there are real women out here. I'm one of them, so I should know. Asking if there's real women that answer these things makes you look like an ass and a passive aggressive tool. Write something of interest, and we'll respond. Calling us bitches and whores (outside of NSA, that's different) because we're not interested in in a vague challenge is childish. And who wants to date a child?

-Talk about something that actually interests you. Most women I know get attracted to people that have passion in some field or another. Is your passion bodybuilding? Great! Tell us about how great it is to have a body that moves and works the way you want. Like cars? Tell us the feeling you get when you crank over the engine the first time on a car you've been restoring for years. Like reading? Wax poetic about the smell of old paper and glue in the back stacks at your favorite library. Be creative. Telling us about one thing that means something to you is 10 times sexier than a list of 10 things you're sorta interested in.

-Suggest an idea for a date. Having some idea of a night on the town with you jump starts our minds. You'll be far more likely to attract someone that likes going to a Social D show if you say "I'd love to go see Social D sometime soon" in your ad. Tell her about wanting to see a new art show or go on a bike ride. I promise you, the women that read that ad will start to think about what she's going to wear and the fun she's going to have, which increases the odds that she'll message you.

-Proof read your freaking ad! It takes 5 minutes, and makes you look much smarter. Trust me, if you tell me you're college educated and have a professional job, it shouldn't look like a stoned 15 year old posted an NSA ad after raiding his fathers liquor cabinet. Not everything has to be perfect, but at least try.

-Quit it with the "nice guy" schtick. While I'm never going to say that all women want "bad boys" when you say you're just an average nice guy, we immediately envision the next 6 months sitting on the couch with you watching "Lost" on TiVo. How boring is that? You don't have to be an ass, just not lame.

-I don't care about your video game prowess. I play video games too, but pimping your awesome skills on Guitar Hero's medium setting makes me laugh. I want to know that if I start seeing you, that you have more to offer me than an epic mount on WoW. Like conversation skills and a sense of humor.

-51.5% of American women are overweight. Doing some quick math with some statistics available on the web, that means that in the whole state of Minnesota, there are only 1,174,907 "skinny" women out there for all 2,355,020 men in this state. Odds that even with random chance that you'll end up with a woman that is below "overweight" status? 49.8% That's right, less than half. Hell, if you just rule out obese chicks, you increase your dating pool to over 75% of women! And before you get all high and mighty and accuse me of being a fat chick with an axe to grind, 58% of men are overweight, which way outnumbers the fat girls. Get thee to a gym fatty.

Guys, I know you can do better out there. Girls will blow right through your ad unless and until you have something to offer them. Think before you type and I promise you, you'll get better responses.

Alcohol is Not My Friend

2007-05-05T12:47:00.000-06:00

Ouch. The Boy and I went out to Ground Zero, the local Goth/Industrial club on Thursday night. It was good times. Dinner at Spring St, then some dancing. No harm, right?

Ha! Would have been harmless if I hadn't run into some old co-workers of mine. Mr. White's girlfriend is a bartender at Zero and mixed me something called a Velvet Spike, and while I still have no clue what was in it, I do know it put me right on my ass. I recall everything up to that point, but somewhere after I finished it, everything becomes a blur.

Friday morning I was fairly useless, curled up on the couch at my friends place watching cable and hoping that my innards weren't going to vacate.

For years people had told me that once you turn 25, the hangovers are killer. I hadn't believed them, I was young and indestructable. What? Drink a bottle of Jameson's 4 hours before I have to wake up? Sure, no problem! But, ever since I turned 25 anything more than a few drinks and I'm a mess the next day. Why is that?

Ah well.

Tonight Curly and I will be going out with some friends of mine to go see Spiderman 3. This should be interesting, it's been a while since I've had a boy around enough that I'm going to be introducing him to friends. Never fear, updates tomorrow!

Real Life

2007-05-03T17:33:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the lack of updates this week. I bought a house about a year ago, and I'm in the final stages of finishing up this huge project of finishing the basement. Ugh. So much work. And, on top of that, I decided to repaint the bathroom, since I'm doing so much painting as it is (and the bathroom wallpaper was hideous) and that's sorta sucked up my life for right now.

Of course, this isn't to say I haven't been out and around; I'd go stir crazy if I had to spend all my time inside. Tuesday night Curly and I went out, I met him at his studio (he's an artist!) and we walked over to my favorite bar, the Spring Street. Sadly, Minneapolis seems to have this rule about everything closing at 9pm, so we weren't able to score any food, so we took the trip to Flameburger instead. Good times. Lots of talking. Back to the studio so I could grab my car, and a very sweet good night kiss.

Aww... It's not often that I get all giddy, but I was all the way home. Hooray for that!

You know, I think Curly reads this blog. Hrmm... is it tipping my hat to keep talking about getting the giddies?

09 -f9 -11 -02 -9d -74 -e3 -5b -d8 -41 -56 -c5 -63 -56 -88 -c0

2007-05-02T11:52:00.000-06:00

If you're not familiar with the great Digg revolt of '07, BoingBoing has a great piece on it. I normally don't talk shop around here, or wax philosophically about the blogosphere, and this has nothing to do with dating, so feel free to skip it, but I want to just say a few things.

These sorts of DMCA dustups have almost nothing to do with free speech. A violation of your right to free speech is when the someone censors you, like those pansy-assed free speech zones that have become so popular lately. When the government tells you when and where you can say something, if you can even say it at all, that's when you've been oppressed.

The DMCA take down notices that tend to get served to aggregate sites are generally unfounded, and if you took the time to argue them in court, would probably get thrown out, and most of the lawyers already know that. The real threat that these things have are the chilling effect they have on the free flow of information.

These things take time and money to fight, something that most webmasters don't have the capital to do. Hell, some of the more popular places on the internet are owned privately, or are owned by very small companies consisting of the employees. Craigslist, Fark, Something Awful, not to mention internet favorites like Penny Arcade, and Homestar Runner would be plowed under if they were sued by by the RIAA, MPAA, Jack Thompson, or any other soulless creature with too much money and time. Even Google quietly takes down offending information, and they have billions of dollars at their disposal to fight this kind of bullshit.

DMCA takedown notices are a extortion. By repeatedly filing these frivolous and baseless notices with the court, these companies and corporations are telling websites that if their mods and owners don't toe the line, they're going out of business. This is what we should be getting upset about.

I'm not sure what the solution is to all of this, I leave it to smarter people, but when companies can threaten someone with huge monetary damages even though the target has done no wrong, the crime isn't censorship, it's extortion.

Right, done with that. Back to your bad date channel, already in progress.

"...and that's when I told him to go shove that pickel up his..."

Or, maybe not.

Porn! In Minneapolis

2007-05-01T18:20:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted a craigslist ad recently, and I've run out of dick pics. Without dick pics, I don't have porn. Without porn, where would I find readers?

Since I don't plan on posting for a while now, I'm going to be doing the Porn! posts as a tour of our great nation. I've started to collect the dick pics that are posted directly on craigslist, meaning they're available for anyone that wants to look. This week is my hometown, Minneapolis. Next week, who knows?

Not Safe For Work! Remember, if you get fired, it's not my fault!

Starting things out with a bang. Wow. Double entendres aside, I'm impressed. Of course, if you're posting on CL in the middle of the day looking for sex with a body like that you're an ass, or got beat with the ugly stick. Either or, good eye candy to start with.

No Favor. Yeah... I could make a joke or two here, but I won't. At least no one will be able to accuse him of false advertising.

One in a series. This really was part of a series of pictures, which were impressive, but I chose this particular one because of the innovative use of a quarter.

Also nice. One of the things I'm noticing so far is that the pictures that I'm snagging off the site vs. the pictures that I get sent is that the ones online are far more impressive, on the whole. Is this because some guys have a better idea of what to advertise, or is it because they might be fake? You make the call.

Focus! I'm a fan of focus. Why aren't more people? If you want me interested in your penis, you need to give me a good picture of your penis, not your toes.

Quit it with the shaving! I know I'm only one woman out there, and that there will be many that disagree with me, but guys, you don't need to shave. Trim, yes. Manicure, sure, why not? Keep the area neat. But shaved looks wrong on pretty much every guy, I don't care how many inches you think it adds to your junk.

That-a-way! When I was young and a Girl Scout, they used to warn us that you can't always trust road markers. Wind might have blown them around, or they might be inacurate, or someone could be trying to get you lost. Not that any of this has something to do with the picture, I was just remembering out loud.

Please fix your lighting! Really, washout is never a good thing. And what's with the hand on the junk? It's not helping, I assure you.

Jogging shorts suck. Really, I assure you this is un-sexy as well. Just Don't Do It.

Background! Right, I understand that we're not all in a photography studio, but at least move your coffee table out of the way. Everything else is quite plesant however.

Just bad. All over. Of the many things wrong with this picture (the angle foreshortening the subject, for starters) I'm going to talk about the hair. See, this is why trimming is important. No one wants to let that out of control furball anywhere near their mucus membranes. Ick, ick, ick, ick, ick.

Next week, we'll take a virtual look at wang in a whole 'nother city. Until then, keep an eye out for more bad dates!

Blast From the Past

2007-04-30T13:14:00.000-06:00

I was sorting through my starred mail yesterday (I love gmail!) and found the very first message that I had sent from the account. It was a love note to an ex, and re-reading it, I found that much of it is still true about what I want today. I thought I'd share it with you, since I'm rather pleased with the writing.

I want to cuddle up to you on the couch and read a good book. I want to tear off your clothes and have my way with you. I want you to rip of my clothes and have your way with me, too. I want to hold your hand in line at the grocery store. I want to wake up at night and hear you snoring. I want to fight about whose turn it is to do laundry. I want to sit beside you at an uncomfortable dinner party, that neither of us really wanted to go to, but thought the other did. I want us to own a cat together. I want to us to pick out colors for the living room, and then realize we don't really want to paint. I want to cook you a fancy dinner. I want to cook you a boring middle-of-the-week-and-I'm-tired dinner. I want to show you off like a fancy new toy. I want to keep you all to myself. I want to be wrapped in contradiction. I want to take you over the border and have a cheesy shotgun wedding. I want to get to the point where I can say these things and not feel like a crazy obsessed internet chick. I want my aunts to give you a stupid nickname, because it means they like you, and not just because they don't want to remember your name. I want to knit you a sweater and have the sleeves turn out to be too long. I want to smother you in little kisses. I want to take you out shopping for sex toys and have a serious conversation about our preferences in butt plugs. I want to laugh with you about something stupid. I want to cry with you about something terrible. I want to plan an escape to Canada with you. I want to make you endless pots of Earl Grey during finals week. I want to pick out nail polish because I know you'd like the color. I want to fight about names for the kids with you, even if we know we won't have them for years. I want to get all jittery and nervous before I meet your family. I want us to geek out together. I want to go with you mattress shopping and freak out the salesman by asking how many people we could fit on that thing. I want to eat all your strawberries and look all innocent about it when you ask me if I did. I want to see your face when you read this. I want to remind you when it's time for your dentist’s appointment. I want to make you homemade chicken noodle soup when you're sick. I want us to come up with insipid nicknames for each other that make our friends embarrassed to be around us. I want to make out with you in the produce department and have other people give us dirty looks. I want to buy you a stupid gag gift that I know that you'll actually really like deep down inside. I want to catch your eye from across a crowded room and give you a come hither look. Years from now I want to squeeze your fingers while we wait the three minutes on a home pregnancy test and still be okay with whatever the results are. I want to take you to Pride. I want to take you to Beltane, and then take you home after. I want to take you on a camping trip and have it rain the whole time, trapping us in the tent. I want to share a CostCo member ship with you. I want to say "we" and "us" and "ours." I want to know you so well I can order a burrito from Chipotle for you. I want to go out to a bar with you and flirt with other boys just to see if I can make you jealous. I want to call you at four in the morning just to hear your voice. I want to keep a picture of you on my desk at work. I want to introduce you to my little brother. I want to send you out to the gas station at 2am to buy me tampons, since I know you'll probably be okay with it. I want to buy you something sappy from Hallmark for Valentines Day.

Well, that's what I have for today. Hope you enjoyed.

Howard: Redux

2007-04-29T20:44:00.000-06:00

So, there I was, sitting in my basement, waiting for a coat of paint to dry, playing Paper Mario (See? Geek.) when my phone rings. It's Howard, of all people. Now, I haven't really heard from Howard lately, to the point where he has mailed me the odd bits that I'd managed to leave at his house. What in the world could Howard want?

Turns out, his car has died on the side of the road, and he's in need of help. It seems I was the last person he was planning on calling, but here we are. Him trapped, me bored. I hop in the car, dangerously un-cute. I've pretty much been in the same clothes and without a shower since sometime late on Friday night since this whole weekend has been devoted to the basement project. I stunk. A lot. And I was covered in dust, paint, cat fur, and of course, stink.

I generally expect that rescue missions like this one to be pretty short. There, maybe to the auto parts place, and home. Howard's car, however, has had some serious issues recently due to a bad radiator, so we mucked around in the engine for a while, replacing a few hoses, making sure the radiator had fluid, etc. I told him I'd follow him home to make sure the car didn't blow up. If it was going to blow up, I wanted to be there to watch it.

Of course the car kept overheating, and the day was suddenly shot. Have you ever dealt with a car that's overheating, and there's nothing to be done for it? You drive about 5 minutes, then you wait about 20 to make sure the car has cooled down a bit. Then drive some more, then wait longer.

It took something like three hours to get the guy home. And I still had painting waiting for me at home.

Now, I know this sounds like a bitch session, but I did have a good time, frustrating as the day was. It mostly served as a reminder though, that I do like Howard, but I don't like like him. He's a good guy, but not the guy for me.

There's something nice about being able to visit someone that things didn't really work out with, and walk away knowing you've made the right decision.

Frustration

2007-04-28T08:28:00.000-06:00

There's something amazingly masochistic about the beginning of a relationship. That very bitter beginning when you've both acknowledged that you like each other more than casual acquaintances, but you're still in silent and subtle negotiations about how that is going to manifest itself. On one hand, you have a few really good ideas as to how it's going to work out; that perfect, Platonic ideal relationship that encompass things as large as The Future™ and as small as being curled up in bed watching the veins in his hand pulse with the beating of his heart in the morning sunlight. On the other hand, you still need to take some time before you jump right into this point, so both parties can get their bearings.

This is a long and round about way of saying that I haven't seen Curly since I last mentioned him and there aren't any plans in the immediate future. Why? Because We're Not A Couple, Yet™. We're still in that hazy beginning where almost anything can happen.

It should come to no surprise to the long time reader that I have not a lot of patience for these sorts of things. I can be infinitely patient under some circumstances, but I'm not very good at waiting for boilerplate nonsense. I want to skip ahead to the good stuff.

At this moment Curly could be in my nice warm bed with concave parts of my nice warm anatomy integrating with convex bits of his nicely warm anatomy, but he doesn't know that right now. I don't know that he knows that, but I've got a nickel that says he's thought about it a few times since last Tuesday. I'm not sure how long it's going to take to get to that part, but I'm going to try to make the trip as fun as the destination.

Try.

Fault

2007-04-26T14:44:00.000-06:00

Got this note from a reader today, and thought I'd share it:

i'm curious if you ever write about yourself as the cause of the bad date. or is the point of the blog to point out the problems of everyone else?

The first part is true. The one thing that is common of all of my bad dates is myself. Might I be the cause of all of my bad dates? Sure. That's totally possible. In fact, it's probably likely. Not all bad things happen by chance. It's likely that I mishear things, or misread cues, or put out the wrong kind of message. All of it is totally possible.

Then again, I also don't think this is a problem.

Look, this is who I am. Faliable. Sometimes I'm weak, sometimes I'm strong. I never intentionally put up an act or try to be a better match for someone than I really am. If something works out with someone, I want it to be for the person that I am, not the person that I was on a first or second date. Hell, no one can keep up the "first date" version of themselves. Perfectly coiffed, manicured, with pretty underwear all the time. So not me. Most of the time, I just brush my hair in the morning and let it do what it wants. I hate nail polish with a passion, and I can assure you my comfy underwear far outnumber my pretty underwear. Geeks have a term for this: WYSIWYG, what you see is what you get.

For me, a good date is more than getting a good meal and a show. A good date is when you get some insight on a person, you understand what's going on in their head, and maybe their heart. Bad dates aren't always disasters, sometimes they just miss some essential connection, a spark that says "man, I really want to spend more time with this person." Hell, a follow up date requires that compulsion to see the other person again.

Is this blog a way for me to assign blame elsewhere? Nah, not really. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, dating was getting depressing. I was sick of the system, the unwritten rules, the bullshit, and having a place to write it down, a chance to make it funny is cathartic. It gives me a chance to go into dates not dreading how terribly things can go, and instead focus on having a good time. Hell, if the entree sucks, that's material, not a disaster.

Hey, I'll take my blame for a bad date when it comes my way. But, when I meet a guy and things click, I want my credit for the good ones.

Parlay

2007-04-25T19:18:00.000-06:00

Was just on the phone with a friend of mine, who proposed an interesting idea: I have a lot of experiance dating, and have been taking the time to break down and analyze how things work and how they go wrong. That this gives me an interesting perspective on dating, and maybe there's a way to make money at this.

An interesting thought. Bear in mind I have no professional or formal training in psychology, anthropology, or really anything else, but there are truly good experts out there that have only real world experience and have managed to turn that into a career.

Now the question is, how do I go about this? Anyone have any ideas? Let me know!

I'm Not Gloating, But....

2007-04-25T12:38:00.000-06:00

Here I go again, tempting the hands of fate.

So there's this guy I like...

Wait for it! Wait for it... What's that? No clap of thunder? The Earth didn't shift on it's axis? Children still play safely?

In all seriousness, what little I can muster at the moment, I had a really, really, good date last night.

Curly (as we shall call him) and I went out on a few dates last year, and at the time I liked him, but was busy with other things, so didn't really persue the relationship. In the last few weeks though, he and I have been out a few times. I know, I know, I haven't mentioned it, but I was still trying to figure out what was going on with things, and how I felt. Last week and this last weekend were really busy, so I suggested to him that we should find some time and get really drunk.

Well, we did that last night. Went out to Psycho Suzi's for some truly boozy booze and some really good pizza. (If you're ever there, I highly reccomend the Sunny Buick.) After food, it was off to home where we played stupid drinking games with the Back to the Future series (because we're nerds!) and the booze was fast and furious. Poor Curly was pretty drunk, and then got pretty sick. Poor thing. The evening ended early at that point, neither of us sober enough to keep going. Ended up curled up in bed trying to make sure that he didn't get sick again.

Normally, I would say that having a drunken puking boy in my bathroom qualifies as a bad date. I am, however, a believer of in vino veritas, and that's when I think I figured out that I like him. It had been hard, for a while, to get a good read on him, but I was able to put my finger on it last night, and for that, I'm quite happy.

So, now that this is out in the open, look forward to hearing more about our dear friend Curly. Think good thoughts for me!

Busy Weekend

2007-04-23T12:08:00.000-06:00

Ah, the weekend. The time of the week where we get to cut loose and have fun. And all things being told, this was a good weekend, and most surely featured some bad dates.

Friday evening I spent with my most favorite of boys, Mikey, the 21 month old son of a friend of mine. So cute! His folks were out on the town, and Mr. Mikey and I spent an enjoyable evening with me trying to teach him how to say my name.

"Say Miss M!"
"Mommy!"
"No, no, Miss M."
"Dada?"
"No Miss M. You can do this Mikey!"
"Meany!"

Saturday featured a long day of carpet shopping, then out to drinks at Gallagher's in St. Paul with an good friend of mine and his co-worker that's he's trying to set me up with (We'll call the co-worker Frank). It was good times, were it not for "Zipperhead," a bar regular that looks like he's been hit in the head one too many times. He kept coming over and talking with us, and not being a geek didn't get the jokes, and was generally annoying. How do you send someone on their way when they're oblivious to everything? The three of us ended up back at Frank's place, where we drank gin and Mountain Dew (which sounds disgusting, but isn't all that bad) and I ended up passing out in the guest room.

Next morning up early. Boy and I had been planning on stealing my fathers little red sports car and driving up to Duluth for the afternoon. Take the back roads, enjoy the day. Well, more the fool I, as the weather report had said rain, and since the morning was so lovely... The convertable ended up all wet, and so did we. Two hours of driving, in the cold rain, in a convertable with questionable heat; not so much. It was a fun trip though, just very long, and I was very tired. Back to my place where we warmed up, got something to drink and hit the sheets.

All in all, a busy weekend. I really enjoyed myself out with Frank and Boy, but there's something about random roving barflies and rain that tend to put me in a sour mood. Thank goodness for the healing qualities of alcohol!

The Ongoing Quest Against Nice Guys

2007-04-20T12:59:00.000-06:00

After this morning's post I had myself a shot of whiskey, then vegged out on the couch with a bowl of home made sloppy joes for a while, then treated myself to a little Craigslist action. "Maybe," I thought to myself, "the Gods of teh intratubes have taken pity on me and I will find the perfect guy today. Or, at least someone interesting." More the fool I.

In the past, I have railed against "nice guys" and men with unrealistic standards. This means I am drawn like a a magnet to any and all posts with the words "nice guy" in the title.

Why do nice guys always finish last? :/ - 20

Seriously, I never seem to get the girl. They always choose me to be their best friend but never want to date me. I like video games, especially guitar hero, i think im pretty good at it i can beat most songs on medium. I play world of warcraft sometimes and I enjoy going for long walks in the park. I want to meet a nice girl who isn't fat and likes to read. I like glasses on chicks, I think its cute (heehee). I think im an ok looking guy and drive a sweet car, just give me a chance! (waiting by the computer)

First off, Heartless Bitches International does a better job disecting the "nice guy" phenomenon better than I ever could. Go read their analysis.

Secondly, this guy... Look, if the best you have to offer a chick is that you're moderatly okay at Guitar Hero and playing WoW, then you probably aren't going to meet too many girls that are interested in you. Especially when you discount all the "fat" chicks.

I know I've said it before, but I don't understand geek boys that think that because they "drive a sweet car" (like what? A '95 Grand AM with a homemade spoiler?) that means they should get a super model? To hell with that. 51.5% of women aged 20-34 are overweight in the US, so with your "no fatties" clause, you just litteraly cut out half the female population of the United States!

Look, if you were really nice, you wouldn't care if your perfect mate had a few extra pounds. Fuck nice guys. Fuck them right in their skinny little asses.

Man, there's nothing better to cure a blue mood than getting royally pissed off at someone.

Making the Cut

2007-04-20T08:09:00.000-06:00

Earlier this week, I had posted a contest to see who could send me the funniest Dick Pic, but the only pic that got sent to me was from Kelsey from Madison, and considering the picture I don't even know if I should share it. Crap, I just did. Caution! Sacrilegious humor above!

When I woke up this morning, I thought I had some idea of what I was going to write about today. But the longer I sit at my computer, the more I realize I have no clue. Maybe that's what I should be writing about, but I have no idea how to put it down in pixels.

I'm not just dating for my health. Far from it, the stress and heartbreak, the annoyance and the sheer number of cigarettes and whiskey it takes to keep me from breaking the necks of many of these guys is staggering. Muk and I were talking about this recently, and we both agree, not only does dating suck, it will make you crazy, and the one advantage of writing it all down is that it forces you to take something horrible and see the humor in it. Makes it a little cathartic.

Part of my problem is that I want to have kids. I really want to have kids, and I want to do it soon. There's a history of infertility and difficult pregnancies in my family, and trying sooner gives better odds of a happy, healthy pregnancy and a happy, healthy kid. However, more and more I run into situations where I'm the only one that's interested in kids. It used to be that if you didn't want kids you were the freak, but now with so many options to prevent unwanted pregnancies, you become a pariah if you do want them. When did "breeder" become an insult you use against other straight people?

In the last year, I would have to say that of all the guys I've dated a good 80% of them were entirely opposed to having kids. The one longer-term relationship I was in in 2006 broke up because he knew I wanted children, and he was steadfastly opposed to the idea. That was a hurt I still don't think I've gotten over.

And I just don't want a baby-daddy either. What I want is someone who is open to the idea of starting an honest to God family, but more and more, it seems that the only men that are looking for that are guys I wouldn't date, let alone combine genes with.

Point is, I don't know how much longer I can do this. In my life I've had a miscarriage, been through a failed engagement, and seen several long term relationships blow up in my face on the way to this goal. I don't know how much more I can do. I can write funny things about how some guy got pasta sauce on his face during a first date, but I don't know a way to make this funny. I don't know how to deal with this one.

This really isn't what I wanted to talk about this morning, but there it is. Anyhow, I'm going to go have a shot of whiskey right now (yes, at 10 in the morning) and maybe go back to sleep.

The Furry

2007-04-18T13:57:00.000-06:00

First off, I think everyone should give Muk an e-hug. I might have a lot of bad dates, but she gets all the crazies.

So, the story that I was going to tell today is the story of the Furry. Matt, a reader, sent in some fan mail specifically asking for the story, and since it's the first fan mail I've gotten, I'm more than happy to oblige.

About a year ago when I was truly active on OkCupid, I had met this guy who seemed somewhat interesting. He was pretty damn geeky, but since I like geeks, I was more than willing to go out with him. We spent an evening over Mongolian barbecue talking Star Wars vs. Star Trek, working out at the Renaissance Festival, and other geeky topics. Went well, but there wasn't too much of a spark, and I was planning on letting it go as a "just friends" thing.

The day after the date, we were chatting online and he lead the conversation into the realm of kink. I like kink, and at the time I was fairly active in the Minneapolis kink scene. What do I think about bondage? What do I think about role playing? What do I think about D/s? What do I think about furries?

Some of you might not know what a furry is. There are many different definitions out there on the web, and I'm sure that it's one of those things that people tend to define for themselves, but my understanding is that furries fetishize animals. Not in a bestiality kind of way (though I know some that do) but fetishize it more in the way that they identify as animals. Like a person trapped in the wrong species. Our furry was a cat on the inside.

Now, I don't have a problem if someone wants to identify as a house cat, but I'm not terribly interested in playing along. It's one thing if we're talking about someone that I've been dating for a while and know them and are willing to take their kink in stride, but after one date, I'm not interested in going down that path. Not my thing. Anyhow, I tell this to the Furry. Sorry, not interested.

And then, he pulls out the emotional blackmail. "You're just prejudiced!"

Now, Beloved Reader, this was a year ago, and Your Author was not as cynical or as bitter as she is today, so I fell for it. I went out with him again. It was terrible. We sat at Chipotle trying to force a conversation, but I was pissed that I had fallen for this, and he was trying to make me feel better which only made me feel worse. Sad, sad me. It's when I learned something, a feature in all of my dating to this day.

People get three strikes. Then, they're out. The Furry was under-employed with no desire to change that, a geek to the point where conversations on non-geek topics were out of the question, and had a weird sexual kink that I wasn't willing to handle. And then, he made me feel bad for having standards. Right. So not the guy for me.

Quick chunk of dating advice, something that Muk has already covered, but is worth repeating again: "Never try to talk someone out of breaking up with you. Once this particular die is cast, especially early in the game, it is cast." You're not going to score points by being sad, or pitiful, or creepy, or abusive. When someone says no, especially to something like a fetish that is considered deviant even in teh intratubes, you take it gracefully and move on. Or, if you're a cat, you lick your ass and pee on the carpet. Just don't do either Muk's or my place.

Stalking for Dummies

2007-04-18T12:11:00.000-06:00

Hello, Miss M fans. This is east coast Muk. I've not posted much lately, as I have recently developed a stalker. Remember the b00b13-hatin' face-hickey boy? Yes. Well. Apparently, between the Fade, a blunt "no," a screaming "hell no," nor "seriously, fuck off already" he still just couldn't grok that a pudgy 40-something who is marginally employed and has no personality may not get to date whoever he wants.

Yes, it's a tad melodramatic, but hey! I can now say that that my last dating attempt ended with police intervention. That's much more spice than any Sex and the City episode can bring you, right?

This guy was such a sad, pathetic stalker, though, he kinda gives stalking a bad name. Oh wait. It already had a bad name. Because stalkers suck. Still, I feel obliged to offer you wisdoms of stalking that my little friend, the b00bi3-hater, missed. So I give you, Stalking for Dummies.

1 - If you choose to send someone a creepy e-mail ala Sting's "Every Breath You Take," it might be wise not to do so from you work account. Especially a work account ending in .mil

2 - If you try to call someone at their job, pretending to be someone they might be in contact with, and everything about their job is available via google? Try doing a little research before you make up an excuse for the receptionist. For example, if someone is a pediatrician, don't call and say your feet hurt. Because that's a podiatrist. Little details, that's what make the difference.

3 - Once contacted by a police authority who tell you to stop stalking the person in question, it's best not to then scream at, threaten, or stalk the police.

4 - If you do feel a bizarre need to justify your behavior to the police, faxing them the repeated communications your stalk-ee has sent you asking you not to contact them again, well, it's just not bright. See, the constitution says you don't have to incriminate yourself. But once you do? Well. Joke's on you, pal.

So instead of stalking, please try to remember that you actually don't have the right to talk to whoever you want. When someone tells you they don't want to hear from you anymore, they really don't. Even if you're adorable. That weird shit honestly only works in the movies. In real life, it just makes you a loser.