Rip Tide

Two disclaimers before I start:
1. Admitting something is the first step to fixing a problem.
2. Mom, remember that you are supposed to pretend you don't read my blog.

Imagine you're at the beach. You're jumping in the waves, laughing. The salt seeps into your mouth but you don't care because the sun is warming your face. When you are tired from jumping, you go to get out of the water and  look around a bit dazed. You are nowhere near where your blanket is. The current has carried you to some other place and you didn't even realize you were moving. That is how I feel this morning.

I don't know how I ended up where I am. An email from Jose on POF asked to meet for coffee. (I know I'm breaking my rule of naming names. There isn't any possible way that I know someone who would know him.) I can do that. Yes, I can do coffee. Let him see I'm not stick thin and he'll go away. Yes, I'm cynical. Then he sent me a text every day. Sometimes it was just a good morning or a have a good day type of thing. Needy, I thought. And then he called me princess in one of the texts. Needy and apparently delusional. But we spoke on the phone and he seemed positive and upbeat and eager to meet me. So we agreed to meet at Park City Mall.

Their Starbucks is minuscule. So we walked to the food court area to sit and talk. Lots more room and less chaos. And most importantly, he bought my drink. I knew we talked for a while, but wouldn't have guessed it was over three hours. He is easy to talk to. And I felt oddly comfortable. I started off with my usual sarcasm and he laughed. Example: On the phone he said he liked football. So we talked teams. He had lived in Baltimore when the franchise was moved there. So he liked Baltimore. Then when he moved to York, he watched football with his daughter and they followed the Steelers. He said he liked both. I told him that wasn't possible. In line at The Bux, he asked if I really hated Baltimore. I thought for a moment and then, in a completely serious tone, said "yes". And he laughed. I was completely at ease. He was very much a gentleman. He helped me with my coat, he walked me to my car, he asked if he could kiss me on the cheek. To make sure I got home safely, he wanted me to text him. And we talked about having lunch the next day.

Sunday, I drove to York to meet him at a Thai place. I like that he had an idea of a restaurant and it wasn't the usual,  boring chain. We joked around more and shared more. He's very open and tells me anything. He travels once a quarter. Some of the women he met before asked presumptuous questions about his salary. He has a herniated disk and about two years ago had to have a kidney removed. But what's better, it's not one sided. He asks me questions. And unlike my usual MO, I'm telling him things. Things about me. About past relationships, or feelings, or what I value in a person. By the end of lunch, I felt things were still going well. There were no awkward lulls in the conversation. I'm not sure this has happened before.

Then he invited me to his house. He wanted to give me the grand tour. And he wanted to compare lists. The list was something he said was a homework assignment he gave me before we met. After we spoke on the phone, he told me to write down ten words that I thought described him. He would do the same and we would compare. What a fun idea. I love words, this is right up my alley. Part of me always questions the safety of this. He told me his daughter pokes fun at him for being OCD and being so tidy.  I'm curious as to how tidy. At some point in time, I'm going to be alone with him in his house. If someone is that concerned about neatness, he'd never risk bloodshed in his living room.

His house- When he described himself as OCD, he was right. Things are orderly and carefully arranged.. He already made it clear that no one else is allowed to clean his home office. Not a problem for me. I love being told I'm not allowed to clean something. And then he showed me his closet. I've heard of people arranging their closet by color, but I've never seen it done before. Pants, all arranged in order. Long sleeved shirts, by color. A separate section for polos, by color. Even the section of shirts that needed to go to the cleaners were hung up. Really? Now I'm not sure I want to show him my house. I can unclutter but I'm definitely not opening my closet doors.

The list- It was partly accurate and partly bullshit. I'm mean, seriously, why else would he start off with beautiful? Remember, he saw a pic online and spoke to me on the phone at that point. But it's nice to read ten positive words someone thinks about you. Everyone needs an ego boost like that once in a while.

The conversation- So this is the rip tide part. Somehow, the conversation got intense. But it wasn't  in a direct or intimidating way. It was a comment like, "in 90 days, we'll write those lists again but we can't use any of the words we used the first time". That's three months. He's picturing us together in three months. Then travel discussion turned into- if we're still together, we should take a cruise together this summer. Now we're planning vacations? If you're thinking, "isn't this what she wanted?", you're right. But now that it's here, I'm a little freaked out. Come on, it's been two dates. How did I get from coffee to a cruise? And talk of food he'll have me try in Peru, and meeting his sister, in Peru. Holy crap. I don't actually freak out in front of him, but my mind races as I'm driving home. I try to picture some of what was mentioned. Then I feel trapped, like I don't have control of where this is going. Then I try to tell myself that it is ok to let go and allow this to happen. I take a deep breath and think calm thoughts. I review what has been said. How did I get here? Panic creeps in and it feels like it is happening too fast. It sort of feels like what happened when I started seeing Ken. It was a whirlwind and seemed to get serious too quickly. I know that hindsight is 20/20 but I can't help that feeling of fear creeping towards me. But what has really happened?  Nothing has happened and I'm blowing this out of proportion. All of this talk is exactly that; just talk. Talk is cheap. It's not like I've been offered to schedule a vacation.

The good stuff-He asked if he could kiss me. He even confessed he was feeling a little nervous. After we had mentioned a few times how comfortable it was to be with each other, this was unexpected. How sweet. Well, apparently, those nerves were short lived. We were making out like teenagers in no time. I won't go into details for two reasons. As an adult, it's poor form. And because I know that in reality, my mom is reading this.

He also brought up his profile on the website. He told me, without asking anything of me, that he would stop emailing anyone he had been in contact with on the site. His preference is to focus on one thing at a time. He felt it was the only way to handle getting to know someone. And he specifically said he wasn't asking me to do the same, but did ask what I intended to do. I could honestly tell him that I wasn't communicating with anyone else. But I wasn't sure how I would handle It's Just Lunch. Who knows when they would call next? But with my luck, I'm expecting a call from them any minute.

Upcoming tests- We're planning on having lunch before the Super Bowl. (He has a party to go with friends, and it's a guys only thing.) It's his turn to drive. That means I'll show him my house. Will he be appalled? He might open a kitchen cabinet or see where I keep my shoes (in a pile on the floor of the closet); will that send him running for the hills? He did have dogs before, so I'm not so worried about the dog toys on the floor. He knows about all the dogs. But I never mentioned about which ones sleep in bed. I haven't broken it to him that I don't make my bed. I mean, I'll make it on the day he is coming to my house. But Tally likes to un-make the bed. Why bother? When he told me about his Yorkies (he doesn't have any right now), he asked if I would ever consider having a lab. Now we're talking about our future dogs? This is where I start to hyperventilate. So now I have a week to pretend like my house is always clean and organized. I work really hard to not have clutter in my house, but it's an ongoing battle.

The other ongoing concern: he's an early morning person. Like 4:30. In the morning. Or as most of us refer to it- the middle of the night. One of the texts he sent was at 5 am. Who sends texts at 5 am, unless you're in college and just coming home? I'm not even sure I'm capable of complete sentences at 5 in the morning. This might be what makes or breaks it. He goes to bed on weeknights around 8:30-9. Sometimes I going to the gym then. I keep telling myself I don't have to worry about this right now. And I'm not going to worry about anything as long as he keeps calling me princess.

The Odds of Playing Cards

Last weekend I had the luxury of catching up with some long time friends that I've met through Girl Scouts. And by long time, two of them I met when I was 19. These women get together one weekend in January each year to reconnect and have fun. Usually I join them for dinner and a few hours to avoid the hassle of dog sitters, sleeping in a cot, and sharing a bathroom. Each year we end up playing Spoons. To play, you need two decks of cards and a spoon for every player minus one. You start with four cards. Everyone passes one card to the person next to you until someone gets four of a kind. That person grabs a spoon. Everyone else tries to grab a spoon. The person without a spoon gets a letter like in Horse, but this time we're spelling....wait for it....Spoons. To clarify, grab a spoon means frantically and forcefully get a spoon as quickly as possible which might involve grabbing it from someone else or diving onto the floor. Or the table. Hilarity ensues. I am happy to say after about two hours of playing, my sides hurt from laughing and I only had an 's'. On the way home, I had time to think. I didn't really get a chance to recap the year with my closest friend of the group. What would I have told her? I would have mentioned my brother's visit in October and that he might be home for good in the next year. We would have discussed my parents health and that their house isn't on the market, as opposed to last year when that was the big news. I am sure I would have made humorous comments about dating and my social life. And I would have mentioned a family member- but if I've learned nothing else, I'm not going to mention anything on the internet about it.

Somehow, in the hour on the way home, I was thinking about the mathematical odds of getting four of a kind when there are 104 cards. I wasn't able to do that math, mind you, but the concept crossed my mind. Then I started thinking about statistics in general. What is the probability that I find a long term, lasting relationship? I'm not really sure what the odds are, but I'm sure they are stacked against me. I can face facts- I'm over 40, I have a lot of dogs, moving would be a challenge because no district would consider hiring me (I have too many credits and too much experience!), and I have a lot of dogs. And I haven't even touched on my personality which is high maintenance but I think it is low maintenance, sarcastic, independent that might come off as aloof, and demanding. Wow, I sound like a dream girl! Who wouldn't want that?

So what if that is the case? What if it's me and the dogs for the rest of my life? By now, we all know there were tears. What good is a drive at midnight in the middle of nowhere on a cold January night without a few tears? But by the time I got home, I realized it wouldn't be so bad. I would rather that than being miserable with the wrong person. Maybe the cold had frozen my brain.

So against my better judgment, I have kept my profile on plenty of fish open. The email I get of someone who wants to "meet me" have been amusing if nothing else. Apparently I attract a lot of day laborers who like motorcycle and fishing, and want to avoid drama. For real, pictures showing a person holding a fish or a pic of just some motorcycle- as if that should impress me. I don't have a picture of my Rav4 there. Every once in a long while, I'll get an email. If it is anything more than "hi", which happens more often than not, I'll respond. Often the person is hours away and it's easy to say no thanks. But even more against my better judgment, I think I'm meeting someone for coffee on Sunday. Details aren't confirmed, but he seems eager. Which makes me skeptical. How many times have I said I just want someone to pay attention to me, and then this guy texts me a bunch of times and now he is needy. I guess I think it's weird because I haven't actually spoken to him on the phone. But I will this weekend. And the optimist in me has returned. Especially because has more than a high school diploma and he might be able to figure out the statistics of getting four of a kind with 104 cards.

What are you supposed to say when....

A couple days ago, I had a friend tell me the latest happenings from someone I had a couple dates with about ten years ago. (Geez, was it really that long ago?) She had set us up and when he 'freaked out' and stopped calling me, she was embarrassed. She vowed never to mention his name to me. Until the following summer when I won a cruise for two to Bermuda, she said she would make sure he heard about that. That was ok.

Fast forward to last week. Her husband works with his mom, so his name got mentioned. Too hard to follow? The important part is that I got to hear about Sean. We dated about two months. After he dropped off the face of the earth, apparently he was laid off from his job, found a new job, met someone there and married her three months later. Turns out she was an alcoholic, lost her job and they re-located to Florida where they were both drinking heavily. There were more jobs and more drinking, and somehow in all this, he cut off the relationship with his mom. How am I supposed to respond to that?

Part of me felt sad for him. No one wants to hear about someone who loses contact with their family or is bordering on alcoholism. He was ambitious and loved his job. It was an attractive quality about him.

Part of me went through the thought process of: if he stayed with me, could I have saved him from this? I don't drink much. I've never lost a job. Would that have influenced him differently? This same part wondered why he didn't want to marry me. I knew he had been engaged in Florida before moving to Pennsylvania. I knew that break up wasn't his choice. But he obviously wasn't that afraid of marriage. It's dawning on me now that I was a rebound date. And by 'now', I mean right this second. All this time I thought it was me. Well, it was still me, but the rebound part means it wasn't entirely me. I can share blame a little.

And then part of me thought, "it serves him right." Was it karma making him feel bad for making me feel bad? He did deserve to feel bad. First there was the part that he lied to me. Then I felt foolish for thinking things were still ok and I left him two messages because I thought he was just busy. Then I felt even more foolish when I accepted the fact I was being blown off.

So let this be a lesson. Single men- can you risk losing your job and your family and becoming an alcoholic by blowing me off? That might not really be the lesson in this, but that's what I'm sticking to right now.

Be Careful What You Wish For

While I think I want closure, I really don't. I used to think that I wanted a guy to have a set big enough to state that he didn't want to date me. Yeah, I don't want that anymore. It usually makes me mad, and my response is all kinds of not nice, sarcastic (although funny) comments. In my head. The end result is while I amuse myself, I'm still pissed.

Since I ended up with contact info from Ned (yes, I immediately think "Flanders"), I emailed him. It was a casual, 'hey, here's my cell if you want to get together'. I didn't really, but thought I'd consider it as a second chance if he initiated. It took him five days to respond. Really?? Come on now. The signature line from his email indicated that his first name is Edwin. And he chose to go by Ned? Does he know he picked a dorky option? That can only mean one thing. He is a dork and deserves to be thought of as Ned Flanders.

He did have enough sense to start with a compliment about he enjoyed meeting me, liked our conversation, blah, blah, blah. Then he goes on write that he hasn't been married before and saw his parents go through messy divorces that ended up involving him. Yeah, I'm sure that sucks. Poor form on the part of your parents, but be a big boy and get over it. And now that part that floors me. So he wants to find someone who hasn't been married before to start their life together or some such bullshit. Yeah, good luck with that. Dude, in your 40s, the ones that haven't been married before, in most cases, haven't been married before for a reason. They're weird. Or crazy. Or still pining for someone from high school; the one that got away. You aren't going to want them either. But OK, you keep looking for that. Maybe I'll email you a year from now and see how that worked for you.

The part of me that is bitchy and likes to tell on people wants to email the dating coordinator. So I can tell on him. If he stated that he didn't want to date someone who has been married before, then they set me up poorly. And if he didn't state that to them, he either lied to me or lied to me. Either way, I want them to know this isn't my fault. Maybe I'll casually email my availability and slip that little tidbit in at the end. Yeah, that sounds like me. Of course, they'll have to add "bitchy tattletale" to my description, but we all knew that.

Time heals all wounds. I know I'll feel the need for closure again. I'm sure the thought will enter my mind. The idea of knowing, the certainty, will have an appeal so provocative. I won't be able to resist and I will think, "I just want to know". It's like an addiction you just can't resist. So I can't promise that I won't wish for it again. Equally, I can't promise that it won't piss me off. It will. And I'll still have witty comments, even if I'm the only one who hears them.