The Foreigner

Ok, so I had an amazing day today, ending with quite the surprise date this evening. I met Omar, a definite member of the tribe, tonight at a local spot I love, and we had a great time. He’s Israeli, and while I’ve had my ups and downs with some Israeli ex boyfriends (oh, trust me, we’ll get to them on here), I decided not to let outside influences affect my decision making, and I gave him a chance. And, I am really glad I did because he was great!

Several possible deal breakers: 1. He smokes ( no can do), 2. He’s kosher (my #1 party pleasing dish is dates and bacon. Really???), and 3. After our lovely evening together, he leaned in and, …. I got a kiss on the cheek. Now, the real confusing (or not so confusing) follow up was, “call me when you get back into town.”

I’m no detective, but if memory serves, this cannot be good. What just happened to the last 3 hours of witty banter and intellectual chemistry? Mr. Wizard does a great disappearing act! Onto the next, I guess? So it seems…..

HOPE is a four letter word!

I’ve reached a point today that I’ve reached many other days, but now that I have this handy, dandy blog, it’s finally able to come out and be shared by the world. Ok, let’s be honest, it’s the large bottle of sake I just consumed that is the true enabler, but the blog helps too!

I’m having a low moment. The boy finally cried wolf this week, and I removed myself from the situation. The hot South African, Janni, I had in the back pocket seemed to only want me as a member of a couple, someone unattainable he could not have. I secretly knew I should have kept David in the picture, at least only in theory for Janni’s sake, but when he bailed on me tonight, I realized how true that was. I didn’t even realize how much I was looking forward to seeing him until he told me he couldn’t make it. Even my sure thing, Nate,  was tired from a day at the car show. What is up with that God-damned car show???

Truth be told, I’m just plain sad. Sad I have arrived at this place again. I’m sad I am no closer to being part of a relationship than I have ever been. Sad because I know how unbelievably amazing I am, but I guess I don’t translate. And, most importantly, I am sad that I still look to others to realize this; I have still not become ok with only having myself as a reflection. I don’t know how to get there; I hope one day I will.

I’d like to know how men just turn it off: that need to be wanted and needed. Do they have that too? Just once, I would like to be the one that comes home to the person to lean on. I am always the nurturer and the giver, and I am happy to be that person. I love making others feel at home and giving is an innate part of me. But, I would like to know what it feels like to have someone be there on the other side, when I’m having a shitty day and I need the crook of a neck or an arm to slip into. I’m afraid to continue hoping. Maybe I’ll be happier if that expectation goes away and I just accept today? Who knows?

Tomorrow I will most likely cringe in embarrassment that I have put this out for people to read. I’m pretty damn impressed I have this few typos, but this is not exactly the image I strive to uphold. I hate being vulnerable, and always cover this up. Maybe that’s why I am still here. And, I’ll probably erase this all, ensuring I get the correct image across. But, that said, it’s out there right now. Those of you who do get a glimpse, I hope you enjoy! See, that word gets in there, when you least expect it!

The Zygote

I have written and rewritten this post several times, and given the current status of this dead-end relationship (can I call it that? I don’t think so), I will keep it short and sweet.

When men complain about the drama women put them through, I think they need to look long and hard in the mirror. I am very much a girl (yes, in the proverbial over-sensitive way) , and can be quite emotional at times. But, I also am pretty easy going most of the time, and avoid drama at all costs in my relationships. I hate the beginning stages, and I would love nothing more than to dive in midway, past all the game playing and power struggle bullshit.

David, the 24 year old head case I just recently extricated myself from, was not kidding when he told me of his love affair with roller coasters. In fact, if it weren’t for his almost pre-pubescent age and behavior, I would have given him the title of “Carnival Master.” He was a one-man roller-coaster, constantly playing the highs and lows. Or, maybe “Bi-Polar Man” would have been another fitting title. He even told me at one point he sought out to push my buttons because he knew it made me mad. What the fuck is that??? I had another ex tell me that not too long ago, which is why he’s referred to as an “EX!” What is wrong with someone that they look to make you irritated, and then in turn make them irritated? Or, more importantly, why do I date these idiots?

David was a walking contradiction. He’d tell me about his best friend, his elderly grandfather, or the fact that he was looking to buy his parents each a new car to show them his appreciation for taking such good care of him, but then tell me he wasn’t an emotional person. He’d send me naked pictures to my cell phone (oh, I am so tempted to put those up on here!), invite me to his condo in Palm Springs, but then not allow me to see his house down the street or give me his phone number because he was “very private.” (Hiding much???) When I told him he’d see my place once he was ready to show me his, he got mad and told me I was being ridiculous, and tormenting him! I was being ridiculous???  Or, the best: he’d cry (literally) to me that he missed me so much and when I made him wait to see me, I was punishing him; however, once given the opportunity, he’d come up with some other excuse of something better he had to do, always last minute. If he weren’t 24, and hadn’t added me to his facebook page, where I could see for myself he wasn’t married, that would have been my first guess. But, now I have no idea what to think, and honestly, at this point, I could really care less. His behavior has turned him from this adorable young man into this totally repulsive kid. I cannot even imagine being with someone like him anymore, which is hilarious to me.

Not once did he ever apologize for breaking plans, or standing me up, or simply not calling or showing up when he had promised. I gave him so many breaks I almost never, ever put up with when I’m with other men, not really knowing why. Perhaps it was the novelty of his age? Or, that I really wanted something just to stick. But, we began this vicious cycle where I’d break it off, and he’d weasel his way back, until I finally had enough today and pulled the plug. After telling me how much he wanted to see me (again), our plans for a nice dinner out and the rest of the evening hanging out at my place were apparently trumped by the car show visiting downtown Los Angeles. Interesting!

I get that David just wasn’t into me enough. And, I get that I really have no business dating a kid who has absolutely no clue what he wants. I need a man, which really has nothing to do with the chronological age, but with mental and emotional maturity, and with readiness to be in something real. What I do know for sure is: when a guy has the opportunity to see the girl he is dating naked, and seeing a new piece of chrome with a shiny coat of paint is what he chooses, run, run, run, run, run! So, if you’re reading this Mr. Private-pants…. even though you’ve heard it earlier today: LOSE MY NUMBER!

The Escape Artist

So, on this festive Thanksgiving Holiday, I decided to give thanks to being single, and tell about one of the worst dates I have ever been on! I am most definitely grateful to not be around a jerk like that now, and be smarter about some of my choices for mate.

Now, I am a sucker for an English acent, as I am sure many people are, women especially. Brian, the Escape Artist, was a young Brit who had recently moved to New York, and was a few years younger than myself. He was a finance guy, and very, very cute. After a few emails back and forth, we arranged to meet for drinks near his office. I am usually pretty flexible, but always think it’s a sign of a gentleman when they make it a little more convenient for you than for them on the first date. So, at this point, strike 1 for Brian!

I arrive at the bar (which, for the record, is not just “close” to his office, and clear on the other side of town for me, but it’s actually next door to his office…Nice!), and expect to find Brian waiting for me. I think I may have been a few minutes late, and since he was just next door, I didn’t think it would take him too long to get there. Wrong! I waited in the W hotel lobby for him for 20 minutes. (strike 2).  I had a bad feeling, and called a friend to make back up plans. And, as I got up from my chair to leave, in comes Brian huffing and puffing, apologizing profusely.

I’m pretty good with forgiveness, so I figured we’d let that one slide. He was here, and he did have that sexy accent, so the least I could do was have that drink! So, we flagged down a waitress, had her seat us, and began to chat. And, that’s when I knew this date would not go so well. Brian was incredibly arrogant and obnoxious; the kind of guy that talks really loudly and other people look over; you want to hide behind the seat cushions in embarrassment! When the waitress returned, and asked us what we wanted, without even so much as a glance in my direction, he looked up at her and said “We’d both like a glass of chardonay.” Excuse me?

I looked at him incredulously, and then called her back as she started to walk away. “Um, no we don’t; I don’t drink white wine. I’ll have the cab.” Who was this jackass? I didn’t even want the wine at this point. I just wanted out of there. Which is probably what I should have said, but I didn’t. You know that moment you think of the best comeback to put the person in their place two weeks later while in the shower? That was this moment.

So, she brought our wine, and we struggled through small talk. Two sips in, Brian excused himself to the lu, and I called my friend immediately. “I’m downing this glass of wine, and getting out of here as soon as I can! This guy is a total loser. Meet you in 25 minutes!” I hung up, and looked around the room, wondering why my date couldn’t be any of the other guys that were sitting there. Even the really ugly guy; I bet he had a great personality!

So, I sat and I waited. And, I waited. And, I waited some more. 10-15 minutes went by, and my fantastic date was still not back from the restroom. I called the waitress over, and when I asked her if he had left, she exclaimed, “I don’t know if he left, but he did clear out the tab!”

Ok, so at least he paid for my drinks and didn’t stiff me with the bill, but what the Fuck? Now, I know we had no chance of hitting it off, and I may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I had inspired this guy with such distaste as to ditch me in the bar! Couldn’t even make it through the whole glass of his white wine. So, when people ask me why I didn’t ditch Mr. Big, this is why. No matter how much I dislike you, I do not have it in me to leave someone sitting there waiting for my return. It’s humiliating and just plain rude.

Incredulously, I raced downtown to meet my girlfriend, and we ended up having a great night out, laughing about Houdini and his escape trick! When I returned home, I had an email from the illusionist himself, telling me he “was sorry for running out, but his friend had an emergency, and he had to rush to meet him. I was beautiful, and would have no problem finding someone, and he wished me the best of luck!” Thanks, Chris Angel, I needed that!

I can only give thanks he disappeared when he did!

The Repeat Performer

Have you ever noticed that guys with piercing blue eyes manage to suck you into their grasp that much quicker and stronger than those with brown or green? There’s something so intriguing about them, almost like staring into tiny tropical islands!

The Repeat Performer’s baby blues were mesmerizing! He was seductive and elegant, and almost knew every “right” thing to do. On our first date, many years ago when I lived in Manhattan, RP was a consummate gentleman. He took me to an upscale lounge, bought me a drink, and we seemed to hit it off! He expressed great interest in seeing me again, and when we realized we both loved to cook, he suggested our second date be a dinner date, where we’d both cook together in his apartment. After he walked me to a cab, he kissed me on the cheek, not even trying to get in a real kiss, and I thought it was nice to be out with someone who was trying to grope me, but then again, I do like a nice kiss at the end of a good first date!

Now, I had been online dating for several years at this point, half of my friends with me in this arena, and half coupled off. When I first started dating, one of my dearest girlfriends at the time was without a man, and she tested the online dating waters as well. On her second go, she met a guy she had an amazing connection with, they had a handful of dates, and then he disappeared, presumably after getting what he wanted from her. I don’t think she slept with him, those details are unknown to me, but she must have fooled around with him enough for him to lose interest. I encouraged her to reach out to him, as we were both incredulous (and extremely naive at the time, I will admit) as to why he had disappeared, and he wrote her back a scathing email, breaking up with her on the spot! Her Greg Berendt moment: he was just not that into her! My friend scorned this jerk, and luckily, he was her last real date before meeting the man she would marry.

So, cut to several years later, and I’m on my way to RP’s apartment. He met me at the door, and we quickly headed over to Whole Foods, shopped for our items, and flirted innocently through the isles. When we got back, we each started our dishes, and continued the flirting and innocent touching. Things heated up a bit, but it was all pretty tame, and then while everything was boiling on the stove and baking in the oven, RP sat down to the piano and began playing show tunes.

Ok, what???? Show tunes? Where the hell does that come from? What 35 year old straight man plays Christopher Cross and the theme from Cats in his spare time, let alone to seduce a date? I thought it was odd, and the first red flag went up, but I plowed on through! 

We sat down for dinner, and it was quite good. We continued to flirt, even though I felt a little funny from the opening act, but I continued to enjoy myself. After dinner, we took our glasses of wine into the living room, sat down to talk, and started to make out a little. Again, the evening remained pretty PG, but it was definitely heating up, and RP was more than a little into it!  And, then, as if on cue, RP started to hint it was getting late, and he needed to get to his other house out of the city. Red flag #2! How many 35 year olds keep an apartment in Manhattan, but own a house in CT? (Married, much?)

So, even though he was driving to his “other” house, and clearly wanted me to leave, he walked me to the street, put me in a cab, said he’d see me soon, and I got in knowing I would never see him again. Something had shifted. I saw it in his eyes, and I felt it in my gut; I didn’t think I even wanted to see him again.

So, when I got home and called my girlfriend, as I did after most dates, and began to explain the events of the evening, I told her about the strange behavior, and there was silence on the other end. I asked what was wrong, and in a panicky, shaky voice, all I heard her say was, “That’s the Repeat Performer, Dara! You were out with the Repeat Performer.” The same guy we had both hated for using and dumping her all these years had been the jerk I was just with! We both had the same exact dates with him: charming first date followed by a romantic meal cooked at his place, and a bit of sexy time on the couch! 

Who knows how many there were before, after, and in between us! Sometimes I even thought of stopping by to ask the doormen; God, they must have a good laugh as they watch the revolving door of women this guy used and abused. I lucked out, never really getting too into him. But, I can only imagine how many there were that looked into his eyes and saw a charmer, only to be followed by the snake! Girls, watch out for those show tunes!!!!

Word’s Getting Out!

So, people are actually reading this; that’s very exciting news, considering I thought this would just actually sit in cyberland, for my eyes only! I’ve gotten some great feedback, and I love that my viewership is increasing. I’m glad you seem to be enjoying the trials and tribulations I have endured over the last 10 years; more to come, both good and bad. And, I’d love to hear some feedback (just, please be nice)!

Mr. Big comes to Santa Monica

When people hear the name “Mr. Big,” they normally think of the famous “Sex and the City” character portrayed by Chris Noth. When I say Mr. Big, that is not what I mean! Think: Tom Hanks in the 1980′s hit movie, and we’ve arrived at our next specimen of investigation!

I met Mr. Big at a Santa Monica sushi bar that I loved (at least I did until this experience!); I had picked the place to meet, which I don’t normally do, but Mr. Big was new to town, so I figured I would help out. Another thing I don’t normally do: forget to find out how tall the guy is! Now, I know some men don’t get this, but to most women, a man’s height is probably the biggest deal breaker, myself included. I have tried to date guys my height or similar, and it just doesn’t work, especially in heels. I just don’t feel comfortable looking down on the guy, so it’s very hard for me to get around this issue. I’m 5’6″, so anything less than 5’9″ just doesn’t work for me.

That said, Mr Big must have been about 5’6″, and that wouldn’t have been so bad if his clothes were not constructed for someone 6′ tall! I don’t know if he borrowed a suit from someone or if he just didn’t have the money to alter the tailoring, but he looked absolutely ridiculous! I thought it was a joke at first, but I knew he had just come from work, so I didn’t understand. I swear it was the last scene at the end of the movie where Elizabeth Perkins looks out and sees Tom Hanks, looks away, and sees the little boy in the man’s clothing. I didn’t know what to make of it!

We sat at the sushi bar, and when I asked Mr. Big what looked good on the menu, in the thickest southern drawl I have ever heard he answered “well, I just don’t knowwww. I never eat this big city food!” Again, joke? Where the hell was I? We were in Santa Monica, CA right? “Would you like me to order?” I suggested. He shook his head “yes,” so like a mother ordering for her child, which was how I was feeling, I ordered a few things from the robata bar. We talked a little, and all I could think of was how quickly I could get away. When the food came, he just stared at it. Now, I know sushi can be intimidating, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how a skewer of tomatoes or mushrooms or salmon was freaking this guy out so much. When I asked why he wasn’t eating, he said he was being polite, and couldn’t possibly start without me starting first. What??? I told him it was ok to start before me, and he made some gross inuendo. Seriously?

I sat through as much as I could; I listened to Mr. Big talk about he and his brothers foraging for scrap metal back in North Carolina, and his depressed father who drank himself into a stupor every night. When he sighed with dismay about not being able to see me for a whole week after tonight because I was going out of town on business (it was going to be a LOT longer than that), I was incredulous. Did he honestly think that my body language (arms tightly folded across my chest, legs crossed, and my whole body turned in the other direction) was indicating I was interested? I didn’t know what to do.

So, like a coward, I ran to the bathroom to call a friend! I wanted so badly to sneak out the back. Should I do it? Would I hate myself? And, to my astonishment, she told me to get the hell out of there! I was almost out the door, but I chickened out!I just couldn’t do that to someone. Years ago (oh, you’ll hear about this one too), someone walked out on me on a date, and I could never do that to someone, however awful. So, I stepped back into the fire….

Mr. Big was eating away, and when I told him I wouldn’t be eating anymore, and he could have mine too, his eyes lit up. I downed my drink to signal that I was finished, with it, and with him, and after a few more minutes, I suggested we leave. He tried to walk me to my car, but I bowed out gracefully. And, when he asked if he could see me again, and I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea, I gave him a hug, and practically sprinted in 4″ heels to my car. Whew!

Thankfully, Mr. Big never tried to call or entice me to see the error of my ways. I vowed I wouldn’t date again for awhile after this, and I actually didn’t date for a few months after this date. But, clearly that hiatus did not last too long….

Cheerboy Strikes Again!

Oh, but this is so worth stopping a productive day for. This fine interaction just came through from my fine friend the cheerleader lover! Keep in mind, this is almost a month after our first and only date. Enjoy!!!!

AIM IM with CHEERBOY. 2:07 PM

CHEERBOY: hi

ME: who is this?

CHEERBOY: mitch

CHEERBOY: how are you?

CHEERBOY: ?????????

ME: Sorry, just trying to do some work. (In my head, I am trying for the love of me to remember who the hell “mitch” is!!!!)

CHEERBOY: do you want to meet up tonite?

ME: I can’t; still recovering from a cold. (Who the hell is “mitch????”)

CHEERBOY: I have chicken soup here (ugh)

ME: When was the last time we spoke?

CHEERBOY: I don’t remember, do you?

ME: No. Do you even know who I am?

CHEERBOY: Yes of course.

ME: Did we go out? (WHO THE FUCK IS THIS???)

CHEERBOY: Yes. Jdate. (that narrows it down)!

ME: PF Changs?

CHEERBOY: yes you remember!

2:10 PM

CHEERBOY: r u there?

ME: yes

CHEERBOY: what do u do

ME: I’m a jewelry designer

CHEERBOY: ah nice

CHEERBOY: wow

CHEERBOY: so do u want to come over tonite

ME: I don’t think that’s the best idea, but thanks for the offer.

CHEERBOY: we could have sex – and thats good for a cold lol

ME: no offense, but I didn’t really feel any attraction. I didn’t think you did either.

CHEERBOY: well…we should try

CHEERBOY: maybe shower together first

ME: No thanks.

CHEERBOY: bitch

ME: I guess I’m a bitch because I don’t want to have sex with you! Ok!

CHEERBOY: yes

ME: Bye

CHEERBOY: GO FUCK YOURSELF CUNT!

And, there we have it! Fun times, fun times.

Swine Flu Hiatus

So, while I battle those little guys raging in my body, since I cannot go out to get new juicy stories, I figure that I’ll start relaying stories of dating horrors past…. It’s just like the ghosts of boyfriends past, only now I can laugh at them! Enjoy!!!

The Angry Germaphobe

Ok, so I was really excited about meeting “The Angry Germaphobe,” before realizing this was his title, of course (herein referred to as TAG). We totally clicked on the phone a few days prior to our date last week. He was funny, in the same dry, sarcastic, off-beat way I am, he was a total foodie, just like me (maybe even more so), and we had a ton to talk about. Fighting over each other to get out our stories, I knew we would at the very least have no lack of what to talk about on our date.

Or, maybe not! Our date was far from exciting. Aside from a good meal and a few drinks, there was very little in the conversation department. I was totally disappointed. The chemistry we had over the phone was just not there in person, and I was grasping for straws to get back to it. But, it didn’t work. He was nice, and there was nothing really wrong, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I tried. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. And, after a few drinks, that was a little easier.

Now, I have to add, I had mentioned to TAG over dinner that my throat was bothering me. Everyone seems to be sick during this flu season, and I had the start of a cough. He complained of allergies, and we laughed about both being sick. And, we’ll return to this in a little bit….

We went back to TAG’s house after dinner for a drink, and while I wasn’t planning on it, the wine did it’s work, and we ended up making out for awhile (sorry mom)! But, after the date was over, I thought that would be the last I heard of TAG, and I didn’t bother to add his number into my phone. I figured we were both on the same page. Somewhat fun (?), interesting night, but not to be repeated.

Wrong! TAG called several days later, while I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, sick as a dog. And, not recognizing the number (stupid, stupid), I picked up. Big mistake. As if feeling horrific was not bad enough, I now stepped into a verbal boxing ring. When TAG heard how sick I was over the phone, he began to yell at me that “I callously and purposefully made out with him to get him sick! How dare I pass my germs to him when I knew full well I was not healthy?” Seriously??? Who the hell thinks like this?

While I am not someone who normally gets belligerent with people, I was quick to defend myself, and gave it right back to  him! “Who the hell was I to get him sick?” Who the hell was he to yell at me? I wasn’t actually sick that day, or had no idea I was sick. And, since I had told him I was feeling a little sore throat, and he took it upon himself to make out with me of his own free will, how was I to blame? Of course, if I had known I was sick I would never have even gone out with him. But, the real catch was that, 5 days later, when he called, he still wasn’t even sick! He was just mad that he might get sick. Seriously????

Another winner! Let’s move on, shall we?