43 & Single – Heaven Help Me, I've Resorted To Internet Dating!

Ridiculous & Random Stories & Thoughts on My Experiences

Drawers, Speeding Tickets, Parents & Time Lapses May 30, 2018

So I got the drawer.  He was uber cute about it.  To me, it’s just a drawer.  To him, it’s more of symbolic letterman’s jacket.  He’s admitted that he’s the ‘girl’ in the relationship and worries all the time about what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling, if I’m tired of him yet, etc….. Kinda endearing.  And kinda nice for me not to be the more neurotic of the two.  Kinda freaks me out though that he’s seemingly trying to fast forward whatever it is we have going on (more to come on this in another post as this one is already hodge podgey enough)

 

I met his parents this weekend.  Completely unplanned.  They invited us over for a BBQ on Monday.  Mr. OoT HATES his mother.  Apparently she was a horrible, horrible mom.  He’s not the only sibling to feel this way.  He refers to his mom as ‘his dad’s wife’ or the antichrist.  My mom was less than stellar so I get it.  He has nothing good to say about her.  I feel bad.  He loves his dad dearly though, so it’s a bit of a trade-off.  He warned me that his mom is passive aggressive and a bit of a hoarder.  She was actually fine.  A bit neurotic and awkward, but fine.  Even Mr. OoT said that she ‘kept her crazy tucked away pretty well.”  Anywhoo, I’m sure they loved me.  Everyone does.  HA!  I guess I’ll wait to hear what the report comes in as.  I think his hatred of his mom takes up a lot of space in his already overly crammed, never silent mind, so it would be great if he could find some sort of a middle ground.

 

Mr. OoT and I went to a hot springs on Monday evening.  It was okay.  I had grand ideas of how amazing sexy time would be in a private hot springs room.  Huh, not so much.  Firstly, trying to have sex in the water is a bit of a challenge (for many reasons).  Secondly, I guess I wanted the water temp a bit too high for my delicate flower of a man, so he was feeling a bit woozy.  He was SOOOO embarrassed.  I almost felt like shit.  Almost.  Oh well.

 

On the way back to his apartment, I was rewarded with a police car siren and flashing lights in my rear-view mirror.  Super, you can never have enough speeding tickets, right?  To be clear, I WAS speeding.  I usually do.  I like to get to where I’m going.  To also be clear, Mr. OoT HATES cops.  Probably as much as he hates his mother.  I could tell that he was getting all worked up, so I asked him to please not say anything when the policeman approached.  I was driving and it was my car after all.  The policeman came to the window and informed me that I was speeding.  I was polite and lied told him that I had my cruise control set at xx mph, so was confused.  Mr. OoT began to pop off and I had to shush him.  When the cop walked away to run my license, Mr. OoT began a litany of  reasons that cops suck.  I basically had to tell him to shut the fuck up; in a nice way, of course.  After the 3rd time of rewording my ‘shut the fuck up’, he finally did.  The cop let me off with a warning (to which I thanked him and Mr. OoT wasn’t happy that I did that) and we were on our merry way again.  It could have been worse.  I handled it well.  I was polite and respectful.  Mr. OoT was not.  I was pissed.  He could have gotten me (and himself) in a lot of trouble.  He is seemingly unable to harness his self righteous ideals about things when it comes to deciding the best way to handle a specific situation.  Concerning, to say the least.

 

All in all we had a fun 4 days.  I got home Tuesday morning.  It was a good time.  Although still being the flakey, bad memory having, peter pan (ish) guy that he always was, he’s also super sweet to me.  Stay tuned for the ‘fast forward’ and my impending (or not) freak out …………….

 

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Turn Tables May 27, 2018

So during our multitude of talks on Friday night, Mr. OoT asked me if I’d ever want to get married. I swear I almost wet the bed. Why the fuck is he asking me that? This is the 3rd weekend we’ve spent together. While I am certainly hoping he didn’t mean it in a will you marry me, kinda way (#4, really?), it freaked me out a little. As I was facing away from him at the time (little spoon, ya’ know), he wasn’t privy to my deer in the headlights facial expression. I did my best to rebound from my shock and not get all weirded out by the question. I told him I guess it would depend on the circumstances. That I had always assumed, as young and ignorant girl (before way too many years of online dating jaded me) that I would get married. That I truly would like to experience the ceremony and symbolism of it all. That I, regardless of how UN women’s lib it is, feel like a bit of a failure for never being married at 50. I think having years of online nimrods asking me ‘what’s wrong with you’ when they find out that I’ve not been married to thank for at least a little of this. Fuckers. After my response to Mr. OoT, I promptly changed the subject.

Mr. OoT is SUPER into me. It’s absolutely not in my nature or lack of ego to ever say something like that, but he’s pretty open about it. He’s also very neurotic and nervous about it. He keeps telling me that he’ll totally understand that when (not if) I decide in 6 months that he’s too weird for me, he’ll understand. I asked him why he thinks he’s such an unloveable weirdo. If it’s a factor of his own doing or if he’s been told this by others. He wouldn’t answer. I’m guessing it’s a combination of the two.

I asked him how many time he’s been in love. His first response was to say ‘apparently never as nothing has ever worked out’. I told him what a sadly ridiculous answer that was. That you can absolutely be in love and not have things work out. We talked about it a bit more and he changed his answer to 4. I called bullshit on that one too. He’s been married 3 times for fuck sake.

I did something completely insane the other day and I still don’t know why. I’m not a FB stalker or a google searcher. If I want to know something about someone, I just ask. I completely FB stalked him. Like every single post back 2009. Insane. And time consuming, I might add. If that isn’t concerning enough, I actually went the extra step of screen shotting every single ‘I love you’, ‘you are my world’, and any other declaration of love to different women. I actually find it odd that these women all went out of their way to post weirdly ‘look at me and my man’ posts on FB instead of sending them directly to him, but as I was presently being a psycho, who am I to judge? Anywho, apparently 2011 was a big year for him. 4 different women, in fairly quick succession, were the recipients of his heart. Why the hell do I care what happened 7 years ago? No clue.

Best yet about all of this? I told him I did it. He asked me why. I couldn’t answer. He wanted to know if I did it to use against him in the future. Weird. No. He wanted to know if I was in the process of trying to sabotage things. Against my usual M.O., again a big NO. I told him that I think he’s in love with the idea of love. He said I was wrong. I assure you, I am not. Anywhoo, I do think something that bothers me are all the ‘baby’, ‘you’re amazing’ and other terminology that he uses with me. Why on earth, at his advanced age of 40 whatever, would I think that I’d be the 1st woman that he calls baby?

I do find it refreshing, if not foreign as hell, for me to be so open and comfortable with him. Sure, I’m still the same neurotic dumbass that I’ve always been, but I just tell him about all of it. And instead of thinking I’m a total mess, he does his best to make me feel better and let’s me know how much he appreciates my honesty as it makes him feel more secure in things knowing that I’m a weirdo too.

 

Snoring, Drawers & Weird Sisters May 26, 2018

His, not mine.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I have weird sisters as well.  His is just extra special weird.  When I was here last, she came over to talk to Mr. OoT and, as I was in the room and am a judgy bitch intuitive, she is one of those people that thrives on chaos.  Self created, self defeating chaos.  Although having a good heart, I found her exhausting to be around.  Her energy was uber draining.  In an attempt to do something nice for her as I don’t think she’s familiar with random people being kind to her, I brought her a gift this time around.  We had spoken a bit about my love of crystals and she said she believe in the powers of them as well.  I selected a Rose Quartz for her.  If anyone ever needed one, it’s her.  So I brought it with me and gave it to her yesterday when she stopped by and she made it so FUCKING WEIRD.  I have no idea what her deal was, but it was super off putting.  She said thank you, but she didn’t mean it.  I’m not really one to give people more than a couple chances (unless they’re totally inappropriate men), and as this was strike number 2, I’m going to do my best to avoid her in the future.  The fact that she just couldn’t say thank you and move on was just annoying.  As Mr. OoT has a BIG family and I’m not the only one to find this sister draining and exhausting, I don’t feel so bad.  Well, I kinda do, but hell if I’m going to go out of my way to be nice to someone that I don’t vibe with.  I tried.  I failed. Moving on.

 

Now about this snoring.  Holy hell, it’s an issue.  A big one.  After 4 rounds of sexy time with Mr. OoT yesterday, momma needs her sleep.  That just doesn’t happen.  I have never heard anything so loud.  Like wake the dead loud.  As an added bonus, he’s a thrasher as well.  On the off times that his foghorn downgrades to just breathing loudly, he usually thrashes around.  Big time.  I would seriously pay big money to be able to tell what goes on in his brain when he sleeps.  Honestly, I have no clue how HE is even able to sleep with all that noise an thrashing.

 

After deciding to get some sleep at 2:48 am (not bad for an old fart, eh?), I finally gave up at 5:30am.  Lovely.  I have this awesome tracker bracelet (a gift from said snoring wonder) that also tracks sleep.  Not just in amount, but in quality.  It breaks it down into deep sleep and light sleep.  I am presently typing you all on a whopping 46 minutes of deep sleep.  No bueno.  I see an exhaustion migraine coming on at any moment.  If anyone has any suggestions for me short of smothering him with a pillow (which I have considered several times), please share.

 

Anywhoo, yesterday was fun.  It’s been 3 weeks since I’ve seen him.  I like him.  Plain and simple.  He’s morphing a bit into a different version of himself from the one that I initially met.  He’s still every bit as defiantly non conformist/hippie tree hugger as he ever was and I’d never want that to change.  People need to be true to who they are.  He still has wildly different views on things than I do.  He still thinks I’m an uber square.   He is just more respectful; less self involved.  Hell, he even puts the toilet seat down!  Not a small kindness for a lot of men.  The more time I spend with him, the more I like him.

 

Oh, and that elusive drawer that he was going to dedicate to me?  He actually did!  And it’s charming as hell just HOW proud he is of this.  He asked me last night, when we were talking about just about everything under the sun, how I felt about having a drawer in his place.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that, to me, it’s just a drawer.  He sees it as a BIG token.  Like the dresser version of giving me his letter-man jacket.  So sweet.

 

Were There Men Even On Board? May 24, 2018

So. Much. Fun. So. Many. Cocktails. Got back Sunday from my 3 day whirlwind cruise. So glad I went. Even though the ‘jr suite’ that I shared with 2 friends was more like a ‘not so much jr suite’ and I slept on this odd folded out futon like couch thing (diagonally, might I add as it was uber short and I am not), I had a blast.

There were 13 of us in all. And about 6 of that 13 were all about the drama. Tears, tantrums and rudeness included. I successfully avoided it all. And spent most of my time at the bar. Every bar. My ‘core group’ all got the ‘unlimited drinks’ package and, as it’s not really unlimited and is instead limited to 15 drinks per day (boo Carnival), it was an unwritten agreement to try and reach our limit each day. #lifegoals. Sadly, and surprisingly considering we started drinking at 9am each day, I never actually hit 15. Apparently I’m lame. Or just a cheaper date than I used to be.

The laughter was plentiful, the drinks strong, the re-bonding of friendships awesome. The only thing that could have made the experience better would be an in board hook up. Sorry friends, I broke my vacation fling streak.

There weren’t many cute singles on board. There were lots of younger men with ironic man buns though. No thank you. I heard, on night #1 that there was a group of age appropriate hotties spotted in the dining room, but I was not alerted. Damn greedy bitches. I do think I spotted them the next night when they all walked past me on formal night. They were every bit as attractive as I’d heard. There was even a tall nerdy one with glasses just for me. Sadly, and inexplicably, my inner social retard took over and instead of making eye contact when he looked directly at me and smiled, I looked at the ground. WTF?!?! I have no clue what happened. I would normally switch directions and follow them (is it really stalking if it’s just me?), but I totally drew a blank and brain farted on what little game I have left. Eh, oh well, at least they were pretty to look at, however briefly.

I am back home, missing my friends terribly, still awaiting my room service coffee to be delivered to my room and, for some strange reason, am unable to locate the buffet. Damn reality….

 

Adulting May 4, 2018

Not my favorite.  It seems as though I’ve had to ‘adult’ my entire life.  Being perpetually single and *gasp* independent, all of life’s decisions have always fallen squarely on my shoulders.  Usually to be addressed straight away before my senility kicks in and I forget to take care of them all together.  I have definite opinions on what is important.  On what is right & wrong.  About how things should be.  Really, I have definite opinions on just about everything.  Some things I’m better about dealing with than others as proven by my overly neurotic posts each and EVERY time I meet a guy I could potentially like.

 

Seeing someone that lives 2 hours away is a bit of a pain in the ass.  There’s planning involved for a booty call.  I don’t even think that needing to drive 2 hours even makes it a booty call.    Anywhoo, I am off to see Mr. OoT again this weekend.  I was actually available to leave yesterday to head up there and could spend 4 nights with him before needing to come home.  For whatever reason, I just kind of assumed that would greeted with an enthusiastic ‘hurry up and get your ass over here, I miss you’.  That wasn’t quite what I got.  The ‘plan’ was actually for me to head up tomorrow morning.  I never told him I was available to come up on Thursday.  When we spoke yesterday he let me know that he has a lot of things that he needs to get done on Saturday and needed to spend some quality time with his son.  He loves his son to death and the fact that he’s only in town 2 weeks out of the month means that he wants to spend as much time as possible with him.  I entirely get that.  Kids come 1st.  Always.  As it should be.  What I wasn’t prepared for was Mr. OoT asking if I could delay my arrival until tomorrow night.  Well boo.  Like 7pm tomorrow night.  That sucks.

 

While my 1st inclination would be to assume he didn’t really want to see me and that ‘WTF, seriously?’ and then try to change his mind and let him know that I didn’t expect to spend every waking moment with him and was happy to entertain myself around town, I took a step back (here’s where the adulting part comes in) and realized that our ‘dating’ isn’t all that organic.  Duh.  If he were to be seeing someone that lived in his town, they’d go to dinner, have some sexy time and then he’d send her ass home until the next time.  Our dates come with an automatic sleep over and last no less than 24 hours.  I guess that’s a lot.  Date #1 lasted 25 hours.  Date #2 lasted a scant 4 hours.  Date #3 lasted 72 hours.  For a man that likes his space and commented numerous times on how surprised he was that my being there wasn’t freaking him out, I get that this is a lot.  It is.  It’s like the date that never ends. Don’t get me wrong, he’s been nothing but awesome since last weekend, but I get it.  I really do.

 

So I agreed.  Because I’m mature like that and am trying to be less selfish in my view of things.  What he doesn’t know, however, is that I don’t need to be home until Monday.  I haven’t told him that yet.  I guess we’ll just see how things go with date #4 and whether it lasts 24 or 48 hours.  😉

 

Have a great weekend everyone!!

 

What A Weekend, Part 1 April 17, 2018

And no, before anyone goes and gets excited about anything, I don’t mean ‘what an amazing weekend’. It’s actually been quite the opposite.

Last you heard, Mr. OoT was giving me the silent treatment. He opted to end the silence with a phone call. A phone call consisting of a prepared speech coming at me with both barrels. Uh, what the hell did I do? Apparently it was 2 fold. He had seen an IG pic I posted wishing a friend’s son a happy birthday. It was a cute pic of the 2 of us with a funny, inside joke caption about his being the start of most Sunday Funday bad decisions. Totally innocuous to me as he’s a whopping 28 years old, looks about 18 and he, his mom & I go Sunday Funday drinking more than we should (in frequency AND volume consumed). Mr. OoT saw the pic and caption and assumed I was seeing him. Instead of just asking me about the photo he spent the day stewing and creating scenarios in his head.

The next thing he did was log onto Plenty of Fish. Nope, not to look for women, but to check my profile and see when I was on last. For god knows what reason, POF said I was on 2 days prior and he assumed (wrongly) that I was still dating around. I haven’t been. I haven’t been on there since before I went to see Mr. OoT. Btw, he knew about Mr. England. I called him and told him after I broke things off. He said he felt bad for Mr. England, but was happy to hear it. I stopped short of telling Mr. OoT that he was the only one I was interested in seeing, but figured he knew.  My bad.

Anyway, after the little phone tirade, I corrected Mr. OoT on all issues. It was a pretty intense call for many reasons. It seemed like he was trying to end things, but after talking it out all seemed okay. I even asked if we were good and he said yes, we were.

Or so he said………

 

Berger April 14, 2018

Remember that episode from Sex In The City where Carrie gets dumped by John Berger via post-it note? So shitty, right? Completely cowardly. Well, I’m Berger, Mr. England is Carrie and the post-it note is a text message. Oh yes I did.

Mr. England messaged me yesterday to see if I could meet for coffee. Last minute. Again. I opted not to respond (because I’m completely immature and passive aggressive). Over the course of the next few hours came 4 more text messages consisting of the perfectly annoying combination of needy and passive aggressive from him. I didn’t respond to any. Then came the snide ‘so, do you want to go to the party on Sunday or are you ‘busy’ again’? Okay, enough already. Time to put on my big girl pants and do the right thing. Well, do the right thing in a completely cowardly and lame way.

I responded by ignoring all of his original messages, lying that I had my phone off (don’t ask me why) and letting him know it would be best if I passed on the party on Sunday. Then I sent a 2nd text. One letting him know that although I thought he was a terrific guy, the fact that he’s a shitty kisser was a deal breaker for me. What? Okay, no, that’s not what I said (only in my head). I told him that I think he’s great, but that in re-thinking our conversations when we last met, I thought it was for the best that we no longer see each other. Sure, I could have just told him that I wasn’t feeling it, but I didn’t want to make him feel bad. Right or wrong, that’s how my mind works. I then sat back and waited for the inevitable shitty message back from him.

It didn’t come. What did arrive was a concerned, ‘was it something I said?’. An understanding ‘you seemed reluctant to move forward’ and a sad emoji face (of course there was an emoji). I sent back ‘no worries, it’s all for the best; I hope you find someone wonderful’. He then sent back a ‘U2’ with a kissy emoji.

He is a good guy. A needy, unsure, shitty kissing good guy. I can’t say for certain if everything else would have been forgiven if he was a good kisser, but I assume (knowing me and the kissing whore that I am) that it might have been. As he’s not and I don’t love creepy emojis, like I told him; It’s for the best ………