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[neverkissandblog]

Hello Family!

Hey folks, 

Just a quick message to let you know I’ve survived my first month here. Like clockwork, I know it’s been a month because I have to go to immigration and renew my visa since it expires tomorrow. (Something I’ll have to do monthly.) Also just wanted to say thanks for honoring my wishes on the group message on Facebook messenger and not creating a giant group message with a bunch of back and forth. I would appreciate following that same notion here… a reply to me is okay, but no “reply all” messages please! (Thanks!)

It’s been a really great month. It’s taken me that long to get settled in and into a routine for work. There are a lot of the same systems that work here, but not quite the way I’ve been used to. So figuring out the differences in the way I do things has been big. 

I’m living onsite at Chris’ retirement project: Lost Reef Resort. To call it a resort seems silly, it’s four guest cabanas that can house up to nine, plus a restaurant and bar. We’re located in a small fishing village, called Riversdale. Chris and I live in the apartment above the restaurant. I’m not working for him, by the way, I’m still doing my own thing, writing online. Technically, I don’t have a work permit to work here, which is just fine by me! 

The most fun thing has been watching this darn dog adjust to life here. She really is a water-loving dog. She’s learned not to just run out to the sea when we come outside, but I’m really looking forward to getting a life jacket for her for when I DO take her out swimming. Next we work on food… With the apartment on top of the restaurant and Abby being so social it’s been a challenge to keep her reigned in. There’s a staircase that comes out of the restaurant into the apartment and she’ll sit at the top and peer down until I’m not paying attention and then she heads downstairs to make round through the kitchen. Bad girl! :) Yesterday it rained all day and she was very frustrated. 

Christmas is going to be a challenge with all of the delicious smells wafting up. (For me and for her!) We’ll do a big Christmas dinner that day. I'll miss you guys, but I’m looking forward to a big holiday meal I don’t have to cook or even bring a dish to! The restaurant here is open air, outside dining, so is still allowed to be open and the staff wanted to stay open. Other inside restaurants here are closed or doing take out only. Covid is definitely a challenge, but we do some events that bring people trickling in. It’s beneficial to have an acre for people to spread out on and stay safe.

I’m going to wrap this one up quickly, next time I’ll write a bit more and send some pics. Mainly I just wanted to say hello and wish everyone a Merry Christmas. If this has come to you from an email that’s not your preferred email, or if you don’t want it - please let me know and I’ll change it next time! Also, if you don’t have an iPhone, but still want to text me occasionally, you can set up WhatsApp to do that on. My number here is [redacted, because I went public!]. Do include the plus sign and don’t add a 1 to the front. (501 is the country code for Belize, but also an area code in Arkansas, so if you put a 1, you’re messaging Arkansas.)

[neverkissandblog]

Getting rid of it all. Or at least most of it.

I bet you thought I’d write once and then you wouldn’t see anything for a couple years, right? Yeah, me too, honestly. Sitting down to actually do this is hard. It’s silly that doing something that makes me feel better, helps me organize my thoughts, is just hard to DO. 

That’s true with a lot of things. I’ve been thinking lately that the reason that I bought a small house was because I wanted to keep my life simple. I don’t want to accumulate a bunch of junk. Yet, when I moved, I moved with the same boxes that I hadn’t opened in the last four moves and that I don’t even really know what lurks inside some of them. 

Letting it go

I’ve decided I’m going to start going through the stuff I don’t use and selling what I can, donating what I can’t sell, and then throwing out what’s left. Last night I pulled up the first box from the basement. 

It’s no joke when I say this thing weighed 50 pounds. I opened the top and I knew the basics of what I’d find: yearbooks, photo albums, school mementos. Yep, it was all there. I knew that this box would be two basic piles, “toss” or “keep.” And I knew that I wanted the “keep” pile to be small. 

I picked up those yearbooks and immediately set them aside. There were nine hardbound yearbooks: 2 from college, 4 from high school, 3 from the K-12 school we attended in Oklahoma during my junior high years, and one saddle stitched little one from eighth grade, when we moved to Kansas. Those things probably made up 2/3 of the weight in the box and I’ve looked at them, I would guess five times in more than twenty years. I put them in a stack and said, “I will deal with you last.” (And then I promptly asked on Facebook what people have done with theirs.) Even in letting go of all of this, I still felt like I needed permission to let it go. To make sure it made sense. In the end, they went in the trash, as I knew they would. 

The next thing I picked up was the album from my sorority years. I don’t talk much about being in a sorority because there are a lot of preconceived notions and judgements that people will make about that. I’ll write about that another time. The album spanned the years from when I pledged the sorority at 18 to when I graduated at 22, already engaged to be married. I allowed myself to look at things, but not dwell. The album was decorated with floral fabric and honestly, it was pretty tacky, in an endearing sort of way. I’d kept every door decoration from every themed party I’d ever attended in college, and added party pics from every party. There were letters from secret gift-givers, pressed flowers and cards with heart-felt wishes. There were letters, notes and pictures of me with a person who I grew to despise by my senior year, but who outwardly, I was supposed to like. (Yeah, I know...weird.) Mostly, I just wanted a few photos and I knew which ones when I saw them. I kept the ones that meant something and without a second thought put the rest of it in the “toss” pile. If I hesitated, I put it in the “keep” pile because I knew I’d go through it again at the end. And in the end, I tossed a few more.

The thing about junk

It all looked so silly now, but so much of it was important to me. But that’s the thing about stuff, or junk, really. It may be important in the moment, but that importance is fleeting. There’s a feeling there, but keeping the thing, doesn’t mean you keep the feeling. 

After that, I started picking out random junk that was just stacked inside. My ID badge from working at The Anthony Downs. (Toss.) A school project with a typed paper and cassette tape, where the assignment was to interview someone who had lived through the Great Depression. (Keep) I interviewed my best friends’ grandpa, so I set aside the paper and the cassette tape for them. I had to laugh at the parallel of my niece calling me a few days ago because she needed to interview someone who’d been alive during 9/11. She chose me because her mom had only been a kid. I couldn’t interview Glenn, my stepdad, for mine because he’d been a little kid during the Depression. It all comes full circle, I guess. 

There were also the photos I’d saved from photography class. (Mostly tossed.) My senior memory project from my senior year of high school. (Toss.) My senior project from a college class. (Toss.) All of my feature writing assignments, a lot of my assignments from my news writing classes. (Toss.) I laughed that I’d kept all of this stuff for a career I didn’t end up going into, journalism, which ended up being for the better. That crushed me at the time. 

Why do we keep all of this stuff that weighs us down? I suppose I kept it all because I knew it would be painful to go through. (It wasn’t as bad as I thought.) And I did find a gem in there, something that helps me with something I’m going through now. 

The Prize

Lying at the bottom of the box, in that spiky cursive I would recognize anywhere, was a letter from my mom. She sent it to me at a really low point in my life when I thought I was going to have to stop going to college, because we were flat broke and I had lost all of my grants, amounting to $3000 for each of the next two school years. Here’s what her letter said, 

“Dear Babydoll, I just thought of something, if you can’t get the Pell Grant for school, not to worry. I figured the $3000 is only $250 a month and Glenny and I can do that standing on our heads. [This was a convenient lie. They couldn’t.] We’ll put off buying some disposable junk for a little while longer, that’s all.

“We have a nice home and our furniture is good enough. I can’t think of a thing we really need. So don’t worry about money. Me and Glenn want you to finish school FIRST. Then maybe we’ll buy ‘junk’. Everything, Love, is temporary in life. Especially junk. So don’t be upset about money. You’ll work hard too and we’ll all come up with it. And we’ll love doing it. When you have your education and you are doing well, help your sisters’ children, that’s all. And stop worrying for now. We’ll do it. You’ll feel better when you get a job. Then you’ll feel like you are doing something too. In the meantime, keep your long term goal, your degree, in mind and don’t worry about the money. That’s our responsibility.” 

I finished college. I got the job. Today in many ways, I’m doing better than she was back then. (She was only a few years older than I am now when she wrote that letter.) Along the way, having long forgotten about the letter, I helped out. In as many ways as I could. I hope it’s been enough. 

My mom and I today have a difficult relationship. Years have passed. She’s not the same woman she was then and I’m no longer looking at her through the eyes of a child or a young woman. Reading that letter reminds me of who she was and that once she sacrificed so that my life could improve.

Digging out that box was an exercise in getting rid of the junk. The junk that mom reminded me was never the important part. 

[neverkissandblog]

What is Normal?

The month of August had its way with me. I had to travel for work. Which isn’t in itself bad, it was a really cool conference that I wanted to go to. But on top of that, the day after I left for it, my boyfriend moved. Out of the country. Also, because it’s not all about me - our country is a complete shit show. The world is in turmoil with racism and mass shooters. And then, the cherry on top, I got a cold.

Add those things together and apparently my hormones go into a complete meltdown. I went to bed one night and woke up an hour and a half later mid-anxiety attack. Or at least that’s what I think it was. Maybe. Who really knows?

What I know is that I woke up because I was sobbing. Not just crying, but vocally sobbing. I couldn’t stop crying. I think I cried for a solid 15 minutes and it was 30 minutes before I stopped completely. I was overcome with emotions. I felt abandoned, alone, confused, overwhelmingly sad, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I just didn’t want to be here.

A couple of people who I’ve told about it have asked, “How did you make it stop?” To be honest, I’m not sure I really MADE it stop... or if it just did. But I started thinking about the things that I am in control of and if there were changes I could make that would make a difference to the way that I felt. I started intentionally breathing deeper... Eventually I calmed down. I still felt impending doom, but I could at least breathe. 

For two days, every time I would think about everything that led to that attack I would cry. I sat at my desk the next day and whenever my mind would wander, I’d start crying. I’m not sure my coworkers believed my story about allergies, but I stuck with it. I texted Chris to tell him what I was going through and I cried. I told him I’d email him later because I didn’t want to cry (more) at my desk. So I wrote him an email later and I cried.

Two days later, my period started. The clouds parted and I feel like myself again. What the hell is my life? Can I just go for one month where I don’t have a week where I feel like a complete whack-job? Is that too much to ask?  

So, I’m trying out a supplement that’s supposed to help regulate hormones and I’m going to start exercising and eating better. 

[neverkissandblog]

It’s a Metaphor - Duh.

About two months ago I dug up this blog because I encountered one of the people I’ve written about here. I’ll write about that eventually too because it’s a pretty funny story, but in digging this up I discovered something - I really just wanted to start writing again. Of all the blogs I’ve started and quit over the last ten years, I liked this one the best. I wrote it in what feels more true to my own voice and personality than the others. I wrote it anonymously, and maybe that’s why I felt license to be more true to myself. 

Back when I started this blog, I decided that the theme here was going to be dating and I wanted to write about the awful dates that I went on - hence the title. However, I’ve since realized that the people I date are not the most interesting thing about me. So it’s really going to be about my life and the awkward encounters with people and animals and the situations that I find myself in. I can’t guarantee that it will always be funny, just that it will probably always be peppered with a mild amount of profane language. The posts that appear prior to this one, occurred a while ago, so they’re not recent. 

That brings me to the present day. I posted something on Facebook probably a month ago, asking if anyone would be interested in reading a blog, if I were to write. I don’t feel completely comfortable creating a totally public blog - yet -  but I’d had a few people over the course of a few years ask if I did blog, so I decided to go “partially” public. 

Obviously, the link to this blog is public. Anyone who has the link can visit and read what they like and that’s okay by me. I, however, am not going to post public links to the blog. When I posted on Facebook, asking for interest, I made a list of people who responded and then I created a private Facebook group. When I’m done here, I’m going to add that list of people to the Facebook group. When I post here, I’ll post a link in that group. So congratulations, if you’re reading this, you made the cut. And if I mistook your interaction with that post as interest in my blog, my apologies, just remove yourself from the Facebook group. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings. Much.

And I’m keeping the name, The Never Kiss and Blog Blog, because I think it’s funny. We’ll think of kissing as a metaphor for my life. Everyone’s heard the idiom to “never kiss and tell”. And a wiser person than me would probably suggest that putting one’s life into a blog could be a bad idea, yet here I am. I’ll reserve the right to occasionally write about my dating life because let’s face it, there’s really nothing funnier and more awkward than my dating life.

[neverkissandblog]

Tinder Chapter 2: Captain Confidence

The city I live in, with a metro area of half a million, has a small town feel nonetheless. Case in point: I went to a bar last night to watch a friend do her second open mic performance, Captain Confidence, from my Tinder post was there, as an open mic performer.

I didn’t say anything to him, not because I was ignoring him or anything, he just wouldn’t make eye contact. Until he did - one time, just long enough to say, without speaking, yes, I see you there and I recognize you. 

My friends and I watched the first few performers bumble through their sets. Actually, I know how hard it is to be on a stage, so I give them props for getting the hell up there. There was some funny material. There was some unfunny material. Then Captain Confidence himself takes the stage. He says something about his material, but that he’s decided to instead just read from something he has, because it’s funny. So he proceeds to read a piece that is, I kid you not, literally about his beard - which he apparently loves. It was really funny, I will give him that. His delivery was great. It was all about how his struggle to please others is over that he is proud of being a hirsute man. It contains a line to the women who don’t like guys with beards... blah blah blah, he won’t trim it. I get it. And I laughed hard. To be honest, I kind of hoped he’d say hi afterward, because I was not being insincere when I said I’d like to be his friend. After his finale he sits back down, the other performers go on... He sits there looking miserable, he claps for hardly anyone. My friend goes on and he leaves in the middle of her set. 

The thing I’d like to point out is that he recognized me... by sight. Because I am who I present when I put myself out there for dating. If you’re so damn proud of your beard, wear it. With pride. Every day. If you’re not that guy with a shaved face anymore, or even just a trimmed beard, then don’t try to wear that guy in your online presence. All that does is make me seem like the asshole when I have to tell you I’m not interested. 

[neverkissandblog]

Tinder is the Night...

I heard good things from a friend about the slightly sleazy hookup app Tinder, that’s it’s not only for hookups, that actual dating occurs and that it’s better than some of the other online dating out there. So I’m trying it.

A few details... To start with, you have to use Facebook to connect Tinder, which I’m not crazy about, because it puts your name right out there. BUT, on the positive side, both parties have to swipe right to like the other person before either is allowed to message the other. You can also see if you are mutually connected to people on Facebook, which I also appreciate. 

I started chatting with this guy and he’s funny and looks cute, possibly a little on the plump side, which is okay in some cases, if he has an awesome personality. He’s creative, seems really funny. He’s a writer. We had a long chat and he asks if he can connect with me on Facebook since we had several in common friends anyway. I told him, sure, no problem. We moved the conversation to Facebook and it continued over the next few days. Problem was, he only had three photos on Tinder that had come from Facebook and very few others, so I couldn’t really tell what he if that was what he actually looked like. I was beginning to think that his pictures were older. During our Facebook conversation he sends me a video of him doing a Slam Poetry performance. (Which, by the way he was really talented and hilarious, for what it’s worth.) The video is taken from far away, he doesn’t look overweight, which is what my worry was, but I can’t tell what he looks like. He asks what I think of it and we talk about that... And I say, “It’s hard to tell what you look like though and you don’t look the same as you do in your profile picture.” He says, “yeah, the profile pic was taken a few years ago when I was on tour.” He sends me a picture and it’s him, he is a little overweight, and he has a massive beard. If this had been his picture, I wouldn’t have swiped right. I’m just not attracted to all of that. This puts me in the awkward position of having to tell this guy that I don’t want to date him. I say, “Wow, that’s a lot of beard.” This comment doesn’t clue him in that not all the ladies are into the giant man-bush. Then, this happens: 

I hoped I hadn’t hurt his feelings, I am always honest, mainly because I hate hearing guys bitch about women leading them on... When I woke up this morning, I was thinking that maybe I HAD been a jerk and I should say, “Yes, let’s still have coffee, because maybe I’m wrong...” whatever... That’s when I noticed the bit at the bottom... “You can not reply to this conversation.” So, not only did he unfriend me... he blocked me. And turned his profile pic into a chicken. Or a black cock... whatever that means. But anyway... I think I missed an opportunity to date an emotional train wreck. 

[neverkissandblog]

Adventures in Dating

I have experienced that joyous moment in online dating when the algorithm matches you repeatedly with your ex. But, on the plus side, I get to see that he's lying about his age by five years and lying about the fact that he's open to having children (since he's had a vasectomy). He also says he's looking for a long term relationship... Or I guess as long as you can get when you're lying your ass off. I've been saying that I've always dated nice guys, but of all the nice guys I dated, he's the worst of them. I have decided to retract that statement. He is not a nice guy. He's a liar.

[neverkissandblog]

It’s time to dust off the old dating blog, because I’m baaaaack.

I went tonight for the first of what I’m sure will be a string of super awkward dates. This was a coffee date. We’ll call this guy Baby Man, because when I was 12, he was a baby. At 12 I had a glorious career as a professional babysitter and guess what! I’m old enough to be Baby Man’s babysitter. 

Here’s how the adventure started. A couple weeks ago (okay a week), I ended a long term relationship. This was a long time coming, and for the first time ever, I immediately feel like I’m okay with dating. That’s never a thing for me. So I decided to jump in with both feet (and a brick tied to one) and I filled out a profile on a well known dating site. 

Within a day, Baby Man messaged me. He was cute. We messaged back and forth a few times. When it comes to dating profiles, the things that I pay the most attention to are the following: political and faith. And, of course – photo. Those two categories probably seem weird to most, but I’m very liberal and very “not religious.” Let’s face it, there are a lot of right wing, religious nuts here… He checks out as “middle of the road” and “not religious.” I hadn’t really worried about age because you select that you want someone in a specific date range. After a couple days of chatting back and forth, Baby Man asked if I’d like to meet. I said that would be good - we could get coffee or something. After I agreed, I went back to his profile and looked it over again where I realized the GLARING age difference. I don’t consider 5-6 years to be a huge deal… but TWELVE? Shit!!!! So I reply back and tell him that I’m reconsidering meeting up with him because I hadn’t realized how much of an age difference there was. He immediately starts asking… did I say something wrong? Blah blah… I’m fun, you’re fun, let’s just meet for coffee, no strings attached. And because I’m apparently punishing myself, I say okay. I’ll go for coffee. 

So, we meet for coffee and it goes down like this: 

Small talk, small talk, small talk…  I do this kind of work, he does that kind of work, I love to travel, I’ve been to these places… (And I immediately start thinking - when I was in that place you were in grade school, etc…) He laughs and awkwardly (but, maybe innocently?) touches my arm a couple of times. The touch seemed contrived and like someone told him to do this subtle move to show the lady you’re interested. I do not return this gesture.  

We eventually start running out of small talk. He asks if I like wine. I’m like, “Of course I like wine.” DUH. I wasn’t thinking about where that was going, because hello, I DO love wine. Well then I get the, “Do you want to come back to my place and we can open a bottle?” 

Me, in head: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS???? I barely know you… I’d just LOVE to come back to your place alone and drink. That’s not rapey at all. I’m sure I won’t end up at the bottom of a well being told to rub the lotion on my skin. 

Me, out loud: No, not tonight. I’m actually really not that comfortable with that at this point, and I’m really still not all that comfortable with the difference in our ages, to tell you the truth. 

So, we chat for 10 minutes more and then make our [separate] ways home. I immediately get the following text on my phone: 

What in the actual fuck? I feel like telling him that I was confident, really just made the situation more fap-worthy for him. So gross. I mean, up until the last thing about whether I’ve been intimate with a younger guy it was just a Hail Mary to attempt to drag out the awkward date. Then asking if I’ve been with a younger guy? Um. None of your business? Seriously. Nothing in our conversation before the date, at the date, at all, had gone in that direction. It’s like when Evel Knievel, inspired by the movie Jaws, tried to jump a shark, didn’t land the jump, and crashed into a camera man and gave the man a permanent injury. (And yes, Fonzie later that year, would make the infamous shark jump on skis that is forever ingrained in pop culture.) Buy hey, guess what! This all happened before Baby Man was even born! 

But I digress. 

Men. Penises. Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t put them in shark-infested waters and jump as far away from them as possible. 

[neverkissandblog]

Remember that time I thought I was going to have that really cool blog about my adventures in dating? And then I started dating and had a few really awkward experiences that I documented. And then I met a guy I liked and decided that I didn’t want to blog those things.  

[neverkissandblog]

I don't even know how to process this hot mess. At first, I thought the whole thing would be plagiarized from the Beatles. Nope, just the first line. 

The rest is allegedly his own. This is my take away:

He rhymes one with won.

I don't even know what the second line means. What's community driven? Dreams? What does that have to do with anything???? 

He claims to have magical powers. 

I think he did this because I said I was attracted to "creative types."

He mentions "two laughed until they were dead." Did he just admit to killing two previous dates? Because I think he did. 

I think he's asking me to go on a date. Is that what that "corner cafe" bit is about? 

I'm afraid this man would talk in riddles. I've been asked on a date (maybe?) by the riddler. 

Shit.

[neverkissandblog]

Just cruising through the profiles of my matches. Maybe I should contact this one. I too like different Johndras of music.

[neverkissandblog]

Behold, the Man Child.

I make a lot of jokes about some men being "man children" and after I started getting some messages on POF, I started to wonder how many of these men are looking for their "lady child."

Because there's nothing we adult ladies like more than being spoken, er written to, as if we are children. I get a lot of "Hey good lookin'" type comments. I even got a "Hi cutie!" which just made me think of tangerines, really. Maybe it's my discomfort in dating, but I don't really know how to respond to these. (So I don't.) I have also always believed that if you have nice looks, well, that's just fantastic, but you better have more than that. Looks can only take you so far. My favorite of the let-me-break-the-ice-by-drawing-attention-to-your-looks messages was this -- behold: 

Oy vey, Don... You are just adorable too. Let's get married and fill the world with our adorable babies. As Em says, I will prepare the marriage bed. Seriously, I'm ready. 

It just occurred to me, I should've edited out Don's name and photo. I'll get to that next time. Here's another man child. Tell someone you're witty and they think it's a competition:

Seriously dude, it's not a competition. Oh wait, maybe it is. This is not how you win.

[neverkissandblog]

HI! (And nothing more.)

I guess the first thing I noticed on Plenty of Fish (hereafter called POF) is the multitude of messages that people send you that just say, "Hi."  -- And nothing more.

Seriously, who are you if you send me this message? Your profile is so alluring that you needn't say anything else? This one little nudge should be enough to make me stop what I am doing and message you back right away? 

The first few days I had my profile up, I was stunned at the number of messages I received, until I realized that was all they were. I deleted most of them and put a comment in my profile that said, "Who are you? Hopefully someone who can use words to form real sentences." 

The first message I got from someone who addressed that line was pretty classic, "Hi, me Roy like talk you!!! Lol. I like your profile and would like to talk. I have custody of my 5 year old son, his name is William but likes to be called Bill. Hope to hear from you soon." He had no picture, but it made me laugh so I messaged back. Of course, once he had a picture, the communications stopped. Probably because I'm awful. Putting that line in my profile did seem to cut back on them. I get a lot fewer now. Now some say, "Hi, how are you." 

I decided to be pretty selective. You know the basics - if you have a dead deer in your picture, I probably won't message you back. If you're licking an ice cream cone in your profile picture, I probably won't message you back. And, because I'm a bit of snob: if you have an above-ground pool in your picture, I probably won't message you back. Not that I'd never swim in an above ground pool, but I know they're tacky and I'd expect a potential date to know that too and not to put them in his picture. It's common sense, really. 

[neverkissandblog]

Plenty of Fish in the Sea - But What if I Don't Want a Fish?

I joined Plenty of Fish about a week (ish) ago and the results have been unexpected, weird, plentiful and fun. I'll be updating this with a few examples of the daily catch. (Most of which I will be throwing back.) 

[neverkissandblog]

The D was The One.

Okay, correction. The D was #1. Not the one. I don't even believe in The One. 

It had been 10 years since I'd been on an actual date when I found the D. Aptly named that by Em, because she wanted to make jokes like, "Oh, you want the D, huh?", or "You LIKE the D!" or "Are you going to kiss the D tonight?" 

When I decided to start dating again I knew I wasn't ready for a relationship, which is what made the D seem perfect. I've known him as an acquaintance for a little while but never known him to be involved seriously with anyone. But he's creative, kind and funny. An excellent combination.

So, if you don't want a relationship the idea of going on a few dates with a 40-ish year old man-child is fine, right? 

I really thought he and I had a connection the night that we met up. There was a spark there and we stayed out late that night and fooled around a little. He told me he'd had a crush on me for a little while. He asked for my number, said he wanted to see me, but that he was going out of town. He texted me every day that week and we made plans to get together the next weekend. 

When the weekend came around, I was terrified and nervous - sweaty palms and everything. I literally felt sick to my stomach. But then the time came around and I sucked it up. I met him after work for a beer and I started feeling better. It was just chatting. And I can do that. And it was okay. Not a perfect, magnificent first date, but we had fun. We were comfortable. We kissed again at the end of the night and agreed to meet up again. And I knew I wanted more of that kind of interaction. Yeah. I really did want the D. 

The next date was when things got weird. We met for dinner and he told me right off the bat that he was in a weird mood. The weather on this spring day had been gloomy and rainy and not at all fun. He actually seemed kind of down. But then later we met up with some of my friends and he seemed a bit better. And at the end of the night we kissed in my car and I was feeling really good. Really, really good. And I hoped he was too. So I invited him to my place. And maybe I did so in a way that he found too forward, because he - turned - me - down. 

Ouch.

I can honestly say, that I've never blatantly propositioned someone and then been turned down. The next day I felt like such an ass. I sent him a text, apologized, because I felt like I had pressured him. He said it wasn't a big deal. (And if my mom ever reads this, I'd like to point out that I knew him previously, I don't go around propositioning strange men.)

But wanting something physical like that and not getting it is really a formula for me to start obsessing. And I did. Worry. Obsess. Worry. Obsess. Overthink. etc. Ad nauseum. 

But he did ask if I wanted to "hang out" again. I said I did. And we went out again. We talked on the phone a few times, had honestly good conversations and we texted. But each time we got together I couldn't help but think that things were going less well than the time before. But I hung in there, I'm just having fun, right? 

The last date for the D was a party at my house. I was having friends over and asked him if he wanted to join us. He did. And maybe that was a mistake. He didn't have much to say that night. I worried that he was judging me or my friends. I really just wanted a chance to sit with him, chat and get to know him better. And at the end of the night I was hopeful that he'd stick around, then maybe we could just connect the way we had that first night. So couple by couple my friends left, and it was just the two of us. And then 10 minutes later: He. Left. 

He made an excuse about having an early morning the next day and needing to go and I didn't argue, because at this point, I had already embarrassed myself with him, and I was disappointed in myself that I had allowed myself to obsess about him. 

And then I didn't hear from him. At all, for a few days. At this point, I know that he's not interested, but I've never been one to let things lie. I fucking hate to be ignored. I hate it. 

So I texted and said, "I know I didn't do anything to offend you, so since I haven't heard from you, should I just assume that you're not interested in me?" And then, "And yes, is a perfectly acceptable answer, I'm just being direct." And, because he's a nice person, he didn't take the "out." He had to talk in person. 

And that is how I got dumped by someone I'm not even in a relationship with. And that takes talent.

But, communication is a good thing. I've always known this. I've always practiced this. In fact, a lack of communication and not being open and up front is what makes me anxious, I think. And that's when I found out that the D is going through some rough shit right now. And I immediately felt bad for him. I want to help. I want to fix. I want to solve. I want to mend. But I know that this is not what I need right now.

We've agreed to stay friends and I really do want to just be a friend to him. I have this feeling that he'll keep a distance. He's in a rough place right now, and I really do want to know how things are going with him but I told him I wouldn't ask. I told him he could talk to me if he wanted, but I don't want to pry. 

But the crazy part of this all? Knowing that this person is a fixer-upper? Makes him more attractive to me. Luckily I am self-aware of this and know that I can't and won't go there. 

It's weird figuring out that there are single people out there who, though they haven't had long complicated relationships, are having just as rough a go of things, if not more so, than you. People generally see someone who has been married and divorced twice as someone who does not necessarily have their shit together. And I don't. But it's sadly good to know I'm not alone. 

But for now? No trips to crazy town. It's scary up in there!