Aftermath

I will NOT use this blog as my own personal therapy session, scouts honor. But this blog is about dating, and the events over the past few weeks have involved me being involved with someone who I can't classify as a troll, but can definitely say was a source of pain for me. Much more pain than happiness- and recognizing that means I'm well on the road to feeling myself!

But it wasn't easy.

First Friday after my realization, I got drunk. It was not intentional, and in fact I blame my fav bar for coming up with new concoctions that were hard to resist. Earlier that day on my way to work I deleted his phone number and the 200+ text exchanges we've had over the past few months. So fast forward when I was feeling tipsy, vulnerable and pissed off all at the same time (yes, there was crying over my drink- I know there's a country song about that somewhere!), and I broke down on the phone to my BFF in the middle of the street. Very dramatic I know, and mildly embarrassing to admit in public but there it is. I was sad. Sad because of everything that happened and didn't happen, and sad because now its actually over. I am VERY good at remembering phone numbers but I don't remember his. At all. So even if I wanted to call him (which I did, I have to admit) I couldn't. And it hit me, there in the middle of the street at 10 o'clock at night.

It was not a high point to say the least.

Week two, no call, no text, no carrier pigeon. Nothing. And you know what? I'm ok with that. As I'm having drinks and dinner with my gay husband and as we were talking through this, I became angrier at the whole situation. He treated me with such disregard, always relying on the fact that I have been and always would be there. So if he decided he wanted to fuck someone else, try to talk to someone else, wear out his hand, whatever- whenever he decided to get it together I would be there to welcome him into my heart, life and bed. And honestly, up until the past month I would have. I wanted us to be together, and had no ability to see it any other way. When I was dating MMC he was the furthest from my mind but the week we broke up I reached out to him. For what I don't know because A)I didn't want him to know I was dating someone else and B)it wouldn't have mattered anyway because he's never truly cared for me. But coming to the realization that this will never be what I want and need had to come at some point. Coming to realize that he never wanted me was always been in the back of my mind. And somehow that's been somehow the easiest to accept after reviewing the past few years of my bullshit catalog. I remember EVERYTHING. 'I hear the words, you made up. You say my name like there could be an us'. Adele, so wise at her age and so on point. My inability to see it any other way was because I had a distorted view of who he was, and what we were. And despite the fact that my delusions were based on all the bullshit he fed me, all of that I take responsibility for.

So here I am, feeling better and feeling ready. My house is just about in order, and that feels pretty fucking awesome.

The Break UP

How do you break up something that was never really together? I'm not sure, but I've managed to do it. BTW I am two cocktails in so if I spell something wrong rest assured I really do know how to spell.

I realization hit me lately. Who am I kidding, I've known it for some time now but I just found the ovaries to admit it. He will NEVER be capable of being the man I want. And I've spent years trying to show him, years believing him, and to no avail.

So, its over. I've deleted just about any way to communicate to him and tonight as I was walking home and I realized I couldn't drunk dial him (yes, I've done it before), I broke down and cried in the middle of the street. It's really over.

And with God's blessing, or someone's help, I will begin again.

If it doesn't fit, you must uh, quit.

Give it up to my man Johnny Cochran on that one. It's one of my favorite things to say. It applies to so many things! Lately I've been using it when referring to clothing on women that's waaay too tight. Like basic black, it goes with everything. And it applies to relationships, too.

One day I hope to learn that lesson. I've been avoiding this particular troll because I've been holding out hope that he would change, that he would come to his senses and realize that we belong together, or at a minimum realize that acting right is a good way to get some cobbler. But none of those things have happened, and I'm moving closer to letting go. Please God, tell me I'm moving closer to letting go...

We met 3 years ago now. I saw him online, and his smile just melted my heart. We exchanged emails back and forth and began chatting on IM before exchanging numbers. We have so much in common- politics, humor, etc. And I think he's handsome. I guess he finds me attractive as well, otherwise he wouldn't have responded to me in the first place.

We talked every day for hours. EVERY DAY! About lots of different things, but those days are gone now so I couldn't tell you everything. And yet, he wouldn't make a move to ask me out. Now, this blog would be 2 pages long if I recounted everything we've gone through. Or what he's put me through rather, because I know I am the only one suffering. But I can tell you a few things: Every time we made plans to go out (WHEN we made plans, you see, getting him to ask me out was nearly impossible) he would flake. It would always be something, all of it total bullshit. The other thing I would say is that: I always forgave it. I don't know why, nor do I know why I continue to do it. But here we are. Here's something else: I've said hello and goodbye many times in this period. I say I can't deal with it, please come back. You've hurt me, why won't you give me a chance. Push, pull. Start, stop. And lastly I will say: he will never change.

What prompted me to finally reveal my Achilles heel? Great question! Well he said to me a few weeks ago, I'm going to step up, stop fooling around, I'm really serious this time (I've heard this once or twice before btw). I said, 'if you don't like me or want me, that's ok! It happens all the time, not every relationship is meant to be'. That's not it, he says, he likes me, he wants me, he wants me in his life. Fine. 90% of me no longer believes anything he says because, well, we've been down this road before. So he's telling me he's dreaming of me, he can't wait to see me, blah, blah, barf. SO fast forward today when I text him to see how he's settling in to his new place back in the area (we've gone from talking every day to having full blown conversations via text. That in itself should be an indicator) and he says to me that he is NOT here, he got stuck on the road and is turning back (he's been in another state making another life for himself for the past 6 months due to a family member's passing). WHAT THE FUDGECICLES. Seriously? You're turning back. I just can't believe it. Not after everything.

Haven't I had enough?

It's looking that way. I've always known that I care more about him than he cares about me, I think about him more than he thinks about me; you get the idea. And somehow I've managed to convince myself that was ok. Or turn a blind eye. Because I think we belong together. How can 2 people who share so much and are attracted to one another NOT be together? It's not human nature to want to be alone. And yet, he would rather play these games and be alone. Why I'm not sure I'll ever know.

He's managed to set up shop for himself in said state, and will likely not come back at all. And I know there's part of me in a couple of weeks that will reach out to say 'hey, where are you', only to get the answer that something else has kept him there. He isn't coming back here for me, that I know. But once again, he led me to believe (because frankly, I wanted to be led) that when he returned we would try again. How does the phrase go, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice (or 3 or 4 times in this case), shame on me? Turns out, that's one cliche that is really true!

Looks like, much like the past 3 years, that glove doesn't fit like I thought it would.

Desparation, table for one

There is this woman on my bus (no, this isn't code word for me), and one day as I got on the bus she was standing up talking to the bus driver. Now, I've watched her behavior before; she sits close to the front, sometimes she chuckles as his jokes (which I know are NOT funny), her body language is facing forward to him. She finally got the courage to ask him to a BBQ that coming Saturday. From my vantage point, it reeked of desperation. Is it assertiveness, or desperation?

Friends, magazines- whoever- always tell me to be more aggressive when it comes to men. And I understand that (although its not me), but when does it cross that line? He clearly has no interest in her. He acts ambivalent towards everyone who comes on the bus, that is, until he sees a cute young thing he wants to the get the attention of and then its 'top of the morning to ya', as he watches them walk to their seat in the bus mirror. And his response to her invitation was no different.

I applaud her for making the move, after all, she can always hope he gets transferred to another bus or take another one if he rejects her. But I could see from a mile away his lack of interest. Do women get to a point where our realities are skewed because we seek attention? I can say without question that mine has. I know I've put up with more from men in an effort to keep trying. I think I've even come close to being that girl, only I get a pretty quick sense of when someone isn't interested, or when I am not interested myself.

Whether or not today's man can even appreciate the ovaries it takes for a woman to make a move like that is uncertain. And where that line falls is also a little blurry. All I know is that I haven't seen her on that bus for some time now. Someone get that girl a double shot, I think she may be getting up a little earlier these days.

Troll #12- Linguine

I had a pretty good dinner tonight. Italian- yummy! And it reminded me of one of the worst dates I've ever had. The food was good, the date, well, you be the judge.

Now I must say, this story is much better told with sound effects. It loses a little without it frankly. But you can add your own! It's like fashion plates! If you were born after 1980 you may not get that reference. Anyway, without further adieu...

I met said troll on craigslist about 4 years ago. I hadn't been dating long here, so I really didn't know what to expect from craigslist. When linguine and I first started talking, I thought he was a country bumpkin simpleton. If you've ever watched Gomer Pile, picture that laugh with the occasional snort added in. Our first date was ok, I just wasn't overly impressed. But I thought, don't be an asshole! He's nice, a little simple, but you're just being a bitch. If he asks again go out with him. Lo and behold, he asked me out and I accepted.

We met in Dupont and we automatically started off on the wrong foot. We picked a place and he went tearing away for the destination at a rapid pace, leaving me behind. I kept calling after him to stop walking ahead of me, but to no avail. Strike one. We get into the restaurant, a nice quaint Italian joint. He kept looking out the window and at his watch. Strike two. So the waiter comes up and reads us the specials for the evening. Some sort of lasagna, a fish dish, and a penne pasta dish. My date asks, 'penne, is that linguine?'. Not making this up folks. After the waiter recovered from his puzzled look he informed him that penne was in fact, penne. Hmmm. Strike 3.

But wait, there's more!

We're eating (he ordered the penne) and talking, and already I'm devising my exit strategy. Suddenly, he begins to choke on his food. Oh fuck. I'm trying to lighten the mood by making clever jokes but it doesn't work. Finally he decides to remove himself to the bathroom to pull it the fuck together, at which point I use the time to text to my friend- get me the fuck out of here!

As the meal winds down, the waiter arrives with the check. He stares at it. I'm telling a story, but with my eagle eye I am watching him just sit there and stare at the check. One minute goes by. Then another. And then another. My story was long over. So since prince penne wasn't making a move to pay, I picked up the check and said, 'this one's on me.' His response? 'Are you sure?' WTF! I said, 'well one of us has to pay, I don't do dishes (thank goodness I brought my detachable penis).' So I paid and promptly put on my jacket. Please let this date end!

But wait, there's more!

As we walked out I was trying to ditch him by going in a direction I thought he wouldn't go. No dice. He wanted to stop in the store next door for some reason. That reason being he was trying to buy me some cheap ass trinket to make up for that disastrous date. I wasn't having it. So we left and still he wants to walk in my direction. Until finally we were at a crossroads and he had to go one way, and I the other. Do you know this bastard tried to go in for a kiss? DENIED. I hit him with the cheek and proceeded to run (as much as one can in heels) for my life to metro.

He called me that night as I was talking on the phone to my mom about that disaster to make sure I got home. I did, thanks, and goodbye. The end. But wait, there's more!!

A couple of years later, I was trolling craigslist in boredom and I came across a post in all CAPS and it had an intriguing headline. Click. In a nutshell it was warning women to beware of this boy who is on the DL, who is having unprotected sex with men and women, her male cousin had fallen for his antics, blah blah blah. The post was very clear- stay away. Scroll..... Guess who?? Linguine!! Yes, linguine dipped his stick in any hole it fit in. Now at first I didn't believe this story because I couldn't believe anyone could get past the first or second date with this dimwit. But whether its true or not, the warning still applies- stay away.

Moral of the story? When it doubt, try the lasagna.

The Blame Game

What the fuck. I am mad by George! I just got off the phone with my girlfriend and we were discussing a mutual friends' situation with some dude. The skinny of it is that they had a date and he had a senior moment and forgot. So rather than try to make it up to her by offering to try again, he came at her (via text, that's how trolls communicate) with the 'do you still have an attitude' route. Why are women the ones blamed for mens' fucked up ways?

Recently there's been some hub bub about Lori Gottlieb's new book, Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Right. The gist of this book puts the blame on women for our unreasonable standards that we are imposing on men' according to the book, our vision of the perfect man doesn't match reality. Show of hands, who has a list of unrealistic expectations that they refuse compromise on? I'll wait. Oh no one? That's right.

Women do want it all. Many of us want the fairy tale. Personally, my fairy tale involves a hot boy who owns summer house in Tuscany. But you know, just like women are not the emotional basket case men make us out to be, we are also not delusional. We know the difference between fantasy and reality. And while I would very much like to marry Robert Downey Jr., I'm not going to pass up a man because he's not him. Or doesn't have his bank account. Do you know how many times I've seen women passed up by men because they don't look like fuckin barbie? Never mind if they are smart, goal oriented, good family background, etc. Barbie doesn't exist. Yet are they being targeted in books for being too unrealistic?

Men can be dicks. Most don't want to grow up. And many have forgotten what it means to be a man. THAT'S why we're single. We're not single because we're holding out for the idea of Prince Charming from a Disney movie. I want MY prince charming, the man who makes me laugh, who can appreciate laying in bed late on the weekends, who's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but who's just perfect for me.

By the way, should Robert Downey Jr. (or his doppleganger) come across this blog, call me.

The Least Desired

Ok, those of you who know me know that my life is all about politics. And while this blog is not political at all, I feel the need to dip my toe in the political pool just a little. I promise I will be gentle.

As my friend and I were chatting about my encounter with the matchmaker, she mentioned to me a recent article she came across. The article said that in the world of online dating, black women are the least desired according to a user poll. Interesting. Being a black woman, apparently I'm screwed. Well, technically I'm not, and that's what the problem is.

What makes black women the least desired? Could it be our strength? Our beauty? Our beautiful skin or our luscious bodies? I don't want to toot the collective black horn, but that sounds pretty good to me. Unfortunately, I think its our attitude, our big asses, our employment status (obviously unemployed), our many babies. Wait, what, you mean those are stereotypes? Fuck yes they are and these are only some of the reasons why black women are at the bottom of the dating barrel.

You know what makes this even more fucked up? Is that black men don't even want us anymore. And that is coming strictly from a self loathing of our culture, the fact that light/white is right in society and therefore more desired.

I'm not closed to the idea of dating someone outside of my race, but I am most attracted to black men. How does that work if they don't want me (or us)- or that no race wants me (or us)?

There's no way I can resolve this. It's beyond my expertise, and definitely beyond my comprehension (although being black for the past 35 years I've dealt with this in EVERY arena of my life, not just dating). But it was on my mind and I felt the need to let it out.

Stepping off my virtual soap box now.