Now that is out of the way, here’s the real reason I sat down to write.   I have met a girl.  (I know, I know…again?)  Well this time, though, I have made it past the first date.  That was where it went wrong before.   Not only did we talk to one another after the date, we’ve talked every day since.   The thing is, she’s going to school and working full-time, AND is a single mother.  So, free time?  Not much.  But, we chat while she is doing her homework, and we text throughout the day.  

Now, usually when I meet someone from online, they tend to look different (if even only slightly)  from their picture.   Of course, this was the case with Susan as well.  Only, while the pictures I saw of her were more than enough to gain my interest, the reality dazzled me completely.  The first time I actually saw her, I felt like crying, praying, dancing, all of the above.  She is amazingly beautiful.  My mantra has become “Please don’t screw this up!”   She has gorgeous eyes, amazing hair, a beautiful smile.  And much, much more.  We met at this little pizza place on the square in Dahlonega, across from the gold rush museum.  And, of course, we had pizza, and talked for a bit.  Afterwards, we walked around the square for a bit, then found a nice table in a park to sit at, where we ended up talking for a few more hours.  Finally, the time came where she had to go do some homework, so I walked her to the library.  Every time it was time to say goodbye, we ended up talking a bit more.  Finally, though, it did come to an end, though we texted a bit on the way home, and then chatted for a while once I did get home.  Nothing in her attitude seemed to change, so I am assuming at this point that she is still as interested now as she was before.  Granted, it is still open for the “I really like you as a friend” thing, but, I am choosing to hope beyond that.  I can’t stress this enough:  I really like this girl. 

I find myself in unchartered waters now.  Do I pace myself?  Not make myself completely available?  What?  The rules suck, and I don’t think they work anyway.  I find it unfortunate that she lives an hour away, though that could be in my favor.  I mean, I will have no choice but to not rush things, I suppose.  Plus, an hour is not so bad.  It takes as much time to drive to the other side of Atlanta.  So, it’s reasonably local.  An easy drive, as well. 

There’s a quote out there, author unknown, that says “Never give up on someone you can’t go a day without thinking about.”  Well, what if it’s an hour that doesn’t go by without thinking of them?  I find myself wondering where she is, what she is doing, what she is thinking about.  Not in a jealous or obsessive sort of way, just in genuine interest.   I want to know her in every way.  And I want to do everything possible to keep this road going.  My mother said “Odd time to start a relationship.”  Well, yeah, I suppose it is.  Moving in a week or two, changing jobs, going to school, basically getting my life in order.  But, I have always maintained that there is always time for a relationship, if it’s something you want.  And I want her.  I really do.  So, here’s to hope.

Yes, we here at Alright Aphrodite make it possible for you to actually invite people into your lives to reject you in new and fun ways!  Don’t know anybody?  That’s ok!  We’ll bring them to you!  Don’t want to get dressed up?  No problem!  You’ll be turned down in the privacy of your own home!  Nobody knows your heart was just crushed but you and the wall, and the wall ain’t talkin’!  Am I right?   So, try it, like it, love it!  Alright Aphrodite:  receiving pain from people you might not have known even existed!

Disclaimer:  participants of Alright Aphrodite are not actually wishing to go on dates.  They are here because they want the thrill of being selected, then the empowerment of turning people down to feel better about themselves.  It’s ok.  You get to do it, too, if you want. 

That vacation you’ve been planning for weeks now.  Come on, calendar.  Hurry up!  Days tick off, and your excitement grows.  Let’s do this!  Only five more days!  It keeps you going, having track of the days.  The vacation around the corner makes all of the ho-hum days that much more tolerable. 

First day of school, first day of a new job, first day in a new city.  The newness, the exciting, the speculating about the future, wondering what’s going to happen?  OOo, that person looks cool.  Will they be my friend?  Or will I hate them.  Will they put things in my food?  Maybe they know a good joke. 

The point is, speculation and anticipation usually heighten and add to the excitement.  And, there is usually some nervousness involved, but that isn’t always a bad thing.  If you ask me, nervousness can keep you sharp and alert.  Well, unless it’s that palm sweating, eye twitching, can’t focus on anything kind of nervousness.  Then, well, that is bad.  That leads to hyperventilation.  Not so easy to focus, then.  But, you get what I am saying, right? 

Meet…for the sake of protecting the astronomically minute chance that anyone who matters would stumble across this, let’s call her Kami.  So, anyway, meet Kami.  The latest girl to find appeal in my OKC profile enough to reach out and contact me.  As with Jillian, as with Holly, she made the first “move”.   The emails went back and forth for a bit.   I found it to be enjoyable.  She’s a well spoken, intelligent girl, who also has some decent funny.   Then, blah blah, it went to texting and phone.  And, in my opinion, it went well.  We hit it off.   I don’t mean there were fireworks and warm fuzzy feelings and stuff.  No, I just mean that the conversations weren’t all boring small talk, or awkward silences.  We actually had stuff to talk about. 

Now, right here, let me lay out some info to clarify things a bit.  I am a huge fan of getting the meet out of the way as quickly as possible.  Why?  Knowledge, and experience, man.   I think I may have mentioned before, but I shall mention again that back in my AOL days, I met a few people.  We would meet in a chat room and spend oodles of time chatting and IMing.  And then it would graduate to phone.   And, of course, since none of these people were ever anything close to being local, it would stay there for a good while.  You get to know this person…so you think.  You talk about anything and everything.  You develop real feelings.  They feel real to you.  And then, finally, you arrange to meet.   Yes, I have heard all of the horror stories, but, I also think I am pretty good at looking after myself.  Anyway.  When you finally meet this person…who in the hell are you?   Seriously, who are you? 

It’s WAY different.  See, unbeknownst to you, during the many phone and IM  conversations, since you do not have a tangible person available, you concoct some sort of imaginary avatar for this individual in your head.  And, guess what?  You probably did it wrong.   Also, the fun part is, you always overshoot reality, because there is fantasy, sitting in his office, thinking he should put in his two cents’ worth.   So, no matter how accurate a picture you think you are making within your head, you are leaving out things like body language,  and just general “presence”.   And trust me, you can’t make up anything close to the real thing, since you do not know this person.  So, anyway, yeah.  I like to meet people as soon as possible.   There will be a click, or there won’t.   And no, I don’t mean a click as in you see them and it’s “OH MY GOD, IT’S THE ONE!!!”   I mean a click as far as “Do I even want to get to know this person more?” 

Don’t know about you, but I have met people before, in everyday life, and instantly liked them.  Just bang.  Friends.  Works the other way, too.  I have met people before, and it’s “Um…no.  I do not want you in my life.”   And, of course, there are indeed people who increase, or diminish, in your eyes over time.   Ok, let’s take an example.  One of the girls I work with, I considered to be The Most Beautiful Girl In the World.  First time I saw her, I think I went a little weak in the knees.  Not sure, it could have been my lack of eating anything beyond a donut that morning.  But, yeah.  There was a slight firework or two.  Over time, having worked with her a while now, she has…well, diminished, not to put too fine a point on it.  She is still just as pretty as she was the first time I saw her, just…she’s very negative.  Everything in her life sucks to her.  Nothing is good.  Everything spells doom.  Granted, she’s broken.  She’s been spat upon a few times.  She has health issues that have cost a lot of money, and self-worth.  But.  BUT.  She’s given up.  She has completely given up, and is only in her 20s.   Her, and another girl I work with who is kind of similar, in that I thought she was awesome, but now not so much, have become full-fledged members of the FML club.  (That’s “fuck my life”, in case you, the nonexistent reader, did not know.)   They have given up on hope, and, well, I have a hard time respecting that.  So, as cool and gorgeous as I thought these girls were, my gaze has been widened by attitude and mannerisms, and not in their favor.  Oh, don’t get me wrong.   I still like them both, and for the most part enjoy working with them and knowing them.   Just, yeah.  It makes the fact that there is a large age gap much more tolerable in that I now know that, even if there were not such a gap, I wouldn’t want to date them anyway. 

So, see, nothing can substitute having a person in your life physically.  Everything else is just a warm up.  Back to Kami.

I asked her out, and she said yes.  We spoke on the phone pretty much the entire morning leading up to when we would finally be within one another’s presence.  We even spoke on the phone as we journeyed to the agreed upon meeting place.  This told me that we at least enjoyed speaking to one another.  BUT, the conversation, throughout the day, got weird here and there.  She said things like “Look, I just want to say that we should start out as friends.”  She explained that she wanted it laid out upon the table before we met, so that I would not think she backed off after we met.  Totally good call on her part, since I would have thought that.  Anyway.  We spoke about that for a bit.  I mentioned that I respected and encouraged her wanting to go slow.  I can totally do slow.   HOWEVER.  I only do slow if there is also some sort of forward movement at the same time.  You know?   I’ll go as slow as you wish, so long as I can still see some sort of finish line, even if it’s miles away.  I don’t mind slow.  Not like I am looking for some sort of instant girlfriend.  I’m really not.

The problem, though, and I mentioned this is, don’t go slow just for the sake of going slow.  Trust me, you won’t avoid any potential pain that way.  There is no time frame, no formula.  Going slow is fine, but, don’t do it just so you can say you’re doing it.  Does that make sense?  It does to me.  Anyway, leave yourself open.  I mean, I felt like she was rejecting me before things even got started.  Something I have had some experience in as of late.  Don’t close the door before you’re even in the hallway.  For instance:  as stated, I am all fine with going slow.  But, good lord, the second I laid eyes upon this girl…just wow.  In this particular case, my mental image of her based upon the many pictures I have seen fell way short of the target.  She is beautiful.  I didn’t want to look at anything else.  She truly became the only woman in the room.   We spoke, we ate, we laughed, we shared, it was a good time.  One thing that amused me, she kept telling me these stories, and kept saying “I don’t know why I am telling you these things…”  Well, welcome to me.  Sorry, I should have warned you.  I don’t have a ton of things going for me, but, one thing I do have is a disarming manner.  People relax around me.  They do.  They find no judgement, no condemnation.  Just an apt and interested listener.  I mentioned at some point in this blog that compassion is one of my gifts, and, well, it sits right upon my sleeve.  It isn’t even a conscious effort, it just is.  Anyway. 

No first date would be complete without a red flag or two, and, she laid one out for me.  She told me the story of a guy she met on vacation, and fell for him.  (Hello, summer romance.  They still happen, yes.)  Anyway, she lived in Hawaii at the time, and he lived in England.   Anyway, for a reason that was not disclosed to me, he can not get a green card, so he can not move here.  She can not really afford to move to England, so, it was not meant to be.  But, she also said that she still has a thing for him.  Wait.  What?  You’re telling a guy you are on a date with that you aren’t over some guy?  I mean…I appreciate the info, but…are you saying that no matter what, I will be playing second fiddle to a guy who isn’t even here, and probably never will be?  Yeah, that sounds like a good time.   I want to be with someone.  I want companionship.  Lord knows I do.  But not enough to let someone be with me just because I am available and convenient.  Be with me only if you want to be with me.  Otherwise, I don’t needja. 

So, that was, of course, the one thing I took with me.  There were a lot of great things that happened.  She’s a wonderful girl.  But, the whole way home, and all through my restless and sleepless night, there were little demons bouncing around my shoulders saying “She still has a THING for that guy!  Didja hear her?  Isn’t that sweet?  How romantic.  SHE STILL HAS A THING FOR THAT GUY!”   And that brings me to the first point I was making about nervousness and anticipation, the joys and pains of waiting.  I want to talk to her.  First thing this morning, I wanted to reach for the phone.   But.  I also have no idea of what she is thinking or feeling about me as we speak, so, I am waiting.  Not necessarily for her to make the first move.  Just…I feel I should wait.  Not sure why.  I don’t want to appear desperate, and, I am not desperate.  I just really like this girl, and I want to know her more.  And more.  No, I don’t mean “She’s the one!  FUCK SLOW!”  I just…yeah.  I really like her.

Jane Doe upon discovering my amusing profile.

Jane Doe, 24 hours to 3 weeks later.

Let the soul sucking begin!

Going...going...

GONE! One less single woman in the world.

The thing is, I don’t even know I am doing this.  Maybe it happens in my sleep?  I tend to not remember my dreams, so, who knows.  Occasionally I will wake up to the slight hint of brimstone in the air, as a dark shadow recedes into the recesses of my closet, but, I always figure that is the result of that pizza I ate a bit too late at night.  Or possibly the Cadbury Creme Egg.   Who knows what lurks in that vanilla fondant center.  Anyway, I apologize for all of this.  I am an unwilling pawn, I assure you.  But a pawn I am.  Next step I will be like Francis from Red Dragon having conversations with imaginary people regarding the new woman in my life.  “No!  Can’t we keep her?  She’s nice!”   But the shadow in my closet will not yield, and I will be forced to hatch some scheme to rid myself of this evil presence.  I would disconnect the modem, but, with the wireless technology of today, that wouldn’t stop him.  No.  He’d find a way!   So, if you are reading this, I truly hope you are not next.  And if you are, tell all whom you meet in whatever pit of despair you wind up in that I didn’t mean it.   Oh, and tell them that I’m really not a bad guy.   But, fear not.  One day, I will find the portal, and come back for what’s been wrongfully stolen from the world on my behalf.  And, don’t worry.  I can kick ass when I have to.  I’ll see you then.  As for how you will know when the time of your salvation has arrived?  Trust me.  You’ll know.  Subtlety is not my strong point.  I’m in the business of kicking some internet woman stealing demon ass, and business issss good.

Suhab just put my pizza in the oven!  I can picture it in my head!  A smile on his face as he uses one of those old fashioned wooden paddles to slide his creation into the waiting flames…ok.  So, I romanticized a bit.   But, still, it’s informative.   Then, it goes to Suhab is double checking my order for perfection.  It remained upon this one for a long time, it seemed.  Ok, calm down a bit, Suhab.  Put the magnifying glass away.  I am not that hard to please, but, I am getting hungry.  Speed it up a bit.  And then, aha!  I got to see who my driver would be!  It’s like the lottery.  Maybe you’ll get a hot chick!  I mean, I would probably poop if I saw “Tiffany just loaded up your order and is on the way!”  Or Raychel.   But, sometimes, it’s Bertha.  Bertha means I don’t have to fix my hair.   Or, a dude.  If it’s a dude, I might not even put on real pants.   But this time?  Oh, it wouldn’t be easy.  No.  This time, I got a big fat helping of ambiguity!  “Frances has loaded up your order, and is the way!”    Well, shit.  Frances.  Ok, Frances is mostly sort of a guy’s name.  But, as Kallay said, if I was a dude who’s name was Frances, I’d go by Frank.   Unless I was pre-op or something.   I’ll just show you:

 me:  Fuck!!!
Ambiguous name.
 kallay:  ?
 me:  Frances is delivering my pizza.
75% chance it’s a dude.
 kallay:  yeah pretty much
although
if I were frances
 i would insist on being called Frank
me:  Better brush my hair and put on jeans rather than jammy pants just in case.
kallay: i mean… yeah.  i would too.
either way
i mean pizza chicks have to wear an ugly outfit
but if i go to the door in my jammies then they get to feel better about their lives
  i’m not sure i’m ready for that level of kindness
 me:  There is Frances Fisher, an actress.
 me:  Holy shit, I better change shirts, too.  I google imaged Frances, and the first page was all chicks.
 kallay:  she’s probably asian
5 points says that she is
 me:  Fuck!  I better lose some weight, then, too.
 kallay:  have any knives?
or… big sweatshirt… and suck it in
that always works for me
 me:  I have a pretty powerful vacuum.  Liposuction still has its upside.
 kallay:  i’ve considered it
but i gain and lose weight so fast it’s pointless
until my skin gives up on this yo yo parade
 me:  The problem with lipo is that you are totally forced to deal with the excess skin issue.
My belly becomes a mudflap for my dick.
 kallay:  mmm… wonderful mental picture
 me:  Thanks, I thought so.

So, yes.  Suddenly the odds of Frances being a chick were improving.  This meant I had to fix myself up a bit.  So much for the lazy pizza order.  Here were some of the possible Frances people who could come to my door.

Ok, the odds of Hurricane Frances delivering my pizza were slim, but, I try to be all inclusive.  You get the idea.  Suddenly, this seemed more like a date than just getting ready to stuff a pizza down my throat.  And people say I over complicate things.  Ha!  So, I opted for a fleece pullover, and some cargo pants.  Casual.  And, I did indeed brush my hair a bit.  Then, I wait.  I get this:

Frances is practically here!!!  So, I watch the window for the car with the sign thingy driving down the road, and, unfortunately, it’s too far away to tell gender, or even species, really.  It could have been a highly trained gorilla, who knows.  I mean, what, if you meet a gorilla who is named Frances, you’re going to point out that it’s a girl’s name?  Don’t you know the joke about where a 500 pound gorilla sleeps?  Anyway, the moment had come, so downstairs to the door I went, plus a splash of cologne.  (Hugo, by Hugo Boss, in case you are wondering.  I liked it because it was on Christmas clearance, and the bottle was shaped like a canteen.  Not sure what they were trying to say with that, but I listened anyway.  ‘Smell like the army!’ ) 

 So, I saw the car pull up and park, then I saw the driver exit.  Ah.  Frances was a dude.  Did any of you ever see Red Dragon, the prequel to Silence of the Lambs?  You know the part where, after Francis (See?  Use an I next time, dude.  Save my cologne)  ate the painting, then dork walked out of the museum?  That was this guy.  He kept his arm lifted in a bent position, and walked very briskly.  I was immediately creeped out, especially with his 70s mirror sunglasses.  Guess CHiPS is still big over in Ahghan-ee-stan.  Then, as he came closer, he smiled.  What few teeth remain were in rather bad shape.  So, so much for any similarities to Ponch.  “Hello, my friend!!  I am having your pizza!”  The hell you are, bud.  I paid for it, you get your own.  I opted not to take his picture, which I was gonna, because he seemed like he would like it too much.  He went on about something or other while I signed the receipt, going on about finding the bottom of the complex vs the top, blah blah…all I know is, every time I glanced over, my eyes were immediately drawn to his one remaining bottom tooth.  Why not go ahead and let that one go?  Seriously.  Did you wait too late to care?  If I only had a few teeth, I would either get rid of them, or make them some of the best looking teeth ever.  I may only have one tooth left, but check this baby out!!   It shines like your grandma’s white ass!   So, I signed the receipt, left the tip, and he said “Please be enjoying your meal, my friend.”   Then he gimped away.  Really quickly.  Actually, I would say he ran.  What did he have waiting for him back at the shop?  It’s sweet that he misses Suhab that much.  Maybe Suhab is the chick.  I am not very good at knowing the gender of that foreign a name.  It feels male, though.  A dude pops into my head when I hear the name.  Actually, a chubby scruffy kind of dude.  Like, the guy from the first Mummy.  You know, the prison warden who decided to go with them to protect his investment?   This guy.

THAT looks like a Suhab.  Anyway, I ate my pizza, and it was good.  It really was up to the hype of the new Domino’s.  And, the cats loved it, too.  They all sat around and waited for me to slip them a piece of the meat or cheese.  They even dig tomato sauce.  Pity Hoss wasn’t around to eat the “bones”.   Crusts are, to dogs, the pizza’s bones.  Usually, when I get my pizza on, he lays his chin on my arm and covers it with drool while he “patiently” (a relative term for a dog) waits for the goods.  All in all, a good experience.  But, I got dressed and cleaned up, even put on some cologne.  Now I feel like I should actually go somewhere.   Oh, and, Sioned got to lick the box.  She’s old, and cranky, so, she wins a lot.   The others seem not to find the fuss she puts up worth whatever it is.  Whatever works for her, I say.

vs.

Not sure what I mean yet?  Here’s another example.  One that is a bit more with the times, as well.

vs.

Doctor That's More Like it.

And, this one. 

Fergie Ferg. As we know her.

Fergie Ferg. As her bathroom mirror, and Josh Duhamel know her.

So, do you see what I am getting at here?  The media onslaught as given us a terrible hold on reality.   It’s given us completely unrealistic expectations.   Seriously, there are possibly whores that look as good as Julia Roberts.  But, they’re also those 3000 dollar a night Vegas hookers.  But even then, you can’t keep fucking guys again and again and again without paying some kind of price.  There are probably good looking doctors.  In fact, I am sure there are.  But, most of the doctors I have seen are just…people.   Even these faces that we appreciate aren’t real.  Google “Stars without makeup” anytime to see what I mean.   We all want to be with these perfect and baggage-less people who do not exist.  In fact, we tend to pass up fantastic things in hopes that around the corner awaits this phantom fantasy.  We hold out for something that won’t occur.  The sad thing is, we KNOW it won’t occur.  But, for whatever reason, we shoot for that one in a bazillion chance, seeming to assume that time will slow down or stop while we search.   Then, guess what.  We’re suddenly way past where we thought we’d be by now.  I’m turning 40 in a year, and still working on “What I want to be when I grow up.”   Guess what?  I am grown up.  I just wasted a lot of time.  Time that won’t be back.  One would like to think that, with this realization, I will make the days from here on in count.  And, I want to believe I will.  However, it’s probably more like a new year’s resolution.  Start out with strong and good intentions, then slowly settle into your old ruts and routines.  

Here’s some facts that everyone needs to accept.   Everyone has baggage.  Whether it be trust issues, self esteem issues, lack of ambition, the list goes on.  Everyone.  EVERY. ONE.  Got that?  You, me, them, those other folks.   These characters on tv and movies that we so adore that seem so perfect, the people playing them?  Issue laden.   They do things like pick their nose, scratch their ass, smell funny sometimes, get shit stains in the undies, etc.  They are real people.   Granted, if all of the characters on TV and movies did things like everyone else, well, how entertaining would that be?  I mean, look at Reality TV.  Would we keep watching it if it was just an average family who sat around doing every day things?  (Ok, probably.  I have to admit, the show would be a hit.  You people will watch anything.)   But, you get my point.  These reality shows are so big because they are train wrecks, and can make us feel better about our own mundane lives.   Relationships are disposable now a days.    And, the list of deal breakers gets larger and larger by the hour.  True story, from about 10 years ago:

I worked at a formal wear shop, and next door was a trophy shop.  We got to know one another, and sometimes, during the off times, we’d go there, or they would come over just to kill some time.  One of the girls from the trophy shop was Tracy.  Tracy was also a very good friend of a very good friend.   So, of course said mutual friend thought it would be a good idea to set us up.  And, well, I was all for it, since I thought she was funny, nice, and beautiful.  Apparently, Tracy didn’t think it was such a bad idea either, since she agreed to go out with me.  This was one of my first dates in a couple of years, so I was fairly nervous.  I showered, like, five times, ironed my best shirt twice, and even pressed my pants.  Cologne, hair gel, the works.   The date went well.  I can’t even recall where we went, or what we did.  It was all kind of a blur, but, I know I enjoyed it, and she must have as well, for she said she’d like to go out again.  The next weekend, we double dated at some dinner and concert thing with a couple of her friends.   So, again, heavily laundered clothing, and seriously scrubbed ass.  It went well, again.  As far as I knew.   But, the rest of the weekend, she kept finding reasons to not answer her phone, or be busy and such.  The next week at work, she was always busy, even when I knew she wasn’t.  I had no idea what I had done, or said, but, I knew it was something.  She suddenly acted completely different towards me.   A week later, I asked Valinda, our mutual friend, if she knew what was going on.  She did.  She didn’t want to tell me over the phone (That’s always good news, isn’t it?)  so we met for lunch.  She informed me that Tracy couldn’t see herself being with me because I had worn the same shirt two weekends in a row.  Well, shit.  So, I was out of practice.  I didn’t even consider that.  It was just my favorite shirt, and I thought I always looked good in it.  I never stopped to think “Wait, I wore this last week.”  I was so busy trying to make sure I didn’t screw up in some real way, by saying something stupid, or having green stuff in my teeth.   And, well, ever since then, it’s been kind of more of the same, ending with last week, my criminal history causing a perfectly seeming normal woman to view me as undesirable.    Actually, the shirt one hurts worse.  That was something I could have, and should have, easily overcome.  By, you know, wearing something else.  Seems so easy, doesn’t it?  But, hindsight is like that.  “Wow, all I had to do was not say that.”  or “Man, if only I had done this instead.”  The fact is, however, when you stop and look at it?  I am not perfect.  I never will be.  Neither will you.  I promise you that you, them, and I, will say something we shouldn’t have.  We’ll do something, or say something that will make us seem stupid, or kind of a jerk.  It happens.  Sure, we will all try to not do it.  These things are never a conscious decision.   Not once did I say “I will put this shirt on again, because I want her to think I am homeless or something, and only have two outfits.”  In the next week or so, one of us will probably fart loudly enough for someone to hear it.  One of us will say something awkward and stupid.  One of us will do something clumsy.  And, you know what?  I promise I won’t think any less of you. 

Why not?  Well, because I am a decent human being.  I know you will make a mistake, but it’s ok.  So will I.  Let’s not make a big deal out of it.   And no, I am not talking about the actual unforgiveables, like blatant cruelty, cheating, causing deliberate pain, etc.  No, those people are still douche bags, it’s ok to think so.  But, don’t lump me into that group just because I chuckled when someone ran into a glass door thinking it was open.  Can’t help it.   You can swat me and say “You shouldn’t laugh at people.”  and, I will likely say “You’re right.”  But, if I did the same thing, you could laugh.  I’d laugh, too.  Well, unless I hit myself hard enough to knock myself out.  But, when I woke up, I would laugh then. 

All of this seems so simple.  Life should me much more simple than we make it.  And, this brings me back to the original point of how we’re letting made up people and situations cloud up our standards and ideals.   I might be guilty of this as well.  I know that admitting a mistake is the first step towards overcoming it, but, I don’t think I am in denial.  I really don’t.  I believe that I honestly judge people based on their whole person, because I would like the same in return.  That is the very simple formula for a good and happy life.  Why don’t more of us follow it?  Kind of like the whole salvation bit.  “If you want to live forever in Heaven at God’s side, all you have to do is ask for it.  Admit your mistakes, ask for forgiveness, and try not to do it again.”   That’s it.  It’s so simple.  But, we don’t like simple things, do we.  It makes us all suspicious-like.  I mean, look at the people who actually got to listen to Christ’s messages in person.  Sure, plenty listened, and were changed forever.  But, then there were those other folks.  The ones who said “Wait.  That’s way too easy.  Kill him.”    Or, in my case:  “Hm.  He seems like a good guy.  Let’s break his heart for a reason he really can’t help.”   I don’t want to quit.  I don’t want to give up.  Ok, I do want to die.  Won’t deny that.  But, in the mean time,  I just want to have someone to do stuff with.  That’s all.

I just didn’t know how to explain it, or express what happened.  I was up most of Saturday night trying to sort out the 4,000 things running through my head. (Feel bad for me.  Rejecting you was no easy task.)   What exactly was it that set me off?  I don’t know that it’s an easy answer really.  I think it was that the traffic violations are kind of a disregard for rules, or the system, and as much as I hate it about myself, I’m kinda into rules, at least the ones that can get you put in jail or prison.  (Since I came from money, and have money, and have never known what it’s like to have to drive for your job, and not being able to drive means no job.  Plus, well, doesn’t everybody have a rich Texas daddy who can pay your fines for you?  And, in my limited world view, jail and prison are indeed the same things.  You may as well have murdered someone.  I like things to be that black and white.  Well, except for the fact that I did mention that I have had several speeding tickets.  Those don’t count.  And, even if they did, I rejected myself long ago, don’t worry.  No partial treatment here!  I just can’t get myself to leave.)   

A lot of people would probably think that’s a character flaw on my part. (Nonsense.  I am sure all of the people who don’t live in the real world would think you’re just fine.)  You know, too much into the way things work or not breaking rules and living life in kind of a box.  (Which you expressed a desire to get out of.  Oh, wait.  Guess you didn’t know that it meant, I don’t know, being open to stuff.  Like, I want to lose weight, but, had no idea it meant eating better food, and excercising and shit.  Who wants that?)   Maybe it is, and maybe it’s something I have to work on.  But the gut reaction I had was not something I just made up, or a convenient excuse to end something that was, for me, really fun.  And really nice.   I can’t ignore it, because if I did it would just come up further down the line when everyone’s more involved and things are more complicated and feelings get more hurt than they are now.  (In other words, I expect no mistakes.  From you, at least.  So, yes.  Since you can not guarantee me that you will be a complete model citizen from this point out, I will continue looking.  And getting really old and lonely.) 

I’m not asking you to apologize for living your life the way you want, (Cuz that’s how I roll, biatch!)  because most of it seems to have been well lived, and mostly for the benefit of others.  (Yeah, you and your compassion and kindness…except when it comes to driving your car.  Why couldn’t you be a douche like all the others?)   And clearly I have a lot more to deal with on my end, and more baggage than I cared to think about. (Like, still looking for my romance novel ideal dude.  He’s out there!  Disney told me so!)   But I will tell you that the way you’ve written to me, and the things you’ve said have made a huge impact on me, and while you may think I’ve been shitty to you, you’ve been nothing but great to me.  So thank you for treating me better than most.  (Now here’s a fat turd for a consolation prize.  You’re a wonderful man.  Sadly, I don’t do wonderful.  I need flaws, which I then flee from.)  

I’m so sorry, Alun.  It would be cliche’ to say it’s me and not you, but it would also be pretty true, even if it does sound like a cop out or condescending.  It isn’t meant that way. 

(Name withheld to protect the delusional) 

9.  I tipped my waitress a paltry 10%, instead of the standard 15.  Hey, times are tight. 

8.  I made fun of a tubby kid who slipped on the ice. 

7.  I wore white socks with khakis and brown shoes. 

6.  I failed to report all of the money I made selling crack on my tax return. 

5.  Killed another hooker.  Bitch had it comin, though. 

4.  Lied to the pimp who came around looking for his missing ho.  Said I hadn’t seen her. 

3.  I blatantly chose not to recycle a large stack of cardboard, but chucked it into the dumpster instead. 

2.  I told a guy his clothes were clean, but not Gain clean. 

1.   That whole holocaust thing, back in the 40s, with Hitler?  My idea. 

So, yeah.  Guess it’s just as well these things didn’t come to light.  Might have seemed like a real monster then.  Now, excuse me, I am going to go run down to the hospital and loosen all the screws on the crutches, then just sit and wait.  That’s how I roll.

She announced right away that she came with some baggage, as does everyone.  This told me that she seems to be grounded in reality.  If someone is single at a semi-advanced age, then, well, there’s been a bad experience or two.  It’s a given.  Seemed she knew that, so, yay.  She isn’t expecting Prince Char-fucking perfect-ming.  She also announced she has a very close comfort zone, and tends to stick within it.  Ok, I can deal with that.  I’m a very open individual.  I’ll talk about anything, and am terrible at taking hints.  So, this should be ok.  She also said that, I will likely feel discouraged, as has every other dude before me, but, she hopes I don’t get too discouraged.  I dunno, it sounded a little like “Please, save me.”  to me.  And, well, I am all about damsels in distress.  What guy isn’t?  I told her not to worry, I was up to this challenge.  And, indeed it is/was a challenge.   For a while, we emailed back and forth via this site.  Sometimes a few times a day.  Then, I asked if she used any chat program, such as Yahoo, AIM, etc.  She had AIM at work.  Warning:  at work, she’s work minded, so, she might be not entirely easy and conversational.  Not a problem, I understand.  So, we chatted.  Talked about this and that, kept it on the up and up.   It was good.  I made a move, and asked if we could go out sometime.  Quickly, she said sure.  Shocked the crap out of me, I don’t mind saying.  I’ve been chasing cars for so long, it really surprised me to catch one.  Now what, right?  Well, this continued for a bit, as did the emails.  I was respecting the comfort zone, taking it easy, while still trying my best to nudge things along when I felt they needed to be.  She was out of town on business for about a week, and I figured I wouldn’t hear from her, but she surprised me by writing me an email from the plane, saying she was surprised that she missed speaking to me.  Well, hey.  I’ll take that.  Ok, granted, one could possibly take the “I am surprised that I miss you”  as a slightly backhanded compliment.  But, I chose not to be cynical, and take it for what it was.  I wrote her back.  She wrote me back, etc. 

I figured it was time to make move number two, and nudge things a bit more.  I asked if we could speak on the phone some time.  Gritting my teeth the entire time, let me tell you.  I was nervous as hell.  Oh, I should mention that Friday was my birthday.  A fact she was aware of.  So, Friday she emails me saying that, since she’s in Ohio, and it’s last minute, she couldn’t figure out what to get me for my B-day, so, this would have to do.  And, beneath that was her phone number.  Hello!  That was awesome!  I was so happy!  Again, another car caught.  I was entering uncharted waters here, but, was digging it just fine.  Today, Saturday, we spoke.  I liked her voice, and, the conversation had zero awkward silences.  Neither of us felt a lack of things to say.  Basically, it went well.  Until…

At some point I mentioned that I had been in jail several (Really, several.  As in, like, 7 or 8  ) years ago for driving on a suspended license.  It’s a misdemeanor, but, in Michigan, where I lived at the time, it was a jailable offense.  Most other states just fine you large amounts of money.  No, not MI.  They fine you large amounts of money, AND lock you up.  If I committed a “crime”, it was just being stupid for ignoring the traffic ticket I had gotten a few years prior that started the whole suspended license deal in the first place.  And, where I went more wrong was, I kept driving, even knowing I had already gotten popped once.  But, I was a delivery guy.  Driving was required, and the job market wasn’t much better then than it is now.  In other words, I saw myself as having little choice but to keep driving, so I could keep earning money.  It was what it was.  I would just have to be careful.  No speeding, no turning on red, no illegal lane change without a signal, no skipping on the seat belt, etc.  I still managed to get pulled over, and always for a stupid reason.  Once, I was wearing a grey fleece jacket, that happened to be the exact same color as the seatbelts of my vehicle.  The cop pulls me over, and walks up to the window.  I ask what I did wrong, he looked kind of surprised and chuckled.  “Oh, well, I’ll be damned.  You’re wearing your seat belt.  Sorry, I really thought you weren’t.  They’re the same color.”   Heh heh heh.  No problem, officer.  Indeed I always wear it.  I appreciate you doing your job, though, you bet I do.  “Speaking of doing my job, go ahead and give me your license and registration.”   Well, sheeeee-it.  Here we go.  Yup. Arrested.  Vehicle impounded.   Another time, I was hit by another vehicle.  That guy got out of his car and ran away.  Me, I should have kept driving.  I was less than a mile from my house.  But, too many people had run out and asked if I was ok, if I needed an ambulance, etc.  Before I could get moving, the cop showed up.  Arrested.  “But if it makes you feel any better, the guy who hit you, if we catch him, will go to jail for a long time.  He stole that car.”   Yeah, that made me feel swell.  Yet another time was just a random traffic stop.  The cops were stopping everyone that was driving along this stretch of road to check for proper insurance.  Which I had.  The license, well, not so much.  Arrested.  And see, you get the point.  Even being as careful as I could be, they kept finding ways to catch me, and arrest me.  My fines were building up.  Plus, Michigan hates people who drive on a suspended license SO MUCH, that they had this special law thing called “The Driver’s Responsibility Act.”  It was a VERY large fine above and beyond any of the normal fines and court fees.  Turns out, the Governor’s son had been struck and killed by a motorist who’s license was, at the time, suspended.  The logic followed that if they cracked down a little harder, that guy would never have been behind the wheel, and his son would be alive.  I don’t know…yes, I believe in a lawful society, but, does that strike anyone else as a bit too personal a crusade for comfort?   There are actual bad and dangerous people who arent being as heavily pursued as me and my lack of a proper license.  But anyway, suffice it to say that by this time, I owed a WHOLE lot of money, and had been to jail several times.  The third or fourth time, they decided that my time served had not been enough, so, I was going to have to go to actual county lockup.  I spent a week there. 

All of that to tell you this:  I mentioned to her that I had been to jail.  And, I told her why.  She. FREAKED.  It bothered her TERRIBLY.  She, well, acted like I had confessed to being a felon, like a rapist, or had been charged with domestic abuse or something.  I was not, and am not, a felon.  These were all misdemeanor offenses.  On an application, I can still honestly say that, no, I have never been convicted of a felony.  I am not a criminal.  Seriously.  But, this still bothered her.  A lot.  She felt bad that it did, she even apologized and said she didn’t know why it bothered her as much as it did, but, it did.  She said she needed some time to process this.   We kept talking for a bit, but, I was deflated.  I felt like I had confessed to banging some 15 year old girl or something.  Or stealing a car.  I felt like I was the criminal she was viewing me as.   I’ve done my sentence, but committed no crime.  And bad mistakes:  I’ve made a few.  I’ve had my share of kicks in my face, but I’ve come through.   All night at work, I kept hoping that there would be an email waiting, saying she had thought about it, and come to the conclusion that she had over reacted, and was sorry.  It was silly of her to make a mountain out of this mole hill.   But, here it is, 4:30 AM, and, no email.   What does this mean?  Is she still processing it?  What am I supposed to do now?  Figure she’s just not interested in a future with a hardened criminal like myself?  Should I make the first contact?  Should I wait?  WHAT!?  I have no idea, but, I know I feel pretty crushed.  Bad enough that that experience cost me my freedom here and there, an impounded vehicle or two, thousands of dollars, but now, it’s cost me a relationship almost a decade later.   Part of me says that if she freaks out about something so relatively small, then, well, I’m better off.  Lord knows I might screw up again.  But the other part of me says “Seriously?  You’re acting like I was in there for six months, came out with jailhouse tats and a prison lover whom I still see on the downlow.”   I was in there for a week!  And, all I did was read books and watch TV.  Just like I do at home, only, there were bars and crappy food.  So, we’ll see.  I was going to write her, but, I wrote this instead.  It was probably for the best, for, I felt a little put out.  I would have said something that for sure would have blown it all to hell.  It might already be blown, we’ll see.  Maybe the new day will shed new light on it for her.  I can wait another day.  But, if I don’t hear from her by this evening, well, I guess that means we’re back to square one, and I can chalk this up as another rejection.   It crossed my mind that she was looking so hard for something wrong with me that when the tiniest little thing showed it’s head, KA-BLAM!!!!  OH MY GOD, HE’S A CONVICT!   No, I am not.  But, to someone with a magnifying glass, I could certainly appear as one.  I guess.  We’ll see. We’ll see if  “I have baggage, just like everyone else”  actually means “I have baggage, just like everyone else, so you better accept me, damn it.  Just don’t you have anything close to a shadowy past.”   I’m going to bed.  Fuck my life.

A former coworker and I share a birthday.  And, guess what he’s doing for his?  Some fun and semi-cozy house party?  No, ma’am.  A rave.  Like, a real rave, with tweakers, glow sticks, techno music, all of that.  Ever see those movies where a little angel and a devil appear on opposite shoulders?  Me, too.  It’s used a lot, actually. This one time, they twisted it so a devil appeared, then  another devil on the other shoulder.  Ha haaa!  They took an old formula and surprised you by doing something unexpected.  Comedy!!  I…wait.  Where was I going with this?  Oh, right.  Well, that kinda happened.  The devil was first.  He looked a little like Quagmire, actually.  “Wait.  Drugged half passed out chicks, who are hopped up on X?  Hello, bathroom hall hand job!!  Awright!”  Then he started humping my ear.  To avoid eye contact, I turned my attention to my other shoulder, waiting for the angel.  Who never showed up.  Well, not never, just, not before the little devil finished.  I was hoping for an intervention, but, no such luck.  By the time I glanced back over, he was zipping up and saying “Now fix me a turkey pot pie.”   Ass.  Bet he doesn’t call.  Anyway, the angel did show up, just, after I said hello to her first.   She said “don’t do it” right away.  Granted, I had already heard an inner voice saying not to do it.   But, it always helps having an outer voice backing it up.  I mean, come on.  I can’t listen to every single inner voice I have, now can I?  What about the one who says “No, really, chicks like looking at your penis.”   or “Come on. You drive fine when you’ve been drinking.”   or even “You DO want a snuggie.”  So, even the good ones can get tuned out by association.  So, anyway, yeah.  I just so happen to have an angel who gives me advice, confirms good decisions, and talks about poop and farts.  I love her so.  Speaking of…well, not really, but, it’s as good a lead in as anything…how do I change the fact that my user pic I am looking at in the top left is some weird green x thing.   It’s kinda girly, isn’t it.  At least make it, like, I don’t know.  Kick ass somehow.  A black and steel blood covered X, or something.  I am sure I could figure out how to change it, though. 

But anyway, back to what I was saying.  Why am I suddenly assaulted with party invitations?  I mean, yes, I want a social life, but…shouldn’t I want a more age appropriate one?  I am so past “Woohoo!  Let’s get wasted!”  but not quite ready for “So, you see, when you cover your freshly planted bulbs with a nice layer of fertile top soil, you give them a chance to really grow.”  Part of me wants to say yes, because it beats sitting at home doing nothing like some sort of lump.  But on the other hand…as the angel so aptly said “Everything you see there will be illegal.”  Not my style.  Well, not anymore.  (Ka-WINK! Hiyo!)   See, when I went to my “Office Christmas party”…(I used quotes because there were five of us at a bar.  Could have been just a regular gathering.)  I met Ashley’s fiance.  Usually when I meet a coworker’s fiance, he turns out to be a douche or something, and I ask “Why the hell?”  But Brian was a solid guy.  I tend to automatically like guys named Brian, just because of Brian from Family Guy.  And, he liked me.  I recall him, slightly slurring, saying “Man, I like you.  I mean, you’re cool!  This guy…(By this guy, he meant coworker Amit)…I know a million guys like him.  But you just sit there, all cool and calm, like you KNOW something, man.”    And, I did know something.  He’d had a few.  But, I liked him right away.  Wait.  I had a point I was making.  Crap.  Let me scroll up.   Oh, yeah.  My point is, I just don’t party.  (Read:  ParTAY!)  And, not sure I want to.  I’m more of a small gathering kinda guy now.  Granted, I am fine in a crowd.  But, yeah.  If there’s a choice, just give me a few people, and a karaoke machine.  Ha!  I love that part.  Sorry, watching Family Guy.  Anyway…well, I guess I will wrap up.  I think I made my point.  And, if not, I forgot it.  In summation, I think I will pass on the rave, even though I am still tempted as we speak.  Mostly because it’s something new to experience.  But, that’s kinda what those Jim Jones people said about the kool-aid.