Saturday, September 19, 2009

Big Black

Last night I met up with another dating service guy. I was pretty excited as it was my first interracial date. Not to be weird, but I have never dated anybody but a white guy before. Perhaps that is my problem. I need to think outside the box.

We met at happy hour and several of my work friends were there. Now here is the funny part. This one fellow that I work with who has a superiority complex comes over and it is clear he started happy hour at his house. The two men talk about life, California, politics, whatever else. I zone out and talk to elitist's girlfriend. I tune back into the conversation when I hear this fairly intoxicating man throwing out what can only be described as a pitiful attempt to be down. I am quite surprised he didn't utter the phrase, "you dig, my brotha?" It was all too funny.

There isn't much else to say from there. Big Black will not be getting a second chance. The very first thing I noticed about him was that he had ashy elbows damn near to his wrists. I get that black people may have different skin, but you gotta take care of that shit.

The sad thing about the whole thing is that as BB and I were leaving the bar, my Rasta Man crush showed up at the bar. He never comes to happy hour. It is just my luck.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

The Muppet

This tale starts with a phone call to my girlfriend on my way down to meet The Muppet. About halfway between my house and the square downtown and running a little late as usual I totally forgot this guy's real name. I call my girl, let's call her T Money, and ask her to hack into my email account and search for an email from this guy. After several panicky minutes as I got closer and closer to the square, he beeped in while she and I were on the phone. I click over and he sputters, "Hey, it's (garbled and unintelligible name spoken). I am here."

I desperately wanted him to repeat his name; however, I thought that it may be suspicious. I click back over to T Money waiting for me and to my delight she has found the information I seek. She laughs wildly at me and reminds me to include her in the blog that I will write about this.

I approach a man sitting on a park bench and way over dressed for a lunch date. He stands and I am in awe. At 6'5" he towers over me. I am impressed. He is not completely unfortunate looking, though I am not digging his personal style. The shock comes when he opens his mouth. I am torn between Kermit the Frog or Fozzy Bear, but his voice definitely resembles that of a muppet. I am shocked. For the next hour as he tells me of his life, his dreams, his plans, I can't help but smile broadly at him from across the table. I am sure what he is taking as me enjoying the conversation is truly me running the script of our conversation through my mind to include in this.

After time, I get used to the sound of his squeak and begin to get into what he is saying. He is intelligent and well spoken. He has led and interesting life worth listening to. I enjoy him and invite him to a birthday barbeque later that evening. He graciously attends and is personable with all he meets. He is able to hold a conversation with those he just met even when I am not around.

He leaves in the evening as he has to drive back to Flagstaff to be at work the next day. We hug goodbye and speak of possible plans to hang out again. I don't mind this one so much. Let's see what happens.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Boston is a tool

This weekend Boston and I were supposed to hang out and go to the Cardinals game. He completely blew me off. I get that this guy was such a crush for me but I am not going to spend my time chasing after unavailable men. I sent him the following email:

i am going to assume from your lack of response to my text message that we are not going to hang out this weekend.

this makes me sad. i can think of a myriad of reasons that you have for not wanting to hang out:

you just have something better to do
the thought of hanging out with me frightens or sickens you
you are just a bachelor living the bachelor life
you have prior commitments that you forgot about
you or someone you care about is ill
you are seeing someone
you are just too lazy and scared to put in any effort

whatever the reason, there is no reason for not letting me know. it would have been nice to at least get the message that you weren't coming up this weekend. however, i got the message now.

take care of yourself.

And that was that. He never responded. I didn't expect him to. I have to admit, I was a little harsh. He deserved it though. No one is going to blow me off and get away with it scott free. Buddhist teachings tell us to have compassion for others. We never know what others go through, but also the Dalai Lama has told us that we need to not concern ourselves with fools lest we become foolish ourselves. I am no fool. There are other fish in the sea. I'll keep throwing back the bottom feeders until I find a trophy.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Funny Man from New York

Tonight, while putting off my gym time by drinking a glass of wine and listening to blue grass, I received a text message. It read, "Hey there. What cho up 2?"

Thinking to myself what the hell, I replied, "Who is this?"

The response came like lightening. "It's (name withheld) from New York." After a few messages back and forth, we were on the phone with each other and I got to hear him for the first time. I have to say, his voice is like butter. I am sucker for a deep voice and a Long Island accent. Add to that he is comedian and loaded with witty quips, and I am smitten already.

We spoke for almost an hour about movies, high school, college, his house in Arizona, his house in New York, his television show, his installation company, my teaching career, and a myriad of other topics. I am totally interested in this guy. The conversation flow was perfect. Thinking back on the velvety smoothness of his voice with its subtle Long Island intonation makes me want to snuggle up in bed with "the machine". It has been a long time since I busted out that girl. However, let's not get too far ahead of myself.

Perhaps it is the wine I chose to drink instead of heading to the gym. Maybe the fact that today felt like a new day for me is why I feel so good about this new man. Whatever it is, I surely look forward to his visit to Arizona at the end of this month. I hope to hear from him again soon. Maybe he will leave me a sexy phone message in that bedroom voice. Maybe tonight I will have a tasty dream about him giving me a standup show for one. Can you tell it has been a while since I got a little? I need a cold shower and some deep breathing.


Saturday, September 5, 2009

Boston stays home, but have no fear Baby Talk is here.

Friday evening Boston called and said he couldn't make it this weekend, but he did want to see me next weekend and take me to the Cardinal's game. I am a little sad; I really like this guy, but I will try and stay cool.

In the absence of a date this weekend, I called a new guy that I met via the dating service. He drove down from Phoenix for the evening. He arrived with a rose in one hand and a bottle of V8 Fusion (my favorite beverage) in the other hand. He took the time to really read my dating profile to find that information. I thought that was pretty smooth and deserving of a hug.

He's tall and not totally unfortunate looking, but his eyes are definitely a little too close together. It is almost like someone tied a wire to bridge of his nose and pulled it through his brain. However, that really wasn't the deal breaker for me. What made me question the staying power of our dating ritual was the way he spoke to my dog and cats. He spoke in baby speak, saying things like "poopie butt" and "stinky pants". I found this behavior crazy and quite annoying. Mind you he is at least two inches over six feet and is wearing an unbecoming pair of biker boots. He also had meaty nipples that I could see as little raised mounds under his shirt. Not the best look I must admit.

His odd behavior continued at the Japanese restaurant we went to for dinner. He tried too hard to be funny almost to the point of embarrassment for me. And, if you know me, you know I don't really get embarrassed that easily. I am usually the one doing the embarrassing.

Baby Talk was sweet though when he wasn't being weird. He has a stable and well paying job. He was a gentleman and very thoughtful. This one will get another chance, but I don't think it is going to go anywhere.

I have to wonder if my ability to find annoying things in all of these men isn't them but rather me. I wonder if it is too soon since my boyfriend and I broke up. It has been six months, but I am still in a lot of pain. Though the dating is a nice distraction and gives me something to look forward to, I wonder if I will make a real connection with someone ever again. I wonder if I will open myself up to love ever again.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

The Artistic Bartending Chef

It is 11:30 on Thursday night and I cannot go to sleep until I tell you about my evening. The story of the Artistic Bartending Chef (ABC) actually begins last night. I had to run some errands and when I was finished I decided to reward myself with a decent martini. It is difficult to find one in this town, but I thought I would give Joe's a try-at the very least I could listen to decent music while I sipped sucky cocktails. As it turns out, the bartender actually made a very tasty dirty martini.

Complementing him on his concoction, I notice is cute by my standards and I figure I would engage him in some flirty conversation. The bar is a little slow so he has some time to talk to me. We talk about music, art, food and sports. I learn that he loves golf and golfs every Thursday at Antelope Hills golf course. As fate would have it, so do I. I invite him to join me there tomorrow giving him my number. I am so glad to get out of there because even though this guy is interesting and there is some mellow live music happening, and the nine fingered homeless man sitting next to me is not taking my obvious social cues to leave me alone.

I am on my way to meet my threesome for golf, almost forgetting about ABC. Minutes from the course, he calls me and meets us out for a round. I was surprised and happy. He is a decent golfer, much better than I am; however, he is sweet and offers friendly constructive criticism. I played the worse round ever. After a beer at the clubhouse and some laughs with my friends, it is time to head out. I am hungry and so is he. I have to go home to let my dog out and I ask him if he wants to have dinner at my house. I figure I would schmooze him with my culinary ability. I never got the chance.

When we got to my house, he took over and made me an amazing pasta primavera. We ate bread and cheese and drank some good wine. We talked and cooked together. We watched a movie and I fell asleep on the floor. I think we are going to meet for golf again next week.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

A little background...

So this is the blog of the Indiscriminate Dater, but it might be time to tell you all how I got here. About six months ago, I came home from a weekend with friends. I made the silly mistake of getting a small but permanent tattoo of my boyfriends initials on me. I always said I would never do such a thing, but for me, and I thought for us, we were going to be together forever. Excited to show him I reveal the fresh ink when I get home. He begins to cry. Panicked, I ask him what is wrong. He replies, "You love me so much, yet you have no idea I want to leave you."

My jaw hit the floor. He begins to give me a string thoughts that have been going through his mind for nine months: I don't see you in my future, I have feelings for another woman (our employee mind you), you are too old to have children (34 remember), we are just too similar, I see you more as a friend than my girlfriend, I just don't love you anymore. I was stunned. This wasn't happening to me. I cried. I reasoned. I suggested therapy. And on the day he was packing his truck to leave, I humiliated myself and got on my knees and begged. Unmoved he walked out the door and out of my life.

I cannot begin to express the pain. I wouldn't know where to begin to explain how he hurt me. For nearly four years I loved this man. We made each other happy. I thought he was truly my soulmate. How lucky I thought I was. Here was someone that promised me a life together, that shared with me in my joys and aches. Here was a man that I gave everything to-my life, my love, my savings. Here was a man that gave up on us without so much as a sigh it seemed. He thought saw that the grass was greener on the other side. For six months I cried; I still cry. I sought therapy. I looked to friends to ease the ache.

He and his little blonde live together now. He doesn't think about me much I imagine. His life is vastly different. I still live in the same house that we found together. I sleep in the same bed, a king that seems really empty. I am trying to do something about filling that with a warm body. I have the same job and a very similar routine.

I find it hard not to hate him. I am not sure if I have a right to. He told me in an email after he left that he regretted being just another person in my life that hurt me, but in the end, he said, "I chose myself." This really shouldn't surprise me. He always chose himself. I always gave, but I gave with love and selflessly because that is what I wanted-I thought.

Well, no more. Sisters are doing it for themselves and I am following suit. I am out for myself now and I am out for blood. Yes, I am looking for love and companionship and friendship and someone who doesn't run from a commitment because some young blonde who he pays is willing to touch his winkie. However, I am looking with open and critical eyes. Gentlemen callers beware. The Indiscriminate Dater is on the prowl.