Dating Update - Are Ya'll Waiting on Bated Breath?

Mr. Rogers after our date.

 I just arrived home from the most mismatched coffee date ever. Think Mister Rogers and Rizzo sitting in Starbucks trying to relate. Holy crap. It was the longest 30 minutes I've had since the pushing part of labor.


It is has been 11 weeks since My Sweet Escape and I officially broke up.  But that's the official part. It leaves out the night I called and left him a voicemail, (like any grownup would) saying, "Let's just do this. Let's just do what we need to do to work this out." and the next day I received a text that said, "I just don't think this is the right time for me to be in a relationship." Hahaha, for a couple destined to be we sure de-personalized that one.

After I picked my heart up off the barroom floor, I dusted her off, and said, "Okay, baby. No more kicking you around." And she and I began to walk in a new direction.

Things have gotten better recently. I've only teared up twice today. I used to wake up everyday imagining My Sweet Escape curled up behind me. I would refuse to open my eyes until I absolutely had to. That has stopped. "No more fantasies, baby," I said to myself, "Your ass needs to get out of bed and make pancakes."  I do sometimes image stopping by his house during the day while he's sleeping (he works nights). I see myself crawling fully clothed into his bed. I curl up behind him and breath in his scent. In my fantasy I look into his beautiful face, bawl up my fist and smash it into his cheek repeatedly as I ask, "Are you fuckin' serious?" Of course I would never do this, but sometimes it heals my heart a little just to think about it.

The book I'm reading? The Wisdom of a Broken Heart by Susan Piver. It is very wise. It talks about meditation, and diving into the pain, but Piver also talks about having a love affair, not a relationship, when your heart is broken. Having a brief love affair is like feeding your starving soul a Twinkie except sexier. Not the nutrients you need for long term, but nice for a little boost.

A week ago I joined a dating site. Something I said I would never do, "It's not my MO." I said to Joe Cool, all holier than thou. I may have even stuck my nose in the air, and it is true. It is not my MO, but look where my MO has gotten me with men....So I decided damn it, I am going to friggin' do something different, for realz.

Times have changed, though. I have changed. What I want out of a relationship is so much different now than even 2 years ago. I have no desire to settle into married life. I have no desire to live with someone. My beasts go to their dad's for about 30 hours a week.  I'm not planning on introducing them to someone I date so my options are limited. However, why not go out to dinner a few times with someone I don't want to fall in love with? Damn that takes a lot of pressure off.  Maybe I'll find someone fun to hang out with so when I want companionship I can have it and when I don't want to deal, I don't have too.

So far I've only gone on one date (Mr. Rogers). I think the problem is I'm sending mixed messages to the universe and to the men online. I really have no idea what I want. My inner Lisbeth Salander and my inner Cinderella are at war most days. I'm at the buffet and I can't decide if I want the steak or the creme brulee (that's not a very manly desert, but you know what I mean). As you can tell from the food choices, though, I want something rich. I don't mean money wise. I just mean I want the experience to be meaningful and enriching to my life, not a bunch of silly bullshit. I just don't have time for that.

Yes, this is exactly what I look like while training for my dates. 

Dating seems stupid and exhausting, yet there are somethings that are exciting. And I have promised Savior Single Mama that I will do it for the story. She said, "You're like Katniss before the Hunger Games. You're in training."

Everyday I wake up to 18 new matches from my new dating site. Not really. There are actually about 7 and not one seems actually compatible with me. Out in the world I've flirted with someone who I realized wasn't really into me he was just laughing so hard at my jokes because he was stoned. Note to self... I can't read men.

I also recently saw someone who it didn't work out with and I was very glad I had on my best black bra. You know those great bras that make your boobs look like you bought them? Even though my boobs were not the reason it didn't work out with this man, it is nice when those girls stand up and say, "We have options."

My favorite dating misadventure so far happened last night. I went on a date with my favorite person to go out with; me.  I took myself to movie and dinner. While waiting on my take out dinner I started a conversation with a man at the bar. He looked so familiar to me....Oh yes...I remember you, Rat Bastard, you're the married man who dated my friend Sassy Single Mama. I played it cool and did not say a word. Surprisingly, that man and I started talking about adulterous politicians and I shared my belief we need to stay out of their bedrooms. It was a great conversation. I told him about my blog, but said I didn't share it with people I've dated (lesson learned!). He asked for my number and I happily gave it to him. Mama had a plan. When that Rat Bastard texted the next day I asked for his email and then I sent him this:

Hi "So and So",

I thought this blog post would be particularly interesting to you after our conversation last night. Paragraph 3 will probably be the most relevant for you, but you may want to read the whole thing. 

http://queenpinmama.blogspot.com/2011/08/sometimes-people-suck.html

There are many reasons that I did not marry a politician, the way I feel about cheating bastards is one of them.

May you find peace,

Me

In my dream my chest was WAY hairier than this!

A few months ago I dreamt that I was on a date. A date with a handsome, smart man, who I was having fun with. It got to the kissing part and then a button undone on my shirt and that is when the man and I simultaneously realized that I had a hairy chest. Not oh, one or two random hairs, but a full on hairy chest and belly. A man's hairy chest with my boobs. The man was horrified and I was embarrassed, but I was also slightly in awe of my amazing ability to grow such a rug. Needless to say, the dream date ended badly.

This is my fear, that I've become too happy with independence to make room for someone else. I love, love, love the distraction of fun texts and emails. I love the idea of having someone to go out with when I want to, but do I really want the compromises that come from a relationship? I guess that is what this dating thing is about. It's about me figuring out what I want in my life right now, and it's also damn good fodder for writing.