I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving full of turkey comas and enough pies to make you go up a jean size. Our Thanksgiving always consists of watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from the comfort of our home and in our pajamas, and then pretty much doing whatever we want the rest of the day.
Today, I worked. Not out in public like most people, for whom we should bow our heads and pray that they don’t get pancaked by a stampeding crowd. I never left the computer, therefore, I “worked.” I have been selling stuff to help pay for my dog’s surgery for the last couple of months. He had a cancerous tumor on his shoulder, and if he didn’t have it removed the cancer would have spread or he would have been unable to walk, because the tumor was growing. Not having the surgery was not an option, though it was very expensive. I have a small website and webstore called Hello Leo, and I’m trying to be hip and keep up with the times, so I arranged a sale on the site during the weekend. The fact that I just used the word hip shows just how well I am keeping up with the times.
I really enjoy that I’m able to pay for his surgery this way, and we’re almost halfway there (Oh oh, livin’ on a prayer.) in paying off his bill. I’m not able to have a real job because of my medical problems, but being able to do this gives me something to do on my own time, when I feel well. It’s been a great experience for me, but when I do feel well, a lot of my time goes into it.
I miss writing. I miss working on my novel. I feel like I know where I want my novel to go, but not how I want to write it. I never get time to write anymore; to really sit down and plug away at the novel. I decided to try to remedy that with attempting to blog more. I don’t have to have a ton of time, nor do I have to sit through pages of notes and force all my ducks into a somewhat crooked little row to blog. All I have to do is have stories. This is fortunate, because boy do I have stories.
I could start with the story about how I have two bulged disks in my neck, and how funny that is since I can’t physically do anything that could have caused it. It’s kind of a dead end story, though, because apparently the bulged disks showed up in a 2009 MRI. No one told me, so instead of trying to fix it and going through therapy, I went on with my daily life, and now those disks are angry. So, thanks, neurologist that I had at the time, for not telling me this important information I needed to know. Now I’m in pain, on medication and going through therapy. Fun times, my friends.
Instead, I’m going to tell you my stories about my minimal adventures in dating over the past year from a sunny side point of view, wherein we make fun of my misfortune instead of complain about what horrible dating luck I have. These stories may not have been funny at the time, but they certainly are now. Some of them are absolutely my own fault, and I’m not afraid to make fun of myself.
As you all know, I went through a bad breakup last year. That story isn’t fun, so let’s skip it. Instead, let’s go straight to the long story short of the guy my ex’s best friend set me up with. Nice guy. Wrong time. I put the bitch in psychotic bitch. I wasn’t ready to date. I tried too soon. I ended up actually really liking the guy. I pushed him away. I say a few Hail Marys for the kid every now and then, hoping he’ll find someone better than me. We have all had this issue at one time or another. Up until this incident, I thought I was immune. You can laugh at me. It’s cool. I’m not afraid to admit that I would have ran from me too if I were him. I tried to run from me, but I kept smacking into myself.
Directly after this incident, my friend at the time tried to set me up on a date with her relative. He evidently mistook me for a porn star. Not even thirty minutes into our first text conversation, he began asking me explicit sexual questions and begging for naked pictures. Dumby over here, *points to self,* decides to give him another chance. He just went through a bad breakup too. Maybe he was upset. Maybe he wasn’t himself. Definitely, I was stupid. It should come as no surprise to anyone that this tanked. Horribly. Epically. Hilariously.
We talked things out. I agreed to meet up with him. I mostly did it because he was my friend’s relative, and I thought if she set me up with him that he must be a really nice guy and I should give him a chance. I told him that I could meet him any day or time. He picked the day and time on his own. The day we were to go out, I woke up in the dead of morning sick. By noon the next day, I was still hugging the porcelain throne. I let him know that likely I wouldn’t be able to come out that night, mostly because commodes aren’t portable or a sexy accessory. He told me he hoped I could make it. This should have been a sign, you guys, but I was too sick to be smart. Or just too stupid. He never even asked me if I was okay.
Rewind to later that day when I knew that I still was not going to make it. It was still several hours before we were to meet up, so I texted him and let him know that I was still sick as could be. Instead of being a gentleman, or any kind of decent human being, he went on a tirade about how he canceled plans for me. I found this interesting considering he was the one who picked the day and time. I also found this to be a flat out lie for the same reason. I told him off about it, because momma don’t play that game. He got super mad and basically showed his crazy, unhinged side that was inexcusable and made me nine kinds of glad that I hadn’t met with him that night. God did me a favor that night. I never thought I’d be so grateful to have been sick.
A little while later, the same friend tried to set me up with a friend of hers. It’s a known fact to people who barely know me that I like older guys and that I do not drink or like guys who get drunk all the time. The friend she sets me up with is just turning 21 and new to drinking, and he was quickly becoming buds with the bottle. His second text to me ever was to tell me that he drank an entire case of beer the night before. As in, he was bragging about it and expected me to be impressed. His entire Facebook was literally filled with nothing but posts about how hard he parties. Instant block. Also, there are reasons she and I aren’t friends anymore. These two incidents and a few other ones on the side were proof enough that she really paid no attention to anything I said, nor did she respect me enough to set me up with relationship material gentleman.
Somewhere in between this hootenanny of a hailstorm, I tried online dating. I know, I know. You don’t have to say it. It was super entertaining, though. I saw no penises, so that was a plus.
One of the first people to hit on me was a 50 year old guy with no profile picture or information on his profile, who immediately came at me telling me I should date him because age was only a number and I shouldn’t be stuck up and bitchy like other women. (Way to flatter a girl.) When I pointed out that this was coming from a guy twice my age with no profile picture, he told me I was being unfair to him and started telling me to submit to him. It became obvious very quickly how controlling he was. It also gave me the ha-has to find out that the situation didn’t go both ways. If I were 50 and he were my age, he would think I was too old. I guess when you’re middle-aged and lonely and don’t find women your age attractive, you have to bully people in to dating you. Never gonna happen, dude. For the record, had he started a nice conversation with me and been a gentleman and had information on his profile, I would have given him a chance. Age is only a number, when you’re not a chauvinistic jerk.
I met a few people here and there, but no one that I clicked with or had potential any kind of long term potential with. There was one guy who I talked here and there, not so often, for a few months. We hadn’t talked enough to really meet, but he was one of the only people who got my real email address, and overall he seemed alright. I’m overly cautious about online dating, what with Catfishing and scary rapists and murderers who troll these spaces, so it took until we started talking on the regular for me to give him my phone number. I’m no Penelope Garcia, after all.
Almost immediately I seemed to be talking to a different person. This guy who told me he was more of the stay-at-home artsy type was suddenly asking me to come out at meet him at the bar to drink, where he was alone. At a bar. On a Saturday night. On weeknights. Texting me the whole time. This was happening a few nights a week. I had a Johnny to my June once, and I couldn’t do it again. Not only that, but wanting to meet a girl for the first time in a bar in the dark seemed sketchy to me. His texts often came in at midnight or so.
Suddenly I was getting the picture that he wasn’t quite who he had told me he was, and now that we were talking about meeting, it was coming out. I should have backed away then, because men who sit at bars alone several nights a week have never been my type. Not that I have anything against them. There are lots of guys who don’t like girl-at-home types of girls. But not being a girl who enjoys bars and being asked by a guy to come to one several times a week is usually a sign. I’m so glad I didn’t back away, because this has become my favorite story to tell any and everyone who will listen.
One night, we happened to be talking about a little of this and a little of that, including this mysterious job that he had, but wouldn’t tell me what he did and never seemed to be anywhere but at the bar. But I digress. The topic of religion came up. It’s pertinent to tell you that I am religious. I am far from a Bible thumper, but I have a strong faith in God and want a partner who also has a strong faith in God. This was in my dating profile. From things that this guy had said to me before, it was clear he had read my dating profile. Unfortunately, reading and paying attention do not skip hand and hand off into the sunset. Boo.
Out of nowhere, he brings up that he feels God and religion and the Bible have no place in modern society. Uh, what now? When I think back on it now, I realize he had read my profile, and he was saying this just to be a jackwagon. Otherwise, who just comes out with something like that out of nowhere? Troublemakers, that’s who. His grandma would be embarrassed. I don’t know her personally. I’m just flying by the seat of my pants on this, because I know a lot of grandmas. None would agree with his behavior.
I told him that I disagreed, and that it was in my profile that I was looking for someone with a strong faith in God to date. I was over and done with him there and then. He had spent the last several months lying to me about such things and pretending like he had faith in God just to reel me in. I wasn’t even mad that he didn’t believe in God, but the lying is what did me in; the pretending to be someone else in more circumstances than just religion. I don’t understand what he thought he was going to get out of this, but I ended up being the winner of this situation. I will gladly take the prize of a good story any day.
It quickly came out that this guy was, in fact, atheist. I really don’t care if you’re some made up religion that prays to Martians that may or may not exist. You could wear hats and dance naked every day at 3 PM, regardless of where you are. I don’t give a hoot. I will be your friend. Some of my best friends are atheists. I’ve dated men of different religions than myself. Judgmental I am not. However, it’s a personal choice for me to want to raise a family with a man who also has a strong faith in God, whatever religion that faith may fall under. That’s all it is; a personal choice. When looking for a mate, you have to know what you want and what you don’t, and you’re entitled to have non-negotiables. That was one for me, hence why I put it in my dating profile. Heck, y’all, I would even take a guy who wasn’t religious but just had a faith in God. Seriously, not picky here.
He proceeded to berate me for this decision, telling me I was missing out on really great guys because of this. The fact that he chose to flip out on me over a personal decision said everything I needed to know about him. There was a control factor entering the picture when he didn’t get what he wanted. I was not judging him for being atheist. I never cared. I had made a personal decision, which I was up front about as to not lead anyone on, regarding wanting a partner who shared a faith in God. He went on about how he was raised religious and he knew the Bible inside and out. Then, you guys, he said inarguably the best thing I’ve ever heard to sum up an entire situation in my entire twenty-eight years on this planet. And I quote:
“You’re the kind of person that makes Jesus roll over in his tomb.”
I tried to explain Easter and Palm Sunday and resurrection to him gently, but none of those things rang a bell. He flipped out about how me saying Jesus has risen just showed that me, the “supposedly great, religious girl,” as he would put it, knew nothing about the Bible, and that he, the “atheist,” knew more than I did.
Obviously I blocked his number, because this kind of crazy I did not need. But I’ll be forever grateful for that little incident. And so will Jesus, who is not in his tomb and literally gave me an open joke at his own expense. This, folks, is exactly why I love the man upstairs.
I want to date, but then I reminisce about all of this and I think, nope, I’m good single. But man do I love the stories. I date for the stories.
As for the good dates, when I find one worth writing home about, you can be sure I will.