I hand picked my Achilles heel for my second date. I’m not the strongest Catholic girl in the rectory… let’s leave it at that. He’s chocolatey beautiful with abs that inspire a spontaneous set of sit ups. He has an extensive vocabulary and a tendency to bite his lip when he smiles at me. He’s like live porn. No joke.
WTF was I thinking… I’m at ease with the weirdos… this lovely young thing even has cuff links and a tie on. Uh oh.
Holy holy holy holy…..he’s hot… and with my hands over my eyes, shaking my head… I’m praying for mercy… praying… but also pausing to sing “shake your ass make your boyfriend mad” lol… he laughs and leans forward to kiss me on the chin. My breath catches in my throat.
He’s delightfully 24….nearly 12 years younger than me and just goddamndelightful. Pretty. Smells good…..looks even better………………………
Legal….not to mention divine…. and scary sharky….
and I’m trying to think of a good excuse to leave. I’m exhausted after working all night and he’s just too….pretty. I’m in the mood for my favorite pajamas, a clean set of sheets on my bed and my latest bunny-on-the-needles. I’m sleepy…. and in crazy spring cleaning mode. I’ve been bleaching surfaces since 4 am this morning. I’m preoccupied… and still not sleeping well.
I miss him and it sucks. I’m getting used to it sucking- but I’m also knitting like a lunatic and eating too many french fries. I can admit it… I’m depressed about this whole dating situation.
And now I’m on a date with the equivalent of Taye Diggs, God love him. What the fuck was I thinking when I made this plan? Clearly I was temporarily insane.
He’s biting his lip at me again and I’m a little weirded out by it. He starts to lick his lips. They’re beautiful- he’s gorgeous… and don’t get me wrong… I’m picking up what he’s throwing down…
But it’s still a little weird. A little creepy… or a little off-putting… or at least I’m thinking so until he goes and takes it to a very strange place.
D- Daddy’s home, baby… Daddy’s home.
Um… I’m truly at a loss for words and all I can think about is my dad… ugh. Argh. Buzz kill… FML. I’m in real hell at this moment because I realize we’ve just ordered dinner and I have to somehow acknowledge his “Daddy” comment. What does one say to that?
J- My Daddy just died.
Told ya I was done being sweetness and light. Every boys greatest fantasy and biggest nightmare… all rolled into one.
Plus who on earth wants to think about their Dad, or even have that word mentioned in an intimate moment? Ew. No. Ew. Gag. Blech…
D- Sorry about your Dad.
J- Ahhh, he was kind of a douchebag, but thanks.
It’s so much more fun to go a little rogue in the dating world. I don’t really care anymore about meeting someone. I’m completely myself, with no effort to make anyone like me. I’m content single. I’ve seen both sides of the spectrum in the last year. I know how bad it can be, and I know how good it can be too.
I live in the Pacific Northwest… and we have a serious thug-shortage…. so you look a little odd if you try to pull that look off up here. I’m only now adjusting to my bitch panties…His wangster panties are painted on… he knows nothing else… oy…
He starts making duckface smiles at me… and I’m unsure how to respond. I’m awkward, and though I’m trying desperately to hang on to my bitch panties… my Oh-My-God-He’s-Crazy-RUN!!! panties are looking SO much more comfortable.
Our dinner arrives and I pick up my chopsticks, and he stabs at his sushi with a fork. To each his own, I really don’t care, as long as he likes sushi.
D- You like fish?
J- I am a fan of the creatures of the sea…. shellfish, crustaceans, fish, etc…. I love them all.
D- I like fish too. <wink, wink>
Oh goody… a creepy inappropriate sexual innuendo guy, and it’s not even my birthday.
I ate my dinner in record speed, took $20 out of my wallet and set it on the table.
J- Thank you so much, and take care.
and I left…. like I should have so many times before, and didn’t. I always thought that would be so rude. I was always concerned about being the perfect lady and not hurting anyone’s feelings. Even at the sacrifice of my own.
I’ve learned a lot about myself by internet dating. I used to be so afraid. I used to feel so broken and so terrified at not being enough…
Time and time again- I was mortified at the weirdos that I was supposed to “Like”. I had more fun with the crazy weirdos I hand picked.
I’ve been tempered… and I’m patient, but realistic. I know the grass isn’t greener. I know the clouds roll in on important days.
I know that perfect is as real as unicorns and the spaghetti monster. Perfect doesn’t happen outside of television because reality is so much better.
Wouldn’t you rather feel his feverish face on your back when he’s not feeling well and seeks you out for comfort? Aren’t you still just as in love with him when he’s not at the top of his game? Sometimes it’s better.
I’m happy making chicken noodle soup and kissing the inevitable bumps and bruises that go along with living life to the fullest. Scars are simply physical memories 🙂
Go on… get out there and go dent your spaceship a little. Make this whole crazy existence count, every single day.
and DON’T BE A DOUCHEBAG… we already have a surplus.