Dinner and a choke.

Part of me feels like taking this date to my grave, but I just can’t. It just wouldn’t be right.

I met David on Bumble. He’s very George Clooney meets Napoleon. Cute with a side of small man syndrome. Handsome with impeccable spelling and grammar resulting from his journalism major and long hours in the gym. Clearly successful and aggressive. Loves football and full disclosure.

A miniature Great White Shark, if you will.

I came home from work on Friday to my favorite roses, with a note that said:

Hi Baby, now your hands will be free on Saturday. XO Alex (David is my middle name)

#1 flagThere’s only one reason a man doesn’t use his real name when dating…

I wasn’t nervous for the first time in my entire life. I was excited. He was smart, funny and handsome. Success is great, but to be completely honest, I was most grateful that he helped dull the heartache over the man I adore. He was easing my frustration, though falling a trillion miles short of he-who. But I was trying.

He made reservations at my favorite restaurant and I drove nervously to meet him, early Saturday evening.

I met him on the patio of the beautiful hotel beside the restaurant and he kissed me.

Not a good kisser. Eeek. I ducked away and walked swiftly to our table. He made a point to sit across from me so that he could stare down the front of my dress.

It hit me like a truck in that moment.
I missed the man I was there to forget. I was more heartsick in the presence of some bullshit substitute. Dating was maybe not my best idea, because it only made me compare the two and consequently mock the sad, little stunt double seated across from me.

I can feel you all shake your heads at me, but.. damn it… I missed him so much in that moment that I’d have sold my soul to anybody capable of switching the two.

My dates hands were ridiculously clean and well manicured. His nails were buffed to a shine, or polished. I cracked a joke about them.

J- Wow… you’ve never pulled a weed in your life, have you?

A- Can’t say that I have?

He starts to explain that he’s driving the Coroner’s Van because his car broke down the week before and he had to borrow the neighbors. I’m beginning to count flags.

#2 flag Strange that he wouldn’t mention it during the constant stream of texts…

He dropped the bomb I’d been starting to suspect he was hiding and admitted he was MARRIED. Separated for two years and just days away from a legal separation. When I watched him pay for dinner with cash, I knew he was not as close to that separation as he’d like me to believe. He’d planned ahead and was holding an envelope from the bank… I know a married man covering his tracks when I see one.

#3 flagIt’s not very often that people pay cash for a $150 tab. Unless they’re worried about the paper trail a debit card would create.

I was regretting telling him I had until 10, looked at my watch and saw that it wasn’t yet 9. I decided to end the uncomfortable evening, early.

J- Well hey I’m gonna get going! You have a long drive ahead and I’m exhausted. Thank you for dinner.

A- You want to wrap up early?

J- I do.

We left and he walked me to my car. He pulled his necktie off and smiled sideways at me, as he pulled it over my head and tightened it around my neck. I wasn’t sure what to say. The last time that happened to me it was a very intimate moment and I was naked, not in the parking lot of a restaurant.

I gave him an awkward side hug and climbed into my car, fastening my seatbelt around my little black dress… now trimmed by an ugly silk tie. Oy.

Which is when he leaned in my car window, slipped a card into my purse, kissed me on the lips and choked me. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he thought this was something hot and exciting, but all it really prompted was a reminder to take that concealed weapons class I’ve been considering. I’m pretty sure I have bruises from his hands, if that tells you anything. He gave me a sultry look and I laughed as I rolled up my window and drove away. I hung out until I saw him leave, then went back to retell the horrible tale to my best girl.

Her face said it all.

Then we opened the card.

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… …. I’m an atheist and I’m offended. This redefines presumption.

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He’s a Bears fan, and I love Brett Favre… but never did I think that admission would earn me a pair of Green Bay earrings as an inappropriate first date gift.

Live and learn, I guess…. oh and YUCK.

I did have some spectacular sweet pea and asparagus risotto though. 🙂

30 Days of Truth, Day 29

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Day 29 — Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.

I sincerely hope I stop loving men who make me feel unworthy and insignificant. Of all the self destructive habits I possess, this one cuts the deepest and hurts the most.

Mean men are my weakness and boys who make me wonder why I ever thought they’d love me back, are my achilles. I understand it’s a Daddy issue, but at this point it’s also really pathetic.

I wish I could figure it out and heal that broken part of my heart that tells me I should love the guy who makes me question my own value. I’m all for personal growth but I also know at this point that I deserve to feel as happy as I strive to make someone else feel.

I have worked damn hard to be able to admit to myself that my taste is shit and that chances are good if I love him, he’s a very bad choice.

I’ve started dating men that I’m not at all attracted to, who treat me kindly.

I had dinner last week with the nicest man I think I’ve ever had a meal with. I feel resigned to less passion and more love. It makes me desperately sad to think I have to pick one over the other but at this point I’d rather smile than cry… even if it means my screaming days are over.

I had a date on Saturday who took me for a spin in his airplane.

I’m stepping outside my comfort zone with the men who treat me with kindness and respect. No dick pics. No creepy requests for pictures. Intelligent, capable men with successful careers and a confident approach.

IE: I’m dating myself, finally.

It feels great. It’s nice to be pursued by smart men who respect themselves and you. It’s fun to hear about what successful men do. I swoon over a man in scrubs sending me some brilliant grammar on his surgical break. He’s not my type… but my type sucks and only makes me feel bad about myself.

So I’m growing as a heathen, I suppose.

“All growth is gradual, and it is only through slow and gradual stages that man begins truly to “grow up” and discover his true Self and to relinquish the childish playthings of hate, greed and anger through selfless service and love.” -Lord Meher

I’m trying. Ish.

I failed again today when invited to lunch by He Who Shall Not Be Named. I’ve missed him and I am powerless to the temptation of seeing him. Just sitting next to him is intoxicating. He smells like … a bubble bath with candles, fluffy clean laundry and the memories that rob me of sleep each night. I am such a glutton for punishment that I can undo 6 weeks of progress with one touch.

I try not to look at him. I always laugh when I think of the old song my Grandma used to sing to me.

My damn eyes give me away every time. He knows with one glance that I want him far more than the salad in front of me. I walk in promising myself that I’ll be cool, I’ll breathe through how good he smells, how much I want him and the knowledge that I should be walking away from, not into ……….the fire.

But he smells so good and his smug smile hits me straight in the clitoris.

At least until he opens his mouth.

With one sentence, he stuns me so silent that I have to hold my breath to stop from crying. He reduces me into the joke he’s been laughing at this whole time.

The almighty revenge fuck I knew I was, confirmed. All those feelings I’ve drowned in, wasted. The countless sleepless nights and heartache… for naught.

I’m guilty of learning my lessons best when they are the hardest and this is no exception.

Yay Monday. .. and thank heavens this truth bullshit is almost over. This one hit way too close to home today.