Back in the Game

Wow. It's been awhile. I tried to think of a creative way to tell you all where I've been for the last 2 months...Suffice it to say, it was a combination of a U-turn and a strike while trying to recover from said U-turn. The strike is officially over and I went on a real date over the weekend. My first real date since March.

Details: We met on match.com, he has a job, owns a house, has a car, is attractive and his emails were hilarious. The majority of the date went well. He was friendly, talkative and their were no awkward silences, which is always a plus. However, about 3 hours in he started asking a lot of questions about my most recent relationship. I tried to keep it vague: We broke up a year and a half ago, together on and off for 5 years, he's not in my life for a reason, blah blah blah. However, he kept asking questions about it and frankly I got so fed up I finally thought to myself "Fuck it, I'm just going to answer the damn questions and stop being avoidant." So I told him a good portion of the Jerry Springer relationship I was in.

Now, I know talking about exes is gererally a no-no on a first date, but at this point I'm annoyed that he kept asking and knew he would keep going until he would understand why I just didn't want to talk about it. I also have a certain level of understanding that it is a very crazy story and people are generally intrigued by it, so whatever...I told him. Upon hearing the story his response was: "Wow. Well now you make sense to me, I thought you were hard to read...I should probably tell you about my last relationship." Surprisingly enough, he says he's interested in going out again, so I guess the Jerry Springer story didn't freak him out too much. And while the last hour was torture, I am willing to see him again.

Then we come to all of the underlying issues that keep me from dating in the first place. Right now, my head is kind of spinning with the following:
Do I really have the time and energy for a relationship?
What if he gets to know me and hates me?
I am not "smitten" by him, shouldn't I be? (I have movies and television to thank for that one)
I hate getting to know people, I just want the comfort of already knowing someone.

So that's my story...we'll see what happens.

Have a mentioned my ovaries and uterus having been screaming at me to do something about my love life??

xx NB

Dilemma-nade

So it's been five dates. And it's mostly been fun. But there's this one problem.

He's always trying to make out with me and...I don't really care to, much. Yeah, I know. Me. Me, saying, "No thanks, I'll pass on the physical contact." And when we do, inside my head, there's this:

"Well, this is...OK. I mean, it's not BAD. It's not great either but...it's OK. I'll probably grow to really enjoy it, eventually."

Well, no. I probably won't. Boy, do I feel like I SHOULD, because after all, he's very nice. Nothing but nice. But I'm realizing that I can't magically make myself enjoy the time we spend together. So now I am trying to figure out how to end it...and I'm wondering, which is better? To end it over the phone, which seems so insensitive, or to end it in person, which seems more adult but would also be awkward, in the vein of "Hey, I invited you on date #6 just to ditch you! Peace out!"

What say you, readers? How would you want to hear the news?

You: Nice; Me: Totally not sure what to do with you.

It had been long enough, I figured. Not that I had any major grief from which to recover this time, but I guess I figured it had been long enough since my last date because I was getting bored. And when I get bored, the internets come a-callin'.

I decided to experiment with a different site than last time, and I found a few interesting folks. And so I found myself meeting one such person last Monday for Indian food. We had a good time- good enough, in fact, that we were out waaaaay past my bedtime because we had so much to talk about. But it was during the second date that I figured out who I was dealing with, so to speak. You see, ladies, he's a Nice Guy.

He listens. He pays attention. He's respectful of women. Crap, he might actually qualify as a feminist. And here I am, alternately thinking, "I didn't think you EXISTED!" and, "Oh...gee. You're nice. I don't know what to do with nice."

We'll see if NG stays that way- as you know, I've met quite a few men these past few months who went from nice to psycho or coward in less time than it just took me to finish my chai latte. For the time being I'll try to pace myself and learn to enjoy the nice.

Famous- ish

This past weekend, the article about the blind date I went on ran in a local magazine. I had been polite but vague in my responses to the exit questionnaire, because I really did think the guy was nice and I didn't want to insult him in print, even if I wasn't interested. I was interested to see what he had to say about the experience from his perspective.

I won't share the link, as my full name and other identifying information are in the article. But suffice it to say, some of his responses were...odd. Awkward, even. Here are some observations from friends who have seen the article:

Upon seeing the photo of the two of us:

"Oh! Oh. Oh no."

"You look really cute. Like...you'd be a cute couple, just not with that guy."

About some of his responses:

"Well-proportioned is...probably a nice way of saying 'not fat'. But...it's kind of a compliment."

"This line makes me think he came in his pants: 'I found her very stimulating. That really did it for me.'"

Say it with me: EWWWWWW.

A coworker just suggested that people will be calling the magazine to ask for my number. Would that it were so simple! I guess the good news is, it was a decent date, and the article, while comical, wasn't totally humiliating. And hopefully after a couple of days people will stop noticing that I was in the paper. Unless they're attractive single men. They can notice for as long as they want.

Exploring the "Why"

Since I am occasionally a person who stays in and watches TV and surfs the interwebs in search of all things interesting/amusing, I was intrigued when I came across Newsweek's story about why women have sex. It's actually a review of a new book studying that very question, and it discusses how in the past, it was assumed that women engaged in sex because they desired love and commitment. New research suggests we women do it for revenge, pity (the famous "mercy fuck"), affirmation, and even pain relief. Apparently nine percent of us have even used sex to barter for help around the house.

It got me thinking- have I ever done it for any of those reasons? Why do I usually do it? (Actually, lately I'm really thinking, "Will I ever do it again?" I hate slumps.)

What say you, readers? Have any of those ever been your reasons for sex? Or are you more likely to do it for one of Lily's reasons?

Impasse

So here I am. Last date = anticlimax. Last couple of interested parties? Disappeared into the ether. So I'm left wondering, what next?

I could just sort of go along as I have been, which isn't the worst idea. I have plenty to do and it would give me an opportunity to see what might come my way "naturally", as it were. Or...do I actually put forth the effort of going back to online dating at this point, even though it's probably no different than it ever has been before?

Ultimately my level of boredom will decide for me. In the meantime...I'll have to resort to sharing something from an even more interesting place on the internet. Check out today's xkcd for a funny perspective on approaching a cute stranger. Been there.

The Story of a Former Wrong Card Addict, Part Two

Enjoy the second half of guest blogger LadyLuck's story! If you missed Part One, you can find it here.

Due to my success in business I decided to once again roll the dice – I quit my fabulous jet-setting job and moved to England to start my own business. Even though the economy was just starting to downturn, commodities and labor were cheap and the British pound was dropping – in theory, it was a great time to start a business in my chosen field. Since High Roller was content to stay in the States, I was on a mission to find a new player – and it didn’t take long.

I stepped out of a plane in London and thought that I was the hottest new game in town. It was there that I met up with a former travel acquaintance - a handsome and subtle stereotypical Englishman whom I’ll call The Royal Flush. Just four days older than me, Royal Flush was my ideal counterpart. In addition to sharing a love for exploring exotic travel locations he was also another jet-setting professional who loved his work. He was single with no children and loved what he did for a living. Like me, he genuinely enjoyed his life. His voice was soft with a devastatingly melodic British accent, and his eyes a stunning and captivating sky blue. I found his humble and somewhat awkwardly shy demeanor completely foreign and utterly intriguing. There was a spaciousness and contentment in him that gave me butterflies. We had a wild and passionate weekend – we explored the city together, walking hand-in-hand through Leicester Square, and had great dinners together, alone and with our mutual friends - followed by amazing, cataclysmic sex. It was one of the most memorable weekends of my life.

True enough, I had won again in regards to finding a new player – the problem was that halfway through the game I decided that I wanted to change the rules. I wanted to up the emotional stakes a bit, get to know him better – and maybe one day play the game of being a real couple. It had been so long since I was in a relationship that I had forgotten what it was like to be out, in public, holding hands with someone that just made me happy - genuinely happy, without all the pretenses. We were on the train, his arms wrapped around me, heading back to Holland Park when seemingly an angel whispered into my heart, “This is why people get together” – and in that moment, my addiction to the High Roller and our loose, high-risk, minimal-gain game had ended. My professional life, my geography and personal life were all changing – and now I wanted more. I didn’t want $200.00 bottles of wine, 5-star hotels or fancy meals – I just wanted to be with Royal Flush. Right next to him, wherever he happened to be. Sadly, by the time I realized this I had already set the stage for a mere casual game of strip poker.

As he got ready to leave the next day, Royal Flush kissed me sweetly and said, “If I don’t get out of here soon I’m going to need rehab,” and shortly thereafter he left. I was beside myself. Did he mean what he said, or did he just have a really good poker face?

I was recounting the story of my folly to a good American male friend, the Joker, a week or so after the Royal Flush had left England and gone back to Asia on business. The Joker suggested that if I really wanted to be with Royal Flush that I needed to show him all of my cards and suggest a new game. I realized that this strategy, while somewhat humiliating, was the only hand I had - and after much angst, I decided to deal. Due to his being in Asia, I wasn’t able to contact him by phone or see him in person so I sent a well-written, well-thought out email lightly suggesting a re-match. Sadly, my email went unanswered. He had simply folded. It seems that in relationships, as in gambling, there are no do-overs.

In the game of love I had lost all my chips. I no longer wanted the cheap slots - I had lost all interest in recreational games and put an end to my relationship with the High Roller. I had come to realize that what I was getting from him wasn’t real, but rather just a load of craps.

Not long after that relationship dissolved, the High Roller’s house of cards also fell - within a year his wife had left him. He lost his Ferrari, his house, tens of thousands of dollars and spent months in a bitter custody battle. While our relationship was never the source of the marriage’s demise, or at least that is what I was told, I imagine it had a severe, indirect impact on it, at best. As for me, the unexpected sharp downturn of the economy was far greater than what I had expected, and I’m still experiencing the distressing turmoil that comes with being an entrepreneur in these rough times. I had to move back to the States and take another short-term job to keep myself and the business afloat until we get back on our feet - and while I am fortunate enough to have great emotional support from my friends and family, and a great set of skills to fall back on, I feel a great hole in the support structure that a relationship partner could provide - and I feel its absence daily. I still think about the Royal Flush, and wonder what kind of cards he could have been holding if I had played differently, but I have had no success in establishing a reconnection.

While it’s easy to blame High Roller for starting this game - as many of my friends did, it was I, ultimately, that decided to play. I still hold myself, not him, accountable for having let other opportunities, be it with the Royal Flush or other similar hands, pass by – and to some degree, the demise of the High Roller’s marriage.

As of now, I am completely single and testing the waters in the new game of partner-seeking. Armed with more knowledge, experience and wisdom from my mistakes, I play far less than I did before and far more strategically - and only when the odds are in my favor. I also have my eyes firmly set on a different type of prize. I’ve studied the rules of the game and am better able to evaluate my hand. I have found that for me, the key to successfully giving up the addiction to wrong cards isn’t to give up the entire game, but rather to get a better understanding of my needs and intentions, and to play responsibly.