And the Search Begins

I think I’m over being single. Not that I would want to be married again. No thank you. Not that I mind having the choice to do whatever I want whenever I want.  The only person who has to agree with me is me. And not that I mind never worrying about upsetting someone and getting into an argument. I’m not confrontational so it’s nice not to have to confront; especially when it’s over the most insignificant, ridiculous topics and half the time you are arguing just because you somehow ended up there and can’t find your way out. I don’t mind not being accountable to anyone as to where I am going or what I am doing. Being single can be quite liberating.

With that said…what I do mind…is being frickin’ bored.  Living in the middle of suburbia where the median age is 38 and 95% of the males even close to my age are married, and the other 5% are not married for very obvious reasons, makes for a difficult social life. The few single friends I have live in other states; some on the other coast, but those that live in California, may as well live in other states since they are too far to commute to anyway.

I’m not the type to go exploring by myself, for various reasons. One…I get lost in my own house. Two…it’s more fun with someone else. Three…I get lost. And four…I get lost. I tend to have slight panic attacks when I get lost. Yes…even with my talking GPS. I will go to the movies by myself, as long as I know how to get to the theater. Luckily there are a few close by so at least I can be current on my films. I’m not one to join clubs and organizations by myself. I’m basically pretty shy. I know…hard to believe…but I am. So when I have to go to a function where I don’t know anyone, those panic attacks tend to rear up again.  So where does one go when one is shy and living in some god forsaken-out of the city lights-Stepford wives community?

MATCH.COM baby! Here I come. [Again.] I was on Match about 3 or 4 years ago and unfortunately, so were many of the men I am seeing on there now. There is a small, new crop, but the ripe ones are few and far between. Needless to say, I happened upon many who made me stop and say… “Are you f**king kidding me?” Who would write this shit? And some of the pictures…’YOU think that this is your BEST picture you could post?’ If that’s their best, I can only imagine what they look like in person. And why would someone post as his profile picture, one of himself with his head in a fake shark’s mouth with the stupidest looking expression he could make? That’s the first impression he wants to make?

I would love to put their pictures on here so you could see exactly what I’m talking about…but you never know who knows who and I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. At least not to their face. I would rather just talk about them anonymously and write about them hoping it’s no one who reads this. And if it is…maybe this will be a helpful guide to a good match.com profile.

I love when they post one not-so-great pic of themselves and 8 different shots of their pet. Wow…that’s one good looking dog…I think I’ll send him a ‘Wink’. I sure hope he brings his owner with him on our date.

Then there are those who post landscapes. Why? I don’t need to see where you’ve been on vacation and where I probably won’t go if we start dating since you’ve already been there. How is that going to impress me?  Now…10 pictures of your cars and motorcycles? THAT impresses me. I need to know just what options I will have for transportation once we start dating. And if there’s a bike amongst them that I don’t like…well…that’s a deal breaker. I mean…a Honda, not a Harley? Forget you. And there better be tattoos to go along with that bike.

One of my favorites is always the one who poses with his shirt off in the majority of his pictures. A little impressed with yourself, are ya? Well...that is the one thing that does NOT impress me. I will move right along because most likely they look in the mirror way too much for my liking. I don’t care how great a body you have…keep it dressed for the Match site, wouldya? There is a guy I know at my gym who has gained quite a bit of weight but his profile pic is from when he was buff. I would hate to be the date who finds out exactly what he now looks like. Keep the pics current. I wouldn’t want some guy to think he was meeting me the way I looked ten years ago. I may not have gained any weight, but I sure had gravity make its mark. I think the look of disappointment would be worse than him passing me by on the website. I don’t get why guys do that. We are going to notice that there’s a 60 pound surplus once we see you in person guys!  

There was a man who was posing in a Speedo. A 60 something guy, and he wasn’t European. Granted, for his age…he looked good. But who would go out with someone who wears a Speedo if he isn’t swimming for an Olympic Gold Medal.  

Another turn off for me is when I see guys my age who are ‘seeking’ women 25-40. Twenty-five? Are you f**king kidding me? What could you possibly have in common with a 25 year old besides the fact that she may be friends with your daughter? What will you talk about…what she has planned now that she graduated college? And do you think she will be into your sagging you know what, or do you think it may be your inflated bank account? I don’t know…what do you think? I’m sure it will be the hanging skin that turns her on.

One guy wrote in his profile ‘You must have great legs and wear short dresses. That is a requirement.’ WHAT? Do you think he may be a little shallow and a tad hypercritical if your body isn’t perfect? And if someone in her 50’s is wearing a mini-skirt…I don’t care how great her body is…she should have a ‘Glamour NO’ tattooed on her back. There are just some things certain people shouldn’t do. But hey…there is someone for everyone. It’s what makes us all individuals…good taste or not. And what woman would actually read that and say…”That guy is for me”?

I got an email from a not-so-great-looking guy yesterday. The subject line said “Would love to start a conversation with you.” I thought…good opening line. Then I saw his picture. That blew it for me because he was just not my type. The Larry Fine hairdo (of Moe, Larry, and Curly fame) and Andy Rooney eyebrows just didn’t cut it for me. But if that wasn’t enough on its own (not to sound shallow myself, but there does have to be some chemistry)…the body of the email said, “You MUST call me. I don’t do email” and he gave me his number. Really? I MUST call you? Oh, sure I will, Master. You just sit by that phone and wait for my call. I’ll be right on that.  

I don’t mind when they say that if you do or don’t believe in something, or want something they don’t have, move on to the next person. When you say it in a nice way…it’s letting someone know not to waste either person’s time. I happen to appreciate that. What I don’t appreciate is when it’s someone that I would love to meet, but there’s that one stipulation that prohibits it. Ya know…like being a good Catholic girl. Well…I can’t fake that. Or being 5’9” or taller. Can’t fake that either.  Or having no children. Nope…can't fake that. Or being sexual. Now THAT I can fake.

You Are Getting Sleepy....................

During the daytime, I have trouble staying awake. (zzzzzzzzzzzzz…oh sorry…I dozed off there for a second.) Years ago I had mono and ever since then, a couple of times each year, (zzzzzzzzzzzzzz…oops). So, as I was saying…a couple of times a year, I go through a two week period where I am tired all the time. But this last time, that two week period turned into a 10 month period. And the one time a day I would need a nap has turned into about 4 times a day. I think that’s kinda not normal. For the last few years I can’t concentrate on anything. And I mean nothing. I thought maybe I was just hanging around some extremely uninteresting people recently who couldn’t hold my attention, but they are the same people I’ve been hanging around with for many years, so I ruled that out. Unless, of course, they’ve always been boring and I just never noticed, and just maybe, as I’m getting older and wiser, I’m realizing I have some pretty f**king brain dead friends. But we can diagnose that at a later date.

I decided it was time to talk to the doctor to see what he thinks [not about my friends; about my sleepiness.] I had various prognoses in my mind as to what it could be. What I didn’t consider was something a petite, somewhat health conscious, exercise fanatic of the female persuasion would ever have. Sleep apnea. Doesn’t that belong to overweight, fast-food eating, non-exercising people of the hairy XY gender?

My doctor wants me to do a sleep study because he thinks I’m tired from not sleeping well [Ya think? Brilliant deduction on his part, I must say] and to determine if it is, in fact, sleep apnea. I told him sometimes I wake myself up because I stop breathing. I have a feeling that’s not really a good thing. And as he pointed out, very indicative of sleep apnea.   

Here’s the thing though…I just can’t see myself going to some lab, in an 8’x10’ room, with monitors hooked up all over me; crawling into a strange bed, dressed in…I don’t know what? My PJ’s? And have 5 or more strangers staring at me for 8 hours? I don’t think so. If I couldn’t sleep soundly before, I definitely wouldn’t drop my lids in that situation. They would have to heavily drug me and I would think that may just throw off the whole study. If I have a problem sleeping under normal circumstances, how could they possibly think I could snooze with an audience?

And when do you arrive there? (To wherever ‘there’ is.) At like10AM? At 10PM? If you go early, do you get to eat meals and watch TV? Read? Party with the lab techs? What do you do the whole time you are waiting to go to sleep? Do they make you go to bed at a certain hour like a 5 year old? “Get into bed NOW.”  Or is it at my own leisure? I mean, I can’t go to sleep on command. And then if I wake up in the middle of the night, what if I can’t fall back asleep? Can I get up? How do I go to the bathroom if I’m hooked up to major machinery? Will the wires that I’m dragging with me fall into the toilet? So many questions. Don’t stop me now…I’m on a roll.

I’ve seen those contraptions sleep apnea people wear at night…you know…the ones that look like you’re protected enough to walk into a nuclear power plant because nothing will penetrate that face mask? THAT helps you sleep better? That cumbersome 20 pound mask heavily situated on your face enables you to sleep more soundly? You may as well ask an elephant to sit on my face…that’s about as comfortable as that looks. And forget turning in any direction other than facing up towards the ceiling. You’d take your nose off if you turned on your side. And do you wake up with indentations all over your face from the weight of the harness your head is locked into?

So say I did decide to go to a sleep lab. There’s no way they are going to witness what I look like when I get into my own bed. No make-up on, my pajama bottoms pulled up to my waist with the top tucked in and the bottoms tucked into my socks. I’m a real looker. A sort of Urkel type. (And I wonder why I don’t have a man lying next to me…aside from the fact that I snore like a truck driver.)

And what if they find I do have sleep apnea? I’m going to hook myself up to that mask and nuclear testing safety gear and attach myself to some tank every night? Yeah…sure I am. Well…if I don’t have a man now, I’m sure as hell never going to have one EVER. “Hey honey…kiss me good-night before I plaster Chernobyl to my face.” He would probably be happy to not have my very feminine snore-a-thon in his ear anymore, but not so sure he would love the pumping sound that would come from the air shooting into my nasal cavity. I think it may just interfere with some romantic spontaneity.

So, I’m in a quandary. To get tested or to not get tested. I’m just not so sure I actually want to know because I’m not even close to wanting to wear that shit on my face. I think drugs are the way to go. Hey…I’m a child of the 60’s and 70’s…of course drugs are the way to go. Duh. Drugs to help me sleep through the night and drugs to help keep me awake during the day. And if I do have sleep apnea and stop breathing in my sleep…what better way to go than that? Isn't that everyone's dream?

One...Not the Loneliest Number

There's a lot to be said for being alone and single. There’s more to be said for being in a relationship…but since my status is currently single, let’s concentrate on those positives instead. I know many who are not capable of doing that and jump from one relationship to another. But I have to say, I have gained so much knowledge about myself from staying single for a few years after each of my relationships. It gave me time to sit back and reflect on what the hell just happened and what was I thinking. Maybe a little too much time!

I'm not going to bash on the men I've been involved with. Well…yes I am. I’m just not going to name names. You never know who reads these blogs and who knows who. So without saying whether it was a particular husband, or boyfriend, or just some random person…I will just tell you what I've learned from them, in no particular order.

I have learned the new meaning of a compliment. I never realized that a compliment comes in the form of a criticism [or so he claimed]. "You're smart, you should read more".  "Your eyes are pretty, you should wear less make-up". "Your eyes are pretty, you should cut your bangs much shorter so I can see them." "I like your body, you should wear different clothes to complement it." "You have nice hair, why do you wear it so long." My answer back..."Have you MET ME? Or is there another woman you thought you were dating? Go back to the line-up and pick out your Barbie, Svengali."

I have a much louder voice than I ever knew could come out of this mouth. Screaming matches...I do not like them at all, although I was forced to participate in a few. When did talking go out of fashion? And who can think when you can't hear yourself over the shouting? I lost every fight because the decibel made my head throb. I found out I'm not good at comebacks on the spot. In fact, I’m pretty frickin’ awful. I come back with some of the most inane retorts ever. My best one…”Well, yeah, so”. I need time to think. I need time to collect my thoughts. I need calm to have a reasonable conversation and then I actually CAN have a good repartee. I have also discovered how many types of ear plugs are on the market. I would sneak them in my ears while he was ranting.

I AM superwoman. So many of us moms are. I never thought of myself as having super powers, but I do. I'm not sure which superior being I am, but I definitely fall into one of those "SUPER" categories. I could change diapers, do laundry, hold down a full time job, take care of the bills, the housekeeping, the meals, attend school functions, kill spiders, unclog the toilet, help with homework, read bedtime stories, and satisfy the sexual appetite of my partner...all in a day's time, while my partner did......hmmm...I still haven't quite figured that one out yet.

I am a good listener. I found out that men's ears are there for decoration only. (And maybe to hold their eye glasses in place).  In just a few conversations I learn so much history about the person I'm dating. But I don't understand why they don't ask questions back. Probably because their ears don't do incoming sounds. I don't like to talk about myself but it does get kind of boring when all we are talking about is him: his job, his hobbies, his kids, his income, his every single frickin' thing... for hours, and hours, and hours. My favorite quote of all time..."Ok, enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do YOU think about ME?" Being a good listener can go only so far. Those ear plugs sure come in handy. Good thing I purchased them in bulk.

When did blowing your nose into your hands in the shower become ok? I have no idea if this section actually belongs here but I’m including it anyway because it’s disgusting and I don’t miss that at all. One of the great things about being single…not putting up with other’s disgusting bathroom habits. I mean seriously…blowing your nose in the shower? I know you’re in the shower and you can wash your hands, but still…ewwwww. And I’ve had more than one guy do that, so that means it is a guy thing, not just one person’s gross habit. Although I guess there may be some women out there who do that? Nah…I don’t think so. Of course there are quite a few other ‘men only’ proclivities…the ball scratching, the remote hogging, the farting, the burping, the blah, blah, blah…but we’ll just stick with the nose blowing shower visual at this time.

Finances. I learned that going from a two income household to a one income household is not exactly what I thought it would be. I should have thought that part out a little more thoroughly before I chose to be single. But the positives did outweigh the negatives at the time. Next time, I’ll remember to think that one through a little better. But I definitely learned from it. I found out being a "nice guy" and asking for nothing, gets you nothing. So nothing is what I got towards the house, the kids, the expenses. But I did gain knowledge and knowledge is power. And like I said...I have super powers. Now I just have to use them to find that SUPER man. I’ll bet my real name is Jaime Sommers.

Please note...I  love men. Man bashing for blogging purposes only. I hope this didn't offend anyone of the male gender.



 

WARNING: Cupid Bashing

Gimme a bow and arrow. I'm gonna learn archery if it kills me...just so I can lunge that arrow into every stinkin' happy heart on Valentine’s Day. Who made up Valentine’s Day anyway? Obviously someone who was in a very happy, healthy relationship. But what about the miserable, lonely, single people. All Valentine’s Day does is make the misery magnified that much more one day a year. We are surrounded by happy, happy people making their plans for that happy, happy night. Isn't that just so wonderful?

How about making a happy single's day? Then all of you blissfully happy people will get to feel like we do on Valentine’s Day. You can sit home with your other half and wonder what we are doing to celebrate being single, which would probably be the same thing we were doing on Valentine’s Day because we're single. So that would be nothing, again, and we would realize we are miserable on a second holiday of the year. Ok...strike that plan.

Someone once told me Valentine’s Day was a Hallmark holiday. Just a way for them to make tons of money. I said "Who cares...make sure you get me gifts and take me out really nicely". That was when I was in a relationship. Now I have to say I think he was right. I think they should STOP the Hallmark holiday right now. I mean...everyone has a birthday, right? But not everyone has a sweetheart. How fair is that?

Don't get me wrong. I’ve had some incredible Valentine's Days. I got engaged on one, I conceived on another (yes...I know for a fact I did...don't ask), I have gotten beautiful jewelry, and have many other happy memories. But, as of late, I don't really like that day. I do like when it falls on a weekday so that when I'm sitting at home by myself...it's not so different than any other night. I can sit in front of the TV with my tub of ice cream and fall into that mindless, reality TV chasm that I do so many other nights when it's not Valentine’s Day.

So screw cupid. Screw the happy, little couples. And let's put a ban on Valentine's Day. At least until I'm back in a relationship.

*please note...any resemblance to psycho, angry person is for blogging purposes only

have YOU grown up yet?

Do you ever think back to the stupid things you did as a teenager? Or maybe you didn’t do stupid things (yeah, right). I know I sure did! I look at my daughters now and think, “Have they pulled the wool over my eyes as many times as I did to my parents?” They should only know the stuff I did, although they, too, have done some pretty stupid things themselves. The angst I must’ve given my parents.

Let me tell you how frickin’ stupid I was! Take it from me…stupidity was my middle name in my teen/early 20 years. My sexual escapades alone could make for a great book, but I’ll use discretion in my tales of teenage horniness. My mom had no clue that my high school boyfriend and I were “doing it”… let alone doing it right on the couch in the den only 10 feet from where she was in the kitchen. Really?  How unbelievably stupid were we? Pants pulled down right in my own house with my mother home. Then we would get up and go in the kitchen for our after sex snack, like no orgasms had just taken place. And she had no clue! Helllloooo MOM!

We also used to go park and fool around in the back seat of his dad’s Lincoln. We went to other neighborhoods so no one would know who we were. We didn’t think that since no one knew who we were, that the people in the house we were parked in front of, would call the cops. So there we were, pants pulled down <again>, when an incredibly bright light came shining through the rear window on our naked bodies. We looked up with our innocent eyes to the cop staring in the car. “Wanna step out of the car please?”  “Uh…can we pull up our pants first officer?” He let us go with a warning and a little snicker as he walked off.

I was the last of my friends in high school to smoke pot, but I made up for it once I got started. And I would always drive stoned. Very smart! In 1972, I had this 1962 black and white striped Chevy Nova with primer paint on the back fender, corvette bucket seats, some odd stick shift thingie, (even though it was an automatic), and an ignition that didn’t even need the key to start the engine. The “skunk” was the biggest piece of junk that any stoner could hope for because I didn’t care if I hit parking meters and curbs, which I did on a regular basis.  Every day after school, I would round up the group, we’d go to someone’s house, smoke a little, listen to Pink Floyd, then drive the skunk to Baskin Robbins for a huge ice cream sundae. And since my friend worked there, we would get all the ice cream we wanted for free. Kinda stupid on his part….but hey, it wasn’t my job on the line.

In my 20’s, my friend and I were going to a really upscale restaurant in Beverly Hills.  At the time, my car (not by choice, believe me!), was a gold Plymouth Duster. U-G-L-Y and quite embarrassing to drive up to the valet at this very exclusive restaurant. So I went to my parent’s house to ask my dad if I could borrow his Mercedes. His first reaction was…”Are you kidding me? Of course you can’t borrow my Mercedes.” “Why not Dad?” No answer was actually needed…pretty much a rhetorical question on my part. But I gave my mom my sad little eyes and she convinced my dad to let me take it just for a few hours. “I swear dad, nothing will happen. I will be so careful. You’ll see.”  So he hesitatingly handed me the keys to his precious Mercedes and out the door my friend and I went.

We walked down an incline to where his car was parked inside a car port. We got into the car and I adjusted the seat and all the mirrors, put on my lap belt (no harness seat belts back then) and put the key in the ignition. I put the car in reverse and before I knew it the car was exploding out of the car port right smack into a pole. Holy SHIT! I hadn’t even made it out of the driveway! I probably don’t need to tell you what happened next. They heard the crash, came running out and my dad would’ve pulled his hair out had he had any. He was screaming on top of his lungs and I was just standing there shaking in my pants.

“So dad, can I still take the car?”

I’m sure you can guess what his answer was…but you’re probably WRONG!

He said, “Take the f**king car…you can’t do any more damage than you already did!” And off we went.

It took me 2 years to pay off the $1000 damage I did INSIDE their own garage!

Ya gotta love kids!

I'm just not that into you

Has the definition of “no, thank you” been revised by Webster and I’m just not aware of it? I’m finding that people are a little denser than I was giving them credit for. Well…I might just be referring to men only.  And maybe just not the phrase “no, thank you”, but the whole blow off thing in general.

Are men really that unaware of the excuses women tell them to get out of dates or commitments they made with them? I always thought that the number one excuse women gave was that their old boyfriend had resurfaced and they were going to give it another try. Men actually buy that shit? Really?  I guess I’m better at lying than I thought I was.

I always pride myself on being so honest, but the only time I can’t be is when I have to tell a man that I’m “just not that into him”.  It’s so hard for me to fess up to someone what’s wrong with him. How do you tactfully say you are just downright ugly? Your nose is too big, your eyes are too close together and have you ever heard of 1-800-dentist? There really is no nice way to say that. Or how do you tell him that you aren’t interested in someone who can’t see his feet that are at the bottom of his calves beneath his oversized, gigantic belly?  Or that you can’t communicate with someone who will only listen to the sound of his own voice…and anytime you try to chime in…he has no clue that someone else is actually speaking besides himself and thinks we don’t have any right to.

I’m trying to figure out how I tend to choose men that have some major thing NOT going for them. They are either cheap…like the one guy who whispered in my ear at dinner, “I’ll pick up the tab THIS time”…are you kidding me? Seriously? Or the guy that decided my ass was up for grabs an hour into our date, while we were shooting pool. I was leaning over the table and all of a sudden he gooses me! Really?  Did my butt just cry out “free for all” so come and get it? Then I was having a drink with Mr. Woody Allen personality who started yelling at me when I compared him to Annie Hall’s boyfriend. PSYCHO! And I couldn’t understand a thing he was talking about. I’m not sure if he was too intellectual for me or really was so dumb, I couldn’t follow his gibberish.

There have been those who are so boring…I actually would be snoozing with my eyes open. Did he not notice the glassy look in my eyes and my dream state? Or he thought I was so enamored with him that I was starry eyed? Again…seriously? How do you not know you are boring the shit out of someone?

One of my favorites…the one who readily admitted up front at dinner, that he had an STD. If you’re going to share something that intimate, couldn’t you have done it on the phone so I could have not wasted my time and gas money meeting you in person. And then telling me he likes the dark better and doesn’t really like going out in the daytime. His pasty skin when I first laid eyes on him should have been the tell-tail sign, but I always like to give people the benefit of the doubt. The fangs…that was the dead giveaway.  And I’m serious…his eye teeth were definitely hanging lower than most. I quickly left that one before I was drained of my blood, which may have been a little too late after he divulged the STD info. Yeah…I wanted HIM badly!

                                                                     

So how DO you tell him that you are just not that into him without completely hurting his feelings? I did write a standard Dear John email to send (because I’m too chicken to do it in person), and I have used it with some success, saying I just didn’t feel the chemistry. And as I’ve said before, it’s all about the chemistry…

But I must say…I’m done with the test tube phase. Time to discover the almost-perfect mate.