carnage

I was thinking about my dating life the other day. I was thinking about all of the dates I’ve been on in the last few months. I could remember most of the men, but then because I am apparently into humiliating myself I decided to write it all down. Then, because that wasn’t enough, I decided to share it with you.
Some of you know I went into a self-imposed dating exile after, The Dick. a.k.a. My Accidental Adultery. I took myself out of that self-imposed exile sometime in March. Here is a list of the carnage since then.

Basketball guy, 30-something. He was actually incredibly nice. I know that’s the kiss of death, but he was nice in the best way. He, however, became very sick. I would like to point out that he didn’t get sick because of me. I think he was diagnosed with Lyme’s disease. The reason this whole dating romance was halted is because he was, sick and going to a fro from doctors, tests, exams, ect. Didn’t have time to romance, chase or to be caught. No, problem. You know, I should email him to see how he is doing.
Email has been sent.
I will consider that my random act of kindness for the day.
Okay, he has updated me on his current sick situation. He isn’t going to be well anytime soon. Of course, this may be his way of backing out, but he did contact me out of the blue a few weeks ago. So…

Mini-Lloyd Dobbler, 28-years-old: The guy who would have been perfect 10 or so years ago. He doesn’t have a strong enough personality for me. He is kind of a push-over. Also, I am not attracted to him physically in any way. He and I have remained friends contrary to popular belief that we couldn’t or wouldn’t. We go to baseball games and meet for coffee and such. Nothing earth shaking or exciting, but he was a good guy and I want to keep him in my life.

Air Force guy, 33-years-old: He is actually pretty cool. However, he is currently on some top-secret mission down in MS. At least that’s what he claims. I don’t know if I want to deal with someone who is in the military and is more than likely going to be deployed overseas, (again) within the year. I salute him, I applaud him, and all those in the military, but let’s be honest, long distance ‘dating’ for a year or so? Yeah.

Bike guy, 31-years-old: Bike guy and I got along amazingly well. We could hang-out and I could just be. Show up in cargo pants, flip-flops and just be. Drink all the beer I wanted, impress him with my beer drinking and knowledge, laugh, joke, smile, make fun, and be. There was nothing about him physically that should have made me want to rip his clothes off. (Let’s just say he has had several, several, face to car, concrete, tree, road accidents) There was nothing about his communication skills that should have made me want to rip his clothes off. However, oh-my-god, did I want to rip his clothes off. The pheromones were everywhere! Everywhere! Ev-er-y-where. (Just want to make that point clear.) (Everywhere) Then, then when the pheromones cooled off several red flags popped into my head while I was lying in bed. One of which was when he asked me if I was a pothead.
“Um, you mean now, or formally?”
“Now.”
“No. I use to be quite the pot smoker, but not now.”
“So, you use to be. That means you still are.”
“No. Use to be, past tense. So, are you telling me that you’re a pothead?”
“Oh, yeah. I smoke everyday.”
“Were you high when you met me?”
“Lit bit, yeah.”
That’s when I realized I was 32 not 22 and had to go.

Nerd boy number one, 25-years-old: Perfect, perfect, perfect. However, our schedules could not have been more incompatible. We barely had time to call each other let alone try and see each other.

Nerd boy number two, 27-years-old: This is the guy who should have worked out. He was a great conversationalist. We had several things in common. He was well-mannered. Very honest and open. Took me to some very nice and rather expensive places for some very nice nights out. Yet, I was absolutely not attracted to him in any way. No attraction towards him. None. Zilch. Nil. Nada. I even had to debate as to whether or not I wanted to kiss him good-night, never mind ripping his clothes off or having sex in a dark alley. Couldn’t see any of that happening. Chemistry, It’s a tricky thing.

Angst-y-guy, 40-years-old: Oh, dear Lord! This guy was a mess. He and I could not have been more incompatible. He had no drive, no ambition. He wouldn’t tell me where he worked because it was, what did he call it?…Menial.
After getting to know him for a week I can see why that’s all he could handle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just sayin’. My glass is overflowing most of the time. Even at my worst, my glass is ¾ full. His glass? His glass hadn’t seen a drop of water. His glass didn’t have a sweat ring underneath it because it never, ever had anything in it, nor would it ever.
We had one really long phone conversation that went from Sunday afternoon into early Monday morning. It took several days for me to call him back because of my schedule. I usually don’t get home until after 10 and by the time I sit down to do what ever, it’s after 10:30. I didn’t want to call at a time that might have been too late. So, we had a few days of phone tag. When I finally did call him back it was on a Thursday. Ohgoodlord! It was one of the most painful experiences of my dating life. He was nervous about the phone call. There was so much pressure from the first phone call and he wanted this one to go just as well….and on and on. Just think angst. And whiney. Whiney angst. Hot. After about 10-15 minutes of this and he and I not agreeing on the perception of life, i.e. overflowing and empty. I told him there was no way this would work out between us.

Cute tutor, 23-years-old: Smart, witty, funny, sexy, handsome, nice, friendly, gets along with his family and would help the little old lady across the street while walking her dog. He and I are making a website together as a side money-making project. He is moving to New York to pursue his modeling/acting career. While he is waiting tables he is also going to graduate school to pursue a course of study which he designed, proposed to the college, and is now going to pursue. (Smokin’ hot.) What is the graduate school that he asked me to write a letter of recommendation? Yale.
Yes, of course he is going to be moving. Of course. I should call him.
Okay, just called him. He has had quite the eventful summer. Or late spring. I think a lot of what he says is bullshit. However, it’s the fun, harmless bullshit that makes for entertaining stories and antidotes. Bullshit that entertains me and I can tell it’s the fun harmless kind, is acceptable to me. Plus, I think this will help hone his acting skills.

Out-Of-Towner, 34-years-old: Is there really anything to say about this one? He keeps popping up. (Sure, take the pun.) We play, we flirt, we tease, and it’s never, ever going to lead to anything more. This is the guy who I was willing to share myself, settle down (not as in marriage, but as in willing to be exclusive with.) open up to. But, he didn’t get it. Me. He just doesn’t get me.

Last, but not least:

Taye Diggs-look alike, age, no idea. Hooooot. He has a midnight to five nothing but love songs, radio voice. (I shiver and shudder just from the thought of him talking into my ear.) He and I played a really great game of phone tag. It was awesome. However, again, it came down to schedules.

Let’s see. I am sure there is more carnage, but really, I think this is more than enough.

I think I will be going into another self-imposed exile.

Or, maybe I will just be switching teams for awhile. Again.