Rosh Hashana Phone Call

I was expecting no activity until tomorrow, but apparently, ExBFname likes to talk on the phone.  Ugh.  I was just about to jump into the shower and was running late, so the timing wasn't impeccable.  I did indulge him for a few, however.

ExBFname had a long trek home from work and thought that I could entertain him during his commute.  Here's how I feel about this.  Unless you and I seamlessly banter back and forth with explosions of laughter and an occasional, "No she/he didn't," then I just don't have the energy for it.  But I did it nonetheless.

He seems like a very nice man.  But you guys, I cannot shake his voice.  It reminds me of the Christian dad in The Simpsons.  The "okely dokely" guy.  It almost feels like a joke.  The voice is obnoxiously too vanilla.  Like a perfect American apple pie,  Beaver Cleaver guy who probably chops up women in his basement and is constructing a human skin bodysuit as we speak.  Oh God.  I've just scared myself.

At this moment, I'd like everyone to know, should I go missing, all of these dude's information can be accessed on my iPad.

Tidbits

I think it's probably quite obvious that I did not go out with ExBFname on Monday.  He just couldn't cancel plans with his best friend.  Can you believe this guy?  Instead, I went to bestie Amy's house and played with her kitten.  Yup.  Single.  In my thirties.  Living with two gay guys.  In an attic.  Playing with kittens.  These are all facts.

Not to fret.  ExBFname and I are meeting on Friday.  My roommates are having a party on Saturday.  If I dig ExBFname, I could invite him and hit date 16, just like that.

BUT.

I was contacted by an old flame yesterday.  It was more like a flicker, actually.  I went ahead and invited him, so if he shows up and I'm still into it, DATE 16!  Who is this mysterious fellow, you ask?

Introducing Sober Guy.  He's sober.  Stop rolling your eyes, it's not like I'm going to marry him.  But I gotta tell ya, there's something sexy about him.  We dated for a very short stint after I ended a relationship.  We lost contact quickly, but I've always wondered what he was up to.  Could be fun.  Or he may not show so ultimately, whatevs.

I invited Neighbor as well.  I know, I'm really going for it you guys.  He responded two days later with, "I might be gone on saturday night... How's it going?"  Tardy response and misuse of the ellipses?  Pfft.

And last but not least, it is a for sure go on Texas Ex coming to visit Halloween weekend.  This will be a fun weekend.

OK y'all.  Unless some breaking news comes forth, it's lights out until Friday night.

Back in the Saddle

I know I haven't been going out on dates lately, but life got busy.  I swear.  I decided I needed to cultivate the experiment, so I have met a new beau.

Meet ExBFname.  He has the name of an ex.  I met him on the old site, and we just got off of the phone with one another.  He has an effeminate voice, but seems nice.

ExBFname called me earlier in the week, and I forgot to call him back.  I finally did and got his voicemail.  He called me back a few hours later.  He immediately wanted me to know that he is not one of those fellows who will drop a girl if she doesn't return a call right away.  I acknowledged that I had noticed that men are doing that now, and he said that he's learned a lot about men's weird rules as of late.  So much, in fact, that he thinks he should write a book.  Dammit, I'm just writing a blog, and he's going to get paid millions for his book.  Ugh.

Whatever, at least ExBFname and I have something in common.  He's trying to clear plans so we can meet tonight, but if not, we may have to wait until Friday.  We've waited this long to get to the 1/2 way mark.  What's a few more days going to do to us?

Logger Reunion

Regulars, sit down.  Or stand up.  It's not that exciting.  You know what?  Squat.  We do have a LITTLE action.  Today, Logger and I came face to face.

Picture it.  I'm at the gym.  I've been stressed for weeks, so I'm riding that skinnier-than-usual wave.  I forgot my hair tie, and I had it done last night, so it's flowing in the wind like a silk curtain.  Most importantly, I have on mascara.

I'm really giving my biceps a workout, when I look to my right, and in the reflection of the mirror, I see Logger.  Just doing a few pull-ups, you guys.

I see him first, so I'm prepared.  I catch his eye, flash my pearly whites, and wave.  He gets off the pull-up contraption and heads in for a hug.  He barely touches me, so I assume it's because he's sweaty, or he thinks I'm contagious.  I'm cool with either.

We make small talk.  He asks about Europe, we make a joke about Paris...  The whole time I feel like he can't get away fast enough.  I find it all to be so interesting.

Here's the thing.  I feel like I've shed all emotions from this dating thing, and now I'm just a scientist using herself as a subject.  My feelings are so far removed at this point, so everything a man does just makes me shrug and think, "Men are weird."

In other news, I finally found a Christian man in LA.  He is also African American.  I have never dated a black man, but am up for anything.  Within reason, of course.  The problem is, he doesn't write in complete sentences.  Also, I wish I could say that the grammar is questionable, but it's downright atrocious.  Nothing turns me off more.

Texas Wins

Don't get too excited.  No date for Ms. Dateless McPatheticson.

Remember how it was Shannon's goal to get me a date?  Well, you could parachute Shannon into a volcano filled with age appropriate single guys, and she would not be able to find me a date.  She could find herself one, though.  Little Ms. Shannon can get any guy in the world to start texting her.  I mean it.  Ladies, hide your kids, hide your husbands.  

As the weekend began, I did one of those half-ass joins on a Christian dating site.  To scope out the goods.  I have discovered something.  There are no Christian men in LA.  At least none that Internet date.  All of my Christian suitors live out of town.  

It got me to thinking.  These LA Christians probably don't use a dating site because they all meet at church.  That would require a day out of my week to really pull this off, right?  That will never happen.  

What I'm trying to say is, this blog will live forever.  This blog will die with me.  I will WILL this blog to someone else.  Will it go to another woman?  Ya know, maybe not.  A change of perspective could be what this thing needs.  After I die, of course.  

It should really blow your mind that this blog could be yours one day.  

Ahem

Hi you guys.  I know.  I've been absent.  For quite some time, to be honest.  But I assure you, this is the only thing in my life that is stagnant.

Work is INSANE.  As you can imagine, the beginning of the year is a teacher's prolonged night terror.  Getting up early and having to put on make-up is THE WORST.  And don't give me that, "Then don't wear make-up" retort because I am a Texan woman, and that isn't even an option.

So here's what's up.  My friend, Shannon, is coming to town from Houston and we're going to the UT vs. UCLA game.  Old school style.  I'm talking party bus up to Pasadena, alcohol and toilet in the vehicle, people making out in the back...  Shannon set the whole thing up, OBVS.

It is Shannon's goal to find me a date this weekend, so she can make the blog.  Yes, I'm a pretty bad ass friend, because I just put her in the blog, so she doesn't have to dance for her meal.  But I know me some Shannon, and I'm guessing she'll try anyway.

I am going to delete my profile from my current dating website.  I need something new.  Something different.  I think I'm about to go all demographic on you guys.

If you're a regular, you know I have an affinity for foreign men.  It's a rather new fixation, so what if I could start diggin' on some other "type"?  Broaden my horizons, ya know?  So, without further adieu, I will join a Christian dating site and see what it's like to go on a date with a Christian man.  (Thank you for the idea, Jane.)  I am not Christian.  Nor am I affiliated with any organized religious organization.  I mean, sure, I went through that  Kabbalah phase, but I was young, sad, and searching for answers.

Now, I don't want to get into a war with any of Jesus' soldiers, so relax.  I'll be honest with my beliefs to my suitor.  I just want to see what the date would be like.  Will he pull out my chair?  Stand when I leave the table?  Will he go in for a kiss, or do we pray at the end?  Or at the beginning, for that matter?

And then maybe I'll date a Buddhist, or a Satanist.  Oooooo, a Wiccan!  I for sure need to go on a date with one of those dudes.

This will be fun.

Date 14

Last night was lovely.  Heathrow lives in my old neighborhood.  It's an adorable neighborhood, and I miss it a bit, so I suggested we hit up a classic pub I used to frequent.  Same bartenders.  Same crowd.  Felt like old times.

Heathrow is a laid back English chap.  He was sucking on a Jameson and a beer, when I wandered in.  He has a smashing English accent, and the conversation was as smooth as silk.  Heathrow's facial structure is likened to an ex boyfriend of mine, so every time I caught his profile, it made me giggle a bit.

Since Heathrow is a regular at this pub, many friends came by to say hello.  They were all foreign, so a plethora of interesting accents were thrown my way.  I absolutely loved it.  It was Disneyland for Europhiles.

I somehow got my girlfriends to agree to meet me at said establishment, so they were able to meet Heathrow.  He held his own with 3 female comics, and they approved of him.  He also paid for my drinks, which is half the battle, really.

I will probably see Heathrow again, especially since he told me I was sexy.  The ladies like a good sexy compliment, gentlemen.  Keep that one in your back pocket and don't overuse it, or we'll think you to be insincere.

In other news, my favorite ex is coming to visit me next month, so that's exciting.  A whole weekend together.  How many dates should that count for?

Modern Day Mishaps

I have good news and I have bad news.  The bad news is that Heathrow and I have to postpone our date tonight.  We're going to grab early evening drinks tomorrow, and then I have to run to previous plans.  It's actually quite nice to have an exit strategy.  I know me, and if he speaks Cockney, I'll only understand a 1/3 of what he's saying.

The good news is, I get to  go out with my girlfriends to a local pub down the street.  NO DRIVING NOR CABS NEEDED.

Heathrow had some work thing he needed to attend and wanted to push drinks to 9:15.  Nope.  By then I've either already started the evening, or I've washed and moisturized my face.  This sudden change of plans made me start thinking.

It's difficult to get together unless 2 or more people REALLY commit to one another. There's so much going on in our lives, both business and social.  This is why it's taking me so damn long to hit 30 dates.

I bet dates were rarely rescheduled in the 1800s.  Besides trying to live through harsh winters and looking for gold, what else was there to do?  I wonder how long it would take me to get through this blog if I lived back then.  I mean, if I could get past date 3 without being stoned to death by the town.

Date 13 1/2

My roommates have been singing the praises of this thing called Chinese Foot Spa. When they ask me to go with them, I always decline, but last night I was feeling weak and relented.

Going to Chinese Foot Spa is like going on a blind date. It's weird, you don't know how to act, and at times, it's quite painful.

While my suitor concentrated on my upper body, I felt like we were in a fight, and I was the one losing. I really thought that he was beating me up. He'd run his forearm along my shoulder to rub out the kinks, and his lack of arm hair was all I could think about.

The lower body portion (everybody's favorite) was much better but uncomfortable at times. There's a lot of continual rubbing in one concentrated place for a significant amount of time. I don't care what you're rubbing, if it's for too long, it begins to hurt.

Surprisingly, I did come out relaxed, with the feeling of accomplishment. I've also learned that I am more of a facial person.

The Mystery of the Locally Sent Postcard

We have a full on Nancy Drew situation up in here. Today I received this postcard:

The reason this is a mystery is because a) I don't recall meeting an Andrew in Paris, b) Paris BF#1 was Quentin and Paris BF#2 was Sammy and if you want to count his friend who tried to rub up on me, his name is Z, and c) When would I ever give someone my address and not my number or email? Yeah stranger, here's how to knock on my door.

There are 2 very rational explanations for this.

1) This is a joke. One of you jokesters out there thought that this would be funny. Well you know what? It is. And quite frankly, I'm flattered. This took time and energy, and we all like to cross someone's mind every once in awhile.

OR

2) I may have a slight drinking problem.

I will say this: It's an American stamp and a Croatian postcard. What does this prove? I have no clue, but I have been thinking of going to Croatia for a couple of years now, so it's probably a sign.

Update

I've been avoiding dating, and I've been avoiding this blog. But like any co-dependent relationship, time to sweep things under the rug, push down hostile feelings, and get back to it.

Heathrow and I have a confirmed date for Friday, and I'm actually excited about it. Even if he sucks, I can focus on his forehead and meditate to the timbre of his English accent.

Max2 is pushing a coffee date which just proves we're not a match. I keep suggesting alcohol, he is persistent with the coffee thing. Young and Sober. Think I have the title for my next comedy album!

Le Lycee doesn't want to shake quite yet. We'll see what happens.

Copy Cat is such a dad and sends dad-like emails. I wonder if he knows how to fix my wireless printer connection? (Which reminds me, I need to call my dad.)

And last but not least, I may have dropped the ball with MoMA. I should have called him back, and I didn't. I'm just destined to be alone forever, I guess.

Confession

Le Lycee and I have pretty much stopped communicating, and I believe it to be my fault. Oh, BTW, Tall and I are no longer an item, as well. This is because I am not reciprocating the way one recriprocates when one is interested. At the onset of this blog, I had the energy to pursue those that I wasn't that into pursuing. Because it was FOR THE BLOG. Well, I'm sick of it. So that means I need more inventory.

Two new inductees! Introducing MoMA. He's a painter and works at the Museum of Modern Art. HOT. We have gone so far as to exchange numbers and leave messages on each others' cell phones. He sounds uptight, but it must be nerves. Artists can't be uptight. It seems counterproductive to creativity.

I think we're all going to love Copy Cat. He looks like a dad. On my dating profile, I state that I sleep with an eye mask. Copy Cat inquired about that, and then ran out and got a mask that day. He wrote me the next morning, praising me for my eye mask recommendation and then asked about this awesome face cream that I also talk about on my profile. I forward him the information, and he friggin' runs out to buy it. Within an hour! Unbelievable. I'm meeting him for a drink next week, so I'm going to see what else I can talk him into buying.

Juggling Again

The stars must be aligned in a certain way, because I am on fire right now. A second surge, my friends. Half way mark comin' right at us.

Le Lycee may not be my husband, but there was easy conversation, he was sick, I was tired, so perhaps we should maybe see each other again. At least that's what I'm telling myself since he's inquiring about it. We're trying to coordinate a lunch date (lame but safe) for the weekend. I know you're excited.

I have a new frontrunner. Introducing Heathrow. Obviously, he's from London Town. He's my age, has a job, lives nearby, and has an accent. I love foreign men. Not the creepy older kind. The sexy, educated, can-teach-me-a-thing-or-two kind. I get to learn new vocabulary words from their native lands, and it just doesn't get much hotter than that, ladies and gentlemen.

OMG Regulars. You're going to love this. Remember Max2? He's the one who ends all of his sentences with 1/2 a parenthetical) Well, this persistent snit contacted me to see if I had met anyone yet. I think this is ballsy and bold. He's way too young, but I have to meet him. If the guys you want to run back to you never do, you have to reward the ones that try. It's positive reinforcement.

So, that's that y'all.