tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69706494730077791812024-02-01T23:13:16.597-08:0030 Dates 30 BlogsReluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-26428510148271076482013-04-30T11:00:00.000-07:002013-04-30T11:00:34.447-07:00Hate Mail Revival<b id="docs-internal-guid-03be1823-5c07-fdc4-45ae-0860719eeaa6"></b><br />
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-03be1823-5c07-fdc4-45ae-0860719eeaa6"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(BIG YAWN. STRETCH. RUBBING EYES.) Oh. Hey. Coming out of hibernation is something I don’t do everyday, so excuse the rough edges. I had no idea that I would EVER be back here, but here I am. How was everyone’s 2012? And 2013? Going well?</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things have been OK for me. Quit my full-time job, wrote a one woman show (A musical, no less.), loved, lost, blah, blah, blah... But I’m not here to talk about any of that.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yesterday morning, I woke up to the following email that was sent ℅ my forgotten website:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">my husband (just about the kindest and most gentle person on earth, never mind funny as fuck and crazy talented) came across your dating blog. you're wrong -- he looks nothing like michael chicklis.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">it's cruel to make fun of him when he can't defend himself. he's also a dead ringer for augusten burroghs.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">he was crushed by your characterization of him and the "mercy" date. i hope you enjoyed shitting all over a really lovely, kind and sensitive guy.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-the wife</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">OK. This is obviously amazing on so many levels, to quote my friend Ash. To recap, this is about Open Marriage. You can find entries about him <a href="http://30dates30blogs.blogspot.com/2011/10/crappy-week.html">HERE</a> and <a href="http://30dates30blogs.blogspot.com/2011/10/disappointing-myself-and-others.html">HERE</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I read this email, my first thought was, “Wow. The ‘contact me’ portion of my website works. Good to know.” The second was. “This woman is very angry about me not wanting to date her HUSBAND!” And the third was, “Poor Michael Chiklis.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At first, I thought I’d write the wife back, but then decided that I would prefer to communicate with Open Marriage since he’s the one I had the non-relationship with in the first place. So here goes...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dear OM-</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would like to start off by saying that it was certainly not my intention to hurt your feelings. I’m sensitive myself, so I understand. I will say; however, that I wrote this blog assuming every man I wrote about would read it, so I feel I was tame. Perhaps I’m delusional, so I feel I need to break this down so you can see where I’m coming from.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have a game I play with my friends called Who Would Play Him/Her in a Movie. When we describe people, we pick an actor that would... You catch my drift. Michael Chiklis was the actor that popped in my head when I saw your pics in 2011. Do you also resemble Augusten Burroughs? Totally. But I don’t think it’s too out there to say that Chiklis and Burroughs share a similar look. Also, just because I am not attracted to this look does not mean that others aren’t. My roommate finds Chiklis to be “hot as hell.” (His words, not mine.) I prefer hairy Mediterranean men, which is a mystery to many of my friends and my mother. It’s just what I dig. Nothing against men that lack copious amounts of hair in unsightly places or if their native tongue doesn’t require spitting. I also understand how you feel. I have been told that I look like a number of people that I don’t find to be attractive. You see yourself differently and you wonder, “What in the HELL are you seeing in me?” But then I remember, “Who gives a shit how someone else sees me.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would also like to point out that we never met. I don’t know what your hands look like. What does your belly laugh sound like? Do you have a weird tic? Perhaps you put your hand to your chin when you’re REALLY thinking about something. I’ll never know. And that is why my opinion of you means ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Hell, I don’t even have an opinion on YOU. I just recorded my insane journey on this 30 date challenge from my point of view. And let’s face it, it’s not everyday that you run into a person who is in a happy open marriage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am fascinated by unconventional things. This is true. That’s why I was interested in meeting you, but then I realized that as innocent as I may think it to be, it would not be right to go on a date with you knowing the marriage thing wasn’t for me. I did NOT go on a mercy date. THAT IS THE POINT. I didn’t do it. If I had and then said, “Ugh. What a mercy date,” then ouch. I feel that I did the right thing by cancelling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am sure you are kind, gentle, funny as fuck, etc. I enjoyed our correspondence, even if you write too much for my taste. Again, I don’t want this to upset you. I was madly in LOVE with a man that would write </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Game of Thrones</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> length emails to me, riddled with metaphors and allegories. Yes, I scanned them, but I adored him nonetheless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I get it. It’s not fun to read about yourself on the Internet. Especially when you don’t agree with it. One time, a dude commented on a YouTube video of mine, "What was your name when you were a man?" (He’s a fool. Shelby is clearly a uni-sex name.) It didn’t feel great, but then I realized, this man doesn’t know me at all. SO WHO CARES?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And that is ultimately what I’m trying to say here. If calling you Michael Chiklis (not an ugly man) and refusing to go on a date that I’m ultimately not interested in going on are the 2 things that bummed you out, then I am TRULY and DEEPLY apologetic. Seriously. I hang out with comics. We say way worse things about each other before breakfast, so I must be desensitized. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For retribution, I will share a humiliating moment with you and the 45 other people reading this old ass blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not too long ago, I was enamored with this fellow. Really dug his chili. After we broke up, his best friend told me that he was "in love with his ex the whole time he was dating me." OUCH. But it doesn’t end there. He also said that my ex thought of me as "a pile of dirt that he would occasionally come around and piss on." This is a man I knew BIBLICALLY. But I got over it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Again, apologies for any uneasy feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Shelby</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">PS- Your wife has balls of steel and loves you dearly. But to quote my friend Amy, I “dodged a bullet because she would be a really mean first sister wife.”</span></b>Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-7848465308225645522012-02-03T17:27:00.000-08:002012-02-03T17:27:13.146-08:00So, In Conclusion...I have learned a lot from this little experiment. Most of the lessons learned were about me. Men are men, and although interesting creatures, I can't say I drew some amazing conclusion on the hairier sex.<br />
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Here is a breakdown of lessons learned, from my perspective:<br />
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1. Internet dating sucks.<br />
2. Apparently dating ex boyfriends is better than dating new guys from the Internet. (Who knew?)<br />
3. Stay away from plentyoffish.com. Far, far away.<br />
4. Coffee dates are counterproductive.<br />
5. On a first date, if you're not into him/her, don't stay longer than an hour.<br />
6. Keep it to 2 alcoholic beverages, and that is IT.<br />
7. Married guys are on these sites looking for girlfriends. Marriage seems to suck. Don't worry gays, you'll find out soon enough.<br />
8. There are still good men out there. <br />
9. Flirting is fun. Reality is disappointing.<br />
10. The French are very intuitive.<br />
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The truth is, before ending the blog with UFB, I was very cynical about men. This blog had become a project, and dating was a chore. I wanted to enjoy it, and at first I did, but then I detested it. I just wanted to finish this project, prop my feet up on the coffee table, read a fashion magazine, and never date again.<br />
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But getting to spend time with UFB reminded me that there are men out there that I enjoy talking to and laughing with, that I also I want to do grown-up things with. I needed that reminder, and the timing was perfect.<br />
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The flip side of the coin is I'm protective of UFB and, therefore, a bit more cryptic with posts that include him. Again, a reminder that there are just some things that should remain sacred.<br />
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I also learned that my reserved nature, while appealing at first, will do nobody any good at the end of the day. It's time for me to practice opening up to others.<br />
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I leave this blog with high hopes of finding a man that makes me laugh, challenges me, and supports my dreams and endeavors. He has to be out there somewhere. If you think you're him, I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a little bit of downtime to recompose myself. But after a few weeks pass, maybe you should contact me. I've learned so much about myself and need to put these lessons to the test.<br />
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Since this thing is over, I feel I should out myself. Many of my Regulars know me, but for you in Malaysia, and those people in Russia, and shout out to Israel... <a href="http://shelbystockton.com/">This</a> is me.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-46595825394336766812012-02-01T12:40:00.000-08:002012-02-01T12:40:18.363-08:00Dates 29 & 30 (I cannot believe it.)First I'd like to address something that has been brought to my attention. Kibbutz and Ash said that they thought it was unfair to use UFB as dates. Do you know what I say to that? (This is when I wish I could flatulate on cue like my college boyfriend used to do when he didn't agree with me on something.) Yeah, maybe it's not as exciting and titillating than meeting a stranger on the Internet, but this is going down and that's the way it goes. This is MY blog and only I make the rules here. UFB counts. And personally, I could not have asked for a better way to end this blog. This will be discussed in my conclusion blog. (So Regulars, at least one more blog we get to share together!)<br />
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<b><u>Date 29</u></b><br />
It's Friday night and I'm ready to trip the night FANTASTIC! I put on my slinky black dress, head to UFB's, and pop open a bottle of white wine. Let's DO this.<br />
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Then the damn conversation about where we're going to eat. Why is this conversation so difficult? People are starving, For Christ Sake, on the streets of our very own country. We go back and forth about it anyway. <br />
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He wants a burger but if we (I) want to feel fabulous for the evening's revelries, it's going to have to be a bit lighter than that. Compromise made. Moving on.<br />
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The rest of the night was like a dance. We sat at the bar (my favorite) and had a great meal. A friend of UFB stopped to say hello. He was ridiculously good-looking. I wondered what it must feel like to have both men and women think that you're ridiculously good-looking. We met 2 girls from Los Feliz that are in the toy industry (random). I exchanged phone numbers with one, and we have decided to be friends. We changed locations and met another friend. We went home.<br />
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Who can ask for anything more?<br />
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<b><u>Date 30</u></b><br />
It's the next day, and I swear to God I could have chewed my arm off, I was so hungry. I know what to do. Today is a day date to get that BURGER. I pitch the idea to UFB, and he agrees. It's 10am and surly the place will open at 11am. Try again. Not until noon. NOON. I'm dying. My stomach is growling, I feel faint, I need to consume calories.<br />
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But guess what, ladies and gentlemen. I toughed it out. Took it like a man. Cowboyed up. Oh, we had that burger. We ate it like savaged beasts. There was little talk involved, as well. We'd just occasionally look up at each other and nod.<br />
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And that's 30 freaking dates. Concluding statements, future predictions, and closing thoughts to follow.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-28523441782044894362012-01-24T08:28:00.000-08:002012-01-24T08:28:27.363-08:00Dates 27 & 28DATE 27<br />
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UFB and I have hectic and busy schedules, so some time had passed with little communication. We finally figured it all out on Friday night. <br />
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After my show and his business dinner, UFB picked me up and we went to a local watering hole. A gaggle of my friends were present, and UFB invited one of his buddies also. What a festive time. Libations, laughter, witty banter... All of the things that make up an enchanting evening.<br />
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UFB and I had not seen each other in a while, so it's only natural that we'd be a bit more touchy feely than normal. Perhaps we went a bit too far, as my friend, Ash, approached towards the end of the night and interrupted by saying, "Gross. We're leaving."<br />
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She left. Shortly after, UFB retreated as well to take the PDA into a more private setting.<br />
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DATE 28<br />
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I meet UFB at his place and we go out to eat. We both overeat. What is wrong with us? Now we're sloth-like but still manage to make it out for an after dinner drink. UFB's friend calls and asks us to come by, so we do. We finish the evening there and head back to his place. <br />
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We're tired, but not ready to go to sleep, so we order part 2 of the Woody Allen documentary and fall asleep within 10 minutes. It was the complete antithesis of the night before, but perfect.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-83624239378818745762012-01-24T07:36:00.000-08:002012-01-24T07:36:06.549-08:005150Well, I gotta say, I'm a little surprised this didn't happen sooner. The tide has turned with Frenchman. I thought all was well. We had an amiable exchange about the blog, he commented on a few with which he agreed, and the night ended happily.<br />
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A few days go by, and I haven't heard from Frenchman. That's fine. I'm busy. He's busy. Neither of us made mention of communicating again.<br />
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And then Sunday night happened.<br />
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I need to give you the Reader's Digest version on this one because it's laborious, and he's reading. (Bonjour, monsieur.)<br />
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He's mad. Full on pissed. He matched up dates of our text exchanges with blogs (WHY??), and now he's all bent out of shape. I tried to explain that he and I are not in a relationship and were just communicating; therefore, both of us are able to do whatever with whomever (I didn't use these words, but...), and there is no reason to be upset.<br />
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Well, that didn't go over too well, and it's all downhill from there. Apparently, I'm an awful woman. He even went so far as to say that he can't find a woman spirit in me at all. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but the word "cold-hearted" comes to mind.<br />
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I mean, it goes on forever. Text, after text, after text about how awful I am. I'm culturally insensitive for nicknaming people for their nationality, and then he blames it on the fact that I'm from Texas. (He made a couple of derogatory statements about my being from Texas. I will not do that to you France! I love you too much.) <br />
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I'm going to have to defend myself on this one. I am no xenophobe. I adore people from other countries. Also 1) I named my Israeli friend Kibbutz because he lived on a freaking Kibbutz 2) I didn't name the Lebanese Parisian, Lebanese Parisian. I called him by his given name. Sammy 3) I named an American Le Lysee. That's right. Described an American with a French word. <br />
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I believe we should all be proud of where we're from. I love my country, and if you want to call me The American, then go ahead. I'll hold my head up high and sing the National Anthem AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS! And you should too, everyone from other places. We all should. <br />
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I eventually had to go to sleep and woke up the next morning to 20 verbally abusive texts. Is this frightening? A bit. But this is why it's good to have cops and lawyers as friends. Harassment is against the law. Thank God.<br />
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When a girl gets all crazy on a guy, it can be a bit entertaining. I'm convinced some men even dig that behavior. It boggles my mind, but it's true. When men do it, it's Lifetime movie-esque. Don't bully girls!<br />
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I don't want to put any more energy into this than I already have. Communication is over and it's time to move on. I want to spend the rest of the time on this blog with someone who understands and accepts me more, so let's finish it out with UFB.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-85173226705422257052012-01-19T08:40:00.000-08:002012-01-19T08:40:42.197-08:00Cold BustedWell, well, well. Seems I got a little too big for my britches. Just as I was sliding into home, not a care in the world, over this blog, onto the next, in fact, I get busted by a suitor.<br />
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Frenchman found the blog and found it quickly. I don't think his date was up for more than 24 hours before he found it. Weird, huh? Here is a breakdown of what went down:<br />
<ul>
<li>My Israeli male friend (whom we'll call Kibbutz as he's private) came over while I made egg salad.</li>
<li>My phone made the sound it makes when indicating that I have a text.</li>
<li>Frenchman said he was reading the blog, and don't ask how he found it, but he's very "intuitive."</li>
<li>I have a minor freak-out as Kibbutz laughed his ass off.</li>
<li>Frenchman seemed upset, but then proceeded to read the entire blog and enjoyed it. (He didn't say he loved it, but he also doesn't seem angry.)</li>
<li>As the night continued, I occasionally received texts from Frenchman commenting on certain entries. Also, as a former psychoanalytic student, he may be worried about my mental health.</li>
</ul>
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Here are the theories:</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Frenchman always knew about the blog, and I've been bamboozled.</li>
<li>He's not even French, and I've REALLY been taken for a ride.</li>
<li>Someone has a lot of time to peruse search engines as my full name isn't on this thing. (Thankfully, for him, it was before the SOPA/PIPA fiasco.)</li>
<li>I have accidentally befriended him on a social network.</li>
<li>I'm not as smart as I think I am. (This one is a given.)</li>
</ul>
<div>
The part that confuses me is the intuitive comment. During my 2 Proseccos and witty banter, how did I subconsciously deliver, "I have a blog called www.30dates30blogs.blogspot.com and you're in it?" How does intuition play a factor in this at all? Thank God there isn't an intuitive event in the Olympics, because the French would kick our asses ladies and gentlemen.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As you have probably surmised, Frenchman is also reading this entry. I told him, and I will tell you all too, I think Frenchman is a lovely person. It is not my intention to hurt anyone's feelings. As a matter of fact, it is the last thing I want to do. Well, the last thing I want to do is kill someone. Or accidentally get pregnant at my age, as I'd have to keep it. But hurting feelings is definitely in the top 5 things I don't want to do. Ever. But alas, I am a journalist and must journal. Peace be with you all, and let's get this blog over with now that my cover has been blown. </div>Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-11564454384783074162012-01-16T09:33:00.000-08:002012-01-16T09:33:10.270-08:00Senioritis BluesI've been so busy running around town like a 29 year old that I haven't really had the time to stop and think about the fact that this blog is coming to a close. I only have 4 more dates. True, I could stretch it out another 2 months or so, but I feel like the project should end when it's supposed to end, and that end is drawing near. But what will become of me after this?<br />
<br />
It's going to be a bit odd to no longer have a project, a reason to write. I mean, there are other reasons to write, but I'm a little addicted to this experiment model. After a short hiatus, I have to start a new blog. But what? My trainer suggested gain 30 lbs. and then lose it. Obviously I'm not a big fan of that. I guess things come to mind out of the blue, so I won't force it.<br />
<br />
Although we're not completely done, nothing truly amazing came out of this. I didn't fall in love (surprise). Nobody's life was saved. That whole cancer thing still seems to be an issue. Ultimately, I have nothing of real value.<br />
<br />
But...<br />
<br />
I did get to kiss on some random guys here and there. That's worth something.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-79099307853794141582012-01-14T19:49:00.000-08:002012-01-14T19:49:27.729-08:00Date 26Frenchman and I had a rather lengthy back-and-forth about where to meet, when to meet, should we meet, blah, blah, blah... To be difficult, I decided to do a show on Thursday but was hoping he and I could meet beforehand. That way it's an in-and-out and I can go about by business. If he's fabulous, great. There will be a second date. If not, great. I have a show to do and he provided material.<br />
<br />
We met near my house at a restaurant where I meet many of these men. The bartender knows me, but I've never told him why I'm always with a different man. I bet he's really confused as to what my "type" is.<br />
<br />
Frenchman was a wee late due to traffic. He thought since he rode a motorcycle it would take him less time. When I say that Frenchman rides a motorcycle I mean it is his only form of transportation. He walked in looking like he had an exoskeleton. I realize that motorcycle wear is for safety, but it looks like an extra's costume from Alien. <br />
<br />
Frenchman was handsome. Loads of curly salt and pepper hair, facial hair, Mediterranean looking, really. I like that. He is ridiculously polite and knows a bunch of stuff I don't know. This is why I like foreign men. You can always learn something from them. That is, if you can understand them.<br />
<br />
Frenchman's English sounds like French. There were times I just nodded and said "right" because we needed to move on. I would also like to tell you that Frenchman runs 10 miles a day. Yup. Barefoot. Oh yes. I voiced my concern for such a thing in which he replied, "But we are made to run barefoot. We were also made to run naked." (Man. The French, right?) I told him that his logic was just, but since I can't do one jumping jack with my American Apparel bra on, the thought of running with nothing was troublesome.<br />
<br />
He said that Americans were interesting, and he has a hard time assimilating. He said that Europeans don't date. The concept of dating is an American thing. I asked what they did then. He said, "Meet for coffee, grab a drink, stay home and watch a movie..." I replied, "Yeah. That's what we call dating."<br />
<br />
Frenchman paid for my 2 Proseccos. As a matter of fact, when I grabbed my wallet, he said, "Won't you be my guest?" Do you see why foreign men are so grand? American men don't say things like that. It's not their fault. Just a different upbringing, but UGH, it's a blast to hang with for a bit. Ladies and gays, PLEASE date a non-American at least once. It's fun.<br />
<br />
We parted ways because I needed to get to my show. He has since texted me and asked if I would like to go running barefoot on the beach. I declined. <br />
<br />
<br />Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-13507885702150031712012-01-12T15:47:00.000-08:002012-01-12T15:47:15.976-08:00Dates 22-25UFB and I were friends. Then we were more than friends. Then for a bit, we were neither. Then we became friends again. Now we're a little bit more than friends. Soon enough, we will be friends again.<br />
<br />
You know when you break up with someone, but sometimes there's that after burn? Phone calls, texts, and occasional "meetings" occur post break-up? UFB and I didn't do that. We just went on our merry way, and that was that. I'm guessing this is just an overdue after burn. <br />
<br />
Wanna read about it?<br />
<br />
<b>Date 22</b><br />
I had just returned from Texas and had a show that night. UFB texted to ask if I'd like to grab dinner. I told him it would have to be tomorrow because of the whole show business thing. He said OK but perhaps a drink after the show. We got that drink after the show. Funny hanging with an after burn. The familiarity is comforting, at first. That night was fun. We laughed, shared a libation or two, and had a lovely adult evening.<br />
<br />
<b>Date 23</b><br />
I'm exhausted from Date 25. EXTREMELY. I couldn't even nap. It was awful. I didn't know how I was going to pull it together for dinner. Then sweet UFB texted and asked if we could do something low-key instead. Yes! This is what I like about him. We ordered pizza, watched part 1 of the Woody Allen documentary (see it), and fell asleep on the couch. I remember this.<br />
<br />
<b>Date 24</b><br />
This night got all whack. I was supposed to go to his place, but I had to go meet the girls first, so he made plans, but they went later than my plans, so I had to keep it going even though I was ready to shut it down... Exhausting. But then we ended up together and had another enchanting adult evening.<br />
<br />
<b>Date 25</b><br />
We ended up spending the whole next day hanging out. Mostly eating and sleeping. That night we had dinner at a charming taco place near the Grove. Our mutual friend met us there, and then we had drinks down the street. At some point, we ended up at our local watering hole. You know how it ends. Adult evening. Wonderful. Blah, blah, blah.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-53367814784293998632012-01-12T15:18:00.000-08:002012-01-12T15:18:45.180-08:00Happy New Year (12 days late)Yeah. I know. Sorry Regulars. I've been MIA for quite some time, but I want to explain. And explain I will.<br />
<br />
I have a confession to make. I've been "seeing" an ex. We'll call him UFB for Unfinished Business (I know that unfinished is one word, but UFB rolls off of the tongue nicer than UB, no?). It's not a big deal, and it's temporary, and I don't want to get into it too much as some things ARE sacred, but you deserve to know what's going on. Especially since you're about to get a crash course on dates 22-25.<br />
<br />
I am also going to meet Frenchman before my show tonight. I don't remember if we named him Frenchman, but I'm in a rush and cannot research. He's from France. For reals. Even his texts have an accent. We've been texting since Thanksgiving, so he's also persistent. I don't really have time to met Frenchman, but I'm doing it anyway.<br />
<br />
BTW- Texas was great but friends and family only. I don't think I saw one single man.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-90551102232108223442011-12-21T08:43:00.000-08:002011-12-21T09:10:48.697-08:00Holiday HiatusIt has become quite apparent that I have the immune system of a premature infant from a 3rd world country, as I have fallen ill for the second time in 3 weeks. I'm on the mend, but for the last 5 days, I have been incapacitated. I have only been punched in the face once (when I was 6, by a young boy named Phillip, on the playground of a Unitarian church in Houston, TX) and I can tell you, the flu feels something like that. Without the shame.<br />
<br />
Being sick is one of the few times I wish I had a boyfriend. On a day-to-day basis, singlehood rocks, but when I'm under the weather, it would be nice to have someone fetch me a stack of fashion magazines. Or tell me I'm still pretty from across the room, lest he get sick. I'd really appreciate it if he'd buy me expensive soup from M Cafe during his lunch hour. Sigh.<br />
<br />
There's no more time for sulking, as I'm about to jump on a plane headed for Texas. That's right cowboys and cowgals, I'm off to the Lone Star State. Dallas and Austin, to be exact. Christmas without Houston sounds mighty fine to me. <br />
<br />
In the olden days, traveling homebound meant a guaranteed hook-up. Now there's a 50/50 chance. So who knows? Dallas is uncharted territory for me, but I'm hanging with family. The fun thing about Texas is that anything can happen. So saddle up Dallasites! I packed my leather skirt.<br />
<br />
Then there's Austin. I get to visit my dad and two of my favorite people: The Angel Sisters. That's their real last name. Only in Texas. I haven't hooked-up with a guy in Austin since college, but it's a good time no matter what.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas to you Jesus freaks and people who have nothing else to celebrate.<br />
Happy Hanukkah to the chosen ones.<br />
Go Kwanzaa to the 8 of you that celebrate that.<br />
<br />Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-10936775408288368342011-12-15T07:15:00.000-08:002011-12-15T07:15:22.618-08:00Date 21For the first time in a long time, I was actually excited to go on a date. According to his profile, Teacher was attractive and intelligent. According to our conversation on the phone, he was somewhat normal. I tried on 7 different outfits before I walked out the door. This is not normal for me.<br />
<br />
Teacher was kind enough to come to my side of town. He said the traffic was horrendous, so I arrived at the agreed location before he did. When he walked in, I was surprised by his height. Very tall. He was, indeed, very attractive with salt and pepper hair. Adorable.<br />
<br />
Teacher and I chatted about the pros and cons of teaching at a private school, camping (bleck), cooking (eh), our favorite restaurants (he hates all of mine), and how he thinks Harry Potter is the lowest form of literature. I decided this would not be a good time to mention my Us Weekly habit.<br />
<br />
It was obvious that Teacher and I would not be picking out China patterns together, but I had a nice time with him. He's extremely bright, and I enjoyed listening to him banter about things from his high brow perspective. There was never a lull in conversation, and I caught him checking out my legs, which is always fun. <br />
<br />
But the most interesting part of the date was when I realized that if my sister was single and lived in LA, this man would be for her. I was on a date with my sister's west coast boyfriend, and it was weird.<br />
<br />
Not that it matters, but I had 2 Pinot Grigios, and Teacher had 14 glasses of water. I paid for my indulgences when he went to the bathroom. I'm pretty sure he appreciated it. So there's that.<br />
<br />
Here we are again. No perspective suitors. Wait, I take that back. A few people do want to set me up, but set-up dates take forever to execute. I fear we've hit the holiday slow down.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-12134878737552485572011-12-12T08:56:00.000-08:002011-12-12T08:56:03.344-08:00A Change of PlansThe party was a smashing success. We had at least 100 people in and out of these doors, everyone oohed and aahed over our house, and 5 girls told me I looked skinny. Success. Fun was had by all, and I didn't make any poor decisions. Best. Party. Ever.<br />
<br />
Although the night was magical, I was over served which caused slow movement the next day. I really am excited to go out with Teacher, as he seems somewhat normal, but under yesterday's circumstances, the thought of getting dolled up and walking down the street to meet him, at 8:30 mind you, felt equivalent to giving birth the natural way. No epidural. And you don't know the father of the baby. More painful than THAT.<br />
<br />
Long story short (It's actually not that long, just not interesting.), we rescheduled for Wednesday. I am completely booked for the rest of the week. NO nights off. Popularity is hard.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-41751112871762763852011-12-10T07:59:00.001-08:002011-12-10T08:11:20.883-08:00Next Date PlannedTeacher and I finally caught up with one another. As I informed Sash about all of the things that were wrong with the Christmas decorating that he spent the whole day doing, Teacher called. I excused myself for fear of missing this man forever, and I'm sure Sash was happy to see me go.<br />
<br />
Y'all, his voice is not that bad. On my voicemail, he sounded so official. Now he sounded relaxed and funny. Thank God! Anyway, I think we already have an inside joke, and we're meeting for a drink tomorrow night.<br />
<br />
Here's the caveat. My 2nd annual crazy, off-the-chain Christmas party is tonight. Last year I had to turn down an ex-boyfriend that wanted to sleep with me before he headed out of town the next day to leave LA forever. Exciting stuff, no? So as you can see, ANYTHING could happen.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-24245120533105237102011-12-07T07:43:00.001-08:002011-12-07T08:08:47.886-08:00Date 20As I was putting money in a meter at a local coffee shop, I thought, "Why in the hell am I doing this to myself?" It's tough going on these dates. It takes energy. And if I were actually looking for a man, I'd probably have more drive. But I made this bed, and off I was to lie in it.<br />
<br />
Ernest was already sitting outside as I approached. He's a broad African American fellow. Not fat. Broad. He towered over me and gave me a big ole bear hug. I'm not much of a hugger, so as I pulled away, I realized the hug was not over, according to Ernest. This is always fun for me.<br />
<br />
One thing that impressed me about Ernest was that he had not yet purchased his beverage. He was waiting for me so he could buy mine as well. Point for Ernest. He then came back with a cookie and demanded me to eat half of it. A food pusher. Point taken away.<br />
<br />
Ernest is an intelligent fellow. How do I know this? 1) He was the first man on pof.com who understood subject/verb agreement. 2) He kept up with me and contributed to the conversation. 3) He told me so more than once. <br />
<br />
Ernest talks loudly. Sweetheart, but a loud one. I kept answering all of his questions in a whisper, hoping he'd imitate me at some point, but no. The good news is that everyone at The Coffee Bean knows what he does for a living.<br />
<br />
Back-and-forth, back-and-forth, the details are not important, but Ernest is an aggressive fellow. Not Lifetime movie aggressive, but he puts it on the table quite quickly. He told me more than once that I was beautiful, which is sweet. However, I have to say that too many accolades make me uncomfortable. What am I supposed to say? "You too?" He also said that I was prettier than my picture, which I've heard before. This makes me think I take crappy pictures.<br />
<br />
Towards the end of the evening, Ernest asked if he could see me again because he wasn't "looking for friends. That's what Facebook is for." Ugh. I don't like the end of the date pop quiz. I need to go home and marinate. I need more of a dance. Why must I answer this question RIGHT NOW? <br />
<br />
The best part is what he wanted to do on the second date. Horseback riding. You read that correctly. Two hours, in the daylight, no libation (again!), on a horse. I told him that I'd have to think about that as I was thrown off a horse as a kid and horseback riding did not seem like the kind of thing I'd be up for on a 2nd date. Of course, this later made me giggle when I was re-hashing the night with Sash. What if I did that with every date I was asked on? "Coffee? Can't. My mother was brutally scalded with coffee when I was in high school. I could not bare to be in a coffee house. You understand."<br />
<br />
In other news, Teacher and I are like 2 ships passing in the night. I texted him whilst at work that I had received his message. He texted me before my date to ask if we could talk. I text back that I was meeting a friend and asked if I could call afterward. He said yes, but he may be out at some point. I called after my coffee date and Teacher didn't answer. <br />
<br />
And so we wait.<br />
<br />
<br />Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-59306031972348101562011-12-06T07:13:00.001-08:002011-12-06T07:29:03.239-08:00Back on the TrainI know I've been "too busy" to date. I've also been too disinterested and that doesn't pair well with busy. However, I have decided to rip this band-aid off quickly, and rip it I have.<br />
<br />
Just to give you some backstory, we are in the midst of a Mercury Retrograde. I know. It's a bit much, but one should never start something during a Mercury Retrograde as it's doomed to fail. If you ask me, this is a perfect time to date men that I'm not all that interested in in the first place. So, here we go.<br />
<br />
1) Tonight I have a coffee date with Ernest. Do you remember him? He was the first man from pof.com that could form a complete sentence? It doesn't really matter, the bottom line is I'll hit 20 tonight because we all know what a coffee date during a retrograde produces. Bupkis.<br />
<br />
2) Introducing Frenchie. Yes, another Frenchman. I can't help myself. I gave him my phone number because I'm deleting my pof.com profile (it really is too much), and he left a message last night. Y'all. The accent is INSANE. Like plug your free ear while clutching the telephone to the other and making a funny face insane. All I'm saying is that I think I've found a free French tutor.<br />
<br />
3) And then there's teacher. Dreamy teacher. He finally messaged me back after a bit of a hiatus. He blamed it on a 4 day food poisoning incident. I find this to be a bit suspicious. Four days down due to spoiled food? What did he eat? Fecal matter? Whatever. He called too, and it went to voicemail. His voice doesn't match his look, but one shouldn't ask for too much during a retrograde.<br />
<br />
Regulars, do you know what's happening here? I'm hoping to hit 22 dates before Christmas (or Hanukkah or Kwanza). It also means there's only another 7 more months of this blog. Get it while you can.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-82461021964740487942011-12-01T09:33:00.001-08:002011-12-01T09:42:03.586-08:00Angry ManThis grammarian has been messaging me incessantly. I have not responded because I'm far from interested. He finally wrote, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">im messing you but dont respond!" As a junior high English teacher, I quickly decoded it as "I'm messaging you but you don't respond." I then decided to take care of this by saying, "Thank you, but I don't feel we're a match." I got this in return:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">why do girls automatically think just cuz i mesg a woman it means i wana hook up or i wana be in a relationship with you! we dont even know each other. where im from you got to get to know a person and become friends then you can decide the faith of that friendship. my last meag to you was just refering to ur silly quote on ur profile. im not here for a relationship. i have two wounderful boys that are my life and i dont need to bring in a woman in our life ritenow and take away their attention! im just here to find the cool peeps in this world and be social. good luck trying to find a mate on this pof site cuz what do think gonna happen when you find a man on here, he's gonna close his profile and spot fishing! i think not! all im saying internet is not and i mean absolutely not the place to find a mate. have a wounderful day......</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">I am now intrigued, obviously. By the by, can we all agree that an ellipses has 3 ...?</span>Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-35540837243964288002011-12-01T06:25:00.001-08:002011-12-01T06:32:10.509-08:00Hello LoverIn today's favorite message we have Sexual Chocolate. He writes: <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">HELLO, MAY I ASK IF U WOULD LIKE ME AS UR CHOCOLATE TREAT? UR A ATTRACTIVE<br />LADY! CAN WE CHAT AND<br />PERHAPS BECOME FRIENDS?<br />I WILL PROMISE NOT TO BITE!;)<br />I WOULD LUV TO MEET U IM SCORPIO, WHATS YOUR NAME?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">Because I didn't answer within an hour, I later received this:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">I won't bitr! :). Can we chat? I like ur smile</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">I find it to be interesting that this man feels the need to tell me that he won't bite on two occasions. I hope you won't bite, Sexual Chocolate, because that is called assault. Or consensual sex.</span>Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-15541874180011641782011-11-30T06:59:00.001-08:002011-11-30T07:23:52.213-08:00These Men ExistOK everyone. It's time to play the game "What In Their Right Minds Made Them Send This?"<br />
<br />
I'm going to call out this dating site and its pathetic lack of even below average men. If you don't want to hate the human race, DO NOT JOIN PLENTY OF FISH (www.pof.com). Here are a few examples of what I get to read on a daily basis:<br />
<br />
1) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">Would you like to have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory in the Americana? (: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #999999; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">(This is wrong for so many reasons.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">2) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">hi,you would like to go for dinner </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #666666; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">(I detest controlling men. BTW, his default pic is of him and a hefty belly dancer.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">3) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">please dont trip!....but ur so hot i'd suck a fart out of your ass n hold it in like a bong rip !!!!ahhhhhhhhhhhh sorry im trying!lol im just genuine! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #666666; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">(Obviously, my personal fave. And HIS default pic is of a motorcycle. That's it.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">I mean, I could go on and on. And I would if I had started writing these down awhile back. Oops.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">There is one diamond in the rough. Meet Teacher. He's a teacher. I'm a teacher, and I gotta say, I don't know if I could date one, but this is his occupation.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 14px; line-height: 23px;">He's ADORABLE in his pics, he knows the difference between your and you're, NO motorcycles in any of his pictures (VERY rare on pof), and he just seems lovely. However, he takes DAYS to write back. Doesn't he know I have a blog to do?</span></span><br />
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<br />Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-59240506182929900452011-11-28T16:11:00.001-08:002011-11-28T16:41:40.838-08:00Home Again, Home AgainSan Francisco was a smashing success. Here are a few things I observed in The City by the Bay:<br />
<br />
1. There are a lot of homeless people. <br />
2. Women in SF don't seem to fancy nail polish.<br />
3. I'm just as surprised as you are to find out that I am NOT invisible in Frisco. One man, bearing 9 of the 14 signs of a serial killer, stared at me too long at the Hyatt. It was uncomfortable. But I still got it, ladies and gentlemen.<br />
4. The beds at the Marriott beat those at the Hyatt, but the Hyatt has balconies and superior concierge lounges.<br />
5. Napa really is a day trip, but if you have to stay, DO NOT book the Marriott. The beds aren't worth it.<br />
6. The cabbies are cool.<br />
7. People are nice.<br />
8. It's nothing like LA.<br />
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I enjoyed my time with B in SF. It's a fun little town. But I gotta say, it feels great to be home, where I can wear my chipped nail polish with pride whilst revealing my bra as part of my outfit. LOVE YOU LOS ANGELES.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-75521452789872007202011-11-23T07:51:00.001-08:002011-11-23T08:29:58.442-08:00Open your Golden GateToday, B and I are off to beautiful San Francisco with a short jaunt to Napa. We have promised each other a relaxing Thanksgiving filled with rest, shopping, and starving ourselves. I'm not sure how long the starving part will last, as B and I can get quite gluttonous together. I just need to remember that I want to look underfed for my Christmas party in a couple of weeks.<br />
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The good news is, I should lose a couple of lbs. on the plane. I have a cruel fear of flying. I've been able to rodeo it in as of late, but I still get the fear of God in me when we hit turbulence. Like spill my champagne and B's champagne all over him scared.<br />
<br />
So listen up. The truth is the truth, and the truth is this: a) It's a holiday weekend. People are dispersed. b) Dudes in SF don't look at me sideways because either 1) they're gay or 2) I don't fit the demographic. What I'm trying to say here is, I don't think there will be dating action on this vacay.<br />
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In Paris, I was the bee's knees. Men were on me like stink on animal skat. I am invisible in SF. I'm just not their type of lady. I don't wear button ups with pearls. I don't frequent J. Crew (yet some pieces are quite nice). I don't own that much fleece. If I could get away with exposing my whole back on a day-to-day basis, I would. Different styles.<br />
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BUT, I'm excited to go to that quirky little town in central California. (It's not as up north as one might think.) I'm also excited to have B time because I love him and I miss him. Too bad my gay dates can't count. We would have had this thing wound up in 15 days flat.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-55077124051437370002011-11-22T16:42:00.001-08:002011-11-22T16:52:46.177-08:00Meeting of the MindsI was talking to B and NYC last night about my time and how precious it is. I've explained this before, but to reiterate, now that I'm working full time, I don't have time to date men. If I REALLY liked someone, I'd make time, but dating chumps can't happen with a full-time gig. I still need to do stand-up and hang with my people. <br />
<br />
B agreed with me and asked why I felt I needed to end the blog so quickly. (Regulars, stop laughing. I know I've been at it since July. Fine, late June, whatever.) <br />
<br />
I'm going to stop beating myself up. If I don't want to waste my precious time on someone, then I'm not. I'm just going to make fun of their profiles and back and forths with me. I think we can all agree that that's OK. I'll keep writing, you keep reading, and we'll eventually get through this together. And who knows. Maybe you'll be around for when I truly fall in love. (OK, again Regulars, stop laughing.)<br />
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I'd also like to give a shout out to France. We have some Regulars out there somewhere. It took you long enough, but welcome.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-3543918229392212742011-11-20T17:45:00.001-08:002011-11-20T17:59:24.725-08:00Date 19.25 and 19.5I know a massage is not an official date, but these people get further with me than most of the men I agree to meet.<br />
<br />
I have been stressed out at work, so when I had my nails done yesterday, I asked for a back massage. A mini-massage, if you will. The lithe man that worked on my toes had the honors, and he worked me over. There were moments when I thought, "So this is what it would feel like to die at the hands of a man." The upper body strength is indescribable. How did men get made this way? I'm positive that I could not fit into this man's jeans, yet I felt he could snap my collarbone in 17 places in no time flat. It hurt.<br />
<br />
Today, B suggested we go to foot spa. The full body rub down. I was worried I'd relive a pseudo homicide by a woman-hating maniac. To my surprise, I was given a female masseuse. <br />
<br />
Completely different experience. She was like a butterfly, so gentle and soft. It was nurturing, yet firm. Only the way a woman can do it. I never had to squint my eyes in pain, breathe through my mouth, or make that embarrassing involuntary grunt. Besides the old man in the corner moaning, "Oh yeah. Oh yeah," it was a delightful experience.<br />
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So I am officially announcing that I am a massage lesbian. And I am proud of that. Female massage therapists are the new OBGYNs. They used to be preferred, but now they're a necessity.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-28944863335184073002011-11-20T09:14:00.001-08:002011-11-20T23:05:30.483-08:00Manners MatterDear God, or Universe, or Creator, or WHATEVER YOU WANT TO BE CALLED!!!!<br />
<br />
I don't ask for much. I really don't. I live a humble(ish) life, I put forth a great effort to treat those that deserve it with respect, and kids love me. All I want is a DECENT MAN IN HIS 30s TO ASK ME OUT.<br />
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No more 20 year olds and certainly no more men in their 50s. I cannot. I just cannot. 30s PLEASE. JUST ONE. SO I CAN STOP BEING SO CYNICAL.<br />
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And cynical I am. Always have been, really. Even as a child I remember my mother saying, "You're too young to be so cynical." I thought it gave me street cred. Now I just find it to be annoying.<br />
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Then last night, something magical happened. Turn up the fire, snuggle up with a cozy blanket, and let me tell you a story.<br />
<br />
Yesterday evening, I hung with my Israeli friend. We laugh a lot together and he's more cynical than I am. He reminded me that he thinks I will die alone, childless. I kind of agree with him.<br />
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I saunter back home, thinking I should get to bed and wake-up early for Cardio Barre. If I'm going to be alone forever, I should look fabulous.<br />
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I am greeted by my housemate, B, and his NEW boyfriend. Let's call him NYC. They were popping open a bottle of champagne. I complain because champagne is my kryptonite, and I promised myself I would get up early for Cardio Barre. NYC instantly calls me skinny. Falling in love...<br />
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THEN he tells me to wait and runs off for a small box, wrapped in silver paper, with a blue bow on top. A gift. For me. The lady of the manor. The gift: a bracelet<br />
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This is the way it's supposed to be. We call this act well-mannered. Taught correctly. Good parenting. I could go on and on. <br />
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Everyone reading this post: According to my Israeli friend, there is a very good chance that I will never reproduce. PLEASE teach YOUR children to be well-mannered like NYC. What a wonderful world this could be.Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6970649473007779181.post-55204940306592352612011-11-19T10:43:00.001-08:002011-11-19T10:45:58.081-08:00The Search is OverI just received this from a man who looks like <a href="http://www.celebrityworthlist.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Dolph-Lundgren-net-worth-now.png">this</a>:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="message-text" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #313131; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; font: inherit; line-height: 1.7em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">what a man would say to a woman like you<br /><br />if I was lost in the sky<br />With only one wing left to fly on<br />My wing would be you<br />If I were crawling from a wreck<br />With only a dim light to guide me<br />That light would be you<br />If I were forsaken by the gods<br />And dropped into an island<br />You would be that island<br />If the only fragile step<br />On the path looked hopeless<br />I would go for that step<br />I've got a feeling I will be the one<br />Who will survive through all this pain<br />I'd die for you<br />Immortal<br />I have torn away a piece of the sky<br />That didn't seal out the eternal<br />I'd die for you<br />If words leave traces<br />I will tattoo my skin<br />With the words we haven't said<br />Nothing will wipe you out<br />I will guard against the pain<br />Even if that's all that remains<br />People will say with beautiful words<br />That nothing is worth anything<br />Still this nothing is all mine<br />What good would it do me<br />To find my destiny<br />If it doesn't lead to you?<br /><br />i'm french my name is Mo big kissss :)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="message-text" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #313131; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; font: inherit; line-height: 1.7em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #313131; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="message-text" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #313131; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; font: inherit; line-height: 1.7em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">FINALLY. I've found my Frenchman.</span></span>Reluctant Daterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03012867976005726022noreply@blogger.com0