The Dating Doughnut

After months of my self-imposed dating drought I broke down and accepted the offer of a lunch date with a guy from the coast of Maine a few weeks ago. Absurdly tall with good looks and blue eyes, he seems smart and has a good sense of humor. And tenacity.

My reluctance to re-enter dating made me react like a cat on the way to the vet. It doesn't know what's going to happen but it is unlikely to be pleasant. I cancelled our first lunch date because he didn't call the day before to confirm. The next one, I cut him back from lunch to a quick cup of coffee.

Now four dates later (yes, four, count them, four!) things are starting to roll. Like a top gaining speed, it's a little wobbly but I have reason to believe momentum will take over soon.

Over that first cup of coffee he explained his dating philosophy. "It's the dating doughnut," he said. Geographically speaking, don't date someone who lives in the same small town. That's the hole in the doughnut. "I understand COMPLETELY, " I comiserated. "And then there's a good 50 mile band, outward to 75 miles from your house. That's the doughnut." So I am on the outer ring of the doughnut from where he lives, but clearly in contention.

He has none of the deal breakers. He opens doors. Picks up the tab. Good job, financial security, all his teeth, full head of hair and seemingly a good attitude towards his ex. He seems genuinely nice and agreeable. Am I missing anything? Oh, he's a republican but I can't rule out 49% of the dating population, so we'll just have to agree to disagree on that one.

The dating doughnut - is he the hole or the dough? Only time will tell.

Yo, Douchebag!

This profile I found online was just too good not to share. Note the typos and abbreviated profanity. However he does share my distaste of including dog photos in profiles. He's got that going for him. And check out the photo. What is he doing with the sword?

"some advise for your profile most men dont like to read so keep your profile short and simple im not here to read a f-n book haha jk well maybe not [my sence of humor but its true]0.o' and please have a pic why tf would you be here with out a pic thats just creepy! I wont respond ,pls put a fn recent pic up and not one from 5 years ago or four pics and in each one you look differnt lol thats funny and even more funny is seeing pics of there pets lol Im not here to date your Dog haha im not hating I just think its funny 8)"

OK, and now I'm worried. Is some loser posting MY photo and MY profile, making his dirtbag friends laugh? Where's my sword?

Endless Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Thanks to the wonder that is the Internet, I recently reconnected with my high school band-mate and former love interest Steve. When I was 17, I thought he was the cat's meow.

Through Linkedin, I came across his profile.He still lives within 10 miles of his childhood home. I always knew he was out there, thanks to mutual friends, but after 25 years, I figured it was time to get back in touch.
The first time we spoke by phone we spent an hour talking. I promised the next time I was in Boston I would call. So that day came yesterday and we met up for drinks at a martini bar. "Martinis"? he mocked me, "who are you, Thurston Howell the Third?" "Don't worry, I'm sure they 'll have whatever swill you usually drink," I replied.

Let me cut to the chase and tell you he is married and this was not a date. He walked into the bar and recognized me immediately. "You haven't changed a bit," he said. He was still recognizable but I can't say he hadn't changed. He had gone gray. And at least partially bald. And either I got taller or he shrunk. Either that or I liked him so much I overlooked (ha!) the height difference.

He showed me a photo of his 15 year old son who looked remarkably like the photo you see above. That makes sense since Steve is about 18 in this shot.

We had a lot of fun as teenagers. But I blame him for about 50% of my neurosis with men. He was the classic "come here/go away" kind of guy. He slept with me and then never called me back. He broke my heart and didn't care. He took up with one of my girlfriends. He took me for granted and when I met my future husband I moved in with him almost immediately, although I really wished I could just get another chance with Steve.
So last night, after a few drinks, I took the opportunity to tell him something to that effect. But it was like scolding a cartoon character. He was barely real. I told him how much I had lusted after him back in high school and how disappointed I was that he never really reciprocated. "I didn't have anything for anyone at that stage of my life," he shared. "I'm sorry."

He's been married for 18 years. He has a son and a wife and plays in a band on weekends. He's still very funny. And short. We talked for hours. It was like 1982 again. He was an intimate stranger. I don't know him yet I knoww the color of his mother's kitchen chairs from 25 years ago (bright yellow). I know his favorite song from high school and what kind of guitar amp he owned then. He remembers all my siblings' names and the dress I wore to graduation.

It was like "Endless Sunshine of a Spotless Mind." He told me stories I didn't really remember. "Remember the time I took you out for your birthday with your mother and father? I gave you flowers. We went out to Pier 4 in Boston. I bought you a lobster. You looked like Holly Hobby on blotter acid." I don't remember but he promises me he has photos and will send them to me. I think it's a planted memory. I have no recollection of his ever meeting my parents, let alone going out to dinner with us. I was never in a legitimate relationship with him. Sound familiar PAL?
He has sent me about 20 emails and text messages since I drove home after our dinner last night. How can he not be thinking what might have been. Via email, he asked if I remember a Grateful Dead concert we went to at the Hartford Civic Center circa 1984. "I remember, I said, " because we drove home after the show, about 3 hours, and stayed at your parents house. No one was home. You had me sleep in your little sister's room. I was crushed that you didn't want to sleep with me."

His memory is different. An older sibling was home. She interfered. She ruined our plans. It doesn't matter. The damage is done. The guy I had a crush on didn't want me. 25 years later, I'm still trying to figure out why.

Please Select Your Search Criteria

The sun is shining. Winter is over. Spring has sprung. And I've decided to emerge from my cave and poke my nose back out into the wonderful wibbly world of dating once again after a looong hiatus. I went back to my long abandoned online dating profiles.

I have decided to be MUCH more selective in who I will give my time to, even for a phone call let alone a first date. And since you can select who you want to contact you (or who you want to search out as well), I set some of that criteria higher as well. However, I'd like to propose that these sites add this search criteria because it would save us ladies a LOT of effort:

No photos of dogs -If your dog is the best thing about you, you are not my man.

No photos of guys on ATVs or Snowmobiles -It's just not going to work. I just saw one profile with two photos - one of his ATV and one of his dog. BZZZZZZZZZZT.

Family photos - I love kids and family but if you don't have a single good photo of yourself or if you are using your kids to gain sympathy, I'm not buying it.

IQ Range - why don't they offer this? It would save me so much time.

Country Music Fan - If they can't ask for IQ, this might do the trick.

Beard and Moustache - I swear, every guy my age looks the same.  Salt and pepper beard and moustache and balding head. Not truly a deal breaker but guys with just a mustache - yeah, that should be a screening device right there. Handlebar moustaches (yes, just saw one) - they should be shot and just taken right out of the gene pool.

Hot or Not - A "hot or not" filter should be applied as well to all photos.

Now for my profile. I updated it with all photos of me with my guitar. I should just make it clear what I do with my free time. I need to get more photos of me without my glasses as I have found this to be a recent advantage for me, looks-wise.

Rather than come up with my own text, I appropriated lyrics from Bonnie Raitt, because frankly, this says it all:

The men that I've been seeing, baby


Got their soul up on a shelf

you know they could never love me

When they can't even love themselves
But I need someone to love me

Someone to really understand

Who won't put himself above me

Who’ll just love me like a man

I never seen such losers darlin’

even though I try…

…to find a mind who can take me home

’stead of taking me for a ride

And I need someone to love me

I know you can

Believe me when I tell you

you can love me like a man
Oh they want me to rock them

like my back ain't got no bone

I want a man to rock me

like my… backbone was his own

baby, I know you can

Believe me when I tell you

You can love me like a man
I Come home sad and lonely

Feel like I wanna cry

I need someone to hold me

Not some fool to ask me why
And I need someone to love me

Darlin’ I know you can
Don't you put yourself above me

You just love me like a man
 
 
So wish me luck -this will be my third summer single. Every summer, I say THIS is the summer I won't be single. I imagine day trips to the beach. Nights around the swimming pool. Romantic evenings at waterfront restaurants.  But the way things are going, I'll take a clean-shaven man in a car wihtout a dog.

Christmas with a Stranger

I'm sorry I've gone almost 2 mos. now without a post. I don't know if that means I'm a recovered dater or if I've just given up. Take your pick.

A few updates. For one, I have taken one of my favorite blog postings, the one about Machine Gun Man, and submitted it for a North Country version of the Vagina Monologues put on by the local theatre company. It's been accepted and will be performed Valentine Day's weekend. Of course. I was given the option of auditioning for the part as well, but I didn't want to hog all the talent in the Valley so I declined. Besides, Rita Marino deserves to keep sole rights to triple threat (dancing/singing/acting). Although anyone who has seen me dance knows this is not really an issue. I guess I'd substitute writing for dancing and kick Rita's ass.

I've spent much of the last two months trying to convince myself that I'm attracted to Mr. Clean. He has been trying **so** hard, as have I. I've gone on arduous hikes to impress him. He's hung out at countless Hoot Nights to show his interest. He even endured a snow boarding lesson which went not as well as hoped. He went in enthusiastic and came out humble. "I spent all day on my ass. I think I broke my hip," he whimpered as we drove back to civilization. All this, yet not a single zing of chemistry. He is not nearly quirky, damaged or creative enough to win my affection. He is off with his family for the holiday week. He doesn't know it yet, but he is toast.

I'm already on to my next victim. I sat next to the newscaster from the local radio station at a media event I organized last weekend. "Did you know the 7-11 is open on Christmas Day?," he asked. "What sort of putz has to work on Christmas?"

"I'm working Christmas Day," I shared, "So that would be me."

He recovered quickly and suggested we get together for dinner at the 7-11 when I get out of work. "You know that hot dog that spins around for 12 hours on the grill? We can split that," he suggested.

Since then he scouted every option for Christmas Day dinner and finally suggested a restaurant that, unbeknown to him, is my favorite in the region. He picks me up at 4pm tomorrow after work. "Maybe we can find a place for a sleigh ride after," he promised.

I barely know this guy, other than recognizing his voice as the one I hear on the radio every morning driving in to work. He doesn't like to hike and admittedly will not try skiing. He has to be at work at 4am so he does not go out at night. But so far, he gets an A+ for humor and persistence. He may not have a ripped physique, but he has impossibly made me look forward to Christmas tomorrow.

Dog Daze

I saw something amazing on an online dating site last night. I got a message that I had received a note from an interested prospect. So I logged in and found a nice note from someone who lives fairly locally. His profile picture was not bad. Then I dug into his photo gallery and found pictures of his dog.

But not just his dog - his dog with puppies!

Oh, cute little puppies! But wait, what IS that? What is THAT photo? Oh, it is the dog giving birth to puppies. IT IS THE DOG'S PLACENTA!

Yes, this man posted photos of his dog's afterbirth as part of his online dating profile.

It is always nice to understand a person's interests and activities. And photos are a good way as they say, they are worth a thousand words. But this? Are you serious? Is this an activity you want to partake of with your date? Do you have a dog fetish? Did you forget where you were uploading these photos?

So yeah - I deleted his note.

Meanwhile, things are chugging along nicely with Mr. Clean, as I now have named my new potential paramour. He doesn't have the earring but he is bald, wears tight tee shirts and has muscular arms. And he cleaned up after he made dinner for us last week.

90 Days

I recently responded to an ad on Craigslist - something I haven't done in close to a year. But since there are so few eligible bachelors here in my little town, when you find some advertising, it can be worth a little investigating. He's a computer programmer, fresh from the city, now telecommuting. A snappy dresser and martial arts expert with a shaved head, he definitely is not the typical north country guy. Which is fine by me.

 

So we met for dinner Monday night. Then drinks and music on Tuesday. Then dinner at his place Wednesday (he's a good cook), followed by going out for more drinks and music after. Three nights in a  row - a record! And this from someone whose ad stated he wasn't interested in anything long term or serious. He is new in town and wants someone to show him around.

 

I confessed last night that in my four years of dating, I have never made it beyond three months with anyone. "I've never made it past 90 days either!" he shared.

 

"Maybe we'll be like a double negative," I added. 

 

As I was getting into my car last night, he asked what we were going to do the next night. Four in a row? I initially said yes but later begged off due to work commitments. 

 

Only 87 days to go!