To Ski or Not to Ski, Like It's Even a Question

I recently ended a relationship with someone after he displayed such a lack of understanding of my beloved sport of skiing, that I could not look him in the eye, let alone be seen in public with him.

We went to go night skiing together, me and his two kids. He claimed to be a skier, although one who hadn't gone in a few years.

He showed up with his own ski boots but could not get them on his feet. I suggested he rent boots because (to my untrained eye) CLEARLY his boots did not fit. Even after he sprayed WD-40 on his FEET (not kidding).

He proceeded to strip off his socks and try to stuff his bare feet into his undersized, cold boots. At this point he proclaimed our watching him was making it impossible to get his boots on and we should leave.

He tells me his 7 year old daughter is a good skier so I should take her up on the beginner slope when he continues to shove his feet in the boots.

I get her up on the slope only to discover she is terrified and shocked to have her parent send her up the scare-lift with a perfect stranger (my having only met her once before).

So ... ski patrol finally comes over and helps us both down, as she is frozen in place. We meet her now-shod father at the bottom. It is about 5 degrees and he has no googles or hat.

I realize I am hoping no one I know sees me with this guy, with his sockless feet, frightened child and hatless head. I guess skiing is a non-negotiable rule in the dating game.

Cosmic Scream

I need to get a lot of work done today so I really need to get out a blog equivilent of a cosmic scream while also sharing the latest Dating Chronicles of the Damned.

So here goes. My "offline" efforts continue albeit with no greater success than the virtual kind.

My newest blog fan (and since this is an anonymous blog, let's call her "Voyeura" - ha! that's funny) recently suggested I try to hook up with an old boyfriend of hers who happens to work with me.

Now I have not talked to this guy for more than 5 minutes in the 5 years I've worked here. So imagine his surprise when I put gave him about 30 minutes of my full-on flirtatious best at the local watering hole apres-work. Said conversation ended when he said, "Heading home to my girlfriend now! Good night!"

Special note to Voyeura - please, only recommend former boyfriends who lack live in spouses and girlfriends, ok? Although I admire your spunk in suggesting I cut her brakelines.

I've also continued to waste my time, excuse me, date, another local guy, or as I like to call him, Mr. Like-Nailing-Jello-to-a-Wall. We went out a few times last week but the fun ended Saturday night when he left the bar we were at together WITHOUT TELLING ME.

Yes, it's true, Mr. Can't-Get-Out-of-His-Own-Way said "I'm just going to get another beer" and proceeded to LEAVE the building.

Those of you familiar with the bar at the ski area where I work can appreciate how small this place is and how desperate Mr. 50-Year-Old-Pathetic-Lothario must have been to depart my company in this manner.

But as my friend Cindy likes to say, I'm always game. Within 15 minutes of Mr. What-Was-I-Thinking burning rubber out of the parking lot, someone else asked me out to dinner for the evening. We had a blast. Sure, he lives in Arizona and was only in town for the weekend, but frankly, I think I have better long term prospects with that guy than what's-his-face. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Meanwhile, I am still talking to a few guys online. One has a ski house up by Jay Peak - quite possibly his sole date-able attribute. He was the one who got lost in the parking lot of the closed restaurant (see earlier post). Then there's the guy who offered to send me a photo of his toolbelt, this to a woman who would like nothing better than a man to shovel, sand and repair the house that is rapidly disappearing under northern New England's biggest winter snow pack EVER.

PHEW! I feel better now.

Back to the Future

OK, starting last fall I swore off online dating and decided I would rely on the tried-and-true barfly method of meeting men. The results have been mixed, as have been the drinks. 10 pounds and cirrhosis of the liver later, I am back in the saddle (so to speak) and trolling bulletin boards and dating websites again.

Much like a fisherman lives for that tug on the line, I "caught" two prospects last week and shockingly had both ask me out to dinner after an initial conversation. Neither seemed psychotic nor needy (apologies to "Cowboy", the third one who also asked me out who didn't pass this criteria) so I set a time and date to meet up with each.

Bachelor #1 suggested a restaurant mid-way between us that ended up being closed on Mondays. We talked over the weekend and decided we would instead meet at a restaurant that was actually OPEN on the day we wanted to meet up. I never heard from him again so I went to a Pilates class instead Monday night. 25 Downward dogs, 10 planks and 15 triceps push-ups later, I checked my cell phone to discover he is sitting in the darkened parking lot of the closed restaurant, calling me to ask me where I am.

He calls 3 times, not leaving his phone number in any of his messages. I call the restaurant but no one answers because (yes) it is closed. So the IQ section of the test was not passed - but subsequent groveling and apologies by email since then may make me reconsider depending on how it goes with Bachelor #2.

#2 unfortunately lives 90 miles away - we were to meet up tonight but a pesky ice storm made me cancel. A year ago I drove through a blizzard to meet with someone who also lived in the hinterlands - refer to earlier post for details. And I don't want to risk my 1998 Subaru for what is at best a 50/50 proposition.

Tomorrow night is Local Yokel night at the ski area where I work. Boston's Tip O'Neill once claimed all politics is local -- if he were single and alive today, he might say the same thing about finding a date.

New Year's Resolutions for 2008

Happy New Year! I don't usually make resolutions but this year will be an exception. Yes, 2008 is going to be a "loser-free" zone for me. I think but simply not answering my phone or responding to email I should be able to (almost) completely elminate exposure to the pantheon of losers I've endured in 2007. Of course I will also need to avoid the Red Parka at last call, but that goes without saying. In the spirit of aversion therapy, I will now enumerate, in reverse chronological order, the 2007 Parade of the Pathetic:

January
Richard from Portsmouth, had a nipple fetish (his, not mine)

February
Erik from Bridgeton, lived in an unheated cottage on a lake. The fumes from the kerosene space heater were a real turn-on.

March
This is bad - I forget his name but he was a lawyer from western MA. Drove through a storm for brunch in Southern NH, never to be heard from again.

April
David from Moultonboro - Nice, nice guy but absolutely no chemistry. My 10 year old could take him in a fight - had the body mass of a scarecrow.

May
Mike from NH - what was I thinking.

June
Rich from Mass. - rare circumstance where the guy was better looking than his photo. But he still lives with his parents. And admittedly doesn't pay rent. He nixed ME! Ugh!

July
Grant from Mass. - met him at a party. Had my tequila glasses on. Heard from him recently - he is now living in his CAR.

August
Took the month off from losers and went on vacation in Lake Tahoe. With more time I'm sure I could've explored the depths of loser-dom on the west coast but I digress.

September
Another nameless wonder - he was a builder from the Boston area. Much shorter than me - wouldn't have been an issue except we went out for dinner at a restaurant with outdoor seating on a deck. They put him in a plastic chair and me on a bench which gave me the vantage of looking down at the top of his head for most of the evening. I'm sure he enjoyed looking up at my chin.

October
Local guy, lot of fun, total barfly and seemingly only spends his time at the office or at the local bar scene. Bottoms up! Discovered that wearing a cheap blond wig and a short dress to the Parka can result in any number of solicitations.

November
Al from NY, total sociopath. Nuff said.

December
Erik from Maine resurfaced and is busy reminding me why we broke it off last spring. I was also hit on by a drunk guy at the aforementioned Red Parka who literally fell out of his chair when talking to me. Guys don't fall for me, they fall around me.

So Happy New Year - wish me luck in '08!

The Breakup Thread

Recently #1 request from my blog readers (OK, the only request) was that I write a "dumping" thread explaining how all these great relationships ended. Here goes:

Marathon Man - One guy knew he was a goner almost before we started. On our second date he pleaded with me not to let him down until after he completed running the Boston Marathon in a few weeks. So of course I waited until 4 days before the big race and dumped him then. Talk about Heartbreak Hill. Sorry!

World's Oldest Co-Ed - One guy I just quit cold turkey after seeing his place. Grown men shouldn't live in studio apartments with milk crates and saw horses for furniture. It was like he never moved out of his college dorm room. Toga!

This Profile Blocked - After engaging me in a debate on my political point of view on a first date, this guy made me watch a Fleetwood Mac video on a DVD installed in his SUV's DASHBOARD. As I was scurrying down the driveway at the end of the date, he announced loudly that he didn't think we had any "chemistry." Then he blocked my user name from seeing his profile on the dating site we met on (like I was interested).

The "Fade" - I didn't realize this technique had a name until I asked a male friend for advice when someone wasn't returning phone calls. The Fade involves slowly cutting back on contact until it ends all together (aka - to fade out). Akin to boiling a frog slowly - by the time it realizes what has happened it's toast.

The Doctor - My very first online date was with a doctor - a real live MD. I was so fucking proud of myself. Until he started tapping his fingers on the table as I was finishing up my coffee towards the end of our dinner date. But he did call me back for a second date. A winter hike up Frankenstein Cliff in thigh-deep snow. There was no third date (see "The Fade" above).

OK, that's it for tonight. I had two dates this weekend so with any luck, I'll have more dumpings to describe in future posts!

Phototrocities

OK, my faithful readers (ok, reader) have asked me why no blogs lately. It was a combination of despair and apathy that has overtaken me for the last 10 months. But here goes.

One recent potential paramour described himself as "heavy set" in his ad could have been a body double for Jabba the Hutt. And to make matters worse, he emails me about 20 photos - only two of which feature him. The rest are photos from his Mexican vacation with his sister. One, he explains, you "can't really see him." It's because he is the size of a grain of rice going down what must be the largest water slide in Cancun. The Aztec ruins were more interesting.

Then there are the guys who, instead of sending photos of themselves alone, try to crop out their ex in a picture of the couple together. A bit of shapely arm or blonde hair below the black box covering her face always gives it away.

Few quick hits and misses from my online dating scene since my last post (all true):
* The guy that farted in public on a date.
* The guy that emailed me 80 megs of MP3 files after I told him I liked music ... and then quizzed me on which songs I liked best. It just about took down the server (sorry Andrea!). Oh, and he sent it from his DIAL UP connnection.
* The guy with the serious speech impediment.
* The guy I drove through a blizzard for our first date (I hate to cancel).
* And one more foot fetish guy.

I feel like I'm forgetting someone here - I'm sure I'll remember it later and come back for another post. Stay tuned!

I suppose it was inevitable ...

... that someone with a foot fetish would find me. I get an IM from a guy in ONTARIO.

Whenever someone in a different time zone checks in, you KNOW they are randomly contacting every one that can be found, looking for the one who shares that certain something. So a quick view of his profile reveals ... this:

"As any woman knows, women's shoes can be uncomfortable, especially high-heeled, pointy shoes. It isn't natural - its contrary to natural. The foot isn't natural and pointy. The very fact that its contrary to being natural makes it very alluring. The heel is everything as a series of anatomic changes occurs when a woman puts on a pair of high heeled shoes. Her calves are lifted, her back arches, her backside sticks out, and we all know that even the best high-heeled shoes are marginally unstable, so theres a certain swagger when a a woman walks in high-heels. All of this changes the entire posture of a woman walking, it just becomes so damm sexy."

Yeah.

So, wiggling my size tens, I ask him outright, "foot fetish, right?" He plays dumb. It's not a stretch.