Year: 2005 (Page 2 of 3)

Ok. Rewind to blogger meeting last Wednesday. It wasn’t just a kiss. Well, it was, but now we had a date today. There have been phone calls and some really hilarious text messages. Past performance in dating does not guarantee future results in dating. I shouldn’t have been so quick to say “I swapped spit with someone” so casually because this is gaining some momentum. The kiss was good. But, I want more. I want to do very bad things to him as he is incredibly good looking, free-spirited and funny. So funny. I look at him and instantly have dirty thoughts. Now would be a good time to remind one and all of my secret wish to be a stripper. In the spirit of revealing myself, I toss to you, symbolically of course, my bra and panties.

It was the bartender.

I foresee bad things as blogger meetings progress. Why am I crapping where I eat again? This is the stupidity equivalent to my dating the motorcycle instructor before the test, to my dating my R.A. in college and having to pass his door when I was sneaking home with someone else, to my dating the construction manager at a job in Maryland and putting myself in a massively awkward position in many capacities. I am dating the bartender at a venue that I will not be able to avoid in the future. I’m an idiot.

But, these are things I wasn’t thinking about when we were walking around the zoo today, eating on U street, or rolling around on my couch.

Obviously, he knows about and already read the blog, because well, he’s the bartender at a place that hosts the blogger meetings. I will continue to follow my tradition of not censoring myself. It just means that he can read everything that is written about him – or anyone else for that fact. And I’m okay with that right now.

Since the big drive out to Michigan and back, I’ve had a lot of “deep thoughts” that occured to me both on my drive and while at my brother’s house. These thoughts are related to, of course, dating and relationships and why I am still single.

First and foremost, while I understand that relationships and ultimately marriage are about compromise, I don’t feel that I’m ready to make basic compromises in what I want or to lower my standards in any way. What I mean is that, I know who “he” is. I know everything about him. I just haven’t met him yet. But when I do, I will know after an hour. Similarly, I will know if he’s not right after a few minutes. As I stated earlier, my benchmark and the man who came closest to perfection brought my dating and to a new level and set a whole new standard for men who I want in my life. The only issue with him was that while he set a new standard, he didn’t really see inside my soul.

I reconsidered for a couple minutes what happened with MotorcycleInstructor. I initially said to a friend, “Had he just told me that he had a kid, I would have been fine with it. It wasn’t like he had a dozen kids with a bunch of different mothers.” But now in rethinking that, I say no. NO. I will not lower my standards. I do not want someone else’s kids in my life, and dating a man whether he has one or more children ensures me one thing – I will never be number one in his life. And I deserve that, if only for a fleeting time.

Expanding on “knowing who he is,” I would like to make one point. In none of these “perfect men” scenarios I play out in my head do I foresee wanting to stay with someone forever. In the beginning of any flirtation/dating, the man is always interesting to me. But he usually loses that interesting quality, sometimes in minutes, sometimes in months, and then I lose interest myself. And how could I possibly know that I would want to be with the same person in 30 years? People who want to be married and have kids, who view that as the “ultimate goal” are an anomaly to me. I cannot understand how anyone could want something they have never had and have no first hand knowledge of. Put another, simplier way, imagine you never ate a piece of chocolate. Could you then crave chocolate, seeking it as the be-all-end-all sweet? Could you really even know what you are missing? That’s how I feel about marriage. But many women still say dreamily that all they want is the “fairy tale.” How can they really know that? Are people just wanting something because they have created the fairy tale version in their head – a version that mirrors reality only a little.

At times, it might seem like I’m tearing through the men at an unreasonably quick pace. But, dating is a numbers game and don’t let anyone tell you anything different. The more men I meet and date, the better my chances at finding someone worthy. My boss, with another of his Land Acquisition mottos says, “Make it a goal to find one new deal a week. Some work, some don’t. But this way you ensure an overall, long term success.” This applies to dating as well. If I met/dated one new man a week, after a year I would have had mostly insignificant encounters. But, I would also have had some pretty significant men enter (and possibly stay in) my life. It’s something to think about, and it’s my reasoning for this madness with the internet, going out, and generally being open to any sort of encounter no matter how irrelevant it seems.

All right. D.C. MUST have missed me because it’s been 24 hours that I’ve been back and I’ve had some seriously funny shit happen to me.

On my way home from a meeting in Baltimore, I was checking voicemail. The car dealership called me to schedule my service since the parts were in. I committed the number to memory and went to dial right away. Apparently it was wrong because I hear “This is Eric.” I said, “Oh, this isn’t what I thought it was.” He said, “What?” I said, “Sorry, wrong number, I thought I was calling my car service shop.” Then it plays out like this:

Eric: “Well, you want me to look up their number?”
Velvet: “No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. Sorry for bothering you Eric.”
Eric: “How did you know my name?”
Velvet: “Because you said ‘This is Eric’ when you answered. Try to keep up, okay?”
Eric: “You are too funny. What kind of car do you have?”
Velvet: “A (we don’t need to go here, do we, Velvet likes to be anon.)”
Eric: “Ooh, I’ll take that.”
Velvet: “It’s a piece of crap Eric, you know I was trying to call the dealer to get it fixed but you answered the phone instead of them.”
Eric: “Right, let me get that number for you.”
(Eric gives me the number.)
Velvet: “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”
Eric: “So what are you doing?”
Velvet: “Driving home from a meeting in Baltimore.”
Eric: “What kind of work do you do?”
Velvet: “I work for a builder.”
Eric: “I’m a developer. Wow. I don’t believe in coincidences. This is weird.”
Velvet: “Neither do I! Is your favorite book the Celestine Prophecy too?”
Eric: “Nope, It used to be. Now I like the Bible.”
Velvet: “Oh Christ, we can never date Eric. I’m an atheist.”
Eric: “Oh. Well, want to get a cup of coffee anyway?”
Velvet: “What? Is this really happening? Am I getting a date out of a wrong number?”
Eric: “Not a date per se, but I’m curious. This sort of thing doesn’t happen.”

Ok, I was on the phone with Eric for 18 minutes. Why is my life this crazy? It is so funny that I’ve really concentrated on opening myself up to all sorts of things and instead of saying “Wrong number” and hanging up, I’ve now met someone who wants to meet for coffee.

Even funnier is that tonight was the Blogger meetup in Adam’s Morgan. I cringe to tell you all this since most of you will know EXACTLY who I am talking about as I tell this story. I got there at 7:00, but no one was there. (Damn you Kristin!) I decided to go home and walk my dogs. I went back up there at 8:30 and sat at the bar talking with non-bloggers. I didn’t know any of the bloggers who arrived, and I was feeling lazy so I just stayed at the bar. The bloggers were outside on the patio. I don’t really know that this story needs details. Let’s just say that I swapped spit with someone there. So, HA HA! That will teach all of you to not show up again.

Laughing my ASS off over here…

Oh, my precious blog. It’s been WAY too long. Blast that dial up connection at my brother’s. Well, I’m BAAAACK. Where shall I start?

Early this morning when I left the mitten state of Michigan, I decided, very consciously, that I wanted to get back to D.C. very quickly and it was worth the chance to drive 90 to get home, even if I got a ticket. I had a vision that no cop could give me a ticket with two cute dogs in the car. So, 90 it was – all the way through Michigan into Ohio and right on to the Ohio Turnpike. Lucky for me I was really only doing 85 when I flew over the hill right by the cop.

Now, before I unfold this drama for you, let me say that Velvet has “never” gotten a ticket after being pulled over. Somehow, it just never happens that I get the dreaded ticket, except for that one time I didn’t try very hard up near Niagara Falls. And I have to give that dude credit, it was cold and I would have been pissed too if I had to get out of my toasty cruiser for some stupid girl speeding in the snow. So, I probably would have given me a ticket too.

I got pulled over in Baltimore about four years ago and played “stupid girl new to town” and got out of it. Nevermind that “new to town” came from that fact that I drove around with Connecticut plates for 7 years after I actually left that state. Then last year I was pulled over with Penny when we were driving to go get Thora from Georgia. Actually, Penny was driving and we were falling asleep. Cop says, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Penny said, “No sir.” Cop says, (classic line coming:) “Because you almost hit me.” Hey man, we drove all night. We were tired. Anyway, he asked what we were doing driving to Georgia with (again) Connecticut plates and Maryland Driver’s Licenses and I went into some tantrum about my ex and our dog running away and me having to rescue her and he figured that was such a ridiculous story that who the hell could have made it up. He let us go.

Ok, so back to this morning on the Ohio Turnpike. I get pulled over. He comes over to the passenger side, and who else but SuperDogs (loves of my life) jump to the window to greet him. It goes like this:

Cop: “Will they bite?”
Velvet: “Only if I get a really expensive ticket.”
Cop: (laughs as he pets Sammy’s head.) “Have you ever been pulled over on the Ohio Turnpike before?”
Velvet: “No. Is this where you tell me I get hauled downtown?”
Cop: (laughing again) “No no. Heading back to D.C. tonight?”
Velvet: “Yes.”
Cop: “Where were you?”
Velvet: “Michigan. My brother and his wife had a baby so I went to visit.”
Cop: “That’s nice. Why didn’t you fly?”
Velvet: “Because the doggies don’t have any grass to run on in D.C. and I felt guilty for that, so I brought them so they could have some fun.”
Cop: “That’s great. Well, as long as you check out that you haven’t been pulled over in Ohio before, I will let you off with a warning.”

And there you have it ladies and gents. I don’t know my secrets, it’s like when I go somewhere and I get Doris Day/superstar/rockstar parking right in front. I can’t explain it. I probably shouldn’t talk about it, but I’ve been lucky. I owe it today to SuperDogs though.

It’s my feeling that if you at least try to talk to the cop and somehow bring something personal into it, they will give you a break. Of course it depends on the cop and how cute he may think I am, but I still think that giving up a little personal information can’t hurt. Sometimes just saying, “I’m sorry, I know I messed up, but I was daydreaming” is all it takes.

On to the closure of old news: MotorcycleInstructor. This is the last of him you will hear, because it’s the end, the finale, the closure.

I had this vision while driving to Michigan that he was going to call and want to “talk.” And I was going to let him come over to talk, even buzz him into my building, but then when he was banging on my door and calling my cell asking why I wasn’t answering, I was going to say, “Huh. I don’t hear you. Could that be because I’M IN MICHIGAN??” It was funny in my head. Would have been funnier in person. But that was not to be. Instead, he left me a somewhat desperate sounding voicemail that he needed to “explain.” Fine. I’m willing to hear it.

Willing. But not ready. He’s got a 13 year old son he’s been freaking harboring like Osama Bin Ladin at his house because he didn’t know how I would react. I told him he could have at least given me the benefit of the doubt. He said that he didn’t know what to do, and realized that I was on to something being not quite right. Duh, you think? Is this not the MOST ridiculous ending to this story? I can’t even believe how lame this was. I was hoping for something better. I really wish I could make a soundcard of his voicemail and post it on here. You would have thought someone died.

I’ve spent the last week lining up some men from Yahoo. I’m going to start sinking my teeth into these guys and see where it takes me. I shall be back daily, with news.

It’s so strange – I’m sitting here in the guest bedroom at my brother and sister-in-law’s house in Grand Rapids, wondering how they ended up here with a life in the ‘burbs and a baby. It’s just strange to me to think that my two brothers and I grew up in the same house for so many years, now we have such incredibly different lives. My older brother’s life is filled with mowing the grass and tending to a baby that never stops crying; mine is about drinking, dating, going to the gym and reading fashion magazines. It just makes me question how we end up like this. But, it makes me miss the noisy, rat infested neighborhood that I left behind.

Well, it’s not all bad. I’ve been somewhat rewarded. I logged into my personals account to see what has been going on and there are a handful of extremely good-looking men who have been writing to me over the past few days. I’m shocked that Jim-Bob Yeehaw and Dominant Dave Seeking Sex Slave have finally fallen by the wayside.

Ok, off to play with the baby.

What is wrong with these online daters? I have yet another man who is looking for a submissive sex slave. Here’s what he has to say:

• It all begins with trust and trus needs to be developed – it doesn’t come instantly. Once there is a connection, a bond, we can explore. I seek a certain type – tell Me if this is indeed you: you lose your grip on the world around you… as it loses focus, you only are aware of My Aura… I become your universe and your anticipation grows… your desire – your need to submit to One, to be owned and taken by Another, to surrender to His power and the ecstasy that it brings – this consumes you… contact Me and we will begin the journey… I have had a fair range of comments since posting this. If you wish to explore a Dominant – submissive relationship, we may be compatible. Should we connect, the possibilities are endless…

This is the third message like this that I’ve received. Of course, they NEVER post a picture so you can’t even see what freak boy looks like.

I’m on my way to Michigan to see the cutest baby in the world, so I’m not sure what the posting activity will be like. I have a few very potential dates on Yahoo, but since I’m out of town again, well, it seems like all that will have to go on to the back burner. Yes, it’s an important lesson we need to establish here: Family comes first.

Besides, after the one/two punch on bumping into an old flame I just can’t risk that the Old Celestine Prophecy theory will manifest itself in my life: When you keep bumping into someone who you haven’t seen in a while, it is because they have some sort of “message” for you, something that you need to know and if you don’t fully explore the reason why the chance encounter occured, you are playing with fate. I can’t believe that I read that book 10 years ago and it still affects my life. I was going to link to their website but it looks like a bunch of cult crap.

Well, I’m off. I’ll try to pick up a truck driver or some other boy so that I have something to write about tomorrow. Don’t worry, I will do my best to not let you down.

It was a good run. It was really only a matter of time. I just didn’t expect it to happen twice in one weekend.

Friday night I went to the gym before I was to pick up my friend from the airport for her weekend visit. So I walk in to the gym and who do I see but the one that got away. Or something like that. I adored this man so much that I was practically tongue tied when he called or when we dated. How annoying and how unlike me. And he never knew…at least I don’t think he was suspicious. I never called him, I never initiated any dates, never seemed more than “casually cool.” Last winter, our dating and such seemed to pick up speed and intensity (he wanted me to join him in Miami for a weekend, was the first to email me when I was in Italy, came to get my drunken ass at BestGuyFriend-M’s New Year’s Party) but it died off in January. I suspect he got back with an old girlfriend, but we never had a final conversation about it. Let me make it perfectly clear how I felt (and still feel) about him. This is the first and only man who I have ever felt I could marry and never ever look back and wonder if there is anything better out there.

So there he is, on the elliptical across from me and facing the other way. And there I am, sneaking peeks at how much time he has left in the workout so I can dodge him until he leaves. Yes everyone, yours truly, Velvet the superdater, was hiding behind weight stacks and cardio machines to avoid him. Success! He left the gym and I watched from the window as he walked across the street, back to his condo. I am really psycho.

It was great to see my friend and have a weekend alone with her to shop and drink and talk about the old days when, well, I was a dedicated girlfriend to AtlantaBoy and she was a not-so-dedicated girlfriend to her bevy of boyfriends. Sunday, we were in Georgetown shopping, and we had parked right on M Street. We got in the car around 5:00 to leave and I’m trying to make a right on Wisconsin and this guy jumps off the sidewalk and right in front of my car to get around the mass of people. It’s the dude from the gym. Christ. What have I done to deserve this? Of course he sees me, I drive a one-of-a-kind-color type of car. So I wave and he comes up to the car. My friend got to meet him which was so funny for her to actually meet him after all that time of hearing the stories. We had an awkward conversation for a couple of minutes where he asked me about my new place and that was all. Then we said goodbye and I drove off. Damn. Damn Damn Damn.

BestGuyFriend-M met us for dinner and he said that it was fate. If I had just dealt with seeing him at the gym, it would have been fine. But noooooooo, I had to tempt fate and end up practically running him over. For the record, that would have been fine by me. Then I could stop comparing every man I meet to him.

First, a plea for your help. Does anyone know anything about animals and secondhand drug use? It sounds ridiculous, I know, but my poor Thora is a mess. “Friends” told me that my ex used to do drugs with her in the room with the door closed and to me now, she is a different dog. These “Friends” told me that she never had any food or water and this went on for almost a year until I got her back. I’m having numerous behavioral issues with her that were not present when she was a puppy or when I was in her life the first time. Something has happened to this dog and I don’t know how to help her. I’ve literally gone to the ends of the earth for her – the ends of the earth being a middle of the night rescue from Macon, Georgia. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Now, ladies, try to contain yourselves as Bachelor Number 2 loads onto your screen. Try not to make any audible noises or everyone will know you aren’t doing any work.

I’m not sure how much more of this I am supposed to endure.

Has anyone ever used Yahoo Personals? Have you seen the things they call “word verification?” I know word verification is for “my” protection and what not, but half the time you get it bounced back to you that you guessed wrong. They are virtually impossible to figure out. And every decent man who is emailing me is complaining about them too. I didn’t realize I needed a CIA Code Breaker to help me date, but, this is D.C. and, well, I guess it was only a matter of time.

Le Sigh. In lieu of any real comfort in my life, I did what most women do when they are in peril. I shopped. I shopped my little arse off, and then some. You all should thank me, however, because I singlehandedly propped up our economy for another day. When the housing bubble busts and gas hits $7 a gallon, don’t come crying to Velvet because it was VELVET who cleaned the racks at TJ Maxx, Filene’s Basement, Marshalls, Kramer Books, Barnes & Noble, Petco, and Saks Fifth Avenue.

Now, hit that comment button and tell me what to do about sad, depressed Thora, who is now sleeping in the bathtub. Thanks.

Online dating contines to be a fruitful way to meet quality men.

I know I said I wouldn’t post anyone’s pictures, but, well, that one just takes the cake. He is wearing the colors of my college, orange and green, maybe that counts for something.

An old boyfriend of mine is now reading the blog and thinks it’s uncool that I’m posting things about these men up here. However, my response was that if these men are going to be jerks, and treat me poorly, then they deserve to be up here, for all the world to see. Well, maybe not all the world.

You all may have been wondering in the past few days (in which I seem to have disbanded my normally quasi-classy PG-rated posts to pontificate about porn, masturbation, brazilian waxes and such,) exactly what happened to that asshole we all know and hate known as MotorcycleInstructor. Well, it isn’t pretty. And, it’s over, again.

All last week he was in boyfriend mode, calling every hour, checking in, finding out what I was up to. The last I heard from him was Friday at 3. I didn’t realize this until Saturday night around 9, and then I found myself thinking “Where’s that little gnat I couldn’t get off my back this week?” So I sent a text message that says, “See how you call all week and disappear on the weekend?” He writes back, “No.” What a way with words. So I try to call, it goes to voicemail. I write back, “What no? Pick up your damn phone.” And he says, “I’m in Virginia, on my way back now.” And that’s all folks. There has been no contact since then.

He probably can’t understand why I would want something called consistency, and I can’t understand how he can continue to be so flaky. So, here it is. The uneventful, boring end to another “relationship.” See, I told you all that if I allowed myself to get annoyed enough that it would be easy when the end got here. And it has.

Today we are going to discuss internet dating. I have received quite a few responses to my profile. If you don’t want to read the comedy that follows, scroll to the bottom for my final conclusions.

Let me put the disclaimer on here that I assure you I am making none of these up. They are directly copied and pasted from my inbox. Let’s take a closer look, a la David Letterman format, the top 10 list. Gotta save the best for last.

10) Received a nice message from some giant man who lives in Columbia, about an hour from here. The title of his profile? “Prince of Coitus.” What is wrong with these people?

9) The next guy seems very nice, and the rest of his email is somewhat well written with no spelling errors. But, he’s 52. Here’s how he addresses that.

• I am a few years past the age indicated in your profile. But I still like to meet you…please,.just a coffee, may be a drink, and may be, and just may be, a short trip to Paris..!!!!

“a few years past??” I’m 32. I’ll date up to 42. Since when is 10 years past my age range only “a few.” Christ. Is my title “Looking to fill role of Child Bride?”

8) This guy looks normal in his pictures. Ugly, but normal. (At this point, Ugly Is The New Normal.) But in his message to me, he wrote this:

• I’m singing in a choir that’s become a lot of fun…it lets me make music on a regular basis & has become a weekly excuse for socialization with a few friends of mine and I (dinner before rehearsal, then the carpool back again).

Choir? CHOIR??? Carpool? I’m imagining one of those church vans taking a bunch of ugly men back to sing and do whatever it is those church-folk do.

7) Here’s yet another winner from profile entitled “HUH HMMM R U GONNA BE MY GIRL :)” That stupid title matches the stupid look on his face. I want so badly to post his picture.

• HI GIRLS,WELL LOOKING FORWARD TO CRUZZING AROUND HERE A BIT LOOKING FOR MY SMART ,BEAUTIFUL,CURVY,SEXY,SENSUAL,GOD FEARING LIFE TIME PARTNER IN LOVE.PLEASE KEEP YOUR EYE,S OPEN FOR ME ,I,D HATE TO THINK WE PASSED EACH OTHER LIKE SHIP,S IN THE NIGHT.WOW I CAN,T BELEIVE I JUST SAID THAT ? OK, ABOUT ME I,M A REAL GOOD LOVING ,UNDERSTANDING, COMPASSIATE, GENTILE, GIVING WHERE NEEDED WHEN I CAN KIND A MAN. I AM A TRUE ROMANIC IN EVERY SINCE OF THE WORD. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A 1 WOMAN MAN. I,M NOT NOW NOR WAS I EVER A PLAYER, MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME MUCH BETTER THAN THAT. A PLAYER IS JUST ANOTHER FORM OF SIDISTIC BEHAVIOR IN MY OPION. I AM VERY GOOD WITH MY WOMAN AND WE JUST ADORE EACH OTHER COMPLETLY 🙂 HMMMMMMM…………… THE THINGS WE DO TOGETHER,OH SO SWEET 🙂 WELL I’M CERTAINLY HOPING 1 OF YOU UPSTANDING BEAUTIFUL FINE WOMEN WILL LOOK ME UP 🙂 :)SINCERELY YOUR,S JIMMY, 🙂 PLEASE GO IN PEACE 🙂

Note spelling errors and use of comma instead of apostrophe. How about “I am very good with my woman and we just adore each other completely” ??? Does that mean you have a woman? Because you imply that you have one who adores you already. She must be blind. And stupid. And the ships in the night comment, where did that come from? As The World Turns?

6) An “Icebreaker” as they call them, from this guy. All he said to me was “Hey how are you?” But, let’s look at his profile.

• ask me………..this is only on a one to one basis. ok ok……..they want more. i dont like this. you are going to have to take a chance. this is not like anything either one of us can imagine. not an exageration. think of your independent thinker, a chance taker, a traveler of the stars and mountains and the rippled sidewalk waves; chance meeting in a bookstore or out of the way yak trail. haha. def a sense of humor. totally irreverent. you? mmmmm……..i had a dream about you last nite. immediate clicking and tete a tete in a cafe, coffeehouse and that closness of spirits. oh its rare…both a platonic and non-platonic realm. I had another dream. NO its none of those kind. These are positive. But more about that later. Have you ever had that perfect friendship? Is your first instinct to when you meet someone, to learn more about them, or to talk about yourself? Many cosmic aspects. This is more of a living document here, doesnt it seem? (of course, successful, professional, artistic, patient and compassionate, but human and positively vulnerable, yet insatiable for your soul, one has to be) We all seek the standard answers but yet disdain the common, the everyday. Are we a victim of too many constraints. You are the person who always makes one think of unlimited possibilities, of a thrill in the heart..a secret daliance..a cant wait to sin. You do not let anything limit you. You trust and embrace, arm in arm, a glow always in your eyes. Even ……….how do i tell you more. Offer me a clue or 2. Part of my charm is what you cant put your finger on. You def must be creative in this universe and never be caught. Me? Haha…..I always ramble for a reason. I believe in a positive universe, hard work, edgery, where might you find me if you were to look?…………..stay tuned.

Be me good woman. What. The. Fuck. Can anyone make sense of that jibberish???

5) Received this from a guy in Pennsylvania who couldn’t be bothered to crop his ex-wife out of the picture. Also has kids. (In the background I hear the wrong answer buzz from Family Feud.)

• You really interest me.. I’m like 5 min. from MD and could easily take a road trip.. Don’t worry, I’m just looking for a friend first, then, we’ll see if we think it’s worth our mutual time….

Ok. I don’t even like to leave Dupont Circle. I am pissed off when I have to take the dogs to the groomer on 14th Street, a mere three blocks away. Why the fuck would I want to make a “friend” in PA? “5 minutes from Maryland” is still hours from no where. Come on!

4) Next dude just sent the form icebreaker as well. He describes himself as “a few extra pounds.” I think he needs a new mirror. I would say it’s 50-75 extra lbs by the looks of his pictures, which, by the way, I want so badly to post up here along with some of these other freaks. But, instead, I shall post a picture of his dog, and you will get the point. Dogs always end up being just like their owners. (My dogs are assholes.)

That is the fattest fucking dog I’ve ever seen in my life.

3) This one is from some nerdy guy.

• You are very cute and I dig the pics 🙂 I’m kind of trying to see where a current situation of mine is going. My friend lives in Indonesia; however, that doesn’t keep me from trying to establish friends, in a non-sexual way. I am a person of integrety, honesty and compassion. At this point my friend over there is having a hard time getting a US visa. I can tell you more about it if you ask 🙂 My bottom line: If you want to chat or email, or even have coffee sometime. please drop me a line.

Why would anyone bother to contact someone to tell them they have a girlfriend in another country? He cares about her enough to mention her but not enough to marry her and get her a green card? Christ, I’ll marry her at this point.

2) This guy scared me so much I didn’t even know what to do. There is no picture, but his message speaks for itself. He has since deleted his profile, but the message remains in my inbox. I’m afraid to hover my mouse over it to delete it. It’s the same apprehension I would feel at having to poke a dead body with a stick.

• The first thing you would have to do on our first date is dress down to your panties and head straight to the kitchen and whip up our meal for the night. Then we can discuss whose washing the dishes…… you make me smile when I look at you.

1) And, the piece de la resistance. Received a generic “I like your profile. Tell me more,” from someone with the following profile text. There is, of course, no picture.

• I’m looking for a Mature, Young woman (not a girl). A Woman that prefers the company and experience of an older man. She wants a Loving, Caring, and Loyal Relationship. Not looking to just play games, though Intimate Games will be very important in the Realtionship. She wants an Honest, Trusting, Loving Man that will keep her safe and secure. She knows how, and wants to please her Man in all ways. She must love Affection and Intimacy. She must love to get out and enjoy life with her Man, knowing that her Man is with Her…. I do like to RolePlay, hence the name Daddy. I do not believe in any Abuse, physical or mental…. Life is an Adventure, meant to be shared. Are you ready to Explore Life, and share the Adventures????? Write me or send me a Wink. I can write you back from my paid profile….. Now smile for me. That is very important to me……. Daddy Charlie.

Does he really think in his 54 years and “separated” status that I would write back to him? It was only yesterday to me that I was dating frat boys. I certainly don’t want to jump from that to dating men about to file for social security. And let’s not even discuss the obvious undertones in his profile that he participates in some disgusting unmentionables in the bedroom? His screen name is Daddy Charlie and the title of his profile is “daddy4lilgurl4fun.” Daddy? Please, bitch.

*******************************************************************************

Prior to the internet, all these freaks were walking around out there and we unsuspecting women had no clue that they were illiterate rednecks, saddled with countless ex-wives and kids, harboring sexual fetishes unexplored with said ex-wives that they now want to live out with women half their age. I used to think dating in general was getting worse. I think now that the quality of people are the same, but the internet brings out the worst in people and those people are more than willing to show us.

Yes, I know this is a two way street and that I may be no prize either. In fact, I’m a bitch. But, this is my blog and I can write what I want. If you want to make your own blog and bitch about me then be my guest. Now for my conclusions:

Men Don’t Read

• This is the way a lot of men are re-entering the dating scene after a divorce. For me, a single woman with no baggage, these men are not viable options to me. First and foremost, I hate other people’s kids with a passion. I said “no kids” in my profile. But yet, I keep getting replies with some sort of explanation that they already have a nanny/don’t need another mother/kids are already grown.
• I have a 5 mile radius on distance in my profile. This doesn’t stop 50% of my replies coming from the hinterlands of Maryland, Virginia and Pennsyltucky.
• Many men think they are studly enough to get women half their age. Again, this is why I put an age range on my profile. I don’t care that you are 60 but “everyone tells you you look and act 45 and that’s just three years past my age range.” Your body is still 60, no matter how much you think otherwise. At best, we would only have a few years together before you retire to a trailerpark in Florida, taking your handicap parking sticker with you thereby leaving me to fend for mall parking on my own and having to relearn how to eat dinner in the non-early-bird hours of 7 p.m.

Men Are Delusional

• Women consistently describe themselves as worse looking than they are and men consistently describe themselves as much better looking than they are. I don’t know where men learn the art of self-promotion, but I am always amazed when I meet someone in person that they are shorter and much less attractive then they said they were. Brad Pitt is a 10. George Clooney is a 10. If you don’t look like that, you, my friend, are not a 10. Don’t pretend that you are.

Just so we’re clear. You know who you are and today you get your own entry. It is the first and last time I shall dedicate an entry to one person:

I don’t know that you fully understand this situation with the blog. It is serious to me, and the reason that long ago when I gave BoyFace the address of the blog I seriously regretted it and ended up changing the address.

The blog stops being honest if someone I’m dating is also reading it. {Or, if someone who is reading the blog wants to date me.} The rule has been and will always be, “any man I’m dating or sleeping with, or have plans to date or sleep with will never know about the blog.”

I spend so many hours in my day giving thoughful consideration to what I’m going to write. The irony in all of this is that people who are so seemingly “significant” in my life, i.e. MotorcycleInstructor, {for right now} don’t know that the blog exists. And never will. Since you know of its existence and read it daily, I’m afraid I can’t ever possibly date you.

Love,
Velvet in Dupont

Sigh. I’ve really refrained from making any aspect of this blog X-rated since my family reads. I lightly edit my life, and probably end up sounding a little more “together” than I really am. That being said, today’s entry builds on yesterday’s porn post, and there’s just no way around this. If the family is reading, please stop now and go watch the Disney Channel or something. For everyone else, I’ll try to be classy.

What I left out of yesterday’s blog is probably what some of you already read between the lines. After I watched all the porn, and got blocked out of the site for 24 hours, I was, well, in the mood. It was only 9 a.m., but MotorcycleInstructor called and asked what I was doing and I told him. He said, “Ok, well, I will come over there in a bit.” But I already knew that his “bit” would really end up being hours, or possibly days, and a girl just can’t walk around with her panties in a knot for an interminable amount of time. After a thorough examination of the contents of one battery operated item in my nightstand drawer, I was ready to begin my day.

I was right. His “hour” turned into three hours and I had to run out to Rockville for an appointment. He called around noon and I said “Let’s try for 2:00.” He said ok. But at 2:00, he was waiting on a call from a student who wanted to practice. It was nice to not get all huffy because at this point I didn’t care anymore. I was over the whole thing. He said around 4:00 and that went to 5:00, 6:00, 7:00 and as I was watching Seinfeld (it doesn’t take any visual stimulation at this point in my life) I leaned over to the drawer and conducted another “inspection.” AS SOON as I put it away and called the game over, he calls. WTF???

It’s quite close to 8:00 at this point. He says he’s running a few errands and then is on his way over. I tell him he doesn’t need to hurry as I want to go to the gym. He says, “What? I thought you were all bothered today?” I said, “Well, I WAS, but I took care of it already.” He was so pissed off. He said, “Velvet, you take ALL the fun out of this.” I said, “What the hell are you talking about? I fucking knew your few minutes would be hours, days even. Why wait?” He said, “You knew I was busy today, I promised you I was coming over and you just couldn’t wait. I suppose you don’t need me to come over now.” I said, “You can still come over. Who says I’m done? And for the record, you have proven yourself highly unreliable when it comes to estimations of your arrival time. You were supposed to be here at 11:00 this morning!” He said, “Fine, call me when you leave the gym.”

I called at 9:45 and it went to voicemail. I walked the dogs, went dumpster diving in someone’s recycling bin for the daily crossword, and resigned myself to an evening in bed with the dogs and today’s puzzle. He called back at 11, said he had fallen asleep and was on his way. I told him he didn’t have to come over. He said, “What do you not want me to come?” I said, “No, you’re in bed, if you’re tired, then stay at your house.” He said, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He literally came over, and we went to sleep. It was so strange. But, my boss and I were talking this morning and I told him “I have one of my famous funny stories for you.” (I share these things with him all the time…)

After I told him he said, “Am I to understand that you are dating a man who is jealous of your vibrator and love of porn?”

Yup, that sounds about accurate.

Then he said, “Where do you find these guys?”

We ALL want to know the answer to that, don’t we?

Have any of you ever seen these words appear on your computer?

Dear Customer:
We are sorry, but you have maxed out your time allotted for viewing movie trailers. Please come back and visit Excalibur Films again tomorrow.

Uh, in case you were wondering, yes, I saw those words today. I slept only from 2 a.m. until 5 a.m. again last night. No idea why. When I realized that I wasn’t going to fall back asleep, that the T.V. channels I like to watch are still in infomercial mode, that none of your blogs had possibly been updated yet, that the news hadn’t changed in three hours, and that there was no one awake to possibly talk to, I hopped online and started ordering porn. Eighty dollars later, I’m anxiously waiting for the UPS truck to stop by my door. Yes, yes, yes, I’m a woman and I love porn. It’s really amazing that no one has snatched me up yet, I know. But it’s interesting that the things men love about you in the beginning are the things that they end up hating about you most when you start having problems.

Once you place your order, your customer number allows you to view trailers for up to 30 days. Apparently there’s a daily time limit on that. I’ve never maxed it out in one sitting before though.

Christ. I’m pathetic. I have GOT to find a real man.

Enjoy.

I know I’ve gotten away from the “dating” theme of the blog the past few days, but things have been slow. The hits I’m getting online are such losers and the stupid asses at “It’s Just Lunch” have yet to get their act together to set me up with the next moron.

But, as I was walking the dogs this morning, I saw this truck outside my building. Does anyone see ANY conflict of interest between what this woman does for a living and the sexual innuendo that is her license plate?

Maybe the secret of how she “unfrazzles” parents and reduces anxiety is by simultaneously whispering and conducting the activity mentioned on her plate? Sheesh, I could have told you that.

UPDATE: Leave it to my boss to utilize google to keep him entertained throughout the wee hours of the morning. It seems that their website has a picture of Debi. If she was born in 1969 that would make her 4 years older than me. No way. She looks much older than that. And, then you could check this website out that specifically says, “Debi is dead.” So, what the hell?

I really had the most disturbing experience today. I’m trying to forget it, but I really need to discuss. Please be forewarned, you all will see me in a different light after today.

I am, as I have been for almost 8 years, a fan of the Brazilian Bikini Wax. Eight years ago, yes, they were virtually impossible to find and I had to do it myself. Then I discovered my treasure in Rockville and started “seeing” her, if you will. But the price kept going up and the drive to Rockville has become a pain since I am not working up there anymore so I started looking in town. The salon attached to my gym does Brazilians for half the price. I had to call to verify that they do “the whole thing” because some places won’t, and they leave the landing strip. I want no landing strip, I want it all off.

My appointment was today at 5. I’m used to going into a cozy room, being given disposable undies and a robe. The sargeant at this salon told me to drop my drawers. And I did. But then my legs were in all sorts of sexual positions and frankly, it was a little embarrassing, even for me, who fantasizes about a career as a stripper.

She’s all done in record time, and she says, “See? Smooth.” At this point she grabs my hand and puts it down there and starts RUBBING. And I’m trying to pull my hand away, and she takes it back and goes lower. I’m really scratching things off my Life-To-Do list. Now I’ve been masturbated by a Thai woman with my own hand.

Now, I know that I shouldn’t corrupt my new beautiful niece by posting her picture in the same blog as the masturbation entry, but, it’s too late. It’s a little blurry, mostly because those present at the birth admittedly don’t know a lot about cameras.

I don’t know what that title means, but I’ve been waiting until it was late September to use it, so THERE!

Moving with BestGuyFriend-M was hilariously hilarious. We went to his old condo to “pick up the last few things.” I should have brought something like, oh, a U-Haul, because his “last few things” were equivalent to what I would term “enough stuff to send to a homeless Katrina Hurricane Family.”

When we were cleaning out the refrigerator, there were like 3 dozen old eggs. We threw them into the trash and once the car was filled, we decided to take what we had to his new place, stopping to drop the trash. We illegally dumped the trash somewhere that shall remain undisclosed due to the sign that said “No public dumping, fines of $500.”

As we unloaded the boxes and other half-assed packed things at his new place, we realized that one of those eggs made a great eggscape – all over the back seat of his convertible Saab. It smashed right next to the latest pile of bird shit from his last foray parking under a tree. This is why I don’t drive a convertible.

We clean the egg the best we can and it becomes obvious that we would have to make several trips to the car to get all the stuff. This is inconvenient based on the placement of his parking space and the elevator, so I insist on taking it all at once. This results in me piling all the boxes on top of each other and getting on my knees and pushing it down the hall. But the boxes must have been heavier than I was (impossible) because every time I pushed, I only ended up pushing myself in the backward direction across the marble tile in the hall. M was hysterically laughing at me as he wheeled his ONE suitcase down the hall to his front door. I was a madwoman, but I got on my ass and pushed the boxes with my legs. That worked much better. Just as I pushed them over the threshold of the front door, he said “Thanks for your help” and slammed the door. When he opened it, I was laying on my back in the hall mumbling about what a good friend I was. Then he suggested we go get some food – at this point it’s about midnight. He asked me what I wanted to eat. My answer was priceless.

“I’ll have a backseat omelette with a side of birdshit.”

We could not stop laughing. M is a friend who I will still do favors for.

I have been VERRRRY lazy today. It’s definitely a Sunday. I woke up at noon and finally got out of bed by 1:00. The one block walk with the dogs wore me down so much that I was seriously considering a nap by 2:30. The nap never happened, but I did lay on the bed for most of the day. I still lay on that bed as I write, having not moved very much at all in the past few hours. I can feel my muscles atrophying.

MotorcycleInstructor came over last night, ever so briefly. Yes, we resolved the Friday turkey sandwich incident. He called me, of course, because I certainly would not have called him again. I DO NOT chase men. We each explained our side of what happened, he didn’t understand that I thought he was condescending and I didn’t understand his assessment that I went “psycho.” We’ve really got the makings of a beautiful, committed, communicative relationship in the works. Uh, ok, maybe not.

Don’t judge yet. These infuriating events help me care less and less for the day when he exits my life. I agree with all of you who have commented, both in person and on the blog, that it shouldn’t be this hard. I’m letting it die a slow painful death and in the spirit of getting back to the basics of what I do worst, I’m officially in the dating game again. I posted profiles on Yahoo and Match, and so far I’ve attracted most of the current residents and several alumni from the We-be-missing-some-teeth-Trailer Park. I might have to date some of them just for fun. And the fuckers at “It’s Just Lunch” have called again. So, we’ll see what shitpile they are going to dump me into later this week. Can’t wait.

Tonight I agreed to help BestGuyFriend-M move some things to his new place. I know, I know, I had that whole diatribe on Friday’s post that I’m no longer operating the favor train. But, M hasn’t burned me yet so I’ll still give him a shot.

Today, for the first time ever, I am an Auntie. Madison Kay (last name of Velvet gets inserted here) was born at 5:25 p.m.; 8 lbs 9 ounces. She’s the biggest baby ever on both our side and my sister-in-law’s side of the family.

YAY! I’m an Auntie! I’m going out to have a drink for Maddie. Nothing can bring me down today.

I can officially cross “Throw a sandwich in someone’s face” off the list of things I must accomplish in my lifetime. Keep reading.

The Favor Train is over. O-V-E-R. I am one of those people who is just a little too nice. I try to help people out, do good things and you know what? Being nice to people ALWAYS backfires like a 1979 TransAm with Jersey plates. Those of you calling in your favors to me, hire the appropriate professional to handle your woe. I ain’t doing it anymore.

I was supposed to watch Sara’s dog this weekend, but that ended up not happening. This is a favor that went so wrong in the beginning that it didn’t get its chance to play out to the end. My dog and Sara’s dog had a fight and my dog, Thora (not Sammy) bit Ginger. The whole scene was ugly. I have to say that while Sara told me I was her only option, and that I genuinely felt bad about that, there was nothing I could do. She wanted me to try it anyway. I just couldn’t. And I’m having a hard time understanding how she could selfishly want to leave her dog here in “dangerous territory” just so she could go out of town for the weekend. When man tries to control an animal, the animal in the end, has a way of showing who’s boss. The animals had spoken. Being nice gets your dog in a fight.

I went with Penny this morning to get her new car in Baltimore. I took the metro to Greenbelt and she was to pick me up and we would drive to Baltimore from there. She said she would leave when I was getting on the metro at U Street/Cardozo and we hung up as I took my seat. But, she didn’t leave and I called her when I was two stops away and she said, “Oh, I better leave the house now.” Now, I’m late everywhere too, but I try a little harder when someone is doing me a favor. And I should make a disclaimer that Penny is truly one of those friends who routinely goes out of her way for you. But, I still need this one for my story. Sorry Pen! I only ended up waiting a few minutes, Being nice leaves you waiting at the metro station.

We went directly to the DMV in Gaithersburg after leaving Baltimore. I was hungrier than Sally Struthers and damn Penny wouldn’t let me eat first. MotorcycleInstructor was there testing people with the bikes. We got to see each other for the first time since the big chill of two weeks. The DMV said Penny had to notarize her bill of sale so we left. But then I remembered that my notary stuff was in my car, not at my apartment in D.C. Since part of today’s plan was to get the car back from Helen, we left to get food and go pick up my car. MotorcycleInstructor asked me to bring him a sandwich, since we had to come back anyway, and I pleasantly obliged.

Despite the fact that we had an entire conversation last night about me picking up the car at her apartment at noon today, it turns out that Helen drove it to work instead of driving her own which she now has back in her possession. So we had to wait at the restaurant (PotBelly, yum, the highlight of my otherwise shitty day) for her to come up to Gaithersburg from Bethesda with my car. Being nice leaves you killing time at PotBelly.

Back at the DMV I give the big baby his food. Then he asks if I could drive him from one lot to another while he’s consolidating bikes etc. so he doesn’t have to walk. I agree, and he tells me to go get my car and wait at “that stop sign.” I do as told, and he wasn’t there when I got there. I wait and wait, Penny is in the car with me, and he comes up in someone’s Jeep, gets out and he’s shaking his head like I fucked up and he couldn’t wait for me. But, I did as told! Penny goes back into the DMV and he rode the motorcycle back to his truck. I find him down the street and he’s shaking his head and walking by me, and won’t stop long enough to hear me ask what the hell I did wrong. I follow him to his truck and he goes “Babe, I’m not mad, you just didn’t listen.” I said, “Fuck you, don’t you ever walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” And with that, I threw that fucking turkey sandwich at him. Being nice ends up making you throw a turkey sandwich in someones face.

Now, I’m taking MY dogs to the dog park and then I’m taking a nap and then I’m going to the gym. My first responsibility is to my job and to my dogs. I am not putting either of those two in a compromised position or in jeopardy to accommodate someone else ever again.

And with that, I’m out.

Well, MotorcycleInstructor called me back last night and again today. We talked a little more about what went wrong. I said, “Look, I just felt like if any woman told me the same details of what went on with me and you, I would tell her that the guy she is dating clearly has a girlfriend.” He laughed. But then he said, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m talking to my girlfriend now.” Typical of me, instead of addressing that, I change the subject to something stupid like, “Sammy’s eating a rawhide.” I’m a moron.

As I was thinking about what I was going to write for this blog, he called me. He’s on his way home from a bike night at some bar. I asked if he was drunk, and he said he wasn’t, and that being drunk was my department. Yes it is. Now that we have our roles somewhat straightened out, I again begin giving him a hard time about the whole thing. He said he had these plans to wash my car, wash the dog, take me to dinner, all to make up for it, but that I wouldn’t return his calls. For the record, I don’t believe all that nonsense. The rest of the conversation goes like this:

Me: “Fine, let’s go to dinner.” (It would be like, gasp, a real date.)
Him: “Ok, but you know you have some making up to do too.”
Me: “What?”
He repeats.
Me: “Ok, let’s get our cards on the table. What do you want?”
Him: “You mean with you and me?”
Me: “Yes.”
Him: “Um, what do you want?”
Me: “Oh no way, I asked you first.”
Him: “I’m thinking about that baby.”
Me: “Ok, I’m waiting.”
Him: “I’m at 7/11. Can I order my hot dog and call you back?”
Me: (giggling) “Of course.”

It’s a big decision that he has to make. He knows that when he calls back, whatever he says will be the determining factor of what happens with us. And, gasp, should he not call me back at all tonight, which of course wouldn’t be totally out of the realm of possibilities for him, well, then he’s officially done in my life. And that would be with good reason. Shit, I almost want to DARE him to not call back. The wrath of a Greek Woman is not one many want to face.

Ok. It’s later. He called back. We’re on the phone now. We’re discussing what each of us wants. He said he likes me, wants to get to know me better and develop it into a relationship. He asked me how I felt and if I could see myself with him. I said “Yes.” And he was like, “Really? Why?” So I went through some of my reasons, which made him question the quality of man I’ve dated in the past. I KNOW, I KNOW, THEY ARE ALL ASSHOLES.

He said that he’s happy about the fact that my brother and sister-in-law were in his corner and rooting for him, and that they count the most because they are family. Then he said about my brother, “He sounds pretty cool. I would like having him for a brother in law one day.” Again. I. Was. Speechless. These statements shock me so much that I’m like, stuck and I can’t talk or say the 754 things running through my head.

All in all it was a good conversation, obviously.

Still in a hellaciously bad mood. It would help if my partner in crime, Sara, was feeling up and happy, but, alas, she’s at the intersection of Shit Street and Fuck it All Boulevard like me.

So, a few random things to note before I dwell back in my self-imposed misery. None of these items are really related to each other.

First, I almost got run over by a bitch in her piece of shit car today. She ran the stop sign at the infamous New Hampshire and S intersection, almost ran over me and the dogs, had the nerve to scream at me as if I didn’t have the right of way, and was on her cell phone without an ear piece. Where were the cops when you needed them? At the opposing stop sign with their windows open, and other pedestrians screaming for them to do something about what happened. You know what they did? What D.C. cops usually do. If you guessed nothing, you are correct. Your prize is that I’ll share some of my Prozac with you that I found in my medicine cabinet from my days of living with the ex. Which brings me to my next item.

Second, AtlantaBoy begged me to send copies of pictures of us from our relationship together to him. So I did. I went out of my way to collect all these duplicates, pack them up and priority mail them. And you know what? Saturday morning I fucking woke up to find that package on my door, marked “Return to Sender, recipient moved and left no forwarding address.” So I sent that bastard an instant message saying that he either gave me the wrong address, or, if he’s not on the lease then there’s no way they would sign for it because they don’t know he lives there. That was Saturday afternoon. He hasn’t written back, despite the fact that he’s been online uninterrupted since that point in time.

Third, I repeat my mantra, “It doesn’t pay to be nice.” Some of you who were with me may remember the hit and run incident in Adams Morgan where we left the note but not our phone number. We had a conversation at that time about how that would backfire if I was actually nice enough to leave my own phone number to be a witness for the poor schmuck whose car was belted. Well, today at Safeway, I am second in line behind a lady who was nice enough to scoot her groceries down the conveyor so I could dump my armful of food down. Then she offers the guy behind me a chance to go in front of all of us because he only had one item. He gladly agrees. Well, the cashier was briefly talking to another customer while he was getting out his money, then he started screaming “HELLO!!!” to get her attention. After all the screaming, he fucking forgot his damn ice cream or whatever and had to come all the way back to get it. What an ass, he’d still be in that damn line if it wasn’t for the nice lady in front of me. I told the cashier it doesn’t pay to be nice. And you know what she said? “I witnessed a hit and run one day on Corcoran here from my register and I left them a note and they had the nerve to accuse me of being the one to hit them.” Christ almighty, point taken and proven time and time again. People suck.

Finally, I got a bug up my ass, thought about this for exactly 4 seconds before I picked up the phone and called MotorcycleInstructor, if only to make my peace. Here it goes:

MI: Well hello.
Me: Hi. I’m calling to make peace.
MI: I called and called. I sent text messages. I was thinking about you yesterday and I was wondering why we couldn’t still be friends.
Me: I don’t know. I just got tired of the shit.
MI: I was busy and I couldn’t see you and you got mad.
Me: That’s not exactly how I remember it.
MI: Really?
Me: Yes, you promised to spend last Friday with me, and then you bailed. Then you promised to hang out with me last Saturday and you bailed on that too. I got tired of it.
MI: No. That’s not how it happened.
Me: Ok, sure. Well, look, I’m just calling to be nice.
MI: This is nice?
Me: It’s the best I can do.
MI: All right, let me call you back in one minute when I get back to my house.
Me: Ok.

Let me tell you that my sister in law and brother like MotorcycleInstructor for some reason and when I told them I called, my sister-in-law yelled, YAY. I don’t know why. Ok. I know why. I think it’s a selfish reason. There is a very specific reason my parents wouldn’t like him. Very specific. Read: Racist Greek Parents. There. ‘Nuff said.

Well, MotorcycleInstructor did call back and we talked for a few minutes. But, I think that there’s no going back. And I’m still in my anti-dating mode right now. I thought about going online again to see what’s out there. (Notice I say “what’s” instead of “who’s” out there?) But, I’m not sure how I even feel about that. I’m so disgusted with this whole ridiculous situation. Where the FUCK is that Prozac???

Very bored. Bored, bored, BORED. I think I need an anti-depressant. I’ve grown disenchanted with all that used to keep me entertained.

Ok. The situation with my family is still sort of the same. My father instantly printed out the email I wrote to him and delivered it to the hands of my mother, who was either in the garden bitching about how the neighbors trees are killing her plants, or she was in front of the television developing yet another conspiracy theory about Hurricane Katrina and how it is really an evil plot hatched by republicans. (Past parental conspiracy theories include my sister-in-law who is a nurse drugging my brother and brainwashing him into not wanting to move out of Michigan and my father’s sister single-handedly preventing them from buying any real estate in New York.) In any case, she replied some nonsense that the conversation didn’t happen like I said, and that if I don’t want her advice to tell her to butt out. Um, what? I’ve been trying to do that for 32 years, but, to no avail.

My sister-in-law told me that she and my brother think the thing with MotorcycleInstructor was a huge misunderstanding, and that I should answer when he calls the next time. I’m unmoved by that idea. Usually I end up getting a softness in my heart and in the name of “closure” I would do something like this. But I can honestly say that I don’t care. I don’t know what has gotten into me. This dating and juggling has just lost its fun for the time being. That’s why the posts have been fewer and farther between.

Regarding DamascusBoy – who has perennially been on my back burner – he asked me flat out this morning when we are going to get together. I said, “I am not in the mood to date right now.” He said that he understood, and to let him know when I was. Well, that was nice enough.

So here I am, working away, (believe it or not,) and working on stuff for the condo board that I’m on. That’s it. Boring, right? Snooooooooore. Try not to fall into a coma. I’ll try to recover soon. I had one of these bouts of depression when I lived with AtlantaBoy, and I got through…hmm… You know, DAMN IT! He and I have been talking via IM again! Christ. WHY DIDN’T I MAKE THIS CONNECTION BEFORE??? Holy shit. What the hell is wrong with me? His mere presence in my life depresses me. Why? Could it be because we were supposed to be “together forever” and that didn’t happen?

Men suck. Yes, that goes for all of you. Yes, you in the back too.

There’s really no new news to report. MotorcycleInstructor called me again on Monday and left a message that was like, “Woman, if you don’t call me back…” and then hung up. And I haven’t called. I’m still pretty irritated, and not really in the mood to get back into that swing again. I don’t really have a game plan, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it – if anything at all. I think I was also using him as a crutch, to validate what I did with buying the motorcycle and to help me get out there on the road. But, Sunday night I rode around the neighborhood. Yesterday I rode up to Van Ness, so I’m doing quite well. I’m not ambitious enough to ride out to Gaithersburg, but I’m getting there.

So, I don’t need him. I’m in one of my moods where I feel like I don’t need or want anyone. Here it comes: I’m going to take a break from dating for a bit. Knowing me, it will probably only be a week, but I’m just so tired of the game. Much to my mother’s dismay, I would rather be alone than with someone who isn’t right for me. She got on my case the other night about how I’m never going to meet anyone at the rate I’m going. What does that mean? I’ve done everything possible to “meet someone” and it’s worked out so well that I now have this blog illustrating my collection of losers. I don’t know what she’s talking about, she’s the worlds biggest black cloud. Her ideas are laughable – go to a museum at lunch, or join a group that works with the museums. Yeah, so I can meet HER kind of artsy-fartsy guy. Or she likes the old, “go to church” solution. The guy for me is not at a museum looking at paintings and he’s definitely not at church. Since I’m basically an Atheist, what good does church do me? My perfect guy is hungover on Sundays, just like me.

Not a lot to report in the past few days. Had the party Saturday. I think it went off quite well. I spent all day Saturday cleaning for the party, and all day Sunday cleaning up after the party, but it was an eventful and fun weekend nonetheless.

Thursday night I heard empty promises from MotorcycleInstructor about us spending the day together Friday. Then it unraveled in much the same manner it always does…”Oh, I have one thing to do, then I’ll call you.” One thing turns into two and next thing you know, it’s the end of the day and I haven’t heard a thing. More of the same promises Friday night and I finally said that I was having a “get-together” on Saturday and asked if he was going to come by. He said yes. Then I don’t hear from him all day Saturday except for a few text messages that I initiated. Saturday evening I asked if he was coming and he said “maybe” and that’s all I heard. So at 4:30 a.m., drunk on many Blue Hawaiians, I sent him a text message that said, “I get it. You don’t even try to spend any time with me despite your promises. I’m done with this shit.” And at 6:30 a.m. he wrote back, “You’ve been drinking?” I didn’t answer. Nor did I answer his phone call and voicemail at 2:00 this afternoon. Do we all remember the advice of my boss with respect to land deals? “If they’re not talking to you, they are making a deal with someone else.”

I think I’m done. I figure if I’m going to spend any time with a man, then he better try, all the time, consistently. Not up and down. Not only when he senses me inching away. Not only when he thinks I don’t need him anymore. Not only when he thinks he’s needed. It goes without saying that each person in any relationship, whether it’s a friendship, family member, or significant other, has to derive something from the union. Now, (Sara, pay attention) only when you stop getting what you need or want from it, and only when it stops being a two way street can you call the game over. For me, there’s no one who is immune to this simple equation, family included. I’ve been through so much with my family and we repaired the relationship despite the fact that it looked like we may never speak again. They only got a second chance with me because they are my parents. But, if they ever treat me again the way they have in the past, I can say goodbye and never look back.

Back to the situation at hand, ladies and gentlemen, I think this game with MotorcycleInstructor is over. At the very least, I’m certainly done playing. It’s just not fun anymore.

Last night around 5 a.m., I woke up to the sound of the garbage trucks. As I was trying to go back to sleep, I heard a woman moaning. I thought I was about to catch my neighbors in the act, but it was coming from outside. I got up and went to the balcony. There was a naked girl on the patio of the ice cream shop “Sweet Licks.” I couldn’t see who she was with because the patio is down a few stairs and encased with a brick wall so they were hidden, but I sure as shit kept watching. Then I got my flashlight and I tried to fuck with them, but they were too busy. All I hear is this moaning and I’m trying to figure out why they aren’t waking other people up too. This guy walked by, saw them, and stopped to stare. He walked away very slowly, turning around a bunch of times to look back.

Finally they finished and they were getting dressed, and when they both walked up the stairs to the sidewalk, it was two Asian girls. I was shocked. I had to call everyone to tell them today. PinkPantyLover said that my story changed the shape of his shorts. My boss said, “Those girls have promise.” They sure do.

Guess who called me at 5 a.m. to wake me up and say he was on his way over? Then guess who drove over here, unlocked my motorcycle, drove it to the inspection with me on the back, waited in a line that was 3 blocks long, went through the inspection, brought me home, locked the bike back up and recovered it for me all by 7:15 a.m.? Then guess who waited for me to get to my meeting in Silver Spring, met me at the meeting and gave me the parking pass I left in his car?

Have I reversed it? Are my charms kicking in again? I’m trying so desperately to be nice this time. After we said bye this morning he said, “Call me when you are out of your meeting” – a true clingy statement if I’ve ever heard one. And usually when he gives me those “Call me when…” directives, I purposely ignore them to show him whose boss. Everyone will be so shocked, I called him when I left that damn meeting. Just to show what kind of a cooperative girl I am.

My day starts off with a nice walk to the Fed Ex service center downtown with Sammy (the love of my life.) On my leisurly walk, the Harley dealer calls. They want me to get the bike out of there. So, I call my savior of the day, MotorcycleInstructor. He says he’ll call back in 5 minutes. And he does. When he calls back, he says, “Let’s go now.”

So I hustle home, drop Sammy off, and haul ass up to Gaithersburg. I meet MotorcycleInstructor there and this guy starts talking to me while MotorcycleInstructor is getting his helmet out of his car. Then he comes over to us and the guy goes, “Is this your husband?” I about died. I said, “No, thank God.” Shit, I should have said yes just to see what he would have done. So, he rides the bike back to D.C. to the inspection station. The line is out of control long, three blocks long, so we decide to leave and come back “another time.” We come back to my apartment and I make him a pizza and I eat a Zone bar. At this point, my brother calls and is asking questions about scooters and I end up just putting him on the phone with MotorcycleInstructor. While he’s talking to my brother, the dogs are sniffing for pizza and MotorcycleInstructor is like, “Get off my nuts! Damn!” I’m like, bright red at this point and I said, “Tell my BROTHER that you were not talking to me!!” So he clears that up.

Then MotorcycleInstructor and I leave and go back to Gaithersburg, but not before locking the bike up in the garage and him saying I need all this stuff and a different cover and a lock and he will get it all for me. So I stop at the bank and give him money and we go to the other cycle shop and he buys all the stuff for me at a massive discount. Then we go to Home Depot to buy a cable and locks. That mofo saved me so much money. I never would have thought to do that. By this time it’s about 7:00 and I’m totally wore out. We go to another dealer, look at choppers, then back to Harley so he can get his car. We say bye there and he says to call him later and we’ll do the inspection in the morning. I said, “What should I tell them here when I want to return the cover that I bought?” He says, “Tell them you didn’t know but your boyfriend bought you all this stuff already and you don’t need what you bought.” Uh. Boyfriend. Oh.

So I get home and my first order of business is to get some real food in my stomach. I grill some fish and plan to go out to the garage to tie up the bike and take care of that stuff. MotorcycleInstructor calls and asks if I had any problems. I said, “I’m headed out there now.” He goes, “You haven’t done it yet?” I said no because I had to come home, lean on the neighbors to watch Sammy (the love of my life) while I cook and run back out and that I’m doing it now. He says, “Do you know what you’re doing?” I said that I would figure it out and if I had any problems I would call him. He said, “Do you want me to just come there and do it for you?” I said he didn’t have to. He said he would be here in 10 minutes.

That man came back here and covered the bike, locked it, showed me everything, and met BestGuyFriend-M who came by to see the bike too. Then he left at 10:30 and he’s coming back here at 5 a.m. to take me to the inspection station, even though I said I could manage that part without freaking out. What the hell is going on right now?

Oh my Goodness. I have just had the best best best idea ever. I need feedback on this one. Does Washington D.C. need an all-girls rollerderby league??? Do any of my female readers have any interest in pursuing how to start this up with me? I am so damn excited with myself for this idea right now I can’t even sleep.

Come on! This could be awesome!!

I can’t take credit for this fab idea. They have this in Atlanta. How did I find that out you are wondering? Well, AtlantaBoy sent me an IM that I actually answered tonight. Something just told me that I should answer it. And I got this information from him about the Atlanta Rollergirls.

I also, a year and a half after the demise of our relationship, finally cried. I don’t cry a lot, but when I do, it’s bad. I guess I never thought I would be out in the dating world again going through this shit. I have no idea why I’m grieving now, and mourning the loss of a love so long after the end of the relationship. I think it has been slowly sneaking up on me. I’ve been dreaming about him a lot, and thinking about him, and comparing all these assholes to him, saying things like “AtlantaBoy for all his faults, would have never treated me like this.”

I will never love anyone again like I loved that man.

I think I’m sick of DamascusBoy. I’m bored with that situation already and we haven’t even officially gone on a date. Ugh. At this point, it has dragged on so long that I’ve lost interest. Surprise surprise. I have dating-A.D.D.

MotorcycleInstructor called this evening. In our conversation he mentioned some girl who called for information on taking his class. He said that she lived over by the bars on 18th & M. MotorcycleInstructor said that he might be able to get her into a class in the end of September, but he also might go to Vegas, so he isn’t sure. So she (allegedly) says to him, “Well, you should come hang out with me at Camelot.” For anyone who doesn’t know, Camelot is a strip bar. I think he was trying to get a rise out of me. So I come back with, “Baby, you should go.” He goes, “What? Why would I go?” I said, “For one, she might be the love of your life.” I was totally serious. Then he said, “Please, I have enough problems with you.” And I said, “What are you talking about?” And he said, “Well, your drinking and partying for one.” Oh. I was done talking at that point. Didn’t realize it pissed him off that much.

It sort of makes me feel like going out for a beer. Anyone with me?

Well, I got an email from yesterday’s trash, I mean, my date from last night. I’ll bold his emails so they are easier to read. He said:

hope i wasn’t too much for you last night…did i scare you away?

i did have a good time and hope you did too. i usually avoid talking politics…i don’t know what got into me yesterday.

my friend and i ended up in adams morgan (“saki”)…more drinks and a little dancing. you dance?
******************************************************************************
I replied with this:

Thanks again for dinner. You didn’t have to do that. I’m more than happy to pay. I make more money than I can possibly spend.

I try to be honest, so here it is. You scared me away. I’m too laid back for you. You, my friend, are wound very tight.

I hate to think what you were like after more drinks
******************************************************************************
And he writes back 4 minutes later:

i was fine. try not to judge someone the first time you meet them. it was awkward from the get-go…blind date and all. do you know what i mean?
******************************************************************************

All right, my commentary. First, how could I not resist throwing that money comment in there? I know that was tacky and sinking to his level, but who cares. Second, he says to not judge someone the first time you meet them? What? Is he sitting in a room with the glue open? He spent the entire night last night judging anyone and everyone, most of whom he doesn’t even know.

I didn’t answer his email, needless to say. I don’t think there’s a need to. Now, in other news…

I had the MOST WONDERFUL day today. It involved very little human contact. I slept until 12, walked Sammy (the love of my life) then went to PotBelly for a tuna sandwich. Instead of going right back home, I walked down Connecticut Avenue and bought some books at Kramerbooks and some cards and a cute little retro clock at Proper Topper below the circle. It was so amazingly beautiful outside today, I left the cell at home and had a true hippie day. It felt so good to be outside without sweating, in Dupont Circle with all the musicians and people laying in the grass. I am IN LOVE with my dog and with Washington D.C.

Tonight, MotorcycleInstructor called. He was like, “Where’ve you been all day babe?” I said, “Huh? I sent you a text message last night.” He goes, “I know, at midnight, I was fast asleep.” I said, “I knew you had work stuff to do today, I didn’t want to bother you.” I think in light of my awful date last night, I appreciate this man even more right now. He told me he might have to go to Louisiana for 10 days to help out for Katrina. All the police are supposedly going to be sent.

I’m so glad I’m not a public servant because a humanitarian I am not. I like things like air conditioning and hair dryers. I really don’t want to have to go to a place like Louisiana, Mississippi or Alabama in their current flooded condition. I hated those three states before this catastrophe, so I certainly hate them more now. Although, I would go there to save the animals. That part sucks. Most people are assholes. But the animals, they don’t do anything but love.

Wow, I’m really a sandal wearing, tree hugging, animal loving, hippie today, aren’t?

Oh my goodness. I just had the date that rivals all dates for the title: Worst. Fucking. Date. Ever.

It was with my GreekWonder. Well, wonder no more. It’s after midnight and also just minutes after the end of our 3 hour date that was a total disaster. The funniest part of the night happened at the beginning – before I even met up with him. I was walking on R to Raku and as I crossed 18th, there was Jeff from match, making out with some girl. Huh. I guess he’s back from Bolivia. This should have told me what sort of night I was in for. I should have gone home right then. But nooooo, I kept going.

We met at Raku on 19th and Q. We got a table on the patio, right in the corner, where we could be seen by all. Before we even order our dinner, it gets uncomfortable. He starts telling me how this homeless guy asked him for money this morning, and it escalates into a whole political tirade where he’s saying (well, yelling) what assholes all republicans are and that he’ll “take any republican in here” as he defiantly looks around at everyone else on the patio to see if anyone is going to fight him. I am shrinking in my seat as he continues to talk about how stupid everyone in America is, how this country sucks (Fuck you dude, I love capitalism) and how he’s just in D.C. because there’s money to be made here. At least a dozen times I heard how he’s making $3000 a week and how he’s a “contract lawyer” because being a corporate guy is for the assholes who don’t want to make any money. (Hello benefits and 401k?) He berates all the public defenders and those who do pro bono work, saying they are a bunch of $10 an hour idiots. Then two guys walk by holding hands and he’s like, “Look at this, this is ridiculous, can you believe this? Oh sorry, you have gay friends.” (You moron, we’re in Dupont Circle! It was the gays that made this one time ghetto habitable for the rest of us yuppies.) His anger about everything was so intense and I was worried for my freaking safety. Don’t even get me started how he ordered some fucking vegetarian egg roll for me without asking. What year is it? 1955? Or how he mocked the waiter and said to his face that he was just hoping for a “good tip.” The golden rule of waiting tables is that the loud assholes who boast about being big tippers are usually not. Then comes the gem of the night…

I asked him if he has to keep a timesheet or punch a clock or whatever at work. He says, “I don’t punch a fucking clock. What do you take me for? Some construction worker?” I said, “Uh, I’M A FUCKING CONSTRUCTION WORKER.” He goes, “Oh, sorry….well, you’re not out on site or anything.” And I said, “Yes I am.” Of course I know this is only the half truth, but, I feel like picking a fight at this point, two hours into a conversation that only has one contributing member: HIM. He tells me several times that everyone he works with is “fucking stupid” and that he’s so much smarter than everyone else. He won’t let me talk, interrupts me when I talk and it’s basically a nightmare. So all I can think is that now I understand why he dates 20 year olds – because they are impressed with him. I’m not. He is 33 going on 18. His comments about making $3000 a week are a pure joke to me because I’m damn near close to making that myself. (And I don’t work 100 hours a week for it either.) I’m no au pair or whatever the hell he’s used to wining, dining and screwing. This man is proof positive that no amount of money can buy you class.

When he ordered his third sake he was pouring it in his glass and totally missed and poured it all over the table. Our waiter said, “WHOA, you’re not driving are you?” It was too too funny that our little waiter, Ming, put this pompous ass in his place.

Then his friend shows up. His friend was a cool dude, and I liked him, he had a neat sense of style, very European, very cool acting. But young and skinnier than me, so don’t get the wrong idea. Anyway, his friend helped cool the tension down a little. They started talking about church and how they haven’t been in a while. I couldn’t resist. I said, “Didn’t you just spend 10 minutes slamming all republicans and the religious right and you’re one of them?” He said he goes to church for peace. My response is “Well, you are very angry so that peace thing isn’t working and by the way, smart people who can think for themselves don’t need a church to tell them what to think.” This slam would have had much better impact if he actually listened to anything anyone else says, but he is a pompous, arrogant baby and he either didn’t hear me or didn’t respond. At one point, near the end of this disaster, we were discussing laser surgery. GreekWonder said “So, you can see me now?” And I said, “Yes, and unfortunately I can also hear you.” He laughed. I love how I can rip on someone and they think I’m just kidding. Asshole.

Then he says, “We’re going to go to my apartment and get a drink. Then we’ll go to Adam’s Morgan.” I said, “The hell we are. Who do you think I am? Natalee Holloway? I’m not going anywhere with you two so that my family can see CNN preempt the Hurricane Katrina coverage tomorrow to talk about some D.C. girl who went missing.” He was like, “You’re funny.” Then I excused myself to go to the bathroom. And I sent my neighbor a text message that said, “GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.” I was half kidding because I could have found a way out, but that girl – Always thinking. She called when I was back at the table and said Sammy (the love of my life) was “freaking out” and she didn’t know what to do. GreekWonder is talking in Greek to his friend and I just know he’s saying that “this bitch is getting a bail out call” but I can’t prove it because I can’t speak God Damned Greek and at this point I really don’t care anyway. So I hang up and GreekWonder says, “So what’s up?” And I’m practically laughing as I tell him I have to go tend to my dog. He paid the bill (woo hoo, although I would have paid to get him out of my sight and out of my life) and we walk to the sidewalk. He’s like, “We’ll walk you home and go to your house.” I said “No, do I look like I was born yesterday?” So we parted ways at 19th and Q, and he said he would email me tomorrow. No I didn’t kiss him. I couldn’t run home in 4 inch heels fast enough.

This all leads me to one conclusion. Before every date, I get all dressed nice, and feel pretty good about how I look, and I think that I won’t measure up to “his” standards – like, he’s so good looking and I’m not pretty enough or skinny enough or young enough. And you know what? “He,” whoever he may be, never measures up to mine. GreekWonder in all his arrogance and lack of class, BoyFace in his stupid shorts and disgusting studio apartment, the HornyHungarian with his octopus hands. Christ. What the hell!! No wonder I keep the company of gay men. They just get me. And I get them. There’s no guessing games.

A BIG THANK YOU to my all time favorite neighbor and friend, for the incredible bail out. Think of me as you lay snuggled in your bed with your man. And tell him he got the best damn woman and that she deserves at least 3 carats. Ok, maybe don’t tell him that.

I’m going to email this blog post to my parents. Maybe then, finally they will give up the idea of me dating or eek, marrying a Greek.

I’m going to start bringing mace on my dates. I might need it.

So sorry for no post yesterday. There wasn’t a lot to report as I was mostly comatose in my bed. Still not feeling up to par. Finally on my way to the doctor today. Hopefully I don’t have some debilitating disease or a brain tumor. Ugh. To have a day without dizziness and nausea would be fabulous.

Well, I made some late night progress with the GreekWonder from that networking website. He called me last night and we ended up having one of those marathon 4 hour conversations. I was up until 2. He sounds like a lot of fun. Of course the only thing I’m wondering is that he has a string of ex-girlfriends, all of whom seem to have hurt him in some way, and his last girlfriend, not yet an ex, moved back to Russia (???) and he doesn’t think he will ever see her again. Also, he seems to date really young girls. I find that suspicious. For a single man with no kids and no ex-wives, he has a lot of baggage in my eyes. We’re going out on Saturday, so we’ll see how it goes.

MotorcycleInstructor is back to calling me often enough and we’ve been having long conversations. Still not sure where it’s going, probably nowhere, but it will be fun while it lasts.

DamascusBoy is still in the picture too. I talked to him last night before the GreekWonder for an hour. I was really burning out the cell battery last night. When my neighbor came by to drop off Sammy (the love of my life) DamascusBoy heard voices in the background and he was like, “Who was that? One of your lovers you were kicking out of the house?” Funny how these men find ways to ask without asking the question: “Are you dating anyone else?” No one has directly asked me, so I don’t really have to say, now do I?

I PASSED MY MOTORCYCLE TEST TODAY! I HAVE A LICENSE. Of course I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m going to do with it, but I still have it.

Ok. Not a lot to tell just yet. MotorcycleInstructor came over last night. I met him at the DMV this morning for the test and he seemed cranky. He left after I passed the road test and went back inside to get my license reprinted with the motorcycle endorsement. When I got back to my car, he had called a few times. I checked my voicemail and he left a “congratulations / call me when you get this” message. So I call him, and we proceed to have a 30 minute conversation. Um. What?? I haven’t talked to him for this long since the first week we got together. He didn’t click over, he didn’t say he had to call me back because he had to take another call. Is it possible that he senses (based on my numerous comments) that since the test is over I don’t need him anymore? Is this a psychological game we’re playing? Ha ha. Bring it on. I think I’ve proven that I am pretty good at these, even when playing alone.

News. I resisted the temptation and MotorcycleInstructor ended up calling me around 10:30 while I was watching the end of the movie, Gia. I finally just put the cards on the table because he asked when he was going to be off the shit list. Here’s what I said. Tell me it was good because Sara already gave me the thumbs up.

I said “You seem to be slacking off in your attention to me. I was fully prepared to forgive you for bailing on Thursday and start over on Friday night. But what happens, you call me Saturday morning and put me on hold and never click back over? You just aren’t showing me that you are interested in me anymore because three weeks ago you never would be doing this. You would just call me back until you got me on the phone.” Silence for a second. Then he says, “You’re right. I need to step up my game a little.” I said, “Ok, and if you want to stop and you aren’t interested in going forward, just say something. But this is crazy. You don’t act anymore like someone who likes me. Shit, I used to get 100 text messages a day from you.” So he says, “I do, and I am definitely interested in you. And you are totally right and I’m going to make it right this week. I think about you I don’t know how many times a day and you have me on the text messages because you’re right. I used to do that.” I said, “I know that you very well may have had stuff that came up, and you may think about me all day, but you have to know that you are like the 1000th man who has said that to me, so I just don’t believe it unless you show me.” He agreed, and again restated his intent to step it up this week. So that was the extent of that conversation. We’ll see what happens I guess.

I am sitting here waiting for Sara to call me back, but I think she’s “busy.” We just had the most hilarious conversation. She is at her bf’s house and he went outside and she said, “When you like someone and you want to show them that you’re a sexual person and you are attracted to them, what would you do?” I was wondering if this was a trick question. I said, “Uh, I would fuck him.” She goes, “No, I get that, but I want to do this with him.” I said, “You have already had sex with him though. I think he knows that you like having sex with him.” She said, “Noooooo…I don’t look sexy now. I have my glasses on. I need to be sexy when he comes back up here.” Here was my million dollar suggestion…get a shirt from his closet, a button down, put that on, nothing else, hair in a bun, glasses. Dirrrrrrty. She was giggling and tearing through his closet, got herself situated and was about to say something when she went, “Uh oh,” at which point I heard her hang up on me and toss the phone. I think it’s safe to say she’s getting some loving right now.

Earlier tonight I bored her to tears with stories of my ex-boyfriends, crap they did to me and how I exacted my revenge. There really shouldn’t be any shock over the BoyFace thing. I have done some really vengeful things to my exes.

1: MafiaWannabe – high school flame who dumped me for some WASPY chick. Found out a year later that he was going to dump her after the prom. I told her. She dumped him, found another date and MafiaWannabe went to the prom alone, waiting in the limo while everyone else had a great time. As if that wasn’t enough…he walked in to our 5 year reunion and I said, “Ladies, I have some unfinished business that just walked through the door.” I don’t know how it happened, but MaviaWannabe became enamored with me and drove from Boston one night a few weeks later to find me at a bar in Connecticut, where I promptly dumped him in front of a bunch of people.

2: AlwaysDrunk – the fucker I fell in love with. Yes, I know he might have the herps as per my prior post. But, consider this. After he dumped me, I made out with his brother. Who has the last laugh now?

3: TheCop – Crazy crazy crazy. Got mugged in Miami. The police force in Connecticut put him under “investigation” for allegedly trying to sell his badge for drugs. He called me crying like a baby to testify on his behalf that he got mugged and wasn’t trying to buy drugs. I said no. Please, bitch!

I’ll try to think of more revenge stories later. But damn it, the man who crosses me really gets burned. Note to my future ex-boyfriends….

Friday night MotorcycleInstructor did call. But then he told me he had to answer the other line and he would call me right back. “Right back” ended up being 20 minutes, and I was already at the movies and no longer picking up my phone. I did call back when the movie let out, but he didn’t pick up and didn’t call back until Saturday morning…at which point he put me on hold after about 3 minutes of talking and left me on hold for 2 minutes. That was my breaking point, and I hung up. End of story. Well, the end of the story will hopefully be Tuesday morning. I suppose I will call him later or tomorrow just to firm up for Tuesday for my license appointment.

Sara and I went to the beach overnight this past weekend. DamascusBoy was texting me this morning like a maniac. This man is very attentive. So, I’m on to another one.

On the way out and the way back to Rehoboth, Sara read “The Washingtonienne” out loud. It’s funny how many of us have such similar dating sagas. Well, except for the fact that she nailed everyone she laid eyes on. But every man she encounters is just another dickwad looking to get laid. She just happens to accommodate them. But she makes a few excellent points along the way of her saga. I can’t think of them right now, but I’m sure I will later.

I’ve also read some of the other dating sites out there. They are hilarious. There really are a lot of freaks out there. Christ.

MotorcycleInstructor called when I was at PotBelly eating lunch with Stacy. Here it is.

MotorcycleInstructor: Hello Velvet (he calls me by my name, but in my attempt to stay anon..)
Me: Hi
MI: How are you Velvet? (why all this name calling?)
Me: I’m good MotorcycleInstructor. You’re in my doghouse though.
MI: Well go ahead. Let me have it.
Me: No. I’m past all of that.
MI: Where are you?
Me: Eating lunch.
MI: Where?
Me: Downtown.
MI: I’m not working. I could meet you at your house.
Me: You know, I really figured I would just tell you that I will meet you on Tuesday and we can be done with this whole thing.
MI: Well, we are always going to be friends.
Me: Yeah? My friends call me when they say they are going to.
MI: I told you…
Me: I need to go. I’m still pretty mad and I’m just going to say something I will regret.
MI: Ok. I’ll call you later.
Me: Ok. Bye.

I woke up to two text messages this morning at 7:30. The first one, sent by DamascusBoy at 6:30, said “Oh, I’m thinking about you already.” Very sweet. The other was from MotorcycleInstructor, and it launched into a text message war. I’ll just put it in the form of a conversation:

His message: Sorry about last night. At hospital until 3 a.m. Buddy had bike mishap. He’s fine, no broken bones just sore and road rash. Going in class.
Me: Bullshit. You could have called.
Him: Are you serious
Me: Sure as shit I’m serious.
Him: Come on.
Me: I’m done playing games with you.
Him: I’m not playing. I’ll call you later.
Me: I won’t hold my breath waiting on that call…
Him: Baby, please, I’m tired. Up late.

I didn’t answer after that. The funny thing is that I decided last night that I should be nice until after Tuesday morning when I take the test because I still need him to show up with the bike so I can get my license. But, I’m too much of a bitch to do that. Obviously.

Well well well. GUESS who made plans with me, who called me all day long to confirm said plans, then said he would call me later after he ran some errands and I went to the gym? Yup. MotorcycleInstructor. And it’s now 10:53, and here I sit, home, alone, on my night of “plans” with MotorcycleInstructor. Safe to say, this is over. Or it will be the next time I talk to him. Keep in mind that my test is Tuesday morning and then once I pass, I will officially have no use for him anymore. It would benefit me to wait to have this conversation with him until after, but I probably can’t. The next time he calls, it’s over. Besides, I can’t take this crap when I have other men waiting in the wings!

As it turns out, I spent two hours on the phone with DamascusBoy tonight. He’s “threatening” to come out to the beach this weekend to find me. Hmm. Don’t worry Sara, it’s still a girls weekend, I promise.

All right, back to my dog and the T.V. Gotta see if there are any new developments in all these missing persons cases. I think there are more people missing than accounted for.

By the way, those Thyroid tests came back normal. So the doctor says I’m normal, other than the fact that I don’t feel normal. I’m constantly sick to my stomach and still have varying degrees of dizziness and feeling faint. Let’s not forget the crushing pains in my chest that honestly make me feel death is imminent. The doctor told me to wait two weeks and if I don’t feel better to call him back. I told my friend SarcasticGayMan today in an email that so much of modern medicine is the medical version of the IT desk’s “shut down and reboot.” They don’t really know what’s wrong, can’t fix it per se, but hope that by starting over again, you will be normal this time.

Those of us reading my blog know that I’m ANYTHING but normal…

I went to the lot to practice riding again. MotorcycleInstructor and I got there at the same time, and the other girl there to practice showed up a few minutes after. He’s playing it cool I think. During the few minutes we had to talk, he said he would see me later on tonight. (Psst, it’s 11:00 and he’s not here right now, so, wanna guess where this is going?) Anyway, I told him I had some things to do anyway (uh, my “It’s Just Lunch” date) and we could meet up later, but to not call me at midnight. He said he had some stuff to do too. I said, “What might you be up to?” And he shows me his left hand and says, “I don’t see a ring there, do you? I don’t have to tell you.” Jesus. Did we just switch places in this thing?

Then, at 7, I had my date in Cleveland Park. We established early on that he’s a smoker, and that’s a deal breaker for me, so we can’t date. He’s also 29, which might be too young for me, but he seems mature enough and he has an incredible personality. We spend a couple hours trading dating sagas, It’s Just Lunch complaints, and part ways. I emailed him the Evite to the bash I’m having on the 10th. And that’s that.

On my way out of the metro, I call MotorcycleInstructor. He says, “It’s late, I know.” I’m as sweet as I can possibly be, because Abby told me that I’ve been a bitch. He says he still has to drop a bike off at his friends or something and blah blah blah he’ll call me later. That was 2 hours ago. Ok.

Scorecard:
1) MotorcycleInstructor: evaporating quickly
2) DamascusBoy: Putting on sneakers, about to get in the race
3) Guy from Greek website: Buying sneakers, getting ready to stretch. We’ll go out next week. The GreekWonder.
4) Jeff from match.com who was in Bolivia: Still in Bolivia, re-established contact, will possibly connect when he gets back to DC.

Check today’s edition. We’re at the bottom. How awesome.

More news will come later. I still have an afternoon of motorcycle practice with MotorcycleInstructor and an evening “It’s Just Lunch” date to endure.

I’m in the crappiest mood today. I don’t know why. I’m using this Thyroid as a passport to sleep my life away. I slept until 1:00 today, then moved from the bed, to the couch, back to the bed now at 4:00. At some point I’m planning to get to the gym. Don’t know when.

This guy from Maryland who we’ll call DamascusBoy is back on the prowl again. We have made tentative plans to go out. I had told him I was “seeing someone” and so he sends me a text message asking if I’m “seeing someone” then why am I on match? It’s a good question. I said “Until there’s a ring on my finger, I have no reason to take myself out of the game.” So he calls me. Now the history here is that we met about 2 years ago, and have never been on the same page at the same time. Either he had a girlfriend or I had a boyfriend or, whatever. Anyway, while we’re talking, MotorcycleInstructor calls. WTF?

So I get rid of DamascusBoy to talk to MotorcycleInstructor. He said he’s been “busy” but really has no reason why he’s disappeared other than to say, “Well, now you know how it feels.” Touche. Anyway, tomorrow I’m going to get some practice on the bike since I’m out of town this weekend. Sara and I are going to the beach.

Then I call DamascusBoy back. Somehow we got from a normal conversation to the status of us and why we have never dated in these past two years. I asked him a question about my tattoo and can I bleed my last name into the existing tattoo. So we’re talking about that and he says that he’ll have to see it. Of course. I wouldn’t have assumed otherwise.

Somehow, after this, we get into the craziest conversation back and forth where he says “We should just get married.” So I said, “Fine, let’s see the ring.” Then he’s saying “Can we go on our honeymoon in Hawaii?” I said that was fine. Then I ask where we will live. He says, “Your place on the weekend and mine during the week.” I agree again. Then he asks “Kids?” I said “No kids.” There was his deal breaker. Oh well. I tried. My dating experiences are getting faster and faster. I’ve basically got it down to where I don’t even have to go out with them anymore. It starts and ends in 25 minutes.

We agreed to start off with a date at the tattoo parlor first, then try to take it from there.

DamascusBoy, from what I know of him, is a genuinely good person. He’s not a player or a cheater. He didn’t even want to be involved with me when I told him about MotorcycleInstructor a few weeks ago. (Ok, so what he doesn’t know at this point won’t hurt him.) The truth about MotorcycleInstructor is that it won’t, and can’t possibly last much longer. These games wear me out, playing them and being played. But, I don’t really want to date one person at a time. I’m too old for that crap. Time is not on my side anymore. So I’ll balance and juggle until I figure it out. Some may argue that I’m not giving anyone enough attention but, I think this will work better for me anyway.

By the way, I’m working on another guy. I met him on some local Greek networking site. We’re planning to get together for drinks. I’ll let you know how that one goes. Wish me luck.

Dear Sammy:

I am in love with you. You are the only man for me. I love how you are always so excited to see me. I love sharing my bed with you. I love your soft little snore, your eyes that are so filled with love and the way you scratch your itchy skin like a little nerd. You are the love of my life. Thanks for being the one to see me through all these bad dates and loser boyfriends.

Love,
Mommy

Annoying phone tag all weekend with MotorcycleInstructor. Who knows what’s going on. I certainly don’t. I was totally entrenched in this game, then, I realized I might be playing alone. Oh well. I’m back on the prowl anyway once again. I’m on Yahoo and Match. We’ll see what I come up with this week. Ha ha.

He called tonight and we really had test of wills going back and forth. I told him he was nagging me and he said I need to learn how to talk to him and then he said something like, “You so obviously have not had a man in a long time.” (Duh, we all read about it in the Washington Post, didn’t we?) Anyway, he was on my ass about not calling him last night in the midst of the Dana-birthday-celebration and I told him I was drinking and he probably would not have wanted to be there anyway. He said he worries about me because I’m his “baby.” I told him to not back me into a corner with his requests. (Ha ha, get it? No one puts baby in a corner? Oh forget it.) I’m not faring so well in this game, that’s for sure. I’m not ready to be swallowed into a “we” status, and he seems headed there. I do like my freedom.

Scorecard: Potentially zero. Will know more tomorrow.

Um. I’m uh, at a loss. Here’s where we’re at.

Thursday I ignored MotorcycleInstructor’s call. Then Friday morning he called a couple times, but I called back too late for his lunch invitation. So I went to the doctor to find out my thyroid is all nutty, and he asked me to call him when I left the doctor. I call, tell him what they think, then my boss called and I said I had to click over. I called back after, but never heard back from him all night. I also sent a text message later on in the evening. Ok. Point taken. Guess I’m not the only one who can play games. BUT, I AM the only one in this “relationship” who is Greek, and that allows me the ability to be stubborn and tough as nails. Katalavenis? (It’s “understand?” in Greek. Duh.)

This morning he called, and since I stared at it but didn’t actually answer it, he had to leave a voicemail. He said “Babe! Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you, call me back.” WTF? WTF? WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!? I call back and we start to get into a pissing match about who called who. When I put him on the spot, he develops a stomach cramp and puts me on hold. A STOMACH CRAMP? That’s the fucking best you can do? Christ. It would have been more believable if he said he was being mugged and they were stealing his phone. Or like in Pee Wee Herman when he calls home and the girl says “Maybe when you come back we can go out?” And he blows all this air into the phone and says they have a bad connection. Now, that would have been funnier.

Then he has to load the bikes in the truck, so he says he’ll call back in 5 minutes. I said, “Yeah, we’ll see.” He promised he would. Do you know how many times 5 minutes passed? 12. A full hour. Then I sent a text message, fuming at this point that said “Five Minutes my ass. You are treading on thin ice.” He wrote back and said, “Maybe.” I’m done playing games. Back on the personals. Gotta find more dirt for the blog.

They really only survive in my world for like, 2 weeks, don’t they? Again, all of this should have occured AFTER I GOT MY MOTORCYCLE LICENSE.

Now, last night was positively crazy. I had more alcohol in the evening than I ever have before. Sara and I were counting how much we drank, and we lost count. I think I had 7 or 8 beers. I never drink that much. I’ve also never said the words “I never drink so much” as many times as I have in the past few weeks. I think there’s more drinking tonight for Dana’s birthday. Happy Birthday Dana!

I had a very long conversation about MotorcycleInstructor last night and again today. Last night, Helen gave me some great advice about men and love in general, then I went to bed and read more in The Art of Seduction, then today I talked to my therapist for almost an hour. Here are my thoughts:

Helen said that whatever tone a relationship has in the beginning is the tone that is set for the duration. If MotorcycleInstructor is chasing me now, let him continue to be the pursuer. So I said, “Ok, so like, if he calls I shouldn’t pick up tonight and just let him wonder where I am?” She said that was the right idea – to not be too available. Ok. Got it.

Then I read more in The Art of Seduction – a fabulous book. I am almost at the end and while most of the book pertains to winning people over, the last few chapters are about the actual act of seduction. The most important thing I learned is exactly what Helen had just told me. Men want to be the pursuer. They see it as a challenge. They think if they have to try hard to obtain you, then you are truly worth having. (Duh.) The interesting caveat to this is when they slack off in their pursuit, usually the woman steps it up and then become the pursuer. This is unattractive to the male and he backs off at this point in time. I am so loving this idea right now. Of course this is a stupid game, but I think about it like this. When some pursues me, I end up reciprocating the feeling if I like them. And I want to show that they don’t have to do all the calling, planning of dates etc. Apparently this reciprocal behavior is incorrect. I ignored MotorcycleInstructor’s call last night and decided to play this one a little smarter.

So therapist today. I tell her what I’m up to, including the above stuff about reciprocation, not being available all the time, not always having good answers for where I’ve been (“I had lunch with a friend.”) She said that it seems like I have been played by a bunch of men and now I’m going to get them back. Funny. It might be a game, but damn it is it fun. She also said that it’s not my style to play games like this or pretend I’m not interested. Again, it’s a good experiment.

This morning MotorcycleInstructor called again and left another message, but I was out walking Sammy (the love of my life) and didn’t take the phone. I called back, but then he said he was sick and he would call me later, which he did, a few times. Then he called me at 8 and I was at the gym and didn’t take my phone. I called back and then he said he would call me later on tonight. Should I ignore it again? I’m killing myself right now. I’m going to make him crazy. Again, it goes without saying that all of this should be occurring AFTER I get my motorcycle license. Too late.

So sorry I didn’t update yesterday. A friend called me this morning to see if I was ok, since there was no blog update. So sorry to all my fans. I’ll try to never do it again.

Ok, here we go. R called yesterday. I sent him to voicemail. Then called back and got voicemail, woo hoo! So I left a message. Then he called back and I sent him to voicemail again because I didn’t know what to say. Last night MotorcycleInstructor came over and I just didn’t feel like dealing with the R thing.

MotorcycleInstructor left this morning, but not before he took his glass of tea and the chips he was eating back to the kitchen. I found the glass in the sink, the chips rolled up on the counter and my jaw on the floor. I’ve never had a man try that hard. Usually I spend 15 minutes cleaning up after them. So, ok, he’s doing quite well.

Email this morning from R asking real estate questions, but then says this: “Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. What I really want to know is when can I meet Sammy?” So I write back an atrociously long email answering his questions about the real estate thing, then I say this: “Now, regarding Sammy, who is shedding all over my house as we speak. I was going to call you back last night but I didn’t feel well (still feeling faint and dizzy) because this is something I would have much rather told you over the phone. I have been dating someone that just kicked into the next step and we decided on Sunday that we’re going to stop dating other people. I’m of course taking all this day by day. I’ve been single a loooooooong time.”

Then I get this back from him:

Hey,
Thanks for the advice, and good luck with the someone. My status has also been iffy of late, so I suppose this makes things simpler. But do stay in touch–I’m happy to know you in any capacity. Really.
R

That’s pretty nice, don’t you think? I was impressed.

Scorecard:
Uh, zero. Well, one. I have MotorcycleInstructor. Everyone else seems to have gone away. HarleyRider hasn’t called. The other guy from the hotel bar hasn’t called. R’s now out of the picture and the other Jeff from Match.com I was emailing seems to have been eaten by wolves in Bolivia or wherever his job sent him for these past few weeks. But you know what? I’m ok with this. I like the attention I’m getting (it’s a lot of attention) and I’m content. For the moment.

MotorcycleInstructor came over last night. Hee hee hee. Actually, we had plans to get together last night, but the night got away from both of us (dinner and drinks with BestGuyFriend-M, Blondie & Boston for me, meeting for him.) So it’s 9:00 and we’re talking about getting together but he has to be at BWI (Baltimore Airport for those of you not in the know on the local crap) at 11:00 to pick up his friend. He’s in Takoma Park and he says he’s thinking about how he can come see me to just say hi and give me a few kisses before he has to go. I’m “very busy” at this point watching all my old 80’s heavy metal hair band videos searching for evidence of motorcycles that I can get ideas from.

He came to me, needless to say. I’m so lazy. We were laying on my bed and he was kissing my neck, but I was looking up at the TV, and he caught me! (“Baaaaaby, it’s Great White!”) He was like, “I can’t believe that I came all the way here for you to keep your eyes on the TV.” Sigh, I know.

Today we talked and he mentioned he hired some guy to help him do the classes on the weekends. I asked if he was hot. It’s a normal question. The answer I got was this: “Are you trying to get yourself punched in the nose?” I said, “Hey, you never said I couldn’t date other people.” He said he was going to remember that. I’m sure he will.

The past few days of 80’s heavy metal videos revisited will be evident in my titles for days to come. Enjoy!

It’s come to my attention via the comments that there are possibly some readers of this blog who stumbled across me by accident, and who are not known to me. This is FABULOUS! I am very excited, but can one of the anonymous posters let me know how they found me? I’m dying to know.

On to my life: Uh oh.

I’ve resolved to stop with the games and just let myself be swallowed into the whirlwind that is MotorcycleInstructor. So this morning, while he’s teaching about a dozen people how to maneuver their motorcycles around the lot, he sent me a text message. “Good Morning Baby.” We sent a bunch of messages back and forth, then I had to head up to College Park to go to IKEA. I asked him if he needed anything because it is like 105 out there today. So he calls me and says, “Will you come by and say hi?” So I did. And this guy who was actually in my class was there practicing and he’s like, “What are you doing here?” I’m not that slick, as well all know, and not quick on my feet. So I made some stuff up about having a question. MotorcycleInstructor came down to say hi and sat in the car with me for a few minutes. You know, he left all those people up there to ride around on their own. It’s gotta make you think about just how into me he is.

Anyway, we’ve had a few conversations today and will probably see each other tonight. I want Sara to meet him. He is wonderful. I don’t know why I’m playing such games with him. Of course I won’t disappoint you all and put another halt to the dating life, but, I don’t want to mess this up either. It will be a delicate, tricky balance.

Eating dinner with BestGuyFriend-M. Hopefully something Indian. I’m craving curry.

It is so freaking hot outside that I’ve been dizzy and faint for two days.

Today MotorcycleInstructor and I spent the day trading phone calls and text messages. Then tonight I sent him a text message asking for his email because I wanted to forward something from Harley to him. He wrote back, “No.” I wrote back, “Well fuck you then.” Then my phone started ringing and my text message inbox started beeping. He called me a couple times in a row, and left a voicemail. I checked the text first. It said that he was kidding. Then I listened to the voicemail and it was like, “Baby, I was only kidding. And you have my email on my card. But I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Holy crap. I’m really putting this poor guy through the ringer. Penny, in not so many words said that I’m treating him like I’ve been treated by other men. Perhaps she’s right. I need to stop with the games.