For the record, I have not.

I had a really cool dating experience for a couple days last week.  This guy doesn’t mince words or waste time.  We met online and he very quickly asked me to have dinner with him that night.  At first, I hesitated and planned some paragraph about how busy I am and how it’s awfully quick and all that stuff.  But every time I sense myself about to do that or say “no” I challenge myself to say “yes.”  I have been having so much more fun lately because of this approach.  Plus, I do really like a guy who takes action and doesn’t follow a set of rules.  It’s empowering and sexy.  It’s my language.

As it came closer to time for dinner, I hadn’t heard back on exactly where we were meeting and at what time.  We had both been at the gym first.  Normally I’d just bail.  Instead, I did my best “decisive” and messaged him “I will be at Tavern on the Square at 8 PM with or without you.”  The way I figured it is if he stood me up, I’d still get to order macaroni and get hit on by other guys so it would be a good night no matter what.  He showed up – steak and avocado salad instead.

He was really good looking – way better than his photos.  He was a ginger – bonus!  He was also so confident, interesting, unique and really easy to talk to.  I had no problem being direct or able to disagree with him – it just flowed – a real, adult conversation with a mind of equal pace.  Plus, it didn’t hurt that he was 6’3 and I didn’t have to worry about emasculating him with my heels.

He travels for work and is in the Boston area something like every 3 months so I had no expectations.  He is a very big deal in his profession – money is not a motivator; it’s a given.  He had a really diverse background.  Grew up on welfare, joined the Navy, educated himself and just totally went after things with no insecurities.  My kind of person – the kind of person who makes me want to take a break from my resting “B game” and back up to my “A game.”  Just a really cool dinner experience.  At the end of dinner, he asked me out for dinner the next night and I said “yes.”

Day 2.  Lots of banter throughout the day building up to the next date.  “What’s something about you no one else knows?  “What are your biggest turnoffs?”  “What was your best date this year and why?”  “When was the last time you made out with someone?”  “Why would anyone show up to a presentation with a 78 page power point?”  I anticipated we would have a lot of follow-up to talk about at dinner and wasn’t wrong.

Super flirty dinner.  We talked about our friends and some of the funny things we have experienced with them.  We talked about bad date experiences like the time he took a Vegetarian to a steak house.  We had differences too – he owns guns and a motorcycle.  I am fairly certain he voted for Trump.  We talked about relationships failing and why that might happen.  He told me about a friend of his whose wife got a Pixie haircut and he lost his attraction for her.  He asked me why women get that haircut.  I said it wouldn’t be my preference unless I needed to do it for medical reasons but some women like to keep things simple and maybe it was easier for her having three kids.  I tried to empathize with her while understanding the general, honest male view of “unsexiness” it brings to the dynamic.  Basically, we never ran out of things to talk.

A couple Harpoon UFOs in, a little dim lighting in a bar and sitting side by side in the booth watching football, a back rub – the urgency built around his out of town schedule.  There may have been an incredibly sexy make out in an alley on the way back to the car.  The kind where a black wrap dress is insanely, perfectly suited and you have new fantasy fodder where much of your other fodder has grown stale.  And another intense bout of activity in the parking lot against the car interrupted only by an odd man coming out of the bushes wearing a cloak and waving a light saber.  Unsure of what that was about but it was hilarious and hurried up the question “your place or mine?”

The next day we left it as “I’ll call you for dinner when I get back from this trip to New York next week.”  I didn’t buy that and it’s ok.  This was exactly what I needed.  Fun, simple, romantic and no expectations.  Even still, I checked our online dating app chat once in awhile to see if he had made any new comments as he had the day after.  Nothing new.  No worries.  But late Sunday afternoon I checked and he had deleted our connection and chat.  “What did I do wrong for that harsh action?”  Literally, Ken (insert gagging sound as I say that name I hate)  had done that just a week ago and it feels like a punishment for having been a bad girl and not in the “adult” way.  It made me feel ashamed for a second.

Until I realized I had done nothing wrong and had been the epitome of charming, cool and well behaved at the bar.  “A” game was on.  Black dress was on.  Intelligence was on.  Free spirit and NSA was totally on.  Actually, I am at my best in a little adventure like this with no rules and someone with a non-traditional lifestyle where anything can happen.  I could never see this guy again or I could be traveling internationally a few times a year.  Both work for me.  But deleting me made me think I needed to investigate.  This is a good sign that my confidence is back.

It didn’t take me very long to find the Pixie haircut.  His wife….and their 3 kids.  All the pieces fell into place in rapid succession.  This business traveler likes to pretend he is single – that his home in CA is rented out to roommates while he travels.  Despite my profile saying “no married guys” he decided to take on the conquest anyway.  So hear this Ken (gag) – I didn’t know he was married.  You can’t get mad at me for that.

There weren’t even any signs (well, ok, he had a vasectomy but a lot of guys at this age have done that.  Didn’t seem unusual for this advanced world traveler.)  I am guessing he does this in every city.  And that’s ok.  I am not sad.  I made no illusions I was special.  I had already assumed he was doing this in every city and I was just “Boston.”  He was going to be my “Traveler” just like my “German” and my “T.”  I wasn’t looking for more with this one.  But married…that’s just annoying.  And he hates his wife’s hair and used that as a “I have this friend…” dinner topic.  That’s so tacky it’s almost funny.

The moral of this story…

• Where there is a vasectomy, there is probably a child somewhere.  And where there is a child, there is probably a wife.
• A highly decisive guy, while so sexy and desirable, is probably a guilty guy on a timetable.
• A pixie haircut is just not a risk worth taking.
• I slept with a Trump voter and haven’t melted yet.
• Unless blatantly obvious something is a bad idea, keep saying “yes.”  Even an experience with a twist can be fun and educational.

Every once in awhile I get a round of interesting messages in my dating sites.  Thought I should share – especially for those of you in relationships thinking about a departure.  These are legit, first messages with no editing or anything left out.

Weeks of 10/9/17 & 10/16/17:

“Your sunglasses are too big for your head.”

“You horny?”

“Let me know you better.  Single? Kids?”

“Hi.”

“Hey, you really hot.”

“Christine.”

Week of 10/30:

“Are you into younger men?  I’m 19.”

“You are so freaking hot.”

I am allowed to be upset that the latest prospect didn’t work out.  This one had a good job with ambition and was creative and smart and easy to talk to and funny and some unique health stuff we had in common.  He was interesting and flawed.  He lived nearby.   He was tall so I could wear my normal shoes.  Not to be mean, but I am 5’3 and if I wear 2.5 inch heels, I don’t want to emasculate someone.  As expected, I screwed it up.

Here’s a synopsis of my obnoxious behavior.  And remember, I hadn’t eaten, I was PTSDing, and super nervous.  I only had one more drink than my usual but empty stomach is not a good way to start.

I told him if he sticks around things would get really good.  True statement.  Once I get through my initial “safety” period where I have dropped enough stuff and feel safe that it won’t get worse than my past sins, I am good to go.  No more drama or confessions after that.  I was so close.

Sex was on the table but not that night because it wasn’t something where I wanted to be drinking for.  Date 4 was my plan if it felt right.

He made mention of me going out with other people so I boldly proclaimed that I like him and if this has a future, cheating isn’t my game.  If I am at that desperate a point in a relationship with someone, then it’s break up or couples therapy.  I have been cheated on.  He has been cheated on.  I get it.  I promised I would never do that to him.  Not that I was going to stop dating other people just yet – just that I wouldn’t cheat on him should that line get defined.  It wasn’t going to be that night as far, as I was concerned.

I also admitted to having been involved with a married man once and I was not proud of that but I wouldn’t do that outside my own relationship.  That’s when he said I had a “ding.”  But the things he is ok with me having done are far worse than that.  Things that could have killed other people are worse than someone he will never know fucking up his marriage.  At least I am honest even if it’s to my own detriment.

I did call him “babe” a few times but not from a girlfriend standpoint.  I just don’t like his name.  I can’t bring myself to say it so that’s what happened there.

At some point I know I used the word voyeurism a couple times but in response to what, I don’t remember.  But it had to have been something good.  When you find out a girl has progressive sexual interests, you should be psyched.  Everything else should be worked past to get back to that conversation later.

Gibberish kicked in when I was answering questions about where all my photos had been taken.  I also started talking about The National and art and being cerebral and having an artist’s soul.  I know.  That is a bit pretentious but I had just seen them the night before and then, when I threw on a playlist, Terrible Love was the first song so I got excited and started singing it to myself but just in pieces.  In gibberish.  Embarrassing.

So, that’s it.  Those are my sins.  That’s what got me completely cut off with no explanation.  All in all, I’d say that his is the biggest offense.  If he can’t handle Friday night, he can’t handle my life, pretty much, and that is the hallmark of a weak man.  He was looking for comfort & attention from me with no real interest in being able to provide comfort to me.  And despite all my sins, I am remarkably strong and need someone of equal muscle mass in the resilience and grit departments.

I was willing to handle an ex wife, a kid, an ex girlfriend….extremely recently and knowing he could be in an 8 year relationship without shitting or getting off the pot sooner.  He had also experienced a lot of death in his family at a young age so I factored in some depression too.  I wasn’t complaining about how he talked about the exes a bit.  I didn’t complain about why he kept asking if I had done drugs before.  I wasn’t complaining about being asked who I was out with every time I left my house.  I didn’t tell him to slow down when he said I made him happy.  No problem – I could manage all of it and didn’t need to solve all of it in one conversation.

Basically, unless you are building explosives in your basement with pressure cookers, there isn’t a whole lot I can’t handle because beautiful people are layered.  They are onions like me.  Their beauty lies in their flaws, mistakes and sins and how they move through them and come through the other side. Life is full of shit.  Mucky, smelly, knee deep horse shit.  You have to be able to wade through it and still be able to laugh, have hope, find light moments, build a structure around it because you will never have a life without it.  But if you have to run from me that quickly and ignore all the light stuff, that’s your loss and my gain.  Would it be nice if I were a little less complicated?  Sure.  But I’m not and me is what I’m working with.  And believe me, I do my life far better than anyone else could in my shoes.    If you have to walk through shit in life, I’m the person you’d want in there with you.  What a shame.

You know how couples have secret gestures or safe words?  You are at a party and you agree ahead of time that if it sucks and one of you wants to leave you will tug your left ear twice.  Or you have agreed that if an argument is getting too hot you stop if someone yells “banana.”  Or, you are in bed having agreed to get a little kinkier when  you sense he may be about to urinate on you and you yell “vanilla” to stop that.

Well, I am not part of a couple but I have decided I need a safe word for myself when my thoughts begin to escalate to that point where instead of gently questioning I go straight to setting fire to my subject and feel an adrenaline stoked sense of satisfaction if  the subject actually blows up and takes nearby buildings with it.

Remember a couple months back when I shared my story about the guy I decided was a Nigerian scam artist and I went full Homeland Security in conversation?  Then I beat myself and grieved for days because I thought my paranoia had finally gone too far and destroyed what could have been the love of my life when he responded that I was nuts.  I even talked to my therapist about it to admit to him I just wasn’t fixable

Well I saw Oliver online again recently except now his name is Olivier.  You see, I took a picture of his page in the event my bank account did actually come under attack.  When I saw Olivier the other day I just thought I must have forgotten that was his name,…despite being a rather odd name for a guy who looks more Irish than me.  I double-checked and wouldn’t you know it?  It was Oliver when I was talking to him.  Well, hello my Nigerian friend.  Guess I wasn’t crazy after all.

Once again, my extra paranoia is not paranoia at all but incredibly astute K9 cop like scent hunting skill.  I am not crazy.  I am just far more highly sensitized to danger than the average bloke.  I know danger is coming before danger even knows it’s coming.   And I am not going to feel bad about that anymore or accept the weird look people give me to indicate they feel sorry I suffer from such madness.  The only regret I have is going into customer service when I should so clearly have been CIA.

Regardless.  When my therapist and I discussed this flaw in my design I did learn something.  My therapist didn’t think I was paranoid at all in any kind of clinical way.  He did, however, think my “blow up everything” reaction could afford to be tempered.  I actually agree.  I think I can be suspicious a little more calmly.  We decided there are ways I can interrogate subtly and still arrive at the answer I need without ever worrying I have gone too far to go back should I be wrong.  Water boarding does not need to be my first technique.  Hence the need for a safe word.  When I feel myself reaching for the matches and gasoline, I am to say to myself “Oliver.”  I will then ask more questions, create harmless little tests against my theories and make a calm decision while unarmed.

Fuck you, Nigerian friend.  I am onto you and I was onto you then.

There is quite a bit of “polite” body shaming that goes on with online dating.  And I get it, you see pictures of someone and need to decide if that person could be attractive to you.  If so, then you talk and see if there is a reason to meet up and test that chemistry in person.  At least, that’s my approach.

What’s funny is that a number of male profiles will say they don’t want to write anything because nobody bothers to read the profile – they just swipe left or right based on photos.  I read the profiles.  I won’t contact anyone who doesn’t have something written and a pretty face is just a pretty face.  It’s important to see about spelling and grammar.  I don’t need someone to be smarter or even as smart as me but I need to know he is interesting and in my “orbit” so to speak.

Anyway, by “polite” body shaming it’s the “fishing” for something they think you are hiding in your photos.  Such as, you have uploaded only photos from 20 years ago when you were thin and you are now 100 pounds heavier.  I know some people do that but you have to meet and cover is blown at that point.  I would argue his lack of interest when meeting is fair based on dishonesty alone let alone potential lack of physical attraction.  That said, from a technology standpoint, you should be able to easily tell how current the photo is.

When you see a person who loads full body photos, there is no need to say “describe your body in detail.  Don’t leave anything out as I want to enjoy this.”  Ok, that means you want me to tell you I am not fat but you call yourself a feminist so you would never admit that’s your end game.  But it is.

I am not “fat.”  I am a human being with some fat on my body.  I used to have a lot more of it and even then,  my dating photos showed it.  I never hide anything.  I want to be loved for who I am in all honest form…flaws, cellulite, scars and all.

When I was fat, dating was getting called at midnight for a hook up because he didn’t want to be seen with you amongst his friends earlier in the night.  And there was no shortage of guys looking for me at midnight because you know what they say, the fat girls are freakier in bed because they have to be.  I got news for you, my weight has never had anything to do with my bedroom interests.  If anything, they have expanded greatly into territory no man would pass up unless he feels threatened by it.  And that’s in my current physical state.

I am not skinny.  Maybe my “height and weight aren’t proportional (a phrase I have seen in profiles.). Or I don’t want to FaceTime before meeting you (so I can physically audition) because I don’t FaceTime with anyone.  I am too busy to just sit and stare into my phone unable to do anything else.

I work with a woman who wears the same size as me but is probably 4 inches taller than me.  Her body is amazing.  I’m just shorter but we shop in the same section.  She is considered very pretty.  I am told I look like Tina Fey.  It’s the new glasses.

Here’s the thing.  The average woman is a size 14 to 16 or extra large,  I have been those sizes,  I have been in bigger sizes.  But right now and for the better part of 7 years, I have been between an 8 and 12.  I think my body has settled into 10/12 range which is fine.  That means I wear a size “medium.”  The scale is unforgiving but a lot of that weight really is muscle because I work out hard and often.  I have been known to drop pant and dress sizes when the weight has gone up on the scale.  So imagine the power in these arms and legs.

I am smaller than the average American woman.  And I’ve got brains.  And when you activate those brains the right way, I’ve got sex appeal for days.  And I like sex.  Not because I am trying to land a husband but simply for me.  So yeah, when you decide you like so much about me but I am not a perfect size 2 and you can’t pull the trigger, you gave up the best sexual experiences of your life.  You may even be choosing the girl who will stop all the extras once she gets a ring on her finger.  I am not even sure I want the ring because that means monogamy and I don’t know if I see that entirely for myself.  Yeah, you walked away from that girl….the one you have said your whole life isn’t out there.  As Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman, “big mistake, big !”

I actually find myself surprised I am put through these physical auditions so often because I show accurate photos.  I can’t do nudes on those sites but if you want me to tell you where the fat is, it’s in my stomach and I’ve got junk in the trunk.  I have cellulite on my thighs despite the loads of muscle beneath it.  And if I flex my arms, you will definitely know I can punch you in the face pretty hard. If I’m not flexing (which is most every person all of the time) I have a little bit of bat wing that gets in the way of that definition….I am not flexing nude in dating forums, or anywhere ever.  That’s just degrading, disrespectful, not polite, boorish and not feminist at all.

So let’s talk about you, perfect specimen of a man, as you believe yourself to be.  What’s that mole on your face?  Why haven’t you had that removed?  Oh, and the beard that looks like pubic hair in the shape of a turd….I don’t want that Brillo pad, germ carrier anywhere near my mouth or lady parts.  I don’t even think I could eat dinner looking at that.  Oh, and you, “tough mudder, avid hiker, triathalon picture taking fit vegan” I am guessing you have a lot of gas.  The especially smelly broccoli kind.  Yeah, not sharing a bed with that.  And I like to exercise but I don’t need to compete with you and get tough mudder dissentary together.

Then there’s guy with stubby hands and little fingers.  Nope, you ain’t touching my privates because I can’t stand that clumsy, clown feeling.  Sorry, Melania Trump,  I know you married into that but you get paid a lot.  I also love the separated and recently divorced who are “totally ready to start over with the right woman” but really just want to talk big for like weeks and then shrink away when you say it’s time to figure out if there is chemistry.  Poof!   He’s gone.

Receding hairlines, pattern baldness.  Yeah, you are out there too.  Not things I am necessarily looking for but if there’s chemistry, then so be it.  Sometimes you can’t explain your attractions. I once dated a guy in college who was amazingly beautiful and sexy to me.  Like an animal I could not resist him any time he came around.  Friends referred to him as the  Cro-magnon man.  I am not ashamed.  We had really, really, really fun times.

And to the man whose chest hair is popping out from his shirts in every photo, that’s definitely not on my list of must haves but I was looking past it for the potential of chemistry.  But you auditioned me, asked me to describe my body, show more photos and even then I am not good enough to execute on the one drink it takes to figure out if all your big talk, not mine, is the real deal.  I’m sorry, but when did this become about me needing to prove my worth to men?  Not to sound like an ass but I have never been on a date where the guy didn’t want to see me again.  It’s always been me that lost interest.  I’m out there trying to decide if there is someone I am interested in enough to sleep with so I think we are a bit misaligned because some hairy ape thinks I am too fat and being dishonest about it.  Sexy?  I think not.  The appeal has been lost.

This is embarrassing so enjoy.

So I have to resort to dating apps to try and meet new people.  I have heard you don’t like my bar hopping pick ups…actually, neither do I.  Work isn’t the right place and even if it were, I am too old.  My friends with single guy friends have definitely tried to fix me up.  We have run out of those guys.  And, even if I do meet a prospect, I am fairly complicated with my need for independence, my strong minded ways, my awkwardness in social situations and my social media exhibitionism…plus, my inherited gene combo isn’t the nicest.

I kind of always thought I would mesh best with military, navy seals, government agents, musicians…you know, people on the road a lot with a high degree of risk and me needing be on high emotional angst, good and bad, to maintain my adrenaline needs.  Let’s face it, the idea of just settling into laundry, Netflix and Sunday dinners is a bit dull and pedantic for me.  Musicians?  They aren’t risking their lives so I can see how that is an odd part of this sequence but that’s more about creativity and trying not to cheat (or at least doing so without passing on STDs to me and making me a stepmom) on me while missing me from the road and penning songs about it.

Despite being in dating apps, any man who messages me I find immediately suspect.  I don’t have the perfect figure.  I don’t have photos showing me partying with a bunch of friends and I am not there looking to hook up.  I am also intelligent and most times spell pretty well when autocorrect doesn’t get in my way.   More importantly, I have a disclaimer that I cannot be attracted to Trump voters.

So when this military guy reached out to me recently, I wasn’t expecting much.  I assumed he didn’t read far enough to get my Trump disclaimer.  Not to be overly stereotypical, but I don’t think there is a large population of liberal army guys out there.  And there aren’t that many single ones because many of them get married young for that life.  My dad was one of them.  But he was spelling just fine and acting super nice.  He certainly didn’t ask me to be friends with benefits or if I am kinky which happened with 2 other dudes this week.  Am I kinky?  Wouldn’t you like to know?  Actually, some of my exes are on here so they know 🙂

In this case, this was my speed.  He was hoping we could get to know each other for now and then meet up when he gets back in July.  Perfect for me.  Totally casual, totally fits with my schedule and doesn’t require any upheaval in my life for the immediate future.  Also, plenty of time to decide he isn’t right for me and to land that message softly.

I know enough about ground forces not to ask questions.  There is zero doubt what they have seen and had to do.  Respect.  They also can’t always tell you where they are or what they are doing.  Some of them get heavily invested in their “woman” because it’s a way to have something to look forward to so they zero in on that.  So it made total sense that he seemed to be getting into the idea of me rather quickly.  He started talking about where we should meet and having a potential relationship.  I pumped the breaks on both.  Military or not, that shit gives me palpitations.  I need a few minutes to sit with that crap and think through it.  Plus, how can anyone want to be with me that quickly?  See description above. If I were that alluring in spoken word and photos alone, someone would have locked this down long ago.  I am no flake.

But I believe in love.  I think my life has been odd enough to make me suitable for this situation and the whirlwind it might entail, including the idea of falling for someone who might get killed or severely injured.  PTSD….breeze.  So I did what I always do.  Research.   “What is it like dating someone in the military?”  Bing responded with a number of very helpful articles and blogs to give me a glimpse into what I might need to consider before I can plan a date or answer “yes” I might consider a relationship at some point.

I found I was more willing to consider it than I thought but I was still putting my foot down on furthering that conversation.  Plus, I don’t believe in getting to know someone or falling for them until you have met face to face.   Chemistry and sex are kind of all or nothing for me.  Leo.  So I wasn’t going to budge on that.  The research was just to help me decide if I should ghost this situation now or see it out at least knowing that if it went well, I would be able to let it go further.  I know you think I am nuts but I have to know that about myself up front and then keep it in my back pocket so I can have a planned, “natural” response when the time is right.  Just go with it.

Page 3 in Bing I saw one title about military scams.  I read it.  Warning signs….doesn’t have a military address or military email. I didn’t know about that stuff yet.  There hadn’t been a need to ask.  Eager to advance to a relationship quickly….uh-oh.  Yeah, that nagging reminder of how I am not that charming or alluring crept back up.  Peacekeeping mission for the UN….shit, he did mention that and I don’t think we are on any big peace keeping missions at the moment.  And back from the back of my  mind “he didn’t really vote for Trump????”

All of a sudden the reality of my life came crashing down again.  I was back to being a girl who bought a nanny cam to watch her dog sleep on the couch while I am at work.  And the only thing standing in the way of me getting home to him was a stop for a CTScan to figure out why my nose runs all the time, why I have to clear my throat all the time and why I get sinus Infections all the time. Back to deciding what tours to do in Europe.  Back to needing to remember to pick up my prescription and to write down my bread recipe for Mother’s Day dinner.

I texted him back and asked him how I should know this wasn’t a scam.  How romantic!  And I was trying to not do it in my usual 0 to 100 way because if there was any chance this is a real guy, then I needed to be respectful of the fact he is trying not to get killed every day and has a very different urgency for a relationship than us common folk.   He said it isn’t.  I then asked for his military email and apo.  No answer yet.  Could be the middle of the night in said peacekeeping zone or could be some Nigerian scammer.

Much as I want to be wrong about a scam and pleasantly surprised that he is real, I have a graduate degree, some knowledge of military protocol and work for a financial institution with OFAC affiliation.  If you are trying to scam a girl, probably picked the wrong one. I question my HOA fee going up $10 and stepped backwards buying a new car.  I scrape the bottom of empty purses in my closet for quarters about 3 days ahead of every pay day.  I got nothing extra to wire you buddy.  And even if I did, I guess I don’t believe in love over money when I have never truly had both.

So I am back to being my old self again believing that this kind of thing is a scam and could never actually just be a real cool story like some of my friends have with their husbands.  A guy wanting to marry me a month after dating is something that happens to my amazing friends, not me.  Because if someone were going to love me so freely, quickly and confidently ( and have me feel the same In return) it would have happened by now.

It was fun to believe in love for a few minutes today….like this weird situation might have actually been custom designed to fit the life I have been through and uniquely prepare me for what’s next.  Alas, I should have said yes to the friends with benefits offer from the other day.  At least that was real.