PoF #1: an objective review

Let's cast aside the emotion and futz of the past few weeks and focus on how things *really* went in my first little fishing expedition.

I initiated contact. The fish in question seemed interested, and thus followed an email exchange lasting a few day. The productive part culminated in him asking me if I 'd like to meet for a drink. Or course I would. He seemed charming, witty, very well spoken, if a little unwilling to be serious. There was none of the discussion about what do want out of this or "what do you do, what are your life goals, do you want to save the world, etc., etc. I suppose that should have been a clue, but hey. Things were progressing nicely and I figured I could feel him out properly in person. Trust me, that's always the best way to do it. Someone can come off so well over the net and in person be completely different.

At this point things started to go downhill. Date #1 - fish emails at the last minute to say he has to work late. Fine, it happens. Date #2 - fish emails to say he just can't make it. Uh huh. Date #3 - oops, fuckfish forgot it was his sister's birthday! Are you starting to see a pattern? Good, because I'm so dumb I gave him another chance. We degenerated into some marginally smutty talk and agree sometime next week (this week) we could meet up. Riiiiiiiiiight.

Last night I gave him the gears for being lame, having lame excuses, blah blah blah. Nothing really rude, not worse that we'd been backing and forthing for weeks now. And then the last message I tried to send him wouldn't go - it said:

This user has BLOCKED YOU.

Seriously. How passive aggressive is that? Just man-up and tell me to get lost. Sorry, were you being too subtle for me? AAARRRGGGHHH. It makes me feel like a creepy psycho stalker who's been harassing him with no reciprocation - which is NOT the case FYI.

You know when you say to yourself, wow - this guy is hot and smart and nice. Why does he need to find a date on the internet? Now I know. HE DOESN'T EXIST.

Stage 2.5 - Relapse

Oops. I may have done something stupid. Fortunately, no one reads my blog who can intervene. Only time will tell, and I'll only have myself to blame.

Who needs a therapist? The whole world should blog. It's free, you don't have to leave the house, and it takes less than an hour. Win win. Boring the unknown public? Even better!

Stage 2 - Anger

Fucking numbnuts (I think it's a good sign that we've gone from "dude" to "fucking numbnuts") finally sends me an email allegedly from Montreal, where another ones of his alleged sisters is allegedly getting married. Who does he think I am? His little late-night conversational bimbo? He was drunk and I may have been a little under the influence (thanks, girls!) but he STILL had no explanation for his appalling behaviour. Doesn't thing it worthy of an explanation! Talk about channeling Fairycakes - they both have such a capacity for avoidance - maybe it's the age? Is that something mummy taught you growing up a half a generation ago?

Either way it was pretty effing annoying when, after I asked if he ever planned on showing up, he said... wait wait, let me quote him exactly:

Speaking of which (how's that for a segue), I want to see a pic of you (not just your face). I assume you have a camera or a cell which takes pics. Send me one, now, via godiwouldlovetoputinyouremailaddy@yahoo.com

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. It's 2 in the morning, I'll get right on that. Perhaps you'd like me to take off a few layers first, bare some skin, talk dirty to you? Sheesh.

Perhaps I should put in his actual email address and you could send your comments directly to him. Now THAT would be amusing.

Because I'm all about the drama

I have a minorly obsessive personality. I'm glad it doesn't seem to apply to substances (other than chocolate) or gambling or something equally destructive, just to my emotional state. Over the years, I have got a grip on this problem, managing to be somewhat restrained in how I express myself. (We shall overlook Fairycakes and the OMG I've committed professional suicide! incident of 2007(?). Fortunately I also seem to be attracted to men who have the ability to completely ignore anything that doesn't fit into their strategy. Convenient, eh?)

Anyway, as a humiliation-sparing strategy, this blog has become an outlet for the things I want to say to people but really thing would be a bad idea. Many times it works. Not always, but mostly. As such, I give you what I would like to send to dude as a harassment technique: The Kübler-Ross five stages of grief.

Stage one: Denial

This is one of my favourites and I can stay in this stage for a long time. He didn't dump me. He really did have three unrelated very important events come up, coincidentally on the same night we made plans. Coincidentally at the last minute. And the fact that I haven't heard from him since doesn't mean he's REALLY not interested, oh no. It probably means something really important and probably bad came up, distracting him from checking his PoF mail. What, he managed to check three times a day before? Well, he must have been hit by a bus. Maybe someone died. Yeah, that's it!

(Yeah, yeah, I know it's over. I'm still working though the stages and obviously haven't got to the last one yet. Maybe this will help. Stay tuned as we work through the successive stages: Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.)

Another proud parenting moment

As a conscientious mother, I often volunteer for activities in my kid's classrooms. Nothing says I love you like a day with your mommy at school. Today was Yellowfish Road, where we go out and paint yellow fish (surprise) on the street by the storm sewers. This raises awareness for the quality of water that runs off the street and straight into the lake from the storm sewers.

Anyway, Calvin and Jack had a busy night last night, boogying until past bedtime and not going to sleep until, Calvin informs me, 10 pm. Shocking. So when he complained this morning about being tired I was unsurprised and unsympathetic. I agreed he looked a little rough around the edges, brushed his hair to give the illusion of a well-dressed child and dragged them both off to school, on foot, god forbid.

Half way through Oh Canada, Calvin breaks formation (completely out of character) and hustles over to me, saying he's sick and wants to go home. I have to admit he did look pretty crappy. I saw him cough and almost gag and hustled him post haste into the washroom. Needless to say we did not yellow fish road.

Poor dude slept ALL day. He did rouse himself long enough to play Uno and Picaseroni (or something like that) but he ate nothing, did nothing and had a fever of 102. Nice going, mommy.

Anyway, I got some prototype big bags made. One with regular interfacing, which I think is too floppy, and one with "medium" weight interfacing. While the bag looks great and stands up nicely, the interfacing itself bites. It's made from some coarse-weave fabric which is seriously pokey at the cut ends. I think it will snag yarn like crazy. I'm going to make another with the other thick interfacing, but I think it's too thick. I could do two layers of thinner interfacing, but that might just push me over the edge into not-worth-my-while...

I like the blue one. I can't sell it as it's too pokey but I could keep it. What a sacrifice.

Chinglish

All this time I've been pimping myself out on various internet dating sites and all I had to do was read my email!

I don't even know why I read this - it must have been providence. Usually it would go straight into the bin. It was from World Importers Net, who specialize in producing all kinds of Bedspread sets, scarf, glove, cap, hat, sock, shawl and plush toys etc. Wow - just what I need as summer approaches. But wait - it gets better!

We now have a good write to you in the hope of relations.

I live in eternal hope of relations.

Perspective

Oh, Po. I may not have known you as well as some but you were a spectacularly original character and I will miss you. I'm glad it's over for you, but not for us.

Seriously??????

My friends are horrified. They are convinced that dude either weighs 300 lbs, lives in his mother's basement, is married, or is existing just to jerk people like me around. Maybe all of the above. Is it fun, I wonder? It takes a special kind of person to do that. Maybe petty, vindictive, dishonest… sound familiar?

Why, they ask, are you willing to give this asshole any more of your time?

I don’t know.

I'm changing my profile to read this:

Tag line: Sucker

I'm a sucker. That's all you need to know. Talk to me nice, use some $50 words, maybe get me laughing and I'll stick with you through thick or thin. Nope, don't bother showing up when we agree to me. Nope, you don't have to confirm because I'll do all the work for you. You don’t ever even have to leave you couch because I'll let you string me along… and along… and along…. until you've had all the fun you can with me. Then you can ditch me and I'll go unresistingly back to the pond. I'll initiate contact, and email you regularly so you never feel the rejection of an empty inbox. I'll wait around while you're online talking to someone else, no problem. That what us suckers are for. They don't put us near the bottom of the food chain for nothing you know. Give us garbage and we eat it right up.

(Also closely related to another flourishing specimen, the Doormat. Maybe you've had some fun with her, too.)

Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me three times? I'm a sucker.

Damned innerwebz

Is everyone like this or just me? I had to force myself not to email him all weekend with completely stupid things to say. OK, I lie, I sent one, but then I composed a gazillion more and managed not to send them. Even the one saying my time is important to me and if you're gonna bail do it now.

Internet dating is designed to make you neurotic, paranoid and insecure. It shows whether you are online or not, whether you've read the emails you received, whether you deleted them - all things which are completely unnecessary. So dude is online, has read your email and doesn't respond. Is he talking to someone else? Does he have nothing interesting to say? Does he not want to deal with you? Is every other hot woman on the site sending him Better messages? Is he checking sporadically while watching the TV or making dinner? Who knows? And when they disappear off line as soon as you come on is that because they're trying to avoid you? I don't know! All I know is it fuels my raging paranoia and I have to try my very hardest not to send messages like - Dude? What's up? You didn't respond to my email about the weather 22 minutes ago. Are you fucking someone else?

Yeah.

So anyway, I have been very good. . I know there's a delay in the site showing who's on and who's not. I take that as a good thing. It means I do what I want. I log in for 2 hours, doing laundry or something completely unrelated and trying not to pay attention. I log in for 30 seconds, check my mail and log right back out. It's good to be unpredictable.

But tonight - I'm layin' down the law. Dude will confirm TONIGHT that we are still on. When/if he does so, I will give him my phone # and tell him to CALL should something come up. I should NOT have to rely on checking that stupid site to see if I'm going to be jilted. Of course it would be nice and polite of him to reciprocate, but if he doesn't that's too bad. God forbid something comes up with me, that's his problem.

I have a very baaaaaaaaad feeling about this.

Let's try some optimism, kids! He's got no reason to plan something if he doesn't want to go. It's the internet - he just bails and has no repercussions, so if he really didn't want to go, he would have bailed. End of story. Snap out of it, creeping jesus.

I see a red door and I want to paint it black.

That is my mood, or at least is has been for the last few days. Is this how depression comes on? I feel like I'm wearing a black hood over my head. Bleah.

On the other hand, the sun is shining today and I feel much better. Or maybe I bottomed out and there's nowhere to go but up. I gotta stop whining, whatever it is. OK, so I made my child's birthday the worst. one. ever. but hey, I'm sure they'll be more of those. I sent him to bed without brushing his teeth, but hey, by the time that comes back to haunt him he'll have his own dental plan. And if he or his brother kill the other one, that'll be one less university education to pay for. Cup half full kids, not shattered and leaking red wine on my beige carpet.

Dude made startling revelations under the influence of alcohol on Friday night. Har. It's the modern equivalent of drunk dialing, only more permanent, unless you were foolish enough to babble on someone's answering machine. I'm going to take it as a good sign that he wanted to. Or maybe (based on the revelations) he's just a bit... I was going to say odd, but no - it's pretty normal, just dark and surprising that he'd fess to it. And MAN the guy can write. Even hammered he can use the word "behest". I think I'm in love.

If I should get stood up AGAIN, I hope nothing comes up at work because there may be a sick day on Wednesday. Not that I'm too heavily invested or anything...

Ah the good old days

...when advertisers could pretty much do as they pleased.


Who knew smoking was so beneficial? Guess I must have been smoking the wrong brand.

This has been quite the week.

1. I made plans with my PoF dude to go out on Monday night. Not an ideal date night, but hey, it was just a meet and bum-sniff event.

He cancelled, citing unexpected work commitments. Spent fun evening with Miko and rescheduled for Thursday.

2. Lost my keys. I don’t know where the fuck they are but really, I have to do something about my house. I blame space, I blame the attic, I blame the kids, but really, there is JUNK piled everywhere and it doesn't need to be there and most of it is mine.

3. Fought with Calvin. Over and over and pretty much lost my mind. Homework is the antichrist.

4. Bought small appliances - a hairdryer, clock radio, iPod dock, answering machine.

5. Had raging PMS. While attempting to get into the tiny space to plug in the new clock, I got frustrated and threw my plastic shelves across the room. Real mature. And you wonder where Calvin gets his temper from?

6. Thursday. Anticipation. All dressed, mascara on, hair brushed, I check my email. You know, just in the tiny chance that dude bailed on me again. I'm sure there will be no messages… but, sure enough, there was. He cancelled. Again.

OK, I got serious brownie points for graciously accepting his lack of excuse (I just can't fucking make it) - must be an afternoon of reading elegantwoman.org. But I clearly remember thinking, in my LL days, that I should disappoint everyone before I go out with them because you can tell so much about someone by how they react. Real gentleman do not yell at you or call you names, or make rude implications. Guess it works both ways.

Anyway, I thought there was a ring of truth (and desperation) to his messages and though it might make me a doormat, I am giving him one more chance. Really, just one more. The one bright side? When I said maybe it was my mojo, or the overused venue (Allan's) he said "It's not you, it's me" (and keep in mind he was well aware of the blinding cliché) and I fired back "Oh, that old chestnut." I was pleased to actually use that phrase!

Date night? Tuesday - AKA knit night. Miko's in NYC so I don't really want to go AND I won't need a sitter. God forbid I show up at knitting...

7. Went to the doctor for my check-up. I adore her so much. I unloaded about Calvin and what was going on and she was so great I almost started bawling. I sort of thought she would think I was over-reacting, but she was so sympathetic and understanding and had good ideas and is going to send both of us to talk to someone professional. I really hope that helps. She also suggested that, since homework was such a big stressor, that I give that particular joy to someone else. Daycare, school, Steve. Anyone. Just not me. It's so nice to have someone take away something that I really want to do but know isn't working at all. I am NOT helping him.

8. Calvin is 8 tomorrow. My baby. I'm hoping beyond hope that this next year is a bit smoother. More Dr. Jekyll, less Mr. Hyde. 'Specially since Jack has been sipping the potion lately.

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep

I need sleep. It's been what - about a week since I slept properly? I feel like I'm stoned all the time. Not good.

Tonight I should have been setting up for the Frolic. Instead - due to the massive efficiency of Ms Schecter - I am home, emailing dude. Frankly, what I should do is have two glasses of wine and go to bed. But no - I trade inanities via email. Sigh. Monday can't come soon enough.

I like it, but I need a reality check. Is he an asshole that can make conversation, or a really witty dude with a dirty streak and a penchant for double entendres? Maybe I'll ask.

I am getting the fairycakes/chris feel again. I know I'm getting my hopes up and am bound to be disappointed, but I can't help it. And I don't care. The feeling is grooooooovy. And maybe it will affect my appetite?

I want to rush home and check my email. Some part of me knows this is going to end quickly, and in crushing disappointment. Why does this always happen to me? The M-word hooks up with someone, has some emails, talks on the phone, has a date where the guy actually shows up and then he's totally in to her. What's wrong with me? Am I overeager? (yes) Should I drag the email on longer? I dunno, but when someone says we should meet for a drink I take that as an invitation. Am I wrong? Am I crazy? Am I obsessed? Do I want to go out with a hot dude named Daniel who can make conversation and is witty and personable? Do I know what a claymation star is? Is he really made of plasticine? Is his personality like a lump of clay, or is he malleable like a lump of clay? Enquiring minds want to know.

Fekola.

Were you scared away by my overeager offer of a drink? Did your agent suddenly call you up with a last-minute fill-in for Grommit? Is my obsession with chickens a turn-off? Did you realize I'm functionally blind without my glasses and don't want to go out with a disabled person (even if it means I get a handicapped sticker on my car)? Did I inadvertently mention I have two boys and you're worried they'll gang-r@pe your daughter while you're not watching? (hmmm… in a couple of years that might be a valid concern) Did your wife catch you surfing the dating sites again? Did skankygal123 email you with a picture of her assets?

I'm stockpiling chocolate for the crash.

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In unrelated news, the green sweater of doom is pretty much complete, I have sewed it all together, and while the arms are a little long and the body a bit big, I quite like it. I am going to have to rig up some alternate fastening system so it doesn't droop and drag at the front. Maybe one of those old-fashioned hooks for fastening your pants on the inside, and on the outside a cute button or something. I dunno, I think it might just look like a sack on me.

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Also - I finally realized it was me that bust my brand new machine. While in conversation with the woman who sold it to me, hurling accusations about how it were not workin right, it occurred to me that in the initial set up, where I dropped the carriage backwards off the bed, I might have bent the effing bed myself! I fessed up immediately and the woman was very gracious about my rash accusations (we do have a relationship as she shed tears on me about her newly dead mother as I was buying it) and thanked me for admitting my mistake. I think religion might actually bring out the best in some people. She's a bible basher, not me, in case you inadvertently stumbled upon my crazy ramblings and think it might be me. The point being, if it were me that broke it, I bet I can fix it!

Picture? I ain't got no freakin' pictures. You got the gabbagoo?

Older dudes

So what is wrong with people over the age of 47? I have had this mental block for ages whereby I think that I want to date someone between the ages of 40 and about 46. Old = bad. Hmmm. So far, almost all the men I have met have been jerks, especially the younger ones. Now that I have dipped my toes (ha ha) into the waters of PoF, I find the ones I find really attractive - both physically and expresionistically, are those who are around 50.

At first I thought it was a fluke - one or two, here or there. But I don't think so. Why doI want a younger man who I'm going to feel self-consciously old around? A well preserved 50 year old seems right up my alley. Case in point: 50 year old with a rather broody picture, taken by his kid so it's not very clear. H.O.T. And as he says:

I will endeavor to enamor you with my plagiarized wit, and superficial charm.

I love it when they talk dirty.

Mmmmm

I made yellow Thai chicken curry tonight. I'd thawed the chicken but didn't feel like cooking it but I made myself, what a sacrifice.

It was coconut milk based, something that has stirred nausea in the very depths of my being since the fateful meal in the Bangkok? Singapore? airport in 1993. Heck, it's been a few years - I thought I'd give it a shot.

PC curry sauce, with baby corn and red pepper. I almost had an orgasm. Who new?