I haven't been posting as much because all has been quiet in the dating world. That doesn't mean I don't have anything to say about it though!
Let's start with Dragon. He's been continuing the usual good morning/good evening texts like a doting partner but while he's trying to make up his mind about me, I've been exploring other options. That and his schedule is exploding as mine is about to in the next few weeks. I rather enjoy this break from him. That's right cupcake: you can miss me.
Sure we have randy fun, but I'm still shopping, as my friend would say. I'm looking to sample the selection, and make an educated buying decision as opposed to dealing with buyer's remorse after some heavy retail therapy. Another friend told me awhile ago that the difference between men and women when they shop is that women are tangible shoppers: we like to touch items to figure out of it's something we want. Men on the other hand go into a store with an idea of what they need, look at it, and then buy.
(Dating remorse is greater than or equal to buyer's remorse)
What does that say about the fairer sex? In my experience, men and women date at the same rate. However, men are more upfront about what they want and what they expect. What they show for it after a shopping trip is a whole other story! Women will try one six pairs of knee-high, leather sole, black boots with a 2-inch heel before finding the right pair. Even then, there's no guarantee they'll ever make it out of the box. The same can be said for my dating adventures. I live in boots. But I'll never be satisfied, and there is always a better pair that comes along.
Ah, but what about The Trainer?
Well, we're still sass texting, as he likes to call it. He had a meeting today to figure out his next move. I guess it wasn't worth telling me how it went. Regardless, I'm enjoying some time with him on a much more innocent level. The other night we watched a movie at his place, and hung out with his dog. Let me paint the picture: it was the quintessential bachelor pad. Unfurnished. Stains all over the carpet. Stuff everywhere. Messy? Slightly. Cluttered? Definitely. Livable? If you're a sports trainer. He had supplements everywhere, a massage therapy table, and other strange-looking medical tools. Not surgical, but...machinery I suppose. He had a roommate which was no big deal. But we were going to watch a movie.
In his room. On his bed. Naturally, I was concerned about where this would go. Being the dog-lover I am though, I paid more attention to him than The Trainer. That in turn created a dog barrier between us on the bed. His dog loved my cuddles. Before we watched the movie we just talked a lot. And that was nice. I won't know the outcome until he tells me, but The Trainer has been kind and fun. Honestly I am 100% okay if he leaves and what I got out of this was a friend who I enjoyed a few dates with. If he stays? Well...what if he wants to commit but I'm not there quite yet?
(Red lipstick can make any girl feel glamorous)
That's what I'm worried about. I feel like I've gotten into this groove of dating. This isn't going to the grocery store begrudgingly after work because I need paper towels. No, this is going to the department store and trying to find the perfect red lipstick: the kind that glides on your lips with ease, never sticking to your hair, or chapping your lips. It's trying to find the one where you twist the case, the top snaps perfectly. The kind that makes you feel rich. That's what dating is like for me now.
After many talks with Brother Bear, he has convinced me to relieve myself of guilt. These men are on a need-to-know basis. All they need to know is that I'm happy being with them in that one moment. If they want more of those, they have to show they deserve them from me. I'm not going to be the girl looking at her phone wondering why he hasn't texted; I'm going to be the girl talking to someone else because he made the time for me.
I had this thought tonight. I went to one of my favorite restaurants and sat at the outdoor bar, sipping on a tequila sour and slowly savoring a huge slice of French silk pie. I was wearing my uniform of dress and boots sitting by myself. I was mostly on my phone because I didn't want to really interact with anyone. This was my time to be happy and alone. Happy and alone. These adventures fulfill and enrich me, but my time alone to go with these (mis)adventures has taught me that taking risks and forcing myself into new experiences helps me understand my needs. Dating others makes me consider what it takes to date myself.
Marilyn Monroe is known for being the envy of women and the desire of men. Norma Jean created a character that was to be desired. Many men fawned over Marilyn, but beneath the dresses and that sultry smile, she was still Norma Jean. As one of the most sought-after women in the world, anonomity was nearly impossible. Photographer Ed Feingersh printed a series of photos called 4 Days in New York. Sure enough, as she was hanging on a train strap on a subway, no one paid her any mind. With an innocent smile, she asked Ed if he wanted to see "her." With a rustle of her platinum blonde hair and a minimal back arch, eyes moved like magnets to see Marilyn in the subway car. Droves of men flocked to the woman they just passed by.
("Do you want to see her?" Source: Brock Street Gallery & Ed Feingersh)
The point of that story is this: I feel like Marilyn in that situation. Normally I don't pay much attention to how I interact with my surroundings when I eat alone. But lately I've felt poised and sure of myself, but in a very subtle way. Men at the bar were kind and asked me about my dessert. Servers came from inside to ask me if I was doing well. I know it's their job, and maybe it's the nature of that one restaurant but it made me feel good. And it's just not there, it's anywhere I go lately. While I have walls that need to be jackhammered with a quickness, I am enjoying being approachable.
It's not the dresses that hang right on my curves or the right pair of tall black boots that fit perfectly over my muscular calves. It's the way I carry them. The way I carry my men reflects on how successful these adventures will be.
And I have a secret. I'll call him Philly. It looks like I'll be having a taco date soon. While a great way to get my attention is with a 75% sale, tacos are the next best thing.
First of all, he sends me a text talking about our discussion earlier that day to meet at 8PM. Ok, that's understood. Less than five minutes pass where I don't respond and he texts me the elusive "K?"
Dude I'm busy! Clearly it couldn't wait...
So I drove 30 miles out of my way to meet him. He told me he'd be five minutes late. That five minutes quickly turned into 30 minutes. I told him what I was wearing and that I was outside the restaurant. Instead of walking up, he told me to meet him in the parking lot. You better believe I was thrilled to have an emergency text ready to be sent to my best friend.
(Imagine a brunette Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys)
JSG Dating Rule #1: If you're going to use a picture of yourself on your profile, please make sure it's you. It's courteous. However, this is my fault. He only had 10% of his profile complete, and I would later find out that he had only been on the site for a few days. Yes, he is a teacher and works at a gym. But he's also special. Yes, that kind of special. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one to down anyone with a mental disability, but the problem I had with this is that he completely lied. He lied about his picture AND was not upfront. I understand it's probably held him back from dating before but this was big for me. I was already trying to formulate an escape plan.
He had coke-bottle glasses, was short, and had a lisp. I had been duped.
So being the adventurer that I am, I decided to at least get one beer out of it. When the server arrived, I declined a menu and ordered the darkest beer; the kind that matched the hole in my soul for driving 30 minutes away from my turf for a bad date. I chugged it on an empty stomach. In all fairness, he was completely nice, and we had some good conversations. But...
JSG Dating Rule #2: Never mention a second date until you've made it through the first. After slugging back my beer, I ordered a water. I started to see a glimmer of hope when he was done with his beer, but he ended up ordering another. So I sat there and nursed my stale lemon water, trying to fight through the frustration. He mentioned that I would learn to love the water if I would join him and his family on their boat.
I almost choked on a lemon seed. He tried to convince me that the picture was him. Now he's trying to convince me that he could change my opinion.
After a few moments of forced conversation (and one awkward racist comment from him), I brought up the elephant in the room, and asked how long he had been on the site. That's when I learned that he had only been there for a few days. Then I did what I have never, ever wanted to do on a dating adventure: I became a hypocrite and lied. I told him I couldn't stay because I had to be up early the next day (I'm a night owl, obviously). And that I was only on the site to simply meet new people. I saw his pupils shrink behind his glasses, and his face drew long. He thought this was going well, and here I am crushing his spirit. I needed something stronger than murky lemon water at this point.
Before the check came out, I forced a smile, thanked him for a beer, shook his hand, and wished him good luck. Shuffling my tall boots, hoping it didn't look like I was running, I walked out of the door not looking back. This made...makes me feel awful. But I have always said my time was valuable. But here I was, a hypocrite like him. And I tried to justify it. Would any girl in my situation do the same thing?
Once I made it to my car, I called my best friend. Let me tell you about her a bit: blissfully married to my other best friend, both of whom I set up (I make better decisions for others than I do for myself). Bed time is almost always 9PM. She has no vices (she says she'll save those for me). However, she is my kindred spirit who will accept a phone call at 10PM if my life depended on it. This was one of those times:
"So it must have either been really awesome or absolutely horrible if you're calling me about the date. I know you said you had an emergency text ready, but wow"
I then spouted off at least ten run-on sentences explaining my situation. Her reaction ranged from fair sympathy to uproarious laughter. In hindsight, I'm glad I shared that laugh with her.
Through the long drive home, I considered the events of my day. Earlier plans for a movie with The Trainer fell through. At that moment with my windows down on the highway, I longed to be sitting in a cold theater rather than a loud bar with my horrible date. And Dragon was out of town for the day. He asked what I was doing later that night. Somehow it seems appropriate to add this:
I mentioned that I was out in a different part of town. Once again I became a hypocrite. We haven't labeled ourselves, so why is it his business to know who I was with? Maybe it's like Dating Darwinism: to survive in the dating world, we go through some tough spots in our evolution as mates. We maim others and garner new skills to survive. This is my way of protecting myself to ensure optimal survival.
After a few flirtatious texts, Dragon made his way to my side of town. I had every intention of staying home after the bad date. It was safer. I knew Dragon had homework, so I did the right thing after many hypocritical moments that night, and told him he should focus on getting his work done. Logic goes out the window after midnight, so he ended up staying over.
Yes, I let a man stay over. My dog wasn't happy about it. In fact she made a statement mess next to my bed as if to say "there can only be one. She's mine, not yours." Luckily he took that in stride.
We had multiple sheet pulling sessions that night. In between them we would laugh and tell stories to each other. In the early hours of the morning, we talked about everything that makes us happy. This is the first time I've felt that he let the seductive performer take a seat, and asked the softer, gentler side of me to dance. This is the connection I crave: for someone to appreciate the two of many sides that make up who I am.
Once again, I had to dodge mixed signals with Dragon. We laid there in between one of our trysts, caressing each other, and he said eyes widened and a playful smirk on his face:
"You know this is a big deal for me as someone who doesn't want to be tied down or committed"
If this isn't what we want, why are we here? I'm not sure how much of that he meant, and honestly I simply ignored that statement. Everything he shows me seems to void those words. I'm not the one texting first. I'm not the one trying to make time for him. That's all him. It's not to say that I don't make an effort on my end, but he initiates it. Always.
Chemistry: An attraction that can't be quantified or explained. We both don't deny that the chemistry isn't there. In one passage of Rachel Machacek's Science of Single, she talks to a woman named Dorothy who is in charge of dating seminars. She says that chemistry the bad boy, not someone that you need. Because really what girl doesn't enjoy a bad boy? The chemistry is damn-near intoxicating. And for now, I am find getting drunk from it.
So we held each other close. He fell asleep with his arms around me. Whenever I adjusted my position, he would too, never letting me stray too far from where he was. His hand would find my own, and hold it to would pull me near. I would turn and bury my face into the perfect nook of his shoulder, tracing my fingertips on his arms as he would gently caress my hair, kissing my cheek. If this isn't what we want, why are we here?
I am forcing myself to go with the flow. My friends try to break it down as simply as they can for me: if you're having fun, and he's game to play with you, then what's the problem? There should be no need to analyze this. If I'm happy and he's seemingly happy, then a problem doesn't exist. It sounds delusional to me, but maybe I can find a happy medium.
When morning broke the dawn, I met his widened gaze that greeted me good morning. I immediately reacted with a grin, nuzzled into his shoulder and said it back.
"I'm really glad a spent the night with you"
He said these words while he rested his chin against my chest. With a warm grin, I opened my arms and brought him as close as I could. I didn't want to say anything even though I shared the same sentiment. I only wanted him to feel my spirit aching to reach out to him. The heart and spirit that is a caged bird, ready to fly blindly into his sight.
There is a superstition dating back to WWI. It is considered a bad omen to light three cigarettes to a match. The enemy can spot the first spark. And then he'll trace it to a second spark. By the third, the location of the soldiers is clear, and they are open in an attack. I'm applying the same superstation to my dating life. It is nearly impossible to juggle three men, and now we're down to two. It's not a duel or a joust for my affection though. I'm not here to break any hearts. Whether it's with Dragon or The Trainer I would like something to work out.
But for now, I'm hiding the pack of matches. Safety first.
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. And I have promises to keep. Miles to go before I sleep. Did you hear me, Butterfly? Miles to go, before you sleep." - Robert Frost "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Call it whatever you want: My awakening. My chaos before my Age of Aquarius. But I have been a very busy girl!
My friends are growing weary of me...or perhaps they're becoming more amused. On the surface, it looks like I'm either a kid in a candy store, or I'm not being selective enough. I keep thinking that this new site I'm on is helping me understand what I will accept in a partner, and what I won't settle for.
Today my Other Mother came and helped me out at work. We started to talk about my dating life, to which I had to laugh off. It is becoming a part-time job trying to find the right shoe that fits. Before we could get incredibly in-depth with my adventures, my boss came in and gave me that familiar cock-eyed glance. It's another rare occasion where I'm in my usual uniform of boots and a dress, but my hair and make-up are done...and it's a nicer dress.
"Laundry day? No wait...you have a date!"
"...Yes, I do. Well kind of"
"With who this time? ...Wait, how do you kind of have a date?"
Other mother "Is it the cop?!" (Dragon)
"No...and he's a new guy I just started talking to him. But I might meet up with The Trainer to see a movie. So really, it's up to whoever asks me first. They're taking their sweet time pussyfooting"
If you could only see the eyebrows raise in unison. Before he went back to his office, he mumbled something about juggling guys now.
Of course Other Mother had questions and concerns. I told her that the easiest way to describe what's going on is that I'm in a "fly, butterfly, fly" stage. If the butterfly finds the right flower, it will stay there, enjoying the fragrance. There will be a symbiotic relationship for a few lingering moments. But the minute it sees another flower, or has had enough of the sweetness, it will move along, but always fleeting.
I don't believe I'm using these men. That's a crude way of phrasing it. I prefer the term "sampling."
You must be wondering what's going on with Dragon and The Trainer then...
The Dragon is giving me mixed signals. We spent time together the other day and let me know his intentions: he's not ready to settle down, and wants to take things slow. Okay fine...but the physical chemistry is so strong and enticing. I may or may not have given in. You guessed it: I gave in. I gave into the seductive prospect of playing dirty with a cop. And I regret nothing. But to take it slow after that? Realistically, it's not feasible. We even talked about how it was too soon, and we agreed that it was not the best idea. I am taking the I'll-only-text-me-if-you-do approach now. Besides, he says "I'm not ready to settle"; I hear "JSG, you can date other men." It wouldn't bother me the least bit if he decided to date other girls, or even fulfill other fantasies for the likeminded. I was right to be hesitant to get too emotionally invested too soon.
And now I hear screaming: DID YOU AT LEAST TALK ABOUT IT?! No, we didn't discuss that second part. But I'm really bad about waiting to have these talks. Texting about it is so informal. I don't want to be a cop-out (no pun intended). And, of course, safety first. Blog PSA: always use protection.
As far as The Trainer is concerned, there is a higher likelihood that he will not move. Here we go again...I told him that when he finds out for sure, I would like to go on another date with him. And he said that would be a good plan. He's another mixed-signal fool. Again and again, we say it's a bad idea for us to meet up because we both know there's a connection between us. It's not fair to either one of us to get caught up in feelings, and having to separate because life happens. But he sends me texts that he thinks are so innocuous. But here are two examples. He's the pink bubble:
I am such a horrible instigator. I'm a sucker, even. I keep falling for the text-back. Other Mother says the next time I meet him, I'll know. I'll either know that this isn't right for me and I should move on, or I'll remember that feeling we had on our first date, and it'll be lightning in my veins again.
Well...damn.
Naturally as an adventurer, my reaction to these actions is distractions:
Yep. Date all the men to sample what is out there and sort out the pieces later. Obviously, this may or may not work out well, but in true form, I'm willing to risk it.
I've been tirelessly (recklessly?) searching on the dating site, tweaking my profile to make me more desirable, and mostly dodging messages from strange men. I've written back a couple of men as well, but that's for later.
Reading that back, I can't help but keep thinking I'm doing it wrong. I may tire of this eventually. There is also a part of me that wonders why I'm so hellbent on this adventure. We all crave some sort of human affection. But it reminds me of a conversation I had with my friend, and voice of reason in the past. (Ed note: calling him Brother Bear from now on)
Brother Bear and I were sitting outside a friend's porch, commiserating over our love lives. His is like a bad country song; mine has been reminiscent of a rock opera lately. While we sipped on our beers and sat outside getting eaten by bugs and getting licked by Southern humidity, I told him what my biggest, recent issue with dating has been: they only like the one part of me they want to see.
The Adventurer and Dragon enjoyed my stage persona. While I tried to introduce the sweeter, more demure side of me, they pushed her aside and craved the fiery spirit that's in me. The Trainer saw the bare bones of me. The virgin who was just putting her toes in the murky dating water with the purest intentions. When he met the stage persona, he didn't balk. In fact, he appreciated both sides of me, which makes it worse because of his moving situation.
As Brother Bear winced in the lamplight, he inhaled his cigarette sharply. Glancing down to gather his thoughts, smoke escaped with his deep, Southern drawl:
"Look....you have a castle. This is your domain. You have a dog, you have a job, you take care of what needs to be done. So what if you wanna boink x, y, and/or z? Of if you want to date x and not y and z for a bit. That's up to you. What makes it okay is that you can detach yourself emotionally if it doesn't work out. You're putting yourself out there to find what you need.
What makes you different is that you don't want a boyfriend. 'Boyfriend' means you want to settle. You want a partner who can ride dirty with you but give you affection, and there is nothing wrong with that."
Nervously peeling the corners of the big label on my beer bottle, I looked up at him and found some sort of clarity. Thisis my house. I am making the rules, mostly as I go, but if you have ever seen the relationship/dating section in a bookstore, it is full of contradicting advice. There is no one way to do this right. And even if we think we're right, we have a good chance of getting it wrong. A lot! He does make a valid point. There has to be somewhere in this strange, ever-changing world of men my partner who can adore the vixen on the stage, but can appreciate my obsession with puppies and adorable, old couples.
So tonight, I'm meeting The Teacher, one of the men I recently talked to online. The nerve-wracking part of this is he has a minimal profile: nothing but a few stats and a nice picture. I'm meeting him on his turf, far enough from home. As usual I'm going into this with minimal expectations. What makes it different is that I'm now hoping that I don't continue this vicious cycle of low expectations, dating high, mixed signals, and dating all the men.
While I may be a performer, I'm not a juggler. My hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, as does my heart-brain coordination.
And who knows if I'll see The Trainer before he leaves, or if the Dragon will put his foot down and say he only wants to date me. Regardless, this is my castle. I create my own adventures.
Sometimes I wonder if I get in-depth enough here when I write. More often than not, I present to you my stories, full of analogies and zany emotional grievances.
But beneath my ribs of steel lies a heart, ready to burst at any given moment; a heart that murmurs nervously more than it beats steadily.
Too often I can't find a happy medium: should I allow myself to give into everything that turns those murmurs into heavy beats, or should I keep it in a cage where it's safe from anything that could touch it?
These are the questions that weigh on my mind. Because how do we know that we are ready to dive in and let go of the things we fear about love and the like? I can preach all day about having fun and not taking things too seriously, but maybe that is really my problem.
I haven't taken myself seriously. My friends can attest to this. I haven't totally considered how the actions of those I allow to walk by my side affect how I love.
But what if I did put my heart out on the table? What would someone say? Someone may examine and see the scar tissue of loves lost and not totally healed. Another might see the stitches I've haphazardly sewn myself because I was too stubborn to let anyone else touch the injured part of me. One person would definitely see the burns which became dark spots, the slowest to recover.
There is a lot going on in my heart, and I assure you not all of it is negative. The parts of my heart that have been hurt the most are the ones I've tried to heal by myself. And the parts of it that are still full of life, are what I want to keep the safest. Those parts are innocent and should not be punished for having good intentions. But experience tells you that exposing your heart means letting people treat it like a specimen...to let it be examined and discarded when it's no longer of use.
Falling in love is scarier to me than jumping out of a perfectly fine aircraft. I walk by myself at midnight and have little fear about what will happen to me. But to expose the ugly, dark side of myself? That's horrifying. There's a struggle when you understand that you can see the bright side of everything. However bright it may be, the light can blind you from seeing what's underneath. That's what happened with CSB when he told me we never were. That's what happened when I decided to continue seeing OGM even though I knew he would move.
I can be selfish and flakey. Rude and obnoxious. Inconsiderate and foolish. Needy and angry. Who wants to see that? I don't like wearing my heart on my sleeve. People who do annoy me. They can't bend and adjust to obstacles. As for me? I try to take the most logical approach to love.
What?
The logical way. Tactical. Having a Plan B in case Plan A doesn't work. To consider all the horrible things that could happen, and creating a mental survival plan because experience taught me that I will get hurt, and I will need to learn to stitch the wounds. Bandages unravel, so I must learn to cauterize.
Every time I feel my heart try to rattle its cage, I think about the next best way to repair it. Because I know I will let it happen. Believe me, I know it's not the best way to live. And then there's this school of thought: fall in love because it happens naturally, not because the opportunity appears to present itself. Fall in love with the person, not with the act itself.
These thoughts wake me at night. Hell, they prevent me from sleep at night. The difficult part is to dismiss that I am the common denominator in why my relationships crash and burn. The end result is always the same: I learn and move on. Sometimes the end isn't so horrible. Other times, it's devastating.
I'm prattling on because what it comes down to is the biggest question: how much should I hold back from falling for someone? One of the mothers I adopted sympathized with me one time. She told me she falls fast, hard, and at one point very often. I tend to do the same. In an effort to protect what's left of my heart, I hold back. I put on this front that I can move on. It's not me, cupcake...it's you. My time is valuable and I don't want to waste it falling in love only to hit the ground hard. I've done it enough. I don't know how much more my heart can handle. I don't know how many other hands I can trust to touch it.
My burlesque mama is of a different school of thought: enjoy it, but never settle. If I enjoy it, that's how I get blinded by the deceptive rays of something good. It's this game I tend to lose very often.
And then there's TD.
The way he kissed my shoulder the first time while he was capturing video of my dog acting like a fool for her toy.
The way he melted into my back while we watched TV
The way he leaned over, closer to hold my hand while we lay on the couch
The way he traced my back with his hands and I felt a surge charge all the way from my toes and up to my lips where I met his
And then...
The way I melt into his arms when he reaches for a hug
The way I found the perfect nook on his shoulder to lay so I felt safe in his arms
The way I look forward to hearing him tell me sweet dreams every night
The way I smile when he asks me to let him know I walked safely into my home and my doors are locked
The way I felt when he smiled at my excitable reaction to the end of my favorite show
It has been one week of this. Not to say that anyone should put a time stamp to matters of the heart, but when your heart is healing, it knows what it needs for nourishment. I wasn't expecting it this soon, and especially not from him.
Again it's just the way he is so open with me. By showing me he can be comfortable giving the caring part of himself to me this soon, it's like he's giving myself permission to do the same. I guess that's how it's supposed to be...
With bated breath and one eye open, I find the key to the cage. The hesitation is still there, but my hand is holding the key, resting in the lock, almost ready to release it into someone else's hands where I can trust that they will help me heal it so I don't have to do it on my own for awhile...
Ok, there I go throwing out words I don't mean again..."love." The least I can say is that things with TD have been well. The more we spend time together, the more I can see myself with him. Maybe not necessarily long term, but definitely longer than him being Mr. Right Now.
I deactivated one of my online dating accounts since I had better luck on the site where I found TD's profile. Truth be told, I haven't been on either one as much. Searching for men online became exhausting. And while I do enjoy all the attention, I've already singled out a few who I wanted to talk to already.
All the while, I am learning more about The Dragon. He's honest and upfront. That's pleasantly refreshing, and sometimes scary. He used to live in my neighborhood and told me horror stories about his time living there (which is why he insisted I texted him when I walked home alone). The few times we've walked my dog together, he is often armed and right by my side. I joked with him that it was a bit much, but I really can't argue with a cop. He also told me he doesn't want kids and was upfront that kids were out of the question with his future love of his life. That one shocked me. While my biological clock isn't ticking loudly, I'm in no rush for marriage, let alone kids.
I asked my best friend what her thoughts were about this. She basically said that one day my clock will likely tick, and if I'm still with him, to ask myself would if it be a deal breaker. However, she did like that he was upfront about it but for her, personally, it would make her not want to pursue any sort of relationship with him further. As for me, I am not one of those girls who insists on changing his mind or opinion on this. I'm taking an open-minded approach, but I know that it stings a bit. However, he is open to adoption, just not passing on his bloodline. Apparently there's bad blood there, but hey, who am I to judge?
It's these things that make me examine myself more so than it is to study him. He's incredibly open. On this dating site where we met, the main page has a question that asks "What is the most private thing you are willing to reveal about yourself." More often than not, the answer is the same: ask me anything. I'm an open book.
Here's how men I've encountered approach that statement:
Ask me what I want to do in bed with you because I'm 100% DTF
Don't ask me questions because I'll totally talk about myself the entire time
Let me tell you my entire life story so much so that it scares you away and kills the chase
But when he talks, he speaks from a genuine place and leaves the floor open for me, as it should be. However, many times I wince and cower, mostly because I'm so taken aback by it. It's truly attractive, and I can definitely appreciate it. I'm making steps to be more open myself, though I feel like a dog backed into a corner.
Many moons ago, my ex was one who wanted me to say everything on my mind and in my heart. It was like trying to force feed a stubborn baby. I would get so frustrated, depressed, and weary because the second part of his request involved criticism, rolled eyes, angry interruption. Naturally, this made me gun shy in every sing relationship since.
So I picked up some dangerous fiery toys, jump out of a plane, and learn to shoot a gun as a way to release any sort of confrontation and talking about feelings that is required of me. Without these props, I'm left vulnerable and open. I hate that. Spending time with TD is like that scene in Big Fish. Edward senses that time stops when he sees Sandra, and peels away everything in the chaos so he can appreciate what he finds beautiful about her. TD doesn't realize that he's slowly helping me understand that it's okay to reveal who I am and what I have to say. Instead of creating a scene where I'm in charge of the direction, I can let him put down my props...and he can get a real response from me.
I've also found myself shying away from my usual song and dance. Though I adore my friends, I have spent more time by myself and with new people, dates and otherwise. And yes, I've already been called out on it. Lions hate when you dangle fresh meat in their faces without dropping it. I recently had a conversation with one of them, explaining that there was a little guilt because I haven't made an effort to get the gang together, and that I haven't mentioned TD as much as other men I've dated, let alone invite him to join our group when we go out.
"Because you like him. And you want to spend time with him, one person with another, enjoying each other's company with minimal interference. And that's okay."
At first I thought it was because part of me felt embarrassed by his constant sinus issues, or the fact that my friends can participate in some unsavory activity and bringing a cop means bringing the wettest blanket in the stack. But my friend was right: I like enjoying this time with him. It doesn't have to be constant dinner dates, drinks at a bar, or crazy misadventures all the time. What makes me happy and content is this slow burn and desire to be with each other and to embrace this person we spend time with. TD said it himself: he was tired of going on dates with younger girls with no direction. Well...you know my requirements.
This past week, I've had an awkward screaming conversation with him at a bar, ice skated and made fun of him for driving his patrol car to the rink, watched my favorite show twice with him, and lay in his arms late a few nights. These are things that I haven't made much mention to friends. Instead, these are moments that I care to share only with him. Yes, I am writing down these words for all to see, but it's deeper than that. His openness, drive to spend time together despite his abnormal schedule, his ambition, his warmth have made me feel singled out in a crazy, convoluted world of dating.
This is one case where I can truly believe that it's okay for him to gently put my guard down, especially because I have such a difficult time doing it on my own. And I don't share that with just anyone. The fact that he has cracked the barrier speaks volumes. He doesn't realize that yet.
But I'd like to stay with him long enough so I can show him how much that means to me.
The day after the seemingly disastrous meeting with The Dragon, I was still pretty optimistic.
Because of unpredictable weather, we decided to forgo a Harley ride and opted to go ice skating instead (his idea). I jokingly said that he's not allowed to laugh if I bust my ass...and I will be nice when he busts his. He said he'd make no promises. Charming, I thought.
It was about to be disastrous again. Rain makes people suddenly forget how to function, especially when driving is involved. What would normally be a 15 minute drive became 45 minutes because of a major pileup on the highway. Maybe I could just turn around...
Alas, I ended up at the skating rink. To my surprise, TD had his own pair of skates. He apparently forgot to mention he's a former hockey player. Well...there goes me trying to look all cute and legit on an ice rink. As we were lacing up, we made small talk about family and friends, our jobs...the usual first date chatter. We also joked that this is what was supposed to happen the night before. This is much better, I said. I knew from the few words that we could hear and say at the club that he was worth getting to know.
I'm finding that he's a bit of a walking contradiction. There are some things that would normally make me wince, but others that make what I think is strange forgivable.
Let me tell you a tale about a cop who enjoys fruity drinks.
He played hockey, but has the worst luck with his health.
A cancer survivor who wanted to join the military but they can't accept him because somehow cancer is a liability.
That's how he ended up in law enforcement.
A bad case of appendicitis almost put him out of work entirely.
He knows how to fly a plane.
Because her family disowned her, he adopted his friend as his sister so she would know the love of family still existed.
While he sniffles from allergy issues, he owns a cat that looks like Hitler.
A Dexter fan who plans on going to law school, he takes vacations regularly and hopes to own many properties over his lifetime.
In the free time that he's not trying to win me over, he likes to tinker with elaborate security systems and create them.
Wait...what?
There were many moments in our conversation skating side by side on the ice that I wondered what the hell I was doing with my own life. The question of, "other than fire what do you do for fun" is always an awkward one. I always feel like I don't have time for other things, aside from the expected adult responsibilities.
It really was befuddlingly charming. After awhile on the ice he chuckled and said that it was highly amusing that he took the "badass fire girl" to the ice skating rink. It's true. I was out of my element. I felt somewhat forced to account for myself with some of his questions, like what else is there to my life. I didn't have implements to deploy and distract the dragon. Again, he kept trying to peel these layers to find out who I am at my core.
Then I thought of one of those two-hour conversations I had with Indy. He likes to read and understand people.
"Not everyone likes that. Some people like to have their secrets, and not be found out"
Well...damn. It's true. I keep thinking that I've made peace with my ghosts of dating past. There's still a brick wall in front of me when it comes to love, but I'm slowly finding the weaker spots to poke through, and remove that which protects me. It's not to say that I don't want to reveal every part of me to a lover, nor do I want to show the most perfect side of me all the time. It's just wondering how much of me should I reveal right now?
Let's face it: I showed the endearing, intelligent side to Indy and The Trainer, the wild child to The Adventurer, and with The Dragon...It's like unraveling ribbon in water. Slowly, hesitantly, but with the right force, willingly.
But stepping toe first on the ice seems like a good start. Later that day after a few errands, he asked if it would be okay if he watched a show we both like together. It happened to premiere that night. I was slightly taken aback (who invites themselves into my life?!), but I agreed. Before that, he suggested since I was on his side of town, to meet his cat and see his place.
Okay...he's a cop. He can't possibly try anything fresh. I mean, seriously, he drove his patrol car to the skating rink. It's not a front. But I think he was trying to reveal himself as this upstanding, adjusted adult who is worthy of my time. No secrets. Dude, I have stuffed animals everywhere, laundry in each room of my house, and my house smells like dog. I can't be this great girl he's been searching for.
He has a sweet cat, and his place is well-put together, security system and all. The lights were all motion-activated, so each room he gave me a tour of immediately lit up. You're damn right I called him out on how geeky it was...kindly, of course.
After the tour, he said he could just follow me to my place. He was walking towards his patrol car and jokingly told me not to speed. Telling me not to do something is the fastest way to ensure I do, I said. He gave me a smirk before getting in. On the drive to my place, I wondered if I would eventually get to see a wild side. Pilot, motorcyclist, cop? All the while he was mild, so I thought maybe it's okay for me to peel some of his layers too as much as he's tried to see all that's in me.
He really does have a strange schedule. I guess it's the life of a cop. After my immediate freak out at the Dexter season premiere, he asked if I wanted to have a late dinner. Why not, I said.
Same inner dialogue: I kept wanting to unravel his inner layers and much as he wanted to figure out what's beyond the "badass fire girl who walks home by herself."
We sat outside at a local restaurant, teeming with locals wanting to grab a beer on a late Sunday evening. There were talks about where we wanted to travel and about his goals. Whenever I talk to someone ambitious like that, I feel slightly inadequate. My goals don't extend beyond wanting to be the best version of myself so I can bring light into the world. He asked why I hadn't considered home ownership before and I told him I basically didn't want to get tied down. There is so much out there. Obviously that speaks for more than just home ownership. Obviously, commitment is risk, and if you know my track record, I'm really horrible at it.
The reasons I restarted this adventure is to discover what's out there; if there is someone wild enough to run with me. What's amazing is that I keep finding that there are men who can, and the ones who I think can run beside me in a blaze of glory actually get overshadowed or left behind. While The Dragon has revealed to be fairly mild, the dangerous side that I tend to relish in men takes a peek behind the curtain.
We've been on a couple of dates since, and I often the humbling question: am I forcing myself to like him? Think about it: look at your most recent significant other. There are bound to be things you cannot stand. I mean, where is the line between being nit-picky and accepting things as they are.
My burlesque mommy is screaming in my ear again: Don't settle
Regardless I like getting to know him. To study him, as Indy would say. I'm accepting that not every date or every guy I talk to is going to have that immediate rush within me where I just "know" this guy is it. TD and I warming up to each other. The Trainer and Indy took their sweet time. Things moved way too well and too fast with The Adventurer. But I can appreciate this pace with TD. Really...I think he is good for me. I tend to forget that part about dating.
After all was said and done, he walked me to my doorstep and gave me a gentle first kiss. Innocent even. Laying in bed thinking about all of the day's events I could sincerely say I was pleased. I never believed that true love or the like had to be immediate, though childhood fairytales would like to encourage us otherwise.
Some people say you can't rush destiny, and that these things should happen naturally. Others warn that hiding yourself from the possibilities is detrimental to one's self, and that it's in our nature to be curious and discover the possibilities.
But this is my adventure: a hardened heroine with the best of intentions seeks the prize of meaningful affection. During the course, hearts are slayed, and she suffers minor defeats. Once in a while, she finds a worthy suitor who she believes can help her find the prize.
That's a good fairytale. A great fairytale tells a story of how the suitor helps her win and fights the good fight with her...
And encourages to fight with what's in her. To defeat the monsters and fears within her.
So...The Dragon may not be the most appropriate name
(You're a lizard...)
Yeah...I immediately thought I broke my Good First Date streak. Don't get me wrong. He was incredibly nice. Is incredibly nice. But I didn't get the impression that he could really hang out and keep up. The most hilarious part? That is his whole bit on his profile: he apparently has a zest for life like I do, is a positive person, and is looking for someone to keep up with him.
Okay, well...to be fair. It technically wasn't a first date. It was more of a meet-and-greet.
You heard me. A meet-and-greet. He recently moved into a home, and had a housewarming party. Well, guess who I met. Yup...a party.
At a dance club.
On a Saturday night.
(Honey, this club is for the cool kids who try too hard)
You can tell I was thrilled already. But I will leave it to nerves. I was kind of stuck with his friends while he got me a drink. They all avoided eye contact with me, so I just stood there swaying to some music while they bonded. Normally, I can adapt in these situations. But I felt like I was at a zoo, being monitored. It wasn't just his friends, but the entire club.
This is the place to be on a Saturday night. All the cool kids who happened to hear about my neighborhood make pilgrimage here till the wee hours of the morning. My crowd hangs in dark, smoky bars; I was face-to-shoulder with frat boys and girls who can't hold their liquor (literally and internally). Bright lights kept flashing, and the brick wall showed random "avante garde" film clips. Because really, who doesn't like to see 1950's mock PSAs about the danger of driving?
He finally showed up with my drink. There is nothing worse that being in a crowded club, music blasting, and not relating to anyone around you. He smiled and asked if I wanted to dance.
Why the hell not? I at least get a drink out of it...
He is adorkable. Yes, he is still very good-looking, slim build, and had a genuine gaze. They weren't the kind of hungry eyes that were peeling away the layers I wore; they wanted to peel away to see what kind of girl agrees to meet him and his friends at the most crowded club in town for something resembling a date. We did the awkward elbow dance to find room, had a girl spill my drink with her clumsy dancing, and awkwardly laughed the whole time. I think he felt bad. I know I did. But being the good Girl Scout, I made the best out of the situation.
Here's where it gets really funny. I have a friend (and fellow reader) who has a history of bad dates. And it's always entertaining to hear. She happens to frequent this club, and I saw her while I was doing the "make room" dance. She pulled me close and said she was on a bad date and was feeling really buzzed.
...please don't let this be an omen, I thought.
After I wished her luck (and introduced her to The Dragon), we parted with his friends, and somehow found a bar area in the back where we could actually talk without screaming at each other.
I was sweaty, and smelled like warm, sweet cider. I know it sounds like the beginnings of a bad Skinemax flick, but really it was simply gross. Both with a heavy, awkward sigh, we finally started to talk. He asked how I know about the Tail of the Dragon. I could have made an elaborate story about how I love riding on a motorcycle. But no. I told him I knew about it from my ex. As if it wasn't awkward enough, I start our first non-screaming conversation about my jerk ex. But...then again, he didn't know he was a jerk.
And then my ethnicity. Surprisingly this doesn't come up a lot in dates. I told him Filipino, and asked me to guess his. To be 100% honest I couldn't figure it out. He's half Puerto Rican and half Irish. Damn that's kinda hot. He also said he's a cop, which means he wears a uniform, which automatically means he's hot. Right? Girl logic is ridiculous sometimes.
We joked around for a bit, people-watching fools as we finished our lukewarm drinks. At best, he was adorable and fairly geeky. It wasn't that same explosion I felt with the last few dates. But the more we talked and laughed, I started to warm up to him. Finally, one of his friends came to the bar saying that they wanted to leave. The Dragon was their pilot apparently. I smiled awkwardly at his friend as he made his way up to round the group. The Dragon ask if I wanted to ride on his bike sometime. I gave him a very diplomatic answer: that sounds like fun.
...he meant the next day.
Oh? I should be elated, but I was more or less stunned. I wasn't 100% feeling him, but...free drink? Free bike ride? These are fun things that I like.
So I agreed. Elbowing our way through the front of the bar, we finally found the door, and all the fresh air hit us like a brick wall. I could finally breathe. If it wasn't enough that this place was somewhere I would never go in, the awkwardness of meeting a guy face-to-face after chatting online along with his friends was plenty to stifle me on a Saturday night.
After I thanked him for the drink, we hugged. We would figure out the next-day details later. As I started to walk towards my house, I heard a small group go WOOOOOO!!!!!!!
....later I found out that was meant for him after talking to me.
After walking my dog, I checked my phone. He sent a text asking if the walk home was safe. It really did make me smile. It was a very kind gesture. I get to the point living in the neighborhood that I do, that I'm street savvy. I don't feel invincible, but mostly aware of my surroundings, and how to be prepared (hello, keys intermingled in my fingers?). I told him I did and thanked him for making sure I made it home.
Then we chatted via text for another hour.
This guy was worth another chance. And I'm glad I took the time to meet him in a less crowded, and kinder environment than I did the night before.
I often say that I liken people to experiences from which I need to learn. He may be on his way to teach me a worthwhile lesson about myself.
My little, mousey-voiced friend keeps asking about my dating adventures, and she came up with that little gem.
She's right. I very well could!
(I'm like Mary Anne: unsure of myself, cries at ASPCA commercials, and what are boys?)
There are many things to consider. Men on both dating sites are messaging me daily. And the current men in this journey are all in some shape or fashion chasing me. Me? Why? I'm smarmy book nerd by day, and seductive fire performer at night. I've yet to find the right kind of man to handle those extremes. And yet they see something worthy in me.
For starters, The Trainer isn't quite sure if he's really going to move. He has been blowing up my phone for the last few days. I don't want to simply say I've moved on, but after what happened with OGM, I don't want to go on a few more dates with him and get too invested if he does end up moving. That and he probably couldn't handle my rebellious streak. I only say this because his conversations lately seem to beat around the bush:
"Hey you. What are you up to?"
Me: "Nothing much. How are you?"
"Good. Good. I'm watching a movie marathon and am looking forward to a long weekend. I have a lot of time for once."
Me: "Oh. Well good!"
"Yeah"
Really? Man up if you want to go on another date. Would I agree to it? Probably not, but I simply can't be bothered by men whose pair is smaller than mine. He may be intimidated by me. And that's another thing I won't be able to accept with my future partner, let alone a guy I'm simply dating.
I also stopped calling Indy. He didn't bore me, but I don't need a wet blanket sopping up the adventure. He keeps me on the phone for two hours and one hour of it is blatant interruption. That got way old rather quickly. Very nice guy, and gave me some super kind and sincere compliments. I really did enjoy our conversations (the times I got a word in), but I don't have time to sit around being the girl of someone's dreams. My profiles make it clear: join me in this journey, not let's meet, settle, and forever be intertwined in matters of the heart.
Things with The Adventurer have been quiet since we last talked. I'm pretty sure it's a number of reasons, main reason being that insane 2nd date coitus probably wasn't the wisest idea. I invited him to a show but he said he had family in town. Whether or not that's true, it doesn't really bother me. Trust me, I'm surprised about that part too. I'm pretty sure he wants to date around and see what else is out there. He could be like me in that regard. It's become this awkward line dance where you're switching partners; sometimes you do-si-do and your partner has two left feet, but your next partner matches your rhythm perfectly.
Now it seems another guy has joined my journey.
Remember how I mentioned this particular dating site strongly encourages its users to talk to ten people when they initially sign up? Well, The Dragon was one of the ten. I took a look at his photo and thought that I had a snowball's chance in hell. He's gorgeous. Looking at my journey, I seem to be opting for the dark hair, blue eye types. Like mischief and innocence, I think it's a wonderful combination. I truly need to start giving myself a little more credit.
So I sent him a message telling him that I thought that it was awesome that he rode his Harley on The Tail of The Dragon (thank you jerk ex for teaching me a thing or two about motorcycles) and that I had an inexplicable fear of rollercoasters myself.
It took him a few days, but he messaged me asking to chat. Well...my schedule is chaotic at best. Between eating free dinners this week, shows, work, and me time, I just don't check my messages on either dating site very often. Besides, I enjoy the chase! I told him I'd talk to him soon, which he didn't seem thrilled with. Guys (and ladies), "K" is never an appropriate response when you're texting, emailing, or instant messaging. It's the passive aggressive Asian mother of all responses.
Last night I was prepping for my set when I got a notification from him asking if it was my fire group that was on another side of town. I told him no, but we were at a different venue. He messaged back saying that we should chat soon in the off chance he may not be single very long...winky face.
...oh really? Who you tellin'?
So I laughed (or tried to laugh via instant message. I don't think he could tell) and gave him my number. He texted me right away! The yellow energy drink flowing through my veins encouraged me to send him a pic of me in costume: a cute little sailor. He enjoyed it. Looking back I don't know why I did that. Possibly to see if he really did find me attractive. Hell, when you're scared putting yourself out there sometimes, how do you even know? He said he was working that night and would be up late. I checked the clock a little later. It was after midnight. What kind of legitimate work does a man do after midnight?
Well, let's go over some Dragon Stats:
- Male 29
- Has adopted lesbian sister
- Works in law enforcement (hellloooo man in uniform!)
- Going to law school after finishing his senior year at the local state university
Okay, I also did extra recon. After doing the ol' Google search, I discovered that he and I have some friends in common. It's strange because they're people who I've done shows with, or people I haven't spoken to in awhile. I've been asking around to see if they could tell me anything about them.
Swoon. He looks good on paper. We'll see if this comes to fruition. In the meantime I have come to a very important realization:
If I don't take it seriously, dating isn't a horrible experience.
One would think that with the many ways I approach my life that I would be quick to understand that right away. Between releasing my initial heartbreak with The Trainer, realizing that Indy may not be able to handle another chaotic adventure, and The Adventurer exploring his uncharted domain, I really am liberated from the fears and uncertainty that comes with dating.
There are reasons people say "it's just a date." There is no lease or fine print on a contract. It's getting to know someone and having a good time for a few hours. If it happens to expand beyond that, awesome. If not, there are other suitors ready and waiting, maybe not immediately, but in due time. Lining up these four men, I realize that I'm to be sought after. I am awesome and the right men will see that. There is no question. I often confide in my burlesque mama. We chat about our love lives and bond over stories of love and heartbreak. One day, she told me to never settle.
I haven't yet, and believe me, it's probably the best dating advice I've ever received.
Quivering with anticipation (or hormones), I woke up the other morning, bleary-eyed but excited about my date with The Adventurer (TA) that night.
I remembered I could be an attractive girl, and put on a grey dress that hugged my curves. It had 3/4-sleeves, and hit above my knees. As always, I paired that dress with black boots with a blue zipper in the back of them. This is my uniform: a dress always paired with boots. This was also what I avoided on my first date with TA. In a way I'm glad because he had those damn hungry eyes. He could wait for that, I thought. So I broke the norm, and put on some make-up and did my hair before walking out to greet the day.
As I got into work, my boss sensed something different. Usually I'm wearing work pants, a blouse (fine, a flannel shirt), and boots. "What's going on? Look at you! You look great!" he exclaimed, with that mint julep Southern drawl.
Eyebrows raised he said allright then, and stopped prying. Before anyone blows any whistles out there, my boss is awesome; the right mix of fatherly figure, motivator, and jokester. This conversation could have happened with anyone.
Anyway...
I continued to slave at my desk, wandered to different departments, not hearing a word about where I was going tonight. The damsel in me figured he's the man who asked me out in the first place. I'll let him make the plans. It's strange to say it since I do take pride in holding my own and taking care of myself, which brings me to Queen B and her girls:
Finally the text I was waiting for all day: he remembered (good job) my favorite restaurant and he wanted to go because he had never tried it. I said I'd meet him there.
Later on, I walked towards this place that with the best of intentions, but apprehensive about my needs. Not those needs but...you know? NEEDS.
By no stretch of the imagination am I a prude, but I'm definitely not a girl who hits it and quits. But it had been awhile. I carried a hip-rolling strut with my stride. Maybe, if it did happen, it would be okay....
Once I opened the door to the restaurant, I was greeted with a smile and those eyes. They wandered up my figure happily before our hostess led us to the table.
This restaurant is my favorite for many reasons: the large windows made for people watching, the live music (which happened to be going on that night), and of course the food. We barely browsed the menu before he decided to surprise me again. I told him I usually get The Zen of Zin wine. I figured he knew of it from his past job as a liquor salesman.
"Want to just get a bottle?"
A bottle? Most guys just buy you a singular drink with dinner, right? Then again, I don't know much about going out on dates. Since he was in, I was in. The scenery was completely forgettable for me. What sticks out for me is just how much we talked and laughed...the way his elbows rested on the table, hands clasped just gazing at me with those blue eyes. The way I could never figure out if I should part my hair one way or the other, but settling on twirling and behind my ears instead. By the time I came out of my environmental euphoria, there was a bottle of wine down, half the patrons paid out, and the acoustic stylings of overdone covers muted.
"Do you want to go on an adventure tonight?"
The Zen was speaking, and I was its mouthpiece. Eyebrows raised, he stammered to get out an answer. I suggested there's a place we can sing karaoke, and we can get free shots each time we sing.
Like a politician answering the hard-hitting questions, he said it's a go. We still had time before the club opened its doors, so we walked up to the bar for a beer.
Damn. Here we go again. I reached into the crevices of my college-aged mind: is it liquor before beer you're in the clear? I've mixed before...and I walked here. I'm perfectly fine. The Zen said so.
I ordered first while he browsed the beer menu. When he asked what I ordered, he said he was getting the same thing. It's like that moment when you find out you have something it common. It's that warm coating that surrounds your childlike heart before it rushes to your face, forcing an uncontrollable smile. That is how everything has felt with him. It was easy for me to be, well, me: fire-spinning, sailor-mouth, smartass-yet-demure me.
There's a catch here too, by the way.
My friends are obviously my army. When I have a date with a new, I tell them where I am. Florida prides itself on hurricane preparedness. This is no different. I told my friends that I was bringing him to karaoke, and thought he'd like them and would fit into our circle.
Recall that warm coating around the heart? The same feeling applies to knowing, really knowing, that I could bring him around my friends, and it wouldn't be weird. It wouldn't be him checking his phone while our crew gets into inside jokes. It wouldn't be constant apologies for their behavior. Jax Single Girl has discovered another need: If you wanna be lover, you gotta get with my friends.
We made our way outside and he offered to drive. That and I would be a good co-pilot since he had never been to this place before. As I started to give him directions at the red light, he reached for my hand. TA just goes for it. And he gazed at me, starry-eyed and happy to go on an adventure.
This club is where the theater kids go to let loose and sing their happy hearts out. It's also where the BDSM set go for a good gothic time, and where my fire troupe often performs. I greeted the bartender by first name, which surprised TA. Yes, cupcake...I apparently know all the bartenders in town. So we ordered our first round, and I started to flip through the song lists.
"By the way, you have to sing since I brought you here."
This time the beer decided to be my ventriloquist. He started to laugh and agreed. I chose a song and walked it up to the DJ, leaving TA unattended. It bothered him that I wouldn't tell him what song I chose, in a fun way of course. And he remembered that I usually sing No Doubt. He rattled off a few songs, but he couldn't get what I chose right. It seemed to fit my mood, so I chose Bathwater.
A couple of songs before I got onto the stage, my comedian friend entered the bar. Their conversations flowed naturally, which made me very happy. Everything was just perfect. TA left for a moment, and my friend looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't within earshot.
"He's dreamy!"
Thanks, pal. I think so. I should also point out this is Glitterbeard's brother. He's also one of two of my amazing army that showed up. My blue-haired siren joined us later, enjoying the show with us.
So I sang to my heart's content, and he loved what he heard from me. His set followed mine, and apparently we were going the distance. I wasn't sure if I could handle anymore innuendo that night, which is saying a lot considering the company I keep. My bartender had already poured his free shot, and I was courteous to wait till he was done with his set before I took my own. With a sigh of relief that he was done singing, I congratulated him on his performance (...speaking of innuendo), and he cheered to a night of adventurous fun. There's that warm coating on my heart again...
But we were stuck together by hands touching, my knees against his, and his other arm around my shoulder, letting it graze my back from time to time.
The night was approaching early morning, so we decided to pay up and leave after my second song. TA said he didn't remember starting a tab. My independent streak was showing, and I told him I left my card at the bar. The next thing I know, TA is walking up there, handing me back my card, and paying for our tab. This guy...I must remember to thank him again.
We made our way back to my place, and he parked in my driveway. I thanked him for another awesome night. With willing eyes and smiles on our faces, we met with a kiss. Wow, he's a good kisser. We're still kissing...did the seat just lean back?
Needless to say, he was allowed inside my house that night. A lady should never say too much, but I will say that he was an attentive lover. It was intense. Clearly, we were both thinking about this since we first met. I guess that's part of the explanation for chemistry, and the way it works with two people.
After all was said and done, he told me he couldn't believe he met me. We kissed good night and I sent him home.
I can't believe I almost didn't give you a chance. I internally apologized for ever referring to him as Beer Man.
I had to hide my grin the next day. It was permanently tattooed on my face. One lost wallet, another (pious) visit to my home, and another kiss later, he is coming to my next fire show.
I like this adventure. I like it a lot. Yes, it's obvious I engage in risky behavior, but matters of the heart are risky too.
Letting the warmth fill the holes in my heart, and harden it sounds like a greater risk than bringing a guy on the second date home. Like every adventure I've had, it was totally worth it.
More than just a conquest, he is definitely worth it.
One thing that I'm learning in this new adventure: Talking to two men at the same time is painfully difficult. It's a fun challenge, but I have to treat this like I'm studying for a final. For the last couple of days, I checked Indy and Beer Man's profiles, reviewed, and made sure to commit certain parts of their profiles to memory so I don't goof up in any of our conversations.
Because how embarrassing would it be to bring up Beer Man's time in Brazil? Oh that's not right...my bad. And honestly it feels like cheating. I do not like cheaters. In many ways I'm an extremely non-judgmental person. But once I discover someone is a cheater, it leaves a certain distaste in my mouth. Yes, I understand that people change, but it's like a stain on their foreheads sometimes.
All of that aside, I have to go with the assumption in these men's profiles that they are indeed single and unattached. Can we get a Single Ladies reference in here?
That's better.
Alas, before my date with Beer Man the other night, I was getting dolled up after a long conversation with Indy. I was pretty over the moon about talking to him, but had minimal expectations for Beer Man. Obviously, I gave him a horrible nickname.
My survival instincts were on high alert. I let my friends know where I was. My emergency text was at the ready. I stayed close to home. I kept my appearance realistic and low on sex appeal. I knew how to hold my keys intertwined in my fingers in case I needed to be defensive.
Jax Single Girl was more prepared than an Eagle Scout.
So I walked out of my door late at night, and headed toward the bar that we were supposed to meet. This is one dating rule I broke. I understand it's pretty normal to meet at a bar on the first date. However, I like to keep my mind alert and ready when meeting someone new. After texting him what I was wearing I met eyes with him, smiled, and said hello as we walked into the bar.
This is the kind of bar the cool kids talk about. And by cool kids, I mean hipsters. Black-rimmed glasses, flannel, men-in-girl-pant hipsters. There is a bathtub in the bar when you first walk in, and most drinks are served in mason jars, a subtle ironic failure and jab against the redneck heart of Jacksonville.
He looked better than his pictures. Don't get me wrong here. Looks aren't everything, but when you're dating someone based on an online profile, they better be presentable. Beer Man is a tall brunette with a baby face.
Somehow the conversation came easily. I know I've said that about other dates, but it was different this time. I jumped right in as if I was talking to my best of friends. When you are with your true friends, you don't hold back who you are. There is no surface to scratch. I'm pretty positive I said one or two four-letter words in my first few sentences to Beer Man. Luckily he didn't mind.
It also turned out that one of my best friends from high school happened to be there with her husband. I ran up to her right after we ordered our drinks, and gave her a hug. She awkwardly pulled back and with her inquisitive face started to ask if I was on a date. Through clenched teeth and a forced smile I told her that this was a first date and that we had just walked in. She locked her eyes to mine as if to say "Good luck and vaya con dios." She later told me that I looked happy, which was good to know.
I don't know if it was because I wanted to force the time to go faster in case this was a bust, or if I had a brief moment of bravado, but I started to ask the standard first date questions about himself one right after the other: where do you work, do you like it, where did you go to school, do you like this bar, etc.
I think I'll blame the supermoon for the fastidious speed dating interview I gave him...
But he ran with it, and it seemed to work well. As we were keeping the conversation flowing, we noticed the bar patrons next to us laughing as the sound of metal was dinging against the bar shelves. There is a ring toss game where you take rings of mason jars, throw them at the shelves, and if you get a ring around the bottle of liquor, you get a free shot of it.
Here's how I knew he was an adventurer much like me. (Ed. Note: change his nickname from Beer Man to The Adventurer...not to be confused with Indy). With a charming, mischievous smile, he proclaimed that we should do it. Before I could complain about my short stature and T-Rex arms, he was already asking the bartender for the rings. We both failed miserably, but were laughing the entire time. After the round of Redneck Ring Toss, we started to talk about if we'd be happy with the shots we could have won.
I explained I was a whiskey girl, and told him about Fireball: a cinnamon cup of goodness. He explained that he used to be a liquor salesman and tried that, and is also a fan of red wine. That was one of many things we had in common, I would find out. I told him that my drink of choice lately was a Fireball shot dropped in a glass of cider. His eyes got big and another tight-lipped smile grew on his face.
"The night is young. I don't have anything to do and I imagine you don't either. Let's go to your bar and try some Fireball with cider there."
Is this what it's like to date me?
CSB was an adventurer too, but I was just along for the ride. There was a sense of confidence with The Adventurer that he could be trusted with my sense of risk and abandonment...at least for that night. Like a willing Bonnie to his Clyde, I said it sounded like a good idea. His charisma and machismo weren't offensive. It truly came off as genuine confidence.
So we walked the busy streets a few blocks down to "my bar." That's how quickly conversation flowed. I told him that my usual bar is a hole-in-the-wall, dank, dirty, smoke-filled space. He seemed okay with that. I also had a sense of guilt because I wondered if it was bad that I "had" a bar. I didn't want to come off as a daily drunk, but at the same time I remembered what I told myself earlier: I'm here for fun. This is just a date.
I took him to the back entrance, which I playfully chimed was where the regulars go. We walked up to the bar, and I was greeted with my first name, followed by one of the bartenders yelling, with her emphysema-riddled voice "YA BACK AGAIN, HUH?!" I may or may not have been there twice earlier that week. I stuttered a laugh and sheepishly met eyes with The Adventurer. This was the first of many times this night where he had hungry eyes. Yes, Patrick Swayze-type, jump-in-my-arms-in-the-lake-Baby, Dirty Dancing hungry eyes. He likes this about me. And guilt again. I don't want to be that girl who he thinks he can always take to the bar, get drunk, and get lucky. In his defense, he was a total gentleman that night.
After explaining the Fireball concoction to another bartender, I took out my card to offer to pay. The Adventurer stopped me and said he'll get it. Promising, I thought. So I handed him his glass and asked if we should raise them for anything.
"Here's to an already awesome night!"
He was right. We locked eyes with sincere ear-to-ear grins.. I probably could have broken that glass out of sheer excitement. I really was having a blast.
We sat at a high-top, chatting about movies we liked and the music from the jukebox. We really had a lot in common. He then recalled in a message I sent that day that I loved this bar because of Big Buck Hunt. There is nothing more satisfying than releasing rage after a day of dealing with absolute nonsense and stress, and shooting Bambi's dad...and his little critter friends too. He got up, got some cash, and put money in the machine. It's very important that I emphasize that none of this was asked. He just did it. He left me with no choice but to completely own him at this game.
To me this was a bit of a test: I get mouthy and angry if I don't get all three bucks each game. Even as I was swearing and getting jumpy with this neon-orange rifle, he was amused and enjoying it. That was so telling because I kept thinking I was out with my closest friends. I wasn't hiding. I wasn't trying to be this demure vision on an online profile. I wasn't forcing intelligent conversation about philosophy and reason.
I was having a good time being myself around someone who was pretty damn fine with it. Bless it.
After that round, he asked if I wanted another drink. Playing it safe, I said a beer was fine. Again, I didn't want to get too drunk and lose all inhibition. He came back, and proceeded to put money in the bowling video game. I'm horrible at bowling in real life, so this was not going to be my name. He won fair and square. And laughed about how bad we did at Redneck Ring Toss. Clearly, we were finding our niche in both bar games and in the dating game.
As we made our way back to the bar, we sat facing each other. I had another Cher Horowitz moment as I did many moons ago. "Look at that body language. Legs crossed towards each other. That is an unequivocal sex invite!" It was approaching last call somehow, and there was a lot of space at the bar. But my knees touched his, and I didn't budge. He didn't either. As we finished another beer (he keeps surprising me with his ninja skills), he was listening me narrate a story of sorts. But those eyes...they're not the kind of eyes that you first notice when you look at someone who has nice eyes. But they were intense. He would lean on the bar, elbow bent, hand cupping his head, staring at me with those hungry eyes. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable, but like everything else about him, it kept surprising me.
When Emphysema Emily yelled last call, we peeled ourselves off the barstools and started to walk closer to our homes. I don't remember what we were talking about (another reason I'm hesitant to drink on a first date), but the next thing I know, he grabbed my hand and held it. Did he understand that quickly that hand holding is a big deal for me? I didn't mind. In fact, it was a nice gesture. Instead of protecting me from monsters under the bed, he was protecting me from surly bar patrons at an ungodly hour.
As we approached the bar I brazenly asked if he was going to walk me home or if it was time to say good-bye. It would be a gentlemanly thing to do, he explained, to walk a lady home.
In the sea of pubs and hipster bars, there is a gay bar on the corner. I heard an effeminate voice drunkenly scream my name. My eyes widened to see my darling queen in his glitterbearded glory reaching out for a "hey girl."
I hugged him and greeted him while his partner, also in drag, pulled me close and drunkenly told me he loved me and fawned over me for a few moments. All the while, The Adventurer standing by, amused with hands in his pockets.
"AY! WHO IS THAT MAN RIGHT THERE GIRL?!"
Sheepishly again, I told him I was on a date. My queen is a mama bear who looks out for me and anyone he loves. To my surprise, as he has been good at all night, he walked up to my darling glitterbeard and introduced himself. I could see in my periphery, Glitterbeard sizing him up. I didn't want to keep them from whatever after party they had, so I said that The Adventurer was walking me home.
"YEAH, WALK MY GIRL HOME AND TAKE CARE OF HER! LOOK AT THEM HOLDING HANDS BEING CUTE AND SHIT! GO ON, GIRL!"
Paraphrasing, but that's really the gist of it. This date, was an adventure for sure.
He walked me up to my doorstep, and I gave him a long, awkward drunken hug (fine two) goodbye.
As I lay in bed, reflecting on this crazy journey of juggling multiple men, I grinned. This could be a good thing. I have always been a risk taker, and that night wasn't any different. I'm glad I gave him a chance, booze and all.
