How Not To Pick Up Guys

A few days ago I enjoyed a flirtatious encounter with a guy and as I was recounting it to a friend, she was laughing at how happy it made me but then became deadly serious.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "You didn't tell him you know...anything about yourself... did you?"

Why yes, as a matter of fact, I've discovered that a really successful way of picking up guys is to tell them that you're not quite divorced yet from your husband who is serving hard time in prison for being a pedophile.

Yeah, stand back ladies, I'm like chum in the water and the sharks can't get enough of me.

I did stumble a bit as I was chatting away with this Very Gorgeous Guy. (This is a guy that I have noticed for YEARS and always thought that he was gorgeous but funny thing is, I actually think you shouldn't cheat when you're married.) I was talking about my kids and my pets and we were laughing and having a good time when he spied my hand with no wedding ring and said "You're talking about your kids but you haven't mentioned anyone else at home like....a husband?"

Keep in mind, this was before I signed the divorce papers.

Keep in mind, I am pathologically honest and don't like misleading people or playing head games.

Keep in mind that I am not the brightest bulb on the Christmas Tree.

"Oh," I said with false bravado. "I lost him."

I guess that wasn't the socially acceptable thing to say because Very Gorgeous Guy suddenly looked all sad and serious.

"Oh I'm sorry," he put his hand on his heart. "Was it illness or an accident?"

"Ummmmm, neither. It's a rather long and complicated divorce..." my voice trailed off into tiny scribbles.

"Oh, well, sorry that you had to go through that," he managed to regain his footing eloquently.

"I'm not sorry!" I chirped psychotically. "It's fan-TAS-tic!"

Yeah, I'm guessing that, as I walked away he probably nudged his friend and pointed me out. "See that lady? She's going to be single for a looooooong time..."

Too Much Honesty Makes The Eyes Bleed

I told my kids that they didn't have to worry about me hooking up with someone at this delicate juncture of our lives. Yes, I have gone out a few times with a friend who just happens to have the opposing teams equipment, but I know I have a lot of work to do on my own head before I get involved in a real relationship.

I've seen too many divorced women swinging from one rotten relationship to the next, searching for ....what? They keep getting hurt and they never stop long enough to put themselves on the proverbial shrinks couch and learn about themselves first.

But when I made some smart ass comment about being a MILF, my daughter gave me the look. "Yeah, all those Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter audio CD's piled up next to your bed make you a real prized catch. Maybe you could even get a Doctor Who night light to set the mood..."

Ouch.

But seriously? Kinda funny too.

She has a point.

I have two sources of literary entertainment on a daily basis. I read personal ads and I read obituaries. Really, they aren't that different. Both are trying to sell the reader on the merits of the person in question. It's just that one has the potential to have a future. Notice, I said potential...

The whole format of personal ads is screwed up. I can't sum up my wants and needs in 2000 words, let alone 20.

It would have to be something like this:

Soon to be single white female in search of something. This might be a relationship. This might be a friendship. If all the stars align, it might be both.

I have children. They are the most important thing in my life. You will not have seniority. You need to realize this. If you have a problem with it, take it to the Union President which would be...me.

I am not here to be your mother. I will not make your doctor appointments. I will not pick up your dirty underwear. I will not pick up your toenail clippings from the bathroom floor. (Well, I might do it because it is DES-GUST-TING and every time I see it, I will seeth with anger. Please use the garbage can damnit! God! I hate you already!)

ahem...

I would love to go camping, canoeing and hiking with you. I would love to learn about new hobbies that you are interested in. Please know that I will ask questions and want to understand things, except if we are talking about NASCAR. If you like NASCAR please stop reading and return to your trailer now, there is nothing more for you to see.

I like to cook for people that I care about. I also like people to cook for me. Note: "Cooking for me" does not involve calling out for pizza.

I'd like someone to talk to but not in an onerous way. You don't have to be my "girlfriend", I have plenty of those. Just tell me your hopes, your dreams, your successes, your failures, how your day went, what you want for dinner, and what you want to do on the weekend.

In other words, let's act like we give a damn about each other. Hey, maybe we won't be acting! Maybe we really will care!

Know that I will never wrap my life around another individual, ever. I spent 17 years shrugging my shoulders and saying things like "Oh, I don't care where we live". You know where that got me? In the middle of fucking Oklahoma with no one to talk to but the neighbor's pig. I have a plan in my head regarding where I will live and what I will do. I will not equivocate anymore.

Note that I am not a creature of culture. I do not care about "important" people's lives. I do, however, have a little fantasy world in my head that involves Time Lords and certain fictitious characters. Know that the seperation between Time Lords and fictitious characters was intentional. When a little blue box lands on my front lawn and a good looking man steps out and asks if I want to go for a ride, you can bet our relationship will be over. It's been real but let's face it...your old beater Chevy ain't got nothing on this guy.

As much as I would like us to have mutual interests, I would also hope that we can do things seperately as well. I don't need you hanging off my 24/7. I will go to the yarn store and knit. Please feel free to have your own "thing". Unless it involves NASCAR. Or online gaming.

There will be no online gaming. Get over it.

Perhaps the most important thing to realize is that I have some rotten shit to get over. I'm working on it. I'm working hard on it. But it makes me not trust people. It makes me think, on a daily basis, that 99.9% of the human race is out to cut my throat. There are times when I will revert back to the self of the past 17 years. I will be the long tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. Like I said, I'm working on it.

I do have some rather strong values. I value honesty. As anyone who has read this blog knows, I can be painfully honest. I don't play mind games and I don't go for vengeful bitchery. I do believe in justice though and I will beat my head against the wall until I get it or I pass out.

I value respect. Over the past year, I have learned one thing the hard way. I will give as much respect as I get. For sixteen years, I gave respect and got nothing in return. Guess what? It's not a healthy lifestyle.

I also value empathy. Not sympathy. Empathy. The ability of one human being to put themselves in another's shoes and learn from the experience. Sometimes, it's learning things that you don't want to learn.

Also note this: I am not a girly girl. I don't mind getting dirty. I don't cry alot. I don't get all mushy and weepy. It doesn't mean that you can't melt my heart with a little kindness. Flowers? Chocolate? Putting the fucking toilet seat down when you get done peeing? It's all good.

Yeah. So that would be me.

Now that I read this through I think I will invest in that Doctor Who night light. I think I'm going to be alone for quite some time...

Trust Me, I'm Not NORMALLY Crazy

It's funny how you can meet a person at a certain point in your life but the person they are meeting is probably not the person that you would hope they would meet.

Was any of that sentence in English? I find myself drifting off into Klingon lately.

I've been playing it fairly stoic with my new guy friend. We talk about everything but I'm careful not to let the freak flag fly to high. He's dealing with his own cheating crazy spouse and I'll be the first person to acknowledge the first fact of mental health, you can only stuff a finite amount of feces into your shit bag.

No guy wants to look around and muse under his breath "Sweet merciful Jesus, ALL the women around me are completly batshit insane!"

So I've done my best to seperate the skin from the bones when I bare my heart. It becomes a narrative that I'm able to tell, a story of some other woman and her terrible life. I can get through it all and not let a tear fall, I only sigh a few times, and eventually, when I reach the end, I can stop and smile. "So, what's new in your life?"

But yesterday as we talked about life, the universe, and garage sales I told him about my weekend of gestalt therapy in the garage. The horrible magic of picking up an object and being transported to the very time and place of its use; the hands that used to hold it, the hands that did so many things, so many bad and awful things...spiral...spiral...spiral.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Funnily enough, I didn't get the response that I've been accustomed to over the last seventeen years with STBX. "Yeah, that sucks." "You think THAT'S bad? Well, one time I..." And any other variation on the theme.

Instead, he listened. He asked questions. He cajoled. He complimented. He then left me feeling better at the end of the conversation.

And thankfully, he didn't seem to think I was toooooo crazy. Of course, we were on the phone and thus he couldn't see that I had wrapped myself in aluminum foil, glued Marde Gras beads to my forehead, and had been snorting purple glitter for an hour.

I do, after all, have to keep SOME sort of mystery about myself.

My Life, Abridged

Do people go out and date new people when they're 80?

I went out with my NGF last night and as we were swapping stories it flashed through my mind that at the possible half point in my life, going over all the old ground of where/how I grew up, went to college, worked, and all the stories along the way just gets cumbersome after awhile.

It wasn't until I got up this morning that I thought of the answer.

Opening My Eyes

Discussing your former marriage with a member of the opposite sex can be an interesting experience. Women are the "talkers", the "analyzers", the ones that will bond with you over shared experience and perhaps ask questions that make you go "hmmmm, that's a good point."

Unless you're seeing a male therapist, you're probably not going to get that level of feedback from a guy. It's just names, dates, times...sort of like giving a police report. (Unfortunately, that is one skill I've learned over the past few months.)

But I'm ok with that. It's a hard wired brain thing and nature is a bitch to go against.

What I'm finding a tad delightful is actual conversation.

That is, perhaps, one of the most pathetic realizations I've had about my marriage. I don't recall a time of just shooting the shit, sharing crazy stories, and laughing, not even at the beginning of our marriage. It makes me alternately sad that I wasted so many years of my life being sucked into a dark vortex, and thankful that finally I can stand back, separate from the experience, and realize how much better things are now.

Even if the divorce hands him a beauty pageant sash and every material thing I own, life is so much better now.

Even if the criminal case ends up with the judge giving him a great big hug and putting him in charge of a daycare center, life is so much better now.

That's been the biggest change in my head over the past couple of weeks. Screaming at the wailing wall just gives you a sore throat. I have no more control to alter events once I have done everything in my power to accomplish my goals. Learning to separate what is currently going through the vast Vogon-bureaucracy from what is happening in my everyday life has kept my feet on the ground.

That, and discovering that my new guy friend is a sci-fi fan.

And he totally thinks our new last name ROCKS!

Wow. Mutual interests, conversation, and respect.

It's a whole new world.

Any Interest Ladies??? Bueller? Bueller?

I almost shot milk out of my nose when my daughter showed me this. Another one of those gallows humor moments that I love her for.

This would definitely be the dating service my STBX would use. The resemblance is uncanny!