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Sunday, Jan. 26, 2003
Last week I found myself e-mailing back and forth to all sorts of guys I'd just met from that dating site. I suppose just like in the real world, where the new chick in town gets all the attention until she soon blends in with the rest of the community, the barrage of e-mail from new contenders has slowed to a trickle. Not one is worth mentioning as a new "cast member."
But within the past week, the biggest news worth reporting is that I had a date. One real date--and to my pleasant surprise, it was real good.
James, the 34-year-old with the finance day job and the modeling and keyboard-playing side jobs who also lives "in my area code," could very well be my "type" (whatever that is). We enjoyed a 45-minute initial phone conversation, followed the next night with dinner, then coffee, then a drink at a local bar. We really have a lot to talk about, it seems. He has three children and is also divorced. He got married young of the shotgun wedding variety. I found myself having a Carrie Bradshaw moment. That is, as like the character on HBO's Sex and the City, I couldn't help but wonder what the heck is wrong with this guy. There has to be something wrong, right? I'll let you know when or if I ever find out. Meanwhile, after the bar drink and a few shared sweet, smooth, delightful kisses throughout the evening, he invited me back to his place. I didn't go, however somewhat tempting. I flew up to New York a couple days later, and we've talked twice since that night. I'm supposed to call him when I'm back in town. I'm in town, so I'll have to call him soon.
John S., the 40-year-old with the tech job and into his boat and fishing, finally gave me his phone number after a full week of chatting by Instant Messenger. He seems nice, harmless, fun, though older. He's also divorced with kids, but I forget how many. He probably gets bonus points for being in my area code. But also, he seemed pretty understanding of my situation and didn't freak out when I told him I was staying in New York at Joe's house, in the guest room. John would like to meet up with me for dinner one night this week. We'll see how that plays out.
Fran, the 34-year-old in northern Florida, not in my area code but a short enough weekend trip away, is funny at the very least. We have only talked by IM and I'd kind of forgotten he'd given me his phone number. We mostly joke back and forth about silly things including but probably mostly sex. I'm not sure this will go anywhere. But I'm willing to continue to get to know him some more.
Mike, also 34 and on the opposite coast from me, sounds great in e-mail, however brief our messages have been. He had a busy week, as had I, but having Super Bowl tickets will bring out the kid in most of us, and his excitement was felt all the way East. I hope to give him a call soon.
Gary, the guy I bought the house from who I ran into on the dating site, never did write me back. But I did run into him at everybody's favorite home improvement store. "I was going to write you back," was the first thing he said to me. Shortly after that he said something about being mad at me for not getting back to him about something I'd asked him for help with but never actually called him back about. "I didn't want to bother you," was my honest reply. I changed my mind about needing his help anyway. But thanks for making me feel bad, Gary. Sort of. I think we have a way with making each other feel bad about this or that. In any event, it turns out he's buying another house on my block to fix up and later sell. "So you'll probably be seeing a lot of me," he promised. But he still hasn't written me back.
Rob, the separated 33-year-old who lives practically within spitting distance (charming, huh?), sent me a real kind e-mail explaining that he was going to try reconciling with his wife. You'd think that would put him out of the running for sure. I was willing to accept that and wrote him again wishing him all the best. But it didn't end there. He wrote again saying that he suspected trying with his wife would be moot and that I may hear from him again in the not-so-far future. I'll leave the ball in court. But brother can I understand what he's going through. I learned enough about him to know he's a fellow Long Islander. I'll remember him in a heartbeat if he does write again.
I'll end my list there. The cuts:
I haven't heard from John D., Kevin H. or the mysterious "Xcelor" at all since my last entry. Oddly, as much as I love the name Kevin, I seem to have bad luck with them.
Tony, the 35-year-old from the panhandle, seems nice, but neither of us seem very excited about traveling to meet the other. While I have his number, he hasn't supplied me with any inspiration to want to use it.
Bob, 44, from Gainsville, I think lost interest in me when I responded honestly to his question about whether I'd want to work out with him. "Exercise?! <gasp>" was a direct quote from my e-mail reply to him. lol. I went on to explain that I'd walk with him anywhere, however far, hike a mountain or go on a bike ride--I'd even take a yoga class if he were into that--but working out with weights just wasn't my thing. It isn't. I don't think he replied. If he did, I certainly don't remember it.
Bruce, the 29-year-old single dad, is probably so not "my type" (whatever that is). Besides deciding I'm not really attracted to his picture, I don't think I'm attracted to his personality either. That he has tattoos probably scares me. Add to that that he seems undereducated; I think I'd feel more like his mother than a girlfriend. Yikes.
Now as for my trip to New York and time with Joe: He and I had a nice talk Thursday night about moving on but also remembering so many good things. He mentioned that sometimes he feels sad, and it was still so easy for us to sort of lean on each other and wrap arms when we took the train to work together. But our kisses were off-center, part on the lips but part on the face too. There was no question about whether I'd sleep in his bed or the guest bed, even though the guest bed is incredibly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, it's been important to him to have some of our pictures throughout our entire relationship. I have doubles for the majority of them. But going through wedding photos has been hard on both of us. I found one empty album that had been given to us as a gift but we never put anything in it. I took it, along with a wedding invitation, a thank you photo and a whole bunch of snapshots from our honeymoon and wedding reception: I want to put that album together for him. I mean, we only have one professional album, but I kind of feel like it'd maybe be cleansing for me to have my memories and package them in a way that would be a gift to him. It doesn't really sound like a divorce gift, does it?
Quote Of The Day:
"While it is wise to accept what we cannot change about ourselves, it is also good to remember that we are never too old to replace discouragement with bits and pieces of confidence and hope." --Elaine N. Aron