Do Not Enter!

The challenge to be Penis Free in 2010 is drawing to an end.  And, I have to say, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

The suggestion to be Penis Free for a year came from my friend, Beth, which she suggested that it become my New Year's Eve resolution for 2010., seeing I didn't have any at the time.  And you know me, I'm always up for a challenge, so I accepted it even though I honestly didn't think I'd be able to go a whole entire year without sex.  But, I did, and I have to say, I'm really proud of myself.  I held out!

OK, I need to clarify my "penis free" year. I had sex once with The Architect in April.  Do I regret it?  Absolutely!  For a few different reasons.  First, because I never saw him again after that night. And second, it would be so much easier to say I've been penis free all year long without putting in the disclaimer, "Well, except for that one time with The Architect." 

Bastard.

A year without sex (except for The Architect) has been a great learning experience.  I found out that it's not so bad going without it - emotionally, I'm just not built for casual sex.  I wish I could say I was, but I'm not. 

I'm going back to basics, people!  Dating should not involve sex!

The past few years, I have really been hell-bent on dating only "good guys," and I try to weed out the "bad boys" as best as possible.  Those are the boys who just want to get laid.  I thought The Architect was one of the good guys, and dating him made me realize that the five or six week wait-period still isn't long enough to get to know someone. He really was the final straw in my decision to stay celibate. Call me old-fashioned, but if I had waited a little while longer, I probably would have realized that he wasn't going to stick around - and even though he said he wanted a long-term relationship, clearly he didn't. He just liked the thrill of the hunt. 

Lesson learned.

So, now I'm back to where I used to be - holding out for a guy that means business, and putting the value back on sex.  I've decided that I'm not giving it up for anyone unless I know for sure he's looking at a long-term committed relationship.  

Look, dating is stressful.  I have to think about if I need to wax, did my condoms expire yet...do I need to buy new condoms?  What happens if the  condom breaks - that could lead to an STD, or I could get pregnant! Because we all know it happens!   Being careful isn't enough these days, I need a partner who I can trust through the good, the bad and the ugly.  Shit happens.  I don't want to have to worry about all that, nor do I want to worry if the guy is going to break up with me after we have sex.  Seriously, if any guys are reading this I'm speaking for all the women out there: Breaking up after you've had sex is like being kicked in the teeth.  Plus it's just down-right mean.

I have been dating here and there, but I still haven't found any "zing" with anyone...I can't even get past three dates before I'm reaching for the good ol' eject button.  Hell, I can't even find anything to blog about with these guys.  They are all very nice, and look great on paper, but I'm just bored.  They are boring. They don't make me laugh - and I certainly don't look at them in a sexual light.  There's no pizazz, no zing, no pull.  ZERO.  At the end of the date, dude kisses me good-bye and I'm either being licked or I'm having a pierced tongue shoved in my mouth without some sort of disclaimer during the date like, "Hey, how do you feel about piercings, because my tongue is pierced." Yuck. Not cute!  I'm convinced that kissing a now a lost art, too... 

And while I'm up on my soap box whining and bitching, let me throw in another problem I have with dating:  Guys can't make any decisions on their own.  Make a decision for God's sake!  Tell me what time you are picking me up.  Tell me the restaurant we are going to go to.  Just surprise me!  Put some effort into making the date memorable.  Women love to be taken care of - we love it when our date makes all the plans and all we have to do is show up.  Guys, it makes us feel special...  Make a woman feel like she matters and you've won half the battle!

OK, I'm done bitching now.

So, there we have it.  The count-down to New Year's Eve has begun, and Santa, if you're reading this, I've been a real good girl.  I've been kind to others.  I've been there for my family and friends when they needed me.  I  even adopted an a three-year old dog who was in need of a good home.  I have been a good sport on all my dates, and not once was I ever bitchy to them.  So, this year, I'm not going to go overboard and ask for something silly...like a boyfriend. No, Santa, I'd be happy with just having those winning lottery numbers!

Ya-hooie!

Swedish Dude

Hey,

I was looking around a bit here and I came across your profile. I thought you sounded like an interesting woman who can be adventuresome and knows something about how to enjoy life. I also thought you were quite attractive and had a warm, pretty smile and soft eyes. That's a difficult mix of traits to come across these days it seems. 

That was Swedish Dude, who turns out to be a psychologist.  Boy could he write an email!  Lengthy, well-worded, long emails - just love those! That alone caught my attention plus, I noticed he looked really good in aviator sunglasses, rode a motorcycle and from what the pictures depicted - he traveled a lot, especially to go skiing...and I love skiing!

So, I reply to him....with an equally lengthy email, which I'll only bore you with my first paragraph....

John:

I thoroughly enjoy your emails - you write really well. Your initial email caught my eye because it was a far cry from the "Hey, what's up?" which I usually get from admirers. Writing seems to be a lost art these days......

He responded with....

Carrie,

I would agree with what you said regarding writing being a lost art. In some respects, I think language usage is sort of a lost art, which translates into taking thoughts that one can clearly articulate and getting them down on paper, slowly disappearing. I think there was a time when the whole notion of being able to express oneself in a clear and well thought through fashion was sort of a point of pride. It was something that people wanted to be able to do. That whole focus on internal experience and the desire to understand and make use of it is considered less valuable on a sociocultural level where everyone is worried about what they have, or don't have, and what they might lose if anything changes in the world around them. However, I digress... :) I think this is straying into the realm of waxing philosophical and/or social commentary... we can get into that over a drink sometime.

Meow!  Tickle my brain with such talk!  I'm in!

After a few more emails, he suggested we meet for a drink at the Standard Grill Bar in the Meat Packing District of NYC.  I was intrigued by the 6'2" psychologist even though I had just had a really good date with Interior Designer Dude.  However, Swedish Dude was only 39 years old, whereas, Interior Designer Dude was 52. Regardless, I was heading out for a date...after all, the Dating Gods were smiling down upon me and I was going to take full advantage of it!  

We met on a Tuesday night. I was expecting it to be a slow night out on the town but, remember, this is New York City.  Who was I kidding?  The weather was still nice and warm, which meant that everyone was out to enjoy the few last days of warm weather.

When my date arrived, I was a little disappointed that he did not dress up at all - not even a little.  I, of course, was in a black pencil skirt with my high heels.  The "girls" were showing a bit, but I counteracted the cleavage and tight skirt with a conservative short-sleeved sweater.  (You can never go wrong with a sexy/conservative look...at least, it has always worked for me!)  I was feeling a little kitten-kitten meow-meow all dressed up. I knew the outfit worked because all heads turned as I approached the bar and my date had a smile on his face when we met.

*DING!*

One drink in (red wine of course) and we were discussing my date's career being a psychologist.  I was fascinated by it, but couldn't understand the whole point of being a psychologist.   

"What do you mean you don't give advice?  You sit there and listen to people for an hour and not once do you give advice?  That doesn't sound fun to me."  

You know me, if I have to sit and listen to someone for any length of time, that person will certainly get my two cents on whatever issue is on the table.  It's like breathing to me - both are a necessity, and definitely come natural.

Second glass of wine in and I noticed my date was getting better looking, and my hormones were coming alive!

Uh-O....

I caught myself looking at his mouth when he spoke....and then I was looking at his big man hands...I love big man hands!  He had a small, blond beard that outlined his jaw and I imagined that it was soft to the touch.  I wasn't listening to him anymore, but imagining what it would be like to kiss him.  He must have read my mind because he stopped talking and kissed me.  And, I liked it!

We ended up talking and did more kissing here and there. Our conversation had turned to talking about the patrons at the bar.  Again, it was Tuesday night and it was amazing to see the assortment of characters stroll up to the bar and order a drink.  It was typical New York.  Lots of rich stock brokers out on the town with their mistresses.

It was getting late and now it was 1:45am. I told him I had to leave for the second time - or was it the third time?  All I know is that I was leaving, no matter what. I had to get up early for work!

My date walked me to my car and there we had a nice, long make-out session.  I liked the way he kissed me....  (Maybe I shouldn't have had that second glass of wine!)

I asked if I could give him a ride home to his downtown apartment by Wall Street, and he said yes.  I didn't get home until 2:45am, and I had to be up at 7:00am.  I wasn't too happy about that as you can imagine...

The following day, I decided that yes, there would be a second date, but definitely noticed that Swedish Dude didn't care how late I had stayed out, nor did he ask me to text him when I got home.  A far cry from Interior Designer Dude  who had made sure I was home by midnight and sent me a text to make sure I arrived home safely.  (A very lovely, and sweet text, I might add!)  I got nothing from Swedish Dude!  

*Deducts five points off score card*

A week later, we went out to dinner for our second date.  I don't know if my game was off or that his was, but I was expecting our date to be a little more......fun.  I'm fun...and I wasn't making him laugh, nor was he making me laugh.  Our conversation was pretty flat.  It was back to discussing his job again, because it was the only thing we had to talk about. Yuck.


About four days later, we plan our third date.  I'd meet him at his apartment in downtown NYC and we'd go from there and grab something to eat.  


The night of our date, I went to his apartment.  When I walked in, it looked like your typical bachelor pad. However, THIS bachelor pad even included a friend from San Francisco who was staying for the week.  Swedish Dude's apartment was only one bedroom, so his guest was left to sleep on the living room floor on a blow-up mattress.  OK, I'm not going to judge. We've all been there - especially those of us who have lived in NYC - everyone wants to visit, and they usually have to sleep out in the living room.  I get that.  But, it was still a buzz kill. At least make sure there are not dishes left in the sink!

We leave and go out for sushi.  Thank God the sushi was really yummy because, once again, our conversation was about his work and analyzing people.  Even with two Sakitini's I still wasn't feeling the "fun" factor. 


After dinner, we hit a local bar for one beer, then headed back to his place.  It was cold outside, and I just really wanted to get into my car and leave, but HE wanted me to come upstairs. 

Shocking, right?


When he open the door to his apartment I could see a silhouette of his guest from San Francisco getting into bed. I introduce myself, and the mysterious man waves back, not really saying much.  Me and my date slip down the hallway to his bedroom which, by the way, doesn't have a door to it.  


Swedish Dude is kissing me and trying to make the moves, and all I can think about is his friend down the hallway who was within earshot!  What the hell? What are we in college?!

His bed wasn't even made, clothes were strewn on the floor.  Where are my candles? Where is the music? I need ambiance...!  

I was thinking of all these things that were wrong with the situation, but in reality, I knew I just wasn't that into him.  Plus, I was so close to being Penis Free in 2010 and I questioned whether or not I should give up that title for someone I just wasn't into all that much. 

Hell, no!  

I had held out this far, why should I give it up for someone who I'm obviously not into.  Just for sex?  Hell, we didn't even get to have the sex talk yet! Oh no, I think I'll keep the Princess on lock-down and excuse myself and go home!


"It's really late. I better go home," I said.

"You can spend the night here," he said, as I look over to the bed and wondered when the last time his sheets had been washed.  

Eww. 

"No, that's OK..."  (I've fallen for that trick before.....sleep over - sure, right!!)


He walks me to my car, and as he kisses me good-bye, he laughs a little and says to me in a serious tone, "Carrie, I can see that you are struggling with some inner turmoil."


Inner turmoil??? Oh, right!  Just because I have foiled your plans to get laid, now it's on me, and now I've been labeled as the one who has a problem, and you're calling it "inner turmoil."  Screw that! YOUR problem is that you're a *F-Bomb* ass-hole who has not once asked anything about me - and who is just trying to get into my pants.  How about that?!

I wished I had said that, but I didn't. Instead, I just smiled and said I was leaving.  Again, he didn't bother to text me when I got home.

*Hits imaginary eject button*

Swedish Dude might have looked good on paper, but in reality, I just wasn't clicking with him.  There was no spark....no laughter....no jokes....no nothing and more importantly he didn't take any interest in me. I just felt like I was being analyzed all the time. And who needs that?


Next!

~Carrie

Dear Dating Gods

Dear Dating Gods:

I'll be honest with you, I'm not sure how much longer I can go PF...  I'm really starting to climb the walls here. After all, I am in my "prime" you know!

Look, you know I'm really Hell-bent on doing the right thing for myself and I want to set the example for others, but...I don't know how much longer I can hold out! 

I've been staying away from all the temptation, well, not that it hasn't been all that hard.  No dates recently, and I just recently cleared the playing field to start the New Year off right, even though there was only two contestants. I just wasn't into them.  So, they got the boot and the "I'm just not feeling the chemistry," speech.

For research reasons, and for entertainment value, I'm still on-and-off Plenty of Crap and Match from Hell.  Most people would think it's a waste of time, but I have definitely scored ideas on what I want to write about in a book. I've had guys on there interested in me, but they fall short in so many ways (too many to list here) and nobody has been able to fill the shoes of the guy I sorely deserve.

Indeed, I have set the bar high. Screw it. I know what I want, and I'm not going to lower my standards just so I don't have to be ALONE anymore.  Most women would, but I'm not most women.  And Dating Gods, it does bother me that women do this, and again, I'm just trying to set the example here. Like Gandhi said, "Be the change you want to see in the world."  So, I'm trying!  My choices may not be the most popular, but I know they are right for me.

Having said all of that I would like to know, if it's not too much to ask for....could you please send Alexander Scarsgard my way?  He would definitely fit the bill!

Thank you, Dating Gods, I REALLY appreciate it!

Carrie

______________________________________________________


Hell ya, I'm aiming high!  I just watched back-to-back episodes of HBO's "Generation Kill" and ladies, I don't know about YOU, but it was like PORN to me!  Ay dios mío!

Seriously, just like a drug as soon as one episode was over, I was clicking onto the next.  When the DVD ended, I immediately stuffed it in the Netflix envelope and ran it out to the mailbox before the mailman got there, just to ensure I got the next one as soon as possible.  

That's what a drug addict does, right?  Frantically searches for their next fix? Well, that's been me then.  Frantic, tail-feathers rustled, pining to see more hot marines - dirty, sweaty men...carrying their M16's...

Yes, I know, it's the short hair, the muscles, the tattoos, the guns...their ability to be respectful even when they disagree - it's their integrity, their guts, their selflessness, their brazenness, their commitment...do you see where I'm going here?  Give me a guy who has THOSE attributes, and I'll show you a girl who's in love. 

(That would be me.)  

OK, maybe dude doesn't have to own or carry a gun, but I can dream, right?  I mean, guys like big boobs and long legs on girls, why can't I have a guy that knows how to use a firearm?  It's a turn-on, and any girl who says that it isn't - has never dated a man who carries a gun.

How about dating a cop, you ask?  I already dated two.  I'm not saying that all cops are crazy...but I'll just play it safe here and say they are just not for me.  One dude was definitely bat-shit crazy, and the other was already married...to his job.  Noble of him, but that just didn't work for me, however, we still remain friends.

*whispers*  It's always good to have a NYC cop in your back pocket for those times when you just might need to use that "Get Out of Jail Free" card...otherwise known in NYC as a PBA card. I have four.  *smiles*

Which reminds me...I need my new one for 2011.  Looks like I will be taking a trip downtown to see my Undercover Brother.  *Ding!*  Or maybe I just need to send out the bat signal.  

OK, enough about the cop.

Back to the marines....

Image credit: Paul Schiraldi

What's there not to love?

*SWOON!*

My Blind Date with Conan O'Brien

FINALLY! The dating floodgates have opened and now I practically need a secretary to keep my appointments on my calendar straight!  Where have these guys been?  I've been on a dating dry-spell for years, and now I'm getting bombarded with suitors?!  It must be my new profile, either that or the Dating Gods are now smiling down upon me for doing something right!

*DING!*

I'm not going to lie, there is still that residual energy...thoughts…whatever you want to call it, regarding DC Dude yet, I am determined to move forward even if I have to date everyone in New York City!

I swear I'm going to move past this, so help me God!!

I'm taking it one date at a time, and one day at a time.

Speaking of...I was set up with a date recently, the old-fashioned way, thanks to my neighbor, John.

John was standing outside his house smoking a cigar when I got home the other night.  I like John - he's in his 60's and just a class act - happily married, well-traveled and just has a wealth of knowledge to share, plus he told me I can take out BMW M3 whenever I want to......!!

VRRRRROOOMMMM!!!!!!

So, I get out of my car and notice John ushering me over and, as usual, we started to chit-chat.  He tells me that he just came back from Italy with his wife and a good friend of his who he considered "like a son."  He tells me all the fabulous things they did in Italy, all the while giving me the hard sales pitch on his friend.  From time to time, while describing his friend and his two-week long tour of Italy, he'd turn his head, take a puff off his cigar, and in very contemplating manner, blow the smoke up in the air very casually.  I could tell he was contemplating something. 

I've seen this before - I knew what was coming.

"You know, my friend is single, and I actually brought you up while we were in Italy.  I really think the two of you should meet."

My first knee-jerk reaction was, of course, "How tall is he?"  John looks up in the air, scratches his beard, and says, "I think he's about six-foot one," showing me with his hand.   More than likely, the guy is only six feet tall which, still isn't bad but, *wrinkles nose* I prefer taller.  I'm 5'11"!!  I need a tall man!

As our conversation continued, I'm thinking, "Do I have enough time to squeeze in another date?" My dance card was getting full at that point.  Match from Hell was paying off – I had three guys on the roster already:

1. Landscape Guy
2. Interior Designer Dude
3. Swedish Psychologist Dude.  

But, what the heck?  Why not?  What’s one more date?  What’s one more guy.........?


I realized after John's great sales pitch that I was going to have to give up my phone number.  So, I wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to him.  John seemed quite pleased with himself. 

We wrapped up our conversation, and said our good-bye's.

As I was walking away, he added, "Oh, by the way, Carrie, my friend has three children.  Fourteen, twelve and nine."

Fourteen, twelve and nine..........

Oh, God, I could end up like Julia Roberts in "Stepmom"..........

OK, well John....that would be an important piece of information to give me BEFORE I agreed to meet your friend.  THREE children?  That's a lot!  NOT that I don't like kids, but that's definitely "instant family" right there.  Kinda scary, if you ask me!

I yell back over to him, "Thanks for that information John! Hey, by the way, what does he look like?"

Confidently he says, "He's looks like Conan O'Brien," waves good-bye and walks into his house.

Wait, Conan O'Brien?

Don't over-analyze it, Carrie.....just go with it!

My blind-date called me two days later and, after a nice 20 minute conversation, we made plans for a dinner-date the following night. He would, of course, pick me up seeing that his good friend, John, lived across from me.

The night of our date, I got home and tried to talk myself out of the date. We all know that blind dates are disastrous…what was I doing?! He’s probably going to be fat and short - oh my God, this is going to be painful!

By the time I had was ready, and had bitched several times why I should be canceling my date to my roommate, the doorbell rang. 

Taking a deep breath and saying a small prayer, I opened the door.

Standing in front of me was NOT Conan O'Brien, but a very handsome man!  Hell, I practically fell over because my blind date was hot!  Not quite six-one, but...

*whispering* 

...we all knew he was only going to be 6' anyway.

Dinner was very enjoyable. He spoke immediately of his three children – two boys and a girl. He had married his high-school sweetheart, and had been divorced for 8 years - simple enough.  He was in sales so he had no problem holding a conversation with me.  I was thoroughly enjoying my date.

He was definitely easy on the eyes.  I couldn't help but notice that he was a really good-looking guy with a square jaw and looked more like Ed Harris (with a full head of hair) than Conan O'Brien for damn sure.

Hello!  Ed Harris!  Meow!

I have always been a sucker for that strong, square, Irish jaw....

*Pause*

Wait, my father has the same classic, Irish look – small nose and strong jaw.

*Weird moment*

Moving right along...

I'm two glasses of red wine in, and we are onto the subject of our last names. I happen to be really be fond of my last name. My date seemed to like it, too. Then, he tells me that he’s actually not Irish, but Scottish…and said his last name was "McSomething."

*Singing*

La-la-la….I'm feeling no pain...Scottish…Irish….whatever, it’s all the same to me (seeing I’m both as well).

I take another sip of my wine, but stopped myself and blurted out, “But, wait….I thought your last name was O’Brien...”

*Blink-blink. Tilts head to side*

For the love of God, in my hazy, red wine moment, I couldn’t think of where I got the idea that his last name was O’Brien.  I was drawing a blank, and it didn't help my awkward moment when I started mumbling my own thoughts out-loud.

Ooops!

Once I realized my error, I was quick to switch the subject, never knowing if my blind date knew his friend, John, described him as Conan...

Despite my big faux pas, we ended the evening with a little kissy-kissy make-out session in the car when we said good-bye. The following day he sent me a text, “What a good time, I enjoyed my blind date!” I responded back by saying basically the same thing, but I didn’t hear from him after that. OK, fair enough – I had fun, and this is what dating is all about.  At least, that’s what Nathan, my brother, keeps reminding me...

Well, Nathan, I had fun. And, he was a good kisser!

Next!

~Carrie

Date with Interior Designer Dude

Hi there!

You have a lovely profile and, needless to say, beautiful pictures. While I don't quite hit your age threshold, it seems we otherwise share some common ground - I'm English and Irish, love NPR, Italy, and country living (among other things!)  In any event, your profile really resonated with me and I felt compelled to write.

If you like what you see and think we have a chance at an interesting conversation I'd be delighted to hear from you.

Cheers

That was from Interior Designer Dude.  Yes, a "little older" at 52-years old, but he must have strong Irish genes because, MAYBE, he looks 42.  Good for him.  It must be all that good living in the country - my kind of guy.  He lives in a lovely area, right across the Hudson river from West Point, and wouldn't you know, the next town over from where The Architect lives.  (Hopefully, we won't be running into each other, well actually, I'D LOVE TO RUN INTO HIM! HMPH!)  

Interior Designer Dude had a great profile and pictures. I wrote back to him immediately and after a few emails throughout the day, he asked me if I would like to meet him for a drink. Why not?  I'm always one for spontaneity, so I said, "Yes."  It was Saturday night, and I had no plans. 

He picked out a place that was equal distance for the both of us to drive to - points for being considerate.  It was a new place call Axia in Tenafly, NJ.  Great place and I loved the decor.  

We sat at the bar and had a glass of wine, and  instantly the conversation was so easy with him.  It flowed back and forth - he had equal interest in me, as I did him.  I learned he was divorced with a 6-year old daughter and owned his own design firm.  Originally, he had started out as a party planner in New York City, and discovered a talent and passion for design.  God bless him, because as I told him, that I'm not that kind of person.  If I had to plan someone's party, I would probably break out in hives.

Overall, it was a nice evening with him. I enjoyed myself, and when we were walking to our cars he asked if I would like to see some of his work.  Of course, I would!

I slid into his velvety, leather Mercedes seat; he pulled out his Mac computer and started showing me pictures of his work.  It was very classic, very Architectural Digest - which reminded me of ANOTHER designer/architect I had dated out in Los Angeles, WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS.  That's the past.  Nonetheless, his work was classic and beautiful. 

Statuesque at 6'3", Interior Designer Dude was elegant in a very refined way, but at the same time youthful in spirit, as well as in looks. Had I seen him in the pages of a Banana Republic catalog before?  He never mentioned modeling, so maybe not.  Regardless, he treated me with the utmost respect, was cognizant of my personal bubble and didn't try to molest me at the end of our date. 

*DING!*

The kiss good-night was brief - just one kiss, and I was home before midnight. Again, points for him.

As a general rule, I find that most guys will ask me to text them to ensure I get home safely.  However, he didn't say anything to me when I left, but five minutes after I crawled into bed, I get this text:

Interior Designer Dude:  Did you get home okay?  Thank you so much for tonight.  You are wonderful, Carrie, and I'm smitten, what can I say?  Sweet dreams and I hope to see you again soon.

There you have it.  An easy date with a really nice guy.  FINALLY!  FINALLY!  FINALLY....I'm attracting the nice guys....and not "that guy" or "bad boys" anymore!  

We had our date last Saturday night, and already he's asked to see me again.  So, Thursday night we are going out to dinner after work.  He offered to cook me dinner, but I think that it's WAY too soon to be alone in his house.  I don't care HOW NICE he is....it's too tempting, so I told him he can show off his culinary skills at another time.  *winks*

Until then, I have other dates to go on, but he will definitely get a second date!

~Carrie

Date with Landscape Guy

I meet up with Landscape Guy for lunch on Sunday.  We had spoken on the phone a few times during the week and we decided to meet.  (I like to get the meeting part out of the way - no need to spend endless hours talking on the phone if the chemistry isn't going to be there in person.)

On the phone, I noticed that he was a conversation hog.  Told me his whole life story, which was interesting, but it felt weird that he laid out everything for me on the first conversation.  He definitely like to talk - a whole lot, and it was all about him. He had started out on Wall Street, made his first million by 30 years old, and then lost it and got sued.......then started all over with a landscaping business, knowing nothing about the business to begin with.  He just started from scratch - and 8 years later, he has his own successful company.

Great!  But he didn't ask one question about me.  I think it's save to say that that would be a strike #1. Nobody likes a conversation hog!


So on Sunday, we met for lunch at a sushi restaurant. I started the conversation out with simple questions about flowers and roses, and what was his secret to growing big Impatiens?  "Water," he says, "lots of water."  

Somehow, we got on the subject of his family.  Both parents had died the year before, one right after the other.  Very sad.  And then he goes on to tell me both of his sisters are drug addicts, partly because they had a hard upbringing - their father was apparently abusive in some regard (I didn't have the heart to ask how he was abusive).  Basically, everyone in his family (5 kids) were a screw up.  His oldest sister (who was a drug-addict) had just moved to Virginia with her 1-year old baby and her drug-addict boyfriend.  They moved there because the cost of living is less there....but didn't realize that there would also be a shortage of jobs, thus the low cost of living? 

I didn't realize that there would be three of us at lunch: me, Landscape Guy and his PHONE. (Strike #2.)  He  as he is busy returning texts he explains that his oldest sister had just texted him for yesterday for money, and that he and his younger sister (who was an alcoholic) were going back and forth via text wondering if they should give their sister money for the baby......etc.  All this was happening, WHILE we were at lunch.  Even when he wasn't texting, he still couldn't stop talking about the situation, nor could he ignore is phone long enough to enjoy a nice lunch with a nice girl.

By the end of the date, I had a headache, and I was depressed.  Yuck.  Strike #3.

I did get to meet his dog, Roxy, and soon after playing with her in his yard, I realized that not only is his life a mess, but his dog will be a mess as well.  He just let his 10 month old Pit/Terrier run amok.   No discipline, no training - he just thought it was funny how she just loved to play all the time and the dog had the run of the house.   And at 11 months old, he still had not made the time to get the dog neutered yet.

So, nice enough guy - but definitely not for me.  He doesn't need a girlfriend - he needs a therapist.  My roommate, Anthony, said that Landscape Guy probably talked too much because he was nervous.  But, I know nervous chatter, and that wasn't it!  Dude needs a therapist!

You know you had a bad date when you are more than happy to leave! 

Needless to say, there will not be a second date.

NEXT!

~Carrie

When It Rains, It Pours!

Here’s something shocking!  I’m back on Match from Hell again, and off Plenty of White Trash for a few weeks now. I had taken a peak at the new people on there, and decided the caliber of men to choose from was much better than Plenty of Fish.  So, I signed up for Match.com for three months, updated my pictures - but I did cheat a little with re-writing my profile.  I had a hard time writing a description about myself and decided to copy what http://www.ellemag.com/ has in their astrology section for a description of a Cancer woman.  (That would be me.)

So far, I’ve received really good feed-back….I think it’s because the astrology description of me shows a softer side of me.  Anyway, it reads like this:

--------------------------------------------------------------

About me:

My grandmother said I needed to get serious about finding someone.... I thought I was!  For me, it's just been difficult finding someone who shares the same New England values, as I grew up with.

I take astrology with a grain of salt, but I couldn't resist posting this Cancer description I read recently. I'm certain this is how my family and friends would describe me, so please don't judge a book by its cover.....

Compassionate Cancer, your nurturing spirit is like a welcome-home embrace, feathery as a goose-down blanket, and stable as a pillar in the Roman Coliseum. You’re the Zodiac's Mother Goddess - ruler of the nest. Playing caretaker comes as naturally to you as breathing; not that you would bless just anyone with your maternal gifts! Over time, your shell hardens as you learn to protect your soft underbelly from harsh outside influences, like callous, careless people who don't respect the sanctity of tender emotions. All applicants desiring your trust must prove their merit and valor. You'd rather have three amazing friends than 50 casual acquaintances. For you, intimacy is the be-all, end-all—even if it takes you eons to get to that stage.

Female friends are your lifeblood, as the spirit of sisterhood blazes fiercely within you. (No doubt there!) Unfortunately, your trust issues can limit you from venturing into the world. At some point, you must decide to take a risk; otherwise life becomes dull and decidedly limited. (My life is never dull.)

Because you’re ruled by the emotional moon (as well as being a highly sensitive water sign), your feelings wax and wane without explanation.

Romantically, your standards can be breathtakingly high you weather long bouts of celibacy waiting for "The One" to reveal himself. Fortunately, your destiny is not to be alone. That family-oriented prince is a stone's throw away waiting for you to lower the drawbridge so he can gallop in without a stinging rejection....you can be intimidating, believe it or not.

So, that's me in a nutshell. I'm looking for someone who is more "New England" and less "Jersey Shore."

Last read: National Geographic, Vanity Fair and Newsweek….cover-to-cover.

My pets: I just had to put down my little dog of 12 years. It killed me. She was the sweetest thing in the world. I saved her from a life of dread and disease, and in return she gave me unconditional love. She couldn’t “fetch,” but she knew how to roll over!

My ethnicity: I’m Irish, Scottish and English so you could say that I’m a little sun-challenged! I grew up in New England – I love NYC, but my heart is in the country – and so am I just about every weekend.

My religion: My spirituality is a big part of my life, but I do it quietly. It’s between me and God and no one else. Structured religion has its place, but it’s not for me. (Bible thumpers need not apply.)

Favorite things: Flannel sheets, Ray LaMontange, Salsa dancing, red wine, cotton, NPR, snow storms, spinning, horses, leather, cashmere, a great conversations, a dinner party at a friend’s house, Chris Botti, coffee, Fenway Park, NOVA, documentaries

------------------------------------------------------------

So far, so good. As usual, I’ve had a lot of response, but this time there has actually been some decent people that I would consider meeting. Right now we have four contestants – there was five, but he ended up to be “That Guy.”

*laughing*

I’m getting better at this now! I’m reading the signs as soon as they appear, and recognize a red flag when I see one.

A red flag, as Beth and I have discussed over and over, is so obvious, IF YOU CHOOSE TO SEE IT.  We, as women, always want to see the good in men, and we are prone to making excuses for them.

"That Guy” is elusive, (I'll be blogging about him later) which is never a good sign. EVER. Being elusive, means he HAS to be hiding something…..and I don’t care WHAT it is he’s hiding, be it that he doesn’t want his friends to see him up on a dating website, or he doesn’t have any pictures, or whatever…..I don’t care. It’s a red-flag nonetheless!  And that 5th guy was as elusive as they come.  So, he got the boot within days of first contact.

I'm finally came up with nicknames so that y’all can remember these guys – after all, you won’t remember Terence, James, Phil, John and Tom. But you will remember Interior Designer Dude, Landscape Dude, Conan O’Brien and Swedish Dude.

(Disclaimer:  Real names and identities will always be held confidential....until someone acts like a ding-dong, and then, in my opinion, they deserve to have the whole world see what "That Guy" looks like.)

Landscape Dude: Lives down by the shore. He’s 6’3, never been married no kids.  He used to be a Wall Street guy until he was 33, lost everything and now is happily running his own landscape/design business. Has one dog named, Roxy, 10 months, who I think I just might have to steal from him!   =======>  Roxy!

Swedish Dude: Lives in NYC, 39 years old, 6'3". Not sure what he does for a living but he writes me these amazing well-put together, thoughtful emails. That was definitely the clincher for me. Maybe that goes along with the fact he has his PhD. He’s never been married, no kids, well-traveled, dirty blond hair with blue eyes, and looks great in aviator sunglasses!

Conan O’Brien: I don’t know much about him other than this is my neighbor’s friend. My neighbor, John, refers to him as his “other son” and said he resembles Conan O’Brien and is Irish-Catholic. He couldn’t say enough good things about him and really wanted me to meet him, so I gave him my phone number.  It wasn't until AFTER I gave him my cell number that John tells me this guy is divorced and has three kids. Three kids…as in 1, 2, 3…….that’s a lot!

Interior Designer Guy: Irish/English. White/gray hair, blue eyes, divorced, 6’2” and has a 6-year old daughter.  He's 52, (I know, a little older for once!) stylish and looks MUCH younger than his age. (It must be those Irish genes.) Lives a half hour north of NYC (in the country - yay!) and has a successful interior design company. He also writes really well; his first initial email is what caught my attention.  He’s a really good looking guy, almost like he belongs in a Banana Republic or J Crew catalog.

Here I was, all last week, trying to finish up, “DC Dude: Just When I Gave Up...He Shows Up!” and I was getting inundated with emails from Match.com. When it rains, it pours!  I didn’t realize that dating was going to be so time consuming! I’ve had such a dry spell for such a long time, but clearly, my stock is up now because those emails just keep coming in.

I need a secretary to schedule dates and make sure I reply to emails!

Wish me luck!

~Carrie

DC Dude: Part 3 - Just When I Gave Up, He Showed Up!

It’s 12:30am on Wednesday night - September 8th.  My phone rings and wakes me up out of a dead sleep. I roll over and grab my phone off the night stand - taking in a deep breath, I’m thinking to myself this better be important.

I read the caller ID with one eye - too tired to open both eyes.

Caller ID:  DC Dude.

Immediately, my other eye opened so it could verify what the other eye just saw. Holy crap – it’s DC Dude!

In the middle of the night?!

Mother!!!

I’m staring at the name on my caller ID. My mind is blank – still fin a fog from being woken up at 12:15am. I try to decide if I should answer it or not. I haven’t heard from DC Dude in weeks – so typical. And, just when I’ve got him out of my head again, what happens? He contacts me again.

My phone is still ringing.

This is not funny.

Seriously, God...I’m not laughing.

Who is DC Dude ? We met on Match from Hell.  We clicked and wanted to meet each other, so we planned a 3-day weekend together in Georgetown where he lived.  I get there, we toured the monuments and walked in the snow hand-in-hand during a beautiful snow storm.  But, during the course of  the weekend, he became distant. It wasn't until Sunday that he finally told me there was a great possibility that he was losing his job and his mind had been elsewhere – well, at least that’s the reason he gave me. I left that Sunday afternoon feeling  defeated and  just wanting to crawl under a rock because without a job he said there would be no "us."  I was crushed.

A week later he officially lost his job and I was hoping we would stay close friends, but that didn't happen.  Instead, we would talk randomly - I would get excited to hear from him again and then weeks or months would go by without anything.  He usually would pop up right when I finally had stopped thinking about him. It was difficult because I really wanted to see him again, but after several months I gave up and started to date other people.

Remember Architect Dude….and how about K9 Cop?! There have been a few other people in between, but I kept thinking about DC Dude and how effortlessly it was with him.

From February until July, I didn't hear anything from him until he started texting me again in July. We went back-and-forth with the texting, and eventually spoke on the phone. I really wanted to see him so I invite him to the Catskills for a weekend, but the invitation went unclaimed.

As usual, I stopped hearing from him. Frustrated and disappointed, I pushed him out of my head - only to cave in a week later.

Red Rocket 2.0

It was a beautiful summer morning, and I was driving into work with my Phoenix CD blaring in Red Rocket.  The music makes me happy and makes me drive fast (Red Rocket loves going fast), but it also reminds me of the person who told me about the band in the first place.

Damn him.  So, I caved in and shot him a text when I got into work.

Carrie: Good morning!

DC Dude: Good morning!

DC Dude: “DC Dude”?!? LMFAO!!!! :)

Carrie: Are you reading my blog???!!!!!

DC Dude: Yep. Reading the K-9 thing.....glad I didn't piss you off! However, I have not checked to verify if any character degradation has been blogged in the last 7 months!

DC Dude: I'm going in reverse through them. I'm in February now......

Carrie: You need to read them in order! One blends into the other.

DC Dude: I got no credit for the Stephen King book! Damn!

Carrie: I thought I did give you credit!

DC Dude: LMFAO!!!! I love this shit.

Carrie: Glad you like it.

DC Dude: LMAO...Plenty of white trash!!!!

Then he eventually got to the one I wrote about him.....

DC Dude: I did in fact lose my job a week later (Dec 20). After I compiled a market report for the company and disclosed my contacts. Thank you. :)

DC Dude: But you were right. I should have kept focus on you after driving 250 miles. I apologize. That was a wonderful weekend.

DC Dude: You're writing better now than before! Nice progression, good work! Keep it up!

I sat there at my desk, staring at his text. Holy crap, he just apologized to me. I had just been validated; it wasn't me - it was him.  I felt my head getting hot, and my emotions starting to surface again, even after I had successfully kept them in the lock-down position.

I put my phone away and tried to focus work.  But, then I heard my phone ring; it was DC Dude again. I answered it with a smile on my face because I could here him laughing on the other end, "I just read your blog, so now I know how much you hate texting, so I thought I'd better call instead!"

Smart man.

As my luck would have it, I had to cut our conversation short, because the commotion in my office had begun. We agreed that we would continue the conversation later.

When I got home from work, I tried calling him, but all I got was his voice mail. I tried to reach out to him over the next few days, but I didn't get a response. I was getting frustrated again…

Maybe I'll try to call him one more time…

*BIFF!*

(That was the imaginary hand hitting me up-side my head.)

Ouch!

Right on queue, the Evil Voice of Reason inside my head starts laughing at me and says, "Okay, Carrie, enough! Get your head out of the clouds, He's Just Not That Into You!!!
You read the book. You saw the movie.

HELLLLLLOOOOO!!!!!

Get your head together, sister! You know the drill! Snap out of it, and stop day-dreaming! He’s stubborn, he’s uncommunicative, and he’s not interested in being your friend. Don’t waste the pretty, and move on! You know the rules: You get what you give, and you ain't getting nothing!”

And that's why I laid there in bed utterly in shock,listening to my phone ring while I stared at my caller ID.

Seriously, I just got him out of my head - again!

C'mon!

Finally, I answer it.

Sounding much more awake and perkier than I was, I heard that familiar deep voice, sexy voice I always loved, “Hey, where did you say you lived again?”

Really? In the middle of the night he wants clarification on where I live?!

“Well, I’m on the road that you live on right now – next to the college. You’re near the college, right?  How far away are you?”

Yes, I’m next to the college….why….what?  Holy crap!

I try to clear my groggy voice, “What are you doing here?”

He tells me that he just came up to help his friend, Stevie, move his parents out of their house, which happened to be literally up the street from me.

DC Dude said that as they were approaching their exit he thought the name looked familiar.  (Well, he had sent me a Christmas card right before we met, but that was nine months ago!)

“So, you’re telling me that you are up the street from me right now, right next to the college? Oh my God, you are so close!"  I started getting excited at the prospect of seeing him again, "Start walking!  Head down the hill, and I will meet you in my driveway!”

Panicking, I throw my clothes on, brush my teeth and try not to look like such a hot mess.

My head is swirling with thoughts and emotions - mostly emotions...

How did this happen?!  He lives 250 miles away!  This is so random!

I get a text and I let out a laugh.

DC Dude: “Soooooo……..DC Dude shows up outta nowheres!”

I laugh. He knows me so well and, damn right, this night will be blogged!

We meet in the driveway of my townhouse complex. The last time I had seen him was in December when we had two feet of snow all around us, and now it was a beautiful fall evening in September, still warm enough for me to wear sandals and a skirt.

As he makes his way towards me up the driveway, he approaches and I say to him, “I don’t know if I should hit you, or hug you.”

(I decided a hug was more appropriate, and lady-like.)

It was an embrace that was long overdue, and a kiss I had been longing for. That moment had been a long-time and coming for the both of us - that I can say with 110% certainty. It just felt right to be in his arms again.

We walked into my house, stopped in the kitchen for a little make-out session, and again a long hug - which he held me for a while, gently rocking me back-and-forth.

We climbed my spiral staircase into my bedroom together. He put his duffel bag on the floor and slowly looked around. I sat on the bed and watched him look at the photographs on my walls. Most of them were from the days when I did a little modeling.

“You used to model?” After few moments of looking bewildered he said, “How come you never got married?”

I don’t know if I even replied to his question or not, but several sarcastic comments did cross my mind, plus the list of reasons I could have given him was just too long to recite – after all, we only had so much time together.

After some more small talk, I had to get my digs in for not staying in touch all these months and never calling - and never taking my calls.

"Carrie, I hate texting. Call me instead.”

Ya, okay, I already tried that and that didn’t work either, fucker. We argued whether or not I had called him, and somehow we got back to his apology again.

“I wanted to say it to your face this time - an apology should be in person.”

I think at that point, I stopped breathing and just stood there looking at him sitting on my bed.

It’s easier for me to get over you when you are the bad guy. Stop being a good guy right now and stop apologizing. That stuff actually hits home with me, so just quit it. Tomorrow you will leave and you will be the bad guy again. There – see? I can do this. Bad guys always leave...

We crawled into bed together. I couldn’t remember when the last time I had shaved my legs - never mind that the Princess was completely o'natural these days, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered. I just wanted him to hold me in his arms for the rest of the night. I just wanted to feel his naked body against mine.

The following morning we woke up with our legs and arms still entwined around each other. I remember smiling softly withe my arms around him, and thinking there’s a boy in my bed! And it’s DC Dude!

Hell, I thought I had a better chance at winning the lottery than ever seeing him again.

But, there he was, next to me - and we didn’t even have sex. What’s wrong with me?! He tried, he offered, but I just wasn’t in that head space, and he didn’t push it. Condoms were right next to the bed, all ready to go, but dealing with the emotions that surfaced when after finally seeing him again after nine long months there was just too much going on in my head.

For me, sex is something that has to be built up. In this day and age, I probably could be sleeping around like everyone else, but I’m just not built like that. It’s just never been my style. Besides, having a few hours to talk and actually see him was more important to me than anything else. Anyone can have sex, but not everyone can just lay there in bed and feel a connection. I was content just laying there next to him.

(For the record, my friend, Beth, and I argued that "celibate" means no sexual contact, but Dictionary.com gives a meaning of “no sexual intercourse.”So, I’m going with what the dictionary says and, Beth, I’m still celibate!)

The following morning, I wanted to just lay in bed with him, but I knew I had to go to work and he had to go help move furniture, so I got up, showered and got ready for work. DC Dude had checked in with Stevie, and he and his parents invited us to join them for breakfast at one of the local diners. I made a call into boss #1 and told him I was going to be late.

Breakfast was nice, but afterward there was no long good-bye between me and DC Dude. I don’t even know if I looked him in the eyes when I left. I just remember throwing my arms around him and giving him a quick kiss. That was it. Had Stevie’s parents not been there, it probably would have been different because there were so many things I wanted to say, and yet I couldn’t say anything. What was the point?  I had retreated back into my shell knowing the inevitable was going to happen - he was leaving and things would go right back to where they were before he showed up. He wouldn't be calling, and neither would I.

It has taken me two weeks to get this blog finished. Yes, two weeks...along with a half a box of Kleenex, 2.5 bottles of red wine, repeated plays of Adele, The Billygoats, Alison Krauss, Patty Griffin, Shelby Lynne, 10 sticks of Nag Champa, one accidental deletion  of this blog and four complete rewrites to get to this finished.

Maybe, if I wasn’t having my period I could have made it a little funnier.

I'm usually a lot funnier!

Maybe, if it had been someone else, anyone else, besides DC Dude...this wouldn't have been such a big deal.

I feel better now that I've got it all off my chest.  My head is back in the right space.  I'm taking my brother's advice, and look!  My dance card is already starting to fill up again. It's out of my hands. Life goes on. I have faith in God...

....and I'm taking my girl, Patty Griffin's, advice too...that here's beauty in just letting go...

Crazy things have always happened to me – the unexplainable, the weird circumstances that just fall into place. To say the least, it definitely has made my life interesting. I may not always understand it, or agree with it, and sometimes the biggest hurts, ironically, turn out to be the biggest blessings. But no matter what they have always renewed my faith in God.  Life goes on and the crazy, unexplainable things will keep happening…

...like the night DC Dude showed up out of nowheres....

~Carrie