Dating – A Most Unreliable Narrator

adventitious

(TW: rape, sexual abuse, sexual harassment)
Dear Internet,
I know! Two daily entries right next to each other. What in the fuck is the world coming to?
This morning on Facebook I said:

In the “2AM Bad Decision Hour” a few nights ago, I enabled my OKCupid account which consists of a few questions and a pic. That’s it. No lengthy intros, outros, what have you. In less than an hour, my profile had been liked over 20 times and I had 5 generic “hey baby” messages in my account. I immediately disabled the account and look forward to ten glorious months of being date-less. So while Hume is on point with inductive reasoning, I can say with the utmost sincerity and respect he’s never been on a dating site where without a shadow of a doubt there will be some twat who thinks sending dick pics is a good introduction idea.

Alright then.
I’ve come to some reasons, with personal introspection natch, why my romantic relationships tend to have my lover dump me rather than the other way around. In fact, of all the adulting relationships I’ve had since I was 19, I’ve only dumped one person — every one else dumped me (and came back with the “You’re the love of my life!” routine). This is not to say I went out with everyone who was interested in me or I was throwing myself into promiscuous behaviour at every chance I got (which goes against the typical hyper sexuality of the bipolar) but I did shoot down those I wasn’t in the mood for and typically cut the dumpers out of my life pretty quick. (Which is why they always come back, right? People typically want what they can’t have. Then I want them to want them just as bad and the cycle repeats itself.)
Between not having a father figure or any positive male role model in my life (my father left when I was 5 months old), traumatic experiences with sex (I’ve been date raped at least twice, attempted gang rape once, and of course the ongoing sexual harassment), I see nearly every man as a threat to my personhood. And I see nearly every man as a thing and not a person — my mother’s mantra was, “Don’t let a man run your life.” Which is WHY when I lose control in the relationship, which pushes the person to dump me (usually), I cut them hard out of my life. Because not all men ™.
My Connecticut therapist noted my sexual behaviour is to be the one in control (I fuck like a stereotyped man — I always make the first moves in relationships or I always initiate sex in those relationships). By being in control, I can direct where it’s going and how it will work without having the conscious effort of someone else being in control or letting them see my vulnerability (which explains why I always need to be the dominate one — which unsurprisingly frightens some of my past lovers. On the flip side, I crave to be dominated by a man and have rarely met one who can dominate me. I have a strong will.).
As long as I can be the best fuck they’ve ever had, they won’t leave. Right? (And my assertive and aggressiveness is why I hear over and over again through the ages I WAS their best fuck. Yay me?)
Literally the moment she said this, a huge weight came off my shoulders and I could enjoy sex without treating it as a means to and end and be my assertive self without the weight of the bullshit. (Women can’t like sex, be aggressive, or want to get fucked 10 ways to Sunday so to like sex was a BAD THING, amirite?)
When I was 15 or 16, my mother pushed me to ask my father as to why he, allegedly, sexually abused me. As one might assume, he was incredulous. For most of my adult life I’ve carried around this thought there was “something” happened but exactly what was never clear. Either something did not happen and my mother merely planted the seed or something did happen with someone and I’ll never know who.
One night, a few years ago, a revelation hit me. Why would my mother push me to ask my father about this particular topic? And if he HAD sexually molested me, and she knew what was going on, why was she continuing to send me to see him every summer? What kind of mother does that to their child? (And if you ever wondered why I’ve divorced my mother four or five years ago, this was the topping on the proverbial cake. )
There’s a lot under the hood in regards to my romantic and sexual life. A lot coming to the surface after years of not discussing it and ignoring it. Thus if I want to have a healthy relationship in the future, discussing it NOW in this place will allow me to forgive what has happened, forgive myself, and finally move the fuck on with my life.
(As an aside: I have no memory of my childhood up until the age of 13. Seriously. I have bits and pieces of “things” like learning how to ride a bike or kissing Jeff what’s his name against a tree when we were 7 but other than that? Not a goddamned thing. This contributes why I loathe people with normalesque families and my desperation to have one of my own verses shunning all blood familia.)
Another behaviour I’m aware of is the tattooing and remaining fat keeps (supposedly) potential suitors at bay as societal norms dictate a fat, tattooed woman cannot find love or sex. A weeding technique for potential future lovers is if your perceived notion of me is I’m a “prison bitch” with all 17 of my tattoos, then I don’t want to date you and I can block you out of my life. If you can see beyond the fat and think I’m beautiful, then you’re someone I want to be with. Being fat and tattooed keeps me safe or so I’ve trained myself to believe. (But obviously it hasn’t or else I wouldn’t be confessing all of this to you.)
This is the antecedent to my reality: I’m called beautiful/pretty/attractive or whatever by scores of different people on a regular basis. Despite the fat, I’m told I have an awesome bod and men want to fuck me, also on a regular basis. THIS is where my arrogance (and also conflicting) behaviour comes in: If I can get dick (as Amy Schumer so succinctly states), then I’m not a typical “fat girl” (yes, I’m fat shaming myself here and others — but it is to make a point), and I can have anyone I want (which tends to also be true). And I’ve been told over and over again my arrogance (or confidence) is what is most attractive about me: If you don’t want me, then fuck you and the horse you rode in on. Someone else will come along who will take your place (as long as I can fuck them into a happy relationship and they never leave says my internal monologue. Joke’s on you Lisa!).
This is cemented with commentary made my ex-lovers and street harassment:

“If you lose weight, you could model.”
“You’re really pretty – for a fat girl.”
“You don’t want to date me? Fuck you fat ugly bitch.”
“You should smile more, you’d be a lot prettier.”
“Nice rack/body/legs/shoulders (?!?).”
“You’re too pretty to wear makeup.”
“You don’t wear enough makeup.”

And so on. (See why I have a complicated relationship with my image?)
There is the exterior dialogue (I know why I behave this way), interior dialogue (I hate myself and no one will ever love me), and the reality (I can get dick anytime I want and 95% of the time always come back. They leave again but they always keep coming back). It’s conflicting because all of it is true.
The self-awareness of all of this, something I’m frequently told from therapists and TheExHusband alike, is rare. When you’re judged for what you are (or who people think you are or how you think people see you), bullied, and what have you — you spend a lot of time analyzing why you do the things you do. You look for the patterns. You muse on the whats / hows / and whys. You see how other people handle their own relationships and you model the good stuff (as you see it) into your own. In short, you psycho-analyze yourself into submission because it is ALL YOUR FAULT, you are the only person you have who can tell you the brutal and honest truth (with commentary from the peanut gallery to confirm or dismiss your findings as either quantitative or qualitative or neither. Or both.)
I stumble as I am human, something I keep reiterating for a very long time as I didn’t believe I was. I also think others think this about themselves as well. It bookends my loathing for the term “stable” as no one is ever REALLY stable. We have our stable moments that could last for months or years, but we all fall at one point or another – often more often than we care to.
This is where the forgiveness comes in: This is not a woe is me type of confession, it’s to clarify and map out those patterns that keep repeating themselves so I can break them. An ongoing theme for the last few years here at EPbaB is to break those patterns so future endeavors can begin, maintain, and end in a healthy way. There are things I cannot control (rape, harassment, my mother) and things I can control (how I react, how I present myself to future lovers, how I treat myself). The goal here is stop trying to control the things I cannot or ever will control.
Once I can work past those barriers that seem to plague me, take responsibility for my own actions (that I can control), is when the healing begins.

xoxo,
Lisa
P.S. I forgot to mention my half-year birthday the other day (December 12), so it’s with a small reminder my birthday is in 181 days.

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 2013, 2012, 1999, 1998

Can Lisa ever be happy?

My brother and I were sitting on opposite couches last night discussing the fate of our lives. It seemed that for every few good steps we take forward, we get pushed back another five. When the topic turned to relationships, he started cracking walnuts and I felt like it was some kind of sign.
On my way home from Denver, I flew through MLPS. A young couple with a child were in the seats next to me, with me taking the aisle seat (preference for leg room). The overhead bulkhead was closed and I thought perhaps they had already filled it with stuff as I needed a place for my messenger bag. But when I popped it open to verify, it was empty. After placing my bag up in the bulk hold, I noticed the father (presumedly) struggling with bags at his feet. I asked if he’d like for me to place that stuff in the bulkhead for him. He was quite rude while declining, and I just shrugged as I sat down. During the trip, the child was quiet and when it started to whimper a bit, the mother started breast feeding him.
I was a bit taken aback by the whole experience, especially since they apparently felt uncomfortable around me. The father and I kept jostling to not touch each other during the 1.5 hour flight. I kept to myself, leaning towards to the aisle with my book and my legs on the far left side. Megan and I were lolly gagging around the luggage carousel when I noticed the mother staring at me. I have no idea why she was so intent in me, but apparently one good deed for the day was enough to warrant the evil eye.
My brother and I were watching About A Boy last night as we talked. Our conversation stilted while we watched what was happening on screen and then would rev up again. I felt like I’m living in a glass jar. Being watched and scrutinized by those around me. I’m falling between cracks I never thought possible.
My birthday is coming up and I’ll be turning 32. I’m feeling the pressure of not having consumed enough or done enough by my early 30s. I should have my masters by now! I should be married! I should have kids! I should be doing a hundred and one different things and not worrying about whether or not a group project is being completed or if my grades will be good enough. I feel like I can’t relate to anyone in my age bracket and especially to women who are all walking that normality line that I’ve swerved so damn far from.
Everyone keeps asking me how Denver went. My monosyllabic answer of “Good!” or “Great!” seems to not fulfills their demands. I’m not sure what to say because in the end, I still have no answers to my questions. So perhaps I’ll start with what I perceive to be the truth and take it from there.
If you were not aware, Patrick had (has) three jobs. He own(ed)s part of a local company in Denver and does contract work for two others. I knew that while this was to be *my* vacation, for him, it was to be a hellish week of work. He was/is currently in flux with the local company, with him quitting the company half-way through my trip. One of his bosses for the contract work showed up prior to my arrival and left the morning I arrived.
He kept Patrick on a tight leash, calling at all hours of the day and night to get things completed. Many “dates” we had were broken by us driving to downtown Denver to work on shit at the colo, many plans disintegrated because his work schedule. Coupled with both of us being sick as dogs, tensions were high. Verbal fisticuffing ran rampart. It was terrible.
Verbal fisticuffing is the term I use when Patrick starts pushing my buttons, making smartass comments that only ignite me to push HIS buttons and make comments. This gets nasty really quick. There were no holds barred accounts where I let both guns fly. This was not the sound of a “happy couple” at all, rather, of people who could barely tolerate each other. It was distressing.
I grew tired of this game quick, opting to keep my mouth shut when he started which only defused him, which was the point. I was beginning to feel like an object, not a person. I whittled away the hours while he worked suffering on the couch with the illness that would not go away. After he would get done with work, he would spend a few hours playing video games on his PC. He would occasionally check up on me and make sure I had things I needed and that I was still breathing, but I did not feel like I was being comforted enough. Like something was missing, and I never really knew what it was.
The sex was interesting. Taking into account the stress from work, being sick and other shit going on, I didn’t care about those things. I wanted the sex to be as hot and passionate as it was the last time we were together. It wasn’t. Perhaps I’m rare, but despite all the emotional bullshit he was going through, I wanted him to treat me like he did before and he didn’t. I was getting tired (and bored) of always initiating it. And it wasn’t that he was not affectionate or showed affection to me, he did, but when it came to the actual act, it was always ME who had to take charge. Always, always always. Then the issues came up. According to him, his exes were dead lays. No imagination, passion or interest other than things vanilla. Things had to be done a specific way at specific times, heaven forbid that anything deviate from that pattern. Me? I’m not like that. By a long shot. And I tried. Tried to make him feel loved, wanted and needed. I introduced new things, taking baby steps. Nothing seemed to work as sex always ended with me on top.
Always.

Okay guys, need your help

everyone say hi to tiglore.
We met up on yahoo personals and have finally decided to meet up — however we can’t think of what to do. Im’ ixnaying inside stuff (for the most part) because after spending 3+ hours on the phone today and countless hours chatting online, we spent most of the voice time being geeky and talking about our respective pets.
Last night we spent a few hours looking for things to do and came up with extreme sports (nah), Elvis’ Car Road Show (nawww). We’re looking for something fun and creative to do and that will take pressure off of the first meeting but we’re not like shut indoors in a movie or something. We both dislike (for the most part) seafood and remember he’s a geek and i’m a geekette and well, 🙂
Ideas? Options?
ps: he owns two tivos and has more gadgets than me and has read terry pratchett. albeit he’s not perfect, he’s not british! :p

the end of the part time girlfriend

danny and i have been doing this ‘dance’ for seven years. yes, seven long years between cross country moves, boyfriends, girlfriends and what not and we always end up back ‘together’. This time around, for the last 8 months we’ve been vaguely seeing each other (if seeing each other once a week is being vague). We’ve only had sex less than a handful of times but it has been within the recent month or so that things began to gnaw at me. I realised that for all of the things I loved about him, there were all these things that I didn’t and I had wavered back and forth about this for the last few weeks.
Now to be fair, he knows that i had put personals ads up, but even then i still didn’t feel like i was ‘cheating on him’ because we are not together. But I was tired of being this convenience for him on friday and saturday nights and he has this IRRITATING as fuck habit of “danny would you like to go out with me” and him saying maybe. I DETEST PEOPLE WHO DO THAT. He went so far as last weekend as saying I was being desperate for the big get together we did. Not desperate that I couldn’t get another date but desperate if i wanted him.
All week I’ve raged with this internal war deciding what is it that I want and what is it that I wanted from him and what the fuck was this shit anyways. Two people who I spoke to about said that it was a comfort issue — he was comfortable and I had to hold back myself because I too could see this as well.
Other things began to emerge the more I thought. I was his dirty little secret. I was okay to prance around in public with major pda going on or to friends who knew both of us, but in the eight months together did he not once come to me and invite ME to go out with him and his friends. I haven’t even been to house save ONCE in the last eight months due to his exgf living there who hates my guts because she knew that he was/is in love with me. Even when they were together. She doesn’t even KNOW i’m back in GR. His life is like this proverbial soap opera and I decided, I wanted to be killed off or made the main character. This recurring bit part was killing me.
Due to my lack of internet issues, I emailed him and told him to call my cell to let me know when he was coming over. I had fallen asleep on the couch listening to “Helen of Troy” on tivo when I heard someone at the door. I was groggy from three hours of sleep from last night when I had answered and it was him. We sat on my couch for awhile watching the movie and I finally got up and changed to go out. He was, as par usual, indecisive about what to do. We ran a few errands and eventually he gave me a tour about him growing up in the city. We drove all over GR and we stopped at a few cemeteries and I walked around amazed at all the dates on the stones. I said “Lets drive to Holland or Grand Haven and watch the sun set.” He said “No, my eyes will be blinded the whole drive there.” I replied “Let me drive.” He sort of shook his head. As we were driving back towards my general area, he took a different route that lead to Holland. It also went by my house. I played this game with myself to see if he would get off at my exit, and he did. I lost. He told me he wasn’t feeling well and I hadn’t been feeling all that great either but I didn’t want the evening to end just yet. As he pulled into my parking lot, suddenly I was like a bat out of hell trying to gather my things to get the fuck out of his car. He had unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled me over into this hug that was like something an aunt or a long lost cousin would give you. I hate those kind of hugs. I pulled away and as I did so he leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek. He pulled back and asked me what was wrong and I sat there staring out of his grimey windshield not sure on what to say. I invited him upstairs. He declined saying he wanted to go home and shower and relax. I told him he could stay the night and chill with me and again he declined. He then asked me what was wrong and this whole time I kept staring out that fucking windshield. He put the car in park and my door was wide open and my bag was on the ground and I had my right foot planted squarely next to it. I debated on saying what i was feeling and finally I did.
“I’m tired of being your part time girlfriend”.
He gave all these excuses and I just sat there shaking my head. I am tired of being your friday night/saturday night convenience. I work all week he says and added that we go out on the week too (Once, in the last six months, that was last week). I corrected him on that. He said what do you want, I said, I want you and I don’t know if you want me back but I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to be JUST your part-time girlfriend. I listed a few more things.
All he said was “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
No agreement no lets talk about it, just, “I’m sorry.”
I mumbled see you later and hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I heard him pull his car back and I thought “maybe he’s parking and he’ll come up to talk to me.” So I walked into my apartment and dropped my stuff on the kitchen counter and waited. I took deep breaths waiting for that door to bang but it never happened. I grabbed my garbage to go out and walked back outside, hoping I’d see him walking towards me. As I crossed the parking lot, I scanned the area looking for his car.
It wasn’t there.

And he continues

Background info, I live in a ‘burb of Grand Rapids, called Wyoming, not the state OF wyoming 😉 Anyways, I ignored him and got ready for literacy training and left and came home to find the following:
[16:51] dreamcatchermja: I’m sorry if offended you. Are you ok
[16:56] dreamcatchermja: So what kinds of things spark your interest?
[17:03] dreamcatchermja: I would like know more about you and your interest
[17:10] dreamcatchermja: So tell me something about you? What makes you so fun?

I should start a page on Yahoo shannigans

[16:13] dreamcatchermja: Hello There, My name is Michael. I am from Wyoming. I am a Working Chef but I am a Double-major in Accounting and Business Management at Davenport University
[16:38] modgirllisa: hello.
[16:39] dreamcatchermja: Hello
[16:39] dreamcatchermja: How are you today?
[16:40] modgirllisa: just peachy
[16:40] dreamcatchermja: So where are you at now?
[16:40] modgirllisa: in my apartment
[16:41] dreamcatchermja: In G.R.
[16:41] modgirllisa: yes
[16:41] dreamcatchermja: What’s your name?
[16:41] modgirllisa: Lisa
[16:42] dreamcatchermja: Hello Lisa
[16:42] dreamcatchermja: So what would you like to know about me
[16:42] modgirllisa: Nothing.
[16:42] dreamcatchermja: Why?
[16:42] modgirllisa: Because you sound boring.
[16:43] dreamcatchermja: Whatever
[16:43] dreamcatchermja: I like to go to concerts, the beach, and I have jump off a bridge and more
[16:43] modgirllisa: That’s nice.
[16:43] modgirllisa: bye now.
[16:44] dreamcatchermja: I have played chicken with trains and I used to swim in Thunderstorms in Lake Michigan
[16:44] dreamcatchermja: I am Risk Taker so call me “Boring.”
[16:44] modgirllisa: First off, playing chicken with trains and swimming in thunderstorms is not being ‘edgy’ it’s being stupid
[16:44] dreamcatchermja: So you think you are a challenge or what?
[16:44] modgirllisa: and you are boring.
[16:45] dreamcatchermja: I don’t think so.
[16:45] dreamcatchermja: That is when I was young
[16:45] dreamcatchermja: Now I am working hard to have the finer things in life
[16:45] dreamcatchermja: I am going to own several mall businesses
[16:46] dreamcatchermja: So what do you for a living?
[16:47] dreamcatchermja: So what do you for fun?
[16:48] dreamcatchermja: I like to go to thh Beach, play sports, and dance
—

as i told kethryvis when I saw an updated picture of one of the guys i was going to meet up with via my personal ad

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
So glad I did not end up meeting him. Hello. Yuck.
heh.
Yes, I am that shallow. Move along please.

volvo driving soccer mom

the ONLY reason why this is private is because i gots an email from coffeeshoboy. Apparently Beth, the wife owner of $Coffeeshoptobenamed said that Dave, husband-owner, said something to the effect that how you can’t “Change people” and how I didn’t fit the image they wanted. I know of a couple of instances where this might come into play, like I fixed his computer for him? Heh. Several times. Their POS pos is really a POS.
I have to learn to let go. There are MANY things in my life that do not resolve and it bothers me and I just need to let go.
But i’m glad he still emailed if anything I’m going to go see his band this weekend, with Danny, so no pressure there.
I found out that one of my best friends locally has been diagnoised with narcolepsy, which, it’s been freaking her her husband and her kids out. Since I’m free during the day she and I have been hanging out at bookstores, coffeeshops and tomorrow we are meeting for breakfast. I feel like such a soccer mom. minus the volvo, kids and gear. Though lately i’m into this whole skrit and flipflop thing.
who knew?

cracked halo

Getting fired has done wonders for my social life.
Really.
First my chiropractor was hitting on me. Well, he was being overly flirtatious. He’s this 5’8 yuppie punk but he’s funny and he makes the owie in my back go away. We were talking about tattoos and I told him about the whole Ben thing and he said “I just BET you are fun to hang out with”. He LOVED ben’s reaction to the whole thing.
Yeah, barrel of laughs. i watch tivo and play video games! But hey, if he thinks i’m the life of the party then so be it.
Secondly, I’ve been hanging out with Jenni and her husband, Jesse. Last night was all american food fest of mac’n’cheese, green beans, and cherry cheesecake. We played UNO all night and it was FUN. After my second appointment at the chiro today, I met up with Jenni for cawfee at a local bookstore (hells yes i will boycott my explace of employment) and there was a cute barista working and I gave him a long lingering look directly in his eye. Why the hell am I getting so brazen?
Jen and I hung out for better part of the afternoon today and in which, I found the solution to my cd storage problem. You see I have about 500 cds and no method of displaying them. Most cases were far out of my price range and I could not find anything that I liked and sure enough, Linens’N’Things had really cute on-floor displays
I bought two.
Sorry for the long URL.
Anyways, so my big friday night plans were to do the GREAT CD ORGANIZATION OF 2003! I’m anal about books and music organization, I like to know what I have. Seeing as I have bought or almost bought duplicates and triplicate of things, but that didn’t pan out.
You see, I almost had a blind date tonight, but I pussied out.
I mentioned the personal ads a week or so ago, and well, it turns out GR has a few interesting men. I use “few” loosely because that is literally all there is. At any rate, I’ve been corresponding with a few via email and one asked if wanted to meet up for some bier, but I chickened out, LIKE i always do. I get so damn insecure, I need to wash insecurity out the window.
I’m working on it.
Anyways, so Jenni said ‘Hey, Jesse and I can come with you to dinner tonight with BlindDateMan and that way you guys won’t be so uncomfortable.” Which is cool and all but I know J, she’ll tell stories about flinging my bra into the ceiling fan when we were in high school and other neat stuff. Like ditching our prom dates. hah. Anyways, for once, I didn’t mind that she would embarrass me (because I love you lee!) which is a change from before, i would have died. My how things have changed.
Jay said that Jesee commented that since I’ve been back I’ve been a lot more relaxed, which holds the theory that I was right about the $Coffeeshopwhoshallnotbenamed in firing me. I went and picked up my paycheck and they said neither jack nor shit to me. Which was fine, I did not care. I’m not gonna stress over what happened because they were so insecure.
I was to call Jay later on after I got home but it slipped my mind as I had talked to Danny almost immediately after walking in the door and told him that I had gotten fired and then I asked him what he was doing tonight and we agreed he’d come over for pizza and help me organize cds. Well then Jay called shortly after and I knew Danny would be here at 6:15pm or so and even though I knew Jay for 15 years, she’s never met Danny. So I said “Hey, lets all meet up for dinner.” So they agreed to come over to my pad since they had not seen it yet.
SO they get here around 7:30 or so and Danny is still not here yet. I called him and he said “i’ll be over in a minute.” Well another hour goes by and I’m like “wtf” and Jay said “Lee, I love you, but I have kids to get home to, and we need to eat” and I didn’t blame them at all. I kept apologizing, I mean Danny had been late but not THIS late before. So I called his house and got his answering machine and hung up, thinking he was on his way over. Another 1/2 hour goes by (Danny lives no more then 20 minutes in SUPER HEAVY traffic away) and I call him again and leave a very VERY curt message. I tack this BIG sign on my door that said “Danny, thanks for standing me up. Lisa” and left. We decided to go for steak at Logan’s. We JUST turned onto the main highway and my cell rang and it was Danny. He asked where we were and I told him and asked where was he. He said I just came from your house. I said oh you saw my note? And he said, no, i just drove by and didn’t see your car so I left. I said Jeff has my car, what the fuck, you’ve come over before with my car being gone and it’s never been a problem before?
He asked where we were going and I told him and asked if he would meet up with us and he said “I think not.” I was REALLY angry. Pissed. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I hung up on him. We get to Logan’s and Jay asked what Danny looked like and I described him “Tall, bald, goatee, wears tshirt and jeans” because she thought he’d come up and I said “no, he wouldn’t dare. I hung up on him.”
He showed up as we were eating appetizers.
So it turns out, that Danny’s sister lives across the street from Jenni and Jesse and they were good friends with her and yet they never met Danny. How funny.
Danny drops me off and the next thing i know we are making out like two teenagers in my parking lot. NOt just kissing but serious making out. I stopped and giggled and left before it got too heavy. What the fuck has come over me. God. I want the world and I know he won’t or can’t give it to me. Jesse is right, we use each other for convenience.
So i get home and I have a message on my answering machine.
It was CoffeShopBoy.
Backstory: Coffeeshopboy is a guy I worked with at $Placethatwillnotbenamed. He was literally one of the cooler people there. He ALSO had the same musical taste as I did (rough range) and he was a reader and writer (bad grammar but fuck it. It’s 3am). He was interested in the same authors as I was. We always had a blast working together.
But.
He’s 21.
A WHOLE FUCKING DECADE YOUNGER THAN ME.
AND.
He has a girlfriend.
Lisa does not tread on other women’s property. Friends yes, but that is where the line is drawn.
I was so just aghast he didn’t know Joy Division for fuck sake! Or has HEARD New Order Substance for the love of pete. It was a travesty.
So I made him a mixed cd. Keth was calling me “Mrs. Rob Gordon” from the movie “High Fidelity”. Hey, I have my morals. I do not tread on taken ground.
He was just so fucking cool and he was going to school to be a journalist and well, it was just damn cool. I fretted because I liked him as FRIEND and I wanted to convey that because finding cool people to hang out with in this town sucks ass.
Unlike Ben, I just want to jump ben’s bones until he forgets his own name because ben is just all around sexy in that tall european cool as hell way.
But I digress.
End of backstory.
So he leaves this rambling message about how much he liked the cd and he heard I had been let go and how much that sucked. And he told me he liked the bands I had selected, especially Interpol and Catherine Wheel. Hoped that he saw me around some time and to take care and then suggested a band for me to check out (Sheila Divines, very cool!).
So I called him at home. Got in touch with his roommate who when I told him that the owner of $Shopthatwillnotbenamed compared me to him (roommate used to work there as well) when they fired me and he laughed and said he knew who I was, that CoffeeShopBoy had talked about me (!??!). SO I gave Roommate my number and told him to have COffeeshopboy call me.
COffeeshopboy is in a band, very pixie-ramones-emo. Pretty good stuff actually, raw but good. I liked it. turned out he had put his email address in the cd cover, which I had not checked till this week and I have had the cd for almost two weeks. Doh. So I emailed him as well and told him I had called him at home, hope he hadn’t minded and that i’m glad he liked the cd and that to call me to go for a beer or whatever.
heh.
So, BlindDateMan.
while were waiting on Danny to SHOW HIS FAT ASS UP, we swapped pics online and BlindDateMan is ALSO in a band (what is with me and musicians lately?) and he said I looked like his exgf (heh). I get that a lot actually. BlindDateMan and I swapped this fairly long missives via email and he got a kick out of my gallery online. I gave him my cell number but he never called. Huh. Men are fucked. I mean we exchange missives that are fairly personal and no phone call. I also gave another guy my numbers as well, he was quite fun to talk to as well.
My luck?
The world falls out and CoffeeShopBoy will never call me or email me (which means, well, no chance of hanging out with a cool person platonically). The BlindDateMan will suddenly develop amnesia and other guy will be a freaky stalker who I’ll have to kill to keep myself safe.
I do not have good luck with men. Period. WHy OH WHY can’t it be easier to just bash them over the head and said “GRUNT. Me lisa You Man. You Mine.”
I bloody fucking hate dating.
Or, pretending to date as it were.
That is all gracie.
x0x0x
Lisa
ps: If you are single, stay away! I’m ovulating and my pheromones are going ape shit! Back off or you will be pounced!

shoulda fucking known!

there is a guy at work who is pretty cool.
really.
he likes the same music, plays in a band and also is a writer. he also (drum roll) reads the same genres I do.
we have pretty cool conversations..
he invited me (well all of $work) to see him play at a local bar (of which you have to be 21 to get into and of which i’m one of the few over 21).
his major is journalism and creative writing.
guess how old he is.
JUST GUESS.
2 motherfucking 1.
21.
You know, what I was a DECADE ago.
YOU TAUNT ME $DIETY YOU DO!
Tomorrow we are having a ‘mandatory’ work meeting.
I’m making him a mixed cd.
Don’t even go there, cos it’s not like that.
He’s 21! for fucksake!