Kenny Who?

Heart colored pencils

“We’ve got tonight
Who needs tomorrow?
We’ve got tonight, babe
Why don’t you stay?

“We’ve got tonight” Kenny Rogers and Sheana Easton

Done gone and fucked up again! I’m telling you, when that dude was fucking with me yesterday, other people in the meeting were telling me to join Bumble. I wasn’t looking for dating advice. I told hem the reason I relapsed was because I first got laid and then got drunk.

I didn’t want to join any dating sites but especially not Bumble. I’m supposed to sit there and wait for women to send me messages? Okay? I can see that happening. But I thought about all the women complaining about regular dating sites. They get 300 “hey, babe, you dtf?” messages a night. That is why they never even see my thought out message. These women are all saying they want a serious relationship and sick of the bullshit and so am I. But don’t lie to yourself, everyone is willing to hook up.

So I join this dating site where I am not allowed to send a message to a woman even if she swipes right. Nothing I can do except hope she sends a message. But it makes sense to me. I fit into this site. I’m not one of those assholes. (Actually I am but I’m not an idiot.) But I got a swipe left face. I need words to get me through. There is no room for that. But no, I took a stupid selfie grinning like an idiot and figured out how to get myself across without a profile. Three word user name: BoringOldBill.

Fill out the info, forget about it. What happens? I start getting messages! From real people. Not many, but I didn’t swipe many. High percentage of return! They all say, I bet you’re not boring! I have several answers in my back pocket for that question. Not many matches. But three. Only two sent me messages. And one has only 24 hours to make up her mind. I know she liked me but still, I can’t send her a message. I don’t care. I feel great about this!

I’m just sitting here and women are liking me and sending messages. Because I’m not one of those guys, right? I’m not that much of a stud but someone takes an interest in me and you won’t believe, I don’t believe, (although, I know it) I am a fascinating conversationalist. I’m talking to this woman I don’t even know if I am interested in but she is sure interested in me! All I did was write the simplest fucking profile.

She says she is looking for serious relationship in her profile but from the beginning I was anything but serious. I kept the LOL’s rolling. I know what to do. Something about the weather and I knew she was may age so I screwed up the word’s to the Kenny Roger’s song on purpose. Asking, Is this even a song? She googled it. I blamed her for putting the words in my head. I’m fucking two seconds into my way to hooking up tomorrow! How do I know? I don’t know? How do you know? I hate that fucking song. She is a woman 10 years older than me, I know she loves that song! How do I know? I’m not even trying to do this. I’m trying to make jokes.

Now she is really interested and she is challenging me to do my best. My best what? I’m sitting here on a Friday night doing what I do best. I’m ten moves ahead. Don’t get me wrong. I’m only doing this shit because I like her. She doesn’t know how good I am.

Out of the blue she wants to meet. But can’t directly ask. I know how to flirt around it. I make her invite herself. Square beach pizza and cannoli’s after she meets with her sister. Suddenly her sister is not so important. I know. I know I am important. I know what we are doing.

She wants to me to call her on the phone and we talk for hours. She tells me it is the first time she has met someone online and talked on the phone and made plans to meet the next day. Well, she has never met me before. Finally she hangs up. I plug my phone in to charge and she texts me!

Four in the morning, we are still talking. She went from we might chat to she might meet for pizza to she wants me to hold her in my arms! She can’t wait for tomorrow but she doesn’t want to go to sleep. Then a definitely stated end plan! I didn’t suggest it. I just played along. I’m not playing her. I spent this much time talking to her because I have fun talking to her.

She is forgetting about lunch with her sister she used as an excuse but not really it was a round about way to ask when I am free Saturday afternoon. 4am. I know I am up but what the hell, she said good night 4 hours ago!

I’m a fucking sicko. All I had to do was plant that song in her head. I want to go to bed. She is still texting me.We can’t meet until tomorrow afternoon.

(Saturday, that was then this is now) She texted me at 9am. She cancelled lunch with her sister and can come over earlier. (What???) Okay, sure. I’m waiting for her to get ready and my phone is blowing up! This must be a scam…But no! These are normal looking everyday women. They all want to talk. Every other dating site 9 times out of 10 if I’m not dead serious or I say one thing slightly off color it is the end of the conversation. I would 9 times out of ten I never get an answer. Now I’m just sitting here. They limit your swipes to I think 20 a day. That is more than enough. I can’t keep track of the 7 women I started talking this morning. My profile definitely indicates I am irreverent. They give you a few prompt questions if you want to fill them out. I chose, My perfect first date: “Meeting for iced coffee so I don’t get burnt when you throw it in my face.” What is my plan for the zombie apocalypse? “Run faster than you!” We may get along if you find this funny: “Q. Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees? A. Because they are so good at it.”

Almost all the profiles I have read the women say they are looking for a serious relationship but they don’t seem to mind I am completely off the wall. I had to tell them I was leaving for the day so they would stop sending me messages.

I told them at the meeting online dating was a former drinking activity and a trigger. They said oh no, it’s for people looking for new friends and things to do. Okay. Sound about right. Why did I just get laid on the second day? I am keeping it under control. When I was on Tinder years ago when it was still real and the wild, wild west I went overboard. I was texting 4 women with a different variations of the name Christine. Once I accidentally texted the wrong one and that is how I ended up getting laid.

What the hell. One girl who doesn’t look like she would have a problem getting dates was keeping my updated all day. “going out with friends”, “(something)”, and just now, “I’m heading home now, I’ll text you when I get there, if you are still awake.” I said, “That should be easy, I never sleep. Thanks for the warning though. :)”

I’m purposely turning off notifications because they were non stop. I am not that big into texting. I understand that is what everyone does now and it is a necessary evil but can I eat a sandwich?

They don’t look desperate. They are not supermodels but they are pretty. They are well educated. I’m just some old ugly dude with bad jokes. I can’t be doing this but WTF? Maybe it is because I’m new. I think it may also help that I say, I didn’t understand how this site was going to work but then I figured it was for women who were tired of getting 300 “hey u up, dtf?” messaged a night. That is usually a good ice breaker.

I met A– on POF and saw her regularly for 3 years. It was 2am and I sent a message, “What are you doing up so late? Reading through all the messages from the perverts? That’s okay, this pervert can wait.” She answered me right away.

N’haiku meet you!

Heart colored pencils

How did I ever forget this story? It starts out like most of my best stories. I was minding my own business at 2am clicking through OkStupid when I saw a woman from Salem, Ma. (You know? The Witch City?) I normally try to come up with something original to say in a first message but when I see Salem, I can’t help myself. I usually ask, “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” I know it’s lame but it cracks me up and sometimes I would get some interesting responses. Good thing I thought twice. I was reading through her interests and one of them was Haiku. What? Who likes Haiku? I remember they made us write it in elementary school and could not figure out what the hell it had to do with anything. It made no sense. Now I am glad they did!

I sent a well thought out poem in the correct structure. 5-7-5 syllables. (I really wish I had a transcript of this because I was performing above my level) She answered in less than a minute with one of her own. Well, okay… Now we were having a conversation in Haiku and apparently making sense. I know. Sounds pretty boring but I think you know where my stories usually go. It went. I started getting suggestive, she was receptive, It was fun! Nothing dirty. Very soft core, erotica but it was hot. I didn’t know I could flow with such tight restrictions but we were non stop texting. The only pauses were in how long it took to type the words. I did break the rules once. To send my address.

Has anyone else ever done this? No? Just me?

Rumble in Brighton Tonight

Heart colored pencils

“Well, there ain’t a man left standing
So let’s all go get a beer”

“Rumble in Brighton” Stray Cats

I saw her on OkStupid around 2am back when it was an actual useful site. I think she was the only other person online at the time. I sent her some stupid message about the Stray Cats because it said she lived in Brighton (Boston). She said, “Who?” I went back and checked her age. She’s young, but not that young… right? “Never mind.” She told me she only answered me because I said I was an atheist. “No I didn’t.”, “It’s on your profile.” Now I had to go check myself. I guess they ask you when you sign up but I didn’t know other people could see it. Maybe I should have checked “Other.”

I asked what was going on in Boston tonight. She said she didn’t know, she’s in Virginia. Okay? What’s going on in Virginia tonight. She said she was at an “Atheist Retreat”. Okay, I’ll bite. What’s that? Apparently it’s where a bunch of people get real drunk and make fun of people who believe in god. That’s pretty hardcore. I like the get real drunk part but I don’t care who you believe in. Sounds as religious as the religions you make fun of. I’m more like Atheist 2.0. Yeah, There’s no god. So what?

I said it must be a great time if she’s on her phone talking to some dude back in NH. Yeah, most of them are passed out. Lightweights. I made some jokes and she made some back. Oh good at least we weren’t going to talk about god all night. We kept each other laughing for a couple hours, then I figure she passed out. I don’t know. I didn’t care. I forgot about it.

The next week I got a message with her phone number. I’m trying to figure out who the hell she was. Oh yeah, Brighton. I texted her. I got nothing going on. she really did live in Brighton. I told her I can’t get there anyway, so… She said she didn’t care, she thought I was funny. She was funny too. Okay.

I think we texted about a week. Not too much. She was good to talk to but she kept putting herself down. Not in a self deprecating humor kind of way. She was being serious. I don’t know what to say. Is she fishing for compliments? Am I supposed to make her feel better? I don’t even know this chick. I got my own fucking problems, I can’t be your emotional support human.

I think it was next Friday afternoon. She said she’s at a bar. I thought she was a fun drunk but now she was getting depressing. I didn’t know how long am I supposed to talk to someone I’m never going to meet? She started bitching about never having any money. I said, what do you expect? You’re fucking working at Newbury Comics to pay $3000 a month for a shithole studio apartment in the city and eating $20 sandwiches from Whole Foods on your lunch break. I can’t afford to be a hipster either. I guess she thought that was really funny? Later on she texted me a picture. Of course you’re drinking 10 dollar cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon at a “Dive” Bar. You’re too fucking funny.

She texted me again later. Not too late. Around ten. I want you to come see me. You are fucking drunk. How am I supposed to get to Boston? She looked up the friggin’ train schedule and map! She told me the station is only 5 miles away from my house. Whaa??? It’s only $60. Okay, I’ll just call a cab and hop on the train. She kept on about it. There’s no way. Even if I did I’ll end up lost on the streets Boston. Or I’ll be banging on your door and you’ll be passed out drunk. Then she started, if you really liked me you would do it. She was serious! I’m thinking, what is this chick? 12 years old? She kept going. You’re high. Like you? I don’t even fucking know you. I told her to leave the door unlocked I’ll be down in a couple hours. Christ, we only texted for a week, it’s not like I was making overtures.

She didn’t text me the next day. God, I’m glad that’s over. And women won’t talk to me when I tell them why I’m on disability?

Next Friday…. Oh no, it’s not over. My phone buzzed. Are you ready to apologize? I don’t know what the fuck is going on… For what? She told me… She was fucking serious! I give up. Okay, I’m sorry, let me make it up to you. Just come up here and see me. You know I can’t. Yes you can. I’m working tonight. So, take the night off. I can’t. Yes you can. Just take the T to the bus station. I’ll pay for your ticket. I can’t do it. If you really liked me you would.

Now it was over.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

I’m not entirely sure but I think some shit is going to happen Saturday night. But… if that shit happens, I think it is going to be happening at my place. I joined that group and checked off, I will be attending the event. (Dancing and drinking at a bar on Hampton Beach.) I left my notifications on because there are only 15 spots available. If someone posts a comment I get an email. One person said, sounds great, wish I could make it. Another apologized for changing her mind. The guy who created the group. (Last Sunday) Ivan, said, no problem, hopefully next time. A woman had questions if it was a private event. (No, bring a friend if you want and also public patrons of the bar will be there.)

Tuesday, I formulated a plan. Partly because I was worried about transportation but I had another motive. Thursday I put the plan in motion. I knew from the limited information the site gives about members that all the people attending lived at least 45 minutes away. I got devious and posted a comment this morning but it was truthful. I said, “My plan is Uber since I only live 10 minutes from the Ashworth. But they did leave me stranded once in the middle of the afternoon. I was told coverage is spotty in my area even though I live half mile from Exit 1, Rte. (…) and a mile from Rte. (…). in a well populated area. I’m not in the middle of nowhere. I really want to go, I just don’t want to be a no show because Uber texts me “no drivers available” at 6pm.”

That was around noon. I left the house for the afternoon not knowing if anyone would respond. If nobody answered my backup plan was still Uber. Ivan’s notice about the event mentioned carpooling if needed, “let me know ahead of time.” I thought he might answer me. My underhanded intention was to let everyone know I lived right down the street from the bar. A left and a right on well traveled roads and boom, you are here! My reasoning was all these people signed up immediately for a destination. They know it’s going to be 4 hours in a bar on a Saturday night. How many of them are going to want to drive an hour at midnight to get home and be alone? I wouldn’t.

I assumed if I got a reply from anyone it would be the main organizer Ivan but the last thing he posted was Monday, “make sure if you can’t make it, change your status so other people can join.” But the description mentioned carpool. I imagined he would be in charge of that. I got home later and had a few notifications. Only one pertained to me. They were from Karen…? A co-organizer. She answered the question about cost. (It’s free, you pay for you own food and drink.) She answered the public, private question. (The more the merrier.) And she answered me… “U can text me (555) 555-5555. Well… What do you know about that? Nobody else got an invitation to text.

I sent her a polite text making clear,who, what, where and when I was talking about. She texted back shortly after asking if I was looking for a ride there and back? I said, That would be great if possible. (I am worried about an Uber at midnight in suburbia). She said she is working on carpooling. I again made it clear I am centrally located. Also I can throw $ towards gas or someone going out of their way… etc… I’ve lived here all my life and know a few people are coming up from Massachusetts. That passes very close to me. The people from New Hampshire would have to take a five mile detour to pick up me, a local to guide them. Which will be useful because I know the Ashworth hooks you for $20 valet parking (not including tip) and I know where $2 an hour metered parking is located nearby.

So, I’m evil… what do you want from me? I may be delusional. But I spent half my life doing this. Hampton beach is a destination party place. People don’t just come here to have a normal night out. And it’s post-pandemic. New England has a high vaccination rate. Hospitality places just had most restrictions lifted a few months ago. It’s a recipe for disaster!

Whatever happens, Karen? Asked for my address and said she would text me Saturday. I’m pretty confident I can get an Uber to the party. I’m pretty confident I won’t need an Uber to get home. I don’t know… I’ve just been restraining myself for so long. Staying home in a self imposed lockdown. I’ve been pretty lucky with the women I have met on dating sites over the years but the bullshit you have to go through… I joined meetup 5 days ago and I’m about to go meet 15 people acting like normal people. If I said I needed a ride somewhere to a woman I talked to on a dating site, that would be the last I hear from her. It’s so refreshing. I was just thinking about one of the last interactions I had on a dating site however long ago. We talked a bit and I asked her what she likes to do when she meets someone virtually? Message for a long time or just chat and do a quick meet and greet. She said, That’s funny, I also call it a meet and greet. I like to chat a little and then meet quick. No pressure. I answered, That is funny, I also like to do that. Something simple like a coffee or drink, if you are still sitting there talking after an hour you might possibly like each other. I never got an answer. How was that offensive? That’s how it goes. One reply that isn’t perfect and you get ghosted.

I’m not saying I’m going to get laid Saturday. Maybe nobody will like me. I’m an acquired taste anyway and I have been pretty hyped up lately. I don’t want to be “in your face.” I don’t know what will happen but everyone going joined the website last weekend as I did, and joined the group last weekend as I did and committed to going to the event within days, as I did. I know I want to have a good time.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

No You-Turns

Last weekend I was trying to do some serious self-sabotage. Friday I was thinking about how I told myself I wasn’t going to waste this summer by isolating. I thought I was doing a good job. Every nice weather day I left the apartment for extended periods of time. Even during my hyper-anxiety stretch. Somehow I made myself do it. I have been seeing my daughter regularly, which is most important. I’ve been communicating through text with the important people in my life mostly every day. I’ve been trying to express positive sentiments even when all my thoughts are negative.

I realized most of the time I’ve been spending outside, I’ve still been isolating. I’ve been going to the beach where there are tons of people but I just cruise by on my bike. I never see anyone for more than ten seconds and then they are out of my life. As if they were ever in it? All the hours I spent riding this summer may as well have been spent watching virtual tours of Hampton Beach on YouTube filmed by someone with a GoPro camera. Okay, maybe while pedaling a stationary bike for the exercise. And a sunlamp? You get the idea. I’ve been spinning my wheels.

This wasn’t a sudden epiphany. I already knew about a week ago. A couple of really nice days I made myself stop in the center of the main beach and sit on a bench long enough to sip down one of my 16 ounce bottles of water. I watched a game of beach volleyball. Those people were really professional for a casual activity. I think because I was looking so happy a few people walking by made some friendly comments and I replied. I’m pretty friendly. But that was the most of my interaction with strangers in the wild for a long time.

Back to Friday… It was about 6pm and I was boiling over! Again I’m home alone on the internet. My fucked up brain is still on the clock. I only went out during the day and had to do my morning routine and leave the house at a certain time so I would be back by a certain time. Whatever those arbitrary times may be. So I could get back home and do what? Exactly? It was still daylight for hours; there is no law I can’t go out after dark. Why did I need to be home? To google my symptoms and side effects? Doom scroll Twitter? The people I follow on WordPress settle down by noon Eastern Standard Time. I have to get off the fucking internet sometime!

Oh yeah, last Friday. I tried using the internet to get off the internet. I cranked up the Google machine and typed in “Things to do near me” All that came up was Yelp and Tripadvisor etc… Now places have to pay to be sponsored to get reviews. The same bullshit restaurants came up in every search. I’ve never been to them because I’ve never wanted to go to them. I forget how I found a few things that were actually close to me. My town sucks anyway but… One of them was the old Dog Track. They turned it into a Casino. It is only a mile from me, I could walk there in 15 minutes. I read some reviews. They had a few slot machines, watered down drinks and really pushed he off track betting. Then, why am I even thinking about this? I don’t gamble. I don’t even spend 1 dollar on the lottery.

I thought a good idea popped into my head. The Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom. It is a forum that holds about 2000 people. They mostly feature once famous, now washed up bands from the 80’s. I didn’t give a shit. I’ll go see Whitesnake, Tesla, Cinderella? I don’t give a fuck. I never liked any of them but the crowd would be my age. Let’s have a look at their website. Nobody! Friday night in peak season and nobody is on the schedule. The next best thing was Kenny Wayne Shepherd on Saturday. A day late and a dollar short! Sounds like a real country music name anyway. I YouTube’d him and he’s actually guitar driven blues/rock. Nothing to write home about but I guess? 50 bucks for a standing room only ticket way in the back. Never mind. I did stumble on something fortunate. Frank Turner is coming there October 10th and I will be making an effort to be there! 30$ a ticket and he is much more talented. I played him over the phone for my remote drinking buddy, Julie a few years ago when I was seriously in the weeds. She said, “He’s the Irish Bob Dylan!” He’s actually English and is described as acoustic punk rock. I think that fits.

Next I got karaoke in my head. I searched karaoke bars. Again, sponsored links to places I would never go. Still I looked a little further into them. (Backstory) In the past 20 years Hampton Beach has slowly changed from a collection of small dive restaurant/bars and dive hotels into a long stretch of huge condominium complexes and extra large bars. A lot of those old bars “conveniently burned to the ground and instead of rebuilding in the same spots that were rather profitable, they sold the land to the corporations and moved off the beach. Still nice places.

I said what the fuck, I gotta go somewhere. I’ll go to one of these big bars with live music or karaoke. I don’t know why I had that in my head. I have never gotten up to sing one song at karaoke. But I’ll watch people make asses out of themselves. Then I found you can’t just walk into one of these bars. You have to make an account at an online reservation service to book a table. What? I have to get out of the house more often,I guess. “Yes, I’d like a table for one, Here’s my credit card number.”

Okay, I called bullshit. I looked up places I knew in my town. There is Master McGrath’s next door to me. I haven’t been in there for five years since I went on my one month manic fueled I’ll buy drinks for everyone with my credit card! That place is fucked up. I didn’t even like it. It’s named after an Irish racing Greyhound. (The dog track) And it is a real Irish place. The owner gets shitfaced and plays Irish ballad on the tin whistle? Nobody goes there because the dumbass hard core locals scare off new customers. One Friday I went in around 6pm and there were two girls from out of town and they thought it was nice old style classic pub. Asking the bartender when the best times were. I left and came back at 9 when he said the best time. The two girls were still sitting there and they were surrounded by 4 drunk freaks. Putting their hands on them, rubbing their shoulders, stroking their hair. The girls were looking over to me save them but what was I going to do? Soon they left and so did I. Do you think they will ever come back again.

The best time I had there was when I took the place over. For some reason they had a crowd but they were quiet and depressed and listening to some dreary Irish music. I looked to the side and they had a state of the art jukebox with an internet connection. I handed the bartender a twenty and asked for a handful of singles. I funneled them into the slot and typed in the songs I would listen to at home. OMG! What a difference. The whole place brightened up. They are all talking, laughing, having a great time. Whenever a new song came on another person would perk up… “Who played this? I love this song!” It was always me. I made a lot of quick friends that night. It was the 2nd to last time I went in there. The last time is a longer story.

Back to Friday. McGraths’s had some entertainment. Karaoke with “DJ Dan”. I laughed. He’s been around the area longer than I have. He thinks he is a celebrity. I think he is another kind of asshole. I could only imagine 5 old guys requesting Irish folk songs and everyone singing along. Next! The only place left was “The Chop Shop” A biker bar I have never entered. What the hell? They are only 2 miles away. They have a website. Live bands every Friday and Saturday! Okay! What’s on tap tonight? A J.Geils’ tribute band? Seriously? I think I remember one song from when I was a kid. “Must have got lost” I don’t know? The picture of the band was hilarious. 5 guys older than me in sequined suits. I guess they weren’t a tribute to the young J.Geil?

That place was out of the question anyway. What am I going to do there? I would be the only guy not dressed head to toe in leather. It’s so funny because the only thing I can think of is Rob Halford of Judas Priest singing “Hell Bent for Leather.” and him in an interview saying how did anyone not figure out I am gay all these years. I’m a walking stereotype, have they not listened to any of the lyrics? I’m laughing now. You know the place is a sausage hang. The only broad there will be a few biker girlfriends. Then the rest would be wanna be bikers who thought buying a Harley would get them laid.

Then I figured it out. The thing all these places had in common was they served alcohol. I didn’t want to hang out with bikers or listen to middle aged drunks sing karaoke. I wanted to get shitfaced! I put a stop to my search. I was lucky I couldn’t find a suitable spot.

Saturday it poured rain as promised. At night I got the bright idea I would check out POF cause I gotta meet a woman. But that would not have been a good idea. I was leaning towards my old habits and I would need some beer and time to talk and I would still be living on the internet. So that went in the trash. I haven’t been on there since last, I think, November? For shits and giggles I did a forgot password with my email and signed in. Jesus H. Still all the same women from years ago. They don’t even bother to change their pictures. They all say they are looking for a serious relationship. It’s a fucking joke. They would probably think the same of me but I’m not looking for a serious relationship and the longest I can stand that place is for a week at a time. My account had been “hidden” but I permanently deleted it. Now what?

Sunday I woke up and remembered No, it’s not a hook up site. It’s groups and activities for almost anything you could be interested in. I was signed up six years ago but the only thing I was interested in was being drunk. I signed up again and they give you a million different subjects and I clicked half a million just in case. They sign for a bunch of groups I will never join but I’m trying. I kept doing the search thing and one thing kept popping up but the group said it was miles away. I didn’t realize the event was at the beach. And, stupid me, I already knew about it. Every Wednesday, Hampton Beach has a live band outdoors and then a huge fireworks show. I love live music and I love fireworks. What the fuck have I been doing all summer? I checked the weather and it is going to be 85 degrees and no rain. You bet I will be there.

The next group they kept showing me was “Unaccompanied Single Adults”. Hey, that sounds like me. But it said Manchester, which is 30 miles away from me. But I caught it Monday morning. Their event is in Hampton Beach at the Ashworth Hotel. Saturday night. 70’s Dance party, come shake your booty with us 🙂 I don’t dance but it is the only event close to me. I clicked on it. It said 13 attending and 2 available spots. I didn’t understand why it was so limited and figured I would wait until later in the week to decide. I changed my mind and clicked I will attend. I can always back out later, right? I got interested and started stalking who was going. It’s 12 women and 3 guys. I’m one of the guys! And the organizer, Ivan even wrote in the description, “HEY, WHERE ARE THE GUYS AT?” They show everyone’s pic and age and town. Everyone looked normal. More normal than me. They are just a few people who are looking for the same thing I am. Something to do but they don’t know what to do.

They give you a lot of info on the people. The first thing I noticed was the people who are attending joined the site in the past week and it was the first thing they were doing. Then, this dude Ivan, just created this group a week ago and this is the first event! He’s a freaking genius! He’s got 12 single women around the same age, with the same interests ready to drive for miles to dance the night away! He specifically asked for more guys. I’m a guy. I’m there!

It turns out I was lucky I clicked, “attending” Monday morning because there are no more spots left. Now they send me emails when someone comments on the site. One woman said she had to cancel and an hour later this Indian dude filled in. Still at max capacity and still 3 to 1 woman to man ratio! That’s why I don’t gamble. I have better luck in real life!

I’m waffling because it is at a bar and I don’t dance. I can’t just walk in and sit down and drink. Which is a definite possibility. I’ve got all week to get prepared. But at this point I’m thinking summer is over and I have to do something in real life. Next week is Labor Day. The beach will be shutting down soon. I can’t waste the whole summer.


Heart colored pencils

I sent her a clever message coming up on midnight on a Thursday. She came back immediately with something funnier which surprised me because I wasn’t expecting an answer at all. I used to be slow at asking for numbers but not that night. I asked, Do you want to text and she sent me the info. We stayed up most of the night flirt-texting. We got along great with no hesitation between messages.

She worked 2nd shift and had kids in school so she was only available in the mornings. That was okay, I never slept. I think I ended up inviting myself over that morning. She said, yeah, after her kids left for school. (This will date me) I looked up her address on MapQuest and printed it out. She lived about 5 miles away. A right turn and a left turn.

She told me she wanted me to come over, open the door to her apartment, find her bedroom, walk in and fake rape her. I never had any rape fantasies but the letting myself in and finding her in bed sounded exciting. Ultimately I chickened out. I believed her but I couldn’t shake the possibility she was giving me someone else’s address and I could get into a lot of trouble. I told her she would have to wait in the living room and I would knock once.

I probably had some more coffee while I waited and then I texted her a “;)” emoji. She texted back, “;)”. I went out to my car and left. I walked up the stairs and knocked once. The door opened and she smiled and let me in. We sat on the couch and got comfortable talking for a few minutes and she was the one who ended up raping me.

In the bedroom I got my first surprise. I had heard about it but never met anyone who did it. As soon as I put it in, she slammed shut and forced me back out. Then she ejaculated about a pint of liquid spraying all over me. It’s not urine. it’s slightly slippery like a guy’s prejaculate.

She was also the first woman I’ve met that asked me to call her a “bitch, slut and whore.” I’m not very verbal but hey, she told me to do it. I liked it because she got more excited every time I called her a name. I am usually pretty quiet but I am capable of talking.

After the first day, things went pretty well. Every Friday morning I would text 😉 and she would answer 😉 and I would drive to her place. We got to be good friends while I was there, we just didn’t text much. At the end of that winter her mom got cancer so she and the kids moved in with mom to take care of her. We talked for a bit after that, then one night I sent a text and it went to another woman who just got her the (new to her) phone number. But that is a different story.

Hornpoutin’ About

I read a missed connection on CL about someone paying the toll for the car behind them and they chased each other around the highway, waving. They said they wished they had followed them off their exit. I thought it was kind of stalkerish and I was bored so I answered the verification question of, what was I driving?, with, “Toyota 4Runner!” They answered back, haha, nope. It wasn’t much to go on so I said, That’s too bad… so you were going to follow her home? I got a return saying, No, I’m a girl… I paid a cute guy’s toll behind me and we raced down 16 going 90 mph, I wish I had taken his exit but my gf was with me and we went home. I told her I was a guy and was just fooling around on CL tonight and wondered if anyone else had answered her. She laughed and told me no. You know how weird that can be if a man followed a woman down the highway but how hot is it if a woman follows a man down the highway? Whatever. I told her I had posted missed connections and gotten answers from people who thought I was talking about them. I had met some of them in person and even dated a girl for two years after meeting this way. She started emailing more frequently and seemed really interested in me. She was 21 and she asked me how old I was. Well, of course I’m like 10 times 21 years old! She didn’t care and we kept joking. Then she sent me her phone number unprompted and said she was curious what I looked like! I sent her a picture and that is the end of the story. I am too ugly. Seriously. I got no response. I’ve always know I’m ugly but I could always compensate. Now it’s just one picture and you are done.

Did you feel that?

Heart colored pencils

I met this broad on one of the dating sites during a time I was very active. We emailed for a bit but she didn’t want to trade numbers so I had a hard time gauging her interest. That didn’t matter to me. I didn’t have to meet everyone. Everyone was interesting to me at the time and if they were still talking to me I was still answering. She only emailed periodically. I figured it was only when she got bored. We would go back and forth for a bit and she would disappear again. We never got personal or shared many details. Well, she didn’t. All of my emails to anyone were very expansive. I couldn’t shut up. She knew a lot more about me than I knew about her. She did tell me she was also on disability for a mental illness. I attract people with mental illness. I don’t know why. It’s not like I am advertising for it. I didn’t keep my illness a secret but I didn’t come out with it until it came up in conversation. I do talk to a much higher percentage of people with mental illness than I think is statistically average.

We emailed for a good amount of time but I was sure that was as far as we were going. Then one night she surprised me. She asked me what I was doing and when I said I was talking to her. She told me to meet her at Appleby’s later that night. It’s a crappy chain restaurant but it sounded better than sitting at home.

I took a shower, got dressed and drove to the restaurant in the bordering town. When I walked in there was only one person there; the bartender. Oh well, at least I would be easy to find when she got there. I sat down, ordered a drink and talked to the bartender. I finished my drink and she still hadn’t showed. I told the bartender I thought I just got stood up and said fuck it I might as well eat something. I think I ordered a quesadilla. It was pretty good.

I drove home wondering why she would do that. When I got home I had an email from her asking why I never showed up. I thought she was joking and I told her what I had been doing for the past hour. She said no, I’m sitting here waiting for you in Concord. That was a key piece of information she could have shared the first time. I thought it was weird. I knew where she lived. She had to drive fifteen minutes to go through my town, coming within a mile of my house. Then she had to continue down the same road I had just driven twice; get on the highway a mile before she reached the restaurant I was sitting in and drive another twenty miles to Concord. How was I supposed to guess that.

I said whatever and drove down to Concord to meet her. This restaurant was crowded but we got a booth. She seemed nice enough and we had easy conversation but nothing was really going on. I still didn’t know much more about her by the time the check arrived. I was ready to call it a night but she slid down to the other end of the booth and told me to do the same. She cleared the table between us and put her hands palms up. She told me to put my hands on hers. She didn’t say anything and just sat there staring me directly in the eye. I was thinking, what the hell is this broad doing. Finally she broke the silence and asked, “Did you feel that?” I was completely confused. What was I supposed feel? I felt her hands under mine. I said, “What?” She smiled and said, “Sparks”


Heart colored pencils

I haven’t tried to hook up with anyone online since November. I wasn’t even trying to hook up in February when someone from forever ago looked me up. I wasn’t going to last night because it was late night at the end of the weekend and the chance of meeting someone was zero.

A___ came over Saturday and it was good but she wanted me to finish before I was ready because she had to go home. Usually after I see her I don’t think about sex for a week but I was all charged up. It didn’t matter, there was nothing I could do about it. That part of my brain that causes a sex binge clicked on.

I still wasn’t going to do anything, like I said, Sunday night. But I had the impulse and decided to go online. If I hadn’t followed that impulse at that exact moment none of this would have happened. Within 10 minutes I was talking to a woman and got her number and texted until about 2 in the morning. Not only did I talk to someone when the chances were nil, she lives about 20 minutes away but she spends 2 hours every afternoon in my little town with nothing to do. We made plans to meet today.

Today came and we texted in the morning while we waited for the afternoon. She came across great in writing and I came across great in writing but when she showed up, boom! We are both schizophrenics! She didn’t tell me she was diagnosed, that is just my personal blanket diagnosis when I meet someone who acts and does exactly like me. JFC… How do I meet people like this so many times? Was she wondering the same thing. It does happen all the time to me. I bet I have been friends with more schizophrenics than anyone and I never joined a support group or anything.

Needless to say we made each other both nervous. From downstairs, up the elevator, down the hall and into my living room she was on her phone. Texting, showing me pictures from her home security cam, showing me pictures of her deer hunting cams. This little tiny girl not even 5 feet tall likes killing deer so much she sets out cameras in the woods to track them. She was on her phone telling me three things at once and one of them was this person keeps texting but as long as she texts back it is fine. So she texted back.

We were in my room and she was acting really nervous but she took off her clothes and got into my bed first so I did the same. I thought it was time but she turned away from me and went to her phone. That was weird but she turned open towards me again. Okay. Then back to her phone. I felt weird and my brain kicked into overdrive. Does she even want to be here? Is she only going to text? Am I making her do something she doesn’t want to do? I don’t want to do that. If she doesn’t want to do anything why is she lying open in front of me in a position to start doing something? My brain won’t stop asking stupid questions. Of course she wants to do something. At this point it would be weird if I didn’t reach out and touch her. She was either going to pull away or not and she didn’t so it started to go well.

Then she turned completely away to her phone again and I’m like, are we done? What just happened. And she pushed her back against me and we started again but my mind still won’t stop with all the questions from before. Does she want to leave? But also, Of course she doesn’t want to leave. We are really going at it and both having a great time. It’s not like in the movies. There is a certain noise and she is making that noise, making that noise and making more of that noise. Suddenly she’s not making any noise because she can’t breath for a few seconds. She made the ugly face too. The face you can only make if you have ugly face orgasms. All the signs of someone really enjoying themselves so why do I keep wondering if she is enjoying herself?

I’m calling myself stupid because I can’t get all these thoughts out of my head. But I’m also really enjoying myself. Like, we were having great sex but I couldn’t realize it. Then I couldn’t support myself anymore and was sweating from doing all the work so I backed off for a second. I think she thought I was done. She went to the edge of the bed and grabbed her phone again. She said she had to keep texting but I didn’t know she meant constantly. She stopped and started telling me stories about people I had no idea who they are. She didn’t have any of the nervousness from before. I guess she was done because she thought I was done but I wasn’t done but it was too late because we were in wrap up time. I thought it was too soon to be done.

She was definitely manic sitting on the edge of the bed putting on her clothes, telling me stories, texting, showing me the deer camera, is that a coyote? It’s too big to be a fox. All at the same time. I’m confused, My mind is still stuck on earlier time even though she is relaxed now. We are definitely done. I don’t want to be done but it is tough when one of you is fully dressed. I got dressed and brought her down to her truck. My building is huge and people get lost. Everything looks the same.

We were talking pleasantly for a few in the parking lot and she said, so, I guess I’ll message you. I didn’t get a good feeling about that and she left. I still had the question of did she enjoy herself. Yes, she did part of the time but was the whole experience enjoyable overall? I waited a while and couldn’t help myself, I texted, thanks for coming by, I liked you. She said she had a good time and I said me too. Then I deleted her number from my phone and deleted the emails where she gave me her number. I don’t want to be tempted to be stupid one night and bother her if she doesn’t want to be bothered by me. I have a feeling she will contact me again. I don’t go very long without having another schizophrenic in my life.

Oh, I’m not like that, he he.

Heart colored pencils

When I first had to start dating again it was the beginning of the texting revolution. I had never talked to anyone that way before. But I buckled down and joined the 21st century, buying a phone with a full keyboard. I had no idea what I was in for.

At first I thought it was great. I had phone numbers from multiple women and it was fun texting all the time. But texting all the time was the problem because these women wanted to text, ALL the fucking time! First thing in the morning, all day, until they went to bed, again the next day and the next day.

I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Someone would text for hours and I would ask, “What are you doing?” and they would tell me they are at work. What was their job? Texting me? Yes. They were getting paid to text me all day. Not just a text here and there when they got a break. They could text me faster than I could text them back. That was my problem because when I was new to texting I felt compelled to answer someone as soon as I heard my phone beep. Another thing I found was women who only texted me when they weren’t available. Text, text, text. Me, “What are you doing?” “Oh, I’m at work.” “Oh, I’m at home with my kids.” I’m thinking for chrissakes, what are you doing? Spend some fucking time with your kids. I found that to be the worst. It was endless texting and I never got to meet anyone.

Another disturbing thing that happened a lot, like, a lot, was the fear of abandonment. I’d be text, text, text, get hungry, make myself some food, maybe take a shower, drive down to the corner store and buy some energy drinks. Anything. Just everyday things. I would come back 20 minutes later and my phone was blown up! “Where are you?” “What’s wrong?” “Was it something I said?” “Are you mad at me?” Different women, same four questions. That was too much for me and would be the end of the texting relationship. Not only is it, JC could you be a little more needy please? It’s also a form of controlling behavior. They want all your attention, all the time. I had enough. I developing PTSD from the sound of my phone beeping.

It got so bad I would be emailing chicks and they would ask if I wanted to text and I would say, no, I don’t text and tell them why. They would say, “Oh, I’m not like that, he he… ” Oh, a few days later they were most definitely like that. I probably missed out on a lot of good dates because I wouldn’t text. I don’t know. I would say I have no problem calling and talking on the phone at night if you want. Most people did not want to do that. I didn’t get it because way back when I started “dating” that is what people did. Now you have to text back and forth for four hours to say what you could say in a half hour phone call.

It was the novelty of it that first got me to fall into the “text trap”. Now I am more rational about it. I don’t feel compelled to answer right away if it’s not important. I bail when I realize a woman is only texting me when she is at work or with her kids. Then she gets a free night and I don’t hear from her? See you later.

Now my favorite text to get is, “I just got out of the shower see you in 45 minutes.”