Flo' sho'

I think I might be content with a life in which my most significant and satisfying relationship is with Flonase.

The "P" in "PMS" stands for "pugilistic"

Apparently I'm so much of a flirt that men think it's my default setting?

I've been texting with an OkCupid guy for a couple weeks. Today's conversation began with him saying he hadn't texted yesterday because his work life had been turned upside down, and then he found out his friend had been diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic.

I told him I was sorry, that sucked, and  I hoped the weekend treated him better. He asked how my week was going, and I said, "Pretty good, no complaints," because that is the answer to that question.

Then he asked if I was "still being a proper lady," a joke I've been making about trying not to flirt too much before we actually meet.

Uh... Sorry, my bad. Didn't know "paranoid schizophrenic" was supposed to affect my panty places. Should I have said, "Bummer. So, hey, how's your dick doing?"

I told him it seemed odd to respond with smut, and he seemed pissy and said, "I was just explaining why my attentions had been elsewhere. But the turbulence has cleared and I'm back to blue skies now."

OK. Well, sorry again. I didn't notice the sun shining out of your ass, and didn't know I was obligated to taste your rainbow whenever you feel like flirting.

I started composing a response, but everything I typed just sounded cunty. I put the phone down so I could think before I spoke.

My level of irritation caused me to go do the math on my menstrual cycle, because this bitchface felt prescient. And yep, should be any day now.

When I hadn't answered an hour later, he followed up with, "Did I offend?" Yes. Yes, you did, but I don't know if it makes sense that you did, or if I'm projecting issues from a previous "relationshit." I need a minute. Plus, hi, there's this new thing called work? I waited a day, you can't wait an hour? No. That's not how this is gonna go. <-- Oof. Yeah, now that I write that, it's related to past events, for sure. Doesn't mean I shouldn't be offended, but I should take it into account.

When I told him I was, "Just confused, and also working," he said, "You're supposed to stop working when I text you. I thought you knew that. :P Sorry if I confused you, though I'm not sure how. I hate text, you can't convey tone well." Hey, you know what didn't just help your case, even with that bullshit ":P" after it...? (<-- And that's different baggage.)

He asked if he should stop texting me, and I said, "I might not respond right away, but you're welcome to if you want." He said he was afraid to, that the conversation was "colder than the air outside," and that he was going to "retreat" and I could text him whenever I was free and felt like it. Again, the fuck? And again, Bitchface McMenses.

Also? I give ZERO fucks if you don't text for 24 hours. We haven't even met. You're under no obligation to communicate with me every day, nor to explain yourself when you don't.

I'll stop this saga now. I think I just need to get some sleep. And maybe take my Midol before I come to class.

So...like a larger version of my closet?

Hm. I DO have a Southwest flight credit, and I've never been to L.A.

Via LAist: 

"That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works."

I've been talking to other "open relationship" guys on OkCupid, because apparently I'm open-minded now (?), and motherFUCK me -- leave it to me to find a Clinger in an open relationship.

How are you texting me every day, morning and night? Go text your main Bunny, Hef. The point of me exploring this option was that I wouldn't meet clingy people. How have you pushed a potential sidepiece to my "Please stop talking" threshold in less than 4 days? Do you have to have the open relationship because you talk too much for one woman to handle?

I get the sense his lady has had more success with this setup than he has.

He asked if I was OK because my most recent texts haven't been as enthusiastic or flirtatious, so I mentioned I was at work, and still debating if I can handle the open relationship.

He's still talking, "joking" that it's OK if I just want to be friends, but that I'll change my mind when I meet him.

OK, Karma, you've made your point: I behaved like a desperate, slutty Clinger with That Guy. I realized that on my own, and have tried to adjust accordingly, even with friends (minus the "slutty" bit). Are we done here?

And good work, dude -- congrats on being the reason I go back to giving people a Google Voice number instead of my real one.

Thankfully there's still another open-married guy. Hee. We like him -- he's dreamy and wants to go down on me. I'll have to name him. Probably, like..."Matt Trimony." Heh. I'm clever.

Slutty McSidepiece and the Stage 5 Clingers

Talking to a friend...

Me: "I'm thinking about hooking up with an 'open marriage' guy from OkCupid."
Friend: "You could try it. I mean...you're already IN therapy."

There's immense appeal in a guy who'll come with me to a movie, come with me in the bedroom, then get the hell out. When I try to date proper, I attract Clingers, get anxious, and make terrible choices. That shouldn't be an issue with one who's already housebroken.

But I also know myself, and I may be too insecure to come second...literally or otherwise. If Dude satisfies my needs too well, I may catch feels, and if I fall for him, I'm SOL. The wife's gonna stay the wife -- I'd just be Slutty McSidepiece. I do not do well as Slutty McSidepiece.

I wonder if I'd rather fend off Clingers and hold out for a person with whom feels are at least an option, even if we never get there.

Then again... I don't HAVE to date the guy long. Maybe I NEED a naked friend to fuck some clarity into me without all the relationship crap.

Also, if you consider where I am mentally, I might as well be in an open marriage, too. I have one guy I'd drop anything and anyone to help and/or be with, so as far as my heart and brain are concerned, I also have a "primary partner." Then I still have the second guy in the back of my head, just for bonus emotional fuckery, so I have even worse trust issues than before. I can't handle a real relationship, are you crazy?

Plus, if the guy turns out to be boring, I can just say I can't handle playing second fiddle. (And that may actually turn out to be true.)

I can spot a Clinger at 50 paces now, anyway -- "Oh, you're doing THAT? Yeah, I've done that. I INVENTED that. Don't even." So far I've encountered three on OkCupid, and I've dodged them all without ever meeting them.

I'm a Recovering Clinger, and I approved this message.

P.S. I actually ran this by the therapist and she says I'm in the clear as long as I'm safe. She told me it was good for me to explore options, to be aware of those emotional attachments I still have, to be conscious of what I need, and possibly work out a way to GET it without pressuring myself about being in a "proper" relationship. I think this is a good intermittent step, and she seems to agree.

P.P.S. Dude is ADORABLE and I want to make all the sex with him.

Floral Sex

A horrible ad has been popping up on my Pandora Radio lately, telling me, "This Valentine's Day, give your man a not-so-subtle hint: Tell him to order flowers from Such-and-Such Place."

Tell...TELL HIM?!

Wow, what a spontaneous and romantic gesture that'll be for me. Should I go select the exact bouquet I want and just send him a link, or does he at least get THAT much credit? Because OMG, men are SO clueless, amirite, ladies?!

I once had an ex tell me I "hint with a hammer," because I usually just say what I want, but I've never pulled THAT shit.

Jesus Christ, if Valentine's Day is that important to you, your Person should know to get your fucking flowers.

I like Valentine's Day. When in a relationship, I personally like to spend it at home with a movie, pizza, and nudity, because I've generally felt loved every day in my relationships and don't feel the need to make it such a Thing. (I am also cheap and lazy.) But still, I like love and celebrations thereof. I like flowers and hearts and pink crap and on-sale candy the next day.

But I hate the implication that all women are whoreticulturists and all men are inept.

...It's possible I have too many feelings about this.

I'm probably not the only crazy person on OkCupid.

Oh, OK. So I can be messaging back and forth with a perfectly nice guy from OkCupid, and inadvertently say something that reminds me of my ex, then of That Guy, then back to my ex, and now I'm crying?

Sure, yeah -- I am absolutely ready to be dating, even casually. It will not end badly at all. 

I understand this is how I move on, and I'm sure a time will come when it doesn't feel like cheating, but...not so far. 

I could blame PMS, but I think I might just be ready to embrace my obvious destiny to die sexless and alone.

We'll just add this to the therapy list. That woman is earning her money.

Fat-phobic or fat fetishist?

I woke up to a photo-less OkCupid guy's FIRST message to me: 

"Hey...Would you be willing to gain a little weight to please your man if you were in a committed relationship?
-- Steve"

Well, Steve. First off, thanks for the flashback to that "Family Guy" episode where Peter stuffs cake down Lois's gullet because he decides "fat sex is the hottest sex."

But also, my OKC profile includes photos of my already-weighing-quite-enough body, because men love asking if "curvy" is code for "obese," so I like to just get my mere "overweight" out there up-front.

So I can't decide if Steve wants me bigger than I am because he wants more to love? Or maybe he wants me to say obesity is disgusting and that I am a superior, health-minded individual who would never fall prey to The Fats?

I have so many questions, Steve.

My memory is just fine, Facebook. THANKS.

You know those Facebook Memories where it shows you what you were doing on this day however many years ago?

The one I just saw might as well have said, "Ha ha, remember that time you were about to fuck up your whole life? MAN! Good times," and then punched me in the stomach.

Eat a dick, Facebook.

All things considered, my life has turned out pretty well, but damn -- between careers and homes and relationships and assholes, that was a lot of progress to process before I even finished my coffee. This probably explains why I'm so hesitant to change very much in those realms right now.

Unless Robert Downey Jr. calls. Then all bets are off. And so are my panties. (Joking. I would never have on underwear if I were anywhere NEAR Robert Downey Jr. I would always wear dresses and trampy nightgowns and go commando, so he could have a 24/7 all-access pass.)

Oh. Well, OK, then, Cupid...

I debated posting this because I wouldn't want people posting verbatim bits of MY OkCupid profile online, so I try to take that into account. I don't know if I'm successful in walking the line between harmless mocking and being a giant, judgy bitch, but I try.

HOWEVER. 

THIS is not judging. THIS is documenting an impressively bold and insulting leap in logic in a guy's self-summary: So, wait, just because I don't want to spend my life with you and your shitty kid, I must only be looking for some serious deep dicking?

I mean, yeah, dick would be good. Dick would be amazing, actually. Mmm, dick... AHEM... Sorry, what? OH, right -- indignance. Goddammit, dick isn't ALL I'm looking for!

You know what, though? I wish him the best of luck finding a nice, proper lady who wants to be a stepmom in a long-term relationship with a man who casually implies women are whores.

My family shuns my food baby.

I spent the day with extended family, which first means I can't handle anymore noise and am incapacitated in silence on the couch. But it also means I spent the day being lauded for being "so petite!" and looking "so cute in skinny jeans!" Because apparently that's an achievement. "I could never wear those, I'd look like a beached whale!"

Oh, it's TOTES easy, you guys. All you have to do is upend your entire adult life: lose two consecutive jobs; get your heart broken twice (once in love, once in friendship); move apartments twice; doubt your overall worth; get fat; see therapists you can't really afford; get prescribed drugs that make you lose your previously voracious appetite; get thin because you're eating half as much; and constantly worry that even this tiny rug of vague stability you've managed to weave for yo' damn self is going to be pulled out from under you.

In the words of Elle Woods: "What, like it's hard?"

I don't know why I waste my time on my silly blog when I could clearly be writing the next big self-help book. 

I was also told how "natural" I looked holding Baby Cousin, and got the "Maybe you'll change your mind someday, you never know." Um, well, first, I'm 40 and single, so time's a wastin', and second, I was sure enough to end a decade-long relationship over the matter, which you're aware of, so I think I'm set. Thanks for the reminder, though. And also you're a dick.

Besides, in our family, being skinny vs. breeding seems very much an either/or situation. I'm gonna need you to prioritize your pressure. If I'm understanding correctly, being fat is acceptable as long my fat is the result of creating a person? But it's not cool if it's just a food baby?

New Year, resolution

I guess once you've told someone, "You're a coward, a liar, and an asshole, and I'm sorry I ever met you"...That's probably closure, right? 

I couldn't even cry, I was just so tired. I sent the email and then sat there like, "Huh. OK, so that's that, then." (I mean, I'm not thrilled, but...)

He responded implying I'm being petty, like, "I'll refrain from name calling, but that's wonderful, thanks" was part of it.

Umm...you're welcome. And I dare you to call me any name I haven't already called myself. 

Crazy slut? Pfft. I have that shit engraved in one of those nameplate necklaces. It's on my resumé.

Clingy, desperate? I'll own that. It wasn't my finest behavior, but I learned from it.

Resentful? Bitter? Probably. But part of re-gutting myself was to get past this permanently. Plus it's been so long that it's hard to really resent some...ghost of a person you never really knew, who exists only in some hazy online ether now. It'd be like hating that money-grubbing Nigerian prince.

During our...whatever, I asked numerous times if he had the same feelings for me. I probably would've been able to infer he didn't if he and I had a standard romantic relationship. But we'd started as friends and always agreed we wanted to stay friends. So my brain went blurry, because a friend would never knowingly let things happen the way they did -- they would've leveled with me. (I've done it before. It sucked, but the friendship survived.) 

But I had to give up knowing; it was hurting me too much. So I went about assuming it was over, accepting that, and letting him be.

But then his blog likes, Facebook friend request, and LinkedIn profile checkup started grating on me, like, "OK, what are you doing?" Then came his invitation to discuss things he'd seen me writing about him here. So we discussed -- argued, really, via email. But I got my answer: He never felt the same way, and finally told me directly.

SO. Not the answer I wanted, but an answer, one I knew was possible. It's what I'd guessed, but was never 100% sure. I always told him I'd feel better if he just said it (he never would, either out of kindness or desire to keep me hooked), and I do feel better. Part of my mental reaction was, "THANK YOU. Christ, was that so hard?!" But it would've been easier, and we'd still be friends, if he'd said it sooner. 

I can't know how the discussion affected him (I'd guess just relief I finally stopped talking). I'm...partly bummed I was so spectacularly wrong about truly knowing him, and honestly, that I'll never get to have sex with him. (Don't judge me -- I REALLY wanted to. It would've been great, to the point that I probably still would if he tried, which is pretty fucked up so I'm happy it's not an option.) But I'm also relieved I have my answer, and that I got to say what I needed to. (Sad truth? I still don't entirely believe him. But I'll get there.)

It sucks we imploded a friendship, because I really valued him that way more than romantically, but he acknowledged the friendship wasn't much reciprocated, either. And the longer I was left wondering, realizing I'd started being hurt by our conversations more than I was enjoying them, that I'd ended up feeling dirty and used, and that he didn't miss me even as a friend, the easier it was to let go of that as well. 

My body is NOT a winter wonderland.

 

Eh. I don't know. Do you have the spring boyfriends in yet? I'm slightly crazier in the winter, plus there's all that driving and family time and spending money on gifts and meals between now and Valentine's. 

My dating representative -- Public Consumption Smug -- is currently busy hermiting under a mountain of blankets. The only way I'd be down for "Netflix and chill" is in the literal sense -- I have popcorn and bourbon cider, you bring the movie. I will wear my finest pajamas and will even locate MATCHING fuzzy socks. 

This is my game at this point, y'all. 

Joking aside, were there a man on this couch, I'm pretty sure I could summon the energy to have ill-advised sex with him, assuming he could get it up on spec for the presumptive bounty lurking beneath the Temple hoodie and yoga pants. #SexyAndIKnowIt

I love the implication that it's just THAT easy to get me a new person who'll deal with me, and me with him, long enough to get to "boyfriend." See, what you have here, Hinge, is applicants for the "seasonal help wanted" sign on my vagina. That's not a boyfriend, sweetie, that's a temp -- he'd be filling an opening. Like at the Gap (heh). Stop trying to make it all rom-com.