Whatever You Do, DON’T Google Camel Mating Rituals

Today at work we were talking about the dating terms “cougar” and “panther.” Apparently, there is some discrepancy as to the formal use of panther; it can sometimes apply to men, which none of us knew until we turned to the internet experts. Then there’s a puma, which is specifically linked to women age 30-39. So that once you hit 40, you’re a cougar. But only if you go for, according to Wikipedia, “significantly” younger men. It was all very confusing and limiting and demoralizing. I uncomfortably ended the conversation by declaring I was a camel.

Then I decided to beef up my match.com profile with the following:

  • I make great scrambled eggs.
  • I know just enough Star Wars and Lord of the Rings references to turn on every nerd within a 100-mile radius.
  • I’m always one Lifetime movie away from bursting into tears.
  • I’m fascinated by beekeeping.

That oughta turn things around pretty quickly.


Ready for a Match.com Intervention

My most recent dating record:

  • Went on two dates with a guy who said, “I’ll call you.” And never did.
  • Took up with a married man who lives in another state.
  • Acquired an independently wealthy stalker.
  • Talked at length with the checker at Home Depot about his incredibly expensive prescription for migraines.
  • Attracted a number of men who were separated but not quite divorced. What is THAT about?
  • Created a LinkedIn profile that has become a short list of guys I’ve dated or would like to date.
  • Logged more quality time with the resident physician at the local Urgent Care center in the last year than any other guy, and he seems to like my kids.  What’s there to misinterpret?
  • Attracted scores of men in a different league. Specifically, me being out of theirs.

I’d say things are shaping up nicely.

Mr. P – Follow Up

So no call the next day.  Or the next.  Or the next.  Or the next.  Oh, wait, then a text.  Cryptic, non-committal, no response required.  “Dealing with some issues.”   I knew right away it was the ex.  Although I haven’t dated in 18 years, I have lived with a guy almost that long, and I’m not dumb.   You can read those dudes like a book.

So later that day, I texted back something equally neutral and non-plussed and went about my business.  Sure, I was mad, confused to say the least, and even sad at some point (my rejection meter is a little sensitive) but I moved on.  I figured it’s his issues, not mine and that only time will tell where his head truly is.  I was mostly disappointed that he couldn’t just call me earlier and cut bait.

A week after that text, still no word.  I can’t believe I did this, but I called him and asked him to join me at an event later that week.  (Hindsight: Nail in the coffin)  I thought I would just volley that out there, see if there was anything worth salvaging.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?   If anything, just to flush him out.  He called back a day later and we had a long talk.   The timing’s bad, he just can’t get involved with anyone right now, his dog ate his homework, etc.  That’s fine.

Looking back, maybe the intensity of our early electric love scared him off (ha!), maybe my assessments were accurate and he’s like that with all women, maybe he’s just classically “not that into me,” or maybe I was simply a convenient distraction or pawn while he and his off-and-on ex hit a few speed bumps.

I had medium hopes for us.  I wasn’t looking to get married.  I just wanted to have some good times with someone I found interesting and fun.  And get some kissing in there too.   Jesus, the kissing!  Where can I get more of that??  God, it’s like being in the desert and coming across a Dixie cup of water.  I find myself licking the cup for any remnants.

Of course, I would love for him to call me out of the blue, say he changed his mind, made a huge mistake, offer to split that bottle of champagne we won at the lawn party and celebrate something.  Even if it’s simply to celebrate the fact that it’s Tuesday.  Isn’t that funny?  Dude can just not call for two weeks, tell me he “needs space” and I still want him?  Clearly I have some lingering attachment issues to work out – but I’m in therapy.  That’s a start!

I actually thanked him.  I thanked him for helping me fling myself out there and flex my flirting, dating, kissing, eyelash-fluttering muscles.  Sure, I was all over the place at the beginning, but I think I’ve settled down now.  I’m liking this place, although it can feel like being in a blender at times, it’s fun. Having a social/dating life definitely makes me a better mom.  Now if I can just get another date with someone, this little project could really take off!  Who’s with me? Either you help, or I am going to throw myself to the eHarmony wolves.

Date #2 – Mr. P

So the week wore on with my stomach on the mend.  Almost too many lovely texts and phone calls went back and forth (hindsight: Error #2).  And too much thinking about how I was going to corner him to kiss him again took up an enormous amount of brain power.  (It’s been a really LONG time, give me a break, people.)

Date #2 was a party at his friend’s house where there were lots of lawn games to play and prizes to win.

All this thinking about outfits was wearing me out.  It was going to be hot, somewhat athletic, and casual, but I needed to wear something pretty.  Argh!  For this date, I was much more relaxed so I just went with a little flirty skirt, tee and flips.  It was quite possibly the hottest night on record so thankfully I chose wisely.  I wouldn’t say it was the sexiest outfit on the planet, it was more practical (hindsight: Error #3)  Perhaps bending over in the flirty skirt to pick up the bocce ball 700 times would work in my favor – maybe not.  I planned to sauce it up for Date #3.  But that never happened.  I’ll get to that later.

He picked me up at the curb this time, leaned over to open the door and gave me the over-the-console hug in his car.  Is it just me, or are you feeling the distance too?

We get to the party, meet some of his friends, there are a few people I know as well, so we hang out and start talking and drinking.  This was a little awkward for me because most of these people I know remotely through work.  Most of them know that last year I was pregnant.  And now I show up as Mr. P’s date?  There were some confused looks to say the least.  I had to brush it off and just roll.

He gave me the “I’m going to leave you alone and see how you fare” test.  I think I passed.  I played washers with another girl and had fun.  No biggie.  We played bocce a couple of times, (I bent over a lot to chase the ball) we chatted, snacked, talked some more just to each other and then played our own little solitary game of washers.  I feel like I performed athletically better than I thought I would which I hope impressed him.  Maybe I intimidated him with my athleticism (Accurate assessment #4 – perhaps. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.)  Meanwhile, everyone is literally sweating as if we were on the surface of the sun.  It was miserable.  Then the mosquitoes arrived.

We decided to leave and enjoy the air-conditioning of his car on the way home.  I asked him in.  Of course, for more kissing!  He helped me dismiss the impressionable young sitter.  And we proceeded to kiss.  A lot.  There was some minor grabbing and stuff, (Sorry you had to hear that, Dad.  He did the grabbing, not me.) Which of course made it more fun.  It was so great.  Again.  Great, great, great. And then the classic line.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”  Ah, we all know what that means, right?