The Pros of Online Dating

Online dating would look like it’s a horrible idea if you rely solely on my blog, and yet,  I still do it.  Well, I’m off again, but that’s another post one day. Truthfully, there has been a decent amount of personal growth for me through online dating.

Found my funny bone. 

Yes, I finally found the funny.  It can be entertaining to see what some men think is acceptable behavior.  I mean, just a suggestion, treat women like you would treat a co-worker until you meet in person and actually catch her vibe.  I mean, maybe she wants to be your fantasy, but it won’t happen if you offend her first.  And it’s a common request to get a selfie or two, but I’m going to assume you know your way around Instagram or Facebook enough to make me think you’re looking for free porn in a picture.  After my last request, that duck lip pose I always thought was silly is never going to be as innocent and stupid as I thought it was.  Just don’t ask for selfies.  Find them.  Stalk me in the way I want the world to.

There is value in meaningful communication.

Communication is best in person because there are nuanced microexpressions and body language you pick up on but don’t give voice to.  This is why psychotherapy only works in person with an exception made for occasional phone calls.  Human interaction requires humans to interact.  The point of meeting online is to get offline.

Something that I struggled with is my old fashioned sensibilities that never translate.  I mean, if you know someone’s sleeping patterns well enough to have no doubts when they’ll be up, it’s fine.  You are past that “getting to know you” phase.  I grew up knowing you don’t call too early or too late.  I typically wouldn’t call before 9 or 10 on weekends or after 10 at night, but that rule goes right out the window when you’re grown folks on cell phones.  This is not a bonus for you when I’m a light sleeper with my phone on in case my kids need me (they sometimes call when they can’t sleep at Dad’s) and you’re waking me up really late.  Those early morning texts, or late night (horny) texts annoy me more than endear me to you.

In the early days, I responded to every single solicitation for my attention.  It became exhausting, and taught me that I really am shallow and if I’m not attracted to a picture, the conversation really won’t matter.  I started to ignore people.

Yes, I’ve ghosted a person.  I won’t do it again.

At the end of one of my earliest relationships, I ghosted him.  We had a conversation that ended in a friendly way.  He was getting ready to fly out on a trip and we were making plans for when he returned home and I blocked him.  It was easier to be a chicken and not face my own feelings and just walk away. I didn’t explain that I liked him more than I was comfortable with because I couldn’t see a future with him in it.  I decided for us that we were done, repeating what was done to me in my marriage and ignoring the devastation I was inflicting, and knew too well.  I walked away, letting him figure out that I wasn’t interested because I couldn’t act like a grown ass woman and tell him.  A few months later, he called me from a number I didn’t recognize and I answered his call.  That felt worse.  As much as I wanted to cover my cowardice in the audacity of his actions, I was wrong.  He’s beautiful and tenacious, but he’s not the one for me.  Owning up to that and talking to him was hard, but the better choice.  He’s a really great guy.  Just not mine.

New friendships formed.

I have had a few meetings online that stayed online.  One man shared some of his secrets with me.  It wasn’t in his secrets but the way they made him who he is today that helped me decide we weren’t the right fit.   I’ve met a few of these.  Great pictures.  Interesting bios, but things weren’t going to work out.  They make good friends and I even help out with their dating profiles and offer advice until they keep talking about wanting sex and I stop encouraging a conversation.  I was talking to him as a friend Wednesday night when I had accepted a date from someone else.  We’re friends, and I’m not lying to anyone, so I told him about the date.  He told me not to overthink it and have fun.  I told him to get out of that self inflicted texting purgatory most dates eliminate themselves with.

I got home from the date feeling like it wasn’t a right fit.  I was almost laughing at how badly the conversation went, taking ownership of the fact that I wasn’t encouraging it at all and ignoring the fact that I was probably PMSing and he was suffering for it.

The next day, this same date was asking me out again, and another young man that had become a friend gave me a nudge.  He said I was too young and beautiful to not embrace having fun, and he pointed out that I made up my mind just like I had about his age (27 is too young).  He was right.  I went out with a determination to just have fun.  And I did.  He was right.

Too many choices and it was time to make one.

Online dating offers way too many options.  When I started my OKCupid profile last time, I received about a hundred likes a day.  That rate drops off after a while, and once it did, I received about 3 to 5 new emails a day.  Finding someone spontaneous enough to meet on my first kid free day was rare.  Especially if his first response wasn’t “sex tonight.” (No.  Just no.) This week alone, I was carrying on about 1o different conversations.  At one point it was 5 conversations at once.  I thought I couldn’t multitask, but I’m learning.  I think I liked the challenge of that more than the men.

New Year, new me, right? Only, transformation is an intentional moment to moment process.  I get to notice what I’m doing and decide how I want to show up differently. I decided to let go of the men I knew I didn’t want to keep around.  These were men that were texting and talking and keeping me company through my phone.  I realized it didn’t matter who was my first good morning text, my last good night text, or the sexy random moments of thoughtfulness texts throughout my day.  If you are the person on my mind, even without your attention, then you are the person that matters and it was time to let go of the chaff and let the wheat fall and do terrible things to my belly.  I started responding to their greetings with letting them go.   Here, I lied.  Some men needed to hear it was me.  Some needed to hear it was someone else.  In this, I did my best to offer what they needed to hear, and only one was told it was because I didn’t trust that he wasn’t catfishing me.

Owning up to my choices because the right choice is rarely the easy one.

Letting a man know you’re letting him go can be a mixed bag.  There are the ones that move on easily.  Those made me wonder if I should have held on because of his strength or if I ever mattered because of his nonchalance.  Curiosity is not a change of heart. There are those willing to fight for me.  They beg and plead and make me feel bad that I didn’t want to share a relationship with the same intensity that they were after.  Then there are some I’m happy to keep in friendship because that was the natural progression we were heading toward anyway. When you have 8 or 9 men offering you their attention but not their physical presence, you take it for granted that these are people, but I never really considered that these superficial interactions meant something to them.

I’ve told you, I’m not always nice, right?

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Online Dating and Younger Men: Cougar Madness

I’m comfortable with dating older men.  I love the softer look of salt and pepper hair, with gentle laugh lines around their eyes.  I don’t mind hairlines that step back or heads that are bald.  It’s a look I love.  I love natural hair.  Younger men are all about manscaping and I just don’t get it.

Unfortunately, most of the men my age that I meet online think I’m much younger, because in reality, for a lot of men my age, I’m just too old for them.

I’m often approached by younger men.  Men that are about 20 or 22 accept that I don’t date younger men.  They accept my answer and move on.  There are plenty of other women that would love the attention.

Christmas night I was hit with the realization that I wasn’t fully embracing the celebration.  I was sober all of Thanksgiving.  I’m not much of a drinker.  I was sober with my sister while making tamales in Torrance on Friday.  I was sober Saturday with family while I was driving my kids around.  Sunday I was primarily sober.  I went to a friend’s house and had a Smirnoff Ice with dinner, because I was driving home and I love my car.  Sunday night, I decided to have that Hot Buttered Rum I kept putting off.  I was sipping, crocheting a blanket and swiping on dating apps.  It sounds pathetic, but I was in a really happy place.  I had forgotten how much I loved making blankets and scarves until I watched my sister knitting beautiful blankets on Friday.  (I’m telling her she should sell them.  Wait for that shameless plug if she ever decides to.)

Sunday night there was a man 10 years my junior that wouldn’t accept my no.  After 25, they get a little ballsy.  They know what they want and understand persistence.  We talked a bit.

The next morning I was waiting for my ex to call to tell me to come get the boys.  I told him I’d come when the kids were up.  This 28 year old said good morning and asked me to join him for coffee.  I agreed.  Just like that. We met in Pasadena and ended up talking up until I got a call saying it was time to get my kids.  His cappuccino was gone and my blonde roast coffee was cold.

On Friday when I met someone else for coffee, we talked about life, work, careers, and divorce.  It’s something we both knew too much about.  We talked about Landmark and MITT.  We laughed and I really enjoyed his company.  We parted with a hug and I knew I would probably never see him again. There wasn’t a spark or even a longing for more than a hug.

Monday morning I arrived first and was surprised to see us driving the same car when he pulled in.  He paid for my coffee and our conversation kept drifting in all sorts of ways through life, careers, and world travel.  He comes from the middle east and he’s making the American Dream his, while caring for his parents.  For just long enough, I was able to ignore the math when thinking about how old he was when I gave birth to my firstborn 15 years ago.  I was able to ignore how creepy that felt.  We parted ways and I felt like I might be open to another date.

As the day became night and into today, the conversation is still flowing and I keep getting this instinctual gut punch that says no.  I’m still swiping and there is another man that is coming out to LA from the east coast at the end of the month.  I can already tell I’ll never meet him, but I can enjoy this for what it is.  He’s 27.  He has the emotional depth that I outgrew many years ago.

Both of them stand out from older men already.  It’s not the looks.  They’re handsome, but so are older men.  They’re sexual, and interested, but so are older men.  What sets them apart is how much I can’t connect with them.  I’m a straight shooter.  They reciprocate that.  They are looking to race into something and define it quickly.  They are trying to nail down my commitment to their superficial needs.  They want it physical and don’t know how to slow down from the need that drives them.  They want to see if we’ll be friends, and do I expect more of a relationship.  No matter how much I try to explain it, I can’t quite get them to understand that no woman wants to be treated like a discount hooker.

You get older and it’s more than physical needs. Both men and women need someone that understands and connects intellectually and emotionally.  One night of fun is one thing, but the person they want to share their mornings with needs to understand and support them and the younger men don’t seem to know how to be comfortable in exploring their passions outside of bed with me. The road map I follow means we linger for a long while in an intellectual bliss before I’m ready to move on from there.  I know what I’m capable of and it’s not a theory I need to test out at every opportunity.

Unfortunately, this same need in older men means they want to hold me down and claim me as a wife before we’ve ever met in person. That feels just as crazy and bad.  The older men are looking for a partner.  They understand when I need to step away to be a mother.  That might also just be the men.  I spent Christmas night with three grown men that were very hands on with their children and other’s children in a way that I needed to see.  It was so healing and hopeful to see these men feed and put those babies to sleep.  They parented their children and were willing to be chased and tickle, and horseplay.  It was far from the childhood my boys had and I went home so moved.  Maybe slightly tearful.  I get to find that one day.

The younger men don’t understand and their impatience stands out.  They ask if I like games like truth or dare, or if I would play video games with them. They don’t understand when I explain I don’t watch a lot of television or movies because I grew up with far less screen time than they did.  I don’t get bored without a television or movie on.  I can be content with a pen and paper or yarn and a crochet hook.  Or a book.  Those things build, rock and destroy worlds inside of them.

I’m reminding myself to not think of the age difference because it creeps me out, and I’m trying to be patient through the parts that aren’t right to enjoy how it feels to be so irresistible to these younger men.  They don’t mind the softer look of a mother’s body and I keep hearing that my mothering is what makes me hot. I’m trying to let that land. Trying.  I don’t think it’s about age, but I often come across men that feel all they have to offer is sexual or financial in nature when all I want is a deep and meaningful conversation.  That’s a gift of humanity so many feel they can’t take ownership of. And yet, we’re all just humans.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 9

The day I was expecting has finally arrived! I don’t need to feel like a cold harpy that couldn’t give a poor romantic the benefit of the doubt.  The man that has been trying to keep my attention has finally gotten to the point, and here I go, trolling my catfish.

Naughty Bloggess, I know. Someone should consider spanking me. Assuming I’m not creeped out . . . And I’m interested in his conversation . . . And dinner should happen.  Okay, maybe we should skip the spanking.  Apparently I’m asking for way too much.

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I thought the request would involve his phone.  The phone was what he kept complaining about, even though the flight home was something we talked about.  I just assumed he would say he didn’t have enough notice for the flight but he surprised me.

I could understand an account being frozen, but a damaged card still has usable numbers you can read or type into a website.  He’s a New Yorker/Californian/World Traveller, and he should know this. Right?

And if you can recall (I can), this job already paid him half of what he was expecting to get paid for the completion of the job.  Is it possible that with that kind of a payout on a job he flew to Brazil for with a team of about 10 . . . No one else could help him?

I offer a way out when I can. They never take it. The big request was almost anti-climactic, but this is where I start trolling him and I really have fun with it.  Because I’m not always a nice person, right?

If I were a nice person, I would just tell him the reality of what I’m doing on my blog.  But is that really a nice thing to do? To tell them we were playing a partnered game? I wouldn’t take out a loan for myself if I can avoid it because I think of the reality of paying it back.  If you can’t take out a loan at a bank, why should I trust you with my money.  People work at banks and get paid big bucks to make prudent decisions.  I should trust their lead, right?

Yesterday there were a few texts without his odd typos.  It’s like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.  Commitment to your lies helps sell the story.  Me for example . . .

I am intentionally making myself into a very plump and delicious whale. Maybe I can drag this one out for another 9 days.  Not that I want to bore you with my shenanigans.  I just want to frustrate him. My Kid1 intends to send me the “dankest memes” so I can send those as my send off.  We’ve connected over our web shenanigans.

So it’s now day 10, and he’s been checking in with me more often and trying to see how I’m coming along with his request.  The point of this blog series was to tell you what to look for, so I won’t bother giving you the details of my debauchery and lies unless you really want them.

My reality is I’ve been catfished more often than I want to be.  I don’t bother sharing their pictures or other details because I’m sure most of them are fake.  There’s probably some innocent person out there that gives great massages, loves to cuddle and visit museums and has a really large brain and he has no idea his pictures are being used for someone’s income stream.

I had a job interview for a pharmaceutical company that wanted me to interview through Google Hangouts.  That was the first red flag.  Asking my sex, age, marital status and other illegal details was another.  They asked where I banked to see if they could set up direct deposit.

I met another man Saturday just after I lost my job.  He’s been offering to send me money.  He’s been asking for my checking account and routing numbers but doesn’t understand why I won’t trust him.  He almost seemed angry at my mistrust and gave many excuses as to why he can’t use Western Union, Paypal, Venmo or the Go Fund Me pages I set up when I was trying to take my leadership classes.

We reveal so much in passive conversation.  How old are you? I just had my birthday, when is yours?  Where do you live? Are we close? Are you still married?

No one needs to know where you bank or private details like your bank account.

A birth date can be used for verification.

No one needs your social security number unless they are reporting to the government.

You don’t need to lend money to a person that not even a bank would trust.  Seriously. Don’t take my word for it.  My kids collaborated so I could test their internet savvy.

According to Kid1:

You don’t give out your address, your age, social security number, credit card information, zip code, and never post a picture of your face in your profile. Use a fake name and fake age (because he’s not old enough to have a YouTube). Rule 34, if it exists, there’s a porn of it, don’t test it. Many of my friends have tested it.  I am unfortunately one of those people that tested it. People are very weird.  And there are many places you don’t go on the internet like 8Chan, 2Chan, 4Chan.  They’re all full of edgy people. They will find your internet IP and home address.  Just don’t go.

According to Kid2:

Don’t give out your info. No info at all, except my Nintendo friend code.

Kid3: Not your middle or last name.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 8

The weight of my reality gave way to the fact that I overthink everything and I’m really great at that.  And then my catfish was back to his normal  by late evening and it was easier to see clearly.

His typing errors made me believe he was just going to ask for a new phone.

Poor thing fell and hurt his phone.

It amazes me that he would seriously wait days until Christmas to try to book a flight.  There are movies made about those kinds of shenanigans.

I was thinking he was full of it, but clearly I am too, so I said he was sweet instead.

It would have been vengeance worthy if he had asked me to set my kids up for his fall too.  Seriously, who does this kind of thing?

At this point there was genuine suspense.  Was he going to try to show up? Was this part of his game?

What was the laugh? Was it that I wanted to analyze what he said? Was it about the fact that I could find a way to relate to his lies?

And there goes that phone again. Maybe he should do something about it.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 7 & Day 8

Day 6 started with me finding out I don’t have my job anymore, but I’m fishing for a catfish so I wasn’t going to let him know.

Day 7 I met a friend and another friend of hers for brunch so we could brainstorm ideas and discuss my career direction. I also needed the connection and support.  I told them about my latest catfish and one of the women at our table told me about the one that forced her off all sites for good. Her situation required a police report. Yikes!

I was still in shock from some of the many turns my life is taking right now, but still super confident that this man talking to me is only lying to me.  He was very missing throughout the day, reaching out to say he missed me and loved me and wanted to leave Brazil and come home to me.

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Of course he encourages the clinginess.  That’s how he knows I would do anything for him.

I was amused by this exchange because nothing can come between us, but his being right back waited several hours.  I was busy, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Day 8 came and I was going through the stages we go through when faced with change in our lives.  Call it grief.  Call it disappointment.  It was stages of exhaustion, frustration, disappointment, and hope.  And in my abnormal weakness, his words penetrated in a way that was unexpected.  I’ll spare you the screenshots.

 Promises of love

The reason I am writing this today is because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t stop myself from imagining how happy we will be. Let this be a promise to you that I will do my best to be the man I want to be for you. I may not yet know all of the difficulties that come with a lifetime commitment, but I have enough relationship experience to know what I want and how I picture my life with the person I will commit to and that is you Yessica.
I promise to do my best to make you beam daily, so count on many surprises. Your smile will be my priority. I get weak knees when anybody smiles, so just imagine the effort I will make to be the source of yours. I promise I will always look at you with the same adoration as I did the moment I realized I loved you.
I promise to try to ignite the same sparkle in your eyes I see when you’re surprised, inspired, motivated or when you are about to lean in to kiss me.
I promise to hold your hand when we’re 80 years old with the same liveliness that I did when I crossed that line to hold yours for the first time. I vow never to let the excitement of dating me die down; I will surprise you with the location, the reason or the activity itself.
I promise to keep you guessing where we’re going next. I promise to do my best always to interest you. I will keep reinventing myself, gaining new hobbies, new knowledge and new interests to keep you and myself entertained.
I promise to kiss you throughout our life do my best to remain physically attractive for you, and I will do my best to be healthy in order to keep up with our kids someone has got to teach them Muay Thai kickboxing..lol…I’ll train you, too; I want you to know how to fight and defend yourself, just don’t use it against me. Lol
I promise to help you to be healthy, both physically and mentally. I will cook and clean for us. Expect the best breakfast: traditional Armenian tomato and pepper omelets, followed by fruit salad with… well, I can’t give all the secrets out.
I promise to strive to be a role model for our children. I want both you and them to see me as a source of motivation. I want to inspire them in the same way that my father inspires me.I promise to do my best to love your family as you love them and to be by their side as much as I am by yours.
I promise to always listen to you when you simply just want to be heard; when you want someone to vent to about something or when you want advice. I will listen to you especially when you don’t feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with anybody else, and to the things you try to tell me when you’re not even speaking. I promise to always listen. During our life together, I promise to make sure that you feel as though you are the center of the household — I know you will be — and I will always try to show my appreciation for you because of that. I promise never to let my guard down in taking care of us. I know you won’t be one to be satisfied with the bare minimum. I promise to do everything that I can for you without taking away from your independence physically, intellectually or emotionally. I promise to create family traditions and to make sure that your legacy lives forever through our children. I promise to encapsulate the moment when I realize that I am in the most magnetic, amorous and erotic love with you, not to let that feeling dissipate to the best of my ability and to relive it with you constantly, always…..I love you Yessica
Please don’t break my heart!!!

And this is where the doubt creeps in. When I got through this I felt a lump in my throat and my mouth went dry.  My heart was beating against my rib cage in a rabitted race. I couldn’t form the words to engage with my son. I couldn’t move because my body was holding me in the moment that called out to my soul. How could he speak so intimately to the many desires of my heart I never knew I could yearn for?  In the hours following, I felt so conflicted.  So much of my right now is up in the air and all that falls around me is the loss of anomie, and he’s here, saying he’ll be the anchor I need.  I had to go back and actually read what I had written since he became the subject of my blog posts. I had to remember that it’s only been 8 days and this is not normal.  This is not okay.  But I didn’t feel anger.  I felt gratitude.  He offered words that invoked feelings I thought were dead.  I thought that part of me had been broken and the times I feel a fluttering, I can only feel gratitude.

I wondered if what I’m doing is wrong.  I wondered if it’s possible that he’s a genuine man that really did fall in love with my smile and maybe he really did picture a forever.  It would have had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fantasy in his head of me, but what if he’s being honest? What if he really is drawn to me?  What if my blog is going to strike again as the destroyer of relationships? It has happened. It will happen. I hope to find a love that doesn’t care what I write.

Then I remember that my feelings and thoughts are valid.  I remember that he really hasn’t convinced me that I want more kids, and if he’s genuine about what he says, he wants a child and I couldn’t at this point offer that.  I have only been talking to him for 8 days.  I’ve never seen him in person and I’ve never heard his voice. This isn’t a relationship but an illusion.

And then I wonder what it would be like if I wasn’t who I am? What if I was the girl I was out of highschool? What if I had my past insecurities? What if I needed to hear what he was selling because I couldn’t see the ways in which I am amazing. Briefly the thought of other women occurs to me.  What about these women that need to hear these things more than I do today? What about the women that would spend thousands on keeping a man happy to keep his affection.  I want to be angry and rage, but I can’t.  In this moment, I let his words wash over me, and pretend for a few more moments that I have no doubts.  I pretend for a bit that we are the picture of love he’s been painting and I indulge in a fantasy because my boys are yelling and his fantasy is so much better than my present reality. And I ignore the fact that aside from tomorrow night and Christmas Eve and some friends that are welcoming me on Christmas Day, lost in his fantasy, I will still be alone.  He hasn’t solved the problem I had in going online to find a date.  I still don’t have a date, even if he promises to be here Christmas Eve to be with me. And it occurs to me that I have nothing to wear because there’s enough doubt that I wonder if he will show up.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 6 

We get past the good morning texts. The I love you texts.  The I miss you texts.  The what have you eaten and tell me about work texts.  Then we get to the other ways he wants to make his way into my family and life.

He wants to meet my family, and be part of my children’s lives.  He plans to meet them when he’s back on Christmas Eve.  We pretend jet lag doesn’t matter.

Forever is a really long commitment based on a week of communication by text.  I mean, he has no clue if I have halitosis or kill kittens for fun.  Whatever.  In for a penny, you suffer my pound, right? Speaking of, my pictures are all me, but the un-angled real shots are the group ones where I don’t have a mirror to preen into.  You see my soft jiggly marshmallow fluff in those.  That’s authentic.  But he’s only seen my selfies.

I don’t remember, but I also don’t remember when those details were something I would want to share with someone I just met.  The idea that sex would make me feel like a woman is disrespectful to the boobs that sweat for me, the period cramps that can cripple me and body that has birthed 7 babies.  I don’t need a man to make me feel like a woman.  I have a whole body for that.

I like to do these things alone, but I think in general, the point of dating is to discover what you’d like to do together.  Latching onto the idea of the museum we briefly spoke about on the other side of the country with my kids is not my idea of a good time.  My boys hate the idea of leaving the house for a grocery run.  I am not dragging them across country for anything less than a marriage, and even then, I’m not excited about having that letter, talk, and exchange with the ex to be able to do it. Take me to the Huntington Library.  It’s on my list and local.

Ever . . . Recently . . . He’s inspired a few blog posts.  It’s usually only really special men that get my attention and hold it for a while that get to do that.

He wants to prove his love by marrying me, but accidently called me and couldn’t handle that conversation.

A blessing that he couldn’t talk to for free, through Google.  Yeah.  The special feelings are coming at me from everywhere.  It feels like a tingle that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

He wants to marry me? I’m not big on shopping for clothes, but I can do some serious damage on an Amazon account, and I should have looked into stock options for Target considering how many vacations I’ve funded for those shareholders.

Support my blog! Get me more followers and hits.  Oh wait.  He’s so supportive.

I think a two week anniversary of when we first started chatting on Okcupid is the perfect time to shop for engagement rings.  Let’s cherish our forever based on two weeks of the deep conversations we never have!  He’s a keeper.  Totally.

 

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 5

These are texts from December 16, and to recap, I met this man on an online dating site.  We started chatting through their messenger, and then through text, but he had to leave his home in Beverly Hills to work in Brazil for a couple of months.  We now talk through Google Hangouts but these men also like Kik, Viber and any other sites where they are using an app.  They’ve never used an iPhone and their calls are brief if they even call. They usually can’t call and I’m slightly amazed at the difficulty in getting a call from international business people who would in theory call people as part of their work flow.

It’s a 9 hour flight to the obscure city he’s in, but as a point of reference, it’s not too far from Rio de Janeiro.  I know how to look up a map which is fun when they start talking about places they live. Since there’s no way he could possibly see me right now, he’s making sure I’m emotionally connected to him and only him.  He promises to come see me for Christmas though.  I will spare you the many times I’m asked about work, or what I’m eating or the ways he expands on the details of my life I have shared.  There’s a definite schedule to our communications.  It’s early morning until about noon, typically. Then it drops off until much later (almost like a whole 9 hours because he talks to me like he is working all day, but then drops off like he has a shift he really can’t text through).

img_2144-1He’s my good morning texter and I’m grateful that he’s learning I don’t need that to be at 5 in the morning.  He’s established himself as the earliest texter because normal men try to keep it much more casual.  Like annoyingly casual.  Like I know that phone is in your hand, and you saw what I had to say, and yet your brief reply needs a day and a half to marinate and form.  Your disinterest is calculated or you really suck at multiple conversations at once.  They also freak out if you say more than you like them and want to hang out in the first month and a half.

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Being punctual helps with his schedule for me, and his language still gets me.  I mean, he grew up in New York but hasn’t once said it was “a mad boring flight.” He has lived in LA for years and his “resume work daily” is the sound of a foreigner applying natural language rules to the unnatural craziness of English.

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The hustle is what he knows and that is how he connects to me.  He asks a lot about what I do, when my breaks are, will I get in trouble for texting him.  He notices the spaces when I ignore him because I’m in a meeting or training someone else.  The distance means a 20 minute car ride but I steal the hour to clear my thoughts.  If he were really someone I could see growing a relationship with, I would insist on a call during my car ride because my car has an awesome hands free system for calls.

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Babe.  Miss you.  How’s work.  I could never get lost in his depth.  That makes me sad.

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Food.  And watching a picture of me while he eats.  This doesn’t say creepy at all.  Again he’s connecting through things that hardly matter because he’s really trying to matter.  If I feel like he’s interested in my minutiae, then maybe he’s the only one that cares for me and I’d better keep him close to me.

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Maya Angelou once wrote that jealousy is like salt.  A little can enhance the savor.  Too much spoils a meal.  I see it as insecurity.  The lack of confidence is not sexy.  It’s clingy and vile. Don’t do this.  Real or fake, clingy insecurity, jealousy and possession are a major turn off.  Besides, would you want a prisoner, or a person that doesn’t need you but chooses you? I’d always prefer to be a choice.

Love sick puppy willing to country hop can sound fun.  But I’ve never met him.  That’s a lot of pressure and a whole lot of creeptastic going on right there.

The amazing thing about smartphones is they come with world phones.  It’s two taps for me to see his time and it looked like 4 in the morning.  I shouldn’t have a better idea of your time zone than you do.

He might not do this for any other person but he follows a scripted pattern that others have already done.

I was bored, so I thought I’d have him remind me of his story before seeing if I could pick it apart.

If you ask any other American that lived through the 9/11 terror attacks, they could tell you exactly what they were doing.  I was on bedrest with Kid1.  I was asleep when my ex called to see if I could tell him what was on the news.  I was confused about him telling me what had just happened because I was watching the second plane live.  I couldn’t imagine the same accident happening twice and I couldn’t understand that it was done on purpose.

He claims to be American. He would have lived through it. I felt rage at this point.


Earlier this week he said he was close to marriage and she died.

Forever seems so long.  I give this one another week or two at the most.

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I’m really great at lying through text.  See what I did there?

He wants to marry me, and can’t tell that I used song lyrics on him.  *Epic Facepalm, just short of bruising*

This tells me he’ll pop the question in less than 7 days.  Will he ask for a gift card, money, a phone, cash a check he’ll have mailed to me, use a credit card . . . They possibilities are endless but these are the usual.

Yes, he thinks I would want to go through diapers and sleepless nights and the cost of a child with someone I have just met and started talking to for 5 days.

I offer many opportunities for them to slow down a bit.  They never do.

Isolation looks like a hunger for love and acceptance.  He’s hoping by Christmas I will see him as family and worth every hard earned penny I would otherwise use on my kids.