TBone did make me realize that I enjoy having a warm body next to me and that I’m at least marginally loveable. Rationally of course I realize that I am loveable but feeling it in your bones is something else entirely. The absolute best moments of the four months I spent with TBone happened when I got home from work one evening and kicked off my heels and began cooking dinner. TBone was on his way and I was making him a manly meal. When he came in he looked just as lovely as always and he sat down at the bar to watch me cook. I came around the bar and sat in his lap where we began to make out like teenagers.
Whatever was on the stove started to bubble and I jumped up to stir it. When I turned around he was standing right behind me and leaned over me and turned off the burner and said, “I’m not hungry for food right now.” He leaned in and kissed me and I felt the swell inside me that is described in every bodice ripping romance novel that my feverish little brain had ever devoured. That moment made me feel alive. It made me realize my life wasn’t over. It made me feel and even after all the not so fun stuff during our breaking up; I still want that feeling again.
Oh, there are the odd Murder Tanks about and if all I wanted was a roll in the hay, I could find plenty of FWB’s. I want more than that but less than an all-consuming involvement. I did go back to that store by the way and he molested me by the Mrs. Baird’s. It was lovely and terrifying and exciting but he’s never going to cuddle up on the couch with pizza and a Shiner and watch a movie with me on a Saturday night. He’s still so very many years younger and out partying every weekend. Murder Tank is good for feeding the ego but my soul would likely starve.
I stayed off POF because that’s where I met TBone and I didn’t want the cocksucking algorithms telling me he was my soul mate since I had already fucked him off. I thought what better way to boost the old ego than to get on a dating site and have hundreds of men tell me they love me. Okay, so whatever. I set up the profile on a different site. It was quirky and adorable and slightly flip. I wanted to just cast the line without looking like I was on a husband hunt because the only thing I am crystal clear about is that husband #3 almost killed me and I don’t want a #4.
I apparently forgot to change the age settings to post-pubescent because within 30 minutes of posting it, there were about 5 messages from twenty-somethings wanting an older woman. Most of them said I like an older “women” which made me shudder and dream of braining them with a grammar primer. I told them all I had T-shirts older than them and moved the age to an appropriate range on my profile.
I started an interchange with one gentleman who was very persistent. His picture didn’t make me swoon or anything but I didn’t throw up in my mouth either. I thought, you know, you gotta start somewhere, just talk to him. He didn’t offend me and he didn’t make overt sex talk right off the bat so we exchanged numbers and began to text intermittently for several days.
|No reason except it goes with the whole baseball theme.|
Meanwhile, somehow I was still fielding messages from youngsters and I had listed myself as a sapiophile so when I got a message from someone with a PhD in their username I was very pleased although I couldn’t figure out what discipline Thonology was and didn’t stop to Google it because I had a Dr on the line here for fuck’s sake. We talked and exchanged usernames on Kik. If you don’t know about how delightful that caca is, you should try it. We exchanged usernames and I sent a message and it didn’t work. I sent him a message back on the dating site and he sent, “Oh yeah, I forgot. Take the PhD off.” When I do this I have the biggest facepalm moment ever. It wasn’t Thonology he was a doctor in, it was THONGology. Yeah. I’m a dumbass. I blocked that shit directly and haven’t heard from the underwear doctor again.
In the interim, I’m still talking to starter date man. We’re casually texting back and forth and yadda yadda and
I text, “Okay I gotta go to bed. I have to open the store in the morning and be there at 7:30.”
He sends, “I’ll be waiting in the parking lot for you in the morning.”
Me: Um that’s not creepy at all.
SDM: I’m just kidding but I can be there you know if you’ll give me a kiss.
Me: Well motherfucker, show up with a taco and some hot coffee and we’ll see.
SDM: I’ll be there.
I went to bed fully thinking this man was fully full of shit.
I overslept the next morning and was racing to work when my phone went off. I picked it up and read…”I’m here. Where are you?”
Ohhhhhhhhh…….fuuuuuudddgggggeeeeee. Only I didn’t say fudge.
I voice texted back that I was late and had to go straight into the store and couldn’t dally in the parking lot.
He sent back, “I’ll wait.”
I went in and opened the store and got all the cashiers lined out and then texted him and told him to meet me by the garden gate. And here he came, carrying coffee and a bag. He was better looking in person. Still didn’t make me gaga but I thought he was sweet/stalkery/desperate for doing what he did and waiting like he did. He gave me my breakfast and I apologized for his having to wait. He leaned in close to me and I knew he was waiting and I kamikaze pecked his mouth and said, “Thanks! I gotta get back to work.”
I ran inside to microwave my coffee and breakfast taco. I had a text before I was through saying he thought I was a hot piece of ass or something equally offensive. I said thanks and he said,
“Well what did you think of me?”
I said, “You’re better looking than your pictures.”
His gentlemanly behavior deteriorated after that. The texting became progressively raunchier and more suggestive and when I just didn’t respond, he sent pouty texts as if I’d made a commitment to him and should answer to him; all of this in the space of about a week. Long story longer, I was supposed to have a date with him tonight. The thought of it came in way behind a mani/pedi and taking the Girl Child to the mall with one of her friends, which is exactly what I did. My nails look fabulous and my panties and my dignity are still intact.
Bachelors – 0. M - 1.