Saturday Night, Part V

Okay, Part V is the last part, I promise!

I forgot to mention that the whole time I'm with him, it keeps floating into my mind that he probably is gay. The way he talks is just kinda gay, okay? And it's cute, but not, you know, what a straight girl wants. Although I do absolutely love Adam Lambert on American Idol, like, too much. Maybe I'm developing a gay-guy fetish. Not likely, except so many guys down here are so gay, even the ones that proclaim straightness.
So we're back at his place, I'm getting my massage (damn right he's gonna put out on that one!). I end up going to bed with him. Come on, he smells good and he's very charming! Thing is, he can't, uh, finish. Just can't. I know why. I'm not particularly perturbed. More curious that he just can't admit it. He blames the booze, and knowing a lot about alcoholism, I might too, except he's just kinda gay! But we laid around in bed for hours, cuddling and talking and making out and whatever. He mentions that a) he's been to some AA meetings (shocking) and b) that he's lost several girlfriends over the not-finishing thing. "But I'm not gay," he says. Oh, yes, except you are.
You know what? I had a good time.
I haven't gotten any lovin' since January 9th of this year. It's lonely, yet I find that I like being on my own in some ways. When I feel well, I like going to bed exactly when I want, reading in bed without guilt that the light is on, watching whatever tv shows I want, and not having to plan around anyone. It doesn't really bother me that no one else is in bed with me. I don't want anyone there. I haven't met someone in awhile where that desire even comes into my brain. When I don't feel well I wish I had a boyfriend to baby me - oh, and I always wish there was a man around to deal with bugs. But that's no reason to settle for a guy I'm not into - especially if he's into dudes too.

Saturday Night, Part IV

So we're walking to the parking garage. Look, I can I pretty much tell that this guy likes to party - drink a lot, smoke pot a lot. He actually said he likes to smoke pot, to which I said, "Of course you do!", because I always find the pot smokers. He, though, is special because usually they are not also alcoholics. Oh well - I wasn't looking for marriage! I had been trapped at home most of the time for the past month recovering from whatever was ailing me - test results pending. So my purpose was less ... chaste ... than it would be on a date. Plus he was cute and he smelled really good, despite probably having ingested enough booze to knock out a horse. Not that I'm judging.
We're walking to my car, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing or intending to do. Then we're kissing by my car, and it's fun! Some people in a car drove by and hooted at us, they must have been tourists because us Miamians hardly notice that stuff on the beach, so I put my arm out as they backed up (it's a small garage) and gave them a big thumbs up and we continued kissing.
The guy's all like, let's get in your car. I mean, I know why he wants to, but I don't see it as a comfortable option and I'm not gonna do much of anything in the backseat of a car. He may be 27 going on 19, but I'm 29 going on too-old-for-this, so I have my limits. But then I said fine, we'll get in my car. I didn't let him do much, so then he sat back and started massaging my foot, but he had his back to the door and I had my back to the other door, my foot on his chest, so you can imagine how that looked, and these two guys are walked by and stared in at us, so I waved to them. I mean, I was having fun, enjoying a light situation! Honestly, I know it was all really odd- but odd is what happens at 2 in the morning with people you hardly know.
We were getting all sweaty because, despite the nice outdoor air, we were fooling around in the backseat of my car in Miami in April. I opened my window a little. Then he said we could go to his place and he's give me a massage.
You think I said no? Of course you don't. I knew what I was doing, more or less. I am, after all, 29-going-on-too-old-for-this.

Saturday Night, Part III

I walk into the billiards place and into the back, where he's talking to the DJ, on a platform thing. I look up, he sees me, and just put my arms out to the sides, like, here I am! He motions that he'll be with me in a minute. It was a lot of minutes, but my friend came in and we chatted. I said to her, "He's in his thirties, right?" She says, "Uh, no," to which I say, "Oh." I mean, I'm 29, so if he's not in his 30s he's probably younger than me and I'm kinda over the younger guys.
He came over and made an excuse to tell me he did 2 years of medical school, but dropped out. We chatted. I said, "How old are you?" "27," he said. "Ok, that is acceptable," I said with a grin. "Why, are you testing me?" "No," I said, "I was just ... checking." I don't think he understood why I cared.
He went off to do something again, and my friend's friend came up. First I asked her what his name was, since I couldn't remember if I had been introduced. She told me his name. Then I said, "Don't tell him I asked this, but isn't he gay?" She laughed and said that it seemed like it but apparently definitely not. We talked and I relayed how I was stunned when he said he was flirting with me, and that I don't seem to know what I'm doing about guys anymore!
I went outside to talk to him again. I gave him my number, because my friend and I were ready to leave. He said, "I'd like to walk you to your car. Can I?" I said, "Well, I'm driving my friend home, so, uh, it might be a little weird." "I don't mind," he said. "So it would be the three of us?" "That's fine," he said smiling, "maybe I can sneak a kiss."
Well, this had me all worked up - I was probably blushing and I found the whole situation surreal. "Well," I said, "let me go get my friend."
I go back into the billiards place and relay the story. "That's okay," she said. "I'll stay here with [the other girl] and catch a cab home." (She lives on the beach, so that's not cruel and unusual). "I'm happy to drive you home! Really! He can call me. It's fine!!" I really said those things. She said, "Nope, it's cool. You go, I'll stay."
I said my goodbyes, then went out to find the guy. We walked to my car...

Saturday Night, Part II

We get to the billiards place and we're just hanging around with the girl who promotes there. It's pretty dead. We end up outside with her, with the door guys and various staff who have nothing to do, as well as two of the owners who also don't know what to do with themselves. There's various drama going on with people and I'm just enjoying the weather, shooting the breeze with my friend and the door guys.
Then I get an idea: I'm wearing flip flops but have sexy shoes in my big ol' purse, so I put them on and start trying to bring in business! They have this very cute employee girl in knee-high fuck-me boots and a miniskirt. I say to the door guy, "You should really send fuck-me-boots out to wander in front and bring in business."
The door guy is cute, very tall, cute! But gay, I'm pretty sure. He says, "Yeah, but she's just really dumb and she can't do it. She doesn't know how to bring people in." We talk some more. Then I say, "Hey, you should go out there and do that, you're pretty cute!" He's all like, oh no, I'm not that cute. And I was like, yes you are! I don't care when they're gay! I'll say whatever. We're talking some more and then he says, "Well, my place is right around the corner," and gives me a flirty look. I basically ignored it because a) I don't get out much, b) guys are so hard to read these days, and c) he's gay, right? I mean, I don't decide someone's gay when they're not, right? But then, they ALL seem gay to me anymore, I'm so paranoid.
We keep talking, and then I say to him and my friend, "Well, if nothing else I have the 55-year-old condo association manager - she looks good for her age!" My friend laughs. The guy says, "I've been trying to flirt with you this whole time but you're not responding, so I'm gonna go get a drink." And then he walks inside the billiards place.
I was flabbergasted! And then I thought, Oh, duh, he was flirting with me!
I looked at my friend and said, "So, am I supposed to follow him?"
"Yes, you're supposed to follow him," she says with a grin.
"Oh," I said. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
"Go in there!"
So I went.

Saturday Night, Part I

I haven't been getting out of the house much recently, between being out of town two weekends ago, moving last weekend, and being generally under the weather for quite a while. I was determined to be a normal, single 29-year-old again on Saturday, if just for the night!

I asked me friend to take me along with whatever she did that night. We met at the Playwright on sobe, stayed for a little while. Then we went across the street to this billiards place that's trying to make itself into a nightclub - during a recession. My friend knows the girl who is charge of promoting the place, and we basically went in, it was dead, and left. We went to a place next door, where I had a hamburger and fries along with my beer. There were some cute guys, but they seemed ... boorish (and too young). Then we went back to the Playwright and I did my womanly duty of picking guys up. I thought they were both Latin, but then the taller, cuter one said his name was "Sam" and I was like, uh-oh. Arab alert! I don't do Middle Eastern guys anymore. I did that in college and stuff. It wasn't pretty. Sorry to stereotype, but they don't treat women like American men do.

Then we find out they're like 23 years old. "Well, I'm almost 24," Sam says. Hilarious!

Then, they say they're going to a club, and this is the part where we're supposed to act like we want to go with them. Instead I say, "I don't really like clubs." Sam drops the lame line, "I go because I really like the music." Yeah, right! Then I say, "I'm not into dancing with sweaty strangers," to which he responds by doing a little dance move like he's totally into dancing with sweaty strangers - which, of course, at 23 years old, he is!

So my friend and I decided to head back to the billiards place.

So I always have...

On Friday I had what I would characterize as an unbelievably good interaction with manager of the condo association where I live. She is extremely difficult and strict, and has a reputation has quite a problem whenever I talk to people doing repairs, the cable company, even the guy from AAA that replaced my car battery! Somehow she she opened up to me that it was really hard to manage the place, she knows they call her things like "Castro," but it was because before she took over everything was a mess... Somewhere between her story and my current landlord's (much different) lies the truth, I am sure. Anyway, at the end she said she would keep doing it until she couldn't anymore - she's like 55. I said, "Oh, that won't be for quite a while!" and I got a kiss blown at me for that!
On Saturday the cable guy came and I told him about this, after he asked if I knew about her (they always ask, she's famous!). I told him the story and he said she's a lesbian, she must like me!

So if nothing else, I have a 55-year-old lesbian. My pickings are pretty slim, so who knows, right? Hee hee.

The boorishness guy

I responded to his email like two weeks ago, but eharmony does not show any record of it existing the way it normally does. So I wrote again today, and it did the same thing. I emailed eharmony but expect a retarded, useless response. Maybe I'll just try a one-liner saying, "Send me yer number!" and see if that goes through!

Chat I had yesterday

I was talking to the web graphic designer guy we use for work yesterday. He's 42. I told him how guys on eharmony lie about their ages, like saying they're 37 when they're 42. I said maybe I should too, say I'm 27 instead of 29! He said he didn't see the point. I thought, that's because he's not a jerk!
My friend knows a guy that is 35. She saw him on match listed as 30, so he can get 22-year-olds. I mean, I don't want that kind of guy anyway, but it's just weird.

I totally, totally accept that guys may lie about their height. In fact I automatically subtract 2 inches from their profile height and say, "Hey, can I deal with that?" to myself.

Response about the "boorishness"

Here's what I did to ask him about the issue, and his response:

Hi XXX! One of your "Can't Stands" is, "Boorishness...... I can't stand someone who is inclined to rowdy, vulgar or disrespectful behavior when 'having fun.'" Can you tell me specifically what this means to you?
Just so you know-Homer Simpson does make me laugh sometimes because he’s a cartoon and his antics have no real effect. What’s not so funny, at least to me, is when people are just plain mean or rude to each other because that does have a real effect on folks. I like having a good time, and I like it when others have a good time, but I’m not big on having a “good time” at someone else’s expense.

Nope

Nope, I'm not gonna communicate with a match who says he is passionate about intimacy, NASCAR, the night, and sensuality. What are you, a latin trailer trash vampire?

Oy

So I've been doing the eharmony thing with this guy who is 37, successful professional, cute, etc. Seemed fine. I just got his Must Haves/Can't Stands and one is:

Boorishness...... I can't stand someone who is inclined to rowdy, vulgar or disrespectful behavior when "having fun."

So I'm thinking, "Oh god, that's me!" And them I'm thinking, "Maybe he really means girls that get sloppy drunk and slutty. And that's not me." What is me? I can be kind of ... er, vulgar I guess. I dunno. I'm brazen in my language, that's the word. Rowdy? I am frequently accused of laughing too loud. Disrespectful? Nope, not me.

And finally, what kinda deal would eharmony have to offer me to keep me on the site when my membership expires in May or June or whenever? Sigh.

In my questions to him, I asked him if he could "tell me specifically what that means to you."

Quilted toilet paper

One guy wrote that one of the five things he cannot live without is quilted toilet paper. Yuck! Visual, anyone?

Spelling, Grammar

I will not respond to a guy who writes any of the following, which is not a typo as verified by further errors in the same profile:

liveing
allways
confusing of their and there
dinning (I see this a lot in Miami)
capitalizing things like "Life" mid-sentence
writing in ALL CAPS about stuff

Er, wha?

About what this guy likes to do in his free time:

Enjoy educating myself on subjects considered taboo for society. Enjoy watching take-offs and landings near airport runways.

My translation: I like to think I'm a badass because I read stuff that is intellectually naughty, but I didn't go to college so I'll be mean to you if you seem too well-educated and smart. I like to sit and watch planes take off and land, which is cool because this also serves as an alibi if I go off and do something you wouldn't like.


Okay, I admit, I'm being a bit jaded here. But still.

Why I need a man

It's not about what you think!

Last night I discovered a huge palmetto bug in my bathroom, which elicited from me a horror-movie scream. I sprayed it with a bug spray that kills roaches, but it ran away before getting really doused.

Later that evening it appeared in the dining room area, dead. So I used a folded tissue to pick it up, except it started moving, and ... yes, I screamed that scream again. The blood-curdling one. Then it kinda slid out and looked up at me from laying on its back, like, "Hey what's up good-lookin'? You look like fun!" I shiver even now.

I left it to die and ... still left it, very dead, this morning.

This is why I need a man. So I can scream about a horrible bug and have him take care of it.

Also, so that when I scream bloody murder somebody in my 64-unit complex would actually give a shit. I realized I could die alone in there after screaming bloody murder. No one would give a crap. Which is exactly why I do give a crap when I hear that stuff!!