The List

Alright fellows, I’m going to help you out a bit, because I’m nice like that. What I have here is a little list I came up with after my blind date last month. These are not rules, no, no, no…just a list of things you should NEVER, EVER say on a blind date (or any other date for that matter). And, of course, as always I couldn’t resist commentary:

• You’re a very attractive woman, why haven’t you been married? (Why? Because I date schmucks like you)
• I married my first wife because I didn’t want to be lonely; I married the second wife because of her outfit. (Wow, third time will be a charm, huh?)
• Dinner was excellent; I’m fuller than a tick. Do you mind if I finish the wine? (Go right ahead, I just got queasy)
• On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate me? (On what?)
• Maybe you haven’t been married because you chase men away? (Maybe there’s a reason I chase them away. Start running, boy)
• What would you say the high points and the low points of this date were? (Geez, I didn’t know I was going to be quizzed. I didn’t study, can you give me more time?)
• By the end of the night do you think you’ll be able to tell if you like me? (Oh, I can already tell…)
• Do you want to see all of my tattoos? (If you roll up that other pant leg I’m gonna belt you)
• I prefer my women to wear short skirts and high heels. (Well, I guess you’re out of luck then)
• You don’t, by chance, have a skirt and pair of heels in your trunk, do you? (Yeah, right next to my whips, chains and fetish gear. Duh.)

Needless to say, the guy didn’t have a chance for a second date. Gentlemen, please, please, please, if you’re going to take me out, kindly refer to this list before you open your mouth. Great. Thanks.

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Let’s go G.N.O.

I went out with a good friend the other night. We went to a local bar/restaurant owned by a friend. We sidled up to the bar and began our Friday night regimen of Hot Toddies and beer. Mmmm, yum. My friend is married so she doesn’t have the same “on the prowl” instinct as I do. Not that I’m actively looking, but it is always fun to “scope” out the possibilities. I was really not in the mood for prowling on this particular evening and the population of the bar was not at all conducive to such antics. The patrons at the bar consisted of the two of us, another male friend of ours, a female friend who was on a date, some random folks, and the owner and employees.

It’s true what they say – things happen when you least expect them. By the end of the evening I‘d had my fill of unexpected, flirtatious interactions. For beginners, the chef (who was mildly attractive – and humorous) came out of the kitchen, began to chit chat with me and suddenly blurted out, “Ok, so when you woman have babies I know your bladders get kinda weak…what type of thing makes you lose control?” WTF? Are you serious? M’kay…I was a bit Hot Toddied and beered-up so I replied, “Well, I had bladder surgery and frankly, I don’t lose control when I laugh, sneeze, or cough…nope…I just lose control when I am walking home in the cold, after an evening of partaking in the drink and I get startled or frightened (usually because I think some stranger’s vehicle is stalking me).” Wrong thing to say…he was enamored with me from then on. How can you blame him? He planted himself behind the bar and right in front of me the rest of the evening. Heh!

My girlfriend then decides to stir it up a bit and suggests that I “have a go-around” (read: rebound sex) with our male friend (whom I’ve had relations with in the past – the long, long ago past). I tell her that I really don’t think it’s a good idea. He must have overheard some of our conversation because he starts in with the reminiscing. He begins to talk about how we met, how much fun we had, our drunken, midnight skinny dips. And on that note I decided it was time for me to exit before I got into trouble.

As we get up to leave I walk over to say goodnight to my female friend who is on a date with an elderly, gentleman artist. As I approach her, her date (who I have never met) grabs me by the arm and says “You are so beautiful you could do anything you want.” Excuse me? WTF? Now I’m getting frightened (and hoping it’s not cold enough in the bar for me to pee my pants). The poor girl. I look at her apologetically and she responds with an indifferent gaze. I give her a quick hug and escape without any further man handling.

It looks like my Village People collection is amassing quite quickly. First, it was the policeman (who, by the way, has still not contacted me), then the snow plow guy and now the chef, a friend (he used to be in the service – so let’s just say he’s the sailor), and an artist. Alas, not really what I had in mind. Where the fuck is my cowboy?

 

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Blah…just blah

Blah…that’s it…that’s just how I feel. I hate the feelings that this illness creates. I’m so tired of struggling with love addiction. I do have good days, but it seems like the bad outweigh the good as of late. It has a great deal to do with my own negative self-talk. You know?…the stuff that floats around in your brain making you crazy – the stuff that you say to yourself. Things like…”I’ll never be happy”, “I’m just not good enough”, “I hate my life”, “Everything is my fault”. It’s an easy trap to fall into – the hard part is talking yourself out of it. In therapy your taught to practice positive self-talk but that’s easier said than done.

I do alright if I take my meds like a good girl, but I’m stubborn, and feel like I should be able to conquer this on my own. Funny – I can talk myself into being strong and fighting this illness and at the same time I can dig myself deeper and deeper into despair just by my own self-talk. It’s a constant internal battle.

My mind likes to hold on to the past. I am not good with change. I admit it. So, when I face a major change all I want to do is curl up into a ball – OR – be back in my previous situation. Why? Why would I want to be back in a situation that was making me miserable? Because people like me would rather stay in a familiar, unhappy situation than try something new. I know it sounds crazy but that’s exactly the way I feel. I am fully aware that I am responsible for making myself happy – but sometimes it takes a great deal of convincing after going through a situation such as this. As anyone facing addiction knows, it’s hard to bring yourself to acknowledge that the thing you want the most is the thing that makes you feel the worst. Is anybody getting sick of hearing this? I am.

I believe that I am mistaking my feelings. It’s difficult for me to acknowledge that what I am actually feeling is anger/grief/disbelief over the end of a relationship – not over my perceived need, want or wish to be back in the relationship. It’s a matter of accepting these feelings for what they are and not morphing them into something they’re not. Then there is the other issue I struggle with constantly – have I ever truly been in love or have I always just been ‘in love’ with the idea of being in love? Do I just fall in love with the ‘idea’ of the person? How will I know for sure? What if I start to fall into the same patterns in my next relationship?

All of these thoughts pile up into one huge festering burden for me…and then, all it takes is a quick encounter with one smiling, happy person (someone who has absolutely no idea what I’m going through right now) who, out of the blue, says “You are worth much more than you think!” And WHAM! I think, shit…I can get through this…no, wait, I KNOW I can get through this!

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Just a Thought

Note to self: If my child and my dogs don’t like someone I probably shouldn’t either.

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Snag-A-Cop

I’m am currently the care taker of a large mansion in the town in which I reside. The owners are rarely around and, thus, have had an alarm system installed at the residence. As care taker extraordinaire I am responsible for responding when the alarm goes off at the property. Yesterday, I receive a call from the home owner who tells me that the alarm was set off, the police had been dispatched to the residence and I was to meet them there. I respond immediately, thinking, this could be interesting…how fun would it be to catch someone b&e?

I arrive at the residence and a handsome young sheriff steps out of his car. My demeanor changes immediately. Read: flirty chick mode. He asks me several questions about the property and we proceed into the residence. Being my smart-assy self I ask him if he’s got his gun ready, and if not, could he please at least have his hand on it. Ha!

At this point I’m pretty sure that the alarm has just misfired. The residence is in a remote area and I see no tire tracks or footprints in the snow – quite confident that there are no intruders. He, being cop-like insists that he enter each doorway first. My response, “Are you gonna grab that gun and stealthy peek around each corner, just like in the movies?” He gives me a quick smirk. We start laughing and as we proceed through the rest of the home we get chattier and less cautious. I mention that I didn’t see any tracks and that I’m quite sure no one is ‘on premises’. He looks at me and replies, “Very observant ma’am.” I respond, “Please don’t call me ma’am.” He gives me a big grin. Damn, I love flirting!

Cut to the chase: I check to see if there is a wedding ring. No wedding ring. Check. I pour on the girly charm and proceed to ensnare him with witty conversation. We end up standing in the grand room (overlooking the lake, how frickin’ romantic) for quite some time and start making jokes about how the place reminds us of the hotel in The Shining. I’m like, “Thanks for that buddy, I have to come up here alone all the time” (*hint, hint*). In unison we say “Here’s Johnny!”

Then, I suddenly think, damn, this guy is pretty sweet, I need to slip him my number. With leopard like quickness, I say, “Since I’m the only one locally that has a key to this place you should probably have my number, that way you can just call me if there is an emergency (yeah, right, tricksie little chicksie!). Presto! I give him my number and as we climb into our vehicles he waves and says, “I hope this isn’t the only time we get to run into each other”. I’m thinking,”Don’t be daft boy, use that number I just gave you!” And that, my friends, is how to snag yourself a fine, young officer of the law!

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