Mis(s) Matched, part deux

Still reeling from Match’s mismatch and the unfortunate third date catastrophe I found myself back at my monitor and keyboard, sipping tea in my pj’s hoping that I’d encountered the worst that match.com had to offer. Being one who has a tendency to do a 180 after each failed romantic attempt, bachelor number two had nothing more in common with his predecessor than a Y chromosome…or so I thought.

He wasn’t the cream of the crop in the appearance department, but I let the wisdom of others who insisted that “looks aren’t everything” sway my decision to entertain him with some wit and banter. A few email exchanges and his humor grabbed my attention. He definitely had his shtick down pat, along with an apparent air of confidence that I momentarily found attractive. An East coast transplant; he was a city slicker through and through. He told tales of Manhattan night life and Wall Street deals. He was well educated, traveled and close to his friends and family…score! Or so I thought.

Being a small town girl in a big city I was thrilled that the fair had made its way to LaLa Land and I thought it to be the perfect outing for our meet and greet. I knew I was bending my own rule by agreeing to spend more than a cup of coffee’s time with a newbie, but it was the perfect opportunity to see how deep the concrete ran in his veins. I wanted to know if he could hang in my world of farm animals and hay rides or if he would scoff it at like most city folk.

I arrived early so I could easily spot my meet and greet. Sure enough he drove up in an over pretentious 7 Series which I’m fairly certain was giving his Iroc Z the night off. Now, I try not to judge a book by its cover, but I actually gasped and had a flashback to Saturday Night Fever when he stepped out of his sorry excuse for a penis car. There he was in full John Travolta style regalia, gold Italian horn necklace and all. Yeah, me!

After a polite handshake and uncomfortable formalities we made our way to the entrance booth when Rico Suave suddenly had to take a phone call. “No worries, go ahead, I’ll get it” I said. As quickly as he disappeared he returned… just in time to grab his ticket out of my hand, take a step in front of me and make his way through the turnstile. So much for chivalry!

Once inside my olfactory nerves were instantly overloaded. Nothing compares to fair food… you can smell it a mile away. That is of course if you actually have a sense of smell…which Guido had just informed me that he did not! Swell, first toothless man, now “blind nose guy.” Apparently, if you can’t smell, you can’t taste either. Why bother eating? Why not just get a food pump installed and save yourself the time and effort of chewing and swallowing?

After I somehow got stuck purchasing his scent free, tasteless hot dog, kettle corn and lemonade we made our way to the livestock area where I found myself in aroma heaven. Clearly aware that the not-so-stallionesque Italian couldn’t smell a thing I suddenly became a victim of spontaneous Tourette’s Syndrome. The harder I tried not to say, “yum! Can you smell that?” I would instead say, “oh, my gawd! That smells so good!” Or uncontrollably yammer, “mmmm…I just looooove that smell” I couldn’t stop; it was as if my brain to mouth function had been completely disconnected.

It was in that very moment that I decided that I am not only unable, but also unwilling to date someone who takes their teeth out at the dinner table, can’t smell or has the inability to pay their own bloody way!

Is it possible that match.com was offering free memberships to those with empty bank accounts, extreme lack of manners and quasi disabilities or had I simply hit a run of bad luck? Was this a momentary fluke or could my dating life actually see worse days ahead? And please, don’t leave me out here alone…misery loves company, purge those dating horror stories, it’s good for the soul!

***Let us all remember to take a moment today to honor those who lost their lives and loved ones on this tragic day in American history. Let our troups come home swiftly and safely!

Caution, Relationship Ahead

“The dread of loneliness is greater than the fear of bondage…”

~ Cyril Connolly

Romantic relationships are never easy. Even the strongest of couples hit bumps in the road from time to time. But when two people get into a commitment for the wrong reasons they are most likely headed for a major mishap.

“Accidental” relationships happen to people everywhere, everyday, regardless of sex. What do I mean by “accidental?” Quite simply, these individuals become submerged in a commitment that one or both never intended on getting into in the first place…all because instead of holding out for Mr. /Ms. Right, they have ended up settling for Mr. /Ms. Right Now. Sound familiar? Let’s all explore some different scenarios that can lead to accidental relationships with an imaginary couple, Dick and Jane.

The White-Knight Relationship.

In this relationship one party trades what they need (such as financial support) for what the other party wants; a commitment.

In this scenario our Jane is in serious trouble. She cannot pay any of her utility bills and is about to lose power. (Pun intended? Perhaps…) Jane tells her co-worker and good friend Dick all about her financial woes. Dick really likes Jane, (and he sees this as an opportunity to show her he could be more than just a friend), so Dick offers to pay her bill for her; and insists she can pay him back when she gets on her feet. Later that afternoon when they are leaving work Dick asks Jane out to dinner. Jane accepts. “It’s a date!” Dick says. A date wasn’t what Jane was thinking, but no harm in that, right? Jane goes on said date, drinks more that her share of the wine Dick purchases and when Dick kisses her goodnight that evening she kisses him back. The next night Dick offers dinner again, and Jane accepts again. Dick is so nice and so generous; and okay, it’s true that she isn’t attracted to him, but that can grow, right? A month goes by, and now Dick is introducing Jane as his girlfriend, she is about to meet the parents and he is talking about taking it to the next “level”. Jane can no longer deny it; she has slipped into the girlfriend role. Accidental relationship type number one: savior becomes suitor. Escaping would mean breaking her good friend and rescuers heart; (and she really can’t pay him back right now anyway). Easier to let this relationship happen, perhaps he will love enough for the both of them.

The Date-Night Relationship.

This is a relationship of pure convenience on one side, and (sadly) true romantic feelings on the other.

In this setting, Dick is seeing a couple girls, but nothing serious. Girls that he calls when he wants to see the new romantic comedy that he wouldn’t dare tell his guy friends he wants to see or if he needs a plus one for his cousin’s wedding. He calls on Jane for these occasions more and more; they have similar tastes in movies, and she really gets along with his family and friends, and of course the sex is good too. Jane is a great female friend…plus. But Jane is starting to be increasingly affectionate. She is calling him quite often between dates. Then one night she comes over and offers to cook instead of ordering the usual take-out. She’s brought a movie; it’s (uh oh) a romantic one. She snuggles up to him on the couch, where they end up falling asleep. In the morning Dick opens his eyes to see Jane staring at him with a strange smile upon her face. “I love you,” Jane murmurs. “I love you too,” Dick mumbles back without thinking. Voila! Dick has trapped himself in accidental relationship number two. He begrudgingly accepts this unintended commitment rather than dealing with the mess of breaking Jane’s heart. What started out as a pseudo relationship has become a real one. Dick will put off breaking Jane’s heart…for now.

The Bad-Habit Relationship (AKA The Crutch).

The fear of being alone is strong in some people. They learn to use others to insulate themselves…from the one person they least want to face, themselves.

In this situation, Jane and Dick meet at the book store. Jane has just ended a relationship and isn’t quite over it yet and Dick isn’t in a relationship because he just doesn’t really have time for (or want to make time for) one. They both know that neither of them is in the proper place in their lives for a commitment to another person. Yet they find themselves very attracted to each other in an oddly comfortable, broken in sneaker kind of way. Very quickly they start to spend all their spare time together. It’s never very exciting or romantic. Most of the time Dick is ignoring Jane while he works or studies while Jane sits on the couch watching TV and talking about her ex-boyfriend. They aren’t in a relationship because they like each other, they just like the idea of another person in the room to hear them breathing. This is ugliest of accidental relationships, and it can be the most dangerous because you are bonded together by mutual fear. Dick and Jane stay in the unhealthy bad-habit relationships for a long period of time, unhappy and miserable but afraid to make a change.

Relationships are supposed to be about love and trust and mutual caring. They are not supposed to be about convenience or fear of being alone in a movie theater, or worse, in your own home. These accidental relationships are not just a waste of your time but they can be damaging, especially if the other party is not aware that you are in it for the wrong reasons or worse, they are under the impression you are as invested in the relationship as they are.

We are not here indefinitely. Staying with Mr. or Ms. Right Now will in fact keep you from meeting people that might actually be a better fit. So if you find yourself in an accidental relationship, be it the “white-knight,” the “date-night” the “bad-habit;” (or any other in a long list of dire intimate dealings) do yourself and your contingency partner a favor and get off at the next exit.

Otherwise you might just crash into something a lot more dangerous, like an accidental baby… with that accidental partner…which could become an accidental marriage… and, well, you get my point.

For those of you that were looking forward to love-fucked part three, our most sincere apologies…my writing partner’s computer died on him and he is still in the process of rectifying the situation. So I hope you enjoyed this oldie but goodie from me…

Now! Weigh in! Have you ever gotten yourself into an accidental relationship? How did it happen? How did you get out of it? Or did you??

Mis(s) Matched

During the evolution of on line dating it was the ultimate breeding ground for…well, breeding; or at least practicing the art of breeding. The plethora of options was limitless and everyone seemed to show up with their A-game. There was an insurmountable collection of perfection with every click of the mouse. But alas, all good things must come to an end and year after year the number of worthy adversaries was dropping like flies. And then along came the summer of the triple threat that nearly endangered my already perilous dating life.

Enter bachelor number one. Match.com’s simplistic rating system gave us a ninety-two percent compatibility factor and being as how I was on the verge of finalizing my second divorce anything over fifty percent seemed to be a step in the right direction. We did the usual interweb dating song and dance…he winked, I replied and before I knew it we had scheduled the “meet and greet.”  Thrilled with the anticipation of sipping coffee over lingering glances with a former Calvin Klein underwear model, the day couldn’t arrive soon enough.

As per usual, all went off without a hitch, but then again, I’d practically perfected the meet and greet. Give just enough information with subtle innuendos to grab his attention. Look cute, but not high maintenance. If he’s tall wear stilettos, if not, flip-flops… just to ensure there’s no awkward first kiss height issues. Throw a few ego stroking compliments his way, laugh at his jokes and be sure to end the festivities before the conversation had time to get stale. Honestly, it’s really not all that difficult, and I’m fairly certain a monkey could do it. So there he was, Mister Hawter than Hawt, eating out of the palm of my hand and booking another go round before I had time to thank him for the triple café mocha.

Date two likened the first, except this particular evening I was hit with the “next week is my Birthday” bomb. Cripes! Really, so soon? I should have paid more attention to his zodiac sign, but his half nekkid photos distracted me from the important issues like… don’t start dating someone who’s about to celebrate anything. Before I knew it I was stuck in a quandary as to how much cash to drop on his six pack abs. Not only was this going to be the all important third date, but I had to make it special for a quasi stranger who I had little more in common with than his DNA that he’d left in my mouth.

Being a sucker for twinkling eyes, a Colgate smile and an ass that I could rest my library books on, I opted to suck it up and make reservations at his favorite sushi restaurant in the Hollywood Hills… and I don’t even like sushi! It was a beautiful night, with an amazing view of the debauchery on Sunset Boulevard. Sadly, by the time we ordered appetizers we’d started to enter… the quiet zone. Without warning we’d run out of things to say and considering the circumstances we couldn’t ignore the silence and jump straight to the all important third date hump-a-thon. As I suppressed another yawn all I could think about was bypassing the formalities and getting at least one good romp for the dough I was shelling out to eat a meal that made me want to vomit.

Startled back to reality by the waitress with a plate full of raw fish and seaweed I was certain things couldn’t get any worse…and then I heard, “I have something I need to tell you.” Oh c’mon, seriously? Now you want to talk? Now you want to confess your childhood masturbation habits? What? What do you want to tell me, Mr. You’d Be Much Cuter Naked Man? Of course he did his best to prepare me with his rendition of some football mishap or another. (Honestly, I was halfheartedly listening while trying to ignore the eyeballs on my plate.) Perhaps in hindsight I should have paid more attention because before I knew it my 6′3 man of steel was removing his pearly whites and putting them in the front pocket of his shirt!

Now, I’d like you to take a moment and think about not only the horror that my super model date had suddenly turned into Elmer Fudd, but how incredibly difficult it is to not stare at a gaping black holed grill. Let me tell you, folks, there was nothing pretty about the way he gummed those oysters like a baby latched on to a lactating nipple.

Needless to say, that was my last date with Mc Hawterson. Not because of his lack of enamel, but because the bastard actually had the audacity to place an extra order to go…on my tab!

Let’s hear it kids. Have you ventured into the online dating realm, and if so, was it a glorious adventure or a horrific tale? And more importantly, would you date a 30-something with dentures?

The fun and not-so-good times are just getting started, stay tuned in the coming weeks for Bachelors 2 and 3 in the mini-series of Mis(s)-Matched.

The spendthrift and the weirdo

Previously on “Love-fucked” you were introduced to the Texan and the Age-d Internet Starlet. They began their unconventional romance on the pages of a social networking site…while living over 1000 miles apart. Last we saw these two fledgling lovebirds they were about to embark upon a new leg of the journey into amore’…the telephone call. We now Join T as she not so patiently waits for B to pick up the damn phone…

(T’s thoughts will be black, her dialogue in purple, and B’s dialog, blue.)

B: Hello
Rawr, sexy voice, bonus. Except…
T: You don’t sound anything like Gonzo….
He claimed to sound like the big-nosed blue muppet. And he doesn’t. He lied? So he’s a LIAR! Hello, red flag!
B: And you don’t have Ms. Piggy’s 401k, what’s your point?
Well, THAT was rude! He has no clue how much money I have saved…Wait! Is he saying I seem like a spendthrift? This conversation is already wrong, wrong, wrong!
T: How do you know about my finances, hmm, chief?
B: Well, I’m flipping through you’re bank statements right now…and I used to date Ms. Piggy…so I don’t know, call it an educated guess.
T: Hahahahha… (sigh)
I laugh, but I want to cry. What the Hell? FREEAAAK! Now I don’t know if he is a stalker…or a plain ol’ weirdo.
T: Oh yeah, well where do I spend the most money then, smartie?
B: Hmmm…. coffee shops, taco stands… self help books? Like most Californians I reckon…yep.
T: Whatever…
Shiiit, how’d he KNOW? I need to go back through the e-mails…hold on, did he just say “I reckon??” Yep…

Completely out of character, I had taken this strange young squire from the Southwest’s phone number. And I had actually called it. Because he baited me…over and over! And like a dumb animal I took the bait… over and over! Now here we were on the phone, and he was doing it yet again. And for some reason quite beyond my understanding…I was enjoying it. Was I being brainwashed?

I awoke in the morning with the phone stuck to my face and a 9 hour conversation hangover. What had just happened? The night before was a blur of oddly intoxicating ideas, strange voices and backhanded compliments. I mean, this man actually accused my vagina of being a planet eating black hole…and instead of getting mad, I giggled like a damn school girl!

That night I talked to him again. Then we talked again the next night, and so on for week after week. I found him to be weird and pushy and borderline obsessive…and still, I found myself lamenting when I missed a call or e-mail from him. Until…

B: I should move out there
Aauch-haa! Look at B, getting quick with the funnies. Alright, sucka-butt!
T: Heh… yeah and then you can do me everyday, and we can play monopoly with the old hippies down at Venice Beach.
B: Yeah I think it’s doable. I’d have to get a job though. Hmmm.
What, not even a chuckle? Still, he’s got aaalll kinds a’jokes tonight. I can top him…riiiiight now, watch-this-shit…
T: Mmmhhmmmm…You can totally get a job as a head waiter at the fancy French restaurant nearby and whisk me and the kids into a world of curmudgeonly chefs and salacious gossip, n’est-ce pas?
B: That’s a great idea…I have waiting experience…that’s a good starter job. I can pick up another one…and I can live with you! Yeah…you have room, right?
Wait, is he trying to one-up me here? Because he’s not being very joke-y. In fact, he seems kinda serious…
T: Umm, wha? Well, uhhh, ummm, too bad you cannot survive in LA without a car…lovely idea though…perhaps instead we can both run away and join the cir…
B: I’ll buy one… I’m going to look into plane tickets.
What the…?
T: B, can you call I call you back I’ve got hair in my washing mach-iiit..I meanIgot…I got clothes in the sh…iiit. I gotta wash my laundry and do hair. M’kay Bye bye.
B: Okaa…(Click) ?
T: (dial tone…)
B: Hello….THE? Where art thou? C’mon you didn’t really hang up…hello?

Okay…this just got crazy. This…this… cyber-stranger is trying to BUY PLANE TICKETS! He’s talking about MOVING IN WITH ME!! Where’s my inhaler…wait, I don’t even have asthma…but I can’t breathe!

I had to think, and fast…and so my mind went to the one thing that seemed to scare off every guy in my life since I was 12 years old… ( dun dun dun)

MY DAD!

• Is B seriously going to fly out to California…and if so what discount ticket sight will he utilize?

• Will T recover from her panicked state?

• Is her father as scary as Wilfred Brimley?

• What other celestial bodies might we find in T’s vagina?

Tuuuuuuune in next time….for the next addition of love fucked!

What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken for love? Would you move 1000 miles to live with someone you’ve never actually met? How fast is too fast? Are these two crazy kids making a huge mistake? Would you have kept talking to this weirdo? Thoughts, folks!

The seduction of an aging internet starlet

What we are about to bring you is a tale of two people… as told by them in the hopes of deciphering the mysterious origins of their romance.
Welcome to the first installment of…Love-fucked (that’s a working title, folks…)

( Trista shall be in purple, her cohort in blue…as they weave the story of their unlikely…whatever the hell you call this…)

Once upon a time there was this girl who spent a lot of time on the computer. This was a girl a lot like you…a lot like me. Okay, it was me.

So This is how it went down… I was new to the computer age and had heard about this thing crazy lil’ thing called Myspace.

I was doing a little computer multi-tasking; downloading some music while playing around on Myspace.

So long story short I sign up and I begin perusing the top new blogs when I spot this chick with a fucking raccoon on her head… …now I am not a man prone to strong attachments…but something about the look on her face or the carcass on her head told me that this women would be fantastic in bed.

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