11.6 Text

W: Sorry, bday party w Reece. What time for Fuel? my guess is it will be late?

CC: Notgonna b as late now cuz we’re gettn ready to go to dinner now where we were supposed to go but I didn’t go home and change or let pups out hd to outsource…R u n for nething or Woukd you rather I not call? I may not b up fir going out to bars gotta c how I feel

CC: But I am up for whatever but first you need to lemme know if ur up for nething at all

CC: Sorry if I waa a b, u did say u wanted to c me I forgott that.I feel like I’ve done too much of Thr work here and becoming resentful I shouldn’t have contacted you this am I didn’t think I was supposed to get ahold of u toniht but wasn’t for sure

W: min after I said no I thought to myself ‘i’d made the wrong choice’

CC: So what does that mean?

W: I’m in no shape to meet you out. I’d love to see you but I’m really not going to leave prairie village.

W: And I’m not going to be a dog and expect you to come over.

CC: U r no good. Ur interest isn’t there and I deserve better. U and I both know it. And I know ur not “vulnerable”, guys who r vulnerable and not ready for a realtionship don’t work n a restaurant/bar and they don’t call u thr night they get ur nimber nor r they as aggressive sexually as u r. I’m getting smarter. Thank gawd.

CC: I’m a great girl, who’s sexual and loving, kind, religious, and gorgeous and have guys lined up, too bad they’re not worth a shit and I’m aorry I thought you were. Ur loss.

CC: Ur right, u r a dog for expecting me to come to PV.

CC: What?? U got nothing now??

W: Sure, we could argue over text
W: After you told me to fuck off

CC: I’d just love to hear ur rebuttal….Ur so creative

W: Ur so dramatic

CC: Like I’m some dumb blonde. Give me your schpeel (sp?)…I’m so curious. I am dramtic, I know! LOL. But ur full of shit and think I’m dumb as hell. I’m clearly not dumb.

W: I NEVER ONCE SAID YOU WERE DUMB

CC: Only insinuated it by UR lame bs that I totally bought and swallowed.

CC: Answe ur phone asshilr
CC: I need a ride home
CC: R u coming to get me? Answr us phone
CC: Ur a douchr nag for not answering
CC: Pls answer
CC: Ur A textbook case douchebag. No answer. I needed ride

CC: I apologize for calling and calling and asking u for a ride, I was really wasted. Not an excuse, but I woukdnt hve called and text u to asking to Give me a ride if I weren’t
I need to clear my conscience and apologize for overreacting. I made myself look silly and i was disrespectful to u. I’m sorry for that.

The Shenanigans / Ugly Stepsisters

How many of you have tried online dating?  How many of you have wanted to?  How many have HAD to?  In short, I reference shenanigans because that’s how it begins.  Gamesmanship.  Cat and mouse.  The only difference between trying to find a match online and in a crowded bar is location.  And putting on pants.  Maybe.

Begin with your highschool yearbook.  A compilation of head shots.  Some good, most not.  Now change it into a “working” yearbook.  Instead of encapsulating a spot in time like say 199ahem (I don’t want to date myself.  I already do enough of that), faces move in and out of the yearbook.  My guess in regards to faces moving in and out, something wins over.  Either frustration with the matching web site or meeting someone worthy without the help of the world wide web.  Or HOLY HELL maybe you found your match, your eHarmony.  Not for me.

So the pictures.  And the bios.  And that’s what you have to go on.  Those are your decision making variables.  No better than one resume in a million on Monster.  This isn’t a jump in the water and learn to swim thing.  This is a take a deep breath and stick a toe in the community infested cess pool.  How do I, college educated and GQ, differentiate myself from the blue collar youths whose interests include hunting and ATV’ing and the uninspiring north of 40 crowd trying to catch a bump up from TV dinners alone.

Looking from the outside in, I create a profile.  And then a rewrite when I am in a better mood.  You’ve got to know your audience and realize this is marketing collateral I am writing.  But I don’t know my audience well enough to know if billing that I finished grad school or (GASP!) read books could put me out of contention.  Or that a good date involves conversation and not being in front of a movie screen or game on TV.  And that I cook, and like doing it.  What the hell have I gotten into.

Shenanigans continues when I start to swim around the [cess] pool and see what’s out there.  Pictures – some good some bad.  Profiles – it’s all the same.  Single women in Kansas City seem to enjoy staying in for a nice dinner as much as they like going to a good restaurant.  Most like sports in some capacity (watching with friends or even more hopeful, playing a sport of some sort).

There’s a differentiator between those that are looking for a serious relationship – that’s a tough one to walk into when essentially you’re meeting people at square one – and those that are just looking to meet people (I wish I knew if that was code for…ahem, low morality).  And here’s a common thread.  A lot of women in Kansas City love playing with their adorable neices and nephews.  If that’s not code for impending doom “I NEED TO START A FAMILY IN THE NEXT 2-3 YEARS!!!” I don’t know what is.

Continued shenanigans when you actually start to reach out to candidates/prospects/leads/single women/whatever this mess should be called.  Much like sending a resume to a job lead online, how in all great glory can you differentiate your profile from the other 5, 10, 50, who knows how many competitors you have in this game?  And if the woman is not some sort of reclusive shut in (I give that a 33% chance), will she really take the time to sort through all of the eLetches that have contacted her through this dating medium and pick the best 3 that suit her?  Holy Hell this is a necessary evil if you let it be one.

I did end up cracking the code on a few of these yearbook beauties.  And going out.  And meeting the “ugly stepsisters”.  At the time of all of this dating I am raising a 4 year old girl whose nature is satisfied through the awe of disney.  I’ve seen Cinderella multiple times and my take away is that the prince has to sit through many slipper fittings, meeting many Ugly stepsisters (and everyone else in the kingdom) before he meets Cinderella.  And this is how I feel.  Essentially sitting through a few ill fittings of a glass slipper.

It’s been two years since, but as I remember the first one had the worst possible story to tell.  Some sort of husband (yes, still officially married) who didn’t have his shit together and bailed and the woman and her childeren (her hips were not visible in her profile pic but it’s now obvious) are living at home with her parents.  None of this – NONE – enthralls me in the least.  Or at least enthralls me more than a few more cold beers and a timely exit.

Another one….hmmm.  From what I can remember ALSO lives at home, probably had a kid, and has one of the worst attitudes I’ve ever HAD to entertain for more than 2 minutes.  I thought I was at the right point to call it quits until she asked “really, why don’t we stay for another beer?”  I should have said no but at that stage in my life beer out of the house enthralled me more than beer in my empty house.

And the last one I remember from my trip through eDating was the cutest of the three – not saying much.  And took the bait when I opened by sending a joke as my intro message.  Risky, maybe.  But at least it worked. 

I remember my Dad would ask for the names of the woman I was taking out and my best reply was “It really doesn’t matter”.  That should tell you all the fun I was having with this.  And my mom noted that all this dating was probably costing me a lot of money.  Yes mom, and thanks for pointing out another obvious bit.  Now ask me if it’s frustrating, being divorced in Kansas.

OK, really the first one

If you read a previous post about the first one out of the gate, it’s not quite chronological.  The first one I met after my origination, when Ex decided she wanted to chase fairy tales or at least use that as justification, was the friend of a co-worker’s wife.  Actually the co-worker of a co-worker’s wife.  “She’s a little further through the woods on a divorce than you are, and at the very least it’s someone to talk to.”  Someone to talk to was all the pitch I needed after Ex left and I’d begun my sentence.  And if you’ve been divorced or not, we all deal with it differently.  Having someone to talk to helped me realize this sh/t is normal.

Five of us met at a bar for Jane’s birthday.  Jane’s gorgeous.  Jane’s stacked.  Jane is nice and friendly.  The girls exchanged girly presents and everyone held their own in conversation.  Then one by one the people with obligations (ie families) left and Jane and I stayed and talked.  In some ways I am typically male – I like a good looking woman.  But I’ve also developed a decent notion and when to play the right cards in these engagements and tonight was not the night.

Jane and I talked a lot.  Nice to have someone to listen to you, and someone to wonder if you had a good day, and vice versa.  I think we went out 1-2 more times face to face.  I remember showing up at a July 4th party, acting casual but really planting a seed for down the line with Jane.  And it all seemed to work.  My charm that had gone unappreciated and unwanted with Ex for the last few years was well recieved.  Nice…just like riding a bike.

And I am pretty sure Jane and I both knew we’d reached the sh/t or get off the pot stage.  You can only blatantly flirt for so long until something comes of it.  And we set up a dinner, near my house, that led to a kiss in the parking lot and a quick ride home and truth be told a pretty lackluster night together other than that it both of our post-marraige firsts.

At some point she told me she’s been asked out for that coming Saturday and I figure that’s the way adult single life goes.  “It’s ok,” I say to bless her emotions.  And then I fire off this shot on a total long shot wild whim, “I’ll just come over in the afternoon and bang the sh/t out of you before your date.”  Initially I didn’t think she took it well, and I thought I’d backfired (hey, but at least I tried).

But I am in.  And she’s hitting me with sexy texts all week long.  On Saturday I am trying to get as much house work done and get over to Janes.  We’re up against her clock to go out that night and she’s hitting me on the half hour.  “I still need to get sh/t done and I need to take a shower..I’m filthy” I tell her.  “Get over here” she replies, and I am telling you I’ve never driven this fast in KC in my life.  Never had this good a reason to.

She doesn’t meet me at the door as much as she pulls me in and pushes me down the stairs and … it…is…all…over.  Afternoon delight and an probably one of my all timers.  Whatever the opposite of lackluster – intert adjective here.

The great story continues.  I left at her wish while she was getting ready and she calls me.  Tears of regret.  Fragile psyche.  Probably a great idea in theory for her, not so much in reality.  I am good but I let the dust settle and call her during the week.  I owe her one, a nice date of lunch and the art musueum with no pretenses available.  Through this process of divorce, and therapy, and reading I know I have to rethink what dating and relationships with women mean.  Sure, some of it’s the same as being 25 and living in Scottsdale, but there’s enough difference that I have to pay attention to it.

And we park at the art musuem and we’re in conversation…and in the middle of a sentence she makes a right angle away from me and a beeline to the far end of the gift shop.  ‘What the hell?!?!’ I’m thinking.  Right in mid story.  And I let her stew for longer than chivalry would suggest.  She hasn’t moved.  Somewhere between 5-10 minutes I go up to her and ask what’s going on. 

There he is, on the other side of the gift shop.  Last week’s Mr. Saturday Night.  The one she went out with after our afternoon preparty.  Not just that, but she totally blew the guy off to spend the afternoon with me, and there he is, swallowing his pride on a cancelled afternoon with a great girl and he sees her, with me, Mr. Saturday afternoon. 

We had the cashier let us out the service entrace to the gift shop and Jane and I went off and had a fun time acting like giggling teenagers in a world class museum.

Epilogue:  Almost 3 years later Jane is happily married to Mr. Saturday night with a newborn baby boy.  And I am the guy blogging about his dating experiences as DWM.

The Orgination

DWM is serving 5-to-life in the penitentiary of the state of Kansas.  No, not the Kansas State Penitentiary.  Just living in Kansas in a situation I never offered enough foresight to. I, DWM, am not from the state of Kansas.  When asked I will tell you that as I grew up, I had a northeasterners distaste for the midwest, and I really felt that the midwest began after Philadelphia.  If asked further I will you that I still prefer the northeast slant in me to whatever “hospitality” midwesterners offer. 

“I am not happy” she said, “and something something something about the stress of the marriage anymore.”  ’She’ is the mother of my daughter and my ex-wife.  She’s a great woman but my impression is that the cards are somewhat shuffled but not quite stacked.  And although we like each other we never felt the love that should have gotten us to this point.

I met Ex at the peak of my singledom in Scottsdale, when I felt like I had wrung just about all of the fun out of my 20′s and I was ready to write a new chapter.  I know now that there is much more to the equation than great girl + right time = good idea. I hadn’t quite wrung all of the fun out of my 20′s, a guys night out turned bachelor party spilled into leaving work the following Monday for Diamondbacks Opening Day – a decision that essentially got me fired 3 weeks before marrying a Kansas girl and here we are.  Four years later at the birth of DWM.

“I am not happy and something something something”.  In hindsight I should have been happy getting out of the marraige, but the marraige and our daughter was all I had.  Kansas is a good place, but it’s better if your from here and don’t compare it to [what I perceive as] better places.  And if you’re from here you have like-minded friends that … just make living here better.  And you can look it it a lot of different ways, but a failed marraige still carries failure.

I give her credit for recognizing the marriage shouldn’t have been worked on, but she loses credibility for her trips to Planet Ex, where accountability and mutual respect do not exist.  When I told her that if you took 100 marriages, 50 of them will end in divorce, 49 take a lot of work by both parties, and one is a God damn fairy tale, her reply was that that was what she wanted, a fairy tail.  I wished her luck and told her she has a better chance of someone giving her a free lexus for life.

I get that men are from Mars, women are from Venus.  But that’s not the last time a woman told me she wanted a fairy tale.  I get that women think emotionally, but seriously?  That’s what you wish for…a fairy tale?  And do you REALLY believe frogs turn into princes, pumpkins turn into carriages, fairy godmothers with magic wands exist, and riding into the sunset will mean happily ever after? 

Through the divorce someone told me “I’m sorry, that’s not fair.”  Who ever told you life was fair?  There’s a reason why some live in big houses, and some in small.  Some are CEO’s and some empty trash.  I could tell you there’s a reason why some are given life and some have it taken away but that’s a different conversation. 

April 2007 was the orgination of DWM and these are my stories.  My somewhat wisened and somewhat wiseass perspective on being a single man and loving dad in the midwest.

Big Chief Vodka Soda

There was a lot of appeal to the event at the art museum.  I am a fan of art, more modern than classic but I was bought up in a cultured household and enjoy my time looking at it for multiple reasons.  Mostly it’s not a computer screen or a high definition television.  And we have a world class art musem that lets you in for free.  So I can pony up $60 for a once a year fundraiser.

The problem is that I don’t want to go alone and my prospects – even to find a wingman – are slim.  I know how going alone will likely play out, but going alone beats staying home on a Saturday night for my psyche right now.  So my time is my own after 5 PM when I drop my daughter off.  It’s warm enough to go for a 3 mile run to begin the pregame ritual.  Then a base of pasta dinner.  I know I am cabbing it tonight and I am going to be about chest deep in alcohol at some point.

Continue the pregame ritual of beers, loud music (Social D) and college hoops with no sound on the TV.  Being a single man CAN be fun.  Beers and a shower, getting my GQ on.  Call a cab, beers and Social D while I wait.  The cab comes and we’re off.

Party Arty starts at 8, so 9 PM would be the perfect landing time.  Again, I am flying solo and that act has about a 2 hour window as a solo act before it expires.  Different story if I get en extension from a friend, female, or both.  Party Arty also supplies an open bar and experiences tells me it’s well drinks only.  A weapon of choice I think I can tolerate would be vodka sodas (influenced by my ex and by Tucker Max.  A tounge in cheek ‘thank you’ to both).

First stop, neighborhood bar.  I need to calibrate my body to well drink goodness, and I need some “bully” in me as we called it in college (liquid courage to some? fuel? preparty?).  “Vodka soda…well is fine,” I order.  And another, and another.  Remember, I am cabbing it tonight and I am solo.  I learned on this one that drinks should NOT be a substitute for conversation.  And I learned that I should probably halve my pregame  ritual and save it for the actual playing field.  Duly noted, once I sobered up.

One of the things I like about this neighborhood bar is the cab stand up front.  “Art Museum please”.  Aren’t I cool.  Very nice event, showcasing the new modern wing of the museum.  Like I said, I am a fan, I could go once a week.  The beautiful people, the beautiful people are there.  I get a drink and make a round.  I get a drink and make a round.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  And I realize I am becoming myself at 20.  We’ll talk about college DWM later.

I saw friends but they looked previously engaged in their group, or friends that lacked the appeal of conversation for Big Chief Vodka Soda.  I get a drink and make around.  I try to engage in some clever banter, but I REALLY should have had a wingman.  FINALLY, a group of girls that like what I [may] have to offer.  I remember holding my own in conversation, but that’s all I remember.

Three girls leave, one stays.  I am TRYING to focus on the conversation, and make it engaging for her.  A small victory would be her number.  A bigger victory would be a date.  For DWM, closing a deal tonight would be huge.  Trying to focus turns to struggling to focus.  But being the good guy that I am, I just tell her “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotten too drunk to have a good conversation.”  Yeah, you have was her reply, and probably an “I’ve got to get out of here” from me.  And a cab ride home.

Big Chief Vodka Soda.  A- for effort.  D- for excecution.

First one out of the gate.

Stephanie was a set up date.  Apparently we’re both vendors of the same client.  Not only that but both the same kind of vendor.  Nice.  My guess is we’ll be talking about work.  I knew that shen she set it up for 3 in the afternoon – on a Tuesday – I wasn’t ranking as a priority.  But as I tell family and friends, it’s batting practice right now.

I want to make sure I can carry a conversation, especially one that avoids talking too much about exes or slips into distaste for the midwest.  They really don’t like their baby called ugly.  Out of shape and uninteresting, maybe.  But don’t call their baby ugly.

Although I shot her an email on my way out the door to let her know I was on my way, she was there when I got there and reminded me that I was late.  Possibly an attempt at charm, more likely a power play.  We move to the bar, I let her order first and  – wait for it…

3, 2, 1 “You really don’t want to date me,” she says.  Honestly.  Right after the vodka redbull she orders is put on the bar and wholly unprompted by me.  Wow.  What am I doing here.  Oh yeah, batting practice.  She continues, “Yeah, I am 34 years old and never been married.  My life is a mess.  I am a serial dater, dating a few different guys right now but all I really want to do is settle down.  You should walk, no run away.  Seriously.”

I am only on my second sip of vodka soda at this point and wondering how to play it.  A couple of thoughts.  1). I am sticking it out.  She got me out of the office and I still have an entire vodka soda to go.  2).  Challenge.  Not the ‘slay the dragon’ challenge – well there is that.  Can I keep the conversation engaging and see where it goes.  3). Stephanie really needs to work on her self marketing. 4).  I know what I want and I know what I deserve.  This is not it.  (We’ll get to what I might need later).

“Slow down a minute” is my call to her.  And I explain that we’re not dating here, we’re meeting at the suggestion of our friend.  Let’s enjoy the drinks and the afternoon.  “And one thing at a time”…funny, that’s how I deal with my 4 year old daughter too.  We talk about the unmarried at 34 thing, that’s her being hard on herself, holding herself to unrealistic expectations and ‘societies’ ideals.  And I didn’t share this but anyone that’s dependent on a marraige to set their life right…I feel bad for the marraige.  The serial dating…we’re all single adults here.  Enough said. 

My takeaway about knowing what I want and  what I deserve…meant more to me than what I left at the bar 45 minutes and another vodka soda later.