I Would Walk 500 Miles (Nope, Not Really)

April and I are out in Old Town and meet two guys at Murphy's Irish pub. They're fun dudes and when the bar closes we are all headed to the King Street metro. Ryan ("my dude") is interesting. He's a bit on the young side (27) but acts older. He went to Penn State so we have the Big 10 connection and he speaks Spanish, having spent some time volunteering in Mexico. Score.

I hear from him off and on but I get the sense he's just looking for a good time. (He only texts when he's already out, after he's had a few beers, etc.) I'm coming back from the holidays when he asks me to meet him for a drink. I just drove 7 hours from Ohio and am exhausted.

Umm... really? I told him "No, no.. nevermind. I'm just going to go home." Now mind you, the bar I suggested, Samuel Becketts, is 5 minutes from where this man lives. So it's not as if I'm suggesting he drive 45 minutes somewhere. Who swears at a girl over text message anyway?

Unsurprisingly, I don't hear from him. About a week later April and I are out in Old Town and we end up at Murphy's. Again. Not only do I run into some old soccer friends (including Amir: So Not A Date Movie He looks happy, by the way, and is there with a pretty girl) But guess who is there. Ryan.

He's smiling at me and trying to flirt with me. I'm acting aloof toward him but I'm not bothered - I just know he's not the guy for me. I go up on stage to sing with the guitar player and after singing a rowdy rendition of Wild Rover, Ryan pulls me aside.

Sorry I'm not sorry, buddy. I know what I'm looking for and how I want to be treated. You don't get to swear at me.  I don't want a man who complains when he has to drive 10 minutes to come see me. And yes, I just dropped some Proclaimers on you - Scottish men obviously know what's up!

My friend told me a story about how her grandfather used to walk her grandmother home after dances in Manhattan back in the day... and how he lived in the Bronx and it would take him literally hours to make sure his lady got home safely. He walked miles and miles... and never ever complained. 

Shit. Nowadays men complain if they live in the District and have to come into Arlington to see you. Good luck if you live in Maryland. You're NEVER going to be able to date anyone. 

Accent Goggles: Far Worse Than Beer Goggles

Why, you ask? Well, because beer eventually wears off, you see... whereas someone's accent is permanent. And continues to cloud your judgment with its alluring, tantalizing lilt.

I meet Welsh man on the interwebs and we go on a few dates (pre-dating cleanse). I know from his profile that he is Welsh and it *might* be a *tiny* reason why I decide to go out with him. Not because I don't find him attractive... but his profile is sparse - I'm fairly certain he was banking on the fact women love foreign accents.

He's smart. He's ambitious (He mentions that he wants to be POTUS someday - I don't mention the *wee* requirement of being a natural-born citizen).  He's very manly. All good things. He also says things that kill me like "I'll ring you tonight." Ring! He says "ring" instead of "call"! He says "I'll give you a text later" instead of "I'll text you later." And "isn't she called April?" instead of "isn't her name April?" Sigh.

On our second date we go to an Irish pub and he orders a guinness. I order a Bushmills on the rocks - good ol' Irish whiskey - and he immediately changes his order to a whiskey AND a guinness. Can't get out-manned by a girl! 

He makes it undoubtedly clear what he wants from me.. and apparently from the other girls he's also seeing. How very European of him. At least he's honest about it. So I'm honest with him. "I don't see this happening," I say. 

DANG. That's some cojones there, Welsh man! "You don't want to date me... but how about a one-off ?" Ha. Makes perfect sense. 

My friend, Padraig, called me out recently on the fact I've pretty much ended things with every potential guy by the third date.  In some cases the reasons weren't particularly compelling. (However, in this case - regardless of aforementioned glorious accent - I made the right call) Padraig says that eventually I'm going to have to let someone in.

And that scares the shit out of me.

To Answer The Question: Yes. This Happens.

A guy recently seemed incredulous when I told him that men ask women out on the same night they'd like to see them. "No WAY any guy does that!" he said with full sincerity.

Why yes. Yes they do. Even after gently telling this man that your schedule is quite robust. AND after multiple (failed) attempts to try to see you on the same day. Do men actually want a puppy dog? Someone that is waiting around... just in case he calls and wants to see you? Let me keep my schedule wide open because at 6:30 pm you might decide you want to see me. Pshhhhhhhaaaaahhhhh.



I know I should have just said something mature like "My schedule isn't such that you can ask me same day..." or "It works better if I have a little notice" or "I'm on a dating hiatus right now from men - especially men like you." Instead I went for the Wayne's World reply. Apparently I have the humor of a 13 year old boy.

The fact he didn't understand my Wayne's World speak only further validates that he's not the guy for me. It also shows he's not the quickest in reading social cues and dealing with social situations. He told me on our first - and only- date (months ago now) that he only dates women with big tits. ::shudder:: He used the word "tits." WHY? Why would you say this to a woman you've just met? Scratch that. Why would you say that ever? Even if it's true.... it's one of those things you can keep to yourself. And keep that word to yourself, too. Barf.

Admittedly a random post - I apologize. But it's an effort to show that I'm no longer tolerating jokers. I'll close with some gems in case you haven't seen the movie in a while:

"Garth, marriage is punishment for shoplifting in some countries."

"If it's a severed head, I'm going to be very upset."

"A gun rack... a gun rack?! I don't even own *a* gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack. What am I gonna do with a gun rack?"

"She will be mine. Oh, yes - she will be mine."

"Ribbed for her pleasure. Ewww."

"Did you ever find Bugs Bunny attractive when he put on a dress and played a girl bunny?"

"No Stairway. Denied!"

Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM

It’s only been a few days since I decided to go on my hiatus from dating. It’s Friday night and I’m at the hockey rink –where else? After the games all of the teams head to Rock Bottom for beers.

For the past few weeks, someone has been sending me drinks anonymously. The second time it happens I ask the bartender coyly “Darlin’, are you sure it isn't YOU who’s sending me these drinks?” He smiles and says that it’s a guy who comes down regularly on Fridays who is sending them. I suggest that he communicate to my unidentified benefactor that a. my drink is actually Irish whiskey on the rocks and b. I’m not that scary – he should just talk to me.

After more than a few beers (and another mystery drink) I’m headed home when I get a text from Joe. Remember Joe?http://flingstress.blogspot.com/2012/03/sinners-you-are-all-sinners.html He and I have stayed in touch and still communicate once in a while. He says that he wants me to come shoot pool with him and his buddy at his house. In Reston. WHAT? I tell him I’m in no shape to drive to Reston. He says “I’ll pay for your cab – just come hang out with us!” Well, hmph.

I go inside, drop my hockey equipment and rummage around in the bathroom to make myself presentable. My roommate wakes up (it’s 2 am at this point) and says “roomie, where the hell are you going?” I look at her and don’t know how to answer. I sheepishly tell her that I’m going to hang out with Joe – no big deal. Incredulously she says “At 2 am? Yeah right. What are you thinking?” She’s right. I know she is. I dial Red Top to cancel the cab.

BUT at that same moment I get a text message saying my cab is waiting outside. Shit. I decide that if the cab is there, it means that I’m supposed to go. I walk outside. The cab is waiting.

I get in and I’m thinking about what I’m doing. Why am I going to Reston at 2 am? I hate playing pool. And Joe is kind of a jerk. I know he’s only interested in one thing. These thoughts are running through my head when all of the sudden I’m *literally* jarred back to reality. Syed (the cabbie) hit the median! I’m as pale as can be… it scared me half to death and the poor guy is apologizing profusely. THEN. Thump. Thump. Thump thump thump... You guessed it.  Flat tire.

I’ve ridden in a lot of cabs. I’ve NEVER had a flat tire in one before.  Seriously?! How many signs do I need to let me know this is a terrible idea?  Joe is texting me like crazy telling me to hurry up and actually wants to speak to Syed. “Tell him your boyfriend wants to talk to him.” Umm. Weird. But whatever. I hand Syed the phone. I have no idea what Joe says to him but when I get back on the phone he tells me to hurry my ass up.

We get back on the road. I close my eyes and think “No, I’m not doing this.” At the last moment – right before Syed is about to get on the freeway – I say…

I truly believe that God is working in my life. When I didn't listen to my roommate (who normally sleeps through my late night entrances), God put yet another roadblock in my way. I made a conscious decision to stop dating so that I could clear my head and my heart. And here I am jumping into a cab to hang out with a guy who treats me poorly. It was a powerful moment. A liberating one. Joe was pissed – but guess who doesn't care? THIS girl. Sorry I’m not sorry, buddy.

I’m done. Done with players and idiots. Done with man-children and emotionally-stunted men.  I’m ready for more. I’m ready to find “him.” Well, after my dating hiatus, of course.

Thank you, Syed, my guardian angel cabbie, wherever you may be.

The Flingstress... Going On Hiatus

I am taking a deliberate break from dating.  I have a few reasons for the break so let me see if I can explain.

When Joseph broke up with me it was a HUGE rejection.  The person who was supposed to love me forever walked away. Seemingly without much difficulty. It's embarrassing to admit but I desperately needed male attention. A LOT of male attention. I recognize that I needed the affirmation and confirmation that men still liked me. Still wanted me.  That Joseph was wrong. That I was still desirable and worthy of love.

I no longer feel that overwhelming need. I feel more settled. Stronger. Happier.

At the same time, I don’t know exactly what I want at the moment. I never saw myself staying in DC this long. Being in Ireland made me realize that DC isn’t home. And I’m not sure it ever will be. Ultimately I either need to make it home or I need to leave.

So I decided to take a break from dating. A dating cleanse, if you will. A man-page turned man-fast. At first I thought maybe I’d do it until 2013.  Now I’m unsure when I’ll return to dating. When it feels right, I suppose.

Flingstress out. For the moment, at least.

Fifty Shades of Gray... For Reals

I won’t beat around the bush, people. I recently met a man who was unabashedly entrenched in Dominant/submissive culture.

Looking back I suppose there are signs I could’ve seen. On our first date, he asked me how much I weighed. WTF. Who does that? THEN, when I wouldn’t tell him, he picked me up and curled me. CURLED me! As if I were a dumbbell at the gym. He put me back down and said “Yep, that’s what I thought.” Admittedly it was kind of hot. I’m not a small girl by any means, so it was sort of fun being picked up like a doll. Ted is definitely a strong, strapping man.

On our second date he just laid it all out in front of me. He said he had run into the problem of connecting with women until he reveals he hopes to have a dominant/submissive element in the bedroom.  So now he just tells them upfront. He just puts it all on the table. 

So Ted is giving me a bunch of scenarios (and mind you, we haven’t done anything physical at this point besides kissing) and I’m trying to maintain an open mind. THEN we are discussing boundaries.

The beginning of a relationship (any relationship, even friendship) is precarious. If you reveal too much too soon, it will scare someone off. If you hold back too much, you won't be able to build a meaningful relationship - and it will stay in the superficial realm. There is an inclination to "lay it all out there" because "if he/she is meant for me, he/she will accept me." I call this emotional vomit. I've been guilty of it myself (telling people too soon about my disengagement/past relationships and watching their eyes glaze over).

We are all freaks and want to let our freak flag fly, but I say bring it down half-mast until you recognize the approaching ship as friend or foe.  Had we gotten to know each other and he slowly started to sprinkle some of his kinkiness in, that might've been a different story.  Instead I ran for the hills because, let’s face it, you never get to come on my face.  

Free Fitness Test

I fancy myself a fairly savvy person when it comes to the opposite sex. But sometimes they make no damn sense.

I’m headed to the gym and stop in Starbucks to grab a protein plate. I’m looking for somewhere to sit when a good-looking guy says “you can sit here, some guy is sitting there.” It just happens to be right in front of him. Ha. Nicely played, sir.

Oh. I forgot to mention what I look like. My hair is greasy and in a pony-tail. I’m wearing ugly sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. It’s not even the cute gym outfit – you know the one – tight yoga pants with a flattering tank top. Nope. It’s laundry time, folks, and I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel today.

He chats me up as I’m scarfing down my eggs, peanut butter and cheese.  He’s older than me (I find out later he’s 39) and used to play professional basketball abroad. It’s not until he stands up that I realize he’s 6’6. He slides me his business card and says he’d love to take me out for dinner sometime. What? Really? I look like CRAP. I’m not exaggerating. I would tell you if I looked cute.

I say goodbye to tall man and head into the gym. The gym manager nods in my direction and I smile a friendly “hello.” On my way out of the gym, he stops me to make small talk. His name is Joseph. Jesus. I just can’t win. His middle name is Kouros – he’s Iranian American. I inform him I’ll be calling him Kouros. He seems to like that. I'm on my way out when he stops me.

I’m thoroughly amused. I’m amused that a. I am getting picked up by two men who are sixteen years apart (Kouros is 23) and b. I look terrible!   

To my further amusement, I’m again reminded that age really doesn’t matter. The 39 year old basketball player flaked on the day we were supposed to go out whereas the 23 year old persisted (and asked my friend to encourage me to call him). Kouros and I went out on a date and it was pleasant enough.

Kouros still lives with his mother, plays a lot of video games and smokes marijuana regularly. So not exactly long-term potential.  But I appreciated his move. The “fitness card trick” is a new one, even for me.