The Enigma

This blog post is not funny.  Life's a bitch like that.

 

"Expectation is the root of all heartache"

 

I’ve known the Enigma for 8 years or so.  We met at the bar through mutual friends.  From the start there was an instant connection between us.  I was in a relationship at the time, so nothing ever happened between us.  Sure, there were a few drunken nights here and there when we passionately made out outside of the bar for an hour or so after closing time, but otherwise, we were just two people with an amazing chemistry, eventually going our own separate ways.  One summer, I ran into him and was excited to see him because I was no longer in a relationship.  He, however, revealed to me that not only was he in a relationship, but his girlfriend was pregnant and they were going to get married.  Oh.  Ok.  I faked a joyful congrats and went on my way, slightly disappointed, but not heart-broken or anything. 

About a year later, I ran into him again.  This time, he was kind of a hot mess.  He and the girl had not gotten married, they were in the middle of a messy break up, and she was pregnant.  Again.  At this time, I was living in my sister’s basement and had promised her and her husband that I wouldn’t bring random dudes over, but I made an exception this night.  We didn’t have sex, but we made out and snuggled, and he said the most wonderful things to me, about how sweet and beautiful I am. 

 

And then, nothing.  I think we had each other’s numbers, but I knew better than to expect to hear from him.  It was easier to just forget about him, and be pleasantly surprised whenever he did stumble back into my life.

 

Last June, he showed up at the bar on his 40^th birthday.  I was working at the bar that night, but it was pretty slow, so I got out early and sat with him until close.  He had just gotten out of work (he’s a chef), and didn’t want to go home.  That was understandable; my birthday was the week before, and I was pretty bummed that I had to spend it alone.  Anyway, we chatted and flirted, and eventually made out outside of the bar after closing time, as per usual.  Eventually I invited him to stay with me at my other sister’s house- this sister doesn’t have a husband or children, and actually has a bedroom for me, so it was much more convenient.  We didn’t have sex, but we fooled around, and he told me, while holding me close, caressing my arm and running his fingers through my hair, that seeing me was exactly what he wanted for his birthday.  I was flattered, of course, and happy to hear that my presence was so reinforcing for him.

 

“And if you don’t expect too much from me, you might not be let down…”

 

This was the beginning of a summer of expectation, disappointment, joy, heartache, wishful thinking and foolishness.  He would make plans, and then break them.  Always there was an excuse.  The excuses sounded legit, but there were so many, how could they all be true?  Why make plans of you aren’t going to follow through?  Do you even want to spend time with me?  I was mad, but immediately forgave him because he would say or do something that made me believe he genuinely wanted to see me, he was just busy.

The weekend of the 4^th of July, he came over after the bar closed.  Up until this point, we still had never actually had intercourse.  There was an incredibly strong sexual chemistry between us, but I didn’t want to ruin it.  See, I’m not a prude or anything, but I just had this feeling that, if we were to finally fuck, it would ruin the fantasy I had created around us.  By not fucking, I was able to preserve that element of surprise, a certain mystique that kept us both interested in one another, and kept us coming back.  But this holiday weekend, I gave in.  I’m not sure what triggered this turning point, or what made me change my mind about doing it with the Enigma, but we did it.  And it was amazing, soul-shaking, life-changing, beautiful sex.  He had warned me the night before not to fall in love with him.  Of course I agreed not to, because I knew nothing would ever come of our sporadic make out sessions.  But that night, flooded with hormones and shaking with passion, I was afraid it was too late- I had fallen hard for him.

 

In bed, he’s assertive, but not aggressive.  Every move is filled with passion and desire.  He loves to pleasure me.  He makes sure that I’m taken care of first.  His kisses feel like magic, and his touch is electric.  And after, he holds me tight and close, like he’s never letting go.  And that’s what keeps me hooked.

 

For a solid week, we actually made plans to see each other, going on picnics, having dinner at his place, texting regularly throughout the day.  But eventually, all of that faded away.  We would make plans, but inevitably he would cancel, for one reason or another.  The texts became fewer and further between; sometimes he would wait a week to even respond to me.  A few months went by, and eventually I became fed up with the constant disappointment and, via angry text, told him that I wasn’t going to bother putting in any more effort because I was tired of being let down.  He apologized for being unreliable, citing for the thousandth time that his work schedule was hectic and unpredictable, and that was that.  I didn’t hear from him for months, and I didn’t care.  I just kind of forgot about him.

Then, two months ago, he showed back up in my life.  We were at the bar, he started flirting, and I decided immediately that I was taking him home with me.  We made glorious love, and in the morning parted ways, both with a smile on our face.  The following weekend was more of the same.  Suddenly we were back in the game, texting during the week, making plans to see each other on the weekend.  I thought this was it- this time around we could actually build a relationship and fall in love and I would meet his children and we could live happily ever after.  But, no.  All it took was 4 weeks for the disappointment to begin and for “us” to end; 4 short weeks of  broken plans, promises, heart.  Work was the excuse; as a chef, weekends are crazy, he said.  I offered to come see him during the week, but he had to work late, or get up early, or he had his kids.  Fourth of July weekend rolls around this year, and he texted me to apologize for his absence, explaining that he was having car trouble and that he had been working an insane amount.  I feigned condolences about his car and remained aloof, because I was trying to save myself from building expectations yet again.  But, against my better judgment, I texted him that Sunday night, saying I’d be in town still the following day if he had time to meet up.  Fourteen days later, I still haven’t heard back. 

 

“The opposite of love’s indifference.”

 

I don’t know what made me believe that he would actually change, that he would be more reliable, that I could build a life with him because I honestly believed that he wanted that too.  Yet here I sit, mourning the loss of a relationship that never was, and it suck balls.  Maybe if I could get some closure that would make me feel better about the whole situation.  If I could hear him say that he doesn’t have feelings for me, that he doesn’t want a relationship with me, that he doesn’t intend to ever contact me again, maybe that would ease the pain.  Instead, I’ve been making up conversations in my head, developing the dialogue that we would have on the subject, and it isn’t pretty.  In my head, he never loved me, nor could he ever love me, and he thinks me a fool to ever believe that he did or could. 

After much consideration (and several drinks), I decided to text him again last night.  My sister warned me not to, and then insisted on approving the message before I sent it.  It read, “ Hey stranger.  I imagine you’re busy with all of the bike business going on downtown, but I’m in town for the night.  Was wondering if you would be free to meet up later?”  [Mary suggested adding, “A simple yes or no will suffice, assface.”  I’m regretting not adding that last part…]

 

I sent that at 8:25 pm. and waited.  And obsessively checked my phone.  See, iPhones do this cool thing that, once you’ve hit ‘send’ on a message, it will tell you that the text has been delivered.  But ALSO it will tell you when the message has been read.  [Which is both good and bad for my neurosis.]  Eventually I discovered that he read the message at 10:37 pm.  I still haven’t heard back.

 

So now is the time that I work on building my wall back up, so as to not accidentally let anyone in again.  I have to let go of any and all thoughts of seeing or hearing from him.  Now I’m working on making him a memory.  He no longer exists in my world. 

 

The worst part of this whole crazy thing is that I have never, ever, had a connection as deep, chemistry so strong, or sex so passionate as I had with the Enigma, and I long to have that again.  “It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all” is a giant croc of shit, because I’m sitting here with an emptiness that is all consuming, and I will forever be looking for the chemistry I shared with the Enigma in every other man who comes along.   And I’m convinced I’m never going to find it again, which is devastating in a way I could never have imagined.

The Week From Dating Hell

Since I couldn’t be bothered to follow my own advice, I started chatting with a couple of guys on OKCupid this week.  I’m an idiot. 

Monday:

Two dudes messaged me on the Fourth of July.  The first guy (whose real name I do not know) was hilarious.  Every message he sent, he would ask an oddball question, so our conversation bounced around from favorite childhood toys to nude modeling (we’ve both done it) to his history as a homeless clown in California (I can’t even make this shit up).  I was actually late to my family’s cookout thingy because I didn’t want to end the conversation.  But eventually I did and now I haven’t heard from him since.  So there’s that. 

The other guy sent a message while I was at my parent's.  His message was sweet and thoughtful and charming, I just had to respond!  I mean, I waited until I got back to my sister’s house, and after she read his message, and after I checked our compatibility and discerned that he was not likely a murderer/rapist/terrorist.  But I actually responded because he legitimatly seemed like someone worth meeting!

Tuesday:

We messaged again the next day, and eventually exchanged numbers.  [Now, I know it’s not smart to give out personal information so quickly, however, there’s a method to my madness.  See, the longer I’m signed in to my account and the more activity I engage in while logged on, the more likely people will visit my profile and/or send me a message.  I didn’t want to be bothered with all of that, so I told him that texting would be easier.]  He texted me that evening and we set up a date for the following night.  And then we continued to text All. Friggen. Night.  This, my friends, is why it is not smart to drink and online date.  Once the booze is flowing, I start talking non-stop and tell too many stories, and disclose way more information than is necessary.  This is also why, henceforth, I will not-so-endearingly refer to him as Magneto- not because he reminds me of the X-Men (or that he has any mutant abilities that I'm aware of), but because he’s been awfully attached to me since we first started chatting.  (Like a magnet, get it?  Moving on…)

 

From that first night of texting, he has been super intense, throwing out compliments left and right, telling me how amazing I am (I already know that, thanks bro), expressing his excitement to meet me the next day, blah blah blah.  At one point, in my drunken ramblings, I quickly changed the subject of our conversation to music or something stupid, and jokingly apologized for it, saying “Sorry, I can be really all over the place,” to which he replied, “It’s ok, I think I might just follow you anywhere.”  What in the actual fuck?  Mind you, WE’VE NOT YET EVEN MET IN PERSON. 

 

Wednesday:

OK, so fast forward to date night.  I was a little nervous, because, despite his unflappable eagerness, I still wanted to make a good impression.  I realize now that I should not have tried so hard.  He was almost exactly as I imagined: not terribly good looking, but friendly and engaging and polite and interested in everything I had to say.  We shared wine and conversation for 4 hours.  I wasn’t at all attracted to him, but the conversation was fun, and the wine was delicious, and as I mentioned before, there’s no stopping my mouth from running once the alcohol kicks in.

Eventually, the restaurant was closing, and I finally realized how late it was and said that I should head home.  He insisted on taking a short walk, so I agreed to let him walk me to my car, which was parked a couple of blocks away.  You guys, HE HELD MY FUCKING HAND THE WHOLE WAY.   What the hell???  It was at this point that it finally clicked: this dude was waaaaaaaaayyyyy too into me to be normal.  Inevitably, when we got to my car, he came in for a kiss.  I absolutely did NOT want that in my life, but how do you politely back away from something like that???  I finally got in my car and drove off, thankful that the date was over.  However, when I got home, I realized that I never thanked him for the wine (he must have spent nearly $80 there, including tip), so I sent him a quick text to let him know that I got home safe and thanking him for the evening, because I’m a fucking lady.  Big mistake.  This inadvertently opened the door to even more texts, exceedingly more lovey-dovey than the night before, and him nicknaming me Dearest Dee (whose other variations include Delightful Dee and Darling Dee).

Thursday:

We had agreed that night to see each other again Sunday.  To cook food.  At my apartment.  OK, OK, so it seemed like a good idea when I was drunk, but the day after the date I was horrified by the idea of letting that man into my home.  I didn’t like him enough and certainly didn’t want to give him the impression that being in my house meant that the bedroom was a place he has access to.  Plus, his texts had turned into some form of desperation, after he admitted that he didn’t want to wait that long to see me again.  Dude, it’s like 4 days.  You went 40 years of your life without seeing me; you can wait a couple of days.  Sit down.  He also offered to meet me for ice cream that evening, which I declined because, as I had told him the night before, I had plans.  It rained that night, and he texted me while I was having dinner with my friend, “Good thing we did not go for ice cream… though there is something kind of fun about kissing in the rain.”   Eeewwwww!!!!!  Don’t talk about kissing!!!

Friday:

That’s it; he absolutely can not come over to my house.  I rearranged my weekend plans and texted him Friday morning that plans had changed, and unfortunately I was no longer available for our cooking date, would he like to have dinner with me that night instead?  I didn’t want to completely cancel our “date” because he is genuinely a nice guy, and I sincerely enjoy our conversation (when he isn’t acting clingy and I'm left bracing myself for the moment he decides to profess his undying love for me).  Of course he agrees, because at this point, Magneto would be willing to do just about anything for me.  So he agrees to pick me up at 7:00 because “I want to walk you to your door and steal another kiss or two."   God, NO!!!!!  Stop talking about kissing!!!!!

We get to the restaurant, a place I had eaten at several times, but he had never been to.  The server comes to our table and he is Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.  Just an amazingly beautiful creature, who- in an accent that made my lady bits quiver- tells us that he is Italian, at which point I decide that he could tell me just about anything and I would be delighted to listen.  Luckily, he asks if we’ve ever been here before and Magneto says no, so this handsome hunk spends several minutes going over the menu, describing several dishes and pronouncing their Persian names in the most magical way.

Anyhow, dinner was delicious and once again, the conversation flowed easily.  I probably should have broken things off at the end of this date, but I didn’t.  I just couldn’t bear the thought of breaking his heart.  I figure I’ll just give it a few days, hopefully he’ll catch on if I don’t text him, and maybe set up a coffee date and then break it to him.  Perhaps Monday.

Sunday:

Seriously, this is one of the worst parts of dating.  It’s scary enough just putting yourself out there.  And then once you do, you hope to find someone compatible.  And then you agree to meet that person, all the while wondering if you’re going to like him and if he’s going to like you, and will you both like each other the same amount, or is he going to be more into you or vice versa?  Will there be a chemistry between you, will you be attracted to one another, will you find each other interesting?  This shit is way too stressful.  I really need to work on meeting someone in person, rather than online.  That way you get to skip this awkward step, kind of, because probably, you can tell right away if there’s a “click” between the two of you, and you’ll go from there. 

Alas, I do not have the slightest clue where to go to look for a real person to meet in person.  And despite my unwavering confidence and high self-esteem, I am not bold enough to approach a stranger and start conversation.  Don't get me wrong, I love talking to strangers, but not strangers who I think are good-looking and who I would like to impress and then go out with and eventually bang fall in love with and live happily ever after.  The pressure is just too much. 

So, that’s where we are now.  I’m getting lots of advice from my friends, most of it bullshit, but I appreciate the support.  I suppose for now I’ll back off from the online nonsense and try to spend more of my free time actually leaving the house so I present myself with more opportunities to meet new people out in the real world.  And cross my fingers that some dude is willing to approach me first, because that would make my life so much easier.

 

 

 

 

To Start... Everything

I started an account on OKCupid 3 years ago, mostly out of boredom. It was pure entertainment for me, with a little ego-stroking thrown in here and there. But I never actually thought anything would come of it. How can I take people seriously when all I know about them are the handful of pics they deem most appealing of themselves, and narratives that tend to be a far cry from their true personality? Nonetheless, I wasted many nights, drinking wine and reading profiles, imagining what the person would be like in real life, how compatible we would be.


There were the messages I got from dudes, ranging anywhere from “Hi,” “How’s your weekend been?” and then “Your tits are great!”and “DTF?” “I’ll never go down in history, but I’d love to go down on you” was particularly memorable. I do not respond to messages like these. (Also, if the other person is less than a 70% match, chances are he's conservative/Jesus-y/Republican/hunts or fishes, or some kind of a red-neck weirdo, none of which I have any interest in or patience for. So I ignore these people as well.) I'm actually the worst when it comes to online dating, because I don't really put in the effort. I almost never message anyone first, and despite the tens of messages I got from guys, I rarely responded. I would much rather be a silent observer, creeping on guys profiles from the comfort of my living room. [And only checking out profiles using the "quickmatch" option, because then it wouldn't alert them to say I'd been creepin' on their page.] However, some dudes get straight up pissed if you don't message them back. Like somehow, I owe it to them for the simple fact that they put some menial effort forth to reach out to me. Like I owe it to them to respond, simply because I'm female and that's how I'm supposed to thank them for taking time out of their day to write an absolute masterpiece of an email (One guy messaged "I love the tattoos" and the next day followed up with "No response." Of course I didn't respond, you big dummy, you didn't say anything that prompted a response from me.). Sorry bitch, I don't owe you shit.


Every once in a while, the message would be sincere, from a dude who really believed that the façade I threw up as a profile was one of a woman he truly wanted to meet. (Which is cause for concern anyway, because my profile is weird as shit.) And, of this small percentage of lonesome dopes scavenging the same dating website as myself, a select few seemed worth responding to. And so I did, with limited luck. In that first year, I met a couple of guys, two in person, one with whom I kept up a very long messaging relationship before finally meeting him in person almost a year later. He was my favorite of that bunch, for sure, but meeting him in person actually took away from the narrative we had played online.


One dude was a stoner, living in the student ghetto near me, who was fun to shoot the shit and drink porch beers with, but had no real depth. Then there was Kevin (what a god-awful name!) who was honestly the boringest person I’d ever met in my life. I had to wonder, was someone else writing on his behalf while we were communicating online? Because, in person, not only was he not funny or interesting, he didn’t think I was funny! Come on now, I’m hilarious! That’s a deal breaker right there.


Then I met Dave. Sweet, thoughtful, troubled. Yep, that’s my type, for sure. We hit it off immediately, and I thought I was in love, despite the fact that he was divorced, unemployed, clinically depressed, and living in his parents’basement. What can I say; I’m a sucker for the wounded bird type. We made it 4 months before he dumped me. Why he dumped me, I’ll never know. It was an“It’s not you, it’s me” situation. Still, it left quite a sting. So I let it go for a while. But curiosity-and sheer loneliness- got the best of me, so I got back online again, in hopes of being swept off my feet by some magical being.


[Tangent] The more I think about it, we’re all very flawed. We’re all just looking for someone who can accept our flaws and, if we’re lucky, can identify with those flaws. And sex and companionship are nice, too.


Back in October, I started chatting with a dude who worked in restaurants, seemed like a flibbertigibbet, not at all grounded or balanced, but handsome and funny (which kind of trumps everything). So why not just chat?


At the same time, a man who was very well grounded, and handsome, caught my attention. We chatted for a while, got along well, and agreed to meet up. I dated him for about a month. He was perfect- handsome, level-headed, empathetic, smart. But, for whatever reason, I wasn’t super attracted to him. Why the fuck not, Deanna?!? Sure, he was a bit boring, but you don’t need drama in your life. And this man for sure was drama free. But, I don’t know, it just didn’t work. So, 4 weeks in, we were done (he broke up with me). No surprise there, though, I have about a 5-week expiration date when it comes to love interests (more to come on that topic in another blog post).


But then, I decided to go back to the flibbertigibbet, to see what he was up to. I still don’t really know why. Maybe because I was lonely, and didn’t want to put the work into “getting to know” someone again. But anyhow, I messaged ‘tdubbs’ again. Unbeknownst to me, he had just lost his job, due to some crazy drunken debacle. Turns out, dude is an alcoholic. Fuck. I don’t need to take on that kind of baggage. But, fast forward 6 weeks, and there I was- falling for a man who is an alcoholic, can’t get his shit together, probably has an underlying psychological disorder, but goddammit, I like him. What am I doing with my life???


Surprisingly, this "relationship" lasted just over 2 months. How (or why), I have no idea. I mean, he was funny, but at times obnoxious. He was fun to party with, but often partied without me, and would call me, drunk and ridiculous, at all times of the night. And when we hung out, more often than not, he was hungover and totally unmotivated to do anything beyond lying on the couch watching TV. He didn't have a car, so we usually stayed at his place. He never had any food, often didn't have toilet paper for the bathroom, and his place was on the other side of town, so I would have to get up extra early for work. Which would lead to him complaining about the "thousand" alarms I set in the morning because if I'm late to work again, I may just get fired.


I actually intended to break up with him a couple of times, but ended up having sex with him instead. Hey, a girl's got needs. And he had this sort of narcissitic charm that made him bewilderingly irresistable.


However, the sex was mediocre at best, which is baffling, because I was super attracted to him. But I think the real problem here (and, actually, in most aspects of our relationship) was that he's awfully selfish. He didn't care if my needs were being met, as long as he could get off. He was the kind of guy who would ask how my day was, but wouldn't bother to listen to the answer.


Eventually, I had had enough. I broke up with him- over the phone- on a Sunday. I would have broken up with him in person, but he decided to go have drinks with a coworker when he got out of work that day, breaking the plans we had made together for that afternoon.


I was just ready to be done. When he finally called that day, I tried to be diplomatic about the whole situation, I really did. But eventually, I had to throw it out there. "Sorry, bro, it's not me, it's you." I felt really bad about it, I really did. But I had to move on. To what, god only knows. But now I get to go back to reading (but not actually responding to) messages from random dudes online. I think I should be done with online dating, for now. In the meantime, though, I'll keep my profile around for the LOLs.