No one can save us ... from Kim the waitress

A long time ago, in a galaxy not too far from where I live now, I had quite a rather funny and unexpected crush that was based kind of on a song that turned into a relationship that ended in one of those full-fledged WTF Just Happened story that somehow seems to populate my life.

After coming back from living in the Virgin Islands, I went back to the newspaper I was working for for a bit, then had a falling out with the new managing editor. Being young and stupid, it was entirely my fault. Long story short ... the boss is the boss for a reason. Listen to what she tells you. Do what she asks. Keep getting your paycheck. Wasn't illegal, immoral or ethically questionable, I was just being stupid.  And I got fired.

Which lead me to the world of Les Nessman ... I got into radio news.  My ex-wife had a job once where their receptionist referred to me as "The Voice" when I called, and lets be honest, I do have the perfect face for radio, and the nose of a news reporter who knows how to ask the hard questions, so I was ideally set for a fine career in radio.  But that's not the story here.

Being young and poor, I had two jobs and I worked weird hours ... was doing radio news from 5 a.m. to Noon, I'd have lunch, then go home and sleep for a bit.  Five nights a week I'd bartend from 7 p.m. to close (2:30), then clean the bar, hit Perkins for breakfast, go home, shower, change clothes and hit the radio station to start the cycle all over again. Apply, lather, rinse, repeat.  One of the places I used to go for lunch was this little deli in downtown Warren that featured old style move themes, with meals named after what they ate in classic films of the 30's and 40's ... Breakfast at Tiffany's was a meal that featured what they ate, they had Bogart and Bacall burgers, stuff like that.

And a really hot waitress named Kim.  

Who I was digging muchly.  Mostly because she was a hot blue-eyed redhead with a great rack and heart-shaped ass. And kinda because of a Material Issue song called "Kim The Waitress" from the Freak City Soundtrack that was a great album that was out about the time I first walked in there. But she had pursed lips and tender hips, and they were turning in my head, as the song goes.

I should have taken that as a warning.  I didn't. As Warren Zevon once said, "I went home with a waitress, they way I always do."  My first wife was a waitress when we were married, I'd dated a couple of waitresses or servers since we separated, and Kim was the last that was an actual waitress when we dated.  But anyway ... no one can save us from Kim the waitress, as the song goes, she always turns me on.

Anyway ... I'd always ask for her section and we always would talk about all sorts of things. She was smart.  And pretty. Oh so pretty. And that bothers me in places below the belt!  But I didn't think I stood a ghost of a chance with her.  All of which matched up to the song.  Especially the second verse: 

"Sometimes she comes with coffee
Leaning over, pouring
I'd like to gently pull her to me
Kiss her, with no warning
Seeing her some sunny Sunday morning"

Me being me, and the flirt, I kept talking to her, asking about her, what she did, what she liked, all the things that a guy does when flirting. And she'd flirt back.  If it was slow she's sit beside, me, not across from me.  And when she found out that I worked for the radio station around the corner, she said she listened every day.  People say they listen/watch/read to anyone who's on that air or in print, but it's a common courtesy ... most of the time it's pandering.  She started quoting me lines I'd used on the air.  Okay, I was impressed.  I figure I'll ask her out.  And I do.

So the day I finally asked her out, it was gangbusters. I asked her out, she said "how about this afternoon?"  I said sure. At 26 I could go a day or three without sleep to spend time with her. The deli was a breakfast/lunch only place, so they closed at 2 and she was done at 2:30.  So we talked. She got my number, I told her where I lived (it was above a business).  She said she knew where it was, and would come over after work.  She did. And started stripping as she walked in the room. It was mad monkey love for a couple of hours, then she got dressed, kissed me goodbye and said, "Let's do this again." No real first date ... no need to wine and dine her ... I'd show up for lunch, she'd just come over and we'd have sex.  At 42, I pick that vibe up right away ... but being 26, I was semi-clueless.

The only thing we ever did together in public was doing the Reading for the Blind ... it was  a community service thing she talked me into doing. We'd meet there and read the stories from the newspaper in a little studio that recorded them, put them on a phone bank for the blind to call in and listen.  Again, this was 1994, the internet wasn't all it is today.  That, lunchtime talks and sex was our entire 'relationship' ... and it was going on six or seven months.  But the sex was good, so I was happy and didn't look beyond the here and now.

Again, being 26, I never put any relevance to us never going out, no dinner, no movie.  She told me after the first time not to give her cards, or flowers, she didn't like them, and not to let on at work that we were an item as her boss didn't want the staff hooking up with customers because it was bad for business.

Yeah, again, all clues that today I'd say "Oh, well, I'm just a side project."  But I wasn't all that smart back then.  Until one day, about six or seven months after we first hooked up. I had a rare Saturday morning off from the radio station. So I went home after going out with friends (didn't bartend the Friday night shift, ever), woke up about 10 a.m., grabbed the newspaper, and headed over to a little diner for breakfast because they had killer omelets.  And I used to work there as a dishwasher, so I knew the family that ran it.  I thought about calling her

This was before cell phones were a commodity and readily available, back when the phone was something on the wall in your house, not in your pocket.  But she and I never really talked on the phone. She'd call me when she was home.  Said she was 'too busy' and I should just let her call me.

Again, all things I should have picked up on ... but didn't.

So, it's a nice sunny Saturday in May, I'm sitting at the diner reading the paper and enjoying both a fine cup of coffee and a Big Jack, I pause on the society section of the paper for some odd reason because a picture catches my eye.  I stare at it and realize that I'm reading my alleged girlfriend's and certified sex friend's engagement announcement.  How special.

I don't say anything on Monday when I see her for the Reading for the Blind.  But I do invited her over Tuesday ... she shows up about 2:40, gets naked, we're having sex, she has no ring on, so I let the day play out.  As we're done ... and she's getting dressed, I say, "Hey, I have something to show you."  And hand her the announcement. 

She looks me dead in the eye and says, "I never told you I had a boyfriend?"  I said, "No."  She then proceeds to tell me that they've been together for five years (she's 24), and he doesn't know anything about me.  She called sessions with me as "going to the gym" and he never questioned it.  She said she'd still like to come over because I was good in bed and fun to talk to.  While both of those are compliments, at 26, I wasn't looking for a sometimes sex thing ... I wanted it all.  So I ended it with her.  

The worst part ... I really missed the Bogart burger.

"Kim The Waitress" ~ Material Issue

Pursed lips and tender hips
Turning, in my head
Writing poems in a corner booth
That I'd die, if she read
Seeing her in but a silver cross
Lying on her bed

No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Nobody can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Always turns me on

Sometimes she comes with coffee
Leaning over, pouring
I'd like to gently pull her to me
Kiss her, with no warning
Seeing her some sunny Sunday morning

No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Nobody can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Always turns me on

She doesn't come around anymore
And that bothers me
And that bothers me
Yeah, it bothers me

Though I don't stand a ghost of a chance with her
She's pretty (and that bothers me)
So pretty (and that bothers me)
And it bothers me

No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
No one can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Nobody can save us
From Kim The Waitress
Always turns me down

No one can save us
No one can save us
Nobody can save us

Ladies, let the beat down begin ...

A man was sitting alone in his office one night when a genie popped up out of a magic lamp sitting on his desk.

"And what will your third wish be?" the genie asked.

The man looked at the genie and said, "Huh? How can I be getting a third wish when I haven't had a first or second wish yet?"

"You have had two wishes already," the genie said, "but your second wish was for me to put everything back the way it was before you made your first wish. Thus,you remember nothing, because everything is the way it was before you made any wishes. You now have one wish left."

"Okay," said the man, "I don't believe this, but what the heck. I've always wanted to understand women. I'd love to know what's going on inside their heads."

"Funny," said the genie as it granted his wish and disappeared forever, "That was your first wish, too!"

... and I can't get a date?

Wow. Talk about your nerd weddings:

The bride wore dart launchers ..."

New approach at on-line dating.

I so might wanna give this a try. Eventually.

Created by Mingle2.com (Dating for non-zombies)

I should have lied.

I know ... the blog title is "Honesty is such a shallow grave" ... but fuck me running, I really should have lied.

Right through my teeth.

But no, I took the high road to avoid being an asshole.

I told her the truth.

And yet again, wound up the asshole.

I know two certainties in my life:

1. Someday, I will die.
2. Someday, I will figure at least one woman out. Before I end up in her version of assholeville.

I'm hoping that the latter happens many many years before the former.

I reached a point in my life where I felt ready to date again. With a purpose. I wanted to find my last first date. Because I'm ready for that. I'm back in the city I want to spend the rest of my life in. And I want someone to share this city - and all the other cities we choose to travel.

So I poke around a bit on line, go back to the tried and true Yahoo Personals. Looking around, I see a couple of women who catch my eye. One of them, we'll call her A, is really appealing in a lot of ways. We email, we chat on the phone, a date is set, she cancels. I extend an offer to reschedule. Said offer goes unanswered for five days. Okay, obviously something changed between her saying 'yes' to the date and her deciding four hours prior to said date she wasn't going to show. At least she called to cancel, didn't leave me to show up alone, wait alone, make some phone calls, get pissed off and leave, alone. Which is why I extended the offer to reschedule.

When she does call back, FIVE DAYS LATER, I'm not at a place I can take the call. It goes to voice mail. And really, after five days of no response, I'll admit I wasn't all that interested in trying to talk over a loud band (what? Me at a place a band plays loud? What are the odds of that?).

So I'm telling a friend this story. Said friend asks to see a picture of A. I send her a photo. She says, "Wow. She looks just like B." (B is an old girlfriend. We lived together for a while, then realized she wanted to get married, have kids, move back to her state of origin. I had no desire to get married, have another kid (or two) or move back to her home state. So those three things were the deal breakers. The long-term angle failed. The short term was great. So it's not like it ended for stupid reasons.)

After hearing friend say, "Wow. She looks just like B." I realized friend was absolutely right. I was attracted to her specifically because she looked like B. We all have a type, nothing wrong with that. However, when A and B could be sisters ... not good. And after I had that pointed out to me (that A looked like B) ... I could not look at her without seeing B.

Which I know is totally unfair to A. I'm sure, based on the hour we spent on the phone, and the couple of emails, that A is uniquely different than B in many respects, and if we had spent time together I would learn the uniqueness of A and see her as A ... not as B.

However, I was once the A in a very similar equation. And I found this out when I met her parents and her mom kept calling me ... the name of her daughter - my date's - B. I didn't answer, because it's not my name, and I didn't notice. It wasn't until said date (actually, girlfriend at this point) said to her mother, "His name is Eric, not 'B'" ... and her mother responded, "Well, he looks just like B."

I'll admit to feeling the fool for a while after that. Like her attraction to me wasn't based on who I am, but who I looked like. That stung.

And when I realized I was on the other end ... that I had the A who looked like the B ... I had to be honest. After a couple of weeks of no contact (ball was in my court, I didn't write/call/text), I send A a message saying this: "Sorry I didn't return your calls. Not going to give you some 'been busy' excuse or other line. I realized I was attracted to you because you remind me of someone else, and that's not fair to you."

Her response: "Well, if my resemblance to her concludes my chances of getting to know you then that is a shame. Because, while I may look exactly like her, who knows if I am remotely like her or not....I guess you'll never know. I hope you're not missing out on a great possibility. Either way, good luck in finding what you seek."

I should have lied. I should have told her I was busy. But no, I take the high road, once again, only to find it leads to assholeville. Where, apparently, I'm the mayor this month.

Seriously ... what should I have done? Waited for someone to tell her she looks like B ??

I'm thinking of going back to the hermit hole.

I've done it.

I've successfully transferred my crazy magnet.

Using the finest crazy magnet transfer process known to mankind, I've gotten rid of the crazy magnet I picked up sometime in late 2006.

It was a weird year. Thankfully, it's over.

(Sorry Katrina. Your turn.)

I’m not in such a hurry to call you girlfriend

I'm not in such a hurry to call anyone girlfriend.

Because, if you know me, you know my past tendency to rush into things. As a friend once said, "You seem to fall, fast."

In my life, I've had a few relationships. While they've started, and ended, both for various reasons, some better than others, I still call most of them are successful.

Because I've been able to learn, and grow from them.

Which is why, in the last two relationships, I've been very slow and hesitant to move forward into making it a relationship. I guess I'd rather wait and see what internal and external pressures exist in the dynamic and make sure that getting involved is the right idea, the right woman, the right time, the right situation.

I'm not hesitant in life.

I live my life with a "Why the fuck not" attitude.

I'm not the guy to ask why. If you do, I'll turn that back on you. Because I'm the guy who will ask you "Why not?"

I like to do things. A lot of things:

• If I want to go somewhere, I just take off and go.
• A band I want to see? I'm there.
• A movie? I'll drive to the theater I like, not the theater that's close.
• An event I want to go to? Buh-bye. I'll see you there.

Because I just tend to do what I want when I want, with anyone that wants to go along for the ride.

I'm not hesitant in life.

However, I've learned to be hesitant in love.

I used to fall in love with any woman who gave me any kind of attention at all, like Joel Barrish. That's changed.

Like a lot of other things.

While we all have our rules, our standards, our wants, our likes, I think there are times where you have to chuck those out the window, reboot and start over. So now I'm taking the approach that whatever rules I've stood by in the past obviously haven't worked ... so why keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

Isn't that the definition of insanity?

So yeah, I'm not in such a hurry to call anyone girlfriend.

And I'm not in such a hurry for anything, at all.

And I still love you

And I still love you.

How many times have we heard that from someone we've broken up with?

Or said that to someone who broke up with us?

If you're like me, it's happened. A couple of times.

And it's happening again.

Differently, this time, but still, happening, again.

The love is there, and always will be. But the appeal has faded to the point where I'm wondering what it ever really was.

If that makes any sense at all.

I guess it's the truest case of falling out of love.

You always hear songs about people who fall in love.

You seldom hear songs about people who fall out of love.

"Falling out of love is suicide
But it's a crazy, crazy ride"
~ Janine stoll, "Crazy Ride"

(Yeah, leave it to me to find a redheaded Canadian singer-songwriter who can write a breakup song. Shocking.)

But the past couple of days I've been realizing that the love I used to have is really, really distant.

Sure, it will always be there. But not like it used to be.

And I'm a bit sad about that, because it had such promise.

Such is life.

Yes, I used to be totally in love with the city of Columbus. Now, not so much.

I will always love you, you big city in the middle of the state, but I'm not in love with you, anymore.

I felt radiate like napalm

The last pain I felt radiate like napalm had to be when I last wrecked my bicycle. I remember this because my bicycle's getting the annual spring-tune up now. I'm sure they'll need to do something ... I ride hard. Check this out ... I ended up needing a whole new wheel and some other work one day after a ride in Gahanna.

I was riding on the sidewalk (and waaaay too fast) after having a cop yell at me for riding on the main road there. Cause that's a very narrow road, and it is dangerous, so I did the sidewalk ride. I was heading from Hamilton towards 670/270 there by the park. While crossing a street way too fast, with the light, I soon realized the sidewalk alternatives on the other side of this crosswalk were bad.

Bad.

How bad?

I had the following options:

• I could attempt a very sharp 90-degree turn to the right and hit a big stone wall.
• I could go straight and attempt to stop before hitting a cast-iron fence and probably die as I fly over the handlebars into the river below. Or at least get really really hurt really really bad.
• I could attempt to go back out in traffic and get hit by a car and probably die.
• I could hit the 4" high stone barrier around a light pole THAT'S RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK ACCESS RAMP.

Light Pole. Fence in background. Note big concrete barrier.

Light pole on left, stone wall on right.

I chose the light pole. And I hit it. Solid. As with most high-speed impact while on a two-wheeled vehicle, I headed up over the handle bars.

That's where fate was smiling on me, because somehow I caught myself, with one arm, on the light pole. Stopping my forward velocity. Had I chosen the fence in the background, I'd have wound up in the creek. Oddly enough, I never hit the ground.

Sure, there was some impact velocity, and as the bike stopped moving, the back tire went up, I headed up over the handlebars, but upon catching myself, ended right back up on the seat, in a perfect riding position. Right hand in a deathgrip on the brakes, left arm wrapped around the pole.

It happened so quickly and so precisely it looked like I had practiced that move many times.

I shook my head, shocked to still be on the bike, moved around the concrete barrier and the light pole, and continued on to the park, which was just on the other side of the river.

As I was in the park, I realized something was wrong. With both the bicycle, and me.

As for me, I couldn't move the left side of my body above the waist. I thought I either broke my arm or collarbone (again) because I couldn't feel anything. I found out later it was because my head hit the light pole and had a concussion. So I wasn't really feeling anything. Or thinking all that much, either.

My back brakes - from being squeezed, hard, both when I hit the barrier and when the back tire hit the ground as we returned to earth - were wrapped around the rim, along the spoke wall. I eventually managed to pry them off, but the cable was stretched too far, so they weren't working. At all. The right front tire was bent. Usable, but bent.

To sum up: I had no use of my left arm, no thought processes working, my back brakes were non-functional and the front wheel was bent and wobbly. I was 10 miles from home (lived in Reynoldsburg at the time), no cell phone. No cash. And my then-girlfriend (Rebecca, the redhead with the cool glasses, from New Jersey, originally, [yeah, both her and the glasses. Don't argue with me on grammar]) wasn't home. I tried to call collect - from a payphone - no answer.

So after sitting for about 10 minutes, decided to ride home. Slowly. Because of the damage to the bike, if I went fast, it was unsteady. And I had no brakes. So I was using my feet to slow me down. And I had limited use of the left side of my body. And, oddly enough, while most of central Ohio is very, very flat, there are hills on the east side of Columbus, and is just enough of a grade at several points in the road from Gahanna to Reynoldsburg to coast fast enough to start bouncing on the bad front wheel, thereby increasing the pain that was rapidly returning to my arm.

That really sucked.

When I got home, Rebecca was not home, but I saw a note that had the address of the payphone booth in Gahanna I dialed (www.payphoneproject.com allows you to find the address of a lot of payphones, some with photos). So I called her cell phone, told her I was home. She was all freaked out and out searching for me. I told her I was fine, just was calling to tell her they had her favorite flavor at Rita's (BY THE WAY - their sugar-free stuff is TASTY).

When she got home, she asked me where I got the bruise on my forehead from. I said "What bruise?" She showed me the bruise in the mirror. She asked me why I gave her just a one-armed hug, and winced. I told her I wasn't really okay. I kinda wrecked.

She said "Your car looked fine." I forgot to say my bicycle. Then again, I was concussed.

I showed her the bike. She put it all together - big bruise, non-working arm, beat-up bicycle, smart guy not making sense. Luckily, she was girlfriend enough to realize I was in no shape to drive and took me to the ER.

End result: Two broken ribs, bruised collarbone with a hairline fracture. That was the end of my riding for a couple of months. And my last helmet-less ride, too. The bicycle needed a new wheel, new brakes and a new cable.

Concussions are a beautiful thing. NOT.

Friday's Random Thoughts

Subject: Relocation.

So, after spending the week here, my boss asked me if I'd consider moving to Cinci to fill a position that's open at this office, and then he could hire someone to fill my job in Youngstown.

He gave me the weekend to think it over.

My answer is no.

I'm still not unpacked from the last time I moved. I'm NOT ready to move again. And Cincinnati's too far away. I moved back to Youngstown to be closer to my daughter, and my family.

Subject Whiplash: Insanity renewed.

You know how you do something over and over and expect a different result? That's the definition of insanity.

I know it well.

Yet I'm about to do something, again, I've done, many times before.

And swore I'd never do again.

(Shhhhhh. I have a date tonight. Just kind fell into it about 10 minutes ago. Her name - Michelle. But she's not a new Michelle - I've known her for a long time, since, I think, she was 10, I was 15 ... I used to hang out with her sister. And for the record, yes, she's crazy ... but she's your garden-variety crazy ... that I can deal with!)

But yeah, I know. My jaw hit the floor on both the fact I'm going on a a date and the name.

Subject Whiplash: Daylight Savings Time Changes

First - I hate the time change, on both ends. It messes me up mentally.

Second - This year, it's worse, because it's been changed. So we've had to update 2,000+ servers to make sure it works right. So I'll be on a conference call from 1:45 a.m. until 3:00 a.m. going from Saturday into Sunday. Yay me.

Subject Whiplash: Good Driving Music

The Clarks. The Kinks. Watershed. Bruce Springsteen. That is my musical company for the trip back.

Unsent - My Take

I'm in a theft-of-intellectual-property mode.

So here's my take on a very weird Alanis Morissette song "Unsent" ... only my names have been changed so few will know who I'm talking about. Unless you're one of them. Then you know it's you.

Enjoy. Or don't. Your choice. But don't tell me haven't thought about it.


Unsent. The EB Version.

Dear Turtle-Girl,

I liked you a lot.
I realize you're in a relationship with someone right now.
And I respect that.

I would like you to know that if you're ever single in the future,
And want to come visit me in Ohio.
I would be open to spending time with you
And finding out how old you were
When you wrote your first song.


Dear Lawyer-Girl,

I liked you too much.
I used to be attracted to girls who would lie to me
And think solely about themselves.

You were plenty self-destructive for my taste at the time.
I used to say the more tragic the better.
The truth is whenever I think of the early 90's
Your face comes up with a vengeance like it was yesterday.


Dear Hockey Girl,

I love you muchly.
You've been nothing but open hearted and emotionally available
And supportive and nurturing and consummately there for me.

I kept drawing you in and pushing you away.
I remember how beautiful it was to fall asleep in your arms
And cry in front of you for the first time.

You were the best platform from which to jump beyond myself.
What was wrong with me?

(BTW, Alanis has often said that last line is an internally reflective question, not a directed one. Same here.)



Dear DunkinDonuts Girl,

You rocked my world.

You had a charismatic way about you with people
And you got me seriously thinking about spirituality.

You wouldn't let me get away with kicking me own ass.
But I never really feel relaxed around you,
Or looked how far our love could go.

And that stopped us from going any further than we might have.
And it's kinda too bad because we could've had much more fun.


Dear Book-Girl,

We did so much.

I realize we won't be able to talk for some time.
And I understand that as I do you.

The long distance thing was the hardest and we did as well as we could.
We were together during a very tumultuous time in our lives.

I will always have your back and be curious about you.
About your career, your whereabouts.

Ben Lee got some Lyrics

"You can't climb until you're ready to fall."
Ben Lee - "Into The Dark"

---

Ever have one of those albums that every single song brings back so many memories?

Yeah, I have a lot of them.

But on in particular ... Ben Lee "Awake Is The New Sleep" ... just so many good memories.

On top of that, the songs are amazingly simple musically and seriously complex lyrically.

Check it out.

---

"I've been thinking 'bout the straight and narrow

slip sliding round the back of my hand"
Ben Lee - "No Right Angles"

---

What makes us as humans see we want and can't have as a challenge?

More specifically, someone we want and for whatever reason, can't have?

Is it that need to have goals and desires and wants and try to satisfy them as a way of making us feel good about ourselves, our accomplishments or our lot in life?

Or, is it, as Morrissey said, simply a case your mentality catching up to your biology and realizing you want the one you can't have, and it's driving you mad, and it's written all over your face?

I find myself on the other side of this argument for the first time in my life. I'm the pursued. Which to me is downright bizarre, because I just don't buy into the whole dating game anymore.

It's nothing but a sales orgy - you hope they're buying what you're selling; they hope you're buying what they're selling ... and you both hope it becomes a mutually beneficial relationship between two buyers and two sellers who want/need the commodity the other has. Whatever that commodity is.

---

"I learned my lesson
First impressions
Are more often right than wrong.""
Ben Lee - "Into The Dark"

---

And every date is like an audition. The carefully worded questions that bring carefully worded answers; and then the search for the reason for the evasiveness in the answers; the new questions the answers bring; and all the answers the questions bring.

"Dating" someone is really so off my radar these days that attempting a date once a month is more than enough for me.

I guess it goes back to a bad date I had not too long ago. It took me about two weeks to agree to meet her ... I should have listened to those first impressions, right Ben?

After 40 minutes, I was convinced it was the wrong idea.

After an 90 minutes, I was done.

And it must have showed, because the sales pitch became overbearing. Every joke I told was funnier; even the ones that weren't funny.

At the two hour mark I called it a night. And a month. And maybe even a year ... I retreated back to my box at the top of the stairs ... but I have no Indian rug, or pipe to share. (Wait, that's not Ben Lee)

---

"There's no rhyme

and there's no reason
You're the secret in the back of my skull
There's no logic
So please believe me
My love's confusing
But it never gets dull"

Ben Lee "Ache For You"

Flowers *are* bad Valentine's

Oh, wait, sorry - I went into idiot tree-hugging hippie mode.

My bad.

But apparently, according to some, they *are* bad for the environment. (Yeah, tree-hugging hippies!)

"And February 14th, will I be
Looking out the window of my apartment
Waiting for flowers that no one sends?

Low self-esteem and and alcohol
Will I be standing 10 feet tall
Or face down again in a bathroom stall?"

~ X-Rated Cowboys - "Low Self-Esteem & Alcohol"

This is so my dating life

HAHAHAHAHA. Click the comic for a summation of my dating life. (Unless you're Scott Adams, then please just politely ask me to remove this rather than sue me, thanks).

I've had some bad dates ... but

I thought I had some dating horror stories until I read this:

To sum it up ... a father in Jordan shot and killed his 17-year-old daughter in what's called an honor killing because he doubted she was a virgin - despite two different medical exams when she was alive confirming she was a virgin.

The girl - who was medically declared a virgin by two different sets of doctors - was shot four times in the heads.

An autopsy revealed she was still a virgin.

Now remember, this is Jordan (that's in the middle east where crazy fundamentalist Arabs are in charge, not like the US, where crazy fundamentalist Christians are in charge). And apparently, about 20 women a year are killed for things ranging from premarital sex to simply going on a date.

The punishment - up to 15 years in jail - and a hero's welcome upon release for keeping your family honorable. But that's up from the prior sentence of 6 months in jail.

I thought I had some bad dates ... at least no one I ever dated was killed simply for going out with me.

Damn.

Benefits of dating a Geek

• Your computer will be updated, repaired and cleaned, free of charge.
  
• Your house gets networked - wirelessly - and securely.
  
• Free labor on all computer hardware upgrades and repairs.
  
• Usually free parts, too, from the extensive parts collection stored in computer boxes in the spare room (or is that just me?).
  
• They say cops have the best dope ... geeks have the best software.
  
• Eventually you'll understand the obscure pop-culture references in most office conversations.
  
• Invites (and probably a paid entry) to all the coolest sci-fi, gaming and comic book conventions.
  
• Infinite resource of technical information - yes, we know the right memory card for your camera, how many songs you can fit on your ipod and the binary hash of your cell phone.
  
• High quality copies of your favorite movies, usually while they're still in the theater.
  
• No chance of becoming a golf widow as we tend to avoid direct sunlight.
  
• We're pretty good at the sex thing - we read the right books.
  

I'm a bad boyfriend

I'm a good friend.

I'm a bad boyfriend.

I'm learning this the older I get.

And as my desire for relationships diminishes.

Some people are great at relationships.

Not me.I suck at them.

One of my favorite songs has the greatest line about that, period:

"I guess that's why I just hate love
You're so pretty and I always fuck up"

("Dirty Numbers" - Autumn Under Echoes)

Because I do.

I can only think of one relationship I've had where that hasn't happened.

My ex-wife.

We were together for 8 years (roughly). We were married for five. She's one of my best friends these days.

As marriages go, we had our amazingly great times, and some not-so-amazing times. Good and bad, better and worse ... all that stuff.

And for a time she tried to be my wife in that sense of she did what I wanted, what I liked, what I was interested in, because she thought that's how things worked.

Then she got smart and realized that she's a person. With feelings. With wants. With desires. With dreams of more than just being some guy's wife.

And one day she rolled over and said to me, "you feel that?" ... meaning the distance between us. And we discussed it, as rational, intelligent adults, and realized we want different things out of life. And parted as friends.

Now, she's one of my best friends.

We talk about everything ... dates (before she remarried), relationships, sex, life, family ... all the good, the bad, the ugly, and the great.

And all without worrying about being judged for what we say, what we do or how we feel, and without the other being a blind cheering section for whatever crazy thoughts the other is currently having.

We've become, for each other, a great voice of reason that you know is telling you the truth, not what you want to hear.

That is the most liberating I've ever know.

And then I realized that I have another friend like that ... she and I have an amazing relationship that transcends all labels.

And she was a former girlfriend, too.So that's two in the column of "bad boyfriend becomes great friend."

Both are within a year of me, age wise (both younger, but within a year).

Then there are the two people I've dated since my divorce.

Both were younger than me by six years.

Neither relationship survived a year. For different reasons, but one big one:

I know I grew a lot from 30 to 35. Got rid of all the bullshit, all the games, all the crap you develop from the time you start having boyfriends/girlfriends until you realize that wrapping yourself around someone else, and their life, doesn't work.

And you emancipate yourself from being someones boyfriend or girlfriend.

You're a person.

And you stop worrying about it.

You live your life.

And hope to find someone to share it, short-term, long-term, forever, or for the night, depending on what you want at the time.

So I've decided I'm going to concentrate on being a friend rather than trying to find that one true soulmate and live a little, have some fun, and meet some great people.

Who wants to join me?

Don't buy buns from the butcher

i.e. Don't get your bread where you get your meat.

i.e. Don't fuck around with women you work with.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far, away (or 196 miles east of Columbus, in an office building at 2730 Liberty Avenue, Pittsburgh), someone I worked with had a massive crush on me.

I should have seen it, but I didn't.

My wife pointed it out to me after she and I were with this girl and her then-fiance.

I should have been flattered, but I wasn't.

She was young. I was 31, she was 23.

I had gotten married about three months before I hired her. Wouldn't have mattered to me if I was single, attached or married ... because I don't mix work and play.

I learned that at another job.

When I fell madly in love with a 6'2" Amazon who was amazingly smart, incredibly withdrawn, totally beautiful ...and absolutely insane.

And, as most things that start with that combination mixed with a 22-year-old full-of-piss-and-vinegar man ... it ended with disastrous results.

I got fired, she got reassigned to another newspaper, and the editor's desk got a good scrubbing.

That's what happens when the boss comes into the office late at night, eh?

But let's get back to Pittsburgh, shall we?

She was very, very cute. Big blue eyes that just sparkled with life. And a massive chest that was way too big for her frame, but was natural.

So she was cute, had blue eyes, amazing breasts, and she had a huge crush on me.

I'd like to think it was for my charm and dashing good looks, but I know better.

It was because I was her boss.

In the two years we worked together, I found out that she had a thing for the boss.

Like the boss before me, and their multiple visits to the hotel across the street from where they worked. Cost them both their jobs; he lost his wife, she lost the respect of her mother.

See, her mom got her the job.

It was the same company she worked at.

In the same department.

For the same boss.

The same boss her daughter ended up screwing.

But that still wasn't as bad as what happened with the boss after me.

About a year after I left that job, one Friday, after work, she went to the airport, flew out to Seattle and went to his house on Saturday morning to surprise him for his birthday. She went over wearing a see-through lace bra, matching stockings, CFM heels and an overcoat.

She was greeted at the door by his wife, who was holding their 8-month old son as the rest of their combined families got the house ready to surprise the boss in honor of his 40th birthday.

There was a surprise all right.

She knew nothing of his wife, young son, and family.

She had only met the boss face to face, once, at the airport in Pittsburgh, when he had a layover on the way to somewhere else.

She later found out he and his wife didn't wear rings because they were against traditional binding displays, or some shit like that.

So that was quite an uncomfortable phone call when she was back at work on Monday.

He called me and we talked for about an hour about what to do before he called her.

She ended up staying on the job for another three years, before moving to Virginia, getting married and having a baby. Last I heard all three were doing well, so good for them.

She loved Tom Hanks movies. At that point in my life, I resembled Tom Hanks.

And I was the boss.

So there was a total draw there.

She had just broken off an engagement with a guy who, for lack of a nicer word, was a deadbeat.

Worked under the table at a record store.

Played guitar.

Wasn't in a band, didn't know any songs.

Just played.

Badly.

And wanted to get married and move back to Philly. Because his uncle could, and I quote, 'get him in the union.'

So he wanted to leave, she wasn't leaving Pittsburgh.

For him.

She dumped him.

And spent the next six months bemoaning the fact that all the good guys were married, loudly, so I could hear her.

Meanwhile, there were approximately 600 men who worked in the call center we supported ... many of them would have given a nut get a chance at her.

As I said, she was cute, she had nice eyes, and huge tits. I think she told me she was just outside of the 36-26-36 by being 44-27-37. She wasn't fat.

She is now, but she wasn't then (pregnancy, motherhood and age weren't good to her, based on the pictures I've seen).

Anyway, my buddy Gonzo, the network admin, kept trying to get a date with her, but she said no. And he kept asking for just a glimpse at her chest, she said no.

He wanted her, but she wasn't interested in anyone her height, or less.

He was less.

She was 5 foot 7.

So he came up with the bright idea of answering her Yahoo ad. And got shot down again.

So he came up with the bright idea that I should answer her Yahoo ad with a fake Yahoo account and start a chat session with her to try to get her to send us naked pictures.

Gonzo was that short guy who wasn't all that cute, but had a great smile and attitude that got him laid massively.

We could not come up with a name for the life of us that wasn't taken.

Then I looked down at my desk, where I had a bag of rubber bands in my desk drawer.

We had a computer inventory clerk who ran the warehouse and was the most anal fucker in the world. If you didn't have every single piece of paperwork completed, printed out, signed, dated, and sealed with the blood of a virgin, you didn't anything in, or out. And god forbid you try to give him a keyboard, mouse, monitor or computer that had a loose cable or cord. Let's just say it was like Rainman not getting to watch Wopner.

And as my brain was looking at that bag, the Spinners came on the radio talking about how you had to prepare yourself for the Rubberband Man.

It was then I saw, written in Spanish, under the words RUBBER BANDS, bandes de goma.

And it was available on Yahoo.

So I took it.

And found her personal ad.

And sent her an icebreaker.

Which led to emails.

Then chats on line.

We never got to see any topless pictures of her, however.

Then one day, she decided that the online guy wasn't ever going to develop into anything but a chat friend, and she really wanted more than that, so she said goodbye.

I think at that point in her life she was tired of dating, so she started taking classes to finish her degree.

I ended up leaving the job about a month later, transferring to the Cleveland office.

We'd talk via email, and IM, and the occasional business lunch when we all were together, but when I left the office, and wasn't her boss anymore, her desire for me was gone as well.

We lost touch for a couple of years.

In 2004, after my wife and I had separated, she sent me a birthday email ... I called her up and suggested lunch to catch up.

We met for lunch on a Saturday. We talked for about two hours over drinks before we even got around to looking at the menu.

She told me that for whatever reason, she's really turned on the thought of doing her boss, whoever it is, and that after I wasn't her boss anymore, she wasn't interested in me.

But she loved our talks, our laughs, our fun working together.

Then she dropped the bombshell on me with the story of flying to Seattle (I played like I didn't know anything), and then told me she'd have done anything to get me to sleep with her when she worked for me, but I never showed the slightest hit of interest in her, which baffled her.

She said she was impressed that I'd look her in the eyes, not stare at her tits.

How when she'd come into my cube and stretch, arching her back purposefully, I'd not avert my eyes, even slightly, from her eyes.

How I never once tried to cop a feel, brush against her or anything lame like that, despite her standing close enough for it to appear accidental.

For the record, I'm not sure exactly how I kept my composure around her, either.

Eventually, as afternoon rolled into evening, and the drinks kept flowing, I told her I was the Rubberband Man, including bits of things we discussed so she knew I was serious.

She told me she had figured it out about two weeks into it by listening to me type (her cube shared a common wall with mine) and how she'd hear me laugh when she typed something funny, but she enjoyed the game and hoped that it would have led to something.

She did invite me to her place that night, but I didn't go.

Part of me was still confused about my wife, part of me really wanted to bang her, but the biggest part of me realized that she was looking for a husband and father for her eventual children, not a nostalgic one-night stand.

So we went our separate ways.

She eventually moved to Virginia; I'm here in Columbus.

And while I'd like to say she was all that in bed, I have the feeling it would have ended badly.

Dating advice to a friend

This is an email I sent to a friend after she kinda dumped some boyfriend issues on me. She is dating this guy who is all of the following:

• 34.
• Unemployed. (He says laid off)
• Lives at home. (He says his father lives with him)
• Not divorced. (He says it's her fault, she won't sign the papers)
• Has no drivers license. (DUI)
• Has no car. (DUI)
• Lacking desire to earn money.

On top of all of this, he started bringing things to her house after the 1st month of dating.

Like his computer.

I can understand a toothbrush. Or some clothes.

But your computer?

Anyway ... that's not even the best part.

Here's the kicker ... one night while they were out going somewhere he wanted to go, she asked to stop at Wal-Mart to get some allergy medicine.

His response was "Can you do that stuff when I'm not around?"

Yeah.

So she asked me for my input on that line. Here is what I wrote to her:

The basic premise of any living this is survival of the species. Flowers bloom and lure bees to spread the pollen. Fruit falls off the tree to rot and the seeds enter the earth. Animals eat the fruit and pass the seeds a few feet, or miles away, from the parent tree.

And like clockwork, the animals know when mating season is. A couple of butt-sniffs, the mount happens, some thrusting and bam ... another baby animal is born to be bear food, roadkill, or, possibly survive to carry on the tradition.

In nature, only dolphins and humans have sex for enjoyment, unless you're Catholic, which makes it a sin, or you're a Muslim and you rape women to make little half-muslims to carry on your Jihad. (look it up before you blast me for anti-muslim comments. Just know your facts. That's all I'm saying.)

Regardless, for every other animal species, it's instinct. Your dog doesn't know why it humps your leg, it just does. If your boyfriend does that, then he's either retarded and forgot his helmet, or he's 14.

In our civilized state, as adults, it usually takes us a bit more to carry on the species than a simple "Hey, wanna fuck?"

Usually.

That's what separates us from the animals, or people from Delaware, Ohio. (Yeah, I lived there once. 1992. I still refer to it as "unaware" because if you take away the brainpower of those in town for the university, your best and brightest are all located one county south.)

But back to the issue at hand.

"Hey, wanna fuck?" usually doesn't get you much relationship wise. In fact, it's akin to leg humping.

Can it be fun? Yes.

Can it lead to some great sex? Maybe.

But anything more than that? Like the magic 8-balls says, "Odds say no."

Which is why we work to develop personality traits, and seek to improve our interpersonal relationships. We smile, we flirt, say hi, make small talk we hope leads to conversations that last deep into the evening.

We have email exchanges, trade hello's via IM and text messages on our cell phones when we're not together.

And in most men, we have that primitive desire to be the provider, so we learn a trade, work to improve ourselves occupationally, so we can provide a house, and shiny bobbles to impress the current interest in our eye, heart, or pants.

Because yeah, we all have a bit of caveman in us.

We all want to bring home the big dinosaur for dinner, give you the shiny object we found while hunting, or at the jewelry store. Because that's how we're programmed.

And while we're not the best nurturers, if we want any success in a relationship, long-term or short-term, we do our best to try to take care of you when you're sick, or need help.

And if you're not getting that, then it's clear: He has no real interest in you as a person.

Telling you to get allergy medicine "When I'm not around" is a full-blown admission of that.

It's like saying "I don't give a shit about you as a person. I'm here for the food, beer & sex. Do the stuff you have to do for you when you're not graced by my presence."

---

She dumped the guy.

And then laughed at how stupid she was for not seeing all he wasn't.

Live and learn. That's how we grow as people, and a species.

Great Minds Think Alike

"I have a surprise for you. Well, for us," she said into the phone.

"Cool." I replied.

Of course, I was feeling the effects of a Vicodin, so my response may have been a bit muted.

"But I'm not gonna tell you what it is. I'll tell you I have a surprise for you, but that's all," she concluded.

"Okay," I said.

And the conversation went other directions.

"Hey," I then said, giving rise to another topic in the game we call "Subject Whiplash."

"Since we're not going to Baltimore to the Aquarium and DC on our way back from Wilco, if we leave New Jersey by noon we could be in Pittsburgh in time to see Kathleen Edwards on Saturday night," I said.

Her deadpan reply:

"That was my surprise. I bought us tickets already."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That (as well as I can remember it) was my phone conversation with Kara last night.

Great minds *do* think alike.

Scary, eh?