The Parade of Dates

Facebook is showing me profiles of “People You May Know” and somehow they have managed to be spot on.

Scrolling through those profiles is like rolling through the last 12 years of my life, in dates.

It must be because I haven’t deleted their phone numbers from my phone.

That is the sole connection I have with these men.

Some of them I dated right after my divorce in August of 2006.

I must say, they’re quite the handsome bunch of men, if a little eclectic.

There’s Charlie (yes, ANOTHER Charlie) who texted me FOREVER and yet managed to never actually take me out on a date.

Then there’s Matt – tall, blond, handsome, and very lumberjacky – who was basically MADE FOR ME but dropped me after three dates.

OMG, then there’s Link – I went out on a date with him and brought a friend because she liked his profile too so we figured we’d give him a choice.   However once meeting him, we decided he was for neither of us.

Of course there’s Louis, who is married to a young bride and (I suspect) has more children in his future, despite pushing 50.

And then, a regret. Kurt. I went out with Kurt 4 times before ghosting him. Not a proud moment on my part. He was a wonderful man.

It seems the only man who I dated who ISN’T on this list is my ex-boyfriend Luke, who has BLOCKED me on Facebook. Not because I tried to add him as a friend. Not because I was messaging him. But because he cheated on me with another woman while I was recovering from a miscarriage and the taste of his own betrayal is so bitter he has to avoid any reminder of his slimy behavior.

It’s at times like these, when I’m considering a do-over with these men, that I realize something very important.

IT’S TIME TO PURGE MY PHONE.

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Separated vs SEPARATED

michelleThere’s been some discussion over me refusing to date men who are merely separated from their wives.

I call it MARRIED (and it is) however there are extenuating circumstances.

Somebody who separated with his wife on December 26th and gets on Match.com December 29th is separated.

Not SEPARATED.

To be SEPARATED requires time and distance. Occasionally a restraining order.

I dated a guy once.

We’ll call him Luke, though we could just as easily call him Asshat or Buttwipe.

Luke separated from his wife after the holidays as well.

6 months later he and I were dating.

Fast forward one year and I’m having a miscarriage all by myself followed swiftly by him leaving me for another woman who he married.

Now you know why I could nickname him Asshat or Buttwipe.

He was NO PRIZE BULL.

But enough of the name calling.

Luke was SEPARATED.

He was capable of being in a relationship with another human being (after 6 months of fucking off – “Fuck” being the operative word).

Luke is the exception to the rule.

But overall, my experience with MARRIED aka separated men has not been good.

Pardon my French, but they’d all take a FLYING FUCK at a rolling donut if it meant they could add another notch in their bedpost.

So yes, barring some extreme explanation on their profile as to why they are separated and not yet divorced, I WILL AVOID ANY AND ALL separated MEN.

My theory is it takes about 2 years for a guy to become emotionally “available” after a separation anyways.

So, take everything with a grain of salt, but it is unlikely you will see the DRAMA of me in a relationship with a married/separated man play out on unblunder.

I’ve got much better options to squander my time with.

Nice guys finish last

nice guysHow often have you heard the phrase “nice guys finish last?”

100? 1,000 times?

I’ve certainly heard it a lot.

Basically, it means that girls like bad boys and the nicer a guy is to a girl, the less likely he is to actually get anywhere with her.

I somewhat resemble this remark.

I had a thing for bad boys. The lumberjacks. The rough and tumble, ready to rumble guys.

I married one of the worst!

Screaming over me while I huddled in a corner clutching a phone calling my parents because I’m sick with the flu, and he’s mad I didn’t clean the kitchen.

I learned a lot in that relationship.

I learned to appreciate nice guys.

The kind ones who listen to you. Who ask how you’re doing. Who remember you on your birthday and on holidays. Who bring you chicken soup when you’re sick.

My next two boyfriends were the definition of Nice Guy.

Jason, with his boxer’s broken nose, looked like a bad guy but was all sweetness and love inside. He would drive 45 minutes each way to come visit me during the week.

And Luke, though he took some time to grow on me, ended up being a very protective and loving boyfriend. Too bad he met and married someone else while we were dating. Truth!

In any case, I feel bad for all the nice guys whom I passed up – the Geoffs and the Gregs and the Andrews.

If it helps at all, I’ve discovered a sure fire way to meet nice guys. . .

Look for genuine smiles.

Avoid smirks, shit-eating-grins, and smiles that don’t reach their eyes.

Go for the guy with the smile that looks like he’s sitting down to a home cooked meal and is so appreciative of what’s in front of him.

It might not be foolproof, but it sure eliminates most of the bad boys.

Lord knows I need more kind souls in my life.

REALLY BAD DECISIONS

IMG_9409I have a friend.

We’ll call her Natalie.

Natalie and I grew up together and as we transitioned through puberty into adulthood, I noticed something.

I seemed to make very bad decisions where men were concerned whereas Natalie made REALLY GOOD DECISIONS where men were concerned.

She chose to be with men who were very solid, reliable, and kind.

She NEVER screwed up.

I chose disasters.

I once had a boyfriend who dated another woman while we were dating.  And don’t get me started on the HOLY SPECTACULAR MESS that was Dave.  I exited that relationship saying, “I now know what it’s like to love someone and get nothing in return” to which Natalie replied, “But why would you WANT to?”

The Israeli busted a nut in my face and caused temporary damage to my eyesight right before he ghosted me.  And Scott used to send me pictures of him peeing along with comments that my butt was too big and didn’t “hang” right.

My butt is PERFECT, btw.  Just saying.

I lost my virginity to a guy who literally couldn’t get away fast enough.  And in college, my FWB would drop me at the mere suggestion that another woman was interested in him.  That’s how high I rated with him.

So as you can see, I have issues selecting good men to date.

My friends and family all know this about me and try to guide me into making better decisions.  Between my friend Barbara, my sister Lisa, and my cousin Jennifer, I am GETTING SCHOOLED in proper dating requirements.

But you see the men I date.

Not a keeper among them.

And Natalie?

Well, she went and married my brother of all things.

What did I say?

EXCELLENT taste in men!

 

 

Run in with the ex

I’ve taken a new position on campus which has relocated my office to a more central location.

Close to food, the gym, and the bookstore.

Sadly, as I learned on my 2nd day on the job, it also puts me closer to my ex boyfriend.

A few days ago, I struggled to carry home a HUGE Harry & David stack of gift boxes. I was so exhausted from the weight of it all.  I huffed and puffed and sweat and shuffled down the walkway under the weight of 50 pounds of fruit and chocolate when…

… I looked up and saw a man waving at me.

Oh shit.

Luke.

And here I am all sweaty, worn out, and out of breath.

He suddenly looked pained, turned, and kept walking. And then it got worse.

His wife (who he married less than a year after we split) was there waiting for him.

I quickly ducked behind a van and pretended to be busy.

But I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell did the little cheater wave hi?

The last time he saw me I was bawling my eyes out begging him not to go,

Classy then. Classy now.

I struggled to get to my car after the happy couple drove off.  All the while I was musing on this strange interaction.

Wave hi… why not introduce your ex girlfriend to the woman you left her for? That sounds like a brilliant idea. That won’t be awkward AT ALL!

The man who would have come running to help me with my boxes just let me struggle on.

How effing far we’ve come.