Monthly Archives: July 2010

I am a terrible flirt

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I have no idea how I flirt. I know how TO flirt, but I have no clue how good at it am. Apparently not well. My idea of flirting with someone is to basically start up a conversation with them in a non-threatening type of way, not even with the intent of it turning into anything. Something simple like striking up a conversation with someone at the bar, or with the bartender, etc. And go from there. Or to just stand and have a one on one conversation with someone, just for like 15 minutes, sharing stories, laughing, etc. This has made me a lot of friends in the past, and has developed into something more 2 times, but otherwise it hasn’t gone much further.

I mean, I think people can tell when I’m flirting with them right? How do you know? I’m totally obvious about it, I think. Who knows.

So a couple weeks ago, my friend Amy asked me if I would want to come with her to a co-workers wedding. I didn’t have anything going on, and I figured free catering! so I said “Sure, why not?”

The wedding was on a Saturday night and it was pretty warm, so I wore this v-neck sundress that I have. It was cut pretty low, so much so that I (ME! YES ME!) thought that it might be a bit too low-cut for the wedding, and brought a wrap. But hey, Wedding Crashers, right? Meeting someone at a wedding wasn’t toally outta the question.

We arrive at the wedding and take a seat in the church. We’re kinda talking and I’m catching a glimpse of the groom and the groomsmen in the little room off to the side. I nudge my friend Amy and point out this one guy that I thought was cute. He was tall, had dark hair, goatee, was really cute in a dorky kinda way. I asked who he was. Amy says, “I don’t know.” I said jokingly, “Well hopefully it isn’t the groom!” She says, “I don’t know that either.” Apparently she’d never met the groom before haha.

So the wedding starts and WHEW! the cute guy isn’t the groom. He’s the best man. First crises averted! I turn and whisper (apparently quite loudly because Amy shushed me), “I can’t see his left hand!” He had it folded under the right one, so I was unable to do the standard SGRC. (Single Girl Ring Check). I kept trying to peek at his hand the entire time and Amy kept nudging me, trying not to laugh. Finally, when they were turning to watch the lighting of the candle, I could see his hand. WAHOO! No ring!!

Amy noticed too, because she leaned over and whispered, “Well, he’s not married!” I did a little dance in my seat. By this time I had pretty much decided to go for it. I mean, picking up someone at a wedding wasn’t something I had ever done before, but I’m all about trying new things and the shit I had tried before didn’t work, so why not?

As we’re waking to the reception, I tell Amy, “Okay, the next step is to see if he has a date to the wedding. If he has no date, then he is definately single.” Amy agreed, and I think she was pretty amusing by my constant analysis of the situation. So we end up at the reception hall pretty early, and select a seat at a table a few back from the head table, and 2 tables from the bar. Upon finding out there was a free keg, I told Amy that I needed a few drinks, but then I would definately make my move. I had no idea what my move was, but by God, I was going to make it.

So we’re sitting there eating dinner, and I keep throwing glances his way. And I was totally not subtle about it, either. And when he would glance at me, I’d smile. Then he would go back to eating, and I couldn’t figure out if he had seen me or not. This kinda went on all through dinner and dessert. I finally owned up to the idea that I would actually have to approach him, because I didn’t think he’d seen me and would come to me.

“All right,” I told Amy. “So here’s what I’m going to do. When he goes up for a beer, I am going to go up at the same time and stand at the bar and make conversation with him.” Amy nodded. “That’s a pretty good plan.” My thought process was this: I knew absolutely no one other than Amy at the wedding, and Amy didn’t even know the groom, much less the best man, so its not like we could strike up a conversation and have someone else introduce us. Plus, this way, I could get him semi-alone and not surrounded by people. BRILLIANT.

So I lay in wait for him. Which makes this sound like a Discovery Channel show, but seriously, how else would you describe it? FINALLY he heads up to the bar. “Here I go!” I tell Amy and walk up to the bar. I stand a bit behind him, and to the right. In my brain, he’d simply turn around, see me, I’d smile, and we would start talking. Something like this:

What REALLY happened was this:

Yeah. He got his beer and immediately turned to the left and walked back to his table. He literally did not see me standing there. I get my beer and walk back over to our table. Amy was laughing. “I can’t believe that.” I said. “Seriously, he didn’t even see me.” Amy said, “Well you can always try again.” I told he I was planning to.

So the next time he goes up alone for his beer, I make sure that I stand to his LEFT this time:

He gets his beer, and then…

This time he goes off to his RIGHT. ARGH. I get my beer, sit down, and Amy tells me, “You are like the worst flirter EVER.” I sighed and said, “I know. I suck at this.” Then, in words of comfort, she says, “Honestly, though, I don’t think he saw you either time. So its not like he was ignoring you. He just didn’t know you were there.” I don’t know if that was supposed to make me feel better or worse.

The rest of the night, I kept trying to catch his eye, and failing. By the end of the night, I pulled the “Help a sista out!” card.

Me: Okay, you have to do me a favor.
Amy: What’s that?
Me: You have to talk to your friend (the bride) and totally hook us up because apparently I suck.
Amy: Well.. I dunno..
Me: Okay, I’ll make ya a deal, you don’t have to do it for a week.
Amy: Well only because she won’t be at work for a week!
Me: Yeah, I know. So pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Amy: What should I say?
Me: Just 2 questions to her.. Is your best man single? And would he be interested in going on a blind date?
Amy: I… suppose…
Me: I’m totally going to pester you about this.
Amy: I know you will.
Me: So will you do it?
Amy: Okay, fine, but that’s it.
Me: Yay!

So fast forward a couple weeks. Amy and I are having lunch and she mentions an incident that happened at the reception after we left. I bring up the best man and she says, “Well I haven’t said anything yet.”
I said, “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease will you ask?” She sighed and then agreed.

I go back to my desk and a couple minutes later I get the following email from Amy:

So I asked. Do you want the good news or the bad news?

I respond:

Ack. Give me both.

Amy:

He is single, but…. he lives in Austin.

Me:

TEXAS?!?!?!

Amy:

Yes. But my friend said we could totally hook you guys up via Facebook.

Sooooooooooooooooo yeah. Not only am I a terrible flirt, I apparently attempt to flirt with dudes who are unavailable to me.. either by distance or circumstance.

OMG its no wonder I am single.

I’m still trying, though!!

(And no word from Craig… most of my friends are disappointed! I have faith he will pop up again. He’s sort of like mold. You can scrub scrub and scrub, but the spores don’t always all go away!)

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Love On Google

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[Note: I posted this on my MySpace page awhile back, but just now realized I hadn’t posted it here. Since I don’t have any new dates on the horizon, i think you all will get a great kick out of this story. Those of you who know me personally know how perfectly fitting the end of this story is for my dating life. Oh! And I’ll have a mini-flirting-failure story to post soon, too. With pictures! Because I know you all enjoy those!]

Anyone who knows me knows that I do not act my 34 years. Its not that I am not mature, I just seem younger than I am. I have a younger spirit or some such. Anyway, this younger spirit of mine leads me to do things that a traditional 34 year old should not and would not do. I firmly believe this trait is part of my charm and appeal. Case in point, the following (which took place yesterday):

I woke up yesterday morning in a slight daze. I’m one of those people who can remember my dreams, and let me tell you, the one Wednesday night/Thursday morning was a doozy. It started out innocent enough. My friend Michelle and I were going to go to a movie. We were trying to decide between Cloverfield and AVP2. We decided on AVP2, since we have both seen Cloverfield and AVP2 was being shown on IMAX. Wicked! So we purchased our tickets and then…

…I wake up naked in someone’s bed. I’m glancing around and it’s a bedroom that looks like its straight out of a Victorian bed and breakfast. I get up and wrap a robe around me and walk downstairs. I suddenly remember where I am: Jason’s house. Who is Jason? Well in my dream, Jason was a guy I had met online and agreed to one date with. Jason was a nice guy. Tall, goatee, living at home with his mom, taking care of her while she was dying, and worked from home doing something with computers. But I didn’t remember even going ON the date with him. As I went to the kitchen, he was there, making breakfast. He said, “Hey beautiful,” and gave me a kiss on the forehead. He then pointed to where the bathroom was so I could wash up. I was in the shower and he was chatting with me about random things, and the entire time I was thinking, “Wow. What a great guy I’ve got.” Then I woke up.

Now a couple of things struck me about this dream. When I woke up, it felt real. Like Jason was an actual real person, like the one I was meant to be with. I could remember what he looked like, how he sounded, how he semlled, how happy I felt when I saw him making breakfast. It felt so comfortable, so right. It was a really weird sensation to have after a dream.

Now comes the dorky me part.

I was thinking of Jason all morning here at work. I decided to just Google his name and see what I could come up with. Lo and behold, there was a Jason H. living in Iowa!!! His name, address and phone number displayed for all to see! Well that’s a sign, isn’t it? I found myself in a quandary. What do I do? Call him? Email him? Laugh it off as coincidence? So I did what any sane person would do and posted to a messageboard I frequent to ask for advice. Here is the conversation I had with my friends on the board:

Me: Last night I had this really great dream and in it I was dating some guy named Jason Hageman. I woke up this morning and was thinking about the dream when I decided to Google that name. Turns out there’s a guy with that name, younger, living in Iowa. I am so tempted to call his phone number just so I can hear what he sounds like.

Boy1: He’s probably a 24 year old underwear model that is dying of cancer needs your love and support so he doesn’t feel so empty living atop his school. I’m betting he sounds like a 52 year old guy with a smokers cough.

Me: SO SHOULD I CALL OR NOT? I need some advice, people. Does that make me a weirdo for even considering it?

Boy2: Yes.

Me: I figured. Dammit.

Boy1: Honey, we think you’re a weirdo for lesser things then that.

Boy2: You need to play out how this scenario would go – in real life, not in some damned “romantic comedy” movie – so you can see just how horrible this idea really is.

Scenario One:
*Ring Ring* (Unsuspecting Guy You Don’t Even Know (“UGYDEK”) picks up the phone)
Ugydek: Hello?
You: Hi, is this [dude’s name]?
Ugydek: Uh, yes, who’s this?
You: Well, you don’t really know me, but my name is ***, and I had this dream last night where I was going out with a guy. You won’t believe this, but I actually dreamed your exact name for my boyfriend in the dream!
Ugydek:
You: So, anyway, when I woke up, I googled your name, and realized, wow, you’re here in Iowa just like me, so I just had to call!
Ugydek: Lady, you’re scaring me. Please lose my number. Please don’t even dream about me again. Seriously. And get some help.

Scenario Two:
*Ring Ring* (Unsuspecting Guy You Don’t Even Know (“UGYDEK”) picks up the phone)
Ugydek: Hello?
You: Hi, is this [dude’s name]?
Ugydek: Uh, yes, who’s this?
You: Well, you don’t really know me, but my name is ***, and I had this dream last night where I was going out with a guy. You won’t believe this, but I actually dreamed your exact name for my boyfriend in the dream!
Ugydek:
You: So, anyway, when I woke up, I googled your name, and realized, wow, you’re here in Iowa just like me, so I just had to call!
Ugydek: Wow, this must be fate or something! We have to meet. Immediately. Today. It’s important. (After making plans to meet somewhere “not too crowded,” Ugydek hangs up his phone.)
Ugydek: (Turning to the bloodied meth whore chained to his bed and sharpening his enormous knife) Well, dearest, I’m afraid our relationship is at and end. I’ve found a new…”girlfriend,” it seems.

Either way, things don’t end well for you.

Boy3: True, but we would have something new to laugh about.

Me: Well in theory, I was just hoping to hear his voice on voicemail or something. But now you’ve pretty much shattered that, Boy2.

Girl1: HA! SERIOUSLY!?!? How does the conversation go in your head? Boy2’s was pretty good, but I want to know you imagined it. This is my worst case scenario:What if he says, “I dreamt I dated a girl named *** last night! We must meet!” And you get there and he’s mad hot and you guys have like love at first sight and all that good stuff. You share a bottle of wine and talk all night. You guys have tons in common and there’s never an awkward silence. So, as you’re leaving the restaurant, you get to making out in the parking garage. You decide to throw all caution to the wind and get down. He has a one inch penis.
What then!?! You gotta think these things through! You don’t need that kind of disappointment in your life.

Me: I just wanted to hear what his voice sounded like, cause I thought it could be creepy if it was the same as in my dream. I never wanted to actually have a conversation with him! That’s why I figured voicemail!

Boy4: True woman’s logic. I will call him up, hoping he doesn’t answer the phone. Seriously, WTF? You have been doing this to guys since you were, what, 14?

Me: Nooooo. I haven’t done it since I was 14. That’s why I am so hesitant. DONT WORRY, I’M NOT GOING TO DO IT.

Boy5: Shut up, yes you are. You are going to call him and record it, for our amusement. Get cracking.

Me:
I can’t record it. I’m at work. No, I am not doing it! So no meth addled date rape for your amusement!

Boy1:
Well fuck! Now what am I going to do for entertainment while I sit here, bored off of my ass at work?

Me: Call him yourself!

Boy4: Post the number, and give us yours, so we can tell him the story, and have him call you.

Boy2: Well, fuck. How addled are people? Here it is, broken down:
1. Block caller ID/*69 and whatnot on your phone;
2. Call his phone;
3. Upon phone picking up:
A. if answering machine, listen and swoon over your dream connection;
B. if real, pretend it’s a wrong number. Ask for Bongo, when he acts confused, apologize and hang up.

So after much thought and because I refuse to leave a situation where I have some control in the outcome, here is the conclusion of this Jason H. saga:

Me: I caved & called.

Boy2: What the fuck kind of report is that? Details, lady. Details.

Me: Of course, thank God, he didn’t answer.
And his voicemail picked up. And it was that automated, tinny, female robot voice: Please leave a message after the tone. Not his voice. Very disappointing.

Boy2: AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !
That rules. Absolutely rules. Fine work.

Boy3: What is the number? I had a sexy dream about a female robot in Iowa just last night…..

Me: This is seriously my luck. I hate you.

So my shot at love hit a serious roadblock. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped he had caller ID and would call back asking, “Who are you and why did you call me?” Of course then I’d have to figure out some story to tell. Oh well. Fare thee well, Jason H. It was a fun ride while it lasted.

The Chronicles of Craig, Epilogue

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So here it is… the final chapter in my dealings with Craig. I’m almost sad to see it go. And from the responses I’ve gotten on here and Facebook, you all are, too! When I started writing this, I never thought it would go past 3 blog posts. This is the 5th! Oh its amazing how hindsight is 20/20 and how the devil really is in the details. As I started writing this, I began to realize just how batshit insane Craig was, and I realized couldn’t leave out anything… hence then length.

Enough waxing poetic… (what rhymes with batshit?) Let’s get on to THE EPILOGUE!

So after the “she’s a jealous co-worker” night, I decided to write Craig off. It was to the point where I didn’t even want to see him, much less be friends with him. So after my “Thanks for leaving me alone at the bar, fucker” text (said a bit more diplomatically, of course. I AM a lady, you know), I didn’t text him again. Or call. Or email. Nothing. I never got any of the 3 from him either. Whew!

It was around this time that I got confirmation that there would be an article written about me for the local paper. It was a focus on great karaoke singers in the area, and they wanted to interview me. I suggested that we go to the karaoke bar I had started to frequent on Wednesdays so they could not only interview me, but one of my friends who was the karaoke DJ that night, as the reporter mentioned she was looking for one to talk to.

(Side note: I fucking HATE when they call karaoke guys KJ’s. I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe its because when I was in 3rd grade, I went to a hair salon in Waterloo, Iowa called KJ’s and got a perm. A perm so tight that head lice would have been like “Awww fuck it. There’s no way we can crawl in there, let’s find someone else.” I remember going to school the next day, HATING my hair. I was late for some reason, and when I walked into class, Mrs. Costello was doing some sort of exercise with the class, and they were all sitting there with their eyes closed. She nodded to me as I brought up my note explaining why I was late, and she said at that moment, “Now open your eyes.” The class did, and hysterical laughter broke out. I was so humiliated. I hurried to my desk, put my head in my hands, and if I could have ran my fingers through my hair without them getting caught in its bear-trap like grip, I would have… Again, I’m not sure if its THAT reason, or if its because it just sounds so fucking stupid. You decide.)

ANYWAY.. I knew Craig wouldn’t show up. There was no way he would. It was obvious he didn’t care to see me, either, because he made no attempt at contacting me whatsoever during the week. I set up the time with the reporter and it was on like Donkey Kong. (I love that expression.)

So I arrive to the bar and I’m a bit early, as per usual, so I go sit up at the bar and get a beer. Guess who is sitting up there but Meat! Remember Meat? The one who said Craig hit on him? (Which, I’m still not 100% sure I believe, but Craig WAS drunk, so anything is possible…) I say “Hi!” and he says hi back, followed by, “Soooo… where’s your friend? The bald, annoying guy?” I made a face and said, “I haven’t talked to that fucker since last week when he started spreading those lies about me.” “Oh yeah,” Meat said. “I remember that. You were all jealous and stuff when he hit on me and D.” I nodded, “Yeah, that.”

See? Craig makes an impression!

So I go to play TouchPlay for awhile and then the report and photographer show up a little after 9:00. (For the record, I’m not sure I am going to read this article about me. I am so terrified the picture is going to be bad.)
So I’m sitting there answering her questions about my favorite songs to sing, what songs I hate, when did I know I sang well, when guess who walks in the door. YEP. CRAIG. He looks at me as he walks in, but doesn’t say anything. My eyes follow him as he walks up to the bar, orders something and takes a seat DIRECTLY in my eye-line. He’s staring at me while he’s drinking his beer (and eventually, eating his food.) It is very unnerving. See what I mean:

Oh my God, I was so mad at him. He just kept STARING at me all night long. So around 10:30 or so, the reporter and the photographer leave (which, by the way, its supposed to say “photog” up there in the picture…) . Once they do, I go up to the bar and start talking to Meat and to D, who has now arrived in the bar. I’m making it VERY clear, in my best passive-aggressiveness, that I have no desire to talk to Craig. I get ready to leave at midnight, and lo and behold, he’s gone. WHEW.

Wait! NO WHEW!

I walk out to the parking lot and guess who has his SUV parked right next to my car? And guess who is sitting in the front seat of his SUV? And guess who gets out of the front seat of his SUV when he sees me approaching my car? If you said Gilbert Godfried, then you are wrong. I know, I know, I was totally leading u p to that, sorry to let you down. (I am so weird. That was the first random celebrity that came into my head.)

He gets out of the car and, well, here’s the conversation that followed:

C: Hey.
Me: Hey.
C: I saw you in there.
Me: Yep.
C: I’m surprised I didn’t get an email or text from you this week.
Me: Why would I do that?
C: Because of everything going down with my work.

(Note: For those of you not in the local area, a large company that Craig and I both worked for reported layoffs in a certain area a few weeks ago. Craig apparently works in this area. I had no idea.)

Me: You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you right now. I had no intention of ever doing it again.
C: Why not? (He genuinely looks surprised.)
Me: You can’t be serious.
C: I have no idea what you’re talking about! (More surprise)
Me: I’m talking about the fact you LIED to people about me last week.
C: What do you mean, lied?
Me: I have 3 people who have each told me the exact same story, and about how you lied about me.
C: What lies did I supposedly tell?
Me: Well, for starters that I was a co-worker of yours who came to hang out with you at this bar last week. And how apparently, you could couldn’t hit on D in front of me, because I got jealous and didn’t like you talking to other girls.?
C: (long pause) I never said any of that.
Me: Oh yes you did. 3 people told me the exact same story.
C: Why would I say something like that about you?
Me: That’s kinda what I would like to know.
C: I didn’t say that!
Me: Why would they lie?
C: (thinking for a minute, then apparently a dim lightbulb goes off. He actually holds up a finger to me) Oh wait! I think I remember now…

I cross my arms, because you KNOW this is going to be good.

C: I remember what happened. You know what? I said that BECAUSE there was a co-worker of mine in the bar last week.
Me: WHAT?
C: Yeah, yeah, I remember her being in there. I was talking about her.
Me: That is total bullshit.
C: No, its not. She was in there.
Me: BULL. SHIT. Because if she was, you would have approached her to talk or vice versa. The ONLY women you talked to last week were D and myself. So try again.
C: (pauses again) I was wondering why I didn’t hear from you this week.
Me: Now you know. I won’t be friends with people who lie about me.
C: I came here tonight because I knew you would be here.
Me: Yeah, so?
C: I wanted to talk to you.
Me: About what? Why would I want to talk to you? Ever since we had that “friends” talk a couple weeks ago, you’ve completely changed who you are. You freaked out, and you won’t tell me why, and now you’re lying all over the place and I don’t need that from anyone, much less someone who wants to call themselves my friend.

Craig doesn’t say anything.

Me: What the hell do you want from me? Seriously? Because you are a completely different person, and I don’t like this person at all.
C: Well I want to be friends.
Me: Well you don’t act like it. Why would you lie about me.
C: (takes a deep breath.. again, I can feel a good story coming on) You’re right, I’ve been a complete ass the past 2 weeks. Do you want to know why?
Me: (exasperated) YES!

Okay, he seriously looks at the ground, hitches in a big breath, and looks up at me. Now I’m THINKING he wanted to have tears in his eyes, because had those pre-crying eyes, but the tears just weren’t there. So all it looked like was that he had just smoked some pot. But y ou all know the kind of eyes I’m talking about…

C: Have you ever failed at anything?
Me: (OH MY GOD HERE WE GO…) Of course, who hasn’t.
C: Me! I’ve never failed at anything in my entire life and now I’ve failed big time in the past 2 weeks, and I don’t know how to handle it.
Me: You fail, you fall down, you get back up. Its not that difficult.
C: But for me its not that easy. I’ve failed a lot of people, and I don’t know how to help them.
Me: What are you talking about?
C: With work… with the layoffs, I knew they were coming, and I couldn’t tell my direct reports. I couldn’t give them a heads up. If only I had been able to tell them, I might have been able to help them.

(Okay, I am pretty much typing this word for word.. keep this in mind. After that little diatribe, is ANYONE ELSE reminded of the end of Schindler’s List where he breaks down crying at the train station? “I could have saved one more!!” Yeah, that seriously was the vibe I was getting. And I was MORE than a bit unconvinced at his sincerity.)

Me: You couldn’t tell them, it would violate company policy, and you know that.
C: I know, I know, but I want to help them. That’s what I was doing in my car. I was getting phone calls from my direct reports, they were crying, asking me for help, they didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t help them.
Me: They are calling you at 11:00 at night, crying to you and wanting to talk?
C: Yeah.. they’re asking for my help.
Me: And you’re answering the calls? That is COMPLETELY inappropriate. I wouldn’t even call my boss on his day off during work hours, much less at night, this late.
C: Well we all have that kind of relationship.
Me: Its completely inappropriate. It blurs the line between boss and friend. And its really creepy.

(He ignores this comment)

C: So see? That’s why I’ve been acting the way I have been. The conversation with you was incidental. It just happened to coincide with all this going down.
Me: So the reason you’re acting like an asshole to me has nothing to do with this second-guessing of yourself that you were telling me about earlier.
C: No.
Me: And its pure coincidence that all this happened at the same time, and you’re just really upset because of your employees?
C: Yes.
Me: Bullshit. That makes no sense.
C: I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like an ass the past 2 weeks.
Me: Excuse me? I haven’t felt like an ass, you’ve just BEEN an ass.
C: Well I’m sorry I’ve been an ass. Now you know why.
Me: No I don’t know why. It doesn’t make any sense.

(He tries to explain again, but I wave him off. I’m done.)

Me: What do you want from me Craig? Why did you come here looking for me?
C: I don’t know.. I was trying to salvage our friendship.
Me: So what do you want?
C: Maybe we could still be friends? The kinda that… bump into each other on occasion?

(In case you can’t speak Craig-ease, he means, the kind of friends who bump into each other when one purposely tracks the other down at a bar.)

Me: I don’t know. I can’t handle your freakouts and everything that’s been going on. And I can’t get past the lying. I have enough people out there who lie about me that hate me.. I don’t need my so-called friends doing it, too.
C: Yeah, I’m sorry I made you feel like an ass.
Me: I don’t feel like an ass, you LOOK like an ass.
C: Maybe, yeah.
Me: So what are you thinking?
C: I’m thinking… we should just get into our cars and go home.
Me: Ok.

And I did.

And I haven’t heard from him since.

Of course, I haven’t been able to go back to that bar since that night because I’ve had shit going on, but I’m hopeful that he won’t show. Why would I even go back? Because I won’t let him stop me from going. I can’t give his budding psychosis that much power.

I want to just punch him in his bald face, he’s such a douchebag.

So ends the Craig Chronicles… Never fear, though. I’m sure there will be more like him. With me, there always are!!

(And just a side juicy tidbit.. I have a super secret crush. I don’t think its returned, which is why its super secret. And even if it is… well… BLAH.)

The Chronicles of Craig, Part 3b: “Date” 5

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Okay, so I think I have FINALLY gotten everyone up to speed on what you need to be for the rest of the story. So back to our story… “Date” 5. I put date in quotes because we had had the friend-talk the prior week, so us getting together for this particular “date” was less of a romantic thing, and more of 2 friends having dinner and hanging out.

And I’ll be honest, when I typed the word romantic, in relation to Craig, I wrinkled my nose. Ick.

So let’s recap a bit:

We had agreed to meet at 7:30. I had an appointment in town, so I decided to just head to the bar afterwards, arriving around 6:45, and had a beer while I was waiting.

Let’s introduce the cast of characters that would make up this evening’s events:
Me: Me
Craig: Le Douche (in French)
BT: Bartender, female
D: Random red-headed drunk girl
Libby: The Chaz Bono look-alike lesbian
Meat: Some random meathead who was sitting at the bar (in his defense, a really nice meathead, but meat nonetheless)

So I’m sitting at the bar, talking to BT about tattoos when Craig arrives. She had just gotten one on her side and was telling me about it. Craig and I decide to order the steak dinner, and we make small chit chat as the BT puts in our order. So I ask him about the previous week, and what the heck was going on. He said, “You told me you weren’t going to ask about it,” he said. “Guess what?” I said. “I lied.” And just simply wouldn’t answer the question. That’s how I KNEW, I KNEW, that he was re-thinking what he had said to me. He just had too much pride to admit it.

So BT comes back and as I pay for a beer, I notice that her tip jar has some writing on it. I look and it says, “BT’s Boob Job Fund.” I laugh and ask her about it. This is what she tells me:

BT:
Yeah, I got the idea from a friend of mine. We were working at this one bar where they were having a bikini contest between the waitresses, and we were getting shit from some of the regular customers because we were flatter chested than some of the others. So she decided to put a glass on her tray and write “Xxxx’s Boob Job Fund.” She ended up getting a ton of tips that night, so when I came over here, that’s what I decided to use.” I started laughing and told her that was a great idea (and then promptly put 3 bucks in her glass.)

Craig is sitting there quietly, and then says, “Wait a minute… I think I was there that night.”

I look at him. “Where?”

He says, “That bar, yeah.” He points at BT. “If I remember right, there was a bikini contest. Right? And there were a couple of you walking around. And there was a girl there, she was walking around with a jar on it that said ‘Boob Fund,’ right?”

BT looks at me, then looks at him. “Yeah.”

He nods. “I knew it. I knew I was there.”

Okay, so stop and think about that for a moment. Craig recounts BT’s story almost word for word, and uses that as proof that he was actually there that night her story took place. Could he provide extra details? Like the name of the bar? What her friend looked like? No. Why not? BECAUSE HE WASN’T FUCKING THERE. See, this is what I’m talking about. HE’S A LIAR. I’m sorry but no one can be involved in EVERY STORY EVER TOLD. Need proof? Are there any disciples named Craig? NO. (Muslims, Hindus, etc. insert your own reference here.)

As we’re sitting there eating, D walks in and plops down next to me at the bar. She must be a semi-regular, because BT knew her and they were chatting about some person they both knew. She was asking about karaoke, and I was talking to her about it. We started chatting and I introduced Craig to her. He nodded and kept on eating.

Fast forward about an hour. By this time, Craig was pretty lit and he kept talking about my “friend,” D. I told him, “She’s not my friend, I just met her tonight.” He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me. I said, “What?? If you like her, ask her out.” He says, “Why would you think I like her?” I said, “Because you keep talking about her! If you’re interested, ask her out.” He shakes his head no, and I said, “Well then quit asking me about her.” I get up and head to the bathroom.

Okay, why does everything “seem” to go down while I’m in the bathroom? My bladder is like a Super 8 Ball, I think. “Should I stay and talk to Craig more?” Bladder shake. All signs point to NO. Bingo! Have to pee. Maybe its better that I’m not around when these things start…

I come back from the bathroom and find that Craig has taken over my seat at the bar and is engaged in deep conversation with D. I sit down and I hear her say to Craig, “Yes, I have a 16 year old son. So how old do you think I am?” And then she giggles. I kinda tune out at that point and start watching TV. Suddenly, Craig leans over to me and says (well, more like SLURS), “Are you hearing this?”

Me: What?
C: HER!
Me: WHAT?!
C: She is SUCH a SLUT.
Me: What are you talking about?
C: Your friend.. (I give up!)
Me: What about her?
C: She is a SLUT!
Me: Oh my God.
C: She IS.
Me: How do you know?
C: Just LOOK at her! plus, she’s got a 16 year old kid. She. Is. A. SLUT.

At this point, I am really fucking annoyed. I won’t lie. I’m sorry, but you just don’t sit there and shout that a chick is a slut because she has a 16 y/o kid. Especially someone you know nothing about. I just look at him and I said, “Just knock it off, that’s really rude.”

I get another “SHE IS!” before he turns around and starts talking to her again. Maybe he likes sluts, I dunno. I go back to watching TV. About 2 minutes later, a nudge. “Oh my God, WHAT?!” I look at him.

C: She just asked me out!
Me: Yeah, so? Go out with her if you’re interested.
C: I’m not interested in going out with a SLUT. (And seriously, he would be shouting the word slut every time it came out of his mouth. How she never heard it, I don’t know. Maybe she’s a deaf slut.)
Me: So then why are you talking to her?
C: I’m trying to be nice cuz she’s your friend.
Me: OMG SHE IS NOT MY FRIEND I JUST MET HER TONIGHT
C: She’s asking out a total stranger, that proves she’s a SLUT. (How many times have I done that? Am I a slut? You think I would be getting laid a lot more often then… Hrm.)

Anyway… Before I can slap him, God intervenes and calls me up to sing.

When I come back, Craig is still perched in my seat, but D has moved on and is now talking to Libby, who must have shown up while I was singing. I order another beer and notice that Craig is very intently listening to whatever conversation D and Libby were having. Thinking “WHEW” because I don’t have to talk to him right now (still annoyed about the slut thing).

Another nudge.

Me: Yes?
C: That’s a chick. (Meaning, Libby.)
Me: I know.
C: No, seriously, that’s a chick.
Me: Yeah, seriously, I know.

He turns back and keep staring at them.

Couple minutes later, another nudge.

C: That’s a chick!
Me: I know! I’m not fucking retarded!
C: Yeah, but SHE doesn’t know that! (Meaning D)
Me: Yes she does.
C: No, she doesn’t. She’s totally hitting on her, she thinks its a guy!
Me: Yeah, so?
C: But its a chick, its not a guy!
Me: Yeah, I know! I am not fucking retarded!

He turns back and eavesdrop again. Then, another nudge.

C: She is seriously hitting on that girl thinking its a guy!
Me: Who gives a shit if she does?
C: I just thinking its funny, cause that’s really a chick!!
Me: Oh my God, I KNOW. I am NOT RETARDED! (Maybe we should have a drinking game called: Drink whenever Craig thinks I am fucking retarded)
C: That proves she’s a slut. She’ll hit on anything! (Obvs.. she hit on Craig, didn’t she?)
Me: (silence)

The rest of the night, Craig bounces back and forth between myself and D. Each time he reports back to me that D is either: a) a slut (er.. a SLUT) or b) hitting on Libby the not-a-dude-lesbian. And each time I respond back either: a) she’s not my fucking friend, or b) I’m not fucking retarded (DRINK!!!)

At around midnight, I told Craig that I was going to leave because I wanted to get home and get some sleep. He said he was about ready too. I told him I was going to go to the bathroom quick, and he said he would wait for me by the door of the bar. (See? Bathroom again!)

I come out and he’s waiting. I hold up a finger and say, “One sec,” and head to the bar. I went to make sure that Craig had paid his tab. He was that drunk, I wasn’t sure. The bartender had gone in the back room and I waited for a couple minutes, but she never came back. (Probably counting her boob job money!) I turn around and Craig is MIA. Not standing by the door, not standing at the bar.

Where the hell did he go?

I go outside where the smokers are sitting, thinking maybe he’s camped outside waiting for me or something. Nope, no Craig. A HA! The bathroom! Where all things go to “happen.” So I sit outside and talk with the smokers for a few minutes. I text Craig, “Where are you? I’m outside.” No response. After a couple minutes, I head inside. Meat is sitting at the bar, talking to D. I tap Meat on the shoulder and say, “Hey, I’m sorry to bug you, but can I ask you a favor?”

Meat: Sure, what’s up?
Me: I think my friend is in the bathroom, and I’m wondering if you could go in and check on him? He’s been in there forever.
Meat: The bald guy?
Me: Yeah.
Meat: He’s not in there. He left like 15 minutes ago.
Me: What??
Meat: Yeah. He was creepy.
D: Yeah, he’s definately weird.
Me: Why do you say that?
D: He was hitting on me all night long. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Why do you think I moved to the end of the bar?
Me: Hahaha! He told me that you (the SLUT) kept asking him out.
D: Oh my God no WAY. He was way too weird.
Meat: Yeah, dude, he was even hitting on me.
Me: WHAT?!
Meat: Oh yeah, totally. Telling me how good I looked and everything.
D: I thought you were with him, anyways.
Me: Me? No, we’re just friends.
D: Ohh. He told me that he couldn’t talk to me very long because his co-worker was the jealous type and didn’t like him talking to other women.
Me: WHAT?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!
D: Yeah.
Me: No way. We had that talk last week and we agreed to just be friends.
D: Well that’s not what he made it out to be.
Me: Yeah, that’s because he’s freaking out about it. Oh my God. I can’t believe he said that! That’s totally not true.
D: Well I didn’t figure, because you didn’t seem all that upset when he was talking to me.
Me: Yeah, I didn’t care. I was busy watching TV.
D: I noticed. He’s weird, man. You should stay away from him.
Me: Oh don’t worry, I’m going to.

Ooh doggies! (As Minnie Pearl used to say!) I was so pissed off at that point. What a fucking pointless ass LIE. Seriously.. who gives a shit if we are friends or not? Apparently he just decided after his freak out to be the biggest dick in the entire world. Good to know!

I texted him on my way out the door: Guess you left. How nice. Bye.

And I had no intention of ever talking to him again.

Until he showed up at the bar, a week later, looking for me…

But that comes in The Epilogue…..
(Which comes… soon….!!)

The Chronicles of Craig, Part 3a: Date 4 continued…

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(Me edit: Okay, so I am writing this edit AFTER I’ve written this whole post. I ended up splitting the last part into 3a and 3b. You’ll see why in about 7 paragraphs! Part 3b will be posted sometime soon, I promise!!! And see the very next paragraph about why its not parts 3 and 4!)

Part 3, here we go! (I actually could stretch this out into a 4th part, because of something that happened last week, but I said it would only be 3 parts, and I am a woman of my word! Besides, it gives me the chance to write an “epilogue,” which sounds way cooler than “Part 4”)

So after the weirdness at the Down Under and the weirdness that was Craig’s “second-guessing” of himself, I decided that I wasn’t going to sit and try to psychoanalyze why he did/said what he did, and I was going to take him at face value. We were friends, fine. I could go on my merry way and find my next blog post.

Because we had discussed it earlier in the week, we were going to meet up at the karaoke place again and have dinner there before the show. The bar has an amazing steak dinner for $7. You get steak, potatoes, salad, beans and garlic bread for $7. Steak is grilled made to order right there. Dinner was heavenly! However, I am getting a wee bit ahead of myself. Let’s rewind…

(If I could figure out how to type the above paragraph backwards as sort of a joke, I would, but I don’t have the time. So just imagine me doing the “Stop. Strike that! Reverse it!” that Gene Wilder does in the original Willy Wonka movie.)

So we had agreed to meet at 7:30. I had an appointment in town, so I decided to just head to the bar afterwards, arriving around 6:45, and had a beer while I was waiting.

Let’s introduce the cast of characters that would make up this evening’s events:
Me: Me
Craig: Le Douche (in French)
BT: Bartender
D: Random red-headed girl
Libby: The Chaz Bono look-alike lesbian
Meat: Some random meathead who was sitting at the bar (in his defense, a really nice meathead, but meat nonetheless)

OH OH OH OH OH ! CRAP! I FORGOT A PART TO LAST WEEK’S STORY!!! I JUST NOW REMEMBERED!!! AND ITS KINDA IMPORTANT!!

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG I SUCK!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, so Willy Wonka EVEN MORE… back to last week. Insert this in between the “We’re just friends” dinner conversation and the “Down Under weirdness.” Okay, so remember how I said the night went by pretty cool. Normal talking and stuff? Okay, normal EXCEPT for one small part…

Craig and I are sitting at the bar talking to the male bartender we’ll call Hottie. Besides Craig, Hottie and I, there is one couple in the bar. They are in the late 30’s, early 40’s. The woman is… trophy-wife-ish. Blonde, big boobs, very drunk. The guy is very not trophy-husband-ish. Tall, thin, kinda nerdy. But not ugly or anything. Just very plain.

Trophy Girlfriend (hereafter known as TG) was being really loud and kept falling on the stripper pole on the dancefloor. Well, falling is probably the wrong term. She would stop, study it, then take a running leap towards it, jump, and clutch to it like a koala on eucalyptus, and slowly slide down to the floor. Then get up and complain that she couldn’t do the spins. Not trophy-boyfriend (hereafter referred to as NTB) and I were noting this and giggling. It was about this point where I introduced myself and Craig to NTB and TG. Turns out TG is a registered nurse, on her 2 days off, and she decided to go out and get drunk. NTB is her boyfriend, who is an attorney, and for the night, her baby-sitter. Cool.

Well TG keeps koala-ing the stripper pole and eventually goes outside to smoke with NTB. Craig, Hottie and I are talking and Craig mentions that NTB is definitely dating UP in that relationship. Hottie and I agree. Craig keeps going on and on about it. TG is definitely “slumming it,” etc. Finally I said, “Look… there are 3 possible reasons why TG is with him, and its one of these 3: 1) he has a lot of money and she’s a gold-digger, 2) she has really low self-esteem and figures that he is the best she can do, or 3) She’s a really nice, good person, and really enjoys being with him.” Hottie and Craig kinda laugh at what I say, but I stand up for myself. “I am dead serious. Its one of those 3.” I personally lean towards #3. But I am optimistic like that.

So TG and NTB come back in and we all have a gay old time listening to karaoke. Craig just WON’T let the TG Slumming It Thing go (hereafter referred to as: TGSIT) I’m at the point where I tell him, “Why do you even care? You don’t know them at all. Dude, just LET IT GO.” He doesn’t say anything, and I have the bladder of an infant, so I head to the bathroom. When I come back out, TG and NTB are nowhere to be found. (Actually, they were out smoking, because they came in a few minutes later, but whatever.)

Craig starts in AGAIN. I say, “OH MY GOD, LET IT GO, they don’t CARE about your opinion!!!” he looks at me and says, “She does!” And I said, “Oh really?” all sarcastic-like. “Yeah! And I told her what I thought.”

I stopped, horrified. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

C: I told her that I thought she could do so much better than him.
M:OMGWHYWOULDYOUDOTHAT!!!!!
C: Because she asked me.
M: Wait a minute.. WHAT?
C: Yeah. He went outside to smoke and she came up and asked me what I thought of him.
M: When was this?
C: Just now, when you were in the bathroom.
M: (I’m sitting here trying to figure out if I fell asleep on the toilet or something… I didn’t.) Wait, so she just came up to you and asked you what you thought?
C: Yeah.
M: No she didn’t.
C: Yes she did! He went outside to smoke and she was just sitting here. She asked me if I thought that she was too good for him.
M: What did you say?
C: That I thought she could do a lot better. he wasn’t good enough for her.
At this point, I admit, I punched him in the arm.
M: OMGWHYWOULDYOUDOTHAT!!!!!
C: She ASKED me! (We’re going around in circles here!)
M: You do NOT do that, Craig. That’s just wrong!
C: Why?
M: you are messing around with other people’s relationships. People you don’t even know!
C: But she asked me!
M: THEN LIE, YOU ASS.

I couldn’t believe it. Seriously, why would anyone do that to a complete stranger? I sure as hell wouldn’t. A friend, MAYBE. But even then, you’d have to tread carefully. Stranger? No.

I pretty much just let it drop right there. The bar was getting more people in it, and we kinda ignored them the rest of the night.

When I got to re-telling this part of the story to friends later on, I got to thinking. I think Craig is a big fat liar about this. I base this on 2 things:

1)I WAS NOT IN THE BATHROOM THAT LONG. Unless there was some dramatic rip in time, or my flux capacitor of urine hit 88 miles an hour and shuttled me back to 1955 without me knowing, there is NO WAY that he could have had that conversation without me catching the end of it. Remember, she was outside by the time I came back. So they would have had to have the conversation and she make her way outside and light up, all in the time I was peeing. I’m sorry, I may have gotten a C in physics in high school, but I do not pee THAT SLOW.

2) NO WOMAN WOULD HAVE THAT CONVERSATION WITH A STRANGER. No way, no how, no drunk. No woman would ever go up and ask a complete stranger “Do you think I’m slumming it?” I don’t care how koala stripper pole wasted you are. Especially since SHE WASN’T ACTING UNAHPPY WITH HIM. They were all over each other. ALL OVER.

So I think he’s a big old liar.

However… when we left the bar, right before the DU Weirdness, they were out in the parking lot arguing.. soooooooooooooo could he be telling the truth? I’m still sticking to my guns on this. It never happened.

Okay, so Part 3b: “What Happened The Week After the DU Weirdness” will be posted sometime soon. And the epilogue shortly thereafter!

The Chronicles of Craig, Part 2: Date 4

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So… where were we? Oh yes…

Are we or are we not dating? That was the question I kept asking myself. Craig is super difficult to read, and honestly, it was really annoying. I spent so much time trying to figure him out, what he was thinking/feeling, that I never stopped to really consider what I was thinking/feeling.

I had a conversation with my roommate about it, and I told him, “I have no idea how he feels about me, and its really pissing me off.”
Brian says, “Yeah, but how do YOU feel about HIM?”
And honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought. I mean he has his quirks and his annoying traits, but then again, who doesn’t? I really hadn’t sat down and thought, “Okay.. is this a guy I want to enter into something serious with?” And when I DID finally think about it, my answer was, “I dunno!” You see, I spent so much energy into figuring HIM out, I was so of neutral about the entire thing. So I told a few of my friends, “That’s it, when we have our next date, I’m flat out asking him, ‘What is this?!’ and get a straight answer.” I figured that once I knew where he was coming from, I could refocus myself in either direction.. dating or friendship.

So we had a date 2 1/2 weeks ago. We agreed to meet at Guadalajara here in Ankeny for dinner, and then go out for a few drinks after. It was a Wednesday.. although I don’t think that matters for this particular story. Well, maybe a bit, in that I had to work the next day, but I digress..

Anyhow, we meet for dinner and we’re waiting for our dinner. We’re just kinda chit chatting about nothing, when I finally say, “Can I ask you a personal question?” He says, “Sure…” So I sit back, cross my arms and say, “Now before I ask this, trust me, there is no right or wrong answer. I promise.” He nods. “So… what is this?” I waved my hands all about. “Are we dating, are we friends, what? Because I can’t tell.”

He sort of scrunches up his face and doesn’t say anything for a moment. The he says, “You’re different than other women I know. A lot of people without children don’t understand what its like to be dating with children. You can’t just drop everything to date someone. Kids come first.”

Me: I’ve never asked you to choose between me and your children.
Craig: I know, and that’s what cool about you. You get it, you understand.
M: Thanks. But that doesn’t answer my question.
C: I know, I’m just saying. I have to find that right balance between work and life. You told me the other day that I work too much, and I realized that you’re right. I need to take some time out and have some fun.
M: I agree. Now answer my question.
C: Blah blah Blah blahblah blah Blah blah Blah blahblah blah

He went on for, no lie, another 10 minutes about random shit. I finally held my hand up and said, “That’s all great, but you haven’t answered my question. 10 words or less, please.”

He finally says (as he counts out on his fingers): Right now, I think we are better off as friends.

I nod and said, “Okay, good, got it. I’m cool with that.” And really? I was. I was just so happy to finally have some definition to what was going on with us. After that, we ate dinner and decided to check out a karaoke show in Urbandale that some friends of mine were having. (By the way, The G Spot on Wednesday night.. GREAT show!!!) Craig tells me that he has to run home first and get something for work. I roll my eyes, because come on, seriously, work at 7:30? Whatever.

So we drive separately, and I make myself at home at a table, have a Bud Light. Craig shows up around 9:00. He apologizes for being late and then tells me that he’s having some issues at work so that’s why he was so late. I kinda shrugged it off. Honestly, I didn’t really care. At around 10:30, Craig gets a call and excuses himself. I’m sitting there, enjoying the karaoke, when he comes back in. He sits down with kind of a huff and I ask, “What?” He says, “That was Amber.” As if I am supposed to know who this Amber person is. So of course I ask, “Who is that?” He proceeds to tell me that Amber is one of his direct reports at work and was on the phone with him about some shit that was going down at work. I said, “She works for you??” He says, “Yeah, why?” I said, “Why the hell is she calling you at 10:30 at night?” He didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it… hello?! Wtf? Who calls their boss that late at night?

So the rest of the night passes along pretty uneventfully. So much so that I texted my friend Teresa and let her know that the “talk” with Craig had gone really well, that he just considered us friends, and I was cool with that. We talked about work, friends, etc. and just had an overall pleasant evening. We even decided to meet up again next week, same time, same place, because we’d had such a good time.

By now it was midnight, and I wanted to get home so I could get some sleep before work. Craig was pretty drunk at this point. He had had 2 beers for every one that I had. And I had had a few 🙂

I tell him that I need to go home. He said, “Okay, ” and started walking me out the door. When we got to the parking lot, he just walked off towards his car. I said, “Uh, BYE!” and he just called over his shoulder, “Yeah, see ya.” all dismissive-like. I’m thinking WTF dude??? So as I’m sitting in my car, before I pull out of the lot, I texted him: Uh, are you pissed off? I drive. I get a text back: No, why? I text back: Because you seemed all upset when you left. No answer. I thought: “F U, buddy.” and kept driving.

About 2 minutes later, so like 4 minutes after I left the bar, he sends me another text: Want to mee for a drink?
Me text: Now?
C Text: Yeah. Down Under?
Me text: Sure. Be there in 5 minutes.

So I turned around and started heading back to the Down Under. Now, I know it was stupid to do, BUT I knew he wanted me back there not for a drink, but for some other reason. And I wanted to know what was going on. So I pull up, and he’s standing outside, drinking a can of Bud Heavy next to his SUV. He has taken his shirt off, so he’s standing there in khakis and a t-shirt. I walk up to him and I say, “So what’s going on? Are we going inside or what?”
He shouts at me: What is wrong with you???
Me: Huh?
C: WHAT… IS WRONG WITH YOU???
M: What the hell are you talking about??
C: Every woman I’ve ever went out with has had something wrong with them. And I can’t figure out anything wrong with you. So what is it???
M: Uh…. I swear a lot? I have freakishly small hands? I don’t know. (Seriously, how do you answer that question????)
C: Do you have any kids?
M: No, you know that.
C: Have you ever been married?
M: No. I told you that, too.
C: Is your ex-boyfriend the jealous type?
M: Huh?
C: I mean, will he get upset if you’re dating someone else?
M: Uhhhh.. considering he left me because he wanted to date another woman, I don’t think he gives a shit if I see someone or not.
C: Are you overly concerned about your appearance? (WTF?)
M: If I was overly concerned about my appearance, do you honestly think I would have worn the same outfit on our first two dates?* I mean, I’m in a t-shirt and denim skirt, for God’s sake.
(*Okay, in my defense, I didn’t know we’d be having a second date that night. I just so happened to wear that outfit to go out with The Claw and ended up meeting up with Craig after. DON’T JUDGE. Its a cute outfit.)
C: So what is wrong with you???? I have been sitting here trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, and I come up with nothing!
M: You know, maybe the reason you have a hard time dating people is because you’re sitting there trying to focus on their bad points. I know that I don’t want to date someone who is constantly looking for my flaws. You just need to go with the flow once in awhile, quit trying to think there’s something bad in everyone that will prevent you from liking them.

He pauses, as if to give this some consideration (he’s not) and then says: Okay, so let me ask you something.
M: Okay.
C: If I were to tell you to just get in your car and leave, right now, what would you do?
M: Uhhhh.. I’d get in my car and leave.
C: Yes, but what if I said that and you knew I didn’t really want you to go?
M: I’d still leave.
C: Why?
M: Because I’m 34 years old, I’m not 14. I’m going to take what you say at face value and not sit there and try to analyze things. Games like that are stupid. Say what you mean.
C: See? That’s the right answer. You ALWAYS have the right answer!
M: Oh my God..

Then Craig proceeds to try and convince me to let him follow me home. He thinks I’m too drunk. I said, “No, maybe I should follow YOU home…” He said, “No, I’m totally sober.” This coming from a man who has a half opened case of Budweiser in the front of his truck. Finally, after 10 minutes of back and forth about following one another home, I say, “You know what, I’m going to go home. I’m really tired and I have to work tomorrow.” It’s now 12:45. Yes, we have been outside talking about inane crap for 45 minutes.

So he says, “Okay. Well I should walk you to your car, its the least I can do.” FINALLY walks me to my car. Which is literally 20 feet away from where we were standing. I open my car door and he comes and stands up next time. I took a quick time out to say a prayer: Dear Lord, please don’t let him try and kiss me. Please, please, please.

And apparently Jesus had decided that I had had enough of Craig that day, because he didn’t. I seriously don’t know if I would have let him. At that point I was just so baffled by the entire conversation that I just wanted to go home and go to bed. “Text me when you get home so I know you made it home ok,” he said. I agreed and got in my car and drove off.

I texted him when I got home that I made it home okay. I didn’t hear from him until the next morning, around 10. I texted him: So what was that at the DU last night, because I am confused.
C text: Nothing important
M text: Well it must have been important since you wanted to talk
C text: I was just second guessing myself
M text: About what?
C text: Its nothing. Never mind.
M text: Okay.

I dropped it because I wasn’t going to try and play guessing games with him. I didn’t have time. The popular opinion of my friends was that sometime during the night, he realized that he didn’t just want to be friends with me. That something happened and he thought he had made a mistake. And when he did, he kinda freaked out.

I didn’t really pay any attention to it, because hey! He made the call. And I was fine with it. Maybe that was the problem? That I was okay with just being friends? Who knows.

So the next week, we met up again on Wednesday for dinner and karaoke, and…

The Chronicles of Craig, Part 1: Dates 1-3

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It’s been forever, I know. I apologize. I did also promise to write about what happened with Dave and I, and I will eventually, but this… this is too good to pass up right now.

Folks, this is going to be a 3 parter.

Yes, its THAT good. Although, bear with me.. these first 3 dates aren’t really all that interesting.. heheh. But hang on, it will get all sorts of crazy.

Okay, so about ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm 2 months ago, I was out on Craigslist looking at some crap for sale. I don’t go out there much, even though you hear about how wonderful it is, because c’mon, its Des Moines. Not exactly the epicenter of activity. On a whim, and out of curiosity, I decided to go to the personals site and see what/who posts on there. I had no clue what sorts of things were out there, and let me tell you, I wasn’t disappointed. I would 95% of them were posts looking for sex or the “In town for business for 1 night, show me around?” type of posts. I did run across one, though, that I thought was pretty interesting. He was commenting on how dating in his 30s was a lot more difficult than in his 20’s. And he started talking about how women these days had no idea who Devo was, etc. It made me laugh. I think it was partially because I had just got done watching Hot Tub Time Machine, so I was in that sort of mood. Anyways, I decided what the hell… and wrote the following to him:

Hahaha, I’ll tell you, the last time I was on Craigslist was maybe 6-7 months ago, so I have no idea why I’m responding to the posting you made (a week or so ago.. see? I’m slow…)
Anyway, the 80’s and 90’s thing made me laugh. I think its because I just saw Hot Tub Time Machine, so I have that on the brain. Not really sure what to say in this, since the only Craigslist ads I’ve ever responded to were things for sale… Hmmmmmmm… who knows. Maybe just shoot me a message back to say hi if I don’t come across as too boring? Do people get a bunch of responses to these things? I see people shouting NO SPAMMERS…

Good god, this is the most boring email I have ever sent. Lucky you? 🙂

Yeah, I’m a total wordsmith, aren’t I? Oh my God, I’m almost embarrassed to admit I wrote that. Maybe the fact that he responded to that piece of crap should have given me a clue as to what was coming up…

But when have I ever been the kind of person to use good judgment when it comes to dating?
Okay, so “Craig” responds back to me and we start emailing and eventually texting. I figure out that he works for the same company I do, has 2 kids, and is divorced. I think he’s interested in me, but after a few weeks, he hasn’t asked me out yet. So I decide to passive-aggressively date him. How is that accomplished? Well, here’s how you do it: I specifically told him where I was going to be one Friday night, and what time I was going to be there. I knew he was out and about, and going to be in the area. So I go to the Doghouse in Ankeny around 7:30 or so. They have karaoke and I was too restless to stay at home and I wanted to sing.. it seemed like a logical choice. So I’m sitting there, talking to the bartender and a couple people around me. Craig is consistently texting me with the updates of where he’s at, and his destinations are getting closer and closer to The Doghouse.

So around 9:30, he finally texts me, “Where are you?” And I said, “At The Doghouse, ass” (Ain’t I classy?) and he says “Oh! I thought you were at Rookies.” I have no fucking clue where Rookies in Ankeny is.. is there even one? So I said “No, Doghouse, I’ll be here til 11:30.” So he makes it known that he’s on his way. Right at this point, I have to pee. So I go stand in line behind this one chick in a zebra-print shirt. I am doing the pee-pee dance, while smiling at her. The door opens (its a one-staller), and right as it does, this older woman runs up, throws her arms around Zebra and says to me, drunkenly, “We gotta go together!” And they walk in the bathroom & lock the door. I am shuffling from one foot to the next, trying not to pee myself right there. Zebra and Grandma are in there for, shit you not, at least 7 minutes. AT LEAST. I know, because I was surprised Craig hadn’t shown up by the time they finally stumbled out. Right as I go in and start to pee, my phone rings. Its him, he’s here. Now keep in mind, we haven’t ever sent pictures of ourselves, so we don’t know what we look like. I tell him I’m in the bathroom peeing (again, classy, yes?) and I’ll be out in a sec.

For some reason, we stay on the phone, and when I come out, I’m talking to him saying, “Where are you, I don’t see you?” And then he kinda gives me a half-hearted wave from the doorway. I wave back, hang up, and goes back to my seat at the bar. He comes up and stands next to me.

Description: About 5’9, bald by choice (I’m guessing), goatee, a bit chubby, but more average weight than not, nice eyes, nice smile. I can’t really think of a celebrity he looks like, so that’s the most bland description I can give.

Okay, so this is Friday night… so we start talking, and I dunno. He was pretty interesting. I mean, we had enough conversation to last us for an hour and a half. I honestly couldn’t tell you specifics while we were in the bar. However, after I sang (“Call Me,” by Blondie) I came back down to sit and he said, “You wanted to leave at 11:30, and its 11:30, so we better leave.” I’m thinking “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh okay, so he’s not interested..” So I say, “Yep!” and we get up and walk out. Here’s where it gets interesting.

The parking lot is small, so we were only parked like 2 cars away from one another. He walked me to my car and said, “Can you do me a favor?”
Me: Ummm.. sure.
Craig: Can you not ever come back here without me again?
Me: Huh?
C: I can’t believe you came here by yourself.
M: Why’s that?
C: This is a biker bar. A single girl as cute as you could have real problems here.
M: What are you talking about?
C: You know those 2 women you were telling me about earlier? (I told him about Zebra/Grandma bathroom incident)
M: Yeah?
C: I’ve seen them before. They were at a bar I got kicked out of before.
M: You got kicked out of a bar?
C: Yeah.. I’m banned from quite a few bars, actually. (He laughed at this)
M: Uhmmm.. for what?
C: Fights, mainly. BUT… (and he paused here, quite dramatically) I never started any of the fights. People were starting them with me.
M: Dude, seriously? The fact that you have been in fights is bad enough, It takes a lot to get thrown out of a bar.
C: Well those 2 women were at the last place I got kicked out of (and he named some bar)
M: Yeah, so?
C: they got kicked out because they were selling and doing meth.
M: WHAT??
C: Yeah, they tried to sell it to me, too. THAT’S what took them so long in the bathroom.
M: Oh my God, whatever dude.
C: I’m dead serious. That’s what they were doing.
M: Oh that’s right.. I forgot you were there.
C: That’s what people DO at this place. Its a biker bar. You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Its dangerous here for a single girl. Especially one wearing a shirt like yours.
M: What the fuck are you talking about??
C: Your shirt. Guys were purposely walking by us to stare at your cleavage.
M: Oh my god, they were NOT. (Trust me, I am a single lady.. I WOULD NOTICE THESE THINGS!!!)
C: Yes they were. Trust me. This is no place for a girl like you.
M: Half the people were wearing khakis! People in khakis aren’t threatening! I can take care of myself.
C: Oh yeah? How?
M: I have no problem going to a bar like this by myself. The key is to sit at the bar and talk to the bartender. That way your drink is always in your sight, and the more you talk to the bartender, and the better you tip, he’ll know you’re alone and watch out for you.
C: Well if that’s the way you want it to be..
M: Oh my God.. okay, I need to go.
C: Okay. Just don’t come back here alone, ok?
M: Argh! Okay, night!

And I drove off. I seriously thought he was going to follow me home. Luckily, no.
The next weekend, Saturday, I had another 1st date. This guy my friends affectionately refer to as “The Claw.” The date itself was uneventful minus the fact he had something freakishly wrong with his hands. I don’t know if it was arthritis or cerebal palsy, but when he raised his hand up from under the table it looked like… okay remember that episode of Friends where Chandler and Monica are playing Pac-Man? Chandler plays it so much, his hand gets frozen in a claw shape? That’s what BOTH his hands looked like. Ugh. Okay, so the date started at 7:30 and ended at 9:30. I was downtown and didn’t want to go home quite yet. So I texted Craig, “Date is done, wanna meet for drinks?” He texts back “Sure. 10?” I said, “Yep, Bradley’s on 50th”

So we end up sitting at the bar and he starts asking me questions about myself. We get to talking and he’s asking me about whether or not I want kids, why am I not married, why am I single, etc. About 2 hours into the night, he asks me again about kids. I give him the same answer I’ve given him before. He says, “That’s the 5th time you’ve said that tonight.” I said, “Well that’s the 5th time you’ve asked me!” And he said, “You sure do talk a lot.” I said, “Yep! I do! And I make it known right away that I do.” Then he hits me with, “Maybe that’s why you have a hard time dating… guys don’t normally like girls who talk a lot.” I thought about that for a second. Could that be true? (Dudes, fill me in…) I mean, I’m a talker, but I’m a good listener, too. So I said, “Well, you don’t seem to mind.” He says, “No, I really enjoy it.”

So I’ve noticed that tonight is different than the week before. He’s a lot more into me. He tells me that his friends were giving him shit about leaving the bar to go hang out with me. That surprised me, and c’mon girls, who wouldn’t be flattered? He was also touching me a lot more. Not like THAT, perverts, but like putting his hand on my arm when we were talking, or on my back, things like that. So there was a lot more flirting going on.

So bar time comes around and we head outside. He walks me to my car and asks me, “So which way are you going home?” I said, “Um, I hadn’t thought about it… probably 80.” He nods and says, “That’s good. Too many cops on 235.” I said, “Oh, well okay then.” He says, “Trust me, I know this. They are always waiting right outside this place for people to pick up.” I said, “And how do you know? Did you get thrown out of here too?” He said, “Well ACTUALLY, I did one night, but the owner came up and told me he knew I wasn’t to blame, so I needed to cool it for a couple weeks before I came back. This is the first time I’ve been back.” GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This guys seriously has a story for EVERYTHING.

So I said, “I’ll be fine, thanks for being concerned.” Then he asks me a question about something else, and since I’m tipsy, I start going on and on about something else. Finally he looks at me and says, “Do you ever shut up?” then he grabbed my waist, pulled me in and kissed me. Now, it wasn’t the best first kiss that I’ve ever had, but it was pretty decent. Decent enough that when we broke apart, I said, “Yes, I do.” and then leaned in for a second kiss. 🙂 So after the 2nd kiss was done, I opened my door to my car and said, “So are we still on for Monday night?” (We had made a dinner date…) He says, “Yes.” I said, “Good! Looking forward to it!” and I leaned in and we kissed again.

WOOT! Things are looking UP!

So we decide to meet at Wig & Pen in Ankeny. Uh-maz-ing PIZZA. So we’re sitting there talking and he asks me what I am going to do with my Accounting degree now that I have finally graduated. I said, “Well ideally, I’d like to go into something like Risk Management or Auditing of some sort.” He said, “Why would you want to do that? There’s no future in that.” I said, “What the hell are you talking about? There’s always a need for accountants, and have you READ any of the papers lately? All the accounting fraud running around means closer looking at books, and that’s where auditors come in.” He just kinda dismisses me and says, “I just don’t think there’s many places you can go with it.” Oh my God. See, folks, what you may NOT know is that the way to a girl’s heart is by dismissing her career choice to her face. Oh yes. HOT FIRE DOWN BELOW, baby!

So I decide to go into the bathroom to fume for a little bit. I come back out, composed, and decided to blow off his comments as something a stupid boy would say. So we keep talking and he’s telling me that his secretary earlier today was telling him that she had someone that she thought he would be perfect for. So I said, “Are you going to ask her out?” And he said, looking straight at me, “No.. I’m happy with what I’ve got going on right now.” So I’m thinking Ooh! We’re dating, then? Cool… good to know! So I nod and say, “Yeah, that’s cool that she’s looking out for you, though.” Totally slow playing it because that’s how I ROLL.

So the date ends and he tells me he has to go back to work because its month end and they have some things going on. I nod and we walk out to the parking lot. I head to my car and… what’s this? he heads straight for his, parked on the other side of the lot. I literally stopped in my tracks and yelled, “HEY! HEY!” He turned around. I said, “Where are you going?” He said, “My car is parked over here.” I said, “Well don’t I at least get a hug good night?” I mean, JESUS, you kissed me 2 nights ago, for Christ’s sake. (Sorry, Jesus, but seriously…) He says, “Sure,” and comes over to my car. He leans in, gives me a quick hug and PATS ME ON THE BACK, and then pulls away. “I’ll text you later,” he says.

I am dumbfounded. Okay, what the fuck.

I shrug, get in my car and drive away. 2 minutes later, I get a text: “I had a great time tonight. I really enjoy spending time with you.” I send back: “Thanks, me too!”

Okay, so that was our 1st 3 dates. Talk about Mister Flip Flop. Are we dating at this point? The kiss says yes. His comments say yes. His not walking me to my car says no. His PAT ON THE BACK says no.

He has me so confused. I seriously have no idea what he wants from me, what he’s thinking about “us,” if anything. I have never been with anyone who is so… um… not blase, but ummmm… someone who holds their cards as close to the vest as possible, I guess. I’m used to people who are pretty open. He’s not. Probably because of his past, whatever that may be.

So at this point, I’m confused. But (un)lucky for me, our 4th date was already in the works…

STAY TUNED!!!