I went out to dinner and drinks with a very handsome guy recently and while we were sitting there, he looks over at me and says, “Your friends really want me to fuck you”.
Well gosh, you old sweet talker you… I guess he really thought he was taking one for the team. I mean here he is, this handsome, tall man, a musician, he could probably bang anybody, but here he was, out with me, and fully willing to do me a solid. And in the process alleviate the concerns of my friends. I mean, what a trooper! And I mean, wow, I guess I should be flattered or something. ~ I wasn’t.
I also wasn’t flattered when I was having drinks with another man in a place where both of us knew pretty much everyone. He said that his neck had a kink in it so it was hard to look my direction sitting next to him at the bar. I told him to swing his body around so he could face me. He said, “No, then our legs would intertwine and people might think we are going home together”.
Oh, well holy shit! We wouldn’t want that! I thought we were just sitting here having a conversation. I didn’t realize that the simple act of facing me in public was like issuing a press release to East Nashville on our future sexual conduct. I get it, I’m good enough to be sitting here with you, but not good enough for anyone to think you would actually take me home. It’s good to know where I stand. You’re still paying for the wine, right?
I promised myself when I started this blog that I wasn’t going to let it turn into some chick blog full of dating woes and nail polish advice. Although, please steer clear of the new Sally Hansen “Sugar Shimmers”. They are marketed as textured matte polish, the photos were pretty, in real life the whole texture thing translated into looking like I slapped on some ½ price polish and then dug immediately through a bag of chips. Totally not pretty. Totally not worth the $6 bucks.
I digress. The whole idea of this blog was to express what I’m going through and I’m kind of going through a dating thing right now. So I’ll try to stay on track and not get too chick-y on you.
Lately, I am attracting some real wing nuts into my life and I’m not sure how it’s happening. I mean, I know how it’s happening. I told myself I was out there and available and I believed it and sure enough, the phone started ringing. But I guess I should have been more specific because mommy issues, three-ways and just plain crazy people were not what I had in mind.
Generally speaking, is seems like the men I’m interested in aren’t interested in me and the men that are interested in me scare the shit out of me. And not in the “Wow, this could be something “ scared way. Scared in the boil a bunny on the stove kind of way. So now I’m presented with the opportunity to look at that and try and figure out what I’m doing to make that happen.
I have said in jest, many times that I think I am missing a chromosome. I’m just not like other girls. I’m really not. But I honestly want to know what I’m doing or not doing that draws these dull men to me. Some of them are nice, but I feel like right now I am a strange dude magnet. I can’t swat the nut jobs away fast enough. I literally have 3 numbers stored in my phone with caller ID set to “Don’t Answer”. I’m not even kidding. But intelligent, funny men…. Crickets.
My girlfriends and I talk about it. I told them I don’t understand why lunatics will hunt me down, but the men I think are awesome, have no idea I’m even a girl. They told me to just go for it. Tell one of the people I like that I do. So a few nights ago, slammed a shot of tequila and I actually approached one of the people I thought would be fun to go out with and the look of shock and horror on his face was enough to run me right back into the shadows. “I’ve never thought of you that way, Stacie”… Ouch. I holed up and didn’t leave the house for three days after that.
What is it about me that makes interesting & inteligent men not see me “that way”? It’s got to be me, right? It’s got to be something I’m projecting from inside myself. Surely I’m not that hideous. Am I delusional? Tell me if I am. I can take it. I would rather know and face it than not understand. Because I really, honestly, think I’m kind of pretty and I think I’m relatively smart. At the very least, I think I’m pretty and smart enough that you should be able to turn your body to me at a bar so that we could have a conversation and not be afraid or embarrassed that people might think we are hooking up. That shit is hard to swallow.
Look, I’m in the business of superficiality. That whole concept pays my bills. I get how important looks are. God knows that I do enough post processing & Photoshop to understand how a good-looking face can change minds, sell records, promote a show and get you press. I wrote a blog just a few weeks back about finding my pretty and owning my sexy. I’m in it. I get it. I look in the mirror. I know what I look like. I know what size my jeans are. I know I am not perfect. I’m average. It’s ok. I’ve never been a traffic stopper and at 45 years old, I’m never going to be. But Jesus H Christ, I’m not that bad either.
I think I bring some pretty good shit to the table too, but maybe that’s irrelevant. Comments like the ones I’ve mentioned here make me feel like all of the things that make me awesome can’t compensate for my glasses, thin lips, or these last 40 pounds.
I’m not delusional; I know I’m not the sex bomb or sweet little waif or the quirky cute girl. I’m realistic; I’m not looking to land George Clooney here either. In fact, my celebrity crush is Don Was. I can appreciate a handsome man just like anybody, but for me, it’s all about the mental stimulation. I don’t know George Clooney so it’s not fair to pick on him, but I do know Don and while he might look like Animal from the Muppets, there is something about his brilliance and spirit that makes him irresistibly sexy to me. Mmmmmm Mmmmmm Mmmmmm. You girls can have Clooney, Don Was is a goddamned dreamboat!
Don’t get me wrong. There are lots of really attractive people who have a lot of depth to them. Some of the most brilliant people I know are gorgeous inside and out. May not seem fair but its true. The pretty people are judged as much, if not more, than us average folks. I’m not trying to say that ugly is where it’s at or that it’s just about personality. You have to like what the other person looks like for the goodies in your pants to work. But am I the only one who thinks people get more or less attractive depending on how well you know them and what you think about them as people? I don’t know, now I’m getting off track.
Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe I’m not the catch I think I am. Maybe I should just be grateful that there are some men who are actually willing to overlook my physical shortcomings to buy me dinner, even if it just is for the possibility of getting a blowjob from some average looking girl at the end of the night. Maybe I should be happy for my free sushi and get on with it. But I don’t think so.
I’m not lonely, my life is quite full. I’m not looking for just anybody to fill my time. I spent a full decade being single without so much as one date and I survived. I didn’t do all this work on myself just to land “some guy”. I did it for me and only me. I can admit that I want to find love, but when I say that, I mean that. I want to find love. I’m not looking for just anybody. I’m not looking for “you’ll do”. I would rather be alone than settle for just anyone. And if I’m a “you’ll do” situation for you, please don’t fucking bother asking me out because I’m a perceptive little bitch and you are just going to hurt my feelings.
I want someone that challenges me. I want someone who inspires me. I want someone who sees my walls and is able to break them down. I want someone who makes me feel beautiful and makes me laugh. I want someone who can be vulnerable with me too. I want someone who brings new ideas and interests to my life and someone who makes me think. I don’t give a rat’s ass what they look like. At my age, I’m not looking for someone who blows my mind naked. I’m looking for a real partner. And I guess all I’m hoping for is to find someone who feels the same way.
This all feels very negative, but it’s not and I’m not nearly as pissed as I probably sound. I have a couple of wonderful men I spend time with who don’t at all fit into the generalized categories that I’m going on about in this blog. They are smart and funny and don’t at all make me feel like “I’ll do”. This blog isn’t about them.
This blog is about me holding a mirror up to myself and realizing that I need to peel away another layer and take a look at my patterns and myself. I need to open the closet and face whatever monster is in there so I can fix it and get on with the business of being awesome.
I think my dating life has seen its end. At least in the “dating scene” kind of way. I’m not cut out for that shit. My inner Carrie Bradshaw is long dead and gone. For me, it’s just going to have to be one of those things that happens. I’ll be sitting there talking to someone I’ve known a long time or maybe even a complete stranger and there will just be a shift and then that’s it. He’ll tell me and I’ll believe him and it won’t be a big deal. And I can promise you this. He will not be afraid of what other people think. I’ll be enough.
So thank you very much tall, hot guy. I appreciate your willingness to get in there and take care of business. Your valiant efforts are applauded. My friends are right; I do need to get laid. But I’m sure as shit not going to compromise myself for a pity fuck. There’s free porn at the house, I can take care of myself.
In the meantime, Don, you have my number. Call me! *wink*