Date Thirteen: The Dog Whisperer

This is a testament to not judge a book by it's cover. This cover was really nice. No nicks, tears, or stains. In really good shape for being 44. He has a great job, and we have history. We dated in high school. In fact, he was the older brother I was trying to make jealous by going steady with his younger brother.

We never did seem to find ourselves on the same page when we were younger, but a comfortable friendship was there. Always some cute thing distracting one of us away from the other, so we never did actually date on a serious level, but once we graduated things might have gone a different route had he not decided to marry. Before he proposed he came to me and asked if I would be his "last sexual adventure" before his marriage.

Let's see...

Flattered?

Offended?

Flattered?

Offended?

OFFENDED! If he wanted an adventure he needed a whore, even a stranger, but not someone he referred to as his best friend. I was pretty shocked by this. We were friends, after all, and friends don't do the deed. OK, so he was 20 at the time of this indecent proposal, so I'll cut him some slack.

I have married just a few weeks after they did and they came to my wedding. However, his new wife can't stand the fact that we are friends and puts her foot down regarding our friendship. Time slips by and we keep in touch annually via holiday card. Somehow, after a few years, we managed to keep in touch for a while without any problems from either spouse.

Years pass and we lose touch again. We both find ourselves the product of divorce. He finds me through Classmates.com and we begin our new beginning. A romantic one. Kyrptonite is out of the picture momentarily, again, and I'm having a low moment. I'm tired of the freaks I've met and dated and I just want a normal one to spend some time with. Is this too much to ask? He tells me how he wanted to stand up during my wedding when the minister says 'speak now or forever hold your piece....er.....peace' and that his wife grabbed his hand and kept him in his seat. He even had tears in his voice as he told me this over the phone. He said I was the one who got away. The only woman he had ever truly loved or would ever love again. blah blah blah Is it starting to smell in here? The story was nice, but hard to believe. He said he sent 50-60 letters and I never answered them and it hurt him desperately. Letters I never received. Mind you, I'm basing my judgment of him on the friendship we had 20 some years prior and he was credible at the point in time, so I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He lives far away and we start slow, and it takes us a few months before I decide to agree to his coming out for a visit. And of course, Kryptonite is on my shit list again so I give the go ahead. He flies out for 6 fun filled days in Fabulous Las Vegas! He looks amazing. Less hair, but the body and the style are so there. There's chemistry. There's that word again. We have a wonderful time together. He cooks for me. We play house. He proposes. I turn him down, but we decide to relocate to see if we have what it takes to go the distance. And then ... it happened.

One night when I got home from work, I found he had been drinking. A lot. An entire liter of the captain's finest rum. I did my nightly routine, bath, jammies and came into the living room and curled up next to him. I wasn't aware of how much he had drank at this stage. My Chihuahua jumped on his lap, stood on his chest and went nose to nose with him. This is her usual stance when she wants out.

"What, Gracie?" He grabs her face in his hands and she jerks away.

"You need to tell Mommy about the red rock." Gracie bails off of him and runs to the back door, asking to go out.

I looked at him and a single tear slid down his cheek.

"What's wrong?" I ask. Something ain't quite right here.

"She doesn't want me to tell you about the red rock. She's mad at me, and that's why she ran to the door."

"No," I say as calmly as I can. "She does that when she needs to shit..." I got off the sofa and let her out and she promptly went to her favorite spot and left me a nice toostie roll.

"See?"

He's not convinced. He proceeds to tell me that Gracie, the chihuahua, was left by a red rock when she was just a puppy and she was very scared by the incident. And somehow she has deemed him worthy enough to tell her ordeal to, but me, the pack leader, doesn't need to know. Huh? And things were going so well right up until that point.

He started rattling off dates. 1827. 1830. 1822.

"Are you writing these down?" He seems so intense and lost in space..er...a trance.

"Should I be?" I'm not so sure I want to be in the same room.

"YES!" He practically yelled it at me.

After about 20 minutes of this, he collapses on the sofa and whispers, "I'm done." He had no idea just how done he was. He tells me he is like Dr. Doolittle and can communicate with animals and Gracie is actually the reincarnated spirit of my Aunt Catherine.

It was an uncomfortable night for me. I knew it was over. All the wonderful, romantic feelings were killed by 20 minutes of irregularity. He goes to sleep and next to him I kept thinking about what makes someone drink like that. No one can drink that much without practice and I know I have to cut my loses and move on...quickly.

I have never driven to the air port faster than I did the next day when I took him back to the place where he would leave to return to his own planet.

Oh, and just so you know? I don't HAVE an Aunt Catherine...

Kryptonite and the Snow Storm

NEVER snows in Las Vegas to the point where life comes to a screeching halt, but it did! Eight fabulous inches fell on our fine city, shutting things down and closing schools and businesses.  It happened on my day off.  A day Kryptonite was coming over to spend the night.  I spoke to him when it started falling and the plan was still on, but as the day went on and the snow continued to fall, he sounded more ify about keeping our 'date'.  

I'm getting more and more aggravated with him.  It's always something.  A haircut that takes longer than he planned, his boys needing a ride somewhere.  I'm all about his boys, don't get me wrong.  Kids come first, but don't use them as an excuse.  Call it what it is.  If you're tired, say, "I'm tired."  Don't say, "My boys...." whatever, whatever, because that's just going to piss me off.  

School lets out early.  I know this is going to throw a wrench in our plans, but that's ok. He's a dad first.  He calls.  I accept the news graciously.  Disappointed, but gracious nonetheless.  He tells me to go for a walk out in the snow, to enjoy it.  I respond that walking alone in a snow storm isn't quite what I had in mind, but he tells me to do it anyway.  Whatever.

An hour passes.  The snow is beautiful and it's been years since I've walked in the white stuff.  I dressed accordingly and put a coat on the dog and out we went.  I walked down my street and as I approached his, I began to hear laughter.  Not just laughter, but squealing and giggling.  Kids having the time of their lives.  I can't see them yet, but the sound of their joy makes me smile from ear to ear.  I round the corner and I see him in a bobcat scraping snow from the street and piling it in his front yard.  Every kid in the neighborhood is there, sliding down this 8 foot pile of snow in the desert.  He sees me and the dog and he drives over, laughing.  

All the anger I had in me is gone.  The disappointment is gone.  The resentment is gone.  He's made a lasting memory for his children this day.  He's the only adult on the street playing with the kids and I'm loving him for it.   Yep.  Loving him.  And I froze.  Not because I was cold, but because I knew it.  It hit me that I had fallen in love with him.  One of his sons called out to him and he turned that direction, I took the moment to leave.  To continue my walk and to let him go back where he belonged.  I'm thankful for the snowflakes that hid the tear that slid down my cheek.  It's time for me to say goodbye and I know it.

Date Twelve: The Stalker

This one scared me to death.  I changed so much about how I live after I met this one.  On my refrigerater is his business card with a note that reads, "If something should happen to me, start here. " 

Retired Air Force, divorced after 22 years, just like me.  I thought he sounded so normal!  He was a little pushy/persausive...same thing sometimes.  I'm an artist and I had a painting showing in the Liberace Museum.  I'd been going to events such as this alone for years and decided to take a date.  I invited him knowing I would be safe at an event with so many people around.

It went well and we decided to go to dinner at an Italian place in the Fashion Show Mall.  Great food.  Very nice.  Problem was his arms are around me and I can't use my silverware to eat.  He is snuggled into me in a way that borders inappropriate.  I can hardly move.  I tell him to back off, and he does.  Said he didn't realize how pushy he was being.  Other than that, I liked him a lot.

We went out 2 more times and things were quite nice.  The fourth date was dinner at my place.  I made it clear he was not staying the night and we were NOT playing house.  I was making a meal, we would eat and then go to a movie.  While I was washing dishes, he hid a toiletries bag in with my towels and I was completely unaware.  In the bag was cologne, shaving cream, razors, toothbrush and toothpaste.  I didn't find it right away, but when I did, you can count on me being pissed.  How presumptuious is that?

It was a few days later when I was putting clean towels away that I saw it. I knew right away when he had put it there.  He had taken my chihuahua, Gracie, out to pee and and brought this shit into my house thinking he was going to be spending the night.  I guess he was pretty surprised when he didn't even get a goodnight kiss.  

I didn't mention to him that I had found the bag.  I wanted him to mention it first.  I wrote an email and told him things were moving too fast for me and that I was not interested in taking the relationship any further.  He sent a text saying he had left things and he wanted them back.  I refused to met him or to allow him to come to my home to pick them up.  I demanded an address so I could mail the offensive bag to him. Days went by and he sent text after text.  He insulted me, swore at me and made me feel stupid for allowing him into my home so quickly.  My friends thought I was crazy for inviting him over for dinner after only the third date.  

The texting continued, he slept in front of my house, came by my job.  The messages were non-threatening, but disconcerting.  The timing of them bothered me as I knew he had to be at his job at 7 am, but he would text me when he knew I would be leaving work. He was getting up in the middle of the night to write.  Those texts made me think he might be waiting for me either at home or at my car.  Then, when I wouldn't respond to the texts he sent, he sent pictures of his unimpressive penis.  I find this really funny because if a woman gets annoyed with a man for not paying attention to her, the LAST thing she's going to do is take a picture of her privates and send it to him.  Take that, you bad man! Yeah, right.  Ain't gonna happen.  

400 texts in 2 weeks.  This was before I had unlimited text messaging.  $350 was the total for the phone bill.  The messages continued for months and months.  My fear level was at red alert and I became extremely cautious.  Fearful.  Nervous. My plan was to not respond to anything he did.  He finally sent the address and I mailed his stuff to him.  I had the address for the police should I need to give it to them.  I spoke to a cop friend who said to save every message should I need to file a restraining order.  Thankfully, I didn't have to do that.

By now it's December 26.  Barely.  Just a little after 1 am and he sends another message.  It had been a month since I had heard from him and I had really thought he was through.  I was relaxing in the tub when the phone alerted me to the message.  I started to cry as soon as I saw it was him.  Frustrated.  Angry.  So many emotions.  I sent a message.  "You have to stop."  That's all I said.  He wrote back imediately. " K."  A few minutes later he writes again.  "I was just trying to be friendly."  and to that I write, "don't be friendly, be invisible."

I haven't heard from him since, but I still jump at every sound.  Months of being on guard will do that to you. 

Date Eleven: Lord Farquar

What a liar.  Remember Lord Farquar from Shrek?  He bragged about his money and suffered from Napolean Syndrome.  This one was just like that.  One his profile he said he was 5'7".  Not a tall man, but compared to my 5'3" and a half, that's perfectly fine.  We spoke on the phone a couple of times, but after Fire Slave Dave I decided there would be no more bonding done via phone or email.  I want to meet and move on.  It's awkward to have a nice friendship on the phone and then have them be weird in person.  I want to see them and then get the hell out if they aren't what they claim to be.  At least this one had all his teeth.

We decide to meet at a local bar.  Figuring him to be taller than me, I wore shoes with a bit of a heel.  I walked into the bar.  When he spotted me, he hopped off the bar stool and hit me just about under my chin.  

"So..."  I say, "You're a liar."  

"No!  Why would you say that?"  He stammers.

"If I can bust you on such an obvious lie as your height, what else would you lie about that I might not be able to bust you on so easily?"

His jaw moves, but no sound comes out.  I throw my hands up in disgust and leave yet another bad date.  The bartender is laughing hysterically and I hear her cackling as I make my exit.

Kryptonite...again.

And between the weirdos, Mr Mount Everest/Kryptonite moves in and out of my world.  We have wonderful weeks and then we don't speak for months.  I can see and feel him getting close to me and then he gets scared and pulls away, skittish as a colt. We are both well known in our community and I am hesitant when it comes to being seen with him because of his womanizing reputation.  It's messed up and I'm confused and unsure about how to handle things.  So, I figure I should just enjoy what we have and leave it at that.  

It's hurtful, though.  And shameful.  While grocery shopping with a friend, we ran into him at the store.  After all the time we'd been seeing each other, he barely glanced my way.  Stopped long enough for me to make the introduction and then he dashed out without a hug or peck on the cheek. Didn't even toss, an "I'll call ya." over his shoulder as he scurried from sight.  

And yet he's Kryptonite.  WTF?  It's got to be the challenge.  The thrill of the chase and how he gives me just the right amount of encouragement to keep me on the hook.  Whatever it is, if this were happening to a friend I'd be advising her to run. Supporting her decision no matter what, but hoping she'd get the flock outta Dodge.  

We continue to carry on.  I call him, he calls me.  We hook up.  We go our separate ways.  I call him.  He calls me...and so on.  

Date Ten: The Smoker

Funny how the anonymity of a profile can make one feel confident enough to lie about themselves without even considering the fact that the lie is obvious enough for even an idiot to catch. Seems to defeat the entire purpose of having a profile if it's full of lies and half truths. When looking at someone's profile, I look for deal breakers. Smoking is a deal breaker for me. The smell, the taste, and the way it makes my lungs tighten up, is not something I enjoy. No matter how charming he may be, if he smokes, I'm not interested because I find it a serious turn off. Really funny, since I was, many years ago, a smoker.
Come to think of it, Kryptonite smoked, but he took measures to not taste like an ashtray and I really didn't notice. Guess that would be the moral of this story.

I met Smoking Man on Yahoo!. Most sites have a place where you can claim your shame either confirming or denying the fact you smoke. He had said he wasn't a smoker. I walked into the appointed meeting ground, which was a really nice place called The District at Green Valley Ranch. He met me with a hug. And I smelled it. It was overwhelming. He was completely saturated in the aroma. It came out of his pores. I can only imagine what his house must smell like. I know I blanched at the smell because he asked if everything was OK.

"Smoker, eh?" I asked.
"Yeah, all my adult life. Is that bad?" Then he added defensively, "So, I'm a nice guy with a vice. That's such a small part of me."

But it is a big deal to a non-smoker. He was defensive about it. Sometimes, it's best just to get on with the date and get through it. I lost track of how many cigarettes he smoked that night, but it had to have been a pack, at least. I knew it was the first and last time I would see him and I felt bad with the generous way he kept ordering drinks, etc. He refused to let me help with the tab.

Date Nine: Paulution

Paul.  We talked for a few weeks before we finally met.  This was another Internet guy.  Funny.  Made me laugh, which is very important. We met for dinner at a great Mexican place in Henderson. He was late.  That alone is the kiss of death in my book. The humor I had experienced via the phone and the web was completely gone. Oddly, though, he didn't crack a smile. ANOTHER one missing teeth!   Yikes.  He didn't think I noticed.  And as we ate--I figured i'd just get through it---he stuck his hand up my pant leg.  I had my left ankle on my right knee...and when I asked him what he was doing, he said, "Checking to see if I have plans for later."  "What? If I've shaved my legs you think you're gonna get laid?"  "Yep."  The only thing he got was the check.  Paulution was his screen name.  I think Paul in ate her would have been funnier.