Holy Grail of Hotness

I have found my Holy Grail of Hotness.* (*HG of H trademarked by jolene.)

K is a friend from library school who I haven't seen in seven years. I realized last night that she is my ideal. She's not "traditionally" beautiful, but has the perfect combination of quirky physical characteristics that really do it for me. I realize that over the past seven years since I last saw her, I've been drawn to lots of women who look like her.

She's also smart, funny, interesting, easy to talk to, and as quirky as I am, with just a hint of awkwardness. She may be the only woman I've ever spent time with who talks more than I do. We never ran out of things to talk about. She seems to enjoy my company.

I think I may have fallen in love with her last night. But here's the problem: she has no interest in my schniedel. She likes the ladies. She "plays for the other team," and even if it were possible to get her to switch teams, I don't think I have what it takes.

Unrequited love has always driven me crazy, but this time it's different. It's inspiring to feel this way about someone again. In four months of dating AG I never said the L-word to her, and after two hours with K, I was thinking, "I love this girl!" I've been so ambivalent about all the women I've met, it feels good to know that I could love again. If I know my ideal exists in flesh and blood, there's hope for me to meet another one. And I have a standard by which to judge my feelings. I don't have to settle for anything less.

Because women like her exist.

And maybe the next one will want my schniedel.

Leaves

There's a movie I remember watching when I was a kid titled Somewhere In Time. Christopher Reeves travels back into the past and falls in love with a woman. Near the end of the movie, while they are deep in the throes of their passionate love affair, he pulls a penny out of his pocket. The penny has a future date stamped on it. Seeing that penny jolts him out of the past, rips him away from his love, and sends him back to his old life in the future.

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I had a similar "penny" moment this week. I've been in a great mood all week, excited about new plans, new friendships, and new communities. SnarkEx has not been on my mind at all. She's like a whisp of smoke from my past.

On Wednesday night I parked my car near the UU church to attend an orientation session. I parked along a beautiful tree-lined, brick-paved street. This being late October, the street and sidewalk were coated with yellow leaves. The street, the smell of the leaves, and the feel of them under my shoes all brought me back to a moment six years ago.

I met SnarkEx (in person) on October 30, 2003. At the time she was living in this part of town, and I remember us walking down a leaf-covered street to her apartment. It was the same sights and smells that I experienced on Wednesday.

It was probably one of the happiest days of my life. We had met online a month before, and I couldn't believe how lucky I was that she was as awesome in person as she had been through email and phone. It felt like I had finally found the girl for me. I had won the cosmic lottery.

Two years later, we were married. Three years after that, our divorce was final.

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As if to reinforce the leaf/penny moment, as I was walking into the church, someone came out who looked a whole lot like our marriage therapist. I had been angry at our therapist because I felt like she didn't do enough to try to keep us together-- to convince SnarkEx that abandoning her marriage was a mistake. Or maybe even to tell her that dating other men while you're married is not the most healthy thing for your marriage. But whatever.

The leaves had just reminded me of the day we met, and now the therapist was reminding me of our breakup. There's probably something poetic in there about cycles & shit, but I'm not really into reflecting on my marriage right now. I'm trying to focus on my fabulous new single life.

Friendship Wins

My social life has been booming lately. It's awesome and I don't have any complaints. But it has brought up a few challenges.

I'm having to make tough decisions. I already wrote about choosing to hang out with a friend on Halloween rather than inviting myself to a party with Dimple. Two other situations have arisen lately that are presenting similarly tough decisions.

Although my clavicle is now tennis-ready, I haven't been playing nearly enough. Mostly because I keep getting drunk on Friday nights and I can't go to the Saturday morning workout. My only tennis has been going to the Thursday night workouts. But this week my friend J (of the Clavicle! story) told me that his wife would be out of town, and asked if I want to watch the Thursday night NBC lineup (Office, 30 Rock, etc.) with him. Hells, yeah! But it means I will have to neglect tennis yet again.

In the end, I decided on friendship over tennis. I'm confident I'll be able to go to the Saturday morning tennis workout instead. I'll probably need it to work off all the sexual tension from hanging out with my cute lesbian friend Friday night.

Next weekend there are several social events associated with my new cult, the Unitarians. There's a game night for "singletons" (I hate that word) on Saturday night. But I will have not seen Dimple for almost two weeks, so I was hoping to ask her out that night. What to do? In this case, there's no clear friend that I can choose. It's playing games in a church rec center (and maybe meeting new people) vs. possible chance at boob.* I'll have to think that one over.

So to recap:

friend vs. date: friend wins
friend vs. tennis: friend wins
church vs. date: draw

Sounds like a pretty good score for someone cultivating a fabulous single life with lots of friends.

*Steve Smith (American Dad): I touched her hand. Her hand touched her boob. By the transitive property, I got some boob. Algebra's awesome!


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Interesting sidenote: It seems my social life has had certain geographical themes this year. First it was the Russian cycle, where I met three different Russians in different contexts over the spring/summer. Including my first post-divorce girlfriend, AG, who was from Belarus.

My current geographical theme appears to be Boston. Dimple is from Boston (and is "wicked cute"), two of my blogging friends are from the Boston area, and my lesbian friend who I'm seeing tomorrow is originally from Boston. Oh, and that same friend also speaks Russian, so I guess she brings it all together. Weird.

Invisible Friends

Aside from giving me a hobby, a purpose, and a therapeutic outlet, this blog has been invaluable to me for a very important social reason: I'm part of an online blogging community.

Through this blog I've come into contact with dozens of other people from all over the country: bloggers and lurkers who I find, or who find me, through the divorce blogging network. The only thing we have in common is our failed relationships and a need to share our stories. They are people I've never met, probably never will meet, and yet we share intimate details of our lives. For many of us, there's not a face you can attach to the name, or even a real name for that matter. I've had many invisible friends come and go over the past year and a half. I've compiled lists of them, scrapped them, and started over.

The most valuable of these invisible friends over the past six months has been Jolene at To Be Determined. She reads and comments on my blog regularly, and quotes me on her blog way more often than I deserve. She's one of the popular kids in the divorce blogging world, so to have her paying attention to a nerd like me is truly gratifying. I am grateful for her encouragement and friendship.

Every once in a while a lurker will leave a comment. I really appreciate the comments and feedback from anyone who reads my blog. In some cases, these comments have developed into an invisible friendship. Last year a teacher going through a divorce got in touch with me and we started a correspondence. We sent very long, detailed emails to each other. We commiserated, gossiped, bitched, and supported each other-- all over email. The friendship got very intense very quickly. It was a bizarre relationship. I felt very close to her and yet I never even knew what she looked like. If we had been at the same party together, we might never have noticed each other.

Or maybe she was not who she said she was. Part of my paranoid mind wondered if she was just playing a part, pretending to be someone she wasn't. Maybe it was even someone I knew (SnarkEx(?)) trying to get information out of me.

That kind of thing has happened before. Megan Meier was a 13-year-old girl who "met" a cute boy named Josh Evans on Myspace. He became her online boyfriend. When he suddenly broke it off and told her, "the world would be a better place without you," she killed herself. It turned out that "Josh Evans" was actually the mother of a ex-friend who was pretending to be this boy to gain Megan's confidence. She was a sadistic fuckwad playing games with an emotionally unstable teenage girl. (If I believed in hell, this lying manipulative evil cyberbully would certainly be roasting there.)

I'm no emotionally unstable 13-year-old, but I can understand Megan's heartbreak. After a few months my invisible friend's emails trailed off til she finally just stopped emailing me altogether. Even though we were just friends helping each other through a tough time, it still hurt like hell when she dropped me with no explanation. My invisible friend had disappeared. I agonized over what I had said in my last email-- did I offend her?

So I'm very cautious about invisible online friendships. It does make me nervous when someone reads my blog and knows way more about me than I know about them. It's like getting to know someone by reading their journal. I understand the need for caution, so I respect it when people post anonymously or don't want to reveal much about themselves.

I'm fiercely anonymous on this blog. Probably to the level of paranoia. The reason that I'm able to be so open and reveal so much of my crazies is because it's anonymous. There are very few people who know me in real life and also read this blog. (There are very few people who read this blog, period.) They are people I trust to be discrete. I do this to protect myself and the privacy of the many characters here. I would be terrified if, for example, people from my work, or TennisGrrrl, or AG, or Dimple Girl, discovered this blog.

Some things that you announce to the whole World Wide Web are supposed to be private. That's the oxymoron of anonymous blogging. And invisible friends.

My Datecation

I need a dating vacation-- a break from Dimple Girl. I'm letting this take over my life, and I'm not even that sure I'm into her.

So I was actually relieved when she said she was too busy to go out tonight. Since I have so much going on this week (and weekend), I tried to see if she wanted to go out on Tuesday, the last free evening I have this week. I know it was too soon, two days after our last date, but the only reason I suggested it was that it might be the last chance we have to go out for two weeks. She said she was too busy, but to get back to her when I have some weekend time.

For the first time in days I'm relaxed. This is just what I need-- to step back and gain some perspective. I think she put a hex on me when she kissed me the other night, and I need to enjoy my life again. Just for a few days.

My social life has got to the point where I actually have to make tough choices. Last weekend, after I thought DG was really into me, a friend invited me to hang out on Halloween in her new house, hand out candy, and watch movies. I'd been wanting to hang out with this friend for a while, so I was excited about the invite. But I also knew that DG was going to a party that night, and wondered if she might invite me to that. Do I want to miss a potential party/date to hang out with a friend?

I let cliches run my life, so in the end I decided that "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." My friend invited me first, so she had first dibs. I couldn't well turn her down in the hopes that DG invite me to a party. It would be a shitty thing to do, and also not very smart. I'm proud of myself that I chose a friend over a potential date. It feels like the right thing to do. Maybe I'm learning stuff after all. New and Improved Single Snarkbutt!

Meanwhile, DG friended me on Facebook yesterday. I was kinda hoping to keep that away from her, since it reveals so much about me. There are links to my public blogs, including the "Snarkology" blog (my own personal "religion.") I worry that she'll think I'm a freak when she sees all this stuff.

But let's put this in perspective. I spend a lot of time cultivating my online presence. It amuses me and most of my friends. I like myself. Do I really want to date someone who is turned off by that? Who I can't amuse?

So we'll see. Dating is a dance. You're both in constant motion, moving forward and backward, advancing and retreating, and it won't work if you can't coordinate your movements. If you both retreat at the same time, you might fall down. If you both advance at the same time, you could crash into each other.

It's time for me to retreat and see if DG is still there when I advance again.

A Complicated Life

Runnin' down the road
Tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind.
Four that wanna own me,
Two that wanna stone me,
One says she's a friend of mine.

The Eagles ("Take It Easy")

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I'm no Glenn Fry, but I've got three women on my mind right now.

One who I think may be putting the moves on me, but I just want to be friends.

One who I would love to put the moves on, but she's a lesbian. She's my role model for leading a fabulous single life and I'm excited about becoming better friends. (I was going to ask what the male/lesbian version of a "fag hag" is, and apparently it does exist: lesbro! Maybe I could be one of those. Or maybe I've seen too many episodes of Will & Grace.)

And, of course, you've already met Dimple Girl. (See previous seven posts.) I've calmed down a bit from my initial freakout from last night. We texted a few times after the date and it appears that she's still interested in going out again. Our schedules might not match up for a while, though. And there's still my general sense of anxiety about whether she's interested or not.

I'm seeing (at least) two of these three women this weekend. Three weeks ago I had no life. Now it's gotten a whole lot more complicated and I have to remind myself that a complicated life is better than no life at all.

Lately I've been neglecting my work too much. I keep telling myself, "As soon as I write those four blog posts that are in my queue, I'll start on my work." But new developments keep developing, so it never happens. There's always six new ideas to write about.

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At times like these it's important to keep things in perspective. Although sometimes I'm able to put things in perspective for other people, it feels like I can never do it for myself. Dating for me is like a fun house of mirrors, jumping from one distorted image to another.

Hey, man, take it easy. Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.

Expectations Suck

I'm sitting at my computer at 8:00 on a Sunday night and thinking, "What the fuck just happened? Did I get blown off?"

Picked up Dimple Girl at 6:00. We decided on a restaurant, had a nice dinner and what I thought was good conversation, and at 7:30 I suggest we continue our date somewhere else. She explains that she has a lot of work to do for tomorrow. She tells me all about it-- what she has to get done, and actually asks my advice on a problem she has. We discuss it, but I'm afraid I'm not very helpful and she keeps apologizing for being preoccupied with it.

I take her home. I ask if she wants to "do this again sometime" and she says sure, she'll be online all day tomorrow.

I could parse out our entire conversation, like me finally admitting how old I am, and her being surprised, but not necessarily shocked. ("Did you tell me that the other night? 'Cause I don't remember it.") But if there was a sudden change in her attitude at anything I said, I couldn't pick up on it. Now I'm going over every thing I said tonight and wondering what might have turned her off. There are plenty of candidates.

But the worst part is the high expectations I had for this date. Almost nothing happened like I thought it would. Expectations can suck it.

This is what is not fun about dating. I have absolutely no ability to judge a date on the basis of whether I had fun. A date for me is "fun" if it moves us forward. If afterward I feel more secure and clear about what is going on between us. Why can't I just enjoy getting to know someone and leave it at that?

Update: She did text me a thank-you and apology for having to bail. So maybe she wasn't blowing me off for good. But I still feel like shit.

Dating Fever

I think Dimple Girl infected me on Friday night. The germs incubated all day yesterday, but I've been showing signs of Dating Fever all morning. I'm excited about our date tonight and can't stop rehearsing conversations in my head. I have lots of activities to suggest. Am I starting to enjoy dating? That's what I get for writing about it being chore two days ago.

My thoughts on dating (in general) and Dimple Girl (in particular) are coming fast and furious, and I want to record them before our next interaction sends me off in some new random direction. Hence the heightened frequency of blog posts. I know my readers want to experience this roller coaster with me in real time.

Today I want to write about land mines. Those topics that come up naturally in conversation but you want to avoid on an early date. Dating is a game, and part of that game is knowing when to reveal certain things about yourself. You don't open with the crazy. You ease them into that. My sister-in-law says that on the first date you only (figuratively) bring your tiny little overnight bag. "See, this all my baggage!" you say. You conceal the big huge suitcases behind you.

With Dimple Girl I've created more land mines than ever. I've been holding back revealing things about myself. I don't want to talk about religion or politics or my relationship history or anything that shows my age. In short, all those things that make a conversation interesting. I've become one of those guarded, private people that I used to hate.

I think most of it all comes down to embarrassment about my age. This is one thing that separates online dating from organic dating. What you might have weeded out in an online profile is not obvious when you meet someone live. There are advantages and disadvantages to that. I don't know how old DG is exactly, but based on what I know already, I'd estimate she's between 25-28. That's 10-13 years younger than me. I don't have a problem with that age difference, but I worry that she will. I look relatively young for my age, and I'm certainly immature, so she might not realize what a fogey I am. Will it change her opinion when she finds out?

It's weird to me that I keep dating women who are about the same age (26-28), even though I keep getting older. It makes me feel like a skeezy old guy hitting on younger women. But it's not by design. It's just that my town is full of grad students and they are the age group that's most often single. And I'm not some commitment-phobe who can't grow up. Or at least I wasn't before I was married. I was just a late bloomer who hitched his wagon to the wrong star. (SnarkEx.)

So there are all these things that I'm afraid to bring up with DG, because they will indicate my age. I find myself being vague like, "I was in college a long time" instead of "I had to live on a student budget for 12 years." Or I emphasize that my niece, who is already a freshman in high school, is my OLDER brother's daughter.

Actually, DG might already know a lot of this stuff about me. I know she hung out with TennisGrrrl(TG) on Friday, and they talked about me a little, because I found out TG had said I was "clever." I don't know what else TG told her. That I'm a skeezy old perv who hit on her last year? Or that I'm a nice clever funny guy who got divorced? TG is very nice and not very gossipy, so I guess if she said anything at all it was harmless.

Instead of avoiding the AGE land mine, the smart thing to do would be to fall on it-- just come right out and say how old I am and get it out of the way. Then I can focus more on avoiding the other land mines.

Like my divorce. Or my most recent girlfriend. To me, someone's dating history is a really important part of who they are. Comparing relationship histories was something I always enjoyed when I started dating someone. Had they had any long-term things? How did it end? Are they still friends? Let's badmouth our exes!! Now I feel like my relationship resume has gotten too long, and I just don't want to talk about it. I don't want to be defined by my divorce any more.

If my ultimate goal is to find a soul mate, it seems each new time I date I'm going in the wrong direction. With AG, I really wanted a girlfriend, but was afraid of going further. Now, I'm afraid of even having a girlfriend. So, am I dating just for the sake of dating?

Maybe my reluctance to have a relationship is a good thing. After all, if I'm pulled kicking and screaming into a relationship, it must be a really good one. I'll know it's the right girl when she gets me over this.

I may be obsessing about DG right now, but the truth is there's not a lot of pressure on me. There are a lot of things going right in my life right now (knock on wood), so if this thing with DG fizzles out, I won't be crushed for too long.

Three Hours

It's amazing how quickly your whole attitude can change in three short hours.

And one missed phone call can change it back again.

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In some ways, my meeting with Dimple Girl last night exceeded my wildest explanations. In some other ways, it was a mild disappointment.

The surprises started when TennisGrrrl (of all people) texted me to tell me that the three of them were running late. Yes, TennisGrrrl (TG), the girl who I had my eye on for most of last year and I finally asked out in February, was part of the gaggle of girls who met me last night. TG is friends with "Heather," the girl I know from the tennis center, and Heather is friends with Dimple Girl. I'm sure Kevin Bacon is in that mix, too, somewhere.

I have to give TG credit, though, for talking me up to Dimple Girl. As we sat in a booth in a crowded bar, TG told DG that I was "clever" and would certainly have good ideas she was looking for in a Halloween costume. (After much beer and conversation, I was able to come up with a few ideas that she liked.)

The evening went by fast. After about an hour TG went home. About an hour later Heather left, leaving me and Dimple Girl alone without any chaperones. I guess by that point they could trust me to be alone with her.

The highlight of any date conversation, when you're sitting across a table from an attractive woman, is when you say the right thing and can see the thrill on her face. You mention a favorite movie or song or personal quirk and her face lights up like you've just won the jackpot: you've found a common interest. Or times when the two of you get goofy together and laugh at your attempts to put bar peanuts into sexual positions. But there are also those moments that bring the conversation to an uncomfortable halt, like when you discover your date is allergic to your cats, that she thinks a book you love is stupid, or you discover incompatible living habits.

My first impression of Dimple Girl is that she will not be the next Love of My Life. We seem to have some fundamental differences. (She's a Patriots fan, and as a follower of the Colts I think Tom Brady is the devil. [This is a joke. I'm not really THAT intolerant.] Fuckin' Patriots!) But my first impressions are wrong often enough that I'm willing to take a wait-and-see attitude. I would like to see her again, and it seemed like she was really into me.

I wasn't quite sure how into me she was until I drove her home. Parked outside her apartment, we exchanged the niceties that happen at the end of a date ("Thanks for meeting me. I had a good time. Let's do it again.") Then there was that awkward moment when you never know how to end it. Before I could get too stressed about it, she took control and removed all the ambiguity of the moment. (I'm trying to be a gentleman here, so excuse my lack of detail.) It was surprising and awesome. I guess this means she's attracted to me, I thought.

Before she got out of the car, she said, "Don't you want my phone number?" Oh, yeah, I should get that. I mumbled something about having her email address, so I didn't seem like a total cad, but she reminded me that she didn't have internet access at home. So I guess she wants me to call her this weekend.

I tried putting her number into my phone, but I hardly ever use my cell, it was 2:00 am and I was woozy from her attention. I couldn't figure it out. She thought I was pretending to be incompetent and said something like, "You're not going to call me, are you?"

"No, really," I said, several times, "I'm just really bad at using my cell." Finally, in exasperation, I asked her to write her number down on a sheet of paper, and I would put the number into my goddam phone when I could figure out how.

She did, then ran into her apartment.

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When I got home I texted her to make sure the number worked. (It was only the third time I've ever texted in my life.) We texted back and forth for a few minutes then I went to bed around 2:30.

After too little sleep and not enough hydration, I woke up this morning feeling like my life just got a whole lot more complicated. Thrilling, but complicated.

I went online and communicated with the outside world. While I had been on my date last night, two lady friends (just friends) had emailed me about next weekend. It looks like I will have a full social calendar for the Halloween weekend. It's amazing how much my life has turned around in just two weeks. I'm excited about a new community, new friends, and new dates. Maybe in another two weeks I'll be despondent again.

I've been exhausted all day and unable to get any chores or work done. Two weeks in a row I've had to miss the Saturday morning tennis workout because I was out too late drinking the night before.

After lunch I called Dimple Girl to see if she wanted to see a movie tonight. I got her voicemail and left a message. I tried to nap, but just tossed around on the couch. Two hours after the first call, I called again. Didn't leave a message this time. Why hasn't she called me back? She seemed so eager to give me her phone number last night.

Self-doubt creeps in. Maybe she's having second thoughts? Maybe she was too drunk and is ashamed about last night? I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not getting anything useful done, I'm not relaxing, and I'm exhausted. It feels like a completely wasted day. With each passing minute I get more anxious that I've taken this situation with DG for granted. I've misjudged something.

I start writing this blog just to have something to do. While I'm writing, she calls. It's kind of an awkward conversation, not one that inspires confidence. I ask her about tonight, and she says she has a lot of work to do, and isn't feeling great, and tells me to call her again later to see if she's up to it.

But despite the awkward conversation, the call calms me down. My anxiety has melted away. I'll call her tonight, and either she'll be available or not. If not, I'll have a nice relaxing evening at home with the cats. I'm content. At least until the next crisis.

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UPDATE: I called her, she's not feeling well, and we made plans to go out tomorrow night. I'm actually relieved, because I was so tired I was about to fall asleep before I called her.

And tomorrow I have an actual real live date. It's kind of fun to say that: I have a date.

Is Dating Fun?

So I guess this is turning into Dating Week on Snarkbutt Divorced. Interesting theme for someone who claims to want to be single.

The question today is: is dating fun? For some people, I'm sure it's a great hobby, like watching football, playing Parcheesi, or cleaning your guns. There are some aspects of dating that I enjoy. Having something to do. Getting to know someone new. The thrill of new romance. That awesome first kiss. My preoccupation with a new date keeps me busy and out of trouble. But is it fun? Do I enjoy it? Let me answer that with two analogies.

Some people, who are often associated with a certain gender, really love to shop. They can spend an entire day shopping. They plan afternoons, weekends, even entire vacations around shopping. For me, shopping is a chore. I hate crowds, I hate the way stores try to manipulate you, I hate trying to find whatever it is I came here to buy. I often end up leaving the store empty-handed because I didn't find exactly what I was looking for, or decided I didn't really need it after all. I hate shopping.

What I love, however, is coming home with new stuff. Because I don't go shopping very often, when I do buy a new thing, be it a CD, funky new boxers, or a bread box for my kitchen, it makes me happy. But it isn't the shopping that makes me happy, it's the new stuff.

Reference librarians often repeat this adage to each other: librarians love to search-- other people love to find. Not everyone is as enamored with the search process as we are. This is something we need to keep in mind when we teach others how to do research.

When it comes to dating, I don't like the shopping or the searching. Those things are chores to me. Chores full of landmines, self-doubt, anxiety, and rejection. I love the finding.

Of course, there's a fine line between searching and finding. Sometimes you think you've found something, but as you examine it a little closer, you realize it's not what you wanted. Or you can't afford it. Or it's not what you thought it was.

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Someone remarked to me yesterday that it seemed like my interest in Dimple Girl is based entirely on her (apparent) interest in me. (They also said it's starting to sound like an episode of Seinfeld, which is gratifying. Any time my life can be as entertaining as George Constanza's, then I know I've done my part.)

Well, of course it is. Reciprocity is a huge turn on for me. I've always said this. If a woman is drawn to me as much as I'm drawn to her, well, that's a huge plus in her favor. Although I have pursued women who didn't show an initial interest in me, it has never, ever worked out, and I always end up looking like an idiot.

Some guys like the thrill of the hunt. They like to pursue women who are not interested or available. And consequently, some women like to "play hard to get." I don't play that. If "hard to get" is your MO, then you'll do a good job of weeding out the meeker guys like me. What you'll end up with are the pushy, boorish ones who don't take "No" for an answer. If that's what you want, more power to you.

I'll meet a woman half way. I'll even do 3/4 of the work. But If I don't get loads of encouragement, I'm not going to push it. So when I find a woman who will meet me halfway, or, dare I imagine, pursue me, hells yeah, that's a turn on.

But that's not my only turn on. If I meet Dimple Girl tonight and find out we hardly have anything in common, if she has repugnant ideas or doesn't have anything interesting to say, her interest in me alone will not be enough.

Well, maybe enough for a couple of dates. I'd want to make absolutely sure I hadn't misjudged her. Especially if she laughs at my jokes.

Dating Myself

After my marriage ended, my oldest brother gave me some advice. He said I needed to stop dating myself. That is, having relationships with girls who are just like me. It's true that most of my exes have shared certain characteristics with me: short, educated, liberal, intellectual, affectionate, goofy, wear glasses.

I know there are lots of people who are attracted to their opposite; someone who complements their personality. The life of the party hooks up with the wall flower. Domineering partners seek passive ones. Assholes often end up with saints. (Maybe because no one else would put up with them.)

But that's not me. Maybe it indicates my narcissism, but my dream girl is just a female version of myself. Same temperament, sense of humor, values, outlook on the world. We would be equal partners in the relationship. Someone who would not rule my life, but also won't buckle under to everything I want. There would be just enough difference in our experiences and interests to teach me new things.

I thought SnarkEx was that person. At first it seemed like she was my dream girl. She was a female version of myself, but better. I used to call her as a Good Person. I hoped that this would improve me.

But it turned out that the longer we were together, the more disagreeable I became. I didn't notice it at the time, but other people have pointed this out to me. Somewhere along the way I realized that she wasn't such a Good Person after all. (But really, who is?) And she certainly wasn't the female version of myself that I thought she was. We had some fundamentally different values: I valued marriage; she didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I heard back from Dimple Girl. In a very short response, she said she remembered me, "but only briefly." She said that they were going out again this Friday, and would I like to meet up with them? Okay, so she wants to meet me in a group. This makes the most sense, of course, meeting someone you hardly know under cover of a group. But it puts me right back in the situation from last Friday: having to talk to her in a large group at a bar.

I suppose I should look at this as a second chance to correct my wussitude from last Friday. She's giving me another opportunity to get to know her in the same environment. This is what I wanted, right? Organic dating and all?

But something about her response bothers me. She's playing it close to the vest-- not indicating one way or the other whether she's "interested" or just letting me hang out with her and her friends. Or maybe she doesn't remember me enough to know that. Does she really remember me "only briefly?" I swear she made a concentrated effort to look at me like a dozen times that night. Was I just imagining that?

All this effort I put into finding her was predicated on the assumption that we shared a moment. Several moments, actually. If she had just ignored me in the bar, like every other cute girl does, then I never would have pursued this. If those moments didn't really happen, then maybe her friend is right-- this whole thing is weirdly random. And I feel like an idiot.

On the other hand, if she hardly remembers me, then she must not remember how I chickened out trying to talk to her. So I have that going for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's amazing to me how reality can be so vastly different among two people. Two people can witness (even be part of) the same event and come away with completely different interpretations. What is a lively discussion to one person is a horrible fight to another.

In dating, there's the whole "Same Planet, Different Worlds" conundrum. I may be thinking that we shared a moment, and she's thinking about her next beer. Or the crime rate. Or shoes. What do I know?

In the end, I had this same disconnect with SnarkEx. I thought we were happily married, but she desperately wanted out. Same marriage, different worlds.

A lot of women on online dating sites complain that they don't want a man who "plays games." That expression always gets to me. Because dating is a game. If you don't want to play games, then don't date. It's not the game playing that's the problem, it's someone who doesn't play the game by the same rules that you do.

I want someone who plays at life by the same rules I do. But has girl parts.

Expectations

A week ago there was no Dimple Girl. I had an online prospect that I was lukewarm about, but mostly I was learning to be happy and single.

Then I met Dimple Girl and everything changed. A real live, flesh and blood woman paid attention to me! Since then I've been consumed by a project to get in touch with her. Stalking her on Facebook. Googling her friends. Consulting with my trusted advisers.

This morning I made it happen. For the first time since February, I have asked out a woman who I didn't "meet" online. A live, organic one. Okay-- I sent her an email, so the asking out part wasn't live and organic, but I'm taking baby steps here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you believe in signs, you might think it significant that as I was leaving the Unitarian church on Sunday, I saw someone (from a distance) who looked an awful lot like "Heather," Dimple Girl's friend who I know from tennis, going into the church. Dimple Girl's friend, who I never see outside the tennis center, and I see her twice in two days? Here was another opportunity for me to find out more about Dimple Girl. But I chickened out again and didn't talk to her.

I was, however, able to parlay that almost-meeting into an excuse to email Heather. Online, I found an old Unitarian church newsletter that had Heather's email in it, and sent her a message asking her about the church. "Hey, was that you I saw going into the UU church on Sunday? I just started going and really like it..."

I also asked her if she could do me a favor and get me in touch with Dimple Girl.

She found my request to contact Dimple Girl "very random" but said she would pass it along to DG, who is one of her best friends. She warned me, however, that DG is "a bit nuts" and was really drunk the other night, so she might not remember me.

Oh, shit, I thought. I didn't care about the "bit nuts" part. (Only a bit? Bring it on!!) But I was worried about the part where she might not remember me. Could it be that I'd only imagined her interest in me? Is this another case where I've taken a lady's attention and blown it all out of proportion? Could I be an idiot for two reasons-- 1.) for not talking to her when I had the chance, and 2.) for thinking she was more into me than she was?

Later in the day Heather passed along DG's email address, without any comment about whether she remembered me. She added that she's really curious about what I have to say to DG. (Wow, thanks for the added pressure!)

So over the afternoon I crafted a message to DG that I thought was charming and harmless. First, I asked if she remembered me from Friday. (Let's establish that first.) I said that I noticed her at the bar, and thought that she had noticed me noticing her, but it was a crazy night and I didn't talk to her as much as I wanted. (Left off the "because I'm a wuss" part.) So I asked if she wanted to get a drink some time. I ran the text by some of my advisers, and after a good night's sleep and some editing, I sent it off this morning.

I have logged off my email so that I won't check it every 30 seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heather thought this whole thing was "random." A different word I would use is "crazy." I know nothing about this girl, other than she returned my gaze in a bar. Why am I going through all this trouble to get in touch with her? I don't even know if I want to date someone right now!

This craziness that I exhibit when I ask a girl out-- it's standard. It's simply a gauntlet that I have to get through before I can date someone. The first few dates always drive me crazy because I'm second guessing myself. I did the same thing with AG. Women have to go through labor to give birth. I have to go through craziness to get a girlfriend.

Only this time, I'm not even sure I want a girlfriend. So it's like I'm going through craziness just for the hell of it.

Or mabye I'm just learning to how to date better. Yeah, I'm obsessing, but the truth is I have a lot else going on in my life right now and I won't be crushed if this doesn't go anywhere. In fact, part of me will be relieved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Someone told me recently, "Expectations are the devil's highway." I totally believe that. Your enjoyment of a moment is always determined by your expectations. You can have a great time but be disappointed because it wasn't as great as you thought it would be; and you can have a bad experience go well because it wasn't as bad as you thought. Expectations are the key to happiness. It's why a starving man can be elated by a spam sandwich and a millionaire can be unhappy with a seven-course dinner.

And for someone like me, it's even more true, because I don't handle adversity well. So it's better to just keep my expectations low and be pleasantly surprised when good things happen.

Last week, my expectations were low. Then that damn adorable girl in a bar had to check me out, and my expectations soared. I'm really trying to keep things in perspective. I might meet her and not like her at all. All I'm looking for right now is a date. We'll see what happens from there.

In the movie Contact, they build a space ship to contact the aliens. When the space ship is blown up by religious extremists, you find out that they had secretly built a second space ship just in case something happened to the first one.

I have my own secret space ship. All the while I've been focusing on Dimple Girl, there's been a second woman on my mind. (Cue the Eagles song: "I've got seven women on my mind...") The second girl is someone who I haven't told anyone about. I'm thinking about two woman so that I can use one of them as a distraction from the other one. The thing is, I don't know which one is the distraction and which one is the real thing. Or maybe they're both distractions.

I recently read an interesting quote from Bill Maher, of all people. It was in a book of stories of people getting fired, and he wrote:

"One of the main lessons people should learn in life is that you can never tell when something happens to you whether it's ultimately going to be good or bad. It may seem bad at the time and it's really good, or it may seem good and it's really bad."

So true. Time will tell whether the Dimple Girl episode was good, bad, or neutral.

My New Cult

When the minister at the Unitarian Universalist service this morning announced it was time for the closing hymn, I thought: It's over already? I hadn't looked at my watch once during the entire service. That has never happened to me in church.

I think I may have found a new cult to join.

It started three weeks ago, when I was at a really low point and needed to Do Something About It. Since then lots of good things have started happening: my busy season at work ended, I've started playing tennis again, I'm noticing cute women (and some are noticing me back), and I think I may have found a new community to help give me some purpose.

I've made many attempts to find a community the past year and a half. I tried the Unitarians twice last summer, but never made it through a service. I tried finding friends online through a meetup website, but that petered out. I tried hanging out with the atheists, but they weren't for me, either.

Sometimes you have to try something three or four times before it sticks. So in desperation I went back to the Unitarians three weeks ago. Like all church services, there were lots of things that made me uncomfortable. I had to fight the urge to flee. There was greeting of strangers. There was singing. I'm a terrible singer so I don't sing songs I don't know in front of people I don't know. So during the songs I just stared at the lyrics in the hymnbook with my head down. There was the creepy "group chant" that always freaks me out, when everyone is reciting the same passage in unison. I don't like having words put in my mouth, and when it's an entire room full of people doing it, it evokes Nazi Germany for me.

But then came the sermon. It was on health care, an issue that I care deeply about. The minister was intelligent, thoughtful, and compassionate. I know he was just preaching to the choir, but it touched me anyway. These are my people, I thought.

After the service, the minister met with any newcomers in his office who have questions about Unitarian Universalism (UU). There were five of us, and we had lots of questions. He also told us about a series of orientation sessions that we could attend. I signed up for it.

The thing that really appeals to me about UU is that they firmly believe that each person chooses their own path. There's no authority issuing edicts from above. It's agnostics playing church. For someone who has custom built his own religion, this is a perfect community for me.

I've been back three times now. This morning I witnessed what I think was a UU "baptism." About six or seven children were "dedicated" to the church. And the sermon was about holding on to one's bitterness. That's something I've had some experience with recently. There was a story about a woman whose husband told her, with no warning, that he was in love with someone else and was leaving her. She picked up a rock and threw it at his head. She tells people that she became a Buddhist to get over her anger at her husband. Then she adds, "But he saved my life."

I'm not ready to be that magnanimous toward SnarkEx. But the thought did occur to me, as I sat in church, how odd it was that I would never have sought out this community if she hadn't left me. If everything had gone "right" in my life, I wouldn't have needed to seek out this "artificial" community. My initial presence there felt like a symbol of my broken life.

But I had to admit, as I listened to a sermon that quoted ideas from Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, and Hinduism, that I feel good here. And whatever brings me to that feeling can't be entirely broken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm also meeting lots of people at the church. Many of them can see I'm a newcomer and come up to introduce themselves. It's always a little awkward when they ask, "What brought you to our church?" or "Are you new to the area?" No, I've been here for nine years.

It brings up the whole public face question again. Do I tell them I'm divorced? That ultimately I'm here because my wife left me? I usually just say, "I've been looking for a community." If I'm feeling more brazen I might add, "...or some purpose."

So far I've signed up for three social events over the next month. They also have these smaller groups that organize themselves around a theme, like books or living ecologically or caring for aging parents. In the brochure, they explain what these small groups are and what they are not. They are not, for example, intended to be a social club or a therapy session. Damn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the best day I've had in months. After spending all day yesterday nursing a hangover, today I went to church, bought groceries, watched a Netflix DVD, mowed the lawn, did laundry, played tennis for two hours, vacuumed, paid bills, did dishes, took out the trash, and watched an NFL game.

It was as good of a day that I can have without touching a woman.

Chicken

Everything tastes like chicken. Even organic dating.

Chicken. It's

• a stupid flightless bird;
  
• a delicious meal that the Chinese can prepare 27 different ways;
  
• a dangerous car collision game used in economic/political Game Theory; and
  
• a wussy little man who can't bring himself to approach a cute dimply woman in a bar.

I first noticed Dimple Girl as I walked through the pub to find a place to sit. She walked past me on her way back from the bathroom. When I saw that there were no other tables in that direction, I turned around and followed her back to the bar.

She was at a big table with a bunch of other people. The table next to them was free, so I took it, strategically placing myself in her line of sight. When Divorced Friend (DF) brought our drinks to our table, I pointed her out to him. "She totally wants me," I said, like I always say when I see a stranger that I'm attracted to.

It's usually just a joke, but this time it turned out to be prescient. She noticed me noticing her and kept looking over to me. We made eye contact several times. At first DF was skeptical. "Sure, Snark, whatever." She was sitting at a table with a bunch of guys, why would she be looking at me?

She had these huge dimples on her cheeks that blossomed whenever she smiled. So I called her Dimple Girl. As the glances became more frequent, DF finally had to admit that she was, indeed, checking me out. Totally checking me out. Like, turning all the way around to look at me standing at the bar. This kind of thing does not happen to me, so I had no idea how to proceed. I've never actually picked up (or met) a girl in a bar.

I had plenty of chances with Dimple Girl. At one point she went to the bar to get another drink. This was my chance. Just go up to her, introduce myself, and offer to buy her a drink. I was already drunk, so I shouldn't have been so nervous. But I chickened out. Then another person came up behind her, so there was no space to introduce myself.

But The Universe kept throwing me second and third chances. A lady I know who works at the tennis center (I'll call her Heather) came and sat next to Dimple Girl. It's a sign! I thought. I know her friend-- that's my way in! I walked (stumbled, at that point) over to Heather and started talking to her. She was right next to Dimple Girl. Dimple Girl turned around, extended her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Shannon." [Not actual name she said.] I shook her hand and introduced myself, and then proceeded to talk to Heather about tennis. I told her how I've just started playing again after breaking my collarbone. Dimple Girl said she likes tennis, and Heather said she'd never heard her say that, they then argued about whether that was true or not. She totally wants me!!

But I am an idiot. I couldn't think of anything else to say, so the conversation petered out, and I went back to my table. (I always have stuff to say! Why does mind go blank when I'm talking to a cute girl?) I blew it. When DF and I left the bar, I waved to Dimple Girl, and DF told me later that she was totally checking me out as I walked out. "I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go."

I complained the other day that I wanted my dating experiences to be more spontaneous, organic and natural than internet dating. But this episode illustrates why I'm so bad at live dating. I am a wuss who can't talk to women I'm attracted to. Even when they're giving me clear signals that they're interested. I need lots of time to scheme and execute a plan. I don't do improv.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Other than the Dimple Girl Debacle, it was a fun evening. DF and I were two old divorced guys raising hell at several venues. We even managed to entertain some young grad students while we waited in line.

I was out way too late, and drank too much, so that I was sleep-deprived and hungover when I got up in the morning. And now that I've gotten back into tennis-- I played for two hours Thursday night-- I was planning on going to the workout this morning. My hangover put the kibosh on that.

But I could go online. And maybe I could find Dimple Girl on Facebook. I know her first name and I know she's friends with Heather, who is friends with TennisGrrrl, who's friends with me. If I could only follow the trail of Facebook connections, maybe I could find Dimple Girl. I could send her a message: "Hey, are you the cute dimply girl I met at the bar last night? Will you be my friend?" Something like that.

But there was a hitch. Heather seems to have disappeared from Facebook. I remember she used to comment on TennisGrrrl's page all the time, but those comments, along with any evidence of her account, were nowhere to be seen. Did she block me? Or just heighten her security?

So then I tried a different tack. I did a search for Dimple Girl's name in my town. (It's not a terribly common name, and it's one that can be male or female.) There were 210 people. I scrolled through all 210 profile pics, but didn't find anyone who definitively matched her. Damn.

It looks like Dimple Girl will just have to go down in Snarkbutt dating lore. The Girl Who I Might Have Been Able to Pick Up in a Bar, but I was too much of a chicken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, my hangover has pretty much taken the entire day from me. I couldn't get any of my chores or house projects done today, and I couldn't go play tennis, something I'd been looking forward to all week. I took a nap for an hour and a half. And managed to get in the shower around 3 p.m.

One Thousand Push-Ups

Last Thursday I played tennis for an hour and a half. It was only the second time I've swung a tennis racket in over two months, and the first time I was able to play for any length of time. And my clavicle felt fine. In fact, it was my legs, not my shoulder, that was sore for the next two days. But it was a good sore.

(My actual x-ray.)

So the good thing is my clavicle is showing signs of healing. Because my shoulder is permanently deformed, with the broken bone bulging out and making a little bump, I've decided to start lifting weights. Maybe I can cover up the deformity with muscles. The first step is to do push-ups, which can be done quickly without any equipment. I started two weeks ago and struggled to get through ten of them. Since then I've been slowly upping the dosage, and last night I was able to do 20 in a row. It felt great!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was in high school, I suffered a particularly demoralizing loss in a wrestling match. I was a senior, the defending conference champion and a state qualifier, when I ran into an upstart junior named Mickey during a dual meet. He caught me off guard and beat me. It was such a big win for him that he jumped into his teammates' arms after the match, and they lifted him up.

After moping around for a few days, I decided I needed a new strategy to beat him. So I devised a plan to do 1,000 push-ups for Mickey. Over the course of a week, I counted out each and every push-up I did and kept a written record of it. I was in the best shape of my life and could do about 100 of them at a time. (Not the wimpy 20 that I did last night.)

I met Mickey three more times that year, and beat him every time. During the regional finals I even made him cry. (Not because he was hurt, but because the score was so lopsided.) When I beat him a week later in the state consolation finals, we ended our friendly rivalry with a hug. I'm not proud of making him cry, since he was a pretty decent guy, but I am gratified that I set myself a goal and achieved it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, almost 20 years later and coming off a broken clavicle, I think it's time for another 1,000 push-ups. One Thousand Push-ups for My Clavicle. I've been keeping a running tab of my total, and in two weeks I've managed to do 90. I have a long way to go, but I am able to do more each time. My shoulder hurts a little when I do them, but after a few minutes it feels fine, so I don't think I'm doing any damage to the clavicle.

If only rehabbing my emotional state were this easy!

Coincidence?

So yesterday I posted a blog about my dental hygienist, who:

• is cute and short
  
• has blue eyes
• has brown hair
• has a five-year-old son
• is family oriented (I think)
• I suspect is divorced
• works in health services
  

Then I complained that I didn't know enough else about her (politics, religion, sense of humor) to ask her out.

I also decided that I didn't want to date online anymore. I don't want to look for a partner-- I want to meet someone organically as I go about my normal life.

Then I checked my email. Although I don't have any ads up on any dating sites, one of them keeps sending me "matches" over the mail. "Snark," it announces, (because we're on a first-name basis) "we've found five new matches for you!"

"No, you haven't," I reply. The "matches" it thinks it's finding for me twice a week are always duds. Women who live 50 miles away, love NASCAR, and aren't looking to "play games." (Then why are you dating? The whole thing is a game!)

But this one is different. After my long essay about my height yesterday, her height jumps out at me. She's 4' 11".

Okay, Online Personals, you have my attention. According to her profile, she:

• is "short and sweet"
  
• has blue eyes
• has brown hair
• has a five-year-old son
• is family oriented
  
• is divorced
• works in health services

Could this be my dental hygienist? That would be some coincidence, wouldn't it?

Her profile doesn't have a picture, so I can't confirm it. One answer makes me think it's not my DH, though. She listed her body type as "slim." My DH is very cute and short, but I'm not sure she could describe herself as "slim." She has some cushion.

Further investigation shows that the new mystery lady:

• likes to read
• is "spiritual but not religious"
• speaks German
• is not sure she wants more kids
  
• is "middle of the road" politically. (Although a lot of people define the "middle" very differently, this is not immediately a deal breaker.)

This is looking better and better.

There are only two red flags. She's ten years younger than me (28), and she listed her potential partner's age range as 26-33. So it depends on how firm she is about the age thing. But more importantly, she misspelled "responcible." Do I really want to date someone who misspells such a basic word? On the other hand, that's the only word she misspelled, and other than that her writing is adequate.

Even more important than the two red flags is my attitude toward dating right now. I don't want a repeat of AG, where I date someone for four months, meet her family, then dump her for no concrete reason. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be in a relationship yet. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, or what that even looks like. How will I know? So I'm hesitant to pursue any dates for fear it will turn into something I can't handle.

But maybe I'm overthinking the dating thing. Every date doesn't have to lead to a Relationship. Maybe she could be someone new to hang out with. I don't have to create a barnacle-like attachment to every woman I go out with. And maybe the fact that I'm hesitant to get into a Relationship will make me more relaxed and less desperate.

So I'm thinking of breaking my publicly-announced moratorium on internet dating. It's been a whole day, after all.

Measurements

I saw the cute dental hygienist again last week. I hadn't seen her in a year and a half, because during my last two semi-annual dental checkups, they had a different lady clean my teeth.

Just like last time, she was very talkative, told me about her travel plans and her five-year-old son. Still no mention of a man in the picture. I told her that the last time I'd seen her she had been planning a trip to Vegas, and asked how that went. I don't know if it impressed her or creeped her out that I remembered that.

She's still very short and has beautiful blue eyes peeking out behind the blue mask she wears. While she was trying to get at my teeth, she told me to turn my head, and my eyes were suddenly staring right into her breast. Okay, so her formless scrubs obscured the good parts, but I knew what was behind them. I tried to look away, so as not to be all creepy.

For a while I entertained the fantasy of asking her out, but I really have no idea how I would do that. I don't even know if it's a good idea. This is, after all, someone who sticks sharp tools into my gums. If things went bad (which let's face it, the overwhelming odds favor), I'd have to find a new dentist. And I really like my dentist.

Plus, I know nothing about her, other than 1.) I'm physically attracted to her, 2.) she has a son, 3.) she's close to her family, because her travel plans often involve visiting her sister or brother. There are so many other demographic things I'd like to know about her before I could get to the "asking out" stage. What are her hobbies? Politics? Religious views? Values? Sense of humor? Intellect?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few weeks ago I put an ad up on a dating website. I left it there for a week, then took it down. I'm tired of meeting women online. I want to meet someone in person, in flesh and blood. I want it to be natural and in the course of my life.

But one good thing about dating websites is that you can screen for all of those qualities (values, intellect, sense of humor) ahead of time. If you do it right, you don't waste your time going on dates with someone who's totally wrong for you. (I remember one time when I first started internet dating, I met this woman for lunch who I could tell in the first two minutes was not right for me. She didn't get any of my jokes, showed no enthusiasm for anything, and said that she didn't believe in living together before you're married. I had just broken up with a girl I'd dated for two years and lived with for eight months. I just wanted to get out of there, so I argued with her about the merits of living together.) SnarkEx, who I met online, used to complain that she would get all these responses from "conservatives who can't read." Guys with "traditional values" who would see the profile of a liberal feminist PhD candidate and think that she would be interested in them.

The thing that sucks is that even when your demographics match up perfectly with someone, it doesn't guarantee a match. In the end, SnarkEx and I had different temperaments, or ways of interacting, or some other intangible that made us fail. There are so many things that can shoot down a relationship, I wonder how people ever get and stay together.

In Hollywood they have a saying that a project can be good, fast, or inexpensive. The best you can do is two out of those three. I recently read an article where the author, a man, applied this to women. He said that a woman can be smart, sexy, or sane, but not all three. If a woman is smart and sexy, she's insane. If she's sane and smart, she's not sexy. And if she's sexy and sane, she's not smart. I don't know if women would use the same three words to describe men, but I'm sure they could come up with equivalents-- tall, rich, and funny, perhaps?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perhaps the biggest criterion that limits my dating pool is my height. I'm an extremely short man. Not Danny DeVito short, but I'm somewhere between Woody Allen, Seth Green, Michael J. Fox, and Prince. In an average day, it's rare for me to run into another grown man who's as short as I am. I'm (almost) always the shortest guy in the room. Sometimes I forget how unusual that is, but whenever I see a picture of me standing with other guys who are not in my family, it's like, "Goddam, I'm short."

I'm 5'4". Actually, more like 5'3"3/4, but I like to round up.

It's probably because of hangups about my size that I've always been attracted to short women. Every one of my girlfriends has been shorter than me. GF1 was 5'0". GF2 & GF3 were 5'2". SnarkEx was 5'1". The winner was AG, who said she was 4'11" on her dating profile, but there's no way she was that tall. Maybe in high heels she was 4'11". One of the things that bothered me about her was that it seemed like she had fudged the number. Not that the height bothered me. I loved that. I just didn't like that she had been inaccurate about it.

Some short guys are really attracted to taller women. Heck, almost everyone is attracted to tall women. I don't know how many times I've seen in books or movies where the tall, long-legged woman is the ideal that everyone pines after. (And the short, dumpy one is comic relief.) Not me. Supermodels are way too tall and skinny for me. When I walk into a room, the first girl I notice is the short one. It's the one physical quality that trumps all the others: fat or skinny, blond or brunette, old or young, black or white. I'm attracted to them all. Other than shortness, I don't have a consistent "type."

That's not to say I wouldn't consider dating someone taller than me. When I was younger I often went after taller women. But they rejected me, some of them even coming right out and saying, "You're too short!" Perhaps this is a factor in my short-woman fetish, or maybe it's just an excuse.

But tall women aren't the only ones who reject me because of my size. It drives me nuts when I see a woman on a dating site who's 5'0" or under and says she's looking for a man "taller than 5'8"." Some of them even want a guy who's six feet or taller! WTF?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So when a short girl with pretty blue eyes scrapes out my teeth and tells me to stare at her breast, it's hard not to get excited about the possibility of asking her out.

Maybe at my next checkup, next April, I'll be ready.

Objects in Blog

Warning: Objects in blog are better off than they appear.

Except, sometimes, when they're worse.

Every once in a while someone will tell me, "Your blog has been really depressing/heartbreaking lately."

My response is usually, "Really? Does it sound that bad?" (Except for when my cat was dying and I said, "Thanks-- it's supposed to be heartbreaking.")

I'm both better off, and worse off, than I reveal in this blog. I hide some things and blow others out of proportion. A hundred times a day I get depressed, happy, relieved, angry, entertained, anxious. Some things that bother me today don't bother me tomorrow. There are times when I take too long to write a blog post and it becomes obsolete. The mood has passed.

Other times, my mood changes because I blog. In fact, I have a superstition that writing about things gets them out of my system. Maybe it's not even a superstition, but an actual phenomenon. I write about something and whatever I'm feeling gets captured in the blog, like a bug trapped in amber. This blog is my shock absorbers, my firing range, my blast shield, my kicked dog. (Please don't try these metaphors at home.)

A few weeks ago, at the end of a long post, I brought up the issue of whether this blog is good for me:

Sometimes I think this blog is holding me back. I can't "get over" the divorce because I keep writing about it. But the thought of giving up the blog terrifies me. It's the most dependable outlet I have. It's the only thing I can count on, 24/7. I never feel like I'm bothering it, and it never puts any demands on me. It never lets me down. It's also not a real relationship.

One person suggested to me that I change the focus of the blog. Make it less about divorce and more about getting on with my life after divorce.

But I think that's what I'm doing. I'm not sure how much this blog actually has to do with my divorce anymore. Sure, Divorce is in the blog title and I mention it a lot. But I don't know how often I actually deal with divorce issues. Many of my posts mention my marriage or divorce just as a way to tie it back to the overall theme. Like talking about how SnarkEx left me during the busy season to segue into my upcoming schedule; or telling the story about the porch light to introduce the night light blog. In each case I could have just as easily left the divorce story out of it.

No, I think this blog is less about divorce than it is about my own issues. I like keeping the divorce theme, however, because there is a story here that starts with my divorce. (And ends with...?) The divorce has brought out certain aspects of my personality, like forcing me to deal with loneliness, but the potential for my crazy has always been there. Having my wife leave me just brought it to the forefront.

I blog because I have to. It's my therapy. Which also explains why there are more negative entries than positive ones. When I'm doing well, I don't need therapy. So this blog may leave a distorted image of my life. (In looking up the link above, I realized that I was blogging about many of these same issues a year ago. I guess once you have a blog like this long enough, many of the topics end up getting recycled.)

As a writer, a lot of things in my world don't exist until I write about them. Or at least until I tell someone else about them. And since I don't have a primary audience for my life, this blog is it.

Demons

I just booked some plane tickets to visit my oldest brother in Colorado over the holidays. I will be there for a week stretching over New Year's. I haven't been out to visit him and his family in nine years.

This is me being proactive. I know that last year the winter holiday break was brutal, and I don't expect this year to be any better. So I figured a week-long trip in the middle of my vacation would distract me from the demons.

The demons of loneliness, depression, and self-doubt. Lately I'm spending all my energy just to keep them at bay. I can find the odd Friday or Saturday night to spend with friends or family when I really need it, but it seems to take so much energy to make it happen, and then afterward, the demons come back. Like the sand people in Star Wars, the demons are easily startled, but they will be back, and in greater numbers. My social life feels like Sisyphus pushing the rock up a hill, only to have it roll back down, again and again and again. Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?

I know I'm doing most of the right things. I am exploring lots of different options to get out and meet people. I'm not always as morose in person as I am on this blog. But it gets so discouraging. This week I've been devastated by a bunch of little perceived slights. People blowing me off or ignoring me or having lives that don't involve me. I could compile a list of all of the things that have me down this week, but I'm embarrassed by my neediness and would probably regret the list tomorrow. As isolated incidents I could just shrug them off, but when three or four of them happen at once, I'm left to wonder what is it that I'm doing wrong.

I tend to beat myself up for being too selfish. I focus too much on myself and not enough on other people. So I try really hard to consider other people and take an interest in their lives. I'm not always very successful at this, but I'm mindful of it and really try to do better. And I'm constantly worried that I've said or done something to offend someone. (This doesn't stop me from doing it, but makes me feel bad about it afterward.)

But I had a revelation this week. Maybe other people don't put the same importance on these things that I do. Maybe others are just as selfish as I am. And they don't have these hangups about offending people that I do. Maybe other people don't obsess about how their actions affect others? I should stop beating myself up for having the same weaknesses as other people.

My latest bad habit is to tell myself, "No one cares." It's not true, though. Plenty of people care about me, to varying degrees, and they show it in myriad ways. My problem is that I expect everyone to follow the same social rules that I've set up for myself. And that's crazy. We all have different rules of interaction, and some of us (ahem, yours truly) are much more rigid about them than others.

On the other hand, I never know how the actions of other people will affect me. Some times I'm deeply hurt by a perceived slight, and other times the exact same action will be no big deal. It truly doesn't bother me and I don't want the other person to feel bad. I hate being a bother and I don't want people to worry about me, and yet I am still a social animal with needs.

I'm part Jewish mother, who changes a light bulb by saying, "[sigh] That's okay, I'll just sit here in the dark"; and part misanthropic loner who just wants to be left alone.

The demons come and go.

Post-Breakup Breakup Scramble

I've often talked about the Post-Breakup Dating Scramble: the game where the first person to start dating someone new after a breakup wins.

I'm not 100% sure that I won the PBDS with SnarkEx (she went "public" about her new boyfriend soon after I did with AG), but I definitely won the Post-Breakup Breakup Scramble. I broke up with AG in July, and SnarkEx didn't break up with her dork of a boyfriend until recently. A friend told me about it, and I confirmed it on her Facebook status: SnarkEx and her boyfriend are splitsville.

I was happily surprised to hear the news. It bothered me when I first learned she had a boyfriend, and bothered me even more when she bragged about how great he was on Facebook. Even when things first went sour with AG, and I started feeling pangs that this wasn't going to work out, I kept telling myself, "I can't break up with AG now, because SnarkEx is dating someone!" I wasn't really serious, but it amused me in a Larry David kind of way.

So knowing that SnarkEx is single again comforts me. She doesn't deserve to be in a fulfilling relationship. Plus, if she were to meet the love of her life right after dumping me, it would confirm that I really was the reason she was unhappy. And I'd like to maintain the fantasy that her unhappiness was (mostly) her own doing, and she was blaming the wrong person when she left me.

But after a little reflection, I was able to pull some dark clouds over this silver lining. If SnarkEx is heartbroken right now, it's not over me, but over some new guy. He's the one she'll be sad over when she sees things that reminds her of her last relationship. Like a video tape, her relationship memories of me have been recorded over by memories of this new guy.

Of course, this is all speculation. I have no idea what their breakup was about. Who dumped whom, or whether it was mutual. Maybe their relationship ended because she's just as fucked up from the divorce as I am. Or maybe she's not heartbroken at all. It sounds like she was casual and upbeat on her blog about it, but then again, she had the same attitude when she left me. Her attitude toward divorce was similar to someone changing their major in college: involves some complications, but hey, everyone does it. Almost like a rite of passage.

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In other news, AG posted on Facebook that she is very happy. She has a new boyfriend. Still doesn't want anything to do with me, but I can respect that. I'm genuinely happy for her. See, I'm not always a spiteful little shit. I can be happy for people.

October First

Funny story: My dad filmed our wedding. And like all the other family events that he's filmed over the past 30 years, it took him forever to finish editing it so we could see it. So long, in fact, that the marriage ended before he could get a copy to us. We never saw our wedding video.

We barely made it past two years, which was one of the things that really bothered me when SnarkEx first left. We could't even make it two and a half years as husband and wife.

It was four years ago today that the mystery recording was made.

I wonder if SnarkEx is thinking at all about our anniversary today.