My Date With a Gay Man

Last Wednesday I went out with a man who had great potential.  He was divorced with one kid, according to his Match profile, and working for a great company, as he had explained in our emails.  He grew up in the country, works in the city and loves to hunt.  His family ancestry isn't Italian (hard to come by in New Jersey) so I knew I didn't have a fist pumping guido on my hands.  He was tall and cute with nerdy hipster glasses and I was psyched!

We were meeting for dinner so I had on one of my fabulously casual yet sexy blouses that looks like it's from anywhere other than Old Navy.  I got there on time and received a text that he was running a few minutes late but would be the man in the green jacket.  Considering I had "met" him on Match and already knew what he looked like, I found this fashion information to be a bit gratuitous but patiently waited for my green-swathed date to arrive.

I saw him walking up to the place.  He was as tall and cute as his pictures suggested and wearing hunter-hued outerwear.  I was so excited until he threw his arms out, squealed "Hey--eyy!" and wrapped me in a bear hug.  It was at that point that my brain switched into overdrive.  I must have blacked out under a frenzied inner monologue to the tune of, "OMG-WTF-are-you-doing-you're-on-a-date-with-a-flaming-homosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that) but-OMG-how-does-this-man-not-know-he's-GAY?!" because the next thing I know, we were sitting at a table with menus in front of us and I had an awkward smile plastered over my face like an idiot.

Doing my best not to overreact, we ordered drinks and exchanged the usual first date pleasantries.  I got to hear about his job, his previous job working with recording artists (including some country A-listers) and about his time in the Army (don't ask, don't tell, anyone?).  I started to think that maybe I had overreacted.  Perhaps this is what New Jersey country boys sound like...and then he complimented me on my Cartier watch.  He spent a good chunk of time talking about fashion and clothes and how much he loved to shop. I became increasingly aware of the fact that I was wearing a top from Old Navy and quickly changed the subject.

I moved onto talking about divorce and since he had not broached the subject, I brought up his child.  His Match profile stated that he had one child who lived away from home so I wanted to get the scoop. As it turned out, he not only fathered one child, but THREE children with his ex-wife!  So much for honesty.  To add insult to injury, he was also married when he was 19 and fathered a child with that woman as well.  Technically, that child lives away from home (because he's in COLLEGE!) so I guess his profile wasn't completely misleading.

Throughout the dinner I found myself so flabbergasted that I was on a date with a man, twice divorced, with 4 children and a voice that could only be described as FAB-u-lous! Aside from the lying bit, I had a great time with him once I got over the fact that he was discussing guns and hunting in an effeminate lilt.  It was sad to me though that after two marriages and four children, he still wasn't true to himself.  Perhaps I'm wrong and he just happens to sound like the Honey Badger narrator while really loving vagina, but this Badger don't care.  Gay or not, I don't date liars.

Warning: Explicit language!

28 by 28

So while I was procrastinating researching some important stuff on the internet one day, I came across some of these "30 by 30" check lists that people have going on.  A mini bucket list of sorts, it's a list of things you want to complete by the time you're 30 (if you hadn't figured that out by the title of the list, maybe going back to school should be on yours).  I thought about it and decided that it was too early for me to create a 30 by 30 list.  I have plenty of time, I'm only 25.  Um, what?!

For some reason I've been going around thinking that I'm 25 for 3 years.  Totally true.  It wasn't until the other day that I said to someone, "Well, I'm 27 already" that I realized that I'm not 25.  In fact, I'm not even 27.   Before you start worrying about early onset dementia, realize that I do know my age.  I may not excel at math, but I do know that 2012-1984 = 28.  Yup, I'm 28.  I don't feel it though.  I'm caught in a strange place between having the ass and killer body face of a 25 year old and the life experience of a 35 or 40 year old.

So I've decided to spend some time thinking about what I'd like to do before I turn 30, which I realize is now less than 2 years away.  ::hyperventilates into paper bag::  I used to think that by the time I was 30 I'd be happily married, have at least one child, 2 dogs and a killer legal career.  Since that dream blew up in my face like a meth lab (except for the great career part), I have to make a new list of things to accomplish by the time I'm 30.

I started to write a "30 by 30" list, but everything that came to mind were awesome things that I had already done by the time I was 28.  So in an effort to come up with 30 things to augment my life with within the next 2 years, I will take you on a trip down memory lane with my "28 by 28" list.

28 by 28

1. Found my music passion--Top 40s were fun for a while, but country music has become a passion of mine.  Judge if you must, but I can't go a day without listening to country.  Haters gonna hate, but you'll never (see #2)
2. Rocked cowboy boots and hat--I've got 4 pairs of cowboy boots, 2 cowboy hats and I can rock them all.  You have no idea how much fun a cowboy hat can be ;)
3. Made out with a Grammy winning music artist--I did this while I was in college but it's notable enough to add to the list, especially because he recently won a Grammy in the past several years.  
4. Lived in a foreign country (Israel)
   
5. Started volunteering--I found a passion for something other than country music.  I volunteer for an organization that helps battered women--a cause that has become close to my heart over the past year.
6. Found a hobby--When life hands you a man who refuses to buy a dining room table, you buy a piece of crap off Craigslist and turn it into gold!  Then you realize you messed up, laugh at the fact that he got it in the divorce settlement, and proceed to perfectly refinish killer furniture for your new condo!
   

   

   Kitchen table refinishing
7. Kicked some ass--I wrap these manicured hands, velcro on my boxing gloves and beat the crap out of a heavy bag.  It's a great stress reliever, keeps me in shape, and gives me confidence that no asshole is going to mess with me!
   

   

   Boxing
8. Expanded my palette--I developed a taste for onions and eggplant.  I still hate tomatoes though.
9. Became an aunt--Ok that one was none of my doing, but I will take credit for being the coolest Aunt to my nephew.
10. Took a trip alone--On a whim back in 2007 I went to visit a friend in Norway who I hadn't seen in 7 years.  On another whim in May I went to an American Bar Association conference in Nashville where I knew no one.  Both trips were amazing!
11. Graduated from college and law school--I put this in here for you, Mom.  Comprehensive Honors in college too!
12. Passed 3 Bar Exams--This one I'm pretty proud of.  I took and passed New York, Massachusetts and New Jersey ON THE FIRST TRY.  No, I did not waive in to any of them.  I'm a master bar taker.
13. Became an Israeli citizen--I now have 2 passports and 2 awful passport pictures--booyah!
14. Started a collection--Matches, because they're classier than lighters. I have tons of candles and matches are much more practical than the miniature pig figurines I collected when I was 8.
15. Became a scotch drinker--Macallan 12, 18 if you're buying.

    

    Scotchy, scotch, scotch!

    
    
16. Got a car--Believe it or not, the car I got at 26 was my first car ever.  
17. Got into a car accident--I crashed my new car a year after I got it.  I'm fine and it's fixed.
18. Went to an NFL game--I went to my first NFL game last year.  We had Sky Box tickets for a Giants/Jets game because we're cool like that.
19. Went to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

    

    Perfect seats for the parade

20. Went to Hawaii--Granted it was my Honeymoon, but my ex's disdain for pictures of us together coupled with the fruity boozy drinks and marathon reading sessions left me with memories (and pictures) of amazing things that I did alone.  I can't complain though, without him, I wouldn't have had all of these great pictures of myself!  
21. Took a trapeze lesson--I did this for my 25th birthday and it was thrilling!  I've never felt so old as I did at 25 and 2 days when every muscle in my body was throbbing.
22. Rode a horse on the beach--I did this for my 26th birthday in Israel.  The wind was whipping through my hair, I was one with my horse and we galloped off into the sunset until the tour guide yelled at me in some Hebric (Hebrew/Arabic gibberish that I couldn't decipher) and I had to turn around.  
23. Rode a camel in the desert--Do you sense a theme with large animals?  I had ridden a camel back in 2000 but in 2010 I took my mom on a 4 hour camel ride in the Negev in Israel.  This time my tour guide was nice enough to let me frolic on my own for a while.
24. Became a Spinning Instructor--I finally found a job where I get paid to yell at people!  I stopped being an instructor when I injured my lady bits--true story!
    
25. Started writing songs--I've become infamous for humorously rewriting the words to songs for special occasions and singing them poorly in front of audiences.  
26. Partied with Guidos down the Jersey Shore--Learned how to fist pump too.
    
27. Re-pierced my navel--At 19 I decided I was too cool to have a belly button ring anymore.  At 27 I decided I wanted it again.  I'm still rocking it.
28. Started a blog--I had one years ago but it pales in comparison to this one.

Now I have to start thinking about what I'm going to do before I turn 30.  Any ideas for me?

Nashville Part 2: Play Something Country

I've been a bad blogger and I'm almost a month behind in posts.  In an effort to keep you entertained and to get back to blogging about my dating life, I will wrap up the remaining 3 days in Nashville with a few pictures and funny stories.  As I might have mentioned, I went to Nashville for a professional conference where I knew no one.  That's right, I decided to go to a conference alone, in a city I'd never been to, assuming that I'd meet some cool people and make some great networking connections...and that's just what I did!

The first thing I learned at my first ABA event was that lawyers love to party!  Seriously.  I had anticipated a few networking events, but nothing to the extent of what the ABA's Young Lawyers Division pulled off.  The first night there was a welcome reception at the Wild Horse Saloon, which was conveniently located next to the store where I bought my 4 pairs of boots earlier in the day.  This of course prompted me to tell everyone I met that night about the amazing sale and I was then branded the crazy girl from New Jersey who bought 4 pairs of boots in Nashville.  Which, I rationalized, is better than being known as just a crazy girl.

The Wild Horse Saloon was a blast and although I wasn't yet comfortable enough with a roomful of strangers to learn how to line dance, I did get dressed to the nines.  I knew going to the conference that the social events were "Country Snappy" attire so I packed to the best of my ability.  Knowing that I would be purchasing cowboy boots, I packed several short dresses that would be no less than freaking adorable paired with my new footwear and prayed that I wouldn't be the only one who took the dress code so seriously.  Thankfully I wasn't the only one dressed up and I found myself sucking back Jack and Cokes with lawyers from all over the country dressed in cowboy boots, cowboy hats, thick belts and plaid shirts.

I sat through some super-exciting Continuing Legal Education seminars on Friday and got done early enough to explore a bit more of Nashville.  I took a walk in my stilettos to check out the pedestrian bridge with a new friend I had made.

After a few pictures of Nashville and the beginning of a blister from my heels, I hightailed it back to the hotel to change into some more appropriate clothes for listening to live music (and cowboy chasing).  My new friend had opted to attend a diversity luncheon, which, regardless of the fact that diversity encompasses all races, I always feel strange going to, so I braved lower Broadway on my own.  I headed over to the legendary Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, where just about every country singer who is anybody has performed.

Inside Tootsie's between sets

I sidled up to the bar, ordered a beer and a pulled pork sandwich and listened to some young girl sing songs I'd never heard of.  Somewhat disappointed that this self-proclaimed country fanatic couldn't sing along, I sat back and soaked up the scene...and my Miller Lite.

It's Miller time

I was enjoying the music and had even made a new friend who was in town from Las Vegas when a fine piece of ass nice looking cowboy walked with his guitar.  I watched, and photographed, as he was setting up to sing because you never know how much US Weekly is going to pay for those "Before They Were Stars: Butt Picture Edition"...and because he had too nice of a tush not to capture.

I'm shameless, I know

The singer's name was Jake something or other.  He had a great voice, a good sense of humor, a nice ass and most importantly, he called me pretty.  This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was bearing crazy cleavage and had given him a big tip, but I sat there pretending that he was cursing himself for being married when he could have me on his arm.  Seriously, why are all country singers married?!

You can't see, but he's looking deep into my eyes

Jake the cutie cowboy finished his set and walked around for tips so I did what any sane woman would do.  I tipped him again (with a wink!), we took a picture together and I immediately uploaded to Facebook so my friends and family could appreciate the professional networking I was doing in Nashville.

Friday night was another night of "Country Snappy" attire but this time we had dinner and dancing at the Country Music Hall of Fame.  Naturally I would take a terrible selfie of my outfit in the mirror before dinner and then neglect to take a picture of Elvis' gold Cadillac in the Hall of Fame.  I know, I know.

The Hall of Fame was great!  Before dinner we were able to take a tour of the museum where I saw some amazing collections of costumes, cars and gold and platinum albums from the greatest country legends.  While enjoying our night of dancing, I found out that I passed the New Jersey Bar Exam which made the night even better!

Wall of Records

Saturday marked the end of the conference but not the end of my time in Nashville.  After saying goodbye to new friends and professional acquaintances that I had met, I headed out to brunch for some biscuits and gravy.  I had heard that biscuits and gravy were a southern delicacy and from the moment I had arrived I was salivating over the thought of tasting these treats.  I headed over to Puckett's and took a seat at the bar before helping myself to their buffet brunch.  I gorged myself on biscuits and gravy (to die for!), bacon, sausage and a bunch of other stuff that my mouth literally just watered thinking about (gross)...and a Bloody Mary to cure my hangover.

Hair of the dog...

By the time I finished brunch and got back to the hotel, it was time for the most exciting thing to happen--Greta (from Dating Without a Net) came to party with me!  The two of us had been sending each other excited text messages all week leading up to our meeting (because we're weirdos who met on the internet) so it was super awesome (and a relief) when we discovered that we were both normal (and totally awesome) people!  Then our other internet friend, Jessica, came to party with us and again she was normal and awesome--yay!  Greta's friend came up from Atlanta and the 4 of us hit up the town!

Just a sign, there was no soliciting, discreetly or not, done that night

So as not to incriminate anyone, the main highlights from our crazy night out include Greta kicking her shoe over a balcony at my hotel (causing me to pee in my pants--no joke, I was on the floor laughing and wetting myself), all 4 of us riding a mechanical bull (Greta and I were in skirts because we're classy like that) and a 2am trip to Waffle House where I wanted to smack everyone for being so damn friendly! We were definitely "those girls" at every bar but it was an awesome night in Nashville with great new friends and I can't wait to go back to Music City!

Nashville Part 1: These Boots Were Made For Dancing

It's taken me almost a month but I'm finally recovered enough from my trip to Nashville to write about it.  I went down to Nashville for an American Bar Association conference.  After a particularly heinous day at my former job, I received an email about the conference and jumped at the chance.  Between the country music, cowboys and warm weather this trip promised (and of course, hot topics in the law lectures) I booked a flight and hotel within minutes.

Before my flight to Nashville departed from LaGuardia airport, I had already made fast friends with two lawyers from Montreal.  After they told me that they were attending because of the social events and explained how last year's conference in Vegas went down, I knew it was going to be a good weekend! 

My first order of business upon arrival, aside from getting my official conference name tag and CLE calendar, was to find me some cowboy boots.  I asked the bellhop where I could buy some boots and he explained, in a slow southern drawl, that a store called Nashville Cowboy was having a "Buy 1, Get 2 Free" boot sale.  If his accent hadn't caused me to melt on the spot, his mention of a sale certainly would have.  I gathered my composure and scooted my booty over to the store.

I found myself in a leather scented mecca of all that is good and holy about cowboy boots.  They were red, brown, black, white; studded and stitched; stacked 3 deep, 10 feet high and 50 feet long.  At that point my life changed and all events would be divided into BCB (before cowboy boots) and ACB (after cowboy boots).  Ok, I'm kidding (sort of) but it was an overwhelming experience.  

Boots, boots and more boots!

I walked in knowing that I would leave with 3 pairs of cowboy boots.  Although I'm a lawyer (and infamously bad at math), I'm also a woman so I know that a Buy 1, Get 2 Free sale equals 3, yes 3, pairs of boots.  You're probably thinking, "Who needs 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey," in which case we must not have been properly introduced, (Hi, I'm Emily) and the answer is ME!  I need 3 pairs of cowboy boots in New Jersey!   My parents had already pledged to buy me a pair as an early birthday gift (July 6, thanks Mom and Dad!) so the fact that I could get 3 pairs for the price of one was too good to be true! 

Between my indecisiveness and "retartoes" (I have notoriously bad feet that have been operated on multiple times in the past 15 years) I knew this was going to be a daunting task.  The store was almost empty so I enlisted the help of a nice salesgirl to guide me through my boot selection.  She informed me that I needed at least one pair of brown and one pair of black boots, obviously.  I immediately fell in love with a dark brown pair with turquoise stitching that would match my straw and turquoise cowboy hat.  Pair one settled.

In an effort not to bore you with my thought process I will fast forward 2 hours, 1 packet of almonds, 6 mirror self-portraits and countless text messages to my fashionista friends and mother.  It turns out that the most difficult decision to make is deciding which pair of buttery soft goat-leather boots (yes, they're made from goat skin) should be the 3rd, as I had found 4 pairs of cute cowboy boots that didn't mess with my sensitive feet.

As I hemmed and hawed over whether to put back the caramel colored or the shorter boots, I heard a voice whisper, "The 4th pair is 40% off."  I turned to see an angel in tight jeans and cowboy boots.  Saving me from the despair of abandoning a pair of boots, I jumped up to hug him from my crumpled place on the worn wood floor (where I was likely having a conversation with the boots to decide who was coming home with me) but he was gone.  As I questioned whether this intese spiritual moment had been real, my angel reemerged, from the stock room no less.  He explained that he was the manager and would be pleased to give me 40% off the 4th pair seeing as I was having such difficulty deciding.

Caramel, Dark Brown with Turquoise, Black cut outs, short tan suede and dark brown leather (From L to R)

I choose to believe that he gave me a discount because of my overwhelming beauty and not my everlasting presence in the store or their existing sales policies.  Regardless, I left with 4 pairs of boots-- 3 as an early birthday present from my parents and one that I bought on my own.   After just 3 hours in Nashville, I was ready to take on the town and headed back to the hotel for a Welcome Reception that requested "snappy country" attire.  

  

Analyze This

Last night I spent 40 minutes on the phone with BR breaking things off with him.  Apparently the email I sent in which I explained how he insulted me and made me realize that we weren't compatible wasn't good enough.  He called to try to figure out if the issues I had weren't a result of not knowing each other well enough and could be something we could work on.   They're not and they can't.

After about 20 minutes of explaining why I was upset at the weekend's conversations, I realized that he still wasn't getting it.  He was arguing semantics, explaining that I had misunderstood him.  In reality, I understood his stupid comments quite clearly--he is relationship stupid, I get that.  But the semantics weren't the big picture...the fact that we're simply not compatible is.  I told him that there were just too many things that were missing for me but he didn't seem to understand.  I think if I hadn't gotten off the phone after 40 minutes that I could have been explaining myself until I was blue in the face...more like red in the face because I was getting really impatient with his requests for clarity.  The conversation was a a combination of me saying the following in between his feeble attempts to explain that these are all things we could work on.


Dude, I'm not that into you...I don't know how else to say it...It's just not enough for me...We're not compatible...No really, trust me, we're not... I promise these are big issues for me that can't be worked out...Yes, really...No, I'm not willing to compromise on these issues...Honestly, this isn't working for me...We're really not compatible...Do you really want to be in a relationship where I'm forcing myself to make things work...Really, it's not going to happen...and how can you not like country music??? 

I'm giving myself a big ol' pat on the back for this conversation for two reasons.  First, I managed to stay calm and not curse or scream throughout the 40 minute conversation in which I essentially repeated the same things over and over and over again.  I even told BR the self control it was taking me not to strangle the phone out of frustration that I had to justify myself to him.  True story. You'd think at that point that he would have gotten the hint--but we've gone over how he's relationship stupid.

The second reason I'm patting myself on the back is because I stood up for myself.  I recognized that there were greater issues than "just not feeling it" and articulated those well...regardless of the fact that they fell on deaf ears.  There are some things that are not negotiable for me.  That includes being thoughtful and considerate.  Like when you know you're having a woman over for a drink before dinner, you should text her to ask what she wants to drink or pickup a couple options and not just say "screw it."   Instead BR hoped that I would just drink Jack on the rocks because that's all he had in the house and didn't feel like going to the liquor store after spending an hour buying softball cleats at Sports Authority.  Yes, BR, to me that is indicative of the kind of person you are.

BR tried to argue with me that his actions were not a reflection of the man he is.  I countered that if his actions weren't who he was, then perhaps he should change them.  After my divorce I realized that someone who refuses to pick up his own dog's crap (I was the designated poop picker upper for years) is someone who will always run from a problem.  Actions are an insight into the person themselves and if you don't think enough about me to consider what I'd like to drink, or to ask if I'd prefer crushed or cubed ice (cubed, the crushed ruined my drink doofus), or even realize that this is an issue, then you're not the right person for me.

You Can't Fix Stupid

I broke things off with BR last night after a great few dates followed by a series of unfortunate self-sabotaging moves on his part.  I discussed what had happened with my friend from Dating without a Net, and she said to me, plain and simple, "You can't fix stupid".  Truth be told, she did this over Twitter so it was more of a #cantfixstupid, but the point was well received.

BR isn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination, at least not book-wise.  He's a highly intelligent and successful man slaving away for corporate America.  He does however seem to be relationship stupid.  After a failed marriage based on a number of deal breakers and really poor communication, I can't deal with relationship stupid again.  BR told me his longest relationship "tapped out at about a year."  I'm of the mindset that if you're a moderately attractive, intelligent and able bodied individual who hasn't had more than a year long relationship by the age of 42, then something is amiss. 

BR did a lot of great things.  He treated me like a lady.  He called when he said he would, opened doors for me and never let me pay.  He was witty and liked to do things and always had a plan for the evenings spent together.  However, this couldn't compensate for the lack of social graces that he had that make him, at least in my eyes, relationship stupid. There's something to be said for knowing when to speak and when to hold one's tongue...or at least not make dumb and insulting comments.  BR had a habit of saying thoughtless things and, to add insult to injury, he took those things one step too far.  I will illustrate with some examples that all took place this weekend. 

Anti-Country Music
The first strike against him was his vehement anti-country music sentiments.  As you should know by now, I'm a huge country music fan and love listening to my Sirius Satellite country stations.  I realize that not all of my potential suitors will be country lovers, but I do expect a certain respect for my music choices, especially if I tell you that I like to play dress up with my cowboy hat. 
Thoughtless comment:  He went on an anti-country music tirade, complete with telling me the songs all sound the same and the lyrics are asinine.  Those lyrics gave me a lot of strength through my divorce, jerk face. 
Taking it too far:  He picked me up in his Sirius-subscribed car (after I lamented that I missed my country stations while my car, with Sirius, was in the shop from my accident) and announced, "Oops, my satellite radio broke on the way here--no country music for you!"  I certainly won't be riding your "Big Green Tractor" anytime soon!

Past Loves
Aside from his hatred of country music, BR made the mistake of telling me too much about past relationships.  However, until Saturday night, he failed to mention that that none of these relationships lasted more than a year...and that he'd never lived with a woman.
Thoughtless comment:  He told me about a woman he dated and mentioned the number of times they had slept together.  Perhaps he did this to illustrate how short their relationship was, but it was information that was really unnecessary and made me uncomfortable.
Taking it too far:  He proceeded to tell me that the sex was bad (ok, I get that) and why it was bad.  I can appreciate a mention that they had poor physical chemistry, but he described another woman as a "dead fish." How old are we?!

Exercise
The weekend hit a low point with his third and final over the top comment.  Note to men: No matter what a woman looks like, do not tell her that she should be exercising more...unless she's paying you to be her personal trainer.  How BR's testicles have managed to survive 42 years without being kicked to oblivion, I am still bewildered.  To add insult to injury, he's one of those horrible people who actually loses weight when he doesn't work out and although he probably can't appreciate the idiocy of this comment, he should still know better. 
Thoughtless comment: After a particularly feisty make out session, BR laid his head on my chest and commented that my heart was pounding very fast.  I'm not sure about your experiences buddy, but that's typically a side effect of amorous activities.
Taking it too far:   He followed up this comment by saying, "Wow, you better get back on that Spinning bike!" Instead of saying something like, "Wow, I really got you worked up," or letting it go, he said, essentially told me I was out of shape.  Not 20 minutes later, he made another comment to me about how I need to exercise more...and no, it wasn't a cute way of saying he wanted to engage in some "cardio".  

I get that men can be idiots (because, well, it's true) but after 20 some odd years of dating, you'd think that BR would have figured out how not to sabotage his chances of dating a woman.  I'm sure that if I had stronger feelings for BR, I would have brushed this comments off as silly and not as deal breakers.  But stupid comments, compounded with his inability to ask me how my day was (after I listened to him go on and on and on about buying softball cleats at Sports Authority), I was done.  You just can't fix stupid.

Giddy Up

I swore off dating lawyers after both my ex-husband and creepster, JD, who tried to undress me on our first date.  But, since I tend not to listen to myself very well, I started talking to another attorney, who I will just call Lawyer NYC, a couple of months ago from Plenty of Fish.  He is a cute intellectual property attorney in NYC with a sexy geeky look who, aside from having a penchant for calling me "counselor," did not appear to be a complete weirdo.  Between the Bar Exam and his jaunts down to visit family in Florida, we haven't had the chance to get together but have graduated from emails to text messages. 

We've corresponded at length about going to school in the Midwest, having dual citizenship and international travel--all things we have in common.  When the subject of music came up, I made sure to tell him I like country, as that seems to be a dealbreaker for some close-minded individuals.  Their loss--I go wild wearing a cowboy hat--yeehaw!  Lawyer NYC seemed open to my music taste (brownie points) so we continued talking.  I even sent him a picture of me from the Rascal Flatts concert when he asked how it went. 

I've been busy over the past month and texts between Lawyer NYC and I have died down.  This must have struck a nerve with him because I started getting strange text messages from him filled with legalease and 2am invitations for hot chocolate.   A little strange, but nothing that I couldn't get over. 

However, over the past week, I must have really been on his mind...and I'm starting to wonder what he's doing with my pictures.   While I'm glad that he's open to my love to country music, I think he might be putting the cart in front of the horse.  Sexy text messages can be appreciated in certain instances--like after a number of great dates and a satisfying romp in the hay--but not before an in person meeting.  That's just weird.  From the sounds of it, Lawyer NYC might be a really fun rodeo cowboy, but I think I'm going to pass.

Why Can't We Be Friends?

The Bar Exam and ensuing drinking fest have rendered my blog with some abandonment issues lately.  My blog hasn't been the only one feeling abandoned though.  BR, the man I met online whose entire wardrobe is from Banana Republic (yet still needs better jeans, by the way), spent last week sending me books worth of emails.  While this usually wouldn't be an issue, this was on the heels of our my "let's just be friends" conversation.

It's a strange thing, the "let's just be friends" conversation, as it can go several different ways.  To be honest, the conversation is usually less of a "let's just be friends" and more of a "I'm blaming my divorce on not wanting a relationship with you because I still can't find those big girl panties and tell you I'm just not that into you" one.  Until I met BR, this conversation resulted in either an understanding conversation resulting in never hearing from the person again or a caustic bitching out about how I'm a terrible human being.  BR did something entirely different--he called me out on it and then proceeded to analyze what went wrong.

After weeks of awesome emails and a great first two dates, BR and I got along well, but I was starting to wonder whether we had the chemistry I was looking for.  I figured the 3rd date would be the deciding factor as to whether things would progress further (i.e. get freaky by the end of the night).  However, after dinner and drinks, I realized that this wasn't going to be the third date that he likely had great expectations of...if he had expectations of getting freak nastier than an awkward make out session on his couch listening to Joss Stone...yeah.  Note to men: If a woman tells you that country music makes her panties drop, it's usually a good idea to put on said panty dropping music to put her in the mood.

After an awkward 3rd date, I did what any woman recently back on the dating scene who wishes to avoid an uncomfortable conversation does.  I told BR that I wasn't ready for a relationship and got off the phone quickly.   As expected, he sent me a follow up email, but instead of wishing me luck or telling me that I was a raging bitch for leading him on, he called me out and analyzed our dates.  He cited the awkwardness of our 10th grade make out session that he also felt that something was "off" between us.  Great, nice to know you think I'm a bad kisser too.

Then BR sent me a few more emails examining our 3rd date that made me question *just* how many therapy sessions he had been to over the years.  While a bit of a behavior breakdown could be helpful in working though what went wrong, he took it to a "Dear Diary" level.  Fortunately I was too busy trying not to freak out over the Bar Exam to respond, ignored the onslaught of text and planned to let things naturally fade out.

Unfortunately, my good plan was foiled when, on the second day of the Bar Exam I got caught in the most horrendous traffic on my way to the test.  After traveling 8 miles in 45 minutes, the possibility that I would be late and miss the exam became a harsh reality and I had no option but to ditch the highway for surface roads...through none other than BR's town.  Not knowing the town well, I unsuccessfully consulted Google Maps (jerks) and started to panic.

I sat in traffic in an unfamiliar town with less than 20 minutes until the exam started and my panic turned into a full on freak out fit of hysterics.   In a moment of desperation, I picked up the phone and called the only person who could help me navigate through the back roads of whereever-the-hell-I-was.  I called BR.  Why he picked up the phone after I had ignored him for two days, I will never know.  Truth be told, neither does he, as he later wrote in a long email entitled "Panicky Blonde" detailing his thought process and internal negotiations as to whether he should pick up the phone  (except he said this in about 3 times as many sentences as my quick summary)   

There's nothing as humbling in the dating world as ignoring someone and later having to rely on them for something.  I gave a quick, "Ok, I-know-I-owe-you-an-explanation-but-I'm-late-to-the-Bar-Exam-and-got-stuck-in-traffic-and-now-I'm-lost-in-your-town-and-freaking-the-fluck-out-so-can-you-please-please-please-help-me-out?!" intro.  Thankfully, BR took pity upon me and guided me through his town, down a surprisingly not so ghetto MLK Blvd and to my Bar Exam.  I got off the phone realizing that if he had wanted to date me before my call, the chorus of "fluck, fluck, fluckity fluck!" that I shouted in between hysterical sobs would have solved that issue.

BR was nice about my call and we spoke at length over the weekend about our new friendship.  While he's still not convinced that there can't be something there, we are proceeding as friends.  I figured anyone who was nice enough to help me in a Bar Exam crisis after ignoring him for days is someone who could be a good friend...or at least a novella writing penpal.

Rascal Flatts

Those of you who know me in real life can attest to the fact that I have become a bit of a "cowboy chaser" over the past year or so (I blame the Western themed Harlequin romance novels that got me through my divorce--Texas Hold Him anyone?).  While this has proved to be difficult in New Jersey, it hasn't stopped me from listening to country music, getting a cowboy hat and purchasing tickets to every country concert that comes into town.

Thankfully I'm not alone in my love of country music and desire to look cute in a cowboy hat.  Last night I popped my country cherry and went to see my first show, Rascal Flatts, with my good friend Amanda Abajian.  For some reason, Amanda and I tend to have crazy experiences together and I'm pleased to say that last night did not disappoint.

Before we even got to the concert, Amanda's GPS decided that we looked good enough to be "asking for it" led us to a remote location off the beaten path from the Izod Center in East Rutherford.  I have a sneaking suspicion that her navigational system is in cahoots with a local rape and pillage cartel and was setting us up for a good gang bang.  For the record, the Izod Center is NOT located at 50 Rt. 120 in East Rutherford--thanks Google.

Thankfully, Amanda had the wherewithal to do what all shrieking girls in cowboy hats do when they're lost on a dark and rainy night and we asked a truck driver for directions.  Since we were in "that part" of New Jersey, the first truck we found was a trash truck, no doubt owned by the likes of Tony Soprano, but we took our chances and pulled up about 20 feet away from him (just in case).  The driver was surprisingly cute and friendly and undoubtedly laughing at us as we shouted to him through the 3 inches of open window that we considered an acceptable risk to take in that part of town.  He offered to escort us through the maze of industrial roads to our destination, which turned out to be about 400 feet down the road that we had just turned off of.  But an escort is an escort and we were arriving in Jersey Trash style, fully appreciating the irony of driving Amanda's cute Infiniti into a wake of styrofoam debris flying off of the truck.

That's rain, not trash on the window

Hunter Hayes and Sara Evans opened the show.  I was going to strongly suggest (to who, I don't know) that 17 year olds not be made to look so cute onstage until I read Hunter's bio this morning and discovered he's 20--score!  Now I don't feel a total creep for commenting on his butt in the tight jeans he was wearing.  Sara Evans was great but super skinny, which made me hate her a little bit.   She redeemed herself with a stellar performance of "A Little Bit Stronger," my unofficial divorce theme song, which I joined her in singing from my seat.  No worries, Sara, we're cool now.

The concert goers seated near us kept us entertained in between acts and taking pictures of ourselves (above).  Two rows away there were a couple of guys, one of whom was recently signed to be a catcher for the Baltimore Orioles.  The cougar next to him was starstruck and spent the better part of the opening acts switching between cozying up to him and encouraging us get frisky with the pro ball player.  She grabbed my hand and attempted to introduce me to him.  Not taking no for an answer, I finally told her that I had a rich boyfriend with a big penis, which was more readily accepted than my original sentiment that I simply was not interested.  She must have shared this information with catcher boy because he caught my eye, winked at me and gave me a thumbs up. 

Rascal Flatts put on an amazing show.  I don't know about the performers but after 2 hours of dancing in our seats, singing and sprinting up and down the stadium stairs for beer and nachos, we were exhausted.  Right before the show ended I got a text message from an obnoxious name-dropping, up-and-coming country singer who I had been talking to on Plenty of Fish.   Although conversations with him were limited to things that rhyme with "truck" and his stories of people I've never heard of singing at the Bluebird in Nashville, I kept in contact with him hoping that my dreams of catching a country singer might come true.  

All week he had been texting me about how jealous he was that I was going to the show.  Around 8pm last night I got a text asking me if I was at the concert.  It wasn't until 11:30 that I got this a picture message from him with the caption: "VIP front row.  It's how I roll lol :)" Gee, thanks for bringing us down with you buddy...or at least telling me you were there so that we could meet in person finally.  Just for that, I'm stealing your pic and posting it to my blog for my awesome review of the Rascal Flatts show.   I also sent him the above pic, asking him if there were any girls who looked like us down in his pit seats.   He replied in the negative then asked to hang out with us...yeah, no thanks.

View of the show from the pit, courtesy of no-name country boy with a Sony record deal...hmm, I really should find out his name.

As expected, it was an awesome night with funny stories that will keep Amanda and I asking each other rhetorical questions for a long time: "Remember when we followed a trash truck to the Rascal Flatts concert and then I told a cougar that I had a rich boyfriend with a big penis?"  Yeah, that was a great night!

Tiger Man

I met a man online who I will call CJ. He was 41, wore tight jeans and cowboy boots (yummy) and had a sexy smoky voice that made me want to do bad things to him. Divorced for almost a year, CJ seemed like the perfect no drama type of relationship that I could use at the moment. It didn't hurt that on our first date we met for drinks and then continued the night at a country western bar (yeehaw!). It really didn't hurt that the night ended with a kiss and a date for the next night.

In the beginning it was all fun and games--literally. We went to a shooting range, watched the Giants in the playoffs, drank beer and ate greasy bar food. We had amazing chemistry that was the icing hiding the red flag cake. He was a witty intellectual who got my sense of humor and but then things got a little weird.

CJ had some friends of the stuffed variety. The first time he picked me up he apologized for being late. He blamed Bob, the teddy bear belted into the middle back seat, for giving him wrong directions. I introduced myself to Bob (what else was I supposed to do?) and asked why he had a seat belt on. Note: Teddy bears are people too and must wear seat belts in cars. I didn't want him flying around back there, did I?!

Albeit slightly strange, I brushed the Bob episode off as endearing and something that the overall sexiness of CJ could overshadow. Then I met Rajah, the stuffed tiger who guards his twin-sized bed, and two other furry friends whose authentic ethnic names (an African name for the lion and another Indian name for Tiger #2) now escape me. He made them each growl for me. A libido killer that even tight jeans and cowboy boots could not overcome.

[via]

There were other red flags that popped up while dating CJ. Breaking his back as a result of a drunken fall down stairs at 2pm and having a house so sparsely furnished that the only place to sit was either on a toilet or on his twin sized bed are notable examples. The morning before I ended the short courtship, things were tense. I was pissed at his overall douchebaggery. Men: For the record, no matter how self depreciating a woman's humor is, it's not funny to say to her, "No wonder your XH ::insert some deplorable action here::"

In an effort to lighten the mood he sent me a picture message of his stuffed friends. They were lined up on his bed with a caption that read: "Hey there, from us!" It was so priceless that I texted him today, solely as a means of recovering that picture from our message history. I doubt I'll ever see that picture again though--Grrr!