Dating in a Small Town

It's no surprise that I love country music, however it wasn't until recently that I realized that my suburban New Jersey life could actually relate to it.  Although I don't have a dog that ran away or a truck that broke down, I do live in a small town and Miranda Lambert's "Famous in a Small Town" has described how I feel about living here lately.

I live in a small town.  Specifically, there are 8,165 people in my town.  61% are single.  The female to male ratio is 10:8 and 30% of people are between 25 and 44.  There are 313 people per square mile. I'm a lawyer, you do the math because I can't.

My town is a great place with access to walking trails, a CVS, Starbucks, a local supermarket and plenty of single educated men.  While I know that there are of other towns with eligible bachelors, I prefer to date close to home because I'm lazy, gas is expensive, and I live in cluster of neighborhoods that is filled with divorced men. I can afford to date within a 2 mile radius...or so I thought.

As I mentioned, there's a supermarket within walking distance to my house.  I go in there so often that I have made friends with one of the guys who works at the deli.  He even reads my blog, or at least he claims to, presumably in an effort to impress me and get me to go out with him (hi, Mike, thanks for reading but it's still not happening).  Deli guys notwithstanding, I've seen some good looking men walk into the supermarket on occasion and recently joked to a friend that I should hang out at the supermarket to meet men.  That's the thing about jokes, they sometimes come back to bite you in the ass...


So I got an email last week from a man on Match.com who works for the corporate part of the local supermarket.  I mentioned I shop there and am friends with deli guy.  Right away he knows who I'm referring to (apparently Mike flirts with all of the customers and I'm not that special after all) so I did some recon and asked my favorite meat slicer about the Match.com guy.  After things checked out and the deli guy confirmed that the Match guy wasn't a known serial killer, I scheduled a phone call with him.

Within the first two minutes, Match guy tells me that he got a call from the manager of my specific store  earlier that day.  The manager called and said, "Oh, I heard you're going out with Emily, I know her and her mom! How great is this?! (yadda yadda yadda)" Apparently my conversation with the deli guy about the Match guy turned into the hot topic over the prepared foods counter and rumor spread amongst the supermarket employees that Match.com guy were dating, nevermind the fact that we hadn't even met. 

As it turns out, the conversation with Match.com guy was nice but not that great.  We had little in common and I didn't think our connection on the phone was enough to warrant an in person date.  No harm no foul, right?  Wrong.  

I went into the supermarket the next day.  As I walked past the deli counter, I felt all eyes on me. I turned around to see them talking and gesturing toward me. Not that I'm not a head turner, but these hoagie slingers weren't just checking me out.  It was the kind of, "Oh yeah, there's that girl who Mike said is dating the corporate guy".  Awesome. (sarcasm font)

I quickly got my essentials and proceeded to the checkout, all the while bitching on the phone to my mother that this town is too small and my frustration with the awkwardness of my shopping experience.  I can't even go to the freaking supermarket without wondering if I'm going to be the subject of the manager's phone call (which by the way, I'm totally still contemplating complaining about because really, how professional is that?!).  I felt like a celebrity, just without all the money and paparazzi and more of the gossip.  As usual, my mother tells me I'm overreacting, there are plenty of men in this town and it's a silly coincidence.  I rolled my eyes at her through the phone and say goodbye.  

As I hungup and collected my groceries, I turned around to see E, a guy I dated back in September, standing there with his kids, waving at me.  Miranda Lambert is right, everybody is famous in a small town.

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!

Happy Divorce Anniversary to Me!

Today marks a year to the day when I walked up to the courthouse flanked by my supportive parents to officially end my marriage.  The first time I had faced my ex-husband since I had sprung a divorce on him like a trip to Disney World (sure honey, I'll come over at 8. ::ding dong, process server!::).  I remember that day like it was both yesterday and a lifetime ago.

I remember agonizing over what to wear to the courthouse, as I wanted to look fabulous but professional the last time I saw the man I was divorcing, lest he forget what a fine piece of ass an amazing woman, 11 years his junior, he was losing.  My parents told me he had worn the cuff links from our wedding (nice touch) when he came to talk to them and ask them to ask me to reconsider my decision (really now?).  Those cuff links that less than two years earlier had received a marital blessing were now witnessing my mother's infamous "Screw You" speech, calm and nonthreatening with just the right amount of Jewish guilt.

It took all of my self control not to scoff at the judge when he asked whether there was any hope for reconciliation and then let out a "Woohooooo!" when he announced we were officially divorced.  My mother and I celebrated with sangria, courtesy of my amazing attorneys and, later that night, we commemorated the event with members of our golf club over Blow job Shots.  Note: The proper way to announce that you're doing morally questionable shooters in a country club is not to announce, "I'm doing blow jobs tonight!" 

Blow job Shot, no hands necessary

A year ago, people told me that trite adage, "This is the first day of the rest of your life!" that you hear at every momentous occasion.  Between 3 graduations, a wedding, a GTFO (Get the Eff Out) day and a divorce day, I ought to have relived my the first day of my life more times than a cat.  But this time it was true.  Something was different, and it wasn't just my ability to have a good sex life.

Over the past year I lost 182 pounds of baggage (plus 10 of my own, thankyouverymuch) and I've gained back my identity.  As it turns out, there was a pretty fabulous woman lurking under the shadow of her husband!  I became a woman who knows no bounds, who isn't afraid to speak her mind (anonymously and in vague terms) and who knows that she deserves so much better than what she settled for.  Thanks to the support of my family and friends, I have an amazing life with so much ahead of me.

Happy Divorce Anniversary to Me!

Why Do I Attract Stalkers?

DJ has quickly become another one of my stalkers.  One of the men who just lacks the ability to let go. For some reason, I seem to attract nut cases.  At first I worried that "like attracts like," "birds of a feather flock together," and the other sayings that would mean that I'm crazy as well, but I'm chocking it up to bad taste in men and a great time in bed (ha, I'm kidding!  The first nut case barely even got into my pants!).  Really, it's because I continue to engage these men after they've gone off the deep end.  I need to ignore them better.  Regardless, it makes for some funny stories.

Cry Baby
My first stalker was an old high school boyfriend, Cry Baby.  In the summer after 10th grade I went away for a month on a trip to Israel and Europe.  I came back with a new perspective on life, a desire to date Jewish boys and promptly dumped him.  Cry Baby's teenaged heart was crushed and (since it was back in the pre-cell phone days) he would incessantly call my parent's house in an effort to get me to back.  He told me he wanted to hurt me and made some terroristic threats on the country where I had just visited.  One day, Cry Baby called my parents house and my brother, who is 8 years older than me and at 5'8" was significantly larger than my pint-sized former paramour, picked up the phone.  Cry Baby was crying (hence the nickname)and begged my brother (through snot rockets and hiccups) to let him speak to me.  I picked up the phone at the same time I heard my brother boom, "Stop crying you f*cking pussy!  You think I'm going to let you speak to my sister after the pathetic crap you just spewed out?!  If you bother her again, I will kill you, do you understand?!"  Have I mentioned how awesome my brother is?

ESPN
I didn't deal with another stalker until years later.  ESPN was the man I dated immediately before I met my ex-husband, who, as you might guess, worked at ESPN.  I had broken up with him but he was determined to win me back.  He spent a month calling and texting me, emailing my friends to ask them to talk to me and even told me he would have proposed if he had had a ring.  It got so bad that a law school friend who used to work for the FBI, offered to get me a gun for protection.  Thankfully, I was living over an hour away and didn't feel the need for a firearm.   ESPN finally stopped harassing me when I got engaged to my ex-husband, a mere 3 and a half months after our breakup (I know, I know...)

Ex-Husband
My ex-husband was another one who just couldn't let go.  This likely had more to do with the fact that I sprung our divorce on him like it was a surprise trip to Disney World than anything.  That, and the fact that we were married and had vowed to spend our lives together, he presumably loved me very much.  But since actions speak louder than words, we'll go with the surprise factor for the reason he couldn't let go.  I won't divulge too much (you know, because I'm nice and/or because I've blocked out the entire messy divorce process from my memory) but he actually had the nerve to ask my parents (in the courthouse, immediately before our divorce hearing) if they could get me to reconsider my decision.  Dude, let it go.

Teacher
Teacher was someone I dated for a few weeks in October.  He was a single dad of 2 daughters and a high school English teacher. I told him I wasn't ready for anything serious, as I was just starting to date after my divorce.  I'm very into baking and arts and crafts and had given him some good ideas about things to do with his girls.  I told him that I was baking a cake in the shape of a turkey for Thanksgiving because my nephew loves it (I'm not going to lie, I do too, it's a freaking awesome cake mould!).  Then he tells me how excited he was that we would be spending Thanksgiving together--me, him and his kids.  Umm, WTF?!  I quickly ended things after I realized that he wanted an instant wife, step mom and mother (for himself) all in one.  He freaked out and sent me the most grammatically correct scathing emails that I was overwhelmingly impressed and scared at the same time.  I ended up filtering his emails, threatening a restraining order and commenting that a restraining order might affect both his teaching job and his custody situation.  He emailed me a few months after to apologize and ask to grab some coffee.  Umm, no.


BR
I wrote about BR here and here and a few other places that I'm too lazy to link to.  He begged for a second chance and I gave it to him even though I wasn't really feeling a connection.  Fast forward and I realized he was relationship stupid and I was attracted enough to him to fix it.  He didn't go off the deep end, per se, but he wrote me email novellas as to why we would be good together, how he could change, how my feelings weren't justified, etc.  He finally stopped when I ignored enough of these emails and deleted him off Facebook.  Just last month though, he sent me a Facebook message congratulating me on the Bar Exam and making a comment on how we should get back together.  No thanks.


DJ
I worried that DJ would also go off the deep end, as he seem unsatisfied with how I broke things off.  He seemed like a very even keeled man though so I sent him a final email explaining some things I hadn't previously mentioned and how they were non-negotiable for me.  I stated that this would be the last of the discussion and wished him luck.  Surprisingly, it was not the end of the discussion for him.

He told me that he respected my decisions but wanted to argue his way and change my mind.  Umm, WTF?!  That's no where near respecting my decision.  I continued to ignore his emails and text messages and hoped it would go away...until yesterday.  I was out with friends when I received a call from a florist.  My heart sank.  I knew that DJ had sent me flowers.  For a man who claims to have paid attention to me, he must have zoned out on the conversation in which I told him, "I do NOT like flowers.  They shed and die and smell.  I especially dislike roses.  I think they're an overpriced waste of money.  Please never get me flowers."  Of course, he got me flowers, lots of them, with roses.  The arrangement was topped with a pleading note and about a zillion "xoxo's" before his name.

"One drink is all I ask :) xoxoxo :insert name here:"

That wasn't the end of it though.  A few hours after the call from the florist, DJ called, asking about the flowers.  I sent the call to voicemail and I thanked him via text. I told him there was nothing to discuss and wished him luck.  He called again and was sent to voicemail.  Dude, get the message already!  

He then proceeded to berate me via text message and email about how I'm a terrible evil person and how he at least deserves an explanation as to why we can't live happily ever after together.  "I at least deserve to sit down with you for a drink," he texted.  My response, "The only thing you deserve at this point is a padded room and a restraining order.  Leave me alone!"

The Man Who Wore Sweatpants

I've been slacking on the blogging lately.  There was a point where I was going out every night of the week but let's face it, dating can be exhausting...plus, when you find someone you sort of like, it's frowned upon to keep seeing other people (more on that in another post).  So, I curbed the whole going-out-on-countless-random-dates-from-Plenty-of-Freaks thing as of late.  I did manage to squeeze a couple dates in a few weeks ago that I never mentioned because they were so underwhelming that I didn't think to write about them until now.    

Remember Date #2, the Billy Baldwin look-alike from the night that I went out with two men?  You can refresh your recollection here.  Well, he asked me out on a second date and we agreed to meet for drinks on a Thursday night last month.  I wore my go-to outfit of jeans, a cute top, open front cardigan and heels.  It's the perfect outfit.  Cute but casual and doesn't look like I'm trying too hard.  Plus, cleavage can be added for effect and covered up with the cardigan if you feel too exposed.  I figured Date #2 would be wearing the male version of this outfit, i.e. jeans, a button down shirt or polo and casual dress shoes.  Ehh, wrong.  

I texted Date #2 from the car to ask if he was already at the restaurant, as there's nothing more uncomfortable to me than walking into an unfamiliar restaurant trying to determine if your date is in the building.  He texted back that he was seated by the bar and already had a drink.  I strode up to find him halfway through a Jack and Ginger wearing a track suit and sneakers.  I'm sorry, what?  Yes, you read that right.  He was wearing sweats.  

Call me conformist, but I believe there's a certain "uniform" that is proscribed through dating.  Unless you're doing some activity that necessitates different clothing, including but not limited to hiking; biking; fishing; shooting; going to the beach or having crazy sex, I expect you to dress like a civilized human being.  If not because you want to impress your potential partner, than because you have more self respect than to be unpresentable in public.  My date was wearing track pants, a t-shirt, a non-matching zip up jacket and sneakers.  I'm thankful that at least he wasn't wearing a matching tracksuit, as that attire is only acceptable for guidos and old Jewish men in Boca, but he was wearing a tracksuit nevertheless.  

He looked a bit like this guy, but with cooler shoes
[via]

Date #2 hugged me and told me I looked cute (obviously, dude, I'm not wearing sweatpants).  I told him he looked, "Umm, comfy," and he sheepishly explained that he had come straight from the gym.  Awesome.  So not only did you not shower after your workout, but you didn't have the decency to change your clothes either.  Nice one.  I would understand if he worked far from home or his office, but no, the dude works in the same building where his gym is which is in walking distance to his house!  Seriously?!  Not to mention that he wasn't the least bit sweaty of smelly which makes me question his gym-ethic in addition to his sense of decency.

Not to be a bitch, but I came to the date straight from volunteering where I helped snot-dripping children decorate with markers and glitter and I still managed to wash up and change into a pair of heels in my car.  The fact that this guy went from his office to the gym, drove past his house to get to the restaurant and couldn't throw on a pair of jeans floored me.  It's not like he arrived late either.  He was early.  If you recall, he had already consumed half of a Jack and Ginger before I arrived.  At least I know where his priorities are.  

The date went as well as a date involving sweatpants could go if there's no prospect of an elastic waistband coming in handy for some easy access.  He was nice enough but there was just no chemistry...and he was wearing freaking sweatpants!  

"Thou Art More Lovely": Dating with Shakespeare

One of the funniest things about online dating is that you will invariably get professions of love thrown your way.  Sometimes they're annoying but most of the time they're just entertaining.  These emails can even make you feel good...if you're the kind of person who lies to yourself and believes that these are genuine emails and not a copy and paste from some bad modernized Shakespeare inspired sonnet that might have been better received if written in iambic pentameter.

Here are two emails from a user whose name suggests he might be the kind of man who has a dog and covers parts of his body in peanut butter late at night.

Lonely in Queens: It would be an honor and a privilege to get to know you better, and perhaps even take you out...your beauty knows no bounds and is beyond compare...please contact me ASAP. I will be waiting anxiously by my computer for your first sweet message, and I will forever cherish the moment at which I receive it and the day I receive you in my arms.
Me: Thanks for your message but I don't think we'd be a good match. Best of luck.


I figured he would move along...but he sent another email a week later.


Lonely in Queens: A lovely lady of your exceptional calibre surely receives countless messages everyday. They are probably so numerous that you likely don't have enough time to open them all, let alone respond to the ones you actually enjoyed reading. Despite this, and the strong likelihood that you will never respond to this, I felt compelled to write to you anyway. I simply had to. Your profile, what you had to say along with your gorgeous pictures really caught my eye. I believe that if we were to meet, sparks would fly and the earth would shake. Planets would become realigned and flowers would bloom. There is something indescribable, something intangible about you that has attracted me very strongly. Hopefully you will be able to wade through the morass of mediocrity in your inbox from insincere players and find this letter, and then like me enough to respond. With any luck we can meet soon and I can romance you all over our great city. If this were to happen I would be the luckiest man on earth. At the very least I hope you enjoyed reading this.


Putting aside the cheesiness, it is a very nice email, but still a no go.  Considering that my profile is 2 sentences about how I value honesty and a zest of life, the fact that he thinks we'd be a good match based on what I wrote is highly unlikely.  Just tell me you think I'm pretty, also value honesty and would like to meet for a drink, dude.  Also, the fact that I don't live in "our great city" (NYC) shows that while he might do a good job wooing, his reading comprehension is lacking.


I did enjoy reading this, Mr. Lonely.  I think my readers have too!