The Dating Hiatus

Everyone needs a breather now and then and, I needed one too. The John's ran me (emotionally) ragged - one can only deal with so much....drama. So, I dutifully took down my profile and it was radio silence. I must confess that I did continue to see Jonny Studmuffin well into March, but then he stopped calling and that was okay with me. We had run our course and his utter studliness will forever be emblazoned in my memory (sigh...).

So during this time of liberty from men, I focused on some other things. I rediscovered hobbies - particularly sewing. I have been sewing like a mad person! I have gone on Ebay and purchased several vintage 1950's patterns - a la "Madmen". I discovered a local (cheap!) fabric place and have been shopping up a storm. I bought so much fabric (in my truly obsessive style) that I have imposed a fabric purchase sanction on myself. I must use ALL the fabric I bought before I buy another piece!! I have worn my creations to work and most notably to a lovely wedding I accompanied Maggie to. We were tres Mad Men with our 50's dresses, hats and gloves. When we went walking around Rodeo Drive (the wedding was in Beverly Hills) after the ceremony, we were lavished with compliments and admiration by the sales ladies at the Ralph Lauren store. That was so cool. I have also worn a particularly flirty number to see Jonny Studmuffin...but he probably didn't notice since the dress hit the floor within 10 seconds of entering the apartment.
I have also re-entered the gym. I got a promotion and an increase at work so, I figured I could afford the $29.99 per month needed to join the local gym. Maggie had been raving about Zumba so, I really wanted to try it. As it turns out, it's a great way to sweat your brains out. Yoga is good too, though it is nothing like the Yoga I learned on my Wii Fit.

Believe it or not, Jon #4 has been weaving in and out of my life this whole time. To date, I have told him get out of my life three times. There is something puzzling and appealing about his perseverance that keeps me coming back for more. I am a Sick Puppy. I cannot explain my attraction to this man - it's strictly chemical, I guess. He's my catnip, my crack, my red velvet cupcake. He's no good - and I know it - but I just can't resist. Argh... I was just going to say that during this hiatus I have been going to therapy regularly too. I guess I've wasted a lot of co-pays. Maybe it wasn't a complete waste - I have learned to recognize my patterns and I guess recognition is a start.

I am writing this entry now that my hiatus has ended. I was waiting for a "sign" of some kind to re-enter the dating world. Or perhaps I was just waiting for the bile not to rise in my throat at the thought of dating again. In June, I went to Mexico with my son. We had a really good time and I came back feeling good. I had lost a couple of pounds, was nice and tan and felt pretty good about myself in general. It was time to re-enter the dating world. My dating hiatus lasted 7 months. Next: re-entering the dating atmosphere.

Jonny January, Oh Mammy… (Jon #7)

Oh la la la la la!! I’ve confessed my weakness for pretty faces but Jonny has a new category all to himself: Perfection. (You’ll note that I do not get upset about the adolescent use of the “y” at the end of his name…) Picture a billboard ad for Dolce & Gabbana. Picture flipping through a Men’s Health or GQ magazine and picking the best possible body and face. Seriously, I’m not even exaggerating. 6’5” 215 lbs. olive skin, black hair, perfect lips, nose and bedroom eyes. Holy shit almighty. The body is like something I’ve only seen in print. He inspired the desire to sculpt his form, do a charcoal sketch – even write poetry (and I hate poetry). Christ – I could go on for days. I actually feel the need to brag about him – like a conquest. He’s 34 (7 years my junior). Maggie says that “Cougars” are the new blondes. Being blonde, I reckon that makes me a Deluxe Cougar. Maggie’s theory could explain why I do, on occasion get contacted by younger, gorgeous men. I usually ignore them but Jonny was too much to ignore. Those smoldering eyes… meow!
It was clear from the get-go that he wasn’t contacting me for a relationship and frankly, I didn’t care. He wasn’t vulgar or rude – on the contrary, he was nice and polite. We had a short discussion about kissing skills and how you can tell how sensual someone is by the way they kiss. He also spoke about tantric sex – which frankly, made me blush. Again, he wasn’t vulgar – more matter-of-fact about it all. We planned to meet for a glass of wine over by his apartment in Beverly Hills. When I arrived and saw him in person, I just about wet myself. How on earth could this perfect specimen be interested in me?? I’m not hideous, but certainly not in league with this man. He suggested we go up to his place for the wine. Gee – that was a hard sell. His apartment was very nice – nicely furnished, very modern and minimal. I attempted the usual conversation techniques but my ability to form coherent sentences was impeded by the constant stream of drool running down my chin. I told him that I remembered him. He had contacted me on a different website, about 4 years earlier. He was amazed. I asked him about boxing and the expression “southpaw”, which for some reason stuck with me. He told me that this was the expression for a left hander and that yes, he used to box (this info wasn’t on his current profile). He struggled for a minute to remember me but I told him that I recall we had exchanged a few emails and he asked me for my number. He had called, but I was at work and couldn’t talk. We never connected after that. We agreed that it was some weird kind of fate that he found me again, 4 years later. Fate-shmate – I remembered him because he was a fucking hottie. I remember thinking at the time, the same thing I thought now – what does he want with me?? Evidently, I’m consistently his type – but still not sure what that means. I was able to glean that he was a personal trainer and did do some occasional modeling (duh). In retrospect, I suspect he was an escort – but I digress… He was local (Long Beach) and lovely. I was so nervous. He said he preferred to be with “older” women and that he likes shapes that were very feminine like mine: curvy and not skinny. With the aid of 2 glasses of wine, I was able to relax a bit as we chatted. He was drinking scotch on the rocks (yuck). He had all the man- lair accoutrements: a small bar-cart in the corner with Cognac, Scotch and such, a large flat screen TV over the fireplace (the fireplace was lit for maximum seduction quotient), a humidor for his cigars on the coffee table, designer pillows on his ultra-modern sofa and a desk with a Mac in place of a dining table.
To keep this a PG-13 rating, I won’t get too heavy-duty. To put it this way, as irony would have it, Jonny’s (who was part Italian, part Polish & Czech – a slav!) surname was just one letter off from the Czech slang word for “pussy”. Well, he took his name to heart. He was an admirer. He was a fan. He was the embassador of female ejaculation and wouldn’t rest until he could prove my potential to…er, ejaculate. He convincingly demonstrated his tantric techniques. Suffice it to say, he proved my potential – thoroughly – for and hour and a half. And then again 10 minutes later for another half an hour. Damn, I love those energy-filled youngins. When I dressed, we hugged and said good-night.
I sang with the radio – loudly – all the way home. I laughed like a mad woman at the stoplights. When I got home, I slept poorly. I should have had big glass of vino before going to bed but, I was too shaken to think straight. Fortunately it was Friday night, and I had all of Saturday to sleep it off. Strangely enough, this happen to fall on a weekend when I was booked up the yin-yang. I had had a date with Carlos (not much of a story there) on Wednesday, met with Studmuffin-Jonny on Friday, I was actually going to see Jon #4 on Saturday night for our movie date (duh! of course there’s overlap – keep up!) and had a date with Ray, the moderately attractive Filipino on Sunday night. This isn’t a normal schedule for me – in fact – this is a record. My previous record was a mere three dates in one week. In any case, as I played piano Saturday afternoon – waiting for my much-anticipated meeting with Jon #4, I received a text from Jonny asking if I was available that evening! WTF?!? I had felt certain that our sex-fest was a one night thing. I had prepared myself for this and had grown comfortable with the idea. I was shocked to hear from Pussy-Man again. I told him, that I was not available – but that I had been thinking about him all day. He asked if I was sure I couldn’t get away for just an hour or two, later. Damn! I realize this is an issue to be resolved between me and my shrink, what on earth could this Adonis want with me?!? It continues – to this day – to perplex me (guess the therapy is not working). I told him no. I was too enthralled with Jon #4 – feeling drawn to him for some inexplicable reason – to cancel or cut it short. I envisioned a Sunday brunch roll in the hay, so I offered Sunday morning or afternoon. He said that he would be leaving town, back on Wednesday or Thursday. I told him that we’d have to get together then. Of course, you know how the evening with Jon#4 went. I was on cloud nine on Sunday. Just in time for my first date with Ray. He seemed like a really nice guy. I’m not ordinarily attracted to Asian men, but he seemed pretty appealing so, I thought I’d see how I would feel in person. Unfortunately, I was completely under the influence of the Jon’s – poor sucker didn’t have a chance. At 4:00 Sunday evening, I received another text from Jonny asking if I was free that evening! He said that his trip to Vegas was postponed. I told him that I could be there by 8:30. Ray and I were supposed to go out for dinner and a movie but, I texted him that something came up (in Jonny’s pants!!) and that it would have to be dinner only. I was feeling cocky – ha! Cocky! Dinner with Ray was fun – nice guy – just didn’t find him as attractive as I had hoped I would. I didn’t rush – I swear! I even took us to a shaved ice place, where I paid (!) for dessert. I bid Ray a goodnight – he boldly went for a small kiss (peck) goodnight (unusual). Then I drove like friggin’ Mario Andretti to get over to Beverly Hills to Mr. Pussy.
Of course, it was lovely visit. He seemed pretty distracted but he mentioned something in passing about me staying night sometime. I didn’t believe it. I squeezed that legendary ass on the way out thinking that this then, would be the last time I would see him. Little did I know that I would see him twice more (as of writing anyway, saw him 3 days ago). He is my kryptonite and I have no intention of giving up that little slice of heaven unless I have to. No matter what my shrink says. I still wonder what on earth he would want with me. If my theory – that he is an escort – is true, wouldn’t he be getting all the tail he wants? Was he taking me on as a pro-bono case? Ha! Pro bono!

Team Edward (John #6)

One should never fail to note small peculiarisms. Keep them in a mental file because later on you’ll say, “I should have seen that coming”. John #6 had some nice travel photos posted – I’d like to find someone that enjoys traveling as much as I do. He was decent looking enough – a little chunky but, that’s okay. We IM’d after exchanging some emails. I learned that his Golden Retriever was a star. (Here we go again, someone else in the “industry”…) He recited his dogs impressive credentials – various movies, TV shows, commercials, etc. He was a stage dad to a dog! I love dogs – I truly am the biggest animal lover – but this was decidedly un-sexy. But, he had a real job besides the schlepping the dog all over town so, I let it slide. He had attempted some sexual innuendo but, I did not encourage it as I was still reeling from Jon #5.
Seldom do I not speak on the phone with a guy prior to meeting him. Sometimes, I just like to “go for it” and just meet and see how it goes without wasting hours yapping on the phone. I felt this way about John – let’s just go for it. He suggested we meet for dinner at the Rainforest Café at Downtown Disney (he lived in East Orange County). I thought it sounded like a fun idea…. for a 7 year old. I told him that I didn’t want to go that far and asked if he could come closer to me. He suggested Bubba Gump in Long Beach (see a pattern?). Another adolescent choice, but I liked the food there so, it was agreed upon. He called me an hour before to say he was running a little late – it was the first time I had heard is voice. And it was a smidge…effeminate. Too late to back out now… We met in front of the restaurant and I saw that Online Math had struck again. His stated 5”10” was closer to 5’8” and he had gained about 30 pounds since the photo in Paris he posted. (sigh….) I thought the camera was supposed to add 10 lbs, not reality. Anyway, he wrapped his arm around me and steered me into the movie-themed restaurant. We sat and talked. Not only was his voice slightly effeminate, so were his mannerisms. He kept reaching across the table to hold my hands. I snatched them back. He was very generous, insisting I order whatever I wanted. We couldn’t agree on an appetizer so, he insisted we order both. He was jolly as he told me about his dog’s career and how, when this one dies, he will do it all over again. He showed me pictures of the dog. He was admittedly, a fine looking Golden Retriever. We talked about movies – seeing as we were being instructed how to use our “Stop Forrest Stop” and “Run Forrest Run” paddles used to hail the waitress – it seemed like an appropriate topic. I named some of mine: “Young Frankenstein”, “A Fish Called Wanda”, “Elizabeth”, “Braveheart”. He named some of his favorites: the Twilight series, the Harry Potter series and the Narnia movies. I was a little surprised by his choices. Most men usually declare “The Godfather” to be their favorite movie or maybe “The Shawshank Redemption”. I kidded with him, “What are you a 13 year old girl??”. (I know, not too subtle…) He took the ribbing well. I told him that I had seen the first 2 Twilight movies but that I hadn’t really enjoyed them too much. In earnest he asked, “Are you Team Edward or Jacob?” Silent and with my mouth ajar, he clarified, “You know, are you for the vampires or the werewolves?” “Uhhhh…..I hadn’t given it much thought, actually. But I guess, vampire?” He seemed pleased by my chosen side. The rest of the evening was spent chatting about Lord knows what, because I had shut down. He walked me to my car after dinner and gave him a quick hug. I almost wanted to walk to his car to see if he had the Mickey Mouse antenna ball or maybe a My Little Pony on his dashboard. I thanked him profusely for the nice dinner. When he emailed the next day, I broke it to him as gently as I could, that I didn’t think we were a good match. I didn’t elaborate.

Jon the Turk/Jerk (Jon #5)

Living in Los Angeles, it’s inevitable to come across – on nearly day a daily basis, someone that is either in the entertainment industry, in a field relating to the industry or desperately trying to get into the industry. We’re the land of Hollywood for crissakes. Jon did some voice over work, was supposedly a comedian and did some acting (probably kraft services too…). He had that confident-cocky charm I’m attracted to despite being only moderately attractive. When a guy lives far from me, I know it’s reasonable to meet half way. Of course I prefer to meet closer to me and to be honest, a real gentleman will always offer to come my way. Perhaps this is one of those subconscious judging categories – I can size a man up by how willing he is to inconvenience himself more than me. In this case, Jon got poor marks. He lived all the way in the Valley and insisted we meet in Brentwood – which is just over the hill from him but, about 45 minutes for me. Had he not said we were meeting for sushi, I would have insisted on something a smidge more South. I waited for him at the bar. He was 20 minutes late. (Did I mention that the restaurant was much closer to him than me?) Anything more than 10 minutes late is rude in my book – the only exception being if the man is coming from quite a distance (i.e. coming to Manhattan Beach from Irvine). When he arrived, I noted that some of that online dating math had worked it’s magic. Suddenly 5’11” became 5’6”! Truly a wonderful trick! He came right over and wrapped his arms around me in an all-encompassing bear hug. He smelled of too much cologne.
We chatted nicely, laughing often. He was pretty entertaining, actually. He had a good sense of humor – which can make any man more attractive in my eyes. He was a little too touchy feely – which I don’t like. He didn’t order anything to eat but – I know this tactic: he thinks by not ordering anything, I wouldn’t either. Yeah- right! I had come all this way under the pretense of having dinner – so I didn’t eat before going out – so dammit, I’m going to order something. I am a light eater though, so I just ordered some edamame and a small California roll. We seemed to be getting along okay – like I said, he made me laugh. He walked me to my car afterwards and was all over me. I gave him a quick peck but this guy was going for the full macking. I pushed him away and said “that’s enough for a first date”. He felt the need to explain his obvious horniness on being overly affectionate (he said it was a “Turkish Thing”). We said “good night”.
It’s funny – when a person behaves aloof, they almost trick you into thinking that they’re something special. The next days we emailed and he took his time replying to me. I agreed to a second date (although in retrospect, I’m not sure why). I suppose I found him amusing, albeit overly horny, and I was test-driving a new dating theory introduced by Maggie: “Date ‘em until you hate ‘em”. Well, I didn’t hate him. Yet.
So, this time I asserted myself a bit more and asked him to come to my neck of the woods. I suggested we go for a walk down by the beach and then hop into one of the many places down in Hermosa Beach. He had no interest in that plan because he was going to be at the beach all day with his brother. He tried suggesting that I go up there again, I told him “no”. We negotiated dinner & a movie. So, he came down - late, again – this time by 40 minutes. He bitched and moaned about the distance and the heavy traffic. Cry me a river, a-hole. Here’s where I am going to sound like a materialistic jerk but, I’m really not. His car was a messy piece of shit. Falling apart, cluttered, piece of merde, mierda, sheisse, shit-box. Now – I really don’t care if you have an older car as long as you take care of it. But seriously, to me there is something wrong with a 45 year old man driving around in a crapper. I’m a single mom without the luxury of child support and even my car is decent. When a middle-aged man (ex-wifeless and childless, I might add) drives a P.O.S., he’s saying: “I’m not conducting my life properly”. So anyway…we were going to have dinner and a movie but because he was so late, we could only grab a drink at the bar and split some fries. Hey – wait a second…maybe this was another paying-for-dinner-avoidance tactic I didn’t know about – hey! This guy is good! Sitting at the bar, we drank and chatted. It was then I noticed something I didn’t really take note of the first evening. This guys was really loud. He broke into his impression of a “kvetching jew” really loud. I had to shoosh him! As soon as he came off of that routine, he jumped into the next – this time engaging the attractive black couple next to him down the bar. Now, picture a bar. I am sitting in position #1, Jon is #2 and the couple is #3 & #4. He launched into a full Q & A with these poor people. Keep in mind though, that I’m at the end of the bar and he has now turned his body to completely face them, thereby also blocking my ability to lean forward to be kept part of the conversation. He asked them how long they’ve been married, where they were from (they had an “Island” accent), how many children they had – they had none – why? Then we were privy to one of their internal marriage struggles as she wanted kids but wasn’t ready yet. I gleaned all of this by weaving my head back and forth to peer into the occasional gaps left as Jon the Comedian bobbed his head around entertaining them. Finally, I gave up trying to be included and just finished my drink. I summoned the bartender, got our bill and pushed it the direction of guy with his back to me. He paid, bid his new best friends (who looked thankful we were leaving) a good night and we rushed to our movie.
The previews had already started – I hate missing the previews!! We passed irritated patrons as we side-stepped our way to one of that last pairs of seats available. I settled into my seat, happy for this break from his yapper. We watched the movie. He really leaned towards me so, I linked arms with him. About 15 minutes later – he tries to kiss me! During the movie?!? What are we – 15?!?! Get the fuck outta here! I pushed him away – trying to hide my annoyance. He kept a hand on my knee – fortunately he didn’t not attempt to go exploring – I think he might have sensed that he would have lost a finger had he tried. After the movie, we walked back to his car. He suggested we go walk on the beach. What?? I told him that if he didn’t mind, I’d like him to take me home. When we pulled into my driveway, he suggested that he come up to “hang out”. What??? I told him no, that I was tired and would like to call it an evening. He was aghast. He protested that he had driven “all this way” and that it was still early (11:00). I insisted on leaving his vehicle as he protested. I scurried through my security gate and went straight to my computer to write him a “thanks, but no thanks” email.
I wrote:
"Thanks for coming down tonight and thanks for the drink and the movie. You're a really sweet guy but, I don't think you're right for me.
Lots of luck to you."
The next day, he wrote:
"I know why you acted like that at the end of the night. You thought by me asking to just come over to your condo I was just looking for A GOOD TIME. Well..I was not.
Just was tired from the beach...and wanted to see a movie and then chill with a few drinks instead of doing the bar scene.
The worst thing that would have happened is I would have maybe kissed you more...and possibly a foot massage.(I liked your pedicure).. You would have fallen a sleep any ways after that...so...
You did not mention we should go to the beach or somewhere after the movie...I may have been up to it.
I am just an affectionate guy(Turkish thing)..so that is why I hold hands in the theater and flirt with you. You seemed into it(holding my arm)...especially of what you said when I picked you up...you like to please guys to a point.. etc.
I know you did the Pink color and the manicure for me...sandals..etc..so you didn't have to deny it....thought it was sweet!!.
So...glad you had some laughs with me....and get back to me if you want to get together again...except near me this time.:)
If not..take care and good luck"

Okay – in my defense – I told him that I was going for a pedicure the day before and I asked him what color he liked. That is what I meant by “pleasing guys to a point”. Geez talk about misinterpreting signals: my holding his arm meant that I wanted his tongue in my mouth in a crowded movie theater! My wearing sandals on a Summer day with a fresh pedi in the color of his choosing meant that I was his to fondle and molest! My wanting to call it an evening and not have him up to my condo and rushing to write him a “good bye” email had nothing at all to do with him being a total asshole! Ick.

Sling Blade Jon (Jon #4)

Gut instinct is a really a gift: a biological present that says, “Hey! Listen up! I’ve got a read on this situation here…”. What a pity that I usually choose to ignore my gut. Sometimes, you just know what you’re getting into when you look at a person. You just know. When I get that feeling, I stupidly talk myself out of it, telling myself I’m being too judgmental or overly cautious. Just like John #2, when I saw Jon #4’s picture I saw: Trouble. Like I hadn’t been bruised badly enough by the John #2 debacle… ugh. But Jon have that easy, confident smile and wore these adorable dark rimmed glasses. He was tall – I love tall and seemed fun. After several emails over several weeks with bouts of no contact, and no hint at speaking or meeting - I suspected Jon was a guy just looking for an email flirt. It seemed strange to me – why bother? We went off and on like this for 2 months. I didn’t push meeting nor did I hold my breath that he would initiate a meeting despite his repeated suggestions that we should meet for “checkers and tea”. Earlier on, I had joked with him by asking him if “checkers” was code for something else. The tone of sexual innuendo was set and continued over the 2 months. He asked me for my number but then never called. A couple of weeks later, he emailed me again. I didn’t respond because I had had enough of his games. He sent another email when I didn’t reply asking me if he had “blown it” with me. I teased that I was just playing hard to get. He said he swore he would call this time and he did. We had a lively chat – lots of laughing and joking. As I had suspected, we seemed very compatible. The phone call turned into some emails while still on the phone, where unexpectedly sent me a picture titled “pure art”. He had sent me an “artsy” self (nude!) portrait of himself! When I opened the picture with him still on the phone I screamed. He did not expect this reaction. We laughed and he apologized, not thinking I would take offense. I doctored the picture up a bit – with various photo finishes to make it more artsy and sent it back to him. He was so funny, smart and interesting that I went along with it all. So much so that before the end of the evening I had sent him an “artsy” shot of me!
We arranged to meet the following evening but it had turned into a sexual encounter rather than a real date. In hindsight, I’m not sure why I agreed to it, but it was fun. It’s not what I had intended while getting to know him but, obviously that’s all he wanted. We met another kink-fest after that and that was fun too. He texted me frequently though I had no idea how it could possibly go the direction I truly wanted it to. He kept up sporadic contact for a couple months after we met until he invited me over one evening to watch a movie as a kind of “restart”. Instead of watching a movie, we talked and talked (we hadn’t done much of that on our two prior “dates”) and laughed and laughed. The evening had gone so well, I felt very optimistic. He had shared a lot of personal stuff with me – like he was a recovering pill addict – clean for 9 months. We talked about past relationships, about our kids, about everything. “Slingblade” happen to come on while we were talking and he broke into superb Billy Bob Thornton impression. I performed my Fat Bastard impression. A good time was had. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t fool around with him but I didn’t have to worry, he didn’t make a move. After 5 straight hours of talking, he walked me to my car and gave me a big hug. He texted me the next day, saying how nice it was. Then I never heard from him again.

Scuba Johnny (John #3)

August now - fresh from an emotional thrashing courtesy of John #2 (John of the North). Enter - Johnny (oy! another one that keeps the kiddy nickname!). Not too attractive, not too ugly - a good antidote for John #2, I thought. The pretty ones are always trouble. Always. But dammit those are the ones I'm drawn to....but I digress. Johnny had an uber-respectable job: city planner of a local, wealthy city (city name not revealed to protect the innocent). A smidge younger (-2 years), educated, well-travelled, variety of interests (soccer, scuba, travel, food) and local - always a bonus. His choice of meeting place scored him major points - lunch at a lovely new resort in Palos Verdes - Terranea. We sat outside - it was a glorious day - and had a nice lunch. He was a little pudgy, but tall. His looks were doable. More points were awarded for chivalry as he offered me his jacket when we walked after lunch and a chilly wind kicked up. He had some funny yet alarming travel stories - about being chased by a small mob in Morocco, for example. He seemed to revel in being perceived as a trouble-maker. He was delighted that I had my PADI certification and decided that our next date would be a scuba-date. "Fun", I thought. I had only gone diving in tropical climes before - local seemed intriguing.

We arranged to meet the Friday evening before to get fitted for a wetsuit rental (for me) and all the other equipment. We met at the dive shop. It was time to try on a wetsuit. Now, I'm not a skinny girl - I am decidedly "curvy" (translation: big ass, big boobs=hard to fit). I was mortified when the wetsuit given to me wouldn't zip past my boobs. Even more mortifying was the assistance I required getting into the next size up. Kinda unorthodox to be sweating like crazy and having your push-up bra oozing out of a wetsuit while your date is struggling to zip you up. But hey - unorthodox is how I roll. Johnny generously paid for my rental equipment and we decided to go for a drink after "the fitting". We had a nice chat that evening but I wasn't able to stay out too long. He picked me up at 9:00 the next morning where we would return to Terranea - which happen to be a decent launching point for a dive. When we got there, we took two long trips dragging all the gear down the cliff, to the beach. I was trying to be a good sport but, I suddenly realized the appeal of resort diving (you don't have to carry shit!). So we dragged our tanks, wetsuits and gear all the way down only to discover that the conditions were less than ideal. The few divers we encountered coming out of the water said it was lousy. Johnny had a few alternate sites so - again with two trips, we hauled all of our stuff back up the cliff and set out for destination #2. I was exhausted and ready to go home for a nap. We drove further down the coast to alternate locale #1. It sucked as well (but at least we didn't have to schlep anything around to discover that). Alternate locale #2 was this beach in San Pedro (Pt. Fermin?) Not the most ideal, but the conditions were better plus - big bonus for me - it was level entry (no cliffs!). We suited up - he was obviously knowledgeable and extremely helpful and patient. I didn't have gloves or booties to go with my full body wetsuit(with hood!) I knew nothing of this kind of gear because the few times I dove before, a bathing suit was all you needed. He warned me it would be cold. That was a gross understatement. I entered the water gloveless and with improvised foot protection: his gym socks inside my crocs, wedged inside my flippers. It did not suffice. The water was SO FUCKING COLD. I wanted to be a sport - I refrained from whining....at first. We swam breathlessly to the distant buoy. It was horrible. I vacillated between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. But again - I wanted to be a trooper so, I kept my whimpering to a minimum. Finally we arrived at the buoy and it was time to descend. I nearly had a heart attack when the ice cold water covered my face. I had an instant, blinding headache. We continued to descend - probably about 20 ft. or so to the floor. The visibility was bupkes. Nada. Zippo. I signaled that I had enough and we went back up. He agreed that it was miserable. I unleashed my whining. My feet and hands were numb, my face blue and my head pounding. I think that even my tongue was cold. It seemed like an eternity to get back to shore - but I was so grateful to be there. We rinsed our stuff and defrosted inside his pigpen of a car. We instituted Plan B: tapas and sangria in Long Beach. Now we're talkin'. Screw this scuba bullshit... I noticed on the drive, Johnny would drive aggressively and yell obscenities out the window at offending drivers. Maybe a little high-strung, I told myself. We had a lovely afternoon chowing down and drinking and people watching on Pine Ave. He talked about his fellow Mensa member ex-wife. He seemed a little hostile, but I was a tipsy land-lubber - so I couldn't give a crap about his ex. We enjoyed a nice kiss when he dropped me off. Though to be honest, I had so much sangria in me I would have enjoyed a nice kiss with my mom's dachshund, Penny.

Our next date was another first - a soccer game: the L.A. Galaxy vs. Kansas City(?) at the Home Depot Center in Carson. We "tailgated" prior to the game. He had no less than 8 beers while we leaned on his car in the parking lot. I was alarmed at his capacity to drink so much in such a short time while seeming unaffected. Once seated he went and got me a margarita and he got himself a giant (40 oz.??) beer. We had good corner seats. I was eagerly looking around - this was my first live soccer game and I was still a little randy after watching all those studly Spaniards in the World Cup the month before (meow!). Some children paraded through the stadium prior to start of the game. There was no one sitting in front or to the side of us. Suddenly, this couple came and stood directly in front of us to frantically wave to their child on the field. This was extremely annoying. If they had just moved a few feet in either direction, they wouldn't be in front of anyone - but no. I would have said something like "excuse me, could you please move to the side?" But no. Johnny said, "hey - do you mind? you see your kid every day." Oh my. Granted - their rudeness - intentional or not - probably deserved this kind of wise-ass remark. But I am a peace-loving Libra. We just don't do that shit. I was mortified. The parents scuffled away, their feathers a little ruffled. I sat silent as Johnny realized that I did not approve. We sat near a group of hooligans(?) - soccer groupies that have their chants and outfits, etc. I learned that Johnny chose our seats to be near them. Johnny downed his beer and went for another. As the game progressed, I was privy to classy hooligan chants that contained phrases like, "...fuck your mother.." I was not impressed. Johnny shouted along with them as I sat silently. Not all the chants were so foul, but the impression had been made. After the game, we went back to his car where he drank 3 more beers. It now appeared that he was drunk. I insisted on driving his car, to drop me off. He assured me he was okay to drive home. He gave me a sloppy kiss good night and we parted ways. I texted him to make sure he made it home okay, which he did. I thanked him for a lovely evening.

Adios John #3

John of the North (John #2)

Some of my stories are funny, some are not. This one is not. This one stung more than just a little. So much so that it has taken me 6 months to be able to write about it. But since he’s a John, he must be included in my tales of the John’s.

About the same time I met Johnny (the pasty, picky, unemployed recycler) I started corresponding with John. Not sure how it started, I think I saw that he was looking at my profile and he was so attractive, I looked at his. His profile was witty and snarky and full of funny little wise observations about life and dating. I think I wrote him first, just to make a comment on it. I didn’t expect him to write back, but he did. He was really quite attractive and I knew the second I saw his picture, that he was trouble. Not the kind of trouble that would land one in jail, the heart-breaking kind. Something in the eyes… Well, we seemed to ignore the physical distance (he lived near Sacramento, I live in L.A.) and exchanged daily, funny emails. We had been writing for about 2 weeks when, like I mentioned in the Recycler Johnny post, I had a vacation planned to Mexico. (My Johns overlap, naturally) He wanted to speak on the phone before I left so, we chatted nicely (for almost 2 hours!) the night before I left. As expected, he was funny, charming, smart, witty, confident-cool. In other words: TROUBLE. He texted me early the next morning, knowing I would be at the airport. He said to make sure I called him when I got back.

A sweet text awaited me the day before I returned. I called him the night I got back and from then on, it was “on like Donkey Kong”: texting throughout the day, exchanging funny pictures and stories, IM’ing at night – every day. We talked about meeting and I offered to drive half way (which would be the charming town of Bakersfield). Instead, he suggested Pismo Beach (slightly closer to me and infinitely more romantic than Bakersfield). I think he misinterpreted my comment that I would make a weekend trip of it and camp there at the campground. (I was trying to alleviate the concern that I would drive “all that way” for a date.) Somehow it got misconstrued by him thinking that I was suggesting that he and I camp together. I can only assume this because he then mentioned that his friends had a place and we could stay there. Oops. Now, for our first date – we’re spending the weekend together. Double oops. Erring on the wrong side of prudence, I didn’t disagree. I was operating under the influence of being smitten. I was smited. I was smote. Frankly, it’s fair to say that he was too. We met exactly 2 weeks after I returned from vacation. In the meantime, we texted, talked, IM’d and emailed frantically, sweetly.

So came the big day. I set out – estimating that it would take me about 2 ½ - 3 hours (the longest I’ve ever travelled for a first date). My stomach was full of butterflies. I followed his directions and pulled in behind his parked motorcycle. I wasn’t all the way out of my car yet when he appeared at the door. There’s a strange feeling when you see someone (that you’ve been getting to know remotely) for the first time. You’ve seen each other’s pictures and approve. You like each other’s personalities. You know each other’s voices. The final missing piece of the puzzle is meeting face to face. His eyes are alarmingly green and the first time he cast his gaze on me I was shaken (and stirred – deeply). We locked eyes and smiled and then hugged and laughed. We exchanged unexpected gifts (talk about being on the same wave-length): I got him a second-hand copy of a book I thought he’d like: Jupiter’s Travels. He brought me a little Matchbox car of an MGB (he remembered I told him how much I liked them). We decided to go walk into town and have lunch. I relaxed a bit as we talked and I was now able to complete the person that only existed in fragments before. We ate, laughed, walked, talked. Previously, I had told him on the phone that I love napping on weekends so, seeing an opportunity I suppose, he suggested we go back to “our place” (yes, he said that) and relax. Oh Lord, I knew where this was going…and I didn’t mind at all. We were getting along swimmingly. We cleared the bed and lay down – fully clothed. We talked for a bit and then closed our eyes. He actually dozed off for a bit. Not me. No fucking way. He woke up again and we shifted around. Then I laid with my back to him and he moved in for the “spoon”. Oh yeah. I was so excited I damned near passed out. You can imagine that not too soon after it turned into kissing. Then it turned into kissing and fondling. Then it turned into some of the most intense lovemaking I’ve ever experienced. He was very “giving” and treated my body like it was a buffet and he was a starving man. He was slow and deliberate. He stared deep into my eyes. Those damned green eyes burned right through my skull. He was skilled and caring and was able to go on and on. After, we showered and then lay down for a real nap this time. Of course, I couldn’t sleep a wink. In a while, we dressed and went for a walk on the beach, and dinner. He was determined to find me a Sand Dollar (Pismo is famous for them). We walked hand in hand, the entire length of the beach. I was swooning. He never let go of my hand for too long and would kiss my forehead and hair. It was getting late, and we had walked far so, we went to eat. Waiting to be seated he had his arm around me. I put my head on his chest (I was so tired). Lazily we ate and then sauntered back to “our place”. Of course, we made love again and it was oh-so-lovely. After a sleepless night (for me), we made love in the morning. We spent more of the weekend horizontal than vertical. I knew he had to leave early (he told me a few days before) so, we quickly dressed, cleaned up the place and went for breakfast. After, we went back to say “good bye”. We hugged and kissed. He watched me (longingly?) as I pulled out and until I was out of sight. Throughout the previous day, he peppered our conversations with references to returning to “our place” again (i.e. “…next time we’re here we’ll…”, “there’s the pool for next time”). There wasn’t a reason for me to believe that I wouldn’t see him again but, I just knew.

I was completely overwhelmed driving home. I wanted to stop into my favorite town, Los Olivos on the way home but, I was simply too jacked up. I was exhausted (no sleep, lots of sex) and my emotional blender was set on “frappe”. I just drove straight through and collapsed at home.
The next morning I was elated when he texted me. I had made it through the one-(morning/noon/night)-stand curse! He wanted to make sure I made it home all right. The next days he sent me a couple of pictures he took that weekend on the beach (me with a sandcastle) but the tone of his contact had changed. His emails we short and…detached. Perhaps the curse was real. I tried not to appear needy and I let him initiate contact. I mirrored his tone and sentiment, being careful not to appear like I was now expecting marriage. Over the course of the next 2 weeks, the contact dwindled to every 3 days or so. I let it be for a few days of torment. Then I broke down and emailed him a simple, pleasant “thinking of you” email. He responded politely, right away. The next day, he texted me that he would be in my area with his niece the next day for her water polo tournament. He said that maybe we could meet for lunch. My heart jumped. We arranged a time and place. On the way into work, he texted me again with an ominous “uh oh”. It seems the coach was having his niece play an extra game and he couldn’t get away. That was it. No customary, “sorry”. No, “let’s make a plan”. Nada. I went from the top of the roller coaster to crashing at the bottom. I was looking forward to seeing him so much I could hardly breathe. The thought of just holding him again made me tremble.

The next weeks after that I decided to let him orchestrate ALL contact. I chase after no man. He IM’d me a couple of times. The conversations were even more distant and strained. Yet he continued to contact me, maybe twice a week this way – perhaps motivated by a combination of obligation and boredom.

I was sleeping poorly, crying often. I wrote and wrote in my journal. I composed email after email – never to be sent. One day, I took the day off and went to the beach on a particularly glorious Southern California day. As I lay there on the beach, I felt completely miserable. I had a sense of unfinished business. Now, some women would just scoop up what was left of their pride and walk away. But I have always been of the “need for closure” school. I simply need a chapter to have a tidy ending in order to move to the next one. I don’t do dangling ends. I mustered the courage to send him an email for real this time. I wrote:
John,
Such a beautiful day today. So beautiful that I took the day off to go to the beach. And I've done some thinking. It seems that our weekend meant more to me than it did to you. As much as I'd like to play the "cool girl" that can settle for just being friends/penpals after being intimate, I just can't. It hurts me too much. I don't throw my affections around so easily. If you don't want to see me again, please let me be.

He responded a couple of hours later:
Understood. Take care.

In the words of Forrest Gump, “that’s all I’ve got to say about that”.

7 Months, 7 Johns (John #1)

Now...I realize that John/Jon is a common name but - what are the odds of me dating 7 men named John/Jon in the last 7 month period? Seriously! It's not like I got out that often...au contraire...it's kinda been a slow season. I’ve always had bad luck with men named John. Though, the last set were spread out over a few years – and there were only three. The first one was after college. I started dating him but he never made a move on me. He was super-tall and super-cute. We always went to the movies and just hung out in general. He explained after about a month, that he recently had discovered a suppressed memory of being molested by his father! Oh my! I was patient and did not make a solitary assertive move. Finally, after 3 months of going this way, he kissed me one night after watching a video at me house. It was so sweet, I was so glad. A week later, he broke up with me saying he started seeing a girl at work! Asshole! The second John was actually a Juan, but he went by John and I met him on Match in 2003. He was so odd looking –not very attractive at all – but I was ga-ga about him. He told me from the beginning that he didn’t want a relationship but, in my mind, I thought I could change his mind. Over the course of 3 months, we saw each other frequently and I fell deeper and deeper into hopeless infatuation. I’m sure he sensed this and dumped me over the phone. The next John was an online date too. He was tall and cute (I love tall and cute!) and with a son my son’s age. We went out a few times, then we went for a kind of play date with his son and mine. We went to the park and then to Soup Plantation for lunch. We were like a cute little family. He IM’d me the next day to tell me how much fun he had, then I never heard from him again.
So, suffice it to say, I’m leery of men named John. They’re trouble. At least for me. These next seven pretty much sealed that deal. Of course, being the eternal optimist, I would still go out with 50 more John’s knowing that this John curse is superstitious nonsense. But I just know that the first John I turn away because of his name might be the ONE!! Oy. It’s not easy being me.
Since I'm anal about organizing things in a chronological way, I'll start with:

"Johnny of June" (John #1)
The only thing that irks me more than men that have short arms are adult men who add a "y" to the end of their name. To me, if you're older than 5, you need to stop being "Mikey" and grow up to "Mike". Maybe I'm just funny like that. So anyhow...Johnny kinda had a dorky smile, but seemed to be a nice, polite, educated white boy from Palos Verdes - what my father would call "well bred". We decided to meet at the "Whale & Ale" in San Pedro. To my delight, he looked like his pictures! That is to say, not like a heavier, older version of himself. He was tall, had a nice smile and looked like a GAP add - wearing khakis, a button down shirt and flip flops. We sat, we ate, we drank. Conversation was easy - not forced - and things appeared to be going well. He was actually from New York, originally. He was telling me about his cousins: Bobby, Mikey and Timmy, and his brother, Jimmy. I started to think that the infantile nicknames was perhaps a NY thing(?). Anyway, he was out of work - which a lot of people seem to be nowadays. I felt guilty when he insisted on paying. I thought it was oddly cute that he used a coupon and insisted on taking home our bottles for recycling. We exchanged pleasantries and hugged each other good night. It was a satisfactory date.

A few days later we decided to go on a hike in Palos Verdes. We met at the Trump Golf Course and took a nice hike/walk down the cliffs to the beach. We laughed, we talked, we picked up litter from the beach. I felt fairly certain that he liked me and I kinda liked him too. At my car, we again hugged good bye. This was acceptable because it was still daylight (still, a kiss on the cheek wouldn't have killed me...)

A couple days after that (yes! three dates in one week!) we went to P.F. Changs - at my suggestion since I had a gift card and he had no job. It was then that I learned how picky of an eater he was: no mushrooms, broccoli, asparagus, onions, shrimp, pork, beef. Picky eaters annoy me because (to me) it represents narrowmindedness. It also puts a "hitch yer gitalong" when you're sharing plates at a Chinese place. We enjoyed our unadventurous chicken entrees and brown rice (white rice was also a no-no). He picked me up this time so I felt certain he would lean in for a smooch when dropping me off but no, we did the whole sitting-in-the-car-hug thing. Hm...I started to think that maybe he just wanted me as a friend. My friend Maggie was delighted that things were going so slowly - she felt that it was "right". I guess I'm used to something a little more by then but, perhaps I'm getting a little jaded.

Now, I had a vacation planned at this time so, I bid Johnny "adieu" for 2 weeks while I went gallivanting around the Yucatan. When I returned, I gave Johnny a call and invited him to come to my mountain cabin with me for the weekend. I needed help cleaning up around the property and I wanted to take advantage of a free garbage drop off day. He worked diligently by my side, schlepping construction debris, the old barbecue, paint cans, book shelves, etc, etc, into the truck. I was pleased at the progress. Once able to relax, I got to learn more about him while up on the balcony. I was laying in the sun while he appeared to be hiding from it. He told me that he feared skin cancer - he was constantly slathering on 85 spf sunscreen. I thought this was overkill but, whatever. When I asked him how his job hunting was going, he said that he hadn't started looking yet (!). He was after all, staying with his parents - what's the rush? That evening, we went out to Lake Arrowhead for dinner (naturally, I paid - he worked so hard that day). I was unhampered by his dietary "needs" this time and ordered my own entree. After, he held my hand in the parking lot. To be honest, Johnny had lost my interest. His pasty skin, high-maintenance eating habits and cavalier attitude about finding a job left me limp as a wet noodle. The rest of the weekend I had to watch him sort through my trash as he separated recyclables - to the extent of grabbing empty sugar packets and used napkins - and putting them in a bag to take back to Palos Verdes for recycling.

After a long, quiet drive back to the South Bay, we parted ways. I thanked him profusely for helping with the clean up. That was last I heard of Johnny.

Next: John of Northern California