talk

Okay bitches….I’m baaack!

Long silence because every idea I had for a post either revealed too much about some other person that isn’t my business to reveal, or it flat out sucked.

I simply cannot (yawn) do another post about how yucky online dating has become. I mean…..I’m sure I’ll recreate that tired post in various forms and incantations/incarnations sometime again in the future, but enough, already.

My current online dating presence can only be categorized as “part of the problem.”

I’ve lost track of my profiles. I think I’ve paused most of them but who knows. I can’t be bothered to find out.

I used to write to guys who didn’t answer me back but then would pop up six months later and go – “oh, doh I never check these apps. Hi.”  I used to think WTF? Because I had already planned our first vacation away and they hadn’t even checked their messages.

Yeah well that’s now me doing the not checking.

Sorry my bruthas. Weak apologies all around.

Recently something kind of cute happened. One specific dude slipped through the cracks and ended up in my bed. I liked him. Then I didn’t like him. Then I decided he was the coolest person ever. Then he made me sad.

Then I realized how much I hate dating.

Then I also couldn’t help but take note that this particular man person seemed to be exhibiting depth for days and enough character that we could actually talk to each other and maybe even enjoy a bit of old-fashioned life-affirming convo.

Did someone say intimacy? Ding ding ding. Head snap.

So we talked.

And I decided that I didn’t want to date him but I didn’t want to not talk to him, either. And he felt the same way and so we are now talking. And a kiss here or there wouldn’t bother me.

I’m realizing some shit.

First bit of shit to throw down is that we can be the biggest, smartest smarty pants in the world. We can be level-headed and easy to deal with. But if you rattle our inner child you’d best take cover because this gurl and just about any woman I know is gonna come unglued. Eventually. She might keep her face on straight for a day or two but at some point, she gonna lose it.

My coming unglued (!) prompted him to say that he didn’t like it that he couldn’t give me what I seemed to need and also he was kind of tired of being ripped to shreds by exes so he might want to avoid a repeat of that if I didn’t mind.

There I was mid-rip and I had to admit he had a point. He wasn’t ghosting me, so bravo. He wasn’t running and hiding from my 56 year old warrior woman on the rampage self texting stuff I should have been keeping to myself, or at the very least saying face to face. He was just saying that he was gonna go for a walk and enjoy the evening because that was all he could do and I understood.

My inner three year old counter point was that if all his exes were taking up his in-the-doghouse and by-the-way-I-need-you bandwidth, we were going to have an issue because I can’t just flit around all light and sunshine on the surface when my girly buttons are being pushed left and right.

Go ahead and prioritize your exes and neglect the woman right in front of you and you’ll never find your way into my heart, mofo.

But I didn’t say that until later because he did have a point and I could see it even if my inner three year old wanted to cry and point out that maybe if he weren’t so busy being trashed and/or absorbed by ex energy he might actually see me for what I am and send me flowers or an ecard.

Inner three year olds are so difficult.

My inner three year old ended up really pissed that I didn’t get any Valentine action even though my adult self hates Valentine’s Day and thinks it’s evil designed to highlight loneliness and break up perfectly decent couples because she likes dark and he got the milk chocolate and if you loved me you’d know that. Right?

So I told him that I liked him but my inner three year old thought he kind of sucked balls and since inner three year olds always win – one way or the other – we were doomed.

And he understood.

It was the greatest conversation because it had a so-damned-real-score of over a hundred.

Swoon.

I can’t express how good it felt to finally understand my personal form of freak out. Instead of wondering why I might be level-headed one moment and shooting daggers outa my eyeballs the next, I now know it’s all this ITYO crap.

He said the sweetest thing. He said, “I think I need to find a way to talk to your three year old.”

Gasp and be still my heart – you do!! He does!!

Only stand back and hold on, don’t pencil in the date…..because it’s not that simple.

It’s very treacherous because three year olds throw tantrums over random stuff, over things you’d never imagine might be important. They wear people out. They make dating impossible. They push people away you want to draw close because – well tantrums and being only three….

And let’s not forget that everyone has their own three year old  to deal with. So he’s got one too only it’s probably a young man who tried to do the right thing and fell in love and got burned. Like burned forever in ways that don’t just drift away and heal themselves. Paying alimony forever to someone who wronged you and was a clear mistake not to mention a bad person is definitely a mind-fuck.

This guy said that at our age we’ve touched the stove and we’ve been burned and we are very reluctant to touch the stove again, or even be in the same room with it.

And I said yeah but if you don’t touch the stove you can’t get there from here.

And he said yeah.

And we both agreed that we can’t get there from here right now. But what we can do is talk.

Talking is the new dating.

Woop!