No Sex and Not Much of a City

The End

April 1, 2011
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No Sex and Not Much of a City     Installment 119

March 26, 2011             Day 365

That’s it.  I’ve completed my year.  The stats of my efforts are as follows:

  • Number of Installments:   119 (although according to WordPress, it’s 117 – – apparently I lost count somewhere).
  • Number of views:    4,558
  • Biggest Day:   June 14 – 69 views ( . . I’m not kidding . . .it really was 69. . )
  • Number of Times I referenced Carrie Bradshaw and SATC:   34
  • Number of new friends resulting from my blog:   1 (although we have yet to meet in person).
  • Number of times I referenced my “excruciatingly painful breakup”:   82
  • Number of times people told me to “get over it . . . “:   84
  • Current Relationship Status:  Single
  • Dates in the last 6 months: 0
  • Most popular blog:  the dude with the fetish for flesh-colored-pantyhose.
  • Most villanous dude:  the Milwaukee Attorney
  • Fictional Episodes:   2 (the Italian doctor and the smooch with my karaoke provider . . . . . )

Thanks everyone for joining me in this quest.  I’ve enjoyed this tremendously.  I’ve found the effort not only fun and challenging, but also cathartic .   With this completed, I hope to work on some other writing projects that I had started prior to beginning my blog.

As far as the internet dating thing goes, I am not a fan. . . . for all of the I-relationship marketing quibble of meeting people on a “deeper more personal level”, I think that’s a bunch of bunk.  I think internet dating allows people to be even more superficial and judgmental than meeting in person.  In photos and bullet points, people are 2-dimensional.  And in cyberspace you can cut someone off at the knees with an anonymous push of the “delete” button.

And while we all know or have heard of someone who met on the internet and are now living happily ever after, I think it falls under the premise behind “He’s Just Not That Into You”;  successful internet generated relationships are the exception, not the rule.

But all cynicism aside, I’m in a really good place right now and enjoying my life.  And 2nd only to my amazing children, are my friends who make my life colorful, fun, exciting, entertaining, and full of love.

So . . . what the hell . . . one more Carrie Bradshaw quote:

“No matter who broke your heart or how long it takes to heal, you’ll never get through it without your friends.”

My best to you.

Ann Tagau


Old Dudes & Bar Stool Shoes

March 12, 2011
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 118

March 12                day 350

I’m one of those chics that loves shoes.  I have a pretty big collection and some really cool styles.   But I have to say that lately, many of my shoes are looking pretty worn-out.  The recession has resulted in reduced hours at my  job . . . . . for a fairly long time.  And has resulted in my earning substantially less now than I did a mere four years ago.  So in addition to all of the industries, businesses and jobs that have suffered with the recession . . . . so have my shoes. 

A couple of pairs that still look somewhat new and slightly hip, get saved for nights out.   One of these are a pair of black leather boots with a fairly high-heel. They have  a sweater knitting that rolls down over the top . . .almost like 1980’s leg warmers.  I think they look cool with leggings . . . . although the style now, is high, flat boots with leggings . . . . . yes, the recession has prevented me from updating my leggings-look appropriately. Still hoping to get some high, flat boots if the look is still in next fall.

My boots are not particularly comfortable; thus being what one of my girlfriends refers to as “bar stool shoes”.  They look good when you’re sitting on a bar stool.  And I don’t mind the uncomfortable bar stool shoes, because when I go out . . . . I pretty much intend to sit, chat, eat, drink, watch a movie or listen to music.  I’ve never really been one for going out dancing.

When Amanda and I go to karaoke, our intent is to chat, drink and sing.  But unfortunately our favorite venue has recently included an undesirable distraction . . . . . . .the old dudes who want to dance.  Eeeesh.

The dancing these guys do is usually two-stepping, waltz, or some other form of ballroom.  And they’re the kind of old guys who actually know how to lead, so no matter how clumsy you are, you look like Ginger Rogers flitting about the floor.

Now maybe that sounds fun.  But I have to tell you, there’s an “ick” factor.  This one guy, Al, . . . seems to manage to spin you in such a way that your boob always grazes his arm or his chest.  I asked Amanda, “does Al always spin you in a way that results in your boob grazing his chest?”  She laughed and concurred.  Also Al likes to position his face to land squarely in front of yours as you come out of one of his spins.  Almost like a game of peek-a-boo; too close, too creepy, peek-a-boo.

Another interesting thing about these dudes is they’re not intimidated or scared.  They are very confident in their abilities and in their certainty that any little lady would want to take a spin on the Al-a-go-round.  Amanda seems to attract them to us.  I don’t know if it’s because she’s tall, blonde and very pretty; or if it’s because she’s by far the most talented singer to pick up the karaoke mic; or if it’s because she’s happily married and disinterested that they swarm to her.

After they take her for a spin, they’ll turn to me . . . as if out of pity . . .and say, “your turn is next”, with an icky wink and a shoulder-pat-squeeze-don’t-touch-me-thing.  “Ohhh boy . . .lucky me . .. can’t wait.”

Why can’t the younger guys (by younger I’m including anyone under 55) that I’d actually like to speak to be that assertive?  Go figure.

Last time we went, I had on those cool boots I was telling you about earlier.  And after one booby-brushing-spin with Al, my feet hurt and my calves were cramping.  So the next time he came around to grace me with his Fred Astaire talents, I said, “thanks Al,. . . but I’m going to pass.”

Now those under-55-younger-guys might skulk away at the rejection to their rumba invitation . . . . but confident Al actually argues.  “Oh come on.  You’re doing fine.”   OK Al, this isn’t a commentary on my dancing abilities, this is me saying ‘I don’t want to dance with you’!  He wore me down. . . and I went again.  Then I said, “thanks Al, . . . I’m really going to sit the rest out.  These aren’t exactly dancing shoes and my feet hurt”.    And he gave me a look as if he, 25 years my senior, had just proven his athletic superiority over me; like he had just slalomed past me while I side-stepped down the blue run.

Get over it Al!  It’s the bar stool shoes!

“Sometimes it’s hard to walk in a single women’s shoes, which is why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk more fun.”                      ~ Carrie Bradshaw



Not the Wrap-up I Intended

February 27, 2011
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No Sex and Not Much of a City     Feb. 27, 2011

Installment 117                day 336

So here it is, February 27.  I believe I started this blogging quest on March 27; which puts me at exactly 11 months.  My debate of course is whether to tough it out another month . . . . which at the rate I’ve been publishing installments would only require a couple more paragraphs . . . . or to say that I’ve given it my best, and call it a day.

I do have a few more stories up my sleeve . . . maybe not as colorful as previous installments.  But fun storylines none-the-less.

My material choice has wound down as I’ve let my I-relationship subscription expire.  I finally had to ask myself:

 “Self, . . why continue to pay for rejection, when you can get it for free any day of the week?” 


“Self, . . . . why continue to pay for pictures of creepy dudes, when you can see them live, any night of the week, . . at the bar just a block away?”

I decided that this online dating thing was bad for my self-esteem.  And perhaps, my overall dating sense of humor has worn a little thin.

I still haven’t figured out how to reconcile the difference between the dudes that I think should be mad about me . . . . and the reality of the ones that are even remotely interested.  And I haven’t reconciled how to deal with my geographic vs. demographics challenges.  So I decided, it was best to let the whole online dating thing air-out and focus on other areas of my life.

All that being said, I hate to be a quitter . . . . . although I had already proclaimed to my bookclub that I intended to wrap it up.   I logged on today, not sure where I was going with this, . . . but while typing these words have decided to tough-it out to March 27.

The next 2 more installments:

  • Pipka’s and Presidental Librairies
  • Two-steppin’ in Steve Maddens

And we’ll see where it goes from there.  Maybe between logging off today and writing those next 2 installments, something fun will drop into my life . . . . .

Happy weekend . . . . more tomorrow.



February 8, 2011
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 116

Feb. 8, 2011    Day 317

So I think in a previous blog, I shared with you how I upped my age limit to 57 and suddenly got a lot of I-relationship action. . . . . at least people “viewing” me.  I recall ranting in one installment about how guys my age are looking for chics 10 years younger . . . .which would lead me to believe that I’m the cat’s meow for guys that are 10 years older.

Over the holidays, I received communications from 2 guys (do you call men that are pushin’ 60 “guys”?)

The first of these was Jeff from Bolingbrook.  When I got the notice that he had sent me a communication, I carefully perused his profile.  I didn’t find him attractive in the least.  He was bald . . . . and I have to say here, that I’m really hot for bald guys . . . . all the men that I find most attractive are either naturally bald or shaved. . . .hot, hot, hot.  But somehow, there’s a baldness that just looks old . . .and doesn’t look hip.  And that was Jeff’s baldness, . . just old-looking.

Also, how you select your glasses can age you.  Glasses can be really funky, and really hot; a “good boy/bad boy” dichotomy.  But some glasses look like you just don’t care.  The oversized Aviators (good for sunglasses . . bad for everyday glasses) . . . that tint up with the sun . . . glasses that look like you’ve had them since 1972 . . . bad.

So now that I sound like a total bitch, I continued to scour his profile and found some redeeming qualities.  He always appeared to dress pretty nicely.  And all of his photos were in exotic places; Europe, Asia, South America . . . an adventuresome spirit is an Ann-turn-on.

So I responded to his communication.  We played the game of bantering the canned questions back and forth.  After all of this time, there really is nothing of enlightenment in the I-relationship questions.  Your best bet is that the dude answers them similarly to the way you would; and you don’t find anything that sends up a red flag, like “I require my partner to be responsible with money” . . . .uh-oh!!!  Run Ann!!!!   Where are the guys that say, “I like a gal that flies by the seat of her pants???”

Finally we agreed to have a phone conversation.  He was nice enough . . . possibly a little dull.

But here’s the whammy, while he “currently” lived in Bolingbrook; he was in the process of moving to St. Paul, Minnesota as a result of a new job.  A lesson in “watch what you wish for” . . . .here I’ve been ranting about all the Chicago area guys that don’t want to travel more than a block and a half for a date, and I find a guy who wants to meet me, that is moving to St. Paul.  For those of you east of Gary, south of the Mason-Dixon line, and west of the Mississippi, . . . . a little geography . . . St. Paul is like a 5 1/2  hour (if you don’t have to stop and go potty) drive from Mid-size-industrial-river-town!

I pointed out that I lived in MSIRT, since my profile still says “NW suburbs” and he said, “that’s not a problem for me.  I have family near you, and I travel back and forth to Chicago often.” 

But I think it’s a problem for me . . . . my bootie-call radius, while ample compared to most of the dudes I’d communicated with in Chicago-land, would find the Minneapolis metropolitan area to be a stretch.

But being open-minded, forward looking and hopelessly optimistic, I continued my conversations with him.   Of course, given his elaborate travel resume, I wanted to talk about travel.  Seems that most of Jeff’s travel was for work, thus the travel talk wasn’t exotic, stimulating and exciting, (like listening to that hot, hot Australian Nature photographer that is often featured on the Weather Channel) . . . . no, . .  travel talk with Jeff sounded tired, disenchanted and full of conversation about the benefits of traveling with Imodium. 

On the otherhand, our conversations did include some endearing components. Like the fact that he was moving to the Minneapolis area to be near relatives; that he had a day scheduled to take his young nieces Christmas shopping for their parents gifts; that he was busying himself during his holiday-vacation days with the baking of bread and cookies to give as gifts.  What’s not to like about that?

We made a date to get together on one of his trips between Chicago-land and Minneapolis-land.  Unfortunately the holidays were yawning between and the date was scheduled for a couple of weeks off.  I guess that 2 weeks was enough time for us both to lose interest, and the date never happened.

I think Jeff will be a good catch for someone.  But I don’t think it was for me.




Right Here, Who Knew?

January 20, 2011
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 115

January 20        day 298

My friend Amanda is the one mutual friend shared between me and the guy (that I kinda like) that sent the “Friend Request” yesterday.  And because she knows this guy pretty well, she tried to convince me that it indeed was significant that he sent me a friend request, as he’s a pretty introverted person (except that he boasts almost 400 friends on Facebook), . . and that he had to certainly seek-me-out specifically (even though I argued that I probably popped up as a “friend of a friend”, and he pushed a button and added me to his collection).

But regardless of my cynicism, I like the way Amanda thinks.  Therefore, I’m going to believe that it’s only a matter of days before he asks me out; we have a great date; fall madly in love; and live happily-ever-after, which would be a lovely ending series of chapters to my blog. (Which is scheduled to end in about 67 more days.)

In the meantime, it’s business as usual, which included Wednesday night Karaoke at the small, cowboy bar in the small neighboring town.  Amanda and I arrived at our usual time.  We got our usual table.  We ordered our usual drink (a lovely $2 Margarita special on Wednesday nights . . . ).  And we prepared to sing . . . . as usual.

The table we sit at is right behind the Karaoke set-up . . . the stage faces the other direction.  We like this table because we’ve become good friends with Rob, the guy who runs the Karaoke and DJ activities; and from this vantage point, we can easily chat with Rob.  Usually he joins us for a couple of shots and sort of hangs with us while the other people sing.

Tonight however, . . . something was actually unusual. . . . and it was Rob.  He was behaving very distant and aloof.  Amanda and I kept trying to engage him in conversation, shared drinks, or Packer/Bear bantering.  But Rob kinda kept to himself, focused on his job.

So the night wore on.  We each got in about 3 songs in the course of a couple of hours.  I ended with “Someone To Watch Over Me”, a sexy, torch-song that Linda Ronstadt revitalized when she did her big-band thing with the Nelson Riddle Orchestra.

After that, Amanda and I decided to leave, as we both needed it to be an early night.  We said good-bye to a couple of the Karaoke regulars.  And we waved to the bartender and our server.  Rob had put on some DJ songs as a “break” between the singing sets and had disappeared.  Amanda said, “I wonder where Rob went.”  I shrugged to say I didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t care too much as he’d been so aloof all night.

As we walked towards the entry to the bar, Amanda said she wanted to stop in the restroom.  I said, “OK, I’ll meet you at the car.”

I walked through the front doors and was pulling on my gloves, when someone grabbed me by the shoulders, turned me and pushed my tight against the wall. “Oh my God,” I thought. “It’s Rob.”  He leaned in close to me and I could smell the vague scent of Bailey’s on his warm breath . . . . the whiskers of his closely shaven goatee rubbed against my cheek and honestly . . .it felt really good.

“Rob,” I found my voice.  “What are you doing?!”

“Shhhhh!” he whispered in my ear.  He ran a hand through my hair and kissed me on my neck.  “Every week I watch you sing in your sexy little tops and those jeans . . . “, he said softly and in a breathy voice.  Then he kissed the side of my face.  “And ever week   I have to stand there and listen to you and Amanda discuss your love life and your attempts at internet dating . . . “. He was breathing pretty heavy, then he outright kissed me on the lips slow and long.  . . .And that kiss was pretty damn good . . . “And  every week  I wonder why you’re still available . . why all those men don’t see how great you are . . . . and I wonder why you don’t see how much I want you.”  

Ooohhhh, . . . who knew? How could I be so blind to someone who has been right here all along . . . right at my fingertips . . . . just wanting me???!!!! 

He started to kiss me more intently, one hand in my hair,  the other pulling me towards him.  I could feel his muscular, fit body through his clothes. 

Then without a moment’s notice, Amanda came through door; her mouth dropped open and her eyes were huge.  “What are you guys doing?!”  she asked . . a little loudly.  Then, a little louder, she continued . . . . . “Rob! . . . .You’re married!”

What???!!!!  I looked at him stunned.  I pushed him away from me.  “Rob, you’re married??!!  I didn’t know you were married!”

“Aw, what’d ya have to go and bring her up for?” he asked . . .trying to be funny.

I shook my head at him . . . and I couldn’t help but grin a little.  “Go run your Karaoke . . . and go sober up!”  I said.  “Shame on you Rob. . . . Go home to your wife!  What are you thinking?!”

“Fine,”  he responded.  “You guys coming next week?”

“Sure . . we’ll be here.”

Watch what you wish for Rob . . . . .


Social Media Protectionism

January 19, 2011
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – January 19

Day 297   Installment 114

In the movie, “He’s Just Not that into You”,  Drew Barrymore’s character has the following quote:

“I had this guy leave me a voicemail at work, so I called him at home and then he emailed me to my Blackberry, and so I texted to his cell.  And now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies.  It’s exhausting.”

Technology and dating.  It’s all very complicated.  And this line of thought presented itself as a blog topic, just this morning after I got a Facebook friendship request from a dude that I kinda like.

Now the whole Facebook thing in relationship to dating . . . . . or “liking” people, is a little daunting.  Because people’s ‘stuff’  is just out there.

For example, one friend of mine had tons of photos throughout the fall of her with this really hot guy.  Then at Christmas, she posted, “please Santa, I want a hot guy under my tree.”  Well, I almost posted to her wall, “Lani, I thought you had a hot guy . . . “.  Then I had a moment of clear thinking, and thought, “I’d better send her a private message instead.”  So I sent it in massage form.  To which she responded, “OMG, I’m soooo glad you didn’t post that to my wall”, then she went on to tell of the falling out with the guy.

I am a very recent (and reluctant) member of the Facebook community, having avoided it like the plague for years!  Basically the last 4 years.  While Facebook was having a meteoric rise in usage amongst people my age and businesses that function in my reality, I was . . . . as you well know . . . . licking my wounds.  Thus my fundamental fear of Facebook was seeing something . . . . or specifically someone . . . . that I don’t want to see;  seeing happy pictures with a new significant other; seeing photos of sexy vacations while I’ve sat home; seeing that little relationship tag state a new relationship status, that I’m as of yet, unaware.  The thought of logging on to Facebook and seeing “him”, with “her” (whoever “her” is) made me almost physically sick.

But after being told on numerous occasions that I will be contacted via Facebook (if only I were on); and after being convinced that to run a side business like my jewelry biz, I had to embrace social media , I decided I’d better just do it.

So I consulted Facebook guru and social media expert, my 13 year old, and she gave me a lesson in navigating the site using her Facebook account as the guide.  And I learned from this lesson that I could safely survive Facebook participation with the following personal guidelines:

  • Be cautious of the info you include about yourself.
  • Set your security level to “friends” only.
  • Pick your photos carefully.
  • Remove the year of your birth;  day and month will suffice . . . and if you have your high school class, most people can figure it out.
  • Avoid friending any friends you may have in common with your ex.
  • Don’t use Facebook while drinking.

So I have a Facebook presence and about 80 friends (which if you’re on Facebook you realize isn’t much . . . . . but I don’t use it to “collect” warm bodies, I like my friends list to actually reflect my life).

When I was still disinterested in joining Facebook, I liked to  blurt out in defense, that if I want to be in contact with somebody, I am.  I don’t want to find old friends.  But, I proved myself wrong when I located one of my best girlfriends from college  that I had been trying to locate for years.

So back to today.  It’s the first time that a guy that “I kinda like” sent me a friend request.  And in true Ann fashion, I immediately read too much into it.

  • Did he seek me out?
  • Is he interested in return?
  • If I accept his friendship will we start communicating?
  • Did he merely get reminded of my existence from our 1 mutual Facebook friend?
  • Does he see it as a marketing device for his business?
  • Is he one of those people that feels popular if he has a big friends list?

And then, I had to decide how to respond.  Because if I accept his Friend Request, he now has access to all of my info . . . . . and God help us, my pictures. . . . . and worse yet, pictures other people may post of me without benefit of my edit!  (After debating this with my friend Lydia, she convinced me that I’m far too critical of myself and she sweetly stated that I’m beautiful.  Thank you Lydia.  I love my girlfriends.)

And likewise, I have access to anything he may post, which I may or may not want to see.

So after much debate, I accepted the dude’s Friends Request.  I am now officially a Facebook friend with a guy that I’d love to snog. 



Happy New Year, 2011!

January 2, 2011

No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 113

January 2       Day 280


Hope everyone has enjoyed the holidays. 

Resolution time!!!  Don’t worry – – I’m not writing anything about weight loss, wine intake, organization, running a 5K, or making more money.  So here it is, my top 10 New Years Resolutions as it pertains to this blog and internet dating in my 40’s:

1. For the new year, I’ve begun re-reading “The Secret” and am going to make a concerted effort to be the master of my thoughts and recognize that positive thoughts are strong and negative thoughts are weak.  (If you’re wondering “what the hell is she talking about” . . . . go read “The Secret”).  In the spirit of this, I will never again refer to my the termination of my last relationship as “my excruciatingly painful break-up”, but simply “my last relationship.”

2.  Also in the spirit of positive thinking and attracting positive events in return, I will remove all the following from my conscious thought streams:

  • Men Suck
  • Why are all men so weird?
  • Why is everyone in a relationship but me?
  • Why is a vibrator so much more fun than a guy?
  • I’ll never meet anyone decent
  • Why does no one like me?
  • Etc. Etc.

And instead will maintain consistent positive mental images of myself in a healthy relationship, with a smart, successful, (and oh so hot) man who enjoys many of my same interests, thus attracting just such a dude to my side.

3.  The last couple of date opportunities I’ve had (which will be blogged about in my upcoming installments), have given me pause, in wondering if making time for “a date” with the dudes is really how I want to spend that precious chunk of time . . . thus reminding me that I kind-of like my life the way it is . . . . and if I’m not really, really interested in the guy; I probably shouldn’t waste my time.

4.  I have 85 more days to complete my 365 day challenge.  I am going to remain positive in the outcome, even if the outcome is that I haven’t met Prince Charming,  . . . but have completed a full year of my blog.  I think that would be a pretty neat accomplishment, don’t you?

5.  Subtext to number 4 . . . will finish blog!  No bailing at this point.

6.  Turns out I really enjoy writing . . . . must finish novel this year . . . .

7.  Avoid attorneys.

8.  While I noted above that I won’t waste my time on dates in which I’m not really interested,  I will try to look at each I-relationship entry as a whole person and try to read between the bullet points for a deeper view of the guy.

8.  I will continue to approach internet dating (and real dating, should such an event occur) with my sense of humor intact, both for survival and to share with you!!!  ( I realize this resolution could conflict with number 7 . . . I guess trying to really study each I-relationship entry, doesn’t mean that I can’t still find the ridiculous there under the surface . . . . . . or there in my face . . . )

9.  Sorry . . . I can’t come up with anymore.

Bottom line, I’m sticking this out, so come along with me . . . . .I’ve got more to share with you and laugh about.

Here’s to 2011!



Mother . . .Oh Brother!

December 21, 2010
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 112

December 21     Day 268

Beware:  The dude who unleashes his scary, scary baggage on a first date!

If you remember, I left off about to embark on a set-up date with a guy named Scott, who really, really  wanted to meet me . . . . . then cancelled due to relationship lack-of-readiness . . . then realized that his commitment phobia was a little premature, as we hadn’t even met yet . . . then decided that “OK . . maybe we should meet.”  Ai-yi-yi.

But I patiently went along with the flip-flopping, as this was the first opportunity to meet someone since my excruciatingly painful break-up . . . . and I had yet to embark on all the frightening escapades you’ve read about in this blog . . . thus was still hopeful and optimistic.

So date day arrived . . . .as did I, at Panera, for our coffee date.

We recognized each other immediately.  He was fairly nice looking as my friend had indicated . . and he had that deep sexy voice . . . . then we had to endure the awkward result of a Panera first date – having to order at the counter.  We walked up to the register and Scott asked, “what would you like?”  And I, of course, said, “coffee!”  Scott looked at me and asked, “that’s it?  You don’t want anything else?”

Confusion!  Help! What am I supposed to order?  Are we eating dinner?  You said ‘meet for coffee’.  Should I order a $5 latte?  I responded“Coffee’s fine, . . thanks.”

He ordered a green tea on ice, picked up the $2 tab and we grabbed a booth.

Before I uttered a sound, he was off and running with his explanation of his spirituality . . . not religion . . . but the understanding that we all are guided by a higher being, as is taught in AA.  (I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!  COFFEE DATES = AA!!!)

I listened.  I normally don’t mind conversations about religion or spirituality . . . . but this wasn’t a conversation, . . . the was an audio-book, called “Scott’s Story” . . with no pause button.

After AA, the next chapter in Scott’s story dealt with the relationship phobia expressed during our attempt to arrive at this moment, on this date.  During his last relationship, his live-in girlfriend would say or do things that gave him flash-backs to his mother . . . . the bitch! (mother . . not girlfriend . . . although forshadowed bitch-potential in girlfriend . . due to actions, statements or mannerisms that reminded him of mother. . . . .the bitch!)

What could I say but, “wow . . that’s kind of weird.”

He went on to explain that he described this horrific, Norman Bates-esque aversion to mother-image-inducing-girlfriend to his therapist, who explained to Scott that he was suffering from something called “Wounded Child Syndrome”.  And he ultimately needed to end the relationship with the girlfriend, to be free from mother, and happy with himself. OK, then.

“I see,” I responded . . . . . . . .thinking to myself, “so if I gave you a well-placed smack on the a##  during sex, you’d have to go running to your therapist?”

He went on to tell me about his relationship with his ex-wife, the life-situations of his kids, and the vintage muscle car he was re-building in his garage.

Then he asked, “you said you were just getting out of a toxic relationship also . . . what happened there?”

After the Scott chronicles, how trite it sounded to say, “my boyfriend broke up with me and made me really sad.”  So I spared him the details of my situation.

I had wondered if given the late hour of the day, he might ask me to dinner.  At this point though, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t want to go, if he did indeed ask. . . . although wouldn’t mind getting a meal out of it . . as I hadn’t had dinner, and was fairly hopped-up on this late hour coffee.  As we finished off our coffee, he asked, “so you have to get home to your kids?”  And I said, “nope, they’re at their dads . . I’m free.” (hint, hint . . . or maybe I shouldn’t hint and just get the hell out of there.)  Then he said, “oh . . so do you have dinner plans?”  He is going to ask me out to eat . . .  To which I responded, “nope . . no plans. You?”  And he said, “I think my daughter is popping by, so I need to run, to get her some dinner . . . . nice to meet you! . . and good luck with everything!”  And he hopped up out of the both and headed for the door.



Are they all f*ing nuts?!

And tomorrow . . . . . . a few new dudes in my I-relationship in-box to tell you about. . . . . at this point, their absurdities, paranoias, bad-habits, petty attitudes, etc. are still a mystery . . . . they are still full of promise and potential.



Perfect in the Unknown

December 13, 2010
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 111

December 13 – Day 260

So after Scott spas’d out on me over the forthcoming blind date (for coffee) . . . . with the words, “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship” . . . I stared at my phone completely befuddled.  Really Scott?!  I mean, did you really think we were going to proclaim ourselves in a relationship after one stupid cup of coffee?!

I called my girlfriend . . . . the one who initiated the introduction . . . and said, “you aren’t going to believe what this guy said to me?”  She listened patiently to the story and concurred that “yah, that’s a little weird”  and that she was “really surprised he’d say something like that” and concluded with something like “oh well, . . . men . . . go figure.”

After the befuddlement, I didn’t give it much more thought, as I hadn’t invested much energy in “the relationship” . . . (although the phone interview was a little exhausting).

The next day, my girlfriend called and told me that Scott had waited around for quite awhile for the opportunity to chat with her privately.  He apologized; told her that he thought I sounded really great; but that he realized that he’s just not ready to go down that road with anyone yet.  She told me that she thought he was very sincere and felt badly about the situation.

I thanked her for the information and decided to take the high road.  I sent him an email that read:

“Hey Scott,

I completely understand feeling overwhelmed by the effort involved in dating.  I too have just recently gotten out of a rough situation and not sure that I’m ready to move on.  Maybe we should look at these opportunities less as a step to get back into “a relationship” and more as an opportunity to make a new acquaintance.

Good luck with everything,


Then, quite to my surprise, Scott emailed back:


Thank you for that message and your understanding.  The minute I uttered the words about not wanting to be in a relationship, I realized how stupid it must have sounded as we haven’t even seen each other in person, and were just planning to meet over coffee.

Maybe if we both go into this with no expectations we should still meet.  Are you up for that?


Wow.  He sounds really sweet. I agreed that we should indeed still meet and we set a date for the following evening at 6:30 at our local Starbucks.

Now, I need to digress a moment and discuss the implications of a first date occurring in a coffee shop.  In theory, a coffee shop is the perfect setting for a first date or a blind date.  The setting offers an element of physical safety. The activity of drinking coffee can be as short or as long as the date seems to warrant. (In otherwords, it’s probably one of the easiest situations in which to politely “get the hell out” if things aren’t going well).  And someone can easily pick up the tab without feeling later like they blew a bunch of cash on some nameless loser that they’ll never see again. Etc. Etc.

When CeCe met Guy in the wine bar in the previous story, his suggestion of that particular location summoned her red flags.  She indicated to me that she was a little concerned to meet in a bar, when she was used to first dates being in coffee shops.  She didn’t tell me specifically why this was an issue . . . but I understand that until you know the situation you are getting into, adding alcohol can be questionable.

But I, on the other hand, when I hear “coffee shop”,  jump to one conclusion; that the guy is a recovered or recovering alcoholic.  NOW PLEASE DON’T SEND ME AA HATEMAIL!  I think I’ve blogged about this before.  AA is an amazing program and people who take control of their addictive situation in order to change their life for the better have my utmost admiration and respect.

It’s just that, I’ve had a few people close to me who were active in AA and frankly . . . it’s all they talk about.  And I realize that my experience may be the exception and not the rule.  But I’ve had a belly full of AA talk and it’s not where I want to be right now.  (And OK, the real reason . . . . I want someone who’s going to cocktail with me . . . . . and not count my glasses of wine . . . . . .) 

So while Cece’s red flags respond to the recommendation of a “drink” for a first date, mine respond to the insistence on a “coffee shop”.

Back to the story at hand:

Once our date was back on,  the flirty emails resumed.  In one such exchange, I asked him how I’d know him when I arrived.  He responded, “6’1″, light brown hair, goatee”. I read:  tall, has hair both on head and correct amount of face-and most likely, very handsome. . . . and of course I was still remembering that deep voice.  And at some point in the communications, I had learned that he was 50.  Perfect

Architect Louis Kahn is known for his thesis on the forces behind creativity (and of course, architectural design) that he called, “Between Silence and Light”.  Silence and light describes the meeting place between the unmeasurable and the measurable; or the force that propels the creative spirit and the resulting effort.  . . . . . . Or in my own architectural experience, that moment when you take your pure design thoughts and destroy them by trying to put them down on paper.

I think this also describes those days or hours before a new date.  The time between silence and light.  He’s perfect in his unknown, and hasn’t yet become a disappointment with his reality.

Ever hopeful (and perpetually blind-sided),


Coffe, Tea . . But Just Not Me

December 11, 2010
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No Sex and Not Much of a City – Installment 110

December 11  Day 258

So I told you in my last installment that Cece’s story resonated with me and one of my own experiences.  Therefore, I am here to share:

Beware:  The dude who unleashes his scary, scary baggage on a first date.

In late-summer following my excruciatingly painful break-up, one of my dearest girlfriends (and a true soldier for my cause . . . and crusader for why the instigator of said break-up was scum . . . and how I would find someone soooooo much better . . .  and how he never deserved me and how deep down I always really wanted out of that relationship . . . . (despite the great sex) . . . . . and how introductions from friends are the answer . . . . ) told me that she had someone who she was would like to set me up with.  Now this friend works at a very large corporation that engineers components for spacecrafts and aircrafts . . . . and other top-secret activities . . . thus exposing her to probably the largest menu of professional men in the Mid-size-industrial-river-town area.

So I said, “great . .. I’d love to meet one of your co-workers.”  She told me about a guy named Scott and that she had told him about me and he sounded very interested.

A couple of days later, he sent me an email.  His email stated that my friend had asked if he’d like to meet a pretty, single, Bears fan . . . . . and of course he said, “sure … I’d like to meet her.” 

He went on to tell me a little about himself, then asked if I had seen the Bears pre-season game and what I thought of it.

Shit!  Yes, I love NFL football . . . .and I’m a Bears fan being a former Chicagoan . . . . but honestly . . . . since the aforementioned break-up, I hadn’t been watching much football.

But  being the savvy girl I am . . . . I went to and read the highlights of the game.  I found a little stat about the quarterback from the 3rd quarter; hit respond on my email; and started to regurgitate the info . . . when “wait a minute . . . . did I read that right?”   . . .   I went back to the football website and saw the error of my ways . .. . . . I was about to write about a spectacular play by a guy off the bench of the other team!!!!!! . . . . Whew!  Good save! . . . . .   I corrected it with a comment about some 3rd stringer named Caleb Haynie (sounds Amish) . . . and we were off and running.

Scott was excited with my outlook on Caleb’s spectacular contribution and that I had also thought him an up-and-coming asset to the upcoming season’s team.

After a few days of emails . . . . Scott wrote: “I’d like to talk to you, are you available by phone on Saturday?”  A phone date?  The dating world has become a weird place . . . . . “Sure Scott, why don’t you call me around 3”.

The call came as scheduled and Scott had a sexy, deep voice that practically made my knees buckle (and other physiological reactions) .  But oddly, the call consisted of rapid-fire questions . . . “what activities do you like? How old are your kids? What are your thoughts on global warming? What’s your favorite color?” etc. etc.

At some point I guess I answered enough questions accurately and moved to the next level . . . I didn’t even have to use a life-line or a phone-a-friend, and Scott said . .. . .”I think we should meet”.

Good God!  It’s like an f*ing job interview!!!!

“I’d love to get together Scott . . when are you available?”

Immediately.   , , , Seriously . . . . he wanted to meet the next day for coffee.  Only, I had my kids and was planning a day at the waterpark.  But I said, “I’m taking my kids to Mystic Waters, but we should be home around 3.  Want to meet at 6?”

He said “great . . . let’s meet for coffee at 6.” 

And with that I had my first date since my E-P breakup.

The next day arrived . . as next days tend to do . . . and I was very excited.  I had a fun day in the sun with my lovely children, followed by a date with this cool guy . . . recommended to me by a great friend . . . . and the owner of an incredibly sexy, deep voice.

When we loaded up the car after a fun day at the waterpark, my phone was beeping a message. After buckling in my wet children, I entered my pin number and listened . . . . it was Scott.  His message said, “Hi Ann, this is Scott.  I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel . . . . please call me when you get a chance . . . . I’d like to talk to you in person . . . ”

I returned home, unloaded the car, got the kids into their showers, then found a quiet spot to return the call.

“Hi Scott,”  I flirted, when he answered.  “Sorry I missed your call, but I was busy trying to get sunny for our coffee date.”

“That’s what I called about Ann,” he said flatly.  “I’m going to have to cancel.  I’m not ready for a relationship.”


“A relationship?” I responded, my angst rising.  “I thought we were just going for coffee.”

“I’m sorry,” he continued.  “You seem like a nice girl.”   And with that he hung-up.

To Be Continued . . . . .


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