Who Let The Dogs Out?

Y'all thought I was gonna post the video, didn't ya?
PSYCHE
Nope. Not gonna do it.

But, you know, people sometimes ask me, especially after reading this blog, if I hate men. I mean, it would make sense, right? Date, after failed date. Douche, after epic douche. It starts to wear on a girl and would lead her to...oh...say...start buying LOTS of accessories for her vibrator.
But no.
I actually, still really love men - and I know many good, decent ones. I just really don't like the way a lot of them think about, and treat women in the dating world.
And in general, a lot of single men leave a lot to be desired for us single ladies...and I didn't have a long list of wants in a man. Honestly, I would still like a man in my life, if a decent one ever presented himself.

But, you know, I guess you could say a lot of single dudes are kinda dogs.

The Tale of Mr. Snuffles

Oh. Mr. Snuffles. What to say?
Mr. Snuffles was a Plenty of Fish guy, so this was, I dunno some time last Spring? He had an interesting, if generic profile. Liked sushi, had a motorcycle, enjoyed traveling (what guy in his 40's doesn't fucking like these things these days?) and didn't seem like he had a stick up his ass.

Seriously. If I had ever found a man who, say, loved green beans, soccer and Star Wars then I would have been impressed. Shit, at least he would have stood out from the pack, been different, unique...interesting.

But I digress...

Anyhoozles, Mr. Snuffles was pretty good looking. Okay, let me honest here; he was really good looking. So, I'm decent to look at, but Mr. Snuffles was like model hot. Way, way out of my league, so I was instantly suspicious when he messaged me. In my travels in the dating world, hot people hook up with other hot people and leave us normals to themselves; it's just the way it goes. And that makes perfect sense if you think about it. 

Regardless, Mr. Snuffles was affable enough and he had loads of pictures of himself with his dog - Ajax. Now, if I have two weaknesses in my life besides Nutella and the Internet, it's kids and animals so I admit I was softened by the cute dog. Plus Ajax was a big dog not some rat dog that you put in a purse, or in Mr. Snuffle's case - man's bag. No, Ajax was some sort of "designer breed"; like a Labrapuccinodoodlepugglespresso with nutmeg sprinkles kind of dog. Very cute and goofy looking, and he complemented Mr. Snuffles Ralph Lauren lifestyle to a tee.

It wasn't very long before Mr. Snuffles and I set up a date at a local dog park. It was early Spring, so there was still a bit of snow on the ground, I remember that - but no Uggs this time around.
"I'll bring the coffee and we can play with dogs while we get to know each other!" Mr. Snuffles announced charmingly. Even with my suspicions, I am chick enough to admit that I was swayed by the handsome face, the dog and the lure of good coffee on a Saturday afternoon.
Hey, we all have out vices.
DON'T JUDGE.
I love nutmeg.

Moving on...

So, you know how you have this idea in your head and you really hope that you're just being paranoid, but everything will still at least be okay?
Yeah.
This wasn't one of those times.

Oh Mr. Snuffles looked just like his picture. Gorgeous, tall, fit, like something out of a magazine. I immediately felt frumpy in my hiking boots (the ground was super slushy and we were at a dog park) and inadequately..bland, something I don't normally feel like.

WHY THE FUCK WOULD A GUY LIKE THAT ASK SOMEONE LIKE ME OUT?

Seriously. He could have any hot chick he wanted.
Why me?
Mr. Snuffles didn't seem particularly deep on the mental scale, so I doubted that it was my brains. I don't ride motorcycles, I don't like sushi and I haven't been around the world, so cross those of the list. Besides our love of animals, we didn't seem to have a lot checked off our mutual interests list.
Was I being trolled here?

Times like that, my cynicism and insecurities just roared to life and pissed me off. I shook them off as best I could, slapped on a winning, lip glossed smile and trotted along. I could see Ajax running with the other dogs ahead of us, already wet and muddy from the semi-thawed ground.

Mr. Snuffles and I chatted and laughed while we walked and drank our coffee. He was as flirtatious as I was cautious. I have to admit, he was charming.

But then it was Ajax's turn. He bounded up to us and full speed jumped up on me, all 90 or so pounds of wet, muddy, slobbery designer dog, front paws - right on my tits.

FUCKING AWESOME.

I stumbled back against the weight, dropped my coffee and recall making some vague sound like:
"Blarchshiteolee!!"
Mr. Snuffles laughed while I pushed Ajax off me and tried wiping muddy paw prints off my coat.
"No Ajax..." He said half-assedly while laughing.
"Yeah. No Ajax..." I grumbled, while looking longingly at my destroyed and forlorn coffee soaking into the mud.
Oh ho ho! But Ajax, the asshole and apparently untrained dog wasn't quite done yet. 
No no. 
"Sorry about that. He gets excited when meeting new people." Mr. Snuffles put on a contrite face, and something told me he'd practiced that look in the mirror. I side-eyed him.

"Yeah, I can see that." I went from feeling frumpy to grumpy at this point, and we were a fair walk from our cars, and deep into the park.
"I should probably go. My coat and all..." I added.
"Sure. Yeah. Of course."
As we turned to go Ajax bounded up to us and just shoved his nose right up into my crotch, his nose just sniffing all up in into my jeans like one of those she-she pigs looking for truffles. Interestingly, I've never thought of my vagina like truffles; considering truffles are mushrooms - even fancy mushrooms. Hmmm..I'll never think of "truffle oil" quite the same way.

Moving on...

I frantically shoved Ajax away.
"No Ajax!"
But the fucking dog just got right all up in my cooter again, and I shoved his nose away and started walking. Mr. Snuffles just laughed hysterically.

"Hey, if you want me to replace Ajax anytime down there, just let me know." He chuckled suggestively.
I stopped and turned around to face Mr. Snuffles, my mouth had to have been slightly open in shock, my eyebrow arched derisively.

SO THIS IS HOW IT WAS. 
GO FUCK YOURSELF.

"You're dog...is...an...asshole, dickwad." The ground could have re-froze from the ice in my voice.
I swung on my heel and stalked away. For once that afternoon, Mr. Snuffles wasn't laughing.
Dog training is a thing.

Okay, okay OKAY. I caved. But come on, who doesn't want to take a walk back into the 90's? Nice shirt, and check out those moves!

The 50's Called..They Want Their Life Back.

So many, many, many, many many, many moons ago when I was a wee younger lass I had just gotten out of a horrible, no good, really bad, terrible relationship.  Looking back, I sort of liken that whole chapter in my life to getting a pap smear at a drive thru window. You sorta stick your ass out the window, get your salad tong treatment, they smack you on the heiny, ask you if you want to supersize your order, then move you along. Totally surreal, not something you'd want to do in the first place, and certainly not something you'd ever want to go back for. Not even for the shitty happy pap smear toy.

There's a point to this. I promise.
STAY WITH ME PEOPLE.

Anyhoozles. Shortly after my escape, I needed some serious validation that I wasn't a troll doll and I turned to Yahoo Personals. That's how long ago this was. Yahoo Fucking Personals - online dating hadn't even really been invented yet. Is Yahoo even a thing anymore? Anyhoozles, Yahoo Personals is where I met today's Doozy.

And fuck, what a Doozy.
YAHOO.
PERSONALS.

The Tale of Gary, Legolas' Ugly Cousin

Let me preface this by saying that I was not in a good headspace. Not at all. This time around I was the one who shouldn't have been dating. Dammit it all to hell people, I'd just gotten out of what took me quite awhile to be convinced was an abusive relationship. Yes, yes, yes, all the victim blaming from friends and family didn't help me along in my little shame spiral, but that's a different story.

This story is about Gary.

Now. I met Gary through Yahoo. What the actual hell. He was attractive enough, in a doughy, Kewpie doll sort of way. And he dyed his hair red, which looking back seems kind of creepy to me.  Can't say why, it just does. A lot of guys dye their hair, but dying it ginger red just seems...I dunno...

Gary was the classic "nice guy". I bet most women who've dated know what I'm talking about, and I bet a lot of men are scratching their heads. If you don't know what the "nice guy syndrome" is look it up HERE, HERE, and HERE. This is a thing, and lord knows later in my life I ran into many "nice guys" while I was dating. Fuckers.

Anyhoozles.
Moving on...
Gary was nice enough, there wasn't a macho bone in his body, he was still best friend's with his ex, but he complained that women always looked past him because "nice guys finish last" (red flag!). Still, Gary opened doors for me, pushed in chairs, all that gentlemanly stuff that are nice things for men to do for women. At the time, I wasn't cognizant enough to notice all the flags at first. Luckily, we didn't date long.
But here's the thing...erm things...that led to Gary's swift and ultimate demise from my life (aside from my clearly shitty headspace and fallout).

HE
WAS
JUST
WEIRD


Maybe part of it was that Gary was way, way older than me (almost 15 years) and we had little in common, except we both loved pizza. I mean, Gary was obsessed with Elvis. 
ELVIS FOR FUCK SAKES.
In the 21st Century.
I remember there was this one time that the Gary took me out to a bar and there was Karaoke going on, and of course, Gary had to get up and sing an Elvis song. To me. Like Elvis.
And I wanted to slide under the sticky bar stool and mingle with the peanut shells on the floor in embarrassment as every head in the place swiveled in unison to look at Gary, then Me. Then Gary, then me; as he crooned out some Elvis tune, putting extra "oomph" at the end. Like some jacked up, white trash tennis match.
Of course all the other old people LOVED it, but I had no fucking clue what song he was singing and the whole thing didn't seem romantic, but really, sort of...well...weird.

Gary also had this obsession with some British soap opera called EastEnders. I dunno either. Okay, so I love Dr. Who, but mostly because David Tennant was awesome and I want my own T.A.R.D.I.S, but I don't obsess about it. And I love Top Gear, cuz, well = fast cars and stupidity. But Gary would want to come over to MY place and watch some weird British TV show all night. Like for a date night. That was it. His idea of a really hot time.
Oooh oooh.
Hold me down cowboy.

And Gary really wanted an old Jaguar, and he could totally afford to buy one, but was too chicken to. But he would complain about his car incessantly. I mean he would scan the car ads..yes people..this was SO long ago that Car Soup hadn't been invented. 
FOR FUCK SAKES.
Anyhoozles, Gary would scan the car ads for old Jags, go look at them, then wax poetic about them. 
BUT GARY NEVER UNZIPPED HIS NUTSACK AND BOUGHT ONE.
ISSUES. SO MANY ISSUES.

Also, Gary ONLY, and I mean only liked having sex from behind.
Uh...
Say what?
Nope. Not even fucking kidding people.

Now, you know me, I rarely talk about any sexual exploits, because, well, there aren't many. And for the most part my sexual conquests aren't that exciting, but Gary was...a special breed of person...human..organism.
Little foreplay, no passion, almost - mechanical.
So, Gary would be jack-hammering away back there for, I dunno..I lost track of time? And I would just be planning my grocery list, or reciting the Gettysburg Address or singing the old Friskies "Meow, meow meow meow meow meow meow" song in my head.  Just one step up from doing math, I guess.
So yeah, the sex was sub-par, to say the least.

But, as if I haven't already sounded like a cruel and heartless wench already, well I'm just going to go all balls-to-the-wall now.
SO BUCKLE UP PEOPLE.
See here's where I was in my life.
It wasn't good.

I had just come out of almost four years of hell:
Got divorced
Finished up graduate school while working full time
Doing that single parenting thing
And in, then out of a horrifically verbally and emotionally abusive relationship while all that other stuff was going on.
So, I hadn't slept for four years of my life.


When I finally wrapped up school, sleeping was top on my list of sparkly things to do besides spend time with my kiddo. And Gary just thought that was the funniest thing in the damn world and he would tease me about it. See, he worked second shift, and got off work at like 1:30pm, then went home and slept for four hours. It would be an understatement to say he had a fucked up sleep schedule.
But I didn't. At least not anymore.
However, on those kickin' British TV nights, he would want to stay up until 2am watching Masterpiece Theater, or a documentary on worms mating or something.
I'M OUT

Then come to bed at 2:30am and want to get frisky.

And here's the kicker. Gary then would blame ME for my overwhelming sleep deprivation and need for sleep.
GET
THE
FUCK
OVER
YOURSELF
Now. This was a very long time ago; even before I'd started "dating" dating, way back in the mid-2000's and I was SO not the same person that I am now. But I was a bit of a rage monster coming out of my bad situation. And Gary's complete dismissal about my wants and needs, coupled with his general weirdness just set my teeth grinding. However, my ladyballz hadn't completely dropped yet, so I didn't just tell him to take a hike. At least not yet.
It took a couple weeks.
But I finally did it. A quick, clean phone call (because smartphones weren't even really a thing back then. FOR FUCK SAKES).

And Oh. My. God.
So, you know how women always get a bad rap about being uber emotional, whiny babies, who are constantly PMSing about something and can't handle life's up's and down's without constantly crying and freaking out?
SO
NOT
TRUE

Gary lost his shit. We'd only dated for a couple months, and pretty casually; monogamously, but it wasn't like we were seeing or even talking to each other every damn day. But oh my lord, you would have thought that we had been going out, living together and picking out drapes at JCPenney from Gary's reaction to my breaking things off with him.
Remember, this was before the days of constant texting too, so it wasn't like today; where you communicate with someone everyday...all the time.
Email people. Email.
Damn, I sound so fucking old.

Moving on...

Gary had been falling for me.
Gary sent me flowers.
Gary wrote me sad cards.
Gary sent me sad emails.
Gary wrote me a sad song.
Gary started playing in a band again and invited me to come see him.
Gary probably had a shrine set up to me in his attic and was burning Doozy voodoo dolls every night. I don't fucking know.

At first, I felt bad for Gary's obvious pain. I don't like causing people pain. However, it soon became very clear to me that Gary was manipulating me to get me back. That's when I had to kindly tell Gary to fuck off and not contact me again.
I wasn't responsible to his feelings.

After I broke things off with Gary I figured out that I was angry. Really angry. I was angry at how I had been treated in my last relationship, I was angry at men in general, and I was really fucked up in the head. I knew that I shouldn't be dating anyone; that I needed to get myself healthy and well before I would be ready to be with any man.
So I forgot about the penises for a long time and got myself some help. I got my shit together to become the fabulous Doozy of today.

Funny thing is...I still have my Yahoo email; it's where all my spam goes. And a few years later I got an email from Gary; inviting me to see him and his band play. It was an Elvis tribute show.

Weirdo.

We're Gonna Rock Down To...

 

The time has come. The darkest hour.
Yes, yes. I know. Y'all weep with a combination of joy and consternation.
So, settle in children while I tell you a story. The story.
Of the time I had a meet-up in an Electric Company Truck.

The Tale of Sparky Faraday

Oh well fuck it all.
You know, I don't even remember this rando dude's real name. It was probably Squardo or something. It was a vague and strange time for me; and honestly, looking back I shouldn't have been dating. I was fresh into the deep, deep heartbreak of Hipster Pinocchio and raring to prove that I was good to go, a strong independent woman who "wasn't going to let no man keep me down!" When in reality, that was the farthest thing from the truth. I was a goddamn mess. Grief does janky things to people.

But I digress...

You have to understand...no fucking scratch that. There was no understanding whatever delusional world I was surfing in while I was talking to Sparky. He worked for our local Electric Company, so he was in his truck a lot. And through our texting I learned that he was working on lines near my work. And so in the ways of many of my weird dates/meetups/freakshow-that-was-my-dating-career, Sparky suggested that instead of meeting for a normal human lunch, we just...you know..meet at his truck instead.

Oh well fuck it all.
Wait.
Just let that sink in there for a minute. Yes, yes..just let the force flow through you...

Yep. Sparky wanted to have a meetup with me in his truck a couple blocks away from my work.
Sigh.
I....I don't even know what to say after this.
It was definitely a low point in my dating career. Okay, maybe a couple steps up from the Crab dude in the grocery store, and maybe even to catching an STD from a guy wearing skinny jeans - but not by much.

I WAS GRIEVING
Oh well fuck it all.

Anyhoozles, at the time I was looking for any type of male validation (remember, not a healthy head space), so I was all
"Tee hee! Sure! That sounds like a new and exciting experience."
NOT
"What the fucking fuck is wrong with you? You lunatic. What makes you think I would want to meet you in your stinky electric company truck? Weirdo."

I remember it was still cold and there was still snow on the ground because I had my Uggs on. You know, it's hard to look alluring while wearing Uggs. Let this be a lesson ladies, it doesn't matter if your Uggs are covered in sequins or fucking glitter, you still walk like Chewbacca and look like you have tree stumps on your feet. Not sexy. Pro tip...

Moving on...

I sat in my car in a CHURCH parking lot; (irony is my friend a lot in my life) with the heat blasting, distantly thinking that this was a stupid way to spend a lunch break. Second only to maybe if Sparky had taken me to a Chucke E Cheese for a lunch date. But hey, at least at a C.C. I could have competed for valuable cash and prize tokens for...like a ring pop or something. Regardless, as Sparky lumbered up in his big ol' truck, I was instantly nervous.

By now, y'all have realized that I've made really bad choices in men before, right?
Yep. Me too.
I'm working on it.

Let's see...how to describe Sparky? Well, like 85% of the online dating men I met, his real life person didn't look much like his pictures. In his pictures he looked, taller. In real life, I towered over him by a good four inches and outweighed him by a good fifty pounds - and I'm not in the heavyweight category. But man, Sparky was wiry, and fidgety. Maybe it was just nerves, but he reminded me of this guy:

It was frigid outside so we climbed into his truck to keep warm. I kept my hand on my phone the whole time, just in case something went wonky, but I got the feeling that Sparky was way, way more nervous than I was, plus I also got the vibe that I could totally kick his ass.

The smell of stale cigarette smoke assaulted my nose the second I got into the truck. Totally fucking knarly. Second, there were papers, invoices, and crumpled up McD's bags littering the cab. It was a hoarder's Barbie Dream Truck. And super disgusting.

Oh well fuck it all.

So, unless you're from the Planet Zweeto, you've probably picked up by now that this meetup/date/thing/whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit was going down in flames faster than a jackrabbit being chased by a coyote. Our conversation was super stilted, massively awkward, and the smell in the truck was...have you ever smelled a combination of sweaty goat balls mixed with an ashtray? Well, me neither; but I suspect it smelled like Sparky's truck.

Glugh.

After breezing through all the standard date questions at fucking warp speed, I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket, glanced at the time; and realized it had been twenty minutes.

"Wow. Look at the time. I've got a thing with a guy in a place about a horse. Ha Haaa.ahem."

I climbed out of that truck so fast and breathed in the cold, fresh air so fast I coughed. Thanked Sparky for meeting, shook his hand and scooted on my way.

It was on my way back to work, when I burst into tears and had to take a slight detour down a sidestreet to fix my make-up and calm my shit that I then realized that it was a dipshit move for me to be out in the dating world when I was clearly so fucked in the head about a man. I needed Doozy time. I needed time to heal and get my heart straightened out. I needed to properly grieve and move on before I could ever be ready to get out and have a chance of meeting someone else. So that's what I did. Took a break from penises and got my shit figured out - well I at least got over Pinocchio.

I checked my eyeliner in my rearview mirror and went back to work.

An Electric Company Truck.
Are you fucking kidding me?

Have Fun Stormin' The Castle.

You know how you've had this idea? And it starts out as a
"FUCK YEAH! This is an AWESOME idea! I'm gonna DO THIS and it's gonna be EPIC!"
But then you go do it, and at first, it's really, really, really sweet...but then something....changes; neither good or bad, just changes.

And those changes?
They make all the difference

The Tale of The Dread Pirate Wesley

So, y'all know that I haven't dated in awhile. Yup. Turned my back on the whole shitty things, because the level of men I'd ran into just - suck goat balls.
I mean - the years of online dating have damaged me, emotionally, the results of which I'm still dealing with. My self esteem took a hit, my ego, my body image - just in the shitter because of emotionally unavailable, fucking lunatic, and unstable men who shouldn't be out there in the dating world.

But hey, a girl has her needs right?

Sigh.
And, in hindsight, this wasn't one of my more brilliant ideas.
But nobody said I wasn't 
FEARLESS.
Stupid sometimes, but usually fearless.

So a couple of my girlfriends and I had been knocking around the idea of hookups. Ya know, just some fun, light, casual, no-strings attached HOT AS FUCKING HELL sex.
YES PEOPLE
SEX
I mean, if I can't find a decent man for my life, I'm entitled to at the bare minimum some decent sex.
Everyone is entitled to decent sex. For fuck sakes.
So, I embarked on a Doozy Social Experiment the likes of which I have never seen.

A couple months ago now, I wrote up a Craigslist ad for the "casual encounters" section looking for a little action. Now, apparently (and I didn't know this at the time) there are some epic, epic whackanoids out there, looking for just about any kind of freaky action - and Craigslist is the place to go to get it. 
Huh.
Color me shocked.

Moving on...

My ad was very tame, vanilla by comparison. Nothing freaky, nothing weird. Just some No Strings Attached fun. Oh, but the guy had to be hung and know what the fuck he was doing in bed. Cuz, come on ladies...not to be "that girl"...but, well...here I go...why would I go to all this considerable trouble of weeding out the crazies to go back to having bad sex with small dicked broseph (like in my dating days)?
GOAL ORIENTED, REMEMBER?

So, I sent my ad out and..

HOLY SHITBALLS BATMAN.

Within a 24 hour period I received over 200 email responses. And this was without any pictures attached, no identifying information besides the standard: SWF, etc.

200 EMAILS. FUCK.

Most of the responses were pretty boring actually. I didn't even read them all. Loads of dick pics. About halfway through, I started making up Dr. Suess-like rhymes about them all

A cock on a boat
A cock in a moat
Do you like green eggs and cock?
I do indeed like them with plenty to mock.

Rinse and repeat.

And this is where the Dread Pirate Wesley comes into our story. See, Wesley, in actuality sent me a rather long, well thought out email. And no dick pic. Now understand, I get that this was a site that was all about finding pussy - so I wasn't offended by all the dick pics at all, just amused by the sheer number of them.
But it was Wesley's email - not just the standard "sup baby, I can deliver you 8" hard inches and a good time" bullshit that frankly, I'd seen for four years in the dating world and, rolled my eyes at almost 100 times in response to my ad.

Really guys? That's the best you could do?

Nope. Wesley was...different. He had an intelligent email; he seemed to be looking for pussy but if that was it, then he had a fantastic opening line. So, I emailed him back. Granted, I'd emailed back a few other men too, only to be disappointed when they just kept asking for more pictures or accused me of being a bot or scammer. Really? It was that hard to hookup in the 21st Century? Go figure.

Anyhoozles. Wesley and I exchanged emails for awhile, then switched to text, then decided to meetup for dinner at a local place. I was...nervous. All my girlfriends who knew I was doing this little experiment were nervous.

What if Wesley was a rapist?
What if Wesley was an ax murderer?
What if Wesley was some weirdo?

Trust me people when I tell you that I am the MOST risk averse chick out there when it comes to personal safety or the safety of those I love. So, the night of our meetup, Wesley didn't know that I was carrying Pepper Spray in my purse. Of course, I didn't know until well into dinner that he supposedly was a black belt in several martial arts. Oops.

BUT
Our first meetup was AMAZING.
Wesley met me at the door to the restaurant with a HOT kiss - that was a new one for me. We flirted outrageously all throughout dinner. Wesley held my hand when we walked to go look at motorcycle's outside (he was an avid rider). We sat on a comfy sofa and talked for a couple hours about all sorts of things in our lives - out bucket lists, our childhoods, friendships, etc. And at the end of the night we made out against the side of my car. however, interestingly enough - no sex.

Whoo boy.
I do declare.

Wesley even invited me out to another motorcycle event the very next night. Which I eagerly accepted.
Damn skippy Wesley was sexy.
Damn skippy Wesley was nice.
Damn skippy Wesley seemed decent.
And damn skippy if the two of us didn't have a shit-ton in common.

Here's the thing though. And this was my first flag, which kept my guard up for so, so long. I was very clear with Wesley that while I really wanted to find a relationship, that didn't seem to be in the cards for me (cuz=online men suck) and Wesley seemed interested in finding a Friends With Benefits (FWB). He described in fair detail a FWB that he'd had in the past, and I honestly questioned how successful I would be with that kind of set-up; given all those pesky emotions that I tend to have and my desire for connection. I was very skeptical that I could pull it off, which is why I told Wesley that I was looking for the no-strings attached deal versus something where feelings were involved. 
The way I saw it (and still do), with emotions comes expectations and with expectations comes disappointment - unless that luck and timing magic is at play and both people are on the same page. Right. We know how often THAT works out. And again, in hindsight, neither of us ever discussed or came to a conclusion of what our middle ground was.

Wesley was the one who pointed how much we had in common. Oh, I'd noticed it right off the bat in our conversation: we liked the same movies, music, food, we even spoke in the same way...but fuck if I was going to say anything about it. WE WEREN'T DATING, so even though I picked up on it right away, along with our amazing chemistry I stayed silent on the topic. But no, Wesley went right ahead and went there:
WES: "Jimmy John's or Subway?"
ME: "Jimmy John's" 
ME: "Solid Princess Bride quote."
WES: "It's one of my favorite movies."
ME: "Mine too! I own it."
ME: "Thai food? Indian?"
WES: "Love em'. The spicier, the better."
WES: "Have you realized how much we have in common? It's kind of freaky..."

And let me tell you people...the sex, I mean that's the whole CORE of this story, right? The sex was off the charts. Fucking finally. Wesley certainly knew his way around a mattress.

And so it began.

Wesley and I began seeing each other roughly every week for almost a couple months. We texted everyday. Sometimes we'd just get together for sexytime and pillow talk afterward, but sometimes we'd actually go out.
And goddammit it all to hell:

WE LIKED EACH OTHER.
A LOT.
FUCKING EMOTIONS.
FUCKING EVERYTHING UP.

Here's where things started falling apart for me. Where my heart and my head started having conversations that frankly were dangerous for me. I know. I'd had them many, many times when I was dating. I started thinking of Wesley as more than just my occasional side-piece, more than just a hookup. I began thinking of him...as..potential. And, it didn't help that my girlfriends were spurring me on:
"Oh Doozy, you should trust Wesley. He seems to really like you."
"You do realize that you guys went on a date, right? You might not have called it a "date", but it was a date all the same."
"No it wasn't. We're just hooking up."
"IT WAS A DATE DOOZY."

It also didn't help that Wesley wasn't aiding me in my quest to keep my fucking emotions locked down tight.
WES: "It's about more than just sex for me too..."
WES: "You're such a sweetheart."
WES: "You're pretty amazing."
AND
ME:"We're just hooking up..."
WES: "I prefer to call it seeing each other."

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

See, "seeing each other" is a phrase that leads me to believe that there's some level of emotional connection there, something there besides just a sweaty half hour. Dunno, it seemed leading. I fully cop here to letting my emotions get the best of me in the end; to being a bitch to my emotional needs. I mean come on, here was an attractive, sexy, seemingly emotionally forthright man who is romancing me on top (pardon the pun) of just sexing me up. Try as I might, and fuck knows I tried so very, very hard to keep a fucking lid on my fucking emotions, there they were, all the same.

IT WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT SEX.
FEELINGS WEREN'T IN MY DAMN GAME PLAN.

And Wesley and I agreed over and over again that "whatever thing" we had was about more than just sex. We agreed that there was "more there", but we never defined what the "more" was. In fact, we never defined anything. And as time went by the lack of definition began to wear at me. I'm just enough of a planner to like to know where I stand. Was I a fuck buddy? A FWB? More? Was there potential there? What the actual good god damn fuck it all hell? And I'm leaving out SO, SO, SO many details that I could bore y'all with here people. About how "amazing" we thought each other were, how  'much I like you", yadda yadda, yadda...

Dunno. Seems...hollow now. Disingenuous. Maybe even a tad misleading.
I mean, Wesley really didn't need to feed me all the bullshit emotional stuff to get me into bed. I put out an ad on Craigslist. I was an easy catch.

And that was a fatal mistake.
I started liking the boy.
I LET HIM READ THIS BLOG.
I let down my guard, for just a minute.
And I believed his bullshit.

Really, I have no one to blame but myself. Because I know better after all the online crap I've been through. All the lies I've faced down; all the douches, I know better than to fall for the "if it's too good to be true - than it is" shit. But, call me the eternal optimist when it comes to matters of the heart (and clearly not always the sharpest tack in the box) there was a small part of me that believed that Wesley was different from all the other idiots.

CUZ, I'M A FUCKING MORON.

So, here it is. Here's what has brought me to this Doozy. And my current ennui.
Lately, it'd been FEELING to me like Wesley and I had, more or less, been dating. We'd go out, we'd eat, we were affectionate with each other, we were learning about each others lives, we'd have sex...you know we'd engage in all the standard rituals that people do in the dating world. But we didn't actually stand up to one another and voiced the words
"Yes, I'd like to date you, get to know you and see where this goes."
Doesn't seem like that hard of a concept...really.
At least it didn't to me.
Because here's the thing:
Wesley and I both liked each other - a lot
Wesley and I had a ton in common
The sex was great
WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T WE WANT TO DATE EACH OTHER?
Time?
Family?
Jobs?
Friends?

Pshaw. Wesley and I only saw each other once a week as it was, so I figured nothing would really change there. It was just dating for fuck sakes - not a god damn commitment ceremony. And the rest? Well fuck, that comes with t-i-m-e.
Because really, all dating is - is the acknowledgment that (in this case) Wesley and I liked each other enough to stop fucking around, step up, let our guards down and see if there might really have been something there between us.

So, I hoisted up my ladyballz, was brave, vulnerable and texted Wesley a very nice little text, asking him if he wanted to go steady...
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.

Wesley's response was - telling to say the least. Wesley was surprised that I would want to date, shocked - given my mindset (wha?) and he wasn't expecting me to ask that; BUT HE DEFINITELY STILL WANTS TO SEE ME (I bet=pussy.). But he had a lot on his plate right now and he had to process this, he wasn't expecting me to ask this.

I see.

Then Wesley went dark. No communication, no texting. Nothing.
For days.
LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN THIS BEFORE.

So, I had my answer right away. Without having my answer right away.
But, I'm an addition to someone's life, not an intrusion. And I'm a fucking amazing girlfriend/ chick to date. And the "I have a lot on my plate" excuse just doesn't hold water with me anymore. I have a lot going on in my life also - everyone has a fucking lot going on in their lives. But the right person would slip into my life like a well fitting glove. That's how it's supposed to work. That's why you date someone, to test that theory. And with the right person, it's isn't even really like work.
RIGHT?

But like I've said before
SCARED
MEN
RUN
And Wesley ran fast and hard.
Just disappeared.
Nada.
Zip
Into thin air.
FOR DAYS.
I finally broke down and sent him a simple "any questions? anything you want to talk about?" text last night.
To which Wesley answered:
"Sorry, been really busy. Especially at work. Church last night"
Okay. So there's "Gee my mom just got hit by a car busy" and there's "I'm avoiding you at all costs busy" - which are two very different things in my book. And by now I'd picked up on his cues loud and clear.
ENOUGH.
I GET IT.
I MAY BE OLD, BUT I AIN'T SLOW.

So, after a night of tossing and turning, I sent Wesley a text:

I don't expect a response.  Which has left me feeling...
...
...
...
very.
sad.

Because I really DID like Wesley - more than I have liked anyone else in awhile, and probably more than I would likely admit out loud. We had a lot in common, we seemed so fucking compatible. And not in the janky Hipster Pinocchio/mirroring way, but in a real life way. I mean, Wesley and I didn't have every single thing in common, but just enough to keep things interesting.  Just enough to keep me curious and wanting to know more. Just enough to make me take the step to want to date again. Wesley sure talked a good game, I'll give him that. Then blew me off when I stepped up.

And I find it ironic that Wesley didn't even once stop to think about what a honor I bestowed upon him...taking the chance of being vulnerable and asking to date him, after all the shit I've been through. Foolish, fickle boy.
We all know how hard vulnerability is for me. HE knew how hard vulnerability is for me. And he took it for granted.
I took a chance, miscalculated, and wasted my precious pride and vulnerability on someone who didn't deserve it.
Lesson learned.

So. In Wesley's eyes, like so, so, so many other men before him I'm probably good enough to fuck - but not good enough to date.

FUCK
THAT
NOISE

Cuz frankly, as dented as my feelings are right now, Wesley doesn't deserve me, and he has no fucking clue what gift he gave up. Because I'm not only good enough to fuck AND date, but oh, so much more that he didn't even discover, because he didn't have the balls to give us a chance. Or who knows, maybe he has another chick on the side that he doesn't want to give up, or something else in his life that he never told me about - remember, we DID meet on a site dedicated to pussy. Doesn't much matter at this point.

Sigh.
Typical.
Oh, so typical.




But still. I'm sad. And angry. And slightly bitter at this point. Dammit it all to hell.
I'm more angry at myself than at Wesley, but there's anger at him there as well. Because he shouldn't have been saying romantic, sweet-nothings to me if it was just bullshit to feed his ego. Wesley shouldn't have been trying so hard to get my formidable guard down if he wasn't going to man up if the time came.
What the fuck did he think was going to happen?
Sigh.
On the other hand, we met through a site devoted to finding easy clam sauce. So what did I think was going to happen? Clearly (I see this now), this isn't a man who probably has a lot of emotional readiness in his wheelhouse. And he said upfront that he only wanted to fuck around, regardless of what he was whispering out of the other side of his mouth. What the fuck made me think that I was different? What the fuck did I think was going to happen? For fuck sakes Doozy.

PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE UNLESS THEY WANT TO.

So.
Here I am.
The very hurt I was trying to run from, I ran right into.
How very prophetic of me.

Am I in love with Wesley? Nope. I do like him a lot, and it will take me some time to get over that.
Could I have fallen in love with him? Probably. If magical fairy dust had rained down from the stars, the timing was right and Wesley had been brave enough to give us a chance, yeah, I probably would have stepped out onto the ledge again with him. I would have probably taken that chance, because there just seemed to be...something there between us that...seemed worth...the bravery. I dunno, it's hard to explain. Bravery is a thing for me - not bravado, but bravery; and it's just so lacking in today's single men. Bravery, trust, communication..yadda yadda, I could go on.
It doesn't matter now.
Wesley has been released back into the wild to go hunt for more easy snatch, and I'm back to where I started. With dents in my armor and more to digest. This was one hell of a social experiment, with an outcome I wasn't expecting.

And one I'm not likely to repeat.

There's a part of me that wishes Wesley felt this way, but something tells me, he doesn't.

______________________________________
UPDATE:
I started writing post this a couple days ago
And you know what...
FUCK ALL THIS
From now on, I'm only dating myself
I'm done giving chances to these emotionally stunted boys.
At least I trust myself and I always know where I stand.
I'm so fucking done with this shit.