Last week sucked.
Okay, okay, I'm sorry.
I have been very busy this last week. Blogging definitely took a back seat.
The match.com thing really needs to take it's own course. The last girl was very nice, but it comes down to me being ready, able and willing to participate in a real relationship. I am in no way, shape or form- ready. Would I like to snuggle on the couch, give bad fashion advice, hold hands, go out to eat, and all that "new relationship" stuff?
But when it comes down to getting close, opening up and letting someone in, all I can say is-
The good news is- I didn't toy with anyone's emotions just to disover that fact. Nothing's worse than jumping into a new relationship just to discover that you really don't want to be there.
Last week introduced me to a whole new level of hell. Work sucked, everything I touched turned to shit, and I was written up for being tardy. Bad Rob! Bad!
I just spent four straight days in a bar- My old hangout- The band was playing, so it was like work.
For someone who no longer drinks, this is not healthy.
I just spent my 40th birthday in the bar I used to get blind drunk in on my birthdays..
For someone who no longer drinks, this is not healthy.
I spent Saturday night watching the ex work the room, instead of pining and being miserable like she's supposed to. (That's self-deprecating humor, folks..)
For someone who no longer drinks, this is not healthy.
Let it be known, yet again- Last week sucked ass.
No more whing. I'm done.
Tag- I'm it
~K done tagged me. Okay, I volunteered- but regardless, here goes...
10 Years Ago~ I was 29. Skinny, fearless and my singing voice was maturing. I was in a great band, running up and down the east coast on a bus, living on ephedrine, chicken breast salads and Jack Daniels, staying up too late with people I hardly knew. I was making a living playing a guitar. I was paying my rent and utilities just by singing and being ogled by little Kelly Bundys in cowboy boots.
5 Years Ago~ Band life was taking its toll. I was surrounded by people who wanted to be seen with me. We were getting major label attention. I was still partying like a 19 year old, but by this time I had decided I was going to try to find someone to settle down with. After a few fits and starts, I thought I had found the one. We all know how that ended.
Yesterday~ I worked. I took a nap. I ate wings. I watched football. It was a good day.
5 snacks I enjoy~
1) I enjoy brownies.
2) I enjoy popcorn.
3) I enjoy tastycake apple pies.
4) I enjoy sunflower seeds.
5) I enjoy cheese.
5 songs I know all the words to.
Yikes.. You’d be amazed at how many I don’t know the words to. On stage even.
1) Whenever You Come Around (Vince Gill)
2) Don’t Dream it’s Over (Crowded House)
3) Cant’ Always Get What You Want (Stones)
4) Just a Closer Walk With Thee
5) Wild One (BR-549)
5 Things I'd do with a million dollars.
1) I would build me a big-ass house. With a big-ass garage. And a big-ass deck. And a big-ass hot tub.
2) I would travel.
3) I would change my phone number.
4) I would buy a Ferrari.
5) I would give some to charity. –Shelters, rehabs, job training, etc.
5 Places I'd run away to.
1) My bed..
3) The Shower.
5) Jennifer Anniston’s house..
5 Things I'd never wear.
1) A thong. No “marble bags” for this boy.
3) a dress
4) A speedo
5 Favorite TV shows.
1) Reno 911
5) Whose Line
5 Biggest joys.
1) My Daughter
2) A really fat groove- My bass is so thick it’s moving furniture out in the club.
3) Tight Harmony.
4) A good night’s sleep.
5) Cooking out on the grill.
5 Favorite toys.
1) My guitar
2) My computer
3) My IPod
4) My XM Radio
5) My XBox
I'm watching the Cowboys, eating wings and blogging. Madden is yammering as he usually does, but he kinda grows on ya. I'll miss him when he retires. My Cowboys are looking really ragged, but it's way too early for predictions- I have hope, but I'm watching with some expectations of a mediocre season. Personally, I think a lot of the Tuna's success was due to Belachek, who is now making football look as exiting as baking a cake.
I have nothing to write about, so this might just be a stream of consciousness- The dating thing has been the center of my universe as of late, and that's hardly healthy, is it? It will be what it will be, and I have to deal with crossing thresholds I'm not ready to cross.
Jeez.. Having a conscience blows.
My 96 year old Grandfather is wearing down my Parents, and I'm having a hard time with setting boundaries- My mother cannot plan ahead if you held a gun to her head. She lives on her own little planet, which passes reality only so often. She calls, wanting me to drop everything so she can run errands for two hours which morphs into four. I have not answered the phone lately and I feel like a total shithead. What kind of son does this? One that needs to teach someone the meaning of planning ahead. I am not liking "me" at the moment- I doubt she'll ever get the concept of planning, so ... Crap. I will cave in. I always feel like I've done something worthwhile afterwards anyway. He can't help the fact that he's a handful.
The date Part II
Okay.. Where was I?
Well. It went very well, considering all the things that could have gone wrong. I still am not ready for the "relationship" thing yet, no matter how many good things I see in a person- I will end up finding things wrong with them.
You could say I'm afraid, but I'd say closer to stark, raving terror would be more like it.
Do I like her personality so far? Yes.
Would I like to see her again? Yes.
Could I see myself dating her? Not yet.
She's intelligent, reasonably attractive, has enough sense to want to go slow, but..
I admit it. I'm looking for someone who pushes every button I have. This may take a while, and this is a process. I keep forgetting that until I start looking at the person as someone I'd like to date. I hit the wall at that point.
I've hit several walls, but- At least I'm not trying to create silk purses from sow's ears.
So- I will continue to see this person, but... Slowly. And with much caution.
God, I'm weird.
Gossip, rumors and propaganda
We'll get right to the juicy gossip.
I finally coaxed her down to come along to a private party we played yesterday. This- in and of itself- took some courage on her part, since I would be stuck on stage most of the time, and she would know noone. After some intense negotioations, I closed the deal, she came down from an hour away. I found a suitable babysitter, introduced them, since he is both a gentleman, and has just enough dirt on me to keep her entertained.
That worked rather well, as he kept plying her with Captain and Cokes to keep her chatty, but not too much where she became the life of an already lively party. Gotta love a good wingman.
She didn't look exactly like her pictures, since she is a photographer and knows how to work all the tools- But, she wasn't so far away from that that I wanted to run. I have now learned that pics are pretty useless for forming an impression of someone.
We played, got packed up, dodging errant fireworks being set off by some very drunk people, but managed to escape unsinged. Let's see.. After that?
It's late by this point, she knows that driving an hour is not smart, but doesn't want to stay here - Not because I'm some hornbag, but more towards the "uncomfortable imposing on me" side.
I've never had to talk a woman INTO pajamas before, but I loaned her some suitably comfortable shorts, a big tee shirt and tucked her in on the couch.
I went to bed.
She snuck out about six AM, unable to sleep in a starnge environment- But I had no idea, since I was sleeping like a dead man.
To be continued..
As Ordered.. New Post.
~K has informed that I'm lagging behind in my blogging duties. I humbly obey.
I have almost nothing to report, really.
The girl I'd been emailing finally called last night- but only because she needed help with her computer.. I did what any self-respecting geek would do- I promptly blackmailed her and said I don't do support via E-mail.. She'd have to call.
Heh..I never did end up solving the problem, but we did talk for three hours.
In other news, it turns out she's a photographer, and has some very nice pictures of herself.
No, no.. Not THAT nice. Very subtle, and implied. I opened them, and the first words out of my mouth were- And I quote- "Daaay-umm!"
Can I get an "Amen"?
The post where I work had "Bomb" training today.. The MP's were practically fondling themselves in anticipation. The local news channels looked bored, but only because they were being tightly herded together and browbeaten by the Public Affairs office. It never affected my office, so for me- It was a yawner.
I was hoping I'd be taken hostage by the mock terrorists so I could moon the MP's claiming that my captors had ordered me to. It was not to be.
Apparently I'm not hostage material.
And so it goes..
Well, I have to admit...
The whole speed at which things progressed during the lunch date really rattled my cage. She has since called to apologize (twice) but fortunately I had my cell off. I will call her tonite and put the brakes on it a little. Maybe a lot. I really don’t want to go that fast with anyone, let alone her. To be honest, I think I am something she wants- Not necessarily me, as who I am. I think she’s used to making relationships out of what happened Saturday. Nope. Not my style anymore. I won’t try to make something out of this with the speed and ease of buying a scratch off lottery ticket.
In other news, the one I’ve been trying to meet face to face is progressing nicely. We do one big email a day, covering all kinds of topics. Slow is good. I like slow.
Wow.. Where to begin.
My lunch date yesterday yielded some interesting blog fodder. (See? I knew something good would come out of it.) We agreed to meet for a quick, casual lunch Saturday afternoon, midway between her place and mine. She was punctual, about 25lbs heavier than her pics, but pretty much as advertised. Pretty face, great eyes. We ordered, exchanged the usual nice-to-meet-you-in person things, and other snall talk. Over the course of conversation when our food arrived, it was revealed the she used to work at Hooter's, and then tend bar in a strip club in Baltimore. (Okay, so I won't be taking this one home to meet Mom anytime soon..)
The Hooter's thing is pretty easy to write off- Anybody with decent looks would probably make a killing.. The strip club? Alarm bells. She doesn't strike me as the type to be paying for her master's degree by moonlighting in a strip club. (Just a hunch.) She has children, and they're adorable, so we looked at pictures, while keeping the conversation vague, punctuated by her touching my hands for emphasis.
Okay- This lasts about 45 minutes, and I'm getting a better read on her by this point- I'm still keeping an open mind, but I'm not "feeling" it. This, I think- Is a lonely girl at home with her daughters, trying to find somebody with a bar-scene vibe since she can't get out much. I do give her mad props for having those priorities in order.
I pay the tab, and we walk out to the parking lot (keep in mind, it's 90-plus degrees outside) and I walk her to her car.
Here's where it gets interesting.
I was thinking hug, she was thinking kiss. Okay, a quick kiss it is.
This was grab-the-back-of-my-head, movie/hollywood attack kiss. Once I got over the initial surprise, I jumped in with both feet. Briefly. For about a minute, at which point the launch sequence was being initiated, so I pulled away, said "Yikes.. I gotta go.." and bolted for my car.
I made sure her car started and was moving, and shot off down the highway as fast as ol' faitfull would go- Which wasn't very fast, since I also had the AC on high..
She calls me on the cell about a minute later, and I stammer that I had to go, or it would have gone a lot farther that I wanted to go at that point. She agreed.
Fast forward to two A.M.
The guitarist and I are pondering life's mysteries as we always do after gigs, and my cell phone rings. Somehow, I just know..
Tenative "hello" after verifying the number, and lo-and-behold, it's her.. Drunk. Apparently feeling amorous since her married girlfriend had picked up some guy at the bar, and she wanted a playtoy too. I listened politely for a few minutes, tried to keep the conversation focused on mundane things, and make up an excuse that I had to go, since I was almost home.
All this from a few conversations on the phone and lunch? Yeesh- Imagine what a nice dinner might have gotten me.
Thanks for all the nice comments-
I'm trying to find less mundane things to take pics of, and that's proving difficult. I took the picture of the truck- Well.. Because I could. I never really thought of it as a "nice" truck, just friggin' bulletproof and dependable as all hell. It's clean and understated, and will go damn near anywhere, hauls my gear, doesn't mind minor abuse and protests a little at anything over 80 MPH.
In other news, the match.com thingie is progressing nicely. I have a lunch date tomorrow, so we'll see how that goes. The first test is to see if she matches her profile pics. If she does, then .. BOO-ya! God, I hope she has a brain, though. Boobs can be found- to greater or lesser degrees- on every woman on the planet.
The one woman who I have become totally fascinated by finally emailed me two days ago. Her profile caught me in two or three sentences, it was that good, and then.. I saw the pics.. *cue angels singing* If you heard any odd noises, that was my jaw hitting my keyboard. The emails have been intriguing the questions fun, keeping in mind that expectations are a dangerous thing. At the moment, I am trying to lure her into meeting face-to-face, having convinced her (Mwahaha..) that I'm harmless and sane.
Off to find chloroform.
I'm a "Gadget Slut"
Balajee left a comment in response to yetserday's post, suggesting that we post pictures of ourselves with "Junk" of a different nature..
NOW we're talkin'.
You've heard comedians talk about what ment think about all the time-Jeff Foxworthy postulates that we, as men- would "like a beer and we'd like to see sump'n nekkid". Not bad.
In my particular case, speaking as a card-holding member of the male species, I would like to put forth that all men have A.D.D.
Ladies, how many times have you been out to eat with your S.O., venting about your boss, your best friend's wedding, and so on, only to see his attention immediately caught by something shiny- Or, something curvy? I've done it. I can be mid-conversation. doing my best "attentive listener" imitation, and stop mid-sentence when I see someone walk by with a new phone, or a blackberry, or a new PDA. I've been known to sit open mouthed, staring at women in beer commercials, gazing in rapt fascination at the TV just over her head. I cannot help it.
So, back to Balajee's idea- Post pictures of ourselves with gadgets. Mmmm.. Maybe. I can tell you what I have thus far- Two guitars, three amps, a big screen sony, a sony clie' (PDA) my PC is pretty hot- Hardware wise- I have big honkin' speakers for it, I have XM satellite radio in my truck, I have a 94 Z-28, a Foreman grill (The bachelor's best friend..) an IPod, and so on..
Now.. My wish list? Dual flat panel LCD monitors (21 inch, no less) a blackberry (which would be immediately useless, since I don't get that many interesting E-mails) , a digital recording studio, (best used on MAC's which I hate..) And..
Rachel Wiesz or Sandra Bulllock. Kate Beckinsdale will do as a fill in, and I hear Jennfer Anniston is in need of a good shoulder to cry on.
That should do for starters.
Of boredom at work, kink, gadgets and gizmos
I'm at work, and I'm bored. Who'da thunkit? It alternates between dull, mundane maintenance to all hell "holy-shit-what-was-that!" mayhem breaking loose. Right now, it's dead.
I was scanning RP's blog comments for neat blogs (His comments window is a goldmine of good blogs, BTW..) and I ran across this and this.. Now, don't get me wrong, I surely don't think RP is a clearing house for kink, because his blog is as well-mannered as they come. However, here and there, you find the private thoughts like the above linked blogs.
I never knew.. Okay, scratch that. I DID know that women have a very erotic side to them, but it's like cracking a safe. You don't get the combination handed to you, and some you never really crack at all. Others just give you a peek before slamming the door shut and changing the combo. And, like anything else, the longer you're at it the better you get at cracking said safes. Now, I'm not talking about just doing the "deed" here, I'm talking about getting inside the secret garden- The high holy place where all the naughty little creatures come out to play. The dark side. The places she wishes you'd find, but is a little ashamed of, yet at the same time pushes every button she has. That's cracking the safe.
I think blogging with its "Public Anonymity" had given rise to a whole new breed of erotica. "Sex in the City" for errant housewives and mousy secretaries. For all we know, they could be butt-ugly, doing the nasty with a man known simply as "B" who, in real life- Happens to be the trash collector with a beer gut, dirty wife beater and a four-day beard. Maybe not.. I have my suspicions, though.
In other most-definitely-NOT-erotica-related news.. I bought me a spiffy new Didgeetail Camery (That's "Digital Camera" for you not fluent in RedNeckinese). I shall soon be posting pictures of myself (fully clothed) wallowing in gadget ecstasy. (Why do guys send women pictures of their "Junk", anyway?)
Fielding questions from the gallery..
I just read a comment im my last post that made me stop in my tracks and think. Usually Sougata is the only person who can throw a wrench in my mental gears, but I have to admit- The poster had a point.
Her comment was thus-
Rob, you show so many different sides of yourself in your postings. How would someone know which is real? The booby obsessed player or the wanting to find an honest and loving relationship type of man? I would love to hear a deeper explanation of who you are.
Hell, I'd love an explanation of who I am, but at best, all I can give you is a feeble attempt.
Where to begin my impromptu self-analysis? We'll start here.
Rob, you show so many different sides of yourself in your postings. How would someone know which is real?
How would one know? Even my family describes me as complex and aloof, at times. ("Aloof" is NOT snobbery by the way, it really means polite but reserved.) I'm not an open book, that's for sure. This is about as close as I get to hanging it all out there, and with the possible exception of the "boobie obsess-ee" no one in my day-to-day life reads this. I like it that way, so should I feel so inclined, I could vent and call them shitheads, should I feel the need. In short- To know me is to be perplexed.
The booby obsessed player or the wanting to find an honest and loving relationship type of man?
Hmm.. Player? Not really. Flirt, maybe, but not a player. Which is not to say that in my past life I wasn't one- My numbers stand at just under a hundred, and I'm trying to keep it that way. It's not hard, really. When I was a drunken musician slut, it never occured to me to say "no". These days? The only place I stand to get into trouble is when I'm playing, and drunk chicks annoy the hell out of me to the point of being rude. If you're too drunk to complete a sentence in under thirty seconds, there's a good chance that I'm not as cute as you think I am. I have been known to walk away while the befuddled drunken suitor struggles to comprehend why her mouth won't work right and why she's staring at my back.
Even my ex- with all her issues- could never accuse me of being untrustworthy. I was manaical about being monogomous.
The "boobie" thing? I was trying to get a reaction out of someone who is as aloof as I am, getting her to think about really inapropriate behavior in an environment that doesn't condone such behavior. It's called "getting a rise" out of someone, making them blush, or giggle. Oh, don't get me wrong- Had it happened, I would have looked, but that's as far as it would have gone, believe me.
At this point I'd freak if I actually DID find an honest, loving relationship. I'd panic and run, only to be rightfully accused of being a commitment-phobe. It's too early, and the Match.com thing is really an experiment- I doubt after two weeks I'll find the "one" and be happy ever after. It's probably going to be a process, albeit a sometimes tedious one- But sometimes enjoyable nonetheless, provided I keep it all in perspective.
The latest adventures..
It's been a few days,..
I've been busy updating my profile, E-stalking potential dates, and trying to find a picture of me that doesn't make me look as if I have gas. At best, I have that look your dog gets when you leave him behind as you go out the door.
So far, I've received a few interesting offers, namely from a matronly sort claiming to be 41, but if I were a betting man, I'd lay heavy odds on just shy of 55. I get the distinct impression she wants a cabana boy, preferably one with very poor eyesight and no depth perception.
*sigh* bummer. Too bad I have a day job.
I went to a phillies game last night with one of the more interesting responses, totally last minute with one of the people I met online. Considering we got a late start, got lost en route to collect the tickets and only caught the last 3 innings, it wasn't bad. It could have been sooo much worse, and believe me, I thought twice about spending two and a half hours in a car with someone I barely knew.
It went well, we had fun, but I refuse to go any further than this. We IM'ed for a little bit prior, and she's very nice- Lovely, in fact, but not in any way that makes me exitable. She's your typical big-boned greek girl, but you can't hold genetics against someone.
Al I know is - No more barflies. I don't care if she has one eye in the middle of her head, I'm not dating anymore cocktail waitresses.
Okay, okay.. A real post.
Okay- I got smacked by Sougata, who basically said "no more useless picture posts"
I'm playing hooky today, and I shouldn't have because I feel like I wasted the whole day. It's not like I dislike my job, so other than having a fit of the fuckits, I really should have just sucked it up and gone to work.
Last night, I signed up on match.com because I need to see how the dating thing actually works, as opposed to snagging the impressionable ones from the band scene.
Okay, it's probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, but besides getting stalked by some lunatic whose biological clock is ticking like Big Ben, how bad can it be?
I have the feeling that most of these women want the exact opposite of what they say they want. In ten minutes, I'll have the situation sized up and be forced to whip out my patented "dysfunctional bad boy" routine, after meeting the girl who said all she wanted is "a trustworthy honest man, into cooking, museums and music".
Translation: Looking for tattoed, crack-addled momma's boy with anger issues and no job."
Her pictures, cleverly posed to hide the enormous cardboard box of an ass, say "petite, fun-loving girl" and were taken fifteen years ago before she had two kids and a chocolate habit that masked the depression and low self esteem.
I'll keep you posted. I'm sure much blog fodder will come of it, if nothing else.
Yikes- Bitter, aren't I?