My Bitter Lesson

What started out as an attempt at fun and adventure with a new man slowly turned into feelings of wanting more. Upon that realization, the man made a quick exit without any parting words. Any thoughts, feelings, or terms of endearment shared between the two of us suddenly felt pointless and foolish. I had attempted something new and failed at it, leaving me with a lost sense of who I was and who I was actually trying to be. I was the voiceless half of an imaginary relationship that I’d pretended was something good.

I was hopeful about something he carefully did not promise. Yet I chose to keep my eyes closed upon the very obvious. He kept me at an arm’s distance and I was foolishly happy to stay there. He’s the one who determined our time together and I happily followed along, believing that would somehow show him how dedicated I could be if he were to ever want me to be something more in his life. Unfortunately, I was a plaything he tossed aside once he was done playing.

I look back at the pleasant moments with him and I want so very much to revel only on the good times. However, the reality of what has happened has cast a dark shadow on the good times, tainting those memories- at least until my heart heals.

Yes, he was smooth and said all the right things that distracted me from the things he didn’t say. Yet it was my intuition, as slow as it was, that finally told me that I’d be nothing more than what I already was to him.

I believe it was my request that we talk that caused him to disappear, probably knowing that I’d finally realized he did not want me to be a serious part of his life. Perhaps it was cowardice that prevented him from contacting me again. I’ll say it happened once I took my power back. I’ve never chased a man who showed no interest in me, nor will I begin now. From now on, I vow to keep my power, no matter how trivial the relationship.

I’ve learned my bitter lesson.

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My Attempt at Making a Blind Date…

Beige dressLet’s call him Jason. Jason and I had started communicating through OKCupid about two years ago (and we even came across each other on Tinder!). We were obviously attracted to each other based on the pictures we had posted on our profile accounts. Not quite sure what happened but with so many of these dating site communications, we just stopped texting each other. A few months ago, Jason reached out to me again. He admitted that he was updating his WhatsApp account and came across my number. We continued our pleasantries by texting each other about how our days were going, about our jobs, his dog and a few other things. We even exchanged some photos and he made comments about how nice and fit I looked in mine and I complimented his pics as well. (I didn’t have the heart to mention how much thinner his hair was in his current pictures than it was in his profile picture.)

Now, as many of you know, I have been reading the book Find a Husband After 35 and Step 4 required that I go on three blind dates (“Keeping My Options Open” 5.5.16). I figured that Jason would be perfect for that exercise! After all, we had never met; we’ve only texted each other. So, with that in mind, I one day texted him and asked him about his day. He responded that he was at work and then I replied something about me being at work as well. That’s when he ruined everything! He sent me a specific set of chosen words configured together in such a way that immediately turned me off, making me seriously question why men can not just get a clue! The words were: “Now let me see that sexy body.”


He ruined everything! I didn’t even bother responding to him. I simply deleted his name and number from my WhatsApp account. Now there may be some readers out there who might feel that him saying that was not a big deal. Okay, I get it. Guys are visual people. And yes, we did exchange photos before. But our texts didn’t go anywhere near the perverse and I always made sure to keep it clean. He could’ve simply looked through the photos I’d previously sent him if he wanted to check out my body again. I know– it’s not the same thing. He wanted a different outfit, different pose, etc.

bitmoj_BooI have to admit, though, that I was extremely disappointed because I thought we could communicate without bringing it there just yet. Why couldn’t he have politely asked me for another picture without having to reduce it to the way my body looked? You might think that still wasn’t enough for me to suddenly break communication with him. The thing is, if this man, who had been respectfully communicating with me, suddenly becomes so bold as to ask for a picture the way in which he did, then his mind is only in one place. If I had gone out with him, it would have only ended up in further disappointment (which may not have been too terrible considering I could easily write about it (like I’m doing now) and file it under the Dating Disasters archive!).

The upshot? I’m not going to force this blind date thing. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and hopefully have the courage to bring it up in conversation with people I know in hopes that they will happen to know someone who is willing to go on a blind date with me.

Until next time!

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My Canadian Guy, Part 2

Previously on “My Canadian Guy”, “Ray”, announced that he was driving through New York and he was anxious to see me. Find out what happened when he Seriousfinally visited!

The date that Ray was to arrive to see me was fast approaching. Our text messages became frequent. There was a lot of fantasizing still being shared between the two of us. The setting of these fantasies were no longer in a hotel room or his apartment. They were now in my apartment: on my couch, in my bedroom. We imagined our first reactions as I would open the door to my apartment to let him in. Would we immediately embrace each other? Would we be too nervous to even hug each other? As much fantasizing as we did, however, there were also the occasional “heart-to-hearts” about his leaving Canada. He lived fairly close to his mother and one evening he wanted to “talk” about how emotional her last visit with him was. She wanted to make sure he’d be all right and that he would come back to visit. I have to admit that I felt honored that he chose to share that with me. I wasn’t sure if, by nature, he was just an open guy but I really felt that we had a special connection. He “spoke” of our connection before and I always reminded him that practically anybody can get along via text messaging. Now that we were going to see each other in person, I was starting to feel like he was right.

BUT I wasn’t living in fantasy land! I was still very aware of his age, his reason for coming and the fact that we were both at very different stages in our lives. Now he knew how old I was at one point but the difference in our ages never came up again. There were times during our messaging he’d write something that made it clear that he didn’t realize I am in my forties. I wasn’t hiding it from him; he just never asked.
The days before he left Canada, we were in constant communication. He kept me abreast of when he crossed the border and then as he drove into New York. At one point, as we were texting each other, he wrote: “I’m worried about not getting hard for you.”
That was interesting. “Why would you not get hard?” I asked. He responded, “Nerves affect it.”
Hmm. I wondered if that had happened to him before but, for some reason, I didn’t feel right about asking him. Then he added: “I don’t think it will be a problem once you touch me ;)”
Of course, I responded with the appropriate words of consolation, telling him that I was so sure he had nothing to worry about.
In preparation for his arrival, I made sure my apartment was presentable and my sister graciously made herself scarce. I gave him my address and he texted me that he was on his way. He was on his way!! I kept myself busy with Facebook and Instagram in my anticipation of this young man who I had not seen in over two years! He texted me. He was two blocks away. He texted me again. He was parking. He texted me: “I’m approaching your building.” I looked through the window as he walked up, and though it was two seconds, I concluded that he looked better than his pictures…
…and he did. I opened my apartment door to find a thin and tall young man with facial hair in the form of a beard and moustache standing before me. He had on a cardigan sweater over a t-shirt (it was an unseasonably warm day in mid December), and I can’t remember if he had on jeans or a pair of slacks. I let him into the apartment and we nervously smiled at each other. “Finally!” I said, laughing because I did not know what else to say. “Yup. It’s been a long time,” he responded. He reached down and gave me a hug and we kissed cheek-to-cheek. The next few minutes were nerve-racking as I looked through so many menus to see what we were in the mood to eat. He suggested that we put the menus away for a while and talk on the couch. I sat next to him and we talked briefly about his experience going through the border and meeting people from New York and how scary it was for him to drive in New York.  I’m not quite sure when it happened but we started kissing each other and yes, it was fabulous! His lips were soft and he moved his tongue gracefully around my tongue inside my mouth. We moved in a perfect rhythm of familiarity, my hands on his face, his hand moving up my leg. It wasn’t long before we proceeded into my bedroom where we were finally going to enjoy each other the way we’d been imaging it for two years!

But what happened in that bedroom was nothing more than a disappointing encounter with a young man whose fear was unfortunately actualized. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it just wasn’t happening for him. He assured me that it wasn’t me; that he was sometimes afflicted with this unpleasant predicament. Though we tried a number of tactics for the next few minutes to help him, nothing worked. We hesitantly gave up after some time. I wanted to prevent him from feeling too badly about what didn’t happen. We lied down next to each other and engaged in random conversation and it felt comfortable. I had to admit that everything he talked about was incredibly interesting. After about a half hour, we put our clothes back on, ordered food and had one great conversation after another. He really was a fascinating guy with a lot of interesting things to say, and again, everything with him felt so comfortable. But the entire time, I couldn’t help but feel cheated! Two years of sexting and fantasizing and picture-sharing led to this? I didn’t understand why it happened that way. And before I knew it, he was saying good bye! He was leaving! I thought we’d at least take another crack at it! Was he embarrassed? Was he trying to run away from a humiliating experience? I can’t imagine what it must be like for a man who can’t perform after so many months of textual foreplay.


We took a selfie just before he left.

It saddens me that we haven’t communicated since that unfortunate experience. I texted him on Christmas Day and received no response. Then, I texted him on New Year’s Eve to simply say hello and again, nothing. There are a number of stories I can attach to him not texting me. Perhaps he’s too ashamed of not being able to follow through with all of his fantasies. Maybe I just didn’t turn him on like he thought I would. It could be that he was turned off when he finally learned my age. Or what if he’s just having a good time exploring his new freedom in a state he’s never been to and him not reaching out has nothing to do with me? One can only speculate in the absence of truth- something I haven’t attempted to get from him because of my fears of being cast aside.
We’ve gone months prior to this without even communicating, so us not “talking” should not be out of the ordinary. What makes me uneasy about it, however, is my fear that the failed attempt at intimacy could have possibly ruined our blossoming friendship. And because I find myself actually caring about this guy, I’m hesitant to reach out to him in fear of saying the wrong thing. I just want him to know that I wasn’t disappointed with him– just the situation. And I want him to know how much I truthfully enjoyed his company that day.

So there you have it: the true account of my Canadian guy. This is yet another regrettable story to be filed under the ever growing “dating disasters” chapter of my single life.

Fat Idiot Bastard, Part 2

IMG_2571Previously, on “Fat Idiot Bastard”, Cathy was introduced to the portly Marco by her work friend Nadine. However, Cathy did not want his size to keep her from being with someone she really liked. The paranoia she suffered due to his being white was also an important factor for Cathy as she considered moving past her foibles. Today is the exciting conclusion! What does the title have to do with this charming young man? Find out in “Fat Idiot Bastard, Part 2”!

Cathy decided to date Marco and she simply got over all her issues with his weight and his whiteness. The next few weeks were great. They had great sex, they experienced different restaurants together, they watched a lot of movies together, both at the theater and staying in. They even met each other’s parents (that was not planned)! Cathy did not once regret her decision to continue seeing this young man. She had not yet introduced him to her friends but she was starting to feel so confident being with him that she was sure it would happen soon. One morning, as Cathy was setting herself in at her desk at work, Nadine approached her, saying. “I have to tell you something.” She looked serious and somewhat hesitant. Cathy grew concerned. “What is it?” Nadine looked at Cathy in her eyes, saying, “Marco and I had a long talk last night and we decided we’re going to move in together.” Heart pounding. Dry mouth. Sweaty hands. Lump in throat. Sick feeling in the gut. “Okay,” Cathy finally said, breathlessly. “Is he gonna at least call me?” “No,” Nadine responded, shaking her head. “We decided I was going to tell you.” The bastard didn’t even have the nerve to tell me himself, Cathy thought to herself.

The next few days were a blur to Cathy as thoughts of what Marco and Nadine had done invaded her every waking moment. It was hard for her to sleep. The empty feeling in her stomach prevented her from even having an appetite. Sharing this story with her sister, cousins, and friends, Cathy had commenced to calling Marco a fat idiot bastard, or Fib, for short. Having to see Nadine every morning at work filled her with dread. She obsessed over everything that happened between the three of them since the night she met Fib. In an effort to ease her hurt, Cathy called Fib one day to curse him out. After the tone, she left her message: “Let me ask you something. Were you thinking of her every time you looked into my eyes while you fucked me? I hope you rot in hell, you stupid fat fuck!” Well it didn’t make her feel better but she was wasn’t sorry she left it. Why did this hurt so much? Did she really like him that much? Cathy soon realized that it wasn’t just him dumping her through Nadine that bothered her so much. The real pain was in the betrayal by someone who she thought was her friend. Nadine’s betrayal was what hurt the most. Although it was painful to go through, Cathy expected guys to behave the way in which Fib did. But she never expected that a so-called friend would deceive her in such a hurtful way. The boy, she could get over. However, she’d have to see Nadine every day, continuously reminding her of the fact that two people getting together had made her feel so small, so worthless and so insignificant.

friends_betrayal2About a month later, Cathy was preparing to leave the office when Nadine approached her desk. “So, I’m leaving now,” Nadine said. Those were the first words she had spoken to Cathy since the incident. Cathy didn’t know how to respond. Why was she telling her this? Nadine then exhaled and said, “I am so sorry about what I did to you.” Before Cathy could respond, Nadine continued, “Marco dumped me.” As much as she realized how this was a victorious moment for her, Cathy could see that Nadine was suffering. Perhaps against her better judgement, she offered to accompany Nadine on her train ride home. On the train, Nadine explained how her caring for Fib made him feel like she was treating him like a child. He told her that he wanted a girlfriend, not a mother and he broke up with her. Strange as it was, Cathy no longer felt angry about the whole situation. Fib was a jerk. She understood that it was nothing personal. She was no longer angry with Nadine. Nadine was suffering and Cathy didn’t feel the need- nor the desire- to rub it in. Cathy was eventually able to get over the whole ordeal and surprisingly, she forgave Nadine. She never considered Nadine a friend anymore but she was friendly with her until Nadine left the job. But the whole experience did teach Cathy a few important lessons. Work colleagues are not real friends- at least hers weren’t. And she learned that she should always trust her first instincts.

Image from

Fat Idiot Bastard, Part 1

IMG_3116Though they were work colleagues, Cathy and “Nadine” seemed get along terrifically well. So when Cathy invited Nadine and a few other female colleagues to a girls’ night out, she wasn’t entirely disappointed that Nadine was the only one who accepted the invitation.

When Cathy met up with her that night for the party, Nadine stated that a close male friend of hers was coming along as well.  His name was “Marco” and he was a rather heavy, young white guy who wasn’t particularly attractive but not ugly in any way. Though Cathy realized the dynamic had now changed from a night out with the girls to a night out with a friend and her friend, Cathy decided she was going to make the best of it.

When they arrived at the party, there was noticeably so many more girls than guys that they all decided to go someplace else where both genders were equally represented. And they did find such a place. And they danced and laughed and drank and danced some more. Even though the night turned out so differently from what she had first planned, Cathy was having a great time. When Marco took a break to go to the rest room leaving Nadine and Cathy alone, Nadine told Cathy that Marco really liked her. “Really?” Cathy replied in disbelief. She hadn’t even thought of him that way. He was chubby and Cathy had never felt herself attracted to chubby guys. He was white and Cathy had never dated a white guy before. When he came back from the rest room, Cathy, feeling a bit awkward, pretended she had not learned about his feelings. However, now it seemed to her that he was flirting with her. Had he been flirting with her the whole night and she had not seen it because she was unaware of it at the time? The night continued and so did their dancing and laughter and drinking. The more they drank, the more Marco opened up to Cathy. “You’re so hot!” he kept telling her. This was all so unexpected but now Cathy started looking at him differently. He is kind of cute, Cathy thought. The more he told her how much he liked her, the more she liked him too.

By the end of the night, they were at their third venue and Cathy opened up, allowing this young man to hold her hands, hug her, keep his arm around her as if they were very much a couple. Their third venue was at a really cool jazz club where they listened to loud rhythmic music that controlled the beating of her heart. And she felt thrilled and confused and cautious all at the same time. She only knew this young man’s name and that he was close friends with Nadine. In fact, during their frequent lunches together at the office, Cathy was now recalling that Nadine had mentioned this guy to her- a boy she was close to and even had sexual relations with. Now they were just close friends. Hmmm. Awkward? Perhaps. But Nadine made it clear that she was completely okay with Cathy seeing Marco if that’s what she wanted. So Cathy decided to go for it. Why not? So what he was a little chubby? Big deal. He was still a nice guy. So what he was white and she’d never dated a white guy before? Maybe he’d be her first white guy. And he was.

The next few weeks, Cathy did date Marco. They went to dinner together. He held her purse for her. He walked on the outer part of the sidewalk to protect her from the possible dangers of the cars on the street. He held doors open for her. They laughed together and Cathy truly enjoyed his company. She was falling for him! But as much as she liked him, she didn’t have the heart to introduce him to her close friends. She went out with her close friends frequently and wanted images7Marco to join them eventually. However two things held her back. Her friends were all fellow students from her karate school- which meant they were all fit. Yes, as shallow as it may sound, she was afraid of what her fit friends would say about this chubby guy. It wasn’t fair to her friends because she was assuming they would be as shallow as she was. But she couldn’t help the fact that his size was a problem for her. Also, it truly bothered her that this guy that she liked was white. Every time they went out, she felt like people were staring. She felt that other African Americans might be looking at her, perhaps in disgust. She felt ashamed, felt as if she was turning her back on the black brothers. She felt like she was denying her own people and that was such a powerful feeling for her. So powerful that she told none of her friends, except her sister, of course, that the guy she was currently dating was a white guy. She considered just leaving Marco alone but she had to admit to herself that she truly did like him, despite his complexion and despite his extra pounds. In fact, Marco had suggested that if his weight bothered her so much, he would start going to the gym. After a lengthy conversation with Nadine in the ladies’ restroom at work, Cathy was finally convinced that she needed to get over all her issues and just enjoy the guy who seemed to like her so much. She knew what she had to do…

Will Cathy give Marco a chance? Will she introduce him to her friends? How will the title of this post connect to what seems like a promising relationship?

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of Cathy’s dilemma.