Who Needs a Heart When a Heart Can Be… Ripped Out and Driven Over With Spikes While Singing the Macarena

So while visiting the family a month or so ago, everyone wanted to hear about the new guy. Of course I’m not really the type to go gushing about a guy except to close friends.  And some of my closest, well, I still haven’t discussed with them my Luke Wilson look-alike.  Not because I’m ashamed in any way. Dude is smart and hot and makes me giggle. But, I am a somewhat cautious person.

 

Especially when falling deeply and giving up those 3 special words. Ya know: I wuuuuubs you.

 

To me it’s funny that people were asking already. I mean, I know there’s love at first sight. I know some people have married after a couple of months whirlwind romance. Heck, I could have convinced myself when I was younger to just fall and let me land wherever.

 

But I’ve grown a little. And I don’t need any fresh scars. I try to learn from my mistakes.  So instead of just running with open arms into love, I’m trying to take it one day at a time. I’m not saying that I won’t let myself fall. It’s just that I won’t speed things up. I want to get to know this person I’m with inside and out. Build on that connection I felt when first meeting him. Not let our relationship be built on sex, but a combination of physical, mental, and emotional respect and honesty.

 

Those same people who seem perplexed that I’m not gushing in love are the same with many failed relationships and marriages. No offense to them, but I’m trying some different. I don’t want a whirlwind romance.  That’s the stuff of plays and novels. Romeo and Juliet frackin DIED for a so-called love at first sight.  No thank you, check please. I’ve had my meal at the restaurant of crazy.  How about I fall in lust first with his brain and personality. And then find comfort in the way he treats himself and me. The passion that’s brought up naturally between us.  Not hidden behind games or false faces. Not on anyone’s deadline.

 

I wrote all of that about a month ago. And then the other day I told him those words. And I got them said back to me.

 

I laugh at myself, but it came out naturally.

 

 

 

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Oh Crap, Am I Ready for This? A Guy that Actually Speaks My Language?

So I mentioned some posts ago about a Luke Wilson look-alike. And, we’ve been dating for about a month. He is all the things that I wanted “Sippy Cup” to be. Attractive, outgoing, but most importantly, able to have a conversation with me.

And when I say, able to have a conversation with ME, I mean this… I’m most likely an undiagnosed ADD person. If I didn’t schedule my life out day by day, hour by hour, I would be lost. Seriously, I always write out a list before I leave the house for more than one day. If I don’t, well, I’ve ended up on a trip without pajamas and a shower cap because I left them folded right on the bed. That’s what happens when I try to do that list in my head…

So back to conversations… friends and family have learned… my conversations are not linear. I know they say women have more than one conversation going on at once already, but times that by about 3 and you’ll see the way my brain works. Right now typing this I am watching TV, planning my grocery list in my head (which I will have to write down later or I’ll forget half of those things) texting LW-lookalike, thinking about working out in the morning, and working on a poem. In conversation, I switch randomly between subjects, in the middle of conversation. Most likely I have connected one or two conversations together and just start in the middle. The one person in my life that has been able to follow that train of thought was my best friend Florida. No male ever has, not when I’m actually going full throttle and not even trying to stay at one point.

LW-lookalike could.

I fell instantly in lust with his brain.

Any guy that can on the spur of the moment add the next line to an idea of a poem that I’m writing in my head makes DT5’s panties just… is it raining? Raining in my pants? The forecast didn’t say anything about that.

An intelligent mind can trump good looks any day.

And then, after only 2 dates and a couple of weeks of talking and getting to know each other, he wants serious.

My first thought? “Too good to be true.”
My second thought? “Squeeeeee!”
My third thought? “Crap I need to phone a friend. Because I have no idea on how to move forward with this, other than to say: let me think about it.”

So, I did phone a friend, who told me that things were moving kind of fast and maybe dude was too needy. And I needed to make sure I wasn’t going to jump in just because I wanted a relationship. After that I looked into the dating/relationship books I’ve been reading to see what they’ve said. All conflicting.

And I looked inside myself. Did I want to be with this dude because I wanted a relationship and didn’t care who it was with? Was I just getting horny and since it’s been some kinda looooong time since sex and was just ready for the first guy that was passable?

And…

No. I wanted the look-a-like because of his mental smexiness… I had a small fantasy of being able to talk with him, to trade back and forth entertaining conversations until I was old and grey and my giggles and bits were shriveled.

So… I agreed to the terms of this new membership of one on one dating.

I changed my status to the online dating sites to “Seeing Someone.”

Frack, I’m in a real relationship.

There’s no need to keep it secret like some guys I’ve dated in the past. We don’t work together, he’s not in the middle of a divorce, and I’m not ashamed. He’s smart, a great kisser, and tells me I’m beautiful every chance he gets. And how much he enjoys my brain. He watches anime, and knows to answer 42 when you ask the most important question the universe.

Frack me, frack me, frack me.

Um, yeah… I’d Rather You Had Herpes… and I May Be a Prude

I thought I was pretty open-minded when it comes to sexuality.

But nooooooope, I’m a prude when it comes to some things.

And that’s a very weird feeling for me…

I mean, in my past I’ve been pretty wild and freeloving. And even if it wasn’t something I wasn’t into, I would accept it of people I knew. Hey, as long as you weren’t raping or molesting (and by the way, animals can’t say no you weirdos) and everything was consensual, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

I must be getting old.

Because there’s a guy that knowing his situation makes it very hard for me to look him in the eye. And he makes my skin crawl.

Funny that I had a crush on him some months ago.

See, here’s the deal. I had one of those random attractions that I didn’t want and was doing my best to get rid of. You know how it is, some dude or dudette is not your type, you’d kind of feel ashamed if anyone knew and you just wanted the horror of your brain/attraction factor going wonky to STOP. There must have been pheromones involved. Because I finally broke it, but there was still a weird flutter. Until… The yuckiness factor.

Having a conversation one day with Mr. Not My Type led to him expressing that he was not single (still probably under the assumption that I was attracted, ugh). Instead, he (drunkenly) decided to tell me about his girlfriend. And her husband. And his girlfriend. And how they pretty much lived together.

I did what I do when I have no choice but to deal with a small child’s puke. Blank your mind DT5, this is NOT happening.

My inside face was like this. JUST LIKE THIS.

I managed to get out:

“Well, whatever floats your boat. If you’re happy, then good for you.” I am lying out of my bunghole!!!

He says “But it’s not. I’m ashamed, and want something better.” Dude, you just made my brain hurt on a day I was supposed to be enjoying myself.

See, here’s the deal. This is where my line is drawn and then underlined:

1. Call me old-fashioned but I believe in the sanctity of marriage.

2. “Love as thou will” is a philosophy that I live by. That means, as long as you’re not hurting yourself or others mentally/physically/emotionally. I got it from the book series Kushiel’s Dart. I have it tattooed on me. I live it.

And this guy is involved in something that hurts him. He says so. He is ashamed of his relationship. If they were all involved and saw nothing wrong, nothing to hide, then whoop-dee-frackin-doo. But they’re not. They are empty souls filling themselves with behaviors that excite the body, but do nothing for their hearts and spirits.

And I believe consensual caring sex to be one of the most spiritual acts you have. Yes, you heard me, good sex is right up there with getting the holy ghost. *Looks up* if I’m wrong, don’t worry, someone will correct me one day.

Anyways, I’m a prude. And I don’t want to know this information that dude friend has heaped upon me. And my crush was already gone though I still found him somewhat physically attractive. Now… Now it’s like if he came up to me and decided to mention to me that he has multiple STDs. He is the kind of guy I would touch with a ten foot pole. Even if I was drowning and that was the only way to save me. Even if there were sharks and crocodiles and clowns in that treacherous water. I’d just have to fight until my last breath.

I’m a Dating Alien… but not dating aliens

So I’ve been reading a lot, I mean A LOT of dating books. I tend to read the ones written by men, because seriously, another chick? She probably only THINKS she knows how men think. Just like the assumption I was under. I’ve realized after many of these books kept saying the same daggone thing, that I’ve been going about things 50% wrong. I wasn’t completely dense, but I was allowing my emotions to rule me.

Take the mistakes of the Sippy Cup situation (read here: http://wp.me/p2Jfjv-5p). That’s pretty much the last time I really wrote. And things went fine for a while. A very short while. But I made the mistake first of showing just how pretty Sippy Cup was to me. And then the second mistake was involving sensuality to early. Not to say that I went and had sex with him. But we started sexting pretty early on. Hey, my mind is in the gutter 24/7, and I tend to forget that not everyone lives there along with me. If they don’t, you just kind of come off as hard up and easy pickings apparently.

So he seemed to lose interest suddenly. And I made my 3rd mistake: asking about it. Doing the oh so girly lame “what did I doooooooo?” The “I really like yoooooou and I know I just met you but I’ve become an idiot and put all my eggs in one basket because you’re hot and funny.”

Slap yourself DT5. Slap yourself hard.

It wasn’t in those exactly, but I know I came off as a needy heffa, in texts no less. Sigh. Pffft. But you gotta move on. And I had to understand the basics of what I was doing wrong. I don’t want to play games, but I wanted to make sure I had clear in my mind when to put a chokehold on my impulse control and word vomit superpowers. With those great powers come great responsibility. And my responsibility is not to spit acid onto every possible relationship. Aw, look Ma, I’m learning!

I still feel somewhat of an alien though. Sippy Cup, although hot wasn’t what I wanted, he was the idea of what would be best for me. In reality… I’m always more turned on by the quirky underdog. The guy that may not be attractive in the general populace’s eyes. That’s when I’ve had the most fun, most comfortable relationships in the past. So no more being blinded by the num num men. Because as soon as the give me the confused dog look when I ask the meaning to “life, the universe, and everything” instead of just answering 42, I need to beat feet.

Impulse Control… Poetry

So the Sippy Cup (re: http://dimensionthe5th.com/2013/06/23/hes-awesome-wait-whats-wrong-with-him/ ) is already getting poetry written about him. Again, this can’t be good, and I’m waiting for bad things to happen. The poetry that came out of it isn’t so bad though 😛

“Impulse Control”

I should take it slow…
I know
As my body reacts differently
Heating at your touch
Melting at your voice
You tell me a song with your smile
And I’m already a puddle

Slow, slow
Even as I move to claim your lips
Your lust, your heart
Taking you inside of me in whatever way possible at this moment

Slowly, slowly
“Let’s not rush,” I whisper to myself
As I take in your scent
The vision of you
Becoming drunk off the fantasies
Pouring through my mind, my very spirit
All connected
My emotions want slow
As my body primes for Now
Impulse control shot to hell and back

It’s simple.
I want.
And I don’t want to wait.

Be the strength of us both, I beg
To slow things down
Slowly, slowly move towards
A heightened feeling of more
Before I take over
And plunge us both
Into an exploding moment of ecstasy

He’s Awesome! Wait…What’s Wrong With Him?

So, with the toe sucker weirdos and non-working white chocolate stalkers, I was bound to meet an actual good guy right? Well, during the time of weirdness I did. We will call him Ridiculously Handsome Guy, like that meme. Seriously. He’s one of those. It’s almost disgusting.

This… my ridiculously handsome dude is my area’s version of this… Evil.

I’m going to fall for it hook, line, and glurg-glurg-glurg. That was the sound of my drowning.

So, even with all the badness/madness I’d run into on the dating site, I was not giving up! Dear Lord there had to be someone decent up there, that didn’t worship roasted chickens, or cause a nuclear war. Someone that had a job, some normal beliefs/morals/values. That was geeky enough that they wouldn’t look at me like I was a bug to be pinned on the wall. AND dear baby Hay-soos, could they be a little close to my age and not old enough for me to say “Dada” in all seriousness?!

RHG popped up while I was looking through all my so-called matches.

And I drooled.

I mean, looks aren’t everything, and I honestly didn’t start drooling until I read through his wacky profile. Wacky and a combination of OMG good looks had me drooling like a 1-year-old holding my hand out for the sippy cup. “Want! Want! Want!” Was all I could say at the computer screen.

But I figured “he’s almost too perfect. He probably isn’t into the chocolaty-ness. AND he calls female smokers dragonlady.” My adventurous drooly baby inside of me said “frack that, gimme that sippy cup!”… I should call him Sippy Cup. Yup, I like that more than Ridiculously Handsome Guy.

So, I listen to my inner toddler and emailed Sippy Cup. I let him know up front that I was a smoker, but other than that I loved his profile. Shortly afterwards I get a surprising reply of his interest, at least to be friendly and get to know each other.

So we did, and I can’t find anything wrong with him, other than him being extremely handsome. He’s gotta have warts somewhere, or a serial killer. Maybe his wholesome personality is a cover for wearing women’s clothes and skinning women at night. There has to be something wrong for him to find me attractive and not have any issues that I can automatically see or find out. It just does NOT happen with me.

So I gotta keep an eye out for the crazy to rear its ugly head. I will not be comfortable until I find it. This dude has to be Dexter-ish, or my names not dimensionthe5th.

This isn’t over. My adventures with Sippy Cup and online dating will continue. Hopefully.

Yes, Even My Toes Are Monogamous

Sooo, the date that I had a couple of weeks or so ago.

You know life was too normal to be right, that it went well, AND the dude didn’t irritate me, right?

Uh huh… This is the face of hope hanging on by a thread.

Well.

Everything with date itself was actually pretty great. A lame action movie, some hand-holding, some long gazing to rival Spock and Kirk in the newest Star Trek movie. The dude didn’t say anything too weird (except for some hints of a foot fetish), or have any real weirdness to him. A hug and kiss I was not prepared for/expecting by the end of the night, that actually gave me a light giggly bits flutter.

Too good to be frackin true.

So, Faceybook is the devil Bobby. And as usual, it slapped me with some shittake I wasn’t expecting. I’m a-scrolling, FB porchsitting, you know. Watching as life happens internetically (oooh, I like my new word). And I see Mr. GuyDude himself, with, *gasp* another chick on his new profile status saying “In a Relationship”.

That would be my heart if I had actually cared…

That chick was not me. And to add to this dude is sending me texts about another date, possible foot massages, all that shittake mushroom. And I say of course at this moment “Well, GuyDude, how do you plan to do this with a GIRLFRIEND?!” He first says he doesn’t have a girlfriend. So who the frack am I looking at then?

In GuyDude’s version of life: his ex who is suicidal and has tried to kill herself 3 times after he broke up. And since they were friends and still friends, he thought it would help if he just pretended to still be with her.

O_o

Everyone, please be on the lookout for a Truck of Stupid I apparently fell off of. It’s dangerous. Shoddy brakes.

What I imagine a truck of stupid looks like. Probably filled with Nazis. And clowns.

Of course I replied with wide-eyed innocence “oh poor girl, poo poo,” and some other such nonsense. And then dropped: but I don’t get involved with guys that are already involved. Period. End sentence. End thought.

Even my footsies are off-limits.

So, there’s that. And so I went back to online fishing and caught myself… A stalker. Shoot, dagnabbit!

I should have known that it was a bad idea to even entertain someone that would call themselves White Chocolate.

It’s like a softer version of Pretty Fly for a White Guy.

Exactly. Shame.

So this dude tells me his life story in like 3 messages. But I ignore the eagerness (or THIRST if I’m using new kids slang-crap that makes sound old) and give the dude my personal contact information. He then proceeds in a 24 hour period to contact me almost every hour. And not just a text, oh no. Each time I get a phone call (which I asked him NOT to do at that time), a voicemail, a text, and then an email on the dating website.

Are we for serious here?

This goes on all night, and then all the next day while I’m at work. I send him a text saying I will contact him after work, hoping that will back him off a bit, but he KEEPS sending messages! When I get home I finally call him to tell him just how much I am irritated by his utter rudeness and clingy-ness.

He doesn’t get it.

I ask him if that’s worked for him in the past with chicks, since it obviously hasn’t if he’s on a dating website (yes, kinda hypocritical since I’m on the same site, but dangit I’m pissed).

And I thought he finally got it, that any interest that I had was gone, especially after blocking him on the dating site… That was about a week or so ago. Today I had sent a nasty message to tell him to stop messaging me “Good Morning Sweetheart. I hope you have a beautiful day.” I would have a frackin beautiful day if he would stop calling me pet names like we’re that familiar with each other, and if he’d just go away!!!

The icing on the cake? He had the nerve to say I should have said something in the beginning, and called me fake.

The sprinkles on top of the icing of this bad moldy cake? I check his profile before I block him… This ahole doesn’t have a job.

-_-

Gots to be more careful looking at these profiles. And my Facebook friends.

Sheesh.