Not all of us are lucky enough to have an amazing love affair like Allie’s. I didn’t even date in high school. I got stood up for Junior Prom and tried to talk my best guy friend into going with me senior year to avoid that same embarrassment, and he refused because he wasn’t going as protest or some such nonsense.
Thus I went stag.
I spent $25 on my dress, but nearly $100 on the corset that went underneath, so you better believe I showed it off to my girlfriends any time we went to the bathroom!
17 years later, I still love that outfit.
And I did my nails using Crackle polish. Anyone else remember that? Made your fingernails look like peeling lizard skin, but oh we thought it was cool! I put blue underneath with a greenish/gold iridescent crackle polish over the top.
And that little lunchbox purse… I kept that for years afterwards!
Those are the types of memories I have.
- I remember the outfits.
- I remember the nail polish.
- I remember the crushes.
- I remember (although only vaguely) the parties.
I even remember when OJ Simpson was found not guilty, and the way Dallas Hall (my biggest crush at the time) grabbed me by the shoulders in the hallway to ask if I’d heard. I said it wrong and he corrected me and I felt like an idiot, but was just happy that he’d touched me.
He was (and probably still is) very handsome! Intelligent, but slightly (ok, very) rebellious. He was one of the reasons I got into theater.
Unlike Allie’s tale, nothing ever became of it. There was no torrid love affair, and certainly no happily ever after. Though you better believe I had fantasies!
I’ve yet to have my torrid love affair.
Well, I’ve had love affairs, torrid and otherwise, but I’ve yet to have one that lasted for any length of time.
There’s the Boy, but according to him we only dated for a few weeks. I thought we were at least attempting to date for quite a while longer than that, and that there was more than one occasion where he had opened the door for the dating to happen again.
Turns out I was very wrong.
And, if I’d ever had a healthy relationship, I’d have realized that the way in which he treated me wasn’t worth all the fuss. The sex may have been good, but it wasn’t good enough for the trouble it took to get it. He was handsome, but I’ve dated sexier guys, so it wasn’t the looks. He made good money, but I’m really not a gold digger, or I wouldn’t still be talking to the Bartender.
It was the fear of being alone.
Here was a man who had originally given me the impression that he accepted me as I was; he fulfilled that craving Tabitha spoke of, the need to be loved as we are.
I know now that was all just a lie, a ruse on his part. Or perhaps he thought he did like me as I was, but he didn’t really take the time to get to know me.
And unfortunately, that’s what I’m used to.
I’m used to rushing into things because someone makes me feel like they accept me for who I am, when it’s still just the Infatuation stage, only to be let down and often abandoned when that begins to wear off.
I’ve said it before: Men, especially men in Texas, are looking for just one thing, and whether or not they get it, they treat a girl differently afterwards. Somehow any attempt on the lady’s part to see a man after the discussion of sex has entered into the conversation leads to them thinking she is trying to trap them into a relationship. Or she’s being a tease…which, admittedly, I have been guilty of before. But only when I want the man to take over and ravage me!
Being intelligent and female leads to being alone.
I’ve spent a lot of time being alone. I’m sick to death of it!
So, since the whole world knows about my situation with the Bartender now, maybe you can understand why I’d be willing to put up with a less than perfect situation at the moment.
The Bartender gives me all the benefits of a boyfriend and a best friend. He tells me how amazing I am, how perfect I am, how much he adores and loves me, but, because there’s no future for us (in his estimation) when I talk to guys on Tinder, he gives me pointers.
I’m beginning to think he’s getting more frustrated with them than I am!
He told me I needed to get out of Texas. My problem was that I was in a place where men expected me to be dumb.
He’s not wrong. Well, not entirely. He’s wrong for thinking it is just Texan men!
Let me explain…
So, in case you weren’t paying attention, I am back on Tinder…
And the very first day I was on, this absolutely gorgeous hunk of a man who said he was a writer matched with me. I swiped right not because he was hot, although he was definitely that (Even the Bartender went “Whoa, Angel, you have to give this one a shot!”), but because he posted some of his prose on his profile, and it was evocative, sensual, well written.
It was a good trick to lure in the intellectuals.
I mentioned him briefly already.
The long of the short of it is this: he decided I needed to send him naked pictures, I said no, he asked if I’d make an exception for him, I asked him what he wanted because I wanted to make sure we were on the same page, he accused me of playing games, and then insisted I send him a pic. When I said no, he thanked me for leading him on, telling me that he felt like he’d gotten all dressed up for nothing and was now alone on the dance floor.
While an interesting metaphor, it is decidedly backwards since he was trying to get me naked, and it backfired. I apologized for leading him on because it was not my intent, but that I was afraid I needed more intellectual stimulation than he could provide so we were obviously not a good match. And I wished him happy hunting, and then blocked him and added his number to my Spam list so I would never have to see or hear from him EVER again.
And since then there have been at least 2 more men who have equally thought that sex was the only thing that I could offer them. And neither of them are native Texans. Hell, they aren’t even American born citizens!
The first was another Colombian (remember, the Bartender is Colombian), although this one was from Bogota. I couldn’t tell from his pictures what it was that he did exactly, but it seemed artistic, and I told him so. He thanked me for actually looking at the pics. I told him I wasn’t the usual Tinder girl; I was looking for someone who was smart enough to have a conversation. He smiled, and then had a bit of a conversation with me before he asked if I was looking for a relationship. When I told him that yes that was the goal, but that I knew one had to work up to that, he sent a frowny face and then proceeded to explain to me how he didn’t want anything serious…
And then he tried to get me to come over and join him for his shower…
The second one was from France. He was/is attractive, but his pics weren’t very helpful. He was pretty far away in most of them.
To be honest, I couldn’t remember why I’d swiped right, but as things were going not great with the guy from Bogota, I thought I’d see what he had to say.
But then he asked me what type of man I liked? And when I told him an intellectual… his response wasn’t exactly in line with what I was looking for.
He seemed to be struggling with English, but my French is so rusty I didn’t want to try my luck. So automatically I gave him a little bit of a pass due to the language barrier.
Seemed sporting of me… at first.
I am not sure exactly what kind of freak he would have, but he basically talked me out of it all right there. Then I remembered the language barrier. This might have been my fault, he probably didn’t know what sapiosexual meant…
Besides, the Bartender had said something at one point about it was Tinder after all and yes, most men are looking for sex, so I thought, let me try to move this conversation into a different direction. I told him I didn’t want to jump right into the sex talk, so to tell me about himself.
And after giving me exactly what was on his profile, he sent this:
I asked him why he thought that might be. I haven’t heard back from him…
So yes, the situation with the Bartender is not ideal, but I am so not ready to face the constant parade of this type of man on my own. I need the Bartender at the moment so that I don’t go jumping into something with the first fool who says something relatively nice to me. Being with him helps me to be pickier than I already am. Because right now, I need the strength of knowing that SOMEONE actually values me, and though he has a strange way of showing it, the Bartender actually does.
So thank you for your concern, I am taking precautions not to be hurt, but I need this man right now.
Let me put it to you another way, If I hadn’t had the Bartender for back up, I might very well have taken the risk and joined the guy from Bogota in his shower. And that’s not what I’m looking for.