The Saga Continues on the “Days of My Life”
Ready for this one? Cue dramatic theme song…dun dun dun. Cue announcer, “And these are the days of our lives after divorce”.
Last week I told how the boy from Brooklyn was “my favorite”. He was sweet and kind and so fun that I couldn’t wait for out next date! Remember that? Well, apparently, I was mistaken.
We went on our second date last night and we decided to go bowling and have a bite to eat afterwards. We were having a great time and great conversation and I’m looking at him thinking, “he’s so cute, I don’t even care about the fact that he’s stuttering when he talks.” He told me about the story of how his mom worked in the World Trade Center and how she narrowly escaped dying in the tragedy on 9/11 because her shift didn’t start until later that afternoon, only to die one month later of a stroke. I was feeling so much compassion for this sweet man who everyday messages me “Good morning my sweet, I hope you have a beautiful day!” Cute, right? Just wait…the plot thickens.
So the date is ending and I had parked my car at his house. Normally, I would never meet a guy at his house, but he is “so sweet” that I know I can trust him to be a gentleman. That was my first mistake. We were saying goodnight at my car and I asked to use his bathroom before I headed home, since I had an hour-long drive back. He shows me to the bathroom and I’m thinking this guy’s house is way cleaner than mine…I really have to do some spring cleaning.
I go to the back door where he has an enclosed porch and we start kissing goodnight and I’m thinking, “I gotta get out of here before I do something I regret”. He was an amazing kisser and I haven’t been intimate with anyone for almost a year and my hormones are like that of an 18-year-old boy!
All of a sudden, I see a car pull up in the driveway behind mine and then someone starts pounding on the front door and frantically ringing the doorbell. I look at him and said, “who the hell is that?!”. His eyes widen and he escorts me into the kitchen and tells me, “It, it, it’s no no no one–wah wha wait here” and proceeds to disappear. I’m standing there, thinking “what the hell is going on?” and suddenly one of my favorite R&B songs by “Joe” comes to mind. “I can tell your lying because when you’re implying…you stutter, st-st-stutter”. (Great song…look it up). The banging continues the doorbell is going off and this dude is hiding upstairs!
I feel like I’m in a bad soap opera and I’m about to have my tires slashed by some crazy bitch that thinks I’m taking her man!! Now my blood is boiling and I can feel Terequa is coming out. (Terequa is the name my friends call me when my alter ego comes out—and she has a BIG attitude!) I go to look for this dude and he whispers to have me come upstairs. “Hell no!!! I’m not coming upstairs!! I want to get the hell out of here!” I yelled. He comes down stairs, trying to explain that this is his ex-girlfriend that he’s been trying to get rid of for months. I proceed to cuss him out, telling him that I don’t put up with this nonsense and I’m too old for this high school shit! “Now get her to move her car, so I can get the hell out of here and NEVER see you again!!! He’s talking calmly (which is driving me crazy) trying to explain that he understands why I’m upset and he just wants to wait it out until she leaves, so that there is no trouble.
I’m just holding my head, “are you kidding me?”. “I can’t believe you dragged me into this craziness—I thought you were a nice guy?!” I said. He pleaded with me, saying, “I am a nice guy, I didn’t know she was crazy until it was too late and now she’s stalking me.” He apologized profusely and said he really wants to be with me, meanwhile this crazy bitch is still banging on the door! I stood there shaking my head, feeling like I was in a bad dream because this certainly couldn’t be happening to me at 43 years old! I mean… really…who does that? Stupid women…that’s who!
Finally, crazy lady pulls out of the driveway and I slam the door behind me and run to my car and got the hell out of Brooklyn! I guess another one bites the dust! BYE!
I’m driving home and I’m furious and upset that I didn’t see this coming. How could I be this stupid? How could I be so wrong about someone? He was supposed to be the “nice” one! Are all men lying dirt bags? If not, why do I seem to attract all the dirt bags? Well, guess it serves me right, being on Tinder– dummy! After I calmed down and laughed it off by listening to his new theme song “Stutter” on the way home, I realized that he isn’t worth the energy and I can’t give up now. On to the next!
Which brings me to my next date this weekend with “The British Actor”. He’s tall, handsome and dreams of being an actor/professional photographer. Sooo, he doesn’t have a lot of money and still lives with roommates at 45 years old–I can appreciate someone going for their dreams. (I guess.)
We talked on the phone the other night for over 5 hours. He was fascinating and his accent was really sexy! He seems a little eccentric, but he’s extremely intuitive. He psychoanalyzed me to a tee (which is usually what I do, so I think I’ve met my match). I wouldn’t see him as a serious boyfriend, but definitely someone I would love to have deep intellectual conversations with. Maybe I need to just find a good lover that intrigues me like Elizabeth Gilbert in “Eat, Pray, Love”. Maybe I need to just learn to enjoy someone’s company and stop looking for “Mr. Right” and settle for “Mr. Right Now”.
I tend to prefer “serial monogamy” but why not be open to exploring, until my soulmate comes along? I’m actual enjoying it and ironically I was actually relieved when Brooklyn screwed up, because I didn’t want to stop dating other people and learning more about them. Coach and Mr. Prep School still want to see me and they weren’t so bad…why not!? The only problem is that all these men expect to have sex with you after only a few dates so, I’m going to have to be careful about rotating them and recycle them after the third date, otherwise they get a little too handsy. 😉 As my good friend says, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game”. I told her I wasn’t use to being the captain of the team and calling all the shots, so now she calls me “Cappy”. LOL! I kind of like it. 😉
All I can say is it’s a jungle out there and its survival of the fittest! Hopefully I can tame one of these wild beasts and find my true love one day in Bali…there’s always hope! Wish me luck and pray that I don’t get killed by a crazy ex-girlfriend! :p
With Faith, Hope and Love
~Teresa
