“A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn no other way.”
It’s a matter of time. It really is.
It’s inevitable that someone is going to come at me for these tales of promiscuous online behavior. Wouldn’t be all that surprised if “GreenEyedSusan420” was waiting for me outside my office with an expandable baton…
It’s inevitable that ladies, and maybe even some sensitive dudes will call me either malevolent or sanctimonious or both for sharing these innocuous tales.
Like those big words? Trying to not say fuck so much. Got this app that teaches me big words to make my vocabulary bigger. It’s great.
Truculence means the tendency to fight.
When the boss confronted Aaron about his earlier remarks, Aaron responded with utter truculence, simply throwing a glass of water in the boss’ face and walking away,
Or if the “love interest” of this adventure and/or her friends just so happens to stumble across this post and deducted this is about her and I, well:
People from the birthplace of the U.S. Navy responded with utter truculence, simply holding Keith (that’s me) down and tweezering every hair out of his 50% Italian body and walking away satisfied…
“So, how did you meet?”
You ever see a couple truly in the most authentic form of love respond to this question?
Don’t get me wrong, I have friends that I used to drink beer balls of Bud with that would laugh and call these moments “gay”, “pathetic”, “whipped”, and of course, “aesthetic”…
Can that be used there? This app is most certainly going to cause this “Tourettes” like behavior. Except, instead of spewing out vulgarities, I will be blurting out 6 syllable words that I have no goddamn clue what they mean.
Anyway, the aforementioned couple, they gaze into each others eyes, almost as if they are portals into their past. Suddenly this almost out of body like moment happens, where they hover above their younger selves when they first crossed paths.
The smile they share is the definition of love.
Unless of course they met online and you hear:
“The grocery store.”
You will notice how they don’t even look at each other prior to. They only look dead into your eyes trying to convince you, as they are also trying to convince themselves, that this is the truth.
It may not be the case for all. But when I recall this young lady, this if the first thing I think of.
To backtrack, at this moment in time, I had just moved out of my house, and all the paperwork had been filed for the divorce.
There were a couple failed dates between the time I met the most recent lady on a site called OkCupid.
No, it’s so much worse than it sounds, and it sounds pretty fucking awful.
Folks, this quite perplexing to describe. Not because I’m having difficulty articulating the story. If you think that is the case, then just go.
I hurt this girl. I hurt her. Not like beat her. I mean, if you think that is the case, then just go.
This is the ugly part of dating. All the other stuff is shit. It’s a distraction. It’s part of the process that is discovery.
This is the unpredictable nature of human behavior. This is not knowing how you will respond to the situation until you are smack dab in the eye of it.
This is expecting one thing, and not only experiencing, but feeling to your core, the antithesis of it.
“You know who?”
You really want to know why people keep coming back to online dating, even though they continue to be subjected some of the worst that humanity has to offer?
Because there is a rush. A high. Not like sucking on a can of Reddi-Whip…But seriously, when you meet someone whose look you dig-and to tell you the truth, there is something painfully attractive about the above, kidding (not kidding)-when you meet someone who you think, “I’d like to know what they smell like”…
Well folks, it’s kind of exhilarating.
And while you’re in the middle of a divorce, it’s also quite refreshing. Looking back, I should have had a Fresca instead. Zero calories, delicious, and thirst quenching. So much better than dropping $80 on dinner with some gal you wouldn’t let your dead great grandmother meet. What do you do? You go home, see that some other woman you wouldn’t introduce to your other dead great grandmother just “winked” at you. Imagine her being perfect while you whack off into the work sock that has a hole it the toe…
This one didn’t go like that.
When you first meet someone that has an equal amount of interest, the emails are flying. Some are a few paragraphs, and unfortunately, some are, “lol”.
Now here is the thing, have you noticed that I have this innate ability to say quite a bit in a limited amount of time? I can write a paragraph in seconds. Imagine me now excited about meeting someone attractive that I may have the opportunity to insert myself into.
I become a goddamn stenographer shotgunning Red Bull.
And what do I get back?
She can’t even capitalize the l. Which clearly would indicate a good laugh. A loud laugh. An actual fucking laugh.
She may even be jovial.
And no, there isn’t a chance as to what I wrote wasn’t funny. Hence the lower case l. I’m really friggen funny. You know it, I know it, and you can be sure as shit “lol” knows it too!
Nonetheless, there were a significant amount of emails. There is no set amount of emails a couple must exceed to exchange phone numbers, but we got to that point rather quickly.
Reason being…She knew someone…
For those that don’t know who that pulchritudinous lady is or the cute as fuck boy laying one on her…please just go.
And for those of you that may have noticed…yes, for every time I say fuck, I will use a grandiose word.
Next will be goddamn, just no fucking, unequivocal way is that happening today though.
So anyway, ya, she knew my ma. Which assured that this was going to end quite well…
If you’ve been following along with me, or am new to this, you know I retired from drinking and drugging some time ago. Since then, I’ve had many of a night with a lady that has had anywhere from a glass of wine to being completely muckled after killing a box of Blush flavored Franzia.
Don’t judge me.
This lass had a tolerance though. I’m not saying this led to what you can imagine it led to, but it undoubtedly assisted. The main culprit though, my insatiable thirst for feeling desired. If you’ve been on the receiving end of a divorce, your empathy is infinite.
Nonetheless, that wasn’t an excuse.
For you see, afterward, even with the only light being the twilight coming from the bedroom window, you could see my mind was gone. For you see, I do not possess a “poker face”.
I’ve only been married once. So, to assume this is true for all would simply be conjecture and/or speculation; however, I’m going to throw the spaghetti against the wall and see if it sticks, sex with your husband or wife has to be pretty fucking good to marry them.
So, with that being said, the first person you enter other than your estranged wife, especially if you are the aforementioned recipient of divorce papers, doesn’t stand a goddamn chance.
And I was shortly told to:
The day and days that followed were a tipping point. Within only a few short months, my psyche, my heart, and my soul had all been through war twice. Both totally opposite in nature, yet the outcome was the same; I was eviscerated.
And here is the rub, the latter was worse than the former.
Yes, this was worse than my divorce.
Why? I didn’t hurt anyone in my divorce. I was the lone casualty. Well, I think Clover was pretty torn up too, but a can of wet food later and he’s probably good.
Whereas in the case of this latest online encounter, there were civilian casualties.
And her only mistake, her only mistake was finding me arrestingly handsome.
And if you’re reading this…
I hope you take this as the longest winded letter of apology in the history of long winds and apologies.
I have since atoned for my sins and I promise you that.
And I don’t know if you found me to be “arrestingly handsome” but…
Because despite volume 1 and volume 2 being the definitions of stupidity and self-destruction…
I was about to experience first-hand the opposite end of a date with me…