Jon and the Tale of the Tiny Slippers

Well day three of being miserable with my cold. I dragged myself to work and I know that I must clearly sound and look terrible because everyone was avoiding me. As they should. It was nice actually, I got a lot work done, well as much as my fuzzy, stuffed up head allowed.

I am at that sick and whiny point where I really just want someone to bring me juice, tell me to go bed and force me to eat some well seasoned, palate pleasing soup. This would be the cue for most people's mother. My mother makes great chicken soup and I think I could convince her at this point to make it for me. BUT my mom happens to be in Vegas.

This has, however, put me in the right frame of mind to talk about Jon. What struck me about Jon's profile the most was his picture. He had the best smile in his picture. Full on, big, giant, toothy grin. He looked happy. He was really cute and honestly, that combined with the down earth sounding profile certainly sounded like he would be a nice date. HOWEVER...when we met it was very clear from the start that the photograph was taken AWHILE ago.

Jon was probably about 50 pounds heavier than his picture. Seriously. Come on. At some point you have to meet the girl who will clearly see that you have gained some weight since then. Not just a few pounds but a significant amount of weight. I am sure that he immediately saw the surprise on my face, but I smiled through it and wasn't sure what to say. It was the only picture he had posted and clearly he didn't look much like that guy anymore. He did have that same great smile though and he was cute. Normally I would have had no problem dating him the way he looked at that present moment, but the bait and switch thing...kinda bugged me.

We small talked for a bit and as the ice broke I finally confronted him about the picture. He mentioned that his mother thought it was nice picture of him. (Mother being the key word and the foreshadowing part of this story.) He also stated he had been working really hard to lose weight to get back to the guy that was in that picture. He genuinely apologized and I pointed out that he was great looking and that it doesn't do him any justice to post a picture like that. Honestly my heart went out to him and we ended going out for a few weeks after I got to know him a bit more on the date.

According to Jon he owned a great home, had a slew of man toys and seemed to have a pretty comfortable life. That is why I was so surprised when I would talk to him to hear that he was staying at his mother's house for the night. It happened. A lot. I even remember saying to him, "Again? Do you ever stay at your own place?" He would just laugh it off.

A few weeks later I went over to his place for the first time. We got take-out and watched a movie. I walked in and could not believe how clean his house was. Like, freakishly clean. Sparkly white, shiny, clean. Clean..clean. Really clean. He immediately asked me to take off my shoes (I guess that's a clean trick) and when I did I noticed a small pair of girl's slippers. I inquired about the slippers and he said, "Oh those are my mom's." She clearly had very tiny feet.

As I walked through his uber clean home, I noticed that he had a house that looked as though Laura Ashley had decorated it. Not exactly the bachelor pad I was expecting. There were fake flowers everywhere. We brought the food in and I asked about what we should drink. He pointed me to the fridge and I opened it and saw a huge stack of Tupperware. In fact, besides Diet Coke, that is ALL that was all that was in the fridge. The man didn't even have hot sauce. On each Tupperware container was a piece of masking tape, with the day of the week and a label that said, breakfast, lunch or dinner. (Oh my.) I grabbed a diet coke and he explained that his mother always made his food for him. (Oh dear.)

After dinner he gave me a tour of the rest of the house and I noticed in almost every major room was a tiny pair of slippers. He showed me his boat, which required us to walk through the laundry room. There stacked on the dryer was beautifully folded clothing, thanks once again to mom. Although really? Why not put it away at this point Jon's Mom? You labeled the Tupperware, but you didn't put away the laundry?! SOMEONE was clearly slacking, while shuffling around in her tiny slippers.

The tour had all but ended, when we passed by another room with the door open. At this point, I had seen all I needed to see, but I really didn't expect this last room. He almost walked by it, which I guess shows some manly pride, but the door was open and I flipped on the light. (It was a tour right?!)

Oh...the Laura Ashley explosion in front of me. Laura Ashley bed. Laura Ashley curtains, fake flowers and tiny slippers right by the entrance. He informed me...it was his mother's room. <Insert "Whaaaaaaaaaat?!" facial expression here> I looked at him and said, "Buuuuuuut.... doesn't your mom live in Clackamas with your Dad?" (aka...the suburb right next to you?!) He nonchalantly replied, "Yeah...but when I don't stay with them, sometimes she stays with me."

I am guessing that if Jon had the cold that I have now, his mother would be there, with her tiny slippers, telling him to get to bed and to eat some soup, from the labeled Tupperware that she had prepared for him.

I broke up with him that night.

The *facepalm* moment

This scene from Swingers is so classic and completely relatable. (Sigh.) So relatable. Oh and please don't get me wrong...Mikey would be ME when I am talking about being relatable. A moment like this is what I like to call a *facepalm* moment. I have been having a few of these lately.

Mikey...I know you aren't crazy.

Fair warning there is one very appropriate f-bomb.

(I have to watch this movie again. It's so money.)

Valentine's Day and JewPac

Oh my goodness what a gorgeous weekend we had here in Portland. Poppy and I headed out for an urban hike yesterday. Out and about, splattered everywhere are hearts, XOs, cupids and a huge amount of pink and red. Valentine's Day is coming upon us very quickly. Now unlike what I imagine you might be thinking about a single gal, I actually do NOT hate Valentine's Day. In fact, I find it rather charming. It might have something to do with my birthday being so close to the holiday. I grew up with birthday parties filled with hearts, reds and pinks, and the ultimate combination of those things, pink frosted cupcakes with red juju hearts. I also like the thought that there is a holiday that reminds you to say I love you. I think the overpriced flowers, expensive dinners and cheesy Hallmark cards are a bit annoying, but I do think the cheap bouquet of flowers from Trader Joe's, the homemade romantic dinner and the love note are pretty sweet. I also think that the Valentine's sent to nieces and nephews, the pink cupcakes with juju hearts for co-workers and the cheap flowers from Trader Joes of pink and red carnations for the dining room are pretty great too.

On that romantic note I am going to attempt transition to perhaps the most epically bad date I have ever had. Jewpac. Now...you should know that I thought long and hard on how much of this date I wanted to admit to you. There were a lot of moments that were really, really, stupid on my part. I was talking to my friend about the upcoming post. This friend knows the Jewpac story well and asked if I was just going to focus on him or if I was going to admit my crazy parts too. Okay...yes, best to be truthful. So, you will get the un-embellished, full (ish) story.

This date happened the night before Thanksgiving. I was still very new to the online dating scene and really had only been on a few dates, including Dr. Bob. Dave, aka Jewpac, had the wittiest online profile I had ever come across. It was so funny and well written. A little strange but it was really refreshing. He was clearly a writer and seemed like an interesting and fun person. He was 40, no kids, never been married, and seemed to be the change I was craving from the polo wearing, Intel boys I had been dating without any sparks. I had noticed in many of his pictures he wore a bandanna on his head like Tupac, but he was always outdoors in outdoorsy situations or working on cars when he had one on in the picture, so I didn't really think anything of it. Plus he was clearly quirky. I just went with it.

We chatted on the phone once before the date and he completely charmed me by being a little strange, jumping around in conversation and making cute comments about what he was learning about me. (shhh...I know...you will start to see all the little signs that I didn't catch at first. Trust me I know. I know.) He wanted to go out right away and we made a date to meet at a pub, the next night.

I got all dolled up and got to the pub before he did. He walked in wearing what was clearly a vintage seventies navy suit, I think possibly polyester, or some blend of plastics. He had his fingernails painted and was wearing the bandanna in the style of Tupac. Now, I don't necessarily have any issues with any of those things. The combination was interesting though. We hugged and he asked where we wanted to sit. I pointed to a booth in the middle of the restaurant and he turned and pointed to an empty section instead. We went over to the empty section, grabbed a booth, and sat down. We ordered a couple drinks and some stuff to munch on. He was, at that time, explaining to me that he ALWAYS wears the bandanna and that he calls it his Jewpac, because he was Jewish and well...you get it. I remember looking at him going, "All the time?" and he replied, "ALL the time." As the food was placed on the table, he got up and then slid up next to me on my side of the booth. I laughed, a little surprised but he just explained he wanted to smell me. (I know.) But I do have a really nice perfume (TokyoMilk) and in my head that made total sense. I would want to sit next to me. 

So there we were sitting side by side, eating, drinking and actually laughing a lot. I was in the middle of a story when I got distracted by the fact that he was looking down in his lap. I then noticed that MY purse was in his lap. I immediately was like, "ummmm...whatcha doing?" as I slowly reached for my purse. He showed me my camera and explained he was going through my pictures. At that point I had one hand on my purse and the other on the camera that was in his hands. I just thought of the situation as one of those charming eccentricities that I was kind of enjoying from him up to that point.I then told him I didn't want him looking at the pictures. Now I wasn't angry, I was actually laughing while I said it and just told him I didn't want him to see those pictures yet and that I wasn't even sure what was on the camera. Next thing I know he is glaring at me, moves back to the other side of the booth and explains he is angry at me. I thought he was joking and after me thinking I was playing along by acting offended, it became clear that he WASN'T joking. I remember at one point saying, "Are you serious?" and he replied, "Yes. You make me feel like a thief. I would never do that to anyone. I don't think this date is going to work out." I was a little dumbfounded and it was then that our fresh drinks had just been put down by the server. He grabbed his drink and then squinted his eyes and examined me in silence for a good minute. I sat there sipping my drink through the little straw as quickly as I could trying to think of how to get the hell out of there. I grabbed my purse and got out some lip gloss to distract myself. As soon as I pulled out the pink, sparkly, lip gloss out and put it on, it was like a trigger had been activated inside of him. It was as though he had decided that I was not worthy of his artistic eccentricities and his uber jewpac hipsterness.

He started his verbal assault. He was firing away questions of coolness at me. Why do you live in the burbs and not downtown? What was the last show I had seen? Do I shop at the Gap? Was I popular in high school? Was I cheerleader? I felt my defenses totally rising and didn't even get a chance to answer him, he was firing the questions so quickly at me. As he continued with his attack, I started to listen to the angry thoughts clustering and swimming in my head. How dare he? He doesn't know me? He has NO IDEA what a dork I was in high school? Then I started to think, so WHAT if I like pink lip gloss?! What IF I was a cheerleader in high school, does that matter?!

Then he really ticked me off. He overheard the band, Of Montreal playing through the speakers at the pub and starting in on my indie music knowledge. Well, that was it. I listen to a lot of great music but at this point didn't think that this douchebag deserved to get to know me anymore. He started to go off on how Of Montreal is one of the greatest bands (they aren't THAT great), then the Sex Pistols came on and he demanded I tell him who was playing. I replied calmly that I didn't know. The bill was being paid and I was scooping up my stuff getting ready to walk out the door. He followed me out the door, yelling at me the entire time. I just kept walking telling him, "I don't know who is playing." I finally got to my car and he was still insisting I tell him who was playing, to just take a guess.

I snapped.

Now... I am not a yeller. I don't find it necessary in fighting. I am usually clever enough when it comes to arguments that I can zing people pretty effectively in a very level tone of voice. However, Jewpac had pushed me to the insane yelling point. I never even yelled at my ex-husband in the worst parts of our divorce. I probably should have, but in other words, it doesn't happen very often. I don't really remember what I said to him. Something about how dare he...who cares what I like...and by the way I like Britney Spears and oh...it was THE SEX PISTOLS PLAYING!! A few more things along those lines, with some pretty foul language mixed in, all spewing from my sparkly, pink lips. I started to come to, peering out of my fog of crazy anger, and noticed out of the corner of my eye a small crowd of people had gathered to listen to our fight and then I focused on Dave (aka Jewpac) and saw he had a big smile on his face. I stopped right in the middle of whatever I was saying and yelled, "What?!" He spoke softly and said, "That's all I wanted to know. The Sex Pistols." Then he grabbed me and kissed me. Of course I was shocked. Then......I kind of...ummm... kissedhimback. Yes..I kissed back. (HEY! I hadn't had a good kiss from anyone in awhile so...CUT ME SOME SLACK)

We didn't kiss for long, but it did shut us both up long enough for the little crowd that was watching us to get bored,NOT call the cops and go along their separate ways. When we stopped kissing, I stepped away from him and in a daze of..what just happened here?!, said to him, "Okay, well...Happy Thanksgiving. Hope your brisket turns out. The kissing was nice but I don't really think this is going to work out." He just smiled, shrugged his shoulders and said goodnight.

I was so relieved to get home. It was at that moment of false security that I realized my cell-phone was missing. I had my work blackberry at the time, so I called my phone from my work phone about a dozen times. I called the pub, drove back and looked all around for it. It was gone. I went back home pretty deflated about the missing phone and the crazy date I had just been on. I called my phone one last time and this time someone picked up. It was Jewpac. He answered tentatively and then goes, "It's the strangest thing, I don't know how your phone got in my coat pocket. But I would be happy to meet up for a second date and give it to you." I died.

We made arrangements to meet up right away. He showed up, this time in a full length fur coat and women's pajamas. Maybe they weren't women's pjs you say???  Nope. Because when I saw him I immediately said, "Dave...are you wearing women's pajamas?" and he replied, "Yes, I am." (uh-huh) I took the phone from his hand, shaking my head and finally around 3:00 AM, my date was over.

I still hear from Jewpac every now and then. At one point, about a month after the date, he informed me that he was writing a book and that he acted that way for material and asked me if I was interested in going out again. I declined. I do enjoy his sporadic emails though, he's a pretty entertaining writer.

 NOT Jewpac.

(Oh...and when I googled "JewPac"...a picture of Aunt Becky came up from Full House. Huh.)

Online Dating and Dr. Bob

Oh Online Dating. I have a love/hate relationship with it. Today, most people who are single use online dating. In reality I know it has a lot of success. Two of my best friends are married to people they met online. I have been on many dates since my divorce and most of them have been through meeting people on the internet through dating websites. 

With online dating you must have online dating profiles. I hate the profile thing. You basically have to write about yourself and what you are looking for, carefully choosing what you say, reveal, and hopefully at the same time are attracting the kind of person you think you want in return. I roll my eyes at these damn profiles. They are the modern day sales pitch for love or lust. They kill me. You find yourself judging people on what they choose to write about themselves. I had a good friend, who I actually dated for a few years in my past, also recently go through a divorce.  He can be very charming, is smart, good looking, and a pretty great catch overall. I read his profile to assist him on his way back into the dating world and my first thought was…holy crap…he has a terrible profile. It was cheesy and forced. His pictures didn’t do him justice and he even had that self-portrait bathroom mirror thing. Typically when I see that picture in a profile my first thought is “Next!” At the time I didn’t have the heart to say anything and he is in long term committed relationship from that profile. (Yay for him, what do I know.)

I have thought many times to myself as I am looking at profiles if I would skip so quickly to the next person if I had met this particular person in real life first. But the bottom line is…the first impression is not happening in person. I am reading a profile that they wrote and they are doing the same for me. It is what it is. I have met some very nice people in this process as well as some of the strangest, most peculiar people. Online dating isn’t ALL bad. But when it IS bad, it can be really bad or sometimes just really REALLY funny.

Now I should probably disclose that even though I am single right now, I am not on any online dating websites currently. A couple weeks ago I made the decision to take a break from the online dating world.  All this dating has kind of muddled things for me and I feel like the universe might be screaming at me to stop. I have had some strange happenings (not bad) and just decided that I need to let the universe catch up with me a bit (or vice versa) before I get all cluttered up on my weekends with random people again.  So far…so good. 

I was originally going to start my story out with JewPac (his thing..not my nickname), but I think I will start with Dr. Bob first, because well he was the first guy I ever went out with that I met through the internet.

Dr. Bob isn’t a very long story. He was a nice looking fella, who had moved out to Portland a few months prior for a new job. He was fresh out of school. The guy had a Ph.D in Physics. Super smart. He was finally in the real world after many years of being in the academic world. Not just the academic world but the completely higher level geekery world of math and science and all that comes (and does not come) with that. He was polite and had a joke about Schrodinger’s cat that I laughed at when we were writing back and forth. I don’t remember the joke, but I do remember looking up the Schrodinger’s theory again on Wikipedia. Now this was my first date since my split, not to mention my first online date ever. I was petrified and frankly didn’t know what to expect. ( I have come so far since then.)  The first date was very quiet with just a little small talk. I noticed that he had a hard time making eye contact with me. I thought it was sweet.  He was clearly nervous or either I had something up my nose that was making him feel uncomfortable. Either way sweet to not make ME feel uncomfortable by looking in my eyes while we are talking right? Right. (sigh) The date was over before I knew it. Like literally it was the shortest date. He asked me out again and I convinced myself that it was just the first date nerves not the OBVIOUS lack of chemistry.  So I said yes. I won’t bore you with the rest of the details because I actually went out with Dr. Bob three times. The guy hardly made eye contact with me on all three dates. We went to a movie at one point and I remember twice people stepped between us because they assumed we weren’t together. Dr. Bob stood that far away from me. On the third date when my smart girl head finally was screaming, “Lauren!!! You don’t like the guy, he is weird and won’t look you in the eyes…no more dates” I was shocked when he turned to me at the end of the night, looked at my shoes and then said, “I really like you. I think we should consider you being my girlfriend. I own a home that I am on working on paying off quickly and would eventually like four children. What do you think?” Dr. Bob, who hadn’t even so much as brushed my arm, much less made more than 4 seconds at a times worth of eye contact with me, wanted me to be his girlfriend and consider his desire for four children.  Huh. I attempted to be really sweet and politely told him that I wasn’t ready to be anyone’s girlfriend yet and before I could finish my sentence he promptly interrupted and said, “Interesting. Well, good night.” That was the last time I saw or spoke to him.  Although I do remember seeing on his online profile a few months later a disclosure that he had made stating that he needs the women interested in him to be patient, that he will only date one woman at a time and will get in touch with interested parties as soon as he is available. I was glad to see he was out there dating enough to require a disclosure.

That was my first venture out in the wilds of dating. That first venture proved to be very unwild, but certainly got my feet wet for what was going to a be a continued series of "huh.", wide-eyes, sloppy kisses and stolen cell phones.

Isn't She Swell...

I am the ever cliché single woman in her thirties. After a long relationship, followed by a shockingly short marriage and a rather painful divorce, I find myself in that strange position of being single in a world that I am seeing change all around me. In this weird position I feel like I am watching everyone become “grown-ups” while I struggle to fill my social calendar with my friends as I compete with their children and significant others.  I find that the only time I can go out is to either hang out with twenty-somethings who don’t quite fit my head space and are far too hip for me or my girlfriends, who are amazing and always appear to be entertained by my single life stories, but inevitably I find myself at a loss of how to advise them or even really being able to relate to what has become huge parts of their lives and vice versa. I have no projectile poop story to share and laugh about.  I assume that if that ever happens to me that I will suddenly be enlightened by the hilarity vs. the horror of that. Now if you just became horrified by the thought of a projectile poop situation…you don’t have children. If you laughed, you clearly know the secret to the hilarity. I also have no birth story to compare and when it comes to relationships, mine have been so insignificant these past few years that if they annoy me I just break it off or ignore them for a week or two, instead of having to face the reality of seeing that person every..single…day. For..evvvv..vvver.

Now don’t get me wrong, I want to eventually meet someone that annoys me forever. (That’s where I am going with this…promise)

So okay…we have established that I am an alien in a world full of babies, SUVs , Subarus,  and a sudden weird parent bond when it comes to disgusting, gross situations that can only come with kids and marriages.  What I haven’t mentioned is that in these past couple of years, three in March actually, I found myself in a really great place. I am pretty happy. Happier than I ever remember being. I love my job, have great friends (poop stories or not), and have a fantastic relationship with my parents. I teach amazing cooking classes for the community that brings me so much joy that they never feel like work. I run and LIKE it (87% of the time). I feel creative. I feel healthy.  I have never felt more beautiful and I am happy in my own skin like never before. Now that sounds like a disclosure before the storm and in reality it kind of is. I honestly feel like what I am going to be sharing with you in my future posts will potentially create the same reaction that I have to the projectile gross body stories. Horror…disbelief and awe at times. You need to know that I am okay. I am happy and I do know that eventually I will meet the person I want to annoy and want to have annoy me for the rest of my life. I am not worried (generally). So please don’t feel sorry for me, or hook me up with your 40-something co-worker who hasn’t dated since My So Called Life was on TV. Just because he has a job and owns a home, does not make him a good match for me. I know better when he is called “quirky”. (GOT THAT ERICA & BRIAN?!)

Dating in your thirties is NOTHING like dating in your twenties.  I have decided that I will share some of my dating stories. Frankly, they deserve to be shared. Get ready for the train-wrecks ladies and gentlemen…and welcome to my dating life.  Coming up… JewPac.