Whatever happened to mystery?

Not that I’m not guilty. I’ve Google-stalked my way through the web and many a crush. In fact, if you can’t find someone online, isn’t it a little suspect?

I haven’t done any web wandering in quite some time, being a boring old lady and all, but recently this Mashable article caught my eye. And the points this young lady makes are beyond valid——there is an etiquette to everything, including hunting a mate in the modern online age. Which reminds me of a story…

I can remember standing in a bar, a handsome man offering to buy me a drink and making the flirty small talk that crowded spaces and whiskey invite. He was cute—like a young Jamie Foxx—but there was something a little boring and pretentious about him. still, I was intrigued, even as the Burrito rolled her eyes. And then, he whipped out the Blackberry.

Armed with my first and last name, his fingers quickly punched in the letters and…SHOCKER…up came this blog and the magazine column that preceded it. The title of the column, “Where Can I Get a Boyfriend For Hire,” immediately raised the supposed Bahamain prince’s perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Oh a boyfriend,” he said, so casually. “That’s what you all want, isn’t it.”

Um. No. Not all we want. Not all of us.

“Read the article,” I said smiling and walking away with my gratis drink, Burrito giggling next to me.

Googling someone in front of them is just so uncouth. Especially if the Googler in question can’t read the column in question, much less read between the lines.

When someone friend requests you who isn’t a friend, and further, isn’t really someone whom you ever want to think of, what do you do? Leave them in friend purgatory? (I think people in friend purgatory can still see some of your updates, photos, etc. by the by). Hit the “Hell No” button (which is actually oh so politely called “Not Now”)?

Once upon a time I dated a married man. This is not a fact of which I am proud. No. And now, as the BF and I just passed our two year anniversary, is not a fact which I recall on a regular basis. I’m done punishing myself. I’ve moved on. There was a lot of therapy involved.

I realize that for someone who so proudly is friends with almost all of her exes that this kind of reaction to a simple Facebook friend request might seem odd. Hell, I already have almost 600 connections, what’s one more? But for whatever reason it IS a big deal. Here is a person whom I cared about. Who lied to me about his life. Whose lie I discovered. And even after knowing the whole truth I still forged on with the relationship.

For someone who also very loudly believes that if you want to date and fuck around you shouldn’t be married, this lapse, this decision, no matter how long ago it happened or how young I was or any of the other undoubtedly complicated conditions involved, makes for one BFD. As in: Big. Fucking. Deal. And I’m sure this, um, gentleman?, has no idea that one of his many indiscretions (oh yes, I have it on very good authority that I was not the first nor the last) could feel so strongly about her part in his slimy biography. I’m sure he saw the three or four friends in common and clicked the “Send Request” button. Hell, knowing Facebook, they probably served me up to him as a friendly suggestion.

So I guess I’ll politely press the “Not Now” button, but in doing so I really mean “Not Ever.”

You go to Match if you want to hook up. You go to EHarmony if you’re looking to get serious. You go to JDate if you aren’t a goy. You go to OKCupid if you’re young, broke, and fabulous…

At least that’s what I hear on the streets. Each site has their own niche, their own target market of coupling commerce.

And then there’s Shaddi.com, based in India, whose whole mission is marriage. The company prides itself on matchmaking and just scored a nod from FastCompany as one of the 50 “Most Innovative” companies of 2011. You go on with your bad self, Shaddi, for finding the nichest of markets and turning the arranged marriage system on its head by allowing couples to arrange their own matches.

From hooking up to getting hitched, there truly is something for everyone.

But I would love it if someone could explain to me why, yesterday, while looking at outdoor pottery (yup, like the kind you put plants in), I suddenly started thinking about men I’d dated and hadn’t slept with.

Right. I know. Random. I even lost myself. But picture it…

I’m outdoors, wandering up and down the aisles looking at pots large and small, some glazed and some terra cotta. One part of my brain is no doubt transfixed on how awesome my herbs are going to look planted in small Mexican-style glazed pots (made in China). But the other, weird, part of my brain runs through a series of events. It’s like these two things are happening simultaneously but neither really is aware of the other. My brain goes something like this:

A. “Remember the time we dated that guy? Remember how the second time we hung out and were kissing and you said, “I’m  not going to sleep with you” and he laughed at you? I know, I thought it was weird too…”

B. “Ooo, the blue is pretty. Does it have a matching saucer I wonder? I won’t need that when it’s outside but while they’re still in the windowsill…. Maybe there are more saucers over here…”

A. “So remember how you dated for several months and still never had sex? I mean, it’s a good thing because that would just be one more person on the list. Not that you’re a slut. You’re totally not a slut. You have a respectable number and you remember most names, first and last. I’m just saying that it would be great if you had told some of those people “I’m not going to sleep with you” and see where that got you. Crap. What was I saying? This is getting out of hand. I didn’t mean that. Go back to the guy and the no sex and him laughing at you…”

B. “Yes! Matching saucer. Hey, wait, there are other colors over here. Green with the swirly and blue with the gradient? Is that what I want in the yard? Yeah, it will add a little color and will look nice inside when the herbs have to come in. Cool!”

A. “You know what? Let’s just forget the whole thing. I’m not even sure why I brought it up. That was like three years ago? Four? Where did that even come from? We don’t even think about that dude, mmm, pretty much ever. I’m sorry, weird of me… Oh, hey! Blue and green pots? Good choice, the herbs will look great in those!”

My brain is a funky funky place.

It has been exactly three months since I last posted. I am a bad blogger.

So why the lack of posts? Well, it’s not that I’ve been boring and my life has been without misadventure. We all know that isn’t possible. But rather, it’s the opposite. I’ve been so busy that it’s almost boring to talk about. It’s certainly harder to find items to write about (something I never thought possible) now that I’m in a relationship. It’s weird, my life was so public before and I had no problems with this but I also feel like it was more interesting and I had more to talk about.

To catch up a bit, I did move in with the BF–which took up a huge chunk of November and December–carefully taking one car-load at a time and unpacking it and immediately putting it away. This plan was all well and good but just served to drag the process out (and make me crazy!) as I conquered the kitchen one cabinet at a time. Finally I just threw everything into trash bags and dragged the last of it over. I’ve slowly muddled through putting most of it away so that there is now only one room in the house that still resembles an episode of A&E’s Hoarders, thankfully.

I’m still keeping things together on my cooking blog, Bacon & Other Bad Habits, and posting as much as I can depending on how often I cook. But I just don’t know if the same will be true here. Do you all really want to read about the fact that BF cannot find the laundry basket or the dishwasher? Is it interesting to note that someone stole our lawn gnome–a fact I cannot get over but that BF is sick of hearing me bring up? Do you care that there is something in the water making all of our friends pregnant and I am sick and tired of baby showers? That my friends still sometimes marry people I think they shouldn’t?

Maybe you do. Maybe I do too. Bugger, I thought this shit was supposed to get easier. So, is this my Lazarus moment? Back from the dead? We. Shall. See.

Long story shortened immensely, the BF and I have been discussing the merits of moving in together. He, being a logical creature, thinks of the idea from an analytical point of view. I sleep at his house almost every night anyway, why waste the money on rent? He owns a home that I assist in maintaining and updating. We are partners.

So why not? Me, being an emotional creature, I am trying to figure out my *feelings*. Oh feelings, my but you are silly.  I torture myself with what-ifs that cannot be answered without action; perhaps living together will be super, or perhaps it will put us on the fast-track to splitsville. The world may never know if I don’t make a decision. So I turn to my friends; not for advice, but to allow me to dump out all these feelings on the rug and poke at them with a stick:

me: We are talking about maybe moving in together.

Burrito: OMG!!!!

me: Immediate thoughts?

Burrito: That’s awesome!!! What’re your thoughts?

me: I like the idea of it But I’m not ready to make serious decisions like marriage, babies, etc. So my initial thoughts are if you can live with someone and just have it be about living together and none of that other junk? I’m excited that he has a great house that he owns that he doesn’t mind me suggesting what to do with…But I want a house of my own too.

Burrito: Well, it is possible to live with someone without talking about the marriage and babies and stuff and, honestly, it’s a little silly to buy a house if you’re considering living with someone who owns one (unless you would buy a house that he could move into, too).

To further clarify what I told Miss Burrito, I’m excited about the prospect of living together and for this next adventure. And I know that living together can be just that, living together! I don’t need to figure out how I feel about buying my own home, or marriage, or babies, or any of that other nonsense right now. I can just be in the moment, right? It all sounds good, but who among us makes a decision without weighing in the future decisions that may or may not have to be made down the line? None of us. Plus I have some other wild ideas…

me: Or live out my fantasy of living across the street or next door to my person (don’t judge). I’ve always wanted to live on two sides of a duplex or next door. And now celebrities are doing it so that means it’s (a) crazy, (b) a fad, or (c) genius.

Burrito: I’m not going to lie, it seems a little crazy considering you could just have extra bedrooms, but it also makes sense. Living with SMB [her boyfriend] is sort of like living alone to me, except the dishes magically do themselves. But i think that’s just because I’ve never enjoyed roommates, but don’t have that problem with him, somehow.

me: I’m never at my house except to pick up more clothes or sometimes do a little cooking.

Burrito: Seems like a waste of money to me.

I adore BF and I like nothing better than the idea of living with him and fixing up his house together and making him dinner. But…the last time I lived with someone I thought I was going to marry that someone. So this is the tricky part for me and my brain. Telling myself, “Dear brain, it’s okay that you aren’t ready to get married again, it will be okay…” just isn’t as calming as it should be. I don’t want to make the wrong decision. And more importantly, I don’t want BF to get hurt no matter which decision I make.

me: I mean I’m definitely leaning toward doing it, don’t get me wrong. Just expressing why it feels a little funny.

Burrito: You are the most committed commitment-phobic I’ve ever met. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It just seems like, on the one hand, you’re totally committed, but on the other, your reasons sound like someone who doesn’t want to commit. It’s interesting.

Interesting? More like maddening. But perhaps one of the better descriptions of me I’ve heard–most committed commitment-phobic. Is true. Le sigh. Decision time.

More awkwardly, after I opened the link and read through all the positions and images I still didn’t get the joke. I mean, I get that it’s sex. Like the Kama Sutra, right? Except the people are wearing those funny suits. Which must have something to do with the movie Tron or else it wouldn’t be called Tron-a Sutra.

Except I’ve never seen Tron and don’t know anything about it except that it’s a movie starring Jeff Bridges. So I just stared blankly until the BF took my computer away and shook his head disapprovingly.

Then I looked it up on Wikipedia because the internet doesn’t know that I don’t speak fluent geek.

I hope other people get the joke. You can all laugh at me if you like. It’s okay. Or you can stare blankly with me too. Safety in numbers, you know…

From: Miss E
To: Awesome Lady-Friends
Subject: Are You Kidding Me?

So, I’ve been online dating for while, probably longer than I’ll admit. But, my excuse is that it’s on and off. This is by far the worst online photo I’ve EVER seen, and I’ve seen a fuck ton.

I had to share.

Love Miss E

Which started a discussion between the BF and myself. I argue that this fine upstanding gentleman might have a wonderful sense of humor at the very most, and at the very least might provide Miss E with a few funny stories. The BF counters, siding with Miss E, that this guy might also be the biggest freakshow out there and she’s right to run screaming from the hills.

What say YOU internet? Would you date this man?

I got an email today from a girlfriend who recently moved to California to work at a winery (damn her!). It was pretty simple…

“Miss you…Who’s A Girl Gotta Fuck To Get Some Closure On Her Relationship With Her Father?”

Followed by this link to the Onion.

Heh. It’s funny because it’s sometimes true…