I just don’t feel like I’m there with you

So from the same CL listing that brought me the fleeting joy that was Catcher, I was able to snag another fish. Long after all of the responses had come in, I received another one, incredibly long, with a picture. I was feeling pretty bored, so I went ahead and read through it.

OMG. This guy was perfect. 6’4″, 250, former football player. Played for Miami in college, Kansas City Chiefs in the pros, a little NFL Europe, had amazing dreads and tattoos. He waxed philosophically about string theory, and discussed the complexities of rap in today’s world. I was hooked.

We email back and forth for two days – as in, 48 hours. We then exchange phone numbers so as to text each other (he lived about 75 miles away from me). I had told him that I was going to be packing for my trip to San Francisco, so texting would be easier for me. Now, this was a Tuesday night, and I was not leaving until Thursday morning. This will become relevant soon.

One of the first things he texts me is this little picture which says “Don’t chase people. Do you, work hard, and the people who are supposed to be in your life will find their way to you and stay there” (or something like that). It was truly exactly what I needed to hear right then.
“Thanks! Perfect message for me!”
“FYI… I fall hard.”
Um, what? I don’t know you. I understand falling in love with someone’s personality over the interwebbings, but please. We have only been speaking for two days. “Okay, well, I usually wait until I meet someone to fall for them, so…” “Oh yeah, me too!” Liar. Now I’m a bit weary, so my responses are not coming as quickly as possible. Finally he asks me to send him pictures and texts throughout the day while I am in SF so he “can feel like [he] is there too.” No. I am going on vacation to a city I have never been to and I will be with R, one of my best friends ever. I am not wasting my time texting someone I don’t even know.

The next day, I made all of my co-workers supremely jealous with details of what I was going to do, and where I was going to go whilst on my adventures. I completely forgot about football guy. Thursday morning I woke up bright and early to head to the airport. While I was waiting for my flight (I like to get there ridiculously early and hang around the terminal), I checked my emails and…

I just don’t feel like I am there with you, baby
Are you okay? I’m so worried about you! I haven’t heard anything and when I tried to call, I kept getting a weird message. Let me know you got there safe!

Oh wow. Now we’ve gone into crazy stalker mode. I don’t know why my phone would not let his calls through, but for the first time ever, it earned the moniker of “smart” phone. I deleted the email, determined to just ignore him, and went on my way.

Except that, when I landed in San Francisco, there were five text messages from him and three new emails. Well, both Verizon and Yahoo make it easy to block people, so okay, blocked! Good – I can now enjoy my vacation. Oh, what is this text from a new number? “I really miss you.” Guessing that is not from one of my friends, since none of them are creepy. And what is this email from an address I don’t recognize? Oh, it’s a picture of a teddy bear and a candle. “Already buying you gifts!” Okay, more blocking.

In the end, I only had to block three email addresses and the two phone numbers. And, thank the lord above, he never got my last name or a real picture of me (my face was pretty well blocked in the one I had posted). Is it any wonder I am crazy when these are the kind of guys out there???

– Finch

I’m sorry that I’m not sorry

Let me just start by saying that this man had the most wonderful name ever. I mean, it was descriptive, it sounded nice when spoken out loud, and it just fit this person. Obviously I can’t tell you what that name was, as I have no wish to embarrass people (or get myself in any legal trouble); however, I can create a pseudonym. So let’s call this one “Catcher.” And no, that is not a comment on his sexuality.

In yet another foray onto Craigslist (I do that a lot), I hawked myself as a lover of afternoon runs, tons of breakfast tacos, and mimosa-laden brunches at Tacos & Tequilas whilst singing old-school Jay-Z hits. The responses were many, the connections were few, and then I got Catcher’s email. He didn’t even attach a picture, but he just seemed to get it. The picture came after we had already conversed a few times, and I was not disappointed. We emailed for a few days, texted for a week, then… it was time for the great reveal.

We decide to meet at Cedar Door to watch a football game that featured an SEC team that I secretly despise, but which he loved, so I played along. Here was the kicker – he brought a friend. A female friend. Yes, she was at least ten years our senior; yes, she was married and had kids; but she was a female friend who was sitting at the bar with us during our first meeting. Alarm bells now, please.

Okay, I figure I’ll hang out until halftime, have a few drinks, and then I can make my getaway from this incredible awkwardness.  Except that, by halftime, we had taken a shot for every touchdown which this team made (I think the score was 35-0 at this point), and I’d had a couple of screwdrivers, so I was in no place to drive. Plus, I was actually enjoying myself. So I stayed. The friend was very nice to me, Catcher paid the tab, all was right with the world and then – we kissed.

Now, I am not one of those women who think that the world begins and ends on a kiss, but you have to understand: This was the first kiss I had had with someone who wasn’t my ex-husband in over four years.  For about ¼ of my kissing life (time from which I had my first kiss to present), I had been kissing the same man. And Catcher was not that man.

I completely reveled in it. We made out like teenagers for literally hours. We grabbed dinner at 2nd Bar and Kitchen, we headed back to Cedar Door to watch the UT game (Hook ‘em!), we were all over each other – it was intoxicating. Not only that, we were connecting on every level. We liked the same movies, the same t.v. shows, the same music. We were quoting things back and forth, he kept using the same funny lines (“I’m sorry that I’m not sorry”), we were completely in the zone. By this point, I had stopped drinking a couple of hours before, so I was settled enough to drive.  We walked to my car, I drove him to his hotel, more making-out, he promised to call the next day, I headed home. We texted for a bit, and I went to sleep.

And nothing. I never heard a word from Catcher again. Did I try to initiate contact? No.  So, yeah, I chickened out there. I’m a little old-fashioned in my thinking that a guy should be the first to contact after a date. And having only ever had one one-night stand before, I wasn’t sure if this qualified. Can you have a make-out-only one night stand with someone you had been communicating with pretty regularly before? Did the female friend cock-block me (as so many people have surmised)? Was I emotionally slutty? (yes) I have no idea. Catcher may not have been my ultimate catch (I slay me!), but it was a lovely, if overly alcoholic, evening, albeit, one in which I cheered for a team I cannot stand, may the football gods forgive me.

– Finch

Don’t give up on us!

The thing that scares me about living in a world where so many people online date is that it is much more difficult to spot the creepers. Usually, out in the real world, you can spy them out. They won’t approach you, or they just have that creepy sense about them, so you can escape to the safety of your girls before you exchange vital information, like your names. But online, these guys can create any persona which they desire, and you may fall for profile, and be sorely disappointed by the man. Luckily with this guy, I never had to meet him.

So I was spending a little time on OKcupid, beefing up my profile, adding some pictures, answering a ridiculous amount of questions, when I get a notice that I have a message. This guy has written to me, and right off, I’m a bit smitten. Why? Because he obviously read through my profile. This was not a “Hey, wassup?” message. No, no, he saw what my interests were, he commented on my movie taste, he showed a keen interest. I then read his profile, and thought, “Wow! We are totally on the same page!” We were both in similar places with school/work. We both had dogs, and ran with them frequently. I was loving it.

We email back and forth over the next couple of days, and then we set up a date. Nothing too stressful – just coffee. Here’s where the awkwardness began. Almost immediately after we had set the date, he started sending me strange messages. “I can’t wait to meet you and see your beauty before me.” Okay, I like to be called beautiful, but a little much. “I’m counting down the very minutes until we see each other.” We weren’t meeting for another three days – that’s a lot of minute-counting! “I’m not even worried about what to say, because I just want to stare into your eyes.” And, we’re done.

If this were all, I might have gone through with it, but this continued up until the day before we were supposed to meet. At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I messaged him that I wasn’t going to be able to make it, but that we could reschedule. Yes, I lied. Apparently, I had meant a lot more to him than he meant to me. “Don’t give up on us!!!” was sent to me multiple times before I blocked him from being able to view my profile.

Maybe I should have been more like Selina Kyle in Batman Returns (that’s from 1992, FYI) – “The sickos don’t scare me. At least they’re committed.”

– Finch

I’m 20. That’s not a problem, right?

Here’s the thing. When trolling for a date on an online dating site, more often than not, people will have their preferences listed out. Whether they are into women or men or both; what age range they are looking for; if religion is important to them. Some criteria is flexible, and some is not, but we put these limitations out there because this is what we feel comfortable with. So if I have stated that my desired age range is 25 – 38, guess what? I don’t want to date guys who are unable to buy me a beer while watching a game. Additionally, I am not really interested in guys who are as old (if not older) than my parents. While I appreciate that age is just a number, it is an important number. See, I don’t want to date someone who can commiserate with my dad about the good ole days, nor do I want someone who might dump me to date my sister who is almost ten years younger than I am. I get that you could be a complete kid at heart, but if you’re thinking about retirement, and I’m still wondering how working in the real world plays out, there’s a bit of a disconnect. And believe me, if you are 18 – 22, you don’t know anything. I don’t care how mature you are, I do not care how beyond your years you feel – you are a kid, and you do know jack. I can freely tell you this because I used to believe that I was easily one of the most mature and worldly-wise 22-years-olds ever, and you know what? I was a flipping idiot. I over-reacted, I jumped to conclusions, I acted like the very embodiment of a college student. And that’s okay. That’s how it is supposed to be.

But the next time some underage goofball asks me out, I’m going to tell him that I usually stay up past his bedtime while drinking in a bar.

– Finch