But FIRST, a pre-blog to my blog or what used to be called the "preface". I am going to call it
MESSED UP.
MESSED UP
A few weeks ago, I was at a restaurant, of course by myself. I wanted to read so I asked if I
could sit in the quiet (empty) section of the restaurant, a pretty little sun room with plants. The perfect place to sip a Mimosa and leisurely read my magazine, one of many that have stacked up over the months. I was completely content. Then a semi-handsome single man walked in and had the audacity to sit down a few tables away.
"Shit," I said to myself, looking up from my magazine, then back down at it again. Asshole.
I was fine until he walked in.
Of course, I tried to ignore him and OF COURSE, if he was even semi-handsome (not bad), he had to be waiting for someone--his woman OR his man. I don't know anymore and who cares. None of my business.
I glanced up at him. He was looking at me. WTF? These things never happen to me.I am not a walking Hollywood script. I am the opposite of a Hollywood script, the very NIGHTMARE of a Hollywood script. In fact, I am such a nightmare-not-a-Hollywood-script that in MY MOVIE, the semi-handsome guy would walk in then proceed to puke on me. This is how bad it is.
Used to having NOTHING work out for me in this realm, I looked back down at my magazine, now INCREDIBLY interesting, more interesting than ever before. I was determined to ignore this mother fucker asshole ruining my Tuesday morning of relaxed bliss; but not before I noted when I glanced up that he smiled at me. C'MON!
He ordered water, lunch then finally, finally, started playing with his device (no, no, no, I mean his DEVICE--droid, I-phone-19, whatever, stop it). I don't have one and never will. I am blissfully device free aside from a cell phone I keep with me like some people keep a hand gun--for my protection only.
Looking down at the same paragraph I had now read five times, I thought "surely his woman (or man) was going to show up soon."
Ten minutes in and nobody showed up. I looked up and he was looking at me again. Rude. Finally, of course, I said something, more because SOMEBODY had to do it and once I did it, I could get back to my, MY time.
"I like the misters," I said in all my brilliance. What a great line!
"Yea," he answered.
BOY WE WERE OFF TO A SWINGING START, LET ME TELL YA!
"It's just so nice to be somewhere peaceful," he then said to me.
OH MY GOD, REALLY? Yea, until you showed and fucked it up.
And off we went, the two of us, chatting--about nothing. He wasn't waiting for anyone. He had the day off and was just enjoying himself. There was something about dropping off his son at a friend's house. He didn't have a ring on. He was chatty, friendly, nice. Funny.
It was lovely and it resulted in absolutely nothing. It was a waste of my precious time. Truly, my precious time reading my magazine and sipping my Mimosa. I should have been rude, even a bitch because he ruined my day. Because I was waiting for SOMETHING. ANYTHING but the deal is, modern men, for whatever reason, cannot operate in the 3rd dimension. If it's not on a screen, it doesn't exist. I didn't exist. We are losing the ability to interact in the real world.
What this means is it is far more likely we would hook up if in that same period of time, I showed up ON A SCREEN versus as a real person. While he was sitting there confusing some other woman, he would be emailing/texting ME...this appears to be the only way to meet anymore.
NOT in the third dimension. Not in the real world.
But I still live in the third dimension so I was waiting for him to get on with it, be a gentleman--ask if it was ok if he joined me. Ask what I was drinking and if he could buy me a drink. ("Sure, I'll have another Mimosa and would you like to have one too and join me?"). But he was an ass. Men are asses now. It was so obvious we liked one another, had a rapport, could talk/laugh easily so I waited, like in the old days--for him to act like a man. Take the reins. But he didn't and I refused to. I won't anymore. If a man is so pathetic and stupid that he can't even get a clue about wooing a woman even just a little bit, and I have to do it, I am not interested. I won't do it. If a man cannot function in the third dimension, I have to be on a screen in order to exist, then I don't want him.
This didn't stop me from pretending, fantasizing after he finished his lunch and beer and left. I decided to pretend..."Imaginary Lovers, Never Let You Down..."
"Do you mind if I join you? I'm alone too," he says. His name is Dan.
"No, no. How nice. Feel free!" I say. (Meaning: I'm lonely and horney as hell too. PLEASE!)
"What are you drinking? Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, smiling.
"Mimosa. You too?" I answer.
"Well, I started out with a beer but ok. Mimosa it is." he answers.
Later we go for a walk by the river...exchange phone numbers. Make plans to meet again.
But no. No, because men are inept now. Stupid even. This is not the first time (read my older posts).
Meeting the nice, interesting, semi-handsome man who has to leave to check his responses on Match.com. I should know by now but hope springs stupid...Maybe this ONE can exist in the third dimension?
BUT this blog started out saying I met the perfect man! If that wasn't him, who was it? DO TELL!
It was a homeless guy in San Francisco who sat next to me at the Bart station. He said I was "sexy" and "hot". He said, "um UHmmmm, MAMMA!" He said, "you are a sexxxxxy MAMMA! Baby you are HOT."
Then he left.
