Up in flames.

When Dale first messaged me on OKCupid he opened with "What do you think of Orange County guys so far?"

My initial response was "I'm unimpressed." But decided that was a little mean and not entirely true, more just a reflection of my recent dating rough patch than my actual feelings. Instead I responded with, "So far I like Orange Co! And the guys are OK too!" I figured go with a cheeky response.

After a few more short emails I suggested we meet up for a drink. I'm not really into these long, protracted email exchanges. Let's just go out and see if I can stand you for longer than 45 minutes. If I stay for a second drink. You might get a second date. Otherwise, I'll cut my losses, go home, put on yoga pants and try to salvage the evening with an episode of Ally McBeal on Netflix and maybe a little quilting.

We agreed to meet up at a local place in Newport Beach that has outdoor fire pits and a decent bourbon selection. As we settled into some chairs near a fire pit I asked the waitress what bourbons they stocked. And she proceeded to provide me with a list of Scotch. And Whiskey. She didn't mention a single bourbon.
This was the least offensive thing that happened all night

 I had seen Woodford Reserve on my way in so I just asked for a Woodford with a couple of ice cubes and Dale order a Manhattan.

Alright. He drinks bourbon. He can't be that bad. Right? Right?

When our drinks arrive he takes one look at his (served in a well glass) and says to the waitress. "I wanted it up."
She and I looked at each other flabbergasted.
Who does he think he is? Carry Bradshaw?
But she brought him a new Manhattan prepared up.
There is just something about a man drinking a manly drink from a fru-fru glass that makes me cringe inside.
I could learn to let that go, though.

As we sat by the fire chatting and people watching he motioned to a woman who walked by clad in a leopard print outfit.
"Overdressed or under dressed?" He asked. "I mean we are sitting around a fire pit."
"Well, I guess it depends on what her plans are after she leaves here. Maybe she has to go play surrogate mother to some sort of jungle cat."
"So what were some culture shocks you had when you moved out here."
"Well, its still surprising that when I smile at people when I pass them on the street, they don't usually smile back. And the amount of people who have gotten completely ready, make-up, hair, nails, high heels, etc... and somehow managed to leave the house still wearing their pajama bottoms, which are sweat pants that say Juicy on them."
"Yeah. I've lived out here for 15 years and I still find the plastic surgery ridiculous. Like that girl that just walked by with the huge fake tits."
Oh. My. Did he just say huge fake tits? On a first date? "Yeah... That is surprising. I just don't get it."
"And you know those people who just look kind of retarded? Like the people with Down Syndrome how they all look the same?"
WHAT! Retarded is not a descriptive adjective!! You don't use that word. I can think of some descriptive adjectives for you. Asshole, for starters. Followed closely by idiot.
The assault must have flashed across my face because he followed his commit with this.
"I'm not making fun of retarded people."
Oh my gosh. He said it again. And it is just getting worse.
"I just mean that all the people with plastic surgery look the same. I'm still waiting on that penis reduction surgery."
SERIOUSLY!  Who says that? ON A FIRST DATE? I'm not your bro, dude!
"That was a joke."
Oh. Now he thinks I need a horrible joke explained. Where is that waitress? I need another drink to throw on this giant boob!
"So, but you like California so far?"
"Yeah. I do. It's a big change at times, but you can't beat the weather and I love my job!"
"So you just moved out here for a job? You didn't have any family or friends out here?"
"Basically. I was dating someone who is from out here and I probably won't have seen the job posting if they hadn't been out here, but I certainly didn't move out here for him."
"What happened there?"
"It just didn't work."
"I bet that was rough moving out here and then having that not work and not having anyone around really."
"It wasn't too bad. The break-up was a long time coming."
"Well, his loss is my gain."
For the moment yes. But I wouldn't be counting my chickens just yet if I were you. I wonder how long it takes the human body to burn? Throwing myself on the fire pit must be less painful than sitting here.
"I'll be right back. I'm going to run to the restroom." And then maybe out the door...

~~~ In the bathroom~~~
"ALLISON!!!  I'm on the worst date ever! You have to rescue me!" I wailed. Literally wailed. I got sympathetic looks from strangers!
"Wait. You went? I thought you were going to bail?"
"I decided to sack up and come. Now I'm sorry I did! Here's what I need you to do; Wait 15 minutes. Call me twice. I'm going to ignore the calls. Then text me and tell you were in a car wreck and I have to come and get you."
"Ok. Then come drink with us. Jane, Adam and I are at Garf's on Bristol."
"Yeah!"

~~~Back at the table, or hell on earth as I was starting to think of it~~~
"So you mentioned you lived in Japan... Dating Japanese men must have been difficult."
"Yeah, sometimes it was. I dated one guy that I really liked and the reason it worked so well was because he was pretty progressive in terms of Japanese culture. He spent alot of time working in America and he had backpacked around India. He wasn't just looking for the Japanese version of a 1950s housewife."
"I was actually talking about the rumor about..." he said holding up his pinky finger to indicate a small penis.
"Oh." I know you perverted moron! I was just ignoring that because I have these things called manners! You've obviously never heard of them. I can't believe you are talking about private bits on a first date! You have a teenage daughter! Is this what you want her going out with? Because I sure don't want to be going out with it! Why hasn't Allison called? It must be way longer than 15 minutes by now!

So I made some more small talk about golf and work and continued to suffer under the oppressive regime of the giant douche bag I was on a date with.
"Are you sure you don't want another drink?" He asked sipping his second Manhattan (up, I might add).
"No. I should go soon. I have an early meeting." And friends that aren't horribly offensive waiting at the bar for me.
"Are you sure? You can skip that meeting..."
"No, I can't actually. I need to get some things firmed up for a project. But thanks for the bourbon. This is a great spot." I said pulling on my coat.

Notice how I never said anything about this being a great date, or how much fun I'd had.

"I'll walk you to your car."
"Thanks, but I can see it from here." I said trying to dissuade him.
"I'll still walk with you."

When we got to my car, I tried to go for the handshake, but he went in for the hug (shudder). And then he attempted to kiss me, but I jumped back just in time! I didn't want to hear what was coming out of his mouth, let alone let it get that close to me!

"Bye! Be careful driving home!" I said slamming and locking the door.
"Allison I am going to kill you!" I screamed into the phone!
"Oh my god! I forgot to call you! Come to Garf's we'll have a bourbon waiting for you!"
"Make it a double."

Squishy

We've all been there.

You return from a few years living abroad and you decide to roll up to Best Buy and upgrade your DVD collection since you haven't seen Lost, Desperate Housewives, or these Kardashian people everyone keeps yammering about. As you walk across the street you realize the car you have crossed in front of is being driven by your ex-boyfriend from college, who, rather than risk being recognized, has hidden his face behind his hand and started to fiddle with the radio.
(I still wish I had gathered myself quickly enough to run over and tap on his window and make him talk to me. Coward.)

Or you go to return a few things to a recent dumpee and his mother answers the door wearing your favorite t-shirt, (which he claimed to not have seen when you asked for it back) while he hides out in his bedroom. Did I mention that this particular ex was 23 at the time? And that his mom was there to clean his apartment?

Or maybe you meet up with a friend of yours who lives on the opposite end of the country only to discover that the great guy she's met while visiting your island is none other than your ex-boyfriend.

Okay... So maybe its just me that has been in these particularly uncomfortable moments that I couldn't even make up if I'd wanted to. But you all know that feeling of running into an ex, their mother, their best friend, or being chased through the mall by their father, and learning something about them that kind of makes you grind your teeth, wrinkle your nose, and squint your eyes.

Oh, that's just me too?
Anyway...

You aren't exactly sad, but you couldn't say you are happy.
Nor are you particularly wistful for that old flame. It isn't as if you want them back. You wish you could keep the friendship to enjoy the good (a buddy to watch the Steelers' games, someone who likes Japanese style karaoke as much as you do, a good yoga teacher), but you are aggravated you tolerated the bad that was out-weighing the good as long as you did.
And it all stirs around in your gut to make you feel kind of, well, squishy inside.

And you can be sure that as soon as the squishy comes, the what ifs are close behind.
Luckily for me and my heart made of wood as my friend Andy so nicely put it, I usually, I feel like I dodged a bullet when I play this game.

What if I hadn't dumped him?
Oh, GAWD... I would probably be pregnant, living in a ticky-tacky, cookie cutter house, working as an attorney in Lexington, and probably not allowed to talk to my best friends because they watched Sex and the City?
Shudder

What if we hadn't parted ways?
Would I be sending my kids to Hebrew school while he refused to go to Temple and listening to him bitch about my affinity for diet coke?
No, thank you. Not in this life! 

What if we had kept dating and he had ruined another trip to a foreign country and made me listen to him play violin all the time?
Okay... so the violin part was sexy. But a bad traveler? UGH! Nope! Never! Not gonna happen!

But there are those that don't leave you wiping your brow with relief that you have Matrix-like ability to dodge bad situations in just the nick of time. There are instead those that make you rub your chest like old people do when they get heart burn.
And this is a heart burn, but one not induced by onions, cucumbers, or other foods that don't "agree" with my Mamaw.
It's also not easily cured by Malox, or easing up on the cucumbers.

A few weeks ago I was filling out an interest form for a women's organization I would like to join. Or at least would like to explore the idea of joining. I figured it might be a good way to meet some new friends, do some good in my community, and by extension, meet more men. As I cruised around on the organization's website exploring what kind of "good" I might be doing in my community should I join this group, I notice that they are having a holiday bazaar.

Now, I love a good bazzar; especially one that is holiday themed.
But it keeps getting better.
It lasts for four days!
And there is a gala. Who doesn't love a good gala?
OH, even better! There is a bachelor auction!

What is the one way I haven't tried to meet a man? Buying him! This could be great fun and excellent fonder for the blog and an even better meet-cute!! This might be where I am going wrong. I am an excellent shopper. Picking out a date on an auction block can't be much harder than finding the perfect sweater at Banana or winning an e-Bay auction. Right? I did score that amazing Jack George briefcase for a quarter of the price... I can do that with dudes! Half-Priced Hunk? Obviously, the title of my next blog...
 Let's check out these hunks! I think as I click the link.

The link takes me to bios with pictures of all the eligible bachelors.
Hmmm... I should add a picture column to my excel spreadsheet... I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier! Ahhh Crigger! Where is you mind? 

Oooo... He's cute. I'd pay to have dinner with him.
Oh, a stock broker. Maybe he could give me some tips. This one might be a wise investment.
A world traveler? Hmmm... that has some merit. Nevermind. Favorite destination is Thailand? Wrong answer. Its totally over-rated. I'm looking for Cambodia or Rwanda. 
A date with this guy includes golf! Sweet! Its best to find out if they can take losing to a girl early on.

Oh. My. God.
GULP. Did someone suck all the oxygen out of the room?
My eyes must be playing tricks on me.
He can't be one of the bachelors. 
So what if it is for a good cause.
Mr. I'd-be-honored-to-take-you-out-kissing-me-in-a-parking-lot-while-I-am-sweaty-and-looking-hideous-under-the-orange-glow-meeting-my-mom-and-bringing-me-moonshine is being auctioned off. 
AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I was ready to quit all my dating and just date him, until he showcased his excellent magical skill with his disappearing act.
This is horrible. 
HORRIBLE.


The feeling in my chest was worse than any heartburn I've ever imagined.
It was more akin to getting kicked in the chest.
By a kangaroo.
On steroids.


I have half a mind to go to that auction and bet $5 on him with the disclaimer of "I've been out with Zach! Five dollars is all its worth!"
Or I'll go and bet on everyone else!
Yeah! That's what I'll do! Kiss my tail, Zach!



Before I flew too far into space from that whopping kangaroo kick, rational Crigger kicked in:
If you go and do either of those things you, clearly only have half a mind. 
This will not win you any friends. Just forget it.
Forget him.
You don't have to chase men. There are plenty chasing you. 
You are better off without him. Obviously. If he doesn't see how lucky he is to be in your presence, he doesn't deserve to spend any more time you. 

While I could stop myself from going to that auction and making a spectacle of myself, I couldn't stop the what ifs.
What if things had gone differently?
What if we were still seeing each other?
Would I be trying to figure out a Christmas present? Would I be introducing him to my friends?
Would I be hanging out with him rather than going to the bars with my friends.
Maybe if I was just seeing him I wouldn't be having as much fun with my friends, meeting lots of new people, and exploring more of Southern California.
Or maybe I'd be having a different kind of fun. A more exclusive, come over for dinner, let's watch a movie, or go to trivia night with our friends, explore So-Cal together kind of fun.

As much as this stings, and as squishy as my insides are when I think about this, I know that in the end, everything will be fine.
And since everything isn't fine.

This can't possibly be the end.