Much Ado About....
...nothing. Much ado about nothing is indeed where my pathetic love life currently stands.
On Saturday, the day after my date with #5, A, I left to go to a conference. That morning, A sent me a "travel safe" kind of text. I replied an hour or so later. And that was it.
I haven't heard from him again, and I'm juuuust fine with that.
While I was gone, a few texts were exchanged with #6, G. Two or three mornings during the conference I was awakened by a "have a great day" text from him, and if I sent the text, he replied. He never mentioned anything about talking, and I had sent him some times where I'd be free of conference responsibilities (to which he'd replied, "sweet"). I texted him when I returned to Missouri, which according to my iPhone was delivered but has not been read. There also exists the possibility it wasn't delivered in spite of what the iPhone says; there were other texts during the conference to friends that were "delivered," but actually weren't. So, I will probably try one more text and see if there is any response.
Meanwhile, Match has been sort of quiet. Last night I did reply to an email I'd gotten a couple days previous - my conference didn't leave much time for playing on Match - and replied to another because I took pity on the guy. He's currently separated, in his 50s, and it was obvious he was very new to all this. His initial email was practically "War and Peace." So when I replied saying I wasn't interested in meeting, I did offer him some advice as a veteran of Match: "consider making your initial emails shorter." He was quite happy to receive the advice, and of course, if I change my mind I can email him.
However, the past week did have in-person experiences that both flattered and disturbed me. I am just not used to random people finding me attractive enough to flirt with. A married guy at the beer garden, striking up a little conversation. The bartender at the dive bar we went to twice. A waiter at a restaurant. A colleague. All wonderful things for my ego, and none of those disturbed me. The one that did happened on my drive home.
Zipping down the freeway, 15 minutes from home, I encountered a pack of bikers. Think of every stereotype you know when you think of bikers: leather, long hair, tats, facial hair, no helmets (or the kind that wouldn't save anything in an accident), Harleys gleaming with chrome and roaring with power. Now that you have those images, you know what kind of biker pack this was. I moved to the left lane to pass them, because I could hear my bed calling me.
Just as I had passed the final biker, one roared up beside me and beeped his horn. Yes, beeped. For all the manly power of a Harley Davidson motorcycle, the horn sounds like it should be on a go-cart. The beeping was to get my attention, so I looked over at him, wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with my car. Nope, he thought I was attractive, and once he had my attention he made a somewhat lewd face and rubbed and patted the seat behind him in a "wanna ride my Harley?" way. Yeah, no. I shook my head, faced forward, and continued driving.
So he did it again. Mind you, this exchange is happening at about 77 mph. This time, facing forward, I said some rather colorful words and he may have recognized the f-bomb on my lips. I accelerated and he backed off. I raced home and considered a long shower.
That's where life stands right now. Things are gearing up to be busy at work, and perhaps not having anything going on here is a blessing. Or maybe now that I've said it, there will be more drama. Regardless, I'll be blogging!
On Saturday, the day after my date with #5, A, I left to go to a conference. That morning, A sent me a "travel safe" kind of text. I replied an hour or so later. And that was it.
I haven't heard from him again, and I'm juuuust fine with that.
While I was gone, a few texts were exchanged with #6, G. Two or three mornings during the conference I was awakened by a "have a great day" text from him, and if I sent the text, he replied. He never mentioned anything about talking, and I had sent him some times where I'd be free of conference responsibilities (to which he'd replied, "sweet"). I texted him when I returned to Missouri, which according to my iPhone was delivered but has not been read. There also exists the possibility it wasn't delivered in spite of what the iPhone says; there were other texts during the conference to friends that were "delivered," but actually weren't. So, I will probably try one more text and see if there is any response.
Meanwhile, Match has been sort of quiet. Last night I did reply to an email I'd gotten a couple days previous - my conference didn't leave much time for playing on Match - and replied to another because I took pity on the guy. He's currently separated, in his 50s, and it was obvious he was very new to all this. His initial email was practically "War and Peace." So when I replied saying I wasn't interested in meeting, I did offer him some advice as a veteran of Match: "consider making your initial emails shorter." He was quite happy to receive the advice, and of course, if I change my mind I can email him.
However, the past week did have in-person experiences that both flattered and disturbed me. I am just not used to random people finding me attractive enough to flirt with. A married guy at the beer garden, striking up a little conversation. The bartender at the dive bar we went to twice. A waiter at a restaurant. A colleague. All wonderful things for my ego, and none of those disturbed me. The one that did happened on my drive home.
Zipping down the freeway, 15 minutes from home, I encountered a pack of bikers. Think of every stereotype you know when you think of bikers: leather, long hair, tats, facial hair, no helmets (or the kind that wouldn't save anything in an accident), Harleys gleaming with chrome and roaring with power. Now that you have those images, you know what kind of biker pack this was. I moved to the left lane to pass them, because I could hear my bed calling me.
Just as I had passed the final biker, one roared up beside me and beeped his horn. Yes, beeped. For all the manly power of a Harley Davidson motorcycle, the horn sounds like it should be on a go-cart. The beeping was to get my attention, so I looked over at him, wondering if perhaps there was something wrong with my car. Nope, he thought I was attractive, and once he had my attention he made a somewhat lewd face and rubbed and patted the seat behind him in a "wanna ride my Harley?" way. Yeah, no. I shook my head, faced forward, and continued driving.
So he did it again. Mind you, this exchange is happening at about 77 mph. This time, facing forward, I said some rather colorful words and he may have recognized the f-bomb on my lips. I accelerated and he backed off. I raced home and considered a long shower.
That's where life stands right now. Things are gearing up to be busy at work, and perhaps not having anything going on here is a blessing. Or maybe now that I've said it, there will be more drama. Regardless, I'll be blogging!
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