#awkwarddates

[artisticreality81]

#repost #Facts #AwkwardDates #YoursTruly

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Mr. Young

At a party with girlfriends, I notice a cute young man staring at me from the other room.  I move, and he still stares.  I point him out to my friends, we laugh.  He asks me to dance.  I say, “No, thank you.”  He asks me again.  I don’t see the benefit in shaking it up with someone for whom I might have babysat, but he’s so persistent that I allow it for a few minutes. 

When it is time to leave, he follows me out to my car.  He carries a pretty orange flower, stolen from the garden of the neighbor.  He bows as he presents it to me through my window and we all giggle as we drive away. 

Mr. Young finds me on the Internet and asks me to hang out.  I put him at about twenty-six years old, but pray for twenty-nine, though I don’t hold my breath. 

We have lunch and talk about college and jobs, so I am feeling like he might be closer to thirty than I’d initially assumed, though he was still working hard to sound older, which was having the opposite effect. 

I don’t feel a particular connection, but he is kind, polite, and consistent, so I agree to see him again, but let him know that I will contact him. 

In the meantime, I have met a delightful twenty-one year old Australian girl and I think they might really hit it off!  She has a party coming up, so I extend the invite to Mr. Young, to see if I can’t find him someone more age-appropriate. 

At the party, he only has eyes for me, and it’s tough to tell him I brought him out for someone else, so I decide instead to keep things friendly with drinks at a nearby bar.

We take some shots and he goes to the restroom.  A vivacious woman at the next table chats me up and asks how old I am.  I ask her if she wouldn’t mind asking me again, once my date has returned, so I can unlock the mystery of how old he might be. 

When she asks, he turns to me and says,

“Does it matter to you?” 

I respond that it matters a little, as I am probably looking for different things than a man in his mid-twenties in Hollywood. 

“Twenty.”

Oh, sweet boy.  Good night.  It was lovely to have met you, but there is just absolutely NO WAY.   

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Mr. Beachwood

Though excellent company, Mr. Hollywood is still obsessed with his famous ex-girlfriend and how thin she is and I am not thrilled in comparison.  He seems awfully comfortable at a safe distance, hanging out only once a week my needs aren’t being fulfilled in the meantime, so I cut him loose and head to the local tavern. 

A couple of fingers later, in walks a tall, handsome friend of mine.  Mr. Beachwood saddles up next to me and orders us a few more rounds.  I am dizzy with drunkenness and he is suddenly full of liquid courage. 

“I have been madly in love with you since the second we met.”

Whoa.  He has a girlfriend.  He lives with her.  She is NEVER home. 

No one has fallen in love with me out loud in fifteen years.

I’m not sure that I can't be in love with him too, so I tell him that he needs to figure out his situation and break up with her if he wants to try things out with me. 

I give him two weeks to manage all of that.  I have a trip coming up later in the week, so he agrees to take me to the airport and pick me up ten days later, having handled it before my return. 

Mr. Beachwood arrives, giant dog in tow, and though I hate indoor animals, I silently prepare myself to love and live with this one. 

When he removes the burden of my luggage from my warm body, his sad eyes relay that I have lost this battle.  He apologizes, but I am a little colder, as I need to protect myself from the confusion that comes with poor boundaries.  

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Mr. Island

On Wednesday, I receive a text from Mr. Island.

Mr. Island was a boyfriend I had in high school, with whom I was totally taken, but who cheated on me with a girl who was two years younger - humiliating.We broke up and I saw him every few years (just as “friends,” we never dated again), until he got married.

Last year, when I was in my hometown for my sister’s wedding, he called, said he was divorced now and realized he needed a woman like me, and asked me if he could take me to St. Thomas for a vacation.

Bold move, Mr. Island. Scary, but bold. The grand gesture is incredibly romantic and appreciated, however we haven’t hung out in over a decade and I think we should have coffee before we jet-set to an exotic locale.

At the time, I blew him off, because it was too much. I felt a little bad about it, but returned to Los Angeles, continued dating and forgot all about him.

Until Wednesday.

Here is the transcript of our text messages (He is M, I am R and I will BOLDmy responses):

M: What’s up? Remember when I asked you to St. Thomas? I’m moving there in November.

R: You are? That’s amazing! I’m sorry I didn’t follow up on that – my schedule is very demanding and I was a little afraid.

M: No problem! Afraid of what?

R: Being alone on an island? We didn’t even have lunch first, lol. It’s been so long and I think I was nervous about the deep range of possible feelings.

M: What type of feelings honey?

R: You were the first boy I ever loved! But I am so different now. And you probably are too. It felt like a lot.

M: I’m the same old boy that I ever was. My personality can adapt to any other. Kind, honest, loyal, down to earth and sarcastic. We will always get along!

M: My personality is timeless.

R: ;)

M: That’s all you got for me?

R: I believe you. I remember you. I am totally different. I’m quiet and private and introverted now. I can’t go very many places without getting recognized, so I spend most of my spare time at home or w a few close friends.

M: I love being at home and just chilling. I hate going out. I’m private too because people are all over me since I’ve been on TMZ

M: Seriously I don’t go out

R: Oh, then you totally understand! ;)

M: I do! I’m not even going to ask you to visit me in St Thomas since I’m such a threat. By the way I still have feelings for you. Don’t ignore how we feel about each other

R: Haha, you are very threatening. Maybe we should try a Skype sesh and see how that goes

M: Don’t know what that mess but sounds reid

M: Threatening? That’s a strong and intrusive word. What the hell man?

R: I was teasing you, after you said, “since I’m such a threat”

M: Haha! Anyway… I am still interested in Ms. [Redacted] I just wish that she still wanted me!

R: That hasn’t ever been the problem!

M: What was the problem? I’ll fix it!

R: [name of girl with whom he cheated on me in high school] ;)

M: She’s history. We are talking about you. That’s who I’m interested in. If you have no interest let me know and I’ll leave you alone.

R: Well, I don’t know yet. I’m not disinterested and I am open to getting to know you better.

M: I guess not

M: You know me! What if I came to LA to visit you!

ONE HOUR PASSES (I am in a meeting)

M: Never mind.

M: I’ll be in St. Thomas.

A HALF AN HOUR PASSES (still in my meeting)

M: That’s all you’ve got?

M: You always were a quitter

R: I was in a meeting. It is lovely to finish up a tough audition and be greeted by such kind words. I hope St. Thomas is wonderful for you.

M: I’m sorry. Don’t hold that against me. I want to hang out and see how we feel.

R: You are way too passive aggressive right now for me to feel comfortable.

R: And I have another meeting in 6 minutes, so I need to prepare

M: Talk later… sorry

M: Text me when you’re done. Sorry that I was too passive aggressive. Let’s chat! Don’t be mad

M: You know I still want you! You’re beautiful, sexy and

M: Alluring

ONE HOUR LATER

M: I feel bad… sorry

ONE HOUR LATER

M: You done with your meeting?

TWO HOURS LATER

M: Night

ONE HOUR LATER

M: (picture of M, holding a baby girl, not his child)

M: Don’t be pissed at me!!!!

M: (another picture of M, holding the same baby girl)

M: Don’t be pissed at me!!!

HE CALLS MY PHONE AND LEAVES A MESSAGE:

M: [Redacted], it’s Mr. Island. Ummmm, please don’t be mad at me, I apologize about before, ummm, give me a call back or, ummmm, send me a message, just to let me know you’re not mad, I hope you’re not, so…. Anyway, that’s it.I’ll talk to you soon.

THE NEXT DAY AT SEVEN-THIRTY IN THE MORNING

M: Do you like my picture? It shows my softer side. How could you be mad at a guy like that? Aren’t I adorable? ;)

I RECEIVE TWO PHONE CALLS FROM MYSTERIOUS NUMBERS, NO MESSAGES.

ONE HOUR LATER

M: We cool now? I was totally kidding when I said you were a quitter! It makes no sense cause I never knew you as a quitter. My bad for saying it but no reason to ruin our relationship over. Especially our potentially budding one!

M: I like you and always have your smart, beautiful. Breathtaking, amazing

And unmarked.

ONE HOUR LATER

M: What else do I Have you u as my number! Is it you Ms. [Redacted]?

M: Sorry for trying!!

M: Give the man you love one more chance

FIVE HOURS LATER

M: [Redacted]… please forgive me. You’ve never been mad at me like this!! I was just joking beautiful.

ONE HOUR LATER

M: If your serious b this is nuts.. I’ve always had strong feelings for you and if you wont talk to me over something so silly than what can I do? I thought we both liked each other

M: Come on [Redacted]. I like you and want to get to know you better. Work with me beautiful.

FOUR HOURS LATER

M: The silent treatment is really starting to kill me. Are we just never gonna talk again? That would make me very sad.

ONE WEEK LATER

M: I give up.  You are way beyond me now.  Enjoy your success.  I’ll cheer for you.

ONE HOUR LATER

M: Can I get one word?  Where would you like to go?  You tell me we’re there!  Serious

ONE HOUR LATER

M: Let’s go on vacation!

AND IN MY FACEBOOK MESSAGES:

M: Hey!  I was totally joking the other day.  Please find it in your heart to forgive me.  

M: Please don’t be mad.  Forgiveness Ms. [Redacted].  Let’s get back to talking.  It’s much nicer.  Especially with you. 

(attached another picture of himself, with a child on his shoulders)

THE NEXT DAY

M:  Another chance?  Begging!  Will give up for good soon.

M:  Can’t you at least say something?  The silence is killing me!

M: [Redacted]… We could have something special between us.  I made a remark that was a joke and now you won’t even talk to me.  It hurts to say this but I give up.  I think you already did.  Miss you.

TWO HOURS LATER

M: [Redacted]… This is my final plea.  We could have something special and we shouldn’t throw it away over a joke.  I made a mistake and I’m so sorry.  The way you’re acting makes me believe that you have no interest in having anything to do with me.  With that in mind this will be my final message and attempt to reach you.  I sincerely hope to hear from you.

THE NEXT DAY 

M: You’re clearly done with me.  Bye. 

AND BACK TO TEXT THE NEXT DAY, AS I HAVE BLOCKED HIM FROM FACEBOOK:

M: You miss me?  I miss talking to you.  Miss understanding.  Don’t write me off. 

I CONTACT A MUTUAL FRIEND OF OURS AND ASK HIM TO HELP MR. ISLAND UNDERSTAND THAT I AM NOT INTERESTED AND WILL NOT RESPOND.  HE AGREES AND THE TEXT MESSAGES STOP.

UNTIL TWO WEEKS LATER, WHEN I RECEIVE THIS ON MY FAN PAGE:

M: Want to be your friend again. Miss you

AND TWO WEEKS LATER, WHEN I RECEIVE THIS TEXT:

M: Hey [Redacted]!!  Congratulations on your success.  I hope that we can be friends again someday.  I don’t want you out of my life.  

AND A FEW WEEKS AFTER THAT:

M: Just want you to know that I think you look great!  You're doing an awesome job.  Proud of you!

AND THEN A FEW DAYS LATER:

M: Do I have the right number?

AND ANOTHER WEEK MORE:

M: Hey [Redacted], Can you PLEASE get back to me?  I really need to talk to you.

AND MANY MONTHS LATER BY MY WORK EMAIL FOUND ON THE INTERNET:

"Hey [Redacted]!  It's your old friend Mr. Island.  I have been tried to reach you over the past few months with no success.  I don't know whether you changed your contact info or just don't feel like communicating with me anymore.  I hope that the latter isn't the case.  Anyway, I will be in your area next week and wanted to see if you would be available to get together.  I hope that you can and that this message finds you well.  Thanks."  

THIS IS FOLLOWED BY AN ADDITIONAL EMAIL OF A PICTURE OF HIS FACE WAY UP CLOSE CAPTIONED "DO YOU REMEMBER ME [REDACTED]?"

I contact the local police for advice.  I tell them that I am not interested in responding, but that I am also somewhat fearful that he is flying from the East to West coast to find me.  The officer is kind, and explains to me that if I don't write anything, Mr. Island can claim he never knew I wasn't interested.  REALLY?  Okay.  I agree to write the following:

"Mr. Island,

I am not interested in communicating with you.  Your texts/calls/Facebook messages/emails have made me extremely uncomfortable and I have no desire to speak with or see you.  Please do not contact me again.  

[Redacted]"

I immediately receive a response:  

"Wow dude!  That was certainly not my intention and is upsetting to hear.  I mean this truly is a first... no one has ever said such a thing to me. :)  I guess you got too big for some people.  

I wholeheartedly apologize for making you feel "extremely uncomfortable" and hope you have a good life."

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Mr. Producer

Mr. Actor and I stay friends and he brings me to a premiere of his short film. 

Mr. Producer corners me at the after party and makes it clear that he wants us to hang out.  I am still new in LA and I need some friends, so I keep it casual and exchange information, and a few days later I receive a cool text.

“Have you every been to a graveyard screening at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery?”

I have, and it’s awesome.  I'd love to go again.  We make a plan for a group of us to meet up at Mr. Producer’s house and cab over to the movie.  I am psyched.

When I arrive, Mr. Producer is the only one there.  He tells me that the others are on their way and we pack up a picnic cooler.  We bring everything outside and no one else is there. 

“Well, let’s just take a cab and meet them there.”

THIS IS WEIRD. 

I do not like a bait and switch situation.  And I don’t want to date friends, even though Mr. Actor and I are not seeing each other.  Maybe I am exaggerating.  I hope I am exaggerating. 

We get to the cemetery and everyone else is already there.  All couples.  Including Mr. Actor.  With which I’m fine, save for the part about how I appear to be in a couple with Mr. Producer.  I am going to stay friendly and see how this plays out.

We settle into our spot and start eating and drinking.  I am chatting with everyone and Mr. Producer is looking a little bit agitated.  He asks me if I would like to go to the bathroom (a port-o-potty) with him and when I reasonably say, “No, thank you,” he storms off.

THIS IS AWKWARD. 

I still can’t figure out if I am on an accidental date, so I try and beer it away.  Not to get drunk, just to take any edge off that I might have. 

Mr. Producer returns and does not sit next to me.  When the movie starts, I am kind of alone, in a corner.  Which is maybe a relief, but still odd.

In the middle of the movie, another girl joins us.  Mr. Producer is lying on the ground and she lays perpendicular to him, WITH HER HEAD IN HIS LAP. 

AM I ON A DATE OR NOT?   

Had I wanted to be on a date, this would have been terribly upsetting, but now I am feeling a mixed sense of relief and anger – I wanted to just be friends, but this appears disrespectful in front of everyone, no? 

The movie ends and she introduces herself to me, AS MR. PRODUCER’S GIRLFRIEND, and then asks if I’d like to JOIN THEM FOR SOME DRINKS AT A BAR. 

THIS IS UNCOMFORTABLE. 

I decline, but the three of us still have a prickly cab ride back to his house (and my car), during which she tells me all about what a fantastic boyfriend Mr. Producer is and how lucky I am to be spending time with them.

I am lucky to be getting back in my car by myself, and I drive away feeling sorry for the girl and wondering if LA is really the right place for a wholesome gal like me… 

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Mr. Actor

All of my life, I have been pumped to go skydiving.  I know it isn’t a great idea, I realize I will have to sign away my life and yet, I have a deep need to do it anyway.

When I meet Mr. Actor and he tells me he’s always wanted to go skydiving, I seize the opportunity.  He chickens out the first few times I try and set the date, but finally concedes to a mutual birthday celebratory dive.

We head out to Lake Elsinore early in the morning.  Once we arrive, we are told that the wait is a few hours, so we decide to grab some “last meal” burgers from a nearby In-And-Out, in case we die. 

Upon our return, we meet our “makers,” the guys to whom we will be strapped for the fall.  Mine is named Danny and he is a raging adrenaline junky who’s already jumped four times this morning. 

We take a course on safety and it emphasizes, “putting your feet up” for the landing, in order to allow the person behind you to safely run it out. 

I AM TERRIFIED. 

Mr. Actor, who could barely be convinced to join me, is STOKED. 

So I suck it up and act cool, but inside I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE. 

We get up in the plane, UNTETHERED TO ANYTHING.  The door is open and we can easily slide right out to our deaths.  For some reason, they don’t hook you to your person until you are about to jump.  I want to be hooked.  I don’t think this is fun. 

Danny latches on behind me and we move forward in the line.  As we hang out over the edge, I nearly vomit.  My mouth is wide open in fright and I’m pretty sure this is going to be it.  Mr. Hollywood is smiling at me, because HE HASN’T LOOKED DOWN YET.  I smile back to try and be cool and we push off.

SKYDIVING IS THE WORST. 

While we are bulleting toward the earth, I am freezing and uncomfortable.  Danny pulls the chute and I am jacked upward in a crotch-seizing terror, a wedgie of epic proportions.  In which I stay for the remainder of the ride.  Even as we float gently toward the earth, my harness is jacked so far up my delicate parts, it is difficult to enjoy the scenery. 

We come in for a landing and I lift up my legs as instructed.

CRUNCH.

Wow.  That wasn’t how I thought it would happen.  I am sitting on the ground when I hear Danny whisper.

“Do NOT move.”

Wait, why can’t I move?  What just happened?

“We lost sail right before we landed and your bottom took the hit.  You might not be able to walk.”

WHAT??

We slowly stand me up and I am fine!  Nothing at which to look here!

Danny unhooks from me and I crumble to the ground like a discarded puppet. 

He breaks my fall and assists me back up.  I am carried to a wading pool and placed inside.  Something is very wrong.

Mr. Actor lands smooth as silk and finds me in the pool.  He jumps in for a hug and I cringe. 

“I may have broken my ass.”

He laughs, because I MUST BE KIDDING. 

Danny is arranging for hospitalization.  Mr. Actor interrupts him. 

“My parents are both doctors and they live in the area.  I can take her there and they will check her out.”

They agree that this is the best option, as it isn’t favorable for the jump site to have extra ambulances pulling in.

OH MY GOODNESS, I AM GOING TO MEET HIS PARENTS AND THEY ARE GOING TO LOOK AT MY ASSHOLE.

 Of course, that is EXACTLY what happens. 

Mr. Actor’s family is lovely.  They confirm that my ass, is indeed broken and let me know that I am welcome to get an x-ray, but that it isn’t necessary, because they can FEEL the shattered bones and there isn’t anything more a hospital will be able to do at this point ESPECIALLY WITH ALL OF THE NOTICEABLE BRUISING AND SWELLING.  They patch me right up and prescribe the requisite meds and ass-pillow.   Then we have a barbeque and hang out in the hot tub. 

On our way home, Mr. Actor asks me if I want to go to a movie.  That sounds like the best plan ever.  I bring my donut into the theater and we enjoy a little comic relief.  When the movie ends, I burst into tears for the first time since my injury. 

“I can’t get out of the chair.”

Mr. Actor is gentle and kind and we extract me from the movie theater seat slowly.  I am embarrassed and drugged, but I have been SKYDIVING, so I know I can survive ANYTHING.  

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Mr. Friend

Other than my very-best-guy-friend Damian, I spend a lot of time with Mr. Friend.  When we were in seventh grade, at our friend Jennifer’s Bat Mitzvah, we played spin the bottle and he refused to kiss me because I was not popular.  It turned me off from him forever, so we were safe to be just friends and I wasn’t physically attracted to him anyway.

When I arrive in Los Angeles, I receive a call from Mr. Magnum, yelling at me,

“What the HELL have you done to Mr. Friend?” 

Oh man.  I heard.  Turns out all these years, Mr. Friend may have been holding a bit of a torch.  Who knew?

Just before I left, we went to dinner and he insisted that my move was “hasty (it wasn’t)” and I should have “waited for him (I didn’t want to).”  I assured him that we would never be more than friends and he spent the next few weeks tweeting about “not letting the one you love get away.”

Mr. Magnum is FUMING. 

“Did you have sex with your cousin Erik?” 

What??  Now I am confused. 

“What about the hot guy from the pizza place?” 

I start laughing.  This line of questioning is so ridiculous; it’s more funny than disturbing to me. 

“Mr. Magnum, about what are you even talking?” 

“When we were dating, how many other people were you seeing?” 

“No one else, why?  I really liked you!  I had no idea what happened.” 

“What happened was I was looking for a wife and I love my wife now and I never would’ve met her if we hadn’t broken up, but I had planned to marry you and Mr. Friend told me you were fu*king everyone so I disappeared.” 

"Wait, WHAT?" 

Mr. Magnum and I stay on the phone for a long time.  It seems likely that Mr. Friend has told a lot of guys this.  Mr. Magnum had confirmation from at least two others who had been impacted, and I’d had sex with no one. 

I asked him why he didn’t just ask me and he said that he didn’t think Mr. Friend would make something like that up and that it was too late, he’d already planted a seed that was impossible for him to get out of his head. 

Suddenly my sixth date curse totally made sense – it was around the time I introduced the new guy to my friends.  Holy Moly. 

Friendship Adjourned. 

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Mr. Basketball (a ten-year, five-part series)

PART I:

Junior year of college, during my first official long-term-relationship break-up (his ex-girlfriend had come to visit, spent Thanksgiving with his family and him, found some of my belongings in his house, put them in a box and called me at my parents’ house to tell me to pick them up FROM THE LAWN), I was housed on the same floor as some smoking hot university basketball players and one of them, in particular, ran around in my mind to a Ludacris soundtrack. 

After flirting with him all semester, but keeping a safe, respectable, I-have-a-boyfriend distance, I muster up all of my courage to see if he wants to hang out.  He answers his phone and asks if I am kidding (I am not).  After about an hour, I convince him to come over.  We make out and he kisses my shoulders and for the first time I’ve ever heard it from a man in my life, tells me I am absolutely beautiful. 

We spend the next few weeks hoarding every minute we can together.  My ex keeps calling, but I am having none of that. 

My sixteen-year-old sister comes to visit, I introduce them and we have some drinks (I cannot control her).  I go back to my room.  THEY MAKE OUT. 

I return my ex’s call in the morning and we get back together.

PART II:

Throughout the years, I stay in touch with Mr. Basketball, despite his indiscretion with my sister (it took time for that to heal).  And one day he offers to visit. 

He takes the train to Connecticut and we have a great time.  We make more plans and he tells me he wants to take me to meet his family at their cabin in upstate New York.  He sends me emails at work that are so romantic; one of them gets me FIRED FROM MY JOB. 

We decide to meet up for his birthday at the end of the week and drive up to the cabin.  I buy host gifts for his family and pack my bag. 

He never calls.

PART III:

I set Mr. Basketball’s college roommate up with a whore friend of mine and they decide to get married.  Neither Mr. Basketball nor I is invited with a date, so we spend the majority of the wedding making out in the handicapped stall of the bathroom.  He tries to get me back to his hotel room, but I still remember his last few disappearing acts and decline.

PART IV:

Somehow Mr. Basketball and I get back to talking and he decides to visit me again.  This time he apologizes for being flakey and when I finally have the nerve to ask him what had happened with my sister, he apologizes again and said that we look so much alike that it didn’t matter with which one of us he was making out.

(Side note:  I wouldn’t have believed this, but I experienced it once, during a black-out, with two brothers, only to one of whom I was attracted, but the other one looked so much like a smiling/happier version of him and my body was totally fueled with vodka – it actually didn’t matter which brother it was).

We have some great talks and some fun times.  And then he disappears again. 

FINALE:

THE EMAIL I ACTUALLY SENT:

Hey.  How are you?  How’s work?   

I’m hoping to enlist your help with something, privately.  

As you know, I am moving to LA in July.

Unfortunately I seemed to have developed a 6th date curse - that is:

-I start dating someone, who is clearly very interested in me for almost always exactly 6 dates and then (though we haven’t committed to anything, nor have I suggested that)

-Completely freaks out on me and/or bails (something I would totally understand after one or two dates if I weren’t for what he was looking).

My friend Andy suggested that it sounds like about the time things “heat up," and that perhaps I am not good at that stuff - totally possible, but there are enough examples of things not “heating up," that I’m not convinced it’s a deficiency that a man doesn’t think I can’t overcome.  

So I’m pretty sure it’s something about my personality and I guess I’m trying to figure out if it’s something on which I can work, so that I don’t repeat the same patterns in LA. 

My sister and I have gone over it a lot of times and we thought you might be the best, unbiased person to help, because:

-you’ve known me long enough to tell the truth,

-you keep coming back into my life and

-you have never had any interest in a commitment with me.   

Do you think you might be open to a discussion about this?  Or you can write me back something that will hurt my feelings and never talk to me again, if that’s easier (but I hope not).  

Please help.  

I only have about 230 eggs left…

(totally inappropriate joker - possibly the reason?)

xx,

[Redacted]

Mr. Basketball takes his time responding.  But when he finally does, he shoots back with:

 “You are the FINEST woman.  Change NOTHING.  Find a man who knows how to appreciate all the goodness you bring into this world and you will bring into his life.”

I never hear from him again.  And it’s okay.  The 6th date curse is about to end.