What do you do when the object of your desire phones while you’re tickling the kitty? Anyone ever had this happen? Do you answer the phone? Do you keep tickling? Or if you’re a guy, do you continue to rub it out?

I stopped. I waited for a couple of rings so I wouldn’t sound like I had been doing anything unusual. While it’s not unusual to be interrupted, I have never been interrupted by my fantasy. I don’t think he had any idea what I had been doing before he called.

It seemed too cliché to finish the title. While I have been busy working on many other projects, I noticed how long it has been since I have posted. Lately, I have had the urge to write, and only the late hour when great ideas come to me has stopped my writing. I rarely ever remember my late night ideas in the morning.

The burning question is: “am I writer?” Yes to “be” or no to “be.”

I thought I would take a short break from the Ex’s to provide you with the latest dating disaster. This one didn’t even get out of the gate. It consisted of about three hours of chatting online. I thought he was interesting and worth meeting, which I told him. He never did ask me out or to meet. He tiptoed around, asking if I wanted to meet. In subsequent chat sessions, he said how much he would like to meet, but never suggested a time or day. What is it with some men?

For any men out there, you will never get what you want unless you ask. Suggestions and hints don’t work. It is not up to women to suddenly respond to such interest with providing details of their schedules so that you may pick what works for you. At some point, all the suggestions and admonishments of how beautiful someone is just gets annoying. It doesn’t matter if you’re good looking, intelligent or have the “complete package.”

I suppose this guy was just another of a long line of pussies who needs to grow a pair and ask for what they want. Don’t be the guy in the photo.

When did I become so cynical about love? That was the question I asked myself while listening to a song I loved from 1987. The song is “The Border” by Mr. Mister. Every time I hear this song, I think of a couple who has been through a few things in life and all there is to do is keep going. I see a couple very much in love holding hands as they face the next thing in life. I see a man who is there with his arms open wide waiting for the woman to embrace him.

The Border by Mr. Mister

I don’t have that in my life. I have never had that in my life. I cannot imagine meeting anyone with the courage and conviction I hear in the song. I don’t know anyone who would say “whatever happens, we can handle it together.” I don’t know if that says something about people today or if it is just the people I meet. I didn’t cry, but the thoughts the song brings up make me sad. It’s like I lost something along the way. I’m not even sure that I’m supposed to have it, but I feel the loss.

The next song that came up on my iPod was “End of the Innocence” by Don Henley from 1989. I smiled to myself as I listened to the words, which provide an explanation of the cynicism and loss.

End of the Innocence by Don Henley

I remember when… I also know about being poisoned by fairy tales. I am very familiar with the lawyers too. Now, if only I could release all of it, forget for awhile like he suggests in the song. While I might not trade experience for innocence, it might be nice to have moments when that experience is forgotten. I learned a term for this in literature classes, but I don’t remember it and cannot find it. I think I would like more than just fleeting moments. I can almost imagine the freedom that comes with meeting every person or experience without the past creeping in. Almost. I would like to have the experience of the thoughts of the past not appearing. Ah, to be fully present…in the present.

What I really love about both songs is the piano part. The piano notes are haunting behind both singers amazing vocals.

This was another man I dated who left a lasting impact. It has been so long that I can’t remember how we met. It was probably online. We did a lot of chatting on ICQ–the predominant chat service on the internet at the time. It was also quite popular in Europe. We talked over the phone a few time, but then moved on to talking over the internet using a program that predates Skype but did the same thing. It was very unreliable.

I arranged to travel to the Netherlands over Christmas while I was in graduate school. I spent two weeks there. My jet lag was terrible, so he gave me a book. It was Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. This was also around the time when BBC/A&E came out with their program. The paperback was rather well-used and had his name in it. Obviously, he had to read it for some class. He talked up the story enough that I felt I should read it.

I had never read any of Austen’s books. I think he was appalled. I wasn’t that fond of the book in the beginning, but I needed something to do besides lie in bed awake. I finished the book once I got home. I still have the book, and it looks even more used. I have read Pride and Prejudice every year around Christmas since then. I love the story. The BBC/A&E production is the best.

The Dutch are rather interesting. They speak at least four languages fluently. I have no idea how they do it. I confuse Spanish and French. I hunt for the French word and come up with Spanish instead. They also swear in English in the middle of speaking Dutch. I loved how they had a “live and let live” attitude. For about a week, I lost my preoccupation with my looks. The Dutch just don’t worry about appearances like Americans.

I also came back with a Dutch accent, which lasted a month. My friends made fun of me for it. It wouldn’t have mattered where I went though. I pick up accents easily.

I also got a love of Gouda cheese. No one does Gouda like you get in the Netherlands.

Image by Photo8

Since I apparently have at least one reader, I will comply and write. The next guy with some positive impact was an avid cyclist. He even shaved the hair off his arms and legs. He said it made him faster. I don’t know if that’s true, but I can see where it would make a difference in being able to get the spandex easily on and off.

I got interested in mountain biking and bought a bike because he made it sound so interesting. It was fun for awhile, but I realized that I prefer speed to mountain biking. For a few years, I biked along trails. I have since stopped biking complete–although I still have the bike.

I am someone who loves to try new things, but often I leave the last one behind when something new comes along.

The one thing that I have from my ex-husband is my son. While the past 18 years of my son’s life have been riddled with crazy-making emails, phone calls, and even attorney letters, my son is well-balanced and kind. My son was coming with or without getting married. I often wish I hadn’t. It certainly would have been a different life for me and my son.

The other thing I got form my ex-husband was that I wasn’t going to be treated so poorly again. I knew what controlling looked like, and I avoided it.

Very few people know that the first guy I fell in love with was a French exchange student. He was on some special program where he came for the summer. I didn’t like him much at first.  He was younger than me, although we were in essentially the same grade. French schools are different. My mother told me that he was my type–which, of course, I made it obvious that he wasn’t my type at all. And then…I spent many weeks that summer high on Laurent.

I’m sure you remember what was like when you first fell in love. This wasn’t an ordinary crush. Most of the guys I was interested in during high school either were too oblivious or willfully pretended to not be interested. I haven’t recreated that feeling since. Perhaps that feeling only happens once–with the first one you fall in love with. After all, by the next one, you already know what to expect.

I don’t even remember what it was that I fell in love with. But Laurent left me with a love of French accents and wishing I knew French. That may be why I have spent many years learning French for a few months and then abandoning the endeavor when something easier and more interesting came along. I love French food, but that wasn’t from him. There weren’t any French restaurants in the smallish town where I went to high school.

Laurent wasn’t from rural France, so I have no idea how I managed to survive the months he spent with the weird family in a town of 50,000 people. There were no cultural activities. Kids our age drove the strip and went to movies.

When he left, we agreed to write, but my letters went unanswered. And wouldn’t you know, his last name is fairly common. There are several French men with the same name. I have photos of him and me somewhere, but since I agreed to keep these stories somewhat anonymous, I am keeping those photos to myself.

I still haven’t visited France and want to badly. I doubt I would find him there, but I know I could find another French man whose accent would make me swoon.

J’taime.

Even though I’m having little luck meeting the kind of man I am willing to date, I have dated quite few over the years and gotten something from each one. In this upcoming series, I will talk about some of the men I’ve either met or dated who had some lasting impact on my life (large or small). I will talk about the great things they left me with no matter how well or badly the relationship ended.

I will be using first names only. My guess is that I have about five readers and a few people who find themselves here by doing some specific search. It’s unlikely that any of them read my blog. Although if any men who know me come by and feel left out, feel free to post a comment or send an email. I will give some background if I think it is necessary, but not so much detail that anyone would recognize them.

This is my thank you to those men.