Possible FWB

I took a break from my singlehood to visit an old friend down in Arizona. But, I'm back and Murphy's Law has struck big time. My glasses broke this morning so I've been squinting all day and building one heck of a headache. Also, my right arm is wonky. It won't straighten out. And when I take a deep breath, my chest hurts. I hate doctors so I'm going to wait the last 2 out.

Back to our regularly scheduled program. Being single and 36 means:

-It becomes increasingly difficult to get a good picture to post (at least, it is for me.) The sporadic gray doesn't show or anything but my hair is thinner, my laugh lines are noticeable, and the corner of my eyes are starting to droop. Also, my poor bra has to work a little harder to keep the girls up.

-Dating online requires a really, really thick skin. By comparison, it was a walk in the park when I was in my 20s. Guys usually wrote me back. Now? Um, not usually, which is daunting. I'll never send out a form email, because I'll never be that lazy about trying to strike up a connection and people can spot those a mile away, but I'm starting to understand why people do it. Life is short. Funny, smart, interesting emails...take...time...to...write.

With that said, I got a response back from one of the guys on CL right before I left for AZ. It might be too early to tell but I think I might have an FWB on my hands. Thank God! I'm positively dying over here. He looks exactly like Karl Urban (or Éomer from Lord of the Rings) and speaks like a naughty Englishman. Case in point, I told him I was going to be in Arizona and wouldn't be back till today and he suggested we "flirt like mad" in the meantime. So, we did. And our game plan is to meet [are you ready for this one?] at his place for a few drinks tomorrow night.

It sounds a bit risky but my gut tells me things will be fine. Will keep you posted.

Silly, foolish games

"Well, excuse me, guess I've mistaken you for somebody else,
Somebody who gave a damn,
Somebody more like myself..."

Good lord, Christmas Company Party Guy struck again. If you remember, he had responded to my pretty nice, semi-thoughtful, occasionally funny email by saying, "Hi, my name is [insert monosyllabic name]...." I chose to ignore it.

This time, he attached the same picture and wrote, "I like your dressJ. My name is [insert monosyllablic name]..."

WTF.

Speaking of games, English Tom shot me a "fancy another? :)" and then challenged me to another game. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't secretly relieved. I know things has to end, but what's one more game? I replied with a very staid, "yep" but what I really wanted to say was, "Of course!" How's that for self-control?

Such silly, foolish games.

One step back

Craigslist update:

X-mas company party guy wrote back. Erm, well, he did a "Hi, my name is [insert monosyllabic name]" with an ellipsis and attached a B&W picture. By comparison, I wrote a short novella so I'm guessing he wants to know if I like what I see before expending any kind of time and energy. Savvy move but it oozes laziness.

Plus: he's 41...and has all his hair. That's no small feat.

Minuses: I'm not crazy about the goatee. Apparently, he didn't get the memo: Unless you're Viggo or Ryan Gosling, scruff will not look good on you! Also, I know this sounds super nitpicky but his eyes looked old and tired.

I thought of responding and saying something like, "How weird, I just got a photo but not much else. I don't think your email came through" but thought that was a bit too coy. Especially since it doesn't appear he's even my type. Why bother?

One step forward and 2 steps back with English Tom. I threw him a bone--okay, okay, I missed him. A lot. So, I sent him a message via WWF that we should finish our game. Before the message, I think I implied he could go to hell and he assumed we'd never talk again, so he enthusiastically said, "Yay!" and went his turn, then tentatively asked me how I was doing. I lied and I said I was good, then asked him how he was doing and he said he was just "okay." Then, we engaged in a relatively benign convo where I didn't gush, didn't pry, didn't use any smiley faces, didn't say "lol!", and I don't think I really asked any questions in return. I could tell that he could tell that something was off and that things had changed, which suited me just fine. 

Back to the grind

The highlight of last night was discovering I had an old (opened) bottle of red wine in the fridge. It was drinkable...but barely. Oh, and seeing the Two Towers is now available for instant streaming on Netflix. 20 minutes into it, however, I discovered even Viggo couldn’t cheer me up so I went to bed at 9:30. 

This morning, I called in sick to nurse my "dumped by a guy I never dated" wounds. I know it all sounds ridiculous but I'm pretty down about it. For almost a year, English Tom and I have connected in some way or another and the last 2 weeks have been a whirlwind of planning for his visit, so the idea of no more ET is depressing. Yes, he was very hot, which drew me in, but he was also deep and witty and smart. And his killer accent made me swoon every single time we spoke on the phone. Speaking of phone, I'll go ahead and add here that we had phone sex once and did quite a bit of sexting. The first I've done; but sexting was new to me and I wasn't quite sure what to expect but it was more fun that I had ever thought it would be. I was an English major in college. Words get me going, I guess.

For what it's worth, he did offer friendship (and seemed crestfallen when I didn't want it) because he wanted us to continue playing our games and he liked our banter. Dude, I have plenty of friends I don't have time for IN REAL LIFE.

The sky was gray and the clouds were practically bursting, but it was miraculously dry. However, I didn't go for a run. Instead, I went shopping at Target with a free $50 gift card I won at work, and managed to squeeze into a size 6 of the same style of my current jeans, which I love. It's a tad too small; there's a slight muffin top and my butt is smushed so the crack sort of disappears and my cheeks kind of meld together but I'm thinking it'll look just fine if I can shed 2 or 3 more lbs. Alternatively, I might do some lounges in it and call it good. Then, I made dinner (fried fish and a spinach salad) and popped a caramelized onion quiche (with a ready made pie crust) in the oven because I had a massive craving. Clooney's The American kept me company while I was stirring away at the onions. 

Then, I did something I hadn't done in awhile; answered a CL ad. Actually, 2 of them. Shockingly, I saw a few good ones without trying too hard. Normally you have to wade thigh deep through the sugar daddy types and looking for a BBW types and the “are you a cuddler?” types and the "I'm 19 but looking for an older woman" types before finally giving up and doing something more productive. The first one is a tall writer with dark hair (hopefully on top of his head, too) who likes "theatre." After replying to his ad, I realized he may not be 45 because he said:

"My only age requirement is that you not be over 45. (Ish.) Sorry, that's just where my interest is."

I mean, he could be 45 and isn't into dating anyone older. (Please let that be it.) But, for all I know, he's 50, which is way too old for me and looking to date younger women. To make matters worse, the "ish" implies even more wiggle room, so he could be 55 or 60.

The 2nd one was cautiously sweet. He's looking for a date to a company Christmas party. He lives way up north, though, so I wonder if Asians are even on his radar. I included a picture of me in a black skimpy dress I'll more than likely wear for New Year's, which is slightly crass (body/no head shots tend to be, right?) but included some regular pics from when I was in San Francisco a few months ago to balance things out.

Tonight before bed, I'm going to work on my OkC profile.