So it goes: boy meets girl, boy takes girl on date, boy and girl fall in love. That first date parades a menagerie of emotions: anxiety, excitement, and the anticipation of what may come to pass. You begin piecing together who the the person sitting across from you is through casual conversation and funny anecdotes shared. Slowly, you both realize your feelings for each other, yet bottle these emotions hoping not to appear too eager. The night ends with a warm embrace, dainty good night kiss, and second date plans already in the works. You skip back to your car, head reeling, unable to keep your feet grounded. The date was perfect. But what happens when a first date spirals from awful to unbearable leaving you yearning to run like hell for the nearest exit without so much as a backwards glance? I recently endured one such date and am compelled to turn it into literature!
For those of you who read my blogs... I unfortunately endured a month long membership on a little dating website called match.com. I met some real "winners" and when one potential relationship went utterly wrong, I removed myself from the embarrassment and promised to find love the old fashioned way; by actually going out! One gentlemen I had chatted with a few times on the site seemed really interested in me, so long after I closed the doors on match.com, I kept a window opened for him. He was attractive, well spoken, educated, and a bartender/drummer (for some reason I am a sucker for musicians)! Our completely opposite schedules and living circumstances offset an actual meeting, but never the chemistry. Finally, after months of flirtation and conversations we planned on a first official date. I felt all of the fore mentioned emotions with the hopes this might lead down a happy road. Boy was I in for a treat.
Any initial first date in which I am unfamiliar with the person, I like to take my own car. (Just in case he has corpses stashed in the trunk or a pull out bed displayed in the back seat.) My particular gentlemen was persistent on actually picking me up, but instead I gave him the restaurant directions. I arrived fashionably late to find him sitting at the bar happily chatting with the young, cute bartender. When he turned upon my entrance, I was delighted to find his photos had not lied. His curly black hair ascended around his piercing dark eyes that were completed by a killer smile. Then he opened his mouth...
"Oh my God! It is like so finally nice to meet you! You are like soooooooooooooooo pretty!" Wow, I truly did not expect that voice to come out of that body!
"Oh, ugh thanks! Nice to meet you as well," I mustered back stunned.
Why did he feel the need to slap on a thick "girly" accent? Was I suppose to swoon? I took a sit and ordered my drink as we began to start the real "getting to know you" process that usually occurs on a first date. For this he seemed completely normal as we chatted about his band, my family, and our jobs. I listened intently and decided to side step his "Welcome" greeting until disaster number two struck.
I picked up my refreshing mojito for a sip when all of a sudden I felt two hands slide aggressively up and down my legs. I turned to find his body practically in my lap and his face only centimeters from mine. "You are like soooooooooo pretty," he whispered in my ear the way a pedophile might call over to a small child. Of course he then proceeded to take my hand and scoop it into his wide opened mouth, lightly biting down on the clenched fist I had made out of shear frustration. I withdrew my hand so fast his teeth actually penetrated skin. I attempted a conversation after to keep his mouth busy when the topic changed from appropriate to sexual.
"You know... I'm really good at getting girls off. There are never any complaints I do it all of the time!" Are you trying to prove to me or yourself that you like girls?
"Oh well that's nice," I said quite quickly. I could see the bartender studying the writing on my face; I was mortified! My date decided that this conversation needed to be shared with more people though, so he gaily relayed his sexual escapades to not only the bartender but other patrons trying to enjoy their happy hour cocktails without a side of cock-stories.
I took a large gulp of my mojito praying Jesus Christ would miraculously turn it into something stronger when the food arrived. Naturally, my date hand fed me sushi since I am clearly incapable of feeding myself. I don't mind being playful or flirtatious, but on a first date I tend to show off my motor skills by using them! After the sushi had met my lips his hands slide back down my legs ending with my hand yet again in his mouth for another tasty nibble (apparently the sushi was not enough for him). My feelings could not have been more plain had they been chiseled onto stone; how did he not read this? Finally we finished eating and his comments about the sushi being mind blowing were silenced. Still, he ordered another drink believing this date to be going exceedingly well.
"Do you want to know a secret?" He whispered in my ear as his hands found my legs again, "I think you are so pretty and I like you a lot. I have a van that folds down into a bed outside if you want after! You know you will leave satisfied with me!" The only thing that could satisfy me right at this point would be my bed... without YOU in it!
"Wow, it's getting late, I have work tomorrow, I really cannot tonight. I am tired enough as it is." I hoped he would buy this.
"Well, I don't want to leave you. Let's do something crazy.... let's go bowling!"
"I don't think so. I really need to get home."
"I drive all this way to see you and you just want it to end! I am hurt, but you are just sooooo pretty! Seriously... can we please go bowling?"
Thankfully the bartender had Sex and the City playing on the screens so in between prying this guys mouth off of my hand and declining his many bowling propositions, I happily got lost in the wild and crazy dating world of 4 New York women.
"Oh my God, I feel like you are not even here, like you are dating Sex and the City. I'm like on a date alone right now," he spout out when I so much as glanced in the TV's direction.
"I"m sorry," I said casually.
"I have a TV in my van too. I know you like Lord of the Rings so let's just go watch up to the part where Frodo leaves the Shire. Oh, I cry like a baby watching that movie; any movie really! Happy, sad... I just sob! We could do that or... go bowling!" He sang out to me in his expressive voice.
"It really is getting late for me and I have to drive home too. Let's call it a night"
With that said, he reluctantly paid the bill and I pushed open the heavy, glass doors to freedom. I saw his van parked in the distance devoid of lights or any sign of life. It was no mini van nor SVU, he actually drove a large camper. Apparently this vehicle can safely hold all of his musical equipment from one destination to the next. Clearly he anticipated a love session at the night's close. Suddenly his hands grabbed my entire face into his for that "Special Goodnight Kiss". As I pulled away, he brushed the hair out of my face and whispered, "You're hair is soooooo soft."
"Well thanks for dinner. Good night!" I shouted scurrying into my car. My jeep hit a bank of snow in my attempt to race away from the crime scene. A few minutes into my drive, I heard the familiar ring of my text message alert. "I'm behind you! Not sexually!" Mr. Date from Hell. A few moments later I received 3 more messages, "I felt like you did not even want to be with me tonight. I really like you. We would be great together. Why didn't you want to spend time with me?" Well let's see... you talked like a girl, kept touching me inappropriately, bit my hand several times, shared your sex life with everyone in the restaurant, and would not take no for an answer! Instead, I ignored them all feeling silence best for the present, and just drove home.
The next day I awoke to another message, "I guess we are not talking anymore!" Now, I have always been told to treat people the way I wish to be treated, so I answered him in a respectful manner...
"I appreciate you taking me to dinner and making time for me, but I don't want to lead you on and am sorry to say I am just not interested." There, I handled this with dignity and grace.
"Cool," he answered back. Game Over!
This date was like a guided tour of Dante's infamous, layered Hell. Deeper and deeper I was dragged down until I hit the icy bottom. I live my life with no regrets though and consider this to have been a night of learning. The growth and maturity I take away only enhances who I am. Plus, this adds some comical tales to my history. So, here are some things I learned on this date:
1. Always take your own car.
2. Wear scented hand lotion that leaves an awful after taste.
3. Treat others (no matter how perturbed) the way you want to be treated.
February 10, 2011
February 6, 2011
The "Little Too Far" Mermaid
I recently read a heart wrenching tale about a young woman who met an ill-fated end for what she assumed to be "true love." Her great wealth, renowned beauty, and unearthly talents procured her as a most desirable match for any eligible bachelor. One day she meets one such gentleman, who's life she saves from a terrible boat accident. His striking features and sweet disposition hypnotize the young woman. Driven by extreme infatuation ( or "love at first sight"), she immediately goes into a downward spiral of depression because her love seems unrequited. She abandons her family and friends to work on gaining this man's love. In an attempt to make herself more appealing to his eyes, she undergoes painful body changes that leave her in physical distress for weeks. Her hobbies and recreations are dumped like mere garbage so that her free time can be spent partaking in his favorite activities. Each day she works a little harder believing all of her efforts in this one sided relationship are finally paying off. She becomes a woman obsessed, a simple shell of her former self that goes unrecognized by all who know and love her. Still, he never commits to her, continuously leading her to believe her heart's greatest desire is within reach. Suddenly, he meets someone else, falls head over heels in love, and marries. The young woman's heart explodes open hearing this news and she finds her only solitude from the pain is in death. Who is this psychotic girl?... The Little Mermaid!
Unlike the happy-go-lucky picture Disney so vividly paints, the original version of "The Little Mermaid" was filled with immense sorrow and suffering. 19th century Danish author Hans Christian Andersen simply tried to education his young, captive audience through fantasy and folklore. Andersen wanted children to know the rewards of selfless sacrifice for others through the Little Mermaid's. Frankly Andersen was unaware that these behaviors actually take place today among the women in 21st century society.
Women constantly seek self improvement, with the hopes of stimulating desire from the opposite sex. Many turn to physical altercations like botox, liposuction, collegien injections, breast augmentations, and face lifts. They endure constant pain and uncomfortable recoveries to either win the heart of their Prince or win the heart of every Prince out there! Sadly, this latest drug proves so addicting that once the first cut is made, you are hooked. Aside from plastic surgery, some women abandon their own personal joys for the heart of another. I have had many friends dispose of activities, friendships, and even family members to appease their partners. These women completely lose their independence and are left with nothing but painful reminders of their former selves if the relationship ends. I once knew a girl very much like the Little Mermaid.
When I was 16, a friend of mine passed away. I knew her from the beauty salon my family frequented. She was in her early 20's, extremely gorgeous, yet utterly controlled by "love". Her drug addict boyfriend had purchased the house across the street from mine, and she readily moved right in with him. He dragged her confidence level to the ground by his abusive words and hateful actions. Still, her love for him stayed and she looked to improve herself physically in the hopes of igniting the fire. She traded her friendships in for his. Every activity she partook in was merely for his benefit. After, the storms would seem to calm, but with passing time he went right back to his old ways.
One summer night I heard screaming, muffled voices coming from across the street. Suddenly, my friend sprinted from the house, jumped in her car, and sped down the street without so much as a backwards glance. Later that evening I was surprised to see she had not returned, but figured their fight had pushed her to work on a very important relationship; the relationship with herself. The next morning, I awoke to my mother sitting on the edge of my bed wearing a forlorn look. She proceeded to say my friend and her boyfriend had a terrible fight last night, resulting in a break up. Maddened by grief, my friend stole the gun he kept hidden away, drove down to the beach, and shot herself in the head. She was found dead that morning by some fishermen. I was sickened by this story. She had allowed a man to control her entire life and ultimately end it.
Women do some strange things for "love". They try with extreme efforts to please their significant other, yet these men do nothing in return but be themselves. Isn't that funny? We love these men simply for who they are, yet we feel the need to change everything about us in order to gain back that love. Maybe this is why I am still single, because I refuse to conform to the fairy tale. Instead of figuring out what we can alter about ourselves to attract a man, we need to put the person we already are out there for whoever wants us; just the way we are.
Unlike the happy-go-lucky picture Disney so vividly paints, the original version of "The Little Mermaid" was filled with immense sorrow and suffering. 19th century Danish author Hans Christian Andersen simply tried to education his young, captive audience through fantasy and folklore. Andersen wanted children to know the rewards of selfless sacrifice for others through the Little Mermaid's. Frankly Andersen was unaware that these behaviors actually take place today among the women in 21st century society.
Women constantly seek self improvement, with the hopes of stimulating desire from the opposite sex. Many turn to physical altercations like botox, liposuction, collegien injections, breast augmentations, and face lifts. They endure constant pain and uncomfortable recoveries to either win the heart of their Prince or win the heart of every Prince out there! Sadly, this latest drug proves so addicting that once the first cut is made, you are hooked. Aside from plastic surgery, some women abandon their own personal joys for the heart of another. I have had many friends dispose of activities, friendships, and even family members to appease their partners. These women completely lose their independence and are left with nothing but painful reminders of their former selves if the relationship ends. I once knew a girl very much like the Little Mermaid.
When I was 16, a friend of mine passed away. I knew her from the beauty salon my family frequented. She was in her early 20's, extremely gorgeous, yet utterly controlled by "love". Her drug addict boyfriend had purchased the house across the street from mine, and she readily moved right in with him. He dragged her confidence level to the ground by his abusive words and hateful actions. Still, her love for him stayed and she looked to improve herself physically in the hopes of igniting the fire. She traded her friendships in for his. Every activity she partook in was merely for his benefit. After, the storms would seem to calm, but with passing time he went right back to his old ways.
One summer night I heard screaming, muffled voices coming from across the street. Suddenly, my friend sprinted from the house, jumped in her car, and sped down the street without so much as a backwards glance. Later that evening I was surprised to see she had not returned, but figured their fight had pushed her to work on a very important relationship; the relationship with herself. The next morning, I awoke to my mother sitting on the edge of my bed wearing a forlorn look. She proceeded to say my friend and her boyfriend had a terrible fight last night, resulting in a break up. Maddened by grief, my friend stole the gun he kept hidden away, drove down to the beach, and shot herself in the head. She was found dead that morning by some fishermen. I was sickened by this story. She had allowed a man to control her entire life and ultimately end it.
Women do some strange things for "love". They try with extreme efforts to please their significant other, yet these men do nothing in return but be themselves. Isn't that funny? We love these men simply for who they are, yet we feel the need to change everything about us in order to gain back that love. Maybe this is why I am still single, because I refuse to conform to the fairy tale. Instead of figuring out what we can alter about ourselves to attract a man, we need to put the person we already are out there for whoever wants us; just the way we are.
February 1, 2011
Decisions Decisions
What is is about parent's concerned words that can make our most desired wishes fall by the waste side? I am in a dilemma and unsure of the right choice.I have been given the opportunity to be a salaried English teacher for the duration of 6 months back in Italy. This was not some sporadic idea I concocted one day due to post break up depression. This goal as been in mind for the past 2 years now, and with the departure date rapidly approaching everyone in my life seems to be in a tale spin.
My parents truly loath the idea, believing I simply despise my mother country and wish to vacation for several months leaving behind all of my responsibilities. "The grass isn't greener on the other side," has become a daily phrase in my house. "Do you have any idea of the money involved with this?" is also another. Dear parental units, I truly love how despite your extreme differences that led to the demise of your marriage you managed to come together quite strongly on this one topic. I congratulate your efforts of cordiality towards each other and hope one day it may lead to friendship, but please allow me to set the record straight on why I wish to partake in this once in a lifetime opportunity...
The only way I can describe my affections for Italy: it is like falling in love for the first time. Before it ever commences you dream of what it will feel like. Are the movies accurate? Does it consume your every thought? How do you go on if it all ends? Then one day, it just happens... you fall in love. Not just trip, but completely fumble head over heels. You now understand extreme wonder, animal passion, sweet romance. Your heart has comfortably fit the missing puzzle piece into place. All thoughts of your former life pre-love go fleeting out the window. But something happens that pulls you apart; distance steps in and separates you both. Still your love contentiously grows, only to be solidified when a reunion finally occurs. You set your gaze on him after an eternity of waiting and the comfort of his embrace, the familiar caress of his touch has you falling in love all over again.
I had dreamed of Italy since my childhood, yearning as each year passed to finally set foot upon its soil. I heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of this majestic country that undulates with every desire the heart could want; my heart could want. How the mere sight of its historical monuments and romantic art can bring down even the most manly of men. Finally, after the long wait, my turn came... I made my first journey to Italy. Right away I was consumed with complete infatuation of the culture, food, people, and history. My 2 week stay simply was the newlywed phase of my feelings as I skimmed the surface of everything Italy had to offer. After that initial meeting between Italia and myself I wondered how I ever survived it. What was my life like pre- Italy? Of course I did make it back, a total of 3 times. Upon each return I discovered a little more about my ancestral country that pushed my love further. Each return was like seeing my distant lover once more.
This 6 month opportunity to live among the natives again with the hopes of divulging my knowledge further has been placed in my hands. There are many risks to this decision, especially in the finance department. I understand my parents' fiscal concerns: can I live comfortably yet still bind myself with peace of mind to my obligations at home? These are troublesome circumstances should I find myself in hot waters, but I have to ask myself what is worse: Playing it safe by staying in the United States and years later wondering what might have happened; or taking a chance in every definition of the word so I may be reunited with my estranged "lover".
I love my parents immensely, and collecting their support on this is simply a must. I want to know they will support my decision, whether to them it be smart or moronic. I want to know they will support me should I fail in my pursuit. I want to know they will support me... period. Those on the outside of this predicament think this is an amazing chance to embark on a youthful adventure before rooting myself to full fledged adulthood. I find myself in the middle of a constant tug of war; my family on one end and everyone else on the other. As a 23 year old woman who as experienced a bit of the world thus far, I know what I must do. I must walk away from the rope and ultimately decide what is best for me. At the moment I am not sure which choice I should be making but I do know this:
My parents truly loath the idea, believing I simply despise my mother country and wish to vacation for several months leaving behind all of my responsibilities. "The grass isn't greener on the other side," has become a daily phrase in my house. "Do you have any idea of the money involved with this?" is also another. Dear parental units, I truly love how despite your extreme differences that led to the demise of your marriage you managed to come together quite strongly on this one topic. I congratulate your efforts of cordiality towards each other and hope one day it may lead to friendship, but please allow me to set the record straight on why I wish to partake in this once in a lifetime opportunity...
The only way I can describe my affections for Italy: it is like falling in love for the first time. Before it ever commences you dream of what it will feel like. Are the movies accurate? Does it consume your every thought? How do you go on if it all ends? Then one day, it just happens... you fall in love. Not just trip, but completely fumble head over heels. You now understand extreme wonder, animal passion, sweet romance. Your heart has comfortably fit the missing puzzle piece into place. All thoughts of your former life pre-love go fleeting out the window. But something happens that pulls you apart; distance steps in and separates you both. Still your love contentiously grows, only to be solidified when a reunion finally occurs. You set your gaze on him after an eternity of waiting and the comfort of his embrace, the familiar caress of his touch has you falling in love all over again.
I had dreamed of Italy since my childhood, yearning as each year passed to finally set foot upon its soil. I heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of this majestic country that undulates with every desire the heart could want; my heart could want. How the mere sight of its historical monuments and romantic art can bring down even the most manly of men. Finally, after the long wait, my turn came... I made my first journey to Italy. Right away I was consumed with complete infatuation of the culture, food, people, and history. My 2 week stay simply was the newlywed phase of my feelings as I skimmed the surface of everything Italy had to offer. After that initial meeting between Italia and myself I wondered how I ever survived it. What was my life like pre- Italy? Of course I did make it back, a total of 3 times. Upon each return I discovered a little more about my ancestral country that pushed my love further. Each return was like seeing my distant lover once more.
This 6 month opportunity to live among the natives again with the hopes of divulging my knowledge further has been placed in my hands. There are many risks to this decision, especially in the finance department. I understand my parents' fiscal concerns: can I live comfortably yet still bind myself with peace of mind to my obligations at home? These are troublesome circumstances should I find myself in hot waters, but I have to ask myself what is worse: Playing it safe by staying in the United States and years later wondering what might have happened; or taking a chance in every definition of the word so I may be reunited with my estranged "lover".
I love my parents immensely, and collecting their support on this is simply a must. I want to know they will support my decision, whether to them it be smart or moronic. I want to know they will support me should I fail in my pursuit. I want to know they will support me... period. Those on the outside of this predicament think this is an amazing chance to embark on a youthful adventure before rooting myself to full fledged adulthood. I find myself in the middle of a constant tug of war; my family on one end and everyone else on the other. As a 23 year old woman who as experienced a bit of the world thus far, I know what I must do. I must walk away from the rope and ultimately decide what is best for me. At the moment I am not sure which choice I should be making but I do know this:
I am lucky to have a great family whose love propels the constant concern for my well being.
I am lucky to have supportive friends who understand my passion and want me to live out my dream.
I am lucky to already have been where I have been.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)