It’s a Fool’s Game

Year 1, Month 2, Day 28

I want to do something REALLY, REALLY stupid.

I want to get back in touch with Troy.

You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.

I’ve been fighting the urge to go to his blog and see how he is doing. I’ve been restraining myself from shooting a quick “how you doing?’ text.

I KNOW logically it’s a BAD, BAD idea.

But I have found myself really missing HIM the last couple of weeks. Yes, I’m having sex (and really good sex) with Elliott on a regular basis, so it isn’t horniness that makes me want to reestablish contact with him.

I genuinely miss HIM. I miss our text flirting and chatting. I miss the cute pictures of his kids and hearing about what they are doing on their weekends together. I miss hearing him talk about his job and his travels.

I. Miss. Him.


Out of respect for his privacy, I haven’t explained WHY we stopped seeing each other. And I still won’t; he didn’t ask to have his private life all over the inter-webs, so I will honor my promise not to blog about what happened in November. And I won’t talk about why things sputtered to a halt before Christmas.

But part of me gets the feeling that it’s not really over between us…even though I realize it actually is.  I have this sense he does miss me just a little.  Though I do suspect he has moved on with his life and will end up with another woman.

It’s probably just wishful thinking on my part, I realize.

But, he could have been one of my “ones.” And I can’t stop myself from thinking I royally fucked things up with him by being too open, too honest with my feelings. That I needed to keep a lid on some of my feelings and not freak him out. My  sister said to let him go…if he really wanted me he would come back when he was ready….that he may the right one, it was just a case of the wrong time. The male friend I even talked to about this said “Don’t go back there. Troy has too much shit to get straightened out. It will just lead to a broken heart on your part.”

He’s right.  I KNOW he’s right.

I just need to keep telling myself that it’s a fool’s game for me to still be interested a man who has lost interest in me. That there are plenty of terrific men who will appreciate me for me.  That there are men without jalopies full of Louis Vuitton luggage and regrets.

I’m done with “standing in the rain…feeling like a clown.”

I just hope I can be strong enough to resist….

My Heart Will Go On

Year One, Month 2, Day 22

Well, it’s time for Lizzie to get you up to speed on her dating life.

In my last post, I mentioned that I had a first date with a Facebook friend that evening.

“Robby” and I did not know each other very well in high school.  He was a year older, and he was, as he put it “socially awkward” in school.  I could tell from his FB pictures that he really wasn’t my usual type physically (he is bearded, heavy-set).   But he does have a nice smile and very kind eyes.  I knew we wouldn’t have a bad time together, but I was going to be surprised if there was any physical attraction on my side.

He had gotten tickets to see the local minor league hockey team play.  I have NEVER been to a hockey game in my life, so Robby filled me in on the basic rules on the drive to the arena.

I must say, I enjoyed the experience.  Apparently we saw a couple of very good fights (I wouldn’t know the difference), and the game was very close.  The local team tied the score with about ninety seconds left in regulation…and then got a penalty shot with six seconds left to win the game.

However, Robby and I had a difficult time finding things to talk about during the game.  I rarely find myself at a loss for words, but I really didn’t know WHAT to say when he would talk about his dead wife’s battle with cancer…or his stepdaughter’s death (cancer again).

Talk about socially awkward.

After the game, as we walked back to the car, he asked if I wanted to grab some dinner (it was nearly 10:30pm, and I hadn’t eaten anything at the game so I was starving) but I really didn’t want to extend the evening .  I couldn’t imagine  what we would be talk about over a meal.

I said no, that I had to be up early the next day for a client meeting (true), so I really needed to call it a night. He then screwed up his courage and asked if I wanted to go out again.  I said, “Sure….maybe the next time you are in town.” (He lives out-of-town, but is planning to move back in a few months, so he is here through this week to find a house, job, etc.).   I then said I was going to be busy all this week; I was going on a trip to see a friend Monday evening, and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday evening.  Then I had a job interview on Thursday that I had to prep for as well. (All true at the time…the trip has been postponed due to some extremely wintry weather expected this week.)

Awkward silence.

We get to my condo complex, and Robby pulls into a parking space outside my building.   However, Robby doesn’t help me out of the car…and he doesn’t walk me to the door. And…there absolutely no physical contact…no hand shake… no hug… and certainly no kiss.

Message received.

As I walked back to my condo, I felt terrible. Robby is a very nice man.  Very intelligent.  Very funny (at least on IM and phone). But I don’t see any point in forcing a romantic relationship where there isn’t any real chemistry.

I actually hoped there would be SOMETHING between us.

Because in a lot of ways, he reminded me Peter.  Widowed, educated, sensitive, funny, and inherently decent.

That was when I realized it.

I still want Peter.

Probably not a big surprise there for you, Gentle Reader.

I actually thought I had gotten my closure with him months ago.  And I feel like a schmuck for still wanting him…when I KNOW it’s never going to happen.

Yes, he has broken up with HER.  But Peter is now involved and in love with another woman…a woman for whom he was willing to disrupt his life… a woman who lives hundreds of miles away….a woman who he only sees once a month…a woman who has no connection to his dead wife…a woman he says can help him push the restart button on his life.

Lizzie…Lizzie…Lizzie.  You are an idiot.

So, what do I do?

I have to let Peter go.

And I have to keep on looking.

And the search continues…with Elliott… this weekend. (Yes…my next blog post, Gentle Reader.)


Day 397 (Year 1, Day 31)

roulette-tableOkay…now let’s hop back into my handy-dandy Way Back Machine and travel back to the week before Christmas.

I was in the midst of Christmas Parade madness.  The radio station I am doing freelance work for was participating in every holiday parade in the area.  So that meant most of my Saturdays in December were tied up either wearing the damn squirrel costume, or driving a car in some parade.   Jason was also visiting for the weekend, so I was fully booked.

This particular Saturday, I had started chatting with a guy named “Geoff.” He lives about 120 miles east of my town, but was originally from the Northeast.  The exchanges got very flirtatious very quickly.  I ended up texting with him all evening…finally ending in a late night phone call that lasted most of night.

The same thing happened the next day; we texted and flirted most of the day….ending with a very long phone call that Sunday evening.

Monday, again…lots of texting.  But, no phone call. This was the night HE got in touch with me to arrange our first rendezvous, so I had to go to bed early.  I told Geoff I had to make a quick day trip to visit a sick friend, so I wouldn’t be available that night or to text the following day, but that I would be in touch again Wednesday.

I’ve already blogged about my two hook ups with HIM, so I’ll now fast forward to that Wednesday.

That was the day I was able to start going over the final books and start disbursing the monies from my parent’s estate; I also decided to spend Christmas with my sister and had to get some holiday shopping and new tires for my car before I had to drive 1300 miles in four days.

Geoff didn’t respond to my texts that Wednesday.  I thought to myself “fuck him…”  and got on with my holiday plans.

I get back from my Christmas trip and have my weird date with Tom.

Still no word from Geoff.

Again, I think no biggie.  And I start thinking about what I’m doing for New Years.

The Sunday before New Years Eve, Geoff gets back in touch. He said he had been on vacation, and just wanted to give me time with my family, etc.

I didn’t quite buy it.  So, I started waiting for red flags to pop up.

He asked what I was doing for New Year’s.  I told him I was planning on a quiet evening at home.  That I really didn’t like going out  on New Years; too forced, and too dangerous with all the idiots who drink and drive.

Geoff said he had a plan; that he would like our first face to face meeting to be special…because I was special.  He wanted us to meet at the casino at the Native American reservation between our towns…ring in 2014… and spend the night at the roulette table.

Well, I wasn’t totally thrilled with this plan. And I told him why:

  1. The casino isn’t that easy for me to get to.  I would be traveling at night on dark roads on New Years Eve.
  2. I actually have to work an event at 10am on New Year’s Day.

I said I have no problem with gambling per se, but wouldn’t it be better for us to do the casino thing over the weekend…when I don’t have a time constraint?

He gets pissy at this point…saying he wanted to send out 2013 in style.  I told him I simply did not think New Years Eve was a good time for a first date…and that a casino was really not an appropriate venue.

He then said, “Okay, how about I drive over to your town, we grab some dinner and do New Year’s there.  Then you don’t have to worry about getting to your event on time.” I agree to it, and we decide to meet at an Appleby’s just off the interstate. (Appleby’s…on New Year’s Eve?  Yeah, I’m really looking forward to this one.)

New Years Eve arrives, and I put on my typical first date outfit; an eggplant colored,  low-cut, cowl neck tunic, skinny jeans, boots, and a black fly away sweater. Since its New Years, I put on some flashy earrings and a big, blingy pin as well.

I get to the Appleby’s, and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Damn…I’ve been stood up.

Just as I am getting up to leave, Geoff walks in.  He’s not a bad-looking man; thin, blonde hair, dressed in crisp khakis, highly polished shoes, what appears to be a blue pullover sweater and a Pittsburgh Steelers jacket.

We order dinner and margaritas (and the ‘ritas were waaaaay too sweet for me) and he starts talking about going to the casino over the weekend.   He starts talking about what I am supposed to wear, how he wants my hair to be styled, what shoes I am supposed to wear… adding, “Nothing like what you look like right now.  You look like you just finished working out.  I want you to put some effort into Saturday.  You don’t look sexy at all right now.”

I was dumbfounded that he would actually say I looked bad.

Without pausing, he then said he wanted me to put up all the money for HIS gambling.

So, I’m a bank now?

I am pissed off at this point. I excuse myself to go to the ladies and get my temper under control.  I don’t want to make a scene at the restaurant, but I’m not going to allow myself to be insulted and used by this asshat.

I get back to the table, smile sweetly at him, and say,

This isn’t going to work out, Geoff.  You are rude, shallow and stupid.  Do you really think I’m going to let you call me unattractive, let you tell me how I am to dress for you, and that after all that, I am gong to let you gamble away my money?  I’m out of here.  And I don’t care if you get pulled over by the police  in a sobriety checkpoint tonight…so you better hit the road NOW.

At this point, he gets even nastier.  He informs me I’m not that sexy…that he can find someone else to put up the money… and it really didn’t matter to him which bitch was standing next to him at the roulette table…as long as she was hot and gave him money.

I get up from the table without another word, and walk out of the restaurant.  As soon as I get home (it’s about 11 pm at this point) I grab the bottle of champagne that was chilling in the fridge (just in case we had come back to my place after dinner) and pop the cork.  I pour myself a glass of bubbly, turn on one of the New Years countdown shows, and look at myself in the mirror by the front door.

I felt like idiot for falling for that psycho’s line of patter.  But, I was  pleased that I stood up for myself as well.  Looking at my reflection, I raised my glass and said,

You are an amazing, beautiful, kick ass woman, Lizzie.  You are capable of attracting an amazing man who loves you for you.   Happy New Year…and know that you are spending the New Year with a wonderful person…YOU!

And on that note, Happy New Year to all my Gentle Readers.  May you find the happiness you deserve in 2014.