“You put on quite a show, really had me going…… but it’s over now, go ahead and take a bow”

You’re relaxing in the bath trying to ease the body aches that has come from running a high fever and wracking coughs from spending your entire Christmas holiday from a bad bout of pneumonia. The phone rings and you see your guy’s name pop up  and you smile. You answer, because that voice, is the one that got you every time. Then you hear the words ” I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” And he gives you the bullshit excuses, which may have a little validity but in reality, you see through it. Fast forward until the next morning and you have to ask the fateful question “Is there someone else?”, and you get the reply that you knew was coming but it hits you like a dagger “there is.” So you do a vodka shot at 10 AM. And then another.

Did we fight? Yes, too much.  I thought I could fall. In reality, I fell for the words. The fact that he wanted to wait to have sex so I couldn’t say it was just another Tinder hookup.  The fact that he asked me to be his girl on our second date. The fact that he wanted to see pictures of the kids and meet my friends. The fact that I opened up more than I ever had anyone.  He reached me.  Hit me at an area of vulnerability from being used so much.  When it’s too good to be true, it often is.

I think he thought it was real for a time. Until the newness wore off. We were together a short time but the amount of intimacy between us made it a lot longer. Now I’m not necessarily broken hearted but feeling used and rejected while he’s not thinking about me due to upgrading to Ellie 2.0.  And I wonder how long I’ve been a fool, waiting for a text back when he’s been with her.

CS told me he wanted a break because he wasn’t sure he never wanted to see me again. Which puts me at the mercy of him. Yet again. Because what is broken in me that he sees that he thinks I can be on a break with him, waiting around to decide if he likes this other girl better? Luckily, I can look at the narcissistic traits now. How he bragged to my friends about his great credit score and money. Or most recently what a big dick he has. He likes the attention. And he had me to give it to him. And I fell for it.   Because my self-esteem was that damaged.

Now it’s moving on to not waiting for the every morning phone call.  To not waiting on the pics saying “you’re my girl.”  To accepting that the huge hug you liked being wrapped up in came from the guy who was the coldest one yet. Being used emotionally is so much worse than physically.  And he got off on that. I wish I could take back what I’ve shared. Because with all previous Tinder hookups, I’ve gotten good stories and never actually had true regrets.

CS would see this post and say “I was right, she was in too deep.”, when really that’s not what it is. You don’t have to be in deep with someone for rejection to hurt.   So no CS, I can cry not because I was in love with you (fuck, I don’t even know you), but because the happiness you gave me in the moment is gone. And for a brief time, I thought someone looked at me as someone they’d never get upgrade-itis for. I felt special.  And you proved that I wasn’t.   So as Rihanna said, I’d say to you CS “the award for the best lines go to you.”

So here it is, Ellie’s first heartbreak post.

You used to call me on my cell phone…….

Yes,  I am being unoriginal. The inevitable online dating blogger post on ghosting.  Obviously it’s an issue.  Such an issue that I think I’m going to do a starving children type commercial to aid in treatment.  “For less than what you pay for a cup of coffee, you can help a man get treatment for this terrible affliction affecting women’s egos everywhere.”  On a side note, did you know that ghosting is now a term in the actual fucking dictionary? Look it up. I’ll wait.

You’re welcome, you now know more useless information than you did two minutes ago.

Earlier in the summer, Lorna and I did extensive research to look for any excuse why we weren’t getting a call back.  Many online sites suggested to take a step back and determine if you were really getting ghosted.  Most sites give the reason that you probably are not because he’s too busy (most common) or he’s stranded in Antarctica without a cell signal (ok, I made that one up). Reality is, if he wants to talk to you, he will.  (You better put a note in a backpack and put it on a penguin that you’re thinking about me from another continent).

At what point is it considered ghosting? When someone simply stops chatting with you? After you’ve had sex?  After a date? I have three examples of my worst ghosting.

  1. T was a little strange.  I met him one night in a popular area in the city. He lived in the area, I drove. We went to dinner. It was pleasant enough, certainly not really sparks flying but it was okay.   Dinner ended and he asked was I ready to get out of there and hit another bar for a drink. I agreed and went to use the restroom. I texted Lorna and Marley that I was having a good time and things were good. Imagine my embarrassment to have to call Marley not ten minutes later to tell her he’d paid the bill and disappeared.  I cried, again not because I wanted him but rejection sucks. The woman part of me imagined him walking out of the restaurant and getting sucked up by a UFO.
  2. J seemed different. We had great conversation by chatting. He called me on lunch and we chatted for an hour. We clicked and agreed to meet for a drink after work that day. I scrambled around in my car to find something to wear (yes, I have that kind of shit in my car. If cleanliness is next to godliness then my car is the portal to hell.) Our drink went well. He walked me to the car, kissed me not once but twice.  Tongue and everything. Told me he needed to stop or he wouldn’t  want to. Again texted Lorna immediately to tell her it went well. Looked down on my phone not five minutes later and I was unmatched on the dating app and Snapchat. WTF happened?  I know! His phone probably got stolen on the way to his car from mine and this evil person went and unmatched every cute girl he could find on J’s phone. Yep, that’s it. So if I run into him in a bar, I probably really shouldn’t pour a beer in his lap. (Definitely a Natural Light but not an IPA. Not into that much alcohol abuse.)
  3. R. What can I say about R? We were involved in pretty much an online relationship for almost a month. He told me tales from his terrible childhood. How his cereal came out of bags instead of boxes. I opened up to him about my online dating woes and how I often let myself feel like a piece of ass. There were warning signals with R flashing. One being when he asked me “does size matter”? (Lorna and I decided I should sleep with him just to find out what he meant by that. ) He was actually a little possessive and “broke up” with me for a few days.  Until one day, he asked me to meet him at a hotel and gave me a room number. It was hot. Quick but hot.  We even cuddled after (Ew). Never heard from him again.

By the way, these last two are what prompted me to ask RG if I was a good kisser.

Maybe the reason they don’t want to see us again is us. We got too drunk. Talked too much. Sometimes it is situations out of our control we will never have the answer to. No matter what (well, unless you find out that they are a serial killer) no explanation vanishing is not okay. Give us a reason. It may hurt that you have a weird eyebrow fetish and ours are drawn in a little too dark but that’s okay, tell us. We move on.

Same goes for the fade out, the one where they slowly stop talking to you. Generally this means that they haven’t decided about you but still need you in their pocket for the nights that they need a booty call because another chick stood them up to save their masculinity. (Ok, us women do that too. As Marley says–gotta have dm, or dude mentality).

Now that I am writing this, I need to listen to myself. I gotta get rid of GK Ultra. He called me FIVE times yesterday. And then asked how my mom was doing.

Always–Ellie

“My outsides look cool, my insides are blue.”

I matched with a guy tonight who has on his profile “only into way above average looking woman… and that it’s not going to work if you can’t pull off a bikini bathing suit convincingly.”  He and I engaged in a lively conversation. I told him my favorite expression was “don’t trip, we all ugly to somebody” to which he replied “doesn’t matter how hot she looks, there’s someone out there who’s sick of her shit.”

An hour into chatting once, I had a guy ask me if I gave good head. I told him I think so but why? This Prince Charming responded “Because you’re not pretty enough to fuck but I will let you suck my dick.” Wow. Sting. Again, tapped into my insecurities as a woman.  Dude had never met me yet was already judging me as a butterface  (see http://www.urbandictionary.com n. A girl who is hot, except for her (but her, butter) face.)

The concept of the cards we swipe left and right on comes down to window shopping for humans. Being judged on pure physical traits. While women can chat for a guy for awhile and overlook the slight beer belly, men cannot seem to do so. All that deep intellectual conversation and laughing seems to not exist if he finds one thing wrong. RG made the statement to me once that you date, and seem to more often than not get passed over for the next puppy in the window yelling “pick me! Pick me!”

TLC sings “at the end of the day, I have myself to blame. I’m just trippin'”  I’m not to blame that one jackass says a remark to make me think I’m not pretty enough.  I am however to blame on how it makes me feel inside.  And the best thing I can take from that is to not make anyone else feel that way.

Always–Ellie

 

“Wouldn’t you like to get away…Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name”

If you’re lucky you have a Cheers. I do. My weekly bar where the bartenders are like brothers.  I love my bar. Tandy started out being a regular with me. We have Jesus dressed up like Don Johnson. Dred guy that can sing the fuck outta some Korn along with his Barbie looking girlfriend who is one of the sweetest bar girls I know.

My bar however is cursed.  I have never had a successful date there.  Or one that turned out to be successful.

Guy 1: I was really into TJ. We chatted for weeks. All day, everyday. He was cute. He was successful. He was my age.  After three weeks of chatting, he met me at my bar. At about 1 A.M. (He was a gum smacker though). He walked me outside and we ended up making out like crazy. He really is a terrific kisser. We ended up screwing in the backseat of my car like teenagers. Laughed like hell about it, texted until 4 AM. Then, he disappeared.

Guy 2: Guy 2, who I can’t even give a fake name because I don’t even remember his real name, was recently divorced and quite a few years younger.   Everything I said, he compared to his ex-wife. For example, I mentioned I had a 125 pairs of shoes. He immediately said his wife had 130.  It bordered on obsessive. The only saving grace to this date was it was made about 30 minutes into chatting. No wasted time.

Guy 3:  Guy 3 was nice, but not much personality.  He turned his nose up at my bar.  But alcohol makes anyone more interesting. I went home with him.   He was trying with me, I will give him that. Offered me use of his condo in Florida and season tickets for baseball season (months away). I saw why.  Size is of course not the only thing that matters. Skill does make a big difference.  And attitude.  It wasn’t the fact that the condom was too big that was a huge turn off. It was the “Please, more gently” as I was blowing him.  I will give it to guy number 3 though. He does still keep in touch. It is to complain about everything in his life but he does keep in touch.

Cursed bar girlfriends but I won’t dump it. However, the embarrassment of bringing so many different guys so many weeks in a row has caused me to take a break.

Blog lesson for this Sunday: Bringing a date to your home bar is the same as bringing someone home to meet your family. Don’t do it until you’re comfortable enough to bring them around Uncle Harold who has no teeth and mashed potatoes are hanging off his chin. And to my own personal Sam and Woody…… Love ya’ll

Always–Ellie

“….No Use Crying Over Spilled Perfume

“Did you really think last night would last forever? Did you really think that guy hung the moon? I know you hate yourself because you knew better, but there’s no use crying over spilled perfume.” I remember listening to Pam Tillis belt this out in 1994. Little did I know that this would become a Ellie Anthem twenty-three years later. I say anthem because at least once a week my friend Lorna says some form of this to me. (Love Lorna, she’s been there done that, gives great advice, lets me make my own mistakes, and embraces my slut-dom)

My first spilled perfume moment was a guy that lived way on the other side of town.  He was hot in his profile.  He was 5’8, tatts from the Navy, just hot.  He tells me he doesn’t have much money but would love for us to cook together and have a couple of drinks. I head to his house with a couple of bottles of liquor he asked me to pick up. He’s short. And skinny. I’m not a height-ist, but was expecting something different. It’s hard to get into someone that I”m scared I will break if I’m ever on top.  He also has a roommate on the bottom part of the house, no biggie,  but his upstairs apartment has no kitchen. No way to make tacos here. We drink. Have five minutes of terrible sex.  He immediately gets up, goes to the couch, and starts watching a terrible Netflix show. I go sit on the couch awkwardly. Now, this was my very first online hook up.  I would know now to immediately leave.  Instead, I endured a painful hour and a half. Texted Marley and Lorna to let them know I was fine and on the way home.  And cried the entire way home.

The advice on today’s post comes from my friend Lorna: “If they’re 5’8 online, they’re 5’5 in person.”

always–Ellie

…..I Want You to Want Me

 

Why do we as women crave the attention of men? (See Cheap Trick-I Want You to Want Me).  I had a lunch date with a guy I knew I was not going to be attracted to (gut feeling).  Even by text and pictures. But I went because I don’t have anyone else going on right now. (Technically, Lorna and I are on a break from dating-more on that later).  I got to the bar and greeted me and had a glass of wine waiting for me. The date was pleasant enough once the wine dulled the fact that he had a very effeminate way of speaking. (Friends, this is the second time this has happened by the way.  The first I still wonder if he really did speak with that certain inflection or if it’s because right before I went Lorna informed me he looked like Lance Bass).  He walked me out to the car and it was confirmed to me if not to him– He’s gay! Gaydar sirens were going off all around my head. At one point I think I moved over to the other side of the road while I was walking with him to let the flashing lights and sounds go by.   He kissed me and it was like nothing.  I immediately got in the car and texted celebrity look alike “I had a lunch date. He’s gay. I give up on dating. I’m just calling you when I need someone to fuck.” (I then felt terrible later because that was a terrible thing. I pretty much called him a piece of ass.)

But to go back to my point: I felt no sparks. I think he’s batting for the wrong team.  So why did it bother me when I received a text later that night from him saying “Hey, thanks for today. I’m sorry but I was expecting there to be more sparks than there were.”  To which I replied “I agree but thanks for the message”   Why did I care? I certainly am supposed to be new age where what a guy thinks of me shouldn’t matter.

That’s the peril of serial dating. The shit starts getting in your head and you begin to question yourself .  Especially when you’re rejected four times in a week. My honorable mention for this week is:

The couple:  Why not try a threesome? Should be on everyone’s bucket list right? Met a guy (super cute) along with his wife (Plain Jane). They wanted to take me to a sex club where apparently swingers frequent, people walk around naked, there’s porn in the playing on background screens. Ummm… how about lets start with a drink? The night ended early, was super awkward,  and I hit a new mark. I got turned down by a couple.  (Oh, since the night ended early–got in the car and texted celebrity look alike. He turned the night around)

This lesson: Call your girlfriends. They will always confirm it’s not you, it’s them. And ladies, bullshit yourself all you want, but sometimes we need that validation. Fuck the inspirational advice from The Help “You is kind, you is smart, you is important” . Keep it real “Bitch you is sexy, you is smart, you has a vibrator in your nightstand drawer that you’re not expecting to call you the next day.”

–Always, Ellie