I got a snap from bestie today asking me if I was ok. I think the exact message said, “You haven’t blogged in four days. Are you OK?”
I didn’t realize four days had passed. I did realize I hadn’t blogged in a bit. I don’t like to blog when I’m down. Or when I’m feeling negative. Or when I want to just say fuck everything.
Fuck everything has been my motto this week.
I was semi-productive.
I guess I should start at the beginning.
I went to the first day of the (second) new job. My alarm didn’t go off and I was four hours late. They didn’t seem to mind. It was a job re-setting a grocery store. The hours were 6am until 2:30ish. As it turns out, 6am is not a good place for me. I know it was a paycheck and I should have been happy to have it, but for the pay, I think I can find an 8-4 or a 9-5 or even a 10-6. Those are shifts I think I could handle. The other shifts, not so much. At first, I thought it would be great because then I would be home in time to write and have the rest of my afternoon, but I really just wanted to get home to nap.
I’d love to say that while I’ve been in fuck it mode, I’ve been super productive with my writing, but I haven’t done that either. You know what I’ve been really good at? Laying in bed with my sleep mask over my eyes listening to an 8-hour youtube video of a thunderstorm. And playing words with friends. I’m still accepting new games. My screen name is rouletteweekend.
Also this week, maybe because of the full moon, my past has started creeping out of the woodwork (this is where the rant starts).
About ten years ago, I met a guy while I was working at a gas station. He delivered the beer. He was super handsome (great smile) and we hit it off pretty well. I mean he was no flea market guy, but he was cool. And I have this memory problem so I don’t know exactly what happened why we stopped talking to one another but I think it had something to do with him lying to me about having a girlfriend and thinking I was fucking stupid. But I’m not sure. Either way, I stopped working there and I changed my phone number eventually. And I probably moved. That was kind of my thing back in the day. So a couple days ago, he sent me a friend request on facebook. I accepted it and he immediately sent me a message.
Him: Did you work at pilot?
Him: Do you remember me? Are you single?
Me: Of course I remember you. Yes, I’m single.
Him: You think we can try again?
Now, I don’t even really know what that means. Because from what I remember, there wasn’t much trying in the first place. I think men just want to skip all the dating and getting to know you and jump right into the relationship and/or fucking sequence. So…..
Me: I think you can take me on a date and we can see how it goes.
Him: K, that’s fine with me. I’m working my other job right now at (random place 20 miles west from my house). Come see me if you can.
Me: I live east.
And then he sent me his phone number. Now, I’m all for equal rights for men and women, but when did men stop asking for a woman’s number and just thinking if they throw their number at you that you will be so thankful that you will text them (because they don’t like phone calls) and your panties will just fall off because you are just. so. fucking. lucky????
I didn’t respond. So an hour or so later, he asks when do I want to go out. Again, not my move. Guys, if you want to go out with a woman, take some initiative. Find a place, find a day, find a time. Then, go ahead and tell her, I’d love to take you to (insert place) on (insert day) at (insert time). It’s not that difficult. And if that time and day don’t work for her, try two more times. If that doesn’t work, she doesn’t want to go out with you. It’s not that difficult. Especially if you are trying to work your way back into her life. If you’ve been there once and fucked up, prepare yourself to put in more effort.
So I tell him my evenings are mostly free right now. I didn’t bother telling him my days are too because my life is falling apart and I’m a complete mess. Because that’s not sexy and I’ve perfected smiling now and crying later.
So he tells me he’s off the weekend. To which I have to prod for a day. He says Saturday. I prod for the time. He says, “doesn’t matter sweetie.”
Ok, lesson two…. guys, stop it with the sweetie. It doesn’t matter if I’ve known you for 5 years or five minutes, use my name. Not a pet name… that means no sweetie, no baby, no honey, no doll, no pet names, please. I mean, it’s fine if we are dating, but, you really haven’t earned that.
Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked, so I tell him, “well plan something and let me know.”
Him: what would you like to do or go?
Seriously? Didn’t I just answer that question? I mean, I’m perfectly content alone. And maybe I’m bitter from what I’ve nicknamed “Dating disaster 2018” which perfectly sums up my year, that pretty much started in December of 2017. I’m not even on a dating site anymore (mostly because of flea market guy, but I’ll get to that tomorrow).
So instead of being a dick and telling him to forget it if he can’t plan a simple date, I say, “surprise me.”
He says, “K.”
That was Tuesday. I haven’t heard from him since. Well, he did send me three random selfies yesterday. None of them were dick pics, so props to him on that. I have a hunch that I am going to end up being too much work for him so I would say that I will probably not have a Saturday date, but I will keep you posted on that.
Speaking of dating disasters that started in 2017, the truck driver re-appeared. For word’s sake, I will fill you in on that tomorrow, because I’ve exceeded my 1000 word limit for the day…
(to be continued…)