Month: October 2005

Every night for the past week, I fall asleep, hoping that tomorrow is the day I shall get healthy. But, every night in the middle of the night, I wake up sweating, shaking, and coughing. These antibiotics are not working fast enough. As if I don’t have enough to deal with, I have to wake up (around 11 or noon) and deal with this crap in my infamous inbox.

Gee,
I would like to explore more of DC on my frequent visits, would you be interested in being my guide to the capitol city, at least for one evening? I’m a pilot and flight test engineer, work in SoCal, and appreciate the great things DC has to offer.

John

Ok, when did my name become Gee? Anyway, I wrote back. Keep in mind that there is a continuum of sorts between how sick I feel and how mean I am in the emailed reply.

I’ll tell you the same thing I tell all the out of town people who want a D.C. girlfriend for the times they blow through town: No.

I should feel satisfied with my above answer, but, feel compelled to somehow say more.

1) You are not even divorced yet.
2) You are clearly out of my “within 10 miles of D.C.” range.
3) Do you find it at all sleazy that you are looking for a companion for an evening or a few days a month.
4) Is there some service that writes the emails for the out of towners? Because everyone wants to “explore D.C. with a tourguide.”
5) It’s always the out of town emailers who NEVER post their picture.

I cannot help you, my Yahoo compatriot. But, you can call “A Sure Thing” at (202) 887-4849. They are in the business of providing dates for the evening.

The Sure thing people should give me a fucking referral fee. I’m going back to bed now.

I am about all things pumpkin. I love pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin bread. If you can throw a can of pumpkin in there, I’ll eat it. I also love the shape of the pumpkin. So damn cute. Why I have this sincere adoration for all things pumpkin and Halloween can only be decoded by some shrink. Perhaps it’s because my family has the ability to ruin all the other holidays, therefore, I have to have something to call my own. So, Halloween it has been, and will always be.

Happy Halloween, from the true loves of my life…

First, a complaint. I saw an old woman throw her gum on the street today. That gum will end up on someone’s shoe, virtually impossible to remove. Just because you are old, doesn’t mean you can litter. I wish I could tie that gum a la Crazy Girl City’s post about six degrees, as it moves through the streets of D.C., and somehow ultimately ends up clogging old woman’s pacemaker and kills her. Now that would be funny. Extreme, yes, but there’s nothing I hate more than a litterer.

Next, a movie review. It’s fast, but there’s a lesson to be learned. Maybe.

Tonight I watched Runaway Bride. (Any movie with Joan Cusack and Hector Elizondo has got to be good.) Richard Gere trails Julia Roberts as she makes her fourth attempt at that ubiquitous thing on the wish list of “all women” – the altar. Except that in this case, Julia Roberts doesn’t want to marry any of the men to whom she ends up engaged. Along comes Richard Gere the reporter to do a story where she insists she will actually get married (to the hottie on Law & Order: SVU.) If you haven’t seen it and want to, skip the next paragraph.

Of course she gets to the rehearsal and “runs.” (Well, she makes out with Richard Gere.) And surprise, she and Richard Gere fall in love and blah blah blah. They have a wedding, but she runs from that too. Ultimately what happens? You guessed it. They end up together. Now, why is it that men will become intrigued with a woman for one of her quirks, then think that they will magically drop the quirk, in this case, fear of commitment. In this case, that happens and she eventually succumbs and marries him. What-evah.

That’s all. I’m done with that.

Now. There is a problem. By the comments, everyone is just so pleased with The Bartender. But, how can someone you are dating know about the blog? I can’t possibly write censored and edited, because that’s not being true to me, or to you all as my readers. But then I run the risk of him changing his behaviors based on what I say or don’t say in the blog. There’s an added dimension with the presence of the blog that means now that I no longer have the ultimate control (of my half) over how things play out. Part of how I do things in relationships is playing my cards close. Well, that’s how I operate in all relationships. It comes from having to negotiate as part of my job – and watching my boss: master of all that is negotiable. So, the men I date not knowing about the blog has been my rule, because it just makes blog-sense.

So, The Bartender says he will accompany me tomorrow to go get my car at the shop in Rockville and ride back down here to D.C. with me. But, he says he has to be back at 5 p.m. I said, “You have to be in to work at 5?” He said, “No, I just have to be somewhere. I don’t have to be at work until 7.” I wasn’t born yesterday, clearly he has a date. But, here’s where I went wrong. I sent a text message about half an hour after we hung up saying “Somewhere at 5? How positively mysterious of you.” It begins a back and forth texting conversation.

He says: “Is that good or bad? Am I being too coy?”
I say: “That wasn’t coy…”
He says: “Damn, I must be the worst English major ever. I don’t like hiding stuff, certainly not from you. Maybe it’s the way you open your life on the blog. It’s very refreshing to meet a woman like that. So if you must know…”
I say: “Nah, don’t need to know.”
He says: “I was gonna tell you anyway. I got set up to go to dinner by B’s girlfriend at her birthday party last night. I think it’s a ‘group’ or ‘double’ date. As you know, I am against any date not involving the zoo.”
I say: “All good reasons why it is bad for anyone to know about the blog.”
He says: “There is no bad, is there? Please do tell, I am all ears, I mean eyes.”
I say: “Because I will want to write about all of this and I don’t know, I can’t. I want to be able to say what I want in the blog without you reacting or changing your behavior because of it.”

I can’t explain this very well, but I’m going to try. I want to be able to date men and I want to be able to share the details of those dates on the blog with friends and strangers alike. And I want to know that man-of-the-week will still do the same things, without changing it because of something he read in the blog. Let’s just say that The Bartender didn’t know about the blog, then he wouldn’t have read in the post the other day that I still plan to date other people. Perhaps he wouldn’t have felt it necessary to tell me he was dating someone else tomorrow. And he would have moved on in secret, as would I have, and that would be that. One of these little flings somewhere would develop into more (him & me; him & other girl; me & other boy) and then we would adjust our lives accordingly. That is the normal workings of relationship-ville. But now, all that’s out the window.

So, he called me. And I tried to explain what I wrote above, not very well. He said he would stop reading the blog. I said that would create more problems because I know I wouldn’t be able to stop reading someone’s blog if they were writing about me. Also, no matter what, I wouldn’t believe it, and eventually he would say something, coincidence or not, and I would think, “Hey…I wrote something like that in the blog.” He said it would be an all new thing for him to lose someone to a blog. But, I’m not comfortable with any of this.

Now what the hell do I do?

First and most important, I’m honored for the mention of this blog. Blushing, I thank you, KOB, from the bottom of my heart.

http://www.dcblogs.com/2005/10/dc-blogs-noted_27.html

On to business. Darren wrote back.

Well, sorry to have offended you, but you obviously need to get your mind out of the gutter and re-read what I said. The “or more” part referred to maybe going out more than once if we had fun, not suggesting anything MORE than dinner or drinks. Please don’t assume all men are pigs who only want to get in your precious pants.

I was suggesting something a bit more innocent, like actually going out for a drink and maybe having someone to talk to over dinner and sharing some company while I’m 3000 miles from home. But apparently you can’t get beyond your assumption that everyone with a penis must want to have sex with you!! Get over yourself sweetie. I actually thought you had a sense of humor and might be NICE and fun to talk to from your profile…..what the heck was I thinking??

Good luck and do try to have a happy life….of course that would require you to lighten up about a thousand percent. I’m beginning to think the “bad” date you describe in your profile was NOT totally the guys fault!! You might want to extend your exile a bit longer……since it seems you’re still a little bitter!! LOL.

And by the way, when you ARE ready to date, you just never know where you’re going to find that special person. Maybe even someone who’s just “blowing through town for a week”. Personally, I’d hate to miss that person even if I bumped into them only once in my life for a few minutes. Just a thought…but you might consider not ruling out eveyone who doesn’t live with 10 minutes of your house. 🙂

And PS…if I though you were a call-girl I would have offered you money!! Hahahahaha.

Very sorry to have offended you. Gee, I’ve heard you East Coast folks aren’t easily offended and it’s us California types who are wimpy and overly sensitive??? Guess not.

Cheers,
Darren

Here are my thoughts on this:
1) Yes, my pants ARE precious.
2) Again, what loser tries to get a date while he’s in town for a few days? What is this? “Pretty Woman?”
3) The bad date he refers to was with GreekWonder. Yes, it was MY fault he drank half a bottle of vodka before he left his apartment.
4) The more one writes, the more emotionally charged they are, thereby acting like they are “defending” themselves. Nice Darren! And you insist you didn’t want to have sex…

Ok, enough thoughts. I present to you, my response:

Your extra long emotional outburst is a joke. Perhaps you shouldn’t tell me to lighten up and instead look at your long tirade of crap. Good luck finding your one night stand. Your manners indicate you need it.

I’mportant rule here: The less you say in an argument, the more the other person says. And with that, I blocked him. If he tried to respond, and I’m sure he did, it said, “We’re sorry, this person has blocked you.” HA HA.

No response from the other nitwit, Heather.

Tonight I got a phone call from MotorcycleInstructor. Ah HA HA HA HA HA. I didn’t answer it. It’s a pure joke at this point. It was another desperate sounding voicemail that I should call him. So ridiculous. No room for master of all liars in my life. But, then he called again around 9:30. I started to wonder why he was on my case, so I called back. He said he’s been thinking about me and asked if I have been thinking about him. I said no. He called me an ass. Then he asked if he could see me. I said, “Well, you’re going to laugh, but I’m seeing someone.” He said, “Why would I laugh?” I said, “Because the day I decided I was totally done with you was the day before I met someone else. How true, how true. He said that he had just wanted to call me and tell me what happened. I said, “All of that was too little, too late.”

And my “friends” at the lunch place called. It seems I have a lunch date on Monday. I really cannot wait to get out of that. I think it’s over in May. Fourteen dates or May – whichever comes later. So I guess this is date #8. Hopefully, it goes horrifingly wrong. I love bad dates.Now, regarding the Bartender. I have been sort of mum about this, and I’m not really sure why. I really like to tell all. But, the bottom line is that he is incredibly sweet and attentive. I’m currently knocking on Death’s Door, as I have Strep Throat (faaaabulous) and he’s been very kind to check in with me every few hours to see if I need anything. Hopefully I haven’t gotten him sick, and the doctor said I am “highly contagious” for the next few days. My fever is 103. Who gets a 103 fever? Do I have Malaria? The last time I was this sick was in February when I thought I was going to die, and Derek stole my Vicodin.

Anyway, the sweetness of his text messages blows me away. My favorite is “Thanks for dinner and the excellent company last night. I hope you enjoyed my company as well. I look forward to whatever.” As quick as it is moving along, I still, as always, keep one part of my heart (the big part) out of it. There is a lingering ex-girlfriend on his end, and some lingering men who I have tentative dates planned with on my end. Slow and steady is a fine pace for me right now. It’s nice to date someone who missed out on majoring in “How to Play Games With Her” with a double minor in “Get in Her Pants on the First Date” and “Don’t Call When You Say You Will.” Aww, hell, it’s just nice to meet someone, well, nice.

Despite my sore throat, I did make it out of my house for the drag race. Lucky for me, I didn’t have very far to go. My actual location will remain nameless due to some craziness I’ve encountered as the author of this blog.

We had a fab spot by the finish line, but then some whore jumped in front of us and brought all her stupid bridge and tunnel friends with her and we no longer had a great view. (Steve Rubell may be dead, but he was damn good at what he did.) At that point I snarled to Brent, “People are assholes” and yes, she heard me. I think I was hoping for a fight. But she had nothing to say in response. I then of course wondered out loud, what would happen if I called 911 right now? Would any of these cops show up? (I have a growing hatred of the lazy D.C. police force, due to a number of incidents in which they could have easily done their job but chose instead to look the other way.)

Ok, everyone else has made their commentary on the drag race, I really don’t need to. I did see I-66 there and while I was dying to say hi, I didn’t want to scare him into thinking I was a stalker.

Last year it was better because 1) there were less assholes there and 2) the weather was acceptable enough for Velvet to wear her Halloween costume.

And speaking of freaks and Halloween, I have some more delights trying to contact me on Yahoo. Only….five….more….days….thank….goodness…..

Here’s my first gem:

Hey There,
Hilarious profile…you sound delightful, and I can do way better than that. I’m visiting DC from California for a week starting Friday and I’d love the company of a lovely young lady for dinner or drinks one evening, or more if we have fun! Email if you’d be interested or like to chat!
Cheers,
Darren

Well, it’s time to start having fun with these little peckers. Here we go:

Darren,
Thanks for your truly offensive email but despite what you may think, I am not a call girl. I do not “do dinner or drinks or more” with men who are blowing through town for the week.

How about this one? What should I do with this slut?

Hi =)
I know a man named Russell and he is a delightful and attractive man who lives in Washington, DC and your profile matches his nicely – You would be a great match. Would you be willing to get in touch with him? Please let me know and I will send you more information if you are interested along with some pictures.

My name is Heather by the way. What’s yours?

Have a nice day,
Heather

P.S. Do you have a personal e-mail address to which I could send you his profile? It’s impossible to send pictures through yahoo.

Ok. I can’t even wait for your comments. I’m going in….

Heather,
Yes yes, what a fabulous idea. I think it’s great to be set up by a woman-pimp in Oregon with a man here in D.C. I would LOVE to give you my personal email address. Here, while I’m at it, I would also like to provide you with my credit card numbers and home address, and spare keys to my car and house.

I love me right now. How funny is that? I am also wondering why these two weirdos both used the word “delightful.” Who uses that word? Come on.

It’s very exciting that the drag race is tonight. It would be more exciting if I wasn’t sick.

Ok, let’s get to it. What the hell does this mean and why has it landed in MY personals inbox?

How are you doing,i want you to know this babe, Love is not about finding the right person, but creating a right relationship. It’s not about how much love you have in the beginning but how much love you build till the end..I’m talking about fate here – when feelings are so powerful it’s as if some force beyond your control is guiding you to someone who can make you happy beyond your wildest dreams.am John my nick is Kan

It is the rule of Velvet to write back to one and all. Even though they so carelessly send obvious cut and pastes to thousands of women, I feel that a personal email deserves a personal answer – even if I really have nothing to say. So I wrote “Thanks for your email.” I know that in this blog I am a woman of words, but, I really had nothing else to say to that rambling. Still, it didn’t deter him. Here we go:

I’ve fallen in love with you and I’ll never let you go. I love you more than anyone, I just had to let you know. And if you ever wonder why, I don’t know what I’ll say, but I’ll never stop loving you, each and every day…If a hug represented how much I loved you, I would hold you in my arms forever..If the days won’t allow us to see each other, memories will, and if my eyes can’t see you, my heart will never forget you

I must tell him to consult this post on stalking. I would like to think he just copied something from a poem or a song. I’m not even sure what I’m reading. And his picture! Oy Vey. It’s like he lifted it from some modeling catalog. (Cough cough, who would EVER do something like that…flashback…BoyFace…fake profile.) Fine, I admit it, I’m an expert at picking out a fake picture. Fuck it, let’s do the picture:

I know it’s not cool, but listen, this is FAKE. We all know it.

I have got to dump that account. It’s proven to be nothing except a magnet for losers, psychotics, neurotics, non-English speaking foreigners, and old men seeking sex slaves.

What ever happened to the good old days of picking up a man in a bar. Oh, wait…

It wasn’t much, but it was very telling. Read into it, or not, as you wish.

“If I messed this up, it would have to be a masterpiece, because the blog is like the blueprint. It’s like saying ‘put that wall here, put this window there.'”

Is the blog really a Velvet instruction manual? Can just anyone read what is here, make sense of it, and change their behaviors accordingly? Is that possible? And if it is possible, could I just print what’s here, post it in various places online and in the newspaper and invite one and all to come date me?

Now that you are reading, are you planning out your play-by-play of what you are doing with me?

I had a fantasy that it was me playing with everyone else. But now, is this your way to play with me?

If you haven’t read Saturday’s post with my confession, please do that before reading this one – it will make more sense.

My favorite, and most delicious of all bartenders has been trying to comment on this blog. For whatever the reason (drunkeness?) he is unable to get a comment to post. How’s that for irony? You, my friend, shall remain without your voice! HA! It’s fine. Good looking men should be seen and not heard anyway. Ok, kidding.

I’m notorious for having conclusions and realizations after the event has occured. Often I lay in bed at night and think of things that happened that day and find clarity, or solve problems in some way. It’s my nature. Today, I have had a few of those thoughts regarding Saturday’s date. Here we go.

I find it absolutely endearing that The Bartender found my blog online without any clues from me about it’s site name or address, and that he read through the past few months.

I find it absolutely endearing that he slowly let the cat out of the bag that he had actually read as much as he did. Most men would be afraid to admit that they have any tiny miniscule interest in your life. Apparently not my Bartender.

I find it absolutely endearing that when we met at 14th & U yesterday and I asked him where he wanted to eat, he immediately knew. I’m a sucker for a man with a plan. (The wishy-washy ones need to be slapped, very hard.)

I find it absolutely endearing that he sat across from me at lunch and said, “Damn, I just told you two of the three stories I had planned for today.” I asked him to clarify. He said, “On my walk here, I planned out three stories that I wanted to tell you. I already told you two and we haven’t even gotten to the zoo yet.” How cute is that? I wanted to jump on him from my side of the table.

I also find it absolutely endearing that he sent me this text message last night at 3:13 a.m.: “I’m right outside your door if you want more.”

I don’t find this next text message about his posting a comment to the blog as much endearing as I do positively titillating: “You don’t want to know what I have to say cause you drive me wild and I’ll have too many lewd innuendos.” Excuse me for a second…..ok. I’m back.

Normally I’m incredibly passive in a budding “relationship” of any sort. I sit back and try to take it all in and figure out where I stand and such. There is none of that here. I feel like I’m just throwing myself in, blogging like an ass, and it’s a damn lot of fun. It’s got a youthful, playful feeling to it. Similar to that feeling of “neighbor knocking” as we called it, in the college dorms.

Finally, I’m not sure what the dating life brings in the next few weeks, as I have been having email exchanges with a few different people for a while now, all generated from this past foray into the online world. I feel that I owe it to myself and the blog to go on those dates when they present themself. This puts me in the supremely awkward position of my favorite bartender reading about other dates. Is that bad? Should I be concentrating on one thing at a time?

I have never overtly discussed sex on this blog. I just don’t think it has a place here. Time for a disclaimer. Velvet has never in her entire life maintained sexual relationships with more than one man at a time. This has been and will always be my rule. It’s not really even a rule – it’s just something I can’t do. It’s where I draw the moral line. I know, I know, make your jokes. It’s only four years difference but I already feel like it’s a Stiffler’s Mom & Finch scenario of sorts.

Soon, I will be ready to answer the question he asked in a 3:37 a.m. text message which was, “When will I ever get to have you?”

Soon.

Ok. Rewind to blogger meeting last Wednesday. It wasn’t just a kiss. Well, it was, but now we had a date today. There have been phone calls and some really hilarious text messages. Past performance in dating does not guarantee future results in dating. I shouldn’t have been so quick to say “I swapped spit with someone” so casually because this is gaining some momentum. The kiss was good. But, I want more. I want to do very bad things to him as he is incredibly good looking, free-spirited and funny. So funny. I look at him and instantly have dirty thoughts. Now would be a good time to remind one and all of my secret wish to be a stripper. In the spirit of revealing myself, I toss to you, symbolically of course, my bra and panties.

It was the bartender.

I foresee bad things as blogger meetings progress. Why am I crapping where I eat again? This is the stupidity equivalent to my dating the motorcycle instructor before the test, to my dating my R.A. in college and having to pass his door when I was sneaking home with someone else, to my dating the construction manager at a job in Maryland and putting myself in a massively awkward position in many capacities. I am dating the bartender at a venue that I will not be able to avoid in the future. I’m an idiot.

But, these are things I wasn’t thinking about when we were walking around the zoo today, eating on U street, or rolling around on my couch.

Obviously, he knows about and already read the blog, because well, he’s the bartender at a place that hosts the blogger meetings. I will continue to follow my tradition of not censoring myself. It just means that he can read everything that is written about him – or anyone else for that fact. And I’m okay with that right now.

Since the big drive out to Michigan and back, I’ve had a lot of “deep thoughts” that occured to me both on my drive and while at my brother’s house. These thoughts are related to, of course, dating and relationships and why I am still single.

First and foremost, while I understand that relationships and ultimately marriage are about compromise, I don’t feel that I’m ready to make basic compromises in what I want or to lower my standards in any way. What I mean is that, I know who “he” is. I know everything about him. I just haven’t met him yet. But when I do, I will know after an hour. Similarly, I will know if he’s not right after a few minutes. As I stated earlier, my benchmark and the man who came closest to perfection brought my dating and to a new level and set a whole new standard for men who I want in my life. The only issue with him was that while he set a new standard, he didn’t really see inside my soul.

I reconsidered for a couple minutes what happened with MotorcycleInstructor. I initially said to a friend, “Had he just told me that he had a kid, I would have been fine with it. It wasn’t like he had a dozen kids with a bunch of different mothers.” But now in rethinking that, I say no. NO. I will not lower my standards. I do not want someone else’s kids in my life, and dating a man whether he has one or more children ensures me one thing – I will never be number one in his life. And I deserve that, if only for a fleeting time.

Expanding on “knowing who he is,” I would like to make one point. In none of these “perfect men” scenarios I play out in my head do I foresee wanting to stay with someone forever. In the beginning of any flirtation/dating, the man is always interesting to me. But he usually loses that interesting quality, sometimes in minutes, sometimes in months, and then I lose interest myself. And how could I possibly know that I would want to be with the same person in 30 years? People who want to be married and have kids, who view that as the “ultimate goal” are an anomaly to me. I cannot understand how anyone could want something they have never had and have no first hand knowledge of. Put another, simplier way, imagine you never ate a piece of chocolate. Could you then crave chocolate, seeking it as the be-all-end-all sweet? Could you really even know what you are missing? That’s how I feel about marriage. But many women still say dreamily that all they want is the “fairy tale.” How can they really know that? Are people just wanting something because they have created the fairy tale version in their head – a version that mirrors reality only a little.

At times, it might seem like I’m tearing through the men at an unreasonably quick pace. But, dating is a numbers game and don’t let anyone tell you anything different. The more men I meet and date, the better my chances at finding someone worthy. My boss, with another of his Land Acquisition mottos says, “Make it a goal to find one new deal a week. Some work, some don’t. But this way you ensure an overall, long term success.” This applies to dating as well. If I met/dated one new man a week, after a year I would have had mostly insignificant encounters. But, I would also have had some pretty significant men enter (and possibly stay in) my life. It’s something to think about, and it’s my reasoning for this madness with the internet, going out, and generally being open to any sort of encounter no matter how irrelevant it seems.

All right. D.C. MUST have missed me because it’s been 24 hours that I’ve been back and I’ve had some seriously funny shit happen to me.

On my way home from a meeting in Baltimore, I was checking voicemail. The car dealership called me to schedule my service since the parts were in. I committed the number to memory and went to dial right away. Apparently it was wrong because I hear “This is Eric.” I said, “Oh, this isn’t what I thought it was.” He said, “What?” I said, “Sorry, wrong number, I thought I was calling my car service shop.” Then it plays out like this:

Eric: “Well, you want me to look up their number?”
Velvet: “No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. Sorry for bothering you Eric.”
Eric: “How did you know my name?”
Velvet: “Because you said ‘This is Eric’ when you answered. Try to keep up, okay?”
Eric: “You are too funny. What kind of car do you have?”
Velvet: “A (we don’t need to go here, do we, Velvet likes to be anon.)”
Eric: “Ooh, I’ll take that.”
Velvet: “It’s a piece of crap Eric, you know I was trying to call the dealer to get it fixed but you answered the phone instead of them.”
Eric: “Right, let me get that number for you.”
(Eric gives me the number.)
Velvet: “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”
Eric: “So what are you doing?”
Velvet: “Driving home from a meeting in Baltimore.”
Eric: “What kind of work do you do?”
Velvet: “I work for a builder.”
Eric: “I’m a developer. Wow. I don’t believe in coincidences. This is weird.”
Velvet: “Neither do I! Is your favorite book the Celestine Prophecy too?”
Eric: “Nope, It used to be. Now I like the Bible.”
Velvet: “Oh Christ, we can never date Eric. I’m an atheist.”
Eric: “Oh. Well, want to get a cup of coffee anyway?”
Velvet: “What? Is this really happening? Am I getting a date out of a wrong number?”
Eric: “Not a date per se, but I’m curious. This sort of thing doesn’t happen.”

Ok, I was on the phone with Eric for 18 minutes. Why is my life this crazy? It is so funny that I’ve really concentrated on opening myself up to all sorts of things and instead of saying “Wrong number” and hanging up, I’ve now met someone who wants to meet for coffee.

Even funnier is that tonight was the Blogger meetup in Adam’s Morgan. I cringe to tell you all this since most of you will know EXACTLY who I am talking about as I tell this story. I got there at 7:00, but no one was there. (Damn you Kristin!) I decided to go home and walk my dogs. I went back up there at 8:30 and sat at the bar talking with non-bloggers. I didn’t know any of the bloggers who arrived, and I was feeling lazy so I just stayed at the bar. The bloggers were outside on the patio. I don’t really know that this story needs details. Let’s just say that I swapped spit with someone there. So, HA HA! That will teach all of you to not show up again.

Laughing my ASS off over here…

Oh, my precious blog. It’s been WAY too long. Blast that dial up connection at my brother’s. Well, I’m BAAAACK. Where shall I start?

Early this morning when I left the mitten state of Michigan, I decided, very consciously, that I wanted to get back to D.C. very quickly and it was worth the chance to drive 90 to get home, even if I got a ticket. I had a vision that no cop could give me a ticket with two cute dogs in the car. So, 90 it was – all the way through Michigan into Ohio and right on to the Ohio Turnpike. Lucky for me I was really only doing 85 when I flew over the hill right by the cop.

Now, before I unfold this drama for you, let me say that Velvet has “never” gotten a ticket after being pulled over. Somehow, it just never happens that I get the dreaded ticket, except for that one time I didn’t try very hard up near Niagara Falls. And I have to give that dude credit, it was cold and I would have been pissed too if I had to get out of my toasty cruiser for some stupid girl speeding in the snow. So, I probably would have given me a ticket too.

I got pulled over in Baltimore about four years ago and played “stupid girl new to town” and got out of it. Nevermind that “new to town” came from that fact that I drove around with Connecticut plates for 7 years after I actually left that state. Then last year I was pulled over with Penny when we were driving to go get Thora from Georgia. Actually, Penny was driving and we were falling asleep. Cop says, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Penny said, “No sir.” Cop says, (classic line coming:) “Because you almost hit me.” Hey man, we drove all night. We were tired. Anyway, he asked what we were doing driving to Georgia with (again) Connecticut plates and Maryland Driver’s Licenses and I went into some tantrum about my ex and our dog running away and me having to rescue her and he figured that was such a ridiculous story that who the hell could have made it up. He let us go.

Ok, so back to this morning on the Ohio Turnpike. I get pulled over. He comes over to the passenger side, and who else but SuperDogs (loves of my life) jump to the window to greet him. It goes like this:

Cop: “Will they bite?”
Velvet: “Only if I get a really expensive ticket.”
Cop: (laughs as he pets Sammy’s head.) “Have you ever been pulled over on the Ohio Turnpike before?”
Velvet: “No. Is this where you tell me I get hauled downtown?”
Cop: (laughing again) “No no. Heading back to D.C. tonight?”
Velvet: “Yes.”
Cop: “Where were you?”
Velvet: “Michigan. My brother and his wife had a baby so I went to visit.”
Cop: “That’s nice. Why didn’t you fly?”
Velvet: “Because the doggies don’t have any grass to run on in D.C. and I felt guilty for that, so I brought them so they could have some fun.”
Cop: “That’s great. Well, as long as you check out that you haven’t been pulled over in Ohio before, I will let you off with a warning.”

And there you have it ladies and gents. I don’t know my secrets, it’s like when I go somewhere and I get Doris Day/superstar/rockstar parking right in front. I can’t explain it. I probably shouldn’t talk about it, but I’ve been lucky. I owe it today to SuperDogs though.

It’s my feeling that if you at least try to talk to the cop and somehow bring something personal into it, they will give you a break. Of course it depends on the cop and how cute he may think I am, but I still think that giving up a little personal information can’t hurt. Sometimes just saying, “I’m sorry, I know I messed up, but I was daydreaming” is all it takes.

On to the closure of old news: MotorcycleInstructor. This is the last of him you will hear, because it’s the end, the finale, the closure.

I had this vision while driving to Michigan that he was going to call and want to “talk.” And I was going to let him come over to talk, even buzz him into my building, but then when he was banging on my door and calling my cell asking why I wasn’t answering, I was going to say, “Huh. I don’t hear you. Could that be because I’M IN MICHIGAN??” It was funny in my head. Would have been funnier in person. But that was not to be. Instead, he left me a somewhat desperate sounding voicemail that he needed to “explain.” Fine. I’m willing to hear it.

Willing. But not ready. He’s got a 13 year old son he’s been freaking harboring like Osama Bin Ladin at his house because he didn’t know how I would react. I told him he could have at least given me the benefit of the doubt. He said that he didn’t know what to do, and realized that I was on to something being not quite right. Duh, you think? Is this not the MOST ridiculous ending to this story? I can’t even believe how lame this was. I was hoping for something better. I really wish I could make a soundcard of his voicemail and post it on here. You would have thought someone died.

I’ve spent the last week lining up some men from Yahoo. I’m going to start sinking my teeth into these guys and see where it takes me. I shall be back daily, with news.

It’s so strange – I’m sitting here in the guest bedroom at my brother and sister-in-law’s house in Grand Rapids, wondering how they ended up here with a life in the ‘burbs and a baby. It’s just strange to me to think that my two brothers and I grew up in the same house for so many years, now we have such incredibly different lives. My older brother’s life is filled with mowing the grass and tending to a baby that never stops crying; mine is about drinking, dating, going to the gym and reading fashion magazines. It just makes me question how we end up like this. But, it makes me miss the noisy, rat infested neighborhood that I left behind.

Well, it’s not all bad. I’ve been somewhat rewarded. I logged into my personals account to see what has been going on and there are a handful of extremely good-looking men who have been writing to me over the past few days. I’m shocked that Jim-Bob Yeehaw and Dominant Dave Seeking Sex Slave have finally fallen by the wayside.

Ok, off to play with the baby.

What is wrong with these online daters? I have yet another man who is looking for a submissive sex slave. Here’s what he has to say:

• It all begins with trust and trus needs to be developed – it doesn’t come instantly. Once there is a connection, a bond, we can explore. I seek a certain type – tell Me if this is indeed you: you lose your grip on the world around you… as it loses focus, you only are aware of My Aura… I become your universe and your anticipation grows… your desire – your need to submit to One, to be owned and taken by Another, to surrender to His power and the ecstasy that it brings – this consumes you… contact Me and we will begin the journey… I have had a fair range of comments since posting this. If you wish to explore a Dominant – submissive relationship, we may be compatible. Should we connect, the possibilities are endless…

This is the third message like this that I’ve received. Of course, they NEVER post a picture so you can’t even see what freak boy looks like.

I’m on my way to Michigan to see the cutest baby in the world, so I’m not sure what the posting activity will be like. I have a few very potential dates on Yahoo, but since I’m out of town again, well, it seems like all that will have to go on to the back burner. Yes, it’s an important lesson we need to establish here: Family comes first.

Besides, after the one/two punch on bumping into an old flame I just can’t risk that the Old Celestine Prophecy theory will manifest itself in my life: When you keep bumping into someone who you haven’t seen in a while, it is because they have some sort of “message” for you, something that you need to know and if you don’t fully explore the reason why the chance encounter occured, you are playing with fate. I can’t believe that I read that book 10 years ago and it still affects my life. I was going to link to their website but it looks like a bunch of cult crap.

Well, I’m off. I’ll try to pick up a truck driver or some other boy so that I have something to write about tomorrow. Don’t worry, I will do my best to not let you down.

It was a good run. It was really only a matter of time. I just didn’t expect it to happen twice in one weekend.

Friday night I went to the gym before I was to pick up my friend from the airport for her weekend visit. So I walk in to the gym and who do I see but the one that got away. Or something like that. I adored this man so much that I was practically tongue tied when he called or when we dated. How annoying and how unlike me. And he never knew…at least I don’t think he was suspicious. I never called him, I never initiated any dates, never seemed more than “casually cool.” Last winter, our dating and such seemed to pick up speed and intensity (he wanted me to join him in Miami for a weekend, was the first to email me when I was in Italy, came to get my drunken ass at BestGuyFriend-M’s New Year’s Party) but it died off in January. I suspect he got back with an old girlfriend, but we never had a final conversation about it. Let me make it perfectly clear how I felt (and still feel) about him. This is the first and only man who I have ever felt I could marry and never ever look back and wonder if there is anything better out there.

So there he is, on the elliptical across from me and facing the other way. And there I am, sneaking peeks at how much time he has left in the workout so I can dodge him until he leaves. Yes everyone, yours truly, Velvet the superdater, was hiding behind weight stacks and cardio machines to avoid him. Success! He left the gym and I watched from the window as he walked across the street, back to his condo. I am really psycho.

It was great to see my friend and have a weekend alone with her to shop and drink and talk about the old days when, well, I was a dedicated girlfriend to AtlantaBoy and she was a not-so-dedicated girlfriend to her bevy of boyfriends. Sunday, we were in Georgetown shopping, and we had parked right on M Street. We got in the car around 5:00 to leave and I’m trying to make a right on Wisconsin and this guy jumps off the sidewalk and right in front of my car to get around the mass of people. It’s the dude from the gym. Christ. What have I done to deserve this? Of course he sees me, I drive a one-of-a-kind-color type of car. So I wave and he comes up to the car. My friend got to meet him which was so funny for her to actually meet him after all that time of hearing the stories. We had an awkward conversation for a couple of minutes where he asked me about my new place and that was all. Then we said goodbye and I drove off. Damn. Damn Damn Damn.

BestGuyFriend-M met us for dinner and he said that it was fate. If I had just dealt with seeing him at the gym, it would have been fine. But noooooooo, I had to tempt fate and end up practically running him over. For the record, that would have been fine by me. Then I could stop comparing every man I meet to him.

First, a plea for your help. Does anyone know anything about animals and secondhand drug use? It sounds ridiculous, I know, but my poor Thora is a mess. “Friends” told me that my ex used to do drugs with her in the room with the door closed and to me now, she is a different dog. These “Friends” told me that she never had any food or water and this went on for almost a year until I got her back. I’m having numerous behavioral issues with her that were not present when she was a puppy or when I was in her life the first time. Something has happened to this dog and I don’t know how to help her. I’ve literally gone to the ends of the earth for her – the ends of the earth being a middle of the night rescue from Macon, Georgia. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Now, ladies, try to contain yourselves as Bachelor Number 2 loads onto your screen. Try not to make any audible noises or everyone will know you aren’t doing any work.

I’m not sure how much more of this I am supposed to endure.

Has anyone ever used Yahoo Personals? Have you seen the things they call “word verification?” I know word verification is for “my” protection and what not, but half the time you get it bounced back to you that you guessed wrong. They are virtually impossible to figure out. And every decent man who is emailing me is complaining about them too. I didn’t realize I needed a CIA Code Breaker to help me date, but, this is D.C. and, well, I guess it was only a matter of time.

Le Sigh. In lieu of any real comfort in my life, I did what most women do when they are in peril. I shopped. I shopped my little arse off, and then some. You all should thank me, however, because I singlehandedly propped up our economy for another day. When the housing bubble busts and gas hits $7 a gallon, don’t come crying to Velvet because it was VELVET who cleaned the racks at TJ Maxx, Filene’s Basement, Marshalls, Kramer Books, Barnes & Noble, Petco, and Saks Fifth Avenue.

Now, hit that comment button and tell me what to do about sad, depressed Thora, who is now sleeping in the bathtub. Thanks.

Online dating contines to be a fruitful way to meet quality men.

I know I said I wouldn’t post anyone’s pictures, but, well, that one just takes the cake. He is wearing the colors of my college, orange and green, maybe that counts for something.

An old boyfriend of mine is now reading the blog and thinks it’s uncool that I’m posting things about these men up here. However, my response was that if these men are going to be jerks, and treat me poorly, then they deserve to be up here, for all the world to see. Well, maybe not all the world.

You all may have been wondering in the past few days (in which I seem to have disbanded my normally quasi-classy PG-rated posts to pontificate about porn, masturbation, brazilian waxes and such,) exactly what happened to that asshole we all know and hate known as MotorcycleInstructor. Well, it isn’t pretty. And, it’s over, again.

All last week he was in boyfriend mode, calling every hour, checking in, finding out what I was up to. The last I heard from him was Friday at 3. I didn’t realize this until Saturday night around 9, and then I found myself thinking “Where’s that little gnat I couldn’t get off my back this week?” So I sent a text message that says, “See how you call all week and disappear on the weekend?” He writes back, “No.” What a way with words. So I try to call, it goes to voicemail. I write back, “What no? Pick up your damn phone.” And he says, “I’m in Virginia, on my way back now.” And that’s all folks. There has been no contact since then.

He probably can’t understand why I would want something called consistency, and I can’t understand how he can continue to be so flaky. So, here it is. The uneventful, boring end to another “relationship.” See, I told you all that if I allowed myself to get annoyed enough that it would be easy when the end got here. And it has.

Today we are going to discuss internet dating. I have received quite a few responses to my profile. If you don’t want to read the comedy that follows, scroll to the bottom for my final conclusions.

Let me put the disclaimer on here that I assure you I am making none of these up. They are directly copied and pasted from my inbox. Let’s take a closer look, a la David Letterman format, the top 10 list. Gotta save the best for last.

10) Received a nice message from some giant man who lives in Columbia, about an hour from here. The title of his profile? “Prince of Coitus.” What is wrong with these people?

9) The next guy seems very nice, and the rest of his email is somewhat well written with no spelling errors. But, he’s 52. Here’s how he addresses that.

• I am a few years past the age indicated in your profile. But I still like to meet you…please,.just a coffee, may be a drink, and may be, and just may be, a short trip to Paris..!!!!

“a few years past??” I’m 32. I’ll date up to 42. Since when is 10 years past my age range only “a few.” Christ. Is my title “Looking to fill role of Child Bride?”

8) This guy looks normal in his pictures. Ugly, but normal. (At this point, Ugly Is The New Normal.) But in his message to me, he wrote this:

• I’m singing in a choir that’s become a lot of fun…it lets me make music on a regular basis & has become a weekly excuse for socialization with a few friends of mine and I (dinner before rehearsal, then the carpool back again).

Choir? CHOIR??? Carpool? I’m imagining one of those church vans taking a bunch of ugly men back to sing and do whatever it is those church-folk do.

7) Here’s yet another winner from profile entitled “HUH HMMM R U GONNA BE MY GIRL :)” That stupid title matches the stupid look on his face. I want so badly to post his picture.

• HI GIRLS,WELL LOOKING FORWARD TO CRUZZING AROUND HERE A BIT LOOKING FOR MY SMART ,BEAUTIFUL,CURVY,SEXY,SENSUAL,GOD FEARING LIFE TIME PARTNER IN LOVE.PLEASE KEEP YOUR EYE,S OPEN FOR ME ,I,D HATE TO THINK WE PASSED EACH OTHER LIKE SHIP,S IN THE NIGHT.WOW I CAN,T BELEIVE I JUST SAID THAT ? OK, ABOUT ME I,M A REAL GOOD LOVING ,UNDERSTANDING, COMPASSIATE, GENTILE, GIVING WHERE NEEDED WHEN I CAN KIND A MAN. I AM A TRUE ROMANIC IN EVERY SINCE OF THE WORD. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A 1 WOMAN MAN. I,M NOT NOW NOR WAS I EVER A PLAYER, MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME MUCH BETTER THAN THAT. A PLAYER IS JUST ANOTHER FORM OF SIDISTIC BEHAVIOR IN MY OPION. I AM VERY GOOD WITH MY WOMAN AND WE JUST ADORE EACH OTHER COMPLETLY 🙂 HMMMMMMM…………… THE THINGS WE DO TOGETHER,OH SO SWEET 🙂 WELL I’M CERTAINLY HOPING 1 OF YOU UPSTANDING BEAUTIFUL FINE WOMEN WILL LOOK ME UP 🙂 :)SINCERELY YOUR,S JIMMY, 🙂 PLEASE GO IN PEACE 🙂

Note spelling errors and use of comma instead of apostrophe. How about “I am very good with my woman and we just adore each other completely” ??? Does that mean you have a woman? Because you imply that you have one who adores you already. She must be blind. And stupid. And the ships in the night comment, where did that come from? As The World Turns?

6) An “Icebreaker” as they call them, from this guy. All he said to me was “Hey how are you?” But, let’s look at his profile.

• ask me………..this is only on a one to one basis. ok ok……..they want more. i dont like this. you are going to have to take a chance. this is not like anything either one of us can imagine. not an exageration. think of your independent thinker, a chance taker, a traveler of the stars and mountains and the rippled sidewalk waves; chance meeting in a bookstore or out of the way yak trail. haha. def a sense of humor. totally irreverent. you? mmmmm……..i had a dream about you last nite. immediate clicking and tete a tete in a cafe, coffeehouse and that closness of spirits. oh its rare…both a platonic and non-platonic realm. I had another dream. NO its none of those kind. These are positive. But more about that later. Have you ever had that perfect friendship? Is your first instinct to when you meet someone, to learn more about them, or to talk about yourself? Many cosmic aspects. This is more of a living document here, doesnt it seem? (of course, successful, professional, artistic, patient and compassionate, but human and positively vulnerable, yet insatiable for your soul, one has to be) We all seek the standard answers but yet disdain the common, the everyday. Are we a victim of too many constraints. You are the person who always makes one think of unlimited possibilities, of a thrill in the heart..a secret daliance..a cant wait to sin. You do not let anything limit you. You trust and embrace, arm in arm, a glow always in your eyes. Even ……….how do i tell you more. Offer me a clue or 2. Part of my charm is what you cant put your finger on. You def must be creative in this universe and never be caught. Me? Haha…..I always ramble for a reason. I believe in a positive universe, hard work, edgery, where might you find me if you were to look?…………..stay tuned.

Be me good woman. What. The. Fuck. Can anyone make sense of that jibberish???

5) Received this from a guy in Pennsylvania who couldn’t be bothered to crop his ex-wife out of the picture. Also has kids. (In the background I hear the wrong answer buzz from Family Feud.)

• You really interest me.. I’m like 5 min. from MD and could easily take a road trip.. Don’t worry, I’m just looking for a friend first, then, we’ll see if we think it’s worth our mutual time….

Ok. I don’t even like to leave Dupont Circle. I am pissed off when I have to take the dogs to the groomer on 14th Street, a mere three blocks away. Why the fuck would I want to make a “friend” in PA? “5 minutes from Maryland” is still hours from no where. Come on!

4) Next dude just sent the form icebreaker as well. He describes himself as “a few extra pounds.” I think he needs a new mirror. I would say it’s 50-75 extra lbs by the looks of his pictures, which, by the way, I want so badly to post up here along with some of these other freaks. But, instead, I shall post a picture of his dog, and you will get the point. Dogs always end up being just like their owners. (My dogs are assholes.)

That is the fattest fucking dog I’ve ever seen in my life.

3) This one is from some nerdy guy.

• You are very cute and I dig the pics 🙂 I’m kind of trying to see where a current situation of mine is going. My friend lives in Indonesia; however, that doesn’t keep me from trying to establish friends, in a non-sexual way. I am a person of integrety, honesty and compassion. At this point my friend over there is having a hard time getting a US visa. I can tell you more about it if you ask 🙂 My bottom line: If you want to chat or email, or even have coffee sometime. please drop me a line.

Why would anyone bother to contact someone to tell them they have a girlfriend in another country? He cares about her enough to mention her but not enough to marry her and get her a green card? Christ, I’ll marry her at this point.

2) This guy scared me so much I didn’t even know what to do. There is no picture, but his message speaks for itself. He has since deleted his profile, but the message remains in my inbox. I’m afraid to hover my mouse over it to delete it. It’s the same apprehension I would feel at having to poke a dead body with a stick.

• The first thing you would have to do on our first date is dress down to your panties and head straight to the kitchen and whip up our meal for the night. Then we can discuss whose washing the dishes…… you make me smile when I look at you.

1) And, the piece de la resistance. Received a generic “I like your profile. Tell me more,” from someone with the following profile text. There is, of course, no picture.

• I’m looking for a Mature, Young woman (not a girl). A Woman that prefers the company and experience of an older man. She wants a Loving, Caring, and Loyal Relationship. Not looking to just play games, though Intimate Games will be very important in the Realtionship. She wants an Honest, Trusting, Loving Man that will keep her safe and secure. She knows how, and wants to please her Man in all ways. She must love Affection and Intimacy. She must love to get out and enjoy life with her Man, knowing that her Man is with Her…. I do like to RolePlay, hence the name Daddy. I do not believe in any Abuse, physical or mental…. Life is an Adventure, meant to be shared. Are you ready to Explore Life, and share the Adventures????? Write me or send me a Wink. I can write you back from my paid profile….. Now smile for me. That is very important to me……. Daddy Charlie.

Does he really think in his 54 years and “separated” status that I would write back to him? It was only yesterday to me that I was dating frat boys. I certainly don’t want to jump from that to dating men about to file for social security. And let’s not even discuss the obvious undertones in his profile that he participates in some disgusting unmentionables in the bedroom? His screen name is Daddy Charlie and the title of his profile is “daddy4lilgurl4fun.” Daddy? Please, bitch.

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Prior to the internet, all these freaks were walking around out there and we unsuspecting women had no clue that they were illiterate rednecks, saddled with countless ex-wives and kids, harboring sexual fetishes unexplored with said ex-wives that they now want to live out with women half their age. I used to think dating in general was getting worse. I think now that the quality of people are the same, but the internet brings out the worst in people and those people are more than willing to show us.

Yes, I know this is a two way street and that I may be no prize either. In fact, I’m a bitch. But, this is my blog and I can write what I want. If you want to make your own blog and bitch about me then be my guest. Now for my conclusions:

Men Don’t Read

• This is the way a lot of men are re-entering the dating scene after a divorce. For me, a single woman with no baggage, these men are not viable options to me. First and foremost, I hate other people’s kids with a passion. I said “no kids” in my profile. But yet, I keep getting replies with some sort of explanation that they already have a nanny/don’t need another mother/kids are already grown.
• I have a 5 mile radius on distance in my profile. This doesn’t stop 50% of my replies coming from the hinterlands of Maryland, Virginia and Pennsyltucky.
• Many men think they are studly enough to get women half their age. Again, this is why I put an age range on my profile. I don’t care that you are 60 but “everyone tells you you look and act 45 and that’s just three years past my age range.” Your body is still 60, no matter how much you think otherwise. At best, we would only have a few years together before you retire to a trailerpark in Florida, taking your handicap parking sticker with you thereby leaving me to fend for mall parking on my own and having to relearn how to eat dinner in the non-early-bird hours of 7 p.m.

Men Are Delusional

• Women consistently describe themselves as worse looking than they are and men consistently describe themselves as much better looking than they are. I don’t know where men learn the art of self-promotion, but I am always amazed when I meet someone in person that they are shorter and much less attractive then they said they were. Brad Pitt is a 10. George Clooney is a 10. If you don’t look like that, you, my friend, are not a 10. Don’t pretend that you are.

Just so we’re clear. You know who you are and today you get your own entry. It is the first and last time I shall dedicate an entry to one person:

I don’t know that you fully understand this situation with the blog. It is serious to me, and the reason that long ago when I gave BoyFace the address of the blog I seriously regretted it and ended up changing the address.

The blog stops being honest if someone I’m dating is also reading it. {Or, if someone who is reading the blog wants to date me.} The rule has been and will always be, “any man I’m dating or sleeping with, or have plans to date or sleep with will never know about the blog.”

I spend so many hours in my day giving thoughful consideration to what I’m going to write. The irony in all of this is that people who are so seemingly “significant” in my life, i.e. MotorcycleInstructor, {for right now} don’t know that the blog exists. And never will. Since you know of its existence and read it daily, I’m afraid I can’t ever possibly date you.

Love,
Velvet in Dupont