When I first started this little journey into sharing my POF adventures, I was feeling excited and optimistic that I’d actually found someone that fit!
I was venturing into telling you about the first men I met, and why they were wrong for me. I haven’t even told you about Mr. Number 3 who as we said our goodbyes hugged me by keeping a fair lower body distance as if he were hugging an old aunt with bladder issues and insisted “I’d love to see you again!” after looking so bored during our entire walk-and-talk on the beach. Phew that was a long sentence, but it’s ok, Number 3 didn’t deserve his own blog post.
See, all my excitement was over Mr Number 4. A really cool and fun guy who introduced himself to my friends as my boyfriend. Trust me. I was as shocked and surprised as you may be. Sure we were on a dating exclusivity with each other, and I’d hidden my profile on POF (as he suggested when I said I wanted to ditch POF all-together), and we’d friended each other on Facebook. He was even gracious and kind enough to assist me in some of my roller derby duties and volunteered some time at two of our events. A gem I tell you! But to have him publicly state himself as my boyfriend? Guys are usually so stand off-ish on this kind of thing, but not Mr Number 4. He claimed me as his with openly public hugs, kisses and sweet signs of affection.
And then he offended, to no end, my friend’s 14-year old daughter when he playfully slapped me on the butt with a spatula as we prepped the concessions stand before a bout. She begged me endlessly to leave him. “He’s mean, he’s not nice, and I hate him,” she pleaded. I laughed her off “but he made me heart shaped blueberry waffles for breakfast with organic syrup, how could I ever leave him? Plus he agreed to go to the circus with me!” I argued with her.
But then it happened. Upon mutual agreement, we planned on my going to his place for a movie after I was done working at an event I was organizing. All was cool. Then at this event, our participant count was way low. So I invited him to come join us for a beer because we had 2 kegs for a couple dozen people rather than one hundred potential beer drinkers. I didn’t want this beer to go to waste, plus he loves IPA. Win-win right? Wrong.
So wrong… He was suddenly too busy to join us, and even too busy to have me come over for our planned movie night. I fucked up. I wasn’t sure how or why, but I knew I’d fucked up.
After a series of emails and text messages, I discovered everything I’d done wrong. There was a list.
Was he going overboard? Or was I indeed selfish and not trustworthy? Maybe I’m simply not ready to be in any kind of relationship right now. All I know is this:
- The breakup totally triggered the uproar of my grief (hmm, quite possibly I wasn’t done grieving the end of my marriage when I started hooking up with Mr Number 4).
- Monday night I agreed on an initial meet-up with what would be Mr Number 5 from POF and as I sat there trying my best at doing the routine “Hi, this is who I am” chit-chat, I just wanted to run away screaming and crying like a little piggy… wee-wee-wee all the way home. Which in all honesty I did. Cry. All the way home. Not the best thing for nighttime driving in the rain.
- My POF profile has returned into hiding as soon as I got home from meeting Mr Number 5.
- I don’t know what I’m doing.
- I think I want to hike, jog and write my way back to happiness.