One Time I Dated a Dodger…

A few months after I’d moved out of the house I shared with my husband, a couple of girlfriends that I hadn’t known for long invited me out for drinks with them one night at a sports bar. There was a man there about my age that was clearly drunk with some younger guys watching a game. He wore a scully cap, which I thought made him look like an old man. The first thing that came to my mind when I saw him was, He looks like an alcoholic. Then my friends introduced me to him. (I’ll just refer to him as “Dodger.”) Dodger was funny and nice, just drunk and loud at the time. I didn’t stay long and went home.

About a month later, I ran into Dodger a few more times. He was in much better condition, really fun to talk to, and we had a lot in common. We flirted once, then I thought he disappeared, so I did, too. Dodger and I didn’t run into each other again until right before the Christmas holiday. We started to hang out and get to know each other more. He seemed like a great person, but not someone I could see myself with long-term. I was so newly single and knew I didn’t want to deal with anyone’s shit, but having a friend was something I needed. The truth was, I didn’t mind the company, especially during the lonely, dreadful holidays.

Although paperwork had been filed, the judge hadn’t yet signed my divorce papers, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a relationship. Dodger and I dated for about two and a half months. He took me out on a real date once – to dinner at a sushi place and his favorite bar. I often cooked (expensive) meals, and he stayed at my house more than his own. The next “real” date we were supposed to have was at a comedy club. We ate crummy food at a crummy bar he liked, and when we got to the comedy club, it had been canceled at the last minute. We ended up going to a nightclub that I hadn’t been to in ages, but was known for the “older” crowd when I was in my 20s. Almost no one was in the place, but we decided to stay since we were dressed to go out. We ordered drinks and had a good time, but when the check came, things got weird. The bill was like $70, and Dodger only had $30 on him. I only carry credit cards, so I picked up the majority of tab including the tip. Nothing was ever discussed about the difference after that.

The last date Dodger and I went on was supposed to be exciting. I had seen Elton John in concert before, so I knew how great his show was. I asked Dodger if he was interested in going, because I would see Elton again if he did. He said sure, he’d give me the cash for his ticket, since he didn’t have credit cards to purchase them, and he’d drive and pay for parking and dinner the night of the concert. So I purchased the tickets. We had dinner at my house, because we ran out of time to go out. I drove. I paid for parking. I bought my two beers during the concert. And then Dodger acted like a douche the entire night. He walked really far in front of me on our way in, even crossing the street before I could allow cars pass to cross myself. He pouted inside the entire time, was super antisocial, didn’t act like he was having a good time at all. I was pissed that I’d spent all of this money going to something I’d already seen just so this man-child big-baby asshole could ruin the night. Of course Elton was great, but the rest of the experience sucked.

Then about a week later, Dodger lied to me, and I caught him red-handed. He was acting very strange and had been since the Elton incident. He’d gotten paid that day and claimed he was doing laundry (at a laundromat) and would be over. He was going to get some takeout and asked what I wanted, so I told him sushi. When he showed up he just about shoved the bag of food in my face and acted all pissed off and said he had to go back and pick up his laundry. I was like what’s wrong, what happened? He didn’t really say much and said he had to get his laundry, he’d be back.

Knowing that the laundromat was a 20-minute round trip at the most, forty minutes had gone by and no Dodger. I called him, he didn’t answer. I waited ten more minutes, still nothing. This was very unlike him. He finally called back saying he’d just gotten home and was tired and going to stay in. We hung up. My intuition told me something wasn’t right. I just knew it. His favorite bar was only about a mile from my house, so I jumped in my car and lo-and-behold, there was his truck sitting in the parking lot! Busted! While I was sitting in the parking lot, I took a photo of his truck and texted it to him, assuming he was inside the bar. He came running out, lying that I misunderstood him. I didn’t want to hear it. In my mind, I was done with him. But I happened to be moving into a new place the following week and needed his help, unfortunately.

The following day, beginning around 7 a.m., Dodger started calling me apologizing. I didn’t answer, let it go to voicemail, heard his crackling sorry ass voice and still didn’t want to speak to him. I had to work anyway, so I just let it go to voicemail all day. He sounded pretty worried, as he should have. I did nothing to deserve his shitty treatment. When I arrived home, Dodger had left a dozen red roses at the door, along with a sappy card. While it was a nice gesture, I already knew that a man like him wasn’t going to last in my life, because I’d never trust him again. I did end up speaking to him again, and yes, still hanging out like usual. But I didn’t feel the same.

Two days after the Laundromat Lie incident was Valentine’s Day. We visited a park and took a walk on the beach. He claimed he wanted to take me out to eat that evening, but he didn’t. He considered his “sorry roses” as my Valentine’s gift. I hadn’t realized those two went hand in hand.

Dodger helped me move from the house I was renting to another location, so there was one redeeming quality about him. The new place was about 10 miles farther than the two miles he used to live down the road from me, and I don’t think he liked the drive even though it was closer to his job. Then one day he just stopped communicating with me out of the blue. I wanted to end it for sure so I contacted him telling him how I felt and asked him for the money he still owed me for the Elton John ticket. He was a dick to me and hung up on me, saying he didn’t have the money (even though he was sitting in a bar while he was on the phone).

Dodger had only given me $100 towards the $160 ticket. He kept dodging me and even blocked me from his phone when I’d ask him about it each payday. I mean come on, he couldn’t spare $20 a check to pay me back for HIS ticket?? So I contacted him through Facebook and told him I could really use the money he still owes me for the concert ticket. His reply?

“You want me to pay for a date we went on two months ago?”

What a prick.

Two months later, he moved in with a girl his daughter’s age and knocked her up. Better her than me! I’m glad I never ran into him again.

Then Someone Talked Me Into Tinder…

When I initially started Tinder swiping, I had no idea what I was doing, so I swiped left on everyone. Also, my settings were for such a wide mileage and age range, I was getting people from their 20s to 50s, most of them too far away. Then I started over, because I finally figured out how to work the app. I met a few people that never lasted more than one meet up. Usually, they were too immature or not who they claimed to be.

The first guy I met from Tinder was close to my age, claimed to be 5’10” in his profile. He was a serial vaper, held no conversation whatsoever, and didn’t even offer to pay for my bottled water at the place we met. He seemed more into his obnoxious vaping and himself than anything else. Truly a boring experience! As we left the place, when he stood up, he was much closer to my own height of 5’4”, which made him a liar, too. Neither of us contacted the other again, and I never saw him again. No loss there.

Another guy was maybe 5 years younger, former military, and talked a lot about himself. We saw each other a few times until I realized he was batshit crazy and a player. He’s been in a long-term relationship since.

There was one Tinder date that led to more dates, and he was much younger than me… by like 15 years. He was former military, tattooed, and bearded… and extremely short. Like my height. We had a nice time together until he was extremely late (45 minutes to an hour) meeting up more than once or just blew me off altogether. I’d had enough of him wasting my time and told him so. It turned out he’d met someone else and didn’t have the balls to tell me. But this guy kept in touch with me, I suppose “just in case”, because he contacted me again after they’d broken up until he moved onto the next girlfriend that he’s currently with.

I had my fair share of younger guys wanting to date me. Why not give them a chance, I thought? I mean, if Demi Moore and Madonna can do it, why can’t I? After all, I certainly wasn’t looking to get married again, and I needed to have fun. Plus, they made me feel young and wanted again. It was kind of a refreshing self-esteem booster after having been crushed and feeling unattractive. But that didn’t last long either, because I was done raising children. Yes, these guys in their 20s were fun, but that was it. They could offer me nothing. They were takers, not givers. At that point, I was done with Tinder, because it seemed like there was no one my age using it at the time.

And then some girlfriends introduced me to someone unexpectedly… to be continued.

Dating – The Beginning

After being single now for just over four years, I’m dreading Valentine’s Day once again. This Hallmark holiday is a miserable way of reminding those of us that haven’t found true love that we may as well keep adopting cats. But the truth is, cats have been more enjoyable and loving than my dating experiences for the past four years, so maybe I’ll just have to stick to them.

After being in an 8-year (mostly sexless) relationship, dating was something I had to relearn, and I was never good at it to begin with. Dating is not like riding a bicycle – it changes over the years, and it can be excruciating when you fall or get hit with something you don’t expect. At least with a bicycle, I can see the road ahead of me and prepare for the bumps and hanging branches along the way. Not so much when it comes to dating after ending a marriage or other long-term relationship. To top it off, I was still living under the same roof as my ex.

One of the first challenges of dating was how and where to actually meet anyone in my own age range, so I did what a lot of people do and went to online dating sites and apps. What a waste of time and energy! I consider myself an open and honest person, and naively, I assumed most other people were as well. Not so when it comes to online dating! Even a lot of my friends that do it or have done it agree what a nightmare it can be.

First I started out on one of the most popular sites, PoF, which I have nicknamed Plenty of Sharks. It was quite overwhelming, because anyone can message you, even if you aren’t interested, and I was bombarded with so many messages I didn’t have time to read most of them. I got nowhere there except a bunch of losers that got angry at me for not being interested in them, along with men that lied about who they were

At the time, I wasn’t interested in men that wanted anything long-term. All I wanted was to meet friends and see where it went. I wasn’t interested in men my father’s age or close to it. I wasn’t interested in men with photos of themselves giving the middle finger or sticking out their tongues like 12-year-olds. I was interested in educated men, which can be a challenge where I live, since most were not.

I did end up meeting someone I’d gone to high school with and hadn’t seen in years. He turned out to be a total psycho control freak when I couldn’t answer his text messages every 10 minutes while I was working as a schoolteacher or if I was too tired to drive all the way to his house after work. He didn’t last, and he was pretty desperate to be on his third marriage, which he successfully managed a year later… and then he contacted me two years later on his third child and divorce all in one. No, thank you!

Then I met another guy online that seemed really nice. He was from the Northeast and was moving near my area, so we kept in touch for about a month or so until he moved down. When we actually met in person, it was for a yearly biker event, so he picked me up on his Harley and off we went. We were having a great time, ran into some of my friends, and ended the evening cordially. I didn’t know if I wanted to see him again. I mean, he was nice, but something was missing. Plus, technically, I hadn’t even filed for divorce yet, so I wasn’t looking to jump into something long-term, but I think he was.

I’m not exactly sure what happened from that point until the following crazy texting happened, but he accused me of “using” him to get to this biker rally. I wasn’t sure what he meant at all, because I had other means to get there. I reminded him that I paid for half of the drinks (mine and his), so if I were “using” someone, that never would have happened. His texts became more strange, and then he called me a bitch. At that point, I blocked him and wiped my hands of his nonsense. He later found me somehow and apologized to me, but so what? It was too late, and he’d already proved himself to be a huge red flag that I didn’t need in my life.

Shortly after that, someone had introduced me to Tinder… to be continued.

A Long Time Coming

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written. So many ups and downs and a considerable amount of losses have kept me from being myself and distracted me from my writing passion. My current plan is to attempt to blog as much as I possibly can in memoir style about my adult life, as opposed to everything else I’ve written here. The problem is, every time I’ve been planning this over the past couple of years, something has come up to prevent it. I’m hoping that doesn’t happen again.

So far, this year hasn’t been so nice. Well, neither have the prior years, but I’m not getting any younger. Seems to be way more downs than ups, rejections, 180s, you name it. A person can only take so much.

As of right now I’ve been sick for a month; I’m recovering from a bout of pneumonia after having had the 2018 flu. As soon as I’m recovered, I have to catch up on things like getting my car fixed that someone thought it was okay to hit in a parking lot and leave. Over the past year and a half I’ve dealt with too many deaths to count, including having to put down one of my beloved pets of 15 years. I fell in love for the first time in over a decade and got my heart broken to pieces. I’m still wounded from that and doing my best to move on.

I suppose that one of the best things, if you can call it that, about being sick is that you can truly tell who your friends are and who really gives a shit about you. When people you’re used to seeing weekly or more don’t even bother to ask how you are doing, those are not friends. When someone asks what you need, those are friends. When someone actually goes to the store and gets you water and food to eat, those are amazing friends, and those are the type of people I want in my life.

I have said this before, yet still always managed to find it anyway, but I do not have room for bullshit in my life. I just want to be happy and loved and enjoy what time I do have left on this miserable planet.


Life: Twists, Turns, and Trainwrecks

Defeated Life has been a complete toss of a train wreck and roller coaster over the past few years. Many life changes have happened at once, many of which I had no control over. I have moved six times in three years, got divorced, had some pretty horrible dating experiences, lost two jobs as a result of downsizing (which also resulted in a piling amount of debt), changed careers, and I’ve been dealing with illnesses and fibromyalgia flare-ups for the first time in many years. On top of emotional aches and pains, the physical pain has taken its toll on me both mentally and physically. Taking two stress tests revealed a score of 594, with over 300 being on the high end. As you can imagine, I’ve become extremely depressed and hopeless.

I’ve done little writing the way I used to, except for some poetry here and there. I’ve stopped doing many of the things I used to enjoy, either out of boredom or time restraints or lack of funds. Or sometimes just loss of interest altogether. I feel as if I’ve lost in the game of life. Many times I think what is the point of this?

Last night I came to the conclusion that sometimes the game of life isn’t made to win; often, it is made to be defeated, no matter what you do to try to make things better. How did I come to this conclusion? By playing a video game that I know is always intended for the game to win. Only by luck or by chance can it be beat. And in life, sometimes luck and chance is the only thing we have by our side; others are just made to sit and suffer along the sidelines, only wishing we can make our dreams come true.

For weeks, I tried to get through not just one but two different (but similar games) without any luck. I grew frustrated and bored, because no matter what I did, the end result was always the same. No matter how I carefully made my next move, I was beat. In fact, no matter what I did to “get ahead” in the actual game, without even knowing it, I was somehow setting up the game itself for an even bigger win. Why does this keep happening to me? I thought. To make matters worse, the game would remind me that I had failed to succeed in beating it. No shit. What a negative way to announce something to someone that’s already fighting depression, I thought. This game sucks, I kept repeating to myself. But I knew I had to keep playing.

Failure. Defeat. That is exactly how I’ve been feeling about life.

For. Three. Fucking. Years. Straight.

Three years of feeling this way is a really awful way to live. I have talked to some of my friends about everything, but I’m sure they’re tired of hearing it, so I have mostly stopped and keep to myself. Talking to a professional seems to be a waste of time, since I want to talk to someone at a certain moment, not wait for an appointment weeks later when I may already be doing something that makes me feel better for free. I don’t think I need to be medicated, like a lot of people who jump to conclusions might suggest. I just wish for things to happen in my benefit for once, to make my life easier and more enjoyable… to feel better, to wake up in the morning and actually feel like getting out of bed to seize the day. But that hasn’t happened in a very long time.

I find it difficult to get excited about anything at all anymore until it actually happens, even if it’s a simple meeting with friends. There are just certain things in life I’d always dreamed of and it just doesn’t happen, no matter how hard I work or the many directions I take. Just when I get my hopes up about anything, they get dashed right back down… as if I’m put into my place by the universe saying, who do you think you are? You’re not going anywhere. You’re no one special.

I watch others’ dreams come true without even trying, which often pisses me off and makes me realize the game of life is all about luck and chance. I suppose I will just have to accept I’m not one of those people. I know I can’t be alone in feeling this way. I know many people in worse circumstances. But right now I’m just living in my own head and dealing with my own misery and pain, the only way I know how to live anymore.

What Divorce Can Do To a Woman

broken-heart-shapeI’ve been going through a lot of emotional bullshit lately. Even though it’s been final for eight months, divorce is like dealing with death. It’s a series of grief processes. I’m up one minute, down the next. I try to keep telling myself this is good, everything will be okay, but then I sober up and feel the pain again.

I try to keep myself laughing by looking at cute and funny things – things like comedy shows and cute kitten videos. And then I start missing the animals I had to leave behind. My dog. My cat. I feel as if I’ve abandoned my children. They were my babies. I know they are left alone quite often; they used to be with me almost 24/7, because I worked at home the majority of the time. I find myself bawling at the thought of never seeing them again.

I laugh one minute, cry the next. It’s a fucked up rollercoaster.

Divorce can destroy a woman’s heart forever – make her never want to open up to another man again. It can make her feel unloved, unappreciated, unattractive, and underestimated. It can cause her never to trust again.

Divorce can force a woman to seek others that give her the attention she yearns, but not always the right type of attention, and often attention that turns into more hurt. It can make her question her ability to satisfy a man. It can make her wonder will she ever be good enough – for anyone?

Divorce can make a woman cold, cause a void that can never be filled.

I used to be such a loving, caring person.

I’m not that person anymore.

I can never and will never be someone’s wife ever again.

How I Lost My Virginity

This is probably going to be somewhat disturbing to some readers, so this is fair warning.

When I was 16, I worked with a guy that went to my school. For about a year he begged me to date him, but I wasn’t interested. Eventually, I gave in to him and he was my “first love” so to speak. He had a car, so we’d sneak off and park in wooded areas or parks to make out and have sex.

One night when I was babysitting he came to the house. We were on the living room floor (the person I was babysitting for was in her room asleep by then) making out. He was acting like an asshole, which was typical of him anyway, but here’s where this gets disturbing… All of the times I thought we were having sex, he wasn’t actually inside of me. I think maybe the tip was, but he’d never actually put himself entirely inside of me. I was that naive and inexperienced. I was on top of him, but he was much stronger than me. He held me against him and shoved himself inside of me without warning. It was excruciating!! I tried to get off of him, but he held me tightly against him. I told him he was hurting me, but he didn’t care. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I didn’t want to scream or wake up anyone, so I bit him on the shoulder, because it was the only thing to make him stop. Then he hit me and called me a bitch.

I was so confused. Here I was with this person that I “loved” that didn’t care he was hurting me. I didn’t know at the time whether or not to consider that this was on the cusp of being raped.

I didn’t stay with him much longer after that – he ended up cheating on me and physically abusing her.