Stir events by Match.com - Part Three: This is starting to get sad

For reasons I am still trying to understand, I decided to make a third trip into the wilderness that is a Stir event by Match.com. If you are new to my exploits in this arena...well, if I knew how to link shit, I would do so now, but I don't. Either way, they are there under previous posts. But to summarize:

1st time: Met up with my friends girlfriend, who wasn't exactly acting like she had a boy friend.

2nd time: Came with friend whose now ex-girlfriend was there last time. Met someone but after 3 months, that relationship came to an end. Why you ask? She didn't read so good, or at all really. She shared intimate details of our sex life with her ENTIRE family (mom, dad, three sisters). And finally, when we had a disagreement once (not a fight, no voices were raised, no names were called, no accusations were made) she responded by curling up into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably for an hour.

And well, the other night was the 3rd trip to Stir.

I decided to fly solo this time, since my buddy has found himself a girlfriend and I couldn't beg anyone to come with me...you know, I had options n' shit.

Now a veteran of these events, I left with many observations and what-not:

- I saw drunk girl dancing alone, again. She has made appearances at the other events, always shit-house drunk by the time things began and hitting on every guy there. The weird thing? She's very attractive. I couldn't tell you if she was smart or not because she slurred like a stroke victim. Either way, glad she was there.

- 40 year-old dude wearing a baseball cap was there. Listen Billy Jack, every knows you are bald, it's cool. You are fooling no one with the hat. Either shave your head or take the goddamn hat off.

- The husky Indian chick (convenience stores, not casinos) who I made every attempt to escape the last time I there and actually asked "Why did we never hang out?" The reason why not doesn't matter, you being a glutton for punishment is what fascinates me. Do you remember being dismissive of what I did for a living? Or telling me dumb people watch TV, after I told you I loved TV? You fall into one of two categories: liar or stupid, which is it?

- Many people cannot take a hint. Lucky for me, I learned early on when women weren't interested in me (Ok, it was 7th and 8th grade dances and the fact that any girl, let alone a mildly attractive one caused me to sport a boner hard enough to cut glass. So looking back...yeah, that was probably a factor.) But I watched men and women continue to bombard the opposite sex with questions when that person was making it painfully obvious they were not interested. I commend persistence, this isn't to say I understand it, but it is respectable. Either way, raise the self-awareness a touch and move on.

Anyway, my night ended with no real prospects on the horizon but I did get a blog post out of it.

More importantly, I'm curious to hear about the experiences that others have had at these events. Leave a comment and go wild, spare no embarrassing details. Note: it will show that I have to approve all comments now because some ass-clown posts spam ads for boner pills on everything I put up.

To this person, who speaks English as well as a Vietnamese hooker: I hope your grandmother is attacked by an AIDS infested wolverine, you pathetic shit.

I'm me...and other reasons I'm an ass

If you ever want to know what someone REALLY thinks about you, just break up with them. Within a matter of minutes, that person is more than willing to share every flaw you've ever had, or they thought you had. Few too many pounds? Listen up, fat ass. Too sarcastic? You're dead inside.

(Not saying these aren't accurate...hell, she is likely smarter than I thought...)

So what did I really learn: knowing when it's all wrong is just as important as when it is going right. Sure. given that I am 31 going on 14, my opinion on life skills is questionable at best...but...I feel confident about this one.

I couldn't say one thing wrong with my ex...oh sure if you want to bring out the bleaching, or the fact that she didn't read so good...you could have a point. But the fact remained that she is and was a very nice, sweet, caring individual. So in the name of journalistic integrity, I asked the most unbiased person I know...my mom.

(Full disclosure: If I decided to murder 13 slow senior citizens with a soup ladle next Thursday, my mom would be first in line for visiting hours the following week.)

Mom's take: "Well...you're a person who needs...space. And you need a person who doesn't need your input. Well, you're going to give your input but that person shouldn't care what you have to say."

That is from the woman who gave birth to me. 

The point: After several months in a serious relationship, I can't say that I know what a great relationship is but I know what it isn't.

Most importantly, mom said I'm very handsome.

Baggage v. Knowledge

I was initially going to title this one "Beast of Burden", then I remembered that I hated that Rolling Stones song. And it didn't mean what I thought it meant. Thanks for nothing, books.

I have a friend that I work with professionally but we never talk about work. This isn't to say work isn't important, God knows it is, but we avoid that shit. No, we talk about relationships, our involvement, and how we've played a role in fucking them up. Oh sure, we take time to spread around the blame but usually it circles back around to the real problem: us.

The problem, in both of our cases, in the past. This is often referred to as baggage and as cliche, as it has become to say we all avoid it, we cannot. Yes, we all have a past but I've learned that my life experiences, which for good or bad have shaped me; are officially the problem of the next person I date. I have an ex-wife, a strange childhood, and other fucked up shit that I eventually place upon someone else. It's not really a question of when it happens (Week 11 if you're scoring at home) but when. 

On the other hand, an optimist would say that yes, I have made my mistakes but they've made me the man I am today and I am better for them. I was able to take lemons, squeeze the shit out of them, and bitter lemon juice, with seeds and shit. Anyway, these are my past and apart of my story.

The point: another relationship is about to come to a close, and depending on which paragraph above you subscribe to, the fact remains that yes, I am the problem. This is a perfectly nice, sweet, considerate, attractive individual and really, I don't have one great reason. We all have some foibles that society has deemed undesirable (looking at you, anal warts), but this three-month-long relationship is about to end because more than anything, being with her reminds of my being married to my ex-wife. I wish I could run her down, make disparaging remarks about the cleanliness of her vag...but no, being with her brings back bad memories from the past.

Shallow? Maybe.
Immature? Likely.
Oblivious? Not the first time.

So I'll move on, with questionable reasoning, onto whatever is next.

Funny...as I wrote this, there is a Todd Snider lyric that continued to bounce around in my head:
"But I feel like I oughta be praying or something; And I have no idea what to say"