OK, Universe... I get it.

Here’s a fun little parable...

A farmer is in Iowa during a flood. The river is overflowing. Water is surrounding the farmer’s home up to his front porch. As he is standing there, a boat comes up. The man in the boat says, “Jump in, and I’ll take you to safety.”

The farmer crosses his arms and says stubbornly, “Oh no thanks, I put my trust in God.” The boat goes away. The water rises to the second story. Another boat comes up. The man says to the farmer, who is now at the second floor window, “Hurry, jump in. I’ll save you.”

The farmer again says, “Oh no thanks, I put my trust in God.”

The boat goes away. Now the water is inching over the roof. As the farmer stands on the roof, a helicopter comes over, and drops a ladder. The pilot yells down to the farmer, “I’ll save you. Climb the ladder.”

The farmer yells back, “Oh no thanks, I put my trust in God.”

The helicopter goes away. The water continues to rise and sweeps the farmer off the roof into the swiftly moving water. Unfortunately, he drowns.

The farmer goes to heaven. God sees him and says, “What are you doing here?”

The farmer says, “I put my trust in you, and you let me down.”

God says, “What do you mean, let you down? I sent you two boats and a helicopter!”

… So I’m thinking perhaps I’ve been sent waaaaay more than a few boats and helicopters in my day.  There’s a good possibility I may be a little pickier than I should be.  But should I be settling for less than ‘the thump?’  (Some may call it “butterflies”, some may call it “lust” or even “love” – but it’s all the same… it’s the thing we’re hoping for when we meet someone and ideally hit it off).

Not that I’m trying to get religious here, so I’ll just use the term ‘universe’ – but I kind of think there is a fixed number of ‘boats’ the universe is actually going to send me…

…and let’s just say they’ve been more of the dingy persuasion rather than yachts.  ;-)

Best. Breakup. Ever.

"It's not you.  It's me."  "We want different things in life."  "Either you're not the right girl or it's not the right time."  Of all the crappy lines I've been thrown at the end of a "relationship" (and I use that term loosely), Steve's was the best.

Steve... the Saint.

Let me give you a little background first.  I went to college in the deep south - the bible-thumping, NASCAR-loving, grits-eating, closed-on-Sunday - south.  And I... went to a liberal women's college in the middle of it all.  (Get it?)

Ok.  Moving on.

So while I was down there, I worked at the local bar where I met Steve.  Steve worked at a bar.  Steve drank like a fish.  Steve smoked Newport Menthols (among other things).  Steve partied like a rockstar.  And... Steve went to THE most prominent religious university in the area.  (And unbeknownst to me, considered himself a saint, or something along those lines.)

(Side note:  I never understood the Steve-oxymoron as it was my understanding that going to Bible U. meant you had to shun all things of pleasure and basically resign yourself to four years in your little Church-School-Church-Study-Church-Bed-Wakeup-Repeat bubble.)

Apparently, Steve liked to walk the line between the real world and Bible U.'s brainwashing, because he dated me and the God-thing really never became an issue until.... the end.

Steve cornered me one afternoon as we "needed to talk" (yeah... that usually means something good, doesn't it?!?).  He didn't give me the ol' "It's not you.  It's me." crap.  No.  It was me.  And he was going to tell me why...

Ready for the reason???

He said he had to break up with me because I AM GOING TO HELL.

Apparently, since I was not a Reformed Presbyterian (essentially a Calvinist), I was clearly going to hell.  And Steve wanted all of his loved ones with him in Heaven when he died.  So, knowing I wouldn't be there... he didn't want to date me anymore.  It was too hard.

Let me say that again, but just the gist.

Steve.  Broke up with me.  Because I am going to hell.

A guy... condemned me to hell.

Best.  Breakup.  Ever.

Amen.

Photo Credit:  Natalie Maynor

Game, Set, Match.

There's a new CB in town... (well, let's go with CG - Current Guy.... I'm upgrading from Boy)... and there's a good possibility he reads my blog, so I am going to refrain from writing about him for the time being.  :-)

So, let's revisit some older stories...

Brett vs. Mr. Perfect

Brett and I went on our first date three years before our second date.  Side note: he may actually be the inspiration for me writing this blog - as we had talked about writing a book together at one point - a book about the the three years in between the first date, the myriad of random dates in between, and the theoretical happily-ever-after that followed the second date (which was more of a happily-three-months-or-so-after).

Obviously there was a connection with Brett, but I couldn't get past his overly-charming, seemingly player-like personality.  So our second first date, luckily, was followed by a first date with Mr. Perfect.  And my head and my heart had a hard time deciding between the two.

Valentine's Day was the following weekend, and the big question was 'who would be my Valentine'?  Mr. Perfect or Brett?  I decided to do the big Saturday night event with Mr. Perfect and then meet Brett on Sunday for day-after festivities.  But I hit it off with Mr. Perfect - Valentine's Day was perfect. 

I met my best friend for brunch the next day to weigh the options, and I decided, why go down the Brett-road (that never got off the ground three years prior anyway) when I have a great guy right in front of me?  Case closed.  My head won (suck it, heart.)  I called Brett from the parking lot and told him I wouldn't be meeting him for lunch that day... or ever.

And that was the end of that.

Except it wasn't.  I thought I had made my decision.  But Brett didn't give up.  He called, emailed, sent carrier pigeons, anything he could think of to get me to give him a chance.  And after finally wearing me down, I agreed to meet up with him one more time...  After all, I was pretty set on the fact that I was going to see where things were going with Mr. Perfect.

But my head was obviously taking a backseat to my heart, because when I saw Brett for that third time.  I knew that was what I wanted.  Clearly, it wasn't what I needed - but game, set, match nonetheless.  In retrospect, I don't think I made the wrong choice - because it seemed right at the time.  The months that followed with Brett were some of the best (and worst) of my life (more on that later).

...but if I'd listened to my head?  If I'd chosen Mr. Perfect?  Would he really have lived up to his moniker?

And if so, I may have never have met my new CG :-)

CB Update.

I'm pretty sure CB (Current Boy) needs a new name.  More than likely, he'll soon be known as "the guy formerly known as CB" or some more nondescript moniker like "Mr. Coach" I think that works fine... we'll go with that.

Mr. Coach.

He's totally not "my type" - and let's be honest, I have a type.  Oh lordy, do I have a type (5'10", brown/brown, medium build, clean cut, tattooed, military-types pretty much sums it up).  Well, Mr. Coach is short, has auburn/reddish hair, and no tattoos to speak of.  He is wicked outdoorsy and lives too far for my taste.  But since "my type" hasn't really been working - I figured... why not?  I'll give it a try.

And for all the things that don't work, there are several things that do.  Like the fact that there is always something to talk about - but we NEVER talk about past relationships.  We have the same schedule (which is almost impossible to find in a guy).  We both like country music (among other types).  He's a teacher/coach, so he likes kids - bonus.  We have a good meeting story.  And he kisses right.

But he doesn't seem to like me the way I want him to.  I think dating several wonderful guys over the years really raised the bar to what I want to get out of a relationship - especially in the early stages.  At the risk of sounding cliche - he just isn't that into me.  (Which, by the way, is a very valid point - incessantly driven home over and over again by my best guy friend/dating confidant).

But maybe I'm just not that into him as well?  Or I'd clearly be a little more broke up over the fact that he hasn't called.  But then again, I haven't called him either.  And I hear these phone things work both ways.

So am I sad that Mr. Coach may no longer be my CB?  Apparently not.  And that says a lot.

I guess that means I'm currently accepting applications for a new CB.

Inquire within.

Thirty-Year-Plan

My Thirty-Year-Plan is getting married.  So... there goes my plan.  And since I'm nearing thirty myself (not tomorrow... but soon, nonetheless) I figured I should pay homage to him (and he may or may not read this blog - so I'll be nice).  :-)

Thirty-Year-Plan

The timing was never quite right with Thirty-Year-Plan.  I think I met him literally seconds after I met Jim - the best/worst thing ever to happen to me and whom I've chosen not to write about just yet.  So like I said, the timing wasn't right at first meeting.  Hell, I wasn't right at first meeting.  (Umm... college party, anyone?)  I'm pretty sure it was because of my altered state that I was able to meet him at all.  I'm not sure how we actually started talking, but I know that I decided early-on in the conversation that TYP was going to be my new best friend.  And that was that.

We had our Tuesday Night Movie Club (which lasted for, I believe, two weeks).  He listened to me talk about my new boyfriend (begrudgingly).  He let me paint his nails (also begrudgingly... and I have the pictures to prove it).  He hooked up with my (female) best friend (which was a funny story in and of itself, but is not mine to tell).  And he patiently waited in the wings (aside from the BFF hookup) playing his own version of Survivor - trying to Outwit, Outplay, Outlast - the new boyfriend, Jim.

And he did outlast Jim... in theory.  But TYP dated other people during the meantime - so when I became single, he was not.  The timing was never right.  So we made a pact - if we were both single in ten years (age 30) - WE would get married.  And why not?  All of the pieces fit... except the timing.

But I left college shortly thereafter, and only saw TYP one more time during a visit a year or so later.  Since then, we've kept in touch thanks to MySpace and now Facebook.  Every once in a while, I'll get a random text or phone call and my mind goes back.  And every once in a while, a picture of him and his new fiancee shows up on my newsfeed and I realize... that train has sailed (*sigh* Austin Powers reference).

But I'm happy for him.  And although our conversations are not as frequent, I still get butterflies when I see a message from him in my inbox.  I wish him nothing but the best with his fiancee, but I can't help but have the slightest bit of jealousy... because for the past eight years or so... that was me.

His un-official fiancee.

His Thirty-Year-Plan.

The Million-Dollar Question

I had lunch the other day with a former fling who currently reads my blog.  Apart from the original "so when/what are you going to write about me/us?" question I get ALL the time now... he posed another interesting question:

"K, you write about all of these dates that you go on.... and how they never go right, etc... With all due respect, have you ever thought the problem might be you?"

Gee... thanks.  That thought has NEVER crossed my mind.

If I had a nickel for every time someone threw that line at me, I'd be rich.  So, ok, I'll bite.  What's my problem?  Is it that I have such low standards that I go out with pretty much anyone?  I will sadly admit that I have a very Anne-Frank-like mindset most of the time (deep down everyone is good at heart) and I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt (however naive that may be).  Or is it that I make bad choices?  (Oh to reform a bad-boy... Isn't that every girl's secret dream?)  Am I "too picky" with my bad choices and low standards that I never get past the first couple of dates?  Or am I afraid of commitment?  Or is it something else?  A combination of the above?

I like to think that there's no right answer and he was asking more rhetorically.  (Delusion is a wonderful thing)  :-)

To answer the question, would be a little too much self-insight for this gal.

I just throw it out to slim-pickings.  Being my late-20s now, dating is kind of like second-round draft picks.  Most guys in my dating-pool age-range now are either taken, divorced, single fathers, or are toting some other kind of baggage.  And let's be honest, much older means waaaay more of the aforementioned.  And much younger... well, I just won't go there... again.

So... yeah.... is the problem me?  Or is the problem just dating in general?

I don't think my stories or experiences are all that different from anyone else... 

Are they?

What I learned at lunch.... (reposted from a previous blog 8/26/09)

I had heard most of these before... and figured (naively hoped) some were just old-fashioned generalizations that did not apply nowadays, but alas, this is straight from the 30-Something-Guy's mouth...

In no particular order...

1. A guy can/will not decide whether or not he even likes you until several weeks/months of you wondering have passed.

2. Said guy will, however, decide whether or not he wants to "hit that" within moments of meeting.

3. "Hitting that" within the first month of dating guarantees that point #1 will most likely be a "like her enough to continue to sleep with her, but not enough to call her my girlfriend"

4. "Hanging out" does not count as "dating".

5. If a guy doesn't pursue you daily (ie. call/text/send carrier pigeon) - he's really not interested.

6. Girl should not be hanging out with the guy's friends alone unless a title has been previously established (ie. bf/gf or husband/wife). Moreover, girl really should not be hanging out with guy's friends alone. Period. Guy's friends should respect the 'mancode' and not allow this to happen in the first place.

7. Girls can, however, have guy friends - but this is not preferable.

8. Co-ed softball leagues never lead to anything but drama.

9. Over time, the 80-20 rule (you should love 80% of a person and put up with the other 20%) will be downgraded to 50-50.

10. There is no chance of getting married past the ripe old age of 31. Resign yourself as a lifelong bachelor now, gentlemen.

11. If you're not invited to the party... you're not the front runner.

12. If a guy is casually dating a girl, he's casually dating 4-5 other girls at the same time as well.

13. That means she's dating other guys, too, most likely.

14. A drunk foursome is not the beginning of a thriving romance.

Note: 30-Something-Guy continued to give me more... but I chose to leave them out :-)