Saturday, April 23, 2005

"Looking for someone who can compliment me..."

The following is from a personal ads board online. It was posted today by "Karen," the woman who broke my heart last year:

"I am looking for someone who is strong emotionally and mentally. Someone who can take care of themselves but also enjoys when their woman does things for them. Someone who can support themselves and takes pride in the work they do. Someone caring and supportive and not afraid to show their feelings. Someone who knows how to communicate and likes to be social. Someone who is open minded and nonjudgemental. If this sounds like you email me so we can talk.


Age Range: 32-38 yrs. old (could be a little flexible)

Race: Open but partial to African American

Appearance: Open but once again partial to men who are NOT thin and are bald

NON Smokers ONLY

About me....I am divorced, 32, white, No kids, live in Milwaukee, 200 pounds (thick)

Your pic gets mine"

So there you have it. She lied about the other garbage that she does when she posted her ad in September 2003, when she caught me, and now she's at it again. This is the same board that I met her on, and it's also the same board where, using a different name and profile, she advertised for her bi BBW swingers club that she thought I would never find out about. After I got over the initial shock of seeing her posting a personal ad again on the same board, I had to laugh at the content. Doesn't she seem so innocent and such an upstanding citizen? Isn't it noble of her to want "someone who is open minded and nonjudgemental"? Until you realize that she wants someone "nonjudgemental" so that when she does tell him that she's a slut who fucks strangers for kicks, instead of reacting angrily like I did, he will say, "That's ok honey. I understand. I won't judge you for lying to me and whoring around. I still love you." I'm sure that's what she would have loved for me to say to her. And because I cared for her so strongly, I almost did say that.

I have no idea how I'm going to handle the rest of this weekend knowing that the whore whose actions landed me in a psych ward for a week is advertising herself yet again. I realize that it's my fault for continuing to visit that singles website, and I realize that I wasn't visiting that site looking for a date myself; I kept going back there specifically looking to see if she would have the balls to come back there again. She did. I can't explain why I kept going back. I guess it's something where I felt like I was keeping tabs on someone I loved but couldn't contact, since she refused to answer my phone calls the last time I tried to talk to her, last summer. Since her swingers site is no longer at the web address that it was before, and since the website where she got those pics taken no longer exists, I thought going back to the site where we met would be the only way to keep track of her. But why do I have the need to keep track of her? Maybe I'm obsessed. I admit it. Maybe I am obsessed with Karen and will continue to be for a long long time. I don't know. All I know is I feel very empty right now knowing that she will have a boatload of big black men at her beck and call, and there ain't no way that I could be one of them because she won't let me back in her life now that I know the truth about her. And of course I wouldn't want to be back in her life now knowing what kind of person she is, but the part of me that still loves her wants to be there more than anything else in the world, and that part of me is screaming in agony right now.

Thursday, April 21, 2005


The metaphor for how I feel when I tell people about the level of loneliness I go through on a daily basis is that I feel like I'm floating through the atmosphere, not grounded at all and not having a home or base, just out there among the stars, nonexistent to all other beings. Here are the most recent events to help contribute to that feeling:

1. Not that I have a lot of male friends (three), but every one of them has a girlfriend, and it makes me want to vomit. Not that they aren't good guys and don't deserve a woman, but shit, how many times am I going to be in a situation where I'm having dinner with a friend and his girl is there snuggling with him and I'm just sitting across the table twiddling my thumbs? What a helpless, frustrating feeling it is to hang out with a friend and his girlfriend without a date of my own. I went through it twice in the last couple of weeks. I went out three weekends ago to my friend "Drew's" house and on Sunday morning at a restaurant for brunch it was Drew, his girlfriend, my best friend "Ronnie," his new girlfriend who he had known at the time for a week, and my lonely ass just sitting there. Not fun. And Drew's girlfriend is barely an adult, so she's asking all these personal questions trying to figure out what's wrong, but she's not old enough to realize that what's wrong is I'm not attractive and not rich, simple as that. Then the weekend that "Jacob" was here for his big-money baseball fantasy draft, he and his girlfriend and I went out to dinner with some friends of his. This dinner always took place when he visited town, but with just us guys. Now there's a woman there. I tried to invite a female friend to join me because I was feeling so inadequate, but of course the friend wasn't able to. I was diplomatic in these situations, but the reality is, there aren't many things more uncomfortable than being around the same guys that I used to bitch with about how much we hated women, and now there they are with a woman, and I'm all alone, so somewhere along the way they stopped having a problem dealing with women. I on the other hand still don't have a clue.

2. "Torrie" still refuses to keep in touch with me or inform me about her plans to join me at the Kentucky Derby the weekend of May 7. I haven't heard from her in several weeks. I tried to call her recently and left a voice mail, but her response was in text message and said that she had no time to talk to me because her two nephews are both in the hospital and her work schedule and the hospital visits are taking up all her time. It would have taken her less time to call me and tell me that, but just like when she tried to dump me via e-mail, it takes guts to speak to me live, and apparently she has none. But it's all my fault, because she tried to dump me but I laid a guilt trip on her and she rescinded. So she basically tried to tell me in so many words that I am not a priority in her life, and I didn't listen because I was too wrapped up in the drama of being abandoned again. But what's worse, being abandoned or being told that you're not being abandoned and being abandoned anyway? And people wonder why I feel like I'm from another planet. All this time that Torrie is spending between family and work is of course understandable, but it doesn't explain why there hasn't been one time where she calls before she goes to bed for the night and says: "Boy, things are really crazy right now. I haven't had time to think hardly. But I just wanted to say that you're on my mind and I want to thank you for hanging in there and being there for me. It's something that I'm not taking for granted, and I really do appreciate it. Well, I'm tired, so I'm turning in. Take care honey, and thanks again."

Nope, too busy to do that.

3. And with Torrie apparently unavailable for Kentucky Derby weekend, it means that I have had a hotel room reserved in Louisville for an entire calendar year and now that the time is here, I will be going to share that room with...wait for it...absolutely nobody. I originally reserved it right after I came back home from the Derby last year, because it's so hard to get a room in Louisville for Derby weekend, and because I had so much fun with "Sarah" that I just knew we'd still be together at this time next year and we would love to go back. Of course, Sarah and I are no longer, but think about what I have to offer: A two-night weekend in Louisville for an event that over 150,000 people attend live every year, and even if you weren't into horses, a two-night weekend with a young, virile black man, no holds barred, for free. Now think about the 492 trillion websites on Yahoo and such promoting dating black men and how many women are members of these sites. And not one of these women want to take advantage of this with me. Not the women in Louisville, not the women here in Chicago, not anywhere in between can you find a woman willing to make this trip with me. How fucking pathetic is that? Oh, and it gets better: Ronnie, knowing that I have an empty room and knowing how hard it is to find a room anywhere near Louisville for Derby weekend because, after all, he's the person that took me to the Derby the first time I went two years ago, now wants to take that room for him and his new girlfriend and split the costs with me. In the words of an ex-lover when she asked me what I was thinking standing over her with my dick hanging out and I responded that, duh, I wanted to put my cock in her mouth: "That's not gonna happen." There ain't no way I'm spending Derby weekend watching any guy and girl cuddling all over each other and I don't have anyone to cuddle with. Even if I had someone, it wouldn't happen because, duh, I'd want the room to be empty for me and my lady. And Ronnie has done a lot for me over the years, driving me here and there because I don't have a car, helping me move a couple of times, but plain and simple, if he wants a hotel room in Louisville for Derby weekend, he needs to reserve one well in advance, just like I did. I'll spend the whole weekend alone before I share a room with a couple. Period.

4. I got up the courage to ask someone out on a date for the first time in years. Yes, a real live person, not a profile on an internet dating site. She laughed and said no, of course. In the many weeks that we have talked casually during class, I've never heard a reference to any kind of social life, and when I asked her Monday what she did over the weekend, she said "Nothing, just rented movies with my family." I followed up by asking if she'd want to go see a movie this weekend. She giggled and said, "No thank you, I've got plans." Now, I'm not going to say that there's no way that this person that has never mentioned a social life does not have plans this weekend. She may be going to a relative's birthday party or something. But here's my point: She now knows that I want to go out with her. If she wanted to go out with me, would she not suggest going somwhere at a different time than this weekend? Sometime when she doesn't have plans? But there was no follow-up of the sort from her, just a laugh and a rejection when I dared mention that she could see a movie with me. A few people have told me to ask her whether she was free to see a movie with me some other time. Those people apparently don't feel the humiliating sting of rejection very often. How many ways am I supposed to ask this girl to go out with me before I realize that she doesn't want to go out with me? I could paint her into a corner and find out when she's not busy and say, "A-ha! There is a point in time that you could use to go out with me." But now she has to come up with a different excuse, and that's not comfortable for her or for me. I tried, she shot me down, that should be the end. If I keep coming at her even after being rejected, that's just pitiful. I have a little pride, not much, but a little.

So that's where I stand mentally, just kinda floating around wondering when I became so different from other human beings. Oh, and there's a shot of anger thrown in too: I was reading posts on the message board where I met "Karen," and she's still posting there. I had to read her talking about how proud she is to be a fat girl and how she accepts herself. I resisted the urge to bust her out by posting: "But how proud are you to be a bisexual BBW swinger, and how proud are you that you don't tell your boyfriends about it until they find your secret website, and even then you don't explain yourself, you just ignore them like they don't exist???" I'm coming to grips with the fact that I may go the rest of my life wanting nothing more than to turn her upside down and pour bleach into her cunt. Some things just can't be smoothed over, no matter how much counseling or time I receive.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Doing What I Enjoy

You know, a lot of people have given me the advice over the years to help ease the loneliness of waiting for that one woman that understands me to come along to just do the things that I enjoy doing, and who knows, maybe I'll meet that special someone while I'm doing it. That would be impossible. I can't meet anyone while burying my nose in box scores looking up statistics to help out my fantasy baseball teams. But it's what I enjoy. I have always loved baseball anyway, the coming of the warm weather here in Chicago being a sure sign of baseball season and making it the time of year that I most look forward to. But I got into fantasy baseball about six or seven years ago, and watching the game has become a more and more intense exercise for me with every passing year. (Fantasy baseball for those that aren't familiar is simply picking real players off real baseball teams and adding their statistics throughout the season and sorting them into categories and taking those results and pitting them against the stats of nine or ten other nerds who have drafted their favorite players and seeing who has the better stats at the end of the season. Not for math haters.) Isolating myself in my tiny apartment, I have become more and more immersed in picking the players who have shown promise in past seasons or in the minor leagues and studying their progress throughout the season. It's sad and lonely, but it's what I enjoy.

Theoretically I can make money off fantasy baseball. There are many many leagues where you pay an entry fee and win a large percentage of the proceeds at the end of the year. But I'm only in two pay leagues, and neither of those are expensive, about $20 each to enter. My friend "Jacob" is in a big-money league, with an entry fee of about $500 and a first prize of about $4,000. With such loot on the line, he enlists my help in studying players and scouting newcomers, and if he ever makes money, I'll get a piece of it. This league is so important that in order to participate in the annual auction draft, I just cut class Tuesday because the draft was in the evening at the AON Building downtown. Imagine fifteen very serious and intense baseball geeks hunkering down in a conference room for five hours nominating players and bidding real money for them. Not pretty, but it's what we enjoy. We even call our annual draft night "The Greatest Night In Sports." No women are allowed, unless one felt confident enough to buy her own team, but if I may be a sexist pig here, I can't see a chick being that much into baseball that she could compete with us. We will all convene again on July 31 for TradeFest, where those in contention for the league title trade their young future stars for guys that can help their team now. And July 31 is the "trade deadline," meaning no more trades can be made during the season after that date, so it's a very important event.

Can you feel the geekiness flowing through your veins???

It's addictive though, kinda like gambling. I can't tell you how big of a rush it is to draft a kid that no one has heard of, but you saw his trend of hitting more homers in the minor leagues year after year and you recognize that he's obviously becoming a better power hitter each year, and now he's going to start the season in the major leagues, so you figure if he gets any playing time he'll show that improving power and wind up putting up big numbers for you. (I just lost most of you I know.) Basically, it's like scouting. Lots of old wrinkled guys get paid lots of money to go to high schools and colleges all over the country and watch kids hit and pitch and try to pick out which of those kids have the natural talent and ability to one day be an impact player. Anyone can pick the huge kids hitting the ball everywhere, or the thick-legged pitcher throwing 95 MPH fastballs. The real scouts have to look at the other kids and see who might one day wind up a good player even though they might not be so great right now. Well, I don't have the privilege to go around the country scouting minor league players, so I have to rely on their numbers from the years they have played in the minors. And there's a tremendous amount of pride in discovering that kid that has never played in the majors and puts up great numbers in his rookie year. You can say "Hey! No one saw that coming...except me!"

So that's where my attention and energy will be devoted for the next seven months. Of course I have eight weeks left in this school semester, but I almost feel like I'm not in school anymore. I feel like nothing else is going on except baseball. On my desk next to my computer sits three or four baseball newspapers. My schoolbooks are somewhere around here. Whatever. "Torrie" has called once in the last two weeks. Whatever. The Kentucky Derby is in a month, and as excited as I am about that, you know the first thing I will be doing when I come back the Sunday night after the Derby? Firing up the computer and checking on how my six internet fantasy teams and how Jacob's big-money team did those two days that I was gone.

Hey, beats crying over not being able to get a date.