I recently was dating someone exclsuively. For 21 days. It ended Thursday.

Correction: I ended it. Well, at least I’m the one who pulled the ‘break-up’ trigger.

Let’s back up 21 days to the 1st date, shall we?

***

Had a great phone call with Leigh — one of the best in recent memory. She was sharp and funny. Her pictures were hard to read, but clear enough she was attractive. She was a nurse. And worked weird hours — 4 days on, 4 days off. Oh, I can deal with that — I can hang with her the “free” four, I thought naively.

She lives a bit far, in another city, but one next to LA and meets me halfway for a drink. She’s right on time and OMG, really, really attractive. Redhead — BUSTY — which I didn’t really know about until I saw her in person — blue grey eyes, black leather boots.

During our date, she put her hand on my arm and at one point, reached over and touched my cheek (this is why to ALWAYS sit at the bar) — which has maybe happened 2X in 20 years.

We had a great time, concluding with a kiss on the escalator and more kissing in the parking garage.

***

2nd date: 4 days later – I drive to her city and surprise her with bowling. I propose kissing when we hit a spare and french kissing when we hit a strike. This makes the game even more exciting. 2 1/2 games later we are back at her house and probably go a little too far than we should have on a 2nd date. And I end up sleeping over. (She did live 30 miles away and it was 1am or something.)

***

3rd date: A few days after that — maybe 4 or 5 — she comes by after work. At about 9pm. I feed her and we go to bed. She leaves in the AM.

****

4th date: She comes over and makes me this amazing dinner — organic rosemary chicken with risotto. She’s a bit stand-off-ish — not as affectionate. Yes, she’s busy making me dinner, but I feel something’s amiss. Then she doesn’t sleep over (which I had assumed she would). She makes dinner, we make out and she leaves.

****

Between the 4th and 5th date, she calls me and there was a mini-crisis and even when the crisis was over, was really mean and mouthy to me. Example: “Hey, sorry I’ve been the girl lately (I was the one who liked talking about the relationship, where it was going, blah blah)….” and she snaps, “Oh, you mean for the last 41 years?”

I felt all the good will and love for her fly out of my body. It was like she hit me in the balls. With words. Really without good reason.

It really stuck in my craw…

(to be continued)…

Sometimes people have Aspergers. Sometimes I end up on dates with them.

Yesterday I talked on the phone with a really cute, nerdy girl who had I been e-mailing and IM’ing on match — once we started talking, the red flags began to go up — she began to take over the convo (“Where do you live? I live in Silver Lake!”) get really excited about small details (“There’s all these handwritten signs around here and a guy with no teeth who sells corn from a trash can he wheels around on a cart and also…”)

Uh-oh. I think she asked me one question in a 25 minute conversation — where I lived.

And when I got off the phone it started to make sense more — especially her job, academic researcher. And she sounded like a hyper 12 year old, not a 35 year old woman.

Anyway, that wasn’t the worst one.

In early 2010, I went out with a woman who was a well established film director in her native county (actually kind of famous, like had magazine articles written about her) — we had talked before meeting and she did talk a lot and wasn’t picking up my vocal cues but I just chalked it up to her being nervous and the Skype we were using instead of the phone.

We met at a cafe in Venice — and she was very striking — and tall — BUT TALKED NON-STOP FOR AN HOUR AND FIVE MINUTES. And maybe asked me one thing (that had a short answer). The last 15 minutes were her telling me EVERY DETAIL about the new screenplay she was writing. So LA. Sooooo Asspergers. It felt like my face was on a stairmaster — just the barrage of little words.

I drove her to her car where I noticed she seemed to want to kiss me and that she had what seemed to be a small cold sore growing on her lip. I hugged her, she got out and I drove home and took a nap.

The sad part is, MONTHS LATER (like 4 or 5), she e-mailed me a long-ish letter (a couple of paragraphs) and asked me if I wanted to be FRIENDS. This just crushed me. This girl is so alone, so lonely, she reaches out to a guy who didn’t call her for 2nd date months earlier?

I didn’t know if I should reach out with a polite, no thanks (where would I begin?). I was dating someone at the time and ran it past her and she said forget it.

So I did. I still feel a little bad.

I’ve been online dating for 15 years (Match.com and my anniversary is this Saturday — maybe I’ll get silver!) — the ONE thing I can’t figure out how to do (without sounding like an asshat) is NOT ask someone out at the end of a bad conversation.

‘Cause if there’s one thing I’ve learned is BAD PHONE NEVER turns into GREAT DATE. Or even GOOD date. Ever.

Bad phone = Bad date.

OK phone = OK date.

Great phone often = Great date. (If they looked like their pictures)

Often, I find myself agreeing to go on date if the phone call was marginally okay, but they NEVER became my girlfriend and rarely a 2nd date.

But there are conversations sooooooooooooo shitty (doesn’t get my sense of humor, they are multi-tasking and half listening, they are BORING — “Um, so what else?” they’ll ask after I’ve done all the ‘heavy lifting’ to 10 minutes.)

And I feel like such an asshole going, “Yeah, we should get together, let me check my calendar and ring you back.” Or something like that.

Recently, one call was so awful, at the end of a PAINFUL 10 minutes, I said, “Can I call you back, my blood sugar is dropping.” (which it was or her lack of conversational skills was physically causing me discomfort). And later that evening got an angry note on Match from her saying “Great excuse! I should try it myself!” I almost wrote her back: But really? Did you want to go out with me? Did you really want more of the shitty time we were having? You want MORE of that?”

And there’s the being honest route. “Hey, I know we just talked for 10 – 30 minutes and I’m not feeling it and want to wish you the best of luck.”

The few people who have done that to me — God, it felt shitty — like a punch in the face. It felt rude, hasty, not kind.

Maybe I should send an e-mail that says that within a day or two? Thoughts anyone? Anyone?

Anytime I hear “Hey Ya” on the radio — sometimes even on a date if it’s played in a bar — I can’t help but snap back to the night this laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadddddy gave me a little case of something-something. Nothing major — in fact, it’s so minor I hadn’t even heard of it. And kids give it to each other with wet towels or something. It went away and will never come back.

What happened was I was on a 2nd date with my second tall woman (5’9) at her house in Nov of 2003 — Nov. 1st to be exact. We made out for hours and watched SNL (OutKast was the musical guest) and when it got to be around 2am, I asked if I could sleep on the sofa not wanting to be on the road that late. She kept saying, “If you stay here we are going to sleep together.” I kept saying, “No, I just don’t want to have an accident driving home (she was about 25 miles away) and I will be here on the couch.”

After a bunch of back of forth in this arena, we start making out again and then at some point, she goes, “Let’s have sex.”

Oh! Okay…we have sex — with a CONDOM — she doesn’t seem to be enjoying it and I don’t get off.

In the morning, I’m thinking I’m going to get off, but no, she rushes me out of her house.

Then I get an e-mail saying she had fun, but doesn’t want to have sex or see me again.

About a week later, I notice a little something-something (not crabs or a rash, btw) and go to the doctor. He’s like “You got an STD.”

I freaked. ‘What — I’m so low risk! I wore a condom.”

“It was in her crotch.”

Damn that 70′s bush she was rockin’!!!!

Then I find out the medication isn’t covered by my insurance — so that turned into a $325 date.

And the doctor encourages me to let her know.

I didn’t want to call or send an e-mail.

So I wrote something on a 3 x 5 card (“Hey, hi, remember me…listen, I just went to the …. “) and put it an envelope and mailed.

Exactly 1.5 days later (probably as soon as she walked through the door at 5:32pm), she calls.

I let the machine get it. And I erase it w/o even listening to the message.

I like to give women a chance I think a lot of women don’t give me.

If I was bored or sensed they were bored or not interested or they weren’t cute enough, I wouldn’t / I don’t.

I have a feeling that women (ok, a generalization) don’t operate like this — if they didn’t feel butterflies or didn’t see you as their future husband during the coffee date or don’t see you ravaging them in bed, they don’t bother. Too many buses coming down the pike to bother with any one particular bus.

I did have a date about 2.5 years ago that went so well, I actually walked away thinking “hey, I think that girl will be my next girlfriend” and was absolutely dumbfounded when she didn’t go out with me again (she pulled the “2nd date shuffle” on me). About a year ago and wrote her and kindly asked her if she remembered me and that I was having a hard time getting 2nd dates if there was something I did that turned her off.

Her reply:

Honestly, I don’t remember that well.  I know you didn’t say or do anything wrong – I would remember that.  I think I was exhausted by dating at that point and a little bit burned out on the process.  I was going on about three first dates a week and expecting some miracle or lightning bolt to happen on one of them.  I rarely went on any 2nd dates – because I didn’t hear back from people or I was too tired to respond to someone – and eventually just cancelled my membership out of exhaustion.

Three dates a week? That’s even too much for me and I date pretty frequently.

A few weeks back, I was contacted by the Dr. Phil show — they must have really wanted me — they called and e-mailed within minutes of each attempt. (I had written them in the Spring thinking it would be interesting to have footage of me on the show for my one man show regarding dating).

When they had initially e-mailed me back in the Spring, I had written them back and said I wasn’t so much interested in being a guest per se, but rather as a comic / panelist when they have these “Men Vs. Women” men’s panels occasionally. I wrote saying I know they tend to have celebrities like Jon Lovitz on these panels, but also not famous comics like Kirk Fox. Maybe if someone got sick, maybe I could fill in and listed my credits.

Didn’t hear back.

Then in mid December, they called and e-mailed me for a show called “Dating Disasters.” I wasn’t on board and this little casting P.A. was pissed. “But you e-mailed US” “Usually people are excited when the Dr. Phil show calls.” I reiterated my interest in being a panelist rather than a guest and she screeched, “Wait a minute — you’ve had 250 dates and you want to be on the show AS AN EXPERT!?”

She had a point, but I did say, “If someone threw 250 baseballs at you, you might get good at hitting them. I’m good at first dates.”

When she continued to badger me, I said, “Look, I LIVE here. I used to be in the ‘Business’ – I get it – I know how things work.” It got a little contentious. “Well, I won’t take any more of your time,” she said.

***

Well, the show aired on Wed — it was called “Why Am I Still Single?”

The guy they chose needed the help (and maybe publicity) way, way, way more than me. He was a true sad sack with NO balls or personality (or hair, sadly), 39 years old, NEVER had a girlfriend (and wasn’t bad looking in his 20′s — they showed a quick photo), did stupid “stunts” like I did (stood out on the street in a costume with a sign begging for a wife — a little different, but still). Think he only had sex once (from a woman who admitedly felt sorry for him).

The guy had NO spine, nooooo confidence — he really needed a lot more work than the show could offer (weight loss, therapy, trainer, stylist — guy totally needs to wear some kind of english cap or something). It wasn’t so much a man as he was a wounded and beaten puppy in a man costume. He all but shook in other people’s presences. Granted, he could have been nervous being on TV, but it was much more than that.

He went on two dates which they filmed for the show — one with the sassy, kooky, former heavy lady who had been on the show before (and left at the altar maybe 20 minutes before her wedding) and a very attractive blond. The Blond said very nice things about their date, but you could tell she would never FUCK HIM and seemed to be hoping he or the show wouldn’t ask her for a second date.

He also revealed that his mother abandoned him as a child and basically never came back (and is still MIA) — he had “I AM UNLOVABLE” all over him. I could smell it from my TV screen.

The day after a 3rd date with a Hipster Redhead I had a lot of pop culture stuff in common with, Wed. Dec 14th, I woke up feeling miserable — back killing me, head throbbing, throat sore. Followed by chills, fever.

I felt so shitty that Thursday night I took a Tramadol (or maybe a few) which literally knocked me out until Saturday. Friday just went bye-bye.

And basically it went on like this in varying degrees until like yesterday — 3.5 weeks.

Being sick really put a crimp in my dating life — I think The Hipster Redhead lost interest (I was kind of annoyed she didn’t offer to get me anything which might have made me like her more), despite the fact she wanted to have sex with me the night before. (I said it was too soon for me — I’m such a girl now!)

And I really had to work hard to keep an English Girl’s interest going — texting her to hang in there and calling despite my having coughing fits. It’s a shame because she had nothing to do those last 2 weeks of December and we could have really gotten to know one another and hung out in empty LA.

A Drunk Cougar who hit on me on Dec 10th as I waited for take out across the street wanted to have drinks and / or lunch with me after Xmas and I couldn’t (especially since I wanted to kiss her and I could barely get out of bed). It seems like she’s moved on.

So now, finally, I’ve come back into the world of the living.

2012 will be the year I find a LTR girlfriend! It has to be!

She emailed you.

Today, 8 hours ago

I like to change things up, depending on my mood and what I have to do each day. If I’m going to a band rehearsal I will probably rock the Joan Jett look, if I am teaching (which most days I am…) I dress like a teacher – trying not to look at all attractive so that the little boys don’t have crushes on me. I would probably say that I lean toward the goofy Star Wars pic of me though. That is me at heart. The rest is just part of the game.

So where are you from on the East Coast??

-Francine

1 HOURS LATER:

Today, 7 hours ago

I have to be honest, I don’t know why I am on this website. I have no interest in dating anyone. Well… at least my conscious mind is telling me that. Silly I know. You are totally right about all of those girl bass players. They rock! I just found out the other day that there is this woman bass player (Carol Kaye) that recorded soooo much stuff. She was the studio bass player for most of the Beach Boys albums. Crazy. – Francine

1 HOUR AFTER THAT:

She emailed you.

Today, 6 hours ago

I’m not really sure… maybe b/c I was burned so bad in my last relationship that I have no desire to be with anyone or perhaps it’s because I am convinced that I am going to be traveling soon and constantly have this unsettled feeling, or maybe I just haven’t met the right person. Who knows. Sorry!! Good luck with your search. You seem like an amazing guy, I just don’t want to lead you on.

Another weird story.

I went to a speed dating event in fall of 2008 — a “Cougar” speed dating event — it turned out to be a lot of Plain Janes and heavyset and black and Asian women in their 30′s and 40′s and very few men.

The first woman I was matched with was an angular, slightly uptight woman in her mid- 40′s. Think Meryl Streep’s odd sister. Hair up or pulled back (not a good look for a dating event). Her name was the name of a very popular nonsensical children’s song in the 60′s — like “Mahna Mahna Ma.” Apparently her older sister couldn’t stop singing the song and kept pointing to her — as a newborn — and her parents just named her “Mahna.” It was the Sixties and it sounded vaguely exotic so they went for it.

I happened to know the daughter of the guy who wrote the song she was named after and mentioned it straight away which got her attention.

She was an odd bird, this woman — an artist who made weird things out of balsa wood and painted them. Recently divorced, she was living with her sister and their kids. There was something vaguely attractive about her even though her features were bird-like — she was pretty witty which was a nice change.

Then our 3 or 4 minutes were up and the speed dating went on. When it was over, we ended up walking out together and she was 5’10 (something you don’t notice at speed dating where all the women remain seated.). I walked her to her car. She awkwardly gave me her number.

We made a date. She meets me for coffee across the street and wow — she looked amazing — her hair was down, she was wearing a tight white stretchy shirt and was unusually busty — something I hadn’t noticed before. She was still a little weird — I couldn’t put my finger on it — definately some depression in her history (I think we both might have bonded over that)…

I thought about it for a day and then sent her an e-mail. I was attracted to her, but she seemed weird and our rhythms seemed off. But I wanted to fool around with her. So, I tried something that strangely worked before — I sent her e-mail that said I was attracted to her, but felt we weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend material, but still strongly drawn to her and didn’t know where she was in her life and didn’t mean to offend her, but if she wanted to “explore” that purely physical attraction, I was game.

She e-mailed me back — she was in!

We made a date for her to come over my apartment. Here’s where it all went wrong.

She shows up, hair pulled back or up, wearing a smells-slightly-musty old lady sweater. As soon as she came in I felt there was something wrong. She sits on the couch, I ask her if she wants some wine? She says yes, I go into the fridge a take out a bottle of white.

I hold it out to her and ask if white is OK.

Her response: “Is that the wine you use to get women drunk with?”

You know those stories where a guy is on a date with a woman and she’s willing / about to sleep with him and then he says something so incredibly stupid, her libido takes a nose drive and she is done, done, done. All her good feelings and desire for sex just gets wiped clean like a shaken Etch-A-Sketch? Well, that’s exactly how I felt. It just flew out of me. I totally got that.

“Um, no….it’s the wine I cook with.”

We sit on the sofa and she moves to the OPPOSITE END of my 8 foot couch and we watch the documentary “King of Kong.” She’s being really prickly, she’s like a few feet away from me, I don’t know what’s going on, so I figure I’ll let her drink her wine to come off the ceiling.

About 20 minutes in, she pops: “Hey! I don’t get what’s going on here — you invited me over to fool around and we are just watching this movie!”

Kinda expecting this, I said very calmly: “Look, I don’t know what’s going on either — you’re sitting on the other end of the couch, you made that crack about me getting women drunk — you don’t seem like you want to be here at all.”

She acknowledged this — said she was nervous, said she wanted to be there.

I said, okay, well, let’s kiss and see what happens.

We are standing up at this point and I kiss her — and NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. Plus I got a wiff of that sweater.

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling it” I said or something like that and she literally fled my apartment. Like within seconds of me saying that.

I’m not proud of all this, but I think this woman, conciously or unconciously sabotaged our make out session. The hair, the sweater, the wine crack, the couch distance. I mean, if you were going over someone’s home to specifically sexually “explore” with them, wouldn’t you dress a little sexy? Act a little sexy?

Luckily, I don’t hear that 60′s kid song much.

It was 1996. I was 26. I hadn’t been laid in maybe two years. I was isolating a lot and regressing a little. Okay, maybe a lot. I started collecting autographs again — something I hadn’t done since I was 14 or so.

And I began to focus on autographs of pin-ups from the 50′s and 60′s. I bought a box of pin up trading cards and with this 10 CD collection of the White Pages OF THE ENTIRE U.S., I began to write them for their signatures. I even managed to track down Bettie Page’s brother who passed along my autograph request and then months later, I got a handwritten letter from Bettie (still in hiding, maybe only 4 years out of a California nut house) and later that year, a Xmas card from her where she scribbled “May God Bless You Real Good.”

As I write this, I know it sounds strange — to have a ‘pin-up’ autograph hobby when most of my peers were in real relationships and were even moving in with each other or getting engaged. The Internet was still in its infancy and my social skills were still shitty — I had no idea how to pick up a girl, get a 2nd date, get a girl in bed, even kiss a girl after a date. My only 2nd girlfriend broke up with me about two years earlier.

Right around this time, a buddy of mine from high school rang me and said he was now in NYC and he just got engaged (see?). I didn’t know him that well, but he was the twin brother of one of my best friends in HS. Let me describe them both — shaped like pears, Jew-fro hair that was going by early 20′s, bad teeth, bad skin. Goatees. Sweet guys though. He says he wants to have lunch or drinks and wants me to me his fiancé.

As the day grew closer, I remember thinking, “Wow, I can’t imagine what kind of girl would hook up with this guy — maybe a nerdy, bookish girl. Good they found each other.” Minutes before I remember thinking, “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

When I met them at a bar at a booth in the back, I experienced one of the great shocks of my life (to this day). His fiancé was a DEAD RINGER FOR ANN-MARGRET. I don’t mean, she kinda, sorta looked like her — it was like Ann Margret had stepped out of “Viva Las Vegas” screening and into 1996. Long wavy red hair and everything. (The picture above is the closest picture I found of A.M. that looked like this girl Karen.)

Oh, and her rack was enormous. Crazy big. But she was thin in the waist. Like Christina Hendrix from “Mad Men.” It was kinda nutty. Most women aren’t built like 1970′s Playboy centerfolds.

Ann Margret was my favorite pin up of that time — she was in that little pack of cards I had and she was the one who shot me into puberty at about 13 during a replay of “Viva Las Vegas” on TV.

During that evening, I did my best to contain the small nervous breakdown I was having. Karen looked at me like she knew every thought I ever had. She knew I was a wreck because of her. She recognized that look I had and probably had seen it from men every day since she turned 12.

After that night, I called him and asked him “How the fuck did you get a girl like that?” He acknowledged how crazy it was.

The story: She was in his grad school class. He had a crush on her (of course). She was engaged. Next semester, she’s gone. He calls the # he has for her. Disconnected. He goes to his buddy who works in admissions. Asks for her parents #. The guy won’t give it. He says its a Federal offense. My buddy grabs him and says, ‘I’m going to marry that girl and if you don’t give me her number, it going to mess the whole thing up.” He gets the parents #. Turns out, her and the boyfriend broke up and she moved back home. They become best friends. He moves to NYC and she visits. Then, in the middle of the night, having been crashing on the couch, she strips off her clothes and gets in bed with him. And now they are in engaged.

His story almost sounded like a Penthouse letter it was so unbelievable.

Now long after, they came to a birthday party I had at my apartment. She showed up in A WHITE TRANSLUCENT DRESS. It don’t remember if she was wearing a bra, but even if she was, you could see right through it. Even a few of my friends took me aside and commented on ‘the sex kitten’ in my house.

She really, really did not like me. I don’t know if it was because she could see the lust for her in my eyes or just my personality. Or both.

I went to their wedding in Philly. Took the train down. In the receiving line, when I handed her my gift, she practically scowled at me.

***

They eventually divorced. My buddy hinted that she really screwed him — something about an auto loan. He got remarried, has kids.

I asked him recently, “Hey remember Karen, your first wife?”

“Yeah…?”

“She really hated me, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“No clue.”

Over the years, he kinda sidestepped any mention of her. I think he got really hurt. I suspect she was just using him as a stepping stone. I mean, he was in a career that didn’t make a lot of money (education), but it seems she only got sexually interested in him when he moved to NYC. Maybe she was using him as a way to get to NYC (she was an actress) and maybe some alimony to live on in the future. She scared me a bit, but man, was she a knockout.