Thursday, October 29, 2009

Adventures on CL

At the start of summer I placed an add on Craigslist in an attempt to find a few playmates for my two year old son and hopefully one for myself. Our first meetings were usually at a park with the kids just before nap time so I had an easy out if things turned bad.

The following is an example of when things turn out bad, well badish.

In my inbox was a long message from a woman, lets call her Lisa. Lisa is a single mother of four boys, all two years apart, all with different fathers. I am not one to judge being the middle child of three who all have different dads but she also has restraining orders on two of the four so... We seemed to have a list of things in common but they're the sort of things that most everyone has in common- funny movies, likes dogs, eating good food, drinking, etc etc. And a number of things not in common, the biggest being an addiction to drugs that she had beaten a couple of years back... not something I would include in my opening get to know you letter but... I wrote back and sent her a picture of myself asking for one in return. She sent me a number of photos and although I considered her sort of pretty she wasn't smiling in a single one. I thought it odd and asked for a smile and got a sort of grimace with tight lips. After a week or so we met at a local park with my son and two of her boys. I didn't dress up but looking at her Cowboys sweatshirt that was four or five sizes too large, the Yankees hat pulled down over her eyes and the faded and torn blue jeans Lisa wore didn't make me feel like I'd found someone really special. We sat on a bench and talked while the kids played but I spent the whole time talking to the back of her head. At first I thought maybe she's just really diligent about watching her boys but something felt wrong. At this point I could already tell that we weren't very compatible and was getting ready to institute the 'nap time' clause. Just then one of Lisa's boys ran up to us and as they talked I noticed that something was wrong with Lisa's mouth. I couldn't put my finger on it at first but over the next five minutes or so I came to realize that she was missing all her upper teeth. A bare palate. She must have seen me notice because she covered her mouth with one hand and looked away again. Now I felt like an ass... how to leave gracefully? I had already made the decision to go before I caught sight of her toothless mouth but now all signs would point to THAT being my reason for going. I kept up some small talk for a minute and then luckily, my son shit his pants so we were able to make a discreet exit.

I have a good friend who, upon hearing this story asked me what the problem was. 'I mean, come on dude,' he said. 'She doesn't have any teeth. THINK ABOUT IT MAN, JUST THINK ABOUT IT.'


Poster Boy and I split a year and a half ago, and that's a good thing. It's been great for both of us.

The thing that still sucks though? I love his family.

The first time I met his grandmother, she walked into the room in her coordinated pantsuit, her smart black wig, giant glasses and dangling, colorful earrings and waved her cigarette at me while exclaiming in a voice that can only come from years of chain smoking, "What a pretty girl!"

How could I not fall in love?

I sent Poster Boy's family Christmas cards last year, the first Christmas in a half-decade that I wasn't with them. I've had drinks with some of them since going solo, gotten together once or twice. But I haven't heard from the grandparents (who adore their only grandson with a sweetly blind fervor) since the breakup.

So when I saw a missed call from their house on my phone last week, my heart started pounding. Shit, shit, shit. They're old, and not very healthy.

There was a voice mail. I called, my hands practically shaking, not at all willing to hear bad news about these people, who for the years I knew them were more kind to me than most of my own grandparents had ever been.

A message from poster boy's aunt:

"Hey, (Serial). I was just calling because my mom's cleaning some stuff out of the house, and she has this bear that wears costumes, and she wanted to send it to you. She said you had admired it once. So we need your address, if you send it now maybe we can get it to you in time for Halloween. Call us back here. We miss you sweetheart, hope you're doing good."

I called back, I'd missed grandma, so I left my address with grandpa. He told me how it had been a good relationship, and to keep in touch, and that they wanted me to know how much they had always liked me.

I can't wait to get that goddam bear.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Based on a true story

One night stand gone horribly, horribly wrong:

Thanks, Ms. Disheveled!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Better Late Than Never

**Makes sense this would come in from an anon.

A few years ago an ex of mine (who dumped me), died. We'd lost touch, but I heard about it through old friends. What sucks is that she was quite young. What is weird is that after hearing of her death, I had a few dreams about her. In the dreams she was yelling at me (in our two year relationship she never yelled, ever) and telling me how horrible I was at relationships. So I started thinking about her and our relationship and recognized that she was right, that I really was bad at being in a relationship. I communicated rarely and when I did I was aloof and distracted. I am ashamed to say that I think I went for months without looking her in the eye. I judged her for her inability to find a job, I criticized her for her shyness at parties, and one time, oh god, I even called her fat.

No wonder she dumped me, though at the time I remember feeling it all as quite unfair. At any rate, the realization that I had been such an asshole, no, that I'd actually been way worse than just an asshole, I'd been a mean asshole, hit me pretty hard and I was filled with massive remorse. All I wanted to do was apologize -- but she was DEAD! Frankly, the whole thing was really kinda sad.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Dear Serial: Who buys dinner?

Dear Serial,

So, I'm back into the dating scene again after a 15-year hiatus, and am totally clueless about protocol, etc. I figured that you, Ms. Serial, as a renowned and infamous serial dater, might have some advice on first dates, having had SOOOOOO many.

So, I have a date tomorrow with a friend of a friend. We're planning to go out for dinner, and I'm unsure about the whole payment thing. I mean, it used to be that dudes were always expected to pay, but when I was dating before, that wasn't always the deal. I mean, some women were actually offended by that and felt like if the man paid, there was an expectation. Plus, this is a reaaaaallly casual date. I have no idea if I'm at all "into" this woman. I'm kinda just wanting to go on some dates and see how it all works again.

So, should I pay or not?

Mr. Completely Out Of the Loop

Dear Mr. Cool (nice work on that one, by the by),

Yes. Pay for dinner.



OK, cool, sorry. You probably were looking for some justification on this one. So just to be sure, I surveyed women of various ages, and all said that yes, they want a man to pay for dinner. One response was, and I'm not making this up, "If he wants a blow job he'll pay."

Now, I'm not saying buying dinner automatically entitles you to a blow job, you'll have to show up with flowers or something in order to earn that (and not roses, for the love of god). Most women will go on a date with the expectation that she might have to pay half. One woman said that she always takes enough cash to pay for half of dinner and a cab ride home. Now maybe my sample's unenlightened and anti-feminist, but ... there's a good chance that a lady who's going to go on such a traditional first date is not exactly avant-garde.

Personally, if I go out with a guy, and offer to pay half (I always offer), and my cash doesn't get turned down, I assume he's not that into me. So, I guess if that's the message you want to convey, then by all means, split the check. Hell, try to get her to pay. That could work out really well for you, I guess. Perhaps she's rich and looking for a kept man? Stranger things have happened.

XOXO Cool,


Got a question for the Serial Monogamist? Send it on over to seriallymonogamous[at]gmail[dot]com.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

just to be sure I thought I'd ask

When a young woman tells you to "stop doing that with your toes and get out of my house in fact forget it i'm calling the cops and im telling all our friends what you did and i cant believe you did that i feel sick to my stomach." is there any possible way that she's just playing hard to get? My intuition tells me that she was actually upset, but just to be sure i thought I'd ask.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Arm twisting

Last night, I had a newish squeeze over for a movie. I succumbed to a frantic week, and passed out about 20 minutes in. I woke to the credits, and a large hand pinching my thigh.

"Hmf," I said, in my best imitation of myself from Jr. High, "Can't I just sleep here?"

"You can sleep wherever you want," he said. "I'm gonna go get naked and get in your bed."

And that, boys, is how you convince a lady.