i've chosen this time and this day to say "good bye" to this blog, though apparently i meant to do this two years ago. so, good bye. for those who've read this over the years (enter smattering chirp of crickets), thanks for caring, or for serendipitously stumbling upon this site.

i know i haven't written in quite some time, but sometimes life moves too fast for me to catch it in words. well perhaps, not that fast. since my last blind date, i ended up getting back together with an old flame. we had been on hiatus for so long, and the fire had burnt out so long before, that new monkeyflowers had already begun to blossom. for three months now. so, what's a loveorbuster to do? write a blog with him. now, this should get interesting (i hope).

not much has happened in the search for cyber love, since i last wrote in october of last year... yes. the prospects were that dim. except, now that it's a new year, i've vowed to try anything once... even if it's trying to spend time with someone i've only met digitally, and who may repulse me analogically (is that the term?) upon meeting him in the flesh.

so saturday, i'm meeting a blind date for brunch.

how did this happen? he made me laugh. in december, i got this message on nerve.com that i just ignored. i had pretty much given up on meeting anyone on nerve, and was too busy with work to pay attention. eleven days later, he writes again--hilariously so. he starts off with:

okay, i'm not socially inept, it's not that i don't recognize the shame associated with sending a note twice, which is a little [like] buying a second drink for a woman at a bar after she's refused the first or passed it to the nearest alcoholic.

afterwards, he reiterates the commonalities we had between us and charmingly made an argument for why i should respond. his humility and his humor made me write back... and now... i hope i'll be on my best behavior. i say "behavior" because i have a terrible track record with dating guys. if i decide i don't like someone--usually for arbitrary reasons--i'll just disappear without a trace and explanation, avoiding any confrontation or moment of honesty where i just say, "i'm just not that into you."

i'm taking a gamble here since i'm meeting the guy for the first time over brunch. meaning, if things aren't going well... what the hell am i going to do? i'll want to finish my food, of course, because i'm not one to be wasteful. but, if he makes me want to lose my appetite... then i'm stuck.

mestizo boy #1 update:
remember him? well, he wrote me a couple of weeks ago out of the blue--really out of the blue since i haven't spoken to him since the last time he tried to ask me out in june... advertising that i'll have a "good time." (i've been having a blast, since, without him).

he writes saying how he saw my ad "pop up" on nerve:

Any interesting stories from the site recently? Drop me a line when you get a chance. I'll be throwing some parties in the very near future and I'd love to have you along.

along for what? does he want me to help pick up the empties after the party's over? i responded to just say, "hi," back and even tried to show how i remembered he worked for a pharmaceuticals company in sales.

i write:

i hope you're doing well and not working too hard for dow (aka "dow" man).

it turns out he works for pfizer. oh, hell. who cares? it's not like i missed out on the $10,000 prize on a game show with that little piece of trivia.

so, there's this 41 year-old guy:



this is a portrait of the artist as a bland man.

he sends me a message on metrodate.com advertising his assets and saying how he just needs a cutie. my question is, why me? what could he possibly get from my profile other than that i look like this:



and my being can be essentialized by the following fill in the blanks (excerpt):

• In looking for a compatible dating partner, physical appearance is: Just one factor
• My friends would describe me as: Having high energy
• On my free time, I like to: Spend quality time with one or two friends
• My first choice in a movie would typically be: Independent film
• My television viewing can be described as: I never watch TV
• This characteristic is most important in a potential partner: Intelligence
• The style of clothes that I want my partner to wear is: I don't really care
• I would like my partner to be: Social
here, i lied. i really want a hermetic lover who throws rocks at visitors who come to his door.
...
• I would prefer to live in/at the: City
• An ideal first date would be: Do something special/unique
• Of the following, I am most interested in: The Arts
i lied here, too. i'm a sucker for gun magazines.

what kind of profile interface is this? who comes up with these questions? what's worse is that for most of the questions there are preset answers from which you just have to select and settle. granted, i only created this profile so that i could peruse the membership. i wasn't finding any candy at this candy store, so i just left my profile idle.

i really love how metrodate places importance on having its members know how much television someone watches and whether or not they'll see an indie flick or "weekend at bernies 2." in my past relationships, those things were always the make or breakers. i didn't need to know if someone had a homicide on his rap sheet, or consciously voted for dubya in 2000. i just want to know that if i crash at his place, he's got a boob tube, so i can watch "csi: we gotta a seventh spin off." he's my soul mate if he's got cable.

a man claiming to be a "sexy sock puppet" sent me a message today on nerve.com. wait... let me clarify -- on the spring street networks (which could be from some member of nerve, salon.com, or the onion). he made witty responses to all the answers on my profile (and here it goes) BUT, his headline didn't make his bald head forgivable. now, i'm not saying that i wouldn't date a bald guy, i would. (here we go again) BUT, his headline read:

HAVE HER BATHED AND BROUGHT TO MY TENT

WRONG, WHITE BOY, WRONG! perhaps this colonial rapist reference is charming in his homeland (his ethnicity was specified as "mid-westerner") but when your people historically serve as the direct object of his people's action verbs, then it ain't funny.

he referenced my citing of "barbarella" as a movie showcasing my favorite sex scene (it really isn't) by saying, "if you'll be my barbarella, i'll be your duran duran."

i wrote him back:

"perhaps in your hometown in the midwest your colonial rapist reference of "have her bathed and brought to my tent" will fly as something witty and charming, but for this lady, it sure as hell won't.

i'll take artistic license to say that barbarella would not want your duran duran: too bad you wasted your credit on this infiniti."

then, i ceremoniously BLOCKED his ass. (blowing gunsmoke)

i had a strange dream last night. there were two significant parts: one had to do with "mestizo boy" from earlier in the summer, and the other about some roommate anxiety over bookshelf organization.

the return of mestizo boy
in my dream, i was looking at what was supposed to be my bedroom wall on which was pasted a print out of mestizo boy's nerve profile. when reading it, he had written how his prospective mate will appreciate the added roll of flesh on his body because it was certified "100% pure Adobo (c)." what? did he brand the recipe for adobo? next to his pasted profile were two post-its with different phone numbers. in my dream, i understood that those post-its were for times he tried calling me, but didn't get through. i noticed the two numbers had two different area codes. how could he have two numbers with two area codes? in my dream, i wondered if he were an east coast transplant. one of the numbers had a "758" area code. where the hell is that in real life?

my taste in film is better than that
during this phase of my dream, i had entered my bedroom and plopped myself on my bed, when i noticed that my roommate had placed on the side of my bed two sets of small bookshelves containing all my videotapes and DVD's. she had segregated all my movies from the shelves in the living room. when i looked in the living room, i noticed all her movies occupied the shelves in the common spaces. i was irked. i then noticed that she had mistaken some of her movies as mine, and had placed them in my room. i was surprised to think that she thought i was the one who purchased a box set of "the princess diaries." the box set of this movie was placed on the bottom shelf next to some sanrio-like bag that also didn't belong to me. i went about replacing my movies onto the shelves in the common spaces. i've never even seen "the princess diaries," nor have i seen "the princess diaries 2: the royal engagement." i think i'd rather watch a snuff film than that. just kidding!

last weekend at fpac, i had the occasion of being caught up in the vortex of ex-boyfriends/old flames (what's the difference? both have dead fires). i was standing at some vendor booth, when i felt someone gently put their hand on my side. i turned around and saw, "fishman." i had dated him briefly eight years ago, when i was in college. since then, we've stayed in contact here and there--never consistently. however, as of last fall, he's been popping back into my life more often then usual, dropping hints that "one day" when he gets his shit together, he may be coming back for me. oh, brother.

right when i was talking to him, my last long-term relationship ex showed up (i'm calling him... "catman". why the hell the not?) seeing me with fishman, he did a brief "hi" and "bye."

feeling the vibe from fishman that he was throwing the "gentle rambo" style of "i'm coming to get you!" i tried to quickly get out of the conversation and run for cover. at a big outdoor festival like fpac, that worked. on a sunday morning running around the beach, minding my own business? i'm a sitting duck with a cell phone that makes me too accessible to anyone through the virtual world.

**************

i have a newfound love for sunday mornings. when i was a kid i used to dread them because i associated them with having to fake sleep and quietly sneak around in my bedroom, so that my parents wouldn't decide to drag me to church. now, that i'm older and living on my own...

church? what? who? me?

being summer 2004's last weekend (sniff, sniff), "r" and i had planned to make a day of it. i agreed to accompany him to his friend's "meet my baby" party on the santa monica beach and afterwards we were going to go around the promenade shopping and looking for cheap deals and thrills (really, there weren't any thrills, nor were we expecting any. i just felt i needed to add something here so that "cheap deals" wouldn't seem so lonely).

on my way to "r's" house, i get a text message from catman asking if i wanted to have breakfast with him tomorrow morning. since we had broken up, i had tried to maintain a friendship with catman by suggesting that we meet once a month for breakfast. the last time we did this friendship breakfast was back in january, but who's counting? i text back, "sure." instead of his suggested 10am meeting time, i suggest 8.30am so i can get it out of the way.

breakfast with catman? no big deal.

semi "ho hum" conversation with fishman? i got problems.

when i get home from running around santa monica with "r," i get a phone call from fishman. what ensues is a half-hour of mediocre conversation that makes me long for organizing my closet over talking on the phone. btw, "r" and i didn't make it to the "meet my baby" shindig. according to the woman at the visitor's info booth on the santa monica beach after reading the cryptic directions given to "r" to get to the party site, "r's" friend is in dire need of taking a learning annex class on giving directions.

the whole time i'm talking to fishman i'm wondering, "why now?" why are my exes coming back into my life now? who the hell else from "this is your life!" is going to walk through my door? as i struggle to stay in the here and now and get my life in order, i feel like the fishman (catman's no problem. i think a breakfast every few months is fine. but, nothing more!) is trying to go back to something familiar during his current state of instability. maybe he should clean his room.

i don't want yesterday; i want tomorrow, but i'll settle for today.