Now that the dust has settled from my exciting dating life, I have some results, although they are almost all bad. We left off with Clara, she just graciously faded away after replying to my email in a favorable, lady-like way. Although I took some abuse from one of my 3 readers, that's all over and put away now.
Let's see, there was Franci. I spoke with Franci for 3 total conversations and probably invested about 5 hours with her. Franci was so self absorbed that there wasn't anyone that was going to be allowed into her life except her 26 year old handsome son, her 88 year old tennis playing mother and her sister that lived in an 8000 sq. ft. house in Paradise Valley and a 7000 sq. ft. home in San Diego. Franci was 56 but was constantly telling me that she's taken for 35 and asked out by boys in their 20's and 30's. This made me nauseous. Although she was a famous talent scout from NYC, she took a course in make-up, but can't find work in that field, so she works at Dillards in sales. On Friday I stalked her and saw her waiting on an old woman in the discount outlet store and just felt sorry for her. I texted her that I'd stalked her and didn't hear back from her, so she's gonna be history. Poor Franci needed worshiping and that's just not my style. At one point she was telling me about this horrible ear surgery she'd had to endure and how much it had hurt. She had gone on for 30 minutes about this ear surgery. Suddenly, I think she took a breath and I saw my opportunity to say something, so I casually mentioned that I'd had open heart surgery. She was abruptly stopped and there was a pause. She said really, that hurts too and continued on the horrors of ear surgery.
I've decided to include a dialogue that I'd had with a woman today, from one of the websites. All she talks about in her profile is her love of dancing. In her emails, all she wanted to know was, if I danced. Enjoy this look into my life, I did.
You know Margo, while at my Arthur Murrey dance session, I worried that I had no shoes until I saw a man that had no feet and then I thought , what's he doing here without any feet? In the 5th Grade, Pamela Fishman and I won every dance contest. It got so bad that the hostess would ask what our favorite 45 record was, because we were going to win, hands down. In answer to your question, I was often believed to be of Black descent because of my love for fried chicken and inborn rhythm. Do I dance? What straight man dances by choice? Did you ever hear of a bunch of guys getting together to go dancing??? Margo, dancing is part of the courting ritual performed by most birds and some men. I was just at the Orange Tree Resort in 1996 for my last marriage. I danced, boy did I dance!
Well, the Orange Tree is a weekly ritual for me. So 1996 was the last time you danced? So where is your hometown? Margo
I didn't reply and won't!
Next was Camilla, age 58. I can never be accused of only being interested in younger women, as age is irrelevant to me. We chatted on the phone and Camilla held her own in that department. Camilla, a former nurse worked at the AZ Heart Institute in administration. When I hung up from speaking with Camilla, my reaction was, "eh", nothing special, but a nice person. She contacted me yesterday and invited me where she worked part time as a clerk in a discount furniture store at 28Th St. and Bell. She said it was an opportunity to walk in, check her out and leave, or I can say hello and we can talk if I decided to.
I got all dressed up in my date clothes, my giant bell bottoms and blue flowery shirt (LJ is laughing right now, cuz she knows the outfit). I walk in and I'm the only customer in the place. Everyone stops what they're doing and stares at me, as if I'd farted in church! One woman couldn't stop gawking and smiling at me. I guess that was her (or is it she?) I walked over with a shit eating grin on my face and asked if they sold furniture there? Great ice breaker, huh? Two sort of plump women were eating watermelon and laughing. One lady introduced herself as Camilla and I asked if that was supposed to mean something to me? More gracious laughter. Suddenly I smelled something rather foul and didn't know what it was. I talked Camilla into showing me around the store and the smell followed us. Finally, I determined it was her breath. It was horrible! I started standing back from her but it didn't help. This was my first experience with halitosis when it wasn't coming from me and it was a real deal breaker. I think that one's over!
I've been busy. Last but not least was Ellen. Ellen is 58, Jewish and divorced since 1987, not a good sign. I liked Eleen, she was bright and held a good conversation. She knew the names of all of the South American presidents. No one knows that! We talked for about 4 hours and I was actually looking forward to meeting her. She didn't feel confident with me after hearing of my questionable reputation and being of the opposite sex, so she chose to meet me at the restaurant, in spite of the fact that she had to pass my house on the way there. We went to Carlos O'brien's for a light dinner. Ellen was 5' 2" and slight in stature. She had the old lady look though. She wore Mom jeans and had that slow walk that said 58. Because we were totally engrossed in conversation and the restaurant was begging to close, I suggested we go back to my house to finish our conversation. That's when she gave me the "Stink Eye", like I was really trying to get into those Mom jeans, however I was just thinking about talking. She reached up and tried to give me a goodnight kiss at the car, but I was quick and turned my face just in time, offering my cheek.
Then the next day I sent her an email saying that I had enjoyed her company and was wanting to see her again sometime. She replied with a long recitation about how many relationship were ruined by jumping into bed too soon. I didn't respond to that email, as I felt that she was taking lead of the relationship by setting up rules too soon. All we had was a coke and a smile!
Whoops, she called just now and we chatted for another 3 1/2 hours, so I'm kind of rethinking those Mom jeans. I'll keep you posted until the good stuff happens, lol...